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12freddostories · 7 years ago

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Where’s My Supersuit?

Game of Thrones / A Song of Ice and Fire SUPERHERO AU

Mostly gen, minor Jon/Ygritte, platonic Robb&Theon.

Dotpoint fanfic

(Don’t own anything, title is from the Incredibles)

Okay, so, this is a universe ala The Incredibles, in which ‘having’ powers is hereditary but the powers themselves are not.

Ned and Robb both play really traditional hero roles in canon, so I think they should have typical superpowers.

Ned has superstrength

Robb has flight

Arya with shapeshifting seems obvious, but tbh I think I prefer Arya with invisibility. A little less creepy and it’s easier to slip into the whole ‘no-one’ thing.

Sansa would probably have some form of telepathy. Definitely an empath, and she has a manipulation type power.

· She has to actually have physical contact to convince someone to do something, so she can be pulled back just by wearing too many clothes.

Bran has superpowers in canon, so I think a superhero au would have something very similar.

He can still be able to project and see what happens elsewhere.

Rickon hasn’t gotten his powers yet, because it’s an age thing.

Cat is not looking forward to six children with superpowers.

· She doesn’t have any herself

· Not to say she hasn’t occasionally brained some supervillain with her frypan, but she’s normally preoccupied with the full-time job of keeping a family of superheroes functioning.

She does take over PR whenever anyone’s reputation gets sullied, and is one of the main reason why the ‘Direwolves’ are so beloved by the public.

Jon was adopted after his parents were killed in action.

Aerys was a supervillain who did not take his son running off with a superhero lightly.

· Rhaegar wasn’t even a villain before he eloped with Lyanna. He was a civilian trying to distance himself from the family business, but he fell in love with her secret identity and totally had a crush on the superhero he saw on TV.

I don’t have any real basis for this one, but I love the image of Jon with superspeed.

· When Rickon does get his powers it’s totally superspeed too, and Jon’s saddled with babysitting all the time because he’s literally the only one who can keep up with him

They all have secret identities too

· Winter (Ned), Grey Wind, Ghost, Lady, Nymeria, Summer.

Together, they fight crime

(More under the cut)

However, Arya has a secret-secret identity.

She’s has a second costume that’s even more hidden then the first, and goes around as a sidekick to a superpower-less vigilante that’s willing to teach her more tricks.

The Hound wasn’t planning on taking on a sidekick during his midnight patrols, but a little shadow started following him.

· It takes several weeks before he realises the reason she is so good at disappearing isn’t a coincidence but a literal power.

At first Nymeria was upset that he was in ‘their’ territory, but when she sees him punch someone out using nothing but his own wits she asks him to teach her

· Invisibility in itself is helpful, but she also really wants to learn how to fight back because she’s very vulnerable even at her peak

· Plus if she’s 100% invisible the light travels through her eyes, so she has to either have a fraction of her eyes visible or be blind.

· Sandor teaches her how to fight without sight.

Also, Arya totally pulled an Odysseus (by accident) by saying “No-one!” when asked who she was. The Hound continues to call her that, much to her frustration.

Robb and Theon have been best friends since they were kids

Unfortunately, the Greyjoys happen to be supervillains

· The Starks might not have the same powers, but the Greyjoy family follows a distinct theme of super-intelligence (in the cartoony ‘build-a-death-ray-from-scrap’ way) combined with equally cartoony logic (‘a death ray is the most efficient way to threaten a city, which we must do for reasons’).

Rodrick and Maron are all for supervillainy

Asha isn’t ecstatic, but she has absolutely no objections to being a villain.

· She is pretty much the only one with the common sense to wonder why death rays should be the first choice for a weapon, but she rolls with it.

· An article once commented that if she ever went fully into the business instead of just supporting her family, she’d take over the world in a week. She has the post printed on her wall.

Theon is not really okay with supervillainy, but he desperately wants to be

· He tries to get his father’s approval, he really does, but the fact that he quite clearly has a moral centre holds him back.

· The same article said that he seemed like a good kid, but if he doesn’t get away from his toxic influences he was going to end up doing something major and get a lot of people killed. Theon had almost cried because that was exactly what he felt like was going to happen.

Robb and Theon have both independently worked out the other’s secret identity

· They don’t admit that they know, although they do understand that it’s not a secret that they know

· Theon knows Robb is Grey Wind, Robb knows Theon knows he’s Grey Wind, and Theon knows that Robb knows he knows…

· It’s actually ridiculous at this point.

Jon: “You do realise Theon is a Kraken, right?” Robb: “What? That’s insane. How could you think that?” “The shirt he’s wearing now has a kraken on it they do not sell supervillain merchandise in stores that is custom made.”

Somehow the friendship works

· Theon pretends to buy Robb’s obviously bullshit excuses about having forgotten a dentist appointment whenever Grey Wind is needed to fly somewhere.

· Robb makes teasing comments about the ridiculousness of a family that builds giant lasers designed to look like giant sea creatures, and Theon can’t even ‘hypothetically’ argue with that because for a family of geniuses there is a distinct lack of intelligence

“Theon why the fuck would King Kraken build a secret base in the harbour and have gaudy decorations of giant octopi that are basically a sign saying HERE I AM?!” “…They’re kraken, not octopi. And, um, I wouldn’t know. No, seriously, I don’t know why, I don’t even get the fascination with krakens, at least the Direwolves don’t have anything more wolf-y than a coat of arms on their chests.”

At some point Jon is planning to rip Theon’s mask off mid-confrontation because really, if they’re going to be friends they should at least stop this I know you know I know tangle.

