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lizisshortforlizard · 2 years

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Living Dangerously - Chapter 22

Jurassic Park’s animal handlers: none of them ever mentioned by name in Michael Crichton’s original novel. Who were they? What were their lives like on Isla Nublar? Did any of them survive the disaster?

A year in the life of those responsible for the care of the dinosaurs. Many people would kill to have their jobs.

But would they die for it?

Jurassic Park Novel/Jurassic Park Film (1993)

Viewpoint: 3rd person female oc

Warnings: light swears, relationship breakdown, butt-load of angst

Wordcount: ~65.7k (22 Chapters) [incomplete]

Tagging: @heresthefanfiction @howlingmadlady @arrthurpendragon @ocappreciation

Read on Ao3

Chapter 21 | Chapter 23

How’m I Gonna Sleep - Tim Finn

“You’re joking.” Lizzy objected flatly.

”Do I sound like I’m joking?” Muldoon didn't back down.

She shook her head in bewilderment, face like a smacked arse. “Why?”

“Your skills are required. I can’t say any more just yet.”

”I thought you were on my side.”

”And you have a job to do. You’re going. Pack your bags.”

Lizzy didn’t say another word. She turned around and walked straight out of his office before she told him exactly where he could shove that idea. What the Hell was happening?

Richardson might be the one to pull a fast one on her like this, but Muldoon?

She felt betrayed more than anything. She'd thought they were friends. He didn’t even ask her if she’d consider it. Just told her.

Pack your bags.

What exactly had she done wrong?

***

Tom was outside, in front of the still-incomplete visitor centre, doing shirtless pull-ups off a tree branch, all while smoking a cigarette.

“…Seven…c’mon, come to Daddy…eight…Hey, Liz!” He stopped and dangled, sweat dripping off him, when he saw her heading his way. “Betcha can’t do more than three of these!”

No answer. Huh, that was weird. She’d normally leap at the chance to prove him wrong.

”Where ya goin’, lady?”

She kept her head ducked, hurrying along. Tom didn't like that at all. He dropped down from the branch and picked up his shirt, mopping his brow.

“Liz! Talk to me."

Still nothing.

Tom frowned and stubbed his cigarette out, pulling his shirt back on before sprinting after her.

***

“Armstrong, come in Armstrong, over.” Arnold sounded supremely fed up as he tried to reach her. Kathy and Rico were beside him, tracking the weather systems for the next few days and working out how their dinosaur care plans might be affected.

"She isn't in the park." Kathy called to him. "She went to Muldoon's."

"Then why the Hell is she not answering, huh?! Somethin's goin' on, I'm tellin ya!" Arnold threw his radio down and spoke into his phone instead. "No, no, nothing's wrong, buddy. It's a big island, that's all."

Tom's voice drawled over the radio. "Dr Armstrong isn't feeling well, can I take a message?"

"She with you, Kennedy?" Arnold asked grumpily.

There was a break as Tom clearly consulted with someone off-air. "...who wants to know?"

"Her New York man's on the phone. It's important, apparently. Needs to get her butt down here, now. Over and out." Arnold clicked off and yelled to Kathy again. "I told you this tie was a mistake, Kitty-Kat! I am not a messenger boy!"

***

An important call from Simon. Something awful must have happened. He'd only rang her yesterday, when he'd agreed to visit.

Lizzy wasn't sure she could take any more bad news so close together. Sorry she whispered to Ray as she hurried in, he was glaring at her furiously.

“I'm here. Who died?" She asked abruptly as she took the phone.

“Huh? Nobody died, Liz! I just have some good news. Some really great news, in fact. Gonna make your whole month, babe. Couldn't wait until I saw you in person."

“Out with it then!" Maybe a little snappy, she realised.

“Uh, okay, well since I was promoted to partner at the law firm, my folks gave me a bit of money. Rather a lot of money, actually, and Liz-“ Simon paused for effect. “-we’re getting married in a year. A year next Tuesday to be exact. I did it. I booked the Plaza.”

“Oh.” Lizzy didn’t know what to say. “I, uh-…” She should be excited. But dread was rapidly filling her from the toes of her boots upwards.

Kathy, Rico and Ray had stopped conversing and were quietly watching her, sensing something was wrong.

“And my mom’s picked out a dress for you. Isn’t that great?”

What?

She fumbled for whoever’s hand was closest and grabbed it before sinking down in a chair.

“Hermana?” Rico was immediately concerned. “Lizzy?”

Suddenly she was struggling to take a breath. Her chest felt like she was being crushed inwards by a boa constrictor. Kathy stared at her hard for a moment before scurrying off to source a glass of water.

”Liz? Isn’t that great?” Simon repeated.

She didn't really hear him. She was back in Africa. Standing in the pink dawn glow, looking out to the horizon, listening to the waking calls of animals and birds echoing across the plains.

New York was crowded, and cold, and a different kind of noise. The grey kind.

Then she thought of Costa Rica, her new home. African animals replaced by dinosaurs bellowing through the hills. Her job, the job of a lifetime. The countless doors that had opened for her and her research because she was working at Jurassic Park. Simon had never understood why she just couldn’t stop, couldn't give it up, and he would never try to.

It was all so very clear now. Whether he visited or not, they just weren't going to work. They had both changed, no longer two kids in New York City, too different now.

“Uh, hello? Liz? Say something, please.” Now Simon sounded worried.

“You should have asked.” She replied quietly.

“Sorry, the line broke up just then. What did you say?”

She suddenly felt unbearably hot. The control room was so stuffy. Her breathing was shallower, she felt like she couldn't breathe out, only in, and that her ribcage might burst from the pressure.

Lizzy had always wanted a family. A real one. Ten years ago, when she first met Simon she had thought that meant a husband and kids. A Volvo and a house you paid a mortgage on. Picket fences. The American Dream. But her friends on Isla Nublar, Jeff back in Africa, that was her family.

Falling into fits of laughter with Kathy when they tried and failed to toast marshmallows on the stovetop without setting off the fire alarm. Gerry making her coffee just right. Ray's sarcastic comments that always made her laugh no matter her mood. That was home. And Simon wasn't going to ever be part of it.

She couldn't, wouldn't get married. She didn't want it, and nobody was listening to her.

“That’s very generous of them-“ She blinked hard to keep the tears in check. “But I told you, tried to tell you, I don’t want a big wedding.”

“Yeah, but this way you don’t need to worry. It’s taken care of. It’s happening.”

It’s happening. He hadn't even asked her. Africa had never seemed further away. And now Isla Nublar was being ripped from her, twice in the same day.

“Babe...aren’t you excited?”

“Simon!” She started to panic. “There isn’t going to be anyone on my side of the room in New York!”

There was a long pause, and she knew she was in trouble.

“Mom said you’d be like this.” He told her flatly. “You’d find a reason to hate it.”

“I thought we were talking about getting married in Africa-“ She tried to pacify him.

“Well, it isn’t always about what you want, Liz!” Simon was clearly upset. “I’ve waited long enough for you. We need to start having kids, before-“

“Before what?”

“Before you’re too old!”

“What did you just say?” Lizzy raised her voice, and for once, Simon didn't back down.

“You know what I mean! We’re thirty-four, and well…no offence, but time’s running out.”

“What’s happening?” Tom walked into the control room. "You havin' a team party without me? Nice, real nice." Kathy hushed him.

“I can’t do this.” Lizzy couldn’t believe the words were coming out of her mouth.

“What do you mean?” Simon’s tone became negotiating when he finally realised she was genuinely upset. “Look, if it’s that big of a deal to you we can postpone, again-“

“No, we can’t.”

“It’s fine. Maybe the year after next.”

It wasn’t fine. Nothing was fine.

“No. I can't do this. I don’t want to get married. To you…I don’t want to get married to you.”

“You don’t mean that.”

She didn't deny.

“Lizzy? Tell me you don’t mean it.”

“I can’t-“ Lizzy gulped and crushed the life out of Rico’s hand. “I don’t want to anymore. You and me. I’m so sorry-“

The disconnect tone sounded. He had hung up.

She slowly put the phone down herself, and realised what she’d done. Regret, pain, and most worrying of all, relief, filled her to the brim.

Arnold spoke first. "Baby girl, I'm so sor-"

Lizzy held up a hand. She wanted quiet. Her mind was going off the rails.

"Shit..." Tom wasn't much help.

Kathy pushed the glass of water towards her. "What do you need?"

"Si, hermana. Anything."

Lizzy got up from her chair and took off. She didn’t know where she was going, just that there were too many people staring at her and it was too much for her to stand. She ran out into the park.

***

”Lizzy, hun!” Kathy screamed into the trees. She was getting desperate. It had been hours. The sun was sinking low, Lizzy wouldn’t stay out all night…would she?

Damn, but the island was a lot safer than the middle of the Namibian bush. It was still warm enough to sleep out. Lizzy was sure as Heck stubborn.

But accidents happen. She might have tripped and broken her ankle, and be lying unconscious at the bottom of a valley.

“Where are you, girl?” She whispered. “Don’t do this to me.”

“Want me to round up the guys for a search party?” Isaac asked her. “We could check the motion sensors too?”

“Worth a shot, but she might not be moving. Cameras won’t pick her up.” Kathy groaned.

“Well then, what do we do?”

“We don’t need a search party.” Kathy turned to walk back towards the lodge. “Unless it's a party of one."

***

Kathy made a shooing motion and nodded towards the door. "Go on, get out there. Do what you do best. Go hunt."

"It's a bit more complicated than that. And why wasn't I informed before now?" Muldoon asked gravely. "Have you been making decisions again, Baker?"

"Tom told me what happened. Between you and Lizzy. That she didn't take the idea of moving to Sorna very well." Kathy answered quietly.

"She did not." Massive understatement. Although at least he wasn't the main reason she'd done a runner. In a rather interesting development, Armstrong was no longer engaged. Which meant that his plan for Sorna had gone awry. But Muldoon couldn't worry about that yet. At this moment in time, she was a missing person. His priority was to retrieve her, and quickly.

"Well, she's not back, it's dark and we're out of options. Can you find her or what?" Kathy demanded.

"Almost certainly. She won’t get very far, at least." Muldoon grumbled as he headed to the door.

"Need some help, boss?" Tom offered.

"Hunted more vicious things than her, I'll be fine." Muldoon answered. "Maybe I should take a shock prod though, what do you reckon?"

Kathy just stared at him, open-mouthed. Even Tom looked stunned.

"I was joking." He muttered. "Christ, that bloody woman."

***

Think like Armstrong.

Damn, now that was a scary notion.

At least they were on an island. Even so, thirty square miles was a massive search area. He had to narrow it down.

So, let’s go about this logically. If he knew her, which he did of course, then this disappearing act was her way of saying she needed help. She just didn’t know how to ask, and she hated appearing weak in front of the lads.

Meaning, she wanted someone to come and get her, bring her back. She had to know it would most likely be him, since he was the only person on the island that could track worth a damn, except for Kennedy, perhaps.

So where would Armstrong go, that only he might think of?

Muldoon braked hard and put the Jeep in reverse, going back on himself to take the other turning that led towards the tyrannosaur paddock.

Of course that’s where she is.

He was certain she would be perched on the very same tree she’d riddled with bullets not long ago. A place not obvious to just anyone.

Fortunately, Muldoon wasn’t just anyone.

He chose to kill the ignition and stalk the last few hundred metres. Headlights and engine noise might scare her off, if she thought she was in trouble.

Muldoon was actually enjoying himself. Out in the park alone, at night, was a rare opportunity. Good to know he hadn’t lost his touch. It had been a long while, since he had needed to hunt for…anything, really. And this time, he had no weapon.

Because he was hunting for a wildcat. He found the clearing where the fallen tree was, without much difficulty.

”I know you’re here, Armstrong.”

He hadn’t heard her, yet. Just a feeling. That from somewhere close by, he was being watched. And his feelings, instincts, call it what you will, were very rarely wrong.

“Hurry up and say something, woman, before I trip over you.” No girl this time. He did value his life, somewhat.

If he remembered correctly the tree was off to the left, in the direction of where the tyrannosaur was rumbling around in her paddock.

Muldoon reached for his torch and scanned the ground in front of him.

Ah, there it was. He had been right all along. Boot prints tracked away from him through the mud. Looked about a size seven US. Yes, she was definitely here, definitely wanted someone to come and get her. She knew better than to wear her distinctively small boots in boggy ground if she was trying to hide from him. The prints were partially filled with water, and the surface wobbled every few seconds. Rexy was on the move.

“Over here.” A small Scottish voice finally spoke up. “How’d you know?”

Muldoon pointed the torch in the right direction. Sure enough, hazel eyes were staring back at him in the beam of light.

“Because I know you, daft bugger.” He went to sit down next to her on the tree trunk. “Can’t hide from me.”

They were silent for a few minutes, until his radio hissed, earning a quick grunt from the startled tyrannosaur.

“-uldoon, give me some good news. Can’t see you on the monitor anymore, over.” Arnold complained.

“Found her.”

”Oh! Oh thank God- Is she-“ Kathy started babbling away until Muldoon answered she’s fine curtly and switched his radio off. They could wait.

”I had to leave, it was all a bit much.” Her voice was hoarse. She’d been crying. “Just needed some space.”

“Nobody can hear you scream out here. Except the tyrannosaur.”

”That was kind of the point.” She let her head flop back, staring up at the stars.

“Still a bloody stupid thing to do. Running off like that.”

Away from her problems, yet again.

”You must be fuming.” She stated unhappily.

“Baker’s the one who’ll crucify you when we get back.”

Just glad you’re safe. He thought the words but didn’t say them. “Did you ever pull a stunt like this with Blacklaw?” Distracting her was a good move.

“No, but he grounded me once.”

Muldoon turned his laugh into a cough. The thought of his mate attempting to ground an unrelated woman in her twenties who wasn’t much shorter than him was quite funny.

“What on Earth did you do?”

“I called Sarah Harding a c-, er…the c-word. To her face.” Lizzy grimaced. “Apparently it’s much more offensive in the States.”

“Practically a friendly greeting, back in Glasgow, I’d imagine.”

”That’s what I said!” Lizzy groaned. "Thought she was going to bloody bite me."

"Wouldn't put it past her."

"At least I won't run into her anymore if she comes to visit Gerry, since I’m meant to be packing, I suppose.”

Muldoon shifted uncomfortably. Ah, Sorna. Now he had his wits back about him, maybe he had been too hasty about sending Armstrong away. He’d acted out of spite, hadn’t asked, just told her.

”Don’t worry about Sorna at the moment.” He said eventually. “We’ll talk about it properly in the morning. When we’re both more rational.”

”Really? Do I get some input this time?” That seemed to cheer her up a little.

”You can plead your case.”

She sniffed loudly and nodded.

“Shall I give you a lift back?” It was more of a threat than a question.

There was the faintest scuff of gravel as she planted her feet further apart. Was she really about to give him the runaround?

Oh no, he wasn’t having that.

“Careful. If you think I won’t drag you back inside that Jeep just to get Baker off my case, think again.”

She was silent, the cogs were turning. Trying to figure out if she was faster than him. In the dark. Without her glasses.

Not a chance he thought.

Was she going to bolt? Or just feeling well enough now to wind him up about attempting it?

He liked either choice, to be honest. Both meant she’d forgiven him.

“Don’t do it, Armstrong.” He warned. “Don’t you dare run.”

I’d catch you. And it would make my day.

She turned to him with a tiny smile. “Yeah, okay, you win. Let’s head back.”

***

On the journey back, Lizzy took off her engagement ring. She rolled the Jeep window down, looked out at the jungle, down at the band, debating, then rolled the window back up again, still with the ring in the palm of her hand.

”Say you lost it. Believable enough.” Muldoon offered. He’d seen the state of her bedroom.

”Better not. It was his great-grandma’s. Survived a concentration camp. Makes me a complete arsehole.” Lizzy decided. “I’ll send it back.”

”Shame, that rock would probably put my daughter through university.”

”How is she?” Lizzy was grateful for the change in subject.

”Thoroughly enjoying being the class elephant expert, thanks to you.”

She nodded, pleased. She’d spent ages on that book. Good to know her efforts were appreciated.

Lizzy felt guilty now that Muldoon had gone to all this trouble for her. She would've come back of her own accord, eventually.

She didn't remember running from the control room, or even what direction she went in once she left the building. Only that she somehow reached the tyrannosaur paddock at twilight just as the quartz lights were coming on, all over the park. Her favourite time of day.

It had seemed a good place to stop. Not too far from home, but quiet, where she wouldn't be disturbed. She'd found the fallen tree and sat for a long time as the darkness drew in around the island, listening to the bugs buzzing around and the stegosaurs lowing like cattle as they gathered together for the night.

And then Muldoon had found her. Lizzy surprised herself with how glad she was to hear his voice in the darkness, despite their falling-out.

She was even more relieved, yet surprised he didn’t have Kathy in tow, the renowned over-thinker. Lizzy didn’t want to analyse every detail of her break-up right at that minute. Maybe never.

What did it matter? It was over now.

Muldoon put the Jeep in neutral and idled out of view of the visitor complex for a minute, turning to speak to her. “I can drive you around the other side, if you’d rather. Sneak you in through the garage. You don’t have to face everyone just yet.”

She shook her head. “It’s okay. Can’t avoid them forever.”

He nodded and they moved off again. Kathy was waiting for them on the steps at the sound of the engine in the distance, hopping from one foot to the other, trying to see if there were two people inside the Jeep.

As they drew up Lizzy spoke again.

”Thank you.”

”For what, exactly?”

”Just for knowing."

He had a feeling she didn’t mean how he'd worked out exactly where to find her. Lizzy got out of the Jeep and walked straight into Kathy's arms, holding her tightly in a hug long after the vehicle moved off again.

Muldoon ended up sitting in the parked Jeep by himself for a while, doing some thinking of his own in the garage.

Armstrong was single. It hadn't really sunk in yet.

Since she’d floored Richardson with that technical question within the first hour of her first day, he’d fancied her something terrible. And it was only getting worse the more time they spent together.

Simply put, she was brilliant. And she wasn't the only one who wanted a challenge.

But in a way, this was worse, much worse. Before, she was completely off-limits, for obvious reasons.

Now there was hope, but Muldoon's hopes had been dashed before. He wasn’t sure if he could take much more of it.

***

Thanks for reading!

The chapter title song is one that Tim Finn wrote just before he and Greta Scacchi split up in 1989. Greta in the 90s is my faceclaim for Lizzy. The song seemed fitting for this one 🖤

And Lizzy and Simon are through. A comfortable relationship isn’t always a happy one, unfortunately.

#jurassic park oc #living dangerously #welcome to jurassic park #oc: dr lizzy armstrong #jurassic park female oc #jurassic park #jurassic park fanfiction #my writing #my fanfiction

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stephreynaart · 3 years

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Gravity Falls - “Waiting”

Pop-Pop AU

Stan sits in a hospital waiting room, thinking about his life and the people he loves.

- - - -

This is kinda old, but I realized I never posted it on tumblr. Hope ya like it!

Lots of fluff, the only ships are Soos and Melody.

AO3 LINK

- - - -

It had a square aspect ratio. Ink pen and watercolor on white heat pressed cotton paper in a bland white frame. One single blue flower in a red vase with what looks like a yellowish shadow. One shadow going left, the other going right. The lack of confidence and inexperience was obvious, the lines were unfocused and jagged, the color plainly filled the shapes and gave no other visual interest to the image.

Below the frame was a small white card that read “Painting donated by Jessica Blaise from Gravity Falls Elementary School”

Stan scanned the painting at least 20 times while sitting in that chair. The too rough and too soft at the same time chair that had similar copies populating the almost white room he sat in. The wallpaper bouncing off light pinks and blues with tiny ducklings as a makeshift wainscoting was starting to irritate the old man. It was too bright, and the consistent buzz of the fluorescent lights seemed so loud. Stan adjusted himself in his chair, switching his crossed legs to a wider spread and leaned his head against the wall.

The only other stimulus in the room were a few posters promoting proper hand washing techniques, the play area with a small table and chairs with large blocks, crayons and that weird “game” with the metal wiring and wooden beads that’s in every waiting room Stan’s ever sat in. He played with the toys to give himself something to do after he read all the magazines. The novelty wore off fast.

The television mounted on the wall was airing some cooking channel with no sound and no subtitles. Looking at food when you haven’t eaten in a few hours was practically torture, so Stan had been averting his eyes.

There were other paintings on the wall, one was less of a painting, but instead a print of a painting. He doubted that the artist got any compensation from it, if they were still alive. The other was a charcoal drawing done by a student from the community college a town away. Another square, but the entire image was black, the brightest thing on the page was an intruding infant hand coming from the left with the arm fading into the dark background. The fingers seemingly mid-twitch and grabbing at something. The lighting was dynamic and interesting. Stan swore it was a drawing of a penis the first time he glanced at it, which resulted in his brother’s laughter. Stanley smiled at the memory, it was only a few hours ago, but he relishes any time he can make Stanford laugh.

Stan’s eyes darted at the door in the far corner when it opened suddenly. He eased back into his chair when the nurse crossed the room to talk with the receptionist. He couldn’t hear the conversation very well, but could tell they were just gossiping and making jokes. Nothing that was of his interest. So he looked back to the elementary school child’s painting and analyzed it again. His eyes were dry and he was tired. He wished he could sleep, the chair wasn’t comfortable enough and when he did managed to sleep, his neck was sore when he woke up. He was only lucky Ford let him use his shoulder as a pillow for a while. He looked to his left and noted the book his brother placed in the seat. It seemed thick and in what looked like Hebrew. Stan wasn’t very surprised Ford was fluent in the language they were acquainted with as children. Their grandparents on their father’s side were the last to be fully fluent in Hebrew. It was like his brother to be curious of their heritage, but Stan only remembered a few phrases and words he learned from holidays and special event when he had to recite anything in Temple.

Stan crossed his arms and glanced at the clock on the wall and let out an exasperated sigh. It had only been 10 minutes since he last checked the time. He wanted to be at home, be in his soft warm bed and getting ready to eat pancakes at this time in the morning.

He and Ford were on the porch of The Mystery Shack when Soos rushed them off to the hospital the yesterday afternoon. What he originally thought would be a couple of hours of waiting turned into almost twelve. Apparently labour can last a long time.

Stan wished he could be a witness for Soos and Melody like he was when Dipper and Mabel were born, but Melody wanted her privacy, which Stan could respect, but Soos wanted him there…..so he and Ford waited in this bright, annoyingly pastel waiting room, twiddling his thumbs awaiting the arrival of the new member of the mystery family. He was glad he was in at least comfortable clothes, some gray sweatpants and a sweater Mabel knitted for him that read “godfather”.

He was never clear on what the title entailed, but it was mentioned a few times by Soos’ grandmother and the kids insisted that Soos was intending to ask him. He hadn’t, but he didn’t protest Stan wearing the sweater. Whatever job godfathers had, he was willing to play the part if Soos were to ask him.

