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brooklynislandgirl · 3 years ago

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Beth and UARF!Billy - ❤♡❥ღ💕💘💝💓💌💟💙💚💜💛

Heart-Eyes || -

Five A.M.

Beth’s barely awake as she comes into the office, coffee in hand, only to come face to face with the widest grin she has ever seen on Hal Gates’ face. Dark eyes dancing, he relieves her of her thermos cup, takes both her arms in his hands, and swing-dances her around the cramped space where they work.

“We’ve done it, girl!”

Though abjectly confused, Beth can’t help but grin in return. “Wha’ve we done?” She wants to be just as thrilled, wants to share in the old man’s joy. “We’ve got data on white pointer mating! I’m running the compile now, we should be able to parse it and watch the video footage within an hour or two!”

She’s floored.

The shock is clear on her face, even her mouth drops open a little. Often bandied about as the Holy Grail of marine biology, great-white mating is known to exist. Despite decades of research into the habits of the species, that particular bit of knowledge has eluded marine biologists.

“Wha...? How?”

“Mate of mine, Crawford down in New Zealand has taken a fisherman’s eye-witness account on our elusive little friends, and shared video. Crawford sent me all of the data.”

“Oh, Hal.”

Dr Gates nods at her eagerly and once again promenades her around some tables, brushing past a stack of hastily shoved aside folders with charts of migration patterns, weather reports, and feeding data. Then, far more carefully, he hands her into a seat and plops down into an office chair, slapping his knees in pleasure and pride.

“Speaking of mating rituals...”

Beth laughs but blushes at the same time, eyes askance. She suddenly knows what he’s going to ask, or at least of whom.

“...And since we have so little to do until all the research is collated and complied...”

“Must we?”

“No finer time, girl.”

She holds her hands up to stave him off until she gets up, crosses the room and takes a sip of her coffee. Not exactly how she wanted to start the day, but there’s no real reason not to humour her mentor.

“Have at, den.”

“Excellent.” Hal Gates really is an inveterate old gossip.

~*~

❤: who is more affectionate in public? in private?

Beth laughs. Okay, so this isn’t really so bad. “I t’ink I gotta say...I’m more affectionate in public. Mos’ of da time, Doctah Manderly... just doesn’t know what t’ do. Very stiff, hands in his pockets or stand at parade rest.”

The last cocktail party had been a half disaster, between trying to get William to mingle with the public attendees and not leave to check on his seals at first opportunity. The one time he surprised her was when he put a hand on the small of her back though the illusion was broken when she found that the six-foot-six man was trying to ultimately hide behind her. No amount of mock-tails were going to spare him any acute discomfort.

“Probably for da best. No offence, but he’s very definitely...ah....British.”

“None taken.” Hal offers her a wink and taps the side of his nose.

“But even behind close doors? He just... lil uptight, I guess. I sometimes wonder if mebbe he’s worried about havin’ an episode, and some affections are difficult when you have a service dog nearly t’ree-quarters ya size intent on doin’ her job, but I’d say he at least tries when it jus’ da two of us. Fingahs in my hair, brush against my arm. Da kine.”

Hal nods, knowing the specifics without having to drag them out of her.

♡: who is the bigger romantic openly? secretly?

"I t’ink,” she begins, carefully considering this one. “Dat anyone who loves da sea so much dat dey would give up a whole life to dedicate demself to it...got a big romantic soul. What is da ocean, if not love an’ life, an’ all dat we dream of in songs an’ poetry? I only t’ink it’s harder for him to express dat because well..”

She makes a dismissive gesture.

It isn’t that he grasps the concepts of language and expression, they’ve certainly entertained passionate arguments, verbal jousts that have filled the air with sign and countersign.

“Romantically speakin’ I jus’ don’ see him as da type dat I’m gonna find outside my window wi’ an ole boom box, playing In Ya Eyes by Petah Gabriel, ya know? But I also don’t believe he wouldn’t t’ink about it. So secretly? Him. Openly, me.”

❥: who is more likely to plan something big for valentine's day?

“Honestly, Hal...I’d have t’ say him. He’s a planner. Wants every detail to be perfect, will second guess himself a hundred times jus’ to make sure dere no wrinkle in the research. Me? Always been da spontaneous kine, except when it came to really wantin’ to work wit’ you.”

Hal pats her lap, his face soft.

ღ: who is more likely to initiate hand-holding in public?

“Again, it would be William. I don’ know wha’ he’s t’inkin’ a lot of da time, if he’s even aware dat I am dere sometimes. An’ I don’ really wanna make a big deal about it, don’ wanna ovahstep. For me, it’s a much more difficult proposition, is like...touch is where I’m most comfortable, outside of typing endless notes or readin’ data.”

She nods toward the words scrolling along the screen. She fully disclosed her disabilities when she applied for the position so thankfully she doesn’t have to explain now. Most of the other people at the facility don’t even really notice. Except for maybe Ben who sees too much and maybe says too little. That’s to be expected though when you gather a bunch of scientists and stick them in one beautiful place.

“You want him to initiate more, don’t you?”

“I would, yeah. But dere always more important kine and so really guess it nevah really matter.”

💕: who is more likely to make huge declarations of love in front of other people?

“Fair question an’ I guess dat would be me. We...we agreed not to make a big t’ing about any of dis, you know how quirky everyone here is, an’ in case it doesn’t work out, we don’ want da kine t’ get weird. Especially wi’ James an’ Miranda. So if somet’ing like dis were t’ happen it’s probably because he push all my buttons an’ my tempah got da best of me, right? Could see it happenin’ over breakfast. On da beach. Mebbe by da pools.”

Which is why she tries so hard to keep her passions in check. She doesn’t want to blurt out anything that can’t be taken back.

💘: who developed a crush on the other first?

“Couldn’t say,” and in those two words it is the breadth and depth of her honesty. Beth doesn’t have crushes in the same way most people do. She’s never seen anyone and instantly found herself immersed in fantasies, desires, a desperate need to be around them. She might find someone intellectually stimulating and enjoy the conversation. She might notice that something about them calls to her artist’s eye and be aesthetically pleasing in its symmetry, someone might make her laugh but she doesn’t dwell. And by the time there is the first inkling that she might want more out of a situation or relationship, she’s already become close friends. Or she watches as that object of her affection drifts beyond reach and she tells herself she’s happy because they clearly needed something more than she’s even capable of giving.

And sometimes, Beth wonders if she isn’t really broken or damaged in some way. Because she can’t even say she ever had a crush on Billy. She doesn’t know that she can say she has any expectations other than they look good together on paper, and it’s been drilled into her since birth that appearances *do* matter. “Mo’beddah you should ask him.” Gates doesn’t say anything, he only nods.

💝: who spends more time (possibly overthinking) what presents to get the other?

“William. For same-same reasons as Valentines Day, an’ da need for everyt’ing to be as exactin’ as he can make it. Like, how hard and how long it take him to find...or more likely, *breed* dem two purple neocardinas in my office?” Shrimp like the two in her tank, deliriously happy and spoiled and free of predators, are rare in size and colour, and yet… there they are. Then there’s the allegorical evidence of his severe and frothing dislike of mass consumption marketing, the complete commercialisation of every secular and religious holiday, the pastiche of feelings tacked on almost like an afterthought.

💓: who initiates most physical contact?

Beth hesitates. That’s slightly more personal than the other questions so far and truth be told she’s a little ashamed of having to answer without specific parameters. But it is a question, and she did agree to answer them with the same honesty as she offers Hal in all their other work and conversations. “I’ve always done well wi’ sensory input dat was based in kine oddah dan auditory. Smell, taste, seeing… but of alla dem, touch has always been important to me. Textures, near imperceptible data processed t’rough skin. An’ I guess dat I use dat wi’ him. Way to express ideas or sensations dat might not come across ordinarily. Enthusiasm, excitement, humour, rage, disappointment. I wan him to feel an’ understand when I don’ have da words in me, or know how to express. A lot of da time, it’s accidental or at least….subconscious.” A beat goes by. “I don’t believe he really cares much for it.”

💌: who is more likely to send cutesy texts to the other?

This one is hard for her to answer because they aren’t really cutesy text people. Most of their days are too filled with very real world drama, service to the greater good, the understanding and conservation of the most vulnerable environments and animals within. There’s weather, there’s reports, there’s an entire litany of experiences that don’t leave much time to play around until well after hours when they can finally seek well deserved liberty. However, Billy does sometimes send her pictures of the seals doing very cute seal things, or Annie shepherding him and his charges with the boss-vibes of the Queen Mother. In the end she only offers her mentor a smile and a shrug.

💟: who spends time reading their zodiac compatibilities?

“Oh absolutely I do. Find da whole pseudo-science of it fascinatin’, especially when da stars are not in da same position as dey were when it was invented an’ da psychological impact it has on our species is jus’ totally wild, you know?”

Beth knows that she’s the textbook definition of a Cancerian woman, and Billy does a good job providing a counter-argument on being a Libra. Further there’s a bit of an annoyance factor; he thinks junk science ‘belongs in the bottom of the bin with the rest of the rubbish.’ And he has a point, to some extent, even if she doesn’t agree with him. Not everything can be cold facts and numbers. Sometimes a little playfulness was in order and he absolutely needed to be reminded of that.

Hal laughs and shakes his head. “You’re going to do my chart then, aren’t you?” “Wit’out a doubt, Doctah Gates.” She wiggles her brows.

💙: who is more protective?

“I think objectively, I am. You know William’s troubles, and I have to keep them all in mind dough it’s not like he can forget dem, right? Some of his facts aren’t… I’ve consulted with some medical doctors and if we are careful, dere’s a lot he can experience dat he sees out of reach but I don’ like bringing dem up because I don’ want to agitate him. Only can lead t’ problems.” She does wish though that he’d trust her a little more, that he’d let go of some of his well deserved fears. That he’d let himself out of his shell and accept that even with limitations he can do many of the same things as the rest of the group does. But he seems content enough to hang back, ever the observer. And she doesn’t know if it’s her place to try to drag him into things though she might be better at it than anyone else. Miranda has told her as much.

💚: who tends to get sick more often? who is better at taking care of the other?

Hal’s question is really a continuation of the previous one and once again she has to call Billy out on it. Because she’s never really been sick a day in her life, not since early childhood and the culmination of that was the test bite that nearly lost her the leg she keeps tucked away, hidden out of sight whenever possible. “Dat seems a small kine ingenious, he no can help his seizure disorder. An’ I feel like he really ought to have a good psychologist. I t’ink some t’erapy would do him good. Spends too much time in his own head an’ mebbe not enough taking charge of his life. I know he can be afraid of lots of t’ings but it nevah really *has* to be dat way. But I also don’ wanna push him, for same-same reasons I mention before. You can lead a shark to chum but no can make him frenzy, know what I mean?” The analogy is silly. Billy wants so much more than what he feels he has. And a darker current in the back of her mind wonders if they would still be the same if he felt he could reasonably have them. That feels so selfish and toxic and she really has no place casting judgement on him when maybe she’s no better off than he is, only expressing it differently.

💜: who said "i love you" first? or, if neither has said it yet, who is more likely to say it first?

It’s strange how perceptive he is and goes in for the killing bite. The honest truth is that neither one has said it. And neither one likely will. Billy has layers of guilt and trauma, has beliefs that she cannot get a single foothold to try and tear apart. He doesn’t feel deserving of such a finer emotion. And Beth? She has her own reasons. She doesn’t even know if love is a thing that exists or if it’s some fairy-tale people tell themselves to make it easier to get by. She believes in affection, and she believes that people bond the same way packs and pods and herds do. But she feels the concept of love is poisonous. Ruinous in the way it can destroy someone from the inside out. And how any time she’s ever thought she’d felt it, it was ripped out from her grasp. She won’t say it. She won’t hear it.

She doesn’t answer him immediately, but instead gets up and paces away, appearing as though she’s checking on some of the cameras situated around the bay. The wall that she’d left down for Hal goes back up, slamming into place.

“Research from both psychology and neurology fields have found that there are twelve different areas of the brain that light up and work together when two people are attracted to one another, releasing chemicals like dopamine, adrenaline, oxytocin and vasopression. All the symptoms people experience are simply animal-instincts provided to guarantee that we as a species survive by either wanting to mate, or flee.”

💛: who believes in soulmates?

And Gates understands he’s made an error in judgement, though he’d only been trying to be helpful in a meddling kind of way. Anyone at the facility could see that Billy and Beth were two sides of a very quirky but ultimately needed coin. That they’d both changed each other in the two years she’d been a research fellow, and how they’d both blossomed for it. Well, anyone but the two of them. And this had seemed like such a good idea at first, tied into shark mating habits which he’d hoped she’d take better than she is.

Her answers have thus far matched up quite nicely with the boy’s.

Sadly, especially this one. She doesn’t turn to look at him. “There are no such things, Doctor Gates. And even if there were, statistically it would be almost impossible to meet a soul mate. Within the same general age group there are about a half a billion potential companions all over the world. One would have to travel the entirety of the world, every remote pocket of the planet. Secondly, there’s no scientific proof that souls even exist, and enough studies across various disciplines to prove that they don’t. Believing in such nonsense only makes a person unhappy. And all that aside, most mammals are not biologically programmed for monogamy and I doubt human beings are either.” Because if they were, why would anyone leave someone they claimed to love?

#Mahalo!Crow <3333 #A Star to Sail Her By|Doctor William Manderly #No Man's Land|Billy and Beth #Urca Aquarium and Research Facility #Aloha'aina|Hawai'i

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askmyboys · 4 years ago

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Tyrone

Here’s a furry character I made, im honestly getting invested into those types of babs but i... kinda suck at descriptions lmao, I’ll get better wiht it sooner or later though hopefully

I’ll post Noxis later, gotta just read over his desc again tho bc i cant remember the specific trigger warnings i need to put on his desc so yeye

| Name: Tyrone

| Nicknames: Tyre/Ty

| Gender: He/Him

| Age: N/A

| Height: 7’3”

| Species/Race: Anthropomorphic Dog (Cane Corso is the breed he’s based on)

| Hair style: His hair is essentially just part of his fur- but the fur is slicked back on top of his head to match the rest of his fur really (I mean… Cane Corso fur IS pretty slicked back and not super fuzzy ya know?)

| Eye Color: Caramel Brown

| Fur Color/Body Type: Black and overall he’s pretty average looking, looks a b i t muscular tbh

| Appearance: Let’s start off with the actual appearance instead of the clothing, he got his ears cropped from a young age (where he comes from, it's a mixed thing really, in his pack specifically cropped ears were a rite of passage while to other packs cropped ears were ghastly and considered cruelty but eh to each their own) so now his ears are pointed, he also has a silver earring on the top of his right ear! His teeth are razor sharp and his paw pads are relatively natural coloring a charcoal color, on the middle paw pad of his right paw there is some kind of birthmark there it seems, it’s shaped like a simple circle BUT the birthmark’s meaning is the crucial bit here, it is essentially a high stature sorta thing, only his father has that birthmark of the entire pack, even all the sons and daughters from various litters never held that birthmark, not until Tyrone came along.

His outfit he usually wears is a black leather jacket that has spikes on the shoulder pads with a white t-shirt underneath, he’s got a black collar with a LOT of spikes surrounding it on, more so than the usual spiked collars and they are actually VERY sharp (it’s essentially to protect his neck during fights, I’ll explain that in a bit though) but also it just looks cool, it’s got a bone hanging down the front with his name written in cursive on it, he usually wears charcoal black jeans that are ripped with chains hanging down them (even though his tail is stubby he still cut a hole for it bc that’d still be uncomfy tbh), he doesn’t wear any boots though, boots tend to give him aches while walking.

He’s also got a lot of scars, his most prominent scarring is one on the nose, three over his right eye but he can still see out of it surprisingly, a few long ones near his neck and some old puncture wounds from what looks like dog teeth, and finally claw marks up and down his arms, belly, back, and legs.

Oh btw, even tho he wears a shirt without it you can see he has white patch of fur running down his chest and stomach! Just another lil detail.

| Personality: Tough, stubborn, sometimes a little too cocky for his own good, narcissistic even sometimes? He can be VERY protective and loyal however to the right people/animals, he’s always on high alert of his surroundings and the people around him despite not seeming like he is sometimes, he can be very calm and stable and he USUALLY thinks before he acts but that’s not ALWAYS the case, he can be quiet and reserved sometimes as well but it’s rare, he’s usually pretty much an extrovert although not many people nor other animals approach him, he looks and sounds intimidating as hell and while it CAN be a good thing it can also be a bad thing, deep down he’s a good guy, he’s soft, sweet, kind, and caring! He doesn’t like that most treat him as a terrifying threat or beast, he ain’t about hurting someone just for fun!

The only time he EVER attacks is in self defense OR in defense of the people he cares about, and even then that has to be when he’s ABSOLUTELY pushed to his limit, he’s more so a big referee toward things like fights n shit like that, he’ll body block the two offenders or put himself in front of those he’s trying to protect and usually all he needs to do is speak or growl and that usually sends offenders running off, and even then if they persist he’ll then try giving corrections (corrections are a HUGE thing among his pack) while he won’t actually bite them, he’s going to make a lot of horrifying sounds and act like he’s going to, and usually because to most dogs, not just his pack (yeah corrections are common amongst most dogs too i know) he’ll even go as far as to put someone/another dog especially on their side.

Sure, humans… Are very different and more complex but even then, most of them after being checked by a huge seven foot three dog like him, most will think twice before continuing to try and escalate things. Unfortunately because of his size (he’s the second biggest in his pack, the first being his father likewise) most other dogs, especially ones of his own breed try to challenge him a LOT, and he doesn’t like fighting, usually he ignores these but if they keep on bothering him, he’ll try and give them a warning, aka something like a correction essentially, he’ll tell them very clearly to back off but if they lunge for him or try to go for him at all, then he will NOT hold back, he’s not going to let himself be pushed around or killed just because some dog is butthurt about him being bigger than they are.

| Side Facts: Likewise, his scars have come from SEVERAL fights, some even from his own pack which… His father didn’t take a liking to at all and especially not his mother… His father was the alpha and despite being a male in this situation he actually stepped in quite a lot, however his father was a bit more…

Let’s just say a little more forgiving, his mother was an absolute SPITFIRE, she ruled with an iron fist and she didn’t tolerate ANY bullshit, she’d never hurt any of her pack members nor babies especially but there was no tolerance for certain things and in her pack you HAD to obey the rules whether you liked them or not.

She was MUCH more harsh than his father was with corrections, heh- Tyrone remembers as a pup oh he can’t even COUNT how many times he heard his mom growling, snarling and of course can't count how many times he’s seen her bare her teeth even, she was a no nonsense kind of woman, even toward the puppies she ruled with an iron fist, they were taught along with Tyrone from a very young age how important the rules were and how important energy and certain cues from other dogs were.

Tyrone is very embarrassed however bc the stories his mom always tells were how as a young pup, he was the aggressive little spitfire who didn’t care how big his opponent was, he’d challenge them, try to dominate, and conquer essentially- Nothing was thought through then, in his adolescent years he was always SO damn serious! No play, no nothing! He even growled at the pups trying to play with him! Some little tiny marks that are barely able to be seen came from his mom and dad but, in dog society it’s kinda natural, I mean to be fair, dogs when correcting aren’t like humans, they only have their mouths so when a dog’s correction your BOUND to see a mark here and there.

He does thank his mama for setting him straight though that’s for sure… He sounded like such a handful and even though he has the second highest stature to his father, even he was not safe from the corrections lmao, his mother is actually first in command, father is in second co-command essentially and finally Tyrone is in third- all three of them are p much high ranking, of course since his parents are still living THEY are the alphas but he IS a Beta, the other brothers and sisters being mostly betas and omegas (there are a couple of his brothers n sisters who are also alphas but they are in fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh place- if i ever name his pack I’ll make sure to clarify who is which ranking)

Overall, Tyrone really loves his family, he’d do anything to protect them even if he wanders a lot and doesn’t stay with them the entire time, he does try and visit as often as he can, he knows eventually he’ll track wherever their roaming as well, usually packs stick together but… Given Tyrone’s status and the fact he’s got the birthmark and is high stature his parents are more so lenient with him, they do still worry bout him ofc but still, he was never the type to just sit still, while his other brothers n sisters don’t really care bout leaving the pack he’s ALWAYS been a wandering spirit, so… They’ll let him be free, they’ll still love him nonetheless in the end.

#Tyrone #furry oc #cane corso oc #my oc #original character

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m00nslippers · 6 years ago

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just because the batboys dont see themselves as siblings all the time doesnt mean they don't all have the same (adopted) father. at any one point in time, at least 2 of the boys have considered each other brothers

Just because you have a piece of paper that says something, that doesn’t mean the feelings are automatic. A document that claims them as ‘siblings’ doesn’t automatically give them a sibling bond, you have to earn that with actual sibling interaction, and until very recently in the canon, Jason did not have that with any of the other Robins. Jason also outright said he was ‘no one’s son’ in Under The Red Hood so at the time he pretty much rejected Bruce as his father, even if the history and feelings were still there. So calling them brothers in any capacity until very recently is just a technicality as far as I’m concerned. But for some people that’s a big important technicality so, okay let’s dissect this argument.

I think it’s a little silly that I actually have to discuss this, but let me ask you the question, ‘why is incest wrong?’ because actual incest is definitely wrong in my opinion but there are real reasons for why it’s wrong, and I’ll tell you why. It’s not just because a religious text or two said so. I like to think we’re beyond blindly following ancient texts to designate who is allowed to have a relationship with who. As far as I see it, there’s two main reasons why incest is bad:

1. Genetic issues with children. Basically if you’re blood-related and you have a kid, that kid has a substantial likelihood to develop a genetic disease just because of how gene inheritance and expression works. Incest relationships that produce children are bad for the gene pool and humanity as a species. Inbreeding is how we got dog breeds that can’t survive giving birth naturally or have a 90% chance of having spine issues and early deaths. It’s objectively bad.

2. Potential for abuse and difficulty in identifying abuse. Basically when you are raised together in the way siblings are, especially with one being older and in a position of power over the younger, there is a huge potential for the elder sibling especially to manipulate or abuse the other, possibly without even realizing what they are doing. Siblings are already supposed to and most likely will care for and love each other, and especially if you are young it would be difficult to tell if any romantic love between the two is because both parties want it or because one feels as if they have to, to maintain the sibling relationship or please the other whom they care about. It just gets really muddy, and difficult to navigate, and it’s hard to tell if the feelings are real or gas-lighting on someone’s end, so at least until both people are adults, it’s really just a situation that should be avoided to make sure everyone stays and feels safe. Avoiding a situation that has a high possibility of abuse is objectively a good thing.

If you can think of another reason incest is wrong besides “yuck! I don’t want to think of my sibling like that!” then I’m all ears. But that being said, do any of these things apply to the batboys?

Well 1 is a non-issue because they aren’t blood-related and it’s mlm so they aren’t in a child-baring relationship. 2 could be an issue with DickDami or Dick Tim since they do have a decent amount of sibling-like interaction, but if the relationship happens when they are both adults I think it pretty much avoids the problems of number 2. But in the case of JayDick or JayTim is think it is a complete non-issue because they don’t have any relationship at all when growing up and they are all pretty much adults anyways by the time they meet again.

