#it was so bad i had to erase it from my memory .................................................

[sonknuxadow]

i keep forgetting the knuckles show exists i was just thinking "ohh ive had so much fun with the year of shadow but it's kind of a shame they're letting it overshadow knuckles' 30th anniversary so much ... so sad that knuckles hasnt gotten much focus this year..." and then i Remembered .

[soft-serve-soymilk]

Hello Zestiria fandom. Everyone can have this mikleo doodle I made from memory to prove a point to myself on the complexities of Tales designs. As a treat ✨

[steakout-05]

fanon craig headcanons because i'm making another one of these despite the fact that i already made 2 (i have chimp brain and i forgot i made 2 already just ssshhhhh)

ok absurdly long title aside. new thoughts about my little scientist man have spawned into my head i need to write them down,,, most of this is projection and very self-indulgent (and very gay) but that's what we do here on this blog babeeyy B) (also i was kind of sleepy while writing this so please excuse any sloppy writing

general headcanons

Craig is on the aroace spectrum, specifically demisexual and demiromantic. throughout his life, he's never really felt the "need" to be interested in other people in any way. he'd never felt attraction to anyone, he'd never really thought about pursuing a relationship with anyone, and the idea of him dating anyone felt foreign and strange to him because he just couldn't see himself doing that, especially not with a random stranger he barely knew. stuff like blind dating confused him. "why would you want to spend your life with someone you barely even knew yet?" was a thought that crossed his mind a lot whenever the topic would come up. for a while, he even considered himself completely aroace because of never feeling attraction to anyone before... that was, until he became close friends with Barry. the build up was gradual, but because of Craig never having been interested in anyone before, he initially didn't really recognise it as attraction until the realisation that he like-liked Barry suddenly hit him like a bag of bricks one day. it was like an instant "ohhh so THAT'S what i'm feeling" moment, followed immediately by panic. he could never let Barry know how he really felt, until it of course accidentally slipped out one day and he was super embarrassed about it until Barry admitted he kinda felt the same way about him, much to his shock (and relief). since then, the two have been dating for a little over a couple of years and have gone through a LOT of adventures with each other, growing closer and closer with every outing.

he's also not really sure what type of person he's attracted to yet. he's guessing he's probably either gay or pan for the time being.

Craig, as i've described before in earlier posts, is on the autism spectrum and was diagnosed fairly young. he ended up being diagnosed with the outdated term 'Aspergers Syndrome', as he was diagnosed well before the removal of Aspergers from the DSM in 2013.

Craig is very introverted. he's not shy per se, but he easily gets overwhelmed and overstimulated when around a lot of people and needs more than a few business days to himself to recharge. Barry, on the other hand, is an extrovert, and so him and Craig's needs often conflict with one another, leading to the occasional boyfriend argument.

Craig has chronic back pain and Vitamin-D deficiency, like most scientists at Legitimate Research. he gets exhausted quite easily and sometimes experiences painful headaches, which makes quite a few of his adventures with Barry a lot more difficult for him.

Craig is partially blind in his right eye due to the explosion that happened in 'Level 2', which ended up with a scar forming down his cornea. Craig never really had the best eyesight to begin with, but due to this incident, he now needs to wear prescription glasses underneath his visor. Barry feels kinda guilty about partially causing this to happen, but Craig has assured him that he doesn't blame him for the explosion damaging his eye and that he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Craig is slightly taller than Barry, being 5''7. for reference, Barry is 5''5.

Craig is quite an ambitious and creative person, especially when he's highly emotional or focused, such as when he's doing anything related to his special interests. this made him a good friend and partner to Toni, who was also an ambitious and creative type, although Toni was quite impulsive and didn't exactly think through a lot of ideas until he was already finished developing and prototyping them. Craig was the anchor to his ship of creative endeavors, as he incorporated a lot more logic and practicality into his ideas.

backstory related stuff

Craig was a high-ranking scientist who worked at Legitimate Research around the same time as Toni and Peter Simpkins. he'd always had an affinity for science and mechanical engineering since he was young, as it was a pretty significant special interest for him. he would enter robotics and engineering classes and clubs during high school, and he eventually achieved so much academically that he ended up getting an invitation to fly overseas to study at a university in Australia, which was supposedly one of the most prestigious universities that offered many science and engineering-related courses (although oddly enough, it seemed to be funded by a "Legitimate Funding Co"). Craig had met Toni at university, the two studying in the same field together. they bonded over their common interests and creative ideas for machines and robots, and they often would spend hours throwing ideas around and developing what would later become some of Legitimate Research's weirder and wackier gadgets. Peter Simpkins was someone Craig met a lot later after getting his rank at LR, and while Craig wasn't as close with him as he was with Toni, he found his more upbeat, laidback and jovial personality to be quite endearing. oddly though, despite how upbeat Simpkins was, he was quite secretive about himself. Craig never really knew Simpkins that well before his untimely passing, which would happen only a few years later Craig and Toni became employees at LR.

when the news of Simpkins' death hit the high ranking scientists of Legitimate Research, it hit them hard. Toni was the most heartbroken and was utterly crushed with the guilt that something he had worked on directly resulted in the careless demise of his friend. not only that, but Toni had just been let go by the company within the same week following the failures of his experiments, which absolutely broke him. Craig, who was also grieving the loss of a fellow coworker, had attempted to provide some sort of comfort to Toni, trying to convince him that it wasn't completely his fault and that he'd never meant for it to happen, but it backfired incredibly badly, resulting in the grief-stricken scientist lashing out and breaking apart their friendship. Craig never saw or heard from Toni ever again since that day.

also: it's not exactly clear when and where Simpkins died canonically in Jetpack Joyride's story. it's said on the Legitimate Scientists' bio image that he died during the development of Mr. Cuddles, so it can be assumed he probably died when the 'Robot Bird' rock opera took place. Craig and Toni became scientists at Legitimate Research a few years before Barry discovered the laboratory, and everything went down a few weeks after Barry's first break-in.

i haven't fully crafted this part yet, but because of Simpkin's death and the incident pretty much breaking apart Craig's entire social circle, he decided to take leave and even considered resigning indefinitely. he felt as though the joy he'd once had for developing machinery had been fizzled out, and he was still just beginning to process everything that had happened. he'd planned to send out goodbye letters to his fellow coworkers, pack up everything he had brought over from university and stay back with his family throughout the grieving process.

this would never end up happening.

Professor Brains was overtaken by rage following the death of his closest friend, his decisions becoming much more rash, destructive and uncaring than before. much like Craig was an anchor to Toni, Simpkins was an anchor to Brains' more evil tendencies, and without him, he began to spiral into villainy. he developed a strict and harsh system of employment, having it be absolutely mandatory for every single non-clone employee to have their memories and names wiped, effectively brainwashing them and forcing them to be his slaves. Craig, unfortunately, happened to be one of the unlucky few to become a test subject to this system. almost every piece of identifying information about him was erased, including the memory of Toni, Simpkins' death and the aftermath (it was to prevent any free will from Craig), and he was booted down to being a regular blue-glove scientist (i like to think the gloves have meaning like the stripes) (they're like uniform colours and badges having separate meanings in star trek).

Craig's initial memory erasure lead to him developing an unhealthy habit of erasing any and all bad memories going forward as a sort of trauma response to something that was no longer accessible to his brain. the trauma imprinted on him before he could even process that he'd went through trauma at all, so now he just has this bad habit he can't remember the origin of.

potential story beats and headcanons related to that

i want Craig to have a character arc where he finally becomes more brave and action-oriented, standing up for himself more against the villains and even kicking ass in a few fights.

i also think a story where Craig becomes absolutely enraged at the sheer extent of Legitimate Research's unethical memory-wiping practises and how his life had practically been taken away from him with the promise of a good career doing something he'd love, by taking advantage of his gullible nature and eagerness to please authority. he and Barry hatch a plan to take over the entire establishment, free all the scientists and turn it into a sort of scientific haven for developing technology that would enhance the world, rather than technology made for evil.

with this revelation, Craig would go by two names, being his original one and the one Barry gave him, as he views the name Barry gave him as a symbol of rebellion. (i haven't decided on what his OG name would be yet,,, i'm bad with names lmao)

Craig kinda gets carried away with this idea though, and it doesn't get idealised until much later in the story where he takes a step back and reflects on his actions, admitting to Barry that maybe he was swinging too much in the direction of impulsivity from the inner need to be a more brave and active person.

also. i want a really super exquisitely gay scene where, probably around the middle of Craig's becoming more confident arc, he finally reveals his face to Barry. it's a slow scene. the two are resting somewhere outside, watching the stars together. they've been silent for a while, just admiring the twinkling sky in peace, before Barry looks over at Craig and notices he's looking a little pre-occupied with something to the point of nervousness. he's fidgeting with his hands and seems pretty uneasy. Barry asks him what's bothering him, and Craig's a little hesitant to answer. "Barry, I... I need to show you something". they get up and move to a nearby hill (i always picture this taking place on a hill), before Barry once again asks him what's going on. Craig explains that the two have been dating for such a long time by now, and their three year anniversary is coming up soon. he mentions that something really big and important has been bothering him for such a long time, only becoming more and more bothersome with each month that passes in their relationship. it's gotten to the point where he feels guilty that, despite how close they've become, he's essentially kept himself locked away behind a hazmat suit visor for so long out of his own selfish insecurities. if he doesn't do this now, he'll never be able to do it ever. taking a deep breath, he slowly pulls off his helmet, Barry staring with intense anticipation.

and there he was, fully unmasked, fully revealed to what felt like the whole world. and it was incredible. messy blond hair that was modest and reserved, yet ever so slightly daring in its flow. jade coloured eyes that caught the twinkling light of the stars perfectly. his scar, his nerdy little glasses that were taped together, everything about him, all of it took Barry's breath away. "I'm, uh... Sorry if it's not what you expected, Barry." Craig bashfully apologised, making to turn his head away, but the gentle touch of Barry's hands stopped him before he could. "Craig", he began, a big, gleeful grin forming on his face. the scientist could've sworn Barry's eyes were starting to become wet with tears as he continued to speak. "You're just as beautiful as I imagined."

they get married on the spot after that /j

also i got a little bonus headcanon/story thing that i was writing in the tags but couldn't fit in!!! it's related to the apple experiment he was doing during the Halfbrick Multiverse Madness events.

it's not really explained in the JJ2 canon as to why Craig is experimenting with this apple and why it works the way it does, so i'm putting my own explanation to it in this fanon. now i believe the Halfbrick Multiverse Madness came out before Nixie's boss was added??? i think??? i don't exactly remember when everything came out, but even if it was added after her appearance, i'm still going to have this experiment take place before Barry defeats all the main bosses and then have it come up again after he defeats them.

i just thought of a way i could implement this story beat happening in the background of the main story before it starts to become more of a central point again. like, maybe Barry, Betty and Robo Barry were all having a celebration for defeating all the bosses and the sectors, but Craig seems to be quite preoccupied and dissociated from everything going on around him because now he has more time to think about and develop the apple, and he just can't shake the thought that he's missing something very integral to his memory. Barry notices this odd behaviour, but he reckons he should wait until after the party's finished to ask Craig what's up. it starts to get very late into the night, and the party begins to quiet down. Barry figures that this is the perfect time to check up on Craig, but when he goes to look for him, the scientist has already disappeared. Barry becomes increasingly more concerned and decides to leave to go look for him at the lab. "Maybe he's just tired tonight," he thinks, but there's a pit in his stomach telling him that something's wrong, he just knows it. without turning back to tell his friends where he's going, he rushes outside and straps on his jetpack, flying over to the lab as quick as he can.

Barry dashes to Craig's laboratory room and pushes the door open, being met with a startled Craig who was hunched over his desk and seemed to be working on a blueprint of some sort. one of the papers he was working on flies off the desk with his startled movements, and Barry goes to pick it up. he asks Craig if he's okay and that he was acting a little strange earlier, and Craig quickly stands up from his desk and awkwardly brushes his odd behaviour off as having important scientific research to do that just couldn't wait, taking the blurprints back from Barry. the jetpacker in question suspiciously raises an eyebrow. he isn't convinced. "You don't sound too sure about that, mate." he says. "Why'd you wait until so late into the night to work on this thing? Are you hiding something?". Craig gets more frustrated with Barry's questioning, his tone quickly becoming more snappy and irritated. "Barry, this is very important work. I'm fine." He turns back to his desk, reaching for a white pencil so he can get back to working on his blueprints, but he's stopped when Barry pushes him once again. "Listen, Craig, I just think you're acting a bit--" "I'M COMPLETELY FINE, OKAY!? Quit prodding at me so much and let me get back to my work!"

Barry's expression falters, looking even more worried than he was before. Craig is immediately hit with a twinge of guilt, and he apologises. "Look, I-I'm sorry Barry, I'm just... I really need to get this done. This is really important to me and... Brains needs these blueprints in by tomorrow." he felt absolutely horrible lying to Barry like that, but he just couldn't bring himself to tell him what was really going on. Barry nods, before apologising himself.

"... Yeah, I get it. Sorry about that, I'll stop pushin' you about it. It's just that... I'm worried about you Craig, that's all." Barry's voice became more gentle and convicted as he spoke. Craig didn't respond. Barry smiled and placed a hand on his shoulder and gave it a gentle pat, shaking the scientist a little. "You take care and get some sleep, okay? G'night, Craig."

"... 'Night, Barry." Craig mustered as Barry walked out the door, closing it behind him. the scientist sighed, slumping back down at his desk, quietly fidgeting with his pencil. A wave of exhausted determination washed over Craig as his eyes scanned over the incomplete blueprints. he just needed to get this done, and then he could finally rest.

ignore the fact that this became a complete fanfic at the end lmao. these are my ideas and headcanons for what i want to do with my fanon Craig and i think they're intriguing enough to possibly develop into a full-fledged story :D there are so many possibilities to explore with him and i just find him to be an interesting little specimen to think about and rotate in my head like a 3d object looll

[tenok]

.

[biohazard-inevitable]

Just to preface this post I am NOT here to attack anyone for dub vs sub please do not take it that way enjoy anime however you please this is just entirely my personal experience

But idk WHAT it is but i cannot STAND anime dubs like my god they make me want to strangle someone. Idk if its the tone or the lipsync or WHAT but the voices sometimes just do NOT match the characters and I hate it, it makes me want to tear the ears from my scalp I would rather a million high pitched japanese anime girl squeals than whatever dub is it HURTS like- PHYSICALLY HURTS to listen to and i dont know why I’m like this

But props to those who can tolerate dubs y’all are so much stronger than me but i am stickin with my subs

[agroupofcrows]

[watch-out-it-bites]

I am so happy and I am so sad in a confused way because I cannot remember things

[ruby--chaos]

my memory has been getting rapidly worse since last night which is a little worrying but oh well-

[clockwayswrites]

Birb in the hand Part 8

Birdritch Masterpost

For several reasons, Bruce hadn’t expected to wake up cuddling a stranger. One, there were enough family in the makeshift nest. Two, there had been no stranger, just a strange bird. Three, cuddle pollen or no, Bruce should have been alert as soon as the stranger became a factor.

Instead, Bruce woke slowly, sleep muddle brain confused about why he was awake until he clocked the uneven breathing of the person in his arms. Bruce’s brain went from asleep to alert in an instant as he ordered ‘breath’.

And in that instant Bruce knew that the person in his arms wasn't one of his.

There was a stranger in the Batcave.

A stranger who wasn’t breathing right.

Bruce walked them through answering questions as he took in everything else. Other than Alfred, his family was close. The furthest away was Jason who was asleep on the meeting table rather than in the next with the rest of them. They were starting to wake up, aware something was wrong.

Noticeably missing was the bird entity.

Instead they had a stranger— a stranger who whimpered in pain as Bruce got them upright.

A shapeshifter? An unwilling shapeshifter, possibly. An unwanted transformation could certainly explain the pain.

Dick offered to get a towel and Bruce mouthed a silent ‘thank you’ at his oldest. Bruce was worried by the fact that the breathing hadn’t regulated yet. At least the cold was enough to shock the stranger into a forced breath and Bruce tried to guide them through it.

“There, keep that up,” Bruce instructed.

