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darkestwolfx · 5 years ago

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Long Haul - Re-Review #48

Okay, I think I managed to reply to most people yesterday, but I had over a hundred odd notifications to scroll through - so if I missed your comment, I’m really sorry! So, moving on to today’s review.

It’s all nice and steady, business as usual, and there’s even some lovely peaceful music until we get to the ‘duh-dun’ part and in comes trouble.

“All ships divert from bay 2:1 and await further instructions.”

“Bravo Two Four, I gave an order to divert.”

“Sorry control, missed that.”

Okay, it wasn’t their fault, as such, there’s very little you can do about radio interference, but these things will happen and cause chaos. At least it wasn’t deliberate for once!

“We hit something! How bad is it?”

“We’re going into meltdown!”

That bad is your answer, mate.

“Space Hub One, come in. This is International Rescue. Do you need assistance?”

“This is Controller Conrad. Our core is ruptured, the coolant unit is leaking, and we’re going into meltdown. Apart from that, everything is fine.”

Yes, that makes everything sound just peachy! I wouldn’t cool that everything is fine. Apart from what? Everything is dying on you basically. Meltdown is pretty... finite?

“Do you have an EVAC in progress?”

“Yes, I’m riding the power controls to buy time until everyone is out. But I’m only delaying the meltdown. I can’t stop it.”

“Alan, you reading this? You need to get up there.”

“FAB John, I’m on my way.”

Hooray for Thunderbird Three! Although, did Alan leave with any plan other than to get Conrad who was going to evacuate anyway? It seems like John was predicting a rescue would be needed here, which isn’t a bad thing, I just wasn’t entirely clear on the reasoning. On the one hand, you’ve got predicting something before it happens which is great; but on the other, you’ve got acting too soon, which then dragged Thunderbird Two up, when maybe Virgil could have just gone with Alan? I know it’s all for the sake of story, so I’m not going to dwell here for long.

“Conrad, time to get out of there.”

“Okay, I’m heading out.”

Apparently, according to the writers with their hands of God, you are not!

“Alan, Conrad was still on board when the comms went down. He was about to evac, but I don’t know if he made it.”

“If he’s there, I’ll find him. I got him! But he’s not moving, and life signs are very weak. One wrong more and the whole thing will break apart.”

Just to my penny’s worth in here, very cheery start to the episode! No, really, it was nice to see an episode which did just get straight down to business and save the humour for later, really heightened the tension. I do love episodes where we just get to dive right into the deep, there’s something rewarding in them me thinks.

“This is the duty log of Space Controller Conrad, Space Hub One. I’m running out of air and time. I don’t know if anyone will hear this... I hope everyone else made it out. This is all my fault, I should have spotted that cruiser. I’m sorry.”

I really liked this guest character! They gave us so much backstory for him too and the music! I just loved it all. I will be honest, teared a bit at that speech. It’s like he was leaving a message on the log, expecting it to be his last, expecting to die there, and still thinking of others regardless.

“Brains, how do I get into this thing?”

The music behind this conversation was also awesome!

“You can’t cut through. That chute is designed to withstand meteor hits and collisions with space debris. And I’ve got worst news.”

“Of course you do.”

“Oxygen levels have reached critical. Conrad is running out of air.”

Skipping a bit here and keeping the focus on these two, all alone in space - I really felt for Alan and Conrad here. They were so close an yet so far.

“Alan, I don’t want anyone else to be put in danger because of me.”

“Hey, we’re International Rescue. It’s what we do! And I’m gonna stay right here until we open the door.”

Alan really has grown. If this mission had been put on him in Series 1, I don’t think he would have been able to cope, what with his focus then on being able to go on missions, and being allowed to spread his wings. Series 2 for Alan is really an example of how he begins to balance his love and excitement for what he does, with a practical working attitude like his brothers. and actually, he is really good at in this episode.

“So, Conrad, how do you become a Space Controller?”

“You’re making conversation to try and take my mind of the meltdown, aren’t you?”

“Nooooo....”

He so is!

“It’s okay, I haven’t got anything better to do. I always wanted to see the world. I mean, really see it.”

Uh, perfect description of how John feels?

“Now all I want is to see my home again.”

“And where is that?”

“Slough. My family still live there. And they’re all heroes. My brother’s a firefighter, the other’s a paramedic, and my sister’s a police officer. Do you have any idea how much pressure that is?”

Uh, perfect description of Alan? Of course he knows what that feels like.

“I can try to imagine.”

“I just wanted to make them proud of me. I mean, space! That’s a pretty big deal right? And I blew it. I didn’t react fast enough.”

“It was an emergency situation. You responded as fast as you could and you got everyone out safely.”

“Everyone but me.”

One of the most emotional discussions in TAG? i think so. And it didn’t matter that it was involving a guest character, because they said everything which needed to be said. The Tracy boys may be our heroes, and they may battle with much higher levels to live up to, but there are families out there who have the same struggles. I really think this will have resonated with people out there. It’s hard to not resent elder siblings when you feel like they are constantly above you and we sort of saw Alan going through that in Series 1. Conrad was a good person for him to meet - this scene was thought-provoking, powerful, and reflective. Everything it should have been.

Now back to the whole Tracy Island interlude.

Personally, I love the silent moments we had which begun this scene. Virgil and Scott silently walking into the room, and the looks whilst they wait to find out whether they’re too late... I really felt that. Sometimes we don’t need words in a scene to convey emotions. I mean, did you see the way Alan’s shoulders dropped when he thought there wasn’t going to be an answer, and the way the boys looked at Brains? Said it all.

“Then we need a plan fast. The temperature is still rising and we’re running out of time before the whole thing blows!”

“Ok, Brains, give us a run down of our options.”

“I admire your optimism in thinking we have more than one.”

Brains, please try not to pessimistic for one episode? It’s hard, I know, and it’s ironic of me to ask him that, because I am also a pessimist so would probably be doing the exact same! Ironic, I know, but really, that got me.

“Without a working coolant unit, the power core will keep overheating until meltdown. But it’s too damaged for repairs. we need to replace it.”

“Ok, where do we get a replacement?”

“Right here. We use the same cooling system for the power system on Tracy Island. And I have a back-up.”

Of course he does, this is Brains we’re talking about! Always ready, like a Scout right? I wasn’t a Scout, so I might be wrong on that one.

“Great! Problem solved.”

I love how Scott was turning to leave, striding away all purposefully to go and get everything!

“It’s not that simple. That coolant unit is massive. The one at the space hub was transported bit by bit. It took weeks.”

“And we don’t have weeks. Is there a vehicle that could take it in one piece?”

“Thunderbird Three, but-”

And we all know what’s coming next!

“But disconnecting it from the hub means no life support for Conrad.”

Thank you, Scott.

“You said we had one option?”

Yes. Yes he did. Shall we find out what it was?

“Thunderbird Two could carry it.”

“Uh.. I think you’re forgetting the whole ‘in space’ part of the mission. Thunderbird Two is not a space ship.”

Listen to Scott, ever the obvious! No, really I love how ‘eldest brother’ he acted in this episode.

“I think it could break free of Earth’s gravity and make it to the space hub.”

“You think? We need to be sure.”

See, big brother! I really love it when he acts like that.

“I don’t know about this, Virgil, what do you think?”

“Well, Scott, I think Thunderbird two is going into space!”

Space, Space, Space! I feel like it’s a new catch phrase! Let’s see how many times I can fit the word into this next section of the Review.

“Hey Brains, when you’re done here, can you make Thunderbird Four into a spaceship too?”

*Watch as Brains’ face literally lights up, and then Scott proceeds to crush his dreams. Payback for Gordon and the Panda?*

“Uh, let’s not get carried away here guys! Besides we need Thunderbird Four standing by as a submarine!”

“FAB. But could you blame a guy for asking?”

“Right!”

Look at those faces! Scott is sick of it already.

New version of the countdown? Love it.

“Thunderbird Two is go-ing into space! Woo-hoo! Going into space! Going into space! Going into space! Going into space!”

Virgil has been to space before, this is nothing new for him... except it’s in Thunderbird Two and that must be like his absolute dream! It’s one thing to go in Thunderbird Three with Alan as a co-pilot, it’s another thing entirely to take your own ship up, and on a maiden voyage of sorts. I love the excitement in this scene - and I’m a little surprised Scott didn’t admonish the whooping over the radio!

“Ok, but keep monitoring. Closely.”

Oh, wait, that’s why, he’s too busy worrying his every last nerve! Fairly so though, I think I would have done the same.

“Come on, old friend, you can do this.”

And the faith here? I don’t think I could ever have as much faith in technology and machinery as these boys do and I think that is a testament to them, what they do, and their equipment. Connections really do mean everything, and I know we had this discussion in one of the comment sections, but I think it really is possible that these 2060 epic works of machinery are sentient.

“Only a few thousand metres to go.”

“We made it!

And we have lift off! The dream is a reality.

“You have pizza?”

“No, I was joking.”

Meanie. Alan took you seriously. Although why I don’t know!

And the rescue is pulled off with success! Back to Earth we go, after another ‘Thunderbird; debate;

“This way, I get to ride in Thunderbird Two. I mean, it is the coolest Thunderbird.”

“Right?”

New catchphrase for Virgil?

“I’m choosing to ignore that.”

“Virgil, it’s your heat shields! They took took much damage on launch. Thunderbird two is going to burn up on re-entry!”

“Virgil, I’m coming for ya’!”

“It’s too late, Alan. Thunderbird Two is caught in Earth’s gravity.”

Yes, Scott, just shove Brains out of the way! I must admit I love that scene.

“Virgil, you guys have to bail out in the pod.”

“Negative, Scott. Can’t do it.”

“We can build another Thunderbird Two. We can’t rebuild you!”

That line still gets me. It’s so poignant.

“Eject, now!”

Virgil won’t do that. He’s a go down with your ship kinda guy.

“He’s right.”

And that is Brains’ way of saying that he should have thought of that! Really, Conrad is actually very, very smart. I think he should have been offered a job on the spot. I mean, that’s a pretty good interview performance, right?

“Conrad’s plan just might work.”

“Might?”

“It might definitely work!”

“I hope so.”

So do we all, Scott.