So as far as I can see it, the issues of incest are completely irrelevant to most batcest relationships. Can you wave around a piece of paper that says they are adoptive siblings and therefor their relationship is unlawful in a couple of states in the USA? Yeah, I guess you can, but that’s more a ‘follow the letter of the law rather than the spirit’, type issue. Culture/tradition in the past has said that a lot of things were wrong that if you looked at it objectively you’d see there wasn’t really a logical reason behind it. For a long time relationships between the same sex were seen as wrong but when it comes down to it most of the ‘reasons’ boiled down to “It’s different from what I’m used to so I don’t like it, also some religious person told me it was wrong” (By the way, I’m not against religion here, just against blindly following it and ignoring logic/reality and how certain practices can hurt people.)

Now since we are on the subject, let me just plug something that actually colors my feelings on this issue. When I was pretty young I used to watch a show called House M.D. and there is a particular episode of this show that relates to this subject and really kind of stuck with me when I watched it.

for those who don’t know, House M.D. was a very interesting show where a cynical asshole genius doctor and his crew of put-upon other genius doctors would solve medical mysteries ins a sort of Sherlock Holmes manner (the similarities between the name House and Holmes was intentional on the show’s part). A patient would come into their hospital with a complaint or sickness that no one else could figure out, they would dramatically spiral toward death as the crew clamored to figure out the cause and eventually House, being a genius, would diagnose the patient at the last second as save the day–but he was still a jerk so he was never happy.

In one particular episode, the wife in a young couple came into the ER. She was black and her husband was white, they’d run away and eloped, and been disowned by their families because they were a mixed race couple. But they didn’t care because they were deeply in love and had been there for each other since they were teens because they lived right next door to each other. So she is really sick with something and of course everyone scrambles to figure out what the problem is to save her and the whole time her husband is there for her and being loving and wonderful, refusing to leave her side.

Because that’s how this show works, there is a dramatic reveal that isn’t really relevant that is actually some genetic issue or something. But since their relationship was such a focal point of their situation, House had gleaned enough information about them to realize a disturbing truth–the loving husband and wife who were each other’s only support had been half-siblings all along and didn’t even realize it. The man’s father had an affair with the girl’s mother and they’d both hid it. It hadn’t been obvious because on the surface level they appeared to be different races, but they both had a rare color of green eyes. Their parents weren’t against the couple because it was interracial, but because it was incestuous, but hadn’t told either of them. The husband had to be tested for the same genetic issue as the wife and both were devastated at this realization. We don’t see what the couple decide to do, whether they break off their relationship or continue it. But either way, their feelings were real, their husband and wife relationship was real, and being genetically siblings didn’t change that. Neither of them did anything wrong, they just didn’t grow up as siblings, didn’t realize they were supposed to see each other as siblings.

Now, look. I know this is a fictional story, but it illustrates something that is true to life–sibling relationships are something you have to build. They aren’t automatic, they aren’t genetic, they don’t just happen as soon as you have a piece of paper that says you are siblings. And romantic relationships are something that occur between people who are compatible, regardless of technicalities in law or culture that those involved may or may not be aware of at the time. Judging people or relationships and having expectations about people and relationships based on arbitrary rules and technicalities like ‘technically they are brothers because Bruce adopted Jason and then later he adopted Tim after Jason was dead’ is dumb. It’s meaningless. It really just has no bearing on anything. In most states it’s not even illegal because making an issue of it is based on arbitrary, archaic rules. If someone can give me a solid reason why JayDick or JayTim is wrong or bad, then maybe I’ll change my opinion, (but I still wouldn’t be against people writing it because even messed up and really unhealthy relationships can be weirdly cathartic or interesting to read/write and also do happen in real life–PEOPLE CAN WRITE WHAT THEY WANT EVEN IF ITS ‘WRONG’ THEY DON’T HAVE TO JUSTIFY IT TO YOU OR MEET SOME MEASURING STICK OF MORALITY) but personally I just don’t see why it’s a problem for anyone.

#huge batcest rant #hopefully I don't get a million antis coming on here to yell at me #Jason Todd #Red Hood #batcest #jayDick #JayTim #wall of text #I like to write the batboys as brothers a lot too #I don't like to mix my batcest and batfam #But I don't think either are wrong #Both interpretations have merit #and bringing in the InCEsT arguement is dumb and annoying and irrelevant

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freebooter4ever · 5 years ago

Text

A continuation of the amazing Pirate Snafu AU for @persipneiwrites, this is like an explosion of my love for pirates and snafu and I couldnt contain it so pls take it, get it out of my head. read persipnei's original first cause basically gene just told snaf he was dying of scurvy to trick him into taking gene, who snaf had saved from a shipwreck, home. And now snaf has to decide to return to Mobile or continue on his quest.

In the light of impending mental uncertainty, Snafu does what he always does...retreat to the peace and quiet of his Captain's quarters to surround himself with all his favorite maps. There isn't a surface in the tiny cramped space not covered in maps. Large, detailed maps, with scribbly corrections done in Snafu's own writing. A lot of times the cartographers are going off theoretical knowledge when they chart the coastlines. Snafu, on the other hand, has the worldly experience necessary to fix them. He hasn't exactly gone everywhere yet, but he's gotten pretty close.

He shuffles through the papers with a little more force than is probably warranted to dig out an old handheld mirror. It's cracked, and weather beaten, but it'll do the trick. Baring his teeth in front of the glass he sticks a finger under his lip and pokes around. Nothing hurts exactly, but there is a tightness to his chest that makes him nervous. One tooth he pokes actually wiggles a little, and that makes him even more nervous.

He shoves open the cabin door and yells, "Burgie!"

His first mate appears almost instantly.

"Find his majesty. Send him to my cabin," Snafu says.

Burgie agrees, looking extremely tired.

Snafu shuts himself back in, sits on his bed (which takes up almost as much space as the maps) and continues turning the mirror this way and that, trying to get a better angle. He very nearly can see the backside of his teeth by the time Sledge finally quietly lets himself into the room.

"What do you want?" Sledge asks, sullen.

Snafu smirks. He knows Sledge still considers himself apart from the crew. The boy doesn't like it when Snafu tries to order him about.

Snafu gestures to the space in front of him, "You said your father's a doctor. I want a thorough examination."

"You're joking," Sledge deadpans.

Snafu kicks a velvet covered stool in Sledge's direction and leans back on his hands, waiting patiently.

Sledge sighs miserably and straddles the stool. He scoots forward until his knees knock against Snafu's. Snafu holds completely still, barely breathing, until Sledge gently takes hold of Snafu's jaw and guides his mouth open. Snafu would almost describe Sledge's touch as delicate, if he were the type to use such vocabulary.

"Your breath stinks," Sledge complains and completely ruins the mood Snafu is trying to build.

"Yeah?" Snafu grins.

Sledge rolls his eyes and focuses on the task at hand.

Sledge's hands are so soft, and clean. Too damn clean to be anywhere near Snafu's mouth. But Sledge examines Snaf's teeth and gums anyway, and has him move his tongue around to inspect every bit. It all seems very procedural and official. And by the end of it Snafu's left front teeth hurt like hell, right down to the bone.

So he isn't surprised by Sledge's eventual diagnosis.

Snafu makes the announcement right before dinner. He wears his biggest hat. Straps his sword to his belt for show. Usually he does without weaponry whole on the boat. He trusts his crew enough. They're like family. Better than, even.

His crew watches him, trustingly, as he tells them they'll be turning around. That the big score he's been planning for over six months will have to wait. It means longer hours with less food. And no recreational time at port.

As Snafu makes his speech, he eyes Eugene Sledge, who stands off in a corner, arms crossed, face set in stone. Snafu wonders if Sledge is aware just how costly his request actually is.

Snafu trusts his crew with his life. But in under four months the communal treasury will be gone, and if he hasn't replenished it by then, he will be gone too. They wouldn't kill him. But they'd leave him in the nearest port and take his ship, in which case he might as well be dead.

"We're going to Mobile, to see this Governor-Doctor," Snafu concludes, looking straight at Sledge while he does, "And if it turns out we don't got scurvy, we'll take his majesty's ransom" he pantomimes a salute to Sledge, "...and kill him."

The crew jeers. None of them like Sledge.

Snafu's eyes trail down Sledge's lean neck, watching intently as the man swallows. Snafu expected Sledge to be smug, triumphant. Instead all Snafu sees is fear.

Fear is not the look Snafu wants from Eugene Sledge, but it's the one he is used to.

Snafu returns to his quarters and locks the door.

He only reappears hours later, on the edge of twilight. The sun is no longer relentless, and the sea is calm for once. These evening hours have become his time to hold court. Wherever he ends up perching on the ship, his men will find him and air any grievances. It's a daily reminder that his Captaincy is communal rather than appointed. Even if he is the one with a formal claim to the ship.

He goes through three pirates with money troubles, two women having a domestic disagreement, and one man who had something to say about the cat - before Burgie finally slides in next to him. It's nearly dark, and this nook under the bow they're squatting in makes the shadows pitch black. It's similar to the opening of the tiny storage space Snafu first hid in as a kid. Not a lot of unused space on a ship. But a skinny half starved child can fit in almost any cranny with the right motivation. He had been caught halfway through the voyage, and forced to swab decks for the rest of the journey.

"You don't have it," Burgie says without preamble.

Snafu cuts his eyes towards his first mate with suspicion.

"Haven't you wondered why our crew has had zero cases since I came on board?" Burgie asks.

"Just thought we were lucky, I guess," Snafu drawls and takes a smoke.

"Last crew I sailed with, the Captain decided to do an experiment. After he went to Asia, he learned that lemons were said to be able to prevent scurvy on long voyages. So, he gave the crew of his command ship three spoonfuls of lemon juice every day while the rest of the ships in his fleet did without. The men on the other ships started dropping like flies. Most of them didn't make it. I had to transfer to another ship just to help bring her in to port. It was cruel, the conditions that bastard put us in. To use us as test cases. It was mere luck I ended up on the command ship. Switched with a friend. He held out till the final week before he succumbed," Burgie says, ''I jumped ship after that. Couldn't stay watching that kind of treatment and not be able to do anything about it."

"You say your last Captain made it to Asia?" Snafu asks.

That's where Snafu wants to go. The Pacific Ocean.

Burgie sighs, "Snaf, I ordered the cook to give everyone daily lemon rations for a reason. You don't have scurvy, and if you keep taking my elixir you never will. Eugene lied."

"Eugene Sledge," Snafu extends the name as long as it can go, testing his limits. He grins down at the water below him. "Pretty little rich boy with hair like copper. Do you think he's ginger down there too?"

Burgie scoffs and stands to leave, "If you're taking him home because you want to fuck him, fine. But don't pretend like you're doing this for the health of the crew."

"Everyone knows scurvy is a luck game," Snafu taunts, still grinning.

"If you'd rather trust luck than me, you better be careful before yours runs out," Burgie warns kindly. He turns his back on his Captain.

"Burgie?" Snafu stops him just before he goes.

Burgie turns, questioning.

"Don't tell nobody," Snafu says. His face grows somber and he looks his first mate dead in the eye, "I don't want to have to kill him."

Burgie looks sad. But he nods.

A couple nights later Snafu finds Sledge, after he's had some time to think.

"The sailors cut my hammock again," Sledge complains the minute Snafu sits down next to him.

Snafu doesn't answer.

Sledge brought his troubles with the crew mostly on himself. He made no effort to learn anything about sailing, or to pitch in and lighten the duties of the sailors he's demanding work from as they take him home. He didn't even know enough about knots to tell when a rope has been cut or merely untied.

No one cuts rope on a ship unless it's an emergency.

Instead of saying all that, Snafu lights his rolled tobacco, and passes it to Sledge.

Sledge characteristically refuses the smoke.

They sit in silence that's almost companionable for an entire watch. Some of the crew pass by, as if wanting to talk to their Captain, but no one bothers them. Eventually they're given a wide berth and left completely alone.

Snafu seizes his chance. He sucks in his bottom lip. Then releases it. "Liars never prosper," he says.

Sledge sits up very straight. "You're a pirate," the boy says, "thought all your old breed did was lie?"

"Naw," a smile drifts across Snafu's face despite himself, "Gotta stick to the code. No lying."

Eugene immediately gets defensive, "All I want is to go home. I'm not asking for anything else."

Snafu casts his eyes to the sky. He is sick of hearing the same line over and over. "You are," he says, exasperated, "Going home. So don't be dumb and tell the crew I don't have scurvy."

"Wasn't planning on it," Eugene snaps.

"Good," Snafu says, equally harsh.

"Glad we've come to an understanding then," Eugene quips.

It takes every good samaritan bone buried deep in Snafu's body to not shove Sledge off the ship's rail and into the water then and there.

Or maybe it's just that Snafu wants one certain good samaritan buried deep in him that he's being so unusually lenient. He's not thinking very straight at the moment.

"The offer to sleep in my quarters still stands," Snafu says calmly in a final answer to Sledge's first problem, "Bed's big enough for two."

Sledge laughs caustically.

"I won't try anything," Snafu says defensively. He finally looks Eugene in the eye to convey that he's being genuine. "I promise." Snafu's last two words are only slightly sarcastic which in his mind is a great sacrifice.

But Eugene is staring at him balefully with those big sullen eyes of his, and Snafu aches. It is unfair to want so much when the other person doesn't.

"How old are you?" Eugene asks, still glaring, and turning the non sequitur tables over on Snafu.

Snafu looks at him. Tries to take the man's soul out through his eyes and divine his motivations. Then Snaf laughs, as if it worked. "I stowed away on my first ship at twelve," he says, "Led my first mutiny at seventeen. That was a year ago. I guess that makes me eighteen."

"Jesus christ, you're younger than me," Sledge says all in one breath like a revelation.

"No one on this boat is more green than you, Sledge," Snafu points out.

The man in question ignores this comment. Instead he focuses on Snaf's age. "You don't look it. Eighteen, I mean."

Snafu arches his back with a bit of pride, "Probably because I'm the meanest asshole this side of the atlantic."

"You're not mean, you're just defensive," Sledge counters, "That's different than being malicious."

"All the men I sent down to Davy Jones' locker would probably argue otherwise," Snafu taunts. A smile is growing on his face and he doesn't know what to do about it.

"Yeah. Okay," Sledge teases, "You're a mean tough pirate, I know."

Snafu is really laughing now. He can't seem to stop. It comes in bursts, like the waves far below his feet. Like all the joy he's had stuffed inside him burst free for this one moment of absurdity. One moment when a pampered, second son dandy sees straight through Snafu's artifice and is entertained by it.

Somehow, in the midst of Snafu's fit, Eugene starts laughing too. So they chuckle together as the sun sets, co-conspirators in lies they both started. And when Snafu turns his face away from the glare and happens to glance at Eugene, there's a smile on Eugene's face. And something in his eyes that terrifies Snafu. But the kind of terror that feels a little like hope.

"Why aren't you going to send me down to Davy Jones along with the rest?" Eugene asks.

Snafu slides off the rail and back onto the deck. He stands a few feet away, clinging to a rope for support, to admire Eugene's profile lit by the remaining sunlight. "You're too pretty to die, Sledge," Snafu winks.

He returns to his quarters alone.

He leaves his door unlocked.

Sometime in the night, Eugene must have snuck inside.

Because it's only when Snafu wakes with the sun and rolls over to discover a tuft of red hair on the pillow next to him that the pirate captain realizes it might be worse to have Eugene Sledge so near and off limits than to not have him in his bed at all.

Eugene Sledge sleeps peacefully. Exactly how Snafu might have imagined a Governor's son would. And deep inside, somewhere near that good samaritan bone of his, Snafu wants to preserve that innocence.

It's why he's taking the man home.

#sledgefu #sledgefu pirate au #bad germs

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mirkwoodshewolf · 6 years ago

Text

Mother dragon (7); Winchester brothers x reader

*Author’s note*

Okay guys first of all thank you so much for those giving this series a chance and for wanting to be asked to be on my taglist for this series, truly you have no idea who much it means to me that you all are liking this series. Also I’d like to say there here in this chapter we are introduced to yet ANOTHER BORHAP CAST MEMBER and I know all of you are probably gonna flip your shit when u see who it is. Anyways I hope you all enjoy this chapter as well as the many others to come :)

Taglist:

@onebigfangirlworld

@psychosupernatural

@ixchel-9275

@plethora-of-things

@waddles03

__________________________________________________________

I was now in what felt like a medical cavern. I was sitting on a boulder bed with Sam and Dean on either side of me and Cas in front of me. He placed his index and tall finger against my forehead and soon my broken ankle as well as any other injuries I had obtained in that fight were instantly healed.

“Thanks Cas.” I said. He nodded and Dean asked me.

“You sure you’re okay kid?”

“I’m fine. I mean a little traumatized but other than that I’m all good.” The door opened and soon cautiously coming in was Deacon. Silently my three ‘brothers’ decided it was best to walk out and give Deacy and me some privacy.

I know I shouldn’t be but I could feel the awkward tension in the air as Deacy slowly walked towards me and looked down shamefully, making that same guilty face that he’s always made ever since he was a child.

“Do you—need me to heal anything mum?”

“No, no Cas took care of all that.” I said. All was too quiet, I don’t even know why but I just couldn’t look at him. This was all just too much I mean first I find out my adopted son is alive after all these years, then I’m kidnapped by his brothers and his entire nest tries to have me killed, and now I find out that the dragon who I thought was the Alpha wasn’t and that Deacon was the real Alpha.

The Alpha. I mean sure I’ve seen the Alpha Vampire and the Alpha werewolf with my own eyes and Alphas no matter the species are the most dangerous and powerful beings in the entire world, they’re basically gods of their own species.

And now here is my son who is the Alpha of all dragons, all this time I was raising an Alpha dragon.

*Deacon’s POV*

She was beyond nervous, confused, petrified. I could just smell the anxiety radiating off of my mum. I hoped that she wouldn’t find out this way of who I really was to my nest. The way I envisioned it happening was just me and her talking and I would slowly bring it up to her, allowing her to ease into the idea that I had the bloodline of the Alpha dragons.

Not having her nearly burned to death by Warren and me having to physically show her what I was. Forcing myself to use my bloodline as an Alpha to have Warren stand down and then having almost 1000 dragons bowing before me.

But then an idea came to mind. She always used to do this to me whenever I wouldn’t speak my mind about something, now it’s time for a little sweet revenge.

I walked up towards her and knelt down in front of her and rubbed my nose against hers in an Eskimo kiss. I saw the hint of a smile come up on her face as she, like I once did, turned away from me. I grinned and leaned over her attacking her cheek with kisses. Softly but surely I could hear giggles coming out of her as I kept hovering and kissing her.

She did try to push me away but like I was when I was a child, she was powerless to escape me. How long I’ve waited for this day to finally get back at her for doing this to me all the time. And it was even more enjoyable once I brought out the big guns. I now started to poke and tickle her along her sides making her go full on belly laugh.

“Deacy…..Stohahahap!”

“You gonna speak your mind? Let out all that’s in that big head of yours?” I mocked her just as she once mocked me.

“Yes! Yehehehs just stohahahp!” I ceased my tickle attack and to be all innocent just like when I was still a young dragonling, I placed my head on her lap and just looked at her with a cute head tilt.

“Not so fun when the shoe’s on the other foot is it?”

“Well that was worse, you’ve got frickin claws for nails.” She panted which made me grin and chuckle as I playfully pawed at her cheek. Her eyes slowly became solemn again as I felt her stroke my hair and she finally spoke up, “Deacy why didn’t you tell me you were the Alpha?” I looked up at her before sighing heavily.

“Truthfully I didn’t know myself until I was told of my bloodline by Stephen. And I was going to tell you it’s just…..”

“Just what?”

“I was afraid. Of—what you would think? I know Alphas are known to be the toughest and strongest out of any of their breeds, they’re also to be the most dangerous. I—I thought that if you found out I was an Alpha dragon you’d…..treat me differently.” I felt her hand turn my head to face back up to her and as she thumbed my cheekbone she said.

“Deacy I’m your mother. I could never treat you differently. I just…..need time to adjust to this. I mean it was weird at first when I found you that I was taking in a dragon, but now I find out that you are the Alpha dragon’s heir.”

“Yeah that is a lot to take in isn’t it?” I asked her.

“Just a smidge.” She whispered out which made me chuckle again. “Also I’m still trying to get over the kidnapping and almost witch burned alive execution I nearly faced.”

“I’m sorry mum. I promise you it won’t happen again.”

“How can you be so sure? That dragon seemed very keen on wanting to ensure that I was nothing but ash and bones. Who was he anyway?”

“It’s like Castiel said. By dragon law; the parent of the Alpha is forbidden to be harmed or threatened. Neither one of my dragons are allowed to harm you. And now that they know it, I don’t think anyone will try. And his names Warren, my second in command.”

“Your Beta?” I nodded and she leaned up against the wall and muttered, “Unbelievable. You sure no dragons are gonna conspire against you to get rid of me?”

“Trust me mum, the last time someone tried to conspire against me, ended up exiled with his wing barely able to fly.” She looked at me in shock and I said, “Never let people underestimate you. That’s what you’ve always told me.”

“That I have.” She said as she softly scratched my scalp which induced a low purr from me. “Now what about those other two dragons that helped out Warren. Who are they?” I merely grinned at her before shooting right up and taking her hand in mine and leading her out of the healing wing.

*My POV*

I was dragged deeper and deeper into the caves as I kept trying to get Deacy to tell me where he was taking me.

“Deacy! Slow—slow down, will yah? Where are you taking me?”

“You’ll see mum. C’mon quickly!” We went through tight corners (and I seriously mean tight corners, like it makes you go almost up against the wall type of tight) and up against jagged slopes in order to walk through openings until he finally stopped. “Go on.”

“What…..”

“Just trust me. The first one you’ll meet is Stephen and then shortly you’ll see Apophis, most likely after he checks in with his mate Kisara.”

“Stephen, Apophis and Kisara.” I muttered the names.

“Yes, now go on.” He shoved me forward and I glared at him telling him not to push me. He maybe some Alpha but I’m still his mom. I walked through a couple more tight corners before finally ducking downward and suddenly I was hit with a bright light. Then my eyes were greeted with the most wonderous sight.

Flying overhead high up along this part of the den were hundreds and hundreds of dragons. Young babies were down along the grassy ground in front of my playing and wrestling with each other. All around me there was trees, grass and a steep cliff just ahead which lead down to a small river where some dragons were either drinking or taking a dip.

It was like a paradise for dragons.

‘That much is correct.’ A familiar soft but deep British voice spoke in my head. I jumped and frantically looked around and the voice said in my head again, ‘Look up Mother dragon.’ I looked up and there hiding in the perch between the mountain and some dangling vines was the owl-like dragon hanging upside down like a bat.

He rotated his head tilting at me as he grumbled down at me. Instead of the piercing slit eyes like our first encounter, his pupils were now more dilated giving off a sense of friendliness in a way (as far as dragons go).