The stranger pinched Bruce for that. He hardly jolted, but apparently he had moved enough to make Cass giggle at him. A soft huff of a laugh escaped, mostly at Cass’ amusement, but partially at the sass of the stranger.

“I know you know,” Bruce said in response to the pinch. “Now your body just needs to know.”

Bruce didn’t let the second pinch deter him anymore than the first. Gently, he ran a pattern with his thumb up and down the other’s hand, a silent beat to count to. Their hand was calloused. They were someone used to holding tools and using them, but of a precise sort as the rest of the skin was soft. There were a few bandages on the fingers and palms of the hand. Precise tools they were bad with? No, precise tools but either an absent mind or someone who moved too quickly. The wells of their fingernails were stained with bluing and solder and graphite. A specialty machinist of some sort perhaps, watch maker?

“Well, at least it wasn’t an orgy,” the stranger said, suddenly, voice raspy from the panic attack.

Bruce could see Jason trip out of the corner of his eyes from where he was finally getting up off the table.

“Ew,” Tim whined after a beat of stunned silence. “Oh, ew, no, nope, not thinking of that. Where’s the brain bleach? B, tell me the JL has invented brain bleach.”

“Or that thing from Men in Black,” Jason groused.

“No, Reds, the JL does not have brain bleach or ‘that thing from Men in Black’,” Bruce said dryly.

“Wiping a specific memory is actually incredibly hard,” the stranger said. “We’re still learning how all of those pathways connect and that’s even without considering instinct and muscle memory. Now preventing memories for forming, that’s easy. Take me and why I’m even here, no clue, but much harder to erase something that’s already known and perhaps something that could cause a cascade failure… and shutting up now.”

“Are you always like this in the morning?” Jason asked.

“Believe it or not,” the stranger drawled, “waking up in a cave asleep with a bunch of vigilante and no memory of how I got here is not my usually morning.”

Bruce found himself giving a soft chuckle. Normally he would never, but now that the emergency was over apparently his brain was happy to slip back into the morning fog. He did his best to put some Batman gravel into his voice as he spoke. “Once you’ve rinsed off, we will explain. There was cuddle pollen involved, you need to make sure it’s gone so that you are not exposed again.”

“Okay, well, at least cuddle pollen explains some of this,” they grumbled softly. They made a move to lean away from Bruce but stopped short with a hiss of pain.

Bruce moved forward to keep supporting them. “What’s wrong?”

“Just my body being my body. Where’s my bag?”

Cass appeared holding a messenger bag a moment later with a smile.

“Oh, thank you.” Carefully and with Bruce’s support, they leaned forward to take the bag and start searching around in it. “I’m sorry, I don’t know which one you are without the whole getup.”

“B.B.,” Cass chirped. She sat down crosslegged and helped hold the things that the stranger set aside from their bag.

“B.B? Oh, Black Bat,” they said with a little nod and a soft ah-ha as they found what they were looking for. “Thank you B.B.”

Cass gave an acknowledging little noise as the stranger shook a pill out of a small container and knocked it back with a swig from their water bottle.

“Sorry, alright, willing to offer a hand up, B.B?” They asked.

Cass set the items back in the bag, hoped up, and offered her hand. Bruce made sure to support the stranger as they stood, which let Bruce feel the fine tremors that ran through their body and hear the bitten back sounds of pain. Bruce trusted Cass and Dick to help them to the showers and bring a set of clothing to change into. When he turned around, Tim was already poking at the messenger bag.

“Red,” Bruce sighed.

“B,” Tim interrupted and twisted an ID tag clipped on the bag for Bruce to see.

It was a Wayne Enterprises ID badge the color combination of R&D. Danny Fenton, it read, he/him, R&D.

---

AN: take care darlings, take care and be delightful.

[did-we-imagine]

I'm gonna play the devil's advocate (not Ursa's, I am not going to defend her nor incriminate her), and say that some people actually lose their memories due to abuse and the effect of Trauma IRL. I have a friend who doesn't remember their childhood and they have felt like this since their teens (they grew up with an abusive parent and an enabling parent), and apparently, said friend's sibling is the same. They basically remember they were abused badly, but they don't remember many specific instances, and since their abuser gaslights them, they find it hard to argue back because they remember only some instances (which the abuser minimizes anyway, abuser is very manipulative, and unhinged -has threatened to kill, etc-).

Also, in the show, Sokka forgot his mother's face (I think she died when he was like 10-11?), and yet he is only 15. So there is a possibility that her memories potentially got warped through trauma and all (that is not to invalidate her feelings, but rather a possibility), and 5 years is actually almost a 1/3rd of her life. It's not the same as 5 years for a 35 years old for example. + Zuko' talk of a happy family could hypothetically fall under this umbrella (there are things that kids simply don't understand...).

I just wanted to speak specifically about the clarity/haziness of memories.

Another phenomenon that isn't talked about often is how abused kids tend to idealize the enabling/less abusive parent. While the show hasn't given us any reason to consider things from this angle, there is a solid chance that Zuko's view of his mom might be tinted by pink glasses. My friend has gone through this in their teens before eventually figuring out that enabler is messed up in a different manner because their response to the abuse is to leave the house/leave them with the abuser 🙄😒. This particular view could be canon if we also consider Ursa's behavior in the comics.

Another show/trilogy really really love also has this (Les Malheurs de Sophie) where Sophie's birth mother was not the worst, but she was definitely NOT mother of the year and somewhat emotionally distant/abusive (this one I am not too sure for the cartoon, but in the books she didn't shy from corporeal punishment), and it's only been clarified through the contrast between her and Sophie's later adoptive mom (Madame de Fleurville) who has disciplined Sophie without becoming aloof. Mid show, Sophie is stuck with her extra crazy abusive stepmother so her now-dead bio mom looks like an absolute saint to her (and probably all of us who watched as kids). The subtext heavily implies otherwise as we get to compare the 3 maternal figures' behavior, with de Fleurville being the best mom hands down, Sophie's mom falling somewhere in between, and Fichini (the evil stepmom) who shouldn't ve left in any child's vicinity.

Sure, she is an abuse victim and all, but she definitely loses so many points in the comics (I'm more mitigated about the show, though I reconsidered my initial stance -she is not the saintly mother many fans believe her to be- when she said "What is wrong with that child?" In Azula's vicinity...It must have been one of the seeds of her later self image as a monster...Sure, she might not have meant it maliciously because Azula was spouting treasonous ideas which could have endangered all of them, but it wasn't the best way to phrase it, esp within Azula's earshot).

What I don't think is acknowledged enough is that Azula's memories of Ursa are relatively fresh?

I just often see people use the argument that Azula's perception of her mother is skewed because Azula was too young when Ursa disappeared, but is that really the case?

Ursa left when Azula was 9. Now, Azula is 14.

I don't think 5 years could have change Azula's perception of her mother THAT much. It's not like 10 years have passed.

[petew21-blog]

Go on and possess me

Hi, my name is Ethan Baker. I'm about to graduate this year at my high school. Me and friend, Matthew, are gonna go to the same university so I'm really excited to go. Unfortunately my girlfriend, Betty, is gonna go to a uni in a different state. I really love her and we spoke about long distance, but ever since I mentioned, that I wouldn't go to the same uni as her, I started to feel that she was sort of slipping away from me. I truly love her, so I started working out and even joined the football team. She seemed proud of me, but there was still tension between us. We still want to fix our relationship, but I don't know what else to do.

Monday 7 PM

Ethan was chilling in his room, watching Tiktoks when his sister, Chloe, suddenly stormed into the room with a weird grin on her face.

Chloe:"Sup, twerp"

Ethan:"You need something? No? Piss off."

Chloe got close to him and sat on the bed. "Oh, don't be like that. I come in peace. Actually, I was thinking you could give me a review of my new bra." she took off her shirt and squeezed her breast while looking at Ethan. "It makes them look nice doesn't it?"

Ehtan:"What the fuck, Chloe?!?"

Chloe:"Oh Ethan. How I miss a human touch on my tits. I need someone to fondle them, to kiss them." she got close to shove herself against Ethan, but he moved away quickly and jumped off the bed, clearly weirded out.

Ethan:"What the hell is wrong with you? Are you NUTS?"

Chloe started laughing hysterically, but it wasn't her usual laugh. "Dude, I can't believe I managed to prank you. You should see your face."

Ethan:"Chloe? What is going on?"

Chloe:"Man, It's ME! Matt! I found a ring and I got the power to possess someone. First I possesed our dog and couldn't get out for hours. I really wanted to let you know, but I accidentally possesed Chloe. So I thought I'd mess with you a bit."

Ethan:"This is not possible. If... if you're really Matt, tell me something Chloe wouldn't know."

Matt:"Let's see. Party in the cabin, truth or dare. You were dared to make out with me in front of everyone, but you chickened out. But later in the evening when we were alone and drunk, we made out. But you claimed you're not a homo. Haha."

Ethan:"Fuck. Matt? How the fuck is this possible? Is it reversible?"

Matt:"I don't know, but I managed to get out of our dog, so let's see." Chloe’s face made a grin as if she was really trying to concentrate. Suddenly a figure trying to get out of her body appeared. And after a few seconds Matt stood behind Chloe.

Chloe looked around confused:"How did I get here?"

Matt:"You came to scream at us for being loud."

Chloe:"Right. Yeah, stay quiet you idiots." she left not noticing that her shirt was missing

Ethan:"Why doesn't she care?"

Matt:"Don't know, but I had this feeling after leaving her body, that I can manipulate her memories for a while."

Ethan:"Holy shit. I can't believe it. You have a super power. Can you imagine what we can do with that? You can erase our bad grades as our teacher, you can send us money as some millionaire."

Matt:"Or I can possess a hot chick and you can fuck me."

Ethan:"That's disturbing, man. Besides I am loyal to Betty."

Matt:"Right. The girl that won't allow you to fuck her."

Ethan:"Shut up. At least I have a girlfriend. Let's talk about your power."

The two spend hours in Ethan's room trying to come up with a plan how to improve their lives. Their main concern was to get revenge on a bully, posses teachers to get better grades and maybe later on get some cool stuff as well.

Matt looked concerned:"Ethan, I'm not really sure about possessing a guy."

Ethan:"Why?"

Matt:"Possesing a dog was easy. Your sister was a bit of an accident, but she struggled too. So I'm worried that a strong guy would be able to resist me."

Ethan:"I guess you'll have to try and see."

Matt:"I might have a better idea." Matt looked deep into Ethan's eyes.

Ethan:"No, way. I'm not letting you possess me. I know what kind of a pervert you are."

Matt:"Come on, I need to practice. And what a better chance to do it than fail later on?"

Ethan thought about it for a while. "Fine. But you'll let me see what you're doing or leave me if it won't be possible. Ok?"

Matt:"Deal"

The two of them got up and stood across each other.

Matt had a grin on his face, while Ethan didn't seem really pleased with the idea of his friend controlling his body.

Matt:"Ready?"

Ethan:"Seriously, no touching."

Matt:"Promise"

Matt stepped against Ethan and dived into him. Ethan felt as if some force was trying to pressure him from all sides. He tried to resist, but it was so much stronger.

He didn't know what happened in the following moments, but a flash from his phone "woke him up".

Ethan:"What the... Matt. Matt?!?" he heard his voice, but he didn't see his mouth move

Ethan's body posed in front of the mirror taking a photo with his shirt off

Matt:"Finally. I didn't know how to wake you up. I knew the flash would help."

Ethan:"And my shirt off would help you how?"

Matt:"I thought if I'd do anything you wouldn't agree with, it would wake you."

Ethan:"Right. Am I really suppose to believe that?"

Matt:"Maybe I just checked myself out in the mirror, just to look at your football body. I haven't even got the chance to flex yet. All I noticed was your nice figure and your tight ass jeans. Honestly, looking good bro."

Ethan:"Thanks. At least someone thinks so. Jesus, this is so weird. Seeing my body move without me controlling it."

Matt:"Can you feel anything?"

Ethan:"Yeah, I think I can. So far I felt every movement. But I'm not sure if I can feel everything"

Matt took Ethan's index finger, licked it and pushed it into Ethan's ear.

Both of them felt that disgusting feeling.

Ethan:"Why did you do that?"

Matt:"Now we know you feel everything. But if you wanna be sure, I can push it in your ass."

Ethan:"No! Ok, we know what we needed, right? You can leave me now."

Matt smiled mischievously. "We haven't even had any fun like this. It's the first out of many times we're sharing a body, just imagine what it's gonna be like to get drunk, to eat, to take a shit together, to cum or fuck someone."

Ethan:"You're not doing that in my body. Forget about that."

Matt turned to the mirror again and scanned his body.

Matt:"Honestly. What's up with Betty? You look really great, man. I don't know what her problem is." he finished speaking and started unbuttoning his pants.

Ethan:"What are you doing? We had a deal"

Matt:"Relax. I just wanna check you out in your boxers. See what the deal is about." The jeans felt on the floor.

Matt:"Woah. Look at you. Looking good, Ethan. And check out these guns. I really don't understand that bitch. If I were her, I'd fuck you the first chance I'd get."

Ethan:"Don't talk about her like that. She... she just doesn't know what she wants."

The doorbell rang. Chloe went to answer the door.

Chloe screamed.l:"Ethan! It's Betty."

Matt:"Ooooh, this is gonna be fun. LET HER IN!"

Ethan:"Matt, you have to leave. You can't talk to Betty. You'll screw it up for me."

Matt:"Relax. At least we'll see if it's not you she's worried to have sex with."

Ethan:"Matt, don't you dare. You promised."

Matt:"Shhh. No more talking."

Betty:"Who are you talking to?"

Matt:"Hey, honey. No one. Just talking to myself. What's up?"

Betty:"Ethan. I came to talk to you. I didn't want to do it over the phone."

Ethan:"She's gonna break up with me. Fuck."

Betty:"I really thought for a long time about us, but..."

Ethan felt as if a giant weight was lifted from him. It took him a moment, but he could move again. On his own.

Betty:"... but I decided that we should take next step in our relationship."

Ethan wasn't sure, what happened to Matt, but he was really surprised by Betty's response. "Wait, really?"

Betty:"Yes. I'm ready."

Ethan couldn't believe it. It was finally about to happen.

They collapsed on the bed, embracing each other. Ethan started making out with her, while her body pressed on his hardening bulge. Ethan took off her shirt and touched her breasts. Betty touched his hard dick over the boxers amd then slid her hand in his boxers and started jerking him off. Ethan kissed Betty's neck which caused her to moan.

Betty:"Oh yeah. Fuck me."

Ethan:"You're so hot, Betty."

Betty:"Finger me!"

Ethan was shocked by her new horny attitude, but slid his hand down and pushed one finger in.

Betty:"Ohh yeah. That's the stuff, dude."

Ethan:"Dude?!? Matt?!?" Ethan jumped away from him. "What the fuck?! You can't do stuff like this. To me or Betty. This is not right."

Matt was now enjoying his breasts and looking seductively at Ethan. "You know you want to fuck me, Ethan. I have been a bad, bad girl."

Ethan:"No, not like this. I want you to leave. her body"

Matt in Betty's body:"Fine, but I'm not promising anything else this time." Betty's hand reached out to Ethan. The same feeling, but now much stronger took over Ethan.

Ethan body continued to move over to Betty. "You're so hot, Betty. "

Betty looked around confused. She was shocked as she found her own fingers in her vagina and the other hand fondling her breasts. "What... what happened?"

Matt:"You said you were ready and then you threw yourself at me."

Betty:"I... I have to go. I'm... I'm sorry, Ethan. I can't..." she grabbed her stuff and stormed through the door of Ethan's bedroom.

Matt:"You could at least suck me off. Ah... whatever. We don't need her, right Ethan?"

Matt closed the door and approached the mirror.

Matt:"Look at us, Ethan. We are so hot. The abs, the nipples. The hairless body. The muscles. We can have anyone. We can fuck anyone."

Ethan:"Matt, stop this. I know the power is taking over your mind. But I can help you control this. Just leave my body."

Matt:"Ethan, don't worry. I won't do anything you wouldn't do, man. I'm still your friend." an evil grin appeared on Ethan's face.

Matt:"Have you thought about gay sex, Ethan? You would be really popular in the gay community."

Ethan:"You just said you wouldn't do anything I wouldn't..."

