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melancholydreadfuldream · 4 years

Text

deep end of a dream

Fandom: Doctor Who

Pairing: 11th Doctor x Reader & Ganger!Doctor x reader

Summary: You were in love with the Doctor but unfortunately the Doctor couldn't make up his mind between his feeling for you and for River. When an accident resulting in creation of another Doctor, will that be the answer everyone is hoping for?

Warning: ooc, angst, plot holes as usual, dark!doctor, etc. You have been warned.

More warning: English is not my first language so beware of the headache you will receive upon reading this.

"Y-you are leaving the Tardis? Where are you going?"

He smiled as he show you a vortex manipulator. "Cheap time travel but this will do. I can go anywhere anytime."

"B-but..." You felt unwillingness to part with him.

"Two doctors in one Tardis? That could never work out." The ganger Doctor turned stabilized said. "I can't stay here." He took a step toward you, taking one of your hands in his. "I was hoping you would come with me."

Your mouth dropped open in shock.

"I mean I know I'm not the real Doctor..."

"You are the Doctor." You insisted.

He smiled solemnly. "You told him before that you are leaving him...leaving the Tardis."

You did say that to the original Doctor before he took you and the Ponds to the flesh factory. You are done waiting for him, waiting for a man who could never love you properly.

"Come with me." The ganger Doctor pleaded.

You didn't know what to say.

7777

You have been with the Doctor longer than any other companion. You first met the Doctor in his tenth incarnation while he was with Rose. You soon fell in love with the Doctor but has to endure heartbreak as he only has eyes for Rose. After losing Rose, the Doctor dropped you at home and didn't come back for you for a long while. He said you are better off without him. You pleaded him to let you stay but he cruelly ignored you.

You met the Doctor on board of the valiant courtesy of the Master. The Master somehow found out about your feeling for the Doctor and use it against you and the Doctor. You were there as a hostage and as the Master's plaything. He likes to rub it that the Doctor doesn't love you. He basically outed your pathetic feeling for the Doctor.

It was a very long and painful year. You were forced to watch as the Master torture the Doctor, regressed him into a sort of aged creature and put him in a cage as added humiliation. You met Jack, an immortal and a former companion of the Doctor. He was a hostage as well and his fate is worst than you. The Master likes to be variable in his method of torture. And yet, Jack is brave and still laughed in face of repeated tortures and deaths.

Then you met Martha, the woman who walked the Earth, the storyteller, the one who saved the Doctor and the world. Like you, Martha was in love with the Doctor but the Doctor still hung up on Rose. After time is reset, Martha decided to stop travelling with the Doctor.

The Doctor apologized to you for getting you involved with his mess. You were sure he would turn you away again but instead he asked you to travel again with him and like the besotted fool you are, you agreed. But the two of you never talked about the elephant in the room which is your outed feeling for the Doctor. Both of you pretended that it didn't happen. But it was hard for you, traveling with the Doctor, interacting with him, discovering his many adorable quirk that made your feeling for him strengthen.

Eventually, Donna joined you and the Doctor. She recognized your feeling for the Doctor immediately and she is being supportive of you despite you telling her about your love rival, Rose.

During one of your routine adventure with Doctor and Donna, you met River Song. River seemed to know who you are and acted as if you and her are friends despite you have no idea who she is. You got jealous at how River confidently talked and keep up with the Doctor. You and Donna got uploaded inside CAL. After the Doctor saved everyone, you learned that River is dead and you felt guilty for being jealous of her before. That woman died to save everyone.

Donna often likes to push you and the Doctor together. During a visit at Midnight, Donna pushes you to take a trip with the Doctor instead of spending time at the spa with her. You got under thrall of an unknown creature that possessed another passenger and the Doctor had to save you from it while stopping the rest of the passengers from trying to have you thrown out of the cabin.

He kissed you and took the infection off you, rendering himself under the creature's thrall. You tried to save him too but it was futile. You tried to calm down everyone but it was like all of them has lost their rational mind. When you both finally survived the creature, you could only hugged each other in relief. You cried and accidentally tell him that you love him. But he was too distracted to respond.

Many things happened so fast after that. Earth got stolen and Rose come back. So you and the Doctor never got a chance to talk about it. You don't know whether to feel sad or relief, after all, knowing your feeling is unrequited. It hurts watching the Doctor and Rose reunited. You could see how much they love each other through their interaction.

Then, metacrisis Doctor Donna happened. After saving the universe, the Doctor left Rose and Metacrisis Doctor back on the paralel universe. You and the Doctor had to say goodbye to Donna whose memory got erased. You insisted of staying with the Doctor. You can't bear to let him be alone. Luckily, he didn't fight you about staying.

He was lonely still. You weren't enough for him. You know this. It hurts. You let him use you. He soaked in your love for him.

You stayed with him through his regeneration into the bow-tied man that you will eventually love too. Inside the crashing Tardis, you fell into the swimming pool and got a concussion for it. The newly-regenerated Doctor is very worried for you.

You were wary of the new Doctor but he was very affectionate with you. He fussed over you. He treated your head wound. You eventually accepted that he is still the Doctor you know, just a little bit difference, well, a lot difference.

The Doctor invited Amy to board the Tardis. You and Amy get along alright. She notices immediately about your feeling for the Doctor. You are wondering if you are really bad to keep your feeling a secret if anyone could know immediately.

This version of the Doctor really is too affectionate. He loves hugging or taking your hand in his firmly. Sometimes you could almost believe he is flirting with you. But, of course, the Doctor remained vague regarding your relationship. You might be making a mistake by staying. As you expected, the more you know this new Doctor, the more your feeling for him grow even more, one might say it was like a cancer.

You and the Doctor met River again. Your heart is broken again when you heard the Doctor confirmed Amy's teasing that River is indeed his future wife. But the threat of the weeping angels distracted you enough from letting yourself drown in misery.

River is very nice with you, still saying that you and her are friends. When you two are alone, you decided to ask whether she is really married to the Doctor. She only gave you a really annoyingly vague answer.

You are done. You wanted to leave the Doctor. You will not stay and pined for a married man. But River seemed to figure out your line of thinking and pleaded you to stay. She said the Doctor need you and that someday you will have to save the Doctor. You don't know if she is lying however you have no choice but to stay in case she really is saying the truth.

Afterward you tried to keep your distant with the Doctor. Both the Doctor and Amy noticed. Amy tried to comfort you, knowing your reasoning.

Rory eventually joined inside the Tardis too. It's getting kind of crowded in the Tardis but you didn't mind. You also get along nice with Rory.

While the Doctor and Amy are kind a bit reckless, you and Rory become their voice of reason...somewhat. You would even said you and Rory are probably the sane ones. The Doctor and Amy would jump and greet dangers together while laughing a bit like maniac. They often ganged up against you and Rory, calling you both the boring ones.

7777

"The Doctor is a selfish old man. You will be waiting for a long time for him, poor little (name)." The Dream Lord had mocked you. "And he will let you wait for him instead of letting you go. He is that cruel."

You hated that everyone seemed to know your feeling for the Doctor.

"You are right, little (name), he is like a cancer. You better run before he takes over you completely." He said.

He is reading your mind. How can he be reading your mind like this?

"But I suppose, it was already too late for you, eh?"

When they finally defeated the Dream Lord, you can't help but wonder if the Doctor can read other people's mind after he admitted that the Dream Lord is in fact a darker version of himself.

7777

Tears falling from your cheeks as you watched the somewhat weary Doctor sitting inside Pandorica, readying himself to fly toward the exploding Tardis.

River had explained that when he did that, he will be erased from time. You can't accept that but it is not like your opinion matters to him.

The Doctor looked a bit sad when you said that to him. "You always matters to me and I do listen to you but in this case, you know it is the only way."

You wiped your tears furiously. "River said you can't come back...that you will be trapped on the wrong side... We would have never met at all." You whispered with a crack in your voice as more tears falling from your cheeks.

He smiled as he put a hand over your cheek. "Oh, my dearest (name)...I'm sorry...It seemed that I always ended up hurting you..."

You blinked at him in confusion before you realized he was talking about your feeling for him. You tried to smile. "It's alright, Doctor, I know you don't feel the same for me. I'm just glad that you let me stay. Being with you..."

"...is hurting you and yet you stays with me through everything..." The Doctor cut in. He looked at you with a sad look. "I don't deserve you."

You shook your head at that. "Don't say that. It was my choice to stay with you. You show me the wonder of the universe and more. I would always be grateful for that. I love you, Doctor, I'm not sorry that I do and...you shouldn't either. I don't regret you so please don't..." You trailed.

He smiled as he drew you closer and kissed your forehead. "Live a good life, my (name), find your happiness no matter what happen..." He murmured to you.

You left him and told Amy to go to the Doctor.

"People fall out of the world sometimes, but they- they always leave traces, little things you can't quite account for. Nothing is ever forgotten, not completely, and, if something can be remembered, it can come back." You heard him says that to Amy.

River stood by your side. She was staring at the Doctor and Amy with a solemn look. Her eyes are glassy.

"It will be alright. He will come back." You said to her suddenly. You don't know why you said that. Maybe your faith in the Doctor is still strong, making you believe that he will overcome this and you need to share that faith with those who love him as you do.

River looked surprised at your words. She smiled kindly at you and took one of your hand in hers.

The world exploded and rebooted. Everything felt like it was spiraled out of your control. When you come to, you were sitting in your favorite park bench with a book in your hands. You blinked as you tried to shake off the feeling of loss and grief within your heart but you have no idea why you felt like that.

As you stared blankly at space, you heard the wheezing sound of the Tardis. At first, you are confused as you no longer recognized that sound. Then the blue box appeared a few feet away from you and your memory started to return. You dropped your book as you stood up and walked cautiously toward the box.

The Doctor, dressed in a suit and a top hat, walked out of the Tardis. "Come on, (name), we will miss Amy and Rory's wedding." He said.

"Doctor?" You whispered.

He smiled brightly at you.

You walked toward him and tentatively touched his arms as if wanting to make sure he is real. Tears filled your eyes once more and you hugged him tight. He hugged you back, rubbed your back in gesture of comfort before he pulled you inside the Tardis.

He explained to you how Amy brought him back just as he predicted. He had just been crashing the Pond's reception and he was trying to move the Tardis out of the ballroom for space. It was then he come back for you.

As you got out of the Tardis and into the ballroom with the Doctor, Amy grinned and pulled you into a hug. "I'm so glad you are here, (name)." she said.

You smiled at both Amy and Rory. You complimented her. She looked beautiful in her wedding dress. The two of you had a good laugh when you both saw how the Doctor danced a giraffe dance with the kids.

You smiled fondly as you watched Amy and Rory danced together. You are glad that they have got their happy ending.

The Doctor stood beside you with a fond smile. "2000 years. The boy who waited." He said.

You noticed River outside the windows, smiling and then leaving. You told the Doctor that you saw her and the Doctor goes to her, saying something about having to return her diary to her. You watched him go with a somewhat bittersweet smile.

7777

The Doctor invited you to watch his death in Lake Silencio. How can he be this cruel? Both you and Amy can't cope, seeing his painful death. Rory and River are the ones who still did as the Doctor told, still wanting to complete the mission given to them.

Then a younger version of the Doctor appeared before you screwing your mind even more. River explained it to you and the Ponds regarding the Doctor and the rule of time. She made you and the Ponds swore never to tell the Doctor about his death back in Lake Silencio.

In America, you have another talk with River. She insinuated that the Doctor has feeling for both you and River. But you already know that the Doctor would never pick you so why are you still insist to stay with him? Are you really this foolish? He is stringing you along just like the Dream Lord said. Are you this pathetic that you will let him do that forever?

You made up your mind about leaving the Doctor and the Tardis. It was time you stop waiting for a man who would never love you properly. You felt a bit guilty about leaving the Ponds to deal with the upcoming death of the Doctor but you found you no longer can stand be around him anymore.

You told the Doctor about leaving. He look like a sad kicked puppy much to your guilt. He convinced you to stay until he can give you a proper last hurrah.

Next thing you know, there are two Doctors, one of them is a ganger. You tried to keep your distance from both Doctors. You thought it was the only way for you to leave, stop caring for the Doctor, harden your heart. But you found you couldn't ignore the Doctor especially in the face of death so when the original Doctor decided to let the ganger Doctor stay behind to die, your mind just flashed back into that dreadful day at Lake Silencio and you just 'nope' so bad as you lost your marble and forced the ganger Doctor to come on board of the Tardis.

Of course you know, the ganger Doctor is just that, a ganger but the original Doctor is the one who treated the ganger as something more and now he's just gonna let him die? The Doctor is the one who said a ganger has all their counterpart's memories. The ganger Doctor is essentially the Doctor too, so how can you let him die?

You pleaded like crazy with the ganger Doctor not to sacrifice himself. The ganger Doctor tried to get you to go with the original Doctor, telling you that your Doctor is safe with you but there is no reasoning with you. He eventually relents when you gave him ultimatum to get inside the Tardis or you stay here with him and die together. Deep down, you were yelling at your stupidity but you could only feel relieved when he finally surrender to your wish for him to stay alive.

You heard the Doctor telling all the gangers on board of the Tardis about how the energy inside the time ship will stabilized them and made them a real person. You wondered if the ganger Doctor is a full Time Lord or become a human but you didn't ask, still in somewhat shock state. You wondered what the original Doctor must think of you and how the ganger Doctor will fit in the Tardis. Maybe you messed this up but you could hardly regret the Doctor, any Doctor, for long.

There is no time to concern with the issue of ganger Doctor though when both Doctors finally revealed the truth about Amy being a ganger too.

7777

After rescuing Amy and losing baby Melody and to finding out River is Melody, you could finally have time to yourself. You wondered if leaving the Doctor is still something you wanted.

River is on board of the Tardis and shamelessly flirted with both Doctors.

You snorted to yourself. What were you thinking? Now that there are two Doctors, one of them will choose you? How stupid you can be? There is part of you who now wonder which Doctor died in that Lake Silencio, the original or the ganger? You wondered if your motive of rescuing ganger Doctor is as shallow as hoping one of them will pick you or as cruel as to have replacement Doctor to face death in Lake Silencio. But it was hardly your problem now. You decided you still have to leave.

That's when the ganger Doctor come to you with his proposition. "Come with me, (name)." He pleaded.

Your mouth dropped open in shock. "W-why?"

He smiled. "I am alive because of you. Is it a wonder I would like to spend the rest of my life with you?"

"B-but..." You wanted to ask him about River but your mind stop you short. That was probably not a nice thing to ask. Of course, River will get to be with the original. The Doctor and River Song in the Tardis. You were always the spare and now it seemed this Doctor is too.

He looked insecure now. "I understand if you didn't want to. I just want a chance to be the man that you deserve."

Without thinking, you pulled him closer and kissed him. As you broke the kiss, he stared at you solemnly before suddenly burst into adorable giggle which in turn make you smile.

7777

The ganger Doctor switched his name into John Noble. You smiled at his chosen surname in honor of Donna Noble.

You and John traveled the universe every time you can but it was limited due to the limited ability of the vortex manipulator. He was working on making a better and safer version of vortex manipulator though.

You both picked a place to be called home since you both got no Tardis as home-base. He made your dream house, a small cottage with white picket fence and he even got you a dog.

"How did you even get all of this?" You asked.

"I am still technically the Doctor, you know. I have friends in high place." He said as he made a motion with his hands.

You laughed as you hugged your new pet companion. You and John had a funny banter about naming the dog. John insisted that he speaks dog and the dog wanted to be called some silly, really long name.

7777

You eventually married John. It was hard at first as you were still riddled with insecurity, believing that he will somehow grew tired of you and left on his own. He had assured you many times that he would never abandon you. He murmured about how he can hardly believe that the other Doctor actually let you go with him. You asked him what he is talking about but he distracted you with hug and kisses. You eventually believe him and accepted his marriage proposal.

"I wanted to grow old with you." He told you.

That honestly the nicest thing the Doctor ever said to you, well, technically it wasn't really the Doctor who said it. it was John. Suddenly your mind flashed back into Rose and metacrisis Doctor. Were the two of you similar to them in some way?

You have a happy marriage with John. There were some up and down. He, in some way, is the Doctor so naturally he can't quite cope to stay in one place too long. Sometimes he took you to sightseeing and have your own adventure which thankfully does not include some deathly crisis. Sometimes he goes on his own, those days are hard for you, worrying he will not come back for you.

One day, he returned home injured. He was not alone. Jack Harkness is with him. You were surprised to see him again and really scared upon seeing the injured John. Apparently someone thought John is the Doctor and attempted to kill him. Had it not for Jack, he would have died. Thankfully, his injury is not fatal. In fact, one might say, he is quite lucky. You know John still have some Time Lord qualities in him, he can't regenerate but he has a somewhat rapid healing ability.

Tears fell on your cheeks as you repeatedly punched John in his arms much to his dismay. "You are grounded forever, you jerk!" You yelled.

Jack is amused as he watched your interaction with John before the smile slide off his face. "You two need to hid. The world, right now, is against the Doctor and John having his face will not help his case."

"What do you mean? What happened?" You demanded.

Jack and John exchanged a look with each other.

"It's the Doctor." Jack said grimly. "He did something."

"Did what? What are you talking about?" You asked suddenly feeling scared on top of all the confusion.

"He is not the Doctor we used to know any longer, (name). He's changed. And I didn't mean he regenerated and has a change of personality again. I mean, he's changed." John said.

You stared at John. "You met him?"

John shook his head. "I didn't. But I saw the trail of destruction he left behind." He said grimly.

You stared blankly at your husband. "I'm sorry, did you just say a trail of destruction?"

John and Jack nodded somberly at you.

"No, you're wrong. We are talking about the Doctor here. He is not..."

"You don't know the Doctor as much as you think you do, (name)." John replied.

"But... John, you believe that the Doctor...you are capable of this...??"

"Well..." John laughed harshly. "...we didn't get the name oncoming storm for nothing you know..."

You shook your head. "No. Something must have happened to him. Maybe someone controlled his mind. He would not do whatever it is you think he did." You stubbornly said.

"(name)..." John called out with a sigh.

"No!" You left your husband and Jack as you went into the garden.

You walked back and forth as you tried to come to term with what John had said. You picked up your smartphone and your fingers hovered over the Doctor's Tardis number. You bit your lips and you called him on your phone.

John suddenly pulled your phone out of your hand and smashed it into the ground.

"John, what the hell!!" You were angry but when you saw his expression which is a mixture of anger and fear, you become speechless.

Jack entered the garden and told the both of you to run before the Doctor come for you both.

John nodded grimly as he grabbed his vortex manipulator and sonic screwdriver before turning to you and said, "I know you are afraid, (name) but you have to trust me. Please trust me." He cupped your face as he is pleading for you to believe him.

"I do trust you, John." You replied.

"Then you have to believe me. The Doctor is dangerous. He's a changed. And now we need to run before he came for us."

"He would not hurt us!" You said, almost offended.

John look saddened. "Maybe before. Now, I'm not so sure."

What could possibly happened to the Doctor? You were very curious but also very afraid especially as you watched John loses his cool with each passing moments.

7777

You went on the run with John. He had used perception filter on the both of you. The people of the whole world is afraid of the Doctor but also they were trying to kill him. Since John had his face and everything, people might targeted him or might try to use him against the Doctor. He does has his memories. He could be a threat but mostly to the Doctor. As you realized this, you are very afraid for John.

While on the run, you started to find out exactly what you feared that the Doctor has somehow turned evil and has set many planet on the course of destruction. You wanted to cry. What happened to the Doctor for him to change this much? John had told you about a prophecy of the Valeyard, a version of the Doctor turned evil, and now it seemed the prophecy is finally here.