“Come on Thunderbird Two...”

And Thunderbird Two does. Hooray! The underwater landing was quite entertaining as well.

Now for a happpy shot.

“I should have reacted quicker.”

Stop being so hard on yourself! I think he’s one of the good ones.

“Hey, your quick thinking up there saved us. And Thunderbird Two.”

“So Conrad...”

Little shoulder bump! Love it.

“What’s next?”

“I’ll drop in and see my family in Slough and then it’s back to the Hub.”

He’ll have one heck of a story to tell.

“Hey Brains, how long would it take to re-fit Thunderbird Two to take Conrad back up to the Hub?”

“Thanks, but this time I’ll get a ride designed to go into space. Alan?”

“And which Thunderbird is the coolest?”

“Thunderbird Three is the coolest.”

“Yes, it is.”

He deserved a visit to the Island after saving Virgil’s (and his own of course) life like that. He seems like a really smart, switched on kid who just got stuck in the wrong place at the wrong time in a tough situation. I love episodes like this one because it reminds us that everyone on this show is human - even those in the Tracy family.

P.S. Shall we have the coolest Thunderbird debate? Now seems like a good time since the boys have instigated it. Stick your thoughts below if you want to!

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bazypitchandsimonsnow · 6 years ago

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Watford Cove

Chapter 5: not so typical love song

Rating: T

Genre: Fluff/Angst

Word count: 5365

Chapter: 5/13 [All chapters]

Summary: Baz goes to Simon's house to work on the project.

Read on AO3

AN: So as some of you may know/remember, I work at an amusement park. I was supposed to work today but it's literally raining all day so the park is most certainly closed. Which means I can post early! Hooray! This is personally one of my favourite chapters. I enjoyed writing it quite a bit, though I had trouble writing Baz's emotions. The boy is a weird self destructive mess and it's difficult getting that across lol. Finally, we learn a bit more about Simon. Plus some fluff, of course. Hope you all like it!

Tagging: @wayward-son-61 @lunar-lover394

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“Where are you going?”

I lazily turn towards Mordelia. She’s standing next to me with her arms behind her back, rocking on her heels. The picture of an adorable, unassuming child. You can hardly tell she's a brat.

“Out,” I reply.

“Mum says you go out too much.”

I do feel a bit bad about that. Daphne does legitimately care about my well being. “Well, you can tell her I’m not going out drinking. She can stop worrying.”

“Drinking what?”

I sigh. Right, she is still seven years old. “Nevermind. I’m just going to do schoolwork at someone’s house. I might be home for supper or not, I don’t know.”

“Okay. When can I ride on your motorbike?”

I smirk and buckle up my helmet. “Let's wait until you can reach the pedals. Then we’ll talk.”

Mordelia pouts pathetically. I ruffle her hair, which only makes her pout become an impressive scowl. I flip down my visor with flare and rev my engine. I give Mordelia a salute before driving off down the country road.

Simon’s house isn’t that far from mine, actually. Maybe a twenty minute ride, the way I break the speeding laws. I zip down the hill at ludicrous speeds, and keep that pace up across the country roads until they become moderately paved. Soon I’m on the sparse outskirts of Watford Cove, not the bloody fucking wilderness like mine. A much nicer place to live in my opinion.

Only a few minutes in, I arrive at the address Simon texted me. The house is actually quite posh. It’s not the terrible extravagance of the Pitch mansion of course, but it’s nice. Red brick, white shutters, some fancy curtains. There's a silver mailbox at the end of the drive with "Salisbury" painted on it in annoyingly bright green letters. The handwriting looks childish, as in a child probably wrote it. The initials "LS" are under the words like an artist's signature. Hm, interesting.

I park my bike in the driveway then make my way to the oak door. The doorbell chimes deep and loud. There’s some steps and soon it swings open. Oh. This is...not Simon. Because Simon is not an older greying-blonde woman.

This woman reminds me of portraits my own grandmother. She was also tall, straight backed, and respectful looking. But my grandmother never showed an ounce of happiness. This woman has a very kind smile on her face though, her wrinkles more from the expression rather than age.

“Hello,” she says kindly. “May I help you?”

“Um, I’m here to see Simon.”

Both her blue eyes and smile widen. “Oh right, Simon said you were coming. Simon! Your friend is here!”

There’s a crashing sound, like someone falling on the ground. Rapid steps come down the stairs until a beaming Simon jumps to the bottom.

“Hi Baz,” he says breathlessly. “Glad you found it.”

“I have Google Maps, Salisbury,” I deadpan, but with a smirk.

“Oh yeah, right, let’s go.” He motions for me to follow him inside. I nod to the woman. She looks up towards the stairs, hands on her hips.

“Simon,” she says with mock accusation, “are you not going to introduce me to your friend?”

Simon freezes halfway up the steps and whips his head around. “Oh right! Sorry, Gran. Um, Gran, this is Baz. Baz, this is my grandmother, Ruth Salisbury.”

I reach out my hand. “Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Salisbury.”

Her brows rise up in surprise. I suppose she didn’t expect politeness from a guy wearing a black Ramones shirt, leather jacket, and ear piercings. But she still takes my hand. “Pleasure to meet you as well, Baz. You two have fun.”

Simon scoffs. “It’s school, Gran. We’re not supposed to have fun.”

“School can be fun if you try, darling. Maths has made me very good at cards.”

“And you fleece Mrs. Jones every week at your games, I know. We gotta go.”

“Yes yes, go do your schoolwork. Don’t break anything.”

Simon and Ms. Salisbury smile good naturedly at each other as we go upstairs. He runs at a breakneck pace, nearly tripping over the green carpet. I follow more slowly, looking over the walls. Unlike my house, there are many personalised things. Landscape art, funny knick knacks, and some pictures. There’s one of Ms. Salisbury with an older man, who I assume to be her husband. Next to that, there’s the couple again but in their younger years. A boy and girl stand in the foreground, both as blonde as Ms. Salisbury. The last one at the top of the stairs is obviously the two kids as teenagers, grinning with arms around each other. The woman looks weirdly familiar. Her freckles, they remind me of...stars.

“Baz, c’mon!” Simon yells.

“Yes, yes, I’m coming. You’re quite bossy today, darling,” I say teasingly. I hear his gasp, then fall into a coughing fit.

“I-I just want to start working.” His voice is still a bit hoarse.

“Alright.”

I saunter down to the hall Simon went down. I step into his room, and...well, I’m not sure what else I expected. The bed and desk look old, but everything else is new. The floral blanket, the multicoloured rug, the IKEA shelf filled with comics, all quite fresh. The walls are bright blue and covered in posters. Troye Sivan, Lana del Ray, Hayley Kiyoko, and assorted pastel coloured art. Equally pastel clothes are spread out across the floor. The whole room is so...bright. It sort of hurts my eyes. I’d prefer everything a bit darker. I guess I like Simon’s colour palette in small doses, just not all in one room.

I look up. Simon’s at his desk. I finally notice that he’s wearing a new shirt. It’s like the sunflower one, but pink and with bright red rosebuds instead. It works with the copper undertones of his hair. He looks perfect in it.

“Pretty,” I whisper.

“What?” Simon asks sweetly.

Fuck, I hope my face isn’t as red as his shirt right now. “Um, nothing.”

He looks confused for only a moment then shrugs. “Okay. I woke up late and forgot breakfast, so I'm starving. Want some of this? For brain food and stuff.” He holds up a mint aero bar. My smile is instantaneous.

“Sure. Mint aeros are my favourite.”

He grins to his ears. “Mine too!

I sit in the chair next to him. He breaks off a large piece for me. We eat the chocolate at the same time, but Simon gets some around his mouth. (Of course he's a messy eater.) I want to slowly lick it off his cheek then kiss him so hard we run out of breath. I quickly look away to resist temptation. “So, you got the project up?”

“Oh yeah!” He turns back to his laptop. I see that the desk is covered in scribbly note paper, candy wrappers, and nail polish bottles. He’s got almost every colour in his preferred pastel shade. He’s actually wearing the pink one right now. It matches his shirt. I have to keep myself from making an out loud comment again.

“So I’ve started making the powerpoint,” Simon says, bringing up the application. “And I think we should start with Watership Down. The actual place. Cause it’s like, the most important setting right?”

I bite my tongue, because I...disagree. Strongly. Watership Down should be in the middle, because it is the end of their first journey and the beginning of the next. It’s important to illustrate that, I think. But he doesn’t know I would think that.

“Sure, cool,” I mutter.

“O-Okay. Then, uh, for characters, we should start with General Woundwort.”

Wrong, very wrong. He’s important, sure, but others should be discussed first. Maybe Hazel, Bigwig, or Fiver. Fuck, Bluebell should come before Woundwort.

“Yeah, that’s fine.” I hope there isn’t a strain in my voice.

“Awesome! And I thought for analysis, we could talk about the archetypes and shit.”

No! Archetypes are Jungian! We’re supposed to do Freudian! Oh, fuck it.

“Give me that,” I hiss, snatching the laptop away. Simon blinks at me confused. I type furiously, barely thinking really, just spouting out the knowledge I have onto the slides. Some of the stuff is very smart but not well put, so I redo the wording. Not good with words, just like Simon said. I don’t know how long it takes, but when I’m done, I put the laptop back on the desk with my arms crossed.

“There,” I say curtly.

Simon looks through it, jaw falling open wider and wider with every slide. I shift away. Christ, this is embarrassing.

“Holy shit,” Simon whispers. I wait for him to start laughing, or yelling because I change his work. But he just turns to me with big awe filled eyes. “You’re...really smart.”

My cheeks must be as red as tomatoes now. I scoff and look at the Hayley Kiyoko poster. “Yeah, whatever.”

“No, no, I mean it, Baz. This is bloody brilliant! You’re super smart!” His brow furrows. “Why do you never show up to class? You could be getting As in like, everything.”

I press my lips together, digging my nails into my bicep. “I don’t care about school or grades. That’s all.”

“Really? You just, don’t care?”

“No, I don’t.”

Simon sighs, and I hate how close to pity it sounds. I don’t need his pity or anyone else’s. I made my choice a long time ago, and I don’t regret it. Well, I mostly don’t regret it. Certainly don’t regret because of where I’m going when term is done. Not at all...