“I take it you’re—Stephen?” His eyes closed and he bowed his head royally almost like he was bowing before a king or queen before opening them once more. “Now how-how-how did you do the—”

‘Mind melding?’

“Yeah I guess. Cause this comes as a shock to me that I can hear and understand you in this form when I can’t even hear my son’s thoughts as a dragon.”

‘Consider me a…..special case. It probably would have to deal with the fact that I’m not full dragon.’ Stephen spoke.

“Whoa, whoa, wait, wait, wait, wait hold the phone there. You’re not a full dragon? But how can you—”

‘My dominant genes may allow me to turn into a dragon thanks to my father. But on my mother’s side I am a witch. Or in my case Warlock.’

“Holy shit.” I muttered as I placed my hand to my head turning away from him.

‘Do you disapprove of me?’ he asked concerned.

“What? No, no I just—it’s a bit weird to get my head around it to be honest. I mean I’ve seen many strange beings in my life but never once did I ever imagine a witch and a dragon—doing it with each other.” I heard Stephen chuckle and as he fell from his perch he flipped right side up suddenly changing into his human form and slowly coming down to land in front of me as he said.

“Well, at least I’m not half demon. Or half vampire. Right?” His four wings then folded back into his back and disappeared.

“Well I suppose that is better. Just—don’t let Dean see you. He’s got a—loathing for witches.”

“But—you approve of me? For what I am, right?” he asked me wearily as he slowly got closer to me.

“Wh-why would you need my approval for?”

“It’s because of his genes that he’s been kicked out of every dragon nest from here to Norway.” Another male voice spoke up. We both turned around and standing there was Egyptian dragon whom I assumed to be Apophis.

I turned toward Stephen to see him glaring at the Egyptian before turning his attention to me and looking down shamefully.

“See as parent of the Alpha; you also have a calling on who stays in the nest or goes, should they feel threatening to either you or your heir.” Apophis continued to say. I looked back towards Stephen and said.

“You are who you are, Stephen. There’s no changing your birth right. I see no reason why you should be kicked out of the nest.” I told him. He looked down at me and smiled gratefully and kneeled before me saying.

“Thank you, Mother dragon.”

“Oh please, call me (y/n). I’d rather be treated equally than as royalty.” I told him as I made him stand up.

“While we’re on the side note. I’d also like to apologize for what happened along the cliffside back in Kansas. I was only following orders from Warren. And I’m sorry about that friend of yours.” Apophis said.

“No worries. He’s not human as you might be able to detect. At least Deacy was. He’s been through worst falls than that.” I assured him. I soon took notice that as I was talking to them, several dragons were surrounding us getting a good look at me.

Some of the young ones even came up to me and sniffed me or were playing with the strings on my tennis shoes. Stephen would shoo them off and that’s when I heard another flap of wings.

“Ohh, here comes the Missus right now.”

“Missus? You mean Kisara?” Apophis nodded and soon flying down beside him was a female white dragon with piercing blue eyes. She wasn’t as big as either Deacy or even Warren’s dragon forms and unlike the boys (minus Apophis), her wings were clearly on her back and she had four legs instead of two.

“Hello my love.” Apophis praised the female white dragon. Kisara purred affectionately as her mate touched her under her chin and that’s when her eyes locked with mine.

Her pupils dilated as she looked at me and tilted her head much like a puppy dog. Apophis whispered something to her and that’s when she came up towards me. I cringed and held my arms up in case she would suddenly attack but all she did was sniff me.

Right suddenly before she let out a low, deep purr before nuzzling me so affectionately I ended up landing and lying over her muzzle.

“Whoa, whoa!” I couldn’t help but laugh as I was even lifted up off the ground just a couple of feet before being set back down and I slid off her muzzle. “She’s really affectionate isn’t she?”

“Pregnant dragons usually are, especially around experienced mothers.” Stephen explained as Kisara was now at my feet spinning around me almost caging me in a way but only halfway as she now exposed her stomach before me.

“Wait she’s…..”

“Yep, our first batch of eggs. We just found out a couple weeks ago thanks to Stephen. Hopefully soon she’ll be able to lay them and then it’s a wait game for about 3 months.” Kisara looked up at me and I turned to Stephen who said to me.

“She wants you to feel them. She’s giving you permission to feel them.” Oh wow, this’ll be a first for me. But I guess it’s no different than touching a pregnant woman’s stomach.

I slowly lifted my hand up and looked to Apophis since this was his mate I didn’t want to cross any boundaries. He nodded softly and I felt her soft and smooth underbelly and heard her purr.

Kisara then got back up onto her feet and came around me and stared at me before bopping her head up and down. Knowing this technique from Deacy since he used to do it all the time, I joined in with her as we both grumbled and I let out a series of laughs, that was until something amazing happened.

Kisara’s teeth retracted.

My eyes were bewildered as she held her mouth open and I couldn’t help but observe.

“Whoa retractable teeth! Incredible.” As I brought my head out from her mouth she looked at me and softly licked my cheek before nuzzling my head with hers purring lowly. “Oh Apophis, your wife’s magnificent. Unlike any dragon I’ve ever seen before.”

“That’s an honor coming from you, isn’t that right my love?” Soon Kisara’s form began to change as now standing before me was a beautiful young woman with short blonde hair and greenish-brown eyes.

She looked to be about Apophis’ age and to show there was the baby bump but it looked like she was ready to deliver as she looked about 8-9months along (maybe something equivalent to that since animal/human births are different).

“Thank you Mother Alpha. I—hope you’ll be willing to help me with my pregnancy and give me any advice you can give in raising my future little ones.” She said as she took my hands in hers. Her voice was warm like honey and was as delicate as a bell, giving it that musical airy kind of tone, but it truly held a mother’s tone.

“When first time female dragons fall pregnant, they typically seek out the advice of an experienced mother to help. And it would seem Kisara has chosen you, mum.” Deacy’s voice soon rang up. All the dragons surrounding us bowed their heads in respect for him. I also took notice that Sam, Dean and Cas were there with him.

“Whoa, whoa, hang on Alpha we just got here what’s going on here? Whose pregnant?!” Dean snapped. I looked to Dean telling him through my eyes that if he slips his big mouth of an insult in front of all these dragons he’s gonna get royally fucked over.

“I mean I—don’t know much about raising babies from egg hood but…..I’ll happily tell you what I did know from raising Deacy.” She suddenly hugged me lovingly and nuzzled the top of my head in thanks. “Plus I can fill you in on all the embarrassing stories I got.”

“Oh mum why?”

“Oh I would very much like to hear that.” Bragged Apophis with a grin.

“Well buckle up cause I’ve got about a hundred of embarrassing stories to tell about your brave alpha.” I bragged.

“Mum!” Deacy exclaimed as he came over toward me and covered my mouth.

“You’re just fooling yourselves.” Another British voice spoke up. Soon flying downward landing on the edge of the cliffside was Warren. His wings remained out trying to appear intimidating as he glared right toward me. “Humans especially hunters are just barbarous, monstrous, savages who mean to do us all harm. They call us greedy, prideful monsters, when the true greed shines in them.”

“Hey pal listen, we know you don’t like our sis here but word of warning. You cross her again you deal with me. Cause no one messes with (n/n) but me, understand?” Dean said as he came up in front of me.

“Do you really think that mere force will deny me my right? Puny hunter.” Warren spat.

“Your right according to whose law?!” Kisara hissed. Her once honey-like voice was now harsh and bitter like ice sharps scrapping along glass as anger boiled up inside her as she stood protectively in front of me, her wings out defensively.

“You know the law Warren.” Stephen spoke up.

“Careful Stephen, you do not have the right over me.” The air grew tense as all the dragons minus Deacon phased into their dragon forms and my son spoke up.

“Along with my mother; The angel and the Winchesters are under the protection of the nest. Should you break that law again, you won’t just be facing me, you’ll be facing all of us.” All the dragons roars and snarled at Warren ensuring the promise that their Alpha has given.

Telling him that now that they knew who I was to their Alpha, I meant no harm and that his scent on me was because of me being his mother, not his killer, they weren’t going to betray their Alpha again.

“You’ve been blinded Deacon. The day these humans turn their backs on you, your ‘mother’ will be the first. One. I. burn!” Kisara and Deacy stood protectively in front of me, my son’s wings spread out as his eyes shined a protective glared straight at Warren.

He slunked his head down but his icy blue eyes went straight at me and I saw nothing but pure hatred and a shiver of fear came up my spine. Then he took off flying with some of the dragons chasing after him shooting fire at him to ensure he stayed away from me.

“Colorful guy, isn’t he?” Dean sarcastically spoke up.

“Dean not now.” Sam whispered out a hiss.

“No really I wanna know just who he think—”

“Dean!” Cas snapped. It was then Deacy spoke up.

“Warren’s had a rough encounter with humans in the past. Found him in Germany forced to fight in a fighting ring for supernatural creatures. Like me poachers killed his parents and they sold him to the fights for 7500 pounds.”

He then flew on ahead and stood up on a high perch and proclaimed,

“Brothers and sisters you all heard Warren continue to threaten my mother! Mum, what say you about Warren’s fate?” I looked up at him and then to the guys.

I stepped forward going past Kisara and I said something that shocked even me.

“He stays!” I heard the dragons mutter to themselves in their grumbles or low growls and huffs.

“So be it. Warren stays. But should his threats continue, everyone must ensure to not only protect my mother, but her friends as well. So long as I am Alpha, the nest will stand by them.” He let out a fearsome roar and soon all the dragons joined in.

As night fell, Deacy took me up to his room thinking that I would be safer sleeping with him in case Warren tried to do something in the middle of the night. Kisara had actually lent me some night clothes that she thought would fit me better and as I got changed in Deacy’s bathroom, my mind went back to Warren.

Not only his threat but I felt like there was more to him that just the hard exterior. Also when Deacon was telling us his backstory earlier, it felt like he was holding something back but I knew better than to ask him, at least for now.

I left the bathroom and I looked out to see the entire view from Deacy’s cave opening.

“I can’t believe you get to see this every night.”

“Kinda gets boring after a while.” He admitted.

“Well it’s better than waking up before a steel enforced ceiling.”

“Oh come on now you’ve got pictures of Queen up along your wall, you’ve decorated that room to your liking so it’s not all just steel enforced.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” I muttered as I sat on his bed. And oh my god was it ever the softest thing I had ever lain in. I felt it adjust to my body shape and I buried myself into the pillows. “God Deacy your bed is so soft.”

“Thank you.” He said as he lay beside me, the two of us looking out into the sanctuary. “Do you remember our nights star gazing?”

“Didn’t one time you get scared when you thought a raccoon was a bear?” I teased.

“Hey, I was 2 years old at the time and after that last bear attack I was traumatized.”

“Well then you shouldn’t have messed with the cub. You know what I’ve always told you.”

“Don’t mess with mama bear.” We both said as I poked my finger into his side making him squirm. I let out a yawn and snuggled into his chest.

“It’s late mum, and you’ve had a long day. You deserve rest.”

“Do you promise you’ll still be here when I wake up?” I asked tiredly.

“I promise.” I felt his wings wrap around me and a kiss on the crown of my hair. I sighed tiredly and immediately fell asleep against his chest, his breathing and heartbeat lulling me to sleep.

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coffee-mugz · 5 years ago

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The Galeo (Sanders Sides FF) Part 1

AU: Modern/Medieval Fantasy (medieval setting, currency, modern technology, clothing, and system, if you understand.)

*unedited*

It was a fine Monday morning, very fine. The weather was warm, barely any clouds drifted in the sky, and the streets of the populated kingdom were flooding with local villagers and adventurers who decided to rest here.

The street stalls were packed with people observing goods, such as food, fruits, drinks, equipment, and other things. You could even spot the occasional person buying things in bulk for long trips.

It would have been a normal day if it weren't for the fact that Galeo (pronounced gah-lee-oh) auctions and competitions were taking place.

Galeo were something everybody residing within the kingdom walls knew. After all, every year starting from the first summer Monday to it's last was Galeo season. People spent lots of money and gained lots just from auctions, and the competitions were definitely intriguing.

After all, who wouldn't want to see the world's most stunning Galeo compete for first place?

Galeo are practically merfolk, except they can transform into humans. This part, however, wasn't as important to people.

Galeo were known for their amazing beauty, intricate symbols lining across the body similar to a human's birth mark, enchanting scales, and bright colors. And that's exactly how Galeo are scored in competitions.

In smaller competitions, only some parts of a Galeo actually earns them first place. For example: in beauty competitions, only the intricate patterns, colors vibrancy, and overall beauty matter.

However, there are many more competitions based solely on a certain type- like athletics, singing, pattern intricacy and color, as well as just color vibrancy are a few examples.

However, the international competition takes everything you could possibly want in a Galeo, smashes it together, and that becomes it's scoring guidelines. And every 10 years when this competition commences, people breed and purchase Galeo that have even a small chance of winning that first place grand prize of 5 million gold coins for the owner and- for the Galeo- a lifetime title of Perfect Galeo as well as another 3.5 million gold coins dedicated for that Galeo's last years of comfort (their max lifespan is 50 years, buts most live up to 35, and some even die before 20).

No, people have tried, but those 3 million can be spent ONLY for the Gealo with their permission. It's an extremely reinforced system of fairness. If somebody gets caught trying to force money out of one, they receive 10 years in prison. If they get spotted again, it's a lifetime sentence.

But all those prizes sound godly to both Galeo and owner. However, even after years of training, more than 8,000 Galeo get tossed after this huge event, and that's causing a major problem for society.

Luckily, Galeo Retirement Home, also known as GRH, dedicates themselves to help protect these Galeo. With more than 5,000 of these protection centers scattered around the 7 Nations, this problem is slowly being solved.

So now, let's view the most recently opened GRH

__________________________________________

Patton was relatively young when he had to leave due to his owner's struggle with money. He was 9 when he was sent to this GRH. That translates to about 18 in Galeo years. (Human years plus 9). He was the first to be sent to this specific GRH, too, but luckily he didn't spend much time in placement centers before being sent here.

Placement centers were centers built to help transfer registered Galeo to areas willing to accept them.

He was very lucky, he told himself, very lucky to he sent here on the first visit.

He's heard of stories about Galeo being sent to dozens of stores and even kept as pets before being sent to a Galeo retirement home.

Once, he saw a young Galeo in a poor, shabby pet store helplessly living in a way too small display tank full of green, disgusting water. To think she had to sit there, crammed in a glass tank waiting, watching as her scales slowly turned from their shining solid light blue to a dirty, matte turquoise sickened him.

Afterall, he took pride in his large variety of blue, shimmering scales. They've won him many Vibrancy contests that helped his previous owner with his financial issues. Patton was glad, since that was pretty much all he could do to help financially at the time. You see, he lacked the complexity in his patterns, and that wouldn't win him much if anything. He also didn't want to sing, as he was sure it wouldn't good enough for competitions. His colorful scales were all that could be useful.

But only after a week of passing by her on his way to work- a Galeo welcoming cafe, as some people refuse to have them work human jobs- he was happy seeing the sign of a rehoming notice on her tank, now drained empty. The green algae still stuck to the sides of it, but that didn't matter. She was at a better place now, most likely in another GRH.

And also, not to mention, Patton is a social butterfly. He loves talking to all the volunteer workers working in the GHR. So, hearing that two other Galeo are expected to arrive here within the week came as a pleasant surprise to him, and made his mood especially joyous.

He happily got ready to head to work. The first thing he put on was his work identification bracelet that is to be worn 24/7 outside, as we as another much more comfortable one to be worn at all times inside the GRH. It didn't have to be a bracelet, just something they could embed their safety system in that could be inconspicuously worn all day.

Why would they need the safety system only the head of the GRH as well as the Galeo themselves know about? Well, I'm afraid kidnappings can he quite common for Galeo. Everybody wants to submit a Galeo for the International Contest for a chance to win all that money, so when these kind of people see one especially fitting for it, they won't hesitate to try their shot at kidnapping them.

Of course, the safety system would alert the head of the GRH, who could in turn call authorities, when it is taken outside the safety boundaries the Galeo set themselves, or are unusually still outside of their 'ok' places (such as in an unidentified building, a home/address the Galeo didn't list as friendly, etc). And if the system fails, they have a button to automatically sound the alert, even if they are within safety areas.

Yes, all GRH take the safety of their Galeo extremely seriously. And Patton feels noticeably safer when taking his daily walks because of it.

___________________________________________

Roman sat silently in his tank as people around his rushed to different places. Yes, although he was perfectly fine with walking around with legs, his current owner told him he is not to leave the water at all times. He wasn't complaining much, though. The tank was a pretty big size, enough for him to move comfortably, and the water was crystal clear.

Roman 'worked' as an attraction to encourage people to step inside a moderately known restaurant. Yes, he's won probably more than 5 beauty competitions, as well as countless Vibrancy and Singing competitions, and is quite well known, but his original owner sent him off to a placement center after he passed the age of 6 years old (15 in Galeo years, also known as their prime year since many Perfect Galeo have won around that age) and he has been switched around for probably almost a year since then.

He's worked hard just for this? There was no way he was satisfied. Hopefully, he prayed, his next owner would consider signing him up for another few competitions.

Yeah, Roman might be an attention whore, but from birth he loved the spotlight. Just 2 years of it didn't quench his thirst for it yet. He had beautiful, bright red and mid-complex patterns. They resembled more like a swirl of flames dancing from his right eye down to his right arm and lower back. His scales were also a vibrant red, almost glowing, people say. A few orange scales were mixed in there, giving it a much more dimensional look than if he were to have only red scales.

His olive skin tone complemented his scales and patterns. Deep green eyes contrasted his tail, and the bundle of brown hair looked equally fluffy underwater as it would dry.

He was fairly confident, if not over confident, that he would have definitely had a chance at winning an International Contest. The next one would take place in about 9 years, though, as he missed his shot a couple of months ago due to an absolute dimwit of an owner, and although he didn't know exactly who won last time, he envied them.

Yeah, he might be in a bit of a depressed state, but who wouldn't? This competitions was something you had a shot at winning only once in your life; at the golden age of 6. And when you're around that age, love the spotlight, but your owner doesn't sign you up for it, it was like being smacked in the head with a boulder.

But anyways...he was still unsure why his original owner got rid of him immediately after that stage. There's no way he preferred his crazed brother over him, right?

Roman spent the last couple of hours of the day thinking solely about that, as he half-heartedly lured potential customers to the restaurant.

To be continued....

Part two/Chapter 2

#virgil sanders #roman sanders #sanders sides #logan sanders #patton sanders #fanfic #fantasy #medieval/modern #sanders side fic #eventual boy×boy #prinxiety #logicality #galeo series

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cougarforcenty · 6 years ago

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questions to fall...

a/n: how’s everybody’s noah situation? mine simply continues to spiral further + further. which is fine… it’s fine. more fic is the obvious solution. feedback is lovely.

summary: noah + close female friend are in love with one another but can’t deal with or confront that reality. the questions that are referenced in this fic can be found here.

word count: 3575

warnings: none

You glance at your phone for the umpteenth time. You realize you’re distracted right away and fix your eyes back onto the blank screen of your laptop.

But nothing is coming to you, your mind is ostensibly empty. Not a fragment of a thought of a morsel of a beginning of anything is being sparked.

You’ve got no ammo, no juice. You’re creatively and inspirationally depleted.

You mutter an obscenity under your breath as you cover your face with one hand and push the laptop away with the other.

You hear your front door open and don’t even look up in that direction because you already know who it is.

“Why must you let yourself in if you know I’m here?” You complain, still glaring at the laptop.

You’re in a real mood. You knew it before but you’re certain of it now as his presence descends upon your apartment. You always love to see him but often he’s a reminder more and more of things you haven’t come to terms with.

“You gave me a key so I would use it, did you not?” Noah asks rhetorically, kicking off his shoes and placing a takeout bag on the coffee table. He plops down on the sofa next to you.

You make a face at him.

“You’re a ball of sunshine tonight, huh?” he questions, studying you for a moment before his eyes flick over to the laptop screen.

You lower the screen on instinct, averting it from his eyes. He always does that and you’re always ready. He’s read your work. Hell, he’s SEEN your work but you’re so skittish about letting anyone read any of your scripts before they’re completely done and properly polished.

It’s pure instinct even with a blank page.

“Well, you can’t be cranky for too long because I brought you green curry and seaweed salad,” Noah explains as he reaches down and unbags the cartons of fragrant food.

It all smells delicious but you’re still preoccupied with how irritated you are that none of your prior ideas seem remotely good enough to attempt for your next script.

“I’m not hungry.”

Noah leans back as he pops a dumpling into his mouth. He eyes you silently while chewing.

“What?”

The word just slips out as this is the first time since he arrived that you’re actually looking at him. No matter how much time you spend together and how many years you’ve known him, sometimes his eyes on you still catch you off guard. It always surprises you when that happens, even still.

“What’s wrong?” he questions gently.

“Nothing.”

“Tell the truth.”

You sigh and lean your head back and squeeze your eyes shut for a second.

“I have no ideas, I’m tapped out.”

“I highly doubt that,” Noah counters, plucking another dumping from the carton with the chopsticks. He balances the carton on his lap as he extends the dumpling toward you, his other hand acting as a barrier underneath the hanging food.

You look at it and back at him.

“Open your mouth,” he instructs smoothly.

You relent.

“I’ve never once known you to have any shortage of ideas. Your mind is like the most expansive landscape that exists,” Noah responded. He reaches toward your coffee table to swap out cartons and starts devouring pad thai.

“All the ideas I had before seem dumb or derivative now.”

You set your laptop down and open up a pair of chopsticks and start picking out the carrots in the carton he’s holding.

“That doesn’t matter,” Noah assures you. “Your approach to the story is what makes it stylistically your own. Which also prevents it from being dumb.”

“One idea I was contemplating seems so trivial and ridiculous once I revisited it.”

“What is it?”

You watch him chew and don’t respond.

“You don’t want to tell me,” he continues with a small chuckle.

You’ve picked all you wanted out of his pad thai and settle for the seaweed salad he brought you.

“You know how writers are: neurotic and sensitive.”

You’re chewing when you notice his attention no longer predominately on his food.

“Is that mine?” Noah questions, casually gesturing to the oversized gray sweatshirt you’re wrapped in, your hands barely peeking out of the sleeves enough for you to hold the chopsticks properly.

His assessing eyes halt at where the bottom of the sweatshirt falls over your bare thighs.

“Yeah,” you shrug. “You don’t need to have clothing you refuse to properly wear anyways.”

“You know I like to be ventilated.”

On the tail of that response, you silently realize it is hard to reconcile things like this; him feeding you or you wearing his clothing. It was so seamlessly and easily apart of the intricate makeup of your dynamic.

When you really stop and think about it for too long you realize why people assume you two are together. You couldn’t actually blame how your circle of friends would roll their eyes when someone new had to clarify whether or not you two were a couple.

It hadn’t always been this way, you two juggling this blatant and palpable type of intimacy.

You had run in the same circles for some time and would have considered the other an acquaintance like many actors and photographers and models and writers and musicians who all know the same people, but about 18 months ago you two were at a party and randomly bonded over shared perspectives and quickly became damn near inseparable.