Stan looked at the double doors a few feet away that lead out of the waiting room and into the halls. His brother left to find something for them to eat, but was taking his sweet time. The turkey being basted on the television was no help in aiding his growling stomach.

He distracted himself by returning his thoughts to Soos and Melody. Just down the hall they were experiencing the strange and beautiful phenomenon that was witnessing the arrival of a brand new person. Stan remembered the feeling so clearly. His entire life he’s felt the presence of human beings. It’s inherent in most people to feel when someone is in the room with you, the other soul sharing the same space as you. Imagine being in a room with a set amount of people and someone else comes in, but imagine they came in without using a doorway. Just appearing seemingly out of thin air. Suddenly another person is with you, and they’re brand new to the world, a life full of potential and power. Yes, today is indeed a happy day, but no amount of positive thinking would ease Stan’s nerves. His foot began to bounce and his hands unconsciously began to fiddle with each other. He didn’t want to think anything would go wrong with Soos’ baby, but anything can happen and life is so fragile, especially at the start of it.

He recalled his nephew’s nervousness the day Dipper and Mabel were born. His hands were shaking and he was constantly checking on his wife and asking the doctors loads of questions. He didn’t fully understand the twins’ father’s behavior until the end of that day.

Mabel’s birth was swift and easy. Her mother only needed to push one and a half times before she was here. It was as if she was eager to meet everyone waiting for her. She cried like most babies do, but Stan could’ve sworn they were tears of joy. While Mabel was greeted with, “hello, beautiful”, “hi, sweetie” and “she’s perfect”, Her brother’s introduction to world started with, “what’s wrong?”, “wait, let me hold him”, and “he’s not moving”. Dipper was rushed out of the room before his mother got a chance to look at him. Stan managed to catch a glimpse of the horrifyingly blue tint on his great nephew’s tiny face. The memory still gave him chills. He remembered how much he wanted to hold Mabel, who began to fuss and cry, obviously missing her brother. He was terrified at the prospect of another incomplete set of twins in their family. After the longest 30 minute of his life, Stan’s great-nephew returned with a bright pink face, wailing with all the power his little lungs could produce. Once the twins were reunited in their mother’s arms, they settled down almost instantly. The doctors told their parents Dipper was significantly lighter in weight than his sister, but both were very strong and healthy. Every so often Stan thinks about Dipper and how much he has impacted his life. His thoughts lead to darker places and he questions if Ford would be here if Dipper wasn’t there to find the third journal. He shook his head as a cold shiver went up his spine.

Stan did his best to distract himself from revisiting the scare that Dipper caused him 16 years ago.

16 years…..17 in August

Stan blinked. The squishy, bright faces that stayed with him that first summer had changed significantly. They stayed in contact all year round and visited every summer since they were 12. But every in-person meeting was always a shock. Dipper was developing the square jaw Stan, both his brothers and nephew shared. He started to regularly wear glasses their second summer with the Stans. Poor kid will grow up looking like Filbrick like the rest of the Pines men. He reminded Stan of Ford at that age.

And Mabel…..

Stan will never get over how much she looks like his mother. It didn’t strike him until Soos and Melody’s wedding and she put her hair in a bun. She’s calmed her hyperactivity down a bit, but not by a lot, she still brightens his day with her wit and creativity. They’ve both matured physically, but not much has changed personality wise and they still acted like big children when they’re around each other. Stan loved them very much, and wished he could see them more often. He wondered what the future held for all of them. Would they still visit town after going to college? Would they move here? Or somewhere else?

He’s had several conversations with them to see how they’re managing the prospect of separating. They’re much better at communicating than he and Ford were and they seem actually excited to have some independence. It made Stan nervous, but he was sure their close relationship wouldn’t suffer.

Wendy chose to be elsewhere for the next few years. She and her friends booked a plane ticket and plan to backpack and hitchhike around Europe and the UK. Stan hopes they stay safe and watch out for each other. Lotta weirdos in Amsterdam. She was set to leave in the coming days, Wendy wanted to wait until today arrived so she could meet Soos and Melody’s kid before going away for who knows how long.

A tap on the shoulder woke Stan from his deep thoughts. His brother arrived with some warm sub sandwiches and coffee.

“Any word yet?, he asked Stan

“Nothin’ yet”, Stan felt helpless not having any clue how Soos and Melody were doing.

Stanford took his seat next to Stanley and they both silently enjoyed their late breakfast. Since arriving they’ve witnessed families reuniting and going past the door in the far corner to meet their children, grandchildren or siblings. Stan looked at the clock again. How has it only been another 5 minutes? He sighed, leaned back and finished the rest of his sub. One hand holding the sandwich, the other went back to gripping the arm rest, then a six fingered hand went down to rest on top of it. Stan let go of the armrest and tangled his fingers between Ford’s and held onto it with a, hopefully not too tight, grip. It was like an anchor to reality, much better at easing his anxieties than any words could. Over the past 4 years, Stan and Ford’s bond grew stronger. Stan still feared one day he would wake up and find himself still in that basement surrounded by broken machinery and languages he didn’t understand. He hasn’t yet, and was enjoying the time he had left with his twin. Stan took a moment to look at his brother again, Ford made eye contact and smiled then continued to read his book. Hands still intertwined

Stans thoughts went back to Soos…

It amazed Stan how much he had grown and it still baffled him that Soos idolized him as much as he does. Before Soos, Stan had no one. His brother was….gone, the rest of the family didn’t talk to him much outside of the holidays and special occasion. There hadn’t been any sense of consistency in Stan’s life for years, decades even, until he hired the chubby little kid he barely glanced at one random Saturday. Soos always arrived to work early, sometimes with breakfast for both of them. Stan didn’t know how much he needed a reliable companion until he had it and he enjoyed the 10 years he had with that kid… or man he should say. Here he was…a few rooms away, becoming a father.

Stan used to daydream a lot about the prospect of having kids when he was younger. He’s was always good with them when he had the chance to babysit his nephew, then later Dipper and Mabel when they were toddlers. He loved having kids in his house that first summer. He loved the energy and the sense of adventure the twins brought. They gave him a sense of purpose and belonging he hadn’t felt in years. He wished he was brave enough to have his own children. Not that he was ever with anyone long enough to want to have kids with him. He supposed it was for the best that he didn’t subject a child to homelessness or an unhappy marriage. He was also terrified at the idea. His dad used to say having kids ruined his life. He wondered who his father was before his older brother was born. Did they really ruin his life? Stan often wondered if he would be like his own dad if he has children of his own. Would he change and become that annoyed parent that resenting his children?

He thought about Soos again

That was probably the closest to parenthood he ever experienced. The first time he felt like one was when Soos asked him for homework help after closing. He initially told Soos no, he wasn’t exactly smart and didn’t think he would be any help. It apparently upset the kid, so Stan sighed and gave it a try. It was fairly simple middle school math, he didn’t remember everything, but helped Soos do more than half of it. Soos thanked him and went home happy. Stan felt weirdly proud, he was glad he made a small difference and managed to teach Soos something he didn’t even know he knew.

The second time was when Soos was a teenager. His grandmother wasn’t able to teach Soos to drive, since she had forgotten how and her late husband used to do the driving, she mostly walked everywhere. Soos offered to work for free so Stan could teach him. Stan loved driving and found teaching Soos cathartic. He was a fast and eager learner, he only bumped Stan’s car once while trying to figure out parallel parking. Little did Soos know that he was getting paid for his normal work hours. Stan just put it away long enough to help buy the kid some old used truck in the junkyard for getting his license. They fixed the truck up and in only a few weeks it was ready to be on the road. Soos has taken good care of it and it’s still his ride to this day

Stan was very proud of Soos. He taught the kid some basic self defense and managed to be a decent influence in his life. Soos at least has his priorities straight.

Stan was even glad to see that Soos was willing to question him. When the portal was reaching the final countdown, he didn’t hesitate to protect the kids from him when he thought Stan was dangerous. He didn’t know, none of them did, so he didn’t blame Soos for distrusting him. He hoped he never had to betray him again. They both had crappy dads, and Stan knew how Soos saw him. Stan was never really sure if he reciprocated those feelings. It felt natural to act the part, but to put a label as important as “dad” on Stan was daunting. Soos definitely deserves better than what he was given, Stan wasn’t sure if he was it.

Stan looked up at the familiar voices running towards him from the double doors.

“Grunkle Stan! Grunkle Ford!” Mabel waved to them

The two teenagers and Wendy walked in holding a balloon and various toys. They took some seats across from the Stans and asked how everyone was doing and if the baby arrived yet.

“Not yet, hopefully soon” Ford answered

Stan relaxed and silently enjoyed his family’s company. He laid his head back and leaned slightly on Ford to rest for a minute. His eyes shut as he listened to the kids joke around and talk amongst themselves. He squeezed Ford’s hand one more time before drifting off.

He knew he should’ve tried sleeping earlier, he wasn’t out for more than 15 minutes when Soos came into the waiting room. Stan’s eyes shot open and he was on his feet faster than he did when he was being chased by angry costumers as a door to door salesman. Soos’ red eyes sagged and he seemed exhausted, but carried a proud, wide smile across his face. He sniffed and wiped his eyes.

“It’s a boy”, he squeaked, “mom and baby are okay”

Dipper and Mabel were first to start the hugs, and the room filled with cheers of congratulations and love. Stan felt light as a feather giving Soos a hug and joking about child labor.

“Can we see him?”, Mabel bounced with anticipation

“Yeah, dudes!”, Soos gestured everyone past the corner door and into the suite. “But only for a little while, Melody has to sleep”

The room was small, dimly lit and warm. The Pines crew collectively lowered their voices as Melody came into view on the bedding holding a bundle of blankets decorated with small yellow ducklings. She was leaned back on a large pillow, covered in blankets and toted a soft smile on her face. Soos stroked her hair and picked up his little son to show to the Pines’. The younger twins got a look at him first,

Mabel squealed and cooed at the tiny infant. Then Wendy, who said hi to the baby and told Soos she’d make sure to send him gifts while she was away

“What’s his name?”, Mabel asked Melody

“I named him after my dad”, Melody replied, “Jacob”. She smiled sadly at the memory of the father she lost the year before.

Soos approached the Stans, Ford smiled and complimented the couple on a having such beautiful little boy, but shot Soos a look, who silently replied with another one. Something was up.

Finally Stan got a look at baby Jacob. “Wow” Stan smiled, patting Soos’ arm. “He looks exactly like you”

Soos laughed, “really? I think he looks like Melody”, there was a short silence before Soos spoke up again.

“Do you want to hold him, Mr Pines?”

Stan looked at Soos and smiled, “heh, sure”. He held his arms out. Soos lowered his arms to pass the baby to Stan, who scrunched his face up and started to fuss. Stan took the infant and managed to hold him with one arm. He bounced and shushed little Jacob until he calmed down. “Heya kid”, He’s held babies dozens of times, but something felt different about this one. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but Stan felt an almost magnetic pull towards him. Jacob settled comfortably against Stan and continued his rest. Stan softly beamed at the tiny person in his arms.

“Hey, Stan?”

Stan lifted an eyebrow and looked at Soos, who was fidgeting with his hands and nervously smiling.

“Uh..”, he paused, taking in the sight of Stan holding his child. “You know about my dad”, Soos looked at Ford again, who shrugged and nodded. Stan studied Ford’s face, who’s eyes strayed away as he hid a small smile. Soos got his attention again.

“You uh…he wasn’t…”, Soos choked up, his voice strained a bit, “I met you when I was probably the loneliest I ever was in my entire life”. Stan pictured the little boy he hired on the spot, he didn’t remember him until Soos showed up at his door step the next day ready to work. He didn’t know how much that quick, thoughtless decision would change his life.

Soos perked up and walked across the room to a table and picked up the piece of paper sitting on it. Soos glanced at it, then at Stan and smiled, gaining some emotional strength it seemed.

“You mean a lot me”, Soos, “you were there when I really needed it, you gave me a job, taught me just about everything I know. I don’t think I ever thanked you for that”

Stan got a bit nervous, Was this him asking to be the godfather?Everyone was silent and curiously watching. Soos held his hand out and handed the paper to Stan. He adjusted his arm to properly hold Jacob in his arm and took it. Stan flipped the page and noticed it was the baby’s birth certificate. Stan eyes bounced off the page and read the various information: birthdate, weight, parents, but he froze when he read the full name. Stan’s wide eyes questioningly studied Soos’ face.

“Are you…”, Stan felt his own throat tightening, crap. Come on, not in front of everyone “really?”, he asked. Soos gave a genuine nod and sniffed.

“I uh” Soos cleared his throat, “I was wondering, since Jacob doesn’t have one…if you wanted to be…. his grandpa?

There it was

Stan felt dizzy and took a small step back before remembering who was in his hands and regained his balance. Ford came to his side and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. Stan decide not to look at his brother and chose to stare forward, then his eyes went back to Soos, who look deflated. Oh man. Stan was terrified, he didn’t want to say no and hurt Soos, but if he said yes….he wasn’t sure what made him so nervous. The entire concept sounded so alien to him, like he didn’t deserve the title. He always considered Soos, Melody and their son a part of his family. But to bare a title like “grandpa”, had to mean he had children that that children. That he was already a parent without his knowledge. It all felt so natural to want to lean into this and become part of this family like Soos wanted.

He heard something make a noise from beneath himself. Stan looked down at little Jacob, who was mid yawn. The baby’s mouth grew wide opens and inhaled, scrunching up his face and suddenly shut. Suddenly two tiny eyes opened for just a few seconds, enough time for Stan to make eye contact before Jacob shut them and got comfortable again

Everything was different now.

Stan didn’t notice how quiet the room had gotten nor the tears forming in his eyes. Stunned by beauty and overcome with pride and a sense of purpose. The pride he felt teaching Soos math, how to drive and attending his graduation all combined just looking at the perfect being in his arms. If he said yes, he would want everything that came with it. Stan lifted the birth certificate up to read the name again.

Jacob Stanley Ramirez

“Y-Yes”, he heard a shaken voice say, almost not realizing it was his own “of course”. He looked at Soos, tears in his eyes and a bright smile on his face. He still wasn’t sure if he deserved this, but Stan wanted it. He wanted it all. Why not indulge just this once? He gave the certificate to Ford and used his now free hand to pull Soos into a hug. Gently sandwiching his…..grandson in between him……and his son.

#gravity falls #gravity falls fan fiction #stanley pines #stanford pines #soos ramirez #melody #mabel pines #dipper pines #wendy corduroy #pop pop au #poppop!stan #dad!soos #dad!stan

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sicparvismorrigan · 3 years

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Long Last - Chapter 2

Friends. Foes. Lost treasure. One Samuel Drake.

The librarian is in too deep to back out now, and higher stakes means further to fall.

Uncharted/Sam Drake/Post-U4

Viewpoint: 3rd person female OC

Warnings: Language, assault

Word count: ~3k (2 Chapters) [incomplete]

Just a warning - Long Last is much darker than Long Overdue, starting right now!

Read on Ao3

Chapter 1 | Chapter 3

Venice, 3 days earlier

“See ya around, Miss-Georgia-Like-A-Peach!”

Those had been the last words Sam Drake had said to her, before he walked out of the door and onto a plane to Moscow to resume his search for the Golden Library.

Less than an hour later, she had seized her moment and booked herself a plane ticket for that night to follow him. How was it possible she missed him so much already? It didn’t make any sense. She was normally so level-headed, how could she be this crazy about someone after only a few days?! And to think that when they first met she was less than enamoured. That had all changed very quickly.

But after she clicked ‘confirm’ to buy her ticket and realised she couldn’t take it back she’d immediately started hyperventilating in a panic.

“Shit, shit, shit…” Georgia rocked back and forward, head in her hands, before sitting up straight again, her jaw set in determination. This was be good for her, going out of her comfort zone. “No…no. I am doing this. I. Am. Doing. This.”

She just had to get through a full day of work first, hopefully she had gotten away with sneaking into the high-security document stores yesterday. She hadn’t technically done anything wrong, after all, and she had left everything as she found it.

Her little tabby cat, Meems, miaowed at her demandingly from the opposite arm of the sofa. Georgia leaned over to scratch her between the ears, the cat tolerating it for once.

“Yes, yes…I’ll feed you in a minute. I’m off to track down your favourite person tonight. Are you happy now?”

That was another thing, had to find someone to watch the damn cat while she was gone. She really hadn’t thought this through.

***

At work Georgia struggled to concentrate, still thinking about the events of the past few days. How Sam and Sully had just waltzed in like they owned the place at the Biblioteca Marciana. Telling her they needed help breaking into her library to examine certain documents, the next piece of the puzzle in finding the Lost Library of Ivan the Terrible, thought to be buried somewhere underneath St. Petersburg. The documents they needed turned out to be none other than Cardinal Bessarion’s copies of Homer’s Iliad and Odyssey, pointing them towards the historic Kremlin wall in Moscow.

She hadn’t wanted to help them at first, but after some coercion, or as Georgia would have put it, outright blackmail, she was caught up in the excitement of it all. The whole glorious mystery around the Byzantine Empire, Ivan the Terrible, Grigori Rasputin, and before she knew it, she’d gotten caught up in Sam’s charm too. That definitely wasn’t supposed to happen.

She kept blushing whenever she thought about him, checking for the millionth time her scarf wasn’t slipping out of place to reveal just how bruised her neck was. She couldn’t stop daydreaming about how he’d touched her, how he’d kissed her, how good he’d made her feel after so long. How he seemed to know her better than she knew herself. Although she’d managed to surprise him too, once or twice. It was those memories in particular that made her duck her head as her cheeks turned crimson.

She kept checking her phone wistfully, even though she wasn’t supposed to have it on her at work. Hours passed with no message from Sam. If she didn’t know better, it was like he’d already forgotten her.

***

By afternoon Sam still hadn’t contacted her, but Georgia was determined not to be the one to text first. She didn’t want to seem too desperate, it had only been a few hours, and he was probably busy, but she had to let him know she’d be landing in Russia at some point.

A worry popped into her head. He’s bored of me already. He got what he wanted and now he’s going to ditch me. But he said he would come and visit again…ugh, I don’t know what to think.

But in less than 12 hours, she’d know for sure, either way. Her flight was just after 8 that evening, putting her in Moscow and if she got her way, whatever bed Sam was staying in, around midnight.

If it turned out he didn’t want to see her again she could try and have a lovely few days in Moscow by herself, alternating between sightseeing and crying her eyes out, most likely. She didn’t want to say she was already more attached than was healthy, but she knew exactly why. Sam had been decent to her. Pathetic. All it took was him being nice, the bare minimum she should expect and she’d fallen so hard. He wasn’t even her type, not really.

You’re getting ahead of yourself. Why wouldn’t he be pleased to see you, and have an extra pair of hands to look for the library? I’ve already proven myself, in more ways than one.

Something she was justifiably nervous about was meeting Sam’s associates in Moscow, especially since at least one of them was a woman. Despite assuring her it was just a business relationship, Georgia was still a little suspicious. She’d find out soon enough exactly what the deal was between her and Sam.

***

Georgia had manage to cajole Alice, her workmate at the library to look after Meems while she was gone. All sorted out under the pretence that her mother wasn’t well and she had to go back to London for a few days, maybe longer. Playing the sympathy card.

She wasn’t that keen on Alice poking around her apartment, because she inevitably would want to nose around all her belongings, but there was nobody else available at such short notice. She made sure the little safe in her bedroom was definitely locked. The memory card Sam had retrieved for her was still tucked away inside, away from prying eyes. She certainly didn’t want anyone else getting their hands on that.

She decided not to tell her parents she was going to Russia. Just a few days, and she’d be back, safe and sound. Better not to say anything than have to lie to them.

Just a few days. That was the plan.

***

It was nearly 8pm. Georgia was sitting in Marco Polo airport departures with a coffee, waiting on the bing-bong that would announce her flight was ready to board.

She was turning the Avery coin over and over in her pocket. Sam thought he was so smart, leaving it on her living room table when she had done her utmost to give it back to him. We’ll see who’s laughing when I sneak this back to him in Russia.

Still no text from him, but she’d finally given in and messaged a minute ago, short and sweet.

I’m about to get on a flight to Moscow.

No response yet.

She was excited, but also extremely anxious. This was the most spontaneous thing she’d ever done. When leaving her apartment she’d had severe second thoughts, going so far as to shut the door and start walking back up the stairs. She’d had an argument with herself standing outside her neighbours. History was being made right now and this was her chance to be a part of it. To not be so bloody scared of the unknown anymore.

Eventually she’d turned around and walked downstairs again, not looking back this time.

***

“Miss Chapman?”

Georgia looked up from her book, startled. “Yes?”

Two men in stewards uniforms and hi-vis vests were standing in front of her.

“We have several empty seats in business class, and we’d like to upgrade you. Would you please follow us?”

“Uhm, okay…” She hadn’t heard the call to start boarding business class, must have zoned out for a minute thinking about the coin and missed it. Most of the seats near the gate already had people sitting in them, the flight looked pretty full. But why would you question the word of someone who was wearing a uniform?

She gathered her things and got up to follow them, sliding the coin into her jeans pocket.

Instead of taking her up to the gate that led onto the runway where the plane was waiting, they took her off to one side, through some doors and down a corridor that stretched off as far as she could see.

Georgia was puzzled. “Uh, where are we going?”

“This route is quicker, and you’ll be out on the runway in the cold for less time.”

Something wasn’t adding up here. They never let you go anywhere in an airport without seeing your passport first. She tried to remember, but they’d definitely only asked for her name, not for ID.

She was getting a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach, warning her that she wasn’t safe. Why were they taking her away from the rest of the passengers? Did these guys actually work for the airline?

Georgia thought back to the previous day when she was scouring through the Bessarion store in the library to look at Homer’s works, a man had turned up who Sam and Sully were definitely not happy to see. They had ‘dealt with him’ outside, whatever that meant. But what if that strange man wasn’t the only one who had travelled to Venice to thwart their plans?

There could be more of them.

They could be here.

I might really be in trouble.

How could I have been so stupid to go with them? So naïve?

Quick, make an excuse and go get help.

Georgia laughed nervously. “Oh fudge! I’m really sorry, I left my headphones on the seat back there, in the lounge, can I just-“

“We’ll have someone bring them to you.” The man on her left suddenly gripped her arm firmly. “We need to get you on the plane first, before the other passengers.”

Georgia felt like a cold metal vice was tightening around her stomach. She was definitely in danger. They were taking her out of sight for a reason.

Her eyes flicked downwards and she saw that the other man had a syringe in his hand and was in the process of slyly taking the plastic cap off.

Shit!

Run.

Georgia suddenly twisted and shoved her arm downwards, forcing the man on her left to let go. She took her chance and ducked to the side, twisting out of reach. Seeing the long stretch of corridor behind her, she turned and booked it.

There was pressure around her shoulders. One of them had grabbed onto her rucksack and was trying to drag her backwards. She struggled wildly so he couldn’t get a better grip, vaguely aware the other man was hanging back slightly, presumably so as not to stab himself with the needle intended for her. Whatever was in that syringe was bad news.