Tywin Lannister is basically Lex Luthor

He doesn’t have the same inherent problem Luthor does with superheroes existing, but occasionally has similar problems with them interfering with his plans

· The Starks are not quite sure if he has in fact been fooled by the Direwolves masks, or if is entirely aware of who they are but so far has not found an opportunity to use it.

· He knows who they are but won’t say anything.

· Superheroes are almost impossible to kill. If he were to blow up their house chances are one or two would die and the rest would be out for blood, which is a lot more inconvenient then them occasionally stopping giant robot acquisitions

Cersei is somewhat unaware that her father knows who they are. She is obsessed with working it out herself.

Tyrion has several theories as to the Direwolves, one of which is correct, but his plans coincidentally are not things that superheroes try to prevent — he goes more into legal business, if borderline shady, but never anything immoral. He also rather admires what they do and wouldn’t expose them should he be proven right.

Jaime just doesn’t care what’s behind the mask. He finds Winter frustrating, but sees him for who he is and doesn’t care if his name is Bob or Ned or Jake or whatever.

· The Lannisters do not in fact have a special preoccupation with the Direwolves, who aren’t even the only superheroes they deal with.

· They have similar stances to pretty much all of the superhero/anti-hero groups of Westeros.

Roose Bolton is ‘officially’ considered a superhero

· People are terrified to commit crimes anywhere near the Dreadfort

· Ned can’t even argue that it doesn’t work, because Roose definitely has less to deal with, but still

Occasionally Ramsay joins in, partly to ingratiate himself with his father and partly because he enjoys being able to wield his power over others

· At least Roose only attacks people for muggings or bank robberies or actual crimes

· Ramsay has been known to flay people for jaywalking

While Roose is registered as an anti-hero, Ramsay is a vigilante and has a warrant for his arrest.

· Roose is smart enough not to publicly admit they’re related

· He does chide Ramsay, but in general he doesn’t mind the fact the people of his city don’t so much as litter any more

Ramsay has superspeed, just like Jon

· His supervillain name is Bolt, which frustrates Roose no end because you don’t use versions of your real name if you want it secret.

Aerys Targaryen used to be one of the key villains in Westeros, before he was chased out and died in poverty

· ‘Winter’ didn’t take his sister’s death well, and his former super-hero partner and close friend ‘Stag’ had been equally distraught.

Stag has since been nicknamed Stagger for his alcoholic tendencies

Aerys’s son Viserys is determined to reclaim his family’s fame

Viserys’s plans come to a halt when mob boss Drogo ties him up, duct tapes him to the streetlight across from a police precinct, and pins a note to his shirt detailing all his crimes.

His little sister and former second-in-command (in theory at least, although Viserys didn’t actually give her any power) ends up taking over his villainous army.

· Danaerys has the utterly fairytale-princess ability to talk to animals

· When she ends up with three gigantic monsters fawning over her, this ability is considered a lot more dangerous

She makes her way back to a home she doesn’t remember, but constantly stops to deal out her ruthless version of justice.

· And the thing is, most people agree that it counts as justice.

No-one is quite sure when it happens, but by the time she arrives in Westeros she’s considered a hero

Dany loves it far more than she ever liked the idea of being a villain

She keeps her family’s scary reputation alive, but makes sure to not be part of it

· She doesn’t always succeed

Being raised by villains means that Dany occasionally has moments where she doesn’t realise what seems obvious to traditional heroes, and has more than once murdered criminals in her justice crusade

· The people she murders are always the actual worst, though, not petty crooks like the Boltons slaughter

She toes the line between hero and anti-hero pretty regularly, but never touches villain

She does eventually work out what would secure her place as a good guy and is established as one of Westeros’s most powerful heroes.

Ygritte is a criminal

Jon catches her one day breaking and entering. He arrests her, and asks why.

· She answers very well about broken system and how being born on her side of the Wall town means that she hasn’t got any other opportunities and sometimes she’d like to eat.

· He ends up unlocking the handcuffs and telling her to run.

A few weeks later he’s about to stop a kid getting mugged when Ygritte shows up first and beats up the mugger.

The two keep running into each other, and they quickly learn to like each other.

They develop an alliance

· “I’ll give you information about the particularly vile crime rings I’ve heard of if you make sure it gets broken up.”

Then it turns into a real friendship.

Jon tells her his secret identity, and she never tells a soul

“You know nothing, Ghost.” “…Jon. My name is Jon Snow.” Without missing a beat: “You know nothing, Jon Snow.”

They start hanging out together properly and eventually start dating

Jon ends up meeting a lot of Ygritte’s friends

He’d always had a kind of simple black-and-white morality, seeing criminals as unambiguously bad, but now he starts to work out the deep seated causes as to why crime happens.

· He becomes one of the biggest advocates for better systems and against police brutality and the like.

· It frustrates the hell out of Ygritte that just because a superhero starts saying it, people are listening when they’ve been saying it for years and no-one’s cared before

· Then again, people are listening and she’s not one to complain if it works

Ygritte ends up getting her own costume

· She doesn’t use it any more than once every two or so months

· But sometimes it’s nice to run around kicking the shit out of people who objectively deserve it

Robb is amused because now Jon has no right to mock Theon’s criminal tendencies when he met his girlfriend robbing a place.

“There’s a difference between Ygritte and a supervillain, Robb, he builds giant robots out of scrap metal and there’s never even a logical reason to build a giant robot, surely there are other ways to do it.”