“Hey,” Noah interrupts your thoughts. “Where’d you go?”

“Hmm, nowhere.”

“You went to the idea,” Noah responds. “Tell me.”

You squint your eyes at him suspiciously.

“Believe me, it will help.”

You sigh.

“In the past couple of years, there’s this research that has been getting a lot of attention regarding how people fall in love and if it’s possible that a formulaic method actually exists that breeds a high likelihood of that specific outcome,” you explain as Noah listens intently.

“Yeah, I’ve heard of it… the series of questions?” He inquires.

“Right. There’s a number of questions, at varying levels that both people answer and then they’re supposed to stare into each other’s eyes for four minutes,” you continue on. “Then poof, they’re in love or whatever.”

“You don’t believe that’s an effective way?” Noah questioned, clearly getting a read of your dismissiveness toward the general framework of the concept.

“Are you serious?” You can’t help but laugh. “No, it’s ridiculous. I was literally going to expound on all the flaws within that premise and the dysfunction that would likely result in these makeshift couples because of it.”

“But think about it, the very basis of it is transparency and understanding. There’s a level of disclosure that takes place. This makes people feel close and connected, it builds trust.”

“That happens in all relationships though, not just romantic ones.”

“At the core of it, everyone just wants to be understood and feel seen, the process of the questions helps to aid that at rapid speed. The prolonged eye contact takes away the verbal thoughtfulness of answering questions and deals with pure energy.”

“Of course your hopeless romantic ass would believe this works,” you lament rolling your eyes.

“And I am not at all surprised that your cynicism prevents you from seeing how it does.”

“I’m not a cynic,” you defend. “I’m a pragmatist. I see how messy and flawed and dysfunctional people are, we’re complicated beings. I think it takes more than some silly questions to truly cross the love plane.”

“Sometimes it’s not complicated at all. Sometimes it’s actually the simplest things that make people fall in love.”

There’s something visceral about the way he says it that makes you pause. Or maybe it’s the intention in his voice or the thoughtful expression on his face.

“Give me your phone,” you respond.

He retrieves it from his pant pocket without hesitation and hands it to you.

“I need to draft that as your next tweet, Aristotle,” you tease him as he snatches the phone back.

“You should have been a comedian.”

“I’m much too serious for that,” you respond good-naturedly.

It strikes you that this may be the first time you and he have discussed love in such frank terms. In a way that isn’t rooted in a conversation about one of his exes or yours. But as the immense blistering esoteric entity that it so often can be.

You suddenly recall the one time a mutual friend of yours had made a joke about Noah being in love with you, it was the first time you’d heard that but not the last.

You questioned why he would even think that. He said it was clear by the way Noah looks at you.

It’s not as if you haven’t noticed it, it’s just that he looked at everyone with a certain type of open affection and endearment.

“So let’s try it,” Noah says suddenly.

So completely in your own head, you have no idea what he’s talking about.

“Try what?”

“The love experiment,” he responds.

You laugh.

“What’s the matter? You seem pretty certain it’s illogical and won’t actually work,” Noah pointed out innocently. “What’s the harm then?”

“You’re being serious?”

Something about just the prospect of even attempting this with him gives you butterflies, despite your intrinsic doubts.

“Yup,” Noah responds as he starts pulling up the questions on his phone.

“Alright well, I need coping aides,” you lament as you place the food on the coffee table and get up to head to the kitchen.

You think you can feel his eyes on the back of your legs and ass as you walk away but you can’t be sure.

You return to the couch with a bottle of red wine and two wine glasses.

Tucking your legs underneath his massive billowing sweatshirt, you cradle your glass, hand him his and silently steel yourself for whatever this bit of bonding will reveal.

“I bet we’ve already discussed a number of these in roundabout ways in casual conversation,” you point out as you sip your wine.

“It’s a possibility,” Noah says. “Ready?”

You nod your head.

“Number one: if you could have dinner with anyone, dead or alive, who would it be?”

“You go first, I have to think,” you say.

“Easy,” Noah responds. “Osho.”

“What if he was in the midst of one of his self-dictated vows of silence? You’d be fucked.”

“It would be quite an experience either way. You?”

“Can I have two answers? One alive, one dead.”

“Sure.”

“Oprah.”

“Naturally,” Noah remarks as he sips his wine.

“Then anyone who was wrongfully convicted and executed on death row.”

He doesn’t respond for a moment, just absorbs your answer and nods.

“Wow.”

You pluck the phone from his hands and read the next question.

“Do you have a secret hunch about how you will die?”

“Oh definitely, an accident.”

You’re taken aback by his response, it almost sends a chill down your spine.

“What do you mean, what kind of accident?”

“Bungee jumping, scuba diving, scaling the side of a building, jumping out of a plane, something like that,” Noah says unemphatically.

Your anxiety is rising just hearing him talk about it so cavalierly.

“That daredevil shit isn’t worth your life, Noah. You need to just let that be.”

“Ah, things happen. I can go outside and get hit by a bus as well. That doesn’t mean I stay inside.”

Your hand covers your face momentarily as you shake your head.

“You stress me out.”

“I’ll try not to die anytime soon.”

“Don’t even joke like that,” you exclaim, your hand coming up to hit his shoulder.

“Answer,” he laughs at your reaction.

“I do not have a hunch,” you respond after a pause. “I don’t like to think about it.”

“Because it scares you?” Noah questions softly, his eyes piercing.

“Oh, we’re doing follow up questions as well?” You lament sarcastically.

“Yes.”

“Sure it scares me. Human beings have a hard time conceptualizing things we don’t have a true understanding of or reference for. But I also know that something will transpire similarly to being born that is incredibly beautiful and shifting. The part I don’t like to think about is the pain and fear leading up to the moment it finally happens. That’s what feels agonizing to contemplate. So how isn’t something I like to consider.”

The answer kind of emotionally winds you after you’re done supplying it.

Noah nods and then reaches his hand out and gently rubs your shoulder and touches the side of your face in wordless comfort. You hand the phone to him.

“If you could wake up tomorrow having gained one quality or ability, what would it be?”

“Easy,” you exclaim. “I’d want to have the ability to speak and understand every language that exists.”

“Pfft, lofty,” Noah teases. “I’d just want to feel well rested every time I wake up, no matter what amount of sleep I’d actually gotten.”

“Hmm, that’s a good one.”

You take the phone back.

“Oh, this is a perfect one. For you specifically,” you lament as you began to read. “What roles do love and affection play in your life?”

He chuckles.

“Why for me specifically?”

“Because everyone loves you and you’re mighty affectionate,” you explain simply.

At that moment, as if on its own silent accord and in complete conjunction with the question, you notice that one of your bare legs is draped over his lap, with his hand grasping your ankle.

You honestly don’t even recall how it happened. The ease with which you two slipped into tactile intimacy was sometimes jarring and unintentional. Yet it happened so naturally that you wouldn’t even register it until the moment had passed.

So in truth, you couldn’t be shocked that 90% of your friends thought, at the very minimum, you two had slept together. Even though you absolutely haven’t.

There was one night were you two crossed a line but it was a year ago and you’d rationalized it away.

You were both drunk and sometimes random things just happen.

A bunch of you had been at a party in the Palisades, celebrating the book release of a mutual friend. You noticed he had disappeared and when you went to retrieve him, you found him in a massive closet staring at his phone. You weren’t sure he even heard you when you said his name until he wordlessly grabbed your wrist and pressed you against the nearest shelf.

It was a blissful five minutes of mind-melting kissing and touching. He pretty much undid whatever pretenses you may have had within the space of that moment, to the point where you would have thrown caution to the wind completely.

But a tiny part of you wondered what caused it, what was the catalyst and if it was really even about YOU and him, to begin with, or whatever was on his phone.

So you stopped him and when he tried to bring it up the next day, you called it a mistake and shut him down.

In your mind, it’s just safer that way. There’s less messiness if you two keep your relationship platonic. If you get jealous, you don’t have a right to; you have to keep it to yourself.

There isn’t a danger of losing him completely if you two have a wretched breakup.

You need him too much to even chance that.

You also have a “no getting involved with any actors” rule. You’ve had it the moment you became a screenwriter. The talent and you don’t mix that way, or at least shouldn’t. Their roles were much more overt and public, yours more private. You felt secure within that logic.

“Everyone doesn’t love me,” Noah says, breaking through your thoughts as he downs his wine. “I’m quite obnoxious to some.”

“Hmm, the masses love you though,” you lament. “You’re a likable figure.”

“Well, thanks,” he says with that playful candor he so effortlessly displays on a whim.

“You didn’t answer the question.”

“They play significant roles, without love and being able to express that love via affection, human beings, and the world by extension would feel quite dreary and rather fleeting.

“I agree.”

“You can’t take my answer.”

“I’d say they have significant roles in my life, but perhaps manifest differently. I think I’m maybe more verbal with my affection with certain people.”

“Really?”

“You seem doubtful.”

“Well, you do have a way with words. That’s obvious. But I wouldn’t say you’re overly generous with your verbal proclamations of affection.”

“Maybe not the way you are,” you counter.

“That sounds like a dig,” he observes, squeezing your ankle.

“Read the next question,” you say, changing the subject and handing him the phone. You finish off your wine and pour another glass.

“Tell your partner what you think about them, be very honest this time, saying things that you might not say to someone you’ve just met.”

“You go,” you insist. He’s not one to withhold compliments but you’re curious what he’ll say.

“What I think about you? Hmm,” he paused, silently studying you. Again, you feel warm under his gaze. Or maybe it��s the wine, it’s hard to tell and easier to blame it on the alcohol.

“Yes.”

“I think you’re probably the most complicated person I’ve ever known. You’re very caring and wildly smart. You’re so smart sometimes I wonder how you’re able to hold and effortlessly decipher through all the intellect you possess.”

“Aw, that’s very kind.”

He smiles lazily at you. There’s something about the way he assesses you openly that lets you know he isn’t done.

“You’re so fucking sexy.”

“Noah!” You feel your stomach clench.

“What?” he asked innocently. “The question specified complete honesty. I’m being serious. I don’t think you even realize how disarmingly sexy you are and it comes naturally. You don’t even do it on purpose which only magnifies it.”

You’re at a loss for words. You sip your wine quietly and avoid his gaze.

“I do declare,” he kidded with a laugh. “Have I left you speechless for the first time in my life?”

“Well I’m not gonna top that answer,” you admit. Acting as if you’re contemplating your own response rather than reeling from his. “You are immeasurably kind. Your kindness isn’t borne out of any ulterior motive. You are selfless in your kindness. You are the most gentle soul. You are also deeply thoughtful and talented.”

Noah smiles softly. He absentmindedly runs his hand from your ankle up to the back of your knee. You know he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it, but you feel every inch of his hand’s attention.

“Thanks,” he whispers. His gaze catches yours in a manner you aren’t prepared for.

“Stop it,” you insist, downing more wine. “This isn’t the staring part.”

He laughs.

“Do I get writing partner credit if you go with this idea?”

“No, this is simply an experiment.”

“Mhm.”

You grab the phone and read the next question.

“When is the last time you cried in front of another person? By yourself?”

“Oh geez, in front of another person? Probably like a week ago? By myself? Yesterday while watching a video on Instagram.”

“You cry very easily,” you admit. You’ve seen him cry a handful of times since you two became close.

“I do,” he admitted. “You?”

“Uh, last month probably when, I uh, when I went back home I had a bit of an intervention with my brother, about his uh… his addiction and I broke down.”

“Baby, I didn’t know,” Noah responds after a moment of silence. “You never told me that.”

You’d gotten on him about using that term of endearment with you in the past. You would remind him that you weren’t his girlfriend. But it sometimes would still slip out and after a while, you’d stop correcting him because you secretly enjoyed it.

“It’s fine. I don’t talk about it.”

He just nods his head gently, knows not to pry.

He silently takes the phone and sees you’ve finished the questions.

“Four minutes of eye contact?” he questions gently.

“That’s a lot,” you breathe as you set your wine glass down.

“You trying to opt out?”

“No, set the timer.”

He does and you settle in, telling yourself that you can get through it. Four minutes won’t last forever.

His gaze is comforting and warm the first minute. You will yourself to maintain it as you feel the air shift between you two.

He’s wordlessly communicating to you and you can’t avert the intention or the messaging; you can’t thwart the moment.

You feel emotions start to bubble up within you by the second minute's end.

“Fuck,” you murmur, trying to hold on as you feel yourself slipping deeper into whatever is transpiring.

Noah’s hand is on your thigh, against the edge of where the oversized sweatshirt has bunched up.

You don’t know what to say, you can’t manage words even if you wanted to.

His hand is on your neck and his face is suddenly so much closer.

“Tell me to stop,” he mutters.

But this is likely what can be referred to as a cosmic inevitability, and because of that, there is no recourse.

A moment later his lips capture yours and you have a fleeting thought of how you could ever think you’d successfully avoid such wonder.

#noah centineo #noah centineo imagine #to all the boys i've loved before #tatbilb #peter kavinsky #noah centineo imagines #noah centineo one shot #noah centineo fic #peter kavinsky fic #fanfiction #one shot

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letswritefanfiction · 7 years ago

Text

Pokémon Alphabet Challenge: O is for Overcome

March 7

Well, it looks like my stay with Solidad before the Kanto contest season begins is going to be a little longer than I’d planned. We found my Masquerain with an egg today along with Solidad’s Butterfree. Fortunately, I don’t think the incubation period for eggs of Bug Types is too long, so hopefully we’ll only have to wait a few weeks for the Surskit to hatch out. Then I’ll probably give it to Solidad.

Admittedly, I don’t know much about breeding, so I figured it would be good to write down some of what’s going on so that I have a log. Just in case. So, this is day one, I suppose, of the incubation period.

March 8, day 2

Nothing new. Solidad thinks that we should contact Brock for some breeding advice. She asked me to call him. … I am not friends with May’s friends. Just like I’m not friends with her friends.

Yeah, Harley, you heard me.

Although we did call May and Harley to update them. Well, I called May, Solidad called Harley. I’m still thanking whatever deity made Harley jealous enough of May to decide to go to Sinnoh while the rest of us are gonna travel the Kanto circuits next month.

But the egg seems fine and Masquerain and Butterfree seem happy, so I told her no anyway.

March 9, day 3

Went into the Viridian Forest for some training. Staying in one place is giving me cabin fever. It hasn’t even been two weeks, but it’s the longest I’ve stayed in one place since I lived at home.

Maybe I’ll go to the mountains tomorrow.

No egg updates.

March 10, day 4

Masquerain and Butterfree seem to move the egg around in the yard wherever the sun is to keep it warm. I guess Bug/Flying Types aren’t great at brooding.

March 11, day 5

I don’t know how Solidad can be so content both on the road and staying at home. She says I’ll get over it when I’m older and, I dunno, maybe I will, but this is just so boring.

If you couldn’t guess: no egg updates.

March 12, day 6

I stopped in the Pokémon Center and called May, just to see someone who wasn’t in Pewter, and she reminded me that she’s been living at home with her parents for a few weeks. I know she loves then and all, but that was enough to put things in perspective.

Being trapped in Solidad’s house isn’t so bad.

Also, I realized today that that egg is a pretty damn big egg. I mean, Surskit are small. A fully grown Surskit could fit in this egg if it curled its legs under. I guess it just has a lot of nutrients in it?

No updates.

March 13, day 7

One week. No updates.

March 14, day 8

We have an update.

Probably should have mentioned this earlier: the egg, Masquerain, and Butterfree are all just staying in Solidad’s backyard. It’s fenced in and has a few plants, but not many because Pewter City is basically just one big gravel pit that people built houses son. And because who can maintain a garden when you hardly live at home?

Anyway, so we went out back today because Masquerain and Butterfree were having a fit and we noticed the egg wiggling a bit. Just for a moment, and then it stopped. But it was something.

March 15, day 9

More movement. Still just the slightest wiggles, but they’re more prolonged now.

Solidad still thinks that we should contact someone who knows more about this than we do, but apparently Kanto’s main daycare center is halfway across the region on some nothing route. Not even in a city. But I don’t think we need the help. It’s just one egg. Masquerain and Butterfree are doing most of the care anyway. We just need to care for them, and we know how to do that. Pokémon give birth in the wild all the time. Geez.

March 16, day 10

Continued movement. No further updates.

March 17, day 11

Update: Okay, we must be close to the finish line at this point, because there were definitely sounds today. And a lot of movement. Solidad’s really excited. I’m kind of excited too. But not as excited as Harley, who threatened to come and see ‘the big reveal’. Close call.

March 18, day 12

I’m in the back yard as we speak. Masquerain and Butterfree seem super excited. They’re flapping around like nobody’s business. And then there’s the egg, which seems like it’s dancing. There are little noises coming from it and it’s practically hopping off the ground.

Oh! There are cracks! Putting this down now. Will update later.

“…I was not expecting this.”

Drew and Solidad looked around the backyard of Solidad’s Pewter City home, noting how it was now crawling with nearly a dozen tiny Surskit. The Surskit were exploring every conceivable nook and cranny of the yard, traipsing over boxwood bushes, lawn ornaments, and even each other, all in the name of exploring this brand new world. Worst of all: they were each only a few inches tall.

“Yes,” Solidad sighed. “I thought that only one Pokémon could hatch from a single egg. Had I known this could happen, I definitely would have called someone for help.”

Drew rolled his eyes as he watched a helpless baby Surskit fall into the bush it had been trying to climb over. “I think we’re still going to need that help, Solidad.”

Masquerain immediately flew over to the fallen Surskit and pulled it from the brambles, taking care to smooth its dear, little yellow head with a soft wing. However, she immediately had to move on to another wayfaring baby while Butterfree stopped one from going under a hole in the fence. Drew quickly picked up one of the many stones in the yard and placed it in front of the hole, taking extreme care that he didn’t step on one of the little critters.

Solidad, meanwhile reached for her PokéNav. It only took a moment to scroll through her contacts before she landed on the one she wanted and let the phone dial, putting it up to her ear when it began to ring. In the meantime, Drew carefully grabbed the round body of a Surskit that was trying to crawl its way up Solidad’s legs.

“Hello, Pewter City Gym; how can I help you?”

“Brock, I’m glad it’s you,” Solidad began in her slow, calm voice. “Drew and I have a bit of a situation…”

“A bit of a situation?” Brock echoed, astounded.

Fortunately, Solidad’s house was only a few minutes away by bike from the Pewter City Gym and, since Brock was no longer standing Gym Leader, he hadn’t needed to take care of much before hurrying over to Solidad’s back yard. Since the call had been placed, Drew had sent out his Butterfree as well, making the yard look like a Bug Pokémon habitat that even Professor Oak would be proud of. The three flying bugs were doing a good job of taking care of the babies, which was good, because Drew and Solidad were afraid of what they might unwittingly step on if they ventured to move.

“It looks worse than it is,” Solidad appeased. “We counted and there are only ten babies, and they can’t climb vertically or burrow like some Bugs, so they’re all definitely still here.”

“But…what do you expect me to do with them?”

At this point, Drew decided to chance it and take a few steps back, sitting on one of Solidad’s cushioned lawn chairs. A Surskit was in the adjacent on; it looked as though they were sharing a nice afternoon tea, save for the wary look Drew was giving it.

“Well, you were following along the path of a breeder at one point in time, Brock,” Solidad stated simply. “I was hoping you could use that insight to advise Drew and me on how to handle this.

Brock took stock of the surroundings. Solidad had a relatively small backyard—her property sat on less than an eighth of an acre—and it shrunk enormously when you took into account the dozen Pokémon roaming about it. None of Solidad’s sparse vegatation seemed particularly edible for them, though he had no doubt that they’d try for it anyway. Furthermore, there was no overhead protection from predators or the elements, and it would likely take the three of them days to fashion a tent. Not to mention the fact that there was no water…

Water…

Brock smirked.

“You know what, Solidad? I think that ten Surskit are a little out of my range of expertise. But you know who would be perfect?”

Misty heard a phone ringing and frowned when she realized that it was her personal phone and not the Gym’s public line. She was used to that one all but ringing off the hook—so much so that they’d had to hire a receptionist a few years back—but her Pokégear was usually as silent as the playable character in an RPG. Yet here it was ringing and, as usual, she had no idea where she’d last had it, so she had to scramble to find it, only barely managing to press the talk button before the last ring.

“Hello?” she answered breathlessly.

“Misty? What, did I drag you out of the pool?”

“Brock, is that you? Why are you calling me?” she asked, ignoring his question.

“Well, Drew and Solidad seem to have fallen into a little issue regarding some Water Pokémon, and you’re the foremost expert on Water Pokémon that I know.”

Misty narrowed her eyes. She could feel Brock trying to butter her up, but she was going to let it go, because she liked what she was hearing. “Uh-huh. And? What is this ‘issue’?”

“Oh, just the sudden emergence of ten baby Water Pokémon that need specialized care. They’re living at Solidad’s right now, but she doesn’t even have so much as a birdbath. Surely you can’t expect for them to all live in a bathtub!”

“I’ll take them!”

Misty could feel her eyes growing large and shiny, the prospect of ten helpless, innocent little Water Pokémon in need tugging at her heartstrings. She didn’t know why Brock felt like he had to pull any tricks over her to get her to say yes—honestly, he should save any tricks he had for girls he wanted to date. Arceus knew he needed the help.

“That’s so great, Misty!” Brock said, excitement coloring his tone. “Solidad’s gonna drive us over, so we should be there shortly.”

Misty grinned. “I can’t wait!”

Drew was not pleased with the situation.

He was happy that the babies were being placed with a Water expert. He was even considering leaving his Masquerain with her for a little while if Misty proved to be all that Brock was lauding her to be. Of course, Masquerain wasn’t a Water Type, but Drew could only imagine that she’d want to stay with her babies for a little longer. He was happy that he and Solidad wouldn’t have to rip their hair out over taking care of ten babies.

What he wasn’t pleased with was the fact that in Solidad’s large van, Brock got to sit up in front while Drew was stuck with all the very mobile Surskit in the back. Well, most were mobile. One was sleeping on his lap. The rest were walking all around the seats and all over Drew. And he meant all over. Plus, it was his responsibility to make sure that none crawled up the center console and began bothering Solidad while she was driving.

To top it all off, Brock looked positively smug.

Drew didn’t really think about May’s friends a lot. Ash had some strange, raw talent, Drew had to admit, but at times he seemed to be more trouble than he was worth. Brock seemed helpful to a degree, but Drew wasn’t really sure what he was doing in the group aside from nannying. Lucky for May, because she sure seemed to need it.

This was the first time that Drew was getting more than a taste of Brock’s personality. And for some reason, ever since just before calling Misty, Brock had been wearing a shit-eating grin. Drew didn’t recall that being a regular occurrence, so it was enough for him to keep an eye on the older boy.

Until a Surskit tried to walk right over his eye.

“Ow!” Drew exclaimed, using every bit of his self-restraint to keep from swatting the poor creature. Instead, he grabbed it and placed it on top of one of its siblings—there was no actual floor space left—as he blinked rapidly.

