#I don’t know why but I will like just regularly blink like a frog it’s weird
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Alright folks it’s blink like a frog time
#everyone gather round#and do your best Prince Gerard impressions#I don’t know why but I will like just regularly blink like a frog it’s weird
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Every day, Rhysand wakes up next to Amarantha in her bed Under the Mountain. A prisoner, a weapon, a High Lord on a leash. He's been down there so long, it's starting to feel like time doesn't matter. Until one day, it doesn't. Feyre's death sends Rhysand back in time, waking up on the same day - over and over. Now, Rhysand must discover how to break the time loop, save his mate, and keep his sanity intact. A "round robin" style fanfiction with different authors. This work is meant to be read from beginning to end, but each chapter is written by a different author with their own spin on the time loop prompt.
Part of the @feysand-hivemind
Pairing: Feyre/Rhysand
Rating: Teen
Triggers: Murder, (Temporary) Character Death
Surprise! Bet you didn't think you'd see me as a part of this project (except you probably did because I haven't been nearly that subtle these past few months)! Anyway, please enjoy this (very short!) silly little palette cleanser of a chapter before I hand you back off for our regularly scheduled angst.
Tumblr Masterlist | Read on Ao3
Chapter Five: The Mermaid (Loop 26)
“What the-?”
Arielle blinked her eyes open in confusion at the waves and ripples that had disturbed her slumber. She had just settled down for the night, in her bed of waterweed and algae, when-
There, towards the little shore of her pond, she spied a pair of feet wading through the water followed by the sound of drunken laughter. Were they…? Oh Cauldron, they were!
The mermaid grimaced in disgust.
Did the high fae not teach their children any manners? Honestly!
Clearly some people still needed a reminder not to encroach upon the homes of others.
While river mermaids were somewhat different from their sea dwelling cousins (primarily in that they were lazier and more prone to napping in the sun rather than luring sailors to their deaths) they more than made up for their lack of blood thirstiness with pettiness and a zero tolerance policy regarding home invaders.
Especially if said invaders were trying to get frisky right on her front doorstep.
“Excuse me!” She said tersely as she swam towards the intruders. “Don’t you know this is private property-”
And that was right about when one of them decided to step on her hair.
Arielle shrieked, jerking back in pain and shock and knocking the perpetrator clear off their feet. She felt them crash into the water with a cacophonous splash while their companion seemed stunned into stillness at discovering that this pond was, in fact, home to something other than a few frogs.
“First you invade my pond without permission and then you attack me in my own home?!” The mermaid screeched furiously as she grabbed ahold of the figure trying to scramble back to their feet and pulled them back underwater.
They toppled into the water and while they were still disorientated, the mermaid wrapped her fingers around the figure’s skinny little neck and squeezed. Their hair floated prettily around them like gold thread as the fae thrashed instinctively before their neck…snapped.
Arielle blinked.
Surely fae were sturdier than that? She’d pulled several down into her pond in the past for one reason or another and they always managed to fight her off easily enough. So why did this fae have such a breakable little neck?
Wait…no. Not fae.
Human.
The mermaid stared down at the intruder, puzzled, noticing rounded ears and tasting the whiff of mortality that hung around the creature like a cloud.
What was a human doing in her pond?
They were Arielle’s last thoughts before a different set of hands grabbed ahold of her and tore her out of the water.
She thrashed.
Until she came face to face with the High Lord of Spring himself.
And he was furious.
“Do you realize what you’ve done?!!”
“Do you realize how rude it is to invade someone’s home?!” The mermaid couldn’t help but snap. High Lord or no, it was terribly rude to gallivant through her pond without so much as a by-the-by.
“She was our only chance of breaking the curse! You’ve ruined us!”
For a moment it felt like the High Lord was speaking in riddles. Curse? What curse? But then…
“…Oh. Well that’s not good.”
The High Lord didn’t answer, only exploded in a flurry of fur and claws and Arielle’s pond soon ran red with her own blood.
In the shadows of the trees, Rhysand banged his head against a tree and moaned in agony and frustration.
“How the fuck did I not know there was mermaid in there?!”
#time won't fly (it's like I'm paralyzed by it)#feysand timeloop#feysand hivemind#my fanfiction#acotar fanfiction#feysand fanfiction#amnevitahwritesstuff
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no one asked for this but here's Lambert angst, cutagens, tw: for injury and blood, :3 happy ending tho cuz I'm not that mean [more]
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It's a beautiful night. The summer sky above Lambert's head is clear of any clouds making the stars shine bright and clear on the blackness above. To his utter delight, there's fireflies in the forest and now that the sun is down they're swarming in the humid air around him, buzzing and blinking in a steady rhythm. Fireflies remind him of his childhood. Growing up in Kaer Morhen wasn't always good in itself, but Lambert does have good memories, like those of warm summer nights when he, Voltehre and the other boys snuck out of their dorm at night to catch fireflies, moths and frogs by the pond. Now that he's older, Lambert is pretty sure that they never were alone on their adventures. It's hard to belief that none of the older wolves followed them to watch out. But he still holds those memories close to his heart.
There's no pond nearby this time, but Lambert can hear the cicadas in the trees as he blinks up the sky and lets out a shaggy, rattling breath. He's pretty sure one of his ribs fractured his lung, it's a feeling he won't be able to forget for a while. And that's just the irony in itself, isn't it?
A week smile spreads across his face. Fucking werewolves, he thinks and feels the phantom pain of the scar on his temple. A ridiculous notion given the fact that he can feel the summer breeze against his organs. He doesn't want to think about the fact that he can't seem to feel that. He'd rather think about werewolves, because for him, it's always werewolves, as if they hold a personal grudge with him. His first big hunt was a female werewolf, a humongous beast if he remembers correctly. He did kill it, carries the scar against his temple with a certain level of pride, like every witcher does.
He doesn't try to get back to his camp, where his potion back is hidden in a hollow tree. There's no way he can make it this far and the place where he is right now, on the forest floor in a puddle of his own blood, is at least pretty. He's somewhere up in Poviss, a place none of his brothers visit regularly, Lambert himself only ventured there by chance. The seasons are harsh in this part of the country and he's close enough to the sea that he can taste salt in the air, so when they come to look for him next year, he'll hopefully be nothing more than bones and metal. Rotting corpses are disgusting. Lambert hums reverently, chokes on the blood in his mouth and starts coughing.
His vision blackens just as something, someone, kneels down next to him and he blinks sluggishly at the prettiest person he has ever seen in his life.
When winter comes, Lambert walks through the halls of Kaer Morhen on swift feet with a spring in his step that doesn't go unnoticed by his brothers. They're all together in the hall, in front of the hearth and cuddled into one of Vesemir's blanket dens, when Kacper finally breaks and asks him, why he's suddenly so happy. Lambert grins at him, from where he's cuddling in Geralt's and Eskel's arms. “I think I met someone,” he says and is immediately bombarded with a row of never ending questions.
“Who is it?”
“Are they a witcher?”
“What school are they from?”
“Do we know them?”
“How did you meet?”
“Will you introduces us?”
“Are they pretty?”
Lambert's grin widens even further. “He is absolutely gorgeous.”
@hailhailsatan @kalikatze @whereiscarmensa @selectivegeekwithstandards @emotional-support-fandom @a-kind-of-merry-war @wolf-and-bard @kuripon @feral-jaskier @permanently-exhausted-bitch @fontegagrilledcheese @alllthequeenshorses
tell me if u (don’t) want to be tagged
#i might just fancy a bit of angst at th moment so there will be more :3#the witcher#artistsfuneral about the witcher#cutagens#wolf pack feels#lambert#lambert witcher#lambden#tw injury#tw blood#tw bones#i guess
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Perhaps “I don’t mean to sound paranoid but I’m pretty sure you’re a serial killer.” With analogical? Perhaps like..... them trying to piece the puzzle of the other together but they’re missing a few pieces and so they get a way off picture of why the other acts the way they do.
The dialogue prompt isn’t included entirely as you sent it I’m afraid, I had to edit it to fit where I wanted it to go, but it’s still there in spirit!
AO3
***
They met at a cafe, in a lovely cliche. It was speed dating night, a charity event hosted by some dating app to gain more users and pr, both only there for the loosest of reasons. Logan; because he had a bet to win and he hated losing bets. Virgil; because he’d been at the cafe when they were setting up and had been too anxious to say anything when one of the assistants placed a placard on the table in front of him denoting his as Table 4.
It was an unlikely enough circumstance, but what is life but a journey between each unlikely situation we end up in, floundering to call our directions a path or a choice, rather than just a headlong dash through time and space, impacted by the flounderings of billions of other humans doing the exact same thing?
At least, that was how Virgil put it in a blurt of words when Logan commented on the chances of their having met. Logan, sat opposite him at Table 4, raised an eyebrow behind his glasses and blinked exactly once.
“While that was... very philosophical, and a little distressing, I was remarking more on the scientific probability of the affair. But I suppose, we have fairly opposing ways of seeing things.”
“Is that bad?” Virgil asked with a wince, chewing on his lip. Logan just shrugged, picking up the laminated list of suggested conversation starters.
“It is neither good nor bad, it was simply an observation. Do you tend to read hidden meaning and see, ah, the worst case scenario in everything another person says?”
“You could say that. I’m a bad... people-er.”
“There is no such word.”
Another wince. “Shit, sorry.”
“No, it was not meant- never mind.” The questions came up higher, taking Logan’s full focus for a moment. “I fail to see what useful information could be gleaned from these questions,” he sighed. “Why should your star sign interest me? Or your opinion on pineapple pizza?”
“Oh, well. We could ask other questions?” Virgil suggested, surprised by his own ability to even talk after the embarrassing start. “Like, what’s something you want to achieve in life?”
“Space travel. Next question,” Logan replied immediately, looking immediately enthused by the prospect of easy questions.
“Well,” Virgil hesitated, glancing around the too-loud, too-crowded room. “I think maybe you could explain that? Or I could answer, but I don’t really have life goals, other than, survive? Maybe just get through it, make a bit of money, get a cat... Or a roommate-”
“You live alone?”
“Yeah, it’s pretty quiet but I like it that way. Moved out real quick when I graduated high school.”
Logan’s head tilted in curiosity. “Are you not close with your family?”
“Um, not really. They’re great, I guess, but they’re step family mostly and they’re very loud people. We do the odd holiday and call but not regularly.”
“Fascinating. And they don’t impose themselves on you when you fail to contact them in a while?”
Virgil squinted. “Uh, no? They’re not the worst at boundaries, to give them credit. They’d like, maybe call the police if I’d not been in touch in a month or two, you know, that’s it.”
Across the table, Logan sat forwards, clasping his hands together. “And with no roommate home, you do not feel unsafe?”
“N-no? Look, I don’t mean to sound paranoid but you’re not a serial killer right? Those are serial killer questions...” Virgil asked, shrinking back in his seat. “Like, don’t kill me? I’m totally boring, I’d be a boring murder victim I swear. But uh, they’d miss me! Totally!”
Logan broke into the first smile Virgil had seen on him, shaking his head with a softly barked laugh. “Oh, gosh. I knew I was bad at this but I suppose I underestimated my own inability to... how did you put it? ‘People’.”
Virgil just stared at him, until he sighed and held a hand out. “Definitely not a serial killer. Just from a very different family to yours. I live with four roommates, and my family call me almost every day, or text. My brothers have been known to break into the apartment if they haven’t heard from me quickly enough. It was a problem with my last living situation, I’ll admit.”
“Oh. So you’re, really not a serial killer?”
“Absolutely not. The closest I got was a frog dissection in high school biology. I managed a leg and then fainted. Turned me off bodies for good, I’m studying astrophysics nowadays.”
“Huh.” Well that explained it at least. Virgil took the offered hand, giving a shy smile back. “Okay, well, that’s good to get out of the way. Um, so tell me more about space then?”
“Where to start! So space travel, when I say that I mean in the proper, sustainable, commercial way-”
-
Masterlist | Buymeacoffee
#writepie#analogical#pre-analogical#ts virgil#ts logan#ts sanders sides#ts sanders sides fic#sanders sides#sanders sides fanfiction#sanders sides fic
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When You Make A Demon Sad, So He Adopts You, Chapter Eight
Gordon had a feeling living with these demons wouldn’t be nearly as bad if he wasn’t in a dorm room. There was next to no space for him, let alone four extra demons.
At this point, he had finally gotten names. The bone-tailed demon was Bubby, the one that Benrey had called out for the dramatic entrance, and the frog demon was Coomer. Bubby called him Harold, but he seemed to be the only one who did, so Gordon stuck with Coomer, just to be safe.
At least they seemed to understand there wasn’t really that much room. Usually there was a rotation of two demons who hung around with him at all times, making sure he was drinking water and eating food, which, honestly, Gordon kind of appreciated. He hadn’t realize how much of his headache came from dehydration.
To both his surprise and pleasure, Tommy seemed the most likely to stay. He hadn’t really left for any sort of long period of time for the past few weeks, and was the main one keeping Gordon from going insane again. The others had their moments, of course, they had all decided this human was their human, but Tommy had only left for an hour at a time here and there, the longest he had been gone having been an entire morning a Wednesday, and he returned worried that Gordon had managed to kill himself in the time he was gone.
Gordon honestly understood. He did have a tendency to self destruct. Everyone had commented on that.
Luckily for him, it seemed the the threat of taking their funding away had been enough for his parents for now, and they hadn’t actually gone through with it. For now, they seemed content to threaten him, holding it over his head like a piano in a cartoon, dangling dangerously from a string that should not have been able to hold it up in the first place. Gordon, of course, had no plans of stopping his presentation as male, but also had no plans of telling them that.
He just had to talk to a few professors.
The demons had begun to regularly ask if they could kill his family. The answer never changed from a no, but Gordon found it amusing. That must have partially been the reason that they had kept the joke going. Hopefully. Gordon had no doubt that if he gave them permission they would, in a heart beat, but Gordon still felt... wrong, about condemning them like that.
Maybe that would change.
“Mr. Freeman?” Gordon blinked, eyes focusing back in on his laptop, a half written essay on the screen, cursor blinking at him accusingly. He blinked back at it, before turning towards Tommy, who was perched on the other bed across the room. It didn’t get use, at least not from a human, since Gordon had the room alone.
“What’s up Tommy?”
“You’ve been staring at the-the essay for five minutes now.” Oh shit. He had completely spaced out. Gordon laughed softly, pushing away from the table.
“Sorry, uh, got lost in my thoughts there. Maybe it is time for a break.” He stood carefully, stretching his arms up above his head, shoulders and back popping as he did. His shirt rode up a bit, and he huffed, tugging it back down slightly.
“You should go for a walk!” Tommy said, getting up off the bed. Gordon raised an eyebrow at him.
“You just wanna go out, huh?” Gordon asked, and Tommy grinned, nodding a bit.
“I wanna... take Sunkist out this time, though.” Sunkist was Tommy’s dog. Gordon didn’t know too much about her, since she seemed to stay down in hell, but Tommy had wanted him to meet her for awhile now.
“Alright. Why not?”
He grinned, and the room was filled with a familiar rush of heat as the portal opened once more. Gordon hummed at it quietly, as Tommy disappeared for a moment, only to return with one of the largest dogs Gordon had ever seen.
She was large and shaggy, up to Tommy’s hip, and Tommy was pretty tall, over seven foot if Gordon remembered correctly. Her face was a skull, bright red shining between her teeth and out the eye sockets, almost smokey. Gordon wasn’t entirely sure if the bone that was along her body, down her back and on her sides, was her own bone, or if it was bone that was scavenged as armor, but either way, it stood bright against the dark fur. Smoke rose off of her back, and Gordon was sure there would be fire arching down her back if it wasn’t a worry in the dorm room.