As it turns out, that something major the article mentioned that Theon was dreading he’d end up doing? He never does it, and instead ends up just straight up quitting supervillainy.

The event that triggered his surrender involved doing villainous activities near the Dreadfort.

· Ramsay was ecstatic to have a supervillain to play with, since normally he only deals with people who litter.

“One of the Krakens, I see. Strange family that all of you are called Kraken. Perhaps I should choose you a new name for you alone? It’s not like you’ll ever use that supervillain one again.”

Theon eventually succeeds in building a phone out of whatever scraps he can find in the cell.

· Super intelligence does come in handy.

· In this situation, the person you need to call is a hero.

· Robb didn’t even bother with an excuse when he got the call; he just found an empty room and threw himself out the window.

· He arrived at the Dreadfort quickly and ended up dragging Theon back to the Direwolf ‘den’, aka their form of Batcave which is basically a large treehouse that only Sansa could be bothered to decorate.

Theon spends over a week at the Den.

Jon asked if they ought to turn Theon in to the police, because he is a supervillain and a jail cell might be nice and safe.

· He had been waiting for Robb and Theon to admit they knew who each other were but not like this.

Theon reacts in terror because the Bolt would totally check prisons first, superhero aus mean that jails are so easy to break out of anyway.

So they let him stay for a while.

· There had been several moments of “really, Robb?” the first time each Direwolf found him, but they let it pass.

· Sansa had screamed bloody murder, which turned out to be because she was picking up on his emotions instead of being scared of him. She’d been the most vehement that he stayed there after that.

Theon spent the week building them a BatCave level security system, out of a mix of wanting to thank them, wanting some kind of safety, and wanting to build something.

· While he was at the Dreadfort Ramsay hadn’t let him build anything, and the unused superpower was itching beneath his skin.

· A phone out of loose screws and scrap metal had taken some effort, especially with three broken fingers and the constant terror that it would be found, but it wasn’t the buzz of properly building.

Jon had to train himself out of running everywhere, because Theon downright had a panic attack every time a blur darted into a room with him.

Robb offered to only walk as well, as a show of solidarity, but Jon told him not to worry, go ahead and fly. “I’ve got a secret identity, I can handle not showing my powers inside for a few days, I’ll just go for a run after school.”

Eventually they call Asha to come and get him.

· Theon’s security system came in handy, because she was close to fighting her way into the Den.

· She got herself caught in a solid cage which took the Direwolves some time to work out how to open.

Both Theon and Asha leave the Kraken family business together.

· Theon because he couldn’t take any more

· Asha because her level of paternal respect had dropped to non-existent after she found out where and why Theon had gone.

“Dad why would you send him to rob a bank in the Dreadfort you had to know this would happen! Was a mystic jewel of Qarth really worth that much when you couldn’t be bothered to get it yourself?!”

Since Theon keeps his super-tech-abilities, and has the itch to keep building, he starts to design gadgets that could help out Robb.

· Compasses, tracking handcuffs, protective gear.

· He quickly learns to branch into tech for the rest of the Starks, and basically redoes the whole Den to be high-tech.

· He may or may not end up the Edna Mode of this universe and help superheroes get costumes that actually work really well

· Sansa does the sewing and the actual clothing parts. She loves the opportunity.

“Robb I take back anything bad I ever said about your best friend this is incredible”.

· Cat also occasionally helps out with the sewing and is a bit more muted in her reaction, but is pleased because she and Sansa have been making the costumes forever. She is uncomfortably aware that all they protect is privacy. Armour is good.

Arya goes straight to Theon and asks him not to tell anyone about her secondary ‘No-One’ disguise as he makes her a costume for it. Theon already knew she was No-One and hadn’t even realised it was a secret.

Asha meanwhile decides she can’t be bothered going the long way round for respect anymore, since super-powered genius intellect, common sense, and ruthlessness can be a pretty lethal combo in basically any career she wants.

Jon’s secret identity works well normally, but he does a slight miscalculation.

As a kid he was never allowed to play sports because of his speed (plot points straight from the Incredibles) and he felt left out.

So one day when Pyp asks if he wants to join in their friendly soccer game he’s delighted at the opportunity

But since he’s never had to run while pretending that he doesn’t have super-speed, he doesn’t manage to reign himself in.

He doesn’t realise that he now has a significant number of friends who are well aware that Jon Snow is the Ghost.

After Robb eventually convinces him that yes, he can trust the new outfit that Kraken designed, no it’s not going to turn supervillain-y on him, Pyp absently tells Jon that the new Ghost costume looks better.

Jon is shocked.

“How long have you known?” “Well, since we saw it on the TV. Honestly making the sigil smaller is much better, with it splayed over your chest it just looked like you were presenting a target for bullets.”

Ygritte is similarly impressed with the new look.

Sam end up cultivating a social network to keep up-to-date with what superheroes are needed where, though, so it all works out.

I’m sorry, there isn’t even a plot to this. A timeline, sure, but not a plot. Still, I’m pleased with it. Likes are great, reblogs are better, and comments/tags are incredible.

#game of thrones #got fanfic #superheroes #Theon Greyjoy #Robb Stark #Jon Snow #Ygritte #Jon x Ygritte #i don't even know but this was fun #fanfic #dotpoint fanfic #superhero au

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apathetic-revenant · 7 years ago

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by the skin of your teeth (part six)

inch by inch the plot slowly creeps forward

this was a tough one because there are really only so many ways you can describe long tense silences and people glaring at each other.

and also because the name ‘Fiddleford’ kinda has a negative impact on dramatic tension, tbh.