“So, uh,” Simon says rapidly, obviously trying to break the forming tension, “I'm also mostly done the drawings. I’ll scan them later and put them in the presentation if you like them.”

He pulls out a sketchbook from his desk and flips through the pages. He shoves it in my face once he’s found the right one, making me jolt back in my chair. I snatch it from him.

“Christ, Salisbury, let me actually look,” I chuckle.

“Oh, sorry, sorry.”

I look at the picture, and it’s my turn to be awestruck. It’s...amazing. Rough, raw, a bit messy, but amazing. He’s captured Watership Down in just pencil. Sure, it’s just a hill, but Simon has drawn it from the perspective of the rabbits, so it looks looming and majestic. There are little shapes at the top, and I realise it’s a few of the rabbits looking out into the distance. A cute and perfect addition.

“Wow, this is incredible,” I say with absolute reverence.

Simon blinks at me. He seems genuinely surprised. “R-Really?”

“Yes. You’re very talented, Simon.”

“Oh, uh, well, thanks. I’m...really glad you think so.” He fiddles with his fingers nervously. “There’s a-a couple more if you want to see them. Three pages after.”

I flip through a few more pages. There are a lot of rough, abstract sketches. They look more like feelings than specific things. Waves of smoke, angry scribbles of pencil, over and over. He must do that a lot. Eventually, I land on what I think I'm supposed to see. It's obviously Fiver, based on the photo he showed me. But it's not an exact replica. It's a gorgeous interpretation. He's emphasized Fiver's large, sad, all knowing eyes. You can almost see everything terrifying and wonderful happening in them. To say I’m impressed doesn’t really cover it.

I go to the next page, and I immediately recognise it as a scene from the animated movie. When El Ahrairah, the first rabbit, was given physical gifts to survive predators from their fictitious god Frith. This one is in colour, and somehow even more stylised than the movie. El Ahrairah himself is a deep rich brown with grey loops, the sun is swirl of orange and yellow, and the sky is ripples of vibrant blue. The same colour as his eyes.

“These,” I say, “are perfect, Simon.”

Simon chuckles nervously, fiddling with his fingers. “I’m glad you think so. Think Miss Possibelf will approve?”

“If she doesn’t, she’s completely incompetent. And I don’t think that’s true.” I absentmindedly turn to the next page. It’s the start of another unfinished drawing. It’s of someone’s face. Someone with sharp cheekbones and dark wavy hair. Wait, is that-

Simon snatches the book and quickly flips it closed. He hides half his scarlet face behind the leather cover for a long moment, until he nervously coughs and lowers it. “Okay, good,” he stutters. “Glad you think so. I, uh, guess we’re done now. Man, we really could just do most of this over text.” Mother of God, must he keep doing that hair tuck? It’s torture.

“I suppose that's true," I chuckle.

"Wanna hang out?" He asks very quickly, gripping his sketchbook with ghost white knuckles.

I shouldn't. Fuck, I really shouldn't. I should go home, avoid him, keep my toxic self far away from Simon. But fucking hell, I'm weak for this boy, and just weak in general.

"Sure." My voice stays impressively neutral. "Any ideas?"

Simon twists his lips, looking around the brightly coloured room. His eyes drift down to my hands and he smiles mischievously. “I could redo your nails.”

I look down at my hands. Well, my nails are definitely chipped. I forgot to repaint them a few days ago. I look back at him with a raised brow. “I doubt you have a bottle of my ‘Chanel Le Vernis in Gris Obscur’, Salisbury.”

“Nah, definitely no Chanel. But I got some pretty good stuff from the drugstore.” He lifts up some obviously cheap but pretty nail varnish bottles. They’re all his pastels colours though.

“Not really my style.”

He shrugs. “Maybe you’d like to try something new?”

I bite the corner of my mouth. The colours hurt my eyes a bit. But he looks so adorable with that hopeful grin and glint in his eyes. I sigh, and put my left hand out. “Very well. I want your darkest shade though.”

Simon literally bounces with excitement. “Awesome! So, uh, how about...” He messes around with the bottles, almost dropping a few. Eventually he settles on a pale blue. “This one, and,” he holds up a unused looking dark grey, “this one? We can alternate.”

“Hm, sure. That grey doesn’t really match your style, though.”

He shrugs. “Eh, came with the set. Glad it did. It, uh, matches your eyes.” He looks pointedly at the desk instead of my face. That’s good though. I don’t want him to see the blush that’s spread across my cheeks. “Now gimme your right hand.”

I do as he says, placing it on the desk. He puts down some paper towel then pick up his nail polish remover and cotton balls. I have the exact same supplies at home. He reaches towards my hand, but quickly hesitates. He’s shaking actually. I can’t blame him. Every time we’ve touched, it’s been accidental or very quickly. This is different. This isn't a shoulder pat or playful shove. This is long and sustained and purposeful. And I may not be showing it, but I’m just as nervous.

“I can take it off myself,” I say quickly, reaching for the bottle. But Simon pulls it away.

“No no, I’m good. Just sit there and look...badass, alright?”

My lip twitches up. He’s so sweet. I leave my hand where it is. “Very well.”

Slowly, shakily, he slips his finger under mine. His skin is callused but still much smoother than my rough palms. It feels weird, but very nice. Almost electric. He dabs the cotton ball on the nail, rubbing off all my high end black nail polish. Huh, they look odd. it’s been awhile since my nails have been clean. After wiping them dry, he starts on with the blue. It’s a nice colour. Not something I would pick, but I can see the appeal. Simon drags the brush against my nail slowly but surely, making sure the coat is even.

“Hm,” I say, “you’re good at this.”

“Thanks,” he chuckles. “Self taught. A lot of trial and error, y’know? Took me ages to figure out how to do my right hand.”

“I learned from YouTube videos. Those makeup gurus know their shit.”

“Huh, smart. Oh, y’know what.” He stops painting and spins in his chair. Even with his back to me, I now he’s fiddling with his phone. Suddenly, the honeyed voice of Lana Del Rey is resonating through the room. He spins back with a grin.

“Your weird music is necessary?” I raise an eyebrow for sarcastic emphasis. Simon chuckles.

“Yeah, helps me concentrate. And it’s part of my continuing effort to convert you to good music.”

“Oh, is that your grand mission?”

“Yup! Slowly pull you away from all those screamy boys with bad haircuts and towards the beauty of Troye and Lana.”

I scoff. “You keep trying that, darling.”

He gives me a shy but sort of playful look from under his long eyelashes. “I certainly will...darling.”

Oh shit. I hope my complexion hides my blush enough. I smile back and try to look calm, hiding the storm in my chest.

We switch between chatting and companionable silence. Though Simon is never truly quiet. He hums along with the song, or makes noises of contemplation and frustration while trying to get my nails right. His hands slowly get less shaky, which helps. When we’re not talking, I take the opportunity to just watch his expression. How he sticks his tongue out in concentration, and his brow pulls together, and his face adorable pinches together when he gets something wrong. He always tries his best to fix it though, even with his clumsy fingers. It’s really sweet. Just like him.

I'm so unbelievably fucked.

“And...there!” He pulls back with a flourish. “Topcoat and everything. What do you think?”

I examine my hands. Huh, the blue is actually nice on me. And he’s right, the grey matches my eyes. It’s very well done. Maybe black isn’t the only colour I should use. I look up. Simon is staring at me wide eyed, chewing on his lip, leg jittering.

“It’s wonderful,” I say. “You did a marvelous job, Salisbury. Maybe you have a future as a nail artist.”

His nervous expression breaks, thankfully. I’ve found I prefer his grin to his genuine agitation. Blushing smile? Adorable. Wide eyed leg jittering? Not so much. “T-Thanks. Maybe...you could do mine sometime?”

Our eyes meet, and there’s no deception there. He’s always so genuine. It’s amazing. “Sure," I say before thinking. "If you can learn to like black.”

She shrugs. “Well, if you can learn to like blue, I guess I can try black.”

He grins, and I grin back. There’s a stretch of silence. It builds between us, making the air thicker and thicker. I’m torn between what I want to say and what I should. That I want more from this, more than just winks and smiles and “darlings”. But I know it can’t work. Simon should know that. I should tell him, all of it. But...he'll hate me. For not telling him about Switzerland, for using him like a plaything, for being an utterly stupid reckless prick. Can I handle him truly hating me?

“Simon, love! It’s nearly supper! Are you and Baz done your work?” Ms. Salisbury’s voice carries quite well. It jolts me from my depressive pit. Simon sighs and leans out towards the door.

“Yeah! Be down in a minute, Gran.” He looks at me, and I swear I see genuine sadness. “Looks like it’s time to say goodbye.”

I try to hide my own disappointment. “Yeah, looks like it.”

He bounces out of his chair, then offers his hand. I inhale sharply. Did not expect that. But after only a second of hesitation, I take it. He pulls me to my feet with ease. I’m still disturbed by how much his strength excites me.

“C’mon, let’s get you back on your motorbike, Pitch.”

“Should get you on it one day,” I say under my breath.

“What?”

I straighten up, hands in my jacket pockets. “Nothing, Salisbury.”

We walk down the stairs quickly. Well, Simon more jumps down them. He’s a never ending ball of energy. Ms. Salisbury is at the bottom.

“How was the work, you two?” she asks sweetly.

“Wonderful!” Simon chirps. “Talked about bunnies and stuff, and Baz let me do his nails.”

My brow shoots up to my hairline. I can’t believe he’s so open about this. If I told my father or Daphne the same, they would not say anything at best and lecture me at worst. But Ms. Salisbury looks positively elated by Simon’s words. “Oh, marvellous. Finally you can practice on someone other than me, love.”

Simon rolls his eye. “Yeah, like you don’t like it.”

“Of course. But it’s good you have another guinea pig. May I see your work?”

Simon looks at me in silent question. I shrug in response, then hold out my hand for his grandmother. She flips the glasses down from her head. “Amazing job, Simon. You’ve gotten so much better. And it looks great on you, Baz.”

“Thank you, Ms. Salisbury.”

She pulls away, waving dismissively. “Please, call me Ruth. Now, Baz, will you be staying for dinner?”