You are scared, wondering if your life with John will ever be safe again. There were a few times, people are able to see past the perception filter and that few times almost cost John his life. You almost hated the Doctor for putting you and John in deep end like this.

You and John eventually found a safe place to stay. Each night you hugged him tight, afraid that you will lose him for good.

7777

You put out the grocery on the table at the small house you and John rented. You thought this day would come and goes as usual (it wasn't good but slightly okay) but of course the universe seemed to conspire against your happiness because as you went into the living room, you saw the Tardis. You gasped, feeling like someone just punch you in the gut.

"Hello, my dearest (name)."

You slowly turned around to face the Doctor. He was wearing a dark purple suit. His eyes looked weary but he was smiling at you like an old friend. "D-Doctor..."

"You looked good. John has taken a good care of you." He said with approval.

"John, where is he? What did you do to him?" You demanded.

"John is safe...for now."

You flinched at that. "W-what do you want, Doctor?"

He smiled as he walked toward you. His hand hovered over your cheek before settling to touch your hair instead. "I miss my best friend. Just pop up for a visit."

You are shaking and he noticed it.

He smiled in amusement but his eyes looked sad. "Seemed like you have heard some stories about me then..."

You took a step back away from him. "Please just leave me and John alone."

"I would if I could, dearest (name), but John had to go against me after everything I did for him." The Doctor said with disdain. "Gave him my first face and then he dare to go up against me?"

"W-what?"

The Doctor hummed. "I guess you didn't know."

"Know what?"

"That John has been aiding the resistance against me."

You froze. John never told you that. He was always with you most of the time. How can he be aiding the resistance? But then again, part of you are not really surprised. John is the Doctor, after all, at least the part of the Doctor that is good. Is it a wonder that he will try to save the world from his other self? But you also want to slap him silly for putting himself in danger.

"Don't hurt him." You begged. "Please don't hurt him."

The Doctor tiled his head, observing you. "You love him." He sighed. "I guess you do since you left me and married the man."

You flinched again at what he is insinuating. "You had your chance. You choose River. He choose me."

"I know."

"Doctor, what happened to you?"

The Doctor laughed harshly. "Life, I guess. I lost the Ponds and I send River to the library a long time ago. Got a new companion. Clara Oswald. That impossible girl. You would have love her, (name), always keeping me on my toes, just like River." He looked sad now. "Always saving me, just like River. She splintered herself, you know, just to save my life. Having to be reborn again and again and died for the Doctor. I saved the original but I lost her again."

"What happened to her?" You asked.

"They took her from me and made it impossible for me to save her. I made them pay for what they did." He said with a faraway look on his face. "I've lost so much." He whispered sadly. "No more." He added grimly before turning his intense gaze on you.

You flinched under his gaze.

"Come with me."

"W-what?"

"I need you, (name). You have always been there for me before. I hurt you so many times, ignoring your feeling for me, taking you for granted...and now I can’t stand be apart from you any longer."

You shook your head. "N-no. I can't be with you. I'm with John now."

He looked sad when you said that and then a darker expression crossed his features. "You are happy with a cheap copy?" He laughed mockingly at you.

You glared at him. "He's not a cheap copy! He is a better man than you are!"

The Doctor laughed again and stopped short. "I know."

You stared at him in confusion with the way he acted. He said something cruel and the next he looked remorseful.

"I would have like for you to come quietly with me. I guess I have no choice." He said as he pulled a sonic screwdriver at you.

You recognized the sonic screwdriver as John's. You felt sudden fear for John. "What did you do? Doctor, what did you do to him?"

He snapped his fingers as the Tardis door suddenly opened. "Go ahead. He's in there."

You were hesitate at first but at the mention of John, you quickly went inside. You saw John on the Tardis floor, groaning in pain. "John!" You called out as you bend your knees near him. "Are you okay? What's wrong?" Tears started to fell from your cheeks again.

"(name), run..." John whispered at you.

The Doctor went inside the Tardis but remaining standing on the doorway. He gazed at both you and John flatly.

"What did you do to him?" You demanded.

"Oh, I just reverse him. Your husband will turn into a yogurt again soon." The Doctor chuckled cruelly. "Funny that, yogurt..."

"Stop it! Just stop it! What do you want?!" You yelled.

"I told you what I want, (name)."

"What could you possibly want from me? Why are you doing this?"

He hummed. "You were always so loyal to me, (name). Back when I was sand-shoes, he treated you badly and still you stayed throughout his remaining life. You also stayed for me despite having a hard time to accept that I am still the Doctor, despite knowing what River is to me. That's why I allowed you to save him. That's why I allowed you to leave me for him. You deserve better." He said as he moved toward you, kneeling before you and cupped your face. "The first face this face saw... You are very dear to me, (name). I thought I could give you the same thing sand-shoes gave Rose. But now I realized I couldn't just let you go." He sighed. "The Dream Lord is right to warn you, (name), should have run from me. And now, I can't just let you go any longer."

"Doctor, please...don't do this."

The Doctor released you and stand up moving away from you. "So, I'm going to give you a choice, stay with me and I save your yogurt husband or refused me and well, he's yogurt...but I will still take you with me anyway." He chuckled. "Not much a choice I guess."

You glared hatefully at him. You turned to John in sorrow. "Fine. You win. Save him and I will go with you. But you have to leave him alone. No turning him back into a ganger."

"Deal." The Doctor grinned boyishly at you. You used to love that grin but now all you felt is hollow. He raised a hand toward you.

"Please let me say goodbye to him first."

He rolled his eyes. "Fine. Make it quick."

John groaned as the Doctor sonic-ed him into a stable condition. "(name), what did you do?"

"I'm sorry, I'm really sorry." You whispered to him. "I have to go with him."

John's eyes widened in fear. "No, (name), he is not himself. He is dangerous."

"I know, I have no choice. He will turned you back into a ganger otherwise. Can he really do that?"

John nodded in forlorn. "Unfortunately we are smart enough to do that."

The Doctor snorted at that.

You glared at him, demanding privacy and to your surprise, he did leave. You turned back to John. "At this rate, you have to become the Doctor that the world needs, John. He told me about the resistance."

"I'm sorry. I was careless. He found out."

You shook your head. "Then you have to be better, John. You have to. You are so much more than him." You said as you caressed his cheek lovingly. "I love you."

John pulled you close and kissed you.

"Alright, that's enough." The Doctor said.

You reluctantly stood up and leave John to stand by the Doctor's side. You glanced at the Doctor. "Give me your words that you will not harm him ever again."

"I promise as long as you stay with me, John Noble will be safe."

You watched as the Doctor moved around the console, readying the Tardis for take off, leaving John behind.

7777

He acted too hard to be like the way it was before, pretending to be the Doctor and his companion traveling the universe, except the universe hates him now. And to you, he was no longer your friend or the man you used to loved. You yearned to be with John but you know you can't.

He started acting like he was John. He took you on a date night, gave you chocolate and flowers. You played along to his whims, dressed in his chosen dress, dance with him and let him kiss you. Thankfully, he didn't demand you to have sex with him. You couldn't cope otherwise. But he made you sleep in the same bed as him in a room he choose to be yours and his now.

He took you out sightseeing so many times. He even took you to a villain gala. You didn't even know that was a thing. You felt sick how the guests of that ball greeted the Doctor as if he is the star of the show or something. It was there you first met Missy. The Doctor introduced her to you and told you that Missy is actually Mistress, another name for the Master. You can hardly believe that the Doctor is actually in a good speaking term with the Master, the man that used to torture the previous Doctor back on the Valiant during the year that never was.

Missy recognized you and predictably mocked you and your situation. You were furious when you learned she is the reason why John got caught by the Doctor. But it's not like you can do anything to her. You were mad and you left the Doctor's side. You refused to be taken to this sort of party. Despite angry at you for disobeying, he agreed not to take you to a villain gala again.

"I meant I know you are always so attached with your pets, Doctor, but this is ridiculous. Sooner or later, you will lose her too, she is only human after all." You heard Missy said to the Doctor.

The dark expression that crossed his feature made you really, really nervous.

7777

You pleaded the Doctor not to force immortality on you but he ignored you.

With the help of Missy, the Doctor got his hand on a drug or some technology that can prolong your life. He insisted to make you immortal just like Jack. He said he didn't want to lose you. He said he won't let anyone take you from him. Honestly, he made you very afraid.

And then he took you to a planet called Trenzalore where he released Gallifrey upon the universe. He didn't care that the planet got burn in the fight between Gallifrey and its enemies. With the help of the Doctor, if you can even called him that anymore, Gallifrey won. The Doctor was given a new set of regeneration as a reward from Rassilion. He thanked him for the reward and then proceed to kill him, proclaiming himself as the new president of Gallifrey.

After getting what he wanted from Gallifrey, he left the planet alone and took you back into the Tardis.

You couldn't believe him. He just do all those cruel things without blinking, not an ounce of remorse in him. Was the Doctor truly lost forever? And this man, he still claimed to be the Doctor, undoing the real Doctor's life work by turning everything upside down and burn down everything good. He found glee in soiling the name 'Doctor'.

And yet what it is with his obsession with you? He never care about you to that point before. Missy eventually explained what being the first face an incarnation saw meant. You finally got what you wanted, a special place in the Doctor's hearts, but why does it has to be like this?

Missy offered you a way to escape but you were suspicious about her intention. "Frankly I don't care whether you stay with the Doctor or not as long as you and him continue to provide me with entertainment. Sure, I could help you escape him without him ever knowing I help you. But you should know, he would never stop searching for you if you do. He would even burn planet after planet just to get to you. It would be fun to watch, well, for me anyway." She said.

How can you tried to escape when the price of freedom is other planet and its people dying because of you? You are not a martyr but even so you are not that selfish. And so you stayed by his side, trying your best to rein him in when possible. You learned he is willing to be merciful in your presence. You took full advantage of it in hope to save some.

You thought of John. He was your only hope. You hope he could somehow save the world but if he can't, you can only hope he will be okay wherever he is. As you thought of your immortality, you couldn't help but cry. You were supposed to grow old with John. You don't even know how many years has passed since last you saw him.

7777

Hope resurfaced within you when you heard news about John being active in resistance, outsmarting the Doctor in his scheme. You only found out because the Doctor lost his marble after being outsmarted by John.

"I should have turn him back into a yogurt..." He said begrudgingly.

You glared at him. "You made a promise to me, don't you dare break it."

"Given the chance, you would have run back to him, wouldn't you? Perhaps I should make sure that you won't have anyone to return to but me." He said with a cruel smirk.

"I am here with you as you wanted. Don't you dare harm John."

"Fine, I won't." He said but the look in his eyes made you suspicious.

"You are not allowed to scheme against him!"

"Oh, my dearest (name), don't you worry about me hurting that yogurt husband of yours. I won't need to lift a finger against him. I know someone who would very much like to do it." He said. "She has always hated my old-self. She would probably have as much fun as me to rile him up. John Noble, the stand-in Doctor."

You realized he was talking about Missy. You froze in fear. "No, make her stop."

"No one can stop Missy once she set her eyes on something. She has always been stubborn especially when it comes to me." He said with a smirk. "But, hey, don't worry, John is basically me, right? He will do fine."

"I hate you." You said.

His smirk faltered.

You turned around and left him in the console room.

7777

You were forced to watch another planet he conquered just because of boredom. He proclaimed himself as King and you his Queen. It was all very stupid, in your opinion. He made you wear a stupid crown proclaiming that crowns are cool. When he said that, you just remembered the old Doctor who kept telling everyone how bow-ties or fezzes are cool. It made you miss the Doctor terribly.

This version of the Doctor, once in a while, made you wondered if the old Doctor still resides within him deep inside but then whenever he did, he would started acting up and did something horrible to someone else as if making up for showing weakness.

You were once attacked by a member of resistance. You thought they hope to hurt the Doctor by killing you. But by then, you were already turned as an immortal by the Doctor. The Doctor was so furious and there is nothing you can do to make him show mercy. He lets loose the oncoming storm toward those who conspire against him in retaliation. After that, once you were both at your room, he would hug you tight and won't let go as if he is fearing that you will disappear. It made you think how lonely and sad he must be. You hugged him back.

He tricked you into marrying him, dangling the fate of a planet to do it. "I'm going to give you something that John didn't." You were very confused with what he meant. "I'm going to give you my name."

Your eyes widened in shock. River is the only one who know his name before. Why is he doing this? What was the point? You were very frustrated. "John Noble is the only name that matter to me." You said.

He ignored you, forcing you instead to follow some Gallifreyan ritual.

"Smile for the camera, dearest (name)." The Doctor whispered to you. "I'm sure that yogurt husband of yours is watching us got married live."

You recoiled from him but he made a firm grab of you to keep in position as he finished the ritual.

You heard Missy made a quip about how cruel the Doctor is to you. Well, duh. But apparently, she meant the ritual because the ritual forced a mental bond to form between you and the Doctor. You might be immortal but you were not made for a mental bond.

"She will learn to adapt with it." You heard the Doctor said. "We have forever to do it."

Honestly you hated these mental bond. You have no privacy even in your own mind. He likes to invade your mind and take a look of your memories. You screamed at him to leave you alone. You wanted to cry. You are losing your mind and he know it. Thankfully he relents and left your mind alone for the most part.

7777

One day, while the Doctor is out with Missy, John appeared on board the Tardis and he gave you a small gemstone and told you to hold it close on your person. He said he knew what the Doctor did to you and that gemstone could stop him from invading your mind, blocking him so to speak.

You were happy to see him but also scared. He told you not to worry about him. He said he went back to Gallifrey and now he is as much as a real Time Lord as the Doctor. He said the Doctor can no longer turned him into a ganger so you need not to worry anymore. You can come home with him.

At first you are reluctant, worrying about what Missy had said about the Doctor never stop looking for you if you escape and will burn everything in his path in order to get to you. You are also worry for John himself should the Doctor figure out wherever you escaped to.

But John make a convincing argument and so you took his hand and left the Tardis.

Only to find out John is not real. It was always the Doctor, trying to test your devotion and you failed the test.

"You wanted to see John so much? Fine, I will let you see him." The Doctor said angrily.

The Tardis landed somewhere. The Doctor pulled you harshly outside where he forced you to see a gravestone. John's name is craved on the gravestone.

You were shocked to say the least. With a trembling fingers, you touched the carving of his name on the gravestone.

"I didn't harm him, if that is what your thinking. Missy didn't either. He died. The people he fought for turned against him and killed him."

"No, you are lying!"

"Am I? You are welcome to investigate his death, (name). You know Jack Harkness, don't you? I'm sure he will help you with your investigation. Once you satisfy your curiosity, come and find me." The Doctor said.

7777

You were furious. The Doctor didn't lie. They did turned against John. They killed him. The best part of the Doctor, and they thoughtlessly killed him. And now the world is doomed forever with the Doctor that no longer quite the Savior. Frankly, right now you no longer care about the fate of these people.

You walked absentmindedly toward the coordinate of the Tardis which your darling husband helpfully put into your mind.

The Doctor watched you as you entered the Tardis. "Welcome home, (name)."

"I'm home..." You replied blankly.

A/N: I have no idea what I write here. I was desperate to produce a new dw fanfic since I only have a day left of holiday before going back to work, hoping not to waste my time just imagining and no writing, I finally able to write this. I watched a few of my favorite dw episodes and my mind ended up get stuck in the idea of ganger!doctor hence this happened.

I hope you likes this story and if you do, please kindly drop comment and more. Honestly I'm so nervous about posting this.

I would like to say thanks to those who follow my blog and has drop a like/comment/reblog to all of my past stories. Thank you so much for making me so happy. Stay awesome, everyone!

#11th doctor x reader #eleventh doctor x reader #ganger!doctor x reader #doctor who x reader #doctor who fanfiction #dark!doctor #yandere!doctor who #shiefenwrites

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throwawaythinking · 3 years

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ERYS

“People love to just talk about me by name and say, "Oh, Jaden Smith this, Jaden Smith that." It’s time for a new awakening and a new consciousness.” - Jaden on his album SYRE, Complex Magazine November 2017

Jaden Christopher Syre Smith was the boy born into the shadow of his father’s fame. However he took his birth into the public eye as an opportunity, not a blessing. Jaden uses music to make a name for himself, fighting to bring his own identity out of the shadows of his famous father. Smith’s second album, ERYS, details Erys emerging from the death of his opposingly naive and Icarus-like self, Syre. Jaden depicts the rise, fall, and conflict of his autobiographical character Erys in four tracks; ‘i-drip-or-is’, ‘Again’, ‘Got It’, and ‘Fire Dept’; these four songs are the centrefold of the entire album, where Erys becomes Syre and Syre becomes Erys. Through Erys’ aggressive and angry flaunting of his perceived power, Jaden explores the recklessness of an overinflated ego. Erys becomes a successful drug dealer for the drug ‘Vision’ in Los Angeles, however the money and power eat away at him as he overestimates his ability to control ‘Vision’. This is assisted by the internal conflict between Erys and Syre, as Syre’s gentle and lost voice wanders throughout the tracks urging Erys to understand that his reckless behaviour won’t fix their problems. The introduction of internal conflict within ERYS expresses the integrity of Jaden’s inner conflicts during the process of finding his true identity, how his polar opposite identities had to converge at a point to create a completed state of being. This conflict is also used to address the taboo of adolescence in relation to drug culture. Jaden’s “strict, hard rap album” is a force to be reckoned with; “every song, back to back, high tempo, a lot of bass like just crazy.”

Without context, Jaden’s music is the amalgamation of the typical hip-hop genre; autotune, models, drugs, cars, power, fame. By manipulating these features, Jaden uses hip-hop to his advantage in creating an egotistical Erys. ‘i-drip-or-is’ boasts;

“LV head to toe, MSFTS necklace on

They be stressin' 'cause I'm reckless and I'm flexin' hard

Flexin' super hard, she a superstar

With the stupid car, and it's supercharged

Rolex, he went to Luther, got my jeweler far”,

luxury brand names flying throughout the first verse, the picture is set. Interestingly, Erys has already acknowledged his tendency to be reckless in the second line, yet the context provides evidence that he believes this to be a good quality. Erys’ ego continues on in the next track, ‘Again’, where Erys talks about his fame, money and power;

“Now the gang got no shit to do, they just a chatterbox

Now I wear a muzzle to the bank, because I laugh a lot

Now I tell the paparazzi "Turn the fucking cameras off"”

gangs are out of the drug business as a result of Erys’ ‘Vision’ drug, he laughs so loud at the bank that they muzzle him, and he is being plastered all over the press. Thanks to Erys’ drug dealing business, he has achieved all facets considered for an individual to be successful. As a result, Erys believes he has solved his problem with his love interest as depicted in ‘Got It’;

“She want that brand new designer, that Louis bandana

I told her I got it

She want that wrist with the water and Virgil the wallet

I told her I got it

She said her ex n**** wildin' and giving her problems

I told her I got it.”

But this is not the end of the story. As Erys parties on top of the world, ‘Vision’ gets the better of him, and we see his collapse in the fastest song on the album, ‘Fire Dept’. Erys’ monotonous voice screams through the electric guitar and banging drums;

“Go fire department, call my mom

Said, "Your son dancin' on fire, it's all night long"

I think I just decided, need a ride home

95 percent, I go hard, still killing the vibe though”,

as he realises he needs urgent help. The last line pierces through the ears. Erys is acknowledging that he is losing energy coming down from 100 percent to 95, yet refusing to believe his power is dying, claiming to be “still killing the vibe”. Ego has trapped him in a state of denial. As the song progresses, Erys’ drug-induced screeches become more aggressive and the tempo increases, confessing “I think I lost my car/I can't see straight, I'm fucked” pokes out through the madness of his nonsensical rambling about his surroundings. Erys has lost control.