Fiddleford's place was in a rather seedy apartment block on the edge of town. Seedy for Gravity Falls, at any rate; it was downright posh compared to most of the places he'd stayed in, Stan mused as they pulled in. Fiddleford seemed to find it shady enough, though, judging by the way he glanced around nervously as he scurried to the door and fumbled with his keys so long it was almost comical.

Then again, he might have rather less mundane threats in mind than Stan usually did.

The inside of the apartment wasn't exactly unwelcoming, but it had a decidedly temporary feel to it. It was sparse, with nearly no decoration or personal touches, just essentials. Albeit essentials that were scattered all over the place. Fiddleford had achieved an impressive amount of clutter with a limited amount of resources.

He hastened them inside and all but shoved Ford onto the ratty old couch that took up most of the main room. Stan watched with some amusement as the engineer performed a remarkably matronly examination of Ford, putting a hand on his forehead and listening to his chest.

“I shoulda known,” he muttered. “I shoulda known as soon as I left you alone you'd wind yourself up in trouble. This happened all the time in college,” he told Stan. “Never met anyone so unable to take care of himself. Stayed up all night, skipped meals, wouldn't go to the damn doctor 'cause it took time away from studying- I told him, slow down and just get a degree like the rest of us. But no, he wanted a PhD. Nearly killed himself doin’ it.”

He bustled out of the room in a cloud of ambient muttering, leaving the twins in a somewhat stunned silence.

“You have a PhD?” Stan asked.

“Four,” Ford muttered. “Working on the fifth.”

Stan sighed and sank down onto the couch next to him. He'd always supposed Ford would excel without Stan around to hold him back, but this was something else.

He stared at the coffee table in front of them, which was actually just a large piece of wood balanced on a couple of boxes. The mess on top of it could have fit seamlessly into Ford's house: papers covered in a mix of equations, weird symbols, paranoid ramblings, and coffee mug rings, mixed with an assortment of books, chewed pens and wadded-up scraps.

No wonder these two got along, Stan thought. Talk about nerds of a feather.

“There's no need to scoff,” Ford said.

Stan blinked, momentarily wondering if Ford could read minds now. “What?”

“Acquiring a doctorate is no easy task,” Ford said stiffly. “Just because it's not what you think of as work-”

“What? I wasn't-”

“Tea's going,” Fiddleford said, coming back into the room. He was pushing a heavily duct-taped swivel chair, which he parked across from the couch, and carrying a blanket, which he threw over Ford.

“Why do people keep putting blankets on me?” Ford grumbled.

“'Cause you're sick,” Stan said.

“The presence of a blanket is hardly going to-”

“Shut up and huddle under your fleece,” Stan told him tiredly.

Ford looked sour, but he did huddle.

Fiddleford climbed into the swivel chair and folded himself up like a jackknife, drawing his knees up to his chin and wrapping his arms around his legs. “Gotta say, I've never seen you looking this bad,” he said. “Where'd you get that shiner?”

Ford and Stan glanced at each other uncomfortably.

“It's...complicated,” Ford said.

“Ah,” Fiddleford said.

“Not like that,” Ford said. “We didn't fight, if that's what you're-well, we did fight, but that's not why-”

“What is all this about, Stanford?” Fiddleford said quietly. “What's goin' on?”

Ford looked away.

“You...asked me where I was getting my ideas,” he said eventually. “My blueprints...if there was someone...”

Fiddleford said nothing, but he began to bounce one leg up and down nervously.

“You were right,” Ford said. “I...I encountered an...entity here, some time ago. Well before you arrived. He...”

He clenched his hands around the blanket, pulling it tight across his shoulders.

“I trusted him,” he whispered. “I shouldn't have-I should have trusted you, Fidds, I should have listened, I'm so sorry but I...I thought...I didn't want to tell you, I didn't think you would understand, and you wouldn't have, you wouldn't have and you would have been right not to...”

There was still no response from Fiddleford, but if he started bouncing that leg any faster he was going to take off, Stan thought.

“I thought he was a force for good,” Ford said agonizingly. “I thought...”

He swallowed harshly a few times.

“I...I thought I was...he told me I was special. I was important, I was chosen...I was going to do great things...and I believed it all. I wanted to believe it. He gave me the blueprints, equations, ideas...but it was all a trick. The portal was only ever meant to serve his plans.”

“What finally got it through your head?” Fiddleford’s voice wasn't angry, exactly, but it wasn't sympathetic either.

“After the...the accident-”

Fiddleford twitched sharply at the word, but his expression didn't change.

“...I got suspicious. I confronted him...he told me, he gloated. I'm so sorry, I was an idiot-”

“What do you want?” Fiddleford broke in.

Ford blinked. “Wh...what?”

“You didn't come here just to tell me how sorry you are,” Fiddleford said sharply. “You want something. You want me to come back, don't you? Come back and work with you again, help you fix this mess.”

Ford looked completely flabbergasted. It was almost funny.

“I...well, yes. That is...please, just, just for a little while. I need your help, Fidds, your mechanical genius -”

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” Fiddleford said.

“I'm being completely literal!” Ford burst out. “The portal has to be dismantled, and I can't do it on my own.”

“Why not? You mantled it in the first place. Didn't even need my help, apparently.”

“That's-that's not true, Fidds,” Ford said weakly. “I couldn't have done it without you-”

But Fiddleford was shaking his head. “Said you didn't need me. Didn't need me, or anyone else.”

“How many times do I have to say it?” Ford snapped, cracking his voice. “I'm sorry! I was wrong!”