“Uh.” I turn to Simon. “Am I staying for dinner, Simon?”

Simon’s face turns red. “Oh, sure, if you want.”

I shrug. “I’m certainly in no rush to get home, and if it’s no trouble.”

“Oh it’s none at all,” Ms. Salis- Ruth says, waving her hand dismissively.

“Then I guess I’ll stay for supper.”

Ruth claps her hand once loudly. “Wonderful! Let me put out another setting.”

She saunters off to the kitchen. I decide to actually take off my jacket and boots and stay awhile. Simon leans in close to my ear, making my pulse spike.

“Hope you like roast beef,” he whispers. “It’s the only thing Gran knows how to cook well. Grandpa was a chef, and she’s been on her own since he died, so she’s never had to cook anything else. But she’s been learning more since I’ve got here.”

I shrug like he does. “I think I’ll live.”

“Good to hear.”

Simon leads me to the small dining room table. When I go to the left side, Simon grabs my hand and drags me to the right. I jolt slightly. Wow, that’s bold for him. Not that I’m complaining. I sit next to him as Ruth brings out a platter of delicious smelling meat and mash potatoes. Simon immediately shovels the food on his plate, licking his lips like a starving animal. I on the other hand take only a few slices delicately just like my mother taught me. But Ruth gives me an odd look.

“Are you not hungry, Baz?” she asks.

“Um, no, I am,” I reply slowly.

“Then please, take as much as you like. I always make a lot because of Simon’s endless appetite.”

Simon rolls his eyes, speaking with a mouth full of roast beef. “I’m a growing boy!”

“Growing monster more like it,” Ruth chuckles.

Huh, okay. I decide to be polite and take some more. Dinner proper starts, and it's...weird. My family is never this talkative at supper. We’re mostly silent and sullen. But the Salisburies are the exact opposite. Ruth and Simon chat, though Simon has trouble responding through all the the food in his mouth. (The boy has zero manners. It’s adorable.)

“So, Baz,” Ruth asks, facing me, “how’s school for you? I’ve only ever heard about it from Simon and Miss Penelope.”

No one’s ever asked my opinion of school either. I shrug. “It’s alright. Not my favourite place to be, of course. I think English is my favourite subject.” I tap Simon’s foot under the table. His breath hitches slightly, and he flashes me only a small smile. But it’s enough.

“Glad to hear so. Simon loves English too. He’s always eager to get to first period for Miss Possibelf’s class every morning.”

I flick my eyes over to Simon. His cheeks are flushed as he bites into his roast beef.

“Hm, glad to hear I’m not the only one who loves literature.” I let my voice drawl a bit, hopefully enough for Simon to notice but not Ruth. He doesn’t look up from his food, but I feel his toe tap my foot. And once again, it’s enough. Everything Simon does seems to be enough for me.

“I’m just glad Simon’s adjusting to Watford,” Ruth sighs. “It’s not easy moving schools most of the way through the year.”

Simon sighs in return. They sound almost exactly alike. Though Simon is more exasperated. “I told you, Gran, I’m fine. My grades are much better than last term.”

“There’s a good reason for that.” Ruth aggressively stabs her beef, and Simon looks sad as he nods slightly. This is the only crack in Ruth's kind demeanour I’ve seen all day. It’s strange, and the curious brainiac in me wants to know more. But the sensible part knows to just keep eating my food.

“Hey,” Simon chirps, “did I tell you about the kid who gave himself a wedgie in gum class yet?”

Ruth’s playful smile immediately returns. “No, I don’t believe you have.”

“Oh man, it was hilarious! Baz you’ll love this too.”

I lean my cheek into my palm. “I’m sure I will.”

Simon launches into the rambling anecdote, using mostly weird noises and illustrative hand gestures instead of words. Ruth and I both laugh along genuinely. This is the first time I’ve enjoyed a family meal in ages. It may be unusual, but it’s certainly not unenjoyable.

Soon enough, dinner is over, and Ruth brings out dessert. They’re sour cherry scones from Pritchard Bakery. Simon takes three immediately and starts slathering butter all over them.

“You like scones?” I ask mockingly.

Simon nods, scone crumbs all around his mouth. “Uh-huh. Gran got me some my first day here. They’re absolutely incredible.”

“My cousin owns the bakery, you know.”

His eyes go impossibly wide. “Really?! Could you get me some free samples?”

I shrug, a playful smile on my face. “Maybe.”

“Simon, you eat enough, you don’t need any more,” Ruth kindly berates. Simon frowns.

“There’s never enough scones, Gran.”

Ruth and I exchange an understanding look. Maybe I will bring him to see Cousin Pritchard before I go though. Something to make him happy before I’m gone.

Soon enough, Simon’s eaten all the scones, the dishes are done, and it’s my time to go. I’m a gentleman, I know when to take my leave. Simon and Ruth walk me out of the house.

“It was lovely having you, Baz,” Ruth says. And I have to admit, I’m a bit taken aback. Most parents and/or guardians aren’t this friendly to me. Dev and Niall’s parents barely acknowledge my existence nowadays, and they’ve known me since I was a baby. It’s a warm feeling I never thought I’d miss.

“Thank you for having me, Ruth,” I reply, smiling graciously.

“Anytime. Simon, feel free to invite him over again.”

Simon smiles sweetly at me, cheeks unabashedly scarlet. “Yeah, okay. Maybe we should meet up before the presentation on Wednesday?”

I nod, hoping my cheeks aren’t as bright. “I think I’d like that.”

Because I would. I regretfully very much would.

“Awesome! See you later!”

My lip twitches up without thinking. “See you.”

I get my helmet on. I don’t rev my engine as loud as usual to be respectful. Simon waves with his entire arm, while Ruth’s looks more like the queen. I salute in return. (That seems to be my thing now. I’ve embraced it.)

As I drive back towards my home, my mind stays with the Salisburies. With nail polish, roast beef, and a sense of peaceful happiness that lingers in me long after the house is in the distance.

I get to the Pitch hill and just sit there, looking up at the looming little bastard. I know what I’m supposed to do. Go back to all the misery there. But fuck that. I turn to the left, not back towards Simon’s, but at least somewhere my father isn’t. Somewhere I can keep this feeling for a little longer. And maybe get really pissed.

———————————————-

“Basilton! Where have you been?!”

If I didn’t already have a migraine, I’d assume my father’s voice had just given me one. Going on a two day bender will do that to you. I stop walking but don’t turn around. Honestly, I look like a wreck right now, and I don’t want him to see it.

“Away,” I say curtly.

“Away where?! We haven’t seen you in days! No calls, no mail. We’ve been worried sick!”

I groan and turn on my heels finally. To my utter surprise, he looks genuinely concerned. His eyes are wide and his hair is disheveled, like he’s been running his hands through it. Huh. Actually worried about where I’ve been. That’s a first.

“Well, I’m home now,” I sigh. “Happy?”

“Certainly not.” He puts his hands on his hips like a pissed off school teacher. “I’ve been getting calls from your school. You’ve missed almost all of your classes, including tests and projects. I thought we had an agreement.”

I whip around, scowling with as much menace as I can muster with a hangover. “No, you gave me an ultimatum. And I refuse to be threatened into doing what you want, Father dearest.”

I start stomping away again, but we Grimms refuse to not have the last word. “Are you sure you haven’t just been...distracted, Basilton?”

I stop halfway up the stairs. The tone of his voice could imply many things, but I have a sinking feeling I know what he means. I chuckle, shaking my head. “Daphne told you about Tuesday, I suppose.”

“That you brought a boy over to our house without our knowledge? Yes. And I find it a bit disrespectful that-”

“That I what?!” I yell, probably louder than I should, considering it’s late at night and I have four younger siblings. “Dare to be gay?! Sorry it’s harder to ignore my sexuality when I’m actually acting on it.”

My father takes a deep breath, something he always does when he’s trying to keep his slipping composure. “Basilton, that is not what I meant.”

“Oh really? So you’re actually okay with me bringing guys around? Maybe I’ll start having big gay nightclub parties in the receiving room.”

I can see my father losing his cool. Bit by bit, his perfect British man composure is slipping. It’s the effect I certainly have these days. “That would not be appropriate, Basil. And I merely meant that maybe this ‘Simon’ is distracting you from your studies and causing your poor grades.”

For a second, I don’t know whether to laugh or be furious. Fire bubbles in my gut, my fingers curling on the bannister. Yup, let’s go with righteous fury. I stomp down the stairs and push my face into his.

“No,” I growl, “Simon is not at fault. You are. You are the catalyst for all the things I’m doing now, Your bullheadedness, your pride, your prejudi-”

“Oh for God’s sake, Basil!” He roars. “For once in your life take some goddamn responsibility for your own actions!”

I step back a bit. I haven’t seen him this outwardly angry in a year, but he’s practically seething. If he was the kind of man to throw a punch, he would have just clocked me. But instead he just stares me down in an attempt to intimidate. That won’t work.

“Fuck you,” I mutter, turning on my heels and stomping towards the door.

“Where are you going?” he calls after me.

“Out!” I turn to glare at him. “And I’ll be back when I feel like it!”

I make sure to slam the door very loudly, hoping my message is clear. I know exactly where I want to go. And who I want to see.

———————————————-

AN: Is Baz being a total brat here? Yes. Is his bratiness sorta justified? Also yes. Things are complicated. And finally we meet Ruth! I loved reading everyone's comments speculating about Simon's home life cause this was planned from the start lol. But why is Simon living with Ruth? Well, that will be explained shortly. Tune in next time for answers :)

Chapter title is from "Alfie's Song" by Bleachers.

#carry on #snowbaz #simon snow #baz pitch #ruth salisbury #fluff #angst #punk/pastel #mysnowbazfanfic

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courage-a-word-of-justice · 6 years ago

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Morose Mononokean II 1 | Mob Psycho 100 II 1 | Meiji Tokyo Renka 1 | My Roommate is a Cat 1 | Promised Neverland 1

I think I’ve got too many cute fluffy creatures this season...

Mononokean II 1

For some reason, before I started watching this I kept reminding myself of Tomodachi Metre and fearing the new OP (because there’s almost always a new OP when dealing with a second season) would be faster-paced…the song is faster-paced, but not in the way I thought it would be (I thought it was going to be hard rock kind of pace, but it’s at least a tad slower than that).