Erys’ rise to the top pushed him to his limits, and he has fallen as fast as he has risen. This short lived spark of incomprehensible power perfectly demonstrates the double edged sword of the human ego. Erys’ ego pushed him to reach incredible milestones of not only material success, but likely impossible spiritual experiences created by his drug ‘Vision’. However ego becomes an external force with no intention to cooperate with human ability, and pushes Erys to OD on ‘Vision’, resulting in his reckless regression. Jaden has become a master swordsmith with his storytelling genius, with ego being his deadliest double edged sword sticking out of ERYS as a forever-imminent threat. The concept of ego courses like blood through the body of four explosive tracks. Ego is a perilous feat of humanity, and Erys is being destroyed by his.

If one listened intently to the tracks, they would notice a solitary voice wafting through ‘Again’ and ‘Fire Dept’. This is Syre, trapped in the dark by the emergence of Erys. Audibly, Syre is juxtaposed against Erys by tenderly singing instead of belligerently rapping. Additionally, Erys’s voice has been manipulated by autotune of various degrees, which distinguishes Jaden’s natural voice for Syre. Syre’s presence in Erys’ rise is the most pertinent feat of ERYS because this is what makes Erys human. Syre may have died, however the true parts of his soul remain, his real thoughts and feelings. In ‘Again’, the music fades and echoes. Syre emerges singing of the girl he loves and how he has become adrift; “Girl, we can paint such a pretty life…I admit I'm lost, can I hitch a ride?/Something bout your voice, like a lullaby.” Yet Erys interrupts Syre’s digression with frustration;

“Who the fuck turned this shit on, n****

I told you don't play no motherfucking wack shit

Big drip only”.

It is tacit Erys is fighting to silence his inner self, believing that his new behaviour is the only way to overcome his hardship as it has worked on his external image. This also explains why Erys feels the need to always drop big luxury brands in his lyrics (particularly in ‘i-drip-or-is’ and ‘Again’), because the clothing he wears on his body is a conspicuous external composition of his ability to succeed. As Syre mentioned their love interest, Erys comes back with ‘Got It’, as described earlier, being an entire song about how he can now provide for the girl that they once couldn’t help. This feeds into the psyche of Erys believing that he is better off living the life that he has now, because on paper it all makes sense. Syre makes another appearance after Erys goes off the deep end at the end of ‘Fire Dept’ and continues his digression about his love interest;

“Think about

Your life

Too much

I'm losin' light

I'm cruising on

I think a lot

I think about

You a lot

Too much

Do too much

I should be movin' on

(For sure).”

This time, Erys cannot fight Syre’s appearance, and the song ends without interruption.

The conflict between Syre and Erys is a trademark of adolescent growth. Jaden uses this conflict to show how he had suppressed his true emotions by using drugs and money as a bandaid on his emotional and spiritual wounds. This is a common trend in adolescence, to believe that material wealth or a chemical alteration of the brain is the only solution to fixing hard problems. Syre and Erys’ conflict cries at our unforgiving society for help, for the aid that adolescents so desperately need to deal with their struggles. It seems that the youth do not have the resources they need to navigate a life that is expected of them, and thus they cope with what is available - drug culture. Just as Erys learnt to push ‘Vision’ across the city of Los Angeles, young people dealing with problems beyond their control resort to drug taking or dealing to handle their problems, and it destroys them just as Erys has been destroyed - even if they know deep down that drugs won’t fix their problems.

Syre and Erys also represent Jaden’s state of being. The conflict between the two characters is a metaphorical picture of Jaden’s internal fight against himself in his journey to finding his true identity. It is no question that Jaden Smith would’ve lived perfectly fine under the care of his father, yet he chooses to make his own name. This makes him a striking individual due to the immense care he takes in creating his true identity. By creating conflict between his two characters, Jaden immortalizes his story in his own words. He immortalizes the importance of finding one’s true identity, and inspires the youth of his generation to do the same. Syre and Erys eventually go on to merge into one person; Jaden. The existence of this resolution is an integral part of urging young people to become their real selves, because it shows that having a true identity is real, and achievable.

Jaden’s second album ERYS supersedes expectations of a boy born into fame and privilege. Following the completion of the SYRE and ERYS projects, Jaden is showing the world that he is more than his family name. Often teenagers want the world to understand they are their own person with their own dreams, feelings, desires and struggles. Jaden, in my opinion, expressed this best.

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bluescreening · 4 years

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Book Recommendations: Sci-Fi

Hi again! This is my second book recs post, this one being about Not-Space Sci-Fi. There were too many sci-fi novels to choose from so I split it into Space and Not-Space. You can read the one about space books here. Also, disclaimer, some of these are kinda dystopia-y. I’ll be separating the genres entirely arbitrarily, since there’s so much crossover. All blurbs are written by me unless otherwise stated.

Recursion by Blake Crouch - New York cop Barry Sutton is investigating False Memory Syndrome, where people are driven mad by memories they never lived. Helena Smith is a neuroscientist trying to invent a way to preserve memories that can be re-experienced to save her mother with Alzheimer’s. Who knew it would all go so wrong?

Bloody hell is this book a rollercoaster ride. I literally cannot recommend it more. I burned through it in a single sitting, and every little twist and turn had me on the edge of my seat. The slow drip of information keeps you hanging on, leading to something truly terrifying, existential and action-packed. Some relatively complex plot points are involved, but I never felt confused. Brilliantly written, brilliant plot, leaves you with that Good Post-Book Feeling where you sit and consider your life choices for hours. 10/10 would get my reality smashed again.

Takeshi Kovacs (Altered Carbon, Broken Angels, Woken Furies) by Richard Morgan - Humanity is functionally immortal with the invention of the cortical stack: essentially a hard drive in your spine that backs up your brain. Takeshi Kovacs used to be an Envoy, a master manipulator and solder, but has essentially become a mercenary and detective for hire after years of crime caught up to him. This is his story. *dun dun*

I admit, I’ve only read the first book in this series, Altered Carbon, but given the sheer amount of worldbuilding and potential it showed I’m gonna go ahead and pre-emptively recommend the next two as well. Altered Carbon is breathtakingly violent, and filled with guns, drugs and crime as all good cyberpunk should be! The fight scenes are really well written and there is a lot of really fun detective work. Sure, it’s patently obvious it was written by a dude, but it’s older than I am so that’s to be expected. Just skip the sex scenes, and you’re left with a really fun, badass crime thriller in a beautifully compelling universe.

The War Of The Worlds by H. G. Wells - A shooting star is sighted coming from Mars. The night after, a huge cylinder is discovered in a common near London. The locals swiftly discover the aliens are far from friendly, but the denizens of Earth may be harder to destroy than they thought.

This is the original alien invasion novel. Not only is it a vital piece of sci-fi history, influencing everything from the X-files to Independence Day, it’s also a gripping and viscerally disturbing read. Conflict, terror and disorder are common themes throughout, and it strikes a certain chord in today’s society, especially given the ending. I can also highly recommend the musical version too - if you can get hold of a DVD or something it’s well worth a watch, but it’s also on Spotify if you just want to listen to the music!

Arc of a Scythe (Scythe, Thunderhead, The Toll) by Neal Shusterman - Nanites in the bloodstream keep humans immortal, and the Thunderhead makes sure the world is perfect and safe for them. The only duty left to the humans entirely is population control, and people must be ordained as Scythes to do this sacred job. Citra has just become a Scythe’s apprentice, but the world of Scythes isn’t quite as sacred as it appears.

This might look like your stereotypical YA dystopian trilogy to begin with, you know with the obvious love interest and all, but the way it progresses is truly a unique and extremely compelling story. It’s one of those stories that does twists right - it feels like they’ve been building all along instead of being randomly dropped in for sequel purposes. The world the series takes place in is incredibly detailed with every little aspect coming into play, forming a story that feels whole and complete despite the crazy plot twists. I really love every single character, and I feel it’s definitely worth a read in the current political climate.

The Lunar Chronicles (Cinder, Scarlet, Fairest, Cress, Winter, Stars Above, Wires and Nerve #1 and #2) by Marissa Meyer - Cinder is a cyborg mechanic in New Beijing who just wants to make enough money to escape her abusive stepmother, but her efforts are being slowed by a plague spreading across the world. To make matters worse, rumors say the people living on the moon can control your mind, and their queen is on her way to Earth.

Disclaimer: This one is a YA dystopian series, aimed at tweens and early teens. This was my entire life from the ages of 10 to 14. It’s a retelling of Cinderella, Little Red Riding Hood, Rapunzel and Snow White plus a few extras here and there, but done in a really imaginative way so every story interlinks and joins together into a huge overarching plot, and it’s also sci-fi. I’m not entirely sure how well it holds up, but I’m fairly sure it’s still worth reading regardless of your age. Due to the fairytale nature of the stories there is some predictability, but the plot is still compelling and feels worthwhile.

Flowers for Algernon by Daniel Keyes - Algernon is a mouse who’s had its intelligence artificially increased, and Charlie Gordon is the first human subject to undergo the same procedure. But as Algernon begins to regress, Charlie has to face the fact that his newfound gift might not last forever.

This book is a little difficult to read with a modern attitude towards mental illness, but I think it’s important regardless. As someone who values myself on my intelligence, it really made me consider whether conventional smarts are the best way to measure someone’s worth, or whether someone’s intelligence is the most important part of who they are. Regardless of the answers to those questions this is a heartbreaking read that can prompt some serious soul-searching, so if you haven’t already read it in school, give it a shot.

Thus concludes the rest of my sci-fi recs! Next time, dystopias. Expect a long one.

#bookblr #book recs #book recommendations #book #recursion #war of the worlds #arc of a scythe #the lunar chronicles #flowers for algernon #sci fi

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impudentmiscengenation · 4 years

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The Day Magic Died - A Merlin Oneshot

DISCLAIMER:

I, Impudent Miscegenation, of Tumblr (dot net), do not own or have any affiliation with the creators of Merlin. All rights respectfully go to: Jake Michie, Johnny Capps, Julian Murphy, Julian Jones, and BBC1 Entertainment. I don’t gain material profit from my works featured here, I write for my own amusement.

Full Summary: Merlin realized, too late, that the ephemeral nature of man leads to a blatant disregard of heritage. Further away from magic does humanity slip, and the world is made all the worse for it. (Modern Era)(Canon Compliant)

Author’s Notes: I’ve been thinking about the phrase “when Albion needs him most”, being when Arthur will return. This is the result of that line of thinking; I may continue but let’s just call it a one-shot for now. No beta, we die like men, even if I did try to edit it well myself. If anyone has ideas on how they would want to continue it, and adopt this plot bunny, feel more than free, just credit me and give me a link so I can read it! Also, if it’s in italics, it’s the character’s thoughts!

WARNINGS: Major Character Death, Mentions of Major Character Death, Illness, Petrification (turning to stone)

Story under the cut.

The Day Magic Died

If someone were to ask the warlock Merlin when magic went into decline, he’d probably say that it started with Uther Pendragon and his Great Purge of Magic. He would also likely mention that King Arthur was to have mitigated some of the atrocities committed against magic by his late father had his life not been cut short at Camlann.

The truth of the matter was that the fall of magic happened slowly over the course of a thousand years or so. The Purge was certainly a catalyst but the complete destruction of magic could not be done in just one human lifetime, or even two.

The dragons were the first to die out. They were followed swiftly by the griffins, wyverns, and hippogriffs. Then gone were fairies, dwarves, elves, gnomes and trolls. When creatures of magic became myth alone, the world’s shift from magical to mundane became much more dramatic in a short span of time (at least, short for the immortal Emrys).

Healers were known as doctors, pyromancers became pyrotechnicians, evocationists turned to theology, and history was rewritten by hands that didn’t trust in the magic of the natural world. The druids lost their way, disbanded, and joined the rest of magic as legend. Remnants of their clans scattered and the modern world dubbed the descendants of their gentle souls “hippies”. As the Old Religion grew older and was forgotten, Merlin realized that he may be the only true magic practitioner left in the world.

Humanity, callous and ever-marching forward, favored the development of their technologies, their industry, over the preservation of the natural world. Ambitious fires consumed lands of wonder for the sake of progress. The future was steel and concrete, after all, so who had the need for an enchanted forest, anyway?

Merlin realized, too late, that the ephemeral nature of man leads to a blatant disregard of heritage. Not that evolution as a whole was a bad thing, but did it have to come with such sacrifice? Try as he may to convince the strangers of tomorrow that magic exists, and has existed for all time, his labor yields no result. (“Your sleight of hand is amazing; do you give lessons? I’d love to be a stage magician!”)

Further from magic does humanity slip, and the world is made all the worse for it.

War and famine tear through continents, hate and lack of common ground inciting violence as the answer. Death and destruction rule over peace and prosperity but Merlin knows that he, alone, cannot bring magic back to this world.

He is magic given form, of course, and is well aware that magic is dying.

——————————————————————————————————

Merlin stares at his haggard reflection through a dirty, cracked mirror.

He feels weak, his body like lead and spirit slowly breaking. Despite this, his magic chooses to youthen his appearance. Such a thing has happened previously, in his many centuries, and gives him little pause anymore. The difference is that, this time, it drains him. Utilizing any kind of magic tended to do as such these days, so Merlin made a point to avoid using his gift as often as was feasible.

Before him is a man of thirty or forty-some years. Untamed black waves, flecked with silver towards his ears and wet from a recent shower, are slicked back and reaching the base of his neck. He'd recently shaved his face; the first time he’d done so in perhaps seventy years, mind, and he bore the cuts to substantiate that fact.

Despite being more clean and groomed than he had been for a while, Merlin still looked like death. His complexion was so white it had a nearly translucent quality, blue veins pronouncing themselves starkly where they were close to the surface of his skin. The dark, almost bruise-like color surrounding his eyes wouldn’t go away regardless of the fact that he’d been spending most of the past few weeks doing nothing but sleeping. The deep blue that had once reflected light and happiness had turned a stormy gray that sluggishly pleaded for an ear to listen, a mind to open, a heart passed childhood to believe in magic.

The warlock grimaced at the corpse-like figure reflected back at him. I have studied, I have counselled and been counselled in turn, I have searched realms beyond ours for answers… For all that I have done, what have I wrought?

Over a thousand years of waiting, trying to spare creatures of magic, even those he’d fought against in his youth, if only to prevent the inevitable downfall of his kin. Centuries of searching for hints or whispers, making friends with those who still believed, when there was the occasional kindred spirit. (Merlin had later discovered that many of these ‘kindred spirits’ were also very much addicted to taking LSD, but he liked to think of their discussions more than that fact.)

Merlin had not been idle while awaiting the return of his king, that was for sure. He had been appointed various titles, given different jobs, and even has made himself entirely unknown in the many years of his unending life. Recalling a few brought a smile to his face. He had been a counsellor, a poet, a bard, and a spymaster. He had also been an artist, an author, a bartender, and a professor. All that time, and yet nothing he did seemed to help, or matter really, in the end. Magic was still dying.

He was so tired of being tired all the time. Not for the first time, Merlin cursed his druid name and with it cursed his immortality. What he wouldn’t give for the slumber promised by death’s kiss.

Merlin decided that he needed a walk, a long walk to some heavily forested area. He always seemed to feel better among the towering oaks that could relate, at least somewhat, to the inequities of long life. Perhaps he could shake off his melancholia with some good, old-fashioned isolation. Leaving the dingy motel room he’d decided to call home whilst staying in Inverness, Merlin looked to the dreary, gray clouds looming overhead. There were still no whispers of magic.

Avalon’s lake is still yet again, Merlin thought, crestfallen, as he did so every day, Albion must not need you yet, Arthur… I wish you’d come back; I need you, I don’t want to do this alone anymore.

——————————————————————————————————

Merlin stopped in the Ness Islands, having stepped away from the trail and into the heavily wooded areas around it. A small stream of water cut through the earth at his left, winding carelessly through the trees and stretching beyond view. Merlin cupped fresh water in his hands and used it to clear the sweat and grime from his face, before taking a moment to ponder his reflection again.

He appeared even younger than when he'd left, an adolescent just approaching manhood stared at him from the clear water. He looked younger than his magic had ever made him appear before and Merlin wondered why that was so. He looked as he did when he arrived in Camelot for the first time.

The bone-deep exhaustion had only gotten worse as he walked, and Merlin suspected that this was due in part to his inadvertent age regression. Moving to lean against a large tree, the warlock drew his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. Resting his chin atop his bony knees, Merlin sighed his weariness and his eyes, if not the rest of his face, betrayed his long years.

Merlin knew that he would wait however long he needed to for Arthur's return, would gladly do so, but his heart ached and his mind was now more than ever prone to wandering. Was destiny a lie? Was he doomed to wait an eternity for a day that will never come? He was always poised for the day that King Arthur would return to him, yet every day he would feel nothing from Avalon. The water remained irenic, despite his clever and colorful foul-mouthing of the few remaining Sidhe.

So he continued to wait, to move forward but never move on, and try to make the world a more magical place in the process. He'd failed, of course. Just as he'd failed Arthur, failed Camelot. He had failed everyone in his life, including himself. His most recent years were the most melancholic he had ever truly allowed himself to be, simply because… he was so tired.

He moved, his forehead on his knees, and was the perfect picture of grief.

Under a canopy of shimmering stars, Merlin wept for his years of loneliness, his truest friends long dead. He wept for the withering magic of this world, and for Arthur. He always wept for Arthur, the man who'd once told him never to cry over such loss. But, then, when had Merlin ever listened to Arthur anyway?

It was a while before the tears stopped but, even when they did, Merlin found that he didn't possess the strength to move from his position. He was only able to lift his head, watching the bright colors of the sunrise dance across the sky.

The world was still beautiful, the world still held wonder, and for those reasons alone, Merlin knew that there was some magic there, there just had to be. The warlock smiled to himself, half-delirious with the sudden wave of comfort that overtook him as the birds began to coo in the trees.

He leaned to the side, a leg tucked underneath him and propping his head up with his hand, elbow on his other, raised knee. In the palm that didn't support his head, he produced a small blue butterfly, its wings shimmering with gold as they flapped. Merlin hummed in contentment. Despite the fact that this measly butterfly had likely tapped his magical resources out for the next several hours, Merlin decided in the moment that it was worth it.

His fingers gently closed in on the magic butterfly and it fluttered in his loose fist. If the butterfly didn't dissipate by the time he woke up from a brief nap (thus returning the magic to his body), he would release it in hopes of the butterfly unleashing some magic into the world that so desperately needed it. Sapped of energy, Merlin closed his eyes and allowed himself to succumb to sleep.

The warlock never woke.

Starting with his lost, grieving heart, the immortal Emrys turned to stone.

Merlin’s true age caught up with the stone epitaph he left behind; hundreds of years worth of damage from the elements and plant growth spawned upon the almost unrecognizable statue.

The butterfly fluttered in its stone prison for a few moments more before settling, presumably to wait.

Hundreds of miles away, a lake whose surface had been placid for centuries began to ripple.