For a moment Stan thought a full-on fight was going to break out then and there. Or at least, an attempt at one; both men looked like they would probably pass out long before anything really got started.

“Hmph,” Fiddleford said finally. “Well...I do know you'd just about rather spill your own blood than admit you were wrong about anything. So I guess that counts for something. But you ain't answered my question. What d'you need all of the sudden that you can't manage on your own?”

“I can't dismantle the portal on my own. Not...not right now. I can't. I can't risk the possibility that he'll sabotage it...make things even worse...if his plans come to fruition, Fidds- we're talking about the fate of the world here-”

“And what makes you think he couldn't sabotage me just as easy?” Fiddleford said.

Ford tensed suddenly, sharply, and Stan realized what was about to happen about a second too late to stop his brother from lunging across the table.

“Did you talk to him?” Ford's voice was high and wild with sudden panic. “Did you make a deal?!”

Fiddleford shrieked and tried to dodge away, inadvertently sending his chair rolling across the room and crashing into the opposite wall. Stan grabbed Ford around the shoulders and managed to yank him back onto the couch.

“Calm down, bro!” he yelled as Ford struggled against him rather ineffectually. “He didn't do anything!”

Across the room Fiddleford had untangled himself from the chair and was staring at them with huge, terrified eyes. Ford was starting to gasp, and the scant amount of color in his face had fled completely. He looked like he might pass out again.

“C'mon, just...just breathe,” Stan said desperately. “Just breathe. It's okay. It's okay.”

Slowly, painfully slowly, Ford's breathing steadied. His eyes were streaming, though thankfully without any blood this time, and his whole frame was shaking hard.

“Did...did you...make a deal?” he demanded.

“Jesus, Stanford, what are you talking about?” Fiddleford cried. “A deal with who?”

“With him,” Ford wheezed. “You...you said he could sabotage you...”

Stan coughed. “I think he was talking about more of a, y'know... abstract possibility there, Ford.”

“Damn right I was!” Fiddleford said. “I don't know what you're on about but I ain't made no deals with nobody!”

There was a moment when Ford tensed up all over and Stan thought he might jump at Fiddleford again; but then the moment broke and Ford slumped so suddenly that Stan briefly thought he really had fainted.

“Sorry,” Ford whispered. His voice sounded wretched. “Sorry...I thought...”

“Thought what?” Fiddleford spluttered. “You're making even less sense than usual, Stanford, you know that?”

“You don't understand,” Ford said. “He's...he gets in your head. He got in my head. I...I made a deal with him...he tricks people, Fidds, he can trick you and take you over and I can't, I can't trust anyone, he could be anyone...”

Fiddleford had gone very still. It was an uneasy contrast from his manic fidgeting.

“When you say he gets in your head...” he said quietly.

“I mean he gets in your head, I mean it! He can control people if...if they let him. I was foolish, so foolish...I fell for his lies and now, now if I slip up, if I fall asleep...he tried to hurt Stan, he used me to do it because Stan was in his way...I thought he was helping me, but it was all a trick, because that's what he does-”

“So this...this ain't a person you're talking about, here,” Fiddleford said. “This is...some kind of demon-”

“Yes, Fiddleford!” Ford snapped. “We're talking about an incredibly powerful entity from another dimension! He wants to come here and he used me as a pawn to do it and if we don't stop him he'll take over everything! His name-”

“Don't say it!”

Ford drew up short. Fiddleford was starting to twitch like a malfunctioning machine, like he was going to shudder himself apart any moment.

“Don't say it,” he said vehemently. “Don't say it! I don't want to remember-”

The kettle shrieked.

Fiddleford screamed and fell out of his chair. Stan made a strangled noise that wasn't quite a coherent expletive and nearly dropped Ford on the floor. He watched Fiddleford make a dash for the kitchen and slowly managed to release all the muscles that had suddenly clenched tight.

“What...what was that all about?” he muttered to Ford, who was squirming out of his grip. Stan let him go, since it seemed like the immediate threat of violence was over. “I thought we were trying to get him to help us, not strangle him.”

“I panicked,” Ford muttered back.

“Yeah, no shit.”

“I just...I thought he might have...I can't trust anyone, Stan, I can't, he could be anywhere, he could be using anyone-”

“What about me? You don't trust me?”

Ford opened and shut his mouth several times. “I...that's not what I meant, Stan...”

“Sure,” Stan said. “Okay.”

He couldn't exactly argue anyway. He was, objectively, untrustworthy.

They sat in an awkward, shaking silence for a few minutes. Ford stared at the papers scattered across the table in front of them. Then he frowned and began to shuffle some of them around.

“No,” he whispered. “No, no, no...I was right...”

Stan looked down at the sheet Ford had uncovered. Most of it was covered in technical jargon that he had to assume made more sense to Ford than it did to him, but there was also a symbol drawn several times in the margins: a crude image of an eye with a red X over it.

“Fiddleford...” Ford whispered, the paper creasing in his hands. “What did you do...?”

“Made y'all tea.” Fiddleford shuffled hesitantly back into the room with three steaming mugs clutched precariously in his hands. “Lemon and ginger, with a lotta honey in yours, Stanford-it'll do your throat some good...”

He stopped a few feet away as Ford slowly turned his gaze on him.

“What is this?” Ford said, holding the crumpled paper up.

“Just a project of mine,” Fiddleford mumbled, taking a step back. “Nothing to concern yourself with...”

Ford stood up so suddenly that Stan jumped. Fiddleford squeaked and spilled tea all over the floor.