Matt:"That's why I'm asking. I'm just checkinh what my options are right now."

Matt:"Well, we still haven't had proper time to explore our new shared body together, right?"

Ethan:"Matt, you have a great body of your own. Or you could take over someone else. Some jock maybe."

Matt:"But I'm you now. I want to get us to know each other better. Don't you want to be better friends? I mean. I could possess your sister again. That would be more fun."

Ethan:"Ok, fine. You can stay. But be respectful. No exploring in my body. I can see you moving my hand close to my dick every second. And stop looking at my body. It's creepy."

Matt turned around from the mirror. His head tilted to the side. "You're no fun, Ethan. We could already be jerking off your nice dick, instead we're having a fight here."

Ethan:"It's really creepy, man. Like... what if I would do the same to you in your body?"

Matt:"That's sounds hot. Come on, man. You know you're excited to try it out."

Ethan didn't reply, which Matt took as an approval and threw off his briefs. As soon as he did he looked back at his reflection.

Matt:"God daaaaaamn, Ethan. Look at yourself. You're a hot piece of meat. It feels amazing to have your body."

Ethan:"...thanks, I guess"

Matt:"And let's take this little guy for a spin."

Ethan:"Yet I'm bigger than you."

Matt:"Bigger, but not the biggest I saw. Oh wow, you're a grower I didn't expect that, it's really getting bigger and it's so hard, oh my god. You should shaved Ethan. It would make it look even bigger."

Ethan:"Matt, this is too gay for me. I don't think I want to continue."

Matt:"Hold on, I'm just about to start." Matt started stroking Ethan's dick. He went slowly first, but the built up hormones in Ethan's body forced him to go faster. Ethan felt a wave of pleasure hit him too. He didn't jerk off very often, so this was pleasant and even more so that someone else was doing it to him, for him. Someone was really appreciating his body.

Ethan:"Fuuuck. Matt. Go faster."

Matt smiled. He sped up and started humping Ethan's palm to the rhytm. Matt couldn't keep his hands off his new body. He kept returning back to his muscles, but what interested him the most were his new sensitive nipples. He stroked them while jerking off.

Matt:"Ethan. I love... your body so much"

Ethan:"I love having you in me too. I want to cum with you. Make me cum, please!!!"

Matt went closer to the mirror. The furious movements of the hand forced him to moan out loud. He was so close.

The stream was impressive. It reached a height that Matt didn't even expect and landed on the mirror.

Matt smiled, all sweaty:"Wow. You're quite a good shot. I would have gone further away from the mirror if I had known that."

Ethan felt the clarity earlier than Matt. He just let his best friend jerk his body off. This was so strange.

Ethan:"So what's the plan for tommorow? Who do you want to possess first?"

Matt:"We should try Jack and bully all his friends as a revenge. What do you think?"

Ethan:"That sounds great. We sho..." Ethan's voice faded from Matt's mind, but Matt didn't seem concerned. He got close to the mirror and looked deep into his new eyes.

Matt:"Sorry, Ethan. But I want to enjoy your body now in more privacy. I'm sure you understand." he kissed his reflection and started licking the mirror, making his way to the cum pouring slowly on the mirror surface.

Matt:"Ew, Ethan. That's for not eating enough sugar. I'll fix that for you. But now I got something to fix for you."

Matt took out Ethan's phone and called Betty. "Hey, Betty. Do you mind If I'd come over? I want to know if you're ok. You were so different before. So fearless and READY. I was really weirded out, but actually happy to see that. Really? Huh. That's strange. Well I can go to your house and we can talk about it. Ok, see you in a few minutes."

Matt locked the phone and headed to the bathroom, where he knew that Ethan had condoms ready.

He approached the mirror. Looked back at himself and said:"Congratulations, Ethan. You're not gonna be a virgin anymore. I'll give Betty a great time. Don't worry. Not like you should worry at all, you can't hear me and it's not like I'd give you your body back anytime soon. Haha."

[its-your-mind]

ALWAYS rotating TAZ: Balance around in my brain like microwave but ESPECIALLY with the announcement of The Suffering Game graphic novel

The dope thing they can do (and are doing) with the graphic novel series is sprinkle in moments of foreshadowing and hints to the reader about what REALLY might be going on here, which is so cool and I’m a huge fan of it, especially when you’re telling a story in this form.

But what is REALLY FUCKING TASTY about Balance as a story is that none of the motherfuckers telling it had any clue what they were doing when they started

Gerblins is dick jokes and not knowing how dice work and making fun of each other for voices. LICHRALLY the scene where Taako grabs the Umbrastaff is immediately proceeded by Clint trying different voices for Merle while Justin begs him to stop, as Taako. Merle gets launched across the room cuz he failed his save, and now Taako has an umbrella. The scene moves on.

Griffin brought them up to the BOB, introduced them to the Director, and gave them memories of a war fought over nameless, lost, powerful but mysterious artifacts. The memory that Taako takes from it is the idea of soured cream (ya know, for his taco quest).

And then they’re off, on different adventures, making friends, saving lives, making more dick jokes, and Griffin is in the background, slowly building in the meta-plot, as all DMs do.

But this meta-plot was HUGE. It was ALL-CONSUMING. It completely changes everything we know about this world and these characters. It takes the moments of dick jokes, and arguments about character voices, and flirting with death, and adds a layer of tragedy and complexity that just wasn’t present the first time they told that story.

AND THAT’S WHY THIS STORY KICKS ASS. The vibe of the story changed as Tres Horny Boys grew closer and closer to remembering the lives they had lost, as Griffin upped the stakes, as people started dying. They still don’t know shit for most of The Suffering Game, but you absolutely could not have predicted the tone of that arc after just listening to Gerblins. It sounds like a completely different story. And so when the other shoe drops, when shit breaks bad, when it’s the end of the world… again, and they have to reclaim their Stolen Century…

It makes sense. The tone has shifted enough to accommodate that kind of change. The characters have grown (back) into themselves enough to make this work.

Because TAZ: Balance is a tragedy. But the tragedy happened before the podcast even started, and had been erased. So of course it started off with goofs and dildo jokes. Of course the three of them started being standoff-ish with each other and making light of every situation that should have had a lot more weight. They didn’t know what they had lost, and we, the audience, didn’t either. So it was easy to laugh and joke… until slowly, it wasn’t so much anymore.

Plenty of people have praised Griffin’s storytelling abilities, but I think the thing that was most impressive to me was how he took the disparate threads laid out behind the Boys on their adventures, and followed them backwards, into the story they had lost, and forwards, into the ending they earned. I fucking love that he settled on Istus as the deity to interact with them, because I don’t think there’s a better representation of the story Griffin was weaving behind the scenes of the arcs.

Story and Song wasn’t really an arc driven by dice rolls and role playing - but it wasn’t railroading either. Griffin took every story they had told, every happy ending they had fought for, and twined them around and through each other. The world was saved not because of a lucky nat 20 roll, but because every person they had helped through the story came out in force to fight beside them to save their world.

And so in the end, the Stolen Century was a tragedy. But The Adventure Zone: Balance was a story of hope, of family, of the power that just a few loveable doofuses can have when they move through the world, making friends and saving lives. So when the world was ending and they needed help, there were dozens of people waiting to hear the Story and the Song that would give them the push they needed to fight, and the hope they needed to win.

[cubbihue]

Hey, I love how you do with Fairy Timmy AU!

My apologies if this question already answered, I might have missed or something, I’m not sure if you already have those in this AU.

I have a question stuck on my mind for awhile…

What happened to Timmy’s parents? Were they bad parents towards Timmy?

(I mean I probably figured it out but I’m not sure if I’m correct so what’s why I’m asking)

Were their memories of Timmy/having a son being erased from them?

What happened to Timmy’s best friends, A.J. and Chester? Were their memories of Timmy being erased too?

Does Vicky and Crocker’s being erased as well too?

Trootie?

What about those who know Timmy?

I’m sure everyone’s of Timmy have been erased, that’s what I guess/I think.

You can't erase everybody's memories of Timmy, sillllly! Adults have too high a resistance against magic for that to work!! Only Jorgen has the power to make adults forget full memories, and even then, it's very limited.

It takes a great deal of magic to do any of the sort.

Timmy had Vicky for nearly the rest of his childhood! Although one day Vicky's family up and moved overnight, suddenly. How annoying! It brought nothing but more burdens for his parents.

Bitties Series: [Start] > [Previous] > [Next]

[chelseeebe]

jinx

18+ mdni. no smut but eddie is a grade a asshole to poor reader. mentions of weed and alcohol throughout. eddie munson x fem reader.

a/n: first off, anon i am sooo sooooo sorry it has taken me this long to fulfill your request!! i absolutely loved this request and am absolutely honoured that you came to me for it<33 i hope i've done it justice and that you still care to read this:') side note, i've updated my masterlist as i have slacked a bit but everything should be on there now ^.^

love me some chelseeebe angst—imagine fuckboy!eddie plays at the hideout right like regularly. reader starts frequenting his show days bc she likes him obviously but he starts noticing something. every time she comes in, something goes wrong. either he messes up a chord or cant see to flirt properly therefore no one ends up warming his bed as of late or something of the sort

his immediate first thought is ‘she’s a jinx!!!’ bc what other explanation could there be in his boy brain??? so he asks her to stop coming in. she does and yet he continues to mess up bc all he can think abt is her.

itd be so sexy if u added a moment of realization/angry love confession where in the middle of him being like you’ve bewitched me or something!!! he realizes hes the one obsessed with her.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

the party hums on in the background, a small group gathered outside to rob eddie blind, smoking away his entire supply. 

robin giggles nonsensically into steve’s shoulder, too high for her own good. 

“if you’re gonna smoke all my shit, the least you can do is come watch us tomorrow,” eddie had been nagging his friends to come down the hideout for months. they’d gathered a solid crowd now, not much but it was a start. 

robin groans, nancy and jonathan shift in their seats, steve can barely muster enough energy to reply and argyle snores. hardly enthusiastic about his dreams. 

“i’ll come,” you offer, bright-eyed as you smile politely at him from the floor. 

a friend of a friend, someone robin met in class and had dutifully introduced to the group. he didn’t know you well, nor had he ever really cared to. 

“i don’t think you’d like it, sweetheart” eddie retorts, flattered that you’d try and spare his feelings but he didn’t need your pity. 

“why? you can’t be that bad,” chuckling quietly to yourself. 

his eyes narrow, scoffing, “we’re not,” misunderstanding, or maybe just not caring to humour you back, “come if you want,” he shrugs nonchalantly, not as if any of his friends had offered to attend. 

“okay,” nodding along, “i will.” 

“alright,” turning his attention back to the embering joint glued to argyles fingers. 

who cares if you come? eddie certainly doesn’t. 

-

sure enough, the same couple dozen old drunks fill the bar, their glossy, zombie-like eyes stare back at him from the floor. he’d complain but beggars can’t be choosers and all that. 

they’re partway through the second song when something reflects in his eye, a low-cut sequinned top that would definitely look better on the floor of his van. 

it’s only when his eyes travel up that he realises it’s you who’s wearing that shirt, already looking straight back at him. a newfound look about you, thick lines of black line your eyes, worlds apart from the mousy girl who’d invited herself last night. 

“and we’re-,” he sings, an abrupt case of dry mouth as the next line struggles to come out, “we’re.. uh,” the entire song erased from his memory within seconds. 

he steps back from the mic, blinking rapidly in an attempt to trigger his voice though all he can see is you and that ridiculous top. 

gareth’s head whips round, still strumming along before picking up eddie’s slack, continuing the lyrics on his own, not without a damning glare in eddie’s direction. 

holy fuck. 

he’s just, taken aback, that’s all. shocked that you’d even bother to come, less so put the effort in to actually look the part too. 

his eyes don’t leave the back wall for the rest of the gig, practically stumbling through all of the songs as his head threatens to wander. trailing back to you only as they finish, walking off stage to down the harshest whisky the bar would allow. 

you saunter over a couple minutes later, while eddie tries his hardest not to stare right down your shirt. he’s not certain that he won’t choke on his words if you speak to him. 

“you were really good tonight,” you assure, smiling softly as his band mate turns to gawp. 

“uh, yeah.. thanks,” eddie fumbles, gripping the neck of his beer bottle, “thanks for coming.” 

there’s an aura surrounding you, like a wretched spell you’d evoked in him, turning him to a bumbling fool. 

“i’m gonna head out..” gesturing to the door, “see you around,” waving your fingers coyly at him before disappearing. 

his eyes linger at the door, wondering if maybe you’ll turn around and come back. not that he wants that. just curious as to why you’d come out just to see him play. 

“now who the hell was that?” jeff ogles, receiving a swift elbow to the ribs from eddie and a loud oof as he clutches his side. 

“a friend of a friend,” brushing him off, “don’t be weird about it,” jumping the gun to squash any sorts of ideas festering in his mind. 

“you’re the only one being weird about it,” jeff retorts, grabbing his beer and shuffling off. 

“i’m not being weird,” eddie calls from behind, “i’m not!” 

okay maybe he was being a little weird. 

who cares? 

definitely not eddie. 

-

this week, he feels more prepared to see you nodding along in the crowd, robin had joined you albeit looking less than impressed. 

eddie’s killing it, at least he thinks. avoiding looking anywhere in your direction, keeping his gaze on the stumbling drunk at the back instead. 

but the thoughts of you can’t help but creep into his mind, were you enjoying it? do you think he’s bad? why does he even care so much? 

his hand slides down the neck of the guitar, playing the wrong chord entirely, his fingers curating a mind of their own. 

fuck fuck fuck. 

why does this keep happening? 

gareth glares at him again, he had never been so frustrated with his idiot bandmate in his life. sure eddie liked to dick around in rehearsal but never on stage. 

if eddie ever wanted a career in music, he needed to get a monumental grip on himself. weird girls he barely knew should not have the capacity to ruin his career. 

after they clamber off stage, eddie makes a point of not going over to the two of you. no, you can come to him. 

though he wishes you’d just be a little faster at it if he’s honest. too busy squished into a booth with one of the younger regulars to care about him. 

heat rises in his chest, searing his cheeks a bright rouge, “-who is that?” gareth interrupts, bumping into his arm. 

“who’s who?” eddie coughs, clearing his throat as his eyes snap back. 

“that girl you’ve been staring at,” peering across the room to get a glimpse. 

“i’m not staring at anyone,” abruptly turning his head in the opposite direction, proving to himself that he wasn’t staring, not really. 

“you’re a liar,” gareth calls him on his bullshit immediately, “go talk to her! she’s hot,” scooting his friend along. 

“no she’s not,” you looked good tonight, he’d give you that, “can everyone please just stop being weird about this? first jeff- now you? honestly, i don’t get it,” working himself into a frenzy over what really was nothing. 

gareth’s eyes widen, scoffing at his melodramatic performance, “alright man.. calm down,” shaking his head in mild disgust. 

eddie was totally calm, you know, apart from his heart pounding in his chest. 

nothing major. 

-

filthy, downright pornographic sounds fill his cramped van, certain that it was rocking side to side with the utter obscenity happening in the back. 

chloe sits atop of his lap, tongues dancing around one another as she glides her hips back and forth. she was a regular, slightly older than eddie, at least he thinks, they’d made eyes a few times but only tonight had he gathered the courage to go and speak to her. 

any other time, eddie would be rock solid, pinning her down and fucking her into the dusty floor. today, it’s just not happening. 

his mind elsewhere, too preoccupied with nonsense to appreciate the opportunity at hand. 

he's thinking about you and the fact you’d left the bar without ever coming over to him tonight. what the fuck was that about? 

had he done something wrong? 

he breaks apart from her mouth, heaving into the tiny gap between them, “i don’t know what’s going on..” he chuckles awkwardly, looking down at his useless dick, “normally something happens by now..” 

she frowns, deep-set, showing her age more than before, “oh.” 

he reaches down, furiously palming his cock through his jeans. 

nothing. not even a twitch. 

he wants to curl up and die. never in his three years of actually getting laid has this ever happened. eddie got hard at the drop of a pin, he’d only have to think about boobs and his jeans would shift. 

so why the fuck wasn’t it working tonight?