#my first contribution to the fandom #i hope you like it #angst #merlin #merlin fanfiction #merlin fanfic #destiny is a bitch #character death #petrification #Merlin is immortal until he's not #probably won't continue but who knows #my work #don't repost

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agerefandom · 3 years

Text

Home Sweet Home

Fandom: Twilight

Characters: Esme and Carlisle Cullen as parents: Edward, Alice, Jasper, Emmett, and Rosalie as regressors

Words: 3,500

Summary: The Cullens always enjoy family night: a chance for all the children to regress, and for Carlisle and Esme to feel like parents. There’s nothing more relaxing. But tonight, Edward is refusing to come downstairs and join the family.

Content Warnings: Parental titles, diapers, mention of nursing. Brief mentions of blood and the angst of immortality.

Notes: The first two paragraphs are referencing this fic I wrote earlier this month! It’s not necessary to understand the rest of the fanfiction, though. Let me know if you notice any errors, this was a long one for me to edit myself so I only did two drafts. (Also I might put out my Cullens headcanons after this, I didn’t incorporate all of them into this fanfiction!)

Carlisle listens to the radio as he drives home, his mind drifting from thought to thought. It had been a busy day for the Forks clinic, but nothing compared to the ER in Seattle. His shifts there were full of the smell of blood and panic, constant calls and frightened family members.

But today, that one patient had been so frightened, and so young… it had made Carlisle’s unbeating heart feel bruised. He’s glad to be on his way home to his own children, safe with their mother. He hopes that patient is also safe at home, considering the offer he’d made to meet other regressors.

Carlisle’s home is a chaotic place, but full of joy, and he knows that few are so lucky.

He pulls up the driveway, waiting for the garage door to open before pulling into his spot and getting out. He had already changed out of his work clothes, now in plain slacks and his favourite grey sweater. Alice loves the texture of this one, and he knows it makes her happy to see him wearing it in the future, so he always makes sure to plan this outfit ahead of time.

He can hear his family’s voices inside, could pick them out if he focused enough. Alice is already waiting near the door, probably intending to tackle him once he gets inside. He can hear her quiet giggles as she waits. Carlisle won’t be surprised if Emmett is helping her with her ambush, but managing to stay quiet.

Carlisle braces himself and swings open the door.

“I’m home!” he calls out, just as Alice leaps at him. “Hi, honey!” he says, turning to catch her in his arms. Such a light little thing, his youngest daughter. “How are you?”

“Good, daddy!” Alice rests her cheek against his sweater, wrapping her legs around his waist. “You were gone so long!”

“Ah, boring work,” Carlisle sighs, already feeling the stress of the day melting away into the familiar smell of home and family. Human scents are so busy and overwhelming, emotions and history drifting from their skin. Here in their own space, Carlisle can pick out the clean smells of his family, each one slightly different but bearing the same mark: his venom, binding them together. “Much better to be home with my children.”

“Dad!!!” Sure enough, Emmett attacks from behind with a proper tackle, and only his verbal warning allows Carlisle to duck out of the way, chuckling. Emmett stumbles past and saves himself from crashing into the wall, just barely. He spins and runs at Carlisle again, this time jumping into his arms like Alice did.

He’s a larger boy, and Carlisle laughs as he catches him, thankful for the strength that allows him to lift his adult-sized children on each hip.

“Hello, Emmett. Trying to get daddy in a headlock again?”

“It was Alice’s idea,” Emmett says, resting his head on Carlisle’s shoulder.

“Hmm,” Carlisle murmurs, unconvinced. Alice and Emmett are the troublemakers of the household, occasionally pulling Rosalie into their schemes. It’s difficult to guess which of them planned the ambush.

Esme comes around the corner, carrying Jasper in her arms. Jasper is resting, eyes closed, his eyelashes brushing against his cheeks. Esme looks absolutely beautiful, but she always does when Carlisle is seeing her for the first time in hours.

“Darling,” Esme says warmly. “I see you’ve already found the children.”

“It was a surprise attack,” Carlisle explains, bouncing the two siblings once before releasing them to the floor and watching them scramble back to their playroom. “Very fierce warriors, our children.”

“Fearsome,” Esme smiles, and approaches to give Carlisle a kiss. He will never get tired of kissing his wife. Each one is a blessing, and an affirmation of her love.

Today Esme is dressed in a plum-coloured dress that brushes against the ground, designed to be unhooked so she can nurse the children that are young enough. There’s no nutritional point to the gesture, of course, but just like the diapers and pull-ups that their youngest wear, it’s an emotional comfort. A reminder of both childhood and humanity. For Esme, being a mother has always been her greatest fulfilment, and nursing her children the most loving gesture.

“Would you take the baby?” she says, smiling fondly down at Jasper. “He’s been fussy all day, and the playroom needs my attention.”

“My pleasure.” Carlisle carefully accepts Jasper into his arms, sneaking another kiss onto Esme’s cheek in the process. Jasper stirs at the movement, making a small sound of confusion. “Hush, sweetheart. Just daddy,” Carlisle murmurs, making sure the baby is in a comfortable position. “Nothing to worry about.”

Jasper blinks his eyes open and looks up at Carlisle, then burbles a little string of nothing words.

“Oh, really?” Carlisle replies. “Emmett didn’t tell me that.”

Encouraged by the response, Jasper continues to babble. Carlisle smiles and nods as he carries his son towards the living room. “An interesting theory!” He settles into the couch and listens to the sounds of the house. Esme is lecturing Alice and Emmett in the other room: apparently, one of them pulled down the hammock again. It’s a nearly daily occurrence, the hooking system far too delicate for a family of vampires, but Esme thinks that the children need to learn how to be careful.

“Oh, your siblings are in trouble,” Carlisle sighs. “We’re lucky to have one little angel.”

“Two little angels,” Rosalie corrects him, jumping into one of the nearby chairs.

“Ah, of course.” Carlisle smiles at her. She’s done her hair in pigtails, and decorated her bangs with colourful clips. Rosalie is their eldest daughter, regressing to around eight or nine, but she’s still quite young. “Two angels. Where’s your older brother?”

“Upstairs,” Rosalie shrugs. “Listening to music.”

Sure enough, Carlisle can hear the tinny sound of Debussy’s Reverie coming from Edward’s headphones upstairs. “He’s missing family time.” Carlisle is worried about Edward, although he knows it’s pointless. Edward had been his first son, after all, and although he loves his entire family, he finds that Edward has withdrawn more and more in the recent decades. “Would you go and fetch him, Rosalie?”

“I can try,” Rosalie says dubiously.

“Come on, angel,” Carlisle cajoles. He holds out a hand, and Rosalie comes over to accept it. He kisses the back of her hand, smiling up at her. “You’re the only one scary enough to make him come down.” Rosalie laughs, clearly pleased by that.

“Can I play science after I get him? Mommy said I wasn’t allowed.”

“If I can play with you, we can absolutely do some science after.” Rosalie has a talent for creating explosions in the ‘kitchen,’ which is mostly used as a laboratory space for the children who are interested in such things. They all need adult supervision, but Rosalie often tries to argue that she’s old enough to play alone.

“Fine,” Rosalie sighs. “I’ll get him.”

And she runs up the stairs, upstairs within a second. Carlisle can hear the whir of Edward’s tape player as Rosalie’s footsteps start towards his room. Edward has been alive for many forms of music, but for some reason he always uses a tape player when he’s regressing. It makes it easy for Carlisle to tell when he’s regressed, at least: he’s so quiet as a teen, the eldest of the five siblings. Almost old enough that his regression matches the part all the Cullens children play in the human world, pretending to be teenagers.

There are only a few years between Edward’s regression and his everyday mask, but a world of difference. Edward can only regress at home, surrounded by the familiar thoughts of his family. Outside of the house, the constant noise makes it impossible for him to do anything except constantly sort through the data pouring in from all sides.

Carlisle closes his eyes, shutting out the sound of Edward’s music and Esme struggling with the hammock while Alice plays around her. Instead, he focuses on Jasper’s even breaths as he lies against his father’s chest.

Carlisle matches his youngest child’s breathing, enjoying the motion. He’s gotten out of the habit through the years: it’s easier to get through the days of hospital work if you pretend to be breathing, but neglect the act itself and all the intensity of tastes and smells that come with it. Here at home, Carlisle will sometimes engage in meditation, turning his attention to the act of breathing: there’s something calming about the flow of air in your body, even if you don’t need the oxygen for your blood flow.

Jasper smiles in his feigned sleep, pressing a little closer to Carlisle’s chest. He clearly knows that he’s being copied.

“Precious boy,” Carlisle says fondly, brushing a hand across Jasper’s cheek. “So loved by his parents.”

Jasper fully smiles at that, closing his eyes tighter and pulling at Carlisle’s sweater in an approximation of a hug.

“I love you too,” Carlisle murmurs, knowing what the gesture means.

“Daddy!” Rosalie says, standing in front of the couch again.

“Yes, sweetheart?” Carlisle says, blinking up at her.

“You need to get Edward.” Rosalie crosses her arms. Esme enters the room, and Carlisle can tell from her expression that she heard a conversation that he missed. She looks worried, her eyes flickering to the ceiling where Edward’s room is.

“You’d better go,” she agrees. “Give the baby to mommy, he needs a change.”

Jasper is transferred between them again, happy to get back to his mommy’s arms. Carlisle will never be the favourite parent there, but that’s alright. He loves all his children equally. But now his worry for Edward is sharper, wondering what he missed in his preoccupation with Jasper’s breathing.

“Is he alright?” Carlisle asks, already halfway up the stairs.

“He’s fine,” Rosalie says. “Just little,” she adds as Carlisle reaches the door to Edward’s room, the words echoing up the stairs behind him.

Carlisle knocks on the door, realizing that the music had stopped when Rosalie came up. Another thing he hadn’t noticed.

There’s no answer from the other side of the door, aside from a small intake of breath.

“Edward?” Carlisle calls. “May I come in?”

Again, no response.

Carlisle pushes the door open cautiously, and sees Edward curled up on the floor under a heavy blanket. His tapes are spread around him, his headphones discarded on the floor and his tape player in one hand. He’s staring blankly at the wall, and doesn’t respond to Carlisle’s entrance.

“Edward?” Carlisle approaches slowly. “Are you alright?”

Slowly, Edward pulls the blanket over his face, hiding from Carlisle entirely.

“Do you not want to have a family evening? You don’t have to regress if you don’t feel like it. You can come read to your siblings, or you can stay here.” Carlisle knows that his worry must be clear to Edward, his words all but useless when Edward can read the flow of his thoughts. Even though the two of them are adept at voiceless conversation, especially in front of humans or even members of the family, Carlisle has always preferred to speak aloud when he’s alone with Edward. Still, he knows his mind is whirling with the questions he keeps unsaid. What happened? What’s wrong? How can I help?

The pile of blanket on the floor doesn’t move, giving Carlisle nothing to read.

“Do you want me to leave?” Carlisle asks, quietly enough that the family members downstairs wouldn’t be able to hear him.

Finally, a movement: a pale hand reaches towards Carlisle from under the blanket, splayed fingers in a wordless command. Don’t go.

“Alright.” Carlisle keeps his words voiceless, quiet enough that a human wouldn’t be able to hear. “I’ll stay.” He folds himself up and kneels next to Edward, and begins breathing to pass the time. The children downstairs are laughing about something, probably at Emmett’s expense if his angry reply is any indication. Esme is singing to Jasper, her voice drifting through the other noises. Esme’s voice was incredible when she was a human woman, and she has only improved since her death.

Carlisle quiets his mind, letting his awareness drift to the sensation of breath. Edward has often said that he enjoys being near Carlisle when he meditates, finding the relative calm of his thoughts a welcome break. Carlisle lets his worry drift freely in his mind, neither rejecting nor focusing on it. He can hear Edward beginning to match his breath, and he slows the rhythm further.

“I’m sorry,” Edward whispers.

Carlisle casts his eyes towards his hidden son, keeping his mind clear and restful. “Will you tell me what troubles you, Edward?”

“I can’t.” Edward pulls the blanket down and turns his face towards Carlisle.

Vampires are unable to cry, just as they are unable to eat or sleep. But they still remember what it was to cry, and Edward’s breath becomes shaky as their eyes meet, his face crumpling with the anticipation of tears that will never come again.

“Edward,” Carlisle breathes, his chest aching with the memory of what sympathy felt like when he was alive. “Please, may I hold you?”

Edward nods, stretching out his hand again, and Carlisle is beside him in less than a millisecond, lifting his son into his arms and cradling him close.

“What do you need, Edward?” he whispers against his son’s forehead. “I can deny you nothing.”

“Father,” Edward manages, and buries his face in Carlisle’s chest.

“My son,” Carlisle says, smoothing Edward’s hair back. “Hush, I’m here. My precious boy.” Edward’s body shakes with imagined sobs, and Carlisle continues his soft reassurances. “You’re alright. I’m here, Edward. You have me.” He focuses on the physical sensations: the weight of Edward against him, the silk of his hair under his fingers. The amount of fondness he feels for this boy, his son, his first family member, overwhelms him. He presses his forehead to Edward’s, cupping the boy’s cheeks.

“I love you,” he tells him.

“I know,” Edward says, bringing his hands up to mirror Carlisle’s. “Thank you.” His voice sounds broken.

Carlisle doesn’t know how long they sit there, fingers intertwined and foreheads pressed together. Edward’s breathing evens out, and the sounds from downstairs continue. Carlisle fills his mind with love and lets Edward drink in his unwavering affection, surrounding the two of them with contentment.

Finally, Edward takes a final deep breath and sits back on his heels, blinking his eyes.

Vampires are denied the emotional release of tears, and the emotional rest of sleep. They have no escape from awareness, and for those who feel their inhumanity as deeply as the Cullens, a deep fatigue sets in through the years. That’s why family night is so important, as well as the smaller distractions of sparring matches and baseball games. The fatigue eases for a while, when you are caring and being cared for. When things are simple, and easy.

“Can I be younger tonight?” Edward asks, finally seeming centered enough to ask the question that must have been weighing on him all day, if not longer.

“Of course,” Carlisle answers without hesitation. “How young?” You don’t need to know, he adds without words. We can always figure it out as we go.

“Like Jasper,” Edward says, and puts the ridge of his thumb into his mouth. “Is that okay?”

“Absolutely.” Carlisle offers a hand, and Edward clasps it tight. “Do you want to stay upstairs, or see your siblings?”

“Will they laugh?” Edward says quietly. It’s a fair question: the other Cullen siblings enjoy mocking Edward when they’re all adults, and Rosalie likes to make fun of the only older sibling when they’re small.

“They won’t laugh,” Carlisle answers in the same undertone. “I’m sure of it.”

“Then I’d like to be with them,” Edward nods.

“I’m sure your mother would love to see you,” Carlisle says, squeezing Edward’s hand. “Now, should we get you changed?”

Edward nods wordlessly, casting his eyes to the ground.

“Brave boy,” Carlisle praises, and gets to his feet, scooping Edward into his arms.

Edward flinches and wraps all of his limbs around Carlisle, making Carlisle laugh slightly. Such an extreme response when he’s seen Edward dive off cliffs with no hesitation. His boy must be very regressed already. No wonder Edward struggled so much to ask his question.

Carlisle sings one of his favourite lullabies as he carries Edward down the hallway to the boys’ room. Edward doesn’t wear very different clothes when he regresses, so he doesn’t have a regression closet. They’ll have to steal from the younger brothers for now, and find some new outfits for Edward later if this will be a repeated experience.

Carlisle beelines for the dresser and scoops a pacifier from the back of one of the drawers. Jasper doesn’t use them, and the pacifier has lain unused since it was tried and rejected. Edward has been chewing on his thumb ever since Carlisle picked him up, and Carlisle has a feeling the abandoned pacifier might finally have a use. He presses the pacifier to Edward’s lips, gentle enough for it to be refused, and Edward accepts it.

“Good,” Carlisle says, pressing a kiss to Edward’s temple. “Now let’s get you changed.”

He sits Edward on the changing table, and the boy curls into himself slightly. Carlisle breezes past Edward’s uncertainty, moving through the familiar motions of disrobing him and fastening a diaper around his hips, patting the tape into place.

“Safe and sound,” Carlisle murmurs. “Would you like a shirt or pyjamas, sweetheart?”

Edward blinks up at him, and sucks on the pacifier.

“Pyjamas it is,” Carlisle says, unable to hide the fondness in his voice. He finds one of the darker onesies hanging in the closet and guides Edward’s limbs into it, patting the baby’s belly before doing up the buttons. Edward squirms a little, but more in amusement than in protest.

Carlisle chuckles at his reaction and scoops the boy back into his arms.

“Let’s go see your big brother and sisters, hmm?” he says to Edward. “I think they have some guppies on.” Edward usually hates sitting around when his siblings are watching cartoons, pretending to read a book somewhere apart or convince his siblings to gather around and listen to him read. But today he perks up at the mention of cartoons, eyes widening with interest.

“Do you want to sit with your mother?” Carlisle suggests, careful to hold Edward steady on his hip as they make their way down the stairs. “I’m sure she’d love to spend time with her baby boy.” Edward clings to Carlisle’s shoulders. “Ah, fair enough.” Carlisle can’t help smiling at the boy’s attachment, even though he’s sure that he’ll change his tune once he sees Esme.

“Hi daddy,” Alice calls distractedly when they enter. Emmett and Rosalie both glance up briefly from the screen and then return to their cartoons without comment. Edward is hiding his face in Carlisle’s neck, and Carlisle can feel the slight rocking of the pacifier as Edward gets the hang of sucking on it.

“Hello angels,” Carlisle replies, and makes his way to the couch behind the children, where Esme is sitting with Jasper cross-legged on the ground between her legs, his head leaning against Esme’s knee so that she can pet his hair while he watches the cartoons.

“Good to see you two,” Esme says quietly, under the noise of the cartoon. “I was worried.”

“This little one needed changing,” Carlisle says, sitting down and trying to rearrange Edward in his arms, who is still determinedly hiding against him. “Edward, come out and say hello to your mother,” he teases, flicking one finger against Edward’s neck.

Edward wiggles, displeased with the attempt to tickle him, and finally turns his face sideways.

Esme gasps softly. “Oh, darling boy.” She reaches out to cup Edward’s face, and the boy lets her. “Look at my baby.” Carlisle smiles at the two of them, as Edward shifts towards Esme on the couch and she helps him into her lap, careful not to dislodge Jasper’s place on the floor at her feet. “There, let me hold you,” Esme coos, pressing him against herself.

She would be crying, Carlisle reflects, if she were still able. There is something about Edward trusting them with this, after so long and so many siblings. They have spent so many decades together, physically unchanging, and yet they are still growing and learning about each other. It is an unimaginable gift from the universe, one that Carlisle will never take for granted.

As Edward smiles around the pacifier and Emmett yells something at the screen, Carlisle leans back on the couch and lets his gaze travel around his family, a serenity deeper than meditation settling in his chest. This is his family first, and his Clan second, and he would do absolutely anything to keep them safe.

#twilight agere #fandom agere #agere writing #agere fanfiction #agere stories #sfw agere #my writing #my fics #twilight

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thesinglesjukebox · 5 years

Video

youtube

SELENA GOMEZ - LOSE YOU TO LOVE ME

[6.17]

We like it like a lose song, maybe...