Utakuni is such a fluffy kitty!

Ah, Moja Moja is best moja, indeed. Gossamers from As Miss Beelzebub Likes just don’t compare, y’know?

The Legislator is practically the king of “You mad, bro?”. (LOL)

Okay-dokay, lemme explain. There are 3 arms of government (known as the separation of powers, in order to have a series of checks and balances) – the Legislative, Executive and the Judiciary, meaning we’re missing that final one at the moment…

I never knew Morose Mononokean was so obsessed with comedy…or maybe I’m just noticing it now that I have experience with comedy I get bored at…

Abeno’s face of disgust really sold that moment with Moja, LOL.

Well, by virtue of being a sequel to something I watched previously, it’s more likely to get coverage, but you can never say for certain until the first episodes are over and done. On to the next thing – Mob Psycho!

Mob Psycho 100 II 1

Alright, all these “II 1”s are going to make me confused someday, aren’t they…?

I think the dude’s Suisho simply means “water crystal”. But I’m only guessing as to what kanji are being used here, so I could be wrong.

The pixel art bit was good. More like that, please!

“Your life is your own” – is that Mob Psycho’s slogan, in the same way Symphogear has that thing about “holding courage to fist” and whatnot?

Unlike Mononokean, which you only need to know the very basics (which are in turn explained in the episode itself), it seems Mob Psycho is playing hardball in that department – if you don’t remember that time Kamuro started kicking his lackeys around, you’re going to have to watch it again. (Either that, or you watch the Reigen recap.)

Hmm…”[something to help Mob] grow” sounds a bit odd, but that’s a correct translation. That’s what seichou suru means.

Oh great…you know how I said I was cleaning out the house lately? Someone found an old copy of this book called Inventing Elliot, which I despised studying about (because it got me some of the lowest grades in my school life, aside from outright failures and close scrapes with failure). The problem is, I’m getting Inventing Elliot vibes from this particular plotline…and since that’s Mean Girls in a boys’ private school + Mob Psycho is all about the abuse of power, that’s completely a storyline the show would go with. *gulp*

Hey, they have actual eyecatches now! Hooray!

A certain kanji for “Emi” (with a mi in hiragana, IIRC) is “smile” in English, so I find it interesting they paired Mob up with a girl like her. (Then again, if it were a hiragana/kanji mix, that’s not a name.)

Oh yeah, the hitode (starfish) shirt.

Rinshi! Ekoda-chan 1

Why am I covering an R18+ series? It’s a long story…

The jokes are, as of this segment with the old lady, only about 50% hits. That seems to be a pretty bad track record. The thing about Ekoda being identified as 3 years older than what she really is is also relatable, since I don’t think I’ve grown much past a certain age.

Note there’s a Japanese store called JUSCO. There was one in Hong Kong, which was full of cool stationery.

Wait…that’s it? So why’s it 26 minutes??? Documentary…okay, I’m getting the heck out of here.

Meiji Tokyo Renka 1

I heard Ume was here…? More bishies and more Ume for me!

What’s up with the Haikara-san ga Tooru outfit, anyway?

Who dis boy? He kinda looks like Mikoshiba from Gekkan Shoujo Nozaki-kun…Update: That’s Ougai.

At least the jazz music is cool. Also, the episode title should be “Suddenly, under a Strawberry Moon…” or something, since it went totsuzen ni.

*Mei checks her phone* - This is why you don’t text and walk across the road, kids!

Ougai…y’mean, Mori Ougai? The loli dude from Bungou Stray Dogs is this redhead?! EHHHHHHHHHHHH?

Oh great. Amnesia plotline…

Hishida Shunso…a painter.

Okay…that’s a really obvious point where you’d be able to insert your own name if you were a gal (or if you wante to play as a gal).

The age of the Rokumeikan seems to pin the timeline down to “after 1883”. For some reason, it sounded familiar, but I wasn’t familiar with why - so maybe I’ll learn about it someday.

“Little Squirrel”?(!) (lowkey laughs for all the wrong reasons) And here I thought “Little Flower” (from Magic-kyun’s Louis and Dame x Pri’s Vino) was awkward-sounding but still endearing.

Okay, second redhead. When I saw him in the OP, I swore he was Ancient Magus’ Bride’s Chise…

So the germophobe redhead is Izumi Kyoka…but I’m not sure who this Kawakami is…

I don’t know how anyone could make a germophobe endearing, much less make him romanceable…

Otojiro Kawakami. Comedian and actor.

Lafcadio…wuh? Update: (Patrick) Lafcadio Hearn, Greek dude with a Japanese penname. He seems to have written stuff on Japan as well as other places.

“…that collection of ghost stories…”

Everyone seems to have forgotten about the roast beef but the animators…LOL…oh, spoke too soon. Kawakami just walked it back to the table.

Wowwwwwwwwwwww, Mei is so easily distracted by roast beef and pretty boys who, to be honest, aren’t that pretty…I’m just waiting for the long-haired dude and/or Ume and I’ll kick my butt out of here.

I thought Fujita was voiced by a familiar voice and turns out I was right – it’s Fukuyama Jun.

Well, that was mildly unsatisfying. I think I spent more time watching Mei getting blushy at dudes and not feeling an attraction myself. Fujita was the only one I wanted and he didn’t even do much but swing a sword. Seriously, though, what the heck was Charlie doing turning off the lights all of a sudden?

My Roommate is a Cat 1

Well, it’s either that title or Dokyounin wa Hiza, Tokidoki Atame no Ue. …which is a lot to write in one shot.

Why’s the cat on Subaru’s…junk?

The cat appears to be typing out the Dancing Men from Sherlock Holmes…except they’re cats. The Dancing Men are basically what made me think I had a career in computer security in the first place, come to think of it…but I’ve abandoned that kind of thinking now. Modulos are way too hard for me.

Them spoilers! I know that feel.

Koguma = small bear, in a story about a small cat. LOL.

Hiroto…I thought about this during the funeral scene, but…why does he look like Suzaku from Code Geass???

Hmm, yeah. I can see why Hiroto isn’t all that convinced – I’m a similar kind of person, with only a small pool of pursuits that keep me going for a long, long time. *looks at rabbit outside and remembers when I saw it in the darkness about 3 years ago*

Oh, so Subaru was so absorbed in his manuscript he forgot to eat, huh?

Kitty show too cute! Ehehehee… <- (ecstatic about having a new weekly dose of cuteness)

Promised Neverland 1

I’ve read the first volume of this. I’m not 100% in love with it, but if I can have bragging rights over finding the next big hit, why not?

Noitamina…now that’s a name I haven’t seen in a few years…*grumbles at Amazon*

For some reason Norman (white-haired boy) has this “betrayer” vibe written all over him. It’s because I know in BnHA and Ao no Exorcist, there are betrayals by certain people.

The aesthetic of this thing is like a fairytale and not like a typical anime. That’s probably one thing that convinced people to give it a shot.

LOL, there’s a Detective Conan door..well, it kind of looks like one.

The word for “tag” in Japanese is onigokko and “It” is an oni. That gives a whole new meaning to “playing tag with monsters”, doesn’t it?

Update: I can sort of feel my “this is popular, so I won’t like it” radar going off...so I’ll put it on hold until I get over that feeling.

#simulcast commentary #the morose mononokean #fukigen na monokean tsuzuki #fukigen na mononokean #mob psycho 100 #mob psycho season 2 #My Roommate is a Cat #doukyonin wa hiza tokidoki atama no ue #the promised neverland #yakusoku no neverland #meiji tokyo renka #Chesarka watches MP100 #Chesarka watches Doukyonin wa Hiza Tokidoki Atama no Ue.#Chesarka watches Fukigen na Mononokean

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punch-you-with-friendship · 7 years ago

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Water for a Dead Rose Ch. 1

Hope I’m not too late for the #fandersmeetup! This is my first Sanders Sides fanfiction, and I’m super excited to share it with you all!

It’s set in the soulmate au where you write on your skin and it appears on your soulmate, with an untraditional plot structure. This first chapter is mostly exposition, and it probably qualifies as fluff, but, uh... Don’t get used to that.

I don’t have a tag list, but I can make one if anyone’s interested. @puns-and-patton @eequalsmcscared because they’re running the meetup. It’s also on AO3!

Overall Summary: Roman knows it wasn’t an accident. Virgil knows something isn’t right. It’s the story of a desperate search for a murder plot and a soulmate bond broken by tragedy.

Told with Virgil’s perspective in a chronological format (beginning to end) and Roman’s perspective in a reverse chronological format (end to beginning).

Chapter 1: Phone Calls and New Beginnings

Word count: 1.4K

Relationships: Logicality mention, platonic Analogical

Warnings: brief alcohol (Always let me know if I missed any!)

December 31st, 2018. 306 days before.

New Year’s Eve was, without question, Virgil’s favorite holiday. Nothing was quite the same as the night of new beginnings, the night of leaving things behind, and the night of true love, not that the latter mattered to a guy like him. It also happened to be Virgil’s birthday, making it a doubly special night. He only ever spent it with close friends and family, those who he knew cared about him. So, naturally, Virgil was spending it alone this year.

He was currently on his laptop, typing away at the new story he was writing. He really felt like he was on a roll—the tiny community of fans he’d garnered would definitely appreciate what he’d done with the foreshadowing. The hours blended together as the words spilled out of his fingers and onto the screen. It was a pattern Virgil could get lost in for the rest of his life if left to his devices. And with the TV on (open to the Times Square Ball Drop, of course), a cheap beer in hand (which he was now legally allowed to have, hooray) a blanket wrapped around his legs (once soft, now worn) and the tool of his trade on his knees (the laptop), he thought for the moment that it wouldn’t be so bad.

He decided to take a quick break, scrolling through Tumblr. There was plenty of incorrect quotes and New Year’s themed gifs, but none of his favorite writers had posted anything. It was probably because they were enjoying the holiday with friends and family.

He sighed and checked the clock. 11:24. Thirty-six minutes until it was 2019, and thirty-six minutes until it wasn’t his birthday anymore. It would simply be a normal day for a normal 21-year-old.

