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eldritch-elrics · 4 years ago

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i rewatched the entire ice age series and i have opinions

after rewatching some of the madagascar movies, me and @calocybe decided to embark on a quest to watch more animated series from our childhood. an obvious choice was ice age! so, i present to you: finn’s comprehensive ice age opinions masterpost.

read on for an in-depth review of each movie, my opinions on what the series does well (good animation, really fun chase scenes) and what it does not so well (manny is an awful protagonist), and some other things too (like my analysis of queerness in ice age)

first of all, a ranking of the five movies from best to worst:

ice age

dawn of the dinosaurs

collision course

the meltdown

continental drift

first movie

definitely the best

accidental baby acquisition…

it’s just a really good premise. three bros with completely different personalities are forced to work together towards a common goal that doesn’t even benefit any of them personally!

it’s silly and charming and well-written

diego’s arc is especially well-done and it’s easy to follow the way his personality and opinions change

my theory is that they made this movie because they wanted to show off how good they were at animating ice. most of the models and stuff are not very realistically rendered but the ice is honestly pretty impressive

honestly hilarious, has really good visual gags

one of my favorite parts is where they go into the ice cave and find like the ufo and stuff

also the baby does the vulcan hand sign at the ufo which was so subtle and REALLY funny

the ice slide scene. incredible

and then it transitions to the cave painting part with a fantastic depiction of manny’s backstory in a way that’s honestly heart-wrenching??

i wonder if the death of his own family is the cause of his annoying clinginess in later movies, especially with regards to peaches. unfortunately this never comes up again

there are some genuinely emotionally affecting moments in this movie, especially with the humans (when the human woman gives away her baby, when they return the baby to the group) - plus, kudos for conveying all that emotion with no dialogue

this is the only movie where manny’s emotional stuntedness is actually somewhat endearing rather than aggravating

this is also the movie with the most interesting villains - they feel like an especially relevant threat to the protags, and putting diego in with manny and sid creates both good tension and good humor

i wonder why the humans never came back. i think subsequent movies could have benefited from their presence, though i have no idea in what ways. not sure how they would’ve pulled it off but having the baby they rescued in the first movie appear as an adult in a later movie is a plot point that i think would have had the potential to be really powerful

second movie (the meltdown)

pretty underwhelming after the first movie

plot feels disjointed and the climax is weak

i feel like they were trying to go for this sort of found family vs nuclear family / reproductive futurism bent but didn’t entirely succeed and instead made the themes feel muddled. especially after the first movie which was all about rejecting heteronormative standards of family, having manny suddenly go “oop i’m the last mammoth better Reproduce” was a bit jarring

even if he isn’t actually the last mammoth, it feels like the wrong way to start a romance

in general the romance between ellie and manny isn’t very well-done in my opinion.

manny should’ve apologized for getting so offended when ellie freaked out about the pressure to save their species, but instead ellie apologized for “overreacting” for some reason???

number of biblical parallels: a surprising amount??

you’ve got. sid as a jesus figure to the sloth tribe, the ark saving them from the flood, scrat as moses??

the villains in this one were super boring they were just like… evil fish…

ok i’ve said too many mean things about this movie. to atone let me present this opinion: the scene where the vultures sing a parody of “food, glorious food” from oliver completely unprompted is one of the best moments in the series

also the possum brothers are wonderful

third movie (dawn of the dinosaurs)

this was my favorite as a kid!!

it’s still really good

it doesn’t take itself seriously and that’s wonderful. like… dinosaurs? in the ice age? objectively stupid plot. who cares

buck is the best character ever he’s so much fun

buck’s entire thing is also being a VERY cliche kooky adventurer but the way that they play with it and are self-aware about it makes it good

also i legitimately get chills at the scene where he explains his tragic backstory with rudy

god the romance with the female scrat is SO stupid but at least they’re clearly making fun of romantic tropes here

good team-building shenanigans, like the laughing gas sequence

there’s probably something to be said about the ways that family is portrayed in this movie but sorry i’m too busy looking at the scene where they get swallowed by a giant plant and buck has to like cut its veins like he’s diffusing a bomb

also i do need to mention that the scene where they find the carnage of sid’s attempt at feeding vegetables to the dino babies and buck goes off on his whole silly detective-shtick about what must’ve happened (“leaving broccoli… a vegetable!!!”) was my favorite scene in the series as a kid. it’s so wonderfully absurd!

there are a surprising amount of dick jokes in this movie? and by that i mean like 2 but. it’s really funny rewatching this and going “holy shit”

there’s also a joke about a butterfly dude that i’m pretty sure is a trans joke (“i knew that guy as a caterpillar! yknow, before he came out”) so that was also pretty funny

this movie parallels the first 2 by 1. having sid take care of kids and 2. having a group of creatures who copy all of sid’s wacky movements. i don’t have anything more to say i just think that’s funny

buck and rudy are kismeses send tweet

fourth movie (continental drift)

yeah okay this one’s the worst

it takes itself too seriously and that is its downfall

feels tonally off from the other ones

i saw this movie during the height of my hyperfixation on plate tectonics and i remember being very offended at the fact that they made such a mockery of the way it actually worked… :pensive:

(granted, poorly-done science is a cornerstone of ice age, so i can’t really say shit)

anyway this one really felt like a jumble of cliches. the enemies-to-lovers thing with diego! peaches’ teenager problems! manny’s troubles of raising a teenager! all the mean girls! evil pirates! sirens! woooo!

it just didn’t feel all that original and it didn’t play with the tropes like 3 did

what is it in this series with guys not apologizing for their sexism and then getting the girl anyway

also wow. damsels in distress much

sheera’s design is also such a generic “female animal” look

the ape dude was a boring villain and too much of the movie focused on the pirates

okay BUT the sea shanty scene slapped. had some good rhythm and clever lyrics

lewis was good and i’m glad he stayed friends with peaches

the water was well-animated! maybe they made this movie so they could show off how good they were at rendering water

the chipmunk creatures on the island are like knockoff minions/ewoks

in general this movie felt way less funny than the others. less punchy dialogue

fifth movie (collision course)

solidly in the middle of my movie ranking. not as good as 1 or 3, better than 2 and 4

this was my first time seeing this movie! which means that my view of it isn’t colored by nostalgia, and also that i have a lot more to say about it i guess

first of all it’s wild to see how much the animation has progressed… this one was so well-rendered wow

i liked this one a lot more than i expected to! it was a good time, and, like 3, didn’t take itself seriously, which is always great

the whole thing is built off a lot of bullshit science which offends my inner scifi nerd BUT i think they pulled it off quite well

the fact that they got neil degrasse tyson to do voiceovers is just so funny

they’ve firmly established by now that the ice age universe can fully ignore the laws of science when it wants to, especially with regards to scrat and his butterfly-effect influence on the world

okay buckle up because i have a lot to say about scrat actually.

scrat’s ability to influence the universe has been steadily increasing as the series goes on, so it made sense that he would be the catalyst for the apocalypse in this one

and also the catalyst for the creation of the solar system i guess?? which was very stupid. i say that in an endearing way. that beginning scene was super fun & wacky

absolutely brilliant way to bring the ufo from movie 1 back btw

ok so the prophecy tablet thing that buck brings back? he finds it by pressing a button with the outline of an acorn on it and that’s very interesting to me

at that point in the movie i was really invested because i thought that scrat and the protagonists were finally going to be forced to confront each other on the same level. the idea that ice age might finally break its unwritten rule of “the protags can never know scrat as the force of global change that he really is” was legitimately exciting to me, and it seemed appropriate for the last movie in the franchise

unfortunately this did not happen. scrat just keeps doing his silly scrat shenanigans

um anyway let’s talk about some of the other characters!

manny continues to suck. more on this in the “low points as a franchise” section

peaches was actually really good in this one! she’s grown out of her “teenage stereotype” phase and into a character with a believable narrative about growing up and moving out.

her boyfriend is adorable and i was surprised to discover i actually liked their relationship!

sid did not need to be paired off though. neither did diego. what is up with kids’ movies and their shallow heterosexual romances

buck is back and he is fruitier than ever

man i really like buck. he’s so silly and irreverent and flamboyant and it’s like kind of embarrassing to watch sometimes but it’s ok he’s just doing his own thing

the villains were pretty good in this one. i liked how the female dino didn’t have a stereotypically feminine design

on an entirely different topic: let’s talk about the aesthetic direction!

the scifi thing was super fun. like, absolutely wild for a series about the ice age, but whatever. i like scifi

like the whole superpower magnetism shit, especially the scene in the forest? great! especially reminiscent of the climax of the guardians of ga’hoole movie

however the whole dive into the crystal cave environment was a lil tonally dissonant and i think it should have been cut (introduced an entire new world/characters way too late in the plot and didn’t have time to develop them enough, went too far down the rabbit hole of magic healing crystals jokes and all that stuff which didn’t seem to relate to the rest of the story at all, introduced a fun but unnecessary girlfriend for sid, the time could have been better spent making fun of more scifi tropes and developing the villains)

brooke the sloth girl is just miranda from the tempest change my mind also that climax is on a similar level of stupid as that one episode from hoshi no kaabii where they deflect an an entire asteroid using uhhhh cannons i think

but it’s like. whatever. they’ve fucked around with science enough that they deserve this

also i just realized there were no chase scenes in this movie which is so sad??

so there are my thoughts on the individual movies. let’s talk about it as a whole!

high points as a franchise

this series consistently has VERY good chase scenes

just top-tier chase scenes with excellent comedic timing and general pacing

3 is so good because it has a chase as the climax, and that’s what ice age is good at

4 is bad because it doesn’t have a proper chase anywhere!

the animation is really good. by that i mean less like the models are realistic and more that they’re great at conveying emotion and body language through animation

like this is especially true in 1 if you look at the difference between the sort of smooth, not very realistic animation of the humans vs… scrat

like they’ve got the way scrat moves down so well it’s delightful

the movies are, generally, funny

there are good messages about found family, especially in the first couple

low points as a franchise

alright i had a bunch of these written out as universal truths about the series and then 5 actually improved on many of them! so here are some criticisms that apply to the first four movies only:

just… every single female character? they deserve better

too many damsels in distress

all the fat jokes about manny are so unnecessary

the romances are really boring and not very well-written or believable

okay with those out of the way here’s the real biggest issue with the series: manny is an awful protagonist

heterosexual “no fun allowed” man

they keep him sucky so he can have a fresh new character flaw to be worked on in the next movie but that seems like a bad formula for character development, especially how many of his character flaws seem to be related to mistreating the women in his life

the man’s got a major possessiveness issue

he is just the archetypical slightly shitty husband/dad who forgets the anniversary and doesn’t let his daughter see boys and calls women hysterical and yes he does get better at each of the individual problems and he does love his family but that development feels so shallow!

manny is absolutely making AITA posts and getting labeled the asshole

it also feels like he never truly learns from his mistakes. he needs to be learning to apologize properly and most importantly to communicate properly! there’s so little emotional reality to his development and the script always seems to give him the benefit of the doubt when he doesn’t deserve it.

plus, this series is meant for kids and i just don’t think manny is an appropriate or relatable protagonist for that audience?

on a mostly unrelated note, yes i do like the found family themes but when it starts pairing up every single character and implying that all of them are gonna be monogamous het couples and have kids and conform to the nuclear family model. that’s pretty sad

some more random thoughts

my dad once said that ice age fails as a franchise because the premise of the first movie was not strong enough to support sequels. i think i kind of agree - you can see in 2 they’re trying to worldbuild off what little they established in the first movie, and also set up a bigger cast of characters, while still keeping up the “man vs nature” theme that’s such a cornerstone of the series.

i’m not sure they completely succeed. the worldbuilding of ice age isn’t necessarily weak but i do think they could have done more to round out the world and make it feel less like just a prehistoric clone of ours

there’s something about the first movie that makes it feel like a moment suspended in time. we don’t learn very much about the pasts of the characters and they get enough development in one movie that we (or at least i) don’t feel any desperate need to know their futures. it feels complete!

so in all the other movies are working with a set of characters who have ostensibly completed their development. so in each new movie, they need to give the characters more problems. usually this comes from external factors, like new characters. a couple times they do a pretty good job introducing new internal problems for the characters - diego’s quest to get over his fear of water was a pretty good one i thought.

but after a while the main trio just stagnates. diego, once the most compelling character, becomes pretty boring. he doesn’t have anything to do anymore. i’ve already talked about manny - each movie he reverts back into an asshole and it gets old so fast. sid’s a little better; he’s got issues with his family and a desire for a family of his own and all that, but more often than not the conclusions to his arcs are unsatisfying

sid plays the role of the character who’s doomed to never get exactly what he wants, except, like, in a way that’s supposed to be funny. we pity him!

i think he has some archetype parallels with escargon from hoshi no kaabii (why do i keep mentioning hoshi no kaabii) but i am not going into that here oh boy

i feel like i’m juggling a lot in my head right now, but sid’s position as the comedic scapegoat is interesting. i’m sure there’s more to unpack here but i’ve already gone way too deep into this series

there’s also more to unpack when you consider his queercoding hmm

anyway, on that note…

additional thesis: sid the sloth is queer-coded

complicated relationship with family (they hate him and think he’s useless)

lispy voice

cares about “fem” things like children. takes care of kids in both movies 1 and 3. calls himself “mama”

gets pushed into the role of caring for the kid in 1

makes vaguely gay comments at his male friends, like “you have beautiful eyes” to manny

there are literally so many jokes in the first movie like. diego’s “you guys are an odd couple” to manny and sid

that whole part in 4 where he’s trying to kiss the sirens and kisses diego instead and is like “wow romantic”

not interested in the idea of a nuclear/traditional family. see his shenanigans with the dino babies

he is interested in women throughout the series though (bi rights)

5 especially tunes down the queercoding and tunes up the “awkward guy who can’t get girls” angle

so. ice age. is it fun? yes! i definitely enjoyed rewatching the series with my friend. and kids will probably get a kick out of the slapstick and silly dialogue. but if you’re not a kid and looking to (re)watch any of them, i’d probably just stick to the first one.

#ice age #movies #analysis #my post #long post #please clap this is 3k words #i sure do love overanalyzing media that isn't that deep LMAO

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claudiasjeancregg · 4 years ago

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ok um no preference between the two but 37 w/ Danny concannon/cj OR 23 with Leo mcgarry/Jordan Kendall (none of his love arcs get enough love :-((( ). Also, hi!!

hi!! thank you so much for sending in these prompts-. i couldn’t decide so i did both lmao. the first one’s pretty short though. i hope you’re having a good night!

23. “Just once.” Leo McGarry/Jordon Kendall (282 words)

“Just once.”

“No!”

Leo laughed at her stubborn expression.

“Come on,” he pleaded, in a way not appropriate for someone his age.

“Leo, I’m your lawyer,” Jordon replied, exasperated. “It wouldn’t be appropriate to-”

“You’re kidding me! At least give me a real excuse..”