“This is Sunkist!” Tommy grinned, and Sunkist barked, a loud booming noise, and, if they hadn’t proved the demons couldn’t be heard by anyone they didn’t want to be heard by, Gordon would have panicked about someone calling the RA. He still half did. It almost felt like the room shook with the force of how loudly she barked. “She has a more... human friendly form! But I wanted... you to see her like this!”
Honestly?
“She looks amazing.” Gordon said, completely truthfully, and Sunkist’s bone covered tail thumped heavily against the ground. “But uh... We’re not supposed to have pets in here?” and Tommy just grinned at him.
“Don’t worry. She can be invisible until we get outside!” And, as he said that, Sunkist seemed to melt from existence, the smoke arching off her body the last sign she had been there at all. Gordon blinked.
Well alright.
Gordon already knew that Tommy could hide the more demonic features. The scales around his body turning to places of countless freckles, his ears no longer finned, the ridges, which Gordon had recently learned was one set of gills, along his neck melted into his skin. Luckily, however, Tommy’s eyes only formed pupils, instead of the color changing. Gordon didn’t think he would be able to handle it if he lost the ability to look at that bright yellow.
“Let’s go than.” He grabbed his wallet with his school ID in it, since he didn’t want to be locked out of the entire campus, as Tommy finished the shift, and led Tommy out, hoping he didn’t run into Sunkist or accidentally shut her out.
“Don’t worry about Sunkist, Mr. Freeman.” Tommy said, and Gordon hummed up at him. “She’s a smart dog! She’ll be able to pass through walls.”
Gordon nodded at this, and led them out.
The campus was rather beautiful, and, luckily, the exit he used was half way between two buildings, and also half hidden by trees. Sunkist was free to return to visibility, and, when she did, Gordon blinked.
To his eye, she just looked like a normal, albeit very large, Golden Retriever.
“She safe to pet?” Gordon asked, and Tommy nodded, letting him lean down to pet behind her, very very warm, ears, her tail thumping against the ground with the familiar clack of bones against hard surfaces.
Bubby had a habit of hitting his boney tail against everything in sight, mostly on accident. Gordon got very used to the sound of it.
“She’s a good girl.” Tommy grinned, and Sunkist barker her agreement as Gordon stood, the ground feeling as if it were shaking under him with the force she could bark.
“Let’s go than.” He said, and Tommy reached out, catching his hand. Gordon hummed, letting him cling on, and led him down the sidewalk. He had waited to show Tommy this place for a bit, but figured he would enjoy it. “I’ve got another place on campus to show you.”
Tommy grinned at him, and Gordon smiled back towards him, Sunkist padding along after them with a knowing glint in her eyes.
#hlvrai#half life vr but the ai is self aware#hlvrai demon au#gordon freeman hlvrai#tommy coolatta#sunkist the perfect dog#Feelings In Various Ways#these bitches gay
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Remember your past life - Prince! Harry Hook x Chosen Knight! Reader - part 8
=
Ben called for a gathering in the front yard of the dorm castle. Uma, Harry, Gil, and (y/n) arrived to see Mal, Jay, Carlos, Evie, and Dude had already arrived.
“so wha’s all this” you turned to see Harriet and CJ walking up, CJ looking curious while Harriet looked bored.
“well,” Ben clapped his hands together, smiling at all of you. “every year the seniors take a trip to a selected kingdom for two weeks to explore it, and this year-”
“hold up” Uma interrupted “CJ ain't a senior” Ben shrugged “she would have stowed away in the car anyway, might as well avoid that” CJ grinned at that, puffing her chest.
continuing Ben said; “so we leave tomorrow at the crack of dawn” Mal's jaw dropped, she hated waking up early.
“Why so early” she whined, pouting at ben, ‘honestly, same’ you thought, dreading getting up that early. even though you did so regularly now.
“where are we even going?” Uma yelled out, Ben smiled.
“Saorsa”
you felt Harry stiffen next to you, Uma asking if he was okay. you...you had heard that name before.
and protect our land of Saorsa, from the dark one
a faint voice echoed in the back of your head, a man, the one you had been hearing for weeks now. ...king...king....the voice faded away, leaving you with another bout of deja vu. sighing you shrugged it off, focusing back on Ben, who was detailing the trip. but it was hard to pay attention, the only thing going through your mind was how familiar that kingdoms name was.
=
That name haunted you, making your insomnia rear its ugly head. Looking back at your clock, which read 3:04 am. Sighing you got up, careful not to wake up Jane.
Maybe a walk will help clear your head.
Walking around the gardens you spotted a figure sitting on a bench staring down at the pond. Walking closer, their head snapped up, whipping around to you. it was Harry, his ocean blue eyes staring right into yours.
"Couldn't sleep?" he asked, voice raspy with tiredness.
You nodded and carefully took a seat next to him. “meh too” he looked back at the pond, staring at his reflection in the water. “odd question but….did the name of that kingdom...Saorsa...seem” he hesitated, slightly curling in on himself, you leaned forward, staring at the side of his face. “familiar ta yeh?”
You nodded, looking up at the clear sky.
"So it ain't jus’ me?” Harry muttered, smiling slightly at the water.
You lifted an eyebrow at him. 'What about the name felt familiar to him?' you lifted your hands up, Harry glancing over as you did so.
why was it familiar to you? you signed, Harry shrugged.
“Ah dinnae ken,” Harry said, slipping into a thick Scottish tongue “it jus’ seemed so...I don’ know” Harry let his head fall between his shoulders.
“I really don’ know”
You understood what he was trying to say, oddly enough, that itch of familiarity at the back of your head, he must have had it too.
You felt compelled to tell Harry what had been happening to you. so you did.
"dreams-." You spoke softly, startling Harry. He looked up, surprise in his ocean orbs. he hadn't expected you to talk at that moment, but he urged you to go on.
you breathed deeply, hoping your voice would last long enough to get everything out. “i-i keep having...dreams...that seem like..m-mem-memories” you stuttered, willing yourself to continue, your throat was already becoming sore. “as if, I had lived them, and am only just now remembering them,” you muttered, looking at Harry, who was staring at you with wide eyes. “is...have you felt anything similar?” your voice died, out, but Harry heard every single word. he stared at you, silent.
you felt heat rush up your face, brushing a hair behind your ear. nevermind you signed, moving to stand and go back inside and sleep your embarrassment away its stupid
“no!” Harry yelped, latching onto your arm as you went to walk away. you whipped back around, Ocean blue once more meeting with (e/c), Harry blushed, releasing your arm “i-i know wha’ yeh mean, I’ve been...experiencing that too” he bit his lip, glancing up at you through his lashes. “it-it happened when yeh were fighting with Lonnie, you-you were in this...armor, and you were really, really good at fighting, ending the battle within a minute”
you nodded slowly, letting Harry babble away about this...memory like dream “then...then my dad?” Harry made it sound like a question as if he wasn’t sure “came up and, and said” Harry paused, his eyes shining “that I could stand to be a little more like you, that you had accomplished so much more than me, that you were impressive, that I needed to be better” he spat out bitterly.
you sat down beside him once more, scooting closer and letting your side press into his. you slowly reached out, gripping his grey hoodie. Harry took a shaky breath, smiling slightly at you “thank yeh (y/n)”
You smiled, You're welcome you signed, letting Harry’s hand slide up and slowly intertwine with yours.
The two of you just sat in silence, looking at your reflections in the pond "Wha bout ya?" Harry asked softly after a long silence, turning to look at you, tilting his head. you took a deep breath, you had a couple of memories like dreams but...you felt most comfortable sharing this. releasing Harry's hand, you started to tell harry about what had happened a couple weeks ago.
okay so remember when you were going on about that frog? Harry nodded “aye, the hot-footed one?” you nodded, well, as you were talking all of a sudden I thought please don’t make me eat another frog Harry blinked, “wha’?”
I know you hurriedly signed, let me get to the good part, anyway, so you were looking at flowers and taking pictures of them, I think you were doing research or something, and then you found the frog...and tried to make me eat it Harry burst out laughing, leaning forward.
“oh my god really?! what the fuck!?” you tapped Harry’s shoulders, a grin blooming on your face wait, it gets better Harry, still giggling, wiped his eyes and gestured for you to continue.
then you offered to buy me gourmet meat...and I agreed to eat the damn frog Harry burst out laughing once more, leaning back as he did so.You let out a yelp of surprise as Harry lost his balance and fell back into the grass. looking down, you saw Harry still giggling, his face red.
“oh-oh my god, that’s fucking funny” you slid off the bench, landing on your knees next to Harry “so” Harry snickered, finally catching his breath, looking up into your eyes. “it seems we’re havin’ dreams about each other huh? think it means somthin’?”
you shrugged, looking down at your hands in your lap. “Hey (y/n)?” Harry whispered, you looked at him, he was looking at the stars in the night sky “do yeh think...because that kingdom's name was familiar ta both of us...do yeh think that the answers to what’s been happening to us will be there?”
You stayed silent, unsure to the answer “I don’t know” you finally whispered, voice still horse from under use “I really don’t know harry”
he nodded, slowly sitting up, turning to look at you “it’s fine, well… I’m gonna go ta bed, night”
“night” you watched as Harry walked away, soon blending with the shadows around the dorm building. sitting in silence, looking at the stars, you thought to yourself, about Harry, about the dreams, about the kingdom. and about how each day...Harry was becoming something more than a friend. you sighed, brushing away those thoughts. you stood and made your way back to your room, after all, the class was leaving for the kingdom at dawn.
=
morning came way to fucking quickly, you were packing the little travel bag you had, moving quickly as the bus was leaving in 15 minutes.
Jane started to push you out of the room, you huffed, spinning around her and going at your own pace. stepping out into the hall, you bumped into a tall figure, Harry steadied you, giving you a sleepy smile.
“tired lass?” he asked, giving you his arm and leading you outside to the bus, you nodded, leaning your head on his shoulder “usually I don't wake up till 5” you muttered, your throat already getting used to talking slightly, you glanced at your watch which said 4:30 am
Harry snorted “well that’s half an hour isn’t it?” you shrugged, yawning as Harry led you out to the front yard, where a large limo bus was waiting. Ben had yet to arrive, along with everybody else, so you and Harry stood there for a little while, inching closer to the other for warmth on the chilly fall morning. moments later, Mal arrived being dragged by Evie. Jay, Carlos and Dude following soon after. Ben emerged a minute later, Fairy godmother trotting after him, speaking Frantically.
Ben smiled at you and Harry, nodding and mouthing ‘the bus will be heated’ you sagged into Harry in relief. Harriet and CJ came rushing out of the school, the usual grumpy look on the eldest Hook’s face. and finally. Jane, Audrey, Chad, and King Phillip, arrived, allowing Ben to official start the trip.
“Alright,” Ben said loudly, clapping his hands together to gather everyone's attention “now were gonna be on the bus for about an hour, once we get to the airport, we will be boarding the private jet, which we will be flying for 5 hours. okay?” you nodded, feeling Harry shift his shoulders as he shrugged, longer flight meant more sleep.
“Alright, everyone on board!” ben turned, hopping up the limo bus’ steps, mal going in right after him. soon enough, you all were packed in the bus, you and harry huddled in the back, two seconds away from falling asleep.
Fairy godmother stepped into the bus, talking with ben for a moment before doing a roll call. you sluggishly rose your hand as she called for you, flopping it back down onto Harry's torso. he let out a slight cough, side-eyeing you, you shrugged, burying deeper into his side.
Once everyone was accounted for, FG nodded at ben and the driver, leaving the bus and waving you all goodbye. Jane darling watched from the window, smiling.
a land of memories, waiting to be explored
---end of part 8---
@dpaccione
thx @marichat4lyf for beta reading
#Descendents#descendants#disney descendants#harry hook#harry hook descendants#harry hook x reader#harry hook imagine#remember your past life#breath of the wild#botw crossover
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A Chance Meeting
“Pfft. Look at those preppy girls.”
Sucy’s voice was dryly cutting, and Amanda looked up from the display of instant noodles at the supermarket at her friend...well, more accurately, her acquaintance. Sucy still scared her after the frog incident in biology, and she just wasn’t certain what Akko saw in the other girl. But, be that as it may, Sucy was part of their clique at school, and the six of them had decided to pick up some snacks and stuff at the store after school. “Preppy girls?” Amanda asked absently as her attention returned to the noodles. She was trying to decide on whether to get the big box of chicken flavored noodles, or splurge and get the individual packets and go for a variety of flavors like oriental and shrimp. Funny, though. She knew most of the preppy girls that went to their school, and couldn’t care less about them. Kinda surprising that Sucy would even mention them...
“Yeah, looks like they go to that prep school over in Blytonbury, that really hard to get into one.”
“You mean Luna Nova?” Amanda asked, hopeful surprise flitting through her as she turned to look down the aisle, but she didn’t see anyone that matched the description.
“...Yeah,” Sucy said as she narrowed her visible eye at Amanda. “Kinda weird to see you excited about them,” she said, and then grinned evilly. “You wanna prank them?”
Amanda hesitated. She hadn’t really mentioned Hannah to her friends, despite texting Hannah pretty regularly since they met at the fair. She had grown to appreciate the other girl’s sharp wit, and was very quickly considering her a long distance friend. Well...not really long distance, per se, she was only thirty minutes away, but they hadn’t had the chance to meet face-to-face since that night in the fair. It would be awesome if she were here at the store. Wouldn’t that be a coincidence!
Then she blinked, reality crashing down around her. It would be a coincidence for Hannah to have made the trip to Glastonbury just to happen to be at the store at the same time as her. It was almost a mathematical impossibility. And if some stuck up Luna Nova kids were hanging out in the store, then why not prank them? “Alright,” she said, a mischievous grin taking to her face. “Let’s go find the others.”
Five minutes later found them huddled with Cons, Jasminka, Akko, and Lotte as they explained their plan to prank the Luna Nova students. Lotte looked worried and slightly disapproving, but that was pretty normal for her. Cons looked...well, like Cons, dour and stern, and Jasminka was still smiling like she always was as she ate from a bag of salt and vinegar chips. No, it was Akko who was obviously the most excited about the idea of pranking the preppy girls from Luna Nova.
“What do you think, the bait and switch?” she asked, excitedly bouncing on the balls of her feet, and Amanda grinned.
“Sounds about right. How about...condoms and lube?”
Then Sucy piped up, face decidedly evil. “And a cucumber...and like, the biggest zucchini you can find,” she said, and Jas nodded before making her way over to the produce section.
“Guys, I don’t know if this is a great idea,” Lotte cautioned, and Amanda scoffed as she waved a dismissive hand.
“Nah, it’s okay. It’s just embarrassing, no one’s gonna get hurt. You and Cons keep an eye on the targets, Akko and I will go get the condoms and lube.
Lotte just sighed heavily and nodded begrudgingly. “Fiiiine.”
It didn’t take very long after that, and soon she, Akko, and Jas were peering around the corner of one of the aisles at the four girls wearing the Luna Nova uniform, looking over various bags of chips and the like, and Amanda grinned wolfishly. Perfect! Then she blinked as she realized that one of them looked familiar, and it took her a moment to place her. That’s right! She was the dark haired girl who was with Hannah at the fair. Amanda felt annoyance prickle across her at that. Figures that she would show up and not Hannah! At least the other girl from that night wasn’t here, and she didn’t recognize the other three girls at all. Alright, now, how to distract them without them catching on that something was up...
“Amanda, is that you?”
She just barely bit back a startled yelp as she jumped, and the boxes of condoms (and not the standard, lame ones, she went all out for this...ribbed, studded, pretty much the most exotic of the selection they had at the store) fell out of her arms, clattering on the floor. She spun, heart pounding, but then froze as she recognized the sight of Hannah.
Oh.
Oh my.