All of his friends, including his twin sibling and roommate Talyn, were at Dean’s party. And they all knew Virgil would never subject himself to some fraternity thing. The frat guys hated most non-frat guys, let alone non-college guys like himself. And besides, why go to a party and embarrass yourself with your lack of social skills when you could be at home writing?

Yep. Virgil wasn’t lonely at all.

He typed up a few more sentences before closing his laptop with a sigh. Maybe he should at least call someone, just to stifle his loneliness for a little bit. But who did he know that was awkward enough to not—

Wait, duh. Logan. Was that even a question?

And for once he wasn’t going to be busy studying. Virgil was fairly confident that no one studies over winter break.

Virgil went into his contacts and clicked Logan’s name. It rang twice before he picked up.

“Happy New Year’s Eve, Virgil. Can I help you?”

“Sure, Nerd. You can keep me company for a bit.”

“Okay. Is there a particular reason that you are not spending this time at Dean’s—“

“Is there a reason you’re not?”

“...Fair enough.”

The two chatted, awkwardly grasping for conversation topics before falling into a rhythm: question, answer, joke, question, answer, joke. They talked about the world, talked about Logan’s major, talked about how stupid in love their siblings were, talked about Virgil’s sketchy coworkers (what was their deal? They always acted like they were plotting something), and talked about… Patton.

“How’s the big teddy bear treating ya?” Virgil quipped, fiddling with one of his hoodie strings.

Logan chuckled. “If by ‘big teddy bear’ you mean Patton, then he’s treating me as well as ever. Things have been smooth for a while now. Can’t imagine it being any better.” Virgil was no social butterfly, but he could read people like a pro, and Logan didn’t sound like his ever-confident self in saying that. Virgil tapped his fingers on his knee.

“But...?” He prompted.

Neither one said anything for a long moment. Virgil let the silence work its magic, and after a few moments, Logan sighed. “I’m... I’m starting to think he’s better than I deserve. He’s truly wonderful, and generous, and kind, almost overwhelmingly so. I don’t know how to make it up to him.” Logan sounded pained.

Virgil frowned at the couch cushion below him. “Dude. You don’t owe him anything. From what I know about him, he’d be shocked if he heard you say that just now.”

“I know! It just—“

“Feels too good to be true, huh?”

“Precisely.”

Virgil took a deep breath. “Look.“

“Hard to do over a telephone call.”

“Really, Logan?” Virgil laughed a little, releasing some pent-up tension. “Listen, then. You’re his soulmate. It doesn’t matter who deserves what, you’re literally made for him. Do you love him?”

“Of course. I’m offended you would ask.”

“You give him your all?”

“Yes. As much as I can give.”

“And does Patton know that?”

“If he doesn’t, he’s incredibly dense.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“I... When you put it that way, I suppose there isn’t—“

“Exactly.”

Logan simply breathed.

More than a year ago, Logan’s soulmate bond had started working, and the guy it had connected him to was exactly what Logan needed. He was sweet and sentimental, as opposed to Logan’s grounded and logical nature. They complimented one another, gave each other’s lives purpose. The two had rapidly fallen for one another, and had passed their one-year anniversary two months ago. They were the perfect match, as the soulmate bond promised. And Virgil was happy for them, he really was. But it made him wonder… His soulmate bond was still dormant. Virgil had never been much of an optimist, but the more time went by, the more he thought maybe the bond would stay dormant.

“Virgil? Are you still there?”

Oh, right. He was on the phone with Logan.

They continued to talk until Virgil heard shouting from the TV--it was officially midnight.

“Oh, would you look at that. Happy new year, Logan.” Virgil raised his beer and took a sip, an unspoken toast.

“And to you, Virgil.”

The two sat in silence for a moment.

“Hey… You know something?” Virgil said.

“What is it?”

“You’re good company.”

“Oh. Thank you. It helps me to talk to you about... Things.”

Another beat of silence.

“You know you can always call me when needed, correct?” Logan’s voice sounded concerned.

“Patton’s been rubbing off on you.”

“No, I mean it. You’ve been rather… Downtrodden as of late.”

“It’s just Christmas blues. Don’t worry your hyperactive brain about it.”

“Christmas blues? I was under the impression that Christmas is a time of joy.”

“Not when you’re spending it alone. Cool it Specs, I’m fine. I’ve got my writing to keep me company.”

“I’m sure you do. But your linguistic passions do not replace real people.”

“You’re one to talk, Mr. Can’t-Hang-Out-I’m-Busy-Studying. And hey, I called you, didn’t I?”

“That is… True. But--”

“Relax. We’re having a great time here. Don’t ruin it with another one of your lectures.”

“Remind me why I keep you as my companion?”

“Hell if I know.”

The two laughed.

Virgil stood up, distangeled himself from the blanket, and started walking to the kitchen, intending to get a snack or something. What did he even have to eat? He really needed to go to the store or something. He poked around for a bit, finally deciding to order a pizza when he noticed a strange prickling sensation on his palm. He ignored it.

“Hey Logan, I’m probably gonna order a pizza.”

“A… Pizza? Will a pizza place even be open at--”

“Pizza places are always open.”

“But on New Year’s Eve?”

“Did I stutter, Logan? Pizza places. Are. Always. Open.”

“If you say so. I’m assuming you need to hang up so as to use your phone to order?”

“Yep. Nice chatting with ya, Nerd.”

“Any time.” Click.

Virgil started to google what pizza place was open—despite what he’d said, he wasn’t actually sure where he’d have to call—and noticed the prickling again. Was that just an after effect of typing the night away? He passed his phone to the other hand and glanced at his palm.

And promptly dropped the phone.

Happy New Year, my soulmate!

Written on his palm in blue pen.

Virgil stared. And stared. And blinked hard, and stared again. It was still there.

When his brain reconnected to his body, he sprinted into the living room, lifting up the couch cushions in search of a pen. When his flailing hands finally found one, he uncapped it. The pen met the skin of his palm.

You too. Soulmate.

Looked like Virgil wasn’t ordering pizza anymore.

#fandersmeetup #fanders meetup #sanders sides #virgil sanders #logan sanders #soulmate #wfadr #wfadr fic

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betweengenesisfrogs · 8 years ago

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OFF THE CUFF HOMESTUCK THOUGHTS #3: THE SELF PILE DOESN’T STOP FROM GETTING TALLER OR: THE PROBLEM OF DEAD MARIOS

DISCLAIMER

IMPORTANT THEORETICAL FRAMEWORK

[CHECK THE TAG FOR MORE THOUGHTS]

So, a long-ass time ago, Rose and Dave had a conversation like this:

TT: After you go, what do you think will happen to me? TT: Will I just cease to exist? TG: i dont know TG: i mean your whole timeline will TG: maybe TT: Maybe? TT: Is there a chance it'll continue to exist, and I'll just be here alone forever? TT: I'm not sure which outcome is more unsettling. TG: the thing with time travel is TG: you cant overthink it TG: just roll with it and see what happens TG: and above all try not to do anything retarded TT: What do you think I should do? TG: try going to sleep TG: our dream selves kind of operate outside the normal time continuum i think TG: so if part of you from this timelines going to persist thats probably the way to make it happen TT: Ok. TG: and hey you might even be able to help your past dream self wake up sooner without all that fuss you went through TT: I think the true purpose of this game is to see how many qualifiers we can get to precede the word "self" and still understand what we're talking about.

This is the most important sentence in Homestuck.

I am dead serious.

Well, OK, I mean, it’s pretty important for understanding some major Homestuck themes and shit or something like that.

Also, I totally should have said: Pre-Retcon Doomed Timeline Non-Dreamself Rose but ultimately about to become Dreamself Rose who semi-merged with Pre-Retcon Alpha Timeline Rose and Doomed Timeline Dave aka Davesprite AKA future Davepetasprite^2 or as we all call them around the office, Davepeta, had that conversation.

Maybe you begin to see what I’m going to talk about here.

One of the major frustrations a lot of people had with the retcon was that the characters we ended up with at the end weren’t the ones we’d come to love and know throughout the story. Was it even worth it, to lose the characters we loved to the tyranny of Game Over? The victorious kids, with the exception of John and Roxy, were other people, with other histories, other goals, and other choices.

Allow me to submit that that may be the whole point.

SBURB is cruel. We’ve known that for a long time. It’s cruel not as Caliborn is cruel, but as the cosmos is cruel, as a supernova is cruel. It wants what it wants, and doesn’t care about how that intersects with the needs of humanity. It wants to make universes through a complex game-playing method, and drags hapless, vulnerable adolescents along for the ride. And most of the time it doesn’t even succeed, leaving its champions to rot in a doomed timeline or similar! Skaia’s victory is an amoral creation myth where individual human beings are just the carved pieces on the chessboard. (I mean, the other ones. Not the carapacians.)

Again, let’s consider the theme of VIDEO GAMES vs. REAL LIFE.

Homestuck, let’s be real, is basically some postmodern horror timey-wimey Jumanji. For a generation way more familiar with pixels than cute little tokens It’s easy for teenagers and in fact, basically everyone, to fantasize about escaping their life and slipping into some game world forever, where they get to do awesome things and be a heroic person.

Homestuck makes that literal. Congratulations, everything you ever knew is dead. You will never see it again, except your internet friends, who turn out also to be your family and other important people. I mean, from a distance, SBURB sounds like an awesome game, right? You figure out who you are and get to wear a cool costume displaying that identity. You get to make anything you want and enjoy this hyperflexible mythology tailored to YOUR CHOICES. HS fans talk all the time about how cool it would be to play a real version of SBURB. That’s a big part of the appeal of SBURB fan adventures. They put you and your friends in the story. Or your favorite characters! It sounds like a fantasy come true.

The thing is, as fantastical as it is, it’s also really fucked up, and ultimately you and your friends are being used. By a giant frog to let it have its babies. By the universe. By a smug blue cloud thing that doesn’t care about you at all.

SBURB does not care about you at all.

The funny thing, SBURB features a mythology with so many layers and nuances and seemingly human motifs about growth and self that you might search for some grand ultimate meaning behind it, but it’s not even human enough to have a personality, to be something you can argue with or fight. It just is. It’s all the cruelty and power of a god without any of the dazzling personality. It’s empty. It just wants to make universes all day long, or fail trying. It is a great, weird tadpole-making machine that eats children.