Leo realized exactly how much he sounded like Josh as he said that. He wasn’t fond of that thought at all, so he pushed it away, continuing to bother her instead. Jordon held up a hand, pretending to ignore him, but the smile on her face gave away her true feelings.

“We won’t talk about anything work related, okay? I promise. No... nuclear disasters, or assassinations, or secret government plots.” Leo couldn’t help but grin at her glare.

“Too soon?”

“Yes! Leo-” Jordan threw her hands up in the air, like she didn't know where to begin with him. Leo caught them, taking advantage of her pause to pull her hands close to his chest. He smirked at the bewildered look on her face.

“Go to dinner with me. Tomorrow night.”

She started to protest, but stopped abruptly when Leo pulled away. She stood there, waiting for him to say something, but he just walked away.

“Leo!” she said, in that tone of voice he had grown increasingly familiar with recently.

“7:30. Old Ebbit Grill. I’ll see you there.”

He spouted off the details without looking back, smiling to himself as he left the room. God, he wanted her to come. He hadn’t wanted to get to know a woman like this in years- honestly, he barely remembered what to do.

All you have to do is show up, he reminded himself. The rest was up to her.

37. “Wanna dance?” CJ Cregg/Danny Concannon (812 words)

“Wanna dance?”

Danny slid up to her with a cocky expression, placing his arms on the bar right beside hers.

“Hello, Daniel,” CJ replied. She ignored his question completely. “I heard you were part of Josh’s master plan.”

He grinned at her, adjusting his tie with joking formality.

“Yes I was. We will go down in history- no, I’m serious!” he insisted.“We will go down in history as the most-”

“-idiotic men who have ever lived?” CJ interrupted.

An expression of mock hurt flashed over Danny’s face. CJ absolutely hated the moment of pause it gave her.

“No,” Danny scoffed. He started to come up with a comeback, but something about CJ’s face always made his brain stop working.

“Danny... should I be worried?”

She was being serious now, and he immediately knew what she was referring to.

“Nah. They’re- you know. It’s right in front of their eyes, but- no. Not tonight, at least.”

CJ sighed, not meeting Danny’s eyes. “I wish they could-“

“I know.”

The two of them never talked about Josh and Donna in specific terms- no one did- but it was on everyone’s mind tonight. Danny was still a reporter, of course- and as much as she hated it, she knew she could never fully trust him. Not right now. But today had proved to her, once again, that he actually cared. And maybe she could let go. It was the Inauguration Ball, after all. She could give him one night.

Danny really had thought that tonight would be the night for his two friends- with the way Josh had been talking about her, it seemed impossible that he hadn’t come to the same conclusion as everyone else.

He smiled thinking about it- “I swear, CJ, the way they were looking at each other-”

CJ’s eyes widened. “Don’t tell me these things! I don’t want to know!”

He laughed, and after a moment, she laughed too. God, he had missed that laugh. She never looked more radiant, more whole than when she laughed. In the past few days, there hadn’t been much to laugh about, though. At least today was a break- for them, for the President, for Josh and Donna.

“You look beautiful tonight, CJ.”

“Danny-“

“I'm not doing anything! I’m just saying, I think you look beautiful.” Her cheeks heated up, and she smiled.

“Thank you,” she whispered, lightly brushing a hand over his tie.

Danny couldn’t breathe as she touched him, freezing up for a moment. Her touch felt electric, and he didn’t know what he was supposed to do next except ask her to stay there forever. But that wasn’t an option. Right?

“So,” he said, already preparing for her refusal. “How about that dance?”

CJ paused. Why was she actually considering this? You’re the press secretary, she reminded herself, and he’s a reporter. And-

“CJ, It’s just a dance.”

Damn, he was good. He always knew exactly what she was thinking- not that she necessarily minded.

“Right. Okay. Yes.”

His eyes bugged out, and CJ was brought back to the time she had accepted his invitation for a date- well, a “business dinner.” That had been a good night. She had been too busy to go out, but he hadn’t given up, coming to her office with Chinese food and sitting with her while she worked.

“Wait- really? You’ll dance with me?”

CJ grinned at him, stepping away from the bar counter. She held out a hand, and he clasped it tightly.

“Yes, Fishboy. One dance- don’t make me regret this.” He straightened up, and spun her close to him. Their proximity made her heart start racing. She had missed this, missed him- no one had ever made her feel like this beside him.

They walked onto the dance floor, and CJ had to fight the urge to look around. She knew people were watching, but for once, she really couldn’t care less.

Danny noticed her expression tighten, but didn't say anything. Instead, he put his hands on her hips and pulled her closer. She felt herself relaxing, and wanted to say something- thank you, I’m sorry, can we do this forever? But she didn’t know how he would respond- well, no. She did know, and that terrified her.

Danny felt her hands move, circling his neck more firmly.

“Thanks for the dance,” he whispered into her shoulder.

CJ shivered, just a little- her height made his positioning a little more intimate than it would be otherwise, but he wasn’t making a big deal out of it. Of course he wasn’t, she thought. It was Danny.

That thought made her smile- it was Danny, and that’s why she was doing this. That’s why she had let her guard down, fully opening herself up for the first time since- well, since Simon.

“Anytime,” she responded- and to her surprise, she actually meant it.

that was so much fun!! i’ve never written for either of these pairings, for some reason- but i loved it. thank you so much for sending this in, i hope you liked them<3333

come talk to me about this show/send more prompts whenever! xoxo

#tww #aleena answers #asingerofdreams #aleena writes #my fic #tww fic #cj x danny #leo x jordon #the west wing

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creativeskullcreations · 4 years ago

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HTaHHQ Episode 3: The Vengeance of an Artist (part 1)

Episode 3 is here! Nick has a job, but will Stacy go for it? Find out when the next chapter comes out! :D

The Oddballs belong to @enderdwarf123

Stacy had gotten quite used to her routine at the Studio. Go in, get list of tasks, then pick up Scout from Daisy. She then had to do the tasks she'd been assigned for the day, with Scout often "helping", to whatever effect she could. The most help she was able to help was when Stacy had to fetch props, since the Puppet always knew where they were. Sometimes they also worked in the cafeteria, but not anymore since Stacy accidentally set a microwave on fire.

In her defense, Scout had distracted while she was setting the time, so it wasn't entirely her fault. She just forgot to take a spoon out of a bowl, that's all.

Now the only time she went into the cafeteria was for lunch, which suited her just fine. It definitely beat having to eat with Mary in her office, even if she had to sit with the Oddballs. They were four young men, the youngest being a sixteen year old who went to the local high-school, and were always seen hanging out together. Stacy really only sat next to them because Nick Nack, who would often come to the cafeteria, avoided them like the plague.

Plus they didn't seem to mind she was there, just continuing to joke and talk, sometimes including her and Scout in their conversations. Which Scout especially loved, since it meant she got to try out the new swear words she was learning. Though Stacy worried about her new vocabulary, and made her promise to never use those words around Daisy.

"I mean it, too. She might not let us hang out together anymore if she finds out you know how to swear now." The girl told her, to which the Puppet had nodded solemnly, treating it with the utmost seriousness. Scout certainly didn't want to be separated from her only friend outside her siblings, and could tell that Stacy didn't either.

Currently, it was lunch time on Friday, right before Stacy could go and sit at home for the entire weekend. She had collected her food on a tray, and was making her way to their usual table while futilely trying to defend it from Scout. As they got close, the could hear some of the conversation going on there.

"Anyways, so after all of that, Beth totally took all of his underwear!" One of them, Nathan was saying as Stacy approached, tray balanced on her right hand while holding Scout to her chest with her left. Held as she was, the Puppet could only pout and wait until Stacy let her go.

"Seriously?!" Sam responded. "Dude that is sick! He had nothing left?" He sounded honestly curious, and Stacy was as well.

"Absolutely not!" Nathan told them. "I guess that's what you get when-"

"And the girl's back." Daniel warned, covering Nathan's mouth. "Time to stop talking about your stupid college stories before we all get in trouble."

"I don't mind. "Stacy said, putting down both tray and Puppet. She picked up one of the sandwich halves as she sat down. "It's not like I'm gonna tell on you." She took a bite out of her sandwich while Scout went for the chips, devouring them like Cookie Monster would cookies.

"Eeeeeh, maybe? I mean, you're only twelve." John told her. "The stuff we talk about is for, y'know, older kids." He shrugged. "It's not really age appropriate for you."

"Ok first of all I'm thirteen." She told him. "Second of all I have seen so many R rated movies that nothing can faze me anymore."

"Aren't you scared of the Handeemen?" Sam asked, and received a death glare for his trouble. It was pretty potent, for coming from such a stick of a girl.

"No." She gritted out, before tearing into her sandwich. "I'm not scared of them. I just don't like them." A pause. "I do like Scout though. She's cool." Scout looked please at the comment, mouth full of crunched up chips.

"That's not what I heard." Sam muttered, and was popped on the head by his brother. "Ow! What?"

Daniel opened his mouth to answer, but was cut off by the cafeteria doors bursting open. They made a loud bang as they hit the walls, making everyone jump and stare.

"Where is she?!" Yelled Nick Nack as he wheeled into the room. Any remaining conversation died as the people inside realized that, once again, a fight was beginning. In the furthest corners of the room money started to exchange hands, while new bets were made.

"Did you check the lab?" Someone called back, while Stacy slowly sank into her seat. If she thought she could do it without attracting attention, she'd make a run for the door. But Nick was right there, and she didn't want to go anywhere near him.

"What did she do this time?" John asked, and Nick rounded on him, glaring. He drew back a little, wishing he'd never asked as the artist came closer, voice getting louder with every word.

"She took my best paints!" He shrieked, and Stacy gave in to her urge to fully hide under the table, which went unnoticed by the Puppet. Scout joined her a moment later, though mostly for the fun of it. "I told her not to touch them, and she took them for her experiments and I need them back now!"

"You sound mad" Sam noted, and Nick rounded on him. But before the Puppet could tear him a new one, Daniel stood up, adjusting his jacket.

"Here, Nick, I'll help you go find Riley. Maybe she hasn't used the paints yet." He suggested, heading out the door with Nick. "And if she has, I'll help you find some replacements, and tell Lydia we'll need to order some new ones."

"For her sake, I hope not." The Puppet threatened as they left the room. Everyone waited a moment, and then the lunchroom conversations continued. Stacy climbed out from under the table and sat back down, ready to resume her lunch.

"Not scared, huh?" Sam asked, an eyebrow quirked. Stacy squirted her capri sun at him, and the others laughed as he complained about the sticky juice getting on his shirt. Stacy watched as he blotted at it with a napkin, pushing the rest of her food towards Scout.

After lunch it was back to reorganizing the closets with one of the others; taking what Bonzai had messed up and putting the props back into their proper places. It was tedious work, especially when Scout was doing her best to keep things chaotic. But, with some time and Stacy eventually just grabbing the Puppet, they managed to finish eventually.

From the closet Stacy went to sweeping, removing... confetti? from the main set, upon which filming had just finished. From the corner of her eye, she could see the Handeeman Puppets. Daisy had gone off somewhere, but Riley and Nick were having a very animated discussion. Not that Stacy could hear it, or even wanted to, but she was pretty sure it was about the stolen paints.

Instead she focused on sweeping the confetti, then moved on to collecting the bits of paper from the fake bushes. This usually involved smacking the foliage with the broom handle to shake it loose, then sweeping it into the long handled dustpan. Sometimes Scout would leap into the bushes to try and help shake loose the ones on the inner branches, which Stacy was thankful for.

Together they were able to get quite a bit of the confetti swept up, leaving the floor of the set spotless. That done she started gathering the discarded props, piling them into a wheelbarrow for someone else to put away.

As she was doing that, she hummed softly, some anime theme song or another. Scout had asked her about anime before, and Stacy had resolved to show her some whenever she could break her out of the studio. So far she couldn't, as Daisy expected to literally be handed Scout each time the girl left. But, eventually, Daisy would forget, hopefully before a weekend, and Stacy could make a break for it with Scout.

So she was stuck making plans that wouldn't be fulfilled, at least not for a while. But still. it made her happy to think of such things, and so she continued as she helped to reset everything, getting it ready for next week's episode.

Soon enough it was almost time to leave. Most of the others had already left, leaving just her and Danny waiting for Mary to finish up whatever and come get them. She spent the time straightening the props while Danny played with Scout. Stacy had no clue what they were playing, but they weren't being loud so she left them alone.

However as she worked, she missed the approach of a Puppet on a wheeled stand, though in her defense the wheels were made to be silent. He watched for a moment, hidden around the corner of a "building" so as not to scare the girl. He stayed quiet, watching as Stacy carefully put things into position, and thought 'Yes. She is perfect for this.' He then came out of his hiding place, clearing his throat. The girl turned around and stilled when she saw him, a half formed smile frozen on her face.

They stared at each other for a long moment, but the second the Puppet tried to speak he was physically assaulted by a flying blue blur.

"Nick!" Screeched Scout as she launched herself onto his face. He caught her as she slid off, and spotted how Stacy grabbed Danny, holding the boy back. Unfortunate, but it made sense. Obviously she wouldn't want her brother around them, however safe they might be. Scout babbled on without a care as the girl shoved her brother behind her.

Tension now broken, Nick allowed himself to indulge in a small smile, looking Stacy right in the eye. "Miss Stein, I have a job for you."

#hello puppets #happytimes at handeemen hq #htahhq #stacy stein #nick nack #scout #the oddballs #fanfiction

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razberryyum · 5 years ago

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The Untamed/陈情令 Rewatch, Episode 2 (spoilers for everything)

(covers MDZS chaps 6 - 10 and a bit of 13)

WangXian meter: 🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰

(a 🐰 is earned every time there is a WangXian scene or even when they’re just thinking of each other)

I always tell people when I’m trying to get them to watch The Untamed that when they get to this particular scene in the second episode, they’ll know if they will be into the show. To me, this is the game-changer moment: you’re either in or out after this. If this scene doesn’t emotionally move you enough to at least continue on with the drama, nothing else will. It is seriously one of the most romantic scenes I have ever seen captured on screen. This was the moment that made me realize not only was I now fully committed to CQL, but that I had also found a new obsession and was ready to devote myself to Mo Dao Zu Shi. After all, something that can lead to the creation of such a beautiful scene MUST hold other invaluable treasures. So into the MDZS rabbit hole I went, happily diving head first.