Georgia slipped her arms out of the straps, letting her bag drop to the floor and took off, sprinting as fast as she could back in the direction of the departure lounge. Her heart was pounding and her breathing ragged, she was terrified, these men were out to get her and were going to do God knows what to her.

It was all because of the library. It had to be. What else would make her a target to them? Who the Hell had Sam and Sully pissed off?

I should have stayed home.

Why did I have to follow Sam bloody Drake?

“Get her! Quickly!”

She thought she was going to make it, not far now, just a few more seconds and she’d be safe, she was about to burst back into the departure lounge, the Polizia would be called, the men would be arrested, everything would be fine.

She was stretching forwards, reaching for the handle on the door when one of the men grabbed her ponytail and jerked her back as she hissed in pain.

This is it, they’ve got me, I’m done for.

She was praying Sam would just show up, in the way that he usually did, out of nowhere in the nick of time. But as the two men pinned her down on the floor and silenced her, trying to keep her head still, it started to sink in she was truly alone.

Nobody’s coming to help me this time.

It felt no different than an insect bite on her neck. The same skin that was covered in bruises from Sam’s attention the night before. She winced, the liquid in the syringe was cold, and it stung.

The edges of her vision started going black instantly and she couldn’t work out where her limbs were anymore, or how to move them, she was helpless.

“That’s it, take it easy, just go to sleep.”

She opened her mouth to tell them both to fuck off but all that came out was a wordless gasp.

Before she slipped under completely she could only apologise in her head, over and over.

I am in so much shit.

Sam, I’m sorry.

***

Thanks for reading!

Notes regarding copyright etc yadda yadda yadda are at the end of Chapter 1, I’m not going to put them in every chapter

#sam drake #sam drake x female oc #sam drake x oc #uncharted fanfiction #sam drake fanfiction #long last #the golden library #my writing #my fanfiction #naughty dog #samuel drake

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trassellynn · 4 years

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Who would I have killed in CK if I were Bardugo?

Before starting, I would like to make clear those are my opinions and my ideas, that reflect how I work as a writer. I don’t want any flames under my post, I’m here just to express my thoughts, not to argue with people on social. I have no energy to argue. You’re all free to disagree, of course, that’s just my point of view. So… who would I have killed in Crooked Kingdom, among the seven main characters? My answer is… none. Just to be clear, I am usually okay with characters’ deaths, I kill characters in my stories too. But I think that none of the seven crows was complete enough to be killed after only two books. Those are my reasons: JESPER I heard some people saying “Jesper would have been a good character to kill off because he was the one who always put himself in danger.” Excuse me but no. First of all, Jesper was far away from being a complete character. He didn’t put himself in danger because he was an irresponsible idiot or a mere comic relief (and this way of thinking of a person with ADHD is nothing less than disgusting ableism, @elliotyulbo talked about this just yesterday). He is a deep, well written character (like all the other protagonists) and he is much more than the “Clown of the Group”. The main reason why his death would have been a big nope to me, is the thought he had few chapters from the ending: “If I die, I won’t disappoint people anymore, at least.” A character who still has these kind of thoughts in final chapters cannot be considered fully developed. He needed much more time to heal from his wounds, to finally be able to accept and forgive himself and to fix things in his life. There are other opinions, like “He is beloved by all his teammates, his death would have destroy them, yay, angst!” And again, no. Angst just for angst sake, with no reasons, ruins a story to me. Things must be done with sense and logic, especially in YA books. That’s why an hypothetical death of this character would have been a terrible mistake. MATTHIAS I discussed a lot about this in my (bitter) article “About that wrong thing” you can find in my account (I can link it, if anyone is interested). I’ll try to be quick then: Matthias had just started to develop. As I always say, it’s impossible to unlearn eighteen years of a toxic, shitty culture in less than a month. It’s about changing a whole way of thinking, it’s not something you can do in a finger snap! Yes, that was a shitty way of thinking, but still, it was everything he was taught since he was a child. And I think his development was more focused on Nina (and, at the Black Veil, also on Jesper and Kuwei) than other Grisha because he was still working in a “safe zone”. That’s what the majority of people (I think) do, when they have to change completely their point of view: proceeding gradually, starting from people and/or elements that are more familiar and close to them. Killing him in that way, after two books, left the entire character’s arc incomplete and disappointing. (And I personally hate the “being killed by a younger version of yourself” stuff, it gives me the idea of regression). It had been a huge waste of potential. And, as I always said, I will never change my idea about this. INEJ After everything she suffered, Inej deserved so much the chance to fulfill her dreams and fight against people like Tante Heleen, freeing all the innocents who shared her pains. She simply deserves it. She deserves a chance to heal in her own way, destroying monsters and helping their victims. Not to mention the fact she is one of the few heroines who sent a meaningful message, since she never put her own sake behind Kaz’s. She was willing to help him but she would have never sacrificed her own dreams and aspirations for him (I will talk about this again in my future analysis of SoC couples). There are so many female characters who zero themselves for their love interests, but Inej is not among them. Love must never be a cage and she demonstrated it in the best way. Killing her would have been cruel, unnecessary and I think it would have sent a very bad, sexist massage. Her ending was probably the only one I actually liked. WYLAN Wylan is another person who needs time to heal from the wounds of his past. He needs time to recover from everything his father did to him, to be free from his abusive figure, to recover the relationship with his mother. I am probably hypersensitive to this topic, but no child should feel stupid or useless for having one or more disturbs (and this is obviously valid for characters and persons). I would never kill a character who has just started to grow their self esteem after years of mistreatments. NINA Nina was probably the most complete character in SoC, but, after facing and winning an addiction, her powers changed, so she obviously needed to learn how to use them. I haven’t much to say, but this reason is enough to me: a big change, especially when it comes after great sufferings, needs time to be explored, or the entire character’s arc becomes useless. KUWEI Kuwei is basically the reason why the other six have been working together for two books. Killing him would have made everything vain. And if only Bardugo would stop to use him just as a comic relief, he could give a great contribute to the story, since he is involved with the Parem plot. He is not a meme character. He is a scientist and a young Grisha, he’s an interesting character who has many things to do, like training his powers and finding a cure for Parem. Come on, Bardugo, stop wasting your own characters’ potential! KAZ

Okay, Kaz is the one that, if only I was forced to kill someone, I would have picked. But as a first choice, I would have let him live too. I don’t think he will ever become a completely different person, he’s very broken and ruined inside, but I would have definitely chosen to give him a chance to work on himself and against his own demons, at least for a third book. (But without building him the unrealistic plot armors Bardugo gave him). So, here are my ideas. I think SoC would have been better as a trilogy so, in that case, maybe, killing one or more of them would have made sense. Please, don’t make flames under my post. Haters and rude persons will be ignored, so don’t waste your time.

#Six of Crows #Analisys #Kaz Brekker #Inej Ghafa #Jesper Fahey #Nina Zenik #Wylan Van Eck #Matthias Helvar #Kuwei Yul-Bo #Haters stay away #No death was necessary after only two books #They all suffered a lot #They all deserved better

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artoflifehealingarts · 3 years

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To be fully alive, fully human, & completely awake is to be continually thrown out of the nest. To live fully is to be always in no-man's land, to experience each moment as completely new and fresh. To live is to be willing to die over and over again. From the awakened point of view, that's life. #Death is wanting to hold on to what you have & have every #experience confirm you & congratulate you and make you feel completely together. So even though we say the yama mara is fear of death, it's actually fear of life. #PemaChodron

People wonder why things stew & why they take so long to get out & on with the next phases or seasons in life.

Many have been there. The mind circles round and round the same conversation, same good bye, same loss, same set of thoughts and for some nothing is let go. For others some but just enough to weigh them down every day more & more till they are dragging ass across the week, the year....their lives. At times believing to make progress only because they have escaped themselves for a while. But then getting right back to the weight of their dying. Because living in a sea of the past is not living.

We as a collective have as they say in the south: one foot in yesterday and the other in tomorrow so ya piss all over today.

(Get it? Male stance while peeing 😎😜)

And with each strand of energy that you send out to this or that, him or her, thinking about people that are not in the present space with you, thinking about words or events while driving sending energy to all those thought corpses. Bending over for the mind. Being the invisible ego's bitch (🐶)oh my...

#Energy going out of your energy body like fiber optic strands till it starts

Slowing you down

Day after day

Binding yourself to the past or a future that has not come yet

Confusing or rationalizing overthinking the future (which is lack of trust in yourself or the present) and wasting away bits and pieces of you.

#Feeling incomplete ...who knew ? ✌️😜

I live passionately but I release all the day consciously moment by moment receiving it all

✨Feasting vs #Dying

#Live #wildandfree #release it all

#freedom #adulting #quotes

#quote #horses #spiritualawakening

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chloe-clegane · 4 years

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My Devotion and Mah Protection, Our Love - Chapter 3

These Precious Family Moments

Summary - Now that they've arrived it's time to spend a bit more time with family.

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AO3

The morning after they arrived Rayla was woken up by a peppering of kisses on her face and neck. Callum was on his side beside her under the covers and his hand was grazing the hem of her night shift. Her clean nice smelling hadn’t been traveling for a week and a half nightshirt.

“Goo’mornin’ to you too” She giggled.

He mumbled good morning while kissing her neck. She stretched her arms and tried to shake off the remnants of sleep. Then she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss.

“Campin’ was nice and all, but I like clean sheets.” She rubbed her arms and body against the bed to emphasize.

“You know? I think I can agree with that” He kissed her again and then looked at her with what is arguably her favorite grin, wicked licentious prince grin (although she assumed that that name was unsalvagable after yesterday). She hummed her happy contented hum and bit her lip. That was the approval Callum had been waiting for and his hands pushed the fabric up and out of his way. He moved his peppery kisses down from her chest and past her stomach and they turned slow and purposeful the lower then got. She shifted her legs open for him and he repositioned himself. Then he stopped and looked at her with a smirk. “You know the sheets aren’t the only thing that’s fresh and clean”

“RUDE!” She moved to kick him but be grabbed her arse and she laughed. Then without warning, he licked her opening and she moaned louder than she would have preferred. She could feel the cocky grin from between her legs. He moved his tongue back and forth and up and down. She laced her fingers in his hair and settled into the very welcome wakeup call. She sighed and gasped every time he flicked that sweet little bundle of nerves. She felt her leg twitch and the tingling sensation built from her back. She did her best to control the volume of the “oooohhhhh” that left her lips. “Callum-OOHH!” after she came down from the high she tried to catch her breath. He kissed the inside of her thigh a few more times.

“Did you like that? I couldn’t really tell.” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and had stupidest smug grin oh his face. Stupidly cute.

“Oh shut up!” She slapped him playfully with a pillow. It quickly devolved into tickling, squealing, and giggling. They just ended up making out.

He pulled away to look at her. “You know we slept in right? Half the day is already gone.”

“Seriously?” She looked out the window, the sun did in fact seem high in the sky

“Let’s get up! I want to do something important today” He jumped out of bed and started pulling his clothes on while he spoke. “You stay here, freshen up, get dressed and I’ll go get us some breakfast-er lunch... Lunfast?” he looked thoughtful.

“Mah people call it brunch... ya weird human”

“Oh… That sounds better than my version”

She rolled her eyes “ok go get food, I’ll get ready.” She muttered about him being a goober as he left.

Rayla lounged in the bed for a few more minutes enjoying her post-orgasm gladness. She looked around the room in the light of day. She’d only been to Katolis two other times with Callum since the original visit. Both of those times she had been sneaking into his room to sleep at night and then returning to her own before a soul could see. They were always much more careful here and at the Silvergrove than they were anywhere else. So now she looked around the room and took it in.

She got up, washed her face and changed her clothes. She looked around at the sketches, tracing her fingers over them, there were so many. It was interesting that during their infrequent and arguably short visits he hasn’t seemed to change anything. These 4 walls were a time capsuled of his life before… all of it changed. The desk was cleared off but things were sticking out of the drawers she opened one. It was more sketches. Some were funny little cartoons. One weird one looked like a marshmallow dessert man being burned, or she supposed, toasted alive by a Dragon. It made her smile because it was exactly the kooky humor she’d fallen in love with. She returned it and closed the drawer.

She made her way over to the wardrobe, she’d seen this before, she put a few things in it last night. But she looked and pushed to the back at the clothes he’d grown out of.

“Hey are you being creepy?” he was amused.

“No! Just picturin’ yer life, before I met you.” She smiled, and she knew it must look sappy.

He sat down the tray “Hey we both know my life was incomplete without you so whatever.” he smiled and directed her towards the food. “Eat!”

She japed about not sharing because he’d already eaten breakfast. He told her that although she is delicious, she was also not very filling.

They rode into the burial site of the kings and queens of Katolis. The clifts were adorned with giant statues of long-gone rulers. It was a little intimidating but also somehow peaceful. Rayla had been here one other time. Her first time to Katolis as an actual visitor. They had come for the winter holiday. Part of the festivities was paying respects to the late Queen Sarai, it was her birthday. They had come in the snow at sunset, they lit up her statue with candles. Her sons laid out jelly tarts as an offering, poppyseed and honey, her favorite.

That was the first time they had to carry out this tradition without their father. It added an additional layer of hurt for Callum and a new kind of hurt for his brother. Candles were lit for both their parents now. They had stayed long after the courtiers and townsfolk had left. In the candlelight, Callum had introduced her to his mother. It was a sad, bittersweet moment. Rayla had wiped his tears and held not only Callum but Ezran too. Together, the three of them stayed wrapped in a blanket eating dessert while Callum told stories. Rayla knew Ezran had heard them before but it was the way the young boy learned to mourn the woman he never got to know.

This time it was in the light of day and not flame. When they arrived at Queen Sarai’s statue they dismounted. Rayla stood looking up at the effigy, her hand outstretched, her face captured her compassion. Callum reached for Rayla’s hand and brought her out of her trance. She smiled sadly at him and they approached the statue and knelt before it. Quietly Callum removed two candles and some jelly tarts and laid them out. He used sun magic to light the candles with his fingers. Neither spoke for a few moments, she watched him intently. Finally, he took her hand and looked up at his mother.

“Hi, mom… I miss you, I think at this point you know I always do.” He paused and took a deep breath to keep himself steady. “You remember Rayla of course... from your birthday from a few years ago. Well… we have big news.” He looked at Rayla with a smile full of sorrow, she squeezed his hand. “We’re getting married mom. And I’m so happy, I want you to know that” Callum’s tears rolled down his cheeks but he kept his breath and voice controlled. It occurred to her that her own tears had begun to flow. “Mom, I think you would love her. She’s brave and kind, sorta like you. She loves me and looks out for me.” This time his voice was starting to break. She loved him so much and seeing him like this never failed to break her heart “Dad used to say that you made him better. She does the for me…” she rubbed his back while he wiped his tears. “I love you mom, I hope you like the jelly tarts” He finished his speech and let the flood gates open. Rayla held him while he cried, kissed his forehead as the swayed with the breeze. He eventually looked up at her and smiled.

“I love you Rayla”

“I love you too Callum” After that, they stayed for a while. She spoke a few words, at first it felt awkward to speak these kinds of things aloud, but she knew it meant the world to the person she loved. She looked at that kind face and asked for approval and promised to keep her son happy and to love him always. The expression on the statue was so soft and it was easy to imagine she was starring right back at her. Eventually, the tears dried and they headed back to the castle.

As they rode Rayla thought about her own parents. Trapped in some dark magic prison. Who knows if they were awake and aware or suspended in a silent coma… She hoped it was the latter. When Callum had watched the memory of her patents battle with Viren he saw the coins but really they knew nothing about them. Rayla had sat Ethari down and discussed it after the battle at the storm spire. It gave him faint hope, Runnan’s flower had never touched the bottom of the pool so he was convinced that Tiadrin and Lain were not the only ones trapped. The magic flower also had a soft glow, thus the dormant and not dead theory. Rayla had always felt hope was a double-edged sword, it brings comfort and reassurance but it also risked greater devastation and disappointment. So she did what she always does, shove it to the back of her mind and stop thinking about it.

By the time they made it back into the town Callum had broken the silence and returned to his usual goofy self.

“Hey Rayla,” he was grinning eagerly. “knock knock.”

“Nooooooooooo, I haaaaate these” she whined and tossed her head back.

“This one’s good I promise, c’mom” he pleaded.

She grumbled, “Who’s there?”.

“Banther” He was holding in a laugh like if you poked him too hard it would pop out.

“Banther who?” It came out as a sigh.

“Your banth-er falling down” He was cackling. She didn’t get the joke and just looked at him with a blank face. “Haha you know? Because Banther sounds like Pants-are” He was clearly pleased with himself. Laughing uncontrollably

“Uuuuugggggggghhhhhhh Callum, that’s the worst one!” She had her face in her palm “It’s so bad!”

He composed himself and smirked. “You just don’t understand my refined sense of humor,”.

She feigned surprise “Oh! Is that it then?”.

Suddenly a rock hit the ground forcefully in front of them, Rayla’s shadowpaw spooked but she tightened the reigns and looked where it had come from. A man stood in a doorway, scowling.

“Go back to Xadia you grubby monster!” Then he slammed the door.

Callum’s hand shot up to draw a rune but she grabbed his wrist. “It’s not worth it, let’s just hurry up.”

“Rayla that was a fucking rock!” He growled

“He threw it at the ground, not at me.” She tried to say it calmly but she knew her anxiety was slipping through.

“But-” he argued.

“I want tae go back, let’s go back... please” she was pleading with her eyes and her words.

He scowled and they picked up their pace.

When the arrived back at the castle he mumbled he was going to train. Rayla knew that just translated to I’m going to throw lightning at things until I feel better. It’s turned out to be a very emotional day… for both of them. The situation made her uncomfortable, she wanted to pull out her blades and teach him a lesson as much as Callum did. But it was just one angry old man.

As per her usual strategy, she let her fiance vent his frustrations for a half hour or so. Then she went to him, they talked through a few big-big feelings and he agreed that the visit to his mom had affected his temper, it flared more than it should have. After all, it was just one angry old man. They’ve dealt with much worse, they’re’s nothing to worry about.

After dinner, Ezran, Soren, Amaya, Janai, Callum, and Rayla were all spending time together in the royal family’s den. It was a cozy room with a large hearth. There were two couches near the fire with a small table between them, then there was a bigger table suitable for games with cushioned chairs. The room had a large bookshelf in one corner full of exciting novels, towards the bottom were children’s storybooks. Beside it was what looked like a toy chest and a bit cozy armchair, large enough for cuddling. Rayla imagined a very small Callum in the lap of an adoring woman, holding toys and listening to stories. She could picture that kind face that looked down at her today, looking down at a small boy with happy bright green eyes. That sweet little boy had become a wonderful man, now sitting in that same chair with his bare feet tucked under him, drawing in his sketchbook. She loved this man.

She smiled at him and then pulled herself out of her reverie. Right now Rayla had more important things to worry about. Beating Soren! She called her numbers and rolled the dice.

“HA!” She roared and pulled Soren’s loot towards her end of the table. Currently, it was a few coins, a candy bar, a leather bracelet, and a pretty rock.

“AGH! NO!” He whined.

“You ready tae admit defeat human?!” She knew she was grinning her intense competitive grin.

Soren was clearly working on some mental math. Based on how badly she was beating him, she could only imagine it wasn’t very good math. “Ok one more” He pulled a dagger from his boot and placed it on the table. It looked well made and had a mother of pearl inlay on the pommel. She’d gladly take this off her friend’s hands.

He called and rolled, his numbers were good. Rayla took a moment to contemplate the dice she would select from the pile. When all of a sudden there was a guard at the door.

“Excuse me, Your Majesty, there is a Moonshadow elf gentlemen here to see the Prince and his companion Rayla. Should I allow him in?” Rayla’s head whipped up, what? who?

Ezran looked up from the board game he’d been playing with Janai and Amaya “Yes of course. Bring him here”

“Very good Your Majesty” he closed the door. Everyone’s attention was brought away from what they were doing. Rayla tried to bring her mind back to the game, she called her numbers, threw her dice and then the door opened.

“YES I BEAT YOU! TAKE THAT RAYLA!” She barely heard Soren’s cries of victory or saw him pulling the pot across the table.

“ETHARI!” She jumped to her feet and ran to him. He caught her and they embraced. “What are you doin’ here?!”

“Rayla I got your letter and I left as soon as ah could. Ah had tae talk tae you in person” He held her shoulders and looked at her seriously.

“Wait, no!” Callum tried to get up out of the chair but the foot he was sitting on had fallen asleep and he tumbled forward. “Ethati you can’t say no or stop us from-”

“What are you talkin’ about?” Ethari looked confused and then laughed “I’m not here tae stop you both” He hugged her again. “Ah needed to tell you congratulations in person. Plus you said nothing of when the weddin’ would be, ah was afraid ah would miss it.”

“Aghhhh that tingles” Callum muttered, wiggling his toes while he sat on the floor “So we have your blessing then?”

“Callum you don’ need it.” He smiled sweetly “but yes. There is an energy that connects people, ah had that with Runnan and Rayla, your parents had it, ah see it in you two.” He had always been one to believe in greater forces in the world, trust instinct, and serendipity.

She held Ethari and tried not to cry. Oh, how she loathed crying in front of other people and it’s been happening far too often. She hadn’t anticipated him refusing but similar to Callum’s family, they expected some small amount of apprehension. She looked down at her Fiance agh, I love him sooooo muuuuch. Admittedly it was a very strang reaction to a grown man rolling around on the floor hissing and shaking his foot. He started pulling himself up and she grabbed him by his jacket and jerked him over into a hug with her Uncle. Rayla was so unbelievably happy it warmed her from the inside out.

Ezran spoke up, kind as always. “Ethari, welcome to our home, it’s good to meet you again.”

“Oh yes, and an impressive home it is” He bowed but Ezran urged him not to. “Ah thank you for receivin’ me like this, probably should have written ahead of time. Ah didn’t think about it until I had already left” he chuckled, made a face and knocked on his forehead.

“We’re going to be family soon, you’ll always be welcome here” Ez smiled so genuinely.

Rayla stood back a little and looked at her uncle, he was road-weary “You’ve been travelin’, you must be tired” Rayla started to fret. “Are you hungry?”

Ethari was never one to complain “Oh it’s alright, I just uh” Almost on cue his stomach rumbled and he shrugged.

Ezran spoke to the guard “Would you please ask Barius to make a plate for Ethari and bring it here. Please also see to it that a room is ready and a bath prepared”

Her uncle wiggled his eyebrows at Rayla and whispered “ah feel so fancy”

“You’ll get used tae it” she winked.

“Oh and bring some wine. I would like to toast our expanding family” Rayla tried not to laugh when Amaya mean mugged her nephew, when Ez saw it he recoiled “uh… and a cup of juice…” he looked deflated but Rayla winked at him.