One of the big ways it doesn’t care about you is its attitude toward the self. Humans and trolls and whatnot prefer not to be relentlessly duplicated. SBURB says, oh yeah, let’s make tons of copies of the player characters and use them for a lot of different purposes.

There’s the dreamself, an essential bifurcation of identity (you are now and were always the dream moon princex) that sometimes gets merged into god tier but sometimes doesn’t. There’s doomed timeline selves, who exist ultimately to augment an Alpha timeline whose Alphaness is decided very arbitrarily and frequently by Lord English. There’s the you who exists before a scratched session and the you who exists afterward, who are two different people but started as one baby in an act of ectobaby meteor duplication, your player self and your guardian self. Dead timeline yous fill up the dreambubbles made by the horrorterrors and get endlessly confused with each other. Any one of these could be the you experience being at any given moment, and which one it is entirely arbitrary. Don’t like being Dead Nepeta #47? Tough hoofbeast leavings, kiddo.

To top it all off, in Terezi: Remember, we learn that every single time we thought someone changed from one self to another, was resurrected or something like that, it was another act of duplication. For every time someone’s died, there’s another version of them waiting in the Dream Bubbles, surprised that they’re not the main character anymore. And we have no way of knowing which is which. Even John, good old everyman John, may or may not be the person who died three or four times. It’s really impossible to say whether we’ve been following the same person throughout our story, or just the illusion of the same person, like a horrifying cosmic flipbook.

The retcon is a return to this same theme. Ultimately, there’s very little new in the changes John makes to reality except that they drive the point home.

John’s friends all died. John and his friends won the game. These things are both true at the same time, except those things may not have happened to the same people. There was a happy ending. Hooray! For, um, some folks who may or may not be the ones we care about. In fact, it’s very confusing, because from Rose’s perspective, Roxy is dead but came back to life, and from Roxy’s perspective Rose is dead but came back to life, except also she came back to life as a weird tentacle catgirl of pure id and self –indulgence. So there’s that. Um. Which Rose are we rooting for again?

Or wait: is it none of them, because the first Rose died in a doomed timeline, hundreds of panels and a number of years ago?

There’s a tension here which one experiences between saying it’s okay because it’s still the same people, and saying it’s not okay, because it’s not the same people at all. This tension is exactly what we’re meant to wrestle with. To put it another way, Homestuck asks if identity can work in aggregate. Are all Johns John, all Roses Rose, and do they all share in what they accomplish? Or are the final victors only accidents created by the whims and needs of the frog baby machine?

What I’m saying, basically, is that the retcon, in the sense that it pointed out our confused relationship with these characters, was already here.

In interviews and questions put to him over the years, Hussie constantly compares HS and SBURB to other video games, particularly Mario, which he frequently returns to as a baseline of comparison that most of his readers will know. One answer, from a recent Hiveswap interview, is particularly revelatory. To the question of “Why do you kill off all your characters?” Hussie replies:

[…]HS is supposedly a story that is also a game. In games, the characters die all the time. How many times did you let Mario fall in the pit before he saved the princess? Who weeps for these Marios. In games your characters die, but you keep trying and trying and rebooting and resetting until finally they make it. When you play a game this process is all very impersonal. Once you finally win, when all is said and done those deaths didn’t “count”, only the linear path of the final victorious version of the character is considered “real”. Mario never actually died, did he? Except the omniscient player knows better. HS seems to combine all the meaningless deaths of a trial-and-error game journey with the way death is treated dramatically in other media, where unlike our oblivious Mario, the characters are aware and afraid of the many deaths they must experience before finally winning the game.

The big man hass the answer.

Homestuck is the story of those dead Marios.

Other works, like Undertale, have engaged with this topic as well. But one of the major differences between Undertale and Homestuck is that in Undertale, between “lives,” one’s consciousness is preserved. In Homestuck, it’s discontinuous, and the value of the overall trial-error process is called into question by the fact that you, the player, may not even get to experience the victory. What meaning does victory hold if that is the case?

So, to put it in a nice thesis format:

One of the central themes of Homestuck is the challenge of reconciling an arbitrary and destructive pattern of growth and victory with the death and suffering you experienced along the way. Homestuck asks: is victory worthwhile if you’re not you anymore? And would you be able to know?

What even is the self? Is there such a thing?

If you were left feeling somewhat disconcerted by our heroes’ tidy victory and departure to their cosmic prize, or by how which Rose gets the spotlight is so deeply, deeply arbitrary, there’s a good reason for that. You’re supposed to be.

The philosophical problem of Wacky Cat Rose is insignificant next to the bullshit of SBURB.

And don’t forget—John and Roxy’s denizens helped them achieve the retcon. Ultimately, the victory they achieved was mediated by the same amoral system of SBURB, and was a victory over an enemy, Caliborn, whose power was created, perpetuated, and ended by that same system.

Okay, so here’s where it gets contentious. There’s an argument to be made, which I’m not sure how I feel about, that some of the character development that could have been in post-retcon Act 6 was left out precisely to push this feeling and play up this tension. Note that this is not the same thing as saying that they were deliberately badly written, but that they’re deliberately written to make us uneasy.That Hussie deliberately played with the balance between making these retconned characters feel familiar and making them feel eerily different to leave us feeling uneasy with the result.

I’m not sure I like that idea. It smacks a little too much of that “everything is perfect” thinking that comes sometimes from the far Metastuck camp. Some of the differences may also be the result of flawed writing. (See: Jane and Jake’s character arcs, which I might talk about later.) And I want to be able to critique those flaws. Ultimately, I think we still needed more time and development to figure out who these new people were—even if our goal was ultimately to compare them to their earlier selves. And again, more conscious acknowledgement of the problem from our heroes—especially John, the linchpin in this last and biggest act of duplication—might have helped drive this theme home.

Still, I think the Problem of Dead Marios is one of the most fundamental questions of Homestuck, maybe THE biggest question. It’s essential to understand it to understand what Hussie’s doing—or attempting to do— in the retcon and the ending.

I don’t know that Homestuck offers us a clear answer to that question. There are some confusions around the issue, too. Where do merged selves fit in, exactly? Clearly they’re a big part of the discussion, because Hussie spends some time in Act 6, especially near the end bringing the identity-merging powers of the Sprites to the forefront. (See also: the identity-merged nightmare that is Lord English.) Can we even come up with a clear answer to what it means when a dead Mario returns to life grotesquely fused with Toad? How does he beat the game? Does he tell himself that the princess is in another castle? Or what if he merges with Peach? Are they their own princess? How do they know if they’re in the right castle?

Um. Anyway—

Interestingly, it’s not all grotesque—spritesplosions suggest that personalities that are too different don’t stay together long, so a fusion might rely on some inherent compatibility between the two players. Erisol’s self-loathing, sure, but also Fefeta’s cheerfulness. Davepeta seems to be a way of bringing out the best in their players, a way of getting Davesprite past his angst and Nepeta past her fear. Honestly, I know a lot of people don’t like Davepeta as the ending of these two characters’ arcs, but I can’t help but love it. They’re the ultimate coolkid. Cool enough to know they don’t have to be cool. Regular Dave got there, too, of course. But was his retcon assist from John ultimately any different?

Then, of course, we come to Davepeta’s speech to Jade in one of the last few updates before Collide. Davepeta suggests that there is such a thing as an ultimate self beyond the many different selves one piles up throughout the cosmos. A set of principles that describes who you are that’s larger than any individual instance of you. Your inherent Mariohood. (Maybe this is comparable to your Classpect identity, which attempts to describe who you are?) Davepeta even tells Jade, strikingly, that one might learn to see beyond the barriers between selves. Be the ur-self, in practice, rather than theory. This would be incredible news for Jade, who wrestles with the issue of different selves perhaps more than any other character. (There’s a lot to say about Jade.)

Honestly, I wish this ur-self idea had been developed more, and I honestly expected it to be. It doesn’t fully come to fruition, I feel. (Same goes for Davepeta’s character. Ohhhh, ZING!) I’m not sure it entirely makes philosophical sense, especially with fusion—I mean, doesn’t Davepeta themself disprove it? Or at least complicate it? Like, are they part of the ur-Dave or the ur-Nepeta? They seem to imply they’re BOTH? Does that even work? Does that mean that Marieach is all the Peaches and Marios at once?

(In fact, Bowser/Peach/Mario are but the three manifestations of one eternal principle. Also, Bowser/Peach are the true power couple. Read my fanfiction plz.)

And what, say, of Dirk, who ultimately ends up rejecting aspects of his other selves? It feels like there’s a lot more you could say here, and I wonder if Hussie would have said more, if he’d had time. What’s weird is, none of our victorious kids never reach an ur-self (though to their descendants, they become archetypal to some degree), which one might have expected. They’re just individual selves who happened to get lucky. Does that make them representative of the whole? It feels like something’s missing here, or like something got dropped at the last minute.

Same goes for the idea of the Ultimate Riddle. You’d be forgiven for missing it, but there’s been this riddle in the background lore of SBURB that seems to have something to do with personal agency in this overwhelming, overarching system. Karkat called it predestination, saying something like “ANY HOPE YOU HAD OF DOING THINGS OTHERWISE WAS JUST A RUSE.” But others have interpreted it more positively. My favorite interpretation, from bladekindeyewear: the answer to the Riddle is that YOU shape the timeline through your existence, personality, and choices, even when it looks like it’s all predestination. Ultimately it’s your predestination, your set of events, based deeply on your nature, that you are creating. Someone like Caliborn can use his innate personality to achieve power; someone like John might be able to use it to achieve freedom.

I definitely expected something like that to be expressed more explicitly. Like, a big ah-ha moment that helps John or Jade or whoever understand how to escape Caliborn’s system. Something like that would have been very helpful for a lot of our heroes, actually, who’ve been pushed around by Skaia and SBURB together, in finding a cathartic ending. Once again, I wonder if something was dropped or rushed because there wasn’t time to put it all in. There’s places where you can see hints of that Answer being implied, maybe? But it’s kind of ambiguous.