Even now I’m still amazed that this scene exists in the intact form that it does. I started The Untamed with little to no expectations, especially knowing the restrictions it was under AND having just finished Guardian and experiencing how poor creative decisions can arise due to censorship (or at least, using that as an excuse for their dumb story choices). As I mentioned previously, the first episode was a hard sell since they definitely did not put their best foot forward first, but I liked Xiao Zhan immediately and Wei Wuxian as a character was interesting enough that I wanted to learn more about his past that led to his death and rebirth. The small glimpses we saw of his relationship with Lan Zhan also fascinated me, but then with this second episode, the weak points of the pilot still remained: there was still bad CGI (the statue) and very amateurish technical mistakes (in the recognition scene, at one point, in a close-up shot they’re holding onto each other, but in the next far away backside shot they’re clearly standing apart from each other, only to return to holding each other once again once the camera cuts back to a close-up...whoever the editor is on CQL probably should dunk their head in the toilet every time these editing errors pop up) that made my initial viewing of this episode a frustrating one for most of its runtime. I think I spent most of my initial viewing just distracted, playing on my phone or something, until the big WangXian moment happened and then I was shocked and awed. I know I wasn’t paying close attention that first time because when I rewatched the episode later on, I realized I missed a lot of dialogue and details. I have since revisited this second episode numerous times more, and I do feel bad about how dismissive I was initially. It’s a pretty loaded episode: it has funny, poignant, creepy, mysterious, and cool moments while still feeding us bits of the overarching plot. I definitely have developed an affection for it since my first viewing and it’s become one of my favorite episodes in the series.

Of Pining & other Heart-achy Things

This simple line from Jiang Cheng is enough to make my eyes well up with tears: I can’t help but imagine Lan Zhan traveling around the world for sixteen years, most likely all alone, stopping at different places to play Inquiry, fervently hoping that maybe one day he’ll finally receive an answering chord from Wei Ying, only to be confronted by a deafening silence again and again and again. How utterly sad and disappointed he must have been every time, and yet still, he never gave up and just went to the next location to do the same thing and experience the same heavy disappointment all over again. If that doesn’t make your heart ache, I’m sorry to tell you, your heart is no longer functional.

It’s a detail I don’t remember if the novel covered, but I’m assuming that Lan Zhan was the one to bring Wei Ying’s inventions like the spirit attraction flag and the compass back to Gusu and incorporate them for use in his sect’s normal cultivation practices. I know other people have use his tools as well since that nameless cultivator at the start of the episode was also using the spirit compass, but I feel that with Lan Wangji, he probably purposefully acquired and adapted WWX’s techniques so that every time they’re used, they can serve as a reminder of Wei Ying for him. Though it does make me wonder how Lan Zhan managed to get those approved by his uncle; I can’t imagine Lan Qiren being ok with using anything that was created by the man whom he blames for the corruption of his beloved nephew and model student. Did LWJ just pretend he created them instead? That doesn’t even sound right. Maybe Uncle Lan decided to be merciful and just let Lan Zhan win this one since he was probably obviously miserable after Wei Ying’s death. Yeah, I can buy that scenario, especially since the flag and compass are pretty useful tools.

I wondered did LWJ already suspect “Mo Xuanyu” was Wei Ying before he started playing Wuji on his flute. It’s curious that he happened to be in that part of the forest at that time. I’m guessing his Wei Ying senses were tingled when he heard about Mo Xuanyu’s skills from Sizhui and the boys so that’s why he was hanging around the vicinity just in case MXY reveals his true identity. After waiting 16 years for this reunion, it’s no wonder Lan Zhan had no qualms about holding onto WWX’s wrist in public for much longer than socially appropriate.

I actually get a little emotional every time I rewatch this episode and watch Jin Ling display his mad archery skills because I would always think of how much he takes after his dad. His parents would’ve been so proud to see him all grown up like this; Shijie would’ve been so happy she probably would get teary-eyed as well every time she saw her boy in action. Sure, he’s a spoiled little princess, but he is also a pretty skilled princess with a heart of gold and I just wish they had more time together as a family.

They looked so happy, look at all those smiles. It really makes me so sad that Wei Ying will probably never be able to hug JC like that again, and of course he’ll never be able to hug Shijie period. Great now I want to cry again.

Lan Jingyi Appreciation Section

I don’t think I’ve ever mentioned this precious boy by name so far, so I wanted to take this opportunity to show him some much deserved love. Lan Jingyi with his resting bitch face and steady stream of snark was really the MVP of this episode. He actually made me laugh out loud a few times...in fact, he almost always makes me laugh as soon as he scrunches up his face like he’s smelling something bad. I recently saw someone mention that he’s really the most un-Lan of the Lans (sorry, I forgot who posted that so I apologies for not giving proper credit) and that is really the perfect description of him. I love this kid as much as I love Sizhui and Jin Ling, and I am also sincerely fascinated by him. I mean, who raised him in the Gusu Lan sect? Cuz I cannot imagine Lan Qiren being the one since Jingyi undoubtedly would’ve had all his snark driven out of him at an early age. Hell, the amount of disciplinary action he probably had to have gone through would’ve probably killed him at a young age. Did he join the sect when he was already fully formed so that’s why he’s still breaking Lan sect rules right and left? He threatened an old man and is like rude to everyone. I don’t know all 3000 rules but I’m pretty sure being mean to the elderly and insulting to supposedly mentally unstable people are probably not allowed. If anything, his disposition would make him more suitable for the Lanling Jin sect and yet he’s with the stuffy Lans. WHY? I could watch a whole spin-off series with just him and the other juniors as long as we get to learn about how he came to be with the Gusu Lan sect. He’s hilarious and adorable, and among the many the reasons why I wish we had more episodes for the present-day arc, one of them is because I wanted to spend more time with the juniors, especially Lan Jingyi, even if it meant the screenwriters would’ve had to go off book and create new scenes for them. It would’ve been well worth it to hear LJY throw more shade at people.

Random Bits of Randomness

It’s kinda crazy how WWX just stood there with his back turned, oblivious to Jin Ling’s attack. If Lan Zhan’s blade hadn’t blocked JL’s sword, that would’ve been the end of our main protagonist. I just thought that was such an odd scene...I would’ve felt just a little better if Wei Ying had at least had a little more awareness that an attack was heading for him and made some attempt to get out of the way.

Ugh, that mask. First of all it’s ugly AF, and secondly it’s so freaking ill-fitting it was distracting. Would’ve been nice if the production team gave him a mask that actually fit his face. I mean, did it HAVE to be THAT damn big? I’m amazed they don’t have bts clips of Xiao Zhan tripping and hurting himself because the stupid mask blocked his vision.

Other than being a brilliant mastermind and Oscar-worthy actor, Nie Huaisang has got to be one of the greatest cultivators if not THE greatest cultivator of all time to be able to conjure up an illusion like that. That thing was doing real damage to people. If it was just a phantom, what the heck was holding up those two cultivators in midair like that? And what kicked Jin Ling around? I know Wei Ying was able to drive people crazy with his flute during his Yiling Patriarch phase, but his handiwork still felt more grounded and reasonable than this.

Questions I still have (please feel free to answer them):

- Who was that old man at the grave? Someone NHS paid to just hang around the graves until the juniors and WWX came by?

- So NHS basically fucked up Yan’s entire family and God knows how many other people just to get WWX to eventually play his flute to lure Wen Ning out from wherever he was hiding?

- How did JGY not know Wen Ning escaped? Or did he just leave those details to Xue Yang so he didn’t really care about what happened to Wen Ning? I’m trying if this was addressed in the book but my mind is coming up empty. I don’t think it was brought up in the show though, or I just completely missed it.

Overall Episode Rating: 9 Lil Apples out of 10

#The Untamed #陈情令 #spoilers #Untamed Rewatch #WangXian #Mo Dao Zu Shi #CQL #MDZS #魔道祖师 #Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation #Lan Zhan Lan Wangji #Wei Ying Wei Wuxian #Lan Jingyi #Jin Ling #Nie Huaisang #Jiang Yanli #Jin Zixuan #Jin Guangyao

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em2mb · 5 years ago

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Post-Endgame, Clint/Laura.

He holds onto Laura for a long time – tears sliding down both their cheeks, her loose hair ruffling in the breeze, their kids shifting restlessly, not sure if they should make this a many-armed hug or give their parents a moment. Clint wants to confess all of his sins, everything he’s been holding in since Natasha threw herself off the cliff in Vormir, but now isn’t the time, not if they’re going to sleep tonight in the dusty, decaying farmhouse that used to be their home.

Laura sniffles against his chest and tilts her face up. “Divide and conquer,” she tells him, and he wonders if the brave face she’s putting on is for him or the kids. “I’ll check the well. You get the generator going.”

“Deal,” Clint says. “Cooper, go see if the toolkit’s still under the sink, will you?”

It takes the better part of two hours to get the lights back on in the house, and when Clint comes back in, Laura is in the living room, shaking out their seldom-used sleeping bags and explaining to the kids that it’s just for tonight, tomorrow she’ll help them strip their beds and remake them with clean sheets. Cooper grumbles about the arrangement – “I don’t care if there’s five years of dust on my bed,” he insists – but all it takes is one warning look from his mother and he’s psyching his little brother up for indoor camping.

“I’d forgotten what monsters 13-year-old boys are,” Laura says, though not without affection, as Cooper and Nate roughhouse, and it’s the first time but not the last time Clint’s left to wonder if his wife was telling the truth when she said five years felt like a very long nap.

“Easy,” Clint calls because it looks like Cooper’s going to put Nate in a headlock. He crosses his arms and casts a sidelong glance at Laura. “So you told them. That it’s been five years.”

“Mmm,” Laura murmurs, her watchful eyes trained on Cooper and Nate. “I figured they’d learn the truth sooner or later, so there wasn’t much point keeping it from them. Well, from Cooper and Lila. I have no idea how to explain any of this in an age-appropriate way to Nate. I’m not even sure if I fully understand – ”

But she’s interrupted by Lila screaming her head off. Fortunately for Clint, the snake is the toilet is mostly harmless.

“He isn’t interested in hurting you,” he assures Lila, rolling up his sleeves as the rest of the family peers warily into the bathroom. He realizes about a second too late that they haven’t seen his tattoos yet.

“Wow, Dad,” Cooper breathes, “is that a dragon?” before Laura can shuffle them off. She pulls the door shut firmly behind her, and he can hear her in the hallway telling the kids to shoo, scram, give their dad some space.

Clint closes his eyes and takes a deep, shuddering breath. He wonders if coming back so soon had been a bad idea. He’s not entirely sure he remembers how to be a husband, how to be a father.

The bathroom door opens. “You want me to take care of the creepy-crawly?” Laura asks, wrapping her arms around Clint’s waist.

“Someone really should,” Clint quips, dropping a kiss on the top of her head and breathing in the scent of her shampoo. “How many kids are eavesdropping on the other side of that door?”

They both listen as the creaky old house comes back to life – the scuff of shoes in the hallway, kids’ voices in the kitchen, the opening and closing of cabinets, another piercing shriek from Lila – before Laura declares, quite confidently, “Zero, though once you’ve released that guy into the wild, I’m going to need you to kill a mouse.”

Clint chuckles softly into her hair. “I can do that,” he tells her, then he apologizes because it’s his fault their house is falling apart. “Laur, I’m sorry. I really let this place go to shit, didn’t I?”

“Hey,” she says, cupping his face in her hands, “that’s the last time I want to hear you apologize for something that wasn’t your fault.” She kisses his mouth. “And the last time I want to hear you swear in this house, Clint Barton.” She arches an eyebrow, like she’s daring him to challenge her.

He would never. “Yes, dear,” Clint mumbles against her mouth as she kisses him again.

“I’m glad that’s settled,” Laura says brightly, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Now, was there something you needed to say away from little ears?”

Clint closes his eyes, exhaling slowly, unsure where even to begin. There’s red in his ledger now, and he’ll have to tell her about Ronin eventually, but his more pressing concern is how to break it to the kids that Auntie Nat won’t be coming around anymore. “It’s about Natasha,” he says, lump rising in his throat.

This time, it’s Laura who takes the deep, shuddering breath, and tears leak from her beautiful brown eyes. “It’s OK, Clint,” she tells him, “it’s OK, I forgive you. Five years is a long time, especially if you thought we were gone forever. It’s in the past, it’s – I forgive you, OK? I forgive you. Both of you. Tell Nat – tell Nat – ” Laura chokes back a sob “ – she should be here. I want her here. Tell her that, OK?”

“What?” Clint says, frowning down at her because there’s no way for her to know what happened on Vormir, a soul for a soul, the sacrifice Natasha had made then so he could hold Laura now, no reason for forgiveness to enter the equation, unless –

Unless she thinks you’re admitting an affair.

The force of the realization makes Clint let go of his wife. “Jesus, Laura,” he snaps. “That’s immediately where you went? I didn’t cheat on you. Not with Nat, not with anyone. And there’s no message to pass along because Nat’s dead. She’s dead. She died.” I killed her.

Laura blinks. “No,” she whispers, taking a step back, away from him. “No, no. No. You’re always supposed to come back. Both of you. That’s what you promised. You and Nat, you’d always – ”

“Yeah, well, I should never’ve made that promise,” Clint says as hot tears of pain and frustration well in his eyes, and he swipes them away with the heel of his palm, “because eventually one of us wasn’t going to come back.”

Laura’s still shaking her head. “No,” she says again, even more vehemently. “No, you said – you said Dr. Banner snapped his fingers and brought us all back.”

“Not Nat,” Clint says, raking a hand through his hair. “Bruce says he tried, Laur, and I believe him. But he couldn’t bring her back. She’s really gone.”

He isn’t prepared for Laura’s wail of anguish, her guttural howl. She grasps blindly behind her for the sink, but her hands miss by a long shot, and she collapses in a heap on the floor before Clint can catch her, sobbing so hard she’s hyperventilating. He needs to get her calmed down – the kids are already crashing through the house, hollering, “Mom! Mom! Are you all right?” – but when he tries to wrap his arms around her, she begins pounding on his chest.

He lets her. “I know,” Clint says, catching one of her clenched fists before she can sock him in the jaw. “I know, baby, I know.”

Cooper pounds on the door. “Dad? Dad? What happened? Is something – ”

“Coop, I need you to take your sister and brother outside,” Clint interrupts. “I’ll come get you guys in a little bit, OK?” No answer. “OK, bud?”

“OK,” Cooper says reluctantly, and Clint can hear him shepherding Lila and Nate out of the hallway.

The exchange through the door seems to subdue Laura, though her face is still scrunched up, tears leaking from her closed eyes.

“Laura,” Clint says, cupping her cheek in his hand. She rolls her face toward his touch. “Open your eyes for me, babe.”

She shakes her head. “I don’t want to,” she insists. “No. This is a really horrible nightmare, and if I just keep my eyes closed, I can still wake up.”

“Laura.”

“Did she suffer?” Laura whispers.

“No, babe. She didn’t.”

“Who killed her?”

Clint closes his eyes, too. The truth is, Natasha had taken that running leap herself. “No one,” he says heavily. “She sacrificed herself so we could bring everyone else back. She saved the world, Laur.”

“No,” Laura sniffles. “No, she didn’t.” Her voice cracks. “She saved us.”