Now it was Amaya’s turn to stand, Janai translated for her (she’d become very good at sigh language in the last few years). “Please sit with us and feel welcome” She pulled the extra chair out and gestured for him to sit. He thanked her and accepted, she returned to her own seat beside him. “We’ve never been formally introduced. I am Callum and Ezran’s aunt General Amaya, this is my girlfriend Janai, Queen of Lux Aurea”

Ethari’s eyes went wide and he scrambled to bow. Janai pinned his arm to the table and spoke for herself laughing. “No need to bow. If this was my royal court, or if I was my late sister it would be another story. I don’t need so much formality.”

“Yeah this is called the family den for a reason” Ezran pointed out. “Bowing is banned in this room”

“Oh, ah see, well I’ll be sure to respect the laws of the den.” her uncle smiled.

Amaya pointed at Callum with her thumb “I’m surprised you want her to marry this weirdo, I love him but still” She smirked. Rayla knew the teasing was still retribution for the licentious prince thing. Callum cried out about her being mean to him. They all fell into a friendly conversation after that.

Rayla came up behind Ethari, resting her chin on his head and wrapping her arms around his neck. She always forgets how much she missed him until they’re reunited. Her Uncle Ethari had a calming presence in her life. The person she would go to with her problems when her parents were gone. He would braid her hair and they would talk and talk. He placed his hand over hers and they swayed slightly. Without using words the two of them had a tender exchange. The distance was gone.

Callum had put his sketchbook away and pulled his armchair closer to the table. It was their turn to have a silent exchange. He was happy her uncle was here and he loved seeing her happy like this.

Soon a generous tray was brought for Ethari, it seems the cook wasn’t sure what to serve the elf and so he sent about four options. Along with the juice and wine, he also sent up a large batch of warm jelly tarts. Everyone ate and toasted the happy couple and they picked out another game that would accommodate the whole group.

Rayla finished her cup of wine and poured another small cup. While the board game rules were being explained. Rayla quietly took Ezran’s cup and swapped it with her own. She put her finger to her lips and winked. They shared a grin. Callum shot her a look that said do not get my baby brother drunk! She went and sat in his lap and whispered in his ear. “You saw nothing.” she kissed his cheek “it was just a wee bit” Ez grinned at her as he tried to drink the alcohol without making a face.

Callum pulled her close “You’re a bad influence”

“Yeah but you like it” she teased.

“You got me there. Hey Rayla?

“Yeah?”

“This ” He motioned with a look “feels perfect” They shared a warm smile and a loving kiss before being harassed by the group. His Aunt instructed the “Get a room”.

#My Devotion and Mah Protection Our Love #rayllum #older rayllum #myfics #rayllum fic #quality family time #Rayla and Soren best buddy hour #the dragon prince #ao3 #rayla #Callum #fanfic #my fics

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rkmason · 5 years

Photo

▰▰▰▰▰▰ MNET GLOBAL AUDITIONS, SEASON 5 ˟ STRONGEST SKILL ▰▰▰▰▰▰

minho doesn’t miss the occasional looks, the hushed whispers, the judgmental looks, and while there’s some support— questionable as it is because he thinks of how he hasn’t once confirmed that he left because of a girlfriend, because of protecting a girlfriend, he doesn’t want that to follow him. he doesn’t want to carry that weight because it won’t bring him down, it’ll bring mijoo down. she gave him her support, he knows this, she always has, but does he want to put her through this again? he’s moved on from one fight to another now and he’s glad he’s still going. there’s no knockout quite yet.

maybe he should be knocked out for making such a rush decision. again. fingers run through recently bleached locks and he wonders if they’ll kick him out just for not matching the picture he sent in of himself. can’t be helped, right? woke up and decided, sorry ma guess i’m going super saiyan again. all he can do now is thank the heavens his head isn’t burning, that his hair isn’t falling out, it doesn’t feel as dry as straw, and that it looks pretty good if he does say so himself.

hey, at least it’ll match well for his plans for later.

his palms are sweaty— great, now he’s thinking of eminem and 8 mile, not exactly the best timing for it— and he’s taking deep breaths as he waits his turn. anything could happen right now, this is mnet. from what he’s seen and what he’s heard of the last two seasons since he participated, since he knew what his friends went through, the editing is purely for entertainment. even the season he was on… the hype over the last finalist… back then, he was too focused on the fact that his partner didn’t get an offer to process everything else.

anything could happen… there’s stages of this and he doesn’t remember things being so intense years ago. the timeline has changed, the format, the style, the sheer amount of people here. he swears there’s as many people in his group right now as there was in the first round with him. that’s how it feels anyway.

‘a face in the crowd,’ different words haunt him now and he can’t remember a time when he let the past work him up like this. he’s anxious but riled up, nervous but exhilarated to be on camera again, to hopefully feel the same rush one more time. eyes closing, he wills himself to focus on different words, on the lyrics he wrote, and the incomplete song that it is. there’s still a few things missing but this is what he wants to say, this is the message he wants heard.

the truth is, it might not make it to the people he wants it to reach. it might not make it past the cutting room floor. he could get cut off for even daring. short of posting the song himself, this is the best way he can think of, this is one more way he can let go, that he can hope others will let go too— the fans that said they don’t want to support sphere or convex orboth, to the fans that it upset, to the convex members who were hurt by this too. if there was a way for him to take that weight off of them too, he would do it. for mijoo.

no matter what’s happened, he’s thankful. no matter what, he’s at least a better person than he once was. when it comes to whether or not he’s a better performer this time around— guess it’s time to find out.

time is tickin’ time is tickin’ times have changed, streets have changed time is tickin’ time is tickin’ times have changed—

“my name is choi minho. thank you for giving me this opportunity,” he makes his words quick and bows before he can see if there’s recognition in anyone’s eyes. instead, he saves eye contact for when he lifts his head and grins, “i’ll get right to it, time is tickin, right?”

he changed his mind about the song so many times he was starting to get whiplash or maybe it’s the nerves again keeping the back of his neck tense. probably that, he knows, but when he thinks of the ripped pages, the spilled ink, and the long nights, he thinks… how long has it been since he did this? it should be common now, the norm, but he doesn’t give nearly enough effort at all times and he wants to change that.

the first step was letting go, now the second is to change. [1:40 to 2:30]

i forgot about the yesterday i ruined, ripped up the calendar my dream was to be a leader, not a follower changing my mind, finally coming at ya i don’t want to be the winner, my goal is to defeat myself winning is in me, no (in) everything, no (in) the world

it was his choice, his decision, and he can’t think of a single reason why he wouldn’t own up to it one day— but he does have a few reasons for not holding on anymore. because he can’t go back, because he can’t fix what’s already happened. [time travel is too messy anyway, every movie says so] he did certain things because it was expected of him, followed certain paths because he thought it was the right one, the only one, but if life’s taught him anything, it’s that he can keep going. minds change, song choices change, group lineups change, but all he needs to do is keep going and things will happen.

he doesn’t have to win, that’s not what this is about. no, instead what he’s here for is what he says next.

yeah, i had all the gold and jewels, i had good opportunities* i ended good relationships and i still have good people around me shout out to yall, shout out to mnet, shout out to nova, hyun bin shout out to convex, sphere, baek jiyoung, uh shout out to my family, shout out to you

for years, he’s been stagnant. for years, he’s still been lucky. opportunities here and there when he could’ve hustled harder for them, could’ve done more, and so he’s thankful. relationships that have fallen because of him, he still wants them to know he knows what he’s been given. the words he was told on his last day in sphere, as a convex member, this time, it’s those words that come to mind but he’s not haunted. instead, he hopes that guy is watching— that he hears the honesty in his voice, the sincerity in his tone.

without them, i wouldn’t have become the person i am today probably bboybyu would be walking the streets as choi minho, bringing shame to my parents and if that were me, where would i go, thanks for y’all

the choi minho before he moved to seoul— that choi minho wouldn’t be here today. no, that guy would’ve run, avoided responsibility and hid away until all was clear. but this one? this is the choi minho he’s become. the “fine young man” he’s still surprised his father thinks he is. this is a guy who is still struggling to light the fire inside him on his own but he’ll be damned if anyone can’t tell he’s at least trying.

this isn’t his usual style. the rapping is a different technique, a different rhythm, and he’s still finding his voice as he does his best to use it. even if this doesn’t air, he tried. he’s trying. he’ll try again. he’ll change his method even if the messages stay the same, at least for this song:

of course my fans, my friends, the people around me are my inspiration this will never change, no matter what

in the end, when he bows one more time and lifts his head, what’s changed is him and the smile on his face, gentle, softer, a little more sad. if only he could perform this for a few certain people too.

PROFILE / SKILLS / ARRIVAL / 1ST SKILL / INTERVIEW / BONUS SKILL / 2ND SKILL

#rkmga5 #rkmga5audition2 #[you can queue it put your back into it]#rkmga5audition

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ulqueleleh · 6 years

Text

Remains of a Heart

Voltron | Ghost AU | Keith x Shiro

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

Summary: His gray eyes seemed to sparkle lively even without the light of the lantern, and his expression was all serious, with an almost invisible curve in the corner of his lips.

Chapter 3: The Ghost

Chapter summary: He glanced, not catching anything unusual, and turned his head more to see it entirely, feeling his mouth dry up at the almost smile and the proud light in the eyes.

Read on AO3

It had been a horrible night. To fall asleep in the darkness of his bedroom had been difficult, and the few times he was able to, he was woken up in cold sweat, the sudden memories of the man at the window, of the thunderstorm roaring for attention, of the gray eyes that stared at him so gently appeared behind his eyes.

“Keith Kogane!”

He startled, frightened, opening the eyes to find his teacher beside his desk, glaring at him with impatience.

“I’m sorry; did I wake you up from your nap?”

The laughter of all his classmates made him wince; shrugging between his shoulders at the big, mocking smile Pidge was in her face.

The bell rang, everybody getting up from their seats while the teacher keep yelling the instructions for the homework. Keith picked up his stuff slowly, growling at the weariness that heaved his eyelids down, and received a punch in the shoulder that, judging from the mad precision that made him suffer a severe pain, was from the little one.

“What’s wrong, Red?” She asked seating in his table with easiness whilst he finished putting his notebooks in the backpack, “You look gross.”

“Thank you, Pidge” he answered with a sigh, “I couldn’t sleep last night.”

Pidge analyzed him close his backpack and hang it in his shoulder, her glasses slipping to the tip of her nose.

“Is it because of the 39th house?” she asked, too much seriousness shadowing her voice.

“Uh…” He doubted, shaking his head, “No, that isn’t…”

“Because” Pidge interrupted coming back to her feet, looking at some point in the sky with some thoughtful air, “certainly, that painting was spine-chilling, wasn’t it? I know there was something weird with it.

Keith looked at her, unbelieving, and shook his head again thinking he imagined that.

“Really?” he asked in a little voice, gaining an exaggerated nod.

“I mean” Pidge continued, rubbing her chin, “I didn’t tell anyone… but I actually saw something in the hallway.”

Keith blinked, feeling scared for a second before feeling relief; he wasn’t the only one who noticed.

Then all that happened wasn’t his imagination.

“W-what?” he stuttered, having to cough to clear his throat, “What did you see, Pidge?”

She hummed, glancing at him as if she was wondering if she could trust him.

“Well, I saw…” started with caution, Keith getting close at the low volume of her voice, “the painting…”

Move? Smile? Transforming into a dreadful version of itself?

Keith had to contain the craving to ask, the anxiety rotting his senses more at each second passing. And felt time itself stopping when she opened her mouth to finish.

“Jump”

A shout in is ear made him jump away, tripping with his table and losing his backpack to the ground in a thud. The laugh of Pigde deafened him for a second, being slow to recognize the other laughter and the yell that frighten him.

“You would’ve seen your face!” Lance exclaimed between laughs, holding his head with a hand.

“You are so mature” he spitted with sarcasm, giving Pidge a derogative look while she laughed holding her stomach.

“It was so awesome” the little giggled, taking of her glasses to wipe her eyes, “You really got scared, didn’t ya?”

“It looks like Kogane is scared of soldiers” Lance teased recovering his breath, “I wonder how the hell you are going to join the army.”

“I wonder if he will be afraid of my brother when he returns” Pidge mocked him putting her glasses on, “But don’t worry; you have some months to overcome your fear.”

Keith glared them, wrinkling his nose in disgust and crossing his arms.

“Or maybe Matt won’t be a soldier per se” Lance pointed out, “Maybe he’ll scare Keith just a little.”

“I’m not afraid of soldiers” he grumbled, getting more annoyed as that sounded ridiculous at his attempt to clarify it seriously.

“Yeah, sure”

“I bet he’ll panic in the army with soldiers everywhere”, Lance continued after the sarcastic response.

“I bet he’ll freak out every time he sees himself in the mirror”, Pidge formulated smartly with a mocking smile, Lance laughing out loud one more time.

“Forget it”, Keith mumbled, pulling his backpack over his shoulder and hitting Lance with it as he walked out the classroom.

“I bet he’ll scream every time he sees his own picture.”

“Oh, poor Keith, he’s scared of himself.”

He walked away in the hallway, being chased by the laughs of his friends, and he was reached by Lance really fast, putting himself in front of Keith to stop him.

“Hey, calm down, dude”, he said grabbing his shoulder, still laughing through breaths, “We’re just kidding”.

“Yes, don’t be so strict”, Pidge commented making Lance snort.

“Whatever”, he huffed, pushing away his arm to continue walking. He hoped Hunk and Allura were in the front of the school already, at least they weren’t such idiots.

“Okay, wait”, Lance stopped him one more time, the touch in his shoulder being a really big nuisance, “You can go, but give me my lantern back.”

Keith froze before he could push him, frowning deeply.

“What?”

Lance pursued his lips, one of his eyebrows going up.

“My lantern”, he repeated, Keith looking his hand opened to him, “I borrow it to you before we got into the haunted house, Keith. My lantern.”

Keith blinked, dumbfounded, and opened his mouth a little, doubting what to say.

“Lance, uh…”

He felt his eye tick, Pidge’s eyes going from one to another with interest.

“I… think I lost your lantern”, he confessed.

Lance huffed, making him look at him and disconcert at his forced smile.

“You lost it?” he asked incredulous, shaking his head a little, “How did you…?”

Lance quieted, the words getting lost in the air at the same time his face got serious, and Keith tensed at a snort, glancing Pidge rapidly and finding her as confused as he was.

“You lost it in the house, didn’t you?” Lance said putting his hands in his pockets, a playful smile in his mouth.

Keith nodded slowly, thinking it was better not to speak.

“Good.”

His eyebrows joined in consternation at the naughty light in Lance’s eyes, and he heard Pidge snort.

“Oh, no” he gasped shaking his head, aware of the air both had between them and knowing what they were thinking, “No, no, no, no, no, no.”

“What?” Lance asked with innocent tone.

“We haven’t said anything” Pidge said with the same voice, exchanging conspiratorially looks with the taller one.

“I’ll not go back in there” he murmured feeling his throat dry, a shiver making him tremble because of the memory of the previous day and the horrible scare he suffered the night before, so he repeated louder, “I’ll not go back in there.”

“But, Keith” Lance started with a friendly semblance, his arm hugging his shoulders and smiling at him, “You left my lantern.”

“You have another three!”

“They came together as a package!”

He groaned, lifting his arms in frustration.

“Lance, please” he pleaded, letting go from his passive-aggressive hug, “Yesterday… that…”

“Are you scared, Red?”

He glared at Pidge and her unwavering malicious smile.

“I’m not…” he wanted to argument.

But it wasn’t true.

He was scared.

“Are you scared of the little soldier, Kogane?”

Opening his mouth and closing it again, he squeezed his fists and bit his tongue.

“You are such…”

“Finish the sentence, Red” Pidge threatened, the creepiest smile in the whole fucking world pulling the corner of her lips.

And yes, creepier than stupid ghosts.

“I’ll go for your stupid lantern” he spitted, pushing him to pass, hearing him laugh and follow.

“Don’t worry, Keith” Lance said as he joined his trot, with Pidge hardly following their pace, “I’m sure sir soldier will return it to you kindly.”

He felt his nose wrinkle at their too loud laughs, and he prayed all that things he saw and felt the day before were just his imagination.

Oh, how wrong he was.

“Come on, Red! You can do it!” the dwarf shouted from the above the old wood fence, Lance laughing out loud.

“Guys, I don’t think this is a good idea…” he heard Hunk behind him in the safety of the sidewalk.

“At least someone should accompany him” Allura said, clearly anguished.

And, as the girl expected, as well as everybody actually, Lance crossed the forgotten garden, giving Keith a too hard slap in the back, the boy still motionless in the front of the house.

“Come on, bro.”

Keith didn’t answer.”

“I said: COME ON!”

He got a push, stumbling ungraciously into the door opening without resistance, and falling in the floor inside the house.

“Oh, I’m sorry, too harsh?” Lance bugged him from behind, hearing Pidge laugh and Hunk and Allura scold him loudly.

He rolled his eyes, huffing and lifting dust from the floor in front of his face, the smell of it a little too old for his nose.

“You’re insufferable” he complained getting up and shaking off the dust on his clothes, ignoring the stupid answer from Lance to look around.

It didn’t seem like the same house they explored the evening before, an emptier aura more than a scarier one, being decorated by dust specks and the light getting in from the windows and the holes in the walls.

He swallowed with difficulty, this time around a not, and nibbled his lower lip as he encouraged himself to take a step inside. The wood underneath his weight crunched painfully whilst he entered the hall, looking briefly to the room on his right; a small living room with a broken-down armchair, in the back it seemed to be an incomplete bar, with empty glasses and bottles abandoned in the shelf.

He turned his head to the left with caution, catching a glance of what looked like the dining room and kitchen, both empty and with a rug covered with dirty fluff. He got his eyes to the front, to the hallway, and recognized the frame of the painting in the wall, aligned with some other framed pictures, old and forgotten where the faces couldn’t been seen. He shot glances around and keep moving forward, Lance still going on about complains to his person.

“And now it turns out that although I do the duty of accompanying you here, you nag about my help.”

“You only do it for Allura” he commented with no heat behind, to immerse in walking slowly in the hallway.

“Excuse me?” he let out, not moving from the principal entrance and gesturing with his hands exaggeratedly, “Do you actually see me as a profit-seeker? You have absolutely no sensibility at the feelings of someone, do you?”

He rolled his eyes.

“I’ve been trying to have at least one date since so long, and it’s not only because of her beauty or popularity. No. She’s just so gorgeous and strong and intelligent. It’s not merely interest, Keith. But how could a virgin like you understand it? You’ve never had a girlfriend! Or boyfriend. Whatever. You’ll never have one, surely, with that damned attitude of yours…”

He preferred to ignore him, this time speeding up his steps even if his courage wasn’t ready, and the annoying noise from the entrance stopped reaching his ears just as he entered the point of view of the painting. Keith stopped against his will in front of it, the blood going cold all of the sudden and the color of his face running away instantly. He felt cold and the urge to see the portrait to check the face was more than his own bravery.

He glanced, not catching anything unusual, and turned his head more to see it entirely, feeling his mouth dry up at the almost smile and the proud light in the eyes.

He hadn’t noticed last evening among shadows, but the man painted in acrylic looked like someone incredible, with the numerous medals hanging in his chest and the military uniform tailored. With the fine and strong jawline and the straight, firm shoulders. With the lips slightly curved in serenity and the black bang falling and raising funnily from his forehead. With those gray irises, clear and soft, and the golden stripes of light that shined on the portrait because of the sunlight entering through the window.

He had to swallow, looking away to be able to breathe, his own heartbeat hitting his eardrums taking him away from the reality.

“Keith!”

He tensed, turning to face Lance’s annoying voice.

“What are you doing?! Are you at least listening to me?!”

He rolled his eyes, again, and preferred to ignore it, again. And Keith continued walking, trying to get that feeling away from him and finding the little lantern thrown in front of one of the doors by the end of the hallway, still on and pointing to the wall.

“I found it” he told Lance, grateful to interrupt his complains.

“Finally!” he heard him wail from the entrance, “I’m starving here, you know!”

Keith huffed as a wave of complains filled the hallway filled one more time, and the leaned to take the lantern turning it off.

Without the little extra light, he noticed a stripe of light coming out from the room, gasping when he recognized it was the same room that had a perfect view from his own bedroom window.

He raised his eyes through the light, his gaze adjusting to the abrupt change of light from a poorly illuminated hallway to a full of orange sunlight entering from the windows room. He immediately lost his breath.

In the midst of shines of dust, a translucent figure stood by the window, being pierced by the orange light coloring the lifeless wood of the floor. It floated up and down in a slight and slow motion, almost peaceful, and the gray eyes, as clear and bright as in the portrait but incredible gentle and melancholic, were lost in the distance through the glass.

Its reflection couldn’t be seen in the window even though his clothes were all black and close-fitting to his body, his white hair sparkling orange and raising gracefully in every barely there move.

And this time Keith could see clearly the lack of his right arm, it’s short sleeve hanging motionless from his shoulder.

The lantern hit the floor, and the transparent eyes stilled on him, and Keith gasped from seeing his face entirely, being crossed by the scar over his nose and cheeks. And at the sight of his irises being rounded in astonishment, his jaw dropped with wonder, unable to even think to break the connection their gazes made.

“Keith!”

Startled, he dropped his eyes slightly to glare at Lance, but that half second where he regretted to turn away from the inside of that room and tried to find again those gray eyes was the worst mistake he could make.

He hurried to push the door with his weight, peeking desperately inside the abandoned and enlightened room and the specks of dust stirring with the movement of the air, the smell of old and unused being now too strong. He blinked a few times before falling to his heels, defeated, looking intently into the empty room, with only a pair of old nightstands and torn-apart curtains.

He looked at it, feeling lost, incredulous, and unable to comprehend what just happened before his eyes.

“What the fuck are you doing, Kogane?!”

He clenched his fists, resisting the impulse of throwing him the little lantern straight to his face only to make him shut up. But, even when the distance wasn’t the problem to give him an accurate hit to Lance’s nose, he couldn’t allow himself to get into trouble, again.

“Shut up”, he jabbered getting to his feet, not even saying it to loud for Lance to hear him from the entrance.

“What?! Speak up, Little Red Riding Hood!”

And, while his stupid friend keep yelling at him, going on and on about who knows what kind of things about his shitty attitude, Keith couldn’t keep his gaze away the empty room before him, lost in a gray so beautiful it did not require any color to leave him restless.

#voltron #voltron fanfic #vld #vld keith #Keith #Keith Kogane #Sheith #Ghost au #my ghost fic #my ghost fanfic #voltron fic #Remains of a Heart

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natacular · 6 years

Text

dialovers christmas 2017 tweets under the cut! I wasnt very confident about one or two of them but here ya go

Carla: No matter what order we give, if it is an order from a Founder, it absolutely must be carried out.

Carla: My father appeared to me in a dream, and I had this revelation. I have to meet his expectations.

Carla: Shin, prepare the following as soon as possible.