It...it wasn’t fair for her to look like that! The baggy hoodie at the fair had hidden most of her physique, but the Luna Nova uniform that was cut to her form did no such thing, and Amanda almost started to drool at Hannah’s broad shoulders and very well muscled arms. Okay, looking like that? She could totally believe that she was the champ wrestler at Luna Nova. Okay, down girl, you might still be able to do the prank.
But then Hannah’s eyes flitted down to the floor where the boxes of condoms lay scattered, and then to the lube that Akko was holding and the *ahem* phallic vegetables that Jas had. “What are you doing?” she asked, voice obviously confused as she peered down the aisle and towards her friends.
“I...well, you see...we were just...” Amanda stammered, glancing at her friends, who seemed transfixed by Hannah’s appearance. And why wouldn’t they? Because dayum! No, wait, down girl! Stay focused!
Hannah frowned slightly. “Are you...trying to prank my friends?” she asked, and Amanda flushed. She was generally good enough at this sort of thing to not get caught so obviously red handed. Grimacing, she gave a short, terse nod, and tried to brace herself for the disappointed scolding that was sure to follow. But then, to her surprise, Hannah grinned as she crouched down to pick up the condom boxes. “Alright, I’m in. Here,” she said as she handed Amanda back the boxes.
“What?” Amanda asked, almost dumbly.
Hannah rolled her eyes, a smile still on her lips. “Your prank. I’m in on it. It’ll be funny. Now, I’ll go up and put these bags of chex mix in the cart and distract the others. Once Babs, Avery, Mary, and Blair have their attention on me, you guys come up and put your stuff in the cart. Think you can quietly get them underneath the bags of mix?”
Was this actually happening? Was Hannah, who had absolutely no right looking that hot, btw, really going to help them prank her friends? “Uh, yeah, we should be able to...”
Hannah grinned, eyes sparkling with amusement. “Perfect! Alright, you ready?”
The next few minutes were spent in heart-pounding excitement. True to her word, Hannah went first and dropped her stuff into the half full shopping cart before directing the attention of her friends at some of the other products on the aisle’s shelves, and the three of them quickly and quietly made their way to the cart. Heart pounding with the fear of getting caught, Amanda was nonetheless able to silently lift the bags of chex mix, allowing them to deposit their cargo into the cart. A quick glance up revealed the other four Luna Nova students with their backs still to them and Hannah smirking slightly as she debated the merits of sour cream and onion chips versus salt and vinegar. Mission success!
They wrapped their shopping up after that, wanting to get done ahead of the Luna Nova students. They managed it, and were waiting in the area just past the registers as the preppy students started to get their items scanned. You could almost count down to the moment when the contraband was revealed, and Amanda had to bite her cheek to keep from howling with laughter at the first horrified screech that the black haired girl from the fair let out when she comprehended exactly what lay beneath the chex mix. She whirled on her stocky, auburn haired friend with an indignant: “Hannah!”
For her part, Hannah was able to maintain a look of innocence as the others timidly plucked the offending items out, their faces bright red. “What? It wasn’t me! I mean, come on, it’s hilarious, but I never had the chance to, and you know it!”
Amanda had to turn away at the point. “Come on, girls, let’s go,” she urged, eager to get away so that they could all laugh properly. So Hannah was apparently the prankster of the group. God, could she be anymore perfect?
They were in the parking lot, all piling into the station wagon that Akko’s mom let them use when she heard her name being shouted, and she turned to see Hannah waving at her excitedly. Quirking a brow, she glanced at her friends who were watching her with curious eyes, and she realized she’d have to explain just who Hannah was now. But Akko grinned before making a shooing motion with her hands.
Shrugging, she jogged over to where the Luna Nova girls were standing around a big and very expensive looking SUV. “See?” Hannah was saying to the black-haired girl from the fair, “I told you I saw Amanda, Barbara.”
Barbara was watching her with narrowed, suspicious eyes, a residual blush still on her cheeks. “What a coincidence,” she muttered dryly.
Thankfully, three years in the drama club served Amanda well in this situation. “Hannah?” she asked, the picture of confused innocence. “What are you doing here? I thought you were in Blytonbury, what brings you out to our little town?”
Hannah grinned. “Oh, nothing much, just having a house party with an acquaintance who lives out this way,” she said, and for a moment, Amanda’s blood ran cold.
“Oh? Who’s that?”
“Frank Casterly,” she replied, and Amanda almost let out a sigh of relief. Oh, good, the Casterly family. They adamantly refused to get involved with her brother’s, ah, business, and were all of them fairly clean cut.
“Oh, that’s cool,” Amanda said, nonchalantly stuffing her hands into her pockets. Then a thought suddenly struck her. “Oh! Hey! What are you guys doing in a couple of weeks?” she asked, barely able to keep her excitement at bay.
“What, like, in the beginning of October?” Barbara asked.
“Yeah! See, our high school’s drama department puts on a haunted maze every year at the fairgrounds for a grade. We have a lot of fun doing it, and we’ve even been regularly rated as one of the scariest haunted mazes in the entire state!” she boasted, puffing out her chest proudly. “It’s the last year for a lot of us, and so we’re going to go all out this year! I figured, why not invite you and anyone you want to bring along?”
Barbara looked unsure. “I don’t know, it doesn’t seem like something that Diana would be too interested in...”
Hannah, however, looked really interested. “Oh, come on, you know how she keeps saying she doesn’t get scared at anything. Horror movies don’t even phase her. I wanna see how she reacts to something like this!”
Barbara sighed heavily. “Fine, if we must...”
“Awesome!” Hannah crowed with a victorious arm pump before she turned to Amanda with a wide grin. “We’ll be there! Send me the details in a text, and I’ll let you know when we’ll be coming.”
Oh, the lead up was too perfect to ignore. “With the items in your cart, that won’t be the only coming you’ll be doing,” she said with a racy grin, and Barbara and the others stared at her for a moment, not understanding...and then Barbara blinked, a look of outrage on her face.
“YOU!”
Amanda was still cackling after she made the short sprint to the station wagon, insults and threats hurled at her back. And even as her friends questioned her on how she knew one of the Luna Nova girls, her mind was racing, half formed plans whirling about.
Hannah was going to be coming to the haunted maze. They would have to go all out this year!
#hamanda#amanda o'neill#hannah england#lwa#Little Witch Academia#non-magical au#autumn#Fair Verse#another cute thing#why do i do this to myself#got a whole plot for this figured out#buckle in kids
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Salamander (Final Rose AU?)
“Look what I found, Summer mom!” Yang cried as she hurried over to Summer. “Look!”
Summer hung up the last piece of clothing on the clothesline and then turned. “What did you find?”
“This!” Yang eagerly held up the strange lizard-looking thing she’d found. “I found him on a rock near the creek.”
Summer frowned. “Near the creek? Did you go there on your own? You know some Grimm were spotted there last week.”
“It’s okay,” Yang insisted. “Dad went out there on the weekend while you were out on your mission. He took care of them all.” She held the lizard up. “He was glowing in the sun, mom.”
“Glowing?” Summer took a closer look at the creature. “I don’t think that’s a lizard, Yang.”
“It’s not?” Yang’s brows furrowed. “Then what is it?”
“Hmm…” Summer grinned. “Why don’t we take a picture and send it to the professor. I’m sure she can tell us.”
X X X
Summer was taken aback when rather than reply, Vanille arrived in person only a few hours later. She must have made the flight using one of her high-speed aircraft. “Uh… hi?”
“Please tell me that you still have that salamander,” Vanille said.
“Salamander?” Yang asked. “But it’s not a salamander. I know what those look like, and he’s definitely not one of those.” She showed Vanille the lizard-like creature. It had spent the past few hours sunning itself on the windowsill.
“It is a salamander,” Vanille replied. “Just not the kind you’re thinking of.” She peered closely at the creature and then pulled out a device to scan it. “You’ve probably heard legends about salamanders being related to fire, right?” Yang and Summer both nodded. “But real salamanders are actually amphibians.” Again both Summer and Yang nodded. “What you found, Yang, is another kind of salamander, the kind the myths are really based on.”
“What do you mean?”
Vanille donned some thick gloves and poked the lizard-like creature. “This is what I mean.” She gave the creature a much sharper poke, and it rounded on her. There was a flash of light, and then its whole body was engulfed in searing flames. The wooden windowsill instantly charred, and Vanille backed away until the creature’s flames subsided back into its body and it went back to sunning itself. “See?”
Yang’s eyes widened. “Awesome.”
X X X
Vanille stayed for the two days, studying the salamander intently and explaining things to Yang and the others. Apparently true salamanders were exceedingly rare. Nobody knew exactly what caused it, but every so often, a complex of recessive genes in aquatic salamanders activated, resulting in a true salamander, something that came across as more reptilian than amphibious.
Instead of living in water, a true salamander instead loved sunlight, heat, and warmth. Its body was essentially one gigantic battery for thermal energy. That was why Yang had found it basking on a rock. It was absorbing the heat from the sun and the rock. When forced to defend themselves, true salamanders could unleash the stored thermal energy in the form of flames.
“So how big can he get?” Yang asked.
“Actually, your true salamander is a female,” Vanille replied. “As for how big she can get, well, I’m not sure. True salamanders are exceedingly rare. There are less than a hundred known specimens in the world. However, they do get bigger as they get older. The largest known specimen is almost thirty feet long.”
“Cool.” Yang studied the true salamander that was currently sunning herself on another windowsill. “How do you get them that big?”
“Well, it’s seems to be about feeding them and giving them lots of exposure to thermal energy. In fact, you should probably get used to lighting the fireplace and just letting your true salamander nap in the flames.”
“Awesome.” Yang rubbed her hands together craftily. “I’m going to have the biggest true salamander ever.” She paused. “She’s not going to do anything mean when she gets bigger, right? Like… she’s not going to try to eat Zwei, will she?”
Vanille shook her head. “They’re pretty intelligent. If you can teach her that Zwei is part of the family, she should leave him alone. Besides, true salamanders prefer eating things like frogs, fish, rats, and other smaller prey.” She paused. “Well, until they get bigger. That big one I told you about eats cows.”
“Wow.”
X X X
Blake hissed at the… lizard perched on Yang’s bed. It was a good six feet long, and the air around it shimmered with heat. Nothing had caught fire yet, but neither she nor the lizard seemed happy to be sharing the same room.
The door opened, and Yang ambled in. “Hey, Blakey.”
Blake jabbed one finger at the lizard. “What is that?”
“That’s Sally.” Yang sat down on the bed, and the heat immediately receded. The creature padded forward and laid her head down on Yang’s lap, trilling happily. Yang reached into the bag she’d brought and held up a rat. The creature gave a rumble of happiness and gobbled the rat up. “She’s a true salamander.”
Blake blinked. A true salamander? She’d heard about those, but they were supposed to be exceedingly rare. In fact, there were many people who still doubted they were even real. “What?”
“Yeah, I found her when she was little. I’ve been taking care of her ever since. I wasn’t allowed to bring her to Beacon, but the professor managed to bend the rules for me since she wants to study her a bit more. For the next few months, Sally here will be bunking with us.”
“You want to keep a true salamander in our dorm room?”
“Well, not all the time. She gets on pretty well with Strangles, Diana’s snake, and she does have her own enclosure down in the professor’s lab. She’ll be staying there most of the time, but it’ll be nice to have her up here regularly too.” Yang scratched Sally under the chin. “She’s nice once you get to know her.”
“I see.” Blake eyed the true salamander warily. “Where did you even get that rat from?”
“Diana breeds rats, frogs, and other things that Strangles likes.” Yang rolled her eyes as she pulled another rat out of the bag. “She keeps some handy at the lab since Strangles spends a lot of time there. I got some rats from her.” Sally devoured the rat and then look around the room before deciding to settle on top of the heater that was currently running at full blast to counter the winter chill.
“Is she going to be okay up there?” Blake asked. The true salamander was sitting directly on the heating element. Blake would have been burned if she’d kept her hand there for longer than a second or two without Aura reinforcement.
“Don’t worry, she’ll be fine.”
As if to back up Yang’s words, Sally closed her eyes and dozed off.
Blake chuckled. The true salamander looked oddly adorable curled up on top of the big heater. “You should probably give Weiss a call. I’m not sure how she’ll react to Sally.”
X X X
“What is that?” Weiss wailed. “There’s a dinosaur on our heater!”
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The Legend of the Princess, Chapter Nineteen
The Two Princesses
In which Zelda greets the Zora princess Ruto, who finally arrives to the Hylian court in a gorgeous swirl of bright smiles and shining fins.
(Chapter Nineteen on AO3) (Story Tag on Tumblr) (Cover Illustration)
* * * * *
“You need to find the truth about my mother,” Ganondorf told her, and Link seemed to be thinking along the same lines. Zelda was more than a little annoyed with both of them for not simply telling her what she needed to know. Either the truth was too terrible to be spoken aloud, or neither of them really knew anything. Zelda regularly dealt with intrigue over the course of her daily administrative duties and didn’t have much patience for conspiracy theories, and she suspected the latter. Nevertheless, she knew exactly what the silver key Link had given her would unlock, and she had every intention of using it. Even with her considerable skill, however, it wouldn’t be easy to sneak into her father’s private study. Thankfully, she now had an ally at court.
Ruto had arrived late in the evening, her standard-bearers preceding her by mere hours. One of the many qualities Zelda admired about Ruto was her decisiveness; she seemed to feel a complete absence of guilt for doing whatever she wanted whenever she felt it was necessary to do it. If Ruto no longer felt the need to trouble herself over Jabun, then there was nothing stopping her from traveling to Hyrule, and she so did without wasting any additional time.
Zelda was struck giddy with the anticipation of seeing her dear friend in person again. She remained at court much later than usual as she awaited Ruto’s arrival, and she enjoyed herself to such an extent that Impa felt the need to appear at her side at occasional intervals to limit her alcohol consumption.
When Ruto finally made her appearance, she was beautiful and magnificent, her scales shining like the moon over the sea and her lithe form accentuated by a shimmering violet gown. She was not disheveled in the slightest from her journey across Hyrule, nor did she show any fatigue. She offered warm smiles and kind words to all the nobles and courtiers who approached her after her arrival was formally announced. When she was finally able to make her way to the king, she allowed Daphnes to sweep her up into a bear hug. All through the night she caught Zelda’s gaze and winked meaningfully, as if to say Look at me, I’m so good at this, I’m so good at being a princess, which had been a private joke between them when they were much younger.
Ruto’s company was in such high demand that Zelda realized she would have to use the privilege of her position to push her way to the front of the crowd. When she made her greeting to the visiting princess she couched it in such flowery language that Ruto could only listen to her for a minute before bursting into laughter. As the two princesses clasped arms and grinned at one another, a tuning note from the lead violin of the orchestra cut through the chatter of the gathering, and before Zelda knew what was happening Ruto had pulled her into the center of the floor. Zelda giggled as she allowed herself to be led in a dance, her skirts swirling alongside Ruto’s.
After the final notes of the orchestral prelude faded, other couples joined them on the floor, which Zelda interpreted as an opportunity to take Ruto by the crook of her arm and shepherd her to a secluded area. As they were walking with their arms linked toward one of the shaded corners behind the hall’s pillars, they were accosted by Darunia, who clasped his huge hands on their shoulders from behind.
“You two are a sight for sore eyes,” he proclaimed in his booming voice. “The court is getting more gorgeous by the day! My girl, your coronation is going to sparkle like nothing I’ve ever seen, and believe me, I know shiny,” he continued, slapping Zelda on the back. Zelda stumbled from the force of the blow, and Ruto caught her, grinning merrily all the while.
“Excuse me,” a small voice spoke up from just beside them. Zelda looked down and saw the most handsome child she’d ever encountered. He had silky autumn-gold hair and piercing green eyes to match, and he was clad in a long feathery tunic resembling interlocking leaves of various shades of umber and olive.
“I don’t believe we’ve ever met, Your Highness, but I am Makar,” the boy introduced himself.