“Drew, are you okay?” Solidad asked in her motherly way.

“Yeah, fine,” Drew grumbled.

After this whole affair was handled, he wasn’t letting Masquerain anywhere near that Butterfree ever again.

It was only about an hour later that the crew showed up at the Cerulean Gym’s front door. And Drew couldn’t help but notice how tacky the Gym looked with that giant Dewgong on it. It looked like a really bad contest hall.

Of course, it was hard to think about that whilst holding onto three tiny Bug babies. Masquerain and the two Butterfree were released again, each holding onto a baby. The rest of them were divided among the three humans, and Drew was the one lucky enough to have to juggle three.

Brock had to use his elbow to ring the Gym doorbell, but he managed, and was relieved when Daisy was the one to answer the door. He drooled for only a second before Daisy dashed all his hopes and dreams by saying, “Oh, Brock. I thought you were Tracey. We’re going to dinner.”

“Tracey?” Brock’s posture immediately fell to the downward pull of depression as he sulked. How had Tracey nabbed Daisy?

“Hmm, you’re new,” Daisy observed, pointing a sharply filed nail at Drew and Solidad. She paused specifically on Drew. “Wow, it’s too bad you’re not five years older. Not for me, of course, but for Misty. Then again, she’d look really bad next to you.”

Drew didn’t even begin to know what to say as Daisy threw him a wink.

Solidad, sweat-dropping all the while, stepped up. “Brock called Misty about taking in these baby Water Pokémon. Did she tell you anything about that?”

“Oh, right…” Daisy said breezily, waving a hand near her face as though she was hoping to catch the wisps of the memory of the conversation between her fingers. “She did say something about that. Just go into the main aquarium for now and I’ll go get her.”

Solidad and Drew made their way in, but Brock was apparently not yet recovered from the shutdown he’d gotten from Daisy. And before he’d even tried to make a move!

Drew rolled his eyes. “Masquerain, you have my full permission to use Gust on him if he doesn’t move in three seconds.”

That was enough to get Brock’s rear in gear, and he and all the rest of the Pokémon were in the Gym in less than three seconds.

Peaceful relief. The Surskit were flitting about on the top of the pool, looking thrilled to explore their natural habitat—well, closer to it—instead of a backyard. Or the back of a van. Drew could tell that Masqeurain looked more relaxed too, flying easily overhead with Solidad’s Butterfree. Drew’s Butterfree wasn’t even needed for extra assistance anymore.

In the echoing, tile-filled room, Drew heard footsteps approaching. He could only assume that it was Misty or one of her sisters.

“Hey, guys! Sorry about Dai—Aah!”

So much for peaceful relief.

Drew had to put his hands up to his ears—man, this Misty had a high-pitched scream! Solidad too looked appropriately alarmed. But Brock was only smirking, causing Drew to think that they’d been taken for a ride. And not just the one from Pewter to Cerulean, although that had been a less than pleasant journey.

“Brock, what are those Bugs doing here‽”

Brock walked up to Misty, who was shielding her face in her own shoulder so that she didn’t have to look at the pool. “Misty, these are the Water infants I was telling you about. Aren’t they cute?”

Misty stole a second glance at the Surskit and a shriek erupted from deep in her throat, even with her mouth closed. “Those are Bugs! Look at their legs! You can’t tell me those aren’t Bugs!”

Brock, who was clearly reveling in this, put a hand to his chin and began scratching at the dark stubble there. “Oh, I suppose they do have a dual typing. But I was just thinking about how desperately these poor babies needed water. You know how Water Pokémon can get if they’re not hydrated enough, right, Misty?”

He was leading her. She knew that he was. He was pushing her into a corner so that she couldn’t say: “Take them away!” which was threatening to bleed off her lips at any second.

Instead: “You’re right. They can stay. Excuse me.”

The words came out ever so calmly, and Misty looked entirely nonplussed as she turned around and walked slowly, but deliberately out of the room. Brock turned around to a confused Solidad and an irritated Drew, saying, “Well, that was a lot less fun than I’d thou—”

From deep inside the Gym, another high pitched shriek—definitely still Misty—rang out and Brock’s expression cracked into a grin again.

“Then again…”

Misty at least had the courtesy to let the crew from Pewter to stay the night. Well, she didn’t have much of a choice, since she didn’t want to be stuck taking care of the babies—who would have to be fed multiple times through the night—and since she knew that her sisters wouldn’t sacrifice their beauty sleep for that. Fortunately, the Cerulean Gym came equipped with a number of guest rooms, since her sisters were so very popular.

Unfortunately for Brock, this was where her hospitality ended.

Brock walked down the hallway containing the guest bedrooms looking beaten and battered…primarily because he was. After Brock had—supposedly—paid for his misconduct by cooking dinner for everyone, Misty had pulled him aside and given him what for.

So, slowly—with intermittent grunts of pain—Brock dragged himself in the direction of his temporary bed, hoping that he would wake up in less pain the next day. As he reached a twitching hand for the doorknob, though, the door across from his opened, letting out a burst of steam. Drew walked out, his hair darkened to a mossy green by the water still clinging to it. A blue towel was around his neck and he was wearing some flannel pajama pants. He looked Brock up and down completely disinterestedly and, with a huff full of teen angst, proceeded towards his own bedroom.

Mildly insulted by the response, Brock couldn’t help but to yell out, “I have a greater plan for this, I hope you know.”

Drew stopped, but didn’t turn around, showing that his interest had only been slightly piqued.

“I’m hoping this will be the thing that finally gets Misty over her fear of bugs. And we get a pool for the Surskit out of it.”

Only turning enough to give a pointed look to the red handprint still imprinted on Brock’s cheek, Drew asked, “And how’s that working out for you?”

Apparently he didn’t care enough to hear the answer to his own question, because he opened his door and closed it. Brock even heard the click of the lock latching as though to add extra punctuation to his words.

Immensely more tired, Brock reached a hand up to his warm cheek and tried to rub the pain out before following Drew’s example and going into his own room. Normally, he’d linger in the hallway a little longer to see if he could catch Solidad in a nightgown, but he suspected that he’d need all of the strength he had to deal with Misty the next morning.

March 19, day 2

I’ve decided to keep this going, now keeping track of the Surskit’s growth. Or at least that’s what the days are supposed to mean. It turns out that May’s dear friend Brock has made us all the subject of his little experiment to get May’s friend Misty over her fear of Bugs. So this is also day 2 of that experiment.

I would say “Kill me now,” but I have ten four inch babies to care for.

With the solid distance of the Waterflower’s oak dining table between himself and Misty, Brock broached the topic. Misty’s response went about like this:

“Okay, Brock, how about this? I’ll get over my fear of bugs when you can talk to a pretty girl without turning into that ooey-gooey sap that’s those Bugs have been getting all over my pool!”

Brock, indignant at the insinuation, narrowed his eyes at Misty and opened his mouth to disagree. However, she seemed eager to prove her point.

“Oh, Daisy! Violet! Lily!”

The voice came out in a melodious sing-song tone that was frightening to hear from Misty. It seemed like the calm before the storm.

The girls—in their various but extensive states of getting ready for the day—bustled into the dining room, looking at Misty questioningly. Their little sister didn’t usually summon them, so they were surprised by the call.

“Like, what is it, Misty?” Daisy asked as she continued threading her hair into a fishtail braid.

Misty, apparently not feeling it necessary to explain herself, just looked to Brock, eyes expectant and daring.

Brock, for his part, was staring at Lily, whose state of mid-readiness happened to include the fact that she was only wearing a sports bra on top. Since she was used to being seen in nothing but a bikini on a near-daily basis, this was nothing unusual for her, but Brock’s eyes looked like they were about to pop out of his head—without the usual aid of Misty’s fist.

Perhaps most girls would be bothered by the leering. Misty knew that if anyone stared at her chest like that, they’d be slapped so silly that they wouldn’t be seeing anything for days. But Lily calmly finished applying her gloss with the aid of a handheld compact before closing it and giving her lips a little pop of suction. Then she looked at Brock and said simply, “Sorry, you’re way too young for me.”

Brock instantly fell back, his whole world turning gray at the instantaneous rejection while Misty just looked confused. “You guys are the same age.”

Lily winked before turning on her heel. “I know.”

Misty cringed. Who exactly did her sister sleep with?

Nope. She didn’t want to know.

Daisy followed as Lily sauntered out of the room, leaving Violet to turn to Misty and say, “Sorry, we’ve gotta motor. Big interview today in Celadon. Catch you tomorrow. Or the next day.”

Brock seemed to perk up again at the sound of Violet’s voice and physically reached out to her as she walked away.

“One sister left,” he murmured to himself as Misty repeatedly smacked herself in the face.

It was with smoke coming out of her ears that Misty snatched her Pokégear—actually having remembered where she had last placed it this time—and dialed a familiar number.

“Heya, Misty! What’s u—”

“Ash, Brock has lost his marbles.”

“What?”

Misty collapsed into her office chair, causing it to swivel around a few times before she stopped it by setting her feet on her desk. She took a deep breath to calm herself.

It didn’t work.

“He’s suddenly got it in his head that I need to quote: ‘overcome my fear of bugs.’”

“Well, I think that’s grea—” A growl grumbled from deep inside Misty’s chest. “Uh, not great?”

“Exactly. Not great. In fact…” Misty’s fingers twitched with pent-up energy. “I think I need to remind him how much of a bad idea it is.”

Misty didn’t even remember to hang up the phone as she left it on the table and searched for Brock, intertwining her fingers and stretching them out.

“Uh, good luck, Brocko…”

March 20, day 3

I told May where we’re staying now for when she comes to Kanto. It’s still supposed to be a couple weeks, but I’m hoping she might come early. Also, it’s looking like we might not be leaving anytime soon. I thought being cooped up in Solidad’s house was bad…

This is so much worse. There are 7 people living here.

As for the Surskit: their bodies are already becoming more opaque and they’re getting a better sense of how to use their thin little legs. The water is doing them well.

March 21, day 4

Misty is terrorizing Brock. It’s definitely frightening—I’m sure never going to cross her. I just feel lucky that she hasn’t incriminated Solidad and I along with him—buuuut it’s also super funny. Mostly just funny. The guy had it coming! What can I say?

We’ve decided to start measuring the Surskit and keeping a log. Luckily, Brock and Solidad are doing that. They seem to have grown some in the last couple days, but they’re still so tiny. None are taller than 5 inches.

A very frightened Brock had taken to tip-toeing around the Gym. He’d always thought that Misty had an unfair reputation of being violent—ear pulling events aside, of course—but now he was thinking he’d been a little hasty on that judgment. Misty was violent. And mean.

So he tended to flit between his room, the Surksit room—since there was no chance of finding Misty in there—and the kitchen, because it was the only place where he had the skills to sooth Misty’s wrath.

But otherwise, he was on edge. So as he was walking down the hallway, hoping to take a shower, he nearly jumped through the ceiling when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s me, Brock,” Solidad said, instantly easing his trepidation.

“Oh, hi, Solidad,” Brock said, too overcome with relief to try any move on her.

“I was thinking that maybe I could try talking to Misty for you. This is a good thing that you’re trying to do for her, but she doesn’t seem to see it that way. Perhaps she just needs to hear it from someone else?”

Brock smiled. “That would be incredible, thank you!”

He would be sure to be far, far away when that conversation happened.

March 22, day 5

Solidad is going out of her way to help Brock on his masochistic mission of madness. I’m personally not choosing not to help because I think that Brock’s failures in this are funny—though they are—but because it seems pointless. If Misty’s held on to this fear for the past eighteen years, then I don’t think there’s anything that we can do about it. Or that doing so will cause her—and us—more pain than is worth it. And those Surskit.

Yesterday, he held one of the poor babies up to her and I thought that she would smash it up against a wall with her bare hands. Masquerain almost killed her.

Solidad, Drew, and Misty were seated at the dining room table, eating some delightful food that Brock had made before mysteriously disappearing. The girls were taking part in idle chit-chat while Drew was reading a newspaper.

“My cousin lives in Cerulean and I was thinking about visiting her tomorrow. She just had a baby recently, and I would love to see her,” Solidad said idly as she blew on her hot soup.

Misty’s eyes immediately darted up, bright and shining. “Ooh, a baby! So cute!”

A smile spread on Solidad’s lips for a moment before she swallowed a spoonful of soup. “Aren’t they just? I love babies.”

“Me too! They’re all so cute!”

“Baby Pokémon too.”

“Ugh, I know! I get so excited whenever we have any new babies.”

“Well, you do right now.”

“We do?”

“The Surskit, Misty.”

“…Oh.”

Solidad leaned forward, trying to catch Misty’s eyes as the fell to the roll she’d been pinching and eating crumbs from—no need to eat like a lady when her sisters weren’t around to bug her about that. “You don’t think that the babies are the slightest bit cute, Misty?”

Misty sighed, looking at Solidad with all traces of baby-induced sparkle erased from her eyes. “Do you think a swarm of ten Beedrill are cute?”

“Not cute, no, but it’s entirely diff—”

“Now imagine those Beedrill are small, with translucent bodies, beady eyes, and scrambling all over each other and you as they search for food, because that’s all they know how to do.”

“Okay, but—”

“Now imagine that they’re living in your house, swarming in your pool—your sacred place—growing bigger every day until they’re big enough to ram down the door and suck the juices out of you with their gross insectile fangs!”

Drew and Solidad looked at Misty, who was panting lightly from her outburst and then each other before Drew set down his spoon and scooted away from the table.

“I’m done.”

March 23, day 6

Clearly the madness isn’t going to stop anytime soon. Solidad’s attempt was a total bust. But she’s going to keep trying to help, I’m sure. She considers Brock a friend.

I’m considering running to the port and boarding the next boat to Hoenn so that May can restore my sanity. And you know that I must be going crazy if I think May will restore my sanity.

“Drew!” Brock called excitedly when he spotted Drew by the pool, flocked by the Surskit he was feeding. “Where have you been?”

Drew cast Brock a momentary dry look before returning to the task at hand. “I was helping Solidad cart some feed from the PokéChow supplier. Now she’s out getting some vitamins.”

For a moment, Brock felt a tickle of guilt that he wasn’t helping as much as he should with the babies…Then again, the babies were Drew and Solidad’s responsibility, while Brock was just trying to be a good friend to Misty and help her overcome a childhood fear.

“I was wondering if you could give me some advice on how to get Misty over her fear of these little guys.” Brock reached over and pet the yellow cap on the most recently fed Surskit. It crawled out of the pool and curled up on the tile, its short blue legs struggling to find a comfortable position.

Drew shrugged. “She’s afraid of all Bugs?”

“Yep.”

Having fed the last of the Surskit, Drew sighed as he stood up and wiped his hands on his cargo shorts. “You could get her started with my Butterfree. Girls tend to like them.”

Brock thought back to when Ash had owned his Butterfree and how Misty had responded. She’d been so encouraging when they were helping him woo the pink Butterfree, and she had seemed honestly sad when Ash had released him …Maybe Drew was onto something.

“That’s a great idea, Drew! I’ll call Misty down right now!”

“Uh, you might want to hold on there, Brock.”

Brock, who had already started out of the room turned back to Drew in confusion. “What?”

“We’re still in the room with all the Surskit and my Masquerain. Perhaps a different location will serve you better?”

“…Right.”

It was a staring contest.

Butterfree was standing calmly, looking up at Misty, waiting for the moment of impact.

Meanwhile, Misty was reaching out to touch Butterfree. Slowly. Ever so slowly. It had been going on so long, Drew wasn’t even sure that her hand was moving anymore. She was crouching on the ground so as to be at eye-level with the Bug, and Drew couldn’t believe that her legs weren’t asleep yet. Or perhaps being so close to Butterfree had ended up being too much for her and she’d gone dumb. He couldn’t be sure.

She was about to make contact when all of a sudden she leapt up, screamed, “I can’t do it,” and ran out of the room.

Drew looked tiredly at Brock and sighed as he returned Butterfree to its ‘Ball. Brock just shook his head.

Back to the drawing board.

March 24, day 7

You know, I’m beginning to feel a little harassed. After the failure with my Butterfree, they tried with Solidad’s. Don’t know why they thought that’d be any different. Then they tried with Masquerain, which went even worse, because I’m pretty sure she has a grudge against Misty now for, you know, hating her children.

Aaand here he comes. Again.

Brock approaching with Solidad in toe was enough to compel Drew to put his notebook down on the floor and raise his arms up to his chest in the shape of an X before saying, “Uh-uh. No way. This is not my issue. Remember that I am caring for ten babies right now. I can’t parent you too.”

“Relax, Drew. We were just going to tell you that Misty said we need to move the Surskit to another room while she cleans the sap out of the pool.”

Even as Brock knelt down to pick up one of the babies, Drew couldn’t help but feel a tension headache starting behind his forehead. Brock’s presence was just beginning to have that effect on him.

“Drew,” Solidad started, her calming voice easing him a little bit, “wasn’t May afraid of Pokémon when she first started her journey?”

That caused a hiccup in Drew’s steps as he turned to Solidad.

“May?”

March 25, day 8

I called May. She’s gonna be here in a few days. She seems excited to see the babies—who have been growing. They’re all around half a food now, except for a little runt—and she’s excited for a new adventure and traveling. In typical May style. I wish she could get here sooner. Solidad is so much a part of Brock’s mission now that I have to avoid both of them. They’re running short of ideas, though, so Misty’s been pretty smug. Also, she seems to be taking out her anger on all of her challengers. One today even left in tears.

He shouldn’t have used a Caterpie.

“Is Brock bugging you?”

Drew had been brewing some tea when Misty came up to him from the other side of the kitchen counter. “Huh?”

“I love Brock a lot. He’s the brother I never had. But he’s insufferable sometimes, right? I know he’s bugging you about this bug thing. And, of course, I like it even less than you do. But, just so you know, if he’s bugging you, here’s the trick. Pull him by his ear. It’ll snap him out of whatever craziness he’s in.”

Misty winked and walked away.

Drew heard is teapot whistle and smirked.

Sure, she was just trying to get him to do her dirty work, but it was nice to have an ally.

March 26, day 9

Misty isn’t so bad. I think that I may be her favorite person in the house, since I’m not trying to force bugs on her. And I’m not her sister. It’s pretty obvious that there are problems there. It’s crazy. May’s is the only family that I’ve met that isn’t fucked up. Luckily, Misty’s sisters aren’t turning out to actually be around a lot, which makes for a little more breathing room around here. Especially since when they are here, Daisy’s boyfriend is usually here too.

He’s strange.

March 27, day 10

Somehow this journal has devolved into ranting about Brock’s crazy schemes and my serious case of cabin fever. The Surskit are doing well. They’re in complete control of their bodies. They roughhouse with each other a little bit, but don’t seem to be able to use any moves but Tackle. But that’s a good start for their young age!

It’s just now occurring to me that I have no idea what we’re going to do with them after they’re grown. There’s no way that Solidad and I each need five Surskit. And it’s sure not looking like the Cerulean Gym is going to take any of them. Hm…

Drew, Solidad, and Brock were busy moving some sod into the Gym and laying it around the pool. They’d ordered it a couple of days before, thinking that it would be nice if the whole room resembled more of a real habitat for the Surskit. They were, after all, amphibious. Not even amphibious; they were terrestrial creatures. They just liked being on or around the water. But the tiled room didn’t provide them with much more than water as a resource. So they’d brought in some plants in the days prior, but what they really needed was some grass. Solidad was even talking about enrichment activities, like they were making a full on zoo or something.

“Here, I’ve got it.”

Out of nowhere, Brock suddenly pulled at the roll of sod that he and Solidad had been carrying and tried to support the whole thing himself. Solidad looked on worriedly while Drew just narrowed his eyes in harsh judgment. He was clearly just trying to show off to Solidad.

Idiot.

He began quivering under the weight of the sod, so Solidad moved forward to help him again.

“No, I’ve got it!” Brock insisted. As he did so, he swung his weight a little bit too much to the side and slipped on some not-yet covered tile.

And of course he landed in the pool.

Solidad shrieked a little bit, her hands flying to her face as Brock and the sod tumbled, sending the Surskit flying through the water as their usually calm surface was disrupted.

It took all three of them ten minutes to get the sodden sod out of the pool.

And Masquerain now had someone else on her hit list.

March 28, day 11

Okay, let’s talk about Brock’s epic failure yesterday…

March 29, day 12

May’s arriving today. I’m going to the port now to pick her up. It’s embarrassing how well I know Cerulean now. This isn’t what my life should be.

But May’s here now and contest seasons starts in only a couple of weeks. Then everything will be great.

Upon entry into the Gym…

“Omigod, Misty, this is your friend?”

“She’s beautiful!”

“First the green-haired kid and now this‽”

Everyone had been waiting in the lobby to greet May. But before Drew knew it, he was pushed out of the way so the Sensational Sisters could proceed in prodding her skin and her hair, commenting on what excellent self-care she did and how Misty could learn a thing or too, which was enough to make Misty’s eye twitch and everyone else to take a step away.

Daisy grabbed May by the shoulders and held her in front of Misty, as though presenting a work of art she’d created. “Misty, how do you have such beautiful friends?”

“I don’t know, Daisy,” Misty ground out through gritted teeth before brightening her expression and facing May with a smile. “Hey, May! How were the boat rides?”

“Oh, just fine,” May answered nervously.

Suddenly, Drew stepped up and took May’s bag from her hand. “Here, I’ll bring this to your room,” he said suavely.

May looked confused for a second as she watched Drew walk away before she snapped out of it and cried, “Hey, that’s my stuff!” before running after him.

Misty gave Brock a heavy dose of side-eye and said, “Maybe you should be asking Drew for advice about something else.”

“I’m so glad you guys asked me here,” May said as she fell back on one of the stylish, but surprisingly uncomfortable sofas in the Waterflower’s living room. “I was getting a serious case of cabin fever at home. Max is travelling and so being the only child is too much attention.”

As much as Brock liked May, he knew he had to get down to business. They’d all been living at the Gym for a couple of weeks and…that was enough.

“Well, be prepared for it to be a lot worse here,” Drew said, echoing Brock’s internal sentiment as he plopped down on a chair himself. “Brock is trying to turn Misty into a monster. And take us all down with him.”

“I just don’t understand how I’m supposed to help with all of this,” May stated, her hands fidgeting in her lap.

“Ash told me that you were afraid of Pokémon when you first started on your journey, but that you got over it pretty quickly,” Brock stated. “So we’re hoping that maybe that can help Misty get over her fear of bugs?”

May scratched behind her ear and looked at Brock apologetically. “I don’t know…I wasn’t really afraid of Pokémon. I just didn’t like them.”

“I think the same principle applies,” Solidad said as she waltzed in with a steaming cup of tea in her hand. The group had very much made themselves at home in the past few weeks. It was only fair, as Misty was forcing them to take part in the chores her sisters refused to do. “Perhaps you getting over your dislike of Pokémon could be enlightening.”

“Well, I…” Thoughts creased May’s forehead as she tried to think back. “I had always grown up around Pokémon. So just having them in the vicinity didn’t help. I guess that it was having them in need and then having to take care of one myself that really made the difference.”