Carla: -A red jacket and trousers. If they have white hemming then that would be good. -A red hat, with some white cotton at the end. -A black belt -Boots -A white beard -A big white sack

Carla: -Antlers -A brown kigurumi -A red nose

Shin: Nii-san, are you still half asleep......

Shin: Even if Father told you to do it, it was a dream after all?

Shin: But when he gets like this, it's impossible to stop him

Shin: (quoting carla's tweet that mentioned the kigurumi) Come to think of it, this kigurumi......

Shin: Somehow I have a really bad feeling about this

Kou: I saw a really funny Santa and reindeer in town just now~

Kou: We took lots of pictures together (◍＞◡＜◍)

Kou: I'll send them to Ruki-kun and the others...And Subaru-kun too!

Kou: But I got a feeling that I've heard their voices before. I wonder where I've heard it?

Subaru: Kou is annoying

Subaru: What about "Merry Christmas". I don't need his picture

Subaru: Anyway the Santa and reindeer that he took the picture with are both too intimidating

Subaru: Delete

Ruki: My younger brothers are acting so merry that it's troublesome.

Ruki: I said that the Christmas presents remain under the tree until after dinner, and that we can open them after dinner is over...

Ruki: I must tell them again when I get back.

Reiji: Just recently, a rather arrogant Santa Claus delivered gifts to our house.

Reiji: They are scarves of considerably fine quality. But how did he know the exact number of people......?

Reiji: It's a bit ominous, but it would be a waste to throw them away. First I will give these to my brothers and then observe the state of affairs.

Yuma: There was some space in the field, so I cultivated the land a bit

Yuma: If I use fertilizer then the soil will be good

Yuma: Anyway, what was up with the scarf that Azusa was holding earlier?

Azusa: Santa-san, brought me a present......

Azusa: It's a warm...scarf......

Azusa: Maybe I should......put it around the snowman I made yesterday......

Laito: Speaking of Christmas, you think of Santa but......Reindeer aren't bad either

Laito: Don't you think those horns are a pretty good shape?

Laito: Nfu. Today a weird Santa came to our house with a reindeer that had horns that Bitch-chan would have liked

Laito: Girls like cute things made of felt too, don't they?

Shu: Blanket

Shu: is what I thought but it's a big scarf

Ayato: I just found Santa!

Ayato: But what Yours Truly wants isn't a scarf!

Ayato: If you bring me something weird next time, I'll rip your beard off!

Kanato: If I wrap it like this, my mouth is hidden

Kanato: It's difficult to eat sweets

Kanato: I don't need this scarf

Kino: Isn't it out of character for Santa to come in through the front door?

*When Kino said “out of character”, he used a shortened slang word for it, so it was like he said “OOC” which makes me smile shjdgdgsdfgh...Kino called Carla OOC.........thats too good

Kino: Anyway, I'm pretty sure I know who's inside [the costume].

Kino: I'll accept what I was given, but I wish it had been gloves with touchscreen support.

Shin: Finally delivered everything......

Shin: I think it would've been fine if we half-assed what we gave them, but he said "What the Founders prepare cannot be incomplete"

Shin: Well, it would piss me off to only deliver weird gifts (?)

Shin: It was the brand of scarf that Nii-san is interested in, and Nii-san and I especially picked them out too, so they shouldn't have any complaints

#nat.txt #diabolik lovers #dialovers #translations

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imaginetonyandbucky · 7 years

Note

During his time on the run, Bucky accidentally got caught up in a crisis where the Avengers got called in and was rescued by Iron Man, who thought he was just a random (albeit cute) civilian. Bucky doesn't have the heart to tell him he wasn't really in danger, being a super soldier and all. Besides, it felt nice to be rescued and cared for (especially when his rescuer was admittedly kind of hot). Later when he joins the team he constantly refers to Tony as his hero just to make him blush.

My Hero

xxxBuckyxxx

“Sorry, dear, noplums. They’re a bit out of season,” the elder lady says, clearly too polite toimmediately tell me I’m stupid.

Not only are plumsout of season, but only an idiot or brainwashed, former HYDRA assassin from the40’s could ask for plums on an early spring farmer’s market. In Canada.

Ontario goddamn Canada!

Why did I move hereagain? Oh…because HYDRA was hot on my tail in Czechia, Steve and his pal almostgot me in Peru and I’m not even going to comment on what happened in Malaysia.So I thought Canada would be a perfect hideout for a moment. Too cold and tooclose to the US for my liking – something HYDRA would think as well. No HYDRAspotted for a month proves my theory correct.

No HYDRA but alsono plums. What a terrible trade-off.

“I have somesplendid, delicious apples though!”

“Thank you, I’llhave a pound or two,” I cave in underneath her bargaining skills and end upwith a bag full of admittedly nice, golden apples. They’ll have to do. I’mmoving back to Europe after I overstay my welcome here, that’s for sure.

“Is that a bird?”the elder asks, frowning at the sky.

I glance around myshoulder to see what she’s looking at and thatis not a bird! I grab my apples and the granny and jump out of the way of whatlooks like some kinda falling space debris.

Are the Russiansdecommissioning more space stuff?

Seconds later, thegranny’s stall is blasted off by the impact, the fruits and veggies flyingeverywhere.

I half-carry her tothe nearest store, kick open the door and push her in there. “Go inside!”

The square issuddenly in complete chaos, everyone’s running around, screaming, tripping overeach other. It’s just a falling debris people, calm the fu –

Why is the debrismoving?!

“Ow! You did thaton purpose didn’t you, J?! Nah uh! Don’t even, you little…just wait till I getback!” the not-debris rants, limbs struggling to untangle from the crash-landedmess.

(read-more ahead!)

Sound of very distinct,clear buzz of engines roars through the air and in a speedy landing maneuver, acompact flying craft I recognize only too well touches the ground at thefarthest side of the large square.

Great. Whenever Idodge HYDRA I end up with the Avengers. Can’t a guy get a month just tohimself?! Hell, a week at least!

“Watch out!”

I was beingmetaphorical about the whole dodging business, but leave it to that flyingpiece of junk that destroyed poor granny’s stall to smash into me full force, sendingus flying sideways.

Red, gold, flyingand metal – I don’t need the Winter Soldier’s restless presence at the back ofmy mind to tell me who just almost knocked the lights outta me.

Tony Stark. The Iron Man. Threat level: High. Captureor kill.

HYDRA’s little memoneeds to be updated. Threat level high?! Romanov is a high level threat, CaptainAmerica is a high level threat…Iron Man is a damn menace, ultra hazard to one’slife and market stalls!

The dust clearsafter our unceremonious landing and I’m left staring into wild hazel eyes of mywould-be savior. Okay, so maybe he did save me, seeing that the spot on thepavement I’ve been standing on two seconds ago is now a big smoking hole in thepavement. But that doesn’t change the fact that his one thousand pounds worthof metal is now squishing me to death…if I was just a random pedestrian and nota supersoldier, I’d be flat as a pancake by now.

Those expressiveeyes widen slightly and is that a blush right there?! “Sorry!” he blurts out,rolling off to finally let me breathe. “You okay?” he kneels next to me, metalfingers resting against my chest in a subtle gesture to keep me laying down.

I almost wanna rollmy eyes and tell him I’m the Winter goddamn Soldier, I most definitely didn’tneed saving and he doesn’t have to worry about me in the least!

Thing is, I am notthe Winter Soldier. I am Bucky Barnes and Bucky Barnes likes what he’s seeingright now very, very much. Talkin’ in third person too…great. HYDRA’s memoreally is useless; it completely forgot to mention how handsome Tony Stark is.Especially up close. Should have been listed in the threat level, to be honest.Damn HYDRA…

Stark frowns andsnaps his fingers in front of me. “Hey gorgeous, you still with me or what? Areyou hurt? Can you get up? D’you need a hand?”

“If it’s your handin marriage then yes, I need one,” I say before my brain can register thewords.

A startled chuckleescapes his lips – stop thinkin’ abouthis lips, Bucky! – and the blush intensifies. “You hit your head there,didn’t ya? Anyway, I gotta go. Have a date with funky alien projectile bugs.”

“I’ll fight themfor you.”

“Why thank you, buthow about I do the fighting and you do the staying low and safe, hm?” hesuggests, getting up.

“My hero,” I smirkup at him, starting to enjoy his flustered reaction.

“Stop flirting withcivilians and start blasting these things off!” some bow and arrow weirdoshouts from the top of a nearby statue causing Stark to roll his eyes.

“On it, Katniss!JARVIS! Where’s my helmet!” he yells and with a wink he disappears back intothe fray.

I jump back to myfeet and scatter out of the square that has now become a battlefield. Not thatI’d be threatened by…real funky alien projectile bugs. I could easily introducethem to my metal fist, but that would without a doubt not go unnoticed by theAvengers. I couldn’t dodge Iron Man but I’d rather not come face to face withany more Avengers, especially those that could recognize me.

I watch the fightfrom a safe distance, gaze lingering more and more on the red and gold flyingsuit of armor. A strange…fluffy feeling settles in my stomach, making theWinter Soldier all uncomfortable and growly and I honestly couldn’t care less. Fora fleeting moment there, I finally felt like Bucky Barnes. Not something inbetween or forgotten, incomplete.

One hundred percentBucky.

That’s part of whatI’ve been looking for these past few months on the run. Myself. Of course fatehas a sense of humor and would throw exactly that right in my face…or rather itthrew Tony Stark in my face and the rest just suddenly clicked into place.

Time to go back toEurope. And then…who knows.

xxxTonyxxx

Son of a bitch. Sonof a…okay, it’s probably my fault that I haven’t studied the Winter Soldier filesthoroughly enough and so wouldn’t be able to recognize Bucky Barnes even if Icrashed right into him.

Because that’sexactly what happened! I crashed right into him and did not recognize him.Smashed riiiiiiight into the Winter Soldier, thinking I was saving him. Me. Savingthe Winter Soldier. From some nasty alien critters he could probably squishwith his pinky.

Nope, it was worsethan that. I thought I just saved a random…cute…civilian. Cute!

I thought the WinterSoldier was cute! Steve’s bestgoddamn friend Bucky Barnes!

Who turned up atthe Tower a couple of days ago, after almost a year on the run. And few monthsafter our little impromptu meet & greet in Canada. The hell was he doing inCanada?!

Not that itmatters. What matters is the fact that the former HYDRA assassin, who strikesfear even in Natasha ninja Romanov when it comes to it, waltzed into the Towerafter being cleared by SHIELD, his trusty best pal Steve right next to him and oncehe greeted all the other Avengers and turned to me, that little bastard grinnedlike a madman and said:

“Oh hey, it’s myhero from Ontario! Hi there.”

He even made itrhyme…I was done! So done, I was…blushinglike an idiot. Tony Stark, blushing like an idiot in front of everyone. And theman who caused it seemed to be enjoying every second of it.

Damn him!

If only it were justthat one time but oh nooooo. Ever since then, he obviously made it his personalmission to throw that Canadian incident at me every chance he got.

“Ah! Thanks for brewing the coffee, it’s amazing! Stilla hero, even this early in the morning.”

“That’s it? The joint’s been drivin’ me nuts for daysand you just smack it with a screwdriver a couple times and it’s as good asnew? You’re my hero.”

“I’m just saying, for the record, JARVIS is a godsend!I’d be so lost without him. Guess the kudos goes to the superhero that createdhim. Super in every way and a hero through and through.”

Every. Chance. He.Got.

And he got me blushinglike a crazy teenager every time.

My hero.

He keeps calling methat like I am some kinda savior of his sent from the God above! From what Iremember, one of those damn bugs slammed into me mid-air and I plummeted downlike a comet…that’s hardly a divine intervention.

And I doubt he evenneeded saving! I watched him train with Rogers yesterday, he does not need saving, alright?

So here I am,sipping on my morning coffee, wondering how this is my life now. Can’t even goone day without him…without him…flirtingwith me? Is that what he’s doing? Why would he be doing that? With me? He’s the one that can make Thor andhis biceps run for his money. And me? I’m…not thirty anymore. Barely funny,barely…desirable. He’s probably just making fun of me and here I am, the foolwho’d think he’s actually interested in -

“Can ya open thefridge for me?”

“Hm,” I hum,automatically opening the fridge doors without looking at the newcomer.

Yeah. He’s makingfun of me, that must be it. I know Steve never really got over his dislike forme but at least he’s not being cruel about it. Bucky’s fucking savage about it!

“Thanks…my hero,”the person currently stuffing the fridge with vegetables whispers and I almostspit the coffee right there and then.

“Oh for fuck’ssake, you two! Get a room already or somethin’,” Clint complains, shoving twomore bags into Bucky’s arms to unload into the fridge.

“Since when isanyone around here going grocery shopping? That’s what deliveries are for!” Istare at the bags, not meeting their eyes because of course I’m blushing again!

“Shopping’s relaxin’,I love it! The local market’s the best. They’ve got plums,” he adds with asmall smile.

“Of course they’vegot plums, what do you mean? They’ve got everything! Welcome to the 21stcentury, Brooklyn boy.”

“Lovin’ the 21stcentury. So many…wonders around here these days.”

“Oooookay, that’sit!” I push the fridge close, making the supersoldier jump away. “You, out!” Iwave at Clint, who lingers curiously on the spot. “Out, now, Birdbrain!”

“Fine! Jeez, I’mgoing,” he mumbles and vanishes out of the kitchen.

“And you!” I pointmy finger at the startled man. “Are you done making fun of me?”

His upward quirk oflips fades at that. “What? Wait, I’m…how am I making fun of you?”

“You serious?!What, with all the ‘Oh Tony, you’re my hero! My savior!’ stuff?! How am Isupposed to understand that other than you making fun of me, hm?”

He widens his eyes,putting the bags down on the floor. “You think that I’m making fun of you…wheneverI call you that?” he asks and actually looks horrified, which in turn makes me horrified.

Oh oh. Did I screwup again? My brain to mouth filter, I swear to God…

“Yeah…? Yes. Aren’tyou? Because then I’m at a loss as to why would you call…uh…,” I stutter, eyinghim suspiciously as he walks closer, that small smile returning. “Me…uh…call methat. Why would you call me that,” I clear my throat.

“Why would I?” hechuckles. “Here I thought I was being so obvious and cheesy and…old-fashioned.Steve actually said I was being – and I quote – fucking stupid. Yes, he saidthat.”

“Obvious…stupid…what?”I blink in confusion.

“Obviously,stupidly in love,” he shrugs and looks away. “You look so cute and…oblivious wheneverI bring up Canada and…the whole ‘my hero’ thing. The blush looks good on ya soI figured I wouldn’t stop, just so that I could see it over and over again.”His smile drops again and suddenly he’s the shy one in the room. “If it’sbothering you I’m just gonna - ”

I’m a genius… or soI thought, until I’ve apparently completely missed the fact that yes, BuckyBarnes was flirting with me this whole time! Some genius I am…well, there’sstill hope for me yet.

So I kiss the manmid-sentence, putting a stop to any more blasphemous words coming out of thisgorgeous mouth.

“Not bothering me.At. All,” I whisper against his lips.

“Yeah I uh…kindagot that from the…the kiss,” he whispers back. “So…do I still get to call youmy hero whenever I want to?”

“Depends…do I getto kiss you whenever I want to?”

“I sure hope youwill,” he smirks, but it lacks his usual confidence. It’s shy and oh…why hellothere.

Turns out I’m notthe only one looking cute while blushing. Gonna have to do this a lot moreoften then, too…for science.

~Lantia

#winteriron #tony x bucky #tony stark #bucky barnes #post WS #no CACW #humor #fluff #Tony built the granny a new stall #happy endings everywhere #plums #cursing #prompts #lantia #Anonymous

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apathetic-revenant · 7 years

Text

by the skin of your teeth, part eleven

AO3

hey guys! this is a long one. pack a snack.

once again, no content warnings for this one except people dealing with the shit that’s already happened.

coupla notes:

1.) I feel sure I stole the idea of Fiddleford’s wife being named Madeline from someone, but I’m darned if I know who. so if I have committed accidental character name piracy against you, you have my sincerest apologies.

2.) I definitely stole the reference to incomplete penetrance in genetics from this post. kudos and thanks to @a-million-chromatic-dreams for knowing a lot more about genetics than I do (and to @eregyrn-falls for helping me find that again.)

3.) (I know I said it’d be a couple of notes. I lied.) this is not the end! there’s gonna be one more chapter. not a terribly long one, I don’t think, so hopefully it won’t take this long to update again. but I told you guys I’d tell you when it was over and it’s not over just yet.

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They took Ford home in the morning, under a strict prescription of bedrest and a lot of fluids. He had to lean on Stan most of the way out, but flatly refused any offer of a wheelchair.

“I'm fine,” he insisted doggedly. “Just...a little unsteady.”

“You thought you were dying yesterday,” Fiddleford put in helpfully.

Ford gave him a look that could have withered flowers. Stan had to jam a hand over his mouth to keep from laughing.

The trip back was considerably more sedate than the drive to the hospital had been, in large part because Fiddleford insisted on driving this time. Stan shrugged and got in the passenger seat. “I don't know what you're complaining about. I got us there quick.”

“We very nearly went off the side of a hill,” Fiddleford said, gripping the keys tighter than necessary at the memory. “Three times.”

“Yeah, but we didn't, did we?”

“Also,” Fiddleford continued, ignoring this, “I'm wearing my glasses.”

Stan grunted vaguely. “Ain't got glasses.”

He'd worn them intermittently over the past ten years; there were times when the need to see real well outweighed his dislike of looking like a nerd-oh, call it what it was, looking like Ford. Plus, they could make for a great disguise. Put a big pair of glasses on and it was amazing how people struggled to recognize you without them. But he'd lost his last good pair quite a while ago, and it was hard to make an appointment with an eye doctor when you were homeless and on the run.

“Maybe not, but you need them, don't you?” Fiddleford said. “I've seen you squinting at things.”

“Why do you care?”

“Because I don't want to die in a horrible car crash,” Fiddleford said calmly.

Stan shrugged and looked out the window. “You worry too much. I've been driving all over the country for the past ten years. My car's still in one piece and so am I.”

“That's not the same thing as not being in a horrible car crash,” Fiddleford pointed out.

Stan didn't feel the need to answer that one.

Despite his protestations, Ford promptly dozed off almost as soon as they got him into the car, and they made it back to his house with no more incident than having to stop for rabbits a few times. Stan roused Ford and helped him into the house, where he promptly staggered off towards the basement.

“Um, excuse me,” Stan said, as Ford headed for the the stairs. “Where do you think you're going?”

“The portal,” Ford said, as if this should have been obvious. “We have to take it apart.”

“Not right now this minute, we don't!” Stan said. He turned to Fiddleford. “We don't, do we?”

Fiddleford shrugged uneasily. “It's been down there all this time...I don't like it, but I don't see why a few more days should make any difference. As long as it's shut off. You did shut it off, didn't you?”

“Of course I shut it off,” Ford snapped, fumbling with the stairway door. “But as long as it's down there, it's a potential threat. If someone were to activate it...”

“Who's gonna activate it?” Stan gently-more or less-put himself between Ford and the door. “Look, Stanford, I get it, you wanna get rid of the thing, but you don't have to do it right now. Not anymore. Right now you're supposed to be in bed, remember?”

Ford faltered somewhat. “I...I have to...”

“Look at it this way,” Fiddleford said. “That's gonna be delicate work, dismantling that thing. If you try to do that now, while you're still sick, you're a lot more liable to make mistakes. It'd be safer to wait until you're doin' better.”

Ford slumped. His face gave away his exhaustion, but there was still a spark of desperate, driven panic in his eyes.

“Look,” Stan said. “I promise you, no one's gonna do anything to that portal while you're getting better, okay? I don't know who would, but if anyone tried, they'd have to go through me.”

And then, before he could stop himself, he added, “You can trust me.”

Ford opened his mouth and closed it again. Stan wished he hadn't said that; he could see the struggle written all over Ford's face, the force of deepset paranoia still not shaken. Trust no one. Trust no one.

But then, to his surprise, Ford nodded once and turned away from the door.

“Alright,” he said. “Alright...but as soon as...as soon as I can...”

“Yep,” Stan said, guiding his brother back towards the study with relief. “As soon as you can. But not any sooner.”

Once situated back in the study with the space heater and a lot of blankets, Ford's resolve wore out pretty quickly. Stan turned the lights down and left him sleeping soundly. Maybe it was just his imagination, but he thought that Ford was already starting to look better, despite his still-swollen eye and horrible pallor. Of course, cleaning up all the blood had probably helped a fair amount.

Fiddleford muttered something about cleaning up and shuffled off towards the workshop, leaving Stan, for the second time in as many days, standing alone and adrift in his brother's cold, dark house.

The thought made his heart catch in his chest and he had to take a moment to steady himself. Don't be stupid, he told himself, you're fine. Everything's fine now. Bill's gone and Ford's going to get better and there's no threat here, not any more.

Had it really only been two days, though? It was bizarre to think about, after everything that had happened. It felt like it had been years since he'd gotten here, but no: it was only the day before yesterday that he'd been standing on the porch, waiting to see his brother again for the first time in over a decade.

He wondered just how close things had come to it being the last time.

This was no good. If he stood here doing nothing, he was just going to get tangled up in his own stupid thoughts again. There had to be some way he could occupy his time. He thought about taking a nap--he was certainly tired enough--but he didn't think he'd be able to sleep, not yet. Not when his head was still buzzing like this.

Without quite realizing it, he found himself wandering towards the kitchen.

He caught himself in the doorway and stared into the room. There was still a sink full of undone dishes, and clean ones, long since dry, waiting to be put away. And there was still a spatter of blood on the floor, now dried a dull brown.

Stan walked over slowly and put a hand on the edge of the sink.

Wellllllwellwellwellwell, look who we have here!

No.

He braced himself against the sink and took a few deep breaths, willing his suddenly rapid heartbeat to calm down.

Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. What was there to be afraid of? It was just a bunch of dirty dishes--just an empty kitchen--just him standing here, Ford asleep in the study, waiting--no.

A thought occurred to him. He shuffled out of the kitchen, back toward the mess of the living room. It was in even more disarray now than it had been two nights ago, but it didn't take him too long to find his duffel bag underneath the mess of papers Ford had been throwing around, and inside it, his Walkman.

Music had drowned out Bill once; maybe it could do it again.

Stan went back to the kitchen, tucked the cord for the headphones under his shirt to keep it out of the way, and turned the tape on.

He took another deep breath and then, humming quietly, turned the hot water on and began to clean.

Ford woke up to another brief thrill of panic, but it passed sooner this time. The room around him was warm and calm and soothing. He didn't know how long he'd slept; the world outside was still a persistent, timeless white, but it might have had a sense of afternoon about it.

He stirred under the heavy quilt, stretching some very stiff muscles, and wondered if he would feel that fear upon waking for the rest of his life. But then, not too long ago he hadn't thought the rest of his life would be very long at all.