Zelda blinked and experienced a moment of double sight. There was a boy standing beside her and offering his hand to be taken in greeting, but also something entirely different – a slim and willowy creature with mottled bark wearing a leaf as a mask cut with a pattern of triangles in an off-center approximation of a face. So this is a Korok, Zelda realized.
“The pleasure is all mine,” Zelda said, extending her fingers, and then the Korok’s twiggy branch was once again a plump and rosy-skinned Hylian hand. “You must forgive me for not seeking your acquaintance earlier, sir.”
The boy gave a good-natured laugh and shook Zelda’s hand in both of his. “I’m actually sexed as female,” he said. “We all are, but I prefer to take a male form. And you can call me Makar; it’s just as much of a name as it is a title.” He nodded at her and then turned to Ruto. “It’s an honor to meet you as well, Your Highness. I arrived this evening right behind you, just a moment ago.”
“Why didn’t you announce yourself properly?” Ruto asked, never one to hold back on bluntly inquiring after what she wanted to know.
Makar cocked his chin at Darunia, who was beaming down at him with a full set of teeth. “I didn’t want this big lug to know I was here yet,” he replied, answering Darunia’s wide smile with one of his own. Zelda was amused to note that there was a slight gap between his front teeth. It was charming, and Zelda appreciated how much effort must have put into the illusion he was maintaining for her benefit.
“I hope you brought your fiddle, little buddy, because I’m in the mood to dance tonight. Let’s take you over to Daphnes and show that old lion how to get this party started!”
“I think this is a good opportunity for us to leave,” Ruto whispered to Zelda. Without giving her time to excuse herself politely, Ruto grabbed Zelda’s hand and practically dragged her through the great hall.
By the time they were in the corridor outside they were practically running.
“I’ll race you, ninja girl,” Ruto challenged her, and then they were running, their feet moving so quickly that their heels barely made a sound.
Ruto led Zelda on a mad chase through the castle to the quarters assigned to the Zora dignitaries. There were two tall and muscular Zora guards stationed outside the suite with silver spears at the ready, and Ruto flirtatiously kissed both of them on their cheeks as Zelda paused to catch her breath. The guards shook their heads at Ruto’s brazenness and gave slight bows to Zelda as they opened the doors for the two women.
As soon as they were inside, Ruto kicked off her shoes and pulled her dress over her head without bothering to unlace it. The Zora didn’t usually bother with Hylian fashion, which they found cumbersome, and Ruto sighed with contentment as she unlatched the jewelry at her neck and wrists.
Zelda knew Ruto was headed straight for the large pool of water in the suite, so she began undressing as well. A Zora attendant appeared to help her out of her formal gown, while another collected Ruto’s cast-off finery from the floor where she’d left it laying.
“Don’t touch her hair,” Ruto ordered her attendants. “That’s my job.” She winked at Zelda. “Now let’s get wet. I feel so dehydrated… I could soak for days.”
Zelda allowed one of the Zora attendants to wrap her in a towel to preserve her modesty before she followed Ruto into the bathing chamber, and she only discarded it after she stepped into the warm water. She knew that the Zora generally cared nothing for Hylian nakedness, but she was still a bit embarrassed to be seen completely in the nude.
The pool, whose bottom extended into the castle’s basement, was fairly deep, and Zelda had to swim to join Ruto on one of the tiled lounging shelves extending from its sides.
“You swim like a frog,” Ruto teased.
“Yeah, well, you run like a fish,” Zelda shot back.
“You know what goes well with a good bath?” Ruto asked her. “Sparkling wine. And wouldn’t you know it, I see some heading this way right now.”
Zelda blushed fiercely and suppressed an urge to cover herself as a Zora groom approached them with a serving tray bearing two finely shaped glass vessels filled with fizzing pale liquid.
Ruto rose gracefully to the surface of the water and took both of them. “These glasses are Gerudo-made, you know,” she remarked as she passed one to Zelda. “Aren’t they beautiful?” she asked rhetorically before taking a sip.
At mention of the word “Gerudo,” Zelda blushed an even deeper shade of pink, and it gave her a secret thrill of pleasure to touch her lips to the rim of the glass. She knew she shouldn’t have more than just a taste, especially not this late at night, and especially not while soaking in such warm water, but the wine was heavenly, delicately flavored but not too sweet.
Meanwhile, Ruto had already finished her glass. She scooted over to sit next to Zelda.
“Let me play with your hair,” she commanded.
“Only if you tell me about Jabun,” Zelda countered, emboldened by the alcohol.
“Oh, I will. Girl, you are never going to hear the end of it if you get me started,” she said as she began unhooking the pins holding Zelda’s hair in a braided bun. “But if you know about Jabun, then you probably know a few other things too. I wonder… Just how much do you know? Before I tell you about Jabun, why don’t you tell me about Ganondorf?”
Zelda tensed at the mention of his name, and Ruto laughed. “Come on, friend, dish it. I know he’s had his eyes on you.”
Zelda drained her glass, and perhaps the alcohol had gone to her head, for her next words surprised her. “I don’t know what to make of him,” she said. “He’s like spiced wine, something that’s so delicious but so potent that it makes me leave this world just for an instant. He’s like an oasis in all the mundane nonsense of my life, a fountain with the moon inside, and I want to reach inside and touch it…”
Ruto raised her facial fins dramatically.
“Oh blessed Nayru, I don’t know what I’m saying,” Zelda apologized, laughing.
“I know exactly what you’re saying. You’ve got it bad, don’t you?” Ruto shook her head, still grinning as she continued to unpin Zelda’s hair. “Not that I can say I blame you. He’s a handsome one, all right, and he certainly has his charms. Unfortunately…” Ruto trailed off, and one of the corners of her mouth twitched before she continued. “I don’t think ‘charms’ are all he has. You know that boy is dangerous, right?”
“Trust me, I know. Better than anyone, probably,” Zelda leaned back into Ruto’s cool embrace. She could feel herself growing drowsy, but she still had things she needed to say while she had an opportunity to speak to Ruto in relative privacy. “That’s why I want to talk with you about Jabun, and also… There’s something I need you to do for me tomorrow night.”
( Link to Chapter Twenty: The Two Queens )
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Deep Trouble
[Here is a side story, set just after Chapter 43 of The Maker’s Ark, my current serial in progress. The start is here, and links to my other work here. The next update is planned for the week of April 16th.]
"Oh, it's no trouble," said Ambassador Wilson. "This requires no travel or formality; just conversation on a subject I find fascinating and an opportunity to witness something memorable from a safe distance. The diplomatic details are already taken care of and were not my problem for once." He and Sam were watching a placid Caribbean beach scene on the big screen in the off-duty lounge of the HQ ship of the EDU. Sam was glad for his company. He would have insights into whatever was about to happen. "All right," said Sam. "Then have some popcorn and fill me in. DASI said this would be an illustration of geopolitics that I might find educational as the human spokesperson for the Universal Proxy Partnership. I've been in over my head with that from the beginning." He sipped his tea. "Less so than many others in positions of power. I think you've done quite well so far. You don't have any illusions that most people think like you, and you have a firm grasp of the vast gulfs of misunderstanding possible between otherwise reasonable parties." Wilson gestured at the screen. "What is your perspective on why that Cook fellow is on the island?" "Money," said Sam. "He arranged for a drone strike on Black Swan, in an attempt to intimidate people away from meeting her in person. The EDU authorized targeted sanctions, so Black Swan made it selectively difficult for him to conduct business and transfer money remotely, among other things. A lot of his liquid assets ended up stuck there, even though that wasn't what he had intended, because that's where many of his banks and shell companies are based. The transfers in worked, but the transfers out didn't, so he flew in to try to correct that. Now his plane is having electronics problems." "Indeed," said Wilson. "But that amounts to saying he's there because Black Swan wants him to be. Any guesses why?" "System administration was my original specialty, so I don't have much of a clue beyond 'politics'." Wilson finished chewing his popcorn before continuing. "That, along with some quirks of international law and old compromises--and a bit of geography." Sam studied the building visible at the edge the beach. It looked like a luxurious vacation home, of the sort rented by the rich to relax close to their money. "I am pretty sure it has something to do with it not being US territory," she said. "I know the Cayman Islands are popular as a tax haven and off-shore banking spot. You think Black Swan is about to send them a message?" Wilson took another sip of tea. "That possibility has no doubt been worrying Mr. Cook since his plane troubles started. And worrying the local authorities as well. If the Cayman Islands become perceived as a dangerous place to keep money, their economy will suffer greatly. Which means the diplomatic reaction to what is actually about to happen will be muted." "But what--wait." Sam had noticed something odd in the water. "DASI?" she said. "Yes?" replied DASI. "Can you zoom in on those things in the water, offshore and to the left of center?" The image shifted and enlarged, becoming grainier in the process. The two objects were round and about the size of large coconuts, floating about six feet apart They were difficult to make out clearly because of the glare from reflected sunlight. They twitched suddenly, in unison, then were still again, except for the gentle bobbing of the waves. Sam's heart lurched. "Oh. Hell." She looked over at Wilson, then back to the screen. "Those are eyes, aren't they?" "Yes," he said. "I rather think they are."
"They... aren't moving," said Sam. "They're just watching." "For the moment. We seem to be a bit early," said Wilson, "While we wait, can I ask how much you know about the Deep Kingdoms?" "More than most people, but not really all that much. I picked up a bit while working on Sealord's deep com links. He needs special vid displays because his eyes see differently, even when he's shifted into his land form." "Ah," said Wilson. "I thought Doc built those." "He did some earlier ones, but then one broke while he was busy with a crisis, so I took over maintenance and updates for a while. Sealord seemed to like them. He's not nearly as creepy in person as the media portrays him--you just have to think of him as a squid with a temporary human body, instead of a human with a squid head." "Quite so. I can attest to Sealord's proficiency at diplomacy; his negotiation skills and facility with human language do give him a great deal of influence, but he is more like a speaker for a very loose tribal coalition than a monarch. That shows in how he shaped the Tokyo Compromise. Are you familiar with the history behind it?" Sam frowned. "I know it's an agreement that's held for a long time, between the Deep Kingdoms and several human countries, but primarily Japan. It's the reason giant sea monsters regularly attack Tokyo, but rarely bother other cities. It's kind of unfair to Japan, because it was originally an attempt to settle a dispute about the harm large-scale fishing was causing in the Deep Kingdoms, and China is doing much more of that now. But customs have grown up around it that mostly keep anyone from getting killed, and everyone is afraid things would get worse if they try to change it now." "An excellent summary. That is the essential motivation for maintaining many otherwise flawed international agreements, by the way; preventing incidents from escalating, a subject dear to my heart. In any case, the Tokyo Compromise was never intended to be a long-term solution; it was a stopgap arranged by Sealord and the Volunteer to address the Deep Kingdoms' grievances and stop the majority of the coastal attacks pending a formal treaty. Sealord insisted on a mechanism for informal expressions of displeasure, because he was concerned that commercial fishing interests would block any permanent settlement. And he was right; it's been more than fifty years, and no treaty was ever signed." He sipped his tea. "But the Tokyo Compromise did not cover pollution. If an oil spill seriously affects an ocean food web, the Deep Kingdoms can and have successfully demanded compensation in international courts. The offenders usually operate either oil tankers or offshore drilling rigs, and are anxious to avoid any retaliation." Wilson waved his free hand at the screen. "Which brings us to Mr. Cook. He and his brother own a number of petrochemical concerns that are notorious for oil spills, often ones that reach the Gulf of Mexico. But they have used dubious pretexts for ignoring international court rulings. The Deep Kingdoms don't have prisons for land dwellers and fines haven't been effective, so the Cook brothers are among the handful of humans that have been formally sentenced to death there." Another sip of tea. "Here is an interesting fact about Grand Cayman. It's right on the edge of the Cayman Trench, which is the deepest part of the Caribbean. And part of the Deep Kingdoms. The seafloor a few miles south of Grand Cayman slopes downward quite steeply; in some places, it's almost like dropping off a cliff." He smiled. "Or swimming up one, if you happen to be going the other direction." Sam stared at the huge eyes, which had just blinked again. "Is that thing really going to--" "Watch." ***** There was no warning; one moment Sam was about to ask another question, and in the next the view had shifted and she was watching a large crocodile stride ashore in apparent slow motion. It was wearing some kind of harness--was that a backpack?--and small creatures that looked like humanoid frogs scuttled beside it. But why was it moving so slowly? Oh. It wasn't slow. It was huge. The lack of a scale reference had fooled her. It was moving faster than a human could run, and the frog creatures--which were almost as big as humans--were falling behind. "DASI. Can we get audio?" "Privacy block," replied DASI. "There are locals inside that are not covered by the privacy removal sanction. But I can summarize: An alarm has sounded and there is a mixture of unjustified bravado and pointless arguments about the lack of heavier weapons among the guards. Ineffectual gunfire has begun from one upper window." The mammoth crocodilian reached the house, and the great snout swung left and right, smashing open the entire seaward wall. "Bravado and argument have ceased," said DASI. "Screaming has begun." The crocodile was now halfway inside the house--Sam doubted that its entire body would fit--and the frog creatures had caught up and were beginning to enter. "There are numerous injuries, but no fatalities. Gunfire has ceased. Sobbing and prayers have begun. Screaming continues." "That's enough, DASI," said Sam. "We get the idea." She frowned. "No fatalities? That's surprising." Wilson smiled. "Not if you understand the purpose. They are being quite careful, in order to--Ah, here we go." The crocodile had reemerged from the wreckage of the house, apparently uninjured, and began plodding back towards the sea at a more leisurely pace. The frog creatures flanked it on both sides. There was no visible change except... "That's a cage!" said Sam, waving at what she'd thought was a backpack. It had a window, and a human figure was pounding on it from the inside. "Indeed," said Wilson. "What are they going to do with him? You said the Deep Kingdoms don't have prisons." "They don't. They'll transport him to the edge of Deep Kingdoms territory, and then probably eat him. That is the traditional method." "Then why go to all that trouble? Why not just eat him in the house?" Sam watched as the crocodile and its assistants reached the water and disappeared back the way they had come. The last glimpse of the cage showed the human still flailing at the window. "Because if they killed him there, it would be assassination and arguably an act of war. A line would be crossed. This way it is an abduction of a non-citizen criminal who was an obvious flight risk, after refusal of a formal extradition request. A representative for the Deep Kingdoms did file a request this morning, which was turned down. So there is quite a bit of precedent." "That's kind of disturbing." "Yes. It does, however, show respect for established practice." Wilson set down his cup and met her eyes. "I'm sure the Cayman Islands will file a diplomatic protest. But they definitely won't start a war. I imagine you can appreciate the distinction, these days." Sam thought about her own status as a potential assassination target. "Yeah. I can." Wilson smiled sympathetically. "Welcome to international politics. Tea?" "I... Yes, thank you," she said. The sunlight glinted as brightly as ever on the water, as the waves began to smooth the disturbed sand.
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Fic Prompts: Folklore Friday
Long ago there lived a humble woodcutter at the edge of a forest. "Humble" in this context merely meaning that his life goals were primarily to have a steady job, a house of his own, and access to a village doctor who didn't charge exorbitant fees. The local noblemen tended to misinterpret that as a lack of ambition, considering such things were already readily available to them. (Those same noblemen would later wonder why so many of the peasants simply upped stakes and moved into the lands controlled by the neighboring Farmer King, which had a considerably more stable economy courtesy of the exasperated Grand Vizier, but this story is not about those noblemen, or the Farmer King, or poor old Vizier Eggwich, and we are getting off-topic.)
One day, the woodcutter had gone into the heart of the forest -- which was really shaped more like a spleen, to be honest -- to cut down some old, dead trees that were liable to fall at any moment. He had been at it for a few hours already, and his hands were getting very sweaty. And, as happens when one's hands turn into a slippery mess of blisters and calluses, his grip on the axe handle weakened. He was pretty lucky not to have injured himself, really, but he would almost have preferred that to the axe flying head over haft into the deep creek a few feet away.