#clint barton #laura barton #avengers endgame #post endgame #endgame spoilers #natasha romanoff #em2mb writes

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vroenis · 5 years ago

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The Internet Is Not Remarkable | Which Is Why It’s Remarkable

Oddly I’ve not ever felt the need to unplug. I don’t have a sense of separation between life happening away from the Wire and life happening on the Wire or the Wire not being life. It was never a distinct thing I ever had to decide was or wasn’t life or became life, either. Being born in the early 80′s, I guess means the Wire wasn’t always there as a salient presence, integrated into the fabric of life. Heyo I had a Nokia 3210. That doesn’t mean anything, by the way, it just places me on a timeline. Nostalgia sucks and is literally valueless. Let’s make art you can steal.

Anecdotally it means I saw the internet happen as a Thing. It’s less important than it sounds. Also the internet going from not being a Thing to being in our pockets. OK. But honestly it’s not very important. As in the transition isn’t important. There were a lot of people there when it happened and I think a lot of us if and when we’re honest will tell you now, in retrospect, it’s not a big deal. People older than I am and some my age and younger who have an ignorant and uninformed understanding of life and experience will go on about life being better or significantly more meaningful before or without the Wire but honestly they’re wrong. I’ll come out and say it’s flat better. Sure it makes misinformation easier as much as it makes all the good things better but wow media control and information mass-dissemination before the Wire? Are you kidding me?

On the topic of unplugging and digitally detoxing and I realise The 1975 just made a video all about it that was overly cute, yes, but still pretty fucken’ great. Let’s link it because honestly, it’s a wonderful snapshot of its time that they’re unquestionably aware will date immensely and that is a big part of the point. The 1975 hardly need any more promo but what can I say, I’ve no problem being part of an adoring fanbase and adore them we do. Let us adore.

youtube

That it’s so on-the-nose and that it’s a big part of the point is going to anger and frustrate people so much, moreso that exactly that reaction is a part of being caught-up in the inevitable participation in what the song and indeed, what Matty as an individual and what the band as a commercial and cultural entity are. The too cool thing to do is say you didn’t know anything about it, you didn’t watch it, you don’t care for it, you’re immune to it and continue to be ignorant of it - sure, I used to be cool like you. The thing is I both care less and more about being cool.

I love this song, I love what it’s doing and what it means. I love being a fan of and loving things. I love that other people love things I love. I still love loving things no-one knows about but I always love other people finding and loving my things, even if and when some of them behave badly because as an adult and an individual, I understand that participating in one cultural activity doesn’t mean I’m fully represented as a whole cultural entity.

Coming back to unplugging and that not being necessary for me, it connects to not being overwhelmed by it, which connects again, to the Wire not being separate and distinct from what I see as my experience of life. If the Wire is a mundane aspect of life then it’s unnecessary to disconnect from it. I engage with it as much as I engage with other things, that is to say I’m fascinated by, obsess over, and grow bored with things on it as much as all subjects, objects and activities in life equally. I don’t think this is unique to me at all, I suspect it’s quite common.

As it happens, I got into Instagram in a big way around the same time I got into contemporary board games. Both of these things I’ve almost wholly discarded. Almost, but not quite. I still maintain my Instagram account because I’ve made some valuable and enduring connections on it and as a platform I seem to have nurtured some semblance of an audience for a sprinkling of subjects and visual motifs. As for board games, I’m actually still quite interested in them but there’s so much about them as an industry and culture I actively dislike and have also grown bored of that I’ve consciously disengaged from them.

Facebook as a culture has always been weird to me, I can’t say I’ve ever understood it as a platform. Primarily it seemed to function as a space to connect with people you already know - OK. So then we’re encouraged to engage with one-another on... topics we may or may not already be engaging with either in our physical time together in which case, it’s redundant? Or we post articles we expect others to read which mostly they don’t unless aaaaaah - they’re short, reductive and in simple language and now the exercise is hazardous. The platform then actively co-opts strangers into discussions by facilitating cross-posting intra-sharing articles, which to be frank is about eyes on ads and ad-revenue, here we get to the ultimate objective of Facebook as a platform which I guess is why none of it makes any sense. Engagement at all costs. Of-course Facebook doesn’t care about racist groups and the real violence it precipitates, why on earth would that matter to them? The only thing that matters is capitalist gains. As long as it doesn’t directly cost them and as long as there are no economic consequences for them, they will proceed, and this is pervasive and transparent in the way all actions are facilitated and encouraged on the platform as a utility.

There’s more to discuss about Facebook but you’ve had those discussions before and they’re boring. Facebook is boring. The way people use Facebook is boring. Many of my peers ported to Instagram because as many of them said “It’s like Facebook but just pictures” and something along the lines of “It’s just pure” and there’s a high degree of truth in that. The sense of purity comes from the feeling of positivity in that thumbs becomes hearts - the likes an image gets. Engagement is fairly low-level. People express their endorsement of an image or do nothing at all. Occasionally there’s discussion, predominantly positive and for the most part I’d agree it’s wholesome. You can find toxicity easily enough and all of it is bad, but there are whole spaces on Instagram where you’d be forgiven for thinking it was a platform free of it altogether.

I guess it’s worth mention when I was peak Instagram, I was producing a super lo-fi but passionate board games podcast I recorded with R and we were also running several public and private board games groups around Melbourne. There was a lot of good about that sense of community and some of those people are still in our lives now. Platforms like Instagram are great for celebrating many of those aspects, I’d still say better than Facebook. Instagram is more approachable and simpler for just showing a thing and liking it - the engagement is direct and the commitment level (sign-up, visual clutter, privacy concerns, settings digest etc.) is minimal.

There are some Instagram Stories (read: Snapchat clones) there listed under This Account that briefly go thru the effective mothballing of my account. To have a different discussion here, I know how much and what kind of work it takes to build and maintain and audience on Instagram and it’s not interesting to me any more. It’s boring. I don’t mean to disrespect the audience I have there, all audiences are made up of people. Their behaviour on the platform is indicative of the cultural space that Instagram is, not their respective characters and that’s fine. That I’m bored is indicative of my feelings towards the platform and the culture it fosters, not how I feel about the people themselves. I still really like most of the people I’ve made connections with on Instagram and ping them DMs about beer, Lego and art once in a while. Instagram is about keeping it light - or lite is perhaps more appropriate - and I’m happy to keep my engagement level likewise.

That makes it extremely strange that I chose tumblr as a cultural space for my long-format writing, then, hey. Sure does. I did write about tumblr as a cultural space and honestly I still feel the same way about it - I absolutely love it here. Even tho I don’t engage in tumblr at all in the way the culture here utilises it, oddly I still feel right at home, fitting that one of the titles of the entry is Hiding In Plain Sight.

I don’t effectively have an audience for my writing here, tho, and that certainly is different. There’s a certain buzz missing from seeing a post light up with hearts, but then I think - a post gets a tally of hearts, of likes, so the people around me - my audience - likes an image and/or the accompanying text I’ve written tho that’s unlikely as the ratio of viewers to readers is likely to be extremely low. So if I think about how meaningful the text is to me versus the image, sometimes it’s split down the middle, but often the writing is far more important or at least there’s massive intent for gravitas to the image. Without the text, the image would be pleasant at best, and I realise that’s what people are engaging with and throwing a heart at, and I’m not interesting in doing that. I’m interesting in writing and expressing because I’m doing that anyway. I’m talking to and for myself regardless which I’m very happy to do, so if I’m going to do that, I’m happy to do it on the assumption of no audience and just express freely without restraint on subjects that interest me the most.

I either will or won’t develop that audience, but it will have to be with people who are dedicated enough to read and that might be a thing just yet, but who knows, there may be coming a time when people realise it’s not the Wire they need to unplug from. I’m not spinning up theories because it’s less complicated than that. I still operate a Facebook account. There’s a lot to hate about Facebook but of itself it’s mostly banal. Sure its UI and UX both are horrors that precipitate actual nightmares (unrelated but recent: none worse that iTunes MY GOD WHY WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY) but from a utility perspective it can be useful in the least. I have connections with a handful of people and communities which are useful to me for the moment so until they’re not, I’ll use the platform - but my weekly usage would be measured in minutes, I’m not sure I’d make cumulative hours in seven days.

When I moved away from Twitter and Instagram, I wanted a more considered approach to everything including images. I did once take long walks in Melbourne and photograph things that I found aesthetically interesting and under the circumstances that isn’t possible. I did stop doing that much earlier than Covid19 tho but that’s due to family circumstances alluded to in other posts. I still think if I ever take up photographing things with the same regularity, those images will end up here, simply because if I want to cut in with text, I can with better control. But also because it’s more meaningful if I don’t, and also as an artefact, a html page is something that invites a more static approach to the scrolling endless feeds of Instagram and Facebook. That design is absolutely intentional to promote short engagement and continued dismissal and that’s not something I want to encourage, with mine or anyone else’s art, thoughts, responses and engagement.

I don’t think I’ve addressed how The Internet Is Remarkable, but it’s pervasive in much of what I do on and with the Wire. I think accessibility is one of the most powerful things we do as humans. I’m sure there are folks who are sick of Margaret Mead’s healed femur anecdote or at least people quoting it. I fucking love that quote. I might not like people not fully comprehending it but I sure love what it truly represents. I think something people may be surprised to hear from me is that I will never say that I don’t like people. I really don’t like the quips and memes about hell being other people or I don’t mind going outside, it’s the other people ad infinitum. It’s easy to look at a large representation of behaviour and say “People are stupid” but it’s much more difficult to sit in a room of people you know and tell them they’re stupid. I might find it increasingly difficult to find other adults with which I can engage, on subjects I and they both can and enjoy engaging on, but I both have the willingness to and the optimism that it will and should happen. A part of that is the exercise - the practice of considered expression, of thinking, language and performance. Some of that for me is writing here, some of it is in the musical instruments I play, some of it is in the oral auditory words I speak.

Fucking around is good fun, we don’t always take life too seriously - sure, but we also don’t just fuck around. If that’s all you end up being able to do, there’s so much you end up not doing, not seeing and experiencing. Imagine the only form of expression you have is to tap a heart. That’s not to diminish the power of tapping that heart - mate, smash that shit - did you see that last picture of the beers we bought? DID YOU SEE MY BEERS? Those are some champion fucken’ beers, follow my Instagram.

Look you might need to unplug occasionally or partially or permanently or whatever. This isn’t a sermon, I’m not talking at you, I’m talking to you or rather I’m talking to myself. I’m telling you about myself because like everything I do and typically will always mention, it’s a provocation but also an invitation to talk about yourself. We share with one another to learn about other experiences and grow perspective on our own - you get all of that. That’s why the Wire is a good thing. Accessibility to broader experiences is a good thing.

This mass documentation we’re doing? Even if no-one reads it, even if only a tiny shred of it is shared... do you realise how immense that tiny shred is? Of a billion billion billion terabytes of unread, unseen, unknown data, the tiniest fraction that gets shared between humans is still huge were it to remain hidden and secret - all the wonderful art, the ugly horror, the juvenile silliness, the unending pain and sorrow, the saccharine sweetness, the lilting playfulness, the nonsensical vagary, the bare minimalism, the overbearing eloquence, everything subjective and argued and agreed and ignored.

The internet is an ordinary book of everything made of electricity and you carry a copy of it in your pocket.

I’ll echo similar sentiments to those in the feature on Jeremy Blake. You can be an arsehole, or you be awesome and kind and we can do amazing things together.

#internet #chrono #2020 #nostalgia #nostalgia is pointless #no really nostalgia has no value #steal this art #The 1975 #The 1975 The Birthday Party #NOACF #Facebook #Instagram

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rmjagonshi · 5 years ago

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Whole Again Chapter 23

Whole Again on AO3

The violent tension between them eased. Stan went back to sleep for the remainder of Christmas Eve, Stanford following soon after, choosing to nap on the floor of the cabin. They did not discuss Ford’s actions, nor attempted to deal with the emotional fallout. Ford himself couldn’t fathom why he did what he did. The shame compounded when he informs Mason of what happened when the boy texts him on Christmas Day. Unable to talk to the boy face to face, instead he texts a more coherent story to him than he had told Mabel. He didn’t leave anything out, even if he desperately wanted to.

He had typed out the whole story in several paragraphs, and sending each text out in rapid succession. He didn’t want to give the boy a moment to respond. Once the last text was sent, he flipped the screen over on the work table in front of him.

He was sixty years old. He had traveled the multiverse for thirty years. Very little scared him anymore, but this…

He was terrified of what Mason would think. Logically, he knew Mabel had told him something. Really, Stanford wasn’t telling the boy anything he didn’t already know. But it still scared him to admit it fully.

He sat waiting for several hours. Or was it minutes? Was it minutes? It felt like ages just staring at the back of his phone case. It was clear so he could place a photograph behind it. He hadn’t yet. He really should, but the only photographs they had were tacked up on the walls.

Stanford sat in his chair, elbows braced on his knees and hands folded in front of his mouth. He watched his mobile pone with an intensity reserved for things with a particular degree of danger. He tried to focus, but his mind spun off in several different directions. Sure, Mabel seemed to handle it well enough, but Mason may not. He wouldn’t blame him. Couldn’t blame him. Stanford couldn’t defend this. It wasn’t rational.

But he’d given up trying to explain it. It didn’t matter. No explanation was really necessary. What he needed to do now was stop. Just let Bill go. Let the happy memories fade and be crusted over with bitterness and hatred.

Hadn’t he tried to do that with Stan all those years ago? Cover up nostalgia and longing with anger? It hadn’t worked then either.

He felt like crying again. He had cried more in the last six months than he had in the past thirty years. His eyes were itchy. The skin around his orbits was dry and red and bruised. The skin around his fingernails nibbled to the point of bleeding. He hadn’t shaved in days. Neither one had. Wasn’t much point out here, and there were far more important things to worry about.

Like whether or not his grandson would ever talk to him again. Nephew! Grandnephew. Mason is Sherman’s grandson. Not mine.

He jolted when his phone buzzed. His first instinct was to tear open the window and chuck the thing into the water so he wouldn’t have to respond. It buzzed twice more, vibrating on the smooth surface. The glow from the screen faintly shining along the edges.

He didn’t want to answer it. Instead, he stood up, and paced the small length of the cabin. There wasn’t much room, little less than ten feet or so. He passed by the window where Herman sat. The little tree peered up at him with concern. They hadn’t been paying any attention to him the past few days. The tree waved its tiny branches at him; a child reaching for its parent.

Stanford patted Herman’s green and leafy head, twiddling his fingers as Herman made attempts to grab them. His tiny mouth soundlessly opened and closed. When Stanford didn’t react, Herman grasped his second pinky, the only one small enough for him to hold onto, and shook it. Stanford blinked, unsure of the tree’s meaning, until he noticed that Herman was trying to pull his hand down. The soil was dry. How had he been so neglectful? He picked up the watering can sitting beside the tree on the windowsill. The water tipped out in several divided streams and Herman squeaked in delight, dancing back and forth in the rain.