Floorboards creaked outside, and Fiddleford poked his head in the door. “Oh--you're awake.”

He pushed the door open and came in, awkwardly burdened with a bowl, a glass, and several packages of cold medicine. “Here. I brought ya some stuff.”

“Oh.” Ford pulled himself into a sitting position and fumbled for his glasses while Fiddleford set the things down on the bedside table. The bowl had what looked like clear soup in it; the glass was full of orange juice. Ford blinked at it.

“Did I...have orange juice?” he asked.

“Nope,” Fiddleford said. “You didn't have hardly anything. That's why I went grocery shopping for you last night.”

“You didn't have to do that,” Ford muttered.

Fiddleford shrugged. “Someone had to, and evidence suggested it wasn't gonna be you.”

Ford couldn't come up with an appropriate rebuttal to this, so he sipped at the orange juice instead. Fiddleford opened the medicine boxes and tore off a couple of blister packs.

“Take these,” he said, putting them next to the soup bowl. “And try to get that soup down. I don't reckon you have any calories left in you at this point.”

He turned to leave.

“Fidds,” Ford said. “Wait a minute.”

Fiddleford paused at the door. “You need something else?”

“No--that is--I just--”

Ford swallowed hard, feeling the ache in his throat all too keenly.

“...I...didn't thank you,” he said at last.

“Ah,” Fiddleford said. “...Well, uh...you're-”

“I--I wouldn't be here without you,” Ford stumbled on. “I mean. You fixed that gun right in the nick of time.”

“I'm glad,” Fiddleford said.

Ford looked down at his lap and twisted his fingers around. “How's, um...so, um, the gun, is it-”

“Busted,” Fiddleford said. “Whole thing melted in on itself. Couldn't repair it now if I wanted to.”

“Oh,” Ford said. “...I'm sorry.”

Fiddleford folded his arms and leaned against the doorframe. “No, you're not.”

Ford hesitated over this for a long moment.

“You're right,” he said at last. “I can't honestly say that I'm sorry the gun is destroyed. But...I am sorry that your work was destroyed. If that makes sense.”

Fiddleford tilted his head to one side contemplatively. “Fair enough.”

Ford sighed.

Then he looked up suddenly. “Wait. What was that about even if you wanted to--”

“I'm not remaking it,” Fiddleford said.

Ford opened and shut his mouth a few times. “You...you're not?”

“No.” Fiddleford wrapped his arms even tighter around himself and stared at the far wall.“I...everything that I did to try to forget...what I saw, what I did...in the end it didn't matter. When it had me cornered, all it had to do was say a few things and it all started coming back...you were right that it never permanently removed memories. I don't...know that it ever worked the way I intended it to.”

“Oh,” Ford said. “So...you want to try to improve it, then--”

“No.”

“...no?”

Fiddleford took a while answering.

“When I say it didn't matter,” he said at last. “I don't just mean the gun didn't work the way it was meant to. I mean...it didn't matter. I thought I was getting better, I thought I was doing better, but it...just made no difference, when it came down to it. It only gave that thing more power over me. Something to use against me...you were right about that, too. It wasn't any good trying to hide from it, trying to run. Everything that I lost, that I was willing to lose, it didn't stop it at all. It was hurting you and I couldn't do anything and...”

“Fidds,” Ford broke in gently. “You did do something. I only have one broken finger, don't I? I could have had twelve.”

Fiddleford sighed. “Yeah, but...there was a moment, a long moment, when I couldn't do anything. And...even earlier than that. When I came here, and I thought, for a minute, that things had gotten so bad that there were...other people being hurt...and I thought, my God, I could have stopped that. I know you, uh--I mean, I found out what was goin' on, but...that thought stuck with me. Somehow it all got more real then. It wasn't...it wasn't just a boogeyman, it wasn't something I could say was just haunting my dreams, it was...it was someone real getting hurt. Right in front of me.You know what I mean?”

“I suppose I do.”

“It's not that I don't want to forget it all again,” Fiddleford went on. “Lord knows I do. I--I want it so bad, if the gun wasn't broken, I don't think I could resist...so it's gonna stay broken, from now on. There's just--too much to lose.”

Ford smiled. “Good for you. I mean--it really is better this way, Fiddleford.”

“Don't lecture me.”

“Sorry.”

There was silence for a few minutes. Gradually the awkwardness eased into something softer.

“What are you going to do about your cul--society?” Ford asked eventually. “Wasn't the memory gun sort of, erm, important to them?”

“Oh, they'll cope,” Fiddleford said easily. “I think it was more of a hobby for most of 'em than anything. They liked feeling ominous. Poor Ivan might take a bit of talking down, but he'll come around. He ain't got much choice.”

“And you?” Ford asked. “How are you doing?”

“Awful,” Fiddleford said bluntly. “Every time I close my eyes I see it all over again, with that hammer...” He sighed and ruffled a hand through his disheveled mop of hair. “But...I think it's...it does feel better, now. To know that it's gone. You know, no matter how often I used that gun, I couldn't get rid of that feeling of--waiting. Of something dreadful coming.”

He smiled slightly. “Maybe I'll try some of those meditation exercises of yours. See if they work any better this time.”

“That sounds like a wonderful idea,” Ford said, perking up a little. “I could show you-”

“Ah-ah, not right now. Right now you need to finish that soup and rest.”

“I've been resting,” Ford grumbled.

“Rest more,” Fiddleford said, and turned to go.

“Wait,” Ford said. “Fidds?”

“Yeah?”

“You--you know you can stay here, right?” Ford said. “I mean--you know--not that you have to, or anything--but-if you didn't want to be alone...I know it's hard. So. I mean.”

Fiddleford paused, hand on his chin. “I might take you up on that. If I can find anywhere to sleep, that is.”

Ford coughed and went a little red. “You might have to move a few things around,” he admitted.

“Well...” Fiddleford smiled slightly. “I suppose it's not much worse than our dorm room, come to that.”

Ford smiled as well. “Just...do me a favor? I mean, not that you haven't done enough--sorry--”

“What is it, Stanford?”

Ford looked down at his hands. “Keep an eye on Stan for me, would you? I'm--I'm afraid he's going to try to slip away while I'm not watching and I...I don't want him to leave yet. Not like that, I mean.”

Fiddleford glanced out the window. More snow was beginning to fall. “Well, I don't think he's going anywhere too soon, but...sure. I will.”

“Thank you.”

“Sure. Drink your soup.”

Ford rolled his eyes, but he drank his soup. He was surprised at how good it was; after who-knew-how-long skipping meals, the simple broth tasted like ambrosia itself, which was impressive considering he could barely taste anything at the moment.

Fiddleford left, apparently satisfied, and Ford leaned back against the pillow and watched the snow fall as he finished the soup.

The house was very quiet for the next few days. There were no more blizzards, but snow fell periodically in a stubborn, methodical kind of way. Ford mostly slept, waking occasionally to eat or take medicine or complain.

Fiddleford and Stan, by some mutual unspoken agreement, began to tidy the house. They threw nothing away, but they stacked up the books and cleared the paper from the floor, and washed a small mountain of laundry. Fiddleford organized the workshop; Stan took a bottle of bleach to the bathroom and scrubbed until all the accusatory rust-colored splotches were gone. He tried not to think very much while he was doing it.

Fiddleford slept in the arm chair, when he did sleep. Stan cleared off Ford's bed and slept there. The first night he was too tired to pay much more attention than was absolutely necessary, but the second night, he stubbed his toe on a cardboard box and, cursing, leaned down to get a better look at his assailant.

The top of the box was open slightly, and whatever was inside was brightly colored. Stan frowned, curiosity getting the better of him, and opened it all the way.

It was a stack of comics.

His comics.

In wonderment, Stan hauled the box up onto the bed and sat there, pulling out one issue after another. Batman and Superman and the Flash. Justice League. Green Lantern. Most of them weren't in very good shape-Stan had never been too gentle with his comics-but they had been stacked neatly and carefully in the box.

Ford hadn't thrown them out at all.

Stan had to put them all to one side for a little while so they didn't get wet while he sobbed into his hands. But later he fell asleep reading them.

On the afternoon of the third day, Ford shuffled into the bathroom, took a very long shower, and shaved thoroughly. Afterwards, he found Stan and Fiddleford in the kitchen, eating sandwiches.

He went over the counter, started making a sandwich for himself, and said, “Tomorrow I'm going to start taking the portal apart.”

His voice was still rough and his color bad, but he sounded determined. Stan and Fiddleford glanced at each other.

“Alright,” Fiddleford said at last. “But you let us do the heavy lifting, okay?”

“Fine,” Ford said. “But one way or another, it's coming down.”

It was a daunting task. As the three of them stood in the basement the next morning, looking up at the huge ring, Stan wondered how exactly they were going to dismantle the entire thing by themselves. Come to that, he wondered exactly how Ford and Fiddleford had gotten it up by themselves.

“This thing is safe to be around, right?” he said nervously. He remembered the noise the portal had made in Ford's mind, remembered falling into it. He knew it hadn't ever really happened, but it felt like it had, felt like a real memory in his head.

“Don't worry, Stanley,” Ford said, with more confidence than Stan was entirely sure he could back up. “The portal's deactivated. It would take a ridiculous series of coincidences to start it up now.”

Stan nodded, but he kept his distance from the thing as much as possible.

At first, the process mostly seemed to involve a lot of pulling plugs and disconnecting wires. Stan helped where he could--mostly by lifting heavy things--and loitered on the sidelines when he couldn't, keeping an eye on Ford. The more the work progressed, the more heavy things there were for him to lift, as they started taking apart larger components, and more than once he had to step in before Ford tried to pick up something that was clearly beyond him at the moment. He tried to do the same for Fiddleford as well, but the scrawny engineer turned out to be surprisingly strong.

“I grew up on a farm,” he said, by way of explanation.

Stan woke tired and aching the next day, but he didn't think anything of it. He'd spent the day before doing a lot more heavy work than he was used to, after all. It was hardly surprising. And if he couldn't seem to get warm, that wasn't strange either, considering how cold it was in Ford's house.

It didn't occur to him that anything was wrong at all until Ford had to wake him up for the third time.

“Stan, are you alright?”

Stan blinked, seeing his brother's concerned face swim into partial focus. He'd dozed off in a corner, using a toolbox as a pillow. It was hardly a comfortable position, but he was exhausted enough to not care.

“Yeah, 'm fine,” he muttered, sitting up and wincing at the crick in his neck. “Just tired. Guess I'm even more out of shape than I thought...”

He coughed.

Ford was still looking worried. “Are--are you sure? Only-”

“'Course I'm sure,” Stan said, and promptly started coughing again. This time it went on for a while.

When he finally caught his breath he looked up to see that Ford had gone white. “Stan, you're--you're not well,” he gabbled. “What's--what's wrong? What is it? Do you have a fever? Here, let me see--”

“Get off,” Stan said, swatting Ford's hand away as he tried to feel Stan's forehead. “I'm alright.”

“You're sick!” It was almost a wail. Stan stared. He didn't understand why Ford was acting like this.

“What's the problem?” Fiddleford had come over to investigate.

“Stan's sick,” Ford said, digging a hand through his hair frantically.

“I told you, I'm fine.” To prove it, Stan stood up, trying to ignore how dizzy this made him. “I was just takin' a quick nap and next thing I know Ford's over here freaking out-”

Fiddleford squinted at him. “You do look kinda flushed,” he said. “But it doesn't exactly seem like an emergency.”

“What if it's serious?” Ford demanded. “Who knows what you could have picked up, Stan, living the way you do--”

“Hey now,” Stan growled, starting to get riled. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“We have to take this seriously!” Ford insisted, wringing his hands. “Stan, if--what if you--I can't lose you again!”

The basement rang with the sudden silence.

“Ford,” Stan said, reeling. “You're not--you're not gonna lose me, okay?”

“He probably just picked up whatever you had,” Fiddleford pointed out.

This just made Ford more distraught. “So it's my fault!”

“No, that's not--” Fiddleford pinched the bridge of his nose. “What I meant was, you're gettin' over it just fine, and that was what with--well, a whole lotta things not exactly conducive to a swift recovery. So Stan's gonna be fine too. Okay?”

Ford was still shaking, but gradually and with great effort he relaxed a little.

“Okay,” he whispered.

“Good,” Fiddleford said encouragingly. “Let's take a break, yeah? I could do with one anyway.”

They adjourned upstairs. Ford kept glancing at Stan as if afraid he was going to drop dead on the spot. It quickly got irritating, but Stan tried to let it go. Ford looked so worried, and it was disconcerting.

He sat in the kitchen staring at a spot on the wall that seemed oddly interesting while the nerds conferred in whispers just outside the door. To his amusement most of the whispering sounded like Ford being gently but firmly calmed down.

Eventually they came back into the kitchen and Fiddleford announced that they were going into town after lunch. “Gonna get the heating turned back on,” he said. “I'd say it's about time, wouldn't you?”

“Definitely,” Stan said vehemently.

“Also we're nearly out of cold medication,” Fiddleford went on. “I didn't know one man could take so much in so short a time. To be honest, I was a little worried about him but he seems to have survived.”

“I'm standing right here,” Ford pointed out from over by the stove, where he was dumping canned soup into a pot with a mutinous expression.

“Anyway,” Fiddleford went on without missing a beat, “if you wouldn't mind staying here and watching the house while we go do that--”

Stan could tell an excuse to make him stay behind and not wear himself out when he heard one, but he couldn't really be bothered to argue, especially if it would make Ford feel better. So he just shrugged and said, “Yeah, alright.”

Once the two of them had left, he settled down into the armchair, intending to read some more of the comics he had found. This plan did not take especially well.

He had been dozing for a while when he was woken by a knock at the door.

It took a while for the noise to register, during which it got increasingly loud and insistent. At last he got up and stumbled toward the door, wondering who could possibly be visiting Ford's house, here on this dead-end road in the middle of nowhere. He was pretty sure Ford didn't have any friends in the area besides Fiddleford--somehow, despite how long he'd lived there. Maybe Ford and Fiddleford had just locked themselves out. That was the most likely explanation.

Or...it could be something worse. A prickle ran up the back of his neck. What if it was the cops coming by to ask questions about Ford's weird set-up, or someone from the college demanding to know what he was doing with the grant money? Or someone from Fiddleford's weird cult?

By the time he got to the door, Stan was wide awake and his heart was pounding frantically. He tried to remember all the exits to the house, but he wasn't sure it mattered. He couldn't get very far on foot in this weather and in this condition.

“Open up!” someone called, pounding on the door as he approached and breaking into his thoughts. “I know you're in there!”

Stan squinted through the peephole. There was a woman standing on the porch, tallish with long blonde hair, wrapped in a winter coat and scarf but still shivering. She didn't look especially official.

“What do you want?” he shouted through the door.

There was a brief pause. The woman looked a bit confused at first, but then her expression hardened back into determined anger. “I want my husband back, you jerk!”

This threw Stan so much that he opened the door just to say, “What?”

“I haven't seen him in months and I know you're responsible, Stanford Pines!” the woman snapped. “What are you doing up here? Where is he?”

“Whoa, hang on,” Stan said, putting his hands up as the woman advanced on him. “I think you've got the wrong--”

“I haven't got the wrong anything!” the woman yelled. “You called Fiddleford up here for your damn project and I was patient, oh yes, I was fair, never mind that we had a newborn, I didn't mind him coming up here to help you out if he wanted to! But it's been weeks since I even got a phone call from him and that isn't like him at all! What did you get him into, Stanford?”

“Lady, please--” Stan tried.

“Don't you 'lady' me!” A finger jabbed straight into his face. “I know what you're like, Stanford! I know the kind of projects you do! And I know you can talk Fiddleford into doing anything because he's too nice to say no! If you got him in trouble, I swear to God-”

“I'm not Stanford,” Stan finally managed to get out desperately.

“Not--? Do you take me for a fool, Pines? I've known you since college! You can't just take your glasses off and think I won't recognize you!”

“I'm his twin brother,” Stan said.

The woman paused, and for a moment Stan thought she might believe him. Then he realized she was just building up steam. “His twin brother? That is the worst excuse I have ever heard in my life! I always knew you were a terrible liar, but that is something else--”

“No, really! Look!” Stan held up his hands, fingers spread. “Look! Ten, see?”

The woman halted mid-lambast and stared at Stan's hands. “O-oh...”

Then she grabbed one of Stan's hands and examined it critically. “But that's amazing. Identical twins but only one expresses the polydactylism gene? How fascinating--”

“Um,” Stan said.

She flushed and dropped his hand quickly. “Sorry! Sorry, I just--I get distracted. I'm a biologist, you see. Um. Oh dear, and I shouted at you rather a lot, didn't I...”

“It's alright,” Stan said. “I just didn't want you to waste such a good rant on the wrong guy.”

The woman gave him a small, embarrassed smile. “Sorry. I'm not usually like this, I swear, but--well, things have been, um, trying lately. I don't suppose you know where my husband is? Only the last I knew he was working with Stanford, and I went to the address he gave me but there was no one there--”

“Uh,” Stan said again. “You mean Fiddleford?”

“That's right, yes.” She looked up hopefully. “Fiddleford McGucket?”

“Yeah, he's--he's safe. He--um, it's kind of a long story, but he and Ford are in town right now. They should be back before too long.”

“He's okay?”

“Yeah,” Stan said, feeling a big guilty. Safe was not a lie, but he wasn't sure if describing Fiddleford as okay right now was entirely true.

“Alright then. Alright.” The woman let out a long breath. “So why the hell hasn't he called?!”

Stan winced and drew back.

“Sorry, sorry. Not your fault.” Fiddleford's wife rubbed her brow with one hand, then looked up. “At least--it's not your fault, is it?”

“Um. I don't think so? I only got here a week ago.”

“Probably not then.” She slumped a little. “Do you-is it alright if I wait here, then? For them to come back?”

“Oh--oh yeah, yeah!” Stan drew back, gesturing inside. “Sorry--”

“No problem. I'm Madeline, by the way. Madeleine McGucket.” She held out a hand. Stan shook it.

“Stanley,” he said. “Stan, usually.”

Madeline raised an eyebrow. “Stanford and Stanley?”

Stan made a face. “Our dad wasn't real creative.”

“Hmmm.” Madeline stepped inside, and Stan shut the door behind her. “Wow. It's not much warmer in here, is it?”

“That's mostly what they went to town for--to get the heat turned back on. I think Ford got behind on his payments.”

“I see,” Madeline muttered as Stan led her into the kitchen. She sat at the table, biting her lip, while Stan made tea.

“Thank you so much,” she said as he handed her a steaming cup.

“Sure,” he said, taking a seat next to her.

“Stan, um, I don't suppose...I don't suppose you know what's going on? With my husband and--and with Stanford, I mean? Is Fiddleford in trouble?”

Stan thought about Ford saying I ignored him and he paid a terrible price for it; about Fiddleford's apartment covered in drawings of crossed-out eyes; about the way the dreamy look on his face as he talked about his family had turned to one of horror as he struggled to remember why he had abandoned them; about him holding Ford down while Bill kicked and spat in his face.

“You know what,” he said, “it's probably better if you wait and ask him and Ford about that.”

By the time Ford and Fiddleford got back, Stan and Madeline had gone through two more cups of tea and the topics of the weather, various movies, Fiddleford and Madeline's college days, their wedding, Fiddleford's dreams of making computers and Madeline's dreams of raising hybrid plants, and were in the middle of an extensive lecture on biology in which Madeline was making use of a bag of jellybeans to explain dominant and recessive genes and the concept of incomplete penetrance when they heard the car pull in.

“Hello?” Ford called as the door opened. Stan took the opportunity to steal some jellybeans. “Stan, is someone else here? We saw a car-”

They walked into the kitchen and stopped cold.

“Madeline!” Fiddleford exclaimed, and ran to embrace her. “I'm so glad to see you--”

Then he stopped and drew up. “But what are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same question,” Madeline said. “In fact, I came all the way up here from Palo Alto to ask you that exact question. What are you doing here and what is going on and why haven't I heard from you for weeks?”

Fiddleford blanched. “Um. It's...complicated.”

“It was my fault,” Ford said.

Madeline turned toward him, looking downright deadly. “I don't doubt it was your fault, Stanford,” she said quietly. “What did you get my husband into?”

Ford fidgeted almost manically. Stan couldn't blame him. “I...the project I brought him up here for...it...did not go as expected. There were complications...um...serious complications...”

“Such as?” Madeline demanded.

“A...source of information I thought was trustworthy turned out to not be so,” Ford said. “The project became dangerous, we had to shut it down...that's what we've been doing. I'm sorry, I've been keeping Fiddleford here working on it--”

“It wasn't all your fault,” Fiddleford said softly. “I've...made some mistakes, Maddie.”

Madeline's face softened slightly. “Mistakes?”

Fiddleford hesitated.

Stan stood up hurriedly, almost knocking the table over. “Hey, Ford, did you know I'm a genetic anomaly?”

“Really?” Ford said, with a remarkable amount of interest. “How very fascinating.”

“Yeah, how about we go somewhere...not here...and I'll tell you all about it.”

“That sounds like an excellent idea, Stanley, I think I'll take you up on it.”

“Don't go too far,” Madeline called after them as they beat a hasty retreat from the kitchen. “I might very well still need to have words with you, Stanford.”

Ford looked like he had nearly swallowed his tongue. “Of course,” he muttered.

The conversation went on for a quite a while. Ford cleaned the living room manically, while Stan went back to dozing in the armchair. Occasionally they heard raised voices, usually along the lines of “He did WHAT?” or “You did WHAT?”

Finally the voices stopped. Ford glanced anxiously toward the door. A moment later, Madeline appeared in the doorway, with Fiddleford trailing behind her.

She strode across the room and slapped Ford hard across the face.

Ford winced and rubbed his jaw. “I suppose I deserved that.”

“You did,” Madeline said. “Honestly, Stanford Pines, of all the stupid, senseless, dangerous things a man could do--”

She stopped and took a deep breath and said,“But you're cleaning it up now, aren't you?”

“Yes,” Ford said earnestly.

Madeline sighed. “Well, you're a right idiot,” she said, sounding a little calmer, “but I knew that. Still, you oughta be damned grateful my husband got out of this mess intact.”

“I am!” Ford said. “Erm, and not just because you would revenge murder me otherwise.”

“Damn straight I would.” Madeline shook her head. “Just promise me one thing, Stanford. The next time a demon from another dimension comes around handing out advice, don't listen to it.”

Ford gaped. “How much did you tell her?” he demanded from Fiddleford.

“All of it.” Fiddleford shrugged at Ford's glare. “What? She's my wife.”

“That's right. And right now, your wife is taking you home.”

“What, all the way back to California? Now?” Ford said, and gulped when Madeline swung her head toward him. “I mean--”

“No, not back to California, just back to my apartment,” Fiddleford said, taking pity on him. “We're gonna...sort some things out.”