The woodcutter was a decent swimmer, but you don't go cannonballing into strange bodies of water in a forest without making sure they aren't inhabited first. That's just common courtesy. And the last thing you'd want to do in a situation like that is crash feet-first onto some irritable kelpie's head or something. So the woodcutter stared at the place where his primary means of supporting himself had vanished, and sighed.
"Well," he said, "That's unfortunate."
"Say there," said a gurgly, froggy sort of a voice, "Why so glum, chum?"
I expect you already know this, but strangers calling you "chum" or "old sport" in the spleen heart of the forest are as likely to be Good Neighbors as anything else. The nymphs and dryads and the like tend to be a bit behind the times with their slang, but don't tell them that.
Sure enough, a very green and dripping wet person was now sitting on the bank, trying very hard to look innocent and endearing. And if you find a spindly figure with the complexion of a frog and a mouth full of very sharp teeth to be endearing, then she was doing a splendid job. She tossed her weedy hair over one shoulder, dislodging several very alarmed tadpoles, and blinked at the woodcutter.
“Well?” she asked, “What’s the sockdollager? You look like you’ve lost a game of cards with a snail. And he didn’t even have to cheat, which is just sad.”
“I’m...not really sure I understood that simile,” said the woodcutter, “But as it happens, I did just lose an axe. I would ask if it was alright for me to swim down and look for it, but frankly, seeing you, now I’m more worried that I might have clobbered someone with it.”
The water nymph shrugged and said that was just a hazard of living near populated areas. Someone regularly got stepped on by a deer or had goblins chucking rocks at their heads. You learned to live with it, or so she said.
“Yeah that’s fair, might not want to venture down just now, old sport,” she said easily, “But I’ll tell you what: how abouts I go look for it, and if I find it you can have it back without me telling anyone it might have clobbered. Just as long as you tell me the right one.”
Now, you or I would of course instantly suspect that this was A Trap. And frankly, the woodcutter knew it was A Trap too. He just didn’t have much other choice. The job market for peasants in the area wasn’t very good, after all. So he simply said that would be very kind of her and sat down on a rock as if to wait. Off splashed the nymph, who was gone for several minutes. Just as the woodcutter was beginning to wonder whether he ought to climb one of the trees in case she came back with a big, hungry kelpie or something of that nature, she returned.
“Hey hey, chum,” she gurgled, “Got your axe!” And she dropped a solid gold axe on the bank at his feet.
“A gold axe?” the wooductter squawked, “In this economy?!” Impracticality aside, the woodcutter could not fathom how the nymph had gotten this wrong. He gestured wordlessly to his tattered tunic, then waved at the offending instrument.
“So it’s not yours then?” the nymph asked pointedly, narrowing her eyes. (Which really just had the effect of bringing them down to about human-size eyes for the sake of intimidation, which is actually not at all healthy for freshwater nymphs and her doctor would probably scold her for it later, but that’s neither here nor there)
“It’s definitely not mine!” the woodcutter replied. Then, realizing he hadn’t described his axe at all, shrugged. “But that’s on me, I suppose, for not telling you what it looked like. It’s brown and a little rusty.”
A little annoyed at the failure of her standard “trick-the-greedy-human-and-eat-them” ploy, the nymph decided to try again. Gold was obviously too much of an exaggeration, and she had gotten a little too ambitious, clearly. The second time she came back, she was holding a rather nasty-looking thing that might have been an axe at one point. It was tarnished to the point of nearly being unrecognizable, and there was a great deal of pond scum along the handle.
“How about this one?” she asked.
Somewhat wary of the pond scum, the woodcutter poked at the axe with a stick -- one could never be too careful -- until he was reasonably satisfied that the blackened material along the blade was tarnish and not mud.
“Is this silver?” he asked incredulously.
“Was your axe silver?”
“No ma’am, not in the slightest!” The woodcutter edged away from the axe, and wondered if perhaps some enterprising werewolf-hunting individual wasn’t missing their primary means of defense by now. That was the only reason he could think of for anyone having an axe made of silver, after all, unless someone just really liked seeing their own reflection while chopping things to smithereens.
The nymph was getting frustrated wither her lack of success, and was pondering just giving up and going back to the creek bed to sulk. But these things always come in threes, you know, so she decided she’d try one last time to trick the woodcutter. This time she returned in only a few seconds with a rusty brown axe that she all but threw at the man.
“Here you go, egg,” she said, perhaps a little too laconically, “This time for sure!”
The woodcutter started to reach for the axe, recognizing that it was as rusty as he remembered, then stopped. The nymph looked altogether too pleased with herself and he was getting a Bad Feeling about those very sharp teeth. Sharp teeth bared in a smile does not always mean Hello, I am very pleased to see you today, how’s the family? Sometimes, sharp teeth bared in a smile mean, Haha, stupid human, I am almost certainly plotting your demise and I did not tell you the rules of this game on purpose. Or sometimes it just means You bother me, please go away, but this was not one of those kinds of smiles.
So naturally, the woodcutter took a closer look at the axe. The rust was almost right, and it was chipped and pitted a bit along the blade like his too, but there the similarities ended.. The metal peeking out from under the rusty bits was a little too bright. “What’s this one made of?” he asked.
“Your axe, shouldn’t you know?” the nymph sniffed, a watery sort of snort that conveyed both contempt and nasal congestion.
“Well,” the woodcutter mused, recognizing that he was on metaphorically thin ice, “My axe is rusty, has a wooden handle, and is made of iron. If this one is all of those things, it might be mine. But great heavens above, how many axes have you even got down there?!”
The nymph answered that he’d be surprised. She waited hopefully for a minute, watching to see if he’d take the steel axe she’d brought. Of course, she didn’t think he was actually foolish enough to not know his own axe when he saw it. She was just hoping he’d give her a wrong answer so she’d have an excuse to drag him into the creek. The River Mothers did tend to frown on just snatching people willy-nilly. That kind of thing got the wrong kind of attention these days. You had to have a reason if you were going to grab a human, and arbitrarily punishing some randomly perceived vice was just enough of an excuse to satisfy general inquiries.
But of course, the woodcutter knew his own axe, and even though the steel tool looked like a little bit of an upgrade from his own model, he wasn’t gullible enough to think it was being offered for free. So he kept well away from the edge of the bank -- which was, of course, just as much to keep out of reach of the increasingly irritated nymph -- and as politely as he could manage while being tired, frustrated, and very very suspicious, told the watery creature that this was not his axe either. At this point he was considering just trying to find some reasonably sharp rocks and some twine and a good stout stick to fashion a new axe. It had to be safer than this, and more affordable than refinancing his cottage to buy a new axe.
“Oh applesauce!” the nymph growled, and splashed back down into the creek with very poor grace. Three times asked and three times answered, that’s the rule. He’d told the truth three different times and she really didn’t have an excuse to eat him now. Of course, she didn’t have to bring back his actual axe, not if she didn’t want to, but tadpoles are tattle-tales, and sooner or later word would get to one of the River Mothers about this. It was probably better to just send the human on his way in the long run.
The woodcutter stood in the mud with that bewildering sensation of having escaped something by the skin of your teeth and wondered if the nymph would even be able to grab the axe, what with it being iron and all. Sure enough, when she exploded out of the water again, she was gripping the wooden handle between thumb and finger, grimacing horribly.
“Ewwww take it take it take it!” she shook the axe in his direction. “Take ‘em all and get out of here, would you, chum?” She was in a bad enough mood as it was, having failed to trick a human into being greedy and grabbing for the most valuable axes. Carrying around stinging iron, as you might imagine, did not do anything to improve her attitude. Neither did the welts it raised on her hands.
The nymph retreated to the water, submerging everything but the top of her head so that she could glare intimidatingly at the woodcutter, who just stared back.
“Okay, thanks for the axes,” he shrugged.
The money he got for the silver and gold axes in the village proved enough to pay off his mortgage and possibly a few of the noblemen’s taxes, but at that point the woodcutter had decided he was probably better off joining his previous neighbors and moving into the territory of the Farmer King. Apparently the Good Neighbors of that kingdom were more concerned with protecting humans’ businesses and homes from disaster in exchange for some annual fees than tricking them into strange games that probably ended in death. He decided he’d take his chances with them.
#let's be honest this isn't a fic prompt it's a whole short story#folklore friday#water nymph#she's kind of terrible i love her#fic prompts#writing prompts#fairytales#this is part of my NaNoWriMo collection#original stories#original work#totally did not mean to make a state farm reference at the end but i'm delighted it happened
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Basilisk Eyes: Chapter 8: Hedwig’s message
Crossposted: Basilisk Eyes by Hegemone | Completed: Chapter 8 out of 157 | T | AO3 | FFN | WATT | HPFF
Summary: As Harry Potter slays the Basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets, blood and venom get in his eyes, mostly blinding him. While Harry learns to adapt, he makes some new friends. But this is more than a story of adaptation and friendship as there are threats... and Harry isn't the only one with a past that haunts him.
oO0OooO0OooO0OooO0Oo
Harry awoke with a start to the sound of a scratching noise on his bedroom window. He opened his eyes to nothingness and noticed that his glasses were pressed uncomfortably across his forehead. He pulled them off, checking to see if they were broken, and then felt around for the bedside table for a place to put them.
The scratching noise came again and he remembered why he woke. He climbed out of bed, his hands following the edge of the table to the window frame, where he found the latch, undid it, and pulled up the window frame to let Hedwig inside. Cool night air brushed against his skin, pushing away the stale, heavy air of the room.
Hedwig hooted impatiently on the sill until he got it up high enough. Once she hopped inside, he felt around the outside of the window, confirming that the Dursleys had not replaced the bars on the window that had been yanked out by Fred, George, and Ron as they rescued Harry from his prison of a room in their father’s flying Ford Anglia the summer before.
He leaned out the window. Over the constant haze of traffic and the distant rumble of trains, crickets thrummed their songs, echoed by frogs in the not too distant park. More of the cool night air pushed past Harry and into his room. Hedwig made a soft growling noise and he ducked back into the room.
“Hiya, Hedwig,” Harry said as he smoothed her soft feathers where she was perched on the table by his bed.
His throat tightened; he was thankful for a companion. She thrust her head into his hand, begging for more caresses. After a bit, she started hopping around oddly.
“What are you doing, Hedwig?”
He felt down her body and found that she was sticking out her leg. He must have received a letter. He sighed heavily and untied the scroll from her leg. He unrolled it and ran his fingers over the small bit of parchment. He could feel the swell where ink had absorbed into the paper and knew that someone had written him a note, but he couldn’t decipher it.
“Do you know what it says, Hedwig?” he asked as he laid it down on the table next to his glasses.
She gave a gentle hoot, her claws scratching on the table. She seemed to be rooting around again.
“Are you looking for food, Hedwig?”
She bobbed in response.
“Sorry, girl. I don’t have anything. You’ll have to hunt.”
She hopped to the sill and, in a burst of flapping wings and claws scritching against the sill, was gone. His stomach rumbled in response.
He was going to have to sneak down to the kitchen to hunt for food himself. How many times had he done this? It dawned on him that he could easily navigate this house in the dark. The thought made a small flame of hope light in his core.
He knew it was night because the house was quiet (except for Vernon's snores) and he couldn’t see any lights at all, but he had no idea what time of night it was. He remembered something the Healer had said about his staff and walked over to where he’d left it by the door. His foot struck something metal that clanged loudly and he stumbled against the door, banging into it.
He froze as he listened, his heart beating wildly. Vernon was sure to wake up and come storming into the room. He heard the snoring stop and held his breath, waiting for the explosion. But then the snoring started up again, uneven at first, then more rhythmic. As he slid down the door, his hand found the cat flap that had been fitted on the door last summer. He reached out to find whatever it was he had crashed into.
Hedwig’s cage.
His things must have arrived while he was sleeping. He imagined that his trunk was locked in the cupboard under the stairs.
He sat for a while with his back against the door, making sure that Vernon was snoring regularly again, relieved that he didn’t have to face him just yet. He breathed in a lungful of the cool night air that was wafting in through his open window. He hoped Hedwig was finding a good meal (and that she’d eat it far away).
His stomach gurgled again and he rose carefully. He placed Hedwig’s cage in its normal spot on his dresser, patting around to make sure that there was nothing on top already. Then he walked more cautiously to the door again, hoping that nothing else had been thrust into his room while he slept.
He found the staff without making a racket this time and ran his hands over the carved surface. It was smooth and sturdy. Though he was inclined to despise it, he actually liked the feel of it—just the right height and surprisingly lightweight, and when he held it, it gave him the same spark of connection that he felt with his wand. Maybe it was like a wand? He wished he had been more aware when Healer Smethwyck had been explaining how to use it.
He tried to recall what the Healer had mentioned about the staff telling him the time.
He tried just asking it, “Staff, what time is it?” Nothing. Then he remembered Percy using his wand to find out the time and tried, “Tempus.”
A clear female voice sang out in lilting tones, “It is 1:52 am.”
He froze as the snoring stopped for a moment, then breathed again when it resumed. Tempted though he was to try other spells he knew he had to wait until he wouldn’t be overheard by the Dursleys. Afraid it might start talking again, Harry left the staff in the corner of his room by the door and eased open the door.
Harry poked his head out the door, listening for any disturbance in the snores. He took a few tentative steps toward the toilet holding his arms out in front of him until he found the hall wall. It took a moment of feeling the wall to find the door frame, but once he was in the toilet, the room was small enough and familiar enough that he could navigate around it pretty comfortably. After he used the toilet, he quietly washed his hands and listened at the door before making his way down the hallway to the stairs, trailing his knuckles on the wall.
His muscle memory kicked in and he avoided the squeaky floorboards without even thinking about it. Down the stairs, he followed the hallway wall toward the kitchen, his outstretched hand found the table in the hallway before he bumped into it, and he skirted around it.
He paused before the door and peered into the darkness, listening hard, hopeful that this wasn’t a night when Aunt Petunia was sitting up nursing a cup of tea in the middle of the night. On those occasions in the past, he’d see the sliver of light under the kitchen door and know that he needed to retreat. He blinked hard assuring himself that he couldn’t see any light and then gently pushed the door open.
He made his way to the kitchen counter, thankful for a spotless, clutter-free kitchen with everything in its place for once in his life. He knew what kind of food he had to take… food that would not be missed… a slice of bread with a smear of jam, a slice of cheese, a couple of biscuits. He devoured them while hovering in the kitchen. He tucked a small apple in his pocket for later. He had done this in the dark before and was quite adept at it.
He drank milk directly from the bottle to avoid having to wash a mug and relished the thought that it would drive Aunt Petunia mad if she knew. He ran his hands over the counter in search of stray crumbs that would give him away, capturing them in his palm, and went to the bin to throw them away. He paused, mindful of how it was prone to clang when opened, and then remembering the tossed leaflets.
Hermione’s voice was there in his head again, urging him to find those leaflets and squirrel them to his room to save them for when he could find someone he could trust to read them to him. He cringed at the thought, both of having to ask someone for help and imagining what might be in the bin and smeared all over the literature.
Hermione’s voice won out, though, and he carefully lifted the lid and held it so that it wouldn’t ring out. Awkwardly brushing off the crumbs, he reached in heedful of what he might find and was relieved that there wasn’t much in the bin and what was there wasn’t wet or gooey. He found the leaflets (three as he remembered) and the bit of parchment with the notes about his courses still tucked together. He also found another large piece of parchment that he imagined was the letter from Dumbledore. Wizard paper was so different from muggle paper. He tucked them all into the waistband of his jeans and went back upstairs stealthily.