“i’m gonna go,” chloe scowls, clambering over his legs, gathering her bag while not even attempting to hide her disappointment. 

eddie shoots up, pathetically crawling after her, desperate not to let her go. 

“it’s not me!” he screams out, watching helplessly as she crawls out of the van, “it’s you!”

no. 

“wait no! shit, that’s not what i meant,” peeking out of the van to find the empty parking lot, zero women to be found, “fuck sake.” 

left to wallow in his self-pity, alone, in the back of his dirty van. 

just as he deserved. 

if this was some karmic intervention, telling him to be a better person, he certainly wasn’t paying it any attention. 

-

another party meant another night of eddie trying to understand why the hell you had such an effect on him. 

it’s not even like you’re doing anything particularly riveting, sat with your drink in hand, nodding along to robin’s story. 

he can’t stand it. 

you have to go. 

maybe not like that, but he had to put some distance between you. there’s no way he could keep his sanity while you were still a constant in his life. 

eddie sidles over, feeling like the smartest guy in the room. he could do this, separate himself from you and your clutches and go back to playing as he once did. 

you smile upon him appearing, sickly and sweet. it makes his heart thump in the weirdest way. 

“oh.. hey,” playing this entirely nonchalantly, “i just thought i’d let you know that we’re not playing next week,” lying through his teeth, guilt ridden but really, it was necessary if he wanted to play a gig without fucking up the entire time. 

“oh,” sounding somewhat disappointed, “okay.. how come?” 

shit. 

he can’t think of a single valid reason as to why they wouldn’t be playing. 

“jeff’s sick.. real bad,” feeling even more guilty for lying about his friends health, wondering if he’s cursing jeff as you did him, “might even be a couple weeks off at this point.”

eddie was a terrible person. 

but so were you. 

bewitching him under some spell, forcing him to play terribly and embarrass himself in front of women 

you’ve jinxed him. a bad omen cursing him to play like a fucking amateur. that’s the only logical explanation his pea brain can conjure up anyway. 

that meant you had to stay away from the shows, from him preferably. 

he couldn’t understand why you have this effect on him, why your mere presence has him becoming a floundering fool. you don’t intimidate him, not even close. 

it’s almost as if he cares too much about what you think, to the extent that he overthinks it so hard that he fucks up. 

a curse that could only be broken with some distance between you. that way he could focus on the show instead of you and your doe eyes reflecting off of the stage lights. 

that’s what he’s praying for anyway. 

-

eddie despises wednesday’s. itching to get his classes over and done with so he can get his small taste of stardom on that tiny hideout stage. 

at some point over the last few weeks of you being an omnipotent presence in his life, he’d grown accustomed to crossing paths with you before the gig. 

crossing campus with your chin tucked down, arms wrapped tight around your books. typically only sharing a smile or a short nod. 

but this week you saunter over, resembling a frightened deer even more than usual. 

he pulls his headphone from his ear, anticipating whatever nonsensical, vaguely cute thing you were going to say. 

“hey,” he nods, a coy smile. 

even now you have his palms sweating, overthinking whether he should’ve said hi or hello instead. 

“you didn’t have to lie to me,” you start, brows furrowed, “it’s fine if you don’t want me to go to your gigs anymore, i don’t care,” a disappointed frown plaguing your normally cheerful face. “i thought i liked you eddie, really- but i don’t know anymore.. you’re not a good person.” 

you turn to walk off before he can even compute your words. 

oh shit. 

“wait!” he calls but it’s useless, “i didn’t- i wasn’t- fuck.”

it was unthinkably cruel, he didn’t think you’d ever find out. and maybe that was his problem, assuming you didn’t care enough to find out. 

guilt addles his chest, weighing heavy on his heart. for good reason too. 

eddie was an asshole. a true, grade-a asshole that wayne would positively despise him for. 

wait wait wait. 

you liked him? 

you liked him?

absolutely not. no way. that wasn’t what this was about.

or it’s not supposed to be. 

no, this was some adolescent feud, a confusing, one-sided, friendship that he couldn’t get a grip on. 

you didn’t like him. girls like you weren’t supposed to. 

-

it’s not at all surprising that he plays like absolute shit tonight too. 

guilt ridden for forcing your hand, for making you look at him like that. as if he were the worst person to walk the earth. 

shit, maybe he was. 

kind hearted people didn’t lie and deceive. no, kind hearted people came to gigs they obviously didn’t give a shit about. kind hearted people feigned interest in boring spiel about weed strains and whatever the fuck else eddie jabbered on about at parties. 

you, you were kind. kinder than he deserved. 

gareth slaps him harshly on the back the second they’re back behind the curtain, a scornful yet pitying scowl on his face, “look man,” he begins, “i dunno what’s going on with you but i don’t know how much longer they’re gonna let us play here if you keep playing like that.”

eddie sighs, because he knows this. he’s well aware that his performances have been lacklustre for weeks now. he just doesn’t really understand why. 

at first he thought it was just because you were there, a distance friend who would feed back to his friends about how good, or bad, he was. 

but that wasn’t it. 

you were there, and then you weren’t. and he still played like shit. 

somewhere entangled deep within his wretched heart, he thinks that maybe he just wanted to impress you. 

a nice girl, cares about her studies way more than he does, pretty too and you didn’t look at him like he was just some out of touch stoner with crazy dreams of his band getting big. 

you were polite, listening to his wacky stories and dreams of playing for thousands, in fact, you encouraged them, more than his friends ever had for sure. 

eddie’s not sure if, or how, he’ll ever be able to make amends for how he’s treated you. 

-

he’s making himself sick with worry. guilt wracking his brain. 

you don’t turn up that night, obviously. 

eddie’s eyes mindlessly search the crowd for any hint of you. his fingers failing to correspond with the rest of band, always playing a beat behind. 

you had infected him, ruined his once masterful skill to just a shell of what it once was. 

he doesn’t lay opportunity for the boys to speak to him again, rushing out of the bar as soon as his guitar is back in her case. 

there’s only one place he can think about going. 

a few months back, you’d hosted robin’s birthday party there and eddie had disgraced your bathroom with a girl he can’t even remember now. 

his fist bangs on the door, hoping the light in the upstairs window was you and not one of your roommates he’d have to shamefully apologise to. 

the orange light cascades over your face, peeking out from the barely cracked door with a frown that would scare any man off. 

“what’re you doing?” you spit, looking backwards in hopes he hadn’t woken the entire house up. 

“listen,” he sighs, “i’m real sorry about.. you know, lying to you,” his shoulders slumped over themselves, “but i just- i can’t fucking play when you’re there, can’t play when you’re not,” sounding utterly pathetic, begging for you to cure him from this sudden sickness. “i don’t know what to do anymore,” dragging his hand over his face. 

rightfully earning his spot as the worlds biggest fucking loser, stood on your doorstep begging for an answer. 

when he opens his eyes enough to look at you, you’re scowling back at him. nothing like how he had planned this situation in his head. 

he’d hoped that miraculously you’d understand, accept his apology and somehow still feel the same as you had. 

because that was it, really. 

too terrified to face the fact that he liked you too. 

somewhere in his heart of hearts he’d known it from the start. that’s why his heart fluttered when you’d volunteered to come or why he’d struggled to even touch anyone else. 

“what do you want me to say?” shrugging, “i won’t come back, that’s fine,” he wishes you’d just follow the script he’d curated for you. 

eddie doesn’t want you to stop coming, he never had. it’s killing him that you even believed that, twisting the knife in his chest further and further the more your bottom lip juts out and your eyes water. 

“actually, maybe it’s best if we don’t talk anymore,” you suggest, throwing him completely off kilter. 

woah. 

that wasn’t at all what he wanted nor was he trying to say. he just couldn’t gather the actual words he needed to express that to you. 

petrified that he’d admit to his feelings and you’d just turn around and laugh, how could someone like you ever like such a cruel man? 

“wait no, that’s not what i meant-,” bargaining with you for a little time to explain himself, though you definitely didn’t owe him any.

“-thanks for coming eddie, i’ll see you around,” flashing him a crestfallen smile before abruptly closing the door in his face. 

-

public humiliation was truly the only way eddie could think to make it up to you. 

well that and maybe a little big nudge from robin. 

he’d rather stupidly asked about you on saturday night, confused why you weren’t there alongside robin, who had very quickly got him in check. 

“why do you think dumbass?” she snapped, snarling her teeth at him, “you were an asshole and now she’s doesn’t want to come anymore,” her glare powerful and harsh, "i'd say you were lucky she didn't punch you in the face."

he’d deserve it. 

it had taken weeks of convincing to get you anywhere near the hideout again. not to mention the hundreds in free weed he’d had to bribe robin with to get her to help. 

you stand in a dark corner, hands folded against your chest, puzzled and irritated by robin’s incessant begging to get you here. 

“there’s someone here that i wanna apologise to,” his eyes don’t find you as easy this time, after weeks of missing your presence, he’s not used to you actually being in the crowd again, “if you know us, you know i can be a bit of an asshole sometimes, uh..” they find you, the lump only growing in his throat, “i’m sorry,” tunnel vision blocking out every other body in the room, “i’m really, really sorry.”

you blink, staring back at him like a deer caught in headlights. it makes him a little bit nauseous to recall how dreadfully he’d treated you, how you deserved absolutely none of it. 

your gaze lowers, and eddie can’t decide how to take it. he wouldn’t blame you if you decided to never forgive him, but he also couldn’t take it if you didn’t. 

his voice cracks a little as he speaks, “this is.. uh, we’re corroded coffin,” stepping back from the mic to gather his thoughts before the drum comes crashing in. 

-

eddie plays the best he’s potentially ever played. 

a force overcoming him to prove that he truly wasn’t as much as a loser as he’s shown himself to be.  

usually, he couldn’t wait to be off that stage and to the bar but today he’s dreading it. 

knowing that you’re somewhere out there waiting for an explanation. 

or maybe you weren’t. he wouldn’t blame you if you’d decided to leave soon after he’d embarrassed himself with that shitty apology. 

gareth runs up behind him, using his shoulders to launch himself into the air, “holy shit! that was amazing!” the boy presses a slobbery kiss to his cheek before continuing, “whatever the hell you did, keep doing it because that was insane!” running off past eddie to grab his weekly complimentary beer. 

a sudden sickness fills his stomach, slyly hoping that he could slip out of here before anyone else noticed him. 

you stand across the bar, waiting to catch his eye with your lips curled only ever-so-slightly. 

eddie’s limbs go stiff, still entranced by your jinx. by you.

your eyes trail away to the door as his follow, shuffling your way through the bustling crowd. 

his legs carry him without a second thought, out into the cool night as his eyes frantically search for you. 

he finds you perched against the crumbling stone wall a few feet from the entrance, just far enough away from the prying eyes of the smoking patrons. 

“i didn’t think you’d ever come back here,” is all he can say, feet trailing along the gravel. 

the streetlight glistens orange from your eyes, staring up at him from your perch, “i didn’t want to,” your smile only growing as he nears, “robin made me.” 

“oh,” it wasn’t as if he didn’t know that or that he didn’t orchestrated the entire thing, it just felt odd to hear it from your mouth. 

“i’m glad i came,” you clarify, allowing him to finally release the breath held tight in his chest. 

eddie dares to move closer, sitting back on the brick just inches away, “yeah?” 

you nod, the great big smile he’d forced away making a return at last, “yeah.” 

suddenly the air feels thick, it was easier apologising on stage, those people didn’t know him, they didn’t care. but now, sat here in front of you, it feels like he’s swallowing knives. 

“i’m really sorry for making you feel that way,” though it sounds meaningless now the damage was done, “i don’t know if you still care about me at all, but i- um,” his throat runs dry, clamping his eyes shut. it felt easier that way, somehow, “i think the reason why i was such.. an asshole,” the light flickers through his eyelids again, deciding that you at least deserved to see him, “fuck,” he exclaims, staring back at your confused expression. 

“it’s okay,” soothing even now, “you don’t have to explain yourself to me,” a twinge of sadness running through your tone. 

“no, no i do,” eddie persists. he’d fumbled once, he couldn’t do it again. “shit man,” he sighs, “i’m trying to tell you that i like you too, or maybe not too, i know i was an ass and i don’t deserve your forgiveness-,” your lips cuts him off mid-mumble, surging forward to press them against his blathering ones. 

he has to blink a couple times, taking in whatever the fuck was happening to him. 

you pull back, disappointed that his brain had been to fuzzy to focus on kissing you back. too preoccupied with trying not to explode and paint you in red. 

“really eddie.. it’s okay,” returning to your usual reserved self while his brain still struggles to compute. 

“can we do that again?” he asks politely, keeping the bubbling excitement to a minimum. 

you laugh, a real, throaty laugh, something he hadn’t heard in weeks, “only if you promise to stop talking,” leaning in once more, the rigid wall suddenly feeling like it was about to collapse from underneath him. 

your soft, cherry-tinted lips press against his forehead a second time, allowing him to gather his brain from a pile of mush on the floor just enough to actually kiss you back. a tender hand reaching out to caress his stubbly cheek, sending shockwaves through his limbs. 

you’re interrupted again by a loud whoop from behind, robin clapping wildly as she emerges from the bar, “now you two have kissed and made up, can we go home now?” 

[girlgenius1111]

all of my past i tried to erase it

part 3 of family line tensions are still high between Ingrid and her sister. Mapi tries to keep the peace. Solstråle tries to pretend she's fine. Ingrid tries to pretend she isn't going insane not understanding what is going on. cw: mentions of poor mental health / panic attacks. ingrid is pretty worried about solstråle and whether or not she is safe.

-------

It wasn’t really anyone’s fault. Mapi bringing her parents to the match shouldn’t have gotten to you the way it did. You didn’t really have an explanation for it, either. You saw Ingrid talking to Mapi’s mom and it felt like everything that had gotten marginally better in the last few days had miraculously disappeared. 

You were 8 again, sitting in the office at school, fielding pitying looks from the office ladies. Both of your parents were busy watching one of Ingrid’s matches; at just 16, she was playing for Rosenborg. Your mom was supposed to bring you to watch, too. She’d forgotten. 

You were 10 again, lying to the school nurse that your parents hadn’t known you’d hurt your hand. She said it looked broken, and you pretended that you hadn’t asked your mom to take you to the doctor the night before. You pretended your mom hadn’t told you to stop faking injuries when the attention wasn’t on you for one minute. 

You were 13 again, sobbing into your pillow, while everyone celebrated just down the hall. Ingrid was leaving to play in Lillestrøm. 5 hours away. She was leaving you behind. 

You were 16, having just been dumped by your first girlfriend. You’d come home in tears, and when you told your dad what was wrong, he told you it was for the best, that a girlfriend was just a distraction. He warned you not to bother your sister with this, because she was busy with much more important things in Barcelona. 

You were 17, so drunk you could barely speak, walking home on a dark road in the middle of the night because neither of your parents had answered the phone to come and get you from the horrific party you already regretted attending. It was dark, a windy road you were walking along, and if a car came, you weren’t sure your reflexes would be quick enough. You were 17, stumbling over the smooth pavement, the depression you’d been trying to drown in alcohol making a reappearance. You were 17,  thinking that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if it all ended there, just like this. 

You were 17, standing in the airport with your parents, preparing to board the plane to Spain. You leaned in towards your mother for a hug. She avoided it, pinching your cheek lightly, and reminding your father that they had a dinner reservation to get to. You watched them walk out of the airport from your place in the security line. Your vision was blurred with tears, but you still could tell that they didn’t look back at you once. You were 17, and your mom hadn’t told you she loved you before you moved across the continent. 

In a second, all of these memories that you’d fought so hard to keep locked away deep inside your head were flooding out. Tears were pricking your eyes, and you cursed yourself for being so stupid. Ingrid didn’t care. Mapi didn’t care. You weren’t worth caring about. How had you forgotten that? How had you let yourself forget that, after everything? 

Ingrid didn’t see your expression change, too busy thanking Mapi’s parents profusely for coming to see her play. Mapi did, though. She watched as you caught sight of your sister talking to her mom, and she watched as you flinched like someone had swung at you.  She watched as you slipped out of the crowd, speed walking into the building. Mapi was torn in 2 directions, Ingrid on one side, and you running off the other way. You needed Ingrid, most definitely but Mapi didn’t like the look on your face as you ran off, like all of the emotion had been sucked out of you, and all that was left was exhaustion. 