“You're involved with them, aren't you?” Ford demanded. “The people in red hoods-the symbol painted everywhere-the dreams-what are they doing, Fiddleford? What are you doing? What did you do to me?”

“It-it ain't nothing bad!” Fiddleford protested. “We're helping people, Stanford! It's a good thing!”

“Helping people? With, with, with what, that gun of yours? That's what this is about, isn't it? You're erasing memories! How can you call that a good thing-”

“What,” Stan said, but no one paid any attention to him.

“Because there are some memories people don't want to have!” Fiddleford yelled back. “Especially around here, with all the...the things that happen...people shouldn't have to remember things like that! I didn't want to-I couldn't live with what I saw, Stanford! Whatever it was we did...what happened to me...it was eating me alive! I'm better now, and I can make other people better too-”

“This is a cult,” Ford snapped, taking a step forward and crunching the paper into a ball in his fist. “You started a cult!”

“You made a deal with the devil!”

“I once got tarred and feathered for selling bad air conditioners in Albuquerque,” Stan said.

Everything stopped. Both Ford and Fiddleford slowly turned to look at Stan.

“You what,” Fiddleford said.

“What does that have to do with anything,” Ford said.

“Nothing, really. Just didn't want to be left out.” Stan shrugged. “You know, if we're talking about really bad decisions that we've made.”

The silence hung heavy in the air for a moment before Ford sighed and sunk back down onto the couch.

“So you did erase my memory,” he said. “I thought so. About the people you hired...about building the portal...”

Fiddleford cautiously put the now rather less full mugs onto the table and scooted back. “You were making such a damn fuss about it. About the portal not being secret anymore. So I made it secret, but you were still so angry and you wanted to destroy the gun and...I couldn't let you, it was the only thing that was working...I...I guess I panicked. And afterwards everything was better, so-”

“You call that better?” Ford said bitterly. “Messing with someone's mind-”

Fiddleford retreated to his swivel chair and pulled his knees back up defensively, glowering over the top of his mug. “It is better. I'm better now. I'm not having screaming nightmares anymore.”

Ford likewise glowered into his own mug. “So you erased your memories of the...the accident?”

“And a few other things.” Fiddleford took a rather sullen drink of tea. “Not...not all of it. Didn't want no big holes or nothing. But...there were a lot of things I didn't want rattling around in my brain anymore either.”

“So...how much do you remember about building the portal?”

Fiddleford looked away. “...Didn't even remember it was a portal til you brought it up. Knew we were building something down there. Something dangerous. But I-I didn't want to think about it.”

“Right, so you decided you were just going to ignore it. You knew it was dangerous, but as long as you didn't have to think about it everything was just fine-”

“What was I supposed to do?” Fiddleford snapped. “I tried telling you to shut it down! I tried over and over and you wouldn't listen to me!”

The words evidently hit a mark; Ford slumped in on himself, the righteous anger dissipating off of him like steam. “You did. You did...”

He took a sip of tea and grimaced slightly. “I suppose...you don't remember a lot of technical details, then...”

“No.” Fiddleford shook his head adamantly. “I'm sorry. I can't help you.”

“There must be something you could do,” Stan broke in.

He couldn't believe this. He'd expected that maybe they wouldn't be able to find Fiddleford, or that he wouldn't be willing to help; he had most certainly not expected to find him just fine and then hear that he couldn't help because he'd erased his own damn memory with some weird science thing. What was the matter with these nerds? How did they manage to make absolutely everything way too complicated in the most unpredictable manner possible?

“You're still a smart guy, right?” he said. “Can't you, like...figure it again?”

Fiddleford glanced at Stan in surprise. Evidently he hadn't expected Stan to actually contribute anything to the discussion. Well, that made two of them.

“...That's not a bad point,” Ford said, which was even more surprising. “Your technical genius should still be fully intact. Besides, I have doubts about the permanency of the memory gun-I've already regained some recollection of our, uh, our encounter. With some prompting you could most likely remember-”

“I don't want to remember!” Fiddleford said. “I erased those memories for a reason, Stanford! I don't want them back!”

“I know that, Fiddleford, but-but the danger's still there! If I can't dismantle the portal, if his plan succeeds-you think you won't remember then? You think you won't have even worse things to remember?”

Fiddleford flinched away and somehow managed to ball himself up even tighter.

“Please,” Ford said. “After this...I won't ask anything more of you. You don't have to ever talk to me, or, or see me again. But for this one last time...I need you for this, Fidds. I need you to be brave just a little longer. I won't let anything happen to you again. The portal's shut down now, and we know what went wrong, it won't happen again-”

Fiddleford sighed.

“It ain't just the machine I'm scared of, Stanford,” he said. “It's...you.”

Ford stiffened. Stan did as well. A whole childhood's worth of memories suddenly rushed into immediate recollection: taunts of 'freak' and 'mutant' and 'monster', exaggerated reactions of disgust and horror, mocking laughter endlessly directed at his brother for being different. He found his hands curling into angry fists out of muscle memory ten years gone, ready to defend Ford one more time.

“I thought you at least were able to look past differences like that-” Ford said tightly.

“Oh, for...I ain't talking about your damn polydactyly, ya idiot,” Fiddleford said. “I'm talking about you. About...the way you go at things. You're the most stubborn man I've ever met by a long shot. You see a goal and you won't let anything move you. Sometimes that's alright, but the kind of goals you pick, the things you go after...it don't always lead to a good end. And...you draw people in. I dunno, maybe you got so much determination that it's catching, but...I left my wife and child to come help you on this! I ain't seen them in months! And I knew, I knew something was wrong, I knew we should have stopped, I should have left way before I did, but I didn't. I did things I shouldn't have ever done. Because...because I got caught up in it. In all that drive, it was like a magnet pullin' me along. I'm scared of what'll happen if I help you again. I'm scared of where I might end up. You can say it'll be simple, it'll just be one job and over with, and I don't doubt that you mean it, but...that don't necessarily make it true.”