Once he was back in his room with his door shut, he relaxed and pulled out the leaflets to hide them under the loose floorboard beneath his bed. He added the scroll that Hedwig had delivered to the papers and then leaned out the window to breathe in the cool night air, listening for his owl and enjoying the vision of the moon that must have moved out from behind clouds—indistinct though it was—against the expanse of the starless sky.
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Birthday Message
Wow, this has got to be the shortest thing I’ve written in a long time. I said I’d write something short, and I did! Huzzah! I got the idea from @otp-fanfic-ideas, so check out their blog if you want some cool ideas! I’ll reblog the one I used, shall I?
UsUk fanfic, 2,398 words.
It’s Alfred’s birthday today! Send him a birthday wish to let him know you’re thinking of him!
Yes, Arthur knew it was Alfred’s birthday. He didn’t need a Facebook notification to tell him that it was his crush’s birthday.
Furthermore, Arthur was always thinking of Alfred. Well, not always. That would be creepy and obsessive. Just enough times during the day to confirm that he did indeed have a crush on Alfred.
If he let Alfred know he was thinking of him, Alfred would know he had a huge-ass crush on him.
But Arthur needed to send him a birthday wish. Alfred was the type of guy who regularly updated his Facebook status, tagged people (mostly Arthur and Matthew) in stuff, posted pictures, the like. He’d consider the lack of a Facebook birthday message an insult.
So Arthur had to send him a birthday message.
The only thing was, he didn’t know how. Not literally; he knew what he had to do to post it, he just didn’t know what to write. Usually he just wrote a quick ‘Happy birthday, Alfred!’ and accompanied it with a picture of his favourite superhero or something, but he couldn’t do that on Alfred’s sixteenth! The sixteenth was special, and so the message had to be special!
Plus, there was the fact that Alfred had sent that birthday message that made his heart flutter and made him fall deeper in love.
Happy birthday, Artie! Sixteen now, bro! Just wanted to say that you’re a hella awesome friend and if I didn’t have you in my life it would be duller ‘cause I wouldn’t have your shining sarcasm to brighten it up! Not to mention your intelligence and sharp wit and all that stuff. Also, your writing abilities are mega-awesome and you’ve got the best imagination I’ve ever seen! So, y’know. Have a hella awesome birthday, and I’m really glad you’re my friend!!
Arthur could not send a simple ‘Happy birthday!’.
His fingers hovered over the keyboard, itching to type what he really wanted to say. He really wanted to tell Alfred what a brilliant person he was; tell him just how seeing his dazzling smile made Arthur’s day better; tell him how his laugh was wonderfully infectious, if loud and obnoxious; tell him about how addictive his shining optimism and hyperactivity were; tell him how his outrageous ideas were simply testament to how much of a genius he was; tell him that he was amazing in every sense of the word.
But that would be the same as typing ‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY ALFRED DID YOU KNOW I HAVE A MASSIVE CRUSH ON YOU?’.
So, no.
Sighing in frustration, he procrastinated by finding a good picture of Captain America that he could edit into a Happy Birthday e-card, and then once he found one he procrastinated even more by editing it. And this involved finding a suitable background, painstakingly cutting out the image of Steve Rogers, choosing the right colours and the right font, laying it out correctly, all of which took him an hour to do in total.
An hour later he had a perfect e-card, but no message.
Look, just write something which sounds like something you’d say!
Yeah, but do I use real me or hiding-a-crush me?
Use hiding-a-crush you, for God’s sake! Unless you want to tell him how you feel, which I REALLY don’t recommend. He’s gay, but not gay for you.
Shut up, I don’t need you to remind me!
Scowling, Arthur went back onto Facebook. Conversations with himself surrounding his crush always ended like that, with himself reminding him that he had no chance with Alfred. The boy was cheery, optimistic, sunny, dazzling. Why on Earth would he ever want to burden himself down with Arthur’s cynicism, pessimism, sarcasm, and bluntness? Being Alfred’s love was only a fantasy. A shining, brilliant fantasy.
After debating for about five minutes on what to write, he finally typed in something, uploaded his e-card, and hit send.
Arthur Kirkland > Alfred Foster Jones Happy birthday, wanker. Now you’re sixteen years closer to death.
Satisfied, he switched off his laptop and began messing around on his phone, listening to music and scrolling through Tumblr and whatnot, his mind on other things. In a few hours he’d be going to Alfred’s and the two would be going to the ice-skating rink for his party, along with a few of their other friends who they’d meet there. He couldn’t wait to go to Alfred’s house, to sit with him on the bus, to skate with him, to have Alfred hold his hands as he taught Arthur how to skate, to fall into Alfred’s arms when he would end up tripping...
His notification tone rang out, effectively snapping him out of his wonderful daydream. Irritated, he checked his messages, and scoffed. Turned out it was Francis who’d texted him. Francis was his best friend, but he still didn’t approve of being texted by him when he was in the middle of imagining how Alfred’s strong arms would feel around him.
-Arthur what kind of birthday message was THAT
Arthur stared in confusion before he remembered that everyone could see his birthday message, not just Alfred.
-A fine one. Why do you ask?
-Arthur that was anything but fine you have a CRUSH on this boy why are you like this
Arthur scowled. A few months ago (on Arthur’s birthday, incidentally), Francis had figured out the object of Arthur’s affections when he’d caught sight of Arthur smiling and blushing uncontrollably in response to Alfred’s birthday message, and now he’d taken it upon himself to be his Romantic Advisor. His ‘advice’, however, always seemed to be along the lines of ‘hint until he figures it out’.
-Well, I’m not exactly going to give him a sappy message, am I? He’ll KNOW I like him if I do that!
-Mon DIEU Arthur! You’ll scare him off at this rate!
-Pfft, Alfred knows I wish him well. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have stayed my friend all these years, would he? Honestly, I think sending a heartfelt message would scare him more.
-You are hopeless
Another notification tone rang out, and Arthur pulled down the drop-down menu to read it.
Alfred Foster Jones commented on your picture.
His birthday message popped up, and Arthur felt a little nervous as he scrolled to see what Alfred had said. Despite his words to Francis, there was still the small chance Alfred might take offence, especially considering the sweet birthday message he’d given Arthur.
Alfred Foster Jones Haha love ya too british bastard 😂
Arthur let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, and grinned like an idiot. Alfred hadn’t taken offence, and had even realised that he held him close to his heart.
He’d even said ‘love ya too’.
Arthur hid his face in his hands and did his best to refrain from gleefully jumping up and down, knowing he’d get all four of his brothers coming into his room and being nosy if he did so. So he contented himself with reading the comment over and over again (concentrating especially on the ‘love ya too’ part).
About five minutes later, Arthur’s notification tone rang out again, alerting him to a text that turned out to be from Alfred.
-Dude?
-You there?
Arthur hastened to respond. He didn’t much mind texts from Alfred.
-Yes, why?
The next text made his breath hitch and eyes go wide.
-Francis kinda told me you like me
Arthur felt himself burn with both anger and embarrassment. On the first day Francis had brought up his knowledge of Arthur’s crush Arthur had very explicitly told him not to tell Alfred. And what had the fucker done? God, Alfred probably thought him some sort of weirdo freak now. He wouldn’t want Arthur round at his house anymore, he would probably act awkward and uncomfortable around him now, they’d grow apart instead of closer –
-Wait wait wait dont go and chew francis out!!
Arthur scowled – that was exactly what he’d been planning on doing.
-Why ever should I not? The bastard frog’s embarrassed me.
-Cause youre gonna thank him!
He blinked, and furrowed his eyebrows. Was Alfred saying... What Arthur thought he was saying? Or was Arthur reading too far into it?
-What a ludicrous notion.
-Nah nah nah, its not ludicrous at all!
-Cause, er...
Arthur waited, his heart in his mouth. There was no way – Alfred couldn’t –
-I kinda like you too, Artie.
Alfred could.
Arthur’s eyes widened and a giddy, deliriously happy feeling took hold of him, making his heart beat a million times a minute and making him feel like he was soaring high above the world. He stared at the message until it was ingrained into his memory, not quite believing his luck.
Alfred liked him back.
Alfred liked him back.
These two years of desperately wanting Alfred to be his wasn’t for nothing, because Alfred liked him back.
-Artie?? You stil there??
-Yes.
The amount of restraint it took to not keyboard-smash an excited response was quite frankly astounding.
-So?
-Whaddaya say?
-*’What do [I] say’ to what?
-Pfft, grammar nerd 😝
-Anyway, WHADDAYA say to me asking you out?
Oh God.
Was Alfred trying to make him spontaneously combust with joy?
If he’d needed self-restraint before, he needed ten times the amount now. For God’s sake, Alfred had just asked Arthur out! Day after day Arthur had constructed scenarios in which they confessed to each other, but not once had it crossed his mind that it may actually have ended up happening.
Act cool, Arthur. Don’t freak him out.
-I say that’s a wonderful idea, and I’m inclined to respond with a ‘yes’.
Not two seconds later Alfred called him, and Arthur pressed ‘Accept’ only to be met with Alfred’s loud American voice screaming down the phone.
“OHMIGOD WE’RE DATING ARTIE WE’RE DATING HOLY SHIT YOU’RE MY BOYFRIEND OHMIGOD OHMIGOD OHMIGOD!”
Arthur could practically hear the wide smile stretched across Alfred’s face. What he wouldn’t give to see it...
“How long have you liked me?” Alfred asked excitedly. “It’s been ten months for me, ever since we went to Alton Towers together.”
“Tch, amateur,” Arthur said, although Alfred’s words made his heart go aflutter. Ten months. For ten months Alfred had liked him. However small a time that was compared to how long Arthur had been yearning for Alfred, it still made him smile uncontrollably. “Try two years.”
“Two years?!” He exclaimed. “How the heck did you survive?! I was going crazy with ten months!”
“You learn a few tricks, I guess. Namely, just act how you acted before developing the attraction.” God, Arthur didn’t know how he was keeping himself so calm when all he wanted to do was jump around with joy.
“I think it’s a good thing that I couldn’t hide it well, though,” Alfred mused.
“How come?”
“Well, Francis found me out. That’s why he told me that you like me, ‘cause he knew about five months ago that I like you. Oh, he also told me to tell you that the only reason he told me that you like me is because – er, what was it – oh, because you weren’t ever going to get the ball rolling, so he had to... Or something.”
It was surprising that Arthur even understood that.
He laughed, not having the will to be irritated at Francis anymore. The bloke had literally just gotten Arthur and Alfred to date – being annoyed at him would be criminal.
“Thank God you wear your heart on your sleeve, hm? I didn’t know how much longer I could take it,” Arthur said. Then, a thought suddenly struck him. “Oh, and I actually do wish you a happy birthday, by the way! I just... I wanted to give you a special message like you did for me, but I didn’t know how to go about it without revealing anything.”
“Oh yeah, that!” Alfred laughed in his wonderful way on the other side of the phone. “I knew you meant well, dude! And it was kinda cute.”
Arthur knew his face was beet red by this point, and he muttered, “Sh-shut up, it wasn’t cute.”
“Pfft, yeah it was! Anyway,” he said before Arthur could protest, “seeing as how we’re now boyfriend and boyfriend, do – d’ya wanna come round to mine now instead of later? If you’ve got other things to do that’s totally fine of course, I just wondered if-“
“Alfred,” Arthur interrupted, grinning. Alfred was a confident bloke, but it seemed that romantic stuff could turn him into a nervous wreck. Now that’s cute.
“I’d love to, Alfred.”
“C-cool!” He could sense that Alfred was relieved. “So, heh, I guess I’ll see you soon?”
“See you,” Arthur said, then hung up, grinning like a lovesick dork at his phone. And then he finally let it all out – all the excitement and euphoria and giddiness just burst out of him as he rolled off his bed and jumped and squealed all over his room, not caring when his brothers came barging in and saw him bouncing up and down like a hyperactive jack-in-the-box.
Alfred was his boyfriend.
His BOYFRIEND.
“What the hell’s gotten into you?” one of his brothers asked, looking truly confused.
“Alfred’s my boyfriend and I’m off to his house so if you don’t mind please get out I need to change, thanks!” Arthur shoved them out and began getting himself ready to go to Alfred’s, the ecstatic feeling not lessening in the slightest.
Ten minutes later he was zipping up his boots when his phone buzzed with a text from Francis.
-So are you going to change your Facebook relationship status yet?
-Alfie has
Arthur couldn’t scowl at Francis meddling in his love life, not after what he’d done.
-I suppose I’ll do it, then. ...Thanks, by the way.
-Always happy to help the romantically-inept 😘
He just knew that Francis was chuckling behind his phone, and so was Arthur. But Francis was right – he should update his relationship status. Alfred was a social media addict, even if Arthur wasn’t.
Arthur Kirkland went from being single to being in a relationship with Alfred Foster Jones.
Less than a minute later his phone buzzed again, this time with a Facebook notification.
Alfred Foster Jones And I couldn't be happier!! 😆
Arthur smiled.
#aph usuk#UsUk#Fluff#Oneshot#My fanfic#gakuen hetalia#I guess#what else do i tag#i honestly have no idea#Cute#Fanfiction
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So You Wanna Be a MadPi? 🐒
But you don’t know where to start. Never fear for I, Lily, am here to be your guide.
So here’s a quick rundown of Madtown, my favorite village idiots:
They debuted on October 6, 2014. They are actual idiots but so ridiculously talented. They compose and produce most of their songs and lyrics and are very hands on when it comes to their performances.
So who’s who? Left to right, it’s: Lee Geon, Heojun, Moos, Buffy, Jota, H.O, and Daewon.
Moos (real name: Kim Sangbae, aka SangBAE cuz he is 100% bf material) is their tiny leader and main rapper (fun fact: he’s an awesome professional DJ). He may be the smallest of the group, but he is feisty af with killer eyebrows (and he kinda looks like GD). He and Buffy (see below) debuted in 2013 as rap duo Pro-C and they still release songs under the subunit.
Daewon (real name: Park Daewon, aka Sunshine Hyung cuz he is literal sunshine) is their main dancer (fun fact: he choreographs ALL of their dances) and sub-vocalist. He lives by the motto “Talk shit, get hit” because he is always getting hit. He’s the proud owner of two precious Corgis (Haunie and Baunie) and a chip bag collection (don’t ask why cuz idk). Also, his smile is brighter than 1000 suns and honestly, what more could you need in life?
Lee Geon (real name: Lee Kyungtak, aka Frog Prince cuz he is deathly afraid of frogs) is the main vocalist of the group and honestly, his voice is too good for this world. He and Daewon are known as the Walnut Line because they are from the same hometown, Cheonan, and they were childhood best friends! He posts vocal covers on their YouTube channel and trust me, they are amazing. He looks soft, but he is not. Geonnie is sassy af and takes zero shit.
Next up is Jota (real name: Lee Jonghwa) and he’s a lead vocalist, sub-rapper, and head of acrobatics. This Busan boy and Taeyang look alike is the group’s resident sinnamon roll, rising variety tv star (he was on WGM with model JinKyung and istg I ship them so hard), and personal chef (fun fact: he loves to cook and always tries to make dinner for the boys whenever he can).
Then there’s Heojun (real name: Heo Jun), resident diva and self-proclaimed visual (fun fact: he’s the tallest in the group at 6′0″/183 cm). Besides giving the members (read: Daewon) crap and reminding you how perfect he is (have you seen those cheekbones fam?), he’s plays the piano, co-composes, and co-choreographs.
Now there’s Buffy (real name: Kim Juhyeon, aka RUDE MF Buf), the lead rapper of the group. He’s also the group’s main producer and writes most of their lyrics. If you ever want to find Buf in the group, look for the guy with sky high cheekbones that’s off to the side doing something weird. Trust me. You’ll know it’s him. He’s fluent in Japanese and actually taught the members most of the Japanese they know (fun fact: people thought he was a foreigner because of his fluency and looks, but he’s 100% Seoul bred and raised).