Something sparked behind Brock’s eyes. “That’s an idea…”

Drew eyed him warily, as if reading his mind. “Not a good one.”

“Misty!”

Brock seemed way too excited for anything good to be coming her way. Misty instantly hardened her gaze and pursed her lips as she turned towards Brock. “Yes?”

“I thought of a great way for you to deal with Grass-Type opponents.”

“Ice Types?” Misty deadpanned, thinking of her sisters’ Dewgong, whom she used nearly every day.

Brock blinked. Damn, he hadn’t thought of that. “I thought of another great way.”

From behind his back, Brock pulled out a sleeping little Surskit. Brock could see the scream bubbling up Misty’s throat, but he put a finger to his lips, pointing to the sleeping baby.

“Brock‽” Misty whisper-screamed. “What are you doing?”

“Presenting you with the answer to your problem. See, the Bug Typing will trump any Grass Type. And when it evolves, it’ll be a Flying Type too! That’ll doubly take out any Grass Pokémon.”

“And it won’t be a Water Type anymore.”

Again, Brock realized he hadn’t thought this through entirely.

He had to try another angle.

“But Misty. This little Surskit is the runt. Its brothers and sisters just walk all over it and it can never get Masquerain’s attention.” He raised the little Surskit up to his face as he gave Misty watery Growlithe eyes. “Poor baby.”

There! Brock saw just a hint of softness enter her eyes as her gaze fell to the innocent sleeping Pokémon.

Hesitantly, ever so hesitantly, Misty stepped forward and began reaching a hand out. She was only millimeters from the little ponytail-like cap on its head before Surskit’s eyes opened and it straightened up to its full height, showing its beady black eyes and it’s long, insectile legs.

Instantly, Misty ran away, echoing screams as the only proof she’d even been there.

March 30, day 13

Well, this has officially gone on longer than the incubation period. Remember how simple life was then? And no progress has been made with Misty. Literally none.

On the bright side, the Surskit are doing well. All are growing and beginning to really show their individual personalities. It’s a good thing Brock’s so interested by what’s happening with them. That Brock is actually pretty smart and interesting.

On the even brighter side: May is here.

…I’d missed her.

March 31, day 14

It’s probably super crazy how much better I feel now that May’s here. She is the perfect buffer between all the craziness because she’s just so damn happy and easygoing. Well, as long as she’s been well-fed. Fortunately, that is the one thing that Brock is good for. Really, his food is excellent.

But May is really great. I wasn’t particularly upset when she left to go to Sinnoh or when she left to go to Hoenn. Especially since we knew that she’d be back in a few weeks both times. But when she comes back, it makes you wonder how you were getting by when she wasn’t there. Because it’s so much better when she is here.

I wonder if she feels that way about me.

May quickly learned that her job was not to help Brock and Misty—it seemed best to stay away from that mess—but rather to keep Drew sane. That had been Solidad’s job before, May was sure, but her motherly instincts were drawn more towards the baby Surskit than to Drew.

Plus, it was easier to take care of ten needy babies who never slept at the same time, needed to be fed every few hours, and who were already about three times the size they’d been when they were born than it was to care after one moody teenager.

She found that the best thing they could do was actually take care of said babies, since they were such a hefty distraction. And while Misty didn’t yet see the charm of Bug babies, May had to admit that the tiny Pokémon were quite cute. Surskit looked like little blue dolls tat just happened to be able to skate along the water like it was an ice rink. They already had the pink cheeks—she just wanted to give them little striped scarves to complete the look.

The scream from Brock’s most recent attempt rang throughout the whole Gym and May could palpably sense Drew tensing up without even looking at him. “Drew, why don’t you and Solidad take Masquerain and Butterfree outside to stretch their wings in the fresh air?”

Drew looked at her like he definitely knew what she was doing, but was deciding whether he would go along with it or not when Solidad piped up.

“That’s alright. I’ve got it in here; why don’t the two of you do it instead?”

Solidad’s Butterfree flew over to May’s shoulder, the fluttering wings feeling playful against her ear and causing her hair to blow a little. She let out a giggle before standing and taking Drew’s hand to hoist him up.

With nothing more than a hair flip, Drew lifting his arm for his Masquerain to land as he followed May wordlessly out of the Gym.

Solidad smiled to herself before moving onto a new Surskit to play with.

April 1, day 15

It’s April now. Apparently this is the day that ten year olds start their journeys in Kanto, so the Gym might be seeing a lot of rug rats in the next few weeks. But, more importantly, it means that the contest season is starting in just a couple of weeks.

And that this all has been going on far too long. The Surskit are almost fully grown, and none of us have any idea what we’re going to do with them. It seems like they’ll stay here until Misty gets over her fear.

Which means we’re never leaving.

Well, they aren’t. I’m leaving for contest season regardless of the state of Misty’s phobia.

“You know, Ash actually helped me a lot,” May mused over a breakfast of cereal as Misty dealt with an early challenger.

Drew grunted, but Brock and Solidad looked on with interest.

“How so?” Solidad asked.

“I just mean that seeing him care so much for Pikachu was really inspiring. And how excited he was by all the new Pokémon we saw. Seeing that connection is definitely part of why I think Blaziken and I were able to bond as much as we did.”

Brock nodded. “Misty never did have a problem with Butterfree or Heracross.”

“And a Heracross isn’t a traditionally pretty Pokémon like Butterfree. It’s a giant bug,” Solidad mused. “I can’t believe that Misty wouldn’t be frightened of a Heracross.”

“So maybe we need to invite Ash,” May suggested.

“Sure, all we need is more people in this house,” Drew mumbled into his Cheerios.

At just that moment, Misty walked into the dining room with a towel around her neck and plucked a box of cereal off the table, sticking a fist in and shoving the contents into her mouth.

“Good Battle, Misty?” Solidad asked.

Misty shrugged. “Just an over-eager youngster,” she replied, cornflakes spraying as she did so.

The doorbell rang throughout the entire Gym, causing Misty to groan. “Really? Well, this one better not mind if I eat breakfast during the match. Either that or I’m going to eat him for breakfast.”

She shoved another angry fistful of cornflakes into her mouth and chomped through it like she really was eating him for breakfast.

“You’re not going to get that?” May asked apprehensively.

Misty waved it away. “That’s what the receptionist is for. He’ll make an announcement over the intercom when I need to go to the arena.”

But there never was an announcement. Rather, everyone looked up when a new face entered the dining room.

“Speak of the devil…” Brock murmured.

“Psh, figures,” Drew muttered.

Misty seemed the most surprised, though, setting down the cereal box and wiping the crumbs from her mouth. “Ash?”

“Hey, guys!” Ash said excitedly, picking up the cereal box as soon as Misty set it down while Pikachu made like an Emolga and leapt towards Misty.

“Hi, Pikachu!” Misty cheered.

“Pikachupi!”

“Ash, what are you doing here? I thought you were going to stay in Sinnoh a little longer,” Brock asked.

“When I heard we were trying to get Misty to overcome her fear of bugs, I knew that this would be the most exciting place to be,” Ash explained through a dry mouthful of cereal. “So here I am!”

“But I told you that weeks ago,” Misty stated as she concerned herself with scratching Pikachu’s head.

Ash shrugged. “That’s how long it took me to get here. So, how’s it going?”

Ash’s eyes roved over the table, noting May, Drew, Solidad, and Brock’s awkward silence as they looked at their food and Misty’s fiery eyes practically scorching Brock. Ash sweat-dropped.

“That well, eh?”

April 2, day 16

So Ash is here now. Haven’t decided if it’s a good or bad thing. He’s even better at riling Misty up than Brock is, which would have been funny a couple of weeks ago, but now I feel like if a Darkrai ever puts me in an eternal nightmare, it will be of Misty’s angry voice and her screams.

He’s good with the Surskit though. It seemed like he came for Misty, but he’s way more preoccupied with the babies than he is with her. Except that he watches all of her battles. But, again, I think that’s about the Pokémon…

“Okay, Ash. Work your magic,” Brock whispered in his ear as he patted his shoulders and pushed him in the direction of the room to which the Surskit were relegated. Misty eyed him suspiciously, not having heard what he said, but walked right behind Ash with Pikachu in her arms nevertheless.

Brock stayed back, a smile already growing on his face. It meant a lot that Misty was even going into the room that she’d avoided for weeks. Under the caveat, of course, that she could leave whenever she wanted and, unfortunately, smack Brock upside the head if she felt necessary.

So maybe Brock would just sneak away while he still had the chance…

“Oh my God, this is so cool!”

The excitement simply pulsed off of Ash as he took in the sight of all of the babies. Meanwhile, Misty strictly avoided looking at them and instead took in all the adjustments that had been made to her pool. Lily pads, strips of grass terrain across some of the tile, food everywhere. Misty frowned. All that would surely be a bitch to clean up once these bugs were out of here.

While Misty hung by the door, using Pikachu’s presence to sooth herself, Ash made for the sod to kneel down on beside the pool.

“Oh man, they’re even doing Attacks already!”

Sure enough, Misty spotted some of the Surskit playing around with Bubble. They weren’t using it as an Attack, exactly; more as a fun pool game. It was almost…cute.

Almost.

Misty almost shrieked as one Surskit skidded across the pool and launched into Ash’s lap. He rolled back and laughed, but Misty could only feel those tiny legs prodding over herself. Sensing her tension, Pikachu reached up and patted her bare shoulder, which caused goosebumps to rise before taking them away.

“Aw, Mist! How could you say no to taking one of these little guys in?” He held it up and tried the same Growlithe-eyes look on her the Brock had tried. But she had to admit that Ash was a lot better at it. “And you have to admit that Drew’s Masquerain is a pretty Pokémon. It looks like one of those dumb paper fans or…I dunno, something else that girls like.”

Misty rolled her eyes. Ash sure knew how to get to a girl’s heart.

Ash tossed her a dopey grin and her heart thumped.

Okay, maybe that thought wasn’t as sarcastic as she would have liked it to be.

“Pikapi!” Pikachu called out, feeding off his Trainer’s excitement. He was waving his arms at Ash, looking like he wanted to join in the fun. Misty felt bad for holding him back.

So, against her baser instincts, Misty approached, Pikachu patting her wrist in encouragement. However, as soon as they got only a few feet away from Ash, Pikachu leapt out of her arms and sat right down next to Ash and the Surskit, appearing to enjoy getting to spend time with a Pokémon smaller than he.

Misty looked on for a moment, thinking that the scene was kind of cute. The Surskit took an instant liking to Pikachu, who let it play with his tail. Then, suddenly, Misty felt something brush her leg and her whole world froze.

It was about ten minutes later that Ash looked up and said, “Hey, where’d Misty go?”

April 3, day 17

You know, I think there was a point of time where I was jealous of May and Ash’s relationship. But now I see that he really does only ever think about Pokémon. And if he’s 17 and only thinks about Pokémon now, then I can only imagine how little he thought about girls a few years ago. Yeah. Nothing to worry about.

Except for Misty. Because her crush on him is suuuuper obvious.

“I swear, it is a blessing that Misty’s sisters practically don’t live at the Gym,” Drew said as he and May walked down the streets of Cerulean. Solidad had sent them to the Pokémon Center to pick up Masquerain, Butterfree, and Misty’s Pokémon from her most recent match.

“You’re just saying that because they’re always giving you grief about your good looks.”

Drew looked at May, thoroughly amused. “My good looks?”

May froze, not having realized quite what she had said until it was parroted back to her. “Th-They seem to think so. That’s all.”

“Oh, I thought you were saying I looked good.” He didn’t sound disappointed, though. He was strictly teasing her.

“Well, of course you do! You’re a coordinator! It’s your bread and butter to look good for others.”

“So you do think so?”

“Just in a purely technical sense. You take care of yourself. Don’t make it seem like I’m trying to imply anything—”

“Hush, don’t break yourself, May,” Drew eased her, putting a hand on her arm when she started getting really frazzled. “No one’s trying to imply anything. It’s just fun to see you get all worked up.”

May huffed. “Yeah, well I’d like to see you worked up, just once.”

Drew raised an eyebrow. “Oh, would you?”

Realizing her error, May gave a disgusted groan. “Okay, that’s enough! Where is this Pokémon Center?”

She rushed ahead of him and Drew could only laugh, speeding up his pace until he could catch her.

Misty stood in her spot in the doorway of the Surskit room. But this time Brock was standing next to her.

“Wasn’t he coming because he wanted to see you trying to get me to get over my fear of bugs?” Misty mused.

“That is what he said.”

They were both watching him and Pikachu play with the Surskit. Masquerain and Butterfree weren’t out of their ‘Balls constantly like they had been at the beginning, but they were out now and Ash was also getting a kick out of playing with them. He was really in his element.

“He wouldn’t have come if he didn’t want to see you, Misty,” Brock said comfortingly.

He knew about her crush. She knew he knew about her crush. But he also knew that he wasn’t allowed to say that he knew. And she knew that too. This kind of the thing was the closest that they ever came to acknowledging it.

“I swear, he will only ever love Pokémon.”

Misty had her arms crossed and she was looking longingly out at him, not even the Bugs being enough to wipe the expression away.

“Hey, maybe one day he’ll treat…someone else the same way.”

Misty scoffed. “Like a Pokémon?”

Brock laughed. “Maybe?”

Pinching the bridge of her nose and shaking her head, Misty could only sigh, “That’s every girl’s dream.”

April 4, day 18

Drew was in his room, brushing out his Absol’s fine fur when Solidad walked in. Her face was a little harder than usual, not a noticeable enough shift for most people to notice, but Drew instantly straightened, feeling like his mother was coming in to scold him.

“Is something wrong?” Drew asked, not wanting to beat around the bush.

Solidad took a moment to sit down on the edge of his bed and smooth the blanket, tossing a kind smile at Drew’s Absol before turning to Drew himself. Then she took his journal and placed it on the bed. “You left it in the Surskit’s room.”

“Oh, thanks,” Drew said, putting it on the side table, internalizing the fact that he hadn’t written anything for that day yet. He’d do it before he went to sleep.

“I read some of it.”

Drew looked up, surprised. Solidad stated it bluntly, with a touch of guilt coloring her tone. He realized that he didn’t feel like his privacy had been invaded. If it had been someone else, then yeah. But not Solidad. So he said, “Okay.”

“You’d said that you were recording stuff about the Surskit, so I thought I’d take a look at your observations. I didn’t realize that it had personal thoughts in there as well; I should have, but I didn’t consider—”

“It’s fine,” Drew said bluntly. “That is what it was supposed to be. I just realized that I liked keeping a journal, so I kept doing it.”

Solidad was kind of blindsided by Drew’s non-reaction. But after a brief pause, she figured she might as well go along with it. “I always had figured that you liked May.”

“I don’t really hide it.”

Solidad smiled. “You don’t.”

Drew knew it was obvious. Misty’s crush on Ash was obvious, but so was the fact that she wanted it to be a secret. But Drew was rather conspicuous because, well, why hide it?

“So why haven’t you asked her out yet?”

“It’ll happen naturally when it’s supposed to,” he said simply. “I’m just laying the groundwork until then.”

“Drew, you’ve been laying the groundwork for almost six years,” Solidad pointed out, beckoning Absol over to her so that she could take over brushing. Absol happily obliged, thrusting its chin into Solidad’s hand. “It’s getting embarrassing.”

Drew bristled at that. “She’ll come to me when the time is right,” he stated, standing up to set out his clothes for the next day. He and the rest of the group had taken some time earlier in the month to stock up on supplies for their temporary home.

“Drew, I hate to say this about your beloved,” she didn’t get away with that one without a very unamused glance from Drew, “but there is absolutely no way that she’s going to pick up what you’re putting down unless you spell it out for her.”

“Untrue,” Drew stated as he loudly set down the book that he’d been reading before bed on the bedside table. “We flirt all the time.”

Solidad blinked. “Do you think that Ash and Misty flirt?”

“Yes, sometimes. In their weird, repressed kind of way,” Drew answered easily. But as he waved away the obvious question, his hand caught in the air, as though hitting the very idea Solidad had released into the world.

She smiled, seeing that he was getting it. “And do you think that Ash realizes?”

Drew groaned. “Oh, man.”

April 5, day 19

I’m not even going to talk about the fact that I missed yesterday. That’s Solidad’s fault. She distracted me.

The idea that May doesn’t realize that there’s anything between us…I guess it should have occurred to me. But it’s just so obvious, that I’d thought…I don’t know. I guess I was just hoping. But I want to be doing more than just hoping. I don’t want to be like Ash and Misty. And lord knows I don’t want to be like Brock…

Brock, for his part, was happy. Ash provided Misty with enough distraction that she no longer felt it necessary to constantly remind Brock how pissed off she was. With her fists. In his chest.

She was even going into the Surskit habitat occasionally. About once a day. She was willing to watch everyone else play with the Surskit, but refused to make much progress past the door. It had looked like they were going to have another breakthrough the day before when she again attempted to cross the threshold, but then Lily had pretended to toss one of the Surskit at her and that was the end of that.

To tell the truth, the Surskit were almost fully grown by now, so Brock had to take a step back and ask himself, what was the point? Then, if he really took a step back, he realized that they could have sent the Surskit to Professor Oak from the beginning. But he decided that it was not in his best interest to share that bit of information with Drew.

No, at this point, the venture was all about Misty for Brock. Babies or not, the Surskit were cute, dammit! Even Misty’s sisters thought so!

Speaking of…

Violet was scrounging through the kitchen—Brock had reorganized the whole place…three times since arriving. None of the four sisters used the kitchen very much, save for the refrigerator for takeout and premade meals, but it nevertheless proved annoying when they had to relearn how to navigate their own kitchen every week. When she finally landed on her goal, rice cakes, she eagerly began opening up the package. Then Brock swooped in.

“Hey, I could make you something much better,” he offered as he leaned over the counter.

Struggling to open the package, Violet began searching for some scissors. She eyed Brock wearily, trying to figure out exactly what double entendre he’d planted in that sentence. She couldn’t find one, but she was sure that it was there.

“That’s fine,” she said after finally finding the kitchen shears and loosing her flavorless snack. “I’m gonna put some peanut butter and honey on it.”

“Oh, you don’t need any honey. You’re already sweeter than the sap from a Bulbasaur’s bulb.”

Squeamishly, Violet placed the rice cake on the counter before backing away. “Uh, right. Catch you later, Brock.”

Brock sighed, flopping against the counter. Three sisters down.

Well, guess it was on to Solidad next.

April 6, day 20

Ash has been teaching the Surskit attacks. We were just letting them learn on their own before and studying their behavior, but there’s no stopping that kid. He’s taken a liking to one in particular that he’s been pitting against the others, so they’re all getting a bit of training. They’re learned a few moves beyond tackle now. They all know Bubble and some are learning Quick Attack.

No, I don’t have anything to say about May.

April 7, day 21

Okay. It’s been three weeks. This is longer than I was at Solidad’s. The only other place that has seen this much of me is LaRousse, and I don’t say that with fondness. And we’ve been dealing with an abundance of youngsters for the past week. At least that’s kept Misty and even her sisters occupied. Which has kept Brock and Solidad from meddling. Except for Solidad meddling with me. But…I still don’t know what to make of that.

April 8, day 22

I talked to Masquerain about sending each of the Surskit to different trainers and coordinators. She was upset by the idea, but we all know that it’s the only option. And it will be best for the Surskit too. I imagine it won’t be too hard to find them homes in Kanto, since they’re a rare species here. We’ll just have to take extra care about where they end up going. But it’s getting to be that time. We’ve taken them out a few times, but it’s not enough. They’re fully grown and absolutely itching to get out of that damn pool.

I know how they feel.

April 9, day 23

Brock is losing steam. You can tell. Solidad stopped really helping him out about a week ago, as did May. Ash…never proved to be much help. And Brock is out of ideas.

Thank the merciful gods.

“Brock! Brock! I’ve got it!”

Ash breathlessly ran into Brock’s room mirth shining in his bright brown eyes.

“Got what?” Brock asked disheartenedly—he’d just seen Tracey and Daisy together and his poor heart was broken.

“The solution for Misty’s problem!”

“What’s that?”

Ash pulled his Pokédex from his jacket—looking mighty pleased with himself all the while—and pressed a button before thrusting the device in Brock’s face.

“Surskit secrets a thick, sugary syrup, or a sweet scent. The syrup is exuded as a defense mechanism, while the scent can attract prey.

“Sweet Scent is a move which lowers the target’s evasiveness, luring them in or causing them to become relaxed.”

When Ash shut off his Pokdéx and turned to Brock triumphantly, Brock could do nothing but give a defeated sigh and say, “It’s worth a shot.”

She was in the room. Only a few feet in, but the door was closed behind her, and that was enough.

Everyone else was there too. Solidad, Drew, May, Brock, Pikachu—though not Misty’s sisters…but when were they ever there?

Ash had given them all the briefest details of some half-baked plan. All they knew was that they needed to be behind Ash and his favored Surskit.

And then he shouted, “Surskit, Sweet Scent!”

Everyone—except for Brock—fell into complete alarm when they noticed that the pink powder born from the Surskit’s head floating in the direction of Misty. They all smelled the room become fragranced with the light, airy scent of spring blooms, they didn’t feel the effects of the move.

But Misty sure did.

“Ash! What in the hell do you think…you’re…do…”

Everyone watched in disbelief as Misty’s eyes dulled, a silly grin appearing on her face. She began wavering on her feet as she stepped fearlessly towards the Surskit…and Ash.

“It’s working,” Brock murmured under his breath.

Actually, Misty seemed altogether unaware of the Surskit. The one that Ash had fired at her scurried behind him, frightened by the human’s strange behavior. Ash, for his part, looked concerned, stepping forward and putting his arms out so as to catch Misty if she fell.

And fall she did. Right into his arms, looking up at him dazedly as he supported her dead weight.

“M-Misty? Are you alright?”

“Aw, Ash.”

“What, Misty?”

“Ash, I knew you loved me.”

Save for the sounds of the Surskit skimming along the top of the pool, the room fell to silence, everyone watching the scene with bated breath. Even Ash didn’t have anything to say. For a moment. Then, brilliantly:

“Whaa?”

Misty, however, was unfazed. She was standing more on her own now, petting Ash’s shoulder as she looked at him with hooded lids.

“You’ve only ever loved Pokémon. And now you’ve finally done the same with me!” She poked his nose playfully. “You love me.”

Ash’s cheeks heated up as he looked around the room—whether it was to see how his friends were reacting or because he was looking for an escape was anybody’s guess. Pikachu cocked a his head at him; not even Pikachu understood what was going on in his friend’s mind.

“Right, Brock? He treated me like a Pokémon! That’s the dream, right?”

All eyes turned to Brock at that…subprime statement. He winced. “It’s not what it sounds like.”

Misty stood up a little more steadily on her own feet, but it was just so that she could wrap her arms around Ash in a more proper hug, burying her head in his shoulder. “Mm, I’ve wanted to do that for so long.” Then she pulled away and looked straight in his eyes. They were about the same height, so it was with ease that she said, “Don’t worry, Ash. I love you too,”

…and pecked him on the lips.

“Okay, okay.”