Alex Clifton: I'm fascinated by songs where singers air their grievances and fans all know which specific people they are calling out. It's one of the reasons I fell in love with Taylor Swift's music way back in the day; I love a good gossip. Over the past eight years, I've worried about Selena with relation to Justin Bieber constantly. Not my relationship, I know, but he seemed like an immature asswipe when Selena could do much better. She's avoided discussing Bieber in much of her previous music. Even the songs that were definitely about him ("Love Will Remember," "The Heart Wants What It Wants") were written in abstract terms so you'd only really know the subject if you spent time following the Selena/Justin drama. Cut to "Lose You to Love Me," where she goes for the kill: "in two months you replaced us," a clear reference to Justin suddenly moving onto his now-wife Hailey. Such a vulnerable and specific track is a strong statement from Selena, who in the past two years has stayed relatively out of the public eye and is now ready to share parts of her story. There's no red scarf here, not that level of minutiae, but frankly she doesn't need it when much of her toxic and turbulent relationship with Bieber played out in the tabloids. And god it's so cathartic. It's an acknowledgement of hurt and anger but a phoenix move for Selena; she's rising from the debris stronger than before, and she wants you to know it. I'm so pleased for her. In the immortal words of her friend Taylor, "she lost him but she found herself and somehow that was everything." [8]

Wayne Weizhen Zhang: A decade into her career as one of the world's most popular artists, it's worth noting that Selena Gomez's ascent to fame was improbable. She didn't have the most powerful voice, dance skills, or even a number one hit -- but especially early in her career, she was able to leverage her very public personal life to fuel interest in her music: a Disney fan base, a feud with Demi Lovato which the media loved to cover, membership in Taylor Swift's entourage, and, of course, most significantly, an infamous on-and-off-again relationship. But over the past four years, Selena has developed an effective signature vocal style -- hushed, controlled whispers which burst into moments of pop brilliance -- which makes it clear that her music is more than capable of standing on her own. So it's all the more frustrating then, that after seeing how stellar her music can be removed from celebrity context, that the first song we get off her long awaited third solo album is yet another song about Justin Bieber. But while I initially rejected "Lose You to Love Me" as a regression into formulaic pop balladry, there's a surprising amount of depth. The song sounds like genuine healing, coming from an artist singing her truth. Her voice is soft but powerful, emotive but not overwrought, reflective but not nostalgic. A line like "now the chapter is closed and done" could land cliché and hollow, but Selena sings it like someone who finally took a breath of fresh air for the first time in years. This is all to say: if we have to listen to this one last song about Justin Bieber, at least it's the first genuinely compelling one, and a step in seeing her evolution as an artist and celebrity. [7]

Leah Isobel: When Britney Spears and Justin Timberlake broke up, he got to project his messy breakup feelings outward; he produced imagery about spying on her doppelganger and fantasizing about her death. But for Selena -- Timberlake's 2010s tabloid counterpart -- unrepentant sleaze is a much riskier proposition, at least on the charts. Instead, she sublimates her anger, returning to the baby-voiced Julia Michaels wheelhouse. The mass of vocal effects on the chorus is surprisingly effective, but for an artist who was briefly one of the more progressive voices on Top 40 radio, this defanged "Everytime" is a little disappointing. [4]

Katherine St Asaph: Piano ballads are to music what Joseph Campbell is to narratives. Not a song but a beat on a storyboard -- barely a storyboard, even, but tabloid kerfuffle. [1]

Michael Hong: Selena Gomez's career has long mirrored Demi Lovato's, from child acting stints on Barney & Friends to the release of their fifth studio albums within a week of each other in 2015. Here she goes for something similar to Lovato's "Sober," released last year as a sort of song-as-a-statement -- though Gomez's statement is more uplifting than heartbreaking. "Sober" was a rare instance where Lovato never pushed her voice too far, with its statement made more effective by the events that followed; her confession came across as authentically personal as it unfolded in real-time. "Lose You to Love Me," like "Sober," is stripped down to its bare bones for a more intimate feeling, but here, it's questionable whether the quiet dynamic is one of Gomez's stylistic choices or a symptom of her limited vocal range. There are interesting touches, like the echo-chamber effect on her voice for the line "in two months, you replaced us," which makes the following lines about being broken all the more devastating. But there are also moments like the choir vocals on the final chorus that are predictably overwrought. While "Lose You to Love Me" is a delicately gorgeous and uplifting track, its statement is diminished by how tiresome the Gomez-Bieber narrative feels. We're no longer watching her relationship end in the present, but instead seeing Selena Gomez finally claim closure on a relationship that has long since run its course (at least in the public eye). More interesting is the single released the following day, which features the offbeat personality she's carved out for herself over the past few years and is equally effective at demonstrating that Selena Gomez has moved on. [6]

Alfred Soto: In a tradition of self-reflexive love songs, she tells us she'll sing the chorus off-key (it sounds okay to me). Maybe this line represents one of Selena Gomez's contributions. If I see Julia Michaels, I think of phony uplift, of which the chorus has hints. Then Gomez counters with a slightly hoarse, un-melodramatic dropping of the line, "You promised the world and I fell for it. A performance with grandness in its bones, and it almost succeeds. [6]

Stephen Eisermann: I'm a sucker for big, cathartic choruses, but the verses really let me down here. Between Selena's weird vocal, the melodramatic strings, and the unintentionally funny lyrics (I'm not convinced that the whole singing off-key line isn't a bit that she's delivering with a wink), it's really hard to take the track seriously. But when that big booming chorus hits, backing vocals and all, you can almost feel Selena letting go of everything Bieber did to her. And that, that's lovely. It's also why the other track released after this is so much better. [5]

Joshua Copperman: A song that's perfectly in tune with 2019-type sad music yet unafraid to be huge. It doesn't have the stakes of "Praying" or the bounce of "It Ain't Me," but that's not a problem. The gang vocals that plagued so much of mid-to-late 2010s pop -- including Selena Gomez's own music -- blossom into a full choir, beautifully contrasting with her usual hushiness. It should be Real Music-y --even the lyrics are less playful and twee than Michaels and Tranter usually go, barring the "killing me softly" shoehorn and obvious title -- but because of how thin Gomez's voice sounds, it's not. (The most Michaels-y touch is the backing vocals going "to love, to love" instead of "to love me, love me" like I'd thought, as in "I needed to lose you to love again at all.") The pop most beloved non-mainstream artists are producing is proudly campy, and that's great! Gomez seems to be headed in that direction too with "Look at Her Now," but this unexpected pivot to pathos inexplicably works thanks to the strategic arrangement and lyricism. [9]

Kayla Beardslee: It's fascinatingly difficult to determine where Julia Michaels' style ends and Selena Gomez's begins, and the whispered melodies and "Issues" violins here don't help. Although Gomez's voice can sometimes be aggressively pleasant, she digs in enough to communicate real emotion here, and the choir backing vocals are surprisingly powerful. The song makes a poignant, if heavy-handed, statement about maturing and finding your identity, amplified by this being her comeback single: Ariana has "thank u, next," Miley has "Slide Away," and now Selena has "Lose You to Love Me." [7]

Jackie Powell: While Julia Michaels has commented that Selena Gomez is indeed a songwriter, I still don't believe that's the proper term to describe her contributions to music. Gomez is a storyteller first and foremost. That's the term: storyteller. Sometimes those can be interpreted as synonymous or givens of each other, but let's remember that Gomez has been telling stories since she was seven years old. Her art is most successful when she's in control of her narrative and knows exactly what story she's about to tell. When she has the opportunity to perform her stories, she goes all out and sells it exactly as someone who's been on stage since childhood can. That may sound like something Ariana Grande has done in the past year or so with "thank u, next," since both "Lose You to Love Me" and that highlight some of the most dramatic breakups in pop culture. But as Tatiana Cirisano pointed out for Billboard, Gomez's approach is the contrapositive to Grande's. Both cuts are relatable and have a commitment to empowerment and autonomy, but Gomez makes her track a moment without a teen movie pastiche. Her choice to emphasize and crescendo on the lyrics "In two months you replaced us" and "Made me think I deserved it" speak loudly. This track is all about its dynamics in its minimalistic glory. Imagine Gomez was performing a monologue. That's the type of choice a storyteller makes. Justin Tranter and Michaels provide the melody and the nuts and bolts, but the concept is clearly all Gomez. The backing vocals in each chorus from Tranter and Michaels are symbolic of what they've meant to Gomez over the years. They've been by her side every step of the way and have lifted her up. That's beautiful. What's also beautiful is if I ever wanted to learn more about Justin Bieber, the lyrics "Sang off-key in my chorus / 'Cause it wasn't yours" tell me all I need to know. [8]

Josh Buck: The Selena Gomez x Julia Michaels joints never miss. [6]

Abdullah Siddiqui: Selena Gomez's discography in the last four years has largely consisted of stylistic meandering and incomplete ideas. She hasn't quite been able to settle on a sound or a narrative. This feels like she's starting from scratch. It's a pretty solid place to start. [7]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox]

#Selena Gomez #pop #music #music review #writing

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truthbeetoldmedia · 5 years

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The 100 6x13 "The Blood of Sanctum" Review

Well, The 100 fans, how are we feeling? Tonight we watched the last season finale The 100 is ever going to give us (the next will be a SERIES finale) and I must say, this is perhaps the first time a finale from this show has left me unsatisfied. Let’s delve into why that is:

Closing Season 6 was always going to be a bit of a challenge. We entered this season with perhaps one strong “A” plot and a minor subplot. We walked out with approximately five more plot lines and none of them are ones I’d consider minor. It’s astonishing to me that The 100 managed to craft a finale that not only didn’t close a single one of it’s existing plot lines adequately but also opened up, quite literally, an entirely new can of worms (anyone remember when worms where a thing on this show?). Let’s run through the list shall we:

Worm Number One: Have You Seen This Boy?

We start the season with the mystery of the Primes, and although we now know exactly what they are and the vast majority of them have been floated, we are left with Russell the Eighth and Priya’s mind drive, clutched securely in the grasp of a now brainwashed Jordan. If it wasn’t obvious enough that Jordan is “under the influence” so to speak, we watch the camera focus on his adjuster while he chats with Bellamy in the finale, proclaiming that he is fine even as he spouts out pieces of information that would make me question that if I were in Bellamy’s shoes. The Prime plot, which could have ended this season, will now make its way into Season 7, where the cult that we were introduced to in this final episode will have a more active role in disrupting the peace. I wouldn’t be surprised if a large part of Jordan’s role next season is finding a new host for Priya and I can’t bring it in me to be upset about that.

In a season where Jordan Jasper Green was one of the most anticipated new additions to the cast he was sorely under-utilized. We listened to various characters recite Monty’s charge to do better all season, but they all failed Monty and Harper where it mattered the most: their son. Shannon Kook is an expert at bringing a Harper-esque zest for life mixed with Monty’s desire to live better and it was a promising combination and one that was lost after episode 5 of this season. While I understand the appeal of first love, especially when you’ve never met anyone who wasn’t related to you or one of your parent’s friends, it is frustrating to me that so much of Jordan’s why is trapped in Priya nee Delilah. It would have been far more interesting to see Jordan take up the mantle Monty and Harper left behind and become the new moral compass of the group, even barring that, I would have been more interested in watching this man-child explore a world that was bigger than the space of the Eligius ship. Opportunity was squandered there and we’ll never get a return on the investment we made.

Worm Number Two: Prime Schmimes

Along with Jordan holding on to Priya’s mind drive comes the need for another host and I have an idea of where he might find one. As I’ve mentioned in my YouTube videos and Twitter threads, they don’t make people Nightbloods for no reason. You need look no further than the Griffin ladies to see that: Clarke, Madi and Abby were all made Nightbloods (born or created) to further storylines and Echo (Ash) will be no different. Although she was spared the privilege of hosting Simone, she is currently the only available Nightblood we know of. Russell is also aware of her status and in the finale he quite clearly states that he wants revenge. He may not be able to bring his family back, but all it takes is one mole in the works to help him achieve that, and he has at least two (Jordan and the adjuster — not to mention the possibility of all of the Children of Gabriel who were brainwashed as well). It would also be revenge for Ryker at the very least — his mother’s mind hosted in the body of the woman who murdered him. While Echo does have the neural mesh (she entered the City of Light as well) and has not been exposed to an EMP, we learned in this episode that Russell was careful to examine Abby before he put Simone’s drive in her — to ensure that there was no failsafe. It’s entirely possible that they can shock Echo with an EMP and implant Priya’s drive and further move Russell’s revenge plot along. After all it was love that drove Gabriel to create immortality, what will love drive Jordan to do?

Worm Number Three: Skynet? Is That You?

Some foreign line of code has managed to find a home in the Eligius ship’s hard drive. While trying to save Madi (and we’ll discuss that in a bit), they essentially crash the Flame, allowing them to remove it without the need for the passcode. While this is happening, Madi and the Dark Commander are fighting a bitter battle for control of her body. I believe that — if one isn’t paying enough attention — it’s easy to say that the reason the Dark Commander disappeared from Madi’s body is because they removed the Flame, but I’m going to hazard a guess that he — like any other virus — realized his removal was imminent and adapted to the situation, leaving Madi’s brain and uploading himself into the Eligius computers.

What does that mean for Season 7 and how will we see him return? Yana Grebenyuk (@yanawrites on Twitter — make sure to watch this space for her finale write up!) postulates that we might actually see him in two places next season! As a rub to Diyoza, who laughed at Gaia teaching Madi how to control the Flame (anyone remember what Gaia says during this scene: “A mind can’t be in two places at once”) Yana speculated that she might actually be trapped with him in the, wait for it, past! We know that the anomaly deals with time and space and we know that when Octavia went in she was gone for some time. Now it seems we have an estimate on how long. Hope is at least 20 years old when she stumbles into the tent and she and Octavia clearly know each other well. As Hope embraces Octavia, stabbing her — much as Clarke did with Finn — she tells her “He still has her” when Octavia asks about Diyoza. Hope’s appearance is very much Grounder-chic and it would also tie into why we learned about Indra seeing the Dark Commander once when she was young.

Further, with his consciousness now uploaded onto the Eligius ship there’s no limit to what the Dark Commander might be able to get up to now. Maybe this is the true beginning of Terminator’s Skynet. With all of that being said: it is rather disappointing that, even with the close of “Book One” a part of the series’ final struggle will still boil down to the Grounders. It’s been 131 years, two nuclear apocalypses, a new planet and a new cult system (the Primes) and we still can’t seem to shake them. It feels like the show should have been called “Grounders” instead of “The 100” for the amount of focus given to them and it’s disheartening. At least for me.

Worm Number Four: The Little Whipping Girl

Clarke, my poor girl. Bradbury may be Bellamy’s middle name, but hers is definitely suffering. This season we’ve watched Clarke be isolated both physically and emotionally from the people she’d once called friends. We watch her put herself out there and have a bit of fun, only to wind up almost kidnapped and taken to the Children of Gabriel. We watch her die, fight viciously inside of her own mind to survive, almost die again, be revived by Bellamy and then realize that while she was dealing with that struggle, her child was losing her own mental battle, and then we watch her lose her mother.

No one person should have to be strong enough to deal with all of that loss and yet Clarke manages it effortlessly every season. We know (thanks to Executive Producer Jason Rothenberg’s Hypable interview with Selina Wilken) that Clarke will be dealing with the grief of losing her mother as Season 7 begins. While I am grateful that she is being given the opportunity to do so, because grief is something that is so often rushed through on this show, I am also concerned about how this will affect Clarke’s issues with isolation. For six seasons now, Clarke has consistently been on the outside of the group looking in, due in large part to her status as lead, forcing her to be the character we follow around to each new location and each new group. Although Jason notes that Clarke will be perhaps even more protective of her family with her recent loss, I don’t necessarily know if the show has the chops to make that work.

It doesn’t help that her best friend (script confirmed) Bellamy now has his own issues to deal with, which leads me directly into...Worm Number Five.

Worm Number Five: We Call That….Regression?

Many of you reading this initially found me via Tumblr or Twitter or YouTube, all places where a huge part of my online persona is my love for and defense of one Bellamy Blake. He has been my favorite character from the moment he appeared on the screen in the pilot episode and I have been in his corner ever since. We’ve watched him, over the course of six seasons, mature, moving past the unhealthy relationship he’s had with Octavia since her birth resulted in both siblings carrying a weight they were too young for, growing into a man who left behind the self loathing and resentment of the past and stepped into the self love. If you’d’ve asked me yesterday what my favorite arc on The 100 is, I would have replied without hesitation “Bellamy’s character arc!”

I’m no longer sure I can do that. After the events of last season, which culminated in Octavia putting Bellamy in the pit alongside Gaia and Indra and forcing them to fight to their possible deaths, burning the farm Monty cultivated and then forcing her people into battle out of necessity, it seemed as if Bellamy was finally ready to separate from the lifelong co-dependent relationship he shared with Octavia. The Season 6 finale has appeared to effectively erase that growth in one fell swoop. Just a few episodes ago we listened as Bellamy told Octavia she was still his sister, but she could no longer be his responsibility and this episode we watched as Octavia was stabbed and misted right out of Bellamy’s arms and into the anomaly. The season ends with Bellamy calling Octavia’s name as the anomaly recedes once more.

In post-finale interviews (again see Selina’s Hypable link above) Jason is clear that finding Octavia is a huge part of Bellamy’s drive in Season 7 (going so far as to compare it to Bellamy’s desire to save Clarke in Season 6), and while I can admire, respect and even understand a brother’s desire to find a lost sibling, it’s a huge walkback (literally almost 360 degrees) on Bellamy’s arc since Season 1. What is the point of watching a show, seeing its characters evolve and grow and change and mature if, in the final season, we watch them revert back to who they were in the pilot episode? Will Clarke always be a girl who’s lost a parent abandoned on a new world? Will Bellamy always be nothing more than his sister’s keeper? Will Octavia always be hidden away somewhere? People aren’t watching television shows to see characters wind up where they began. We watch for the hope that our current situations (whatever those may be) won’t last forever. That growth can be permanent, that who we are now doesn’t have to define who we become, but as we head into Season 7, I’m not entirely convinced The 100 is aware of that.

Worm Number Six: Madi’s Mad as a Hatter...or is She?

Madi’s plot is perhaps the only one that was wrapped up (even as the Dark Commander clearly continues his nefarious deeds elsewhere) but it was done so haphazardly I was left unsatisfied. We have watched Madi deal with the Dark Commander in her head all season, we’ve watched as she’s slowly folded under his control and we watched her break when it’s revealed that Clarke is dead. It does make sense that learning Clarke is alive would bring her back. What doesn’t make sense is how swiftly that’s dealt with. It took the Dark Commander days or weeks (I’m unsure of Season 6’s timeline right now) to successfully set up a home in Madi’s brain and simply seeing Clarke threaten suicide (and also — what a message to send to...lots of people...I understand that Clarke went through a lot this season, but even with the loss of your mother, even with the potential loss of your daughter, you can still fight) was enough to snap his hold on Madi almost immediately.

It’s not realistic. I can understand the need to bring Madi back into the picture, but I think it might have played a bit better if the struggle was more prolonged, perhaps even something they needed to put her back into cryo until next season to discover. Unfortunately the choice was made, and a plot line that bit significantly into others ended with extreme prejudice in about two seconds flat.

Worm Number Seven: Make it Make Sense

(The above image is NOT edited.) The constant will they, won’t they of Bellamy and Clarke’s relationship needs to end now. Even as Jason tells fans that we (as a collective unit) all misunderstood what Bellamy’s drive was in saving Clarke (again see the Hypable interview linked above), he tells EW that "There were a few seasons in the middle of the run where we didn't know, we legitimately were on the bubble and were always trying to engineer something that could possibly be a series ender and a season ender, you know? I have for a while known thematically and like you say, in a general way, what I want the ending to be. I knew what I wanted it to feel like, I knew what I wanted it to say."

When you look back on the middle season finales (which for a seven season run would be Seasons 3-5) Jason has been crafting a very clear endgame, and that endgame is Bellamy and Clarke, together, facing their next adventure.