Finally, we have H.O (real name: Song Jaeho, Meme Puppy), who’s the lead vocalist, lead dancer, and maknae (fun fact: Buf’s older than him by three days) of the group. He’s loud, funny, wild, silly, precious, and mischievous (see: infamous v app “pants drop”). He’s also a living, breathing meme (hence his nickname).
NOW TO THEIR SONGS!
youtube
This was the first song that I heard by them and I was immediately snatched. I can listen to it for hours on end and never get tired of it. The MV shows their personalities so well and it had me laughing and smiling the entire time until Buf came on screen and wrecked me.
youtube
^This was the title track off their 3rd mini album Emotion, which was released in June. Look, I’m seriously so in love with this song. It’s such a 180 from their usual style, but it really shows just how much they’ve grown musically and I’m just so ridiculously proud of them for it.
youtube
This vid is my fave live stage of it. It’s just so good. And then there’s the part switch version, which is absolute perfection and amazing and hilarious. It really showcases just how close they are with each other because they absolutely NAIL each other’s mannerisms (see: Lee Geon playing Heojun and blinking incessantly like Junnie does). Oh and did I mention that both Buf (who has adamantly claimed he can’t sing) and Moosie sing in this vid? Cuz they do. (I’m still shook over it tbh.)
And did I mention they are basically ALL dance line???? Because they are.
youtube
This dance practice (and entire v live, tbh) is high quality content. This particular cut is of them practicing their debut song. It’s absolutely hilarious and shows you that they are all just super goofy overgrown children. And even though they’re being wild and crazy, they are still soooooo in sync with each other and you can see just how much fun they have together.
So now that you know the members and a few of their songs, you’re probably wondering how in the world you can get to know them better! Well, luckily for you, there’s:
Their official FanCafé (Definitely join it cuz they post regularly! I can help you level up!)
Their official Twitter
Their official Instagram
Their official V Live Channel
Their personal Instagram accounts–Moos, Daewon, Buffy, H.O
Buffy’s SoundCloud
Daewon’s YouTube Channel
If you want to to know more about each member’s personality and such, you can check out this post and this one too! Of course, you can always shoot me an ask & I’ll happily tell you more than you probably wanted to know o o p s !
Stan talent. Stan underrated groups. Stan Madtown.
–Lily 💋
#madtown#매드타운#madtown moos#madtown daewon#madtown leegeon#madtown jota#madtown heojun#madtown buffy#madtown h.o#kim samgbae#park daewon#lee kyungtak#lee jonghwa#kim juhyeon#song jaeho#heo jun
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Strange Magic Week 2017: “Trading Secrets” (Fake Exes”
omggggggggggggggg today’s prompt is haaaaard!! I don’t generally like the premise but wanted to give it a shot anyway and aaaaargh.
Marianne was practically vibrating with excitement. She couldn't keep her wings still, and her feet kept wanting to tap or dance. She settled for wringing her hands, fingers entwined.
At last. Letters exchanged, and gifts sent back and forth, and here they were, at the mouth of the Bog King's castle. The animal skull in front was suitably intimidating, but not enough to turn Marianne off. She was finally here! The Bog King had even sent a motley group of goblins to escort them, which was so kind of him. And now she was finally in the Dark Forest, not sneaking around in it.
She thought back to that day when she had left Dawn in the elf village to go exploring on her own. The primroses had been in full bloom; the Bog King hadn't ordered them cut down regularly at the time. No one had been around, so she decided to just sneak past the border and into the Dark Forest.
Her memory of the Dark Forest itself was fuzzy now, but she remembered peeking out from behind a tree trunk, watching a tall goblin propose to another: an insect-like goblin, speaking earnestly to a frog-like goblin. The frog goblin had screamed and fled, leaving the insect goblin still on his knees, slumping over in despair.
Marianne had gasped, then slapped her hand over mouth. But he had clearly heard her, turning to the sound, and she remembered his startling blue eyes, filling with tears, his roar echoing as he rushed at her, and her own voice babbling an apology.
He had gripped the front of her tunic, lifting her up to his face, and she'd let him, too scared to do anything else. For a long moment, he stared at her, like he didn't know what to do in that moment.
"I'm really sorry," she'd finally said, sad for him. "It's clear you really loved her."
His entire expression relaxed from the rage, settling into its former sadness. "Yes," he'd said, his voice low and gravelly. "I suppose some creatures are too hideous to love."
"You're not hideous," she'd replied immediately. "I think you look really cool."
He had stared at her for a while longer, as if trying to decode her words, find the lie behind them. Then he lowered her to the ground. "You don't belong this side of the border, child," he'd said gruffly. "Fly back from where you came from."
She'd tried to go back since, but the primrose border was guarded by less-than-friendly goblins after that.
Now, maybe she could find the tall goblin again. She hoped he'd found happiness. She couldn't really remember what he looked like anymore, but she remembered those sad eyes.
"The Bog King is glad to welcome the Fairy Kingdom's court," a small goblin proudly proclaimed.
Marianne did her best to not squeal in response. King Dagda had a more dignified answer. "The Fairy Kingdom is glad for his welcome."
The throneroom was dimly lit, sunshine streaming down a skylight high above their heads. The Bog King leaned back on his throne, cast in shadows.
He did look familiar, though, in a vague way.
"King Dagda and his daughter, the Princess Marianne, here to see you, Sire!" The small goblin was practically quivering, though Marianne wasn't sure why.
"Bog," King Dagda said with a measure of reserve. "It's been years."
"Dagda!" a high-pitched voice seemed to creak from behind them. "Why, it's been years!"
"Griselda," Dagda replied, his tone much warmer as he turned towards the squat goblin stumping towards the throne. "We have much to catch up on."
"And is this your little girl? She's so grown!" Griselda leaned forward to whisper conspiratorally at Dagda. "She married yet?"
Dagda laughed.
"Bog, stop trying to look menacing in the shadows!" Griselda said as she took her place by the throne.
The Bog King sighed, a long-suffering sigh that Marianne recognized one sighed in the face of a nagging but much beloved parent. He sat up and leaned forward. As his face came into the light, the vaguely familiar became definitely familiar and she sucked in a deep breath.
His own eyes--bright shocking blue, that sky blue she remembered so well--widened in recognition. "You."
"Oh, you've met my daughter?" Dagda asked, his voice inflected with surprise and pleasure.
"Bog!" Queen Mother Griselda exclaimed. "Why didn't you tell me you'd met such a nice girl!"
"I, uhm..." Bog blinked, frantically trying to think of an answer that wouldn't have his mother breathing down his neck.
"It was a while back," Marianne blurted.
"How did you meet?" Dagda asked, curious now.
Marianne glanced at Bog, whose eyes were wild and helpless. She knew the Bog King's secret of why he'd banned love, shut down the borders, imprisoned the Sugar Plum Fairy. It was so clear now! Why didn't she think about it sooner? But that was a secret. Which he desperately wanted to keep away from prying eyes.
"I, uh, was messing around the primrose border, uhm, training, and he happened to be there." She mentally slapped herself for that. She hadn't even picked up a sword until recently, right after ditching Roland.
He released his breath slowly. She was going to keep his secret. When Dagda raised an eyebrow, Bog nodded. "Yes. Good form. We sparred a few times."
"And you didn't invite her over?" Griselda sighed in exasperation.
"I always wondered where you learned to fight from," Dagda mused. "I'm glad you learned from a master, though, and not on your own. You could have really hurt yourself that way."
"Her Highness had a natural talent," Bog said, the lie flowing out smooth as honey. He could be gracious. He didn't really want to threaten to clap her in chains.
"His Majesty was a very competent teacher," Marianne responded, a slow smile on her lips as they sank into the realization that they were in this together.
"But no romance?"
"Mother."
"It wouldn't have worked out," Marianne blurted.
"Not with this face," Bog sneered, but a flash of honest pain passed through his expression.
"There's nothing wrong with your face," Marianne said firmly. "It's just, we're from different worlds. And, well, we were practically strangers."
"I didn't even know her real name," Bog muttered loudly to Griselda.
"Yes, you did." Marianne pouted at him.
"Yes, I did," he amended, to play along. He had nothing against her, and he didn't want to push her too much in case she decided not to keep his secret.
"Well, now you know!" Griselda said in glee. "And now you can get to know each other even better."
Before she understood what was happening, Marianne found herself and her father ushered into a cosy dining room.
"It doesn't sound like you to just visit once, Marianne," her father was saying, and she cursed beneath her breath. Because he was right; if she'd gone more recently, she would have returned, over and over. But she'd only gone as a child, and had been too scared to return. "Knowing you, you'd have gone back again and again, especially if you had a friend to keep you company."
"I sort of did," Marianne said, lathering on a dip onto a slice of a nut as thickly as she was lying. "The closed border made it complicated."
Bog shrugged. "It's the only way to keep greedy hands from getting at the primroses."
"I had broken up with my fiance at the time, I wouldn't have wanted them," she shot back.
"That's not reassuring at all." He drew his lips into a thin line.
"Who'd want that stupid potion anyway," she muttered beneath her breath.
He growled. She knew who. "I'd think someone who wanted to win a fiance back would."
Marianne glared at him across the table. "This is why we broke up," she said flatly. It was a total escalation of the lie but she didn't care anymore.
"Oh, pardon me, I thought it was because you were taking so long to get over your rotten ex." He rolled his eyes dramatically.
She drew back, stung, then snapped, "well, someone kept jumping to the worst conclusions all the time!"
They engaged in an intense glaring contest, and both were determined to win.
As they did, they were both wondering why they were having so much fun.
The glaring contest was broken when Griselda burst into laughter. "Aw, you kids! Ya just need to learn how to kiss and make up!"
"What?" Marianne blinked.
"Mom, no." Bog cringed, utterly chagrined at how this was turning out.
Marianne turned to find her dad staring at her in utter surprise. She blushed right up to her hairline. This was going to be such an awkward conversation later.
To salvage the moment, King Dagda said, "why don't we go over the trade agreements for the summer markets, Bog?"
The Bog King nodded curtly.
By the time they had arrived at an accord on trade, Marianne found herself relaxing. It was going to be okay. They had pretended to be dating, and then had a weird breakup, and they were being professional about it. They could be adults about this.
The Bog King--he really was the Bog King, the goblin she had met all those years ago--was combative and aggravating, but she didn't feel intimidated by him at all. To the contrary, she found herself feeling more free to be aggressive right back at him. And when her dad tried to intervene, she could say, "it's okay, Dad, I know him." And the Bog King would play along, usually with some sort of irritating riposte.
Maybe her eyes were playing tricks on her, but she thought she saw him smile, or smirk, every so often there would be a crinkle around his eyes, like he took pleasure in the in-joke between them.
When Griselda suggested that "the young people" leave the castle to take a proper look around, King Dagda agreed; the Bog King's father had done the same for him in the past, apparently. "You'll like it," he said, smiling at Marianne. "I know you probably don't want to be around him right now, but do it for me, Marianne."
She rolled her eyes dramatically, and Bog--she wasn't sure when he had become just Bog to her over the afternoon--had mockingly bowed to gallantly let her pass.
As soon as they were out of earshot of the castle, he said quietly, "thank you." She turned to him, eyes wide. "Oh... you're welcome."
"You didn't have to."
"No, I know, it's..." she hesitated. "Something similar happened to me recently." She hung her head. "And no one knows, either."
"I... heard something about that."
She quirked up a corner of her mouth. "Trade a secret for a secret?"
His blue eyes turned thoughtful, and he nodded. "Cross my heart."
"My fiance, I caught him cheating on me the day of our wedding."
Bog grimaced. "That's... that's awful." He shook his head.
"So... yeah."
"I'm... I'm sorry if anything I said earlier... you know." He scratched his neck, uncomfortable as he racked his brain for any careless thing he might have said.
"It's fine," she sighed.
They walked in silence for a few moments. She wasn't sure where they were going, but it was nice.
"It was actually kind of fun," she admitted.
He smiled ruefully. "We can find something else to fight about during tomorrow's border talks, if you like."
She grinned. "Why don't we have a real fight? I've never fought someone with a staff before."
"Tough Girl, you don't know what you're asking." He touched the side of his nose. "I know the perfect place for a good spar."
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Stan-at-Home - Chapter 1: Welcome to San Diego
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 AO3
So, I wasn’t originally going to post this until after I graduate this Saturday, but it’s my birfday today and I wanted to give myself a bit of a present. So. Here is the first installment of my Stay-at-Home Stan AU multichap. In this AU, Ford calls up Stan in 1982 for his help, only to be told that Stan can’t come to Gravity Falls. Ford goes to meet Stan in San Diego, and finds out that his wild twin has settled down. There’s a lot of fluff, angst, and cute family moments that are gonna be stuffed into these six long chapters, and I am very excited. Anyways, I’ll stop rambling. Enjoy~
Ford checked the address.
Yes, this is Farley Street. He began to walk down the street, squinting at the numbers on the well-kept houses. This doesn’t seem like Stanley’s kind of neighborhood. He thought back to the conversation he’d had with his mother the week before.
“Yes, I have Stanley’s phone number,” his mom said. “I also have his address, if you wanna go talk to him face-to-face.”
“No, the phone number will suffice,” Ford said quickly.
“When you talk to him, tell him I’ve been waiting for that birthday call for months.”
“Your birthday isn’t until March.”
“Like Stan knows that.”
Ford came to a stop outside a tan craftsman-style home. He looked at the address on the mailbox.
435. This is it. He carefully pushed the gate open and stepped onto the small fenced-in lawn. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a toy wagon. What’s that for? This is getting stranger by the second. As he walked up to the door, he mentally replayed the conversation he’d had with his twin a few days ago.
The phone picked up after two rings.
“This is Stan,” a gravelly voice said. Ford’s heart stopped. Even though he had been expecting to hear Stan’s voice, it was still strange.
“Stanley?” There was a rustle over the phone.
“Stanford? Is that you?”
“Yes, it’s- it’s me.”
“What- how did ya get this number?”
“Mom gave it to me.”
“Of course she did,” Stan grumbled. There was some sort of commotion on his end of the line. A muffled voice said something to him. “I’ll take care of it in a bit, I’m on the phone.”
“Is there someone else there?” Ford asked, curious despite himself.
“Yeah, a couple of people. Ford, why’d ya call me?”
“I need your help.”
“With what?”
“I need you to come to Gravity Falls. We can talk then.”
“Gravity Falls? Where’s that?”
“Oregon.”
“Oregon?! Ford, I can’t go to Oregon.”
“Did you lose the Stanleymobile?”
“No, I’ve still got her. I can’t go to see ya for a…different reason.” After Stan didn’t elaborate, Ford prompted him.
“A job of some sort?”
“No. Well, sorta? I dunno, I guess it counts as a job. That’s what Angie’s been sayin’, anyways.” Once again, Stan didn’t expand upon what he had just said.
“Who says that?”
“Seriously, Ford, I can’t come,” Stan said evasively. “You can come see me, if ya want,” he suggested. Ford grimaced. The idea of meeting Stan at some grungy, run-down hotel in a Podunk town wasn’t that appetizing. But it wasn’t like he had a choice.
“…Fine. What’s the address?”
“435 Farley Street, San Diego.”
“San Diego?” Ford asked. He scribbled the address down on a piece of paper. Stan chuckled.
“Yeah. Surprised I’m not in some random nowheresville backwater town in New Mexico or somethin’, huh?”
“Slightly,” Ford confessed. There was more noise on Stan’s end. High-pitched voices and something that sounded like barking.
“Yeah, I’m comin’, I’m comin’,” Stan said to someone else, his voice slightly muffled, as though he had covered the receiver. His voice came back full volume. “Anything else ya need, Ford? I’ve got stuff to do.”
“Uh, no. I suppose I’ll see you in a few days.”
“See ya then.” Stan hung up the phone.