Ford looked completely and utterly lost.

“I...I didn't...I didn't realize it was...like that,” he said distantly. “I never...”

“I know you didn't. You never see anything that ain't in your immediate sights, Stanford. That's always been a problem of yours.”

Ford looked down at his hands and said nothing.

Stan wanted to say something, but he didn't know what. He took a drink from the remaining mug of tea. It tasted like plants.

He couldn't really argue with this one. He couldn't respond to that with a punch to the face. Or, well, he could, but it wouldn't help anything. It wouldn't make Fiddleford wrong. Ford was...like that. He got caught up in his plans and he couldn't see anything else and it was so damn hard to argue with him. His conviction started to feel like a law of the universe, as pointless to argue with as gravity.

Of course...Stan had argued with him a considerable amount anyway. Maybe because he didn't know when to give up either, but still. It could be done. Besides, if Fiddleford's response to all this had been to go off and start a memory-erasing cult, he didn't think the man could put all the blame for bad science decisions on Ford.

He took another drink of tea, mostly because it was hot and the apartment was almost as cold as Ford's house, and also because it gave him something to do, and stared at the papers scattered out in front of them. He supposed some of them were schematics for whatever this gun was, but he couldn't really tell.

A memory erasing gun. Of all things. He didn't much like the thought of that, of someone mucking around in his head, deciding what should be in there and what shouldn't. Not to say that there weren't things he'd rather not have in his head, thanks...

And there was a thought there, but he couldn't quite pin it down. He frowned at the papers. Things he didn't want in his head. There was a lot of that going around lately, wasn't there...?

“So you won't help?” Ford said wearily.

Fiddleford had invented the gun because there were things he wanted to get rid of. Memories. Information. Ford had information he wanted to get rid of, too...and...

“I don't know, Stanford.” Fiddleford's leg was tapping again. “I know it's important. But I...I don't know if I'm strong enough, and that's the truth.”

...and...

It wouldn't work. It couldn't work. There was no way, because if it would work one of these brilliant science guys would have thought of it already. He didn't know anything about all this stuff. It had to be a stupid idea because Stan had thought of it and there was no way he was going to come up with any kind of smart answer to this mess.

But...

But Ford and Fiddleford were both sitting there staring glumly at nothing and the sense of despair was hanging heavy on the room and it was going to bother him unless he said something, and what could it hurt, really? They'd tell him it was stupid and then he could stop thinking about it and they could move on to...something else, maybe, if there was anything else.

“Hey,” he said. “Um. This...this gun thing. It erases memories?”

Ford glanced at him dully. “Yes.”

“Like...something in your brain...that you don't want to be there...this gun can remove that?”

“Yes, Stan, that is indeed an extremely basic grasp of the general concept,” Ford said, in that Long-Suffering Smart Person voice he got when he had to explain things to lesser intellects.

“It produces a radiation wave designed to target a specific area of the brain,” Fiddleford said. “It doesn't have any tangible effects. You can't just go around erasing things.”

“Oh,” Stan said.

Ford frowned slightly. “What were you thinking of?”

“It's nothing. Forget it,” Stan muttered, looking away. “It was a dumb idea.”

“No...no, what were you thinking of? Stan?” Ford's voice was oddly insistent.

Stan tapped his fingers together nervously. “Well, it's just...you know...if this gun, if it can affect what's in your head...and he's in your head...”

Ford said nothing.

“I don't know,” Fiddleford said. “You could target the gun to erase your memory of...him, but...I can't think it'd stop him any, if he's some kind of demon-”

“I said it was stupid,” Stan muttered. “Look, just-”

“No...no, hold on, hold on,” Ford said. His fingers were starting to tap frantically on his cup. “Bill manifests in the mindscape, which would necessarily be affected by anything having a significant impact on brain function...if you could just target it correctly...it would take some modifications, but potentially...”

He pushed several of the papers in front of him around, muttering something incomprehensible under his breath. There was a manic light growing in his eyes.

“Fiddleford,” Ford said, “I need to see your notes. All of them.”

#gravity falls #gravity falls fanfic #by the skin of your teeth #scribulations #fanfic #stangst #no content warnings for this one that I can think of but there ARE way too many dramatic ellipses #also boy that kettle sure took a long time to go off didn't it

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bahkeks · 8 years ago

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tagged by @craniuum, thank you love! this made me want to pick up another book, I haven’t really had the chance since new years :’>

tagging @clueingforlooks, @cupcakesandtv, and @johnandsherlock, but feel free to ignore this of course. (It’s insanely long, I wouldn’t blame you)

1. Do you remember how you developed a love for reading?

I started listening to a read-along tape with the book Peter Rabbit by Beatrix Potter when I was four and I listened to it so often I eventually memorized the whole book and tricked my family that I could read that’s how I found out reading was my gateway into being a sneaky little binch

but really it was them roald dahl books man matilda was my heart

2. Where do you usually read?

I like reading in cafes, it makes me feel quaint. sometimes in bed but I tend to get distracted

3. Do you prefer to read one book at a time or several at once?

i have the shortest attention span so i’m always in the middle of eight different books

4. What is/are your favourite book(s)?

A Single Man by Christopher Isherwood.