Brock’s best friend instinct kicked in at that moment and he stood up from his perch by the pool and went over to Ash and Misty, realizing that this was a situation where she needed to be saved from herself. The Sweet Scent had her so relaxed she was acting almost high and he was already sure that she’d be so embarrassed when she came out of this that she would smack him silly for not having stopped her sooner.

“What, Ash? You don’t wanna play anymore?”

“That’s enough, Misty,”

“Wait, Brock.”

Misty had a pouting expression on her face as she continued holding onto Ash. Brock was all ready to pry her away, but Ash…well, Ash’s expression was completely unreadable.

“What, Ash?” Brock asked, trying to urge him on.

“I…don’t know. I’m just trying to…catch up.”

“Aaaash,” Misty whined. “Don’t you love me?”

“I, uh, I think I have no clue.”

“You have no clue?” Brock deadpanned.

Ash shrugged the best he could while Misty’s arms were still wrapped tight around him. “I’ve never thought about it before.”

Brock looked at him in disbelief. “How have you never thought about it before?”

“I just haven’t. But let’s try that again.” To Misty’s delight, Ash closed the distance and this time gave her a peck in the lips, just a couple of seconds longer.

“I don’t know…” Ash said again, but this time as a smile slowly rose to his lips. “That was kind of fun.”

“We could do that some more, Ash,” Misty cooed, leaning in again.

“No! I think you need to go to sleep,” Brock insisted, this time actually going in to pry Misty off of Ash. Ash nodded along with Brock’s suggestion and did his best to squeeze out of Misty’s grip.

As Brock led a disoriented Misty out of the room, Ash turned around to the rest of the—completely stunned—group and said, “Wow, that was different.”

Pikachu, for his part, bounded over to Ash, leaping into his arms and giving a congratulatory “Pi pikachu!”

“Aw, thanks, buddy!”

“No,” Drew said. “Uh-uh. This does not happen for you before it happens for us.”

Drew gestured between him and May, which caused her eyes to completely bug out of her head. “Whaa?”

Before she knew what was going on, Drew marched over to her, grabbed the side of her face and kissed her full on the lips. May gave a little squeak before giving into it. It only lasted a few moments longer than that, though, before Drew pulled away, breathing heavily.

“Drew?” May breathed.

“May, I’ve given you flowers for years, we flirt endlessly, we’ve travelled together since you left this goober,” he gestured towards Ash, who had the sense to look offended, “and, most of all, I’ve stayed with you even when we’ve been travelling with Harley.” He looked to Solidad. “That goes for you too.”

Solidad could only give a little shrug before nodding in agreement.

He turned back to May. “I only ever traveled alone before you. And I liked it. But when I’m with you, it makes me wonder why I ever, ever wanted to travel alone.”

“Drew,” May nearly whispered. “I had no idea.”

Drew nodded slowly. “Yeah…that’s pretty obvious. But, um, what do you think?”

May could only smile shyly. “I think it sounds really amazing.”

“So,” Drew looked hopefully at May, “maybe things can be different when we travel through Kanto?”

May nodded. “I’d like that.”

“Good. Now come here.” He brought her into the warmest hug he’d ever felt and whispered, “Because I love you,” in her ear.

Drew felt the tickle on his neck of May’s laughter and pulled her even closer. He didn’t expect her to say it back. He didn’t even want her to until she’d thought about it more.

But saying it felt oh so good.

“Okay, I totally win! Misty may not have overcome her fear of bugs, but she did overcome her fear of telling Ash how she feels, so I count that as a victor—wait, what’s going on here?”

Brock had come strutting into the room, his voice echoing all throughout before stopping at the vision of Drew and May wrapped together more tightly then a well-made burrito.

Solidad laughed. “You missed confession number two.”

Brock’s expression instantly fell. “Oh man! I’ve been waiting on that one for years too!”

“Really?” May asked over Drew’s shoulder, looking mildly concerned.

“Me too,” Solidad added.

“Pikachu.”

That was enough to pull May out of the embrace and look wildly between Brock, Solidad, and Pikachu. “Wait, so everyone knew except for me?”

Ash raised his hand. “I didn’t know.”

Drew looked at him dryly. “Of course you didn’t.”

“Max knew,” Brock added.

That turned May’s face bright red. “He did‽ Ooh, he’s going to hear from me!”

May instantly began stomping out of the room, leaving a bewildered Drew behind for only a second until she turned around, snatched his hand, and continued her way toward the lobby’s videophone.

As they left, Brock sidled up next to Solidad, who only raised an eyebrow at him. “So, Ash and Misty. Drew and May. Guess that you and I are gonna have to get together now.”

“Oh, Brock,” Solidad said in a tone that Brock knew only too well. “I thought you knew. I’m ace.”

“What’s ace?” Ash asked.

“Asexual,” Solidad answered. “I honestly thought you were too.”

“Oh. Nope!” Ash said with cheerful ignorance. “Just honestly never thought about it.”

Solidad smiled. “That’s just precious.”

They continued to chat, not noticing how Brock had curled up in the fetal position in the corner of the room, tears streaming down his face.

April 14

May, Solidad, and I start traveling tomorrow. I feel like it’ll mostly be the same between May and I. Solidad’s the one who’s going to be weird about it. I’m sure she’s going to feel the constant need to chaperone us. It’ll be fun.

That was sarcasm.

Ash is going to stay in Kanto too. Since the season just started for them too, he’s going to challenge the Kanto League again. I guess his near-victory in Sinnoh has him thinking he can take it home this time in Kanto. And I guess he wants to be closer to Misty. I’m not sure if they’re dating. I don’t think they know either. Well, I’m sure Ash doesn’t know. But I’m sure Misty will force him to figure it out someday. Hopefully she won’t need to be all but drugged to do so.

The Surskit all have homes now. Ash, of course, took the one that he and Pikachu befriended. And then the rest are going to Brock’s siblings.

Of course, Misty never got used to the Surskit. But I guess that saga’s going to keep going, now that Ash has one. Maybe it’ll come along the same way Ash’s other bug pokémon have for Misty.

Honestly, it would be really funny if it did, because it would make Brock’s suffering of the past month essentially pointless. All Ash had to do was catch it and that’ll probably make the difference for her.

Oh, the irony.

But, honestly, who cares? Because I have my girlfriend, my best friend, and a brand new contest season.

And, best of all, no Harley.

“Drew, what are you writing?”

May stood over Drew’s spot hunched on the ground, smiling slyly.

“Whatever it is, it’s going to have to wait, because we have to help Misty clean up the Surskit room.”

“One more second, May.”

She smiled as she squeezed his shoulder before walking away.

…Second best of all.

#pokemon #fanfiction #pokeshipping #contestshipping #ash and misty #drew and may #aaml #daml #oneshot #alphabet challenge #challenge #pokeani

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codylabs · 7 years ago

Text

Chapter 10: The Madman’s Tale

Links: P 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

Dipper, Wendy, and McGucket poked their way through the depths of the alien spacecraft, and finally arrived at sector 43: the portion of the cargo area that they theorized once contained robotic life forms. They pried the door open with great difficulty, and stood staring in.

It wasn’t at all what they expected.

“Well… That’s… Somthing.” Dipper said.

“Yeah… Wait, no it’s not.” Wendy disagreed. “It’s not something! It’s literally nothing.”

“Yep. Nothin’.” McGucket agreed.

Because when they pried the door open, there was no sector 43; there was only a solid wall of dirt.

“So how would this even happen?” Dipper pondered out loud.

“Wull, this here honkytonk is underground…” McGucket reminded him. “Has been fer thousands a years… Just a matter a’ sludge and hogwash erodin’ down off the hills, and gravity has its merry way from there…”

“But… The hull…” Dipper said. “The hull would be in the way… I guess the roof must have collapsed?”

“Well.” Wendy shrugged. “If this did have escaped metal life, that would mean there’s were a bunch of critters running around with saws in there…”

“Yeah, but… But would they really chop up the entire roof??”

“Okay, I don’t know…”

The only other interesting thing about sector 43 were the words carved above the door. Although Dipper had seen words written or painted around the ship a few times, these ones were actually etched into the metal. As if their writers had a saw or grinder of some kind… Which was too big of a coincidence to be a coincidence. He pointed the tablet at them, took a picture, and had it translate. He had hoped for something profound, but was disappointed.

“ƉN::ᶌ and Ɖg@}Nᶌ were here.” He read.

“Oh HO!” Wendy scoffed, as she immediately removed and unzipped her backpack. “Is that how you want to play it, mysterious ancient aliens? Fine then! FOUR can play at THAT game!” She removed a neon green can of spray paint from her pack, shook it up, and wrote Dipper and Wendy were here next to the carvings.

McGucket found this disrespectful and unprofessional, although Dipper thought it was a riot.

“So who were those two, anyway?” Dipper asked outloud, after they’d finished laughing. “ƉN::ᶌ and Ɖg@}Nᶌ...?” He tried to pronounce the symbols, but it was much too hard.

“Just make up some normal names for them.” Wendy suggested. “Like… Like Betty and Barney, or something. I don’t know, Mabel could probably do better…”

“Betty and Barney it is, then.” Dipper nodded. “Yeah… Betty and Barney were here… So who were they? Were they more specimens? Or part of the crew? Or passengers…?”

“I don’t know.” Wendy shrugged. “Could have been anyone, really… But back to the problem at hand: Sector 43 is missing a ceiling, and filled with dirt. Short of borrowing my cousin’s excavator for about a month, how do we find out what was in there?”

Dipper considered this. “Well… Huh… I guess that if there’s giant holes in the roof, then chances are there’s giant holes in the walls too, right? So if there was metal life in 43, we should probably check in sectors 42 on the left, and 44 on the right. That’s where they would have breached through.”

“Right tootin’!” McGucket slapped his knee. “Wull then, I’ll give 42 a lookie, and you kids scrabdoodle off to 44!”

“Got it.” Dipper nodded.

“Don’t let the grammar hit you on the way out!” Wendy jested, as they turned to head back the way they’d come. McGucket went off the other direction, hamboning a playful tune on his thigh.

Dipper and Wendy arrived in cargo area 44, and it was pretty much how they expected.

Beyond the sliding door, they found a massive room, the size of a warehouse, and high enough that their headlamp beams didn’t reach the ceiling. The entire space was filled with gigantic hexagonal crates suspended on large, honeycombed racks, with barely room enough to walk between them.

Sector 44 was a mess, same as everywhere else. But this mess considerably messier. Here, not only the small things were broken, but also the computers, the equipment, the floor, the walls, the lights… Everything was cut all to pieces. Wires and cords hung from the ceiling in tattered tangles. The terminals on the walls were totally gutted. The walls had cavities. The cargo containers were cut open, and much of their freight was spilled about. Everywhere there were scratches and saw marks.

And as for the wall this sector would have shared with 43… The wall had been torn half away, and mountains of dirt and deposit had spilled through the missing half, partially filling 44 and destroying many of the cargo racks. Great tree roots, having groped their way down from the distant surface, peaked out of the mess here and there.

“Yep.” Wendy nodded. “This is about what I expected.”

They started to walk into the room to explore it, but suddenly something sharp caught Dipper in the leg, and he yelped with pain.

He looked down.

A large panel of the floor had been torn up, revealing some electrical lines. And out of those electrical lines, there grew a tangle of metal weeds. They were long dead, and their solar panels had rotted away, but they were still sharp, and they still stood as evidence of the type of chaos which once inhabited this room.

“Ah. Well, there we go.” Dipper nodded. “There’s metal plants at least…”

“Ooh! Dead killer robots! What a welcome change of pace!” Dipper turned to see Wendy examining a broken security drone. Strangely, this drone appeared perfectly intact on the outside. There wasn’t a single scratch or crack in its shell, although the glass appeared fogged up on the inside. “I wonder what did this guy in?” Wendy wondered out loud.

“I don’t know… Why’s it all fogged up?”

Dipper helped Wendy pry open the drone’s hatch, and they saw what had happened.

The drone had been eaten from the inside out. Although the drone’s outer glass shell was too hard for saws to cut, its mechanical innards were all exposed on the inside. And all these parts (power source, weapons systems, arms, etc.) had all been chopped up or eaten entirely.

As for the trapped robot that had done the damage… It was still there. It was long dead, and mostly decayed, but it was still recognizable. It looked almost identical to Juan and his mom, but about the size of a wolf, and with more pronounced saws. Obviously still the same species, just a different breed.

“Wow.” Wendy said, looking at the cat-bot. “Miserable way to go, huh? Starving to death inside a tiny glass bubble?”

“Yeah…” Dipper scratched his head. “…No kidding…”

They looked around at the rest of bay 44. There were a few more offline security drones, and a few more metal plants. Wendy put her hands on her hips. “Welp.” She surmised. “It’s official now. The robots are all aliens, and broke out of sector 43.”

“Yep.” Dipper nodded. “Aliens confirmed. Alien robots confirmed. Illuminati confirmed. Halflife 3 confirmed… Everything confirmed.”

“Really dude?” Wendy scoffed. “You’re memeing now?”

“Well, uh… Yeah, it just came to me I guess.”

“General Pineobi.” She said in a general Grievous voice. “You are a bold one.”

“…Is that a meme? I thought that was just a line from Revenge of the Sith.”

“Everything from the prequel trilogy is a meme.” She shrugged. “Anyway, back to the task at hand.”

“Right.” He nodded. “Right. So. They’re aliens. Broke out of sector 43.”

“But that doesn’t really explain much, y’know?” Wendy frowned. “Like, sure they’re aliens, but so what? I still have a lot of questions.”

“What questions?” Dipper asked.

“First of all.” Wendy stuck up her index finger, as if beginning a list. “If the metal life is from HERE, how did it get all the way out to the Forest of Daggers? It’s, like, 12 miles… Who moved it, and how?”

Dipper shrugged. “Maybe they took off the ceiling of 43, turned it over, put all the robots on it, and used it like a sled…? Of course, I don’t know how they’d do that…”

“Yeah.” Wendy shook her head. “Okay, now second question. WHY was this ship hauling a truckload of metal animals? These things are dangerous enough to eat a death drone alive! What the heck were they thinking bringing these along?”

Dipper shrugged again.

“Third question.” She counted off another finger. “In this ship, there’s the probatorium, which is for studying new specimens, and that’s sectors 1 through 12… And then there’s the passenger area, which is sectors 13 through 24… But then ‘organic cargo’, is sectors 25 through freakin’ 48… My question is: what the heck does ‘organic cargo’ mean??”

Dipper scratched his head. “Questions 2 and 3 are basically the same question.”

“Forth question.” She continued. “What caused this ship to crash?”

“Well… I don’t know that either. None of the diagnostic logs seemed to give any clues… Even Granny Shifter’s log hazed over the issue…”

“Yeah. Well, fifth question…” She lowered her voice. “The guy we just ran into down here… Is he the real McGucket??”

Dipper’s eyes grew wide, and he looked back the way they came. “Uh… I don’t know… The shifter is still in stasis in Ford’s lab; I checked a couple days ago… But… Wait… Are you saying…?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. We know from her tube’s label that Granny Shifter was ‘pregnant’, but we don’t know with how many… And if they all survived for this long… Or if she had a whole batch of eggs, or mixed twins or something… They could have--!”

Dipper (being a mixed twin himself) was quick to correct her. “TMI!”

“Yeah, yeah, sorry… Just had to get that out there, though… There could be hundreds of them, dude. Cross our fingers and hope our mutual friend was a single child… But just saying.”

“Okay… Well… Well… If McGucket is the shapeshifter… Or a shapeshifter… It’s certainly done its reading, much more than last time… It knew Stanford and Stanley were routinely down here… It knew that we confronted the metal life yesterday… It knew McGucket’s taken to building himself robot trousers… Heck, it even knew he uses the word ‘scrabdoodle’!”

“Yeah, but… But…” Wendy said. “Okay, now I’ve got me paranoid: what’s your name?”

“Mason. Middle?”

“Blerble.”

They both sighed.

“Can’t keep doing this.” Wendy said.

“Yeah.” Dipper agreed. “Not knowing who to trust.”

“Totally.”

“…Let’s rendezvous with McGucket.” Dipper decided. “Then head down to the engine room and download more data for Ford… See if we can find any more clues about the crash… Then we get the heck out of here.”

“Okay… And when we leave, let’s head straight to McGucket’s mansion, and see if he’s there too. If he is, that means he either has super-speed, or this one is a fake… But for now, we just keep an eye on him, but don’t give him a single hint that we suspect him.”

“Good idea.”

“Yeah.”

Twenty minutes later, not far from the blocked 43 entrance, they came around a corner and ran almost straight into the old man himself. He seemed to have changed significantly in the hour since they’d seen him; and not in a good way. It wasn’t his body, number of limbs, or eyeballs that had shifted, it was his mannerisms: he had an insane look in his eye now, a shaking in his hands, and he was on the verge of complete panic.

“EGAD!” He screeched when he saw the teens. “I don’t—I GEE! I WUZZIT?!? Who-who-who… Are yeh youuuu?!?” To their surprise, he reached into his overalls and pulled out an impressively large ray gun.

“WHOA!” Dipper yelped, fell on his butt, and raised his hands in surrender.

“Calm down there, bucko…” Wendy took a step back, and raised her hands too. “Whaddaya mean?”

“I saw… I saw…” He reached into his overalls again, and pulled out a beefy, steel computer. “I saw words!” He turned the screen toward them. “Words on a wall! Written in blood!” He explained, and read. “Loose mimic outside sector 8… No one to trust! That’s what it said, an’ I know it’s true! ‘Cause I done seen one! Years ago in Ford’s lab, an’ it mimicked PEOPLE! How do I know ya ain’t ‘em?!?”

Dipper and Wendy looked at each other. “We were about to ask you the same thing…” Dipper said.

McGucket gasped for air, and his eyes seemed to bulge out of his head. “I can’t… I’m the one doin’ the talkin’ and the askin’ here, Barney!!”

“Barney?” Wendy asked.

“Same gits fer you, Betty!” McGucket took several steps back, and his fingers closed around the trigger. “Yeh aliens… YEH ALIENS! Just up an’ give… Gimme my robopants and glue back!”

Wendy set the pants on the ground, and kicked them over without a complaint. Dipper did the same for the crate of adhesive.

“An’ raise yer hands!” McGucket yelped, as he reached down to put on the robo-pants (he seemed to have forgotten that their computer was still fried).

Dipper and Wendy didn’t move.

“AH SAID RAISE ‘EM!!” His gun was shaking as he gestured to their hands.

“Umm…” Dipper looked up at his raised hands. “They are raised…”

“ALL OF ‘EM!” McGucket was close to tears. “I kinuht deal with yer alien ways! Raise all yer other weird appendages and doohickies and thingums!”

“Dude.” Wendy told him. “Calm down.”

“YE ALL CALM DOWN!”

“McGucket, you’re not thinking clearly.” Dipper said, and took another step back. “We don’t have any more limbs to raise. Slow down…”

“Take a deep breath…” Wendy added.

“I’M WARNIN’ YEH!” McGucket’s shaking hands pointed the ray gun downward, and released a shot into the floor between them. The passage was instantly lit up by a bright green explosion, and a permanent mark was burned into the metal.

“WOAH!” Dipper jumped.

“GEEZ!” Wendy gasped.

“I’M SERIOUS!” McGucket yelled, and pointed the gun back at them. “I’LL SHOOT YEH ALIENS! GET OUT OF HERE! GO ON! GIT!”

“Okay.” Wendy said. “You win. We’ll git.” She began to retreat, with her hands still raised.

“STAY WHERE I KIN SEE YA!!”

“Okay.” She complied.

“Can we talk about this?” Dipper asked.

“NO, SHUT YER WORD-HOLE! YER GIST TRYIN’ TA TRICK ME!!”

“Okay. We’ll be quiet then.” Dipper agreed.

“WON’T TALK?? I WANT ANSWERS! START SINGIN’, BARNEY!” He pointed the gun at Wendy.

“What do you want?” Wendy asked.

He was crying now. “I wanna know me friends are safe…! What’d ye do with me friends…?? Yeh blasted aliens…”

“We are your friends.” Wendy said. “We’re human.”

“Human.” Dipper reached into his pocket, pulled out his knife, and made a small cut on the end of his finger. “Red blood.” He winced, and tried to remain calm as he showed McGucket the bright fluid. “Human.”

Wendy pulled out her own knife, and cut her own finger. “Red blood too.” She repeated, and showed him. “I’m human too. We both are.”

McGucket stared at them. “Yeh…” He sobbed. “Yer real…?”

“We are. We’re your friends.” Dipper said, pressing his self-inflicted injury into his vest to stop the bloodflow. “…We remember. Remember when we took down the blind eye together? We fought together with Soos and Mabel…”

“Soos…?”

“The fat one.” Dipper reminded him. “He taught you anime, remember? And found the dinosaur for the shack-tron?”

“Eh… Uh…”

“And Mabel.” Wendy said. “The lovely little girl who made us all sweaters? Remember her? We remember her too. Because we’re real. We know each other. We’re your friends.”

“We’re your friends, McGucket.” Dipper said. “We’re real.”

Slowly, a light seemed to dawn in the aged inventor’s eyes. The ray gun finally slipped from his fingers, and clattered noisily to a stop on the floor. Then he fell to his knees, clutched his heart with one hand, his head with the other, and began to weep.

“Me BRAIN!” He cried. “Me poor brain! I’m so sorry…! I’m so so sorry… I gist can’t even trust me own brain…” He gasped. “Me brain told me ta shoot ya! It told me… It told me ye weren’t who ye said… It told me yeh were in grave danger… Hurt or dyin’… Yeh gotta un’erstand, I been havin’ odd nightmares… An’ they play with the little scraps of memories I can’t remember, an’ the gaps I haven’t filled… People mention things I don’t know, and tell me I was there… An’ people I care about seem ta die… Or do they…? Maybe that’s just the nightmares too… I don’t know, I gist don’t know… I’m so sorry… I’m SO SORRY!”

Dipper breathed a sigh of relief, and shared a glance with Wendy. “It’s okay.” Dipper told the old man. “It’s okay.”

“We forgive you.” Wendy said.

“I thought I fixed ye stupid gull-dang thing…” He pounded his skull with both hands. “Now yeh go an’ break again… Come on brain, yeh kin do it… Yeh kin do it… Just a few more decades, brain… Then yeh kin die and take a breather on God’s golden shore… But ye’ll get someone killed before then… Lord have mercy, ye’ll get someone killed…” And he kept crying.

“Come on man.” Wendy walked up to him, grasped the straps of his overalls, and lifted him to his feet. “It’s okay. We just have one more stop, and they we’re out of here, dude. This place is bad on the nerves anyway. Nobody should be down here alone… (Dipper, grab his blaster, will ya?)”

Dipper picked up the ray gun.

“Yeh… I never will again… Never again…” McGucket promised. “I’m so sorry for almost shootin’ you fellers…”

“Let’s talk about something else.” Dipper suggested. “How about sector 42? What was in sector 42, Dr. McGucket?”

“Eh… In 42… In 42, there was a dang-blasted enormous computer in storage… And some organic cargo that looked like mice… All in giant shippin’ containers… But… Everything was a mess.”