Ford stared at the whitewashed front door, steeling himself. He was still rather perturbed that Stan hadn’t agreed to meet him in Gravity Falls, but the sting over his refusal was slightly taken away by his curiosity. Clearly, Stan had a comfortable living situation. Maybe he even lived with a significant other.
Don’t be ridiculous. Stanley’s not the type to settle down. Ford knocked on the door. There was barking.
“Shh! Quit it, ya dog!” Ford recognized Stanley’s hushed voice. He could make out some sort of commotion. “That’s right, get in there. I’ll get ya in a bit. If the girls ask, ya weren’t in here, capisce?” Ford blinked, bemused. The door opened. “Hey, Ford,” Stan said. He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. Ford gave his twin a quick once over. Stan was clearly healthy, living well. He was clean, well-kept, and actually wearing his glasses.
“…You have a ponytail?” Ford asked. Stan grinned.
“Started out as a mullet. Ended up tyin’ it back for convenience about two and a half years ago. Kept the habit.” He shrugged. “Angie says it’s pretty fetchin’, so it’s not like I’d wanna change it anyways.”
There’s that “Angie” again.
“Who is Angie?” Ford asked. Stan waved a hand.
“You’ll meet her later. I told her we were gonna have a guest. Didn’t say who. But she wants ya to stay for dinner. And she’ll be pretty pissed if ya leave.” Stan eyed Ford. “Looks like ya could use a good meal or two anyways. And a good night’s sleep. Holy Moses, Sixer, what the heck happened to ya?”
“You just said ‘heck’. Why didn’t you swear?” Ford asked Stan, rather than answering the question.
“You’ll probably find that out later, too. Just, uh, come in, and we can talk about whatever it was ya wanted to talk about.” Stan stood to the side so that Ford could walk in. Ford entered the house and immediately took in his surroundings. He was standing in what seemed to be a living room. It was cozy and warm, with various pictures of wildlife on the walls. He began to feel a bit more at ease.
This is far more welcoming than my own home. Ford saw a spattering of bright colors out of the corner of his eye and turned his head. He frowned at the building blocks and other children’s toys, piled on the off-white carpeting near a dark gray sofa. Maybe Stan has a roommate who has children? This “Angie” he keeps mentioning?
“Ya want coffee or somethin’, Sixer?” Stan asked. Ford turned. Stan was standing in a kitchen adjacent to the living room. “I think we’ve got some. If not, uh, I dunno if you’re an herbal tea guy, but Angie’s got some. She doesn’t drink it often, so I don’t think she’d mind.”
“Coffee sounds excellent,” Ford replied. His hands were still shaking from the quadruple espresso he’d downed earlier, but he’d do whatever he could to stay awake.
“You got it.” Stan waved a hand vaguely. “Sit down wherever. Try not to fall asleep.” Ford didn’t take a seat, instead staring at his twin. When Stan had moved just now, a glint on his hand had caught the light. Ford had a feeling what it might be, but it seemed too odd for that to be correct.
Stanley wouldn’t get married.
“Seriously, Ford, sit down,” Stan said briskly. “Ya might fall over if ya keep standin’ around.”
“Very well,” Ford mumbled. He looked around. There was a table in the kitchen, with four chairs. He walked over and took a seat, noticing that two of the chairs had some sort of colorful block on it.
What in the world is going on?
“Whatchya doing?” Ford was startled from his thoughts by a young, high-pitched voice. He turned around, as did Stan. Stan sighed.
“Why aren’t ya in bed?” Stan asked the child that had just wandered into the kitchen. The child, a girl no more than four years old, rubbed her eyes with her free hand. Her other hand was holding a large stuffed animal frog.
“Woke up,” the child mumbled blearily. She frowned at Ford. “Who’s he?”
“A guest. Your ma mentioned we’d have one, remember?” Stan said. The child cocked her head.
“Looks like you,” she said simply. Stan sighed.
“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Stan took the coffee out of the cupboard. “Go play with your blocks or somethin’, okay?”
“Don’t wanna.”
“Then what do ya wanna do?”
“Eat. Hungry.”
“All right. We can do that.” Stan walked over to the child and picked her up, then set her down in one of the chairs with the brightly colored blocks. Ford resisted the urge to groan out loud.
Of course, those were booster seats! God, why didn’t I realize that?
“Whattaya want, kid?” Stan asked. The child scrunched up her face.
“My name’s not kid! ‘s Daisy!” she said petulantly. Stan chuckled.
“I know that. So? Whattaya orderin’?” he asked.
“Corn stuff.” Stan nodded.
“You’re in luck. Your ma made some last night after bedtime. Can ya wait until I get the coffee started?”
“No!” Daisy said promptly. Stan sighed. He looked at Ford.
“Mind waitin’ while I get Miss Daisy her snack?”
“No, that’s fine. Go ahead,” Ford replied, slightly blindsided by the interactions between Stan and Daisy. He looked at Daisy curiously. She tilted her head, looking at him with an interested expression likely similar to his. Her big blue eyes sparkled with intelligence and curiosity. Daisy grinned at him as her gaze fell on Ford’s six-fingered hands.
“Twelve!” she said cheerfully.
She can count? I wasn’t expecting her to be able to. But granted, I don’t know her age. Or much about child development. Ford resisted the urge to hide his hands under the table. Daisy held up her own hands proudly.
“Eleven!” she chirped. Ford’s eyes widened. Daisy did in fact have eleven fingers; one hand had six while the other had five. Stan nodded as he set down a plate in front of her.
“That’s right, you’ve got eleven fingers. How much older is your sister?”
“Eleven.”
“Eleven what?”
“Minutes!”
“And how old are you?”
“Three!” Daisy cheered. The whole exchange felt like a ritual, something they regularly did. Stan chuckled and ruffled her wild brown curls.
“Yup. You betcha, junebug. I’ll get the coffee started now, Ford.” At the sound of footsteps, Stan and Ford looked at the kitchen entrance. Stan groaned. “You’re up, too?”
“Hungry,” the second toddler said, tucking a strand of caramel-colored hair behind her ear.
I take it this is Daisy’s twin sister. Daisy did say her sister was a mere eleven minutes older than her, correct? The toddler cocked her head at him in the same way Daisy had.
“Who are you?” she asked.
“Uh…” Ford looked over at Stan, unsure of how to introduce himself.
“A guest,” Stan interjected. “Do ya want some of that corn casserole or whatever it’s called?”
“Corn stuff?” the toddler asked.
“Yeah, that.” The toddler nodded. “All right then, Princess Danny, let’s get ya some food.” Ford leaned against the table, amused despite the exhaustion making his eyes heavy.
“Princess Danny and Miss Daisy?”
“They can’t both be princesses,” Stan said, picking Danny up and setting her in the other chair with a booster seat. “There’d be fightin’ over who gets to rule the kingdom.”
“I’d win,” Daisy said confidently. Ford quirked a half-smile. “But I don’t wanna be princess. Don’t like dresses.”
“Ya don’t like any clothes, ya gremlin,” Stan said. He opened the fridge and began to rummage around in it.
“Not a gremlin!” Daisy protested.
“Then what are you?” Ford asked her. He was beginning to enjoy the bluntness of this child. It reminded him of Stan when he was that age. Daisy frowned thoughtfully.
“Dunno. Not princess, though.”
“I’m princess,” Danny said softly. Ford turned his attention to the second girl. Danny looked back at him with familiar deep brown eyes. But it wasn’t the eyes, or the children’s rosy, chubby cheeks, or even Daisy’s polydactyly that confirmed his suspicions. Danny had a large, ruddy nose that he’d never seen in anyone outside his family.
Holy Moses. Stan is a…?
“There ya go, princess,” Stan said, placing a plate of some sort of yellow squishy thing in front of Danny.
“Thank you,” Danny said politely.
“Now I’ll get the coffee started,” Stan said. “Sorry ya had to wait, Ford.”
Is Stan…apologizing?
“It’s no problem,” Ford said. “Getting food for your daughters is high priority.” Stan froze, the blood draining from his face.
“Ya figured it out,” Stan whispered. Ford sighed.
“Stanley, I have multiple doctorates,” he said. “I’d think I could recognize my own nieces. By the way, does Mom know? I feel like if she knew you were a father, she’d have told me.” Stan moved things noisily in cupboards.
“No. She doesn’t know.”
“Doesn’t Ma have a doctor?” Danny asked Stan.
“Yeah, she does,” Stan said. “Your ma’s got a doctorate.” Ford frowned.
“You settled down with an intellectual?”
“Gee, thanks, Ford,” Stan muttered. “And it’s not like Angie’s a nerd or somethin’. She’s got some weird older brothers, but she’s actually cool.”
“Who are you?” Danny asked Ford suddenly. “Daddy knows you?” Ford blinked, slightly startled by her abruptness.
“Uh, yes, actually. Your father knows me. I’m his twin brother.” Danny and Daisy looked at him with identical bemused expressions. “I’m your Uncle Ford,” he added. Danny shook her head.
“Not a uncle. Don’t look like one. Or talk like one.”
“Just ‘cause you’ve only met your ma’s brothers doesn’t mean all uncles are the same,” Stan said. “He is your Uncle Ford.”
“Does Ma know ‘bout Uncle Ford?” Danny asked.
“No. She doesn’t,” Stan said, starting up the coffeemaker.
“Why not?” Daisy asked.
“All right, Twenty Questions is over.” Stan walked over to his daughters and took them out of their chairs. “Go eat your snack somewhere else,” he said, handing them their plates. “But don’t leave crumbs. Your ma blows a gasket.”
“Apple likes crumbs,” Danny said. Stan pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Fine, fine. We’ll send in Apple later then. Now go on, scat!” He gently nudged them out of the kitchen. The girls wandered off. Stan took a seat at the table. The scent of brewing coffee slowly filled the room.
“I assume you weren’t referring to the fruit?” Ford asked Stan. Stan frowned. “This ‘Apple’,” Ford clarified. Stan shook his head.
“Nah, that’s the dog’s name.” He shrugged. “I voted for Cujo, but the girls had the final say. Of course they chose the name they came up with. Don’t let toddlers name dogs.”
“You’ve really settled down, haven’t you?” Ford said softly. Stan looked away. “A dog, two kids, and, judging by the ring on your finger, a wife? I am honestly completely surprised, Stanley.”
“Yeah, well,” Stan mumbled, playing with his wedding ring; a simple gold band. “It’s a bit more…I dunno, domestic than I thought I’d end up with. But it’s good. Just ‘cause I didn’t plan it, don’t mean I don’t like it.” He smiled fondly. “Don’t think I’d trade spendin’ time with my wife and daughters for anything at this point.”
“Your daughters. Their names are Danielle and Daisy Pines, I take it?”
“Nah. Danny is short for Danica. People call her Danielle all the time. That’s a pretty good way to get her pissed off.” Stan grinned proudly. “She’s a firecracker, that kid. Like her ma.” He looked at Ford. “And actually, speakin’ of their ma, they’ve got her last name.”
“Why?” Ford asked. Stan rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.
“When I met her, I was usin’ a fake last name. Never got around to tellin’ her my real one. Didn’t feel that much of a connection to Pines anymore anyways. So when we got married, I just sorta…took hers. Her family got a real kick outta that lemme tell ya.” He rolled his eyes. “At the reception, I heard ‘Yer finally a McGucket’ about a million times.” Stan stood up and walked over to the counter to check on the coffee. He poured two mugs and took them back to the table. “Here,” he said, handing one to Ford. Ford took the offered mug. “Maybe I shouldn’t give ya caffeine. You’re shakin’ pretty bad.” But Ford’s tremors weren’t due to caffeine withdrawal.
McGucket. No, I had to have misheard.
“Did you say your wife’s last name was McGucket?” Ford asked. Stan nodded and sat down again.
“Yeah. And it’s my last name now, too, so I’m Stan McGucket. The girls are Danica and Daisy McGucket.”
Shit! I thought Daisy’s nose looked familiar! That’s a nose I’ve only over seen in Fiddleford’s family.
“I have to leave,” Ford said abruptly. He stood up, nearly knocking the mug of coffee off the table.
“Whoa, whoa, hey,” Stan said. “Ford, ya still haven’t told me why ya came here! I know McGucket’s a goofy last name, but-”
“I can’t face a McGucket,” Ford whispered. “Not after what I did to Fiddleford.” Stan’s eyes narrowed.
“Fiddleford? How do ya know my wife’s older brother?”
“She’s his younger sister? Shit! If it had been his cousin, or niece or something, maybe, but-” Ford ran a hand through his hair. “I can’t stay, I can’t face his family, I can’t-”
“Ford,” Stan said flatly, cutting off his twin’s panicked speech. “She won’t be back until 6. The zoo doesn’t close until 5:30, and she’s gotta do maintenance before she can leave. Ya don’t need to ‘face her’ or whatever. But ya are gonna tell me what the hell ya did to my brother-in-law.”
“No. I refuse.”
“Sit your ass back down,” Stan growled. Ford swallowed at the stony expression on Stan’s face. “Now.” Ford took a seat again. Stan nudged Ford’s abandoned coffee mug toward him. “Talk.”
“I- Fiddleford was my research assistant,” Ford said. Stan nodded. “We were researching the anomalies of Gravity Falls and I- I made a mistake.”
“Ya didn’t push him over a cliff or somethin’, did ya?” Stan asked. “Angie and her folks have been pretty worried. Nobody’s heard from him in weeks. Not his wife, not his son, not anyone.” Ford put his head in his hands, the guilt overwhelming him.
“No. He- he saw something he shouldn’t have. We were testing our project, an interdimensional portal. And Fiddleford- Fiddleford fell in.”
“Fuckin’ shit,” Stan swore softly.
“He saw the domain of an old benefactor of mine. It drove him mad. The last time I saw him, he- he couldn’t remember his own name.”
“Goddammit,” Stan whispered. Ford looked up at his twin. To his surprise, Stan seemed genuinely upset. Stan pushed his glasses up to rub at his eyes. “The McGuckets don’t deserve that. Fidds definitely doesn’t.” Ford blinked.
“You- you know his nickname?”
“I got to know my wife’s family a bit, yeah,” Stan snapped. He sighed. “Okay. You’re clearly not here to tell me about what happened to Fidds. Why are ya here?”
“It’s a bit complicated, and I’m not sure if I should talk about it right now. My thoughts aren’t the most…firm.”
“Can’t think straight, huh?” Stan asked. Ford shook his head. “When was the last time ya slept?”
“I’m not sure.”
“All right, no joe for you, then,” Stan said, taking the mug of coffee from Ford. “But before I send ya to go get some damn rest, give me the basic info. Tell me who you’re runnin’ from.” At Ford’s startled expression, Stan grinned crookedly. “I’ve run from plenty of…unsavory folk, to put it the ‘McGucket’ way. I know what it looks like when you’re runnin’ from someone bad.”
“His name is Bill. He’s- he’s the one whose domain Fiddleford saw.”
“And when ya say domain, ya mean…”
“His place of residence,” Ford said. He rubbed his forehead. A throbbing headache was forming, and his eyelids felt like they were made of sandpaper. “I-”
“That’s enough for now, I guess,” Stan said. “Ya look like you’re about to keel over. Guest room is down the hall, second door on the left. Take a nap. We’ll talk more after Angie gets home.” Ford nodded silently and stood up. Before he exited the kitchen, Stan called him. “Ford?” Ford turned. Stan walked over to him and put his hands on Ford’s shoulders. “We’re gonna help ya out.” Ford nodded again. “Seriously. Nobody messes with my family.” Although Stan’s hands were heavy, it felt as though a weight had been lifted.
“Thank you, Stanley.”
#stay at home stan au#stanley pines#stanford pines#gravity falls oc#Danica Pines#Daisy McGucket#gravity falls au#gravity falls#stan at home#fanfiction#my writing#my stuff#speecher speaks#Stangie Family
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