Someone else had noticed your disappearing act, though. Caro stood, staring after you, before her gaze fell to Mapi, raising an eyebrow. The defender nodded, and Caro followed after you, while Mapi turned to her girlfriend. She pulled her away from her parents with an apologetic smile, appreciating that Alexia walked over and picked up the conversation where it had left off. 

“Ingrid, vamos,” Mapi whispered urgently. Ingrid looked at her, confused and unmoving. 

“What? I was in the middle of a conversation, María,” the Norwegian scolded. 

“I know, it’s your Solstråle, though, she’s upset, come on,” Mapi insisted, pulling on Ingrid’s hand, who finally seemed to feel a sense of urgency, and let Mapi lead her into the building. 

“Upset? Why? Did something happen?” 

“She saw you with my mom and just looked really upset.” Mapi explained. A bit of understanding washed over Ingrid’s face, and now she was the one leading her girlfriend, rushing down the hall and beginning to open door after door in search of you. 

Caro, meanwhile, had found you pretty easily. You were on the floor of a room she often came to when she was overwhelmed, although that happened much less these days. You knew Caro, obviously, and she knew you, had known you since you were pretty young. She had a calming presence, and the minute she sat next to you, and extended her hand in your direction, you took it gratefully. 

“Mapi is bringing Ingrid.” She told you, but didn’t say anything else. She just sat next to your trembling form and held your hand.  It was enough for now, enough until your sister arrived. 

And when Ingrid did arrive, it was with a loud bang as she threw the door open, sighing in relief at the sight of you. Though, that relief quickly dissolved back into worry at the state you were in. She quickly took Caro’s place at your side, hesitantly wrapping an arm around your shoulders. Your sister was surprised when you turned and threw your arms around her neck, crying silently into her shirt. 

“Jeg har deg, kjære. Det er greit, du er ok.” She murmured, looking worriedly at the other two women hovering in the doorway of the room. Mapi nodded at her encouragingly, and Ingrid refocused, rubbing a hand slowly up and down your back. 

“Thank you,” Mapi muttered to Caro, as they both stepped into the hall to give you some space. 

“Of course.” Caro said easily. “She having a hard time?” 

“Which one?” Mapi asked wryly. “Yes. It’s… it’s a work in progress.” 

“She’s a good kid.” Caro noted, Mapi nodding her head in agreement. “Well, Marta and I are around if either of you need anything.” 

“Thank you, Caro. Really.” Mapi said, squeezing the forward’s shoulder. Caro just shrugged like it was no big deal, and headed back out to the pitch. When Mapi reentered the room, you were tucked perfectly into Ingrid’s lap, although you seemed to have calmed down some. Ingrid was speaking to you in hushed Norwegian, and something she said had you lurching away from her and to your feet, stumbling blindly to the door. 

“Solstråle, wait,” Ingrid called, not really sure what she said to upset you, but well aware that it had been something. You fell right into Mapi’s arms, and though she looked a little startled, she easily pulled you close. 

“Okay, it’s alright. We’re all okay.” She murmured, noticing the rather heartbroken expression on her girlfriend’s face at the fact that you had fled from her right into Mapi’s arms. After a few minutes, you said something quietly that neither girl could hear. “What was that, nena?”

“Can we go ho- back to the house?” You asked, correcting yourself quickly, and pulling away from the comforting embrace Mapi had you in. Ingrid felt like you’d stabbed her, honestly, when you didn’t let yourself call it home. You were stoic again, though, your face void of emotion, wiping roughly at your cheeks to rid them of tears. 

“Kjære,” Ingrid said, hating the way you forced all evidence of your breakdown away. You’d been so upset, about something, but now you were acting as though nothing had happened. Your sister would have climbed into your brain if she could’ve, just to understand what was going on in there. 

“Let’s go home.” Mapi said easily, shooting her girlfriend a meaningful look. Ingrid wasn’t supposed to push you, she knew that. It was just getting harder and harder to not do so, especially when she could see how much pain you were in. She couldn't understand why you wouldn’t just talk to her, and you couldn’t understand why she was so concerned or why she was so desperate to hear what you were feeling. And considering it was the two of you, the situation was bound to blow up into an argument. It was just a matter of time. 

-------

Ingrid knew what was coming before her phone rang, but she still desperately wanted to avoid it. She was quite comfortable at the moment, curled up on top of Mapi in their bed, a show playing softly in the background. Mapi was scratching lightly at Ingrid’s scalp with one hand, and tracing lines over her back with the other. The movements made Ingrid’s entire body relax, which had definitely been Mapi’s goal, but it was all interrupted when her phone went off from next to her. 

She sat up off her girlfriend, glancing at the screen, her expression hardening. 

“Your mom?” Mapi guessed, pulling Ingrid back down into her when the Norwegian declined the call. 

“Yes.”

“You haven’t talked to her since Solstråle’s letter, have you?” 

“No.” Ingrid said. “I think I hate her right now.” 

Mapi was surprised, only because Ingrid didn’t hate anyone. If there was going to be a person, though, it would be someone who had hurt you. Because Ingrid didn’t like to kill spiders she found in the house, but Mapi knew she would kill a person for you without a second thought. “That’s okay. You can hate her.” 

“I miss her.” Ingrid admitted after another minute, her voice cracking. Her forehead was scrunched with sadness, and her hands gripped Mapi’s shirt tight in her hands. 

Mapi sighed, wishing she could take Ingrid’s pain away. And yours too, for that matter. “You can miss her too. You can feel whatever you need to feel.” 

“No, I can’t, not when Solstråle is so upset,” 

“How your sister feels does not limit how you feel. You can be hurt, and sad, and frustrated too. It doesn’t take away from pequeña’s feelings. Just like her feelings don’t take away from yours. You are both upset. That’s alright.” Mapi said confidently. “This isn’t just happening to your sister. It’s happening to you, too, and you can be sad, mi amor. You can cry.” 

Ingrid hadn’t even known she’d been about to cry until Mapi said that, but suddenly there were tears running down her face, and she was clutching tightly to the Spaniard underneath her, who did not seem surprised at all at the sudden emotion. 

“I know, baby.” Mapi husked, pressing kiss after kiss to the top of Ingrid’s head. She knew Ingrid needed this, and was content to let her cry it out until she heard a sharp breath from the doorway. You were standing just outside the room, frozen and horrified. 

“I’m sorry, Ing,” you mumbled, having come in to say goodnight, rather stunned to see your sister so distraught. 

Ingrid could only cry harder, now furious with herself for letting you see this, but too upset to do anything but squeeze Mapi’s hand, wordlessly begging for her to do something. 

“Ven aqui, nena, it’s alright.” Mapi said, gesturing you over to the bed. You looked skeptical, but you did so anyway, carefully sitting on the bed next to your sister. 

“I’m really sorry, Ingrid, I don’t mean to stress you out.” You whispered. You were in a guilty mood, it seemed, not an angry one, and Ingrid felt that somehow, she preferred when you were angry to this. 

“Don’t apologize, pequeña. You haven’t done anything wrong. Ingrid is upset, and you’re upset. It’s okay to be upset, and it’s okay to cry.” Sometimes, Mapi felt like she was teaching preschoolers how to identify and express their emotions when she talked to the both of you, though that might be an easier task.

“I’m not upset with you, Solstråle, I am upset with mom, and I am upset with myself. You don’t need to say sorry. Not for having a panic attack, for having a hard time, for any of it.” Ingrid managed then, taking your hand in hers. 

“I’m doing my best.” You said. “I know I’m not making it easy, but I promise I’m trying.” 

“We know you are. You’re doing so well, nena.” Mapi said enthusiastically, with so much excitement at you saying something remotely positive about yourself that you and Ingrid both cracked smiles. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Ingrid asked after a minute. At that, you withdrew, pulling your hand from Ingrid’s and rising from the bed. Both your sister and her girlfriend repressed sighs at your sudden withdrawal. 

“No, I’m really tired. I came to say goodnight. I’ll see you guys in the morning.” You rushed out, before bolting out of the room at a speed that could barely be considered a walk. 

Ingrid sighed once you were out of earshot, settling back into Mapi. “She’s so difficult.”

“She’s stubborn. Like her sister. She’ll come around, just give her time.” Mapi assured her. 

Giving you time, though, was a lot harder than it seemed. 

-------

Your whole life, you had been encouraged by your parents to be smaller, to take up less space. If you were upset, you should keep it to yourself. If you were angry, you should calm down. You were taught that your needs always came second to everyone else’s. You didn’t like to be vulnerable with people, and you didn’t like to put your emotions on others. 

So when you woke up the next day, it was the feeling of intense shame swirling around inside of you. You’d ruined what was an impressive win for your sister, and a nice moment with Mapi’s parents. You’d upset Ingrid, so much so that she had cried about it. 

Too much. You were being too much. 

You resolved yourself to be happy today. If not happy, content. Mapi and Ingrid probably needed a day off from your ridiculous, all over the place, emotions. So today, you wouldn’t feel. You’d be perfect, you’d be small, and you’d cause as little trouble as possible. 

What you didn’t expect, though, was for that to be the opposite of what Mapi and Ingrid wanted from you. They didn’t care if you took up space. They just wanted you to talk. More than anything, they just wanted you to be okay, no matter how inconvenient that process was for them. 

It was a day off for both girls, due to the match the day before, and they were able to let you sleep in. Ingrid was worried you were sleeping too much, but Mapi assured her that angsty teens always needed a lot of sleep, and depressed teens going through a rough time needed even more sleep. Pair that with the intense panic attack you’d had the day before, you were bound to be exhausted. 

When noon rolled around, though, and you’d yet to make an appearance, Mapi relented, much to Ingrid’s relief, who had half a mind to check you for a pulse. Mapi made a coffee to bring up to you, opening your door quietly to find you out cold under the covers. 

With Snø clutched tightly in your arms, your nose pressed against the soft polar bear, you looked so young. 

“Pequeña, despierta,” Mapi murmured, sitting on the edge of your bed and pulling the covers away from your face a bit. 

You blinked up at her groggily, an adorably sleepy expression on your face, and Mapi couldn’t help but push some hair out of your face and smile down at you. You looked slightly suspicious, as you couldn’t remember being woken up like this in the entire time living in Spain, but Mapi just handed you your coffee, and settled on the edge of your bed. 

“Morning,” you said after a minute and a rather large sip of coffee. 

“Afternoon.” Mapi corrected, a little confused when your face turned red at the comment. “It’s 12:15.” 

“That’s weird. Normally Ingrid comes to make sure I’m breathing if I sleep past 10.” You noted. 

Mapi chuckled. “We’re working on some of your sister’s annoying habits.” 

“Don’t get rid of too many, or there won’t be anything left.” You said, your lips tugging up into a smirk. 

“Okay! I will just go through this chocolate croissant I made for you in the garbage!” Ingrid scoffed from the doorway, turning on her heel and marching back down the stairs. 

If there was any surefire way to get you out of bed, it was to present you with a breakfast pastry. 

Within 90 seconds, you had kicked Mapi out, thrown some clothes on and bounded down the stairs, in search of the promised croissant. It was sitting on a plate at the counter, waiting for you, next to your sister who was glaring at you slightly. 

“Thank you, Ing,” you said sweetly, throwing her a charming smile. She rolled her eyes but smiled nonetheless. 

You hit Mapi’s hand playfully when she reached for your croissant, and she withdrew it with a laugh. “You’re like breakfast pastries the way Ingrid is about coffee.” 

“Reasonable? Reasonably attached to it? Is that what you mean, María?” Ingrid asked with a frown. 

“Of course, mi amor.” Mapi said with a smile, kissing Ingrid’s cheek softly. You averted your eyes, but you couldn’t lie and say that it didn’t make you happy to see your sister loved so well. 

The morning, or afternoon, was going exactly as you’d hoped. No attempts at conversation. No feelings. Of course, it couldn’t last. Once you’d finished eating, Ingrid perked up and seemed to prepare herself for what she was about to say, which instantly made you weary. 

“We should talk about last night, kjære.” Ingrid said calmly. 

You froze, slowly putting your mug back on the counter. Both other girls watched the way your whole body tense, the way every ounce of emotion was wiped off your face. 

“I’m fine. There’s nothing to talk about.” You said stiffly. 

“That is not true. Something upset you, and we should discuss it.” Ingrid argued. 

“Ingrid, it’s fine. Just leave it. We don’t need to talk about that. We don’t need to talk about anything.” You replied defensively. 

“It’s not fine!” Ingrid said, raising her voice, and shaking off Mapi’s gestures to calm down. “None of this is fine. We need to talk about last night. We need to talk about the letter you wrote. We need to get you in therapy. These are all things that need to happen, solstråle. We’ve given you time, now we need to do this.” 

“I am not going to therapy.” You declared, standing up with a scoff and crossing your arms across your chest. “Ingrid, I am fine. I don’t need to talk and I don’t need help.” 

Ingrid grew visibly more angry with you at that, throwing her arms up in the air in frustration. 

“Amor, take a breath.” Mapi said quietly, sighing to herself when Ingrid did not do so. 

“You don’t need help? That is the most untrue thing I have ever heard. You do not write the things that you wrote and then turn around and say you’re fine. You. Need. Help.” 

“Ingrid. I am not going to therapy, and I am done talking about this.” You said, your voice dangerously quiet. 

Your sister wasn’t phased, stepping closer to you with her eyes narrowed. “You will go to therapy if I say you will, and this conversation is not over until I say it is.” 

In retrospect, even Ingrid realized that this was decidedly the wrong thing to say. You didn’t take well to being told what to do. Your reaction really should have been worse; Ingrid had gotten off easy. 

“Jesus, Ingrid, do you hear yourself? You sound just like mom.” You spit back, feeling a bit of satisfaction at the hurt that flashed across your sister’s face. “I don’t want to talk about this, especially not with you.” You spun around and began stomping towards the stairs. “Don’t fucking follow me.” You warned over your shoulder, causing Ingrid’s jaw to drop. 

“Do not-” Ingrid began, starting after you. 

“Amor, leave her.” Mapi said, intervening before Ingrid got very far, and pulling her back. 

“She is the most frustrating person on the planet.” Ingrid huffed, slamming a hand down onto the counter. Mapi looked unimpressed. 

“She is probably thinking the same thing about you right now. I told you not to push her.” 

Ingrid rolled her eyes. “Could you be on my side here for once?” She asked bitingly. 

Mapi very calmly shook her head, opening her mouth to explain when Ingrid’s eyebrows flew up on her forehead. “No. I am on your sister’s side, and you should be too. No one has been for a really long time.”

The Norwegian deflated at that, sinking down into one of the stools at the counter. Mapi continued speaking, pulling Ingrid’s hair gently out of the bun it was in, and running her fingers through it. “You’re looking at this wrong, mi amor. She doesn’t need you to talk her into therapy. She’ll get there on her own, you just need to give her time. That girl has a long way to go before she admits she needs help, believe me.” 

Ingrid sighed deeply. “Can you go check on her? She’s mad at me, I just need you to make sure she’s okay and she isn’t going to do anything stupid.” 

“Of course.” Mapi said, delicately kissing Ingrid’s lips. “I love you.” She reminded the Norwegian with a soft, almost shy smile. 

Ingrid wanted to cry at how sweet, how perfect, how helpful and kind and funny and beautiful her girlfriend was. “I love you, so so much.” 

Mapi headed for the stairs, and Ingrid made yet another cup of coffee, a coffee she wouldn’t drink.

Because Mapi came running back down the stairs a minute later, an apprehensive look on her face as she approached her girlfriend. 

“Mi amor, she isn’t up there.” She said carefully. 

“What do you mean she isn’t up there,” Ingrid asked, rising to her feet and feeling panic rise within her. 

Mapi just shook her head, putting her hands on Ingrid’s shoulders. “She isn’t up there. Her window is open, I think she snuck out.” 

Ingrid felt like something inside of her was collapsing, leaving behind a chasm that was quickly filling with anxiety. “Where… what? She… she’s gone? She…we have to-” 

What had you left to do? Only horrible, life shattering options of where you were and what you were doing were flying through Ingrid’s head, and she reached out, latching on to Mapi’s outstretched hands. 