“Describe the mess. What did it look like? What caused it? Come on man, you can remember.”

“The…” McGucket hesitated as he thought. And as his mind drifted away from dark paths and back to the familiar grounds of science and technology, he seemed to relax. His shoulder’s lost their tenseness, and his breathing came easier. “All organic bodies in storage perished during the initial crash.” He began. “But when the metallic creatures breached the bulkhead into 42, they ignored any organic matter and started to attack the computer in storage. They consumed the main processor and solid-state data core first, making special preference to silicon chips and copper wiring, likely to supplement the iron and titanium diet easily acquired from the main hull. The security system attempted intervention, but was treated with extreme hostility. Several containment drones were disabled when captured subjects dug into their primary static-energy power core, although their saws were unable to mar the external silicate shell…”

“Hey, see?” Dipper said. “Your brain’s still fine, McGucket!”

“Eh…?”

“Yeah!” Wendy said. “Were you just listening to yourself talk, dude?? You know science and robots better than anyone on the planet! You’re still smarter than all of us, man! Where would we be without you?”

“Don’t be ashamed of your brain.” Dipper said. ��You’ve got the best, McGucket.”

“But… But I still feel crazy sometimes… And I thought I fixed my brain… I guess… I guess it don’t take much ta break it again…”

“It’s fine, man.” Dipper told him. “I get it… Sometimes… Sometimes it seems like my body turns against me too.”

“Yeah, it does.” Wendy vouched for him. “His body turns against him ALL the time. He gets all itchy and sweaty just randomly.” Dipper frowned at this. “But it’s alright!” Wendy continued. “That’s what friends are for! To make up for what we don’t have. To be strong when we’re weak. Right?”

“Aww… Thanks guys.” McGucket nodded. “Thanks… Thanks fer lookin’ out for me…”

“You’re a friend.” Wendy said. “And that don’t change.”

“Never.” Dipper promised.

“Never…” McGucket rubbed his eyes. “Thank yeh. Thank yeh both…” And then, pulling his resolve together, he started down the passage back toward the engine room.

Once he’d gone on ahead outside whispering range, Wendy hissed down at Dipper. “I don’t know… Think he’s a shifter or not?”

Dipper watched their old friend for a few seconds longer. “…No…” Dipper answered. “He’s good.”

They reached the engine room.

“Ah! Ain’t she just a fine machine?” McGucket asked, gesturing to the massive pillars. A smile spread across his face, as he imagined this ship as it would have been in its glory days. “These engines kin play with gravity, play with physics, play with probability… My, it could get yeh gist about anywhere in the ol’ milky way in just a couple months, I reckon… Quite a fine piece a work, eh? I gist wish I coulda seen her in ‘er prime…”

“Well…” Dipper recalled one of the logs he’d seen the previous night. “You think you could get it working again?”

“Eh… I don’t know…” McGucket scratched his head. “I been a peakin’ and a ponderin’ this place fer a while now… An I think some of the engines might still be intact… But reactor 5 is the only primary power source left even close to intact, and I can’t figure how to work it… Ah well. Some other day, perhaps.” McGucket reached into his overalls and pulled out a homemade harpoon gun, so to climb back up the engine room to the ladder.

“Uh, actually…” Dipper put a hand on his shoulder. “When Stan and Ford were down here a couple days ago, they actually found a working control room… That’s where they got the data for your app! Wendy and I were going to get some more data… Maybe you’d like to see it? There could be a way to operate the reactor from in there…”

“Eh… Uh… Sure. We kin give it a quick lookie.” McGucket put away the harpoon, and followed them away from the ladder, and down deeper into the ship. They squeezed their way beneath the pillars, into, between, over and under some other machinery, and finally found themselves at an absurdly thick pair of blast doors. Wendy stuck a piece of alien metal into the crack, and levered it open. Then they turned on their flashlights to see past the darkness, and took a step through.

Dipper stopped after this first step, half in bewilderment, half in horror.

This really didn’t look like a ‘control room’ at all; it looked like a scene from a haunted house. There were alien bodies everywhere, all lying in various positions of pain, panic, or grief. But strangely, none of them were rotted. They weren’t skeletons, like there were elsewhere in the ship. These ones appeared mummified. Dried, flakey, shriveled, but WHOLE… As if they were instantly sterilized as they died, or as if they died by intense heat… Odd indeed… Dust and ash filled the room’s air with a dry, thick taste, and Dipper wondered if they were even getting enough oxygen.

As if the bodies weren’t enough, the screens, levers, knobs and buttons on the walls were almost entirely obscured by chaos. This chaos took the form of smears and stains and dust and scratch marks, but most of all, there was the graffiti. Every available surface was sloppily scrawled over with these various paints, in every conceivable color, size, and font. None of them were neatly written or orderly, and the handwriting was of a quality usually reserved only for distracted toddlers. It would be mesmerizing, if a train wreck was mesmerizing.

“OH MY!” McGucket put his hands to his head when he saw the bodies and graffiti, and turned to Dipper and Wendy with a horrified look. For a moment, he seemed as petrified as the bodies. “First time I ever been here… An… Oh my…”

“Yeah. Don’t worry.” Dipper said. “Everything’s dead… Been dead for a long, long time. They probably wouldn’t even make good zombies at this point.”

“I… I know... But…” McGucket said. “I can feel it…”

“Feel what?”

McGucket choked slightly. “Madness.” He whispered.

“Ooh.” Wendy frowned.

Her and Dipper’s eyes traveled up to the graffiti on the walls, suddenly curious.

“I can’t do it…” McGucket whimpered.

“Can’t do what?”

“Can’t take another step into this room…” His hands began to shake, and he pulled his computer out and handed it to Dipper. Then he pointed to the terminal at the far end of the room. “You have to download the data… I can’t… I… I have to wait outside…”

Dipper nodded, and began to step his way over the bodies and toward the back of the room.

As for McGucket himself, he left them there and rushed out. When he was alone, he knelt down on the metal floor, and began to pray earnestly for mercy. For he didn’t want to stand around and read words written in blood. He didn’t want to examine bodies, or poke and prod at buttons. He felt a darkness here. Some kind of evil, lurking to break into his soul. It was a feeling that seemed familiar from somewhere, although he could no more place the memory than he could explain it. All he knew was that he wanted to flee from it. He had had enough of this ship, and he wanted to get out. Get out immediately.

Back inside the control-room-turned-tomb, Wendy held up the tablet, and began to translate the graffiti. Dipper left the computer plugged into the terminal, and joined her to read:

-Every night I see it. Every day I live it: the pain the child of our greed will birth, as it lashes out indiscriminately at man, woman and child. Surely, some mortals are doomed sooner than others.

-For the wild men, for the reckless men, for the trapped men, for the hungry men; there now sits an advocate. He comes with glad tidings of doom and despair.

-All your sins lay naked before her. She sees your rotten center.

-All is meaningless under the sun. Soon it will end beneath the Earth.

-The Captain was told exactly what he wanted to hear.

-Terror levels holding at 39.72%. Projected 65.21% when they realize the nightmares are true.

-She completely eradicated them. Except for a juvenile, which followed after her like a confused child…

-They cut down the tree, and it fell into ice.

-There is a friend who sticks closer than a brother. Kill him before he kills you.

-Your child the monster will kill them all. Sacrifice yourself to sacrifice it to save them, why don’t you?

-Last night I dreamt of fools. They misused the ship, and it became their tomb. Do you ever get the creeping feeling that they’re you?

-The prophecy seemed far away, but finally we’ve reached the day. Give up the past. Embrace the strange. Everything you care about will change.

-ƉN::ᶌ and Ɖg@}Nᶌ will be here.

They read carefully through these translations. And then read through them again.

“Man.” Dipper said. “Why do prophecies always have to be so vague?”

“I know, right?” Wendy agreed. “I feel like I’m reading evil fortune cookies… Why did they even write this stuff down?”

“Well.” Dipper guessed. “Granny Shifter’s log mentioned an ‘anomaly’ in the universe… And now here, we can see that the crew was starting to have… Prophetic, weird nightmares… And when you consider that all this happened a real long time ago… I think our suspect list is pretty short.”

“Hmm…” Wendy nodded, and a smile spread across her face. “You’re right.” She said. “I guess there’s really only one guy that… Fits the Bill.”

Dipper pondered this pun for several seconds. Finally, he nodded, and said. “That pun was terriBill.”

“Oh… Bill me later.”

“I suppose I’d better Billd up a tolerance.”

They both guffawed.

“Oh, too much… Anyway…” Wendy pointed at a few of the scribblings. “These just sound like ‘wil ol’ Billy, don’t they?”

Dipper laughed. “They do, don’t they? That whole ‘glad tidings of doom and despair’ especially… Just his type of humor…”

“Yeah… And that ‘embrace the strange, everything you care about will change’…” Wendy laughed when she said it outloud. “Man, check it out: it RHYMES when you translate it into English! It’s like he knew we would find it one day…”

“Woah, it DOES rhyme! Soooo creepy…”

“MAN I’m glad he’s dead! That was one twisted little nacho chip.”

“Agreed.” He nodded.

The computer chimed.

“Oh hey!” Dipper jogged over to it. “The download’s done!”

He began to sort through the files. All the logs and data records seemed very neatly organized and categorized… All except for one. One file was separate from all the rest, as if it were added to the system later. He opened it.

- My name is C*:C2M]~, and I am the last sane Engineer.

“The first and fourth letters of his name look a little like ‘C’s.” Wendy said. “Let’s call this guy Dr. Chuckles.”

“Fair enough.” Dipper agreed.

-After the crash, we barricaded ourselves in here, to try and keep out the radiation from the meltdown. If we open the doors, we die. If we keep them shut, I guess we just die slower. But in the end, the radiation is the least of our worries; instead, we fear the deeper things we cannot see: the bloodbath in the mindscape… My name is C*:C2M]~, and I’m sure that I’m the last sane Engineer.

-I’m not sure why the engineering team was affected so badly by the mind event. Maybe it’s our work so near the malfunctioning uncertainty drive; all kinds of improbable things start to happen around it. That machine breaks and reforms reality when it’s working RIGHT… I’m not qualified to even SPECILATE what happens when it’s working WRONG… I think this darkness might get very… Very… Interesting. My name is C*:C2M]~, and I’m reasonably confident that I’m the last sane engineer. At least the only one who can still write such lengthy notes…

-The men started having nightmares 63 days ago, and since then they have proven prophetic. They predicted the crash, they predicted our imprisonment in the control room, they predicted the Captain’s error… They even foreshadowed our own madness. All this means that we’re somehow in communication with something we don’t understand… Something highly… Weird. It may be improbable enough for the uncertainty drive to manipulate. Problem solver that I am, I will see what I can do against this weirdness… My name is C*:C2M]~, and I think I’m the last sane engineer… I honestly feel fine except for the extra eye growing inside my skull; the one looking inward…

-Based on readings from the sensors and from the nightmares, I can only conclude that we are in a most dire situation: A time anomaly will exist in the future. For reasons I can’t imagine, the local region on this planet seems to possess a potent improbability field, and this field will one day allow an enormous time-space paradox to achieve potential here. If left unchecked, or uncontained, this disruption could result in an ZK end-of-the-universe scenario, or at least a YK restructuring-of-reality scenario. Time readings seem to strongly indicate that the anomaly is intelligent, and certainly foreign to this dimension… I think I now have enough data to reprogram the uncertainty drive into a prison for our new god. The perpetual motion emergency generators will be able to keep it running until long after me… If I don’t take the deal, that is… My name is C*:C2M]~, and I might be the last sane engineer…

-But now I wonder: why would I activate the containment field? The anomaly is either trying to warn us… Or taunt us… Or humble us… Or overpower us as a god… I, for one, think it must be a jolly good friend… A most trustworthy individual… My muse has only ever told the truth… Why would I sleep when I can dream standing up? My name is C*:C2M]~, and I could once have been the last sane engineer…

-I dreamed an abomination of warping flesh was loose in the rest of the ship, sent to cull the unfaithful. However, I’m glad that ƉN::ᶌ and Ɖg@}Nᶌ will be able to outsmart it. I’m sure they will be arriving soon… In fact, I foresee that they’re arriving NOW. Forget radiation; I think I’ll open the door, let them in, and introduce them to our friends! My name is C*:C2M]~, and I don’t quite believe in sanity anymore… What do you two think?

“Huh.” Dipper said.

“Huh.” Wendy said, and shook her fist angrily. “BIIIIILL…!”

“Wait.” Dipper frowned. “That’s not the end of the file… There’s more…”

-To whom it may concern: This is ƉN::ᶌ and Ɖg@}Nᶌ.

-We came to this control room to permanently deactivate the ship, and remove the power control couplings for reactor 5 (so that its abilities and technology couldn’t become a weapon for our enemy, as the drones have.) However, we found the engine room exactly as you see it: C*:C2M]~ and his colleagues perished in a twisted sort of way. We don’t know what happened here, or what sort of external enemy or anomaly caused the disabling of their minds. However, it seems that, before he perished, C*:C2M]~ reprogrammed the uncertainty drive to combat this enemy, although he never activated it.

-We have activated it.

-I don’t know who would be reading this. But it doesn’t matter, the same applies: if you are in any way qualified to understand the anomaly, or how better to deal with this extreme threat, please come and talk with us. By now we will have fortified ourselves at the coordinates 156.33/27.81. If you require our help, or if you require the power control couplings for the last reactor, you know where to find us.

-Keep the uncertainty drive field active.

-ƉN::ᶌ and Ɖg@}Nᶌ were here.

“Betty and Barney again?” Wendy scoffed. “They sure get around, don’t they?”

“Wait, hold on!” Dipper scratched his head. “How did Betty and Barney get past the radiation? It was enough to fry everyone else instantly…”

“I don’t know, but check it out!” Wendy said. “The field must have been what kept Weirdmageddon from going global! I guess a lot of people owe Dr. Chuckles their lives…”

“No, they owe Betty and Barney their lives.” Dipper corrected her. “Dr. Chuckles was just a nutcase! I mean, did you listen to his ramblings? This guy went insane, started to think Bill was a friend, and then fried everyone! Like, seriously! This guy was bonkers!”

“Ha ha! Totally!” Wendy laughed. “At first he was all like ‘I’m the last sane engineer’, then he was all like ‘I think I’m the last sane engineer’, and then he was totally off the brink, and was all ‘screw sanity, I feel like a tan!’”

“Ha ha! Yeah…! Ranting and raving with the worst of them…”

“Just writing down more nonsense fortune cookie prophesies…”

From outside the control room, McGucket’s voice rang out. “You kids think right hard about it!”

Thinking their elder might be in trouble, Dipper and Wendy rushed out of the control room to come to his aid. But he wasn’t in trouble. He was just sitting on top of a large pipe, hugging his knees, rocking back and forth on his backside.

“Think right hard about it!” He repeated, turning to them. “Y’all’ve stumbled into matters too great for ya, hear?!? Insanity? Brain demons? Suicide? Prophecy? These are too dark for you kids!” He shook a finger at them. “You don’t understand them yet! I hear y’all laughin’ and jokin’ and pokin’ fun in there, but these AIN’T LAUGHING MATTERS!! Prophecy ain’t for laughin’. Bill ain’t for laughin’. Madness ain’t for laughin’. And most of all, those scriblin’s ain’t for laughin! Yeh should stay warry and aware! Because who knows? If thems really was prophecies, perhaps some of ‘em were written fer YOU!”

He stood up, and took a step towards them. “Kids, you’re right to be afeared! Listen to me, because when I was younger, I pursued these very things too deep! I took a step much too far! I dipped my mind in places no mind should be, and I uttered a prophecy of my own that day! I said ‘When Gravity Falls and Earth becomes sky, fear The Beast With Just One Eye!’ I said that! I don’t remember how or why, but I did! Yeh kin laugh at how vague it is, yeh kin laugh at how silly it sounds, but yer laughin’ don’t change that these are words to be heeded! Don’t you dare laugh at the mad alien engineer in there! Because if you laugh at him, you laugh at everybody else who ever tried to warn you! You laugh at everybody else who ever made a fool of themselves just trying to do right! You laugh at everyone who fate ever drove off the edge! Everyone whose precious brain was ever snatched from them! Everyone who died not understandin’ themselves…”

He shook his head. “That man didn’t do nothin’ funny… That man didn’t do nothin’ wrong… Ain’t his fault what happened, but… But he done the best he could… Eh… Kids, don’t laugh at the madman. The madman’s just like you ‘er me, ‘sept he don’t know what he doin’… Kids, you know me… I was the madman once… I un’erstan’ the madman…”

McGucket walked back to the control room, took a few trembling steps inside, and located the alien closest to the door: the one that had opened it, and let the radiation in. McGucket took off his coat, and laid it over this alien’s face. Then he bowed, closed his eyes, and crossed himself. “I respect the madman…” He said.

And they became a little sadder, and a little wiser.

The humans finally saw fit to leave. They crawled back up through the machinery, grappled back up the wall to the ladder, and ascended.

Soon they were standing in the light again. Wendy stood up, stretched her aching back, and took a deep breath of the fresh Summer air. McGucket blinked a few times as he adjusted to the sunlight, and listened to the chirping of birds. And Dipper cast one last look at the dark hatchway in the ground, and considered the ancient labyrinth below. Call it what you will: a shipwreck, an ancient secret, an alien saucer, a tomb… But the truth remains that there was a darkness there. He’d taken Wendy here on a whim, and now he saw his error: this wasn’t something to treat lightly. Never again would he go in without purpose.

Wendy’s mind, a little boggled and overwhelmed by the events of the day, just decided to enjoy the summer air for a while. She breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth, and felt thankful that she lived on such a beautiful planet as this. Such a beautiful day, wasn’t it? Too bad the Captain and Dr. Chuckles and Betty and Barney never got to enjoy this planet. Too bad all they ever saw was the inside of that rotting, derelict husk of their vessel. Earth is nice… I’m sure they would’ve enjoyed it…

“Wait a minute!” Wendy said, turning to Dipper. “Betty and Barney said they were leaving the wreck, right??”

“Yeah, to set up ‘fortifications’…” Dipper remembered. “They gave some coordinates…”

“And those coordinates…” Wendy asked. “Where do they lead??”

Dipper did some quick calculations in his head, to convert the alien coordinates to human ones. “Uh…” He answered. “Not far… Wait a minute…” He pulled out his map, traced across a few lines, and his finger landed right where he’d hoped: the red outline he’d drawn to represent the Forest of Daggers. The coordinates led to somewhere inside.

“Well.” Dipper said.

“Well well well wellwellwell…” Wendy agreed. “Betty and Barney are now officially the most plot-relevant vandals I’ve ever met.”

Mabel came trudging up the stairs to behold an empty bedroom.

This struck her as odd. Shouldn’t Dipper be here to welcome her home from the hospital…?

Suddenly she remembered her phone. It had rung earlier, and that must have been Dipper. Her phone had been in her right pocket though, and since her right hand was covered in a bandage, she hadn’t been able to answer. Now, she realized she could just reach over with her left hand. “Silly Mabel!” She laughed at herself. “All pockets are for all hands! This is a non-discriminatory, hand-inclusive environment.”

She reached her left hand into her right pocket, and pulled out her phone. It was a group text to her, Stan, and Ford.

-Wendy and i r going 2 explore CSO for clues.

-Will b careful

-If not home by 6:00, come with guns!

She glanced at the clock. It was 4:30. Then she racked her brain. CSO…? What did that stand for? Cookies So Owesome? No, awesome has an ‘A’… Crowded Soap Opera? No, Soap Opera wasn’t Dipper’s thing… Cop-Summoning Octagon? Why would an octagon summon cops? Crazy Soup Orangutan? She’d always wanted one of those, but why would Dipper go to one for clues…? No wait! That’s it! Crash Site Omega! The alien spaceship Ford found! That was it!

Well, she hoped they were having fun. Half the movies that he and Wendy watched had alien spaceships, right? That must mean they thought they were cool, right? Maybe they even thought they were romantic… Maybe they would get in a relationship! No, Dipper already had a girlfriend… Well maybe he could dump her? It wasn’t working out so nice anyway… Oh, whatever.

Waddles came up behind Mabel and nuzzled her ankle. She bent down to hug him, and her mind drifted back to Juan, her mysteriously-teleported-away-and-now-missing pet. The little robo-kitten that had been such a dear part of her life this week… Only to have his own mom show up as a total jerk and try to saw down the house… And then the whole thing where they shot the mom and Juan thought she was dead, and then Juan sawed Mabel, got kicked by Stan, and disappeared in a flash of light…

Where are you now? Who took you away? Is your mom okay? Would he ever forgive us for how we treated you? Could you ever love me again? Juan, if only you knew I forgave you… She glanced down at her bandage. I don’t hold this against you…

As if in response to her thoughts, she heard a small scraping noise coming from her bed.

Her and Waddles both froze, and looked at the source.

Juan’s original containment box was sitting on her bed. The same one Wendy had used back when she first found him. The box was a military-grade steel ammo crate, and although Juan could cut through, he found it very difficult, so he usually didn’t try.

The noise had come from inside the box.

She approached it cautiously. It looked just as it was when she’d last seen it… But who put it on her bed? She thought she’d left it in the closet yesterday…

And why did it have a note attached to it? She bent over and examined the paper. The words had been typed instead of written, so there was no chance of telling the author by the handwriting. But the note said:

Enjoy the time you have with him.

Because it’s not right for him to stay here long.

Find a good place for him, Mabel. We believe in you.

Be wise and loving. Be his hero. Save his life.

Could it be? Could it BE? Mabel reached into the drawer on her bedside table, and retrieved a pair of leather gloves, just in case. Then she gently turned the box toward her, unlatched it, and opened the lid.

Juan stared back at her, alive and well.

She didn’t know how, she didn’t know why, but he was back. And that was all that mattered to her. He was safe. She removed the lid entirely. The robot huddled back into the far corner of the box, and timidly retracted his saws as far as they would go.

She reached in a glove to pet him. To let him know it was alright. That she still loved him, and that he didn’t have to feel sorry or afraid…

But did he?

Stan had wanted to kill him last time, after what he did. Same with Ford. And Dipper hadn’t tried to stop him. No, Juan was right to feel afraid. They might kill him if they knew he was back! That means… Mabel would just have to keep this a secret. It pained her to do so, especially against her own family, but it was the only way to keep Juan alive. She would have to keep him here and not tell anyone… Let him suck on the outlets when nobody was watching. Keep him safe in his box the rest of the time. Play with him when they were alone.

And as soon as possible, find that ‘good place’ for him… Whoever had saved him last night had trusted her, and her alone, with the safety and well-being of this creature.

And she accepted the challenge.

She turned toward Waddles, and shook her head. Waddles met her eyes, and snorted a vow to secrecy. It was nice having a friend who understood these grave matters. Even if that friend was a pig.

#The Forest Of Daggers #Gravity Falls #wendy corduroy #dipper pines #shapeshifter #see you next summer #wendip #wendy x dipper #ufo #flying saucer #fanfiction #fanart #scifi #alien #robot #ghost #drone #security droid

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