Season 3 ends with Bellamy and Clarke, in the Polis throne room, standing in front of Lexa's throne. They are united (literally touching), watching their people recover from the effects of ALIE, some wounded (like Jaha), others embracing the people they love (Kabby, Briller, Memori). Clarke delivers the news about the reactors melting down, that they haven't won just yet, and then Octavia kills Pike and walks away. Season 3 ends with Bellamy and Clarke — together — preparing to face their next challenge.

The Season 4 finale is a bit more ambiguous, because Bellamy and Clarke are physically separated but the notes are still there. We come into Clarke making a radio call and she is speaking to Bellamy specifically. She says "I still have hope" — that call back to the "You still have hope?/We still breathing" moment that sent the Bellarke fandom into ecstatic spirals of joy and — as a ship bursts through the atmosphere — Clarke stands, her breathing quickens, she smiles and she says "Never mind, I see you" and "I See You" (Confirmed by Tree Adams to be written for and about Bellarke), plays in the background.

Even as we watch Clarke's joy turn into apprehension when she realizes that's NOT Becca's rocket and instead says prisoner transport — if the series had ended here, in this moment — it's possible that it could have been Bellamy (and the others) walking off of the Eligius ship and in fact, that was the most common theory during the hiatus: that Bellamy and the others had joined up with the Eligius crew to combat the fuel issue, which wasn't far off. The series would have ended on the assumption that it was Bellamy walking off of that ship, reunited with Clarke and together again, facing the challenge of repopulating a barren Earth (after they dug out the bunker of course) and because we didn't have any updates on the Space Squad until Season 5 premiered, we also would have been left without the knowledge that Bellamy and Ash (aka Echo) were a thing.

Season 5 ends with Bellamy pulling Clarke into his side, both crying, both leaning on each other (with Jordan in the background) united and about to take on this journey (the discovery of a new planet) — together — again. And yes, I know a lot of people were upset about this ending because Bellamy and Ash/Echo were still a "couple", but again, I want to point you back to Jason saying that he was writing these as series finales and he knew what he wanted those finales to feel like and what he wanted them to say.

The theme of the Season 3-5 finales has always been "Bellamy and Clarke, together, facing the next adventure." and the feeling has always been that Bellamy and Clarke and their relationship to one another are the center of the story, that if the story ends here, Bellamy and Clarke are together. I'd even go so far as to say that the theme of Season 4 and Season 5's finales specifically has been about hope and renewal. The opportunity to do and be better in a "new" place.

And that’s fine and dandy. What’s not fine is when this relationship is deliberately given romantic beats, framing and lines in an effort to draw or retain an audience with no payoff. Again, people are not watching television for the never before seen plot twists. People watch television for the characters. They stay for the characters. Friends is one of the most successful shows of all time on the strength of the relationships it showcased as an example, and the same can be said for many other great shows. It’s when showrunners forget that, believing that the story they are so desperate to tell is more important than the audience who have given them the ability to tell that story, that everyone suffers. One need look no further than the recent endings of Game of Thrones and Veronica Mars for evidence of that.

Make the story clear. Make it plain. Your audience deserves that.

In conclusion, The 100 season finales work better when they are written as series finales. Given the knowledge that he would have one more season to close out the show the way he wants to, Rothenberg leaned too far into the chaos of Episode 12 (“Adjustment Protocol”) and left audiences with a bitter, unfinished taste in their mouths. With only 16 episodes left to satisfactorily wrap up all of the arcs he opened or left open this season, I’m not convinced we won’t be seeing a repeat of Game of Thrones.

April’s episode rating: 🐝.5

P.S. A Good Worm:

If you’re like me and you need something to look forward to as we enter the long hiatus before the final season of The 100, think about making your way to Conageddon! Located in Boston, Massachusetts, and this year held on April 3rd-5th, it is The 100’s only American convention and as someone who’s been before (and will be back) it’s a weekend packed with fun and friends. Tickets haven’t gone on sale just yet, but make sure you watch this space for more information, including cast information and ticket pricing!

#The 100 #Season Finale #The Blood of Sanctum

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puppetwritings · 5 years

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Delicate Little Bird || Mingyu

Word Count: 5083

Genre: one-shot, immortals AU, request, fantasy, angst

Summary: Sometimes, things are better left buried in the past, along with the dead.

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Request: You should write a fantasy type scenario about mingyu. Like a ghoul or ghost or the typical cliche vampire. But a more mature one and dark but too dark or fluffy.Idk anyways I love your writings keep going💕💕💕💕

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Warning: blood, death, disfigurement (burning)

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Your breathing was growing shallower as you pushed through the rain and stumbled deeper into the dark forest. Your ears still rang with the outraged cries and the feeling of flames licking your skin. You shuddered as you remembered the smell of your own flesh and the sight of the charred black skin. Luckily, it had rained and after a short struggle, you had freed yourself.

As your eyes settled on the cave in front of you, you realized that you hadn’t thought much about your situation. You had lost consciousness and when you woke up you were tied and were being burned. Anything before that was a blurred mist. You vaguely remember living somewhere bright and peaceful but then you also remembered suffering through great darkness. The details were fuzzy, but you had a feeling that you had chosen to forget.

You took a wobbly step into the cave and immediately looked around, scanning for any signs of trouble. Your eyes fell on the bottle.

In any story, if there was a suspicious item on the floor, your first instinct, as the reader, would be to think “Stay away from that”—especially when “that” sat by itself, surrounded by nothing. It was obviously a trap. Something would happen if you picked up this singular, suspicious item from the floor. But do the main characters ever listen? No. They were compelled by the storyline to pick up this item and throw their life into chaos.

As if your life wasn’t in enough chaos and you craved more, you were suddenly compelled to pick up this bottle.

You stepped forward.

You knelt down.

Your hand stretched out…and you picked it up.

Just at that moment, there was a flash of lightening and a clap of thunder!...How cliché is that?

Frightened by the sudden light and the sudden sound, the bottle tumbled from your hand and fell back onto the floor. You inhaled sharply, staring at the bottle and waiting for some terribly disgusting creature to slither out of it and eat you!

The truth of it was, the monster inside the bottle wasn’t that stupid. He had been in rudely shoved into such a small space and after several thousand years, finally encountered someone dumb enough to pick him up. How could he so rudely startle his benefactor?

By picking him up and awaking him, this monster was now allowed to freely leave the bottle. No catch, no gimmicks. This just meant that whatever force was up there had decided his punishment was over. But this monster hadn’t learned his lesson. His punishment may be over, but that didn’t mean the hatred that had been brewing in his heart was. He had only killed a few humans; did that really deserve such a harsh punishment? The monster scoffed to himself and shook his head. No. It didn’t.

Now, the person who broke the seal on his bottle was quite powerful. Or at least they were special. But they didn’t seem to know who he was or what he was so, perhaps, he could use them…

Thinking this far, the monster slowly snaked his way out of the bottle and before you was a mass of dark clouds, similar to the ones in the sky outside.

You took one look and wanted to faint.

However, slowly, the black mass shifted and churned and took the form of a tall, handsome young man. The young man stared down at you with warm brown eyes and a cocked eyebrow. He was dressed neatly in clothes fit for a young master and his lips were pressed in a thin line, as if displeased, but then he revealed an enchanting smile.

“You touched the bottle?”

You nodded without thinking.

The smile grew, causing you to shiver. The young man stepped forward as you scooted back and he knelt down. “What do you wish for?”

“W-what?”

“I asked for your wish. Your deepest desire,” the young man said. He jabbed a finger in your direction. “You saved me, so now I will grant you a wish.”

You tried to focus your stare on him but it was futile. Your vision began to swim in and out and his voice was slowly fading. You tried to focus, but you couldn’t.

The young man raised an eyebrow, noticing your predicament. He reached out but you only pushed his hand away. “If I don’t touch you, I can’t help you?”

Your burned features contorted into an ugly expression as you spat, “I don’t want your help, you demonic creature.”

The young man’s eyes brightened as his somewhat gentle smile curled into one of displeasure. “Me? Demonic?...Child, you don’t seem to know what a demonic creature is like. Shall I educate you?”

You glared at him resolutely, even when the young man stood and walked forward. Thunder accompanied his steps but when you were finally unable to move and he was finally in front of you, you had already lost consciousness.

The young man knelt down and bit into his finger. A bead of blood surfaced and he reached out, spreading it onto your forehead. With a satisfied smile, the young man drew back. “Now, Y/N, I, Mingyu, am now bound to you. Let’s serve each other well.”

You did not hear these loathsome words and you were completely unaware of what had just happened.

The bottle that had previously contained Mingyu turned to dust and when you woke up, you were lying in the bed of an inn.

Your eyes widened and you sat up. Had it all been a dream? This lovely hope was immediately crushed when that hateful voice simply said “Oh, you’re up”. You froze and turned slowly, your gaze venomous as you looked at Mingyu.

Mingyu only smiled, revealing a pair of pointed canines, as he held up a plate of breakfast. “I wasn’t sure if you’d be awake but I ordered two anyway. Aren’t I kind?”

“Why are you still here?”

“How rude, not even a thank you? Or a good morning?”

You continued to glare at him.

Mingyu hummed, raising an eyebrow as his head tilted to the side. “Seems…as though humans have forgotten manners these past thousand years. Civilization has truly regressed. How disappointing.”

“Why should I be polite to a monster?”

“Monsters aren’t beings? Monsters don’t have rights?” Mingyu countered. His smile returned, wickeder than before, “And do you think monsters became monsters because they wanted to?”

You shuddered at the smile and shrank further into the bed.

Mingyu’s smile softened, though the venom remained in his eyes. He stood and handed you the plate of food. “Come on, eat. Humans still need to eat, don’t they?”

“I don’t want to eat food you give me.”

“I haven’t poisoned it.”

“How would I know?”

Mingyu thought for a moment. No, you did make a good point. How would you know? It wasn’t like you were awake when someone came by with the food. If Mingyu voluntarily ate some, you might still be suspicious if you thought about how Mingyu was a powerful monster that was immune to poison. And then, Mingyu came up with a good point.

“What reason do I have to poison you?”

You looked surprised at this question.

“We have never met before and you actually saved me,” Mingyu reasoned. Upon seeing your unconvinced look, Mingyu sighed as he sat back down. “Just because I’m a monster, does not mean I lack manners like you humans do. If someone wrongs me, I’ll definitely pay them back, but if someone helped me, I wouldn’t be so rude to stab them when they aren’t looking. Makes sense, doesn’t it?”

Makes sense…it did make sense. You stared contemplatively at the breakfast before slowly taking a bite.

“See? How nice is it to trust someone a little?” Mingyu grinned confidently in the face of your glare. “Now, let’s introduce ourselves. My name is Mingyu, what is yours?”

You didn’t answer.

“Mm, I see, you’re too hungry and too distracted by your food to answer. That’s fine,” Mingyu sighed as he nibbled elegantly on his own breakfast. “I’ll forgive you. I will wait until you’re done eating to hear your answer.”

Of course, Mingyu already knew your name. Asking was just a form of formality. If he suddenly called out to you when you didn’t give him your name, it would arouse suspicion. If you continued to refuse to give him your name, he could only make up a stupid nickname for you like…like…little birdie. The nickname caused Mingyu to recall some unpleasant times in his past but he felt that it suited you. You were annoying. Just like the last little birdie.

You never gave your name in the end.

Thus, whenever Mingyu needed your attention, he would disgustingly chirp “Little birdie” until you turned your hateful gaze to him.

On the third day that you two were together, Mingyu sorted through his list of questions that he had continuously cycled through within these past 36 hours and arrived at one he hadn’t asked for about half the day.

“Little birdie,” Mingyu’s voice reached your ears and your brows immediately furrowed. You continued to ferociously scrub at your clothes.

Mingyu frowned when you didn’t react. He decided to try again. “Little birdie.”

Your scrubbing became more motivated.

“Little birdie, what is your wish?”

The only answer Mingyu got was the sound of splashing water as you took out your frustration onto your clothes.

“Come on, little birdie, we both know I won’t be leaving any time soon. You may as well utilize me. I’m very powerful you know.”

Mingyu’s eyes closed as he was suddenly soaked in water.

“Don’t stand too close to the river; you’ll get wet,” you said simply.

No matter how close Mingyu was standing, there was no reason for the water to reach his face when he was standing tall like this. It was deliberate.

Instead of snapping, Mingyu merely smiled and took a few steps back.

Endure. He had to endure. If he didn’t endure and he accidentally killed you, he wouldn’t be able to find out how you were able to free him and how you were connected with the old little birdie.

The rest of noon was spent in silence.

Mingyu occasionally glanced at you but otherwise mindlessly built little huts out of twigs he found lying around. Soon, you forgot about his presence and began to ponder about what you would do next, when Mingyu impolitely reminded you that he still existed. Your face clouded over.

“Why that expression?” Mingyu raised an eyebrow. “I’m only asking you when we’ll be moving again.”

“Won’t be.”

“Won’t be? Little birdie, do you want to become a forest person? Look at how tattered and dirty you are already—you’ll scare someone to death and then you’ll be thrown into jail before getting a death sentence,” Mingyu said.

You glared at him but Mingyu stayed, unflinching.

What choice did you have? You saw your reflection in the river just now while you were washing your clothes. Even you jumped a little at your appearance.

Before, you could be considered good looking. You had attractive, delicate features comparable to the soft clouds. Just one look at you and strangers would find that you were warm and trustworthy. Now, your features were obscured by the terrible burn marks. That, coupled with the scars all over your body, it would make someone wonder what had happened and, even if you were friendly, they would want to stay miles away.

Although your appearance had been marred, you were still grateful that you seemed to heal at a fast rate. You were secretly wondering if it was because of something Mingyu did, but you didn’t ask.

Good thing you didn’t, because you would be severely disappointed and the only amount of goodwill Mingyu built up because of this misunderstanding would be crushed.

Mingyu also felt that it was weird. The burns on you were obviously fresh, yet they didn’t fester and they only healed quickly. Not only that, they had even started to fade. You were obviously not a regular human being. Perhaps, you had ended up in this state because the villagers found out and had attempted to kill you.

On this subject, Mingyu never asked. It wasn’t that he wasn’t curious, but you barely allowed him to walk within three meters of you. He knew if he brought up this incident, you would surely throw a fit and lose the last of your patience with him.

So, Mingyu didn’t ask.

Mingyu endured.

It was odd. Before, people had to endure Mingyu but now Mingyu had to endure himself. Oh, how the times have changed.

“We’re really going to stay in the forest?” Mingyu’s voice shattered the peace that had carried on for three weeks.

You looked up from the grilling fish and nodded.

“You’re not tired of this? There’s no shelter here.”

“There’s the cave.”

“Well, there isn’t a bed and there aren’t blankets.”

“Go get them yourself if you want them so bad.”

“I already went to get toiletries. You should be the one that goes,” Mingyu said, his eyes narrowing in displeasure.

You only blankly stared at him before turning back to the fish. It was properly grilled.

Mingyu scoffed, crossing his arms and turning his head away. “Well, if you freeze to death, don’t blame me. I, for one, am perfectly fine.”

“I am also perfectly fine.”

“I know, I know, you humans are…what’d you say?”

“I am also perfectly fine.”

Mingyu stared at you and your thick face before shaking his head. “Perfectly fine? You? You’re a human. How could you be perfectly fine? It’s autumn—nearly winter now! You’re only wearing a set of summer clothes. And you’re telling me you’re perfectly fine?”

You pulled the fish off the little stand you had made and blew on it. “But I am. Whether you believe me or not is up to you.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Up to you.”

Mingyu frowned and turned away before strolling over and crouching down. He jabbed a finger towards the fish. “Where’s mine?”

“You don’t need to eat.”

“I don’t, but it smells good.”

“Want a bite?”

Mingyu’s nose wrinkled in disgust. “Eat from your fish? With your saliva?”

“I haven’t even bitten into it.”

Mingyu looked at you with dissatisfaction and you rolled your eyes.

“Don’t want then don’t ask.”

“Fine, I’ll take a bite,” Mingyu said, acting as if you had been the one that begged him to try your cooking.

Showing great reluctant, Mingyu took a bite of the fish. He hummed in approval and passed it back to you. “I guess it’s good.”

“Thank you,” you said, your voice filled with exaggerated gratitude.

Mingyu only tilted his head slightly in acknowledgement and sat back down under the tree. After a moment, his eyes glazed over and he was staring off into the distance in a daze. The bantering and bickering reminded him of a certain person.

It had been thousands of years.

Mingyu may be immortal, but his memory wasn’t good. The image of the person slowly deteriorated over time, no matter how hard Mingyu tried to cling onto it out of hatred. Through his freshly boiled hatred, Mingyu had been determined to remember this person that had betrayed him and personally stuffed him in the bottle. It had been all for naught and Mingyu was only left with vague forms of memories that had warmed him during his imprisonment but had, at the same time, continuously shattered his heart.

Night fell and day came. Their routine continued like this for another month and Mingyu had fallen into a lull. What was his original objective? Get close to you? Well, he had done that. But what was next again?...Kill you? Use you to find that person?

Within these two months, Mingyu had slowly lost motivation for petty things like that. Though it had been his sole reason for his stubborn survival, Mingyu now thought that it was pointless. What was wrong with now? He liked it like this. Sometimes he would steal a bite of your fish and other times he would come back with an animal he hunted for you. He would even travel to a nearby village and slowly started furnishing the cave you guys stayed in. Of course, it was still a far cry from a house, but you two found it livable enough.

Mingyu even became curious about you. So, he asked questions. Your answers were often vague but when he brought up your predicament before the two of you met, you would always answer with three words “I don’t know”.

At first, Mingyu thought that it had been something like him where he had been mercilessly betrayed by the person he trusted. Over time, Mingyu realized you truly meant it. You didn’t know. You couldn’t remember.

“Aren’t you curious about me?” Mingyu asked one day as you washed your clothes.

“Not at all.”

“We’ve known each other for nearly three months, but you haven’t asked a single question.”

“There is nothing to ask if I am not interested.”

“Try to be a little interested.”

“Why?”

“Because we live together.”

“No one forced you to live here. If you want to leave, you can leave,” you replied. Your words weren’t meant to be venomous, but they were so blunt it still hurt a little.

“You are forcing me to live here.”

“What? I haven’t.”

“A stupid human like you living in a big forest like this—how could I just leave you here. Besides, you haven’t told me your wish. I am not someone who eats without paying, so I’m going to stay here until you tell me your wish.”

“Well, then, I suppose you will stay here forever.”

“I suppose I will.”

You looked up and held Mingyu’s gaze for awhile before turning back to the clothes and silently returning to your task.

Mingyu huffed and picked up a stone, tossing it back into the river.

“Why were you stuck in a bottle?”

Mingyu was just in the middle of throwing another rock when you asked. The rock lamely splashed right in front of his feet and sunk to the bottom. “What did you say?”

“Never mind.”

“No, no, uh,” Mingyu thought a moment before he answered. “I did something wrong.”

“Something wrong?”

“Killed some humans.”

“Why?”

“Why?” Mingyu echoed the singular question and his brows furrowed. Why…he did not remember.

“You don’t remember.”

“Give me a moment,” Mingyu said, glaring at you. His thumb rubbed against the particularly smooth stone in his hand as he delved into his memories. Why…? Well, it was because…

“Because…they killed someone I cared about.”

“A lover?”

“No, more like a sister.”

“Why was she killed?”

Mingyu looked at you thoughtfully. “Because they found out she was different so they killed her. Just like how they tried to do with you.”