“Amor, breathe. Calm down. We’ll find her. Where would she go?” 

Mapi hoped, with everything in her, that Ingrid had an answer. Because she had to be calm right now, for Ingrid, but Barcelona was a big city. And if you didn’t want to be found… Mapi didn’t know what would happen. 

Ingrid’s mind was racing, but one thought pushed to the front of everything else. “The lake, there’s a lake in Melhus she would always go to when she was upset. She’d go to water, a body of water.” 

Mapi nodded. “Okay, there are 2 beaches in walking distance, in opposite directions. We’ll go to one, and we’ll send Frido to the other.” 

Privately, Mapi hoped Frido found you first. She wasn’t quite sure that you wouldn’t bolt away from Ingrid, but you wouldn’t be expecting Frido to pop up. 

-------

A quick call to Frido later, Mapi was directing one very frazzled Norwegian into the car, and setting off for the beach. Ingrid was deep in thought, and Mapi kept her hand on her girlfriend’s leg, softly and soothingly rubbing her thumb back and forth. It was only a few minutes to the beach, and Mapi knew Ingrid would talk before they arrived. 

“Do you think she’d do something stupid?” Ingrid asked anxiously, her hand covering Mapi’s and gripping tightly. The Spaniard didn’t need her to explain what she meant; she knew this question was coming, really. 

“She said she wouldn’t.” Mapi said calmly. 

“She said she wouldn’t ‘do that to me,’ that doesn’t mean she wouldn’t do it, especially now that she’s mad at me.”

“This is a little fight. She wouldn’t… do that. Not over this.” Mapi reassured her, but Ingrid remained unconvinced. 

“I don’t know what she’s thinking, María, maybe she was lying before.” 

“Ingrid, mi amor, calm down. You have to trust her. Even when you’re scared, and even when it feels like you should take her bedroom door off the hinges and implant her with a GPS chip. You have to trust her not to hurt herself.”

“But what if she does?” Ingrid asked softly, as if saying the words loud enough would somehow will it into existence. 

“We can’t think like that. Promise me you won’t think like that, okay?” 

“Okay.” Ingrid agreed faintly. Both of them knew she was lying. It was all she’d been worrying about for days, and all she would worry about for many to come. 

--------

Frido found you first. When she drove by the beach and didn't see you there, she got another idea. There was a rock climbing place nearby; Ingrid had said you always used to go to a lake back home when you were upset. Though Frido didn’t want to say so, it had been a long time since Ingrid had lived with you, and it wouldn’t have surprised her if your habits had changed. And the Swede knew from your instagram that you spent a lot of time rock climbing. She told Mapi where she was headed, and sped over to the gym. 

Sure enough, as soon as she walked in the building, she spotted you in the middle of the hardest wall, seemingly only using the smallest holds to get yourself up. You were breathing hard, and the worker belaying you looked a bit concerned. 

Frido pulled her phone out, shooting off a quick text to Mapi.  “She’s here, she’s okay. Let me talk to her, don’t let Ingrid come in. I’ll bring her out.” 

Ingrid probably wouldn’t help the situation, if you were as angry as you seemed. The blonde spoke quickly to the front desk attendant, and headed over to where you were. 

She stood, just watching you. You were a few feet from the top now, luckily for your hands, which you clearly had not put enough chalk on, and were beginning to really hurt. With only a bit to go, you took a risk, attempting an impressive, one armed pull to get your other hand to the next hold. You just barely missed, falling away from the wall. 

“Fuck,” you cursed, swinging back towards the wall and smacking it with your hand. You were lowered down, clearly fuming, and Frido took the opportunity to step in front of you, giving the girl attached to the other end of the rope a look. 

“Again,” you requested, avoiding Frido’s gaze. 

She took your hand in hers, though, inspecting the tear in your skin, shaking her head. “No, that’s enough Solstråle.” 

“Leave me alone, Frido.” You snapped, trying to pull away from her when you felt the rope fall slack. You turned, seeing that the worker had abandoned her harness in favor of going to help someone else, no doubt at Frido’s direction. 

You rolled your eyes, quickly regretting it when the Swede raised an eyebrow at you. Ingrid could be scary sometimes, but she had nothing on Frido. 

“Are they here?” You asked, loosening the harness and stepping out of it with an exasperated sigh. 

“They’re outside. You terrified your sister.” Frido said, pulling you over to a bench and making you sit down, before handing you a bottle of water. 

You looked unimpressed. “I’m 18, I can handle myself in the city for an hour.” 

“She wasn’t worried about that, she was worried you were going to hurt yourself.” Frido said bluntly, sitting down next to you. She ignored how stiff you’d grown and how uncomfortable you seemed, reaching for your hand and looking at it critically. 

“That wasn’t on purpose.” You said defensively, wrenching your hand away once again. “And I told her I wouldn’t do that.” 

“Can you blame her for worrying, Solstråle, really? And maybe you didn’t do that on purpose, but you came here to push yourself instead of dealing with your feelings in a healthy way.” 

You really hated that she was right. Frido was always right. It was simultaneously her worst and best trait.

“Are they mad?” You asked in a small voice, suddenly looking very much your age. Frido stood and held out a hand to help you up.

“Not right now. Just worried. Ingrid’s going to give you a hug and you’re going to let her.” Frido instructed. You supposed that was fair. And really, you could use a hug. Hugs from your sister always made you feel better, even if you’d never admit it. 

As you exited the building, you instantly spotted your sister and her girlfriend by their car. Mapi was leaning calmly against the Cupra, while Ingrid was pacing frantically, speaking fast and gesturing wildly with her hands. 

“Did I do that?” You asked quietly. 

Frido laughed. “I think she was born like that.” 

As you neared the car, Ingrid turned as Mapi pointed at you, her face melting with relief at the sight of you. It really hit you, then, how worried she must have been, to still be so anxious even after Frido had likely told her you were okay. You weren’t making this easy on your sister. 

She practically knocked you over with the force of her hug. “You’re okay.” She murmured into the top of your head, leaving a kiss there. 

“I’m okay.” You reiterated, letting yourself hug her back tightly, even if it was just for a moment. She felt you tighten your arms around her almost unconsciously, and made a note to hug you more often. Even if it seemed like you weren’t very interested. After a minute she pulled back, placing both hands on your cheeks and making you look at her. 

“Next time leave through the front door? And tell me where you’re going? Please?” She asked. You appreciated that she didn’t tell you to do this, leaving it more as a request, although you knew it was a reasonable rule for her to put in place.

“Promise.” You said quietly. She nodded her head, satisfied, before pulling Frido into a hug that also looked to be too tight. Mapi was looking at you, rather unimpressed. You knew she was not happy with you for upsetting your sister so much, and though it annoyed you a bit, you knew it was deserved. And you appreciated that your sister had someone that was so protective over her. 

“In the car, nena. I want to talk to you when we get home.” Mapi instructed. You got in the car with no argument, the fight having gone out of you a bit. It had nothing to do with the hug Ingrid had given you, nothing at all. Definitely not. Instead of anger, you only felt apprehension, because Mapi looked dead serious about whatever she wanted to talk about. 

-------

You were nothing short of shocked when Mapi opened the door to the garage and gestured you inside upon arriving home. Ingrid watched on anxiously, and you pretended not to see the way Mapi whispered some reassurance to her and kissed her cheek, before pointing her towards the kitchen

You’d never been in the garage before; it was Mapi’s space. You were already invading her home, you wouldn’t invade the one place of the house that was really hers, too. You knew she worked something out there, knew there was a reason both cars parked in the driveway instead of in the garage. 

Mapi followed you into the room and sat down on a stool next to the large motorcycle in the middle of the garage. It was clearly in the process of being restored. You hadn’t known Mapi rode motorcycles. Well, you hadn’t known that your sister let Mapi ride a motorcycle. You stood awkwardly in the door as Mapi inspected 2 different wrenches, until she pointed at the stool next to her. 

“Ven aqui, nena.” She said. 

You took a seat, not really enjoying the tense silence that washed over the room. “Are you mad at me?” You asked after a minute. For all your anger, and all your bravado, you didn’t like it when people were mad at you. Especially not people you looked up to, people you admired. 

“No. Not mad, nena. Never mad. I wish you hadn’t snuck out your window, but I understand why you did. I wish sometimes you thought a bit more about how your actions affect me and your sister, but I know how hard that is to do when you’re as angry as you are.” 

“I’m not angry.” You said defensively. Mapi rolled her eyes, handing you a couple of tools and beginning to tighten something on the bike. 

“You are angry. You’re so angry that you feel like you’re going to explode sometimes. You’re so angry that sometimes you forget that you’re sad, too. You’re angry, and you’re hurt, and I cannot blame you for that. If anyone has a right to those emotions, it’s you.” You didn’t really enjoy being perceived so well, shifting uncomfortably in your seat. “I know angry, nena. Do you remember when I hurt my knee?” 

You nodded. The first few weeks of Mapi's injury hadn’t been a fun time, your sister beyond stressed with dealing with Mapi’s injury and her new role in the team, and you’d tried hard to be on your best behavior. 

“I started working on this bike a year ago, when everything happened with the Spanish federation. It was Ingrid’s idea, a way for me to distract myself. When I hurt my knee, it had been a bit since I’d worked on it, but suddenly I was back in this garage until all hours of the night. It’s nice to be able to control something like this, when everything else feels out of your control. That is how climbing is for you, yes?” 

You relaxed a bit at the turn the conversation was taking, and Mapi wasn’t surprised. It wasn’t just the topic; it was the fact that she wasn’t staring at you, putting pressure on you to give her an answer she wanted to hear. You were just talking. Casually. 

“Yeah. I’m in control, and I don’t have to think about anything else. It’s relaxing.” 

“It’s good for you to have an outlet like that.” Mapi stated. “This bike was Ingrid’s idea, when we first got together. Do you know what her other idea was?” 

You were pretty sure you did, and you grimaced at the thought. “Therapy?” 

Mapi snorted, handing you the wrench she was using and taking the screwdriver from your hand. “Yes therapy. You don’t have to look at it like that, though, it doesn’t have to be a bad thing.”

“It’s not for me.” You said decisively. 

Mapi just shrugged. “I didn’t think it was for me either.” She paused, knowing your curiosity would get the better of you, and you’d ask for more information. 

“What changed your mind?” You asked after a minute. 

“Your sister did. After the euros, I had a hard time coming back to Barça and playing. Those weeks were some of the hardest of my life, trying to find my rhythm again but trying to recover from the stress I’d been under that summer. I was a mess. And Ingrid was right there with me, through all of it. I’d had a really bad day, and I asked Ingrid to come home early from a lunch she had. She came home, calmed me down, and afterwards, she asked me if I trusted her. I said I did. And she said that she really wanted me to try therapy. That I didn’t have to feel how I felt, and I deserved help. I deserved to not be miserable. She asked me to try it, for her, just give it a try.” 

“And you did.” 

“And I did. Because she’d done so much for me, I couldn’t refuse her request. Not when I knew she just wanted the best for me. I gave it a shot, and it helped, more than anything else had helped. It wasn’t a fix all, but it helped. It made me feel like I was doing something to get better.” 

Mapi abandoned her work on the bike, looking at you for the first time since you’d entered the garage. You could only see sincerity in her gaze. Not anger, but annoyance. Just sincerity. “You deserve help, Solstråle. No matter how you feel about yourself, Ingrid and I know you. And we know you deserve help. You’re a good person, and you deserve to be happy.” 

María sounded so sure. So completely convinced. You looked away from her, blinking hard. 

“You don’t have to agree to anything now. Keep an open mind about it. Think about it. Okay?” 

“Okay.” You agreed quietly, grateful that Mapi didn’t make a big deal out of it, only nodding slightly. 

“One more promise?” She asked. 

“What?” 

“Talk to us. Or just me, or just Ingrid. We’re a little lost here, nena. It feels like we were just kind of plopped down in the middle of this. We had no idea anything was going on, not really. And all of a sudden we’re reading that letter, and realizing we missed a lot. That’s on us; we should have noticed sooner. We don’t have the whole picture, though, and that makes it really hard for us to figure out how to help you. We’ll both worry a lot less if you talked to us, just a little bit.” 

That was reasonable, you had to admit. When she put it like that. You’d spent so much time being annoyed that no one had noticed, then being annoyed when they finally did notice, you hadn’t really spent a ton of time thinking about how little they knew. There was no context to your behavior, aside from what you’d put in the letter. And that just barely scratched the surface. You supposed they deserved an explanation. At least a bit of one. 

“I’ll try.” You promised. 

Mapi grinned at you this time, an infectious smile. “Bueno! Come here with that wrench. No, that one. Put it on this bolt. Twist.” 

And just like that, the conversation was over. Easily. You got the feeling that Mapi would have let it go if you’d insisted on it, but you miraculously felt better. Talking, listening had made you feel better. Mapi had made you feel better. 

-------

You both emerged from the garage around an hour and a half later, when the smell of baking cookies became too strong to resist. Ingrid had clearly been stress baking, one of your favorite of her habits. There were at least 3 different types of cookies on the counter, some done baking, some still in progress. It smelled so distinctly of home in the house, it was almost overwhelming. 

“I have something for you,” Ingrid said, drying her hands and stepping away from the counter when you walked into the room. 

“I can see that.” You said, nodding to the cookies appreciatively, but Ingrid shook her head. 

“No, something else.” Ingrid said.

“OH! I do too.” Mapi said excitedly, and they both disappeared in different directions. You stood bewildered in the kitchen, not quite sure what you were about to be given. 

They returned simultaneously, each holding what looked to be 2 frames. “Mapi’s first.” Ingrid directed. “I haven’t seen it yet.” 

You looked surprisingly at Mapi, taking the present and beginning to unwrap the wrapping paper. “What is this for?” You asked. 

“Your birthday.” Ingrid said quietly. You froze momentarily, an unreadable expression flashing across your face. “I know it seems like we forgot, but we didn’t. We got the dates messed up, but we had presents, and we had dinner reservations, just… for the 25th. Not the 15th.” 

“Oh. I thought you’d forgotten.” You said slowly, seemingly slightly emotional. 

“Nope, just bad at remembering dates. Now open your present.” Mapi said impatiently, bouncing on her feet like an overexcited child. 

You unwrapped it slowly, as if you were slightly weary of what it might be. When you pulled the frame from the wrapping paper, though, every wall you’d put up fell instantly, your jaw dropping open at the piece of art in your hands. 

It was a map. Not just a map, but a map of all the hiking trails in Barcelona. It was textured, detailed, labeled. It was intricate, all neutrals and earthy colors. It was so you. From the contents to the design, it was like it had been made just for you. 

“Mapi…” You whispered, staring, stunned, at the map. “Where did you… how did you… what?” 

“Ale’s sister Fresa  went to school with this girl that hand makes maps like this. I got her name from diablillo, and I told her what I wanted. Do you like it, do you like it?” Mapi asked excitedly. 

Mapi got her answer when you handed the frame to Ingrid, and launched yourself the few feet between you and Mapi, wrapping her in a tight hug. Mapi beamed at Ingrid, who was trying very hard not to cry. She hadn’t even given Mapi any advice on the gift. It had been all her girlfriend’s idea, she executed it all by herself, determined to get Solstråle the perfect gift. 

“It’s perfect, thank you María,” you mumbled. The ridiculous smile on Mapi’s lips didn’t falter at the use of her real name, only squeezing you tighter. 

“Te amo, Solstråle.” She said back. For once, you believed it. When you pulled away from the hug, it was to see Mapi looking smugly at your sister. “INGRID I DEFINITELY WON.”

Ingrid rolled her eyes. “She hasn’t even opened my present yet.”

“Still. I won.” Mapi smirked. 

Now it was Ingrid’s turn to hand you your gift. It was wrapped in the same paper, and you tore it off, almost cautiously, not quite sure what Ingrid would have gotten you. 

You were, once again, speechless at what you saw. This time, your eyes filled with tears immediately. Ingrid wasn’t as excited as Mapi had been, instead looking at you anxiously. 

It was a painting of a waterfall back home not far from your house. It was so distinct, you knew Ingrid must have paid a ridiculous amount of money to get someone to hand paint it. Each individual stroke was so precise, blending perfectly into the image it was supposed to be, but if you focused hard, you could pick out the greens and greys and blues and whites that you’d grown up with. 