“Tate is with my mom, so I can stay for a few days,” Madeline said. “It's too late to travel now anyway. But whatever you need Fiddleford for on this project, you'd better get done before we leave, because he's coming back home with me.”

“Of course,” Ford said, looking relieved.

“Take care of yourself, Stan,” Madeline said. “That sounds like a nasty bit of flu you picked up. Drink a lot of fluids.”

“She seems to like you,” Ford muttered as the two of them left.

Stan shrugged. “I'm a likable guy. Also, I didn't cause her husband to almost die and then go insane.”

Ford couldn't come up with an answer for that one. Fortunately for him, a serviceable distraction came along in the form of the heat finally coming back on.

The flu hit Stan hard the next day. He woke up late in the morning coughing, got up long enough to take some pills, and promptly went back to bed and wrapped himself as tightly as he could in the blankets. Everything hurt. He felt like he'd been run over by a truck.

He napped for a while, got up, took another pill, drank some juice, went back to bed, and discovered in disgust that he couldn't nap any more but was too tired to do anything else. He watched the snow falling outside, not thinking of anything in particular except how much his chest hurt.

There was a soft knock on the door and Ford poked his head in.

“You need help with something?” Stan asked, sitting up with a groan.

“No, no! Please, lay back down.” Ford looked nervous. He was holding something behind his back. “I...decided to halt working on the portal for the afternoon.”

Stan frowned. “But you were so worried about it-”

“Yes, but Fiddleford's still at home, and you...”

“I'm alright. I can work if you need--”

“No, it's alright, really! I insist. Anyway, we've gotten a lot of work done already. I'm...not as concerned as I was, anymore. Most of the volatile components are safely contained, and anyone attempting to use it would have to do a considerably amount of work to reconstruct it first.”

“Hang on,” Stan said. “Volatile components--?”

Ford coughed. “The point is, that's not why I'm here.”

Stan squinted at him. “So why are you here?”

Ford glanced from side to side and deflated a little. “This is probably silly...”

“Spit it out, Poindexter.”

“Well...it's just...” Ford fidgeted. “You know how, when we were kids...I used to read to you sometimes? Like when you were sick?”

Stan raised his eyebrows. “You came here to read to me?”

“You know what, this was a bad idea. I'll just leave you to rest--”

“No, wait,” Stan said as Ford turned. “I didn't say no.”

Ford paused in the doorway. “You mean it?”

“Yeah, sure,” Stan said. “I mean--only cause I can't sleep and you don't have a TV. No other reason.”

“Of course.” Ford pulled the chair away from the desk and carried it over to the bed. “So, you said you had read The Lord of the Rings. Did you ever read The Hobbit?”

“Nope. What's that?”

“Ah.” Ford got an especially nerdy look on his face. “It's the prequel to The Lord of the Rings. It's for a younger audience--Tolkien originally conceived of it as a bedtime story for his son. I thought you might like it.”

“Right,” Stan said. “You think I need something for a younger audience.”

“What? No!” Ford looked up in alarm. “I-that's not it.”

“Sure.”

“No, really. I thought you might like it because...well...” Ford rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. “Because it's about someone who...goes on an adventure even though he doesn't exactly want to, and he misses his comfortable home, but he rises to the occasion and...he's very brave and clever and outwits all his enemies. Also he saves the day by stealing something at the right moment.”

“Huh,” Stan said. “Y'know, that does sound like something I might like.”

“Also he wins a lot of treasure.”

“That definitely sounds like something I would like.”

Ford smiled slightly, settled into the chair, and opened the book.

“Comfortable?” he said. Stan nodded. “Alright. Ahem. In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit...”

The next few days went by quietly. Fiddleford came over less and less, more often holding long phone conversations with Ford. They were, Stan took it, almost done with dismantling the portal, and Fiddleford and Madeline were leaving soon.

So when he was woken one afternoon by the phone ringing, he stumbled towards it and picked up the receiver without thinking, expecting it to be Fiddleford again. After all, he couldn't think of anyone else who want to call Ford. He was only half-awake anyway, which was officially his excuse for picking up a phone and giving away his location without thinking. It would come back to bite him very quickly.

“Yeah?” he said, stifling a yawn.

There was a pause on the other end. Stan frowned at the receiver. “Yeah? What is it?”

“...Stanley?” the voice on the other end said.

It was not Fiddleford.

It was Shermie.

Stan's mind went completely blank except for the thought oh shit circling around and around like an airplane trying to land.

“Um,” he said helplessly. “No?”

“What do you mean, no?” Shermie spluttered. “That is you, isn't it?!”

oh shit oh shit oh shit “Um, um, um,” Stan said. “Um, listen, you know what, I have to--”

“STANLEY PINES IF YOU HANG UP THIS PHONE NOW YOU WON'T LIVE TO REGRET IT.”

Stan winced and dug a finger around in his ear. “Alright, alright! I'm not goin' anywhere...”

“Good,” Shermie said, and took a deep breath. “Where the HELL have you BEEN? What were you THINKING just taking off like that? Do you KNOW how worried I've been?”

“I did leave a note,” Stan said meekly.

“A note! Yes! One goddamn note on the fridge in the middle of the night! One note does not fix anything, Stanley! It's been five years, I was starting to think you were dead! Why did you leave?”

Stan stood there alone in the waiting silence and didn't know what to say.

“Are you still there?” Shermie said eventually. “You'd better still be there.”

“Yeah--yeah, I'm still here,” Stan said. “Look, Shermie, it's not that I didn't appreciate what you were willing to do for me and all, it's just...I couldn't just stay there and be a burden on you.”

Shermie made a strangled kind of noise. “You...Stan, you wouldn't have been a burden on anyone. We easily had enough money to put you up.”

“So I should've just, what? Stayed there and sucked up your money without doing anything to make it up?”

“No,” Shermie said, sounding agonized. “You...you wouldn't have been...we were trying to help you, Stan.”

Stan sighed. “Shermie, you know I ruin everything I touch. I didn't want to do that to you-”

“You do no such thing!” Shermie cried. “You're my brother! I just wanted you to be safe and happy--”

Stan laughed, and instantly regretted it. It made an already difficult conversation even more awkward.

There was silence for a moment.

“Look,” Shermie said eventually. “We'll talk about that later, just...tell me what's going on with you right now. You're at Ford's? Does that mean you guys made up?”

“Uh,” Stan said. “Yeah, I guess we did.”

“That's great!” Shermie sounded genuinely thrilled. “What finally made it happen?”

“Um...well, Ford called me up here--”

“Ford called you?” Shermie said. “I didn't see that coming...sorry, sorry, go on.”

“He needed my help,” Stan explained. “And then, um...we kind of fought for a while, but...we made up eventually.”

“Ford needed help? With what?”

“Uhhhhhh,” Stan said. “He...got in a spot of trouble. It's all good now though,” he added hurriedly.

“...Right,” Shermie said. “Well, I'm glad to hear that...I suppose. How long are you going to be there?”

Stan paused.

“I...don't know,” he said, realizing that in fact, he didn't.

“Well--that's okay. I'm just glad to know that you're okay now.”

Stan mulled that one over. “I guess I am,” he said.

“Is Ford there? I need to yell at him too.”

“Uh, yeah, he's in his lab. I'll go get him.”

He put the phone down--gingerly, as though it might go off--and went to find one the walkie-talkie he'd been using to relay things between Ford and Fiddleford when he was on the phone. He could see why the two of them had gotten the things in the first place; it certainly cut down on a lot of time going up and down the stairs.

There was a pause after he first radioed for Ford. Stan could imagine Ford extricating himself from underneath some panel with a dramatic groan and fumbling about for the walkie-talkie underneath whatever it had gotten buried beneath this time.

“Stanley? What is it?”

“You have a phone call,” Stan said.

“What? From Fidds? Alright, put him on--”

“No.”

“What?” Ford's puzzled frown was almost audible. “Well, tell whoever it is to call back. I'm in the middle of--”

“It's Shermie. And I don't think you want me to tell him to wait.”

There was a choking sound on the other end, and Stan almost felt guilty for drawing the news out like that. But if he had to have a rude surprise, so did Ford.

“Shermie's calling? Why? What does he want?” Ford sounded almost frantic.

“Um, I'm not actually sure. Just to check up on you, I guess.”

There was another pause, of a rather different tone. “I'll be right up,” Ford said.

Stan grinned to himself, tossed the walkie-talkie back onto the table, and went back to the phone. “He's coming,” he told Shermie.

“Good,” Shermie said firmly. Then, “Are you alright, Stan? You sound even worse than usual.”

Stan was about to wave that one aside, but unfortunately a wave of coughing hit him first.

“I'm a bit sick,” he had to admit when it finally subsided. “No big deal.”

“That sounded like a pretty big deal,” Shermie said, concerned.

Stan sighed and searched about for something to make Shermie lay off before he got too worked up.

“Don't worry,” he said. “I'm being taken care of.”

Ford came into the kitchen at not quite a run, smoothing down his shirt as if out of some misplaced desire to look presentable, and took the phone away from a grateful Stan. “Sherman,” he said. “What a pleasant surprise. Unfortunately I'm in the middle of some delicate work at the moment, so if you could call back--”

“Nice try, Stanford,” Shermie said. “Whatever your work is, you can put it on hold. You've got some questions to answer.”

“Um--”

“Like why haven't you been calling me like you said you would? Or answering the phone? Or your mail? Why have I had to start wondering if you were dead, Stanford?”

“...I...may have lost phone service for a while,” Ford muttered. “Also my mailbox.”

“You lost your mailbox?”

“It's a long story.”

Shermie sighed heavily. “You could have made some effort. I've been worried sick about you! What's been going on?”

“Ahh...” Ford said. “That's...it's...it's a long story.”

“And Stanley's at your house now? How did that happen? Why didn't you tell me you two made it up?”

“I've...been busy,” Ford said defensively. “It wasn't that long ago anyway.”

“Busy doing what, exactly?”

Ford said nothing.

“Right,” Shermie said. “I'm coming up there.”

“What?” Ford spluttered. “No, don't!--I mean, it's really not a good time, it's a mess up here--”

“I can see that I'm not going to get any answers from either of you two over the phone,” Shermie said firmly. “I need to corner you in person. And wring the truth out of you.”

Ford swallowed hard. “Um. Um--you know what, why don't we visit you instead?”

Shermie paused. “Well...you sure about that?”

“Yes,” Ford said. “I...I could stand to get away from here for a little while.”

“Alright then,” Shermie said begrudgingly. “But I'm holding you to it. If you don't show up, I will come up there, and I won't tell you about it either. I won't even knock. I'll just be in your house. See how you like that.”

“Noted,” Ford muttered.

He managed to arrange a tentative date before hastily saying good-bye and hanging up. Stan eyed him. “Did you just volunteer me to go visit Shermie?”

“It was either that or him coming here,” Ford said wearily. “I don't think we're getting out of this one, Stan.”

Stan sat down at the table and put his head in one hand. “What am I going to say to him? After all this time? What if he wants me to live with him again?”

Ford blinked owlishly. “Why would he want that?”

“I sure don't know,” Stan muttered. “But it's what he wanted last time. Tryin' to make sure I had a proper home and everything.”

“But--you're living here.”

Stan looked up in shock. Ford stared at him, looking not much less shocked.

“I...I mean,” Ford said. “You...well, if you want to--”

“Wh--Ford, I can't stay here forever,” Stan said, still thrown.

Ford sat down at the table, rather hard. “What do you mean?”

“Well...I...” Stan stammered, trying to figure out how to get across what should have been obvious. “I can't just--Ford, I can't just stay here and mooch off you. I, I mean-”

--all you ever do is lie and cheat and ride on your brother's coattails--

“I mean, you don't want me here,” he said.

“Yes I do,” Ford said. He was still staring, like Stan was the one not making any sense.

“No you don't,” Stan said. “Ford...you've got this, this house, this college money, you're doing all this impressive science shit, and I...I'm just a failed conman. Why would you want me around, being a leech?”

“Because I like having you around,” Ford said, and to Stan's amazement his brother's voice broke. “Don't you remember what that was like? The two of us, enjoying each other's company?”

Stan hesitated.

“Of course I do,” he said. “But...things are...different now. Aren't they?”

“I don't know,” Ford said. “Do they have to be?”

Stan shook his head. “You'd get tired of me,” he said. “You're just being generous now, but you'd get tired of me real quick-”

Ford sighed. “Look, Stan, if you really don't want to stay I understand, but I promise I won't get tired of you.”

“It's not that I don't want to stay,” Stan mumbled. “It's just...”

“It's just what?”

Stan knew the answer, but it was harder to get out than he had realized. It felt like something buried so deep inside that he had to unearth a great deal of himself to get it out.

At long last, not daring to look at his brother, he said, “I...haven't earned it yet.”

He heard Ford release a breath. “Is this because of what Dad said?”

Stan blinked. “What Dad said?”

“That whole stupid thing--about not coming home until you made enough money--”

Stan shrugged. “I don't know,” he said. “I mean, Dad was right, you know. I'd never done anything useful in my life, and I still haven't--”

“No he wasn't,” Ford said.

“What?”

“He wasn't. He wasn't right at all. Stan, listen to me-Dad was wrong. He never should have said that. I never should have let him say that. And...and you shouldn't have to spend the rest of your life under that. You shouldn't have to listen to Dad anymore.”

Stan could only stare at him.

“This is my house,” Ford said. “I decide who has the right to stay here. And I'm not letting you get thrown out again. If you really want I'm sure you can find a job somewhere around here, or--or I could probably get the grant board to let me hire you on as an official assistant, there's lots of things you could do--but you don't have to earn anything. Alright?”

“Well...” Stan began, still not entirely convinced.

“You saved my life,” Ford said desperately. “Stan, I wouldn't still be here if not for you. That's got to be worth something, right?”

“I suppose so,” Stan muttered.

“It doesn't have to be forever,” Ford said. “We can just...we can take it one day at a time. But please at least give it a shot?”

Stan wanted to say yes. He wanted to so bad he could taste it, but at the same time he couldn't believe it was true, couldn't believe that as soon as he said it the chance wouldn't be ripped away from him all over again.

But Ford was looking at him, and waiting, and somehow he couldn't bring himself to turn his brother down, either.

It was one of the hardest things he'd ever had to do in his life to say, “Alright. I'll stay.”

Ford's beaming face in response was worth the effort.

#gravity falls #gravity falls fanfic #by the skin of your teeth #scribulations #fanfic

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aro-aizawa · 7 years

Text

SOME GREAT OL’ BNHA FIC RECOMMENDATIONS

Guide

✨ = Favourite 🔥 = Slow Burn  ❗️ = Manga Spoilers  ✔️ = Complete  📔 = Multi-chapters 👊 = Excessive violence / whump

Non-shipping

Yesterday Upon the Stair by PitViperOfDoom ( ✨ ❗️ 📔 ) 148k Izuku has a quirk that lets him sees ghosts. Twists canon in ways that makes the whole story feel new and fresh whilst retaining the charm. Beautifully written and every time there’s a new chapter released I cry because I love it so much (seriously no exaggeration).

Flourish by wildcrisis ( 📔 ) 23.8k Baby Shinsou gets adopted by Aizawa. This fic is full to the brim with domestic sweetness, with a lot of potential angst in the future. There’s also very very vague background EraserMic but if that’s not your thing it can be very easily ignored (or not if you’re into it). Good time and a wholesome fic.

But You Gotta Get Up At Least One More by simkjrs ( ✨ ❗️ 📔 ) 104k Loosely based off One Punch Man, but not necessary for the read. Quirkless Izuku has ridiculous super strength and is basically really badass hero. He accidentally becomes a cryptid of class 1-A, whilst Bakugou’s and Izuku’s relationship is the forefront. Great fic with a lot of development and is very very well written.

Know what I’ve Made By The Marks On My Hands by simkjrs ( ✨ ❗️ 📔 ) 17.7k Also referred to as My Spirit Academia, quirks are abilities that are granted to people by spirits that no one can see. The only exception is Izuku, and this makes him an outcast to both spirits and people. And when heroes start loosing their quirks, it turns out that Izuku is the only person who can help. Sassy child who needs a good nights sleep and a hug.

Daymare by IntrospectiveInquisitor ( 📔 👊 ) 132.9k Izuku gets hit and hit and hit and just can’t catch a break. Basically, the main story but Izuku has a quirk that he finds horrifying, ball of nerves. Just want to wrap him up in a blanket and give him all the love in the world.

The Thin Gray Line by A_ToastToTheOutcasts (  ✔️ 📔 ) 89.6k Quirkless Izuku gives up being a hero to become a vigilante. Ends up doing quite a lot of the same stuff in canon, but quirkless. Sassy child going against the law.

The Difference Between by phaunts ( ✨ 📔 👊 ) 11.9k Kidnap fic with a lot of promise. Or alternatively the mall conversation with Shigaraki ends up with a different outcome, well written and angsty. Man I can’t wait for the next chapter.

The Mentor’s Rage by BeyondTheClouds777 ( 📔 👊 ) 35.7k Izuku gets hurt real bad during the USJ attack. I nickname this fic the great whumping of Deku. Nice mix of angsty and sweet? Also at a point in time where the main story is done, but there could always be more if the author thinks of more. I regularly go back to read this whenever I want to read some good whump fics.

The World Without Me by BeyondTheClouds777 (  ✔️  📔 👊 ) 38.6k Izuku dies whilst out with the class, it’s emotional and Izuku isn’t dead for long. Beats you up in a dark alley with feels, whilst throwing flowers on you ft 19 over protective children and the boy who just needs a rest.

Sound check, one two three by shibo226 ( ✨  📔 ) 41k Izuku befriends a quirkless girl, later she ends up becoming his big sister. An OC involved story, but don’t let that put you off. It’s well written, and honestly one of my favourite fanfictions right now. I rarely like OC fanfics, but this one has my soul.

Kirishima / Bakugou

Those Ten Moments by Kivea ( ✨  ✔️ ) 11.8k Kaminari sees his friends are crushing hard on each other and decides to help set them up. It’s adorable and it’s just a wholesome fic where Kaminari ends up bonding with all the girls whilst setting his bro up. Not gonna lie this fic is 60% responsible for how much I love Denki.

One to Ten by crunchrapsupreme (  ✔️ ) 7.4k Kirishima is all kinds of gay for Bakugou and makes up a friendship scale deciding that when he gets to 10, he’ll ask the explosive blond out on a date. He starts on a -4. Really sweet bonding fic and honestly Kiri is absolutely not subtle.

2am Knows All Secrets by Sarahhaley ( 🔥 ❗️ 📔 ) 55.8k Bakugou gets nightmares and our sweet child Kirishima does his best to help out his bro. It’s really sweet and wholesome, and full of pining. Definitely want to check this one out.

Fight Me by ryonello ( ✔️ ) 2.4k Bakugou gets wrecked for once and ends up in the hospital with a really hot nurse. He’s still stubborn as hell, and Kiri is a cutie so this is a really fluffy fic.

The Beauty of a Beast by starofjems ( 🔥  ✔️ 📔 ) 101.7k Bakushima but with Beauty and the Beast elements. Really well written, Kirishima has scales and there’s magic. It’s gay and whenever I read it I usually have the intense need to watch the third ending over again because it’s got that kind of feel to it? God it’s great.

License to Kill by thats_a_secret ( 🔥 📔 ) 44.2k The Villain Bakugou fic. He’s kidnapped as a kid, and ends up becoming a villain. The shipping is really low key, so technically this should be in the no ship category but not really. Follows canon events but ya know villain Bakugou.

Midoriya / Todoroki

Pulling the Wires by catsplosionxd & PsychoLimbo ( ✨ 👊 📔 ) 47k Izuku is kidnapped as a kid and forced into being a villain comes across Todoroki, they become unlikely friends. Two children who just are in desperate need for hugs and protection. Accurate portrayal of trauma and every chapter I feel I need to rage at any who want to hurt these children. Very gay children. Yaoyorozu is 95% of their impulse control.

Erased Potential by theslytherinpaladin ( 🔥 📔 ) 45.2k Instead of Izuku being taught by All Might, consider Aizawa taking him under his wing instead. Izuku trains to become a hero despite being quirkless, he’s going to fight tooth and nail for his rightful place at UA with Aizawa’s help. Great fic, honestly could be canon. I love quirkless fics.

United In the Storm by theslytherinpaladin ( ✨ 🔥 📔 ) 49.2k Set after USJ, Inko gets killed, and Izuku is adopted by All Might. Sweet and very angsty as you would expect, baby Izuku just wants to get stronger to protect those he loves. There’s also Dad Might so that automatically makes it brilliant. {{ I should mention that I am a sucker for all of PitViperOfDoom’s MHA works, so whilst I could suggest all their works these following are my favourites in particular. }}

Tenth by PitViperOfDoom (  ✔️ ) 2.5k A sad fic that tears at your heart. If you love a heaping serving of angst and sadness involving these two then here’s the perfect fic for you. Really well written and leaves you wanting more without feeling incomplete.

Count Your Blessings, Not Your Flaws by PitViperOfDoom (  ✔️ ) 7.4k Full of pining and misunderstandings involving these two nerds. Sadly relatable for some, but good job the rest of class 1-A has their backs to sew everything back together.

Burn and Breathe / Bedhead by PitViperOfDoom ( ✨  ✔️ ) 13.2k Soulmate AU where you share pain. With these two it’s like gasoline on a bonfire, angsty and beautiful. Well worth a read, especially the latter. It’s easy to say the first is more angsty than the latter, but the latter is a lot sweeter and fluffier than the first.

Riddles in the Heart by PitViperOfDoom (  ✔️ ) 18.8k Super intriguing storytelling, the premise is that whoever answers three riddles correctly gets to marry Prince Shouto, but if you get one wrong you’re executed in front of the public. Izuku decides to give it a try.

An Arrow to a Bundle by PitViperOfDoom (  ✔️ ) 5.9k Based off a tumblr post, a no-quirk AU. Endeavor is a dick, but it’s okay because Izuku ropes his friends into helping. It’s a great fic full of support for Todoroki. At the very least read the tumblr post it’s based off.

Send Endeavor to the Shadow Realm by PitViperOfDoom ( ✨ ❗️  ✔️ 📔 ) 79.7k A six part series, the first four are Izuku vaguing Endeavor and throwing shade. The last two entries are full of angst with helpings of adorable moments, primarily deals with how shitty Endeavor is and helping Shouto. There’s also a really gay part in it. I reread it very regularly. {{ Here ends my PitViperOfDoom fic recs, onto more TodoDeku }}

sore must be the storm by pouler (  ✔️ ) 10.4k Todoroki and Izuku get into a near death experience and get to talk about some stuff. It’s so well written that you can practically feel the tension and fragility of the situation.

i am cold, can you hear? by midoizuku ( 🔥 📔 ) 33.7k #DadMightIsCanon - Todoroki and Izuku meet before UA and they bond over the fact that their dads are really famous heroes. It’s sweet and well written, one of the first fics that I read.