Stanford smiled at the little thing. “Look at you. All you want is attention, water and sunlight. You have no worries. You don’t care what anyone thinks of you.” He placed the can back on the windowsill and watched as the excess water seeped into the soil, passed Herman’s interlocking roots and through the hole in the bottom of the pot. The now slightly brown water beaded at the edge of the pot and the chipped plate it was balanced on.

A tiny squawk pulled his attention back to the tree. It waved its branches towards his face, flicking water droplets on his cheeks and glasses. Stanford stepped back, wiping his glasses on his shirt before looking down at the still squawking tree. It seemed to be gesturing in his direction, then to an area behind him.

He turned, expecting Bill, but he was alone in the cabin. If he listened closely, he could still hear Stan’s snores from down below. A buzz echoed through the silent cabin. His phone…again. He should answer it. He turned back to Herman and the tree squawked loudly, waving his branches angrily at Stanford, then towards the table.

Stanford sighed.

“I know, ok? I know. I need to respond. But what if he doesn’t want to speak to me again? This is Bill, we’re talking about. I…” His hands came up to rake through his already disheveled hair. “I don’t want him to hate me.”

Herman just gave him a somber look and cooed. His phone buzzed again.

That was five. He had to respond now. He walked the ten or so feet from the window to the side work table like a man marching to his death. His pace was hesitant and uneven. Then, all at once, he was standing beside the table with little memory of how he got there. And little desire to pick up his phone.

It’s fine. It’s going to be ok. No matter how he feels, no matter what he says. I have no idea what he’s going to say. What is he going to say? No! No. It doesn’t matter. It’s out now. No more secrets. I’ve kept too many secrets already.

Stanford sat back down in the worn chair and waited. Come on! It’s not going to bite you. Words might…hurt, but they won’t actually cause physical harm.

He took a steadying breath and reached for his phone. The cool plastic bit into his fingertips as he flipped it over to read the screen.

It was dark.

He took a second breath and pressed the side button, drawing in his passcode pattern before Mason’s texts appeared on the screen.

He held his breath as he read the first message.

Ok, first, it’s gonna be ok. Mabel and I are here for you. So is Mom and Dad and everyone else. We still love you.

A gasped sob forced its way from his lips. He couldn’t even finish reading before his sight grew blurry with ever more tears.

DAMNIT! Pull yourself together! You are too old to be weeping at the drop of a hat anymore!

He wiped his eyes on the sleeve of his jacket so he could keep reading.

But you have got absolutely ship taste in…boyfriends? Is that the right word for this? What is Bill anyway?

Stanford chuckled at the auto-censored profanity. He’d usually call Mason out on it; there was no reason to use profanity when other, more colorful and accurate descriptors were available, however he doubted there was a better descriptor in this instance.

As to Mason’s question, Stanford himself wasn't sure what his relationship with Bill could be called. Though he was certain it wouldn’t be something so juvenile.

He scrolled to the next text.

Second. I would ask why? But this is Bill. I think I can get an idea, and frankly, I don’t really want to know the details. You told me enough already. And Mabel won’t shut up about what you told her.

He grimaced. He would have to apologize to the boy. He had promised both of them and himself that he wouldn’t keep any secrets from them. Mason had asked and Stanford had told him. In age appropriate terms, but still. He supposed it was akin to hearing about your parent’s or grandfather’s relationships. Kind gross when you looked too closely at it.

He read further.

Third, and yes Mabel told me, how are you doing with this…whole new…’thing’…now that Bill and Stan are…well…Bill and Stan? I mean, we’ve been trying to figure it out for a month now, and it seems to be the best theory we have so far.

He felt phantom bile build up in his throat. Yes. Mabel’s theory. It was a good one. And one he hadn’t bothered considering until she had told him. It was still one he wasn't willing to contemplate for any significant time. He wasn’t ready for that yet. He may never be ready, but he needed time to collect evidence before he made any decisions of faith. And if he was going to have a breakdown, he really wanted to do it where he felt safe.

He didn’t know how to answer Mason’s question. So instead, he ignored it and continued reading.

Btw, I think there might be something we need to talk to you about. I don’t really know what’s going on, but we told Mom and Dad about what happened. You know that part. Well she called Soos to confirm and he sent over some pictures and scans of your journals. Not many pages, just some. But my point is that everyone knows what happened. But when we told Mom and Dad, they

The text had reached its character limit and had been split.

Thought that you and Stan had done…’things’. I don’t know how to put this. Mom said that Great Grandma Caryn had told her something. But she won’t tell us.

Stanford frowned. He hadn’t spoken to his mother since mid-September. He and Stan both had sent her postcards as often as they sent them to the kids, but they never scheduled calls. Something his mother had told his niece? Something his mom had told Diane that had gotten her concerned enough to question the safety and health of her children? There was something he was missing.

Mason, I don’t think I understand what you’re getting at. I know it might be difficult, but I need you to be clear.

He could address Mason’s previous questions later. The reply came almost immediately.

Mom thought Stan molested Mabel and me.

His cell phone hit the table with a clatter as his hands went slack. He blinked several times to clear his vision and leaned over the table to re-read the text. It didn’t change. He swallowed to clear his suddenly dry throat and tried to formulate a response. But his mind was blank. He just stared to the phone on the table, the glaring words from Mason’s text boring holes into his brain. The boy was only thirteen! Why did he know about thigs like that? What possessed her? How could she think?

The insanity of it whipped up a torrent in his mind. He tamped it down enough to reply.

What? How? What on Earth gave her that impression?

Well, Weirdmaggedon was kinda traumatic. For all of us. Mabel still has nightmares sometimes and…and I get them too. Mom took us to see a therapist and we were being screened for PTSD. I was supposed to be taking anti-psychotics and Mabel was being treated for depression.

What in the hell had been happening in Piedmont!? Why hadn’t the kids told them? Sure, they had written and talked about doctor’s appointments, but nothing of the context. The next text shook Stanford out of his thoughts.

When we told them about summer, that all stopped. But Mom said something she heard from Grandma Caryn made her think that. Do you have any idea what she means?

Not even the faintest.

I may have a few ideas. But none of them substantial. Influenced by the news? Stan’s sordid past maybe? Your guess is as good as mine.

But it was something your Mom said.

And that was what confused him the most.

I really have no idea. There’s something nagging, like I should know. But I can’t bring it to mind. Mason, this is a serious accusation. I think I may have to sit down with both of them and figure out where this is coming from. But it will have to wait for now. Stan is still healing and…

And there were more important things to consider. This speculative nonsense could wait until he talked to them.

And I don’t know how I’m feeling. This ‘whole new thing’ as you put it. I still need to collect more data.

He paused a moment before continuing.

And you have no idea how good it is to hear you give your support. I know I don’t deserve it. But all the same, Thank you. I know my…’feelings’ towards Bill are asinine. But unfortunately, they are real. Bill wearing Stan’s face, or whatever this is now is

The text auto-sent when it reached the character limit. He was rambling now anyway.

I don’t know where to go from here. I don’t know what I’m doing.

It was the honest truth. He really didn’t.

You can’t stay out there forever.

Technically, yes, we could have.

Could have?

Bi Stan’s been sealed. He agreed to create or magic up some unicorn hair. Just enough for a proper seal. I had the moonstone and mercury already. It’s still in the early stages, and he’s sleeping off the stress from the past few days, but it seems to be holding.

He didn’t bother to correct his typing mistake. What was the point now?

Does this mean you guys are coming back?

He didn’t want to crush the boy’s hope. Even if Mabel’s theory was correct, even if Stan and Bill were the same person and even if he was sealed, he still had Bill’s memories. Bills personality. It was too dangerous to take them anywhere near their family. But it was quickly becoming clear that they would have to find a port to restock.

I don’t know. No more magic means our supplies will dwindle. We will need to make port eventually. If the seal holds, and he can’t take it off…

He didn’t really want to think about it just now. Too many steps ahead.

I don’t want to tell you what to do Grunkle Ford, but COMEHOME!

He wanted to. At this point, he wanted to. But there were still far too many unknowns, far too many variables to account for.

And Call your mom!

That on the other hand he could do. And really probably should do sooner rather than later.

Even if it we are wrong. I will risk fighting Bill again to make sure you come home safe.

Mason’s final text left his head spinning and his heart full.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Christmas Day was spent in quiet contemplation. Stanford with a phone in his hand chatting with and reassuring the kids - abandoned book on seismic activity in the Atlantic on the bed beside him - and Stan propped up with a makeshift puzzle to test his finer motor control now that his natural depth perception was gone. Stanford hoped that, given enough time to recover, Stan's previously documented healing magic would set in again and would repair the damage.

He could only wait and see what happened.

Stan, despite still being disoriented in the mornings and a little clumsily when it came to judging far distances, was recovering uncannily quickly. Like it was his natural condition, and having binocular vision was foreign. He struggled for less than a few hours adapting to everything being skewed left, but it seemed as though his brain and body adjusted easily.

Stanford was still taking notes on his condition. Vitals, rate of adaptation, how quickly Stan completed the puzzle each time, what sort of music Herman liked to listen to, Mabel's recovery from another bout with Smile Dip, memories of Bill…memories of Stan.

He’d called his Mom at Mason’s behest. Christmas evening. He’d been too scared to try a skype call, so he’d opted for a standard phone call. It was somehow more intimidating than talking with his grandson. NEPHEW!

“The little ones filled us all in on what’s been happening out there. But I want to hear it from you. An’ don’t try and lie to me, or hold anything back, Stanferd Pines, ‘cuz I’m yer mama. You can’t hide anything from me.”

Hearing her voice, her real honest to god voice was still soothing in ways he didn’t even know he was hurt. He’d neglected to call home much after college, and with Bill and the portal and spending thirty years…well, he never expected to hear her voice again. It was a relief to know he could apologize to her. To make peace. To her her say that she loved him.

He’d spoken at length. Telling her as much as he was able about his research, the portal, Fiddleford and Bill. About what happened to him for the thirty years he was in the multiverse. About his feelings for Bill. About their relationship. And about what had happened since the end of summer. Much of it repeated from his last call to her, but she listened silently, only interjecting with the occasional question or asking for clarification. She made no comment about his relationship with Bill. She didn’t ask him to explain, even though he did. She just listened.

“And I just don’t know what to do now. I don’t have a plan anymore. I’m out of my depth.” It felt so strange to say. Stanford had always had a plan of action. Even in the most dire of situations, he had something.

Caryn’s Jersey accent cracked over the speaker.

“Where’s Stanley now?”

“Sitting in the galley. He’s doing a puzzle. His depth perception should be gone, but he’s recovering alarmingly fast.”

“Can I talk to him?”

NO! Stanford’s ears rang with the force of the mental shout. He stepped close to the stairs to see Bill, but Stan had pulled himself into the corner of the booth, hidden from Stanford’s angle.

“I…I don’t…” He stuttered, hesitating at the top of the stairs.

“Stanford?” His mother’s voice was growing concerned.

I can’t. I’m sorry. I can’t. Not her. Stan’s voice rang out in his head, so full of fear that it was staring to seep into his own thoughts. He gulped, clenching his free hand to steady his nerves.

“Mom…you have been listening, right? I mean…about Bill and…everything. Stan isn’t…he’s not…” He had explained it right? Stan wasn’t himself.

“Stanford Pines, he is my son and I want to know that he’s ok.” There was urgency on her voice. He couldn’t refuse her that.

“He is. As much as he can be. I’m doing my best to make sure he is.”

“You’d better. And what about you? Are you ok?”

Well, she had told him to be honest. He pulled away from the steps to the cabin door, pushing it open and standing on deck.

“Stanford?”

He took a breath, but it came out as a sob anyway.

“…..No.”

“Stanford, honey…?”

“I still love him, Mom. He hurt me so much. But I still love him.”

“Who’re you talkin’ about? Stanley, or this Bill fellow?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know, and that’s part of the problem. They’re so much alike. I never noticed it before, but they are. And I can’t tell the difference anymore.” He didn’t think there were any tears left, but sure enough, his voice cracked and his eyes stung.

There was a sight on the other end of the line.

“Stanford, sweetie. Maybe it’s time you stopped tryin’ ta figure this out on your own. Let us help. Let your family help you.”

“I can’t! What if he hurts you? What if Mabel’s wrong? What if something bad happens?!”

“Just…we’ll think of something, ok? We can figure this out together. Just come home. Please.”

Twice. That was twice now his family asked him to come home. He didn’t want to give up this opportunity, but wasn’t it lost anyway? They weren’t sailing around the world looking for anomalies anymore. If they did, he would be putting his entre family in danger. Again. He couldn’t do that.

But there was nothing else he could do here. They were going to run out of supplies soon. He was out of ideas and Stan needed real medical care if his magic was truly sealed. He needed help. His family was willing to help.

Maybe it was time.

“I think…I think we are. Just a few more days to see if the unicorn necklace works. I won’t leave until I know for sure. And I can’t sail by myself. I need to know Bill can maneuver well enough with….with one eye.”

“Thank you.” The relief in her voice was palpable.

“I love you, Mom.”

“And I love you. Just get back here so I can say it to your face.”

He hung up without thinking to ask about Mason’s question. He shook his head. It didn’t matter. That was a conversation he wasn't ready to have just yet.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Three days passed in relative calm. He kept everyone updated. Stan was recovering. His color returned and his balance was as steady as ever. Depth perception gone, but you wouldn’t know it from the way he handled things. His appetite returned with vigor and they were alarmingly low on food. Stan had tried fishing again, but nothing was biting. They were in an ecological dead zone.

Preliminary tests yielded much needed relief. Stan was unable to use magic. His fingers flickered with tiny blue flames, but the unicorn seal was effective. He was unable to manipulate objects or pull things from the ether. Stan’s previously documented healing ability was muted. He was unable to actively use magic to heal, but his natural healing process was decidedly unnatural. Stanford was still uneasy about Bill still being able to invade his mind, but he supposed mindreading and thought projection was preferable to out right possession.

Stan had told him that their connection was instinctual rather than something actively sought out. Stan didn’t utilize magic when he read Stanford’s mind or projected his thoughts.

The implications were unsettling.

It was mid afternoon on the twenty-ninth when Stanford returned Stan’s phone.

Stan had been sitting on deck with a pole, hoping in vain that he’d be able to catch something for dinner that wasn’t rice and beans. But there was nothing. Stan still wore the bandage covering his eye and hands, but the wounds were mostly closed now. He sat in the fold out chair beside the railing, eye focused on the listless bobber.

Stanford stood, arms crossed, and leaning in the doorway of the cabin, watching him. The face was the same grizzled and scruffy profile of his brother. Stan had grown a nice beard in the time they had been out there. The grey surprisingly dark despite the shade of his hair. The balding spot at the back of his head less noticeable.