It felt like home. It felt comforting. You could almost smell the trees, feel the cool sting of wind on your cheeks. It was a little piece of home just for you, and it was perfect. So beautiful and artistic that you weren’t sure you were worthy of it, but you looked at it in awe nonetheless. You wiped at your cheeks, not able to control the tidal wave of emotion washing over you. 

“Kjære? Is it okay?” Ingrid asked anxiously, her eyes searching your face, trying to figure out if these were good tears or bad tears. 

You let out an incredulous laugh. “Okay? Ingrid… it’s the most perfect thing I’ve ever seen in my life. It’s… perfect. Thank you.” You said, turning to her with a look of complete shock. And even though it pained Ingrid that you were so surprised to receive a nice gift for your birthday, she pushed that feeling down. Instead, she pulled you in towards her, placing the frame on the counter so she could hug you properly. You were happy with it, now, and that was all Ingrid had control over. 

After a few seconds, Ingrid moved to pull away and break the hug, but you kept your arms wrapped around her, not quite ready to let go yet. Maybe it was the homesickness, or maybe it was your sister making you feel so known, and so loved. Whatever the reason, you just wanted her near you for a minute more, holding you nice and tight and safe against her. 

“I love you,” she whispered, hearing you mumble the words back, your voice thick with emotion. When you did pull away, a minute later, it was to wipe at your face in an almost embarrassed manner. 

Seeing how desperate you were for the attention to be off your tears, Mapi spoke up, her voice light and easy. “You can put them up in your room, you don’t have anything on the walls.” 

You looked at the ground, then, almost sheepishly. “I didn’t know I could put anything up on them.” You admitted.

The room fell quiet, but even though you could tell that what you said had hurt Ingrid and Mapi, they just shook their heads softly. “It’s your room, for good, you can do whatever you want to it.” Ingrid told you. 

You were about to thank her, and try to move the conversation long when Mapi let out a dramatic gasp. Both you and Ingrid whipped your heads to look at her, confused at the mischievous grin on her face. 

“Ikea. WE CAN GO TO IKEA AND GET FURNITURE FOR SOLSTRÅLE’S ROOM.” 

“María, calm down. Maybe she doesn’t want to redo her room.” Ingrid looked at you hopefully, and you knew it had nothing to do with your room, and everything to do with her not wanting to take Mapi to ikea. 

You simply smirked back at Ingrid, who sighed and shut her eyes for a minute. 

“Okay. Ikea.” She said finally. You and Mapi cheered, comically loudly, completely ignoring the rules she was setting in favor of high fiving each other and going to get ready to leave. “María, you are not building anything. Solstråle does not need her bed to collapse under her in the middle of the night. And kjære, please, please, don’t let Mapi talk you into a loft bed, you’ll fall off of it and break your arm. Amor? Kjære? ARE EITHER OF YOU LISTENING!” Ingrid shouted after you, rolling her eyes at the chants of ikea echoing around the house. 

Mapi in Ikea was a handful. You, too, were a handful at the store. Together? She was going to lose one of you, she was sure of it. It had been a long day already. And it was only set to get longer. 

--------

fluffy engen-león family trying to put furniture together in the next part?

yes, that IS all i have to say about this chapter thank you for your time.

[viceroywrites]

deja vu - part three

planning out your road trip through the pacific northwest, you find yourself inexplicably drawn to the town of gravity falls.

little did you know that this town held more memories than you could have possibly imagined.

too bad you didn't remember any of them.

stan x fem!reader/ford x fem!reader

tag list: @awitchersbard / @theilluminatidragonqueen / @jazzypop-op/ @maryclanders/ @chaimshelii/@starship606/ @swimmingrascalbatdragon / @stanfordsbaby / @gxstiess / @skrunkle11 / @valinbean / @funkyenby / @therealgoofygoober69 / @theblueraven / @adrian920155 / @im-kinda-bored / @miarabanana / @uwauiss / @leo4242564 / @doggosnoodles12 / @soupieoopieisloopie / @zhungxi / @bandaids-n-porcelain / @marvelous-maniac / @opossumclown / @m4x-3dw / @nothingbutcloud / @reivelmin / @grimometry / @walmartjim / @adelezzxd / @reiofsuns2001 / @bunni-teeth81 / @marshnest / @satorisgirl / @symphology / @pen900 / @sometimesminsan / @creat0r-cat / @lackingoriginalthoughts / @fries11 / @sunniskyies

choose your own ending / contains fluff and angst (w/ happy ending)

part two | part four

The three of you sat in the impressive living room, Ford and you sitting on the couch while Fiddleford lounges in the loveseat, his feet propped up on the coffee table.

“You were able to sell those patents to the government and that’s how you got this place!” You say in glee, your lips spread into an excited smile, “I told you your inventions were going to get you places, Fiddleford!”

“Aw shucks, you flatter me too much. Glad this noggin of mine finally got put to good use!” Fiddleford said bashfully, knocking on his skull, “So Stanford told me you got a job in the National Parks! Find any gold while surveying?”

“No gold yet but I’ve found a few gemstones that I ended up pocketing instead of just documenting them.” You admitted with a sly smile.

The two of you laughed and chatted like time had never passed. Meanwhile, Ford watched with a wistful smile, wishing to hear you be just as comfortable with him as you once were. Though in the back of his head, he recognized that once your memories return, you may never want to speak to him again.

“Ford, what did you end up doing after all these years? I’m sure something exciting with 12 PhDs.” You ask with a curious tilt to your head. You tried to loop him back into the conversation, feeling guilty that you and Fiddleford had spent most of this time catching up with one another with Ford sitting there observing quietly.

“Oh… well..” Ford stammered, caught off guard by the question. He glanced over at Fiddleford who gave him a sympathetic look before giving a nod of encouragement, “I decided to study anomalies with my grant money. Gravity Falls is actually chalk full of them, hence why I ended up here. Fiddleford actually came out here from Palo Alto to help me with my research.”

“Really? I’m surprised we didn’t meet when I had visited him years ago but you must have been busy with your research, right?” You question, not knowing the weight of the situation that you had left years ago. Ford and Fiddleford exchanged tense glances which caused you to sit up right, “Is.. everything okay?”

-

The previous evening, Ford had decided to give Fiddleford a call preemptively before bringing you over to get some answers of his own. 

After the second ring, Ford heard a “Yello?” from his old friend and sighed, trying to keep his composure. He was ready to start a tirade of questions but he attempted to remain cool, not wanting to alienate his friend that he just got back.

He didn’t want to go in blind with the assumption that Fiddleford’s memory erasing gun was the cause of your memory loss, when there could be a laundry list of potential conditions you may have that could have caused this amnesia.

“Sorry to disturb you at such a late hour, Fiddleford. I have some news that can’t wait until the morning.” Ford says, leaning against the wall while twirling the cord of the phone in between his fingers.

“Sure, what is it, pal? I’ve been working on a new patent so I need a break anyways,” Fiddleford says on the other end, removing his green glasses and moving to the rocking chair in the corner of the room.

“Well, do you remember Y/N? Our friend from Backupsmore and my… ex-lover.” Ford hesitates during the last part. 

Ford hears a hitch in his friend’s voice along with shuffling on the other end before hearing a response, “Yes, I remember her.”

Ford inhales sharply before letting out a deep sigh, “Well, she’s in Gravity Falls. My brother stumbled upon her after her car broke down in the woods and brought her back to the Mystery Shack.”

“W-Well, isn’t that exciting. We should catch up, shouldn’t we?” Fiddleford says with an anxious edge to his voice.

“Fiddleford…” Ford’s voice is stiff as his worst fears feel like they are already confirmed, “Why does she not remember me?”

Apologies spill from Fiddleford, the anxiety in his voice mounting, “I-I’m so sorry, Stanford. At the time, I thought it was the only way we were going to get through everything we saw, everything we experienced.”

Ford swallowed the lump in his throat, not knowing whether to comfort his friend or to lash out on him for doing such a thing. Hearing those words was like swallowing a bitter pill. He remained silent, letting Fiddleford ramble on to get more details.

“She came to me in tears… she just kept saying over and over that she wanted the pain to go away.” Fiddleford explained, beginning to pace around the space. 

“So you just took her memories, just like that? Specifically her memories of me? Because she remembers you just fine!” Ford’s frustration finally comes out. His right hand balled into a fist, his left clutching the phone tightly. 

Fiddleford winces at the harshness in Ford’s voice, memories of their last fight flashing back but he knows he has to face it rather than running away like he did all those years. He takes a deep breath before sighing, “Stanford, she asked me to erase her memories.”

Ford feels his heart drop and his stomach in knots, almost dropping the phone. 

Is this what heartbreak felt like?

Why would you want to forget him?

Was what he did all those years ago so horrible that you wanted to erase his very existence from your mind?

Ford struggled to find the words but was able to muster out, “It’s… not your fault, Fiddleford. It’s mine. I put you both through hell during my quest for knowledge.” 

Fiddleford paused before responding back shakily, “You don’t need to keep apologizing, friend. Bring her over tomorrow, hopefully we can jog her memory.”

Ford let out a sigh, “Alright, also if you have literally anything from our time from college, please retrieve it to show it to her. That’s what helped bring back Stanley’s memories - any physical reminder of the memories.”

They both said their good nights before hanging up the phone. Ford slides against the wall in defeat, reaching up to run a hand over his face underneath his glasses before pausing as he feels the wetness against his eyes. 

He hadn’t even registered the tears that began to prick the inner corners of his eyes.

-

Fiddleford gets up from his seat, excusing himself abruptly to retrieve something in the other room. Your question remains unanswered and hangs in the air as Ford refuses to meet your gaze, seemingly invested in the stray thread on his sweater.

“Something must have happened when I was out here all those years ago…” You mutter, staring down at your feet, “It affected us, didn’t it? Whatever we were…” You trail off. You had put some of the pieces together that your relationship with Ford prior must have carried a heavy history.

Ford continues to play with the thread, the silence slowly eating away at him before he finally responds, “It did. Not only you and I but my friendship with Fiddleford as well.” He wrapped the thread around his index finger, “It might come as a surprise, but Fiddleford and I just rekindled our friendship this past summer.”

Before you can reply, Fiddleford comes back into the room, holding a cardboard box in his bandaged hands. He unceremoniously dumps it onto the table before flopping back down onto his chair. His light-hearted demeanor had shifted to one of anxiety. 

“Listen, Y/N… I have to admit something to you that you might not like… ah jeez..” Fiddleford stumbles over his words, craving an escape from this situation. 

“Whatever it is, as long as it gets me closer to understanding what’s going on, I promise I won’t be upset at you.” You try to reassure your friend, looking over to Ford to help back you up. Ford’s gaze softened, nodding in understanding, “It’s going to be alright, Fiddleford.”

Fiddleford feels comfort in his close friends’ reassurance, taking a deep breath before rambling out an explanation that’s barely coherent, wanting to get it off his chest immediately, “I created an invention that wipes people’s specific memories called the Memory Gun! I even used it on myself and my mind was gone for decades. Basically I erased your memories all those years ago and that’s why you don’t remember Stanford! There I said it!”

Ford winces at his friend’s delivery, realizing maybe he should have taken the lead to reveal this information to you in a more tactful way. 

Your eyes darted between Ford and Fiddleford, letting out a nervous chuckle, “Real funny guys… did you two plan this prank over the phone last night?” The story presented to you seems preposterous, out of a science fiction novel.

However, when Ford and Fiddleford stare back at you with solemn gazes, you realize that this story is the truth. 

It explained the gaps of time during your time in college that you could not recall.

It explained the dreams you had every night of a person that you could never see the face of.

Your memories of Stanford had been somehow wiped from your brain.

You sit there, processing this information in silence. Fiddleford almost seems like he’s bracing for impact, ready for you to lash out at him for doing such a thing. Ford sits rigid beside you before getting up suddenly. Both you and Fiddleford look up in confusion as he reaches into the box that Fiddleford placed on the table.

His fingers pluck out what seems to be a photo and walks over to you. His warm, calloused hand brushes against yours, placing it into your hands. Staring down at it, you see younger versions of yourself, Ford and Fiddleford.

Ford was decked out in a doctoral graduation cap and gown that swallowed up his frame, a wide grin spread across his cheeks. He had his arm around Fiddleford’s shoulder, who wore a green button up shirt, brown slacks and a pair of cowboy boots. In his hands he held a sign that said ‘10 Doctorates Down, 2 More to Go’. You were wearing a flowy dress and were on Ford’s left side, his six fingers holding you by the waist.

“This was taken on one of my many graduation days, you and Fiddleford attended every single one and were cheering me on in the crowd.” Ford explains, beckoning Fiddleford to come over and look at the photo. Fiddleford hesitantly gets up from his chair, sitting next to you.

“Listen, I know you may have a lot of questions about how this even happened. I promise that in time, Fiddleford and I will tell you everything that led up to the erasure of your memories. But you need the rest of your memories for any of this to make sense.” Ford says, staring into your eyes and resting a hand on your shoulder. 

His mantra after Bill wreaked havoc in his life had been Trust No One.

Yet he asks you to do the one thing that he could not do back then, “Can you please trust us?”

A mixture of emotions - confusion, hurt, anger - ran through you and you weren’t sure which one to listen to. As you looked back down at the photo, your thumb ran over where Ford was, covering up his face. Without him there, the image looked… empty.

You look up at Ford, “I’m trusting you and Fiddleford… I want to get my memories back.” You pause before continuing your statement, “How I feel about the both of you after I get them back, we’ll have to wait and see.” 

Ford nods in understanding, knowing that you rightfully had your guard up. Fiddleford breathes a sigh of relief, still feeling the need to apologize, “I’m really sorry for putting you in this predicament, Y/N… I hope you’ll forgive me.” You stare at your old friend, knowing from experience that this man had a heart of gold. As confused as you were, you try to believe that Fiddleford had to have done it for some good reason.

You quickly envelop Fiddleford into a tight hug, squeezing him tightly. He squeaks in surprise and you mutter, “Whatever the reason you erased my memories is…I know you have a good heart. I’ll forgive you, Fiddleford.” You feel his flimsy arms return the embrace, and you two sit there for a bit before pulling apart.

“Alrighty then, let’s get those memories back!” Fiddleford says, getting up and rummaging through the box to retrieve a textbook that spelled out ‘Quantum Mechanics.’ 

You all collectively shuddered at the sight of it, groaning in unison, “Ugh, quantum mechanics” before bursting out into laughter at your shared reaction.

“Dear god, that class was terrible! Not because of the content but our professor!” Ford groaned, “I swear he spent more time teaching us about his conspiracy theories than actually covering the equations needed for our assignments.”

“Stanford, I think you might be the only one who actually enjoyed the content of it, me and Y/N were ready to pull our hair out every single class.” Fiddleford chuckled before passing the textbook over to you.

You look down at it, brushing off the dust. A wave of nostalgia hits you as you flip through the pages, remembering the sensation of your cheek being pressed against those pages before jolting up, trying to wipe off the stray drool that had accumulated on the corner of your lip. You had fallen asleep in class again, a gentle hand shaking you awake.

You pause before staring up at the both of them, “Oh my god, I think I remember something.”

“You would wake me up whenever I’d fall asleep in lecture, Ford.” You say, the memory coming back to you with more clarity, “I always nodded off in that class since it was 8 AM and I usually stayed up the night before studying for exams.”

Ford and Fiddleford both look at each other before grinning widely. “It’s starting to work!” Fiddleford says excitedly, ready to fish out another object out of the box.

“Jeez, how much stuff do you have in here?” You chuckle, getting up from your seat to crowd around the box. Your eyes scan through the assortment of objects - old textbooks from physics and mathematics courses, decor from Backupsmore and a few older photos strewn about.

“I didn’t realize you kept all these things from college, Fiddleford.” Ford says, following behind you. “I didn’t either, guess I lost track of where everything was after my mind got scrambled. Tate found most of this stuff in a box that I apparently had stashed underneath my cot when I was living at the shack.” Fiddleford chuckled, scratching the back of his head.

The three of you spent the next hours sifting through the contents of the box and with each item plucked from the box, a memory from college returned as you pieced together the fragmented slivers in your mind. Some memories did not come as quickly, causing you some frustration but you put them to the side, cataloging it for later.