// I can go on and on about this book I love it so fucking much. The movie alone was so beautiful, but once I read the book I hated the film. Because they reversed the story and made it about a depressed man who improved, rather than a man who should have been depressed (because his live-in boyfriend died, he’s alienated by his neighbours/boyfriend’s family, and his one friend is a burden he doesn’t often have the strength to support) but instead he was always so determinedly alive and eager to experience life in its most genuine form.

5. Do you have a least favourite book?

I really did not enjoy the great gatsby. That might have something to do with the fact that I hated being forced to read books in high school, so I immediately resented every book assigned, but I also felt so frustrated that everyone went on about how they loved it and it was incredible and I just couldn’t find it in me to agree, I thought it was boring and there was nothing about the characters I related to or sympathized with, so much so that I don’t even want to try again to see if my perspective changed

6. What is your favourite genre?

it really depends. I thought it was classic fiction, and I didn’t think I could ever touch nonfiction, but then I sprinted through a handful of memoirs by amazing, inspiring ladies. and now I think my only stipulation is books with gay characters or at least gay coding. is that a genre? let’s make it one.

7. Is there a genre you won’t read?

i’m pretty sure i’m just done with YA. hunger games turned me off, and I think i’m just over adolescent emotions that never mature.

8. What is the longest book you ever read?

fanfiction tbh?? Order of phoenix would be my guess, or maybe the complete sherlock books if you count it as one? I don’t really read long books, I get distracted too easily. I’m still in the middle of The Count of Monte Cristo (unabridged is over 1000 pages), and I started that at the beginning of 2016 hoping I could finish it by the end. I'm only a third of the way through.

9. What book are you currently reading?

Nothing at the moment. I mean I do have a handful of books half finished, but I’m not actively reading them. A bit too busy lately, we’ll see in a few months.

10. What was the last book you finished?

Goodbye to Berlin by Christopher Isherwood. It was scary how familiar it all sounded, particularly how people reacted to Hitler’s rise to power.

11. What was the last book you bought?

Fleurs du Mal by Charles Baudelaire, because it’s my favourite book of poems and I found it a fancy leather-bound version; Christopher and His Kind and Down There on a Visit by Christopher Isherwood

12. Do you have a favourite book quote?

"I see now the virtue in madness, for this country knows no law nor any boundary. I pity the poor shades confined to the Euclidean prison that is sanity. All things are possible here and I am what madness has made me. Whole. And complete. And free at last."

that was from a batman graphic novel bite me it was so well written

13. Do you prefer library books or buying books?

buying, definitely. I like staking ownership, and I have a habit of writing in the margins to add my own voice and thoughts

14. Where do you buy your books?

The Strand is my favourite place in the world. it’s basically my sunflower mural in pawnee city hall. but there are also a few cool smaller bookstores in the west village and lower east side. Bluestockings is a volunteer-run intersectional feminist bookstore that’s almost intimidating to walk in but it’s such an amazing resource.

15. How many books do you buy a month?

it’s too irregular to gauge. When I do go into a bookstore, I am very likely not coming out with less than three books, but I’ve been keeping myself from going into bookstores in the first place for a few months.

16. How many books do you own?

I’ve got about 125? in my room right now, but a lot of them are unread and at least one shelf is a collection from childhood that I don’t really intend on keeping.

17. How do you feel about second hand books?

i get them if i’m broke as hell and still feel like treating myself to a dollar one on the racks at The Strand, but i prefer not to. I prefer fresh books, I can’t help but feel icky not knowing where the books have been before

18. Do you prefer E-books or physical books?

physical books mostly, but if it’s bulky i’d rather read it on my phone if i’m on the go

19. Do you prefer paperback or hardback?

if given the choice, hardback, because they last longer and i’m an aesthetic ho

20. Do you prefer to read trilogies/series or standalones?

standalones. reading series feels like reading really long books, and as i’ve said, i’ve got the attention span of a teaspoon.

21. What is the weirdest thing you’ve used as a bookmark?

probably like my toe while i was multitasking

22. What is more important to you: characters or plot?

characters, definitely. i really love connecting with a character because then it feels like i’m just reading about myself or what i could be and i’m a narcissistic pos so who could ask for more

23. Do you ever judge a book by its cover?

oh all the time. especially when a book isn’t popular and doesn’t have an adequate synopsis on the jacket, how else are you supposed to judge it?

24. What’s the most beautiful book you own?

I would say my gilted leather bound copy of Fleurs du Mal, it’s gorgeous and I love looking at it. But if we’re talking cover art... ahh it’s hard to say. I quite like the fsg covers of Christopher Isherwood books

25. What is your favorite book to movie/tv adaptation?

The granada sherlock series is a brilliant adaptation it looks exactly how I’d have imagined when reading the ACD canon.

26. What is the best beverage to drink while reading a book?

tea 90% of the time, but i also love macchiatos if i’m feeling indulgent. when reading. they’re so small, but sipping at them between readings feels like a lil reward for finishing a page.

27. Are you looking forward to any book release? If so, which one?

i don’t really read new books. i think part of my enjoyment is reading books like viewing art in galleries; knowing the story behind them, understanding the context within culture/history.

28. Recommend me a book :3

The Art of Asking by Amanda Palmer. I think the message -- to ask more of the people in your life, to trust that people will respond and trust yourself to let them help -- is universal and can really change your life if you let it. Also, Amanda Palmer is a fucking badass and inspiration.

#i do declare #books #reading

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