Stanford could almost imagine that everything was normal. The calm ocean breeze, Stan fishing for their dinner. His hand clenched around the smart phone tucked under his arm. He wasn’t sure if this was the right thing to do, but it felt…earned. Stan had earned it.

Stanford’s history with Bill made him wary, but Bill as Stan…it was hard to say.

Stanford told himself that this was a test. What would Bill do with access to the kids? At least communication. Both Mason and Mabel had expressed their desires (and trepidations) to speak with Stan. And they were prepared to deal with the fallout of Bill chose to speak instead.

Mabel had assured him that his fears were groundless.

Stanford crossed the deck quietly, steps muffled by the pink bunny slippers on his feet. He stood at Stan’s left side, eyes on the horizon for a moment, or six, before he held the charged phone under Stan’s nose.

When nothing happened, he turned to see Stan had leaned back in his chair, eye trained on the phone in Stanford’s palm like it was going to bite him.

Stanford’s voice lodged in his throat. They should talk. They needed to talk. But he couldn’t. He he had gathered enough from the little Bill let leak from his mind that Stan wasn’t ready either.

Baby steps.

This was his peace offering.

Stan had turned to look Stanford in the eye. Stanford felt the hesitant probe into his mind. It was like a cooling effect starting at his temples and radiating over his scalp. Bill was trying to see if he was serious. The fishing pole sat tucked into the arm of the folding chair, forgotten, as Stan reached for the phone. Fingers brushing against Stanford’s palm as he took it.

Stan cradled the phone to his chest, hand covering the entirety of it as if Stanford would take it back. Stanford, instead, nodded, dropping his hand and turning to head back into the cabin. A firm hand wrapped around his wrist stopped him.

Stan’s fingers traced over the leather band of Vegvisir, dipping under the band to trace his wrist. He hadn’t taken it off much since they left Iceland. It was supposed to guide lost souls, and he needed any guidance any Gods were willing to offer.

Stan’s fingers trailed up and of the heel of his palm and across his fingers. He offered Stanford a soft smile, turning away abruptly and blinking back tears.

Damnit, Sixer! Keep makin’ me cry like this an I’m gonna get an infection.

Stanford smirked at Stan’s mental words, pulling his hand free and walking back to the cabin.

“As long as you let me change the bandages, it’ll be fine.” Funny how he could find his voice only when he was walking away.

“Huh? What did you…?” The fuck was that!? Was I that loud? Fuck. Need to control it better. Freaks him out.

“Yes, you are that loud. And…I’m used to it. That doesn’t give you permission to do it all the time, but, I’m fine with it.” Stanford entered the cabin and made his way down stairs to start making their meager meal of rice and beans.

“Sixer, I wasn’t talking.” Okay. Small thoughts. Private thoughts. Breathe.

Stanford felt a distinct change in the cool feeling over his scalp. Like it was pulling back, taking part of his mind with it. He frowned, rolling his eyes at Bill’s pathetic attempts to quiet his thoughts.

“Can still hear you!” He called, rooting around in the cupboards for a clean pot to boil rice. He heard a clatter from upstairs and the rapid pounding of steps coming nearer. He really didn’t want to fight. They had spent the last few days in relative calm. He had hoped that it might last a bit longer.

What does it mean? What does it Mean?!

“It means you’re loud. Now stop. I need to cook dinn…” But he was interrupted by a hand on his shoulder. Stanford whorled around, fist at the ready, despite logically knowing it was Bill. His instincts were still in top form.

But his fist was caught, Stan’s face fearful.

“Sixer, I ain’t talkin’. With my mouth or my mind. How’re you hearin’ me?”

Stanford glared, yanking his hand free to turn back to the counter, but Stan grabbed his arm, intent on having this conversation.

Same way I always hear you. How else?

But Stan’s eye widened. His thoughts louder still and woven with fear and confusion. What the hell is that?! Why’s my head feel hot? Why’re you so loud? How can he hear me?

“What on Earth are you talking about now? What…”

The ship shuddered. Hard. Stan instinctively wrapped his arms around Ford, tugging his brother close. His first instinct to shield Ford with his own body. Ford had made an effort to push Stan away, arms coming up to bunch in his shirt before he realized the greater danger. They stood silent for a moment before the ship shook again, this time, nearly throwing the twins off balance.

“Look, we can fight later. We got bigger problems.” Stanford pulled away from Stan and darted up the stairs again, Stan a step behind him.

The cabin door slammed open, handle digging into the paint on the wall behind it. Stan leaned over the railing beside his toppled chair and fishing pole, Stanford skidding to the rail on the other side of the deck.

The water was choppy, waves slapping against the side of the ship well past the name plate. Moments before it had been dead calm. There was no wind, lest none strong enough to cause wavs like this.

“Something’s out there.” Stanford’s voice floated just above the sound of the waves.

Stan strained his sight as far as it would go, but the unicorn necklace held firm. The water was too dark to see much below its surface. But whatever hit them had to be at least the same size as their ship. Which meant either they needed to get the fuck outta dodge, or grow wings.

Sub maybe? But then why aren’t we sinking? Got to be living. What the hell is that big?

“PORT!”

Stan was sliding into the port side railing beside Stanford in four strides. There was a rapid churning in the water some hundred yards from their ship. The water was noticeably lighter with tiny whitecaps and it was growing bigger, all coalescing into…oh fuck.

“Maelstrom!”

“How the Hell?!” There isn’t anything here. It was all a joke!

“The Bermuda triangle has been a hotspot for paranormal activity for centuries. What’s surprising is we haven’t run into anything yet.”

“No, it isn’t, and I would know.” He would know. There’s nothing here. There wasn’t supposed to be anything here. It was just an arbitrary patch of ocean that didn’t even have anything interesting at the bottom. It was just the Hatteras Abyssal Plain. It was called an abyss because there was nothing there!

Although the whirlpool virulently forming on their port side begged to differ. Stan wracked his mind to explain why a fucking maelstrom was forming in the middle of a mono-directional current. Whirlpools formed near shores, hell some of the biggest were tourist locations. So why here?

“Then what is this?” Ford’s questions were not helping him find the answers.

Stan just spread his arms, palms raised and face looking shocked and baffled. “Fuck if I know!”

“I thought you knew everything?”

“Yeah, well, it takes time to find things. And I never said I knew…”

The ship lurched violently again, knocking both men off balance.

Ford raced to the starboard side and peered over the edge. The water was too dark and to choppy to see anything beneath the surface. Stan could feel that they were being watched. It crept up his spine and pinched at the back of his neck. There was something in the water. Something that was not supposed to be there. Many somethings. Stan’s palms grew cold, and his throat seized.

“We aren’t caught on the main pull, just the feedback. Turn the engines on and get us out of here!” Ford bellowed, climbing on the roof of the cabin to grab the stabilizing rope for the antenna.

“On it!”

The ship lurched again, sending Stan careening sideways into the wheel. A dorsal fin came into sight over the railing. It was dark, and grey and the lack of a visible tail fin told Stan all he needed to know. He hoped they were hunting something else.

“That’s not just a whirlpool, Sixer!”

“I see that!” Ford’s response was muted by the water slapping against the side of the boat. Stan hadn’t turned the engines on yet. Had they been bumped, or just jerked around by the currents? He could hear Ford’s phone clicking as the dorsal fin slipped below the water.

“But they’re extinct! They’ve been extinct since the Pliocene. There’s…is there enough food to support such an apex predator? They shouldn’t exist.” Now was not the time to be a scientist Poindexter! They really should have installed a hull cam for instances like this.

“You gonna be the one to tell him that?” Go ahead, Sixer, tell it that it was in the wrong time period. The disappearance of the dorsal fin indicated a dive. Which meant they really needed to move. But they were cold, they had virtually no heat signature. Wait no, the engine was hot. And they gave off an electrical current. But if he started the engines, they would be noticed if by some miracle they hadn’t been already. Shit. Shit shit shit!

The whirlpool sputtered, like something enormous had passed through it.

“Just go!” Stan slammed the ignition and turned the wheel hard to starboard. The Stan O’War II jerked to life and sliced through the water at a top speed of 14 knots. It wasn’t fast, not really, but it was the fastest they could go with their craft. Stan crossed his fingers and hoped they would go unnoticed.

He knew that the universe hated him when he risked a look back and saw the dorsal fin re-appear and give chase.

“GO!” Ford roared, swinging down off the roof, and pulling the stern antenna guide rope to the railing. The bow guide rope already secure.

“We can’t out run a Meg!” His brother was crazy. Top speed of a Great White was nearly 20 knots, Megalodon was at least that fast. They would be overtaken within minutes.

“We’re gonna try,” was Ford’s only response.

The only way they were going to out run this thing was to outmaneuver it. Time to utilize those shitty driving skills. Stan cracked his proverbial knuckles and spun the wheel hard to port. They cut right in front of where the snout would be and Stan felt the ship spin 30 degrees as the beast grazed the bottom of their hull.

Stan pushed the throttle as far as it would go and gunned it back in the direction of the whirlpool.

“What are you doing?!” Ford was at his side now, braced against the cabin door frame. His eyes stretched wide and mouth hung agape.

“The only thing I know how.” Stan barked, spinning the wheel back to starboard. Ford jerked and leaned into the turn as they banked just shy of the whirlpool. It wasn’t enough to tip the boat at this speed, but the splash of water on his right side was unnerving. He’d have to be more careful.

Ford charged from the cabin door to the railing and aimed a sniper rifle in the distance. He held his breath for one, two three, seconds and takes the shot. Stan wants to tell him that it’s a waste of time to try, and a sniper round isn’t going to do anything against that hide. But he doesn’t, he just turns the wheel to ride with a rogue wave.

Ford shoulders the rifle and pulls back the sleeve of his jacket, the anomaly tracker strapped to his wrist. He clicks the button twice and a tracking beacon blip appears on the hologram.

“You really think you hit it?” Stan asked because he really doesn’t know if Ford could have made the shot. Ford shows him the beacon momentarily before heading in the cabin and hooking it to the main sonar beacon and slips on the heavy and oversized set of headphones. Herman cowers close to his pot. Ford spares a moment to pat the little tree before turning his attention back to the sonar.

Stan can hear the faint blips of a few larger-than-they-should-be things in the water around them. They hadn’t used the sonar much since leaving Iceland. Ford’s main focus was making it to a safe area to contain Bill, to contain him. They used it briefly in the Baffin Bay up near Greenland but that was to avoid icebergs or any other ships in the area. They hadn’t needed it much. It was limited, but it was far better than sailing blind.

Stanford’s voice crackled over the speaker mounted on the wheel console. Stan flicked the two way switch on the mic so he could reply.

“Got her locked, It’s a big one. Damn near eighty feet!” Stan heard a few more clicks and pings from the sonar. “And it’s small compared to whatever else caused that maelstrom.”

Eighty Feet!? Jesus Christ, what does it eat?!

“Coming up on your 5 o’clock.” It was eerie how calm Ford sounded, like he’d done this before. They really needed to have that talk about Ford’s adventures. But later, they had a monster to run from.

Stan yanked down on the throttle and leaned into the wheel, steering them to port and gunning it again. Stan yelled over the buzz of the engine, “How many we got?”

“It’s fuzzy, but I’ve got four distinct pings, we only got one on our tail. And she’s closing fast!”

Damnit! Give UP!

“4 o’clock!”

DAMNIT! God, I hope this works.

Stan slammed the throttle to zero. They listed for about 100 yards, losing speed fast. The ping darted past, not expecting its prey to stop. Stan engaged the engines and wrenched the wheel with all his strength sixty degrees. It was a hard turn, one that splashed his side again, but they were clear.

“Jesus!” Ford’s veneer of calm was finally cracking. Stan whooped and pounded the wheel with his fist.

“At current speeds and trajectory, it will be at our 1 o’clock in 2100 feet. You got a minute-thirty!”

Shit. This was gonna be hard. He couldn’t slow down. If the thing was aiming for their 1 o’clock, then it was gonna be leaning right when it met them. Best case, they graze the starboard bow, worst…well, he didn’t fancy their chances with their entire bow gone. Time to pull off a miracle.

Stan kept course. If he changed direction now, it would notice and readjust its own trajectory. He’d have to rely on the turning radius of the ol’ girl. No magic to help this time.

The seconds ticked by in a surreal state of taking forever and slipping passed at unnervingly fast.

“900 feet.”

“I KNOW!” Stan gripped the wheel, willing his heart to stop beating hard enough to bruise him from the inside out. A niggling voice told him to have Stanford take off the unicorn necklace. Stan couldn’t. He couldn’t even touch the thing with his hands. But no. He couldn’t control it. He was more likely to put them in more danger than they were already in. They were just going to have to do this the old-fashioned way.

Stan jerked the wheel to keep on course.

We’re gonna make it. We’re gonna make it. We’re…

“It’s changed course! 3 O’CLOCK!”

FUCK!

“Starboard!”

“You’re fuckin’ crazy!” Stan shouted over the wind. What the Hell was Stanford on? If it was coming in on their 3, then they were going to hit it head on if they turned now.

“Starboard, NOW!”

“Damn you!” With his magic bound, he wasn't able to see what Stanford could. It was a moment of trust. Did he trust Stanford?

The answer was obvious.

Stan spun the wheel hard to starboard, right into the jaws of a creature of legend. He braced against the wheel, waiting to heat the crunch of steel and fiberglass. But nothing came. He opened his eyes in time to see a dorsal fin taller than he was pass by their boat close enough to touch. A thump from below told him they had slipped over the head of the monster.

It was over in a moment and he slammed the throttle as hard as he could and leaned further into the turn. Protective symbols faded in an out around his hands and neck as he pushed harder. He strained against the seal to get eh ship to move faster. Just a little faster.

“It’s not acting right! Megs are ambush hunters, its chasing.” Stanford’s voice was shaky over the speaker.

“I know! Sixer, I know!” He didn’t care if it was acting like it should. Hell, it could be typically an herbivore and he wouldn’t care because it was chasing them right now!

Several pings and sonar feedback reverberations spat out of the speaker. The pings were faint and spaced. Did they lose it?

Stan heard a lever switch on, a few buttons press and his ears were ringing with the magnified sonar. Stanford had cranked it up to eleven.

“It’s headed back!”

Stan felt a wave of exhaustion as much of the adrenaline left him. He leaned on the wheel console as he slowed the ship down to a stop. He could hear the sonar. There was nothing after them, but he was still on edge. Something wasn't right.

After a few more moments and close monitoring of the sonar, Stanford stepped out on to the deck, binoculars in hand. He raised them to his face and leaned against the railing.

“Jesus! I think it finally got tired.” It came out as a gasp. Stanford’s shoulders shuddering with each panted breath. Stan’s mind slammed against the inside of his skull hard enough to blur his vision as magical symbols wrapped around his head.

“Nope, found better prey” How the hell did we miss that?

“What?” Stanford had dropped the binoculars to tun back, but Stan just nodded at the water.