One of “Those” by Ultimatum ( ✔️ ) 6.5k A take on how the MHA world of heroes would deal if two pro heroes get outed as gay boyfriends. Endeavor is a homophobic ass.

Confession Through Text by anonymouseling shameless self promo 4.1k Todoroki knows he has a crush on his first friend, many people worry about how they would confess their love and they’d do so in a well thought out and careful manner. Todoroki doesn’t quite get that concept.

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lepapillonbrise · 7 years

Text

Something Missing

Summary: He woke up one morning, only to realize something was missing.

Klapollo, AU/OoC, Klavier’s PoV.

Warning(s): Yaoi ( boyXboy ) for those Yaoi haters. I guess that is it.

Pairing(s): Klapollo ( Klavier Gavin / Apollo Justice ).

Note(s): Please be as harsh as you could.

I’m sorry if I got any spelling wrong. The only spelling corrections I have are google. So, if I made any mistakes, tell me.

Criticism is welcome.

Enjoy! xD x3

X-X-X-X Klavier’s PoV

My keys.

They’re gone again.

No, this can’t happen again, not like this.

I grunted, as I ordered another taxi, and headed to work. Not like the hog can run in this weather anyways. I don’t think I’d see where I was going.

My car went missing too. Well, not just my car. My favorite jacket, and my keys as well. I couldn’t just drive anywhere, anyways.

I arrive at the offices, only to pause.

Where is Herr Edgeworth’s car?

Schweigen.

Come to think of it, a lot of things here are missing. The words just can’t come out for some reason. They’re… Here. Yet, they’re not. For some odd reason, the thought never went away as I enter the offices.

Herr Blackquill, Herr Edgeworth, Herr… Payne. I check to see what was to do, when I see how Herr Edgeworth looked for the first time.

Oh.

“Ach, since when did you start wearing black, Herr Edgeworth?” I asked, checking him up and down, “Looks great on you, ja?”

“Whatever do you mean, Prosecutor Gavin?” Herr Edgeworth rose an eyebrow, “You don’t remember that under my coat, it’s always all black?”

Um… Come to think of it, that sounds more hot then anything. I always suffer during the summer because of all the black I wear.

“Nonetheless, maybe you’ve been blind this whole time, Prosecutor Gavin.” Herr Edgeworth shook his head, before placing his tea down, “But I should be asking you the same thing. Your attire looks different then what you normally wear.”

“Ach, you got me.” I chuckled, “I lost my favorite coat, Herr Edgeworth.”

“Oh? Are you sure you aren’t color blind?” He picked up his tea, “Never mind that. Just, go to your office. I left some papers there. It’s just paperwork today.”

“Ja, of course!”

I left, and I couldn’t help but notice how… Different Herr Edgeworth is. It seems like today, Edgeworth doesn’t have a shred of care. Of anything. He always seemed so hopeful. Knowing to point the right way. Almost…

No. No, let’s not think about that, I promised I wouldn’t think about him.

I decided to head straight to work.

X-X-X-X

I was half way through work, when I paused.

Am I expecting a distraction?

Why?

Schweigen.

Maybe a call, or someone to come in and visit. Why would I want a distraction so bad? I decided to pick up the phone, suddenly filled with worry.

Maybe Herr Wright knows.

Yeah, maybe calling Herr Wright would help.

He picked up right away.

“Hello?” He sounded tired, “I don’t recognize the number. Are you a scam?”

“Ach, nien.” I smiled, “I wanna check up on you, I guess.”

“Ahh, thank you, Prosecutor Gavin.” He chuckled, though it sounded humorless, “Out of everyone there, you were always the kindest.”

“Was?” My smile dropped, “What about Herr Edgeworth? You two have been friends since childhood, ja?”

“Not anymore” He sighed, “Let’s leave it at that.”

“Oh. Alright.” Suddenly, I felt disappointed, “Es tut mir leid. I haven’t been keeping up with news lately, ja?”

“So am I.” He paused, “Look, thanks for checking up on me. I have to go, though. Thanks, again. Prosecutor Gavin.”

“No problem.” I frowned, “Anyone else there okay, though?”

“No. Truce hasn’t been up in spirits lately.” He sounded very sad now, “School and work has been getting to her lately.”

“Oh, that sounds awful.”

“I know.” He grunted, “Look, I’ll… Talk to ya later. Okay? I’ll… Call you back.”

Schweigen.

Something tells me he wasn’t gonna call back.

Usually he does when I call him, but I end up talking to his daughter and…

Someone else?

I sighed, as my mind can’t comprehend who else is missing from their agency. It’s just Herr Wright and his daughter, ja? If I remember correctly.

Last time, though, I always felt much more happier visiting them. I don’t know why- especially since I was the one that disbarred Herr Wright.

No. No, I better get back to work, before guilt eats me up.

X-X-X-X

I finish work.

I got up to turn it in, when I turn to see a familiar face. A teenage girl, with an all blue attire. Though, certain parts of her costume was grey.

Notably, her scarf and the hearts and diamonds on… Her cape.

Wait, wasn’t diamonds and hearts a different color on cards? They weren’t grey like they are here. I thought about it, when she spoke.

“Prosecutor Gavin?” She sat down across from me, her expression emotionless, “Daddy won’t call you back, you know that, right?”

I… Figured as much.

“Why?” I leaned on the table, “He always does, doesn’t he?”

“No. He never does.” Her voice was monotone. She seemed to have no reaction, what so ever. I couldn’t help but be concerned as she stared at me, “Are you alright, Prosecutor Gavin? You almost never call.”

“Was?” I frowned, “Nien, I… Really was checking up on you both. Making sure you both are alright, ja?”

“That was nice of you, Prosecutor Gavin. Thank you.” She gave a small smile, “That means a lot to m… Us.”

“Anytime.” Glad to know I made their day, “I just finished my paperwork. I’ll turn it in, and head home, soon.”

“Oh, am I in your way?”

“Nien.” I answer, standing up, “Not at all. I was… Thinking of stopping by your place, ja? ‘Till Fräulein detective gives me a call.”

“Oh, of course.” She gave a polite smile, “Daddy sent me over to tell you he wasn’t gonna call back, but he’d be happy to know you care, at least.”

“Ja, of course!” I walk to the door, as she followed, “I’d be happy to make his day!”

She giggled, as she ran out the door. I turn to watch her run right out.

I realize she was part of the reason why I feel incomplete. Not entirely, but part.

She use to be a very cheerful girl, I don’t get why she acted emotionless and strange towards me.

Schweigen.

I decided to head to Herr Edgeworth’s office, and turn in the papers.

X-X-X-X

I did exactly as planned.

Though, Herr Edgeworth acted just as… Professional as before, I decided that wouldn’t let me down as I visit.

I know I wouldn’t get answers from Herr Wright right away, but I’ll TRY to get some answers right out of him.

I knock on the agency door, and waited patiently.

This feels familiar. I feel like I’m visiting a close friend right now. Have I been here before?

Fräulein Magician answered the door. She gasped, before stepping aside to let me in. I couldn’t help but smile as I was led in.

Herr Wright came out, only to pause on the spot.

He was wearing that grey hoodie, his hat and badge missing. He was hesitant, before walking over to me to shake my hand.

“Welcome, Prosecutor Gavin.” He greeted, hesitantly, “What ar… Brings you here?”

“I promised the little Fräulein I’d come and visit, so I did!” Simple as that! I shook his hand, “I’m always happy to make sure you both are okay as ever, ja? I can help, if you’d like!”

Schweigen.

“I didn’t think you’d come, Prosecutor Gavin!” Trucy replied, before smiling now, “Neither of us did.”

“Really?” I tilted my head, “Why? I always did as promised before, didn’t I?”

“No. Not ever.” Herr Wright shook his head, “To be perfectly honest, I don’t think you ever did as promised before.”

“Was?”

I swear, I always did as promised towards Herr Wright. Mostly for his approval, but for what?

“Ach, I hope that’s a joke.” I frowned, “If that’s the case, then I better start than, ja?”

I need his approval on something. I don’t know what, but I really need his approval on something.

He seemed to be in shock, before glancing at Trucy, who glanced back.

“If you’d like, can you get… Us some Grape Juice?” Trucy asked, looking at me now, “A pack in glass bottles?”

“No problem, Fräulein!” I turn to leave,“Be right back, Herr Wright!”

“Hold it!”

I turn to see Herr Wright pointing now.

“I got a few questions for you, first!” He gestured towards the couch, “Prosecutor Gavin, you just got here. Why not stay a while before grabbing a pack of Grape Juice.”

I paused as I turned right around, and did as he told me.

He sat down right across to me, while Fräulein Magician sat next to him.

“Don’t get us wrong, but you’ve been acting very strange since this morning.” He started, crossing his arms now, “Yesterday, or ever, you didn’t care about us, in particular.”

My eyes widen as he rested his hands in his pocket, eyeing me now. Suspiciously.

“So, tell me.” He frowned, “What’s the catch?”

Schweigen.

Good question. If I acted like that towards them since they met, I would’ve expected them to be at least suspicious.

Why not tell them the truth?

“To be perfectly honest, Herr Wright.” I start, hesitantly, “I don’t know.”

He stared at me, before widening his eyes. Almost in shock.

“I feel like…” I paused, not sure how to put it, “When I woke up this morning, I feel like… I’m missing something. Like, this isn’t the life I’m… Suppose to have.”

I leaned back, thinking about this.

“Like, I feel like I’m… Suppose to have your approval on something.” I sighed, “And be close friends with Fräulein Magician for… Not a relationship, but I just feel like I need to be close to her.”

He glared at me now.

“Don’t get the wrong idea.” I waved defensively, “I don’t feel… That way towards Fräulein Magician. Not at all. I… I think it’s something else entirely.”

He still glared, but after a while, he softened up.

“Wanna know how strange this feels?” I leaned forward as he did too to listen to soft whispers. “I told Herr Edgeworth that his outfit is entirely different. Like he didn’t wear black at all.”

His eyes widen in shock as he swung back a bit. Obviously in shock.

“I know, right?” I sighed as I leaned back too, “Like, I feel like… His outfit was different before. Like, black wasn’t his color. I even knew that you both were close friends, but I thought… You both still were.”

I leaned down. As he thought about it. I pretty much just sighed.

“I… Feel like I’m missing something.” My heart heavy, “And… I miss it. Dearly.”

Mehr stille.

“It sounds like you came from a different universe entirely.” Herr Wright comments, chuckling humorlessly, “Hard to believe, but it seems like you’re not lying.”

“If that’s true, you believe me just like that?” I sigh, “How do you know I’m not making this bullshit up on the spot to gain your trust?”

“Trust me, I have my ways.” He patted his pocket, before shaking his head, “It seems to me that your mind is set differently. Even if our Prosecutor Gavin dreamed of this shit, he sure ain’t gonna give it any thought. Might make music out of it, sure, but not dwell on it. Like you’re doing.”

“Was?” Well, great idea, but now isn’t the time for music, “Well. I guess that would be… Your evidence.”

“Yes. That would be our evidence.” He smirked now, “We’re sticking to it.”

“Ach, you two win.” I waved my arms up now, grunting, “I believe you two. So, what would be different?”

“From the sounds of it, you’re missing a certain… Something.” He scratched the back of his head, sheepishly, “Look, we don’t have anymore evidence on what you feel that you’re missing.”

Of course.

“If you think of something, though, call us.” He gave a small smile, now, “We can write down some clues as to what… Or who you’re missing. It could be a who.”

I nod, smiling back now. Just knowing they’d help me cheers me up.

“Of course. I’ll… Get you your Grape Juice, now. Herr Wright.” I thumb towards the door, “If I get a call from Fräulein Detective, It might be… Delayed. Don’t get the wrong idea if that happens, alright?”

“We trust you, now.” Fräulein Magician smiled now, bouncing on the balls of her feet, “We’ll understand if that happens.”

Herr Wright gave the thumbs up, and I couldn’t help but feel honored.

“Danke, Herr Wright.” I smiled, “Danke.”

“No problem.” He waved it off, “Alright, Truce, grab a notebook. Let’s write some stuff down.”

I walk out the door as Fräulein Magician did exactly what Herr Wright said.

What a great duo.

X-X-X-X

I had to jinx it.

Out of all times to call, it had to be on my way back to their office.

“Mr. Edgeworth wants you.” Fräulein Detective said, in a monotone voice, “Your specialty is needed to prosecute this case.”

My specialty?

“You have the ability to save this person. Your carelessness is needed to assist the defense.”

Was!?

“I trust you’ll do just fine, especially with your line of work.”

I hung up, and soon after, I gave Herr Wright a call.

“Bad luck, huh? Don’t worry, we won’t mind waiting just a little bit longer.”

I decided to just tell what else was weird.

“Ema is usually angry towards you? That’s normal, right?”

Well, ja. That is normal, but…

“Ahh, not that cold towards you, huh? Well, everyone seems to be very cold nowadays, so I guess where you lived, everyone was friendly?”

Cold?

“Oh, now things are starting to get interesting.”

“If I remember correctly, the term I’m thinking of is… Warm.”

“Warm? Never heard of warm. Is it… Good? Does it mean friendly?”

Was?

“That’s another clue… How do you spell… Warm?”

No way.

“Thanks, Prosecutor Gavin. That’s a HUGE step towards your world. You’re definitely NOT our Prosecutor Gavin.”

He wouldn’t know the word ‘warm’,

“None of us do.”

I hung up, and I couldn’t help but feel like… Like I’m closer to figuring out who I am, and where I come from.

I headed to the office like ordered.

X-X-X-X

“What!?”

I winced as he yelled.

I told him I wasn’t gonna take the case and having a leave of absence. I wasn’t gonna take long. Just a day or two.

He, however, seemed displeased with that.

“A leave of absence, you say!?” He paces back and forth, a little too slowly, “First of all, you come all this way looking like that, and now you tell me you want a leave of absence!?”

“I don’t feel all that good, and I said it would be for a couple of days!” I argue, pounding on his desk, “The attire should’ve been a hint in the first place! Hell- I even have proof!”

“Present that proof, Prosecutor Gavin!” He ordered, “Now!”

“Warm!”

“… Wh-What!?”

“Warm means friendly for me.” I reply, standing up, “Warm means the opposite of cold. There is no such thing as a grey boss, who is cold towards his workers. Hell, I feel like I’m not ready to take on any case… I even still think that you and Herr Wright are still friends. Can you explain these dumb thoughts besides sickness!?”

Schweigen.

I decided to take his silence as a sign I should go. Whether it be forever, or temporarily, I’ll never know. I don’t care, I feel like I should be back home to my so-called ‘universe’. I don’t know how, or why. I just want the truth.

I was almost at the door when I got stopped.

“Prosecutor Gavin.” He walked up to me as I paused. He kept an emotionless look on his face, “Your office…”

“Will be given to someone else?”

“No.” He shook his head, “Will be kept safe. Until you return.”

I turned around, almost in shock.

“Take as long as you need.” He now gave a soft smile, “Don’t take too long, or else your office will be take away. Understand?”

“Ja. I understand.” I returned the smile, “Danke, Herr Edgeworth.”

“Of course.”

With that, he returned to his desk, and I left his office.

My heart, heavy.

I’m starting to understand what’s going on here, and why this is happening to me.

X-X-X-X

“What!?”

I look over to see Fräulein Detective giving a shocked look.

“That’s impossible!” She crossed her arms, “Why would you mind change over night!? Like, for all I know, this might be a temporary or permanent change!”

“I know, but this isn’t the world for me.” I sigh, “I’m missing something, and I want it back.”

“How do you know that!?” She glared at me, “It could be that you’re hungry, or something.”

“All I know about it, is that it’s warm. Like the sun.” I lean back, “It’s obviously something I care about, and I have to have both Herr Wright’s approval and befriend Fräulein Magician for it too.”

“Wh-What!? Wh-What is the sun? What is warm!?”

“What is the complete opposite of cold?”

“Uh, friendly?”

“The answer was warm.” I began to shake, “Warm. The answer was… Warm. It totally meant the opposite of cold where I come from.”

I shut my eyes tight as tears began to whell up.

I miss them. I miss warmth. I miss…

A… A…

“Whoa whoa, I believe you.”

I turn to see Fräulein Detective giving a concerned look.

Schweigen.

I look up to see Herr Wright there too. Concerned.

Oh. Oh, I forgot to deliver the bottles of Grape Juice to him.

“Oh. The bottles of Grape Juice. I-I’ll go get them.”

Does he come here often?

It sure is a beautiful night out.

“Nah, I can wait.” He replied as Fräulein Detective scooted over so he could sit next to me. He patted my back, “We figured it out.”

“You did?”

“Yeah. Thanks to the clues you gave us.” He chuckled lightly, “The answer is simple.”

Mehr stille.

“Well, aren’t you gonna tell me?”

“Oh, of course.”

He looked sad.

“It seems like… Like you live in a universe where… Another being exists.”

Another being? Like… Another human being?

“You… Fell in love with them.” He continues, “Let’s say… I adopted another kid or something. They were the light to your day. Giving you… Warmth?”

“Warmth. That’s right.”

“Warmth. Suprised I got the wording right.” He chuckled, “No. Seriously. I think we adopted another kid where you live. One that doesn’t exist in this world. Though, you know he was suppose to. Probably for your purpose, or ours. Either way, that’s the only explaination on my half.”

My eyes widen in realization.

“How did you gather that from my clues? That’s… Absolutely correct.”

“Really? I adopted another kid, and you fell in love with them?”

“Yes! Yes! That’s right!” My heart was about to burst with pain, “But… How did you guess all that!?”

“Well. It’s the gaining my approval part that gave it away.” He answers, frowning now, “But why they don’t exist, that’s up to you to decide.”

“I-It’s the clothes he wears.”

That’s it. That’s definitely it, is it.

“Wh-What?”

“It’s the clothes he wears.” I began to tear up, “He won’t ever exist because of the clothes he wears. It’s the same color as… Herr Edgeworth’s clothes. Except… D-Darker.”

“But why does Edgeworth exist!?”

“That’s a good question.” I began to shake, “It’s the same color, so- does that color not exist here!? It’s no wonder he wore black instead. Wh-Why him!?”

“What color is it!?” Ema cried, her eyes widening, “Please! Tell me!”

“… R-Red.”

“Red?”

“Red.”

Everyone suddenly froze as I hyperventilate.

“Red is… Warm.” I explain, softly, “Soft, even. Red is… The opposite of Blue. Green. Red completes me.”

Everything went black.

Red… Is… A-Apollo Justice.

X-X-X-X

I shot up as a ringing echoed throughout the air.

I grunted, as I realized it was Herr Edgeworth who decided to call.

I didn’t want to answer, as I teared up, and cried, as I remembered what happened last night.

I need to get Herr Wright his Grape Juice back.

I got up, to get dressed when I got another phone call from Herr Edgeworth. I grunted, as I decided to ignore it again.

I thought I told him I had a leave of absence.

I found my favorite jacket. My keys and car too.

Strange. I thought someone took all three of them. Maybe next time Herr Edgeworth calls, I can report that stolen stuff, that has conveniently returned.

He called again, and this time, I answered.

“I thought I said I was taking a leave of absence.” I start, frowning now, “Can’t you see I’m sick enough to think up such crazy stuff?”

“Oh? I don’t remember such conversations yesterday.”

“I told you I was thinking of some crazy stuff such as warmth. Which, I told you was the opposite of cold.” I sigh, “I forgot Warmth doesn’t exist.”

“Oh? It doesn’t now?”

“No, of course not!” Why is he acting like he knows the concept now!? “Here is another question to prove it, then. What color is red?”

“The answer would be warmth. Like the sun, the twilight sky, and most importantly, the color of my coat.”

“Did Fräulein Detective give you that answer?” I growled, “If swear, you are pissing me off on perpose.”

“No, I was simply born with the knowledge of Red.” He huffed, “Though, I see why you decided to take a sick day off. Take a rest. I’ll send someone over, to cheer you up.”

With that, he hung up. I couldn’t be anymore angry as I grunted. Throwing the phone to the couch.

Why did I have to confront him again for a day off!?

Still.

Things shouldn’t be like this. If he doesn’t exist, it’s not worth living anymore.

Schweigen.

I still owe Herr Wright a pack of Grape Juice. I decided to just leave it as it is, and head out with a note.

I started to write down the note to whoever is visiting, when I turned to see my mail.

I’m… Seeing things.

No. My mind is playing tricks on me.

I run over to the mail slots, and pause at the view in front of me.

I began to tear up upon picking up the letter.

No return address.

I opened it right up, only to realize what kind of letter it was. Tears rolling down my cheeks.

“Dear Klavier Gavin,

I know I’m use to calling you Prosecutor Gavin, but I wanna address certain feelings I want to let out, please hear me out, and don’t make fun of me. I’ve never felt like this before. What if I told you, I like being around you? I like thinking of you. How you act. How you look. How you… Smell. Don’t over think this, this is my first letter, letting you know how I feel. I feel like I want to be with you. For a while, and I wish you can stay. I’m glad the… Concept of YOU exists. I don’t like your type of music, and you are annoying to be around, but I stick with because I thought that’s what friends do.

Without you, I wouldn’t start out my career. I wouldn’t even continue it. I would’ve lost my second case, and quit law altogether. Though I’m sure it’ll make no difference nowadays. Though, when I think about a world without you… It would be sad. Lonely. Hell, even if the color purple didn’t exist along with it, it would be worse. I can’t imagine what it would be like without me, nor the color red, but I’m sure it won’t make a big difference. You would move on, with your careless life, and not pay to mind with Mr. Wright or his daughter, Trucy. Though, I’m pretty sure you would’ve been happy either way. I’m willing to just… Not exist for you.

Though, I digress. What matters is that, I like you. I want to be with you. I hope one day, maybe we can go out some more, and be together. Just you and I. I hope you can read this, and accept my feelings. Love… Is too strong at this point. Still, I just want to be with you more. Thank you, Prosecutor Gavin. For being there for me.

- Sincerely Apollo Justice

P.S: I can pay, if you want, but I only have SO much. A defense attorney can get SO much per client. So, if that’s stopping you from going out, that’s fine too.”

I held the letter close, as I cried. Sobbing as I hugged the letter like it was him. Actually him in my arms. I lean against the door, as the tears dropped on the mat below.

He exists. He actually exists in this reality I’m in. I’m the luckiest man alive.

I sobbed for about a few more minutes when a knock on the door startled me.

I wiped the tears, and I stood up to answer the door. Letter still held close.

I was greeted with a familiar face as he gave the most concerned look he ever gave.

I dropped the letter as I walk out to hug him.

Sobbing.

The red envelope laying flat on the foor, as I brought him inside.

I missed you SO much.

Please don’t ever leave me again.

Schweigen.

I still owe Herr Wright a pack of Grape Juice.

X-X-X-X The End.

#ace attorney #gyakutin saiban #ace attorney: apollo justice #aa:aj #aa:dd #duel destinies #klavier gavin #apollo justice #klapollo #kyodoroki #kyouya garyuu #odoroki housuke #fanfic #fanfiction

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