Soon the sunlight that leaked through the windows began to turn into a warm orange, signaling the sunset approaching. Ford had tried to hide an embarrassing photo from you and Fiddleford which resulted in you trying to wrestle it out of his hand playfully. You ended up snagging it from his six-fingered hold after he got flustered when you started getting closer to him, practically on his lap, to try and retrieve it.

The last photo was a polaroid of Ford with his face buried into your neck, a few beer bottles littered around him. Fiddleford was clearly holding the camera, his thumb sticking out in the foreground in a thumbs up. ‘Happy 21st, S.’ was scrawled out at the bottom, slightly faded over time.

“You were a light-weight, weren’t you?” You say cheekily to which Ford crosses his arms in protest, “It was my first time drinking, what did you expect?”

Fiddleford watched contently before seeing the sunset start to creep in, “Aw shucks, the sun’s about to set. Ya’ll should head out before it gets too dark. I know this one isn’t the best at driving in the dark.” He said, jerking a thumb over at Ford.

“I didn’t realize this was a gang-up on Stanford Pines session.” Ford huffed, getting up from his seat on the floor. You follow suit, grabbing the stack of photos that had piled up and placing them in the box before asking Fiddleford, “Mind if I take the box with me, Fiddleford? I’m hoping the more I look at them, more memories will pop up.”

Fiddleford nods eagerly, “Absolutely, Stanford can give you my number if you have any questions for me. I’m sure you’ll have a ton… after you get all your memories back.” He trails off, knowing the journey ahead to recovering your memories may come with some mixed emotions.

You give Fiddleford another tight parting hug, squeezing him almost like you may not see him again. You follow Ford out, placing the box carefully into the back seat of the red convertible before driving back down the hill.

You spent most of the drive taking in the sight of the golden hues over the lush forest. Occasionally, Ford uses his peripheral vision to take a glance at you, seeing how the gemstone around your neck glows against the sunlight. 

You catch him glancing once and he quickly shifts his focus back on the road, his chest puffing and his posture stiff. Your lips curl in amusement at how he tries but fails to be subtle. It’s quite charming - you were starting to see how you fell for him in the first place. “So… our relationship clearly wasn’t platonic, was it?” You ask suddenly.

Ford almost swerves off the side of the road at your question, quickly straightening his wheel as your hand reaches for the grab handle. “I didn’t realize you had put that together already..” Ford stammered before apologizing for his driving.

“Even if none of my memories had come back today, it’s pretty easy to pick up from the photos, especially the last one.” You chuckled softly before pausing. You mull over what to say next before finally speaking up, “I’m guessing we… didn’t end on the best terms, did we?”

Ford’s fingers gripped the steering wheel tighter, his expression tense. He looked defeated - weighed down by the weight of the negative effects that his desperate chase for knowledge had on his loved ones. 

Stanley, Fiddleford, you. 

Ford lets out a heavy sigh, “No, we didn’t… and it is my fault. I was on this never-ending journey trying to prove my worth but in the process, I pushed away those who saw my worth just the way I was.” He looks out into the horizon, seeing the sun begin to disappear between the Floating Cliffs. “If you will allow me, I really hope I get the chance to undo my mistakes and mend our relationship… just like Fiddleford and I have.” His eyes meet yours and your expression looks conflicted… almost like you can still feel the remnants of pain that he had caused all those years ago.

“Listen, Ford… I would like to start on the path of healing what happened in the past but I just got back memories from college. I am sure there’s a few more years of history up ahead… one step at a time, okay?” You explain, wanting to level his expectations. Ford nods in understanding, giving you a sad smile, “Understood, apologies for getting ahead of myself.”

As you made your way back down the winding hills, you both sat in silence the rest of the way back to the Mystery Shack. Pulling in front of the cabin, Ford shifts the car into park and clears his throat, catching your attention, “You aren’t planning on leaving tomorrow, correct? Stanley had mentioned that you had a whole trip up to Seattle ahead of you.” 

You stare deadpan over at him, “Ford, I literally was just told today that a good chunk of my memories are gone. Do you really think I’m worried about my trip?” You say with an eyebrow raised. Ford blinks at your response before rubbing the back of your neck, “That’s very true, I just want to make sure I wasn’t holding you hostage in figuring this out.”

You shrug casually, “Unfortunately, I can’t just pick up and leave knowing I don’t have a good chunk of my memories.” You smile, despite everything, you were grateful for this unexpected detour. You got to reconnect with an old friend, still got to enjoy some beautiful scenery and the free lodging didn’t hurt. “Besides, Gravity Falls seems like it has its own charms I can appreciate. I’m curious about the anomalies you came out here to study - everything seems pretty normal other than those floating cliffs we passed on the way down.”

A spark lights up in Ford’s eyes the moment you mentioned anomalies, seeing him grin in absolute glee. “Well, there’s a whole bunch out there, the Floating Cliffs is truly only scratching the surface of what oddities this place has to offer. I would love to take you anomaly hunting some time. Obviously nothing too intense, I wouldn’t want you getting hurt.” He realized what he had just said and began to stammer, backtracking his offer, “B-But only if you’re comfortable with that, of course.”

You giggle at his awkward charm, “I would like that. Maybe tomorrow?”

Before Ford can reply, both of you are startled by the sudden rapping of knuckles on the glass of the driver’s side window. You quickly whip your heads to see Mabel grinning, her braces on full display as she stares at the two of you through the glass. Ford rolls down the window, “Mabel, how long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough,” Mabel says before whipping out her phone to reveal a slightly blurry photo of you and Ford smiling at one another from an awkward angle, “to take this photo!” Ford blinks, his eyes adjusting to look at the photo before staring at it perplexed, “I still don’t quite understand how this small contraption holds a camera in it.” 

You laugh at Ford’s statement, leaning over his shoulder to take a look at the photo, “What, you don’t know how a cell phone works? Are you sure I'm the one who had their memories wiped?” Ford’s cheeks feel warm as he can feel the heat and weight of your body pressed against his back, “Great photo, Mabel. How was the roller rink?” You quickly change the subject, starting to pick up on Mabel’s matchmaking  tactics.

“It was great! My friends, Grenda and Candy, and I had a slurpee chugging contest to see who could get brain freeze the fastest!” Mabel explained excitedly. “I’d love to hear more about it, how about we head inside?” You say before pulling away from Ford to exit the car and follow Mabel back into the Mystery Shack.

Ford sat there in disbelief, his brain short circuiting over how your body felt against him as well as the prospect of going on a pseudo-date with you, before resting his head directly on the steering wheel, the horn echoing through the forest. You look back in alarm and glance over at Mabel, “Uh, is your Grunkle okay?” 

Mabel looks back and shrugs, as if it’s a common occurrence, “Probably, Dipper does that too against the wall when he’s overthinking something.”

You sat on the floor of the living room, listening to Mabel excitedly tell you about her adventures with her friends with Ford joining shortly after his malfunction in the car.

Dipper came downstairs, having spent most of the day reading over a strategy guide for Dungeons, Dungeons and More Dungeons that he wanted to go over with Ford, which led Mabel to recount her day again to the new audience member. 

“So, Y/N, was the trip to see Old Man McGucket a success? Did you get some of your memories back?” Dipper asks. You blink before realizing he’s referring to Fiddleford, nodding in response. “Yeah, thankfully, he had some stuff from your Grunkle Ford and I’s time at Backupsmore that helped jog some memories. Not 100% there but we’re getting there.” You share, “We actually brought some of it home to help continue to jog my memories.”

“Wait, are there photos? I wanna see young Grunkle Ford and Old Man McGucket! Grunkle Ford lore!” Mabel asks excitedly. You turn to Ford who seems reluctant to share with the kids, “Well, up to you if you wanna show them.” Ford hesitates for a second but the moment he sees Mabel flash the dangerous puppy dog eyes that Stanley warned him about, he’s easily persuaded, “Alright, I’ll go get the box.”

You spend the rest of the evening showing the twins memories from the past with Ford filling in some of the gaps you couldn’t quite remember still. Dipper and Mabel laugh at the sight of Fiddleford with a horseshoe mustache with Ford insisting that it was in fashion at the time. You smile at the sight of the family bonding before realizing a member was missing.

“Hey Dipper, is your Grunkle Stan not back yet? It’s getting a bit late.” You ask suddenly. Dipper takes a moment before snapping his fingers, “He mentioned something about not waiting up for him. He didn’t say where he was going, just said he was gonna be out late.” You look over to Ford who simply shrugs, “My brother is one of the toughest people I know, throws a mean left hook. He’ll be fine.” Based on everyone’s nonchalant reactions, you decide to trust that this was a normal occurrence.

The night ends with Mabel gushing over the polaroid that she found of you both, leading Ford to chase her around the Shack trying to retrieve it from her. Dipper and you doubled in laughter, watching the antics unfold.

Ford ended up stuffing it in his pocket, wanting to have at least one piece of your shared history to hold onto himself.

-

He wasn’t in bed… again.

You wake up yet again to the left side of the bed empty, the sheets feeling cold to the touch. The moon barely seeps light through the triangle shaped window, allowing your eyes to adjust quickly to the sight. Your eyes glance out the window. The forest is dusted white, snow coating the treetops and causing the glass to frost.

You begin what felt like a nightly routine at this time, sliding out of the bed. Your eyes are still heavy with sleep, rubbing them roughly. You slide on your slippers and make your way to the basement.

At this point, you don’t even need a light to guide the way, navigating through the dark cabin with ease. The wind howls harshly outside, its echo traveling through the quiet house. 

You finally arrive, shuddering at the sudden temperature drop from the upstairs to the basement. You push open the metal door. The lab is quite messy, sticky notes with equations plastered all over and triangle-shaped figures littered around it. You see the familiar figure, frenetically writing in the red journal in front of him as the metal door creeks to signal your presence.

“Ford?” You call out, walking towards him, “Are you alright?” You ask, something felt off with the way he was acting as you walked in. Even when he would reach a breakthrough in his research, he would jot notes down with a quick yet methodical manner. Just glancing over his shoulder, the writing looked messy & chaotic compared to his neat cursive.

You placed a hand on his shoulder, causing him to halt his actions. His hand reached up, placing it atop yours. 

However, rather than stroking the back of your hand like he normally would, he gripped it tightly, causing you to wince in response.

“Ow, Ford, what the hell?” You mutter, trying to shake your hand loose.

The grip only tightened as Ford’s head turned, bright yellow eyes staring back at you.

“Well, well, well, nice to finally meet you, Y/N.” 

You jolt awake, a thin sheen of cold sweat coating your body. Your heart practically jumps out of your throat as you look around frantically. For what, you’re not sure but your body goes into fight or flight, tossing the blankets off. The air around you feels thick and the room feels like it's closing in on you.

Your feet move automatically, rushing quickly out of the room and ascending up to where the attic floor is. You make your way down the hallway, slipping past Dipper and Mabel’s room to a hatch in the ceiling. You tug on the rope that dangles from the handle, opening it to reveal a set of stairs. You make your way up them before pushing a door that brings you to the rooftop ledge.

A gust of fresh air hits your face and you finally feel like you can breathe as you take a seat on the ledge. Placing a hand over your chest, you attempt to slow down your breath, inhaling through your nostrils and exhaling through your mouth. After finally grounding yourself, you stare up at the night sky, trying to make sense of what you just dreamt.

That was clearly a memory but why was Ford acting that way?

Why did it terrify you to the core, a knot in your stomach as you remember the yellow hue in his eyes?

Your thoughts are interrupted by the sound of car tires running over the lawn. You look down to see your car with its bright headlights illuminating the bottom of the Mystery Shack before shutting off. Stan steps out of the car, wearing all black attire and a set of black gloves, whistling nonchalantly as he makes his way to the trunk to pull out the car battery.

He hasn’t noticed your presence yet so you decide to call out, “Late night, huh?”

“Hot belgian waffles!” Stan semi-curses, almost dropping the car battery on his foot as he whips his head around before staring up to see you sitting on the rooftop in your pajamas. “How the hell did you get up there? Why are you even up there, it’s like 2 AM?”

“Did you really just say hot belgian waffles?” You can’t help but say with a tired grin, Stan’s antics taking your mind off your anxiety attack. “Had a bad dream, needed some fresh air… somehow I remembered how to get up here, my memory’s starting to come back somehow.”

“I try not to swear in front of the kids, come up with whatever euphemism rolls off the tongue.” Stan says with a shrug, “Guess today was a success, mind if I join ya? I can never fall asleep right away, got too much adrenaline in my system.”

“Sounds like you had a wild night, you sure you just got my car battery?” You chuckle before nodding at Stan’s question, “Go ahead, I could use the company.”

Stan makes his way back into the Mystery Shack, putting the battery near his toolbox to work on tomorrow before trekking up the stairs. He winces, his back aching as he makes his way up the stairs, cradling his lower back, “Jeez, I should really install one of those stair lifts at this point.”

“I don’t think you’re quite that old to justify having one of those.” You grin, scooting over for Stan to have a seat next to you, both of your legs dangling off the ledge. “If I did, Mabel would probably just put Waddles on it and have him ride up and down the stairs the whole day.” Stan chuckled.

“So any new embarrassing stories about my brother I should know about?” Stan asked out of curiosity. Despite them spending the whole past year catching up, there were still parts of Ford’s life that were still a mystery to Stan. Almost 40 years of their lives and they had just scratched the surface. 

“Well, I learned he drank about 3 beers on his 21st birthday and was pretty much on the verge of passing out.” You shared, tapping your chin, “He also got into an argument with a professor when they asked him to write his papers in print instead of cursive.” Stan chortles, “Yeah, that sounds like Ford alright. I got to see how much of a lightweight he is this past year. I had to carry him back to the boat after we had a couple of drinks at a bar near the dock.”

You laugh, hearing that time had not changed much in that aspect. “I’m sure there’s more. College is a lot more clearer but everything after that is still a blur.” You trail off, still having mixed emotions about it.

Stan shifts slightly before speaking up, “Hey, uh…I’m guessing you found out that you got your memories erased, right?” You nod, eyebrow raised in confusion at how Stan knows this. 

“Well, from one person who had their memories erased to another, don’t be too hard on yourself when you can’t remember. I swear there’s still stuff that the kids will tell me that takes me a minute to recall. Sometimes I don’t even remember and just try to play it off so they don’t worry.” Stan offers in a sympathetic tone.

“Jeez, Fiddleford used the Memory Gun on you too? How many people has he used it on?” You say in surprise, even more confused than you were earlier about the whole situation.

Stan sees your state of disbelief and chuckles, “I had the same look on my face when my brother roped me into all this. Ford’s actually the one who used it on me… it’s a long story but the point being is that, you’re gonna find out a lot of things that are gonna confuse the hell out of you. You’re also going to remember… a lot of painful memories.” 

“My brother and I seem close now but we weren’t talking for years… and I had to relive and relearn all of that when getting my memories back. It sucked, it felt like I was being punched in the gut every time.” Stan sighs before smiling sadly, “I’m sure you’re gonna feel the same way… I don’t know what exactly happened between you and my brother but I know Ford’s gonna try whatever it takes to make things right by you.”

“Thanks, Stan. I appreciate it, makes me feel less guilty for not remembering everything.” You say with an appreciative smile before shivering slightly at the sudden breeze that picks up. Stan notices this and shrugs off his leather jacket. Shaking your head in protest, you’re quickly silenced as Stan places it on your shoulders.

You bring the material close to your frame, feeling how warm it is from Stan’s body heat. “Thanks again, I’m really looking forward to getting my memories back..." You glance at your car, a reminder of your original plans for the summer. "Well, guess I gotta return all that camping gear I bought.” You chuckle, gesturing towards the camping gear mounted to the top of your car.

Stan looks at the gear and then back at you before offering, “Why not just go camping out here? There’s a campground like half an hour away we could set up at - I’m sure the kids would love to tag along too, they’ve been itching to do stuff while they’re here for the summer.” 

“Like all of us go? You think Ford would be up for that?” You ask, actually liking the idea of camping with the Pines family instead of going solo. 

“If he gets to spend time with you, yeah, he’ll go.” Stan scoffs.

You pause before grinning, “Guess we should start planning.”