You can see how the Answer to the Ultimate Riddle ties into some of Davepeta’s ideas. If your personality, the rules of your behavior are a fundamental archetype that goes beyond each individual self, then the answer to whether it matters if one self of yours makes it through to victory is an emphatic YES. You are all of those people, and by winning one round with Skaia, you’ve won the whole game, despite all the arbitrary challenges and deaths it heaps upon you along the way.

This may strike some as too positive for Skaia’s brutality, or again, some way of excusing flaws in many characters’ arcs, or unfair things that happen to them. To be fair, I don’t know that Davepeta’s necessarily meant to be taken as authoritative or the voice of Hussie. They may simply be offering a purrspective.

Hussie not choosing to come right out and engage with the Ultimate Riddle leaves the question of Dead Marios and what they mean for the victorious versions of our cast very open. I like that in some ways—let the reader decide—but I can’t help but wish we had more to work with in making that decision. Plus, it might have brought the thematic messages of Homestuck all the way home to tie them more closely to our characters and their experiences—character development being one of the things most people found most lacking in the ending.

NEXT TIME: All that wacky gnostic stuff probably

#homestuck #off the cuff homestuck thoughts extravaganza 2017 #homestuck meta #homestuck theory #homestuck analysis #The Ultimate Riddle #dead marios #ugh why is tumblr basically unusable #pictures and text can go together TUMBLR #GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER IT'S 2017 WE HAVE HYPERCOMICS #HOMESTUCK COULD TEACH YOU A THING OR TWO ABOUT COMBINING MEDIA

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tails89 · 8 years ago

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DolphinTale AU

So this has been written for a while, but I hadn’t had any time to go back and edit... but here it is; the next chapter! Yay!

Chapter 10

The chirp of the doorbell announced his presence as the door swung open. At the same moment Hiccup felt the artificial chill of air-conditioning hitting his face. He was halfway down the main street of Berk, visiting businesses hoping to find sponsors for their fundraiser.

Fishlegs was working down the opposite side of the street. The plan was to meet up at the end and compare potential sponsors.

Hiccup had arrived back at work after meeting Drago to find that Fishlegs had made up simple information sheets to hand out to businesses. The posters explained what they were trying to do with a link to the website set up to view Toothless.

So far Hiccup had visited four stores. Many shop owners appeared to be interested and keen to help. The aquarium had been open in Berk for over thirty years and everyone had fond memories of visiting the attraction and were shocked at the possibility of the closure. Hiccup had already found two businesses willing to pledge their support and donate towards the fundraiser if it went forward.

He made his way towards the front counter, pausing at the drinks fridge for a bottle of water. It was hot outside, summer had well and truly arrived in Berk.

Paying for his drink, Hiccup struck up a conversation with the sales person who rung up the sale. The manager wasn’t in so Hiccup left one of his factsheets behind and moved on to the next store.

It was 2pm when Hiccup met Fishlegs at the end of the main street. He was sitting in the shade as the larger boy waved excitedly.

“Four sponsors Hiccup! First day and I already got four! How did you go?” He was breathing heavily as he sat on the bench beside Hiccup.

“This is fantastic Fishlegs!” Hiccup passed him the notebook he’d been carrying. “With my four that makes eight sponsors already. We can really do this! Save Toothless and the aquarium.”

“It’s a great start,” Fishlegs agreed. “We’ve still got a long way to go. I’ll take this list to the board tomorrow with the plans we made last night. We’ve done everything we can for now.”

Hiccup climbed wearily to his feet. “I just hope it’s enough.”

“Eight sponsors, that’s great!”

Hiccup and Astrid were sitting on the edge of Toothless’ pool. They sat side-by-side with their feet dangling in the water and taking turns throwing toys to the two dolphins in the pool. The heat of the day was still present in the warm cement. Though the sun had finally set, the early heat lingered. It was going to be a warm night.

“I don’t know how we’re supposed to just sit around and wait for tomorrow’s decision.” Hiccup kicked some water up at the playful dolphin who was nosing at his feet.

“We’ve done everything we can,” Astrid examined her hands carefully as she spoke.

“That’s what Fishlegs said,” Hiccup sighed, glancing at the girl beside him. “Why aren’t you excited about this? This is a chance to help all the animals here, not just Toothless.”

Astrid raised her head slowly.

“I am excited,” she promised. “It’s just…” She took a breath, deciding the best way to continue.

“What? You’ve been quiet all afternoon. What’s wrong Astrid?” Hiccup pulled his feet from the water and turned to face his friend.

“The x-ray we took of Toothless this afternoon. I found… something on it.” Astrid maintained eye contact with Hiccup as she spoke. “I still need to confirm it. I sent an email to the Clearwater Marine Centre over in Florida for one of their vets to check.”

“Check what?”

“There’s a lump… on Toothless’ spine.” Astrid beckoned the friendly dolphin over. “It could be nothing… but I don’t think it is.”

“Okay, so if the fundraiser goes well we can fix this right?”

“Maybe? I don’t know Hiccup.” Astrid searched for the right words, biting her lip in concentration. “Dolphins… they’re like humans,” she explained. “Damage to the spinal cord can result in more problems than the inability to walk, or in Toothless’s case, swim. Damage to the nervous system could cause issues with the heart or lungs.”

“But he was healing so well,” Hiccup glanced at the churning water. Toothless and Sneaky were playing a game of tag. Astrid followed his gaze to the dolphins.

“I think it’s the way he’s swimming.” Astrid pointed a tanned arm towards Toothless’s swishing tail. “Dolphins swim by moving their tails up and down,” she demonstrated, waving the outstretched hand up and down. “But watch him, Toothless is moving his tail side to side. Without his fin, he’s had to find a new way to swim. Dolphins weren’t built to move this way.”

“So… you’re saying… even if we find a way to save this place, Toothless could still die?” Hiccup ran a hand through his hair trying to process this new information.

“It’s possible,” Astrid put a hand on Hiccup’s knee. “I’m sorry Hiccup. I’ve never seen anything like Toothless before. I had no idea that amputating his tail would cause him further injury and now… I don’t know how to fix him.” Her voice was rough; like she was holding back tears.

“It’s not your fault,” Hiccup placed his hand on top of Astrid’s. He tried to smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

It was late when Hiccup got home. He’d expected the house to be empty, but his Dad’s car was parked outside when he turned into the driveway.

He cut the engine to his bike and removed his helmet. Letting himself into the house, Hiccup left his helmet on the table by the door.

“Dad?” Shrugging out of his jacket, he called out to his father, but got no response. “Dad, you home?”

All the lights were on inside, but upon investigation only the kitchen held any occupants.

Stoick sat at the kitchen table, staring at the empty glass in his large, weather-beaten hand.

“You went and spoke to Drago today.” It wasn’t posed as question.

Hiccup went to the fridge to get a drink. “Yeah, I- wait, how do you know that?” He stood, one hand on holding the door wide open as he peered over it at his father.

“I got a visit from the Department of Fisheries this afternoon. They’re doing an audit of the entire business, going over everything, looking for an excuse to shut me down and it came with a message from Drago.”

“What?” Hiccup let the door swing shut. “What did he say?”

“We both know Drago isn’t fool enough to visit me himself. He sent one of his men.” Stoick finally looked up at his son.

“Dad, I can expla-“

“How could you be so foolish?” Stoick pounded the table with a large fist.

“I’m sorry,” Hiccup placed his hands on the bench between him and his father. “I didn’t know he would do anything. We were just talking.”

“You deliberately went behind my back!”

“You never explicitly said-“

“I warned you! I told you to stay away and you-“

They were cutting each other off, both Haddock men getting angrier as the other interrupted.

“No! It wasn’t like that.” Hiccup pleaded for his father to listen. “I just wanted to talk to him. Really! I thought-“

“You thought you could reason with a madman. You can’t Hiccup!” Stoick stood from the table.

“I said I was sorry!”

“This time sorry doesn’t cut it. I could lose my license.” Stoick ran a tired hand through his beard.

“Surely it won’t come to that.” Hiccup moved around the bench towards his father.

“Drago has manipulated a lot of people into doing his dirty work. There is no telling what that man might do and you are only making this situation much more difficult.”

“Well then I’ll-“

“No, Hiccup,” Stoick sighed sadly. “you’ve done enough, just… leave it alone.”

“But Dad-“

Stoick roared. “I said that’s enough!”

“I was trying to help!” Both father and son were yelling now.

“And look where it got us!”

Hiccup opened his mouth to argue, but changed his mind suddenly. He spun on his feet and stormed towards the kitchen door.

“We’re not finished. Where are you going?”

“Out.” Hiccup paused in the doorway. “Don’t bother waiting up.”

He stomped out into the hall towards the entryway. He needed to clear his head. So much bad news in one day. His dad was never going to see his point of view. Why did he still bother trying to get his dad to see it his way?

Hiccup’s helmet was still sitting on the table by the front door. He snatched it on his way out and shoved it on. The night was finally beginning to cool but Hiccup decided not to grab his jacket on the way out.

He mounted his bike and started the engine, giving it a good rev as he put it in gear. He could see the silhouette of his father in the kitchen window, pacing. Hiccup shook his head and let out the clutch taking off down the street.

He drove through town aimlessly, waiting for his head to clear. He considered going to Astrid’s before realising he didn’t actually know her address. Instead Hiccup turned towards the aquarium.

There was no traffic at this time of night. The wind felt good on his bare arms. Hiccups squinted into the distance. There was something coming towards him. A car. Black with no headlights speeding in the opposite direction. Hiccup frowned and slowed down but the car sped past without incident. Hiccup slowed further and pulled to the side of the road. There was an odd smell to the air. A jarring mix of saltwater and smoke. But there was nothing out here. Just the aquarium.

With a suddenly pounding heart, Hiccup pulled back onto the road and sped off towards the aquarium… and Toothless.

Hooray! Maybe? Probably not. Hahaha.

Stubborn Haddock men! They both think they are doing the right thing (Hiccup’s heart is in the right place, but seriously, you can’t reason with Drago Bludvist!)

Read previous chapters here

#DolphinTale AU #httyd #httyd au #modern au #hiccup #astrid #stoick #toothless #fanfiction

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