There was an eruption of water 600 yards off their ship. A juvenile whale rose up out of the water, twisting and writhing. As the water fell back, they could see the form of the giant shark that had been chasing them. Pale underbelly rippling with the effort to stay upright. Teeth sunk into the flesh of the whale easily bigger than their ship. The snout jerked back and forth sending frothy spurts of blood and tissue.

“Holy mother of…yeah ok.” Stanford pats frantically at his pockets searching for his phone to snap pictures.

Stan pats his on the shoulder and turns to head back inside. “I’m gonna get a beer, you want one?”

Stanford grunts and nods distractedly, giving up on his search for his phone and instead bracing against the railing and watching the monstrosity slip beneath the surface of the water with its victim.

Stan heads down the steps to the galley, pulling out the last two beers they had. Well, Stan had a bottle of rum tucked away behind his mattress, but he didn’t suppose either of them were intending to get drunk. He cracked the tab and took a sip. The chilled liquid doing its job at cooling his over heated insides. The galley was in disarray. Paper and tools and books all strewn about the floor and bench. The cupboards were locked closed, but he was sure that the plates and silverware were a mess behind those closed wood panels. They’d deal with it later. First, they needed to figure out where the hell they were. They were probably still in the Bermuda Triangle, but there was no way in Hell they were staying around with one Meg around, let alone however many came through.

Stan grabbed the second beer, taking another sip from his own and making his way back up to the cabin. He met Stanford at the door and passed him the can.

“You were saying something about the Bermuda Triangle not being a hotspot of paranormal activity?” Stanford raised an eyebrow, popping the tab and taking his own sip, grimacing at the taste.

“But it’s NOT! I made it up. Why do you think it’s a triangle?”

“You made it up?” Stanford stared at him incredulously, beer held slack.

“I thought it was funny!” Stan rests the can against his forehead, hoping the cool liquid will cool his aching head. “Jesus, where the hell did those things come from? They sure as shit ain’t from this dimension, that’s for damn sure.”

Stanford hummed, leaving his can on the table and waling over to the main computers. A few switch flicks and the sonar display is off and their main computer display takes its place. Stan ignores it, choosing instead to gulp down the wheaty swill Iceland claimed was beer. Maybe he would pull out that bottle of rum. It was either that, or water. They really needed to decide when they were going to make port.

“I’m hacking into the satellite array over the area. The whirlpool seems to be gone now. Either that or the re-fresh rate on these USNCEC arrays are garbage.” Stan wandered over to the computers, leaning over Stanford’s shoulder to get a better look at the screen.

Sixer was right, the resolution was crap, but that maelstrom had been near sixty feet across and was sure to pop up on any satellite image, but there was nothing. And it had been just a few minutes since they stopped.

Stan rubbed at his chin, beer hanging loosely and forgotten in his left hand. He tapped his foot intermittently as he thought. A whirlpool pops up out of nowhere and comes with four fucking leviathans easily big enough to swallow our boat whole. Fuckin’ Christ, this is stupid. Had the whirlpool been caused by previously unknown creatures lurking in the ocean or had the vortex brought the beasts from somewhere else? That wasn’t a typical whirlpool. He was sure of it now. It was a crack. He just didn’t know where from.

Stan paused, he really didn’t want to think about this. Sure, it was the theory that he’d pushed Sixer to back when Ford was studying the strange things in Gravity Falls, but it wasn’t true. The weird things that existed in this world had been always been here, they didn’t slip over in some crack between dimensions. And cracks were notoriously unstable, they didn’t last long. Maybe a few days at most. Hell, the only reason the one between here and the Nightmare Realm had lasted as long as it did was because some outside force was keeping it open, namely the portal Ford had built. The rift had then been kept open with his own magic, though, it would have closed by the week’s end. Even he had his limits.

But this, this was unprecedented. Cracks don’t form on their own. They were side effects of something much bigger. And those leviathans weren’t from his dimension, so Weirdmageddon had not caused this. Stan pressed his fingers into his eyes and took a calming breath before speaking. But Ford beat him to the punch.

“Those weren’t from you and yours, I’ve seen them before. In my travels I came across a dimension where sixty percent of the planets were primarily aquatic environments. I was…marooned on Tifus 8, ocean planet, for three weeks when trying to gain access to a sanctioned portal.”

Stan didn’t bother responding. Instead leaning over Ford’s body to stare at the satellite images on the screen. He pressed a few keys, expanding the image and waving off Ford’s indignant scoffing. The whirlpool was gone, but the after effects were just starting. The energy needed to open a portal, even a small one, was immense. That excess energy needed to go somewhere. In Gravity Falls, the energy had emitted as gravitational anomalies and power surges. Here, it seemed, the energy was radiating out into the water and air. The image was fairly clear, a few scatted clouds here and there. He refreshed the image. More clouds. So many they almost completely obscured the image. And it was at least four minutes old.

Stan’s eye flicked up to the window to confirm. The sky was dark and the wind was continuing to steer waves into their hull.

They were in for one hell of a storm.

“The closest port is either Puerto Rico or the Dominican Republic. Got a preference?” Ford was already a step ahead of him it seemed. Not a big step, but still. Stan smirked.

“Puerto Rico is probably not the safest place, but I doubt we’ll get better supplies elsewhere. Set the course. I’ll take first shift. You get sleep. We ain’t stoppin’ till we hit land. And this is gonna get bumpy real quick.”

*~*~*~*

Stan was wrong. Quick implied that there was a window of time before something was to happen. A few moments to a few hours depending on the circumstance. However, Stan’s definition of quick was not applicable. Immediate was a better fit, as fat rain drops splatted on the deck the moment he stepped out to ready the engines again.

With the GPS set, all he had to do was keep following the path highlighted on the hologram mounted on the wheel. Which became a blessing forty minutes later when the sky got darker and the rain came down in sheets. He could hear the distant sounds of rumbling and took a moment every now and again to glance at the sky.

From their current location, they were about two days from Puerto Rico. Just shy of 48 hours. He’d sail until dawn (or at least until morning if the storm hadn’t let up enough to actually see dawn) before going down to trade off. Ford had come out to wrap a blanket and raincoat around him before going to sleep, with the promise that Stan would wake him if anything happened. Stan had wrapped him in a brief one-armed hug without thinking. Ford hadn’t hugged back. They stood there for an awkward moment, Ford’s arms hanging limp at his sides before Stan let out an embarrassed cough and pulled back to steer.

Hours passed quicker sitting in a hospital waiting room than they did for Stan bundled at the helm of the Stan O’ War II. The rain dumping buckets as the crack’s energy dissipated. He followed the hologram’s map, hoping that their satellite connection would hold. He didn’t fancy trying to navigate the old-fashioned way in the storm.

His mind wandered with the hours. Memories overlapping and merging together. They were, not ok exactly, but they were amiable. If strained. The last few days had really helped to ease the tension from before. But their ‘encounter’ had taught him that he was not going to lose control again. He had gotten too wrapped up in his own emotions and wasn't thinking rationally. And he didn’t have the best record even when he was rational.

His hands shook when his now eidetic memory thoughtfully provided the images of said ‘encounter’. Not even the deafening storm could drown out Ford’s cries. Stan kicked at the metal console hard enough to bruise his toes. It hurt like a bitch, but it cleared his mind. The memories not so vivid.

Never again. He promised himself. Never again would it come to that. He would shoot himself before he lost control like that again. Even if Ford had wanted it in the end.

Nothing would happen between them. Not while he was still trying to figure out who the hell he was. Because as much as he wanted to be Stan…he wasn’t. He wasn’t Stan anymore just like he wasn’t Bill anymore. Though it was almost sick how much better he felt now. His eye was gone. Not just incapacitated, or blinded. No, it was gone. He’d torn out the leftover tissue himself. Ford had severed and cauterized the nerves and blood vessels. It should be disturbing. Violently horrific. But he just felt calm. It was like having slowly deteriorating eyesight for years and then finally putting on glasses. The world shifted right, and became clear again. He’d done Poindexter’s like puzzles to appease him, but on the whole, Stan felt great! The skin around it still ached and the wounds itched, but otherwise, everything was right. He had decided not to tell Ford that. Sixer had too much on his plate already.

Stan tested the unicorn seal periodically through the night. Attempts to create a bubble around himself to keep him dry only made his headache worse and his fingers tingle. Trying to steer the wheel without touching it resulted in it smacking him in the face when he let go. It was holding. He could still heal himself, more an amplified version of his body’s natural healing, but nothing else. He wasn't even able to heal the paper cut Ford had gotten while taking notes.

Stan couldn’t remove it. That was the first thing they had tested. His fingertips got within half and inch and were repelled. Of course, that meant he couldn’t scratch his own neck anymore, but he’d pick himself up a back scratcher when they landed. He could always get Ford to do it, but that was headed back down the road with a large yellow “Dead End” sign.

When the storm hadn’t let up at 7 a.m., he knew the crack had been much large then they saw. What else had come through? What caused it? Had it happened elsewhere? Stan could swear he’d seen a movie like this somewhere. Portals opening up in the middle of the ocean for monsters to come through. But nothing came immediately to mind.

He was soaked everywhere the raincoat didn’t cover. The insulated blanket the only thing keeping him from becoming numb. He slowed the ship to a crawl, checking the satellite connection again, before wandering into the cabin. He shucked his clothes in the engine room to keep the water from tacking everywhere before he went to wake Ford. He stalled in the doorway, acutely aware that he was naked and how uncomfortably familiar this was.

“Ford. I got the boat listing. I’m gonna shower and make food. I’ll bring it up to ya when I get out.” Stan heard a questioning grunt but no other response. He sighed, white knuckled grip on the door frame.

“It’s morning. I’m freezing. I’m showering. You go up and man the boat. I’ll bring food.” Stan risked tossing his pillow at the dark form before backpedaling to the bathroom. A faint, “Alright, I’m up” followed him, but he was already closing the door.

He flipped the shower on as hot as it would go and waited a moment before stepping under the spray. The bathroom didn’t have a separate area for the shower, no shower curtain. Not enough room on the cramped space. If you had to shower, everything was gonna get wet. On the plus side, if you had to take a shit, all you had to do was turn around. They kept the paper in a plastic box and a towel hung on the door out of the spray.

Stan had only a few blessed moments under the hot water before the door swung open and his brother wobbled in, still sluggish from sleep.

“The FUCK, man!” Ford had already snaked a hand out to lower the pressure of the shower so it didn’t reach the toilet.

“I have to pee.”

“Pee off the side of the boat!” But Ford was already undoing his zip and Stan stepped as close to the wall as he could. Jesus, couldn’t it wait ten minutes?

“No. Besides, I’m already done.” Stan didn’t turn around to confirm, but he could hear the sink turn on. The hot feeling in his head was back again. And he was sure he hadn’t said anything. Did he say something? Sixer heard it, so he must have. Or he was projecting his thoughts without realizing it. He was going to have to work on that. Stan squeezed his eye closed, keeping his head down to stop water from running into his empty eye socket. He really should have kept it covered, but any damage would just heal by morning anyway. A hand patted his shoulder before flipping the water pressure back up.

Stan would deny the high-pitched squeak that echoed off the bathroom walls to his (probably) dying day.

*~*~*~*~*

They took turns piloting the ship for the next 12 hours, but neither one was really able to sleep. Stan took the helm and followed the GPS hologram without much complaint, but Ford kept checking and rechecking the signal. He was agitated about something, but Stan wasn't about to try and bait him to explaining what. Just follow the signal and they would be in Puerto Rico by late evening the next day.

That was until they passed under the worst of the lightning.

It seemed to grow stronger the further south they sailed. Ford had made attempts to change their course to go around it, but it seemed to follow them. The sky lit up with a web of light, visible even through the thick rain. It wasn't a matter of if they would be struck, but when.

The bow and stern guide wires for the antenna were secure. Ford wanted to tie the side wires, but Stan wasn't about to let him climb up next to a metal pole in the middle of an electrical storm. That metal plate in Sixer’s head the least of his reasons. The engine was insulated against electrical surges and would be fine. Unfortunately, their engine was all that would be fine. They would lose their GPS, Sonar, water pump and stove, computer and radio connection. Heck, they might even lose power in their phones if it was bad enough. That was the trade off with a fully electric (or in their case, nuclear) engine over sails.

Stan knew it was going to happen soon. Despite the rain, the air felt tight. His hair stood on end and he swore he could taste metal. Ford had tried everything he could to adjust their course. To signal out. Something. But the storm was interfering with their radio. Stan had caught a snippet of a radio conversation with a passing shipping freighter, but the call kept cutting out, and Ford’s Spanish was rusty. Stan didn’t bother trying to look for it. Even if it was close enough to see, he wasn’t going to through the rain.

Ford pushed out of the cabin, cursing in some alien language Stan wasn't going to take the time to identify. Stan ignored him and checked the GPS hologram again, adjusting for the pull of the current. A tingling sensation clawed down his spine, growing stronger and radiating over his shoulders, scalp and legs. His hands grew slack on the wheel. The metal taste was back, filling his mouth and dripping down his throat.

He heard a scream. Felt the pull of something at his jacket, and he was on the deck, Ford’s arms around his middle. Stan’s arms wrapped around Ford’s head as the bolt struck the antenna. White light blinding them both and ringing filling their ears.

Nothing to do but ride it out.

*~*

Everything was gone. They could still move, (thank God they had the foresight to insulate their engine), but everything else was gone. Stan once again at the helm with a compass and a map in a plastic folder taped to the window. They had been sailing for almost two days now, but something wasn't right. They should be nearing Puerto Rico but they weren’t. Ford had been searching the horizon with the binoculars and telescope for hours. The storm had let up some, but the rain hadn’t stopped. It was approaching evening on the second day. Ford had triple checked their course but it didn’t add up. Maybe they had missed it? They both agreed to adjust southwest in the hopes that they had just been blown off course by the storm after their GPS went down.

Two hours after sunset, they spotted land. Stan whooped and even Ford let out an elated yell. Another hour and they were ready to dock and get a hotel, or a hostel or fuck anything warm and dry. Ford had their passports ready and waiting to be stamped. Stan, who had a much better grasp on the Spanish Language, collected their paperwork and what was left of their American cash to pay the harbor master a docking fee. The pier was dark, no one around in the late hours. He hopped off the ship as soon as Ford had it tied down and made his way to the main building. He got within ten feet of it when he stopped dead.

The sign on the office read in big, bold letters:

Barranquilla, Colombia.

-End Chapter 23-

Chapter One

#stancest #whole again #Stanley Pines #stanford pines #same coin theory

3 notes · View notes

beckstriad · 5 years ago

Text

Not Paid Enough for this Shripnal

They got the call two hours before their upcycle was finished, of course. Their first shift with the rookie partner, of course. They were being called to respond to a quarantine situation on a ship in the outer docking area of course.