“I see.”

There was a pause.

“Did you successfully kill them?”

“I did.”

“Good.”

Mingyu’s eyes widened. For some reason, hearing that response felt wrong to him. He felt that you should be reprimanding him, not agreeing with him.

“People like that—humans like that—they don’t deserve to live,” you said.

“No…well…”

“You don’t agree?” you turned to look at him with icy eyes.

“I do.”

“Then why are you stuttering.”

“I just…feel that you’ve changed.”

“I’ve changed?”

“Yeah, you—” Mingyu stopped himself. You haven’t changed at all. He didn’t know you before. You had always been like this from the moment he spoke to you. Yet, why did he feel that you had changed?

“I haven’t changed,” you replied with indifference before shaking the water from your clothes and standing to hang them up.

“Right.”

Mingyu watched as you shook the clothes several times before hanging them up on the line that you had made Mingyu make. It was a simple gesture, but it made you seem so elegant.

Mingyu smiled as the present scene faded and he was faced with another person, kicking themselves of the ground and elegantly plucking a peach from the tree. The person turned, their eyes clear and sparkling, as they held up the peach. The person smiled and Mingyu looked at their face but…but nothing.

“You okay?”

“Huh?”

“If you’re okay, then don’t stare at me.”

Mingyu nodded absentmindedly and moved back to his tree. He kicked off the ground and landed softly on a higher branch. He leaned back against the tree trunk and closed his eyes, his lips pressed into a firm line.

Their smile…those eyes…he remembered them so clearly. But the face…

If he was going to be completely honest, within the last hundred years, Mingyu had not thought of this person. The face was gone, so why would he dwell on those memories? Thousands of years was a long time and after a while, even the most powerful person would lose hope of ever being released. Why would he worry about revenge when even this sort of thing was uncertain?

But now, after spending some time with you, he felt the familiar itch in his heart. He started to struggle to remember that person’s face again. This time, it wasn’t out of hatred or anger, it was out of longing.

He missed them.

You noticed the slight shift in Mingyu’s attitude. Whenever you weren’t engaged with banter with him, he’d stare off. Sometimes, when you looked up, Mingyu would be staring at you intensely and only noticed after a few minutes that you were staring back. Your mouth itched to ask him what was his deal, but you never did. For some reason, you didn’t want to know.

It was one of those days where Mingyu sat in a daze in a tree. You didn’t bother him and Mingyu eventually drifted have. He fell back into the familiar dream of that person, happily presenting him with a peach. This time, the dream continued.

The person walked over, tossing the peach haughtily. “How’s that for someone short?”

“Impressive, impressive!” Mingyu found himself saying as he laughed loudly and clapped. “Fluttering around like a delicate little bird—you’re truly impressive! But that doesn’t change the fact that you’re still short!”

The person’s delicate face became distorted and they glared at him. “Kim Mingyu, I may be short but I’m a much better fighter than you!”

“Oh, right, you had to learn how to fight super well so taller opponents wouldn’t overpower—OUCH!”

The person laughed as Mingyu stumbled back several times and eventually fell down onto his butt. Keeled over, the person pointed at Mingyu and gasped for breath. “Y-you—you look so stupid!”

Mingyu’s face grew dark and he stood up, dusting himself off. A mischievous look crossed his face and he reached out his hands. “We’ll see who looks stupid in a second.”

The person’s eyes widened and they took a step back. “D-don’t you dare—”

Mingyu smirked and lurched forward. You howled with laughter as his fingers tickled you. You were weak against his attacks and your attempts to push him off were futile. You could only laugh helplessly as tears filled your eyes.

“Mingyu, get off of them,” a low, mellifluous voice sounded behind Mingyu. Mingyu turned and gaped at the woman behind him.

The person below him beamed and shoved Mingyu off before running behind the woman. “Hyerin! Mingyu’s bullying me again! Did you see that?”

Hyerin nodded, patting the younger person’s head. She turned back to Mingyu. “Mingyu, why did you do that?”

“I—they kicked me!”

“Why did you kick him?” Hyerin turned back to the person.

“Mingyu called me short!”

“I only stated the facts,” Mingyu said, turning his nose upwards.

“Mingyu.”

Hyerin’s gently scolding voice caused Mingyu’s head to bow. The person grinned triumphantly but Hyerin turned on them. “And you. Don’t go kicking people.”

The person rolled their eyes but nodded under Hyerin’s gaze.

She smiled and ruffled the hair of both boys. “Good. Go play.”

The two were teenagers at this point, so being talked to like children made them both protest. In the end, they did run off to play again.

The scenes shifted and warped and changed and when the cleared again, Mingyu was several years older. His face was stained with tears and for a moment, he was confused. Where was he? What…seeing that person standing in front of him, he remembered.

In that person’s arms was the older girl that had looked after them. Her body was limp, like a rag doll, and her beautiful brown hair was matted with blood. Her face that used to be like a pristine jade was now bruised and scarred. Her arm was twisted oddly. Her ankle was swelled. She wasn’t breathing.

Mingyu stumbled forward as Hyerin was gently placed on the bed as if she were only sleeping. Mingyu’s trembling hands reached out and he touched her skin that had turned cold.

“This…how did this happen…”

“Someone accused her of seducing her husband. Another carried on and accused her of being a witch. The conclusion was that she was a demon,” the person reported, their voice low and barely audible.

“Why didn’t she fight back?” Mingyu asked, his hands cradling hers gently. He was afraid she would return to dust. “She could have. We’re more powerful than mortals.”

“That doesn’t mean we should abuse our powers,” the person said, glaring at Mingyu. “Hyerin didn’t fight back because she didn’t want to harm them. She’s a being above them, to harm mortals would be a sin—”

“So, falsely accusing an innocent person of seducing her husband isn’t?! So, accusing a good person of being a witch and a demon isn’t?!” Mingyu jumped up from where he had knelt and spun to face the person behind him. His eyes had turned red with anger and his pupils slower formed slits. “That’s just the foolish humans trying to get rid of her! That’s killing! Is that not a sin?! She would not have sinned if she acted out of defense for herself! But instead she took it like—like an idiot. And now she’s dead.”

“Mingyu, don’t be disrespectful.”

“She’s dead! How would she know if I’m disrespectful?!” Mingyu shouted. “People like us—no! Creatures like us?! We don’t get to reincarnate! Once we die our souls crumble and we disappear. She won’t be able to hear me from beyond anyway!”

“Kim Mingyu, shut up!”

“Don’t you understand, Y/N?!” Mingyu continued, his eyes turned crazed as he took a step forward. His canines grew sharper. “We aren’t like them. And humans are so fearful and foolish, they would never accept us.”

“Mingyu, listen to yourself. You’re getting corrupted,” the person took a step back, their eyes growing large as they spoke with a trembling voice.

“So, what if I get corrupted?” Mingyu asked, his voice deep and low as his eyes narrowed. “I’m tired of living like some scum of earth. We didn’t want to be like this. We didn’t ask for this. Who declared humans to be the rulers of all race?! We’re superior! We’re stronger. Yet, why do we have to bow to them and act as if we’re one of them?”

“Kim Mingyu—”

“If they’re so powerful and mighty, see if they can fend for themselves,” Mingyu said, a wicked smile sprouting on his lips.

“Mingyu, you can’t! We’re immortals, we can’t do this! You’ll become corrupt if you do!”

“So, I’ll become corrupt! I don’t care even if I become a demon,” Mingyu’s hand tightly gripped the person’s wrist and he pulled them closer. His warm breath fanned that person’s face as his lips spread into an ugly smirk. “If you’re so worried, then see if you can stop me.”

In the next moment, the person was shoved back and Mingyu had disappeared.

When this person found Mingyu again, the boy who normally dressed in white was dressed in red. The village that had only began prospering, perished overnight.

---------

The same face.

Mingyu’s eyes opened to see the person he had been longing for. His hands reached out and pulled you into his chest. Your face had become disfigured, but that didn’t matter. You were still you. All the hatred he harbored for thousand years disappeared as he cradled you.

“I’m sorry. I was wrong. I shouldn’t have done it. I should have listened to you.”

Your blinked dumbly, your lips parted slightly. You raised your hand and awkwardly patted Mingyu’s shoulder. “This…isn’t that big of a deal.”

“What?”

“It’s not my clothes. I don’t care if you don’t hang them up to dry. I was only thinking that it’d get dirty again if you just leave them on the ground. I didn’t expect you to overreact like this.”

“Oh.”

You stepped back and straightened your clothes before vaguely waving at the pile. “You should wash it again.”

“I should.”

You nodded once and started to walk off but then you stopped. You turned around and looked at Mingyu. “Hey, tree.”

Mingyu froze and his eyes widened. He slowly looked up at you.

“I forgive you. I’m sorry too.”

Mingyu’s mouth opened and closed, unable to conjure up words.

You rolled your eyes and walked away, going to the river to cook.

It had been a total of six months since you two had met. After the first three, you had began to recover your memories. At first, it was painful but eventually it wasn’t. You remembered Mingyu far before he remembered you but you never said anything. You waited for his hatred to wear down. You didn’t know when it would be, but you knew when it happened, you would want to apologize. Mingyu hadn’t been wrong but you were also correct. The punishment had been dealt out and you ran into an event that proved that Mingyu was correct. This could be considered an even score.

Your following days continued peacefully. You and Mingyu never talked about it.

The most the two of you acknowledged this event was when you two traveled a short distance to an abandoned ghost town twice a year. There, deep in the forest behind the ghost town, was a clear blue lake and beside that lake was a gravestone that stood proud and elegantly.

Aside from that, the past was buried along with the dead and not a word was spoken again by the living.

#mingyu fanfic #mingyu scenario #mingyu fanfiction #mingyu #mingyu scenarios #seventeen #seventeen scenario #seventeen fanfic #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fanfiction

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musecastxiv · 6 years

Text

What’s been going on at MuseCast XIV?

Warmest greetings, MuseFriends!

Since we declared a hiatus on the production of new content back in January, which was then mysteriously extended into April without any notice, we’ve received a few comments about how things have been worryingly quiet on our end. We want to assure everyone that while there have been delays in putting together some updates, MuseCast XIV will continue production of our podcasts, livestreams, and all other activities in the service of FFXIV roleplayers.

As you know, MuseCast is run by just us two, Remix and Emi. Over the last several months, things came up in real life that forced us both to drastically re-prioritize. However, we know there’s no excuse for having kept our dear listeners in the dark for so long — other than being so very overwhelmed by real-life hardships, and not quite knowing how to address such highly sensitive issues. For that, we deeply apologize, and plan to move forward with much greater transparency to keep you all in the know.

So without further ado, here’s an update from each of us personally, to our dear listeners.

Update from Emi

Recently, I got a new job that required me to up and move halfway across the country after finishing my Music Recording Technology degree. Moving isn’t always easy, and unfortunately the new living space left me unable to record due to numerous noise issues. I live next to a highway and railroad tracks, and you know how we are about audio quality!

Additionally, the job I took when initially moving here turned out not to be the best of fits. It sapped me of all energy, and left me without time to even think about my passions for podcasting and editing audio (and no time to roleplay, either). But fear not: realizing that this wasn't what I had expected, I've been transitioning into a new position with another company in the area. So far, I've been enjoying it, as it's a job where, among other things, I get to help with audio production! Just as excitingly, I've figured out a way to make my noisy location work and, pending a paycheck, plan on purchasing sound treatment for the space I've made. Sure, it might be half of my closet space, but we do what must be done.

In brief: Life seems to be slowly coming together, and it's once again becoming possible for me to record for our show. But MuseCast has always been a team effort, and I can't see myself doing this show without Remix, whose struggles you'll read about below. We truly are sorry for these hiccups and delays, and I hope you'll stick with us. Things can only go up from here!

Update from Remix

MuseCast XIV has been one of the most enjoyable and fulfilling experiences of my life. From three-hour five-person recording sessions, to epic ten-hour livestreams, to meeting folks who actually recognized our logo at FanFest, it’s clear in my heart that I would never willingly give this up for even a moment, much less for several months. Sadly, I didn’t have a choice — I have been, and still am, suffering from a serious chronic illness.

My symptoms began to appear as early as June 2017, but since it took a frustratingly long time to find even a diagnosis, my health gradually worsened. Finally, after several months, we found an accurate diagnosis — or rather, a series of diagnoses. Since then, it has been a process of trial and error, progress and regression, and I regret to report that at this time, I am a long distance away from “feeling better."

Despite my daily condition still remaining as volatile and unpredictable as market board prices on Gilgamesh, I try and let the good days keep my hopes for the future alive. Like my muse Merlwyb, I’m extraordinarily stubborn and tenacious, and still work as hard as my body will allow me every single day towards getting my old life back, MuseCast and all. I only regret that the process is taking so godsdamned long that it’s now April 2018, and I’m still typing this from my bed.

To echo the sentiments of my co-host and dear friend Emi, we are and have always been a dynamic duo, working together as one to produce work we love, while prioritizing our friendship over all else. When both of us are weakened by life, and neither can fully lean on the other for support, is when truly difficult situations like this arise. My wish is to become strong enough once again to be the pillar that not only stands strong on its own, but supports my other half in her burdens as well. When we have MuseCast back better than ever, it will be in the same way we brought it into the world: as a team. Just like our favorite grand company, the flames of our dedication and passion are immortal!

Update for MuseCast XIV in General

While we’re unable to make any promises at this time as to when our podcast will continue its regular production schedule, we do have a very important date coming up — April 27th will be our show's 2nd anniversary. MuseCast is our child, and as true loving mothers, we will and stop at nothing — come hells or high water — to throw our child a birthday party (live on Twitch, of course)! Additionally, moving forward, we are committed to releasing additional and more frequent updates on Emi’s soundproof recording booth-closet, Remix’s health status, and upcoming MuseCast content and activities. It’s going to take a lot more than the Ultimate Coil of Real Life to defeat this tank-healer duo!

While we did consider crowdfunding to help pay for and expedite Emi’s soundproofing setup, we decided against it, as it felt disrespectful to ask our listeners to give to us when you haven’t been receiving anything from us lately. For the same reason, Patreon donations have been suspended since January, thus draining our funds just paying the monthly bills to keep the proverbial lights on. However, if you are compelled to help us out financially regardless of our lapse, we would very gratefully accept one-time donations via PayPal at http://www.PayPal.me/MuseCastXIV (note that the recipient name will be listed as Remix Creative Media LLC). The continued support of our fans is appreciated more than ever during these hard times.

Above all, the one thing that will help us the most is understanding and encouragement. FFXIV’s community is well known for its positivity, acceptance, and mutual support of one another in tough times. Knowing we can count on all of you to be our party members, and fight on our side, means the world.

May you ever walk in the light of the Crystal.

Emi & Remix

(Special thanks to Steve “Wanderer Sabaku” Pederzani of A Stage Reborn and Marcin "Glassy Cannon" Mejran of Espers United FC for helping us with editing!)

#your hosts #announcements

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novantinuum · 7 years

Text

Breaking Point (2/2)

Part of the “Smaller Than He Seems” AU, in which Ford was accidentally de-aged into a kid during his multiverse adventures, while retaining all his memories. He appears about 12 at this point.

Last one shot here.

AO3

Rating: T (for some language)

Word count: ~5000

Summary: In which an apology is given. Stan gains a bit of insight into his brother's time apart from him. Ford allows himself to be honest for once.

“Sweet Moses, stop actin’ like a damn child and just pick a pair!”

…

“Ford.”

No response.

“Ford, talk to me, please!”

He could see his brother’s small body curled up against the door in the rearview mirror. His face entirely blank, his eyes trained on some landmark of interest outside the window but bleary, unfocused. His jaw clenched.

“Ford. Sixer. Come on, listen ta’ me, please! I said I was sorry…”

The moment Stanley Pines set his car into park alongside the Shack, he heard the rear passenger door swing open and little feet storm up the steps of the gift shop into obscurity. He didn’t even have to see his brother’s no-doubt tear stained eyes to gain explicit confirmation of what he already knew. After all— while his grasp of some of the more unique quirks and intricacies about his twin had faded over forty plus years of estrangement— the one detail he knew he’d never forget was the sound of Ford crying.

Notably, the few times Stan witnessed him cry when they were kids, he actively avoided making a spectacle of his emotions. (Men like me sure as hell don’t cry, his pa had constantly chided them.) Unlike other children in their age group, Ford’s sobs always remained strained and purposefully held back, as if he were ashamed at himself for crying in the first place. From the sound of it Ford’s anger and hurt still materialized precisely the same way now. It was almost as if the clock had reversed and suddenly Stan too was twelve again, watching his twin run away in muffled tears after getting his face busted up by one of their childhood bullies.

Almost…

After all, this time it wasn't the bully Ford was running from.

“You an’ yer stupid mouth sure messed up this time,” he muttered bitterly, yanking his keys out of the ignition.

He unbuckled his seatbelt, a gnawing hollowness settling in his soul. Cloud cover smothered the sun. A hopelessly stubborn part of him wanted nothing more than to immediately chase after his brother and console him as he always did in their youth, but that desire was quickly overrun by whatever sense of reason he still possessed. He’d only make things worse if he followed now. He always did make things worse.

Guilt raged within his mind like a hurricane, uprooting insecurities and blowing old emotional wounds to the forefront of his consciousness with terrifying force. He did this to Ford. He made him cry. In his utter carelessness he jabbed at what he imagined was one of his greatest insecurities: that ultimately— even in mind and spirit— he was nothing more than the childlike appearance chance forced upon him. That all his years of experience were for naught, that somehow he’d... regressed. Stanley wrung his hands together so tightly he nearly popped his joints out of place, his mind cycling between tides of self-hatred and incomprehensible shame at the memory of watching the light of his brother’s soul eclipsed by his thoughtless comment.

Old bones creaking with trepidation, he exited the car and began to make his way towards the Shack. A few stray raindrops splattered atop his head in the seconds before he reached the covered porch. He strode into the gift shop, in search of any physical sign of his brother. However, the vending machine door was closed. Same with the entry to the house. Stan halted for a moment and listened, dimly wondering if he could pick up auditory clues as to where his brother went. As much as he’d love to avoid confronting his guilt for as long as possible, deep down he knew that this would threaten to completely overturn what little camaraderie they had left. (Because at present, the sad reality was that their relationship was riding on a thin wire no more dependable than a pathological liar in an interrogation room.) He doubted he’d forgive himself if he lost Ford all over again merely a day after getting him back.

His eyes slid with disinterest over the shelves of useless overpriced wares, focusing momentarily on the rain— now falling steadily outside— and then the keypad of the vending machine. Mind now firmly set on finding his brother, he strode towards the hidden passageway and entered the code. Miraculously, Ford hadn’t changed it.

At least, not yet.

Stan crept down the steep staircase, gently running his hand over the faint six-fingered handprint immortalized in glowing ink on the cracked stone. Despite not understanding his reasons for it, his twin was obviously drawn to this place in some manner. Yesterday evening, he had to fight to convince him to sleep anywhere except the thin cot he’d shoved in the corner of the basement lab. And early this morning Ford exiled himself downstairs long before anyone else woke up, only venturing to the main floor at, presumably, the insistence of his growling stomach. He’d bet his first dollar in sales that Ford holed away to his ‘lair’ in this instance, too.

The closer the elevator dropped to the basement however, the more tongue-tied he felt. What was one supposed to say in situations like these? Had he already made a fatal mistake, stalling for as long as he did? Or were the wounds still too fresh? How did he know that he wouldn’t bungle everything up all over again like he always seemed to do whenever he interacted with him, or that Ford would even be receptive to an apology? How long would he have to tip-toe around him, interact as if he were only fragile glass?