The outer docking area was where ships stopped before reaching the station, awaiting approach instructions or a tug. A cargo ship had alerted security procedures when they mentioned their captain was unable to on-screen due to illness. As per protocol, they were ordered to remain at anchor 36x5t until further instructed. Apparently the Second Officer was quite annoyed at the presumption he couldn’t bring the ship in himself. After a short time deliberating it was determined this was not a security risk, but a possible quarantine one. As per H+S protocol two medical personnel and two security detail were to board and determine the extent of risk.

Caretaker was thoroughly annoyed at the timing. Staring out the window at the looming ship, they sighed and turned to Rookie who was looking excited and nervous and trying to hide both. “Look these things happen all the time. We’ll go on, and no doubt it will be food poisoning or watch, their hydrator won’t have been cleaned for cycles and it’ll be a small miracle the rest of the crew hasn’t gotten sick either. They said only the captain is down, and captains being older are…?” Rookie straightened in his chair “Xur! at increased risk for disease pathologies partly due to decrease in physical activity, increase in ability to over indulge risk factor food and drink, and age.” They relaxed a little “so you think it’s just like, the flu maybe?”

Caretaker shook their head but shrugged “no one else is sick so probably more likely a personal illness or medical problem. No need for the ‘Xur’ we’re not military, and I’m not that old yet.” Rookie nodded and started to rattle off possible outcomes in his attempt to lower his nerves “like stroke, heart attack, blood clot, allergic reaction, respiratory disease, acute -” Waving their hand Caretaker nodded “it’s good to keep an open mind but let’s not look for zebras either, yea?” They mused at Rookie looking up ‘Zebra’ on their HUD, remembering the confusion at the phrase themself. Relics of the past kept alive through language somehow.

Once their pod was attached to the auxiliary airlock of the ship the security personnel went first and did an initial sweep of the ship. The protocol was just in case of mutiny, though Caretaker didn’t think a cargo ship would warrant such an act, so wasn’t worried. It only took a few minutes before they had decided all was fine and gave the two medics clearance to come aboard. Caretaker took point despite their usual habit of letting rookies take the lead, there was just too many technical protocols to follow exactly to add to the kid’s stress. The pair was met by the Second Officer and the scowl that he wore, clearly annoyed at the delay and the ridiculous protocol. Caretaker had to agree, though they wouldn’t voice it.

En route to the Captain’s quarters they passed the security detail returning to wait in the pod. Caretaker spoke up, “so can you tell us what happened.”

The S.O grumbled back, “isn’t that a question you ask your patients?”

Undeterred and definitely not up for taking any shit, they fired back “I’m asking you right now.” The S.O deflected the question again and Caretaker pushed “are you saying you don’t know what happened to your Captain?” The S.O stopped and turned, looking Caretaker in the eyes in a challenge. ‘Jokes on him, I’m outside his rank’ they thought to themselves as they returned the glare. “I didn’t say anything of the like.” He turned sideways a moment, a neutral end to the challenge that Caretaker would have found amusing if they weren’t already on overtime. “He failed to report to the bridge on time for our final approach. A crew member found him unwell and so we left him in his quarters.” He carried on walking through the ship, “there is no need to wake First Officer Shyker as I also hold my docking tickets and she is on her down cycle.”

Something wasn’t making sense, but this story was third hand account so that was probably the reason. Still….”Where are the rest of the crew?” Caretaker thought the ship was too quiet for normal operations. The S.O rolled his eyes and sighed audibly, clearly annoyed “do you not have more appropriate concerns at this time?” ‘Ok he wants war? I will make war. Listen you piece of shripnal, this is my call and my patient and you don’t get to run - ‘ Caretaker smiled warmly “the health and safety of your entire crew is my concern. Have you accounted for everyone’s wellness? There are normally more crew on a ship this size and as you are awaiting docking instructions, should they not be hands on deck to prepare for orders? Do you have full command of this ship or do we need to bring aboard an Auxiliary ShipMaster to take it for you, if your crew is not following your orders?” They could feel Rookie stiffen behind them at the growing tension but he smartly kept quiet - technically nothing Caretaker was saying was false. There were always an Auxiliary ShipMaster personnel on call to guide a ship in for various reasons; it was a popular captain’s retirement position. The S.O stopped and glared at them, practically shaking with rage and contempt. “Need I remind you of your duty? Just fix our captain or get him off our ship, we have a schedule to keep and cargo to offload.”

Something was definitely not right, but whether it was just the S.O’s shitty attitude or something more nefarious, Caretaker didn’t want to have to find out. “Don’t make me remind you of your rank and station, Officer. I will do what’s right for the patient and your crew WHEN it is right to do it. Now, let me speak with your ship’s medical officer.” This caused the man’s eye to twitch and a short inquiry to escape his lips; another challenge. “Because I need to know the Captain’s medical history, last known time well, what he ate and his baseline set of functionality and vitals.” On a hunch, Caretaker added the authority challenge “don’t make me ask again.”

Something snapped in the S.O’s face but he kept quiet, and quickly marched to the mess hall that was just down the hall, “wait here, I will fetch her.” He left the pair in the care of another shipmate that they had not been introduced to, and at this point didn’t care to. Waiting in silence for a few minutes, they saw S.O return with a nervous looking woman. This was not what Caretaker was expecting. “Answer their questions and be quick about it, we don’t have time for this.”

Caretaker asked the usual questions to the woman in a calm gentle manner. Maybe she was just new. A rock began forming in their gut as the woman competently answered their questions; the captain had been totally fine prior to going to his quarters for his downcycle. He was in good physical health and on the outlying age of heart and other older age diseases (not unheard of, but not of high risk yet). Everyone had eaten at the same time and no other crew were experiencing illness at this time. “The Captain was not feeling great just before he retired” the S.O said with such authority that the medic visibly winced but didn’t dare turn to look at him. She seemed to use all her courage to object by clarifying she had seen him at his door just before he entered. Her voice so quiet Caretaker almost missed it. Before S.O could jump down her throat, Caretaker held their hand up and interjected “well heart attacks often see someone come and go with symptoms. It’s not uncommon for them to have symptoms, get better and then get unwell again, you know how it is.” They hoped that convenient mostly-lie would placate the S.O and get him off the Medic’s back. Turning to Rookie, Caretaker said plainly “sounds like we’ll need extra equipment. Go back to the pod and have station send up another one with a #2 kit….and a #3 stretcher I suppose.” Turning to the medic, Caretaker continued “it will take time for that to get here. Carry on making sure the ship is safe for docking while we wait.” The S.O bristled at the outsider giving his crew orders but the medic’s eyes held steady with Caretaker’s as they nodded, quickly ducked and turned to scurry out of the room as fast as she could. Rookie had stood but hesitated, looking to Caretaker who sighed, “it’s alright. Go tell one of the Security Officers what you need and they’ll handle the comms. I know you’re not trained on those yet.” Rookie slowly nodded, looking pensive. Standing and somehow managing to juggle the two bags and the oxygen tank that were standard equipment, Caretaker prayed to any of the dead deities that Rookie caught their drift about a Level 2 security breach, or that the Security detail that had come with them would clue in and act accordingly. Hopefully, they’d disconnect the pod and keep Rookie safe in accordance with a Code 3 - mutiny. Meanwhile, Caretaker tried to console themself with the thought that if they died here, they’d at least finally get some sleep.

Wordlessly following the S.O the rest of the way to the Captain’s quarters almost felt like an execution march. Caretaker knew they were going to be chewed out for this if they survived, it went against everything they were taught. Be neutral, your safety first then your patient’s and bystanders, etc. They should have gone with Rookie but something just didn’t sit right with them doing that…the look on their fellow medic’s face told them that the crew was also in danger and, even though they weren’t military, Caretaker had never really felt fully like a civilian either. Too much time around Security, military, mercenary and high rank they supposed, but they felt responsible to bystanders more than they should.

When they reached the Captain’s quarters they squared their shoulders in anticipation of how things would go down. Running through several scenarios, Caretaker regretted not signing up for even a basic hand to hand combat class, but here they were. Best to act quick before Rookie set things off and alerted the Mutinous crew that plans had changed. “Captain the medic is here to assist you.” The S.O knocked and then opened the door, letting Caretaker inside and standing in the doorway. Caretaker did not like that one bit, but decided since their exit strategy was to wait for backup, they wouldn’t be trying to leave the room anyway. In fact, they’d prefer to lock themselves in. “Alright officer, thank you. I’ll handle it from here until my partner arrives with the bags, if you could please escort him in?” They knelt down to open one of the bags and looked up to see him still standing there. “Xur, in accordance with patient confidentiality I must ask you to - “ “That’s right, ask. Not demand, not order, this is my ship. Understand?” ‘Well that’s not another point for suspicion or anything’ they pulled out some vitals machines and acknowledged the officer “yes Xur understood. Thank you for escorting myself and my partner in a timely manner, I’ll begin assessment while I wait.” They stood and saw that he wasn’t moving. The officer folded his arms “I’ll make sure you don’t do anything to harm the Captain, and - “ his face scrunched as an emergency tone blared on the tone system. “Captain Lekrownski! Captain Lekrownski! The medic pod has disengaged and -” Caretaker took the opportunity to surge forward and with both hands hit the S.O square in the chest, unable to defend himself in time as he tried to uncross his arms. He stumbled backwards across the hallway and Caretaker quickly stepped back into the room and closed the door, hitting the lock button in the no-override function. Now, at last, they could actually assess their patient. “Ok Xur I’m the medic from Omlustan station and I”m here to assist. What’s happening today?” Nothing back, but that wasn’t unexpected. Caretaker pinched the man’s trapezius muscle and he groaned, raising a shoulder and turning his head towards it “alright Xur I see you’re really not feeling well but don’t worry. Help is on the way for your crew too, we’ve started our security protocol and while we wait for the mercenaries to take command you and I are going to hole up here.” They prattled on as they checked blood gases, levels and pressure, pulse and reflex assessments trying to find the source of the status change. Routine and protocols helped them concentrate over the sound of the door being pummeled from the hallway and obscenities being thrown at them. “Captain Lekrownski! We have a situation on deck 4! The loyal side of the crew is holed up and fighting back! Somehow they’ve gathered together and the Medic is stating she speaks for all of them and that they are awaiting the security breach!” The person on the other end of the PA was frantic now. Caretaker heard Lekrownski reply back “ready the ship to jump out of here, we can fight them later or they can starve.” “Xur, that’s the problem, they’ve taken cover in the warp drive room and disabled the drive.” Lekrownski stormed off shouting orders about getting weapons. Caretaker sent thoughts of safety and support to the crew, hoping that help would arrive in time.

They found the captain to be in poor shape, vital wise, but nothing was initially coming up in the blood tests; more were needed back on the station with full lab facilities. Now all they had to do was wait. Looking around for something to use for defense all they could muster was a fire extinguisher. Heavy and metal, but small enough to swing in the close quarters, they stood at the ready, off to one side of the door and waiting to swing it in the face of whoever would intrude.

It felt like 3 full cycles, but was probably only 45 minutes when the gunshots began, soft pops echoing through the hull and getting louder as they grew closer. Caretaker wasn’t sure, they’d never been in battle before, but they thought they heard some return fire as well. They focused on their breathing as the thunder of boots and gunshots, bangs of grenades and cries of wounded grew louder and closer to their door. Suddenly, despite all their bravado, they jumped at the pounding of the door. Their heart tried to mimick it by beating against their ribcage and they tried to take slow deep breaths to steady their hand, fire extinguisher raised as tears threatened in the corners of their eyes.

The door flew open and Caretaker swung at approximately head height as someone charged in; there was a loud clang as it hit the opposite wall. Caretaker had released it at the last second as the mercenary ducked, they had recognized the uniform mid swing and panicked. Both sets of eyes grew wide in recognition before Caretaker quickly turned to scrub at their face before anyone could notice; the merc turned his back to observe the Captain, pretending not to notice the tears. “Well, guess I’ve returned the favor.” He said. “You’re on the job, it doesn’t count, you still owe me breakfast.” Caretaker quickly packed their medical kits, handing IV bags to the mercenary “where’s my litter?” They were surprised the man remembered them since he was so low on blood sugar at the time. The man took the bags with amusement, not used to being ordered around “should be here any minute, your partner has been right with the rearguard the whole time. They seem pretty competent.”

Sure enough, Rookie appeared with the litter to carry the captain to their pod, “Xur, I brought the litter and a resus kit. Did you need anything else?” He really was competent after all. The Captain made a full recovery and the loyal crewmembers sustained only minor injuries during the mutiny. Caretaker was relieved, but also annoyed: now they would have to go to trial. Probably on a day off. Definitely unpaid.

#no prompts for this one i just wanted to do a little something self indulgent #i dunno where the idea came from but meh #caretaker #caretakerfic #not really whump

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monsterbrush · 6 years ago

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10 Favorite Females Tag

Ok @frost-guardian and co. Brace yourselves, I’m kicking off this list with a bamf!

Furiosa (Mad Max: Fury Road): look at her. Just look at her. Those eyes, that hair, the way she just rips off the face of the patriarchy. Such an inspiration. I can never achieve the badassery and hardcore-ness of Furiosa, but god damn if it isn’t fun as hell to watch. Honestly, I could go on, waxing poetic about her mechanical prothesis, but we’ve got a list to go through.

Sophie Hatter (Howl’s Moving Castle): I’ve watched this movie since I was little, and honestly I have a deep love of stubborn old ladies that persists strongly to this day because of it. I was actually a little disappointed when Sophie reverted back to her younger self because that meant no more Grandma Sophie. She is what I aspire to be in my old age some day.

Mulan (Mulan): My pasty white ass considered her my ultimate Disney role model for the longest time when I was too little to comprehend things like cultural appropriation, gender roles, racism, race in general etc. I know how deeply important the story is to its origins, but when I was just a tot, I watched this movie and saw a girl being clumsy, dissatisfied, stubborn, funny, and fighting like the boys do, and honestly that was pretty damn inspiring for Little Me. (it also helped that the “happily married after” didn’t happen until the sequel, but I enjoyed that movie too, for different reasons)

Izumi Curtis (Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood): The duality of this character really resonated with me when I first watched this show. I was just starting highschool and had started to forget the things that Mulan had taught me. Izumi was such a great representation of how a woman can be fiercely independent and strong, but also adhere to “traditional” ideas of femininity. She’s a housewife who wanted more than anything to be a mother, but she’s also a powerful alchemist with impressive combat skills, and she has no problem being both.

Olivia Armstrong (Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood): Honestly, I actually didn’t care for her right away. I liked her, but something about her also just didn’t sit right with me. It didn’t take me too long to figure out that it was the fact that I was still adhering to certain expectations regarding female characters, and General Armstrong was a woman with no desire to marry and have kids, which threw me off without me even realizing it (also she was being mean to her brother Alex and I love that big goofball so I immediately went on the defensive). Towards the end of my first time watching the series, when I saw both General Armstrong and Izumi Curtis on