By the time he reached the lab, his skin felt clammy to the touch and his nerves were twisted into a steel ball. A sum of him just wanted to get this over with, like ripping the soiled dressing off of an infected wound, and yet he couldn’t deny that insidious voice within his core that desired nothing more than to run away. When had he ever improved the quality of his life by bending on his knees and groveling for forgiveness anyways? In his experience, ‘sorry’ hadn’t driven him any further than the Stanmobile running on two flats and fumes.

Besides a few computer backlights that were active and a few dull red lamps fixed around the perimeter, the lab was dark. Stanley felt the hairs on his neck prickle as he inhaled the stale air. Euugh. Despite spending years of solid time down here, he’d never gotten used to just how damn creepyFord’s sci-fi mystery basement felt. It didn’t take a genius to figure out his brother hadn’t hidden down here, however. Rather, the lab was empty and near-silent, except for the faint whir coming from one of the old IMB computer’s fans. He peaked into the portal room out of curiosity, finding much the same. Though interestingly, it appeared someone had begun to dismantle the machine.

The twisted metal frame was detached from its girders and wires, with a choice few parts cannibalized and scattered across the bedrock. So thismust have been what kept Ford so busy early this morning. Stan didn’t understand how his brother managed to disassemble this much that quickly considering his size, but leave it to him to figure out a workaround, he supposed. He couldn’t help but sulk at the sight of thirty years of his work lying in ruins, even though he knew he’d succeeded in the end.

As he turned to leave, a glint of reflected light coming from Ford’s bundled up overcoat on the desk caught his interest. Tentatively, he approached the small mangled coat. Whatever caused the light to bounce astray, it appeared metallic. Intrigue brewed within him as he captured the edge of the object with his index finger and thumb.

“Let’s see what you are,” he murmured, pulling it into the rosy glow of the safety lamp that was mounted over the entrance to the portal room. The object was a nondescript metal tin the length of his hand, with a clasp on one side. He unlatched it gently.

Inside were… photographs, mainly. A few scraps of paper with windswept notes or sketches on them. The photos were mostly polaroids, but a couple were fashioned out of a holographic material that projected the images into the air. Stan filtered through the contents, his gaze lingering with awe on a rather impressive photograph that depicted— he assumed— the night sky on an alien world. A lot of the objects inside the tin were similar, each acting as a small window into Ford’s travels: images of exotic, almost unearthly landscapes, rough sketches of creatures even stranger than those contained in his journals, a thin strip of blue dyed cloth, an elongated, pointed tooth. His hands brushed against a slip of paper covered in tallies. Written below those lines were a series of numbers ranging anywhere from fifty-five to sixty-four that had long since been scribbled out and replaced with a question mark.

The edge of Stan’s lips slumped downwards the longer he thought about what that hesitant question mark really meant. He set this piece of parchment aside to look at the next object in the tin.

To his surprise, Ford was actually pictured in the next photo— an adult Ford like he remembered, but appearing far older than he'd last seen him in 1982. In the photograph, his brother stood with his arm slung around another man’s shoulder, a wide smile on his face. His tousled hair had gone almost completely grey— peppered with silver around his ears— and deep creases lined the corners of his eyes and the contour of his cheeks. The wrinkles suited him, honestly. Made him look distinguished. Nonetheless, Stan’s heart dropped in his chest at the sight. He held the thick paper with white knuckles as the significance of this hit him. This was close to how Ford would have appeared if he hadn't been reverted into a child. Now obviously, Stan only needed to glance into the mirror to imagine what his brother would have roughly looked like at sixty two, but actually seeingthe way age settled on his face- even merely memorialized as a polaroid- was its own shock to the system.

Stanley stared at the photo for a long while, committing the image to memory. He flipped to the next photo.

His eyes blew wide. His wrists trembled as he held the last object in the tin with nothing less than reverence, than proof that perhaps he and Ford might still see eye to eye more than he initially realized. That maybe, they still had a chance to truly be brothers again.

“Oh Sixer, you old sap…” he said in a half-laugh, trying to blink away his tears.

In the tattered, faded image he held, two young boys stood proudly on a wrecked sailboat at the edge of the sea, shirtless and sunburnt.

The rain still pummeled away at the roof and walls of the Shack by the time Stan returned to the main floor. He frowned for a moment, distantly wondering if Dipper and Mabel brought anything to keep them dry while they tromped through the woods, but these fears quickly faded. They were resourceful kids. He knew they’d fare fine. He couldn’t say the same for Stanford, who hadn’t uttered a peep for the past goodness-knows-how-long.

As he quietly made his way through the hall, his eye lingered on the door of the spare room his brother slept in last night. The door was shut, but he could swear he heard something rustling inside. A hunch brewing in his gut, Stan knocked on the ornately carved wood.

“Hey, Ford?” he called softly. “You in here, buddy?”

As expected, no response.

He bit at his lip, considering his options: steel his nerves and face him while the wound was still fresh, or bide his time and risk destabilizing what little of a relationship he had with his brother all together. Inhaling steadily, he placed a solid hand on the door and pushed.

“Ford?”

He found the man in question huddling on his side against the couch cushions, his face hidden away and his legs curled tight to his chest. Both pairs of boots- shoplifted and his original- sat together on the floor, lined up perfectly side by side. Stan almost hated himself for letting his mind linger on such thoughts after what he’d said earlier, but... when juxtaposed by the size of the couch, Ford looked every bit of his apparent age. Slight. Defenseless. Perfectly childlike, like he were peering through a looking glass into the shadow of their glory days.

And yet there was a clear dissonance between the brother he remembered then and the person who wore his face now.

“I’m not in the mood for your excuses,” his brother muttered bitterly, burying his head further into the cushion.

“I- uh, I mean I’ll leave if ya’ really want me to,” he replied, scratching at the nape of his neck. “But just for the record, I didn’t come in here to make excuses, I came to—” Stanley swallowed his pride— “to apologize.”

At those words, his twin turned to glance at him with a dry, withering expression, mouth slackened and eyes hooded with distrust. “All right, cut to the chase. Which fey kingdom do you originate from and why did you replace my brother?”

The doubt of his sincerity sent a spike into his chest. “Come on,” he insisted, opening his hands. “It’s me, I swear.”

“The Stanley I know doesn’t apologize for anything,” Ford said bluntly, further narrowing his eyes.

Both brothers fell silent at this statement. Truthfully, Stan couldn’t argue with its accuracy. He took the occasion to drink in the sight of the brother’s face- to truly see him as he was in this moment- Ford’s seemingly youthful yet haunted gaze caught in Stan’s own. He tried to ignore the recognizable trail of dried tears that crossed his cheeks, or the lingering dampness of his eyes. They were messed up, the pair of them… old men with a lifetime of troubles to sort through and now on top of that, appearing generations apart. But Stan desperately wanted to make it up to him. His heart sank at the idea of his twin truly believing that his rare, vulnerable word- his apology- wasn’t sincere.

“Listen,” he began, slowly sinking to rest on the couch, adjacent to Ford. “The last thing I ever want ta’ do is hurt you. But I have ,” he said, voice wavering slightly. “And I hate seeing you like this, especially when- uh, w-when I know it’s ‘cause of me. I know it may not be worth nothin’ to you after everything I’ve done to ya’ over the years, but... I am sorry. You deserve better. I’ll try better.”

He took a breath, and he could swear the rainstorm outside paused alongside him within the span of that inhale. None of the oscillating emotions expressed in his brother’s features were anything he could easily recognize. The quirk of his lip or the incline of his brow possessed no meaning, for at this precise instant in time, Stanley simply couldn’t determine whether Ford intended to throw him out of the room, break into tears, or envelop him in a hug tighter than a person his size had any right of giving.

Instead, Ford sighed deeply, hunching over on the couch and cupping his cheeks into his hands. “I really appreciate that,” he said quietly. Then, his words bleeding into one another: “Of course, it’s not fair to say this was entirely your fault. I could have at least attempted to communicate my needs beforehand, o-or not have reacted so strongly, o-”

“Ford. Ford. Who’s sayin’ sorry here? Stop hijacking my apology, you nerd.”

This made his brother laugh a little, softly, but an unmistakable laugh. The sound of it touched Stan’s heart in a way he couldn’t quantify in words. Dimly, he came to the realization that this was the first laugh he’d heard out of him in over forty years. But same as the seasons changed, same as all the days Stanley’s bombastic, dramatized work persona slipped away past closing to be replaced with a long withered melancholy, so too did Ford’s brief moment of peace pass. A shadow passed over his countenance.

“I only wish I could find my place in all this,” he said in a broken whisper, pointedly avoiding eye contact.

Stan frowned, feeling the creases in his face deepen. “W- whatdya mean?”

His brother shrank into himself, pulling his knees to his chest.

“All that happened earlier only served to prove in my mind that everything’s just… wrong . It feels wrong. Changed. Put simply, I- I guess the world’s moved on without me.” Confession released to the world around him, he buried his head from sight once more, and took a deep, shaky breath to- Stan assumed- calm himself down from a cliff’s edge of emotional release.

“Oh, Sixer…” He attempted to lay a comforting hand on his brother’s shoulder, but to his disappointment Ford shrugged away from the affection entirely. “Come on, there’s gotta be some way we can fix this, right?”

“There’s no way to reverse this,” he said, voice cracking with emotion. “Trust me, I’ve tried nearly everything, but I’ve still been like this for three goddamn years."

“Three years?” Stan exclaimed, face painted with a polarized mixture of horror and remorse. “And this was when you were alone in that space sci-fi dimension?? Threatened by enough danger ‘round the clock that you were forced ta’ keep a damn gun at your hip at all times?”

Ford nodded slowly, eyes meeting his for an instant before flitting away.

He pressed his face into his calloused hands, roughly rubbing at his temples. “Sweet Moses. How the hell did you stay alive?”

“Honestly? I can’t rightly say.”

The two sat in relative silence for a while after that, allowing each other’s mere presence fill the gap their lack of words left. Outside, the storm continued- rain pouring in rivulets down the glass pane of the window. At some point, Ford had let his legs back down, allowing them to lightly swing over the side of the couch. Stan sat hunched forward, leaning on his elbows. He couldn't say for certain at this point what Ford’s opinion of him was, but in all honesty he supposed this was the vital difference between the predictable, amicable brother who existed for thirty years in his daydreams and the real item. Perhaps it was better not knowing.

Whatever the thoughts the man held towards him however, he was fairly confident that hatred was not one of them.

“Stan,” the man in question said eventually, wringing his hands together. “Can I tell you something?”

Hearing his name pass through his twin’s lips, he instantly perked up. “Yeah? What's on your mind?”

“Despite what I said yesterday, despite the anger I held towards you then, I'm really, really glad you rescued me…”

As he spoke his voice faded into obscurity, masked by a crushing sense of fear that no person bearing the childlike appearance he possessed had any right of knowing. He crossed his arms tight around himself, chin sinking into the folds of the dark maroon scarf he hadn't taken off since his return home. Fledgling tears dotted the corners of his eyes. Before those could gain any traction, he blotted them away with tightened fists. Watching this, Stan froze, worried that even the slightest movement or uttered syllable might be enough to burst the emotional dam Ford evidently wanted to remain closed.

Luckily, Ford himself chose to orient the direction of their talk once more, taking the conversational anxiety off Stan’s shoulders completely.

“It comes to my attention that I haven’t been forthright with you yet,” he said, staring at the wooden floor slats- and knowing him, likely analyzing the patterns formed by the grain to keep his mind stimulated. “About- well, about how all this came to be.” He gestured broadly at himself, at his gangly twelve year old body.

“Now, I don’t wanna force ya’ to talk about somethin’ that obviously bothers yo-”

“No. No, it’s okay... I want you to know. You deserve as much.”

“You sure?” Stan confirmed.

His twin nodded resolutely, and curled up on the couch so that he was facing him, legs crossed one over the other. His eyes peered as far up as they could reach, a clear signal that he was searching through his memories, beginning to piece together his past from the scattered recollections those neurons held.

“Not to complicate the story with superfluous detail,” Ford began, nervously clasping his hands together, “the events that lead me to this point started with… well, with the desire to construct a weapon powerful enough to eradicate an enemy who was hunting me down throughout dimensions.”

“And this enemy was, what, strong enough that your normal weapons wouldn’t do the trick?”

He gave a short, staccato nod. “Correct. Essentially, to destroy them, I needed to find a way to destabilize their very molecular makeup at a quantum level. I knew how to build it, but one of the required components could only be found in a single dimension, colloquially known by its inhabitants as the ‘Do-Over’ Dimension. And yes- where you think this is going is probably right” he said, jabbing his finger at him, and Stan knew at that moment that his attempts to conceal the fledgling dread he felt was all for naught.

Ford began gesturing with his hands as needed as he continued to explain his experiences. “You see, the problem with this dimension is that their time stream was fragmented. The very nature of time was in constant flux. Here, time could move forwards or backwards in any sequence without pattern or warning. Inhabitants might experience hours, weeks, or even entire years of their lives completely over again, all while still retaining full memory of every cycle. Even visitors to this world weren’t absolved from its effects”

“And you willingly stepped into a place like this?” Stan asked his twin quietly, brow furrowed.

“I had no choice. Like I said, this dimension was the only place I could find the specific isomer of a rare element stable enough to use in my weapon. I knew the dangers of entering far in advance… and yet I went anyways.”

“So, you made a gamble.”

“Put bluntly, yes. It was a gamble against the universe that the time stream would remain relatively stable during my visit. One that, ultimately, blew up in my face. Ironically however,” Ford continued, his eyes narrowing with deep irritance, “the Do Over Dimension hadn’t experienced a Great Rewind for centuries until the one I was caught amid.”

Stanley watched as his brother limply fell backwards, meeting the rear cushion of the couch. Frustration and bitter anger painted his face when simply recalling his story; as such, Stan couldn’t begin to imagine what it must have been like to live through such a traumatic experience. Slowly- so as to not spook him with unexpected movement- he slung his arm over the couch back.

From outside, a distant roll of thunder sounded alongside the July rainstorm.

“And I was so close to completing my mission!” he growled, shaking a tight fist that likely had little half-moon indentations in his palm where his nails were. “I had the element in hand, I was only hours away from exiting the dimension… when without any warning, time slipped about fifty years into the past, and I found myself physically reverted to the size of a eight or nine year old kid. What’s scary is that despite my misfortune, I still got lucky. For any visitors to the dimension who weren’t over fifty years of age, they would have simply perished. Ceased to exist.”

“Well damn,” Stan muttered, right hand pressed to mouth and left still lightly slung around his brother’s shoulder, resting on the seat cushion.

“Damn is right. I had a hard enough time traversing the multiverse as an adult, so to add this as a hinderance?” Ford looked up, meeting his gaze. “It was hell. Most days I barely managed to get the nutrients I needed to remain healthy in this growing body. I’m sure I’ve fallen close to malnourishment more than once. Adding onto that, physically defending myself the way I used to became a near impossibility. And thanks to the constant threat of… of the interdimensional child slave trades, I feel like I can’t trust anyone in a crowd anymore.”

Fresh teardrops prickled at the corners of his eyes as he spoke, glistening in the dim lighting of the parlor. Ambient light from outside shone through the blue and green stained glass window. It cut a clear path through the shadows cast by the rest of the room, illuminating one side of each of the brother’s faces. With a soft, sympathetic sigh, Stan let his hand drop onto Ford’s shoulder. Letting him know he was there beside him as he blinked through the tears.

“I’m sorry you had ta’ go through this.”

“It’s not your fault,” Ford said with a shrug, voice thick in that way it gets when one’s deliberately trying to hold back the full brunt of their emotions. “It’s not anyone’s fault. It’s just… time, really.”

It’s not your fault, his mind echoed his words. And inwardly, he’d love to believe that were true. He’d love to delude himself that he were entirely blameless. But as much as he wanted to take Ford’s statement to heart, all he could see was the memory that had replayed in both his nightmares and in every waking moment he spent fixing the portal, flickering through his subconscious with a frightening vivacity. The force of his hands against Ford’s chest. His terrified screams, “Stanley! Stanley please,” shredding his vocal cords in unbridled desperation. The almost sickeningly blue glow of the portal swallowing his brother whole while he, in his worthless, wounded body couldn’t do anything more than gape in abject horror.

Frankly, everything that happened to the guy on the other side was his fault, far as he was concerned. But fat luck trying to convince Ford of this. Ford, whose abject blame of the universe only served as deflection from the blame he truly placed on his own actions. Stan wasn’t an idiot. He recognized what guilt spiraling looked like.

He glanced towards his twin from the corner of his eyes, and gave his shoulder a pat. “Well I’m sorry for ya’ anyway.” Another relevant thought from earlier today entered his mind then, and he turned towards him inquisitively. “Hey, so don’t feel like ya’ gotta answer this if it’s anythin’ too uncomfy, alright? But... why were you so adamant on the townsfolk not thinkin’ I was your pa, or grandpa, or whatever?”

While it was subtle, he could visibly see the muscles in Ford’s shoulders flinch at the movement of their conversation to this topic.

“Okay, we uh, w-we can talk about something else then,” he said hastily, pulling his arm back to allow him some space. Or perhaps it was time to leave him alone entirely. “Guess I shouldn’t ‘ave brought it u-”

“It’s because you’re my last connection to the past,” Ford blurted out suddenly. “Of who I really am. I don’t- I didn’t want that perverted by having to spend every day in public living a lie. Not now. Not when I’m like this,” he said, gesturing broadly down at himself.

Stan frowned at the unclear wording in his statement. “What do you mean, ‘perverted?’”

He stared down at his six fingers, wringing them together. “Well, I uh- sometimes, these past three years… I often found myself in a place where it felt like my memory almost- I guess, like my mind wanted to forget. Over time, it became hard to remember that I’d ever had any other childhood. And now,” he said more quietly, looking for all the world as if he wanted to slip through the floorboards and away to his basement, “faced with the reality of having to grow up all over again, I- that still scares me.”

Stan nodded slowly, thinking he understood the scenario from his perspective a little more. He placed his hands firmly on either side of his twin’s shoulders, looking at him earnestly.

“Ford, no matter what we tell those townsfolk, you’re my brother. First off. You better believe I’ll remind ya’ every day for the rest of my life, if I have to. And that’s never gonna change, y’hear? It doesn’t matter to me if ya’ look like a kid, ‘cause far as I’m concerned, you’re still you. Still as nerdy and annoying of a twin bro as I remember, anyways! Hah!” he exclaimed, and gave Ford’s head a noogie, fist ruffling through his untamed brown locks.

His brother let out a giggle, pushing his hands away in protest, and for the first time the smile on his lips truly reached his eyes.

“But hey,” Stan continued, expression growing genuine again. “From now on, whatever explanation we give ta’ other people about ‘who you are?’ We’ll figure that out on your terms. I won’t force ya’ to behave a certain way in public or in private because of some perceived ‘relation.’ That fair?”

“Yeah.” Ford nodded slowly. “Yeah, that’s fair.”

“Good. You… d’ya want a hug?”

He held his arms open. To his delight Ford accepted the offer of affection without hesitation. He wrapped his smaller arms as tight around his middle as possible, and buried his face into his shoulder.

“Stanley?” he whispered.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

Beyond the walls of the Shack, the rain stopped.

#my writing stuff #gravity falls #stanley pines #stanford pines #stan and ford #gravity falls fanfiction #smaller than he seems au #THERE we go #there's the tumblr text version #its by habit that i always like posting it in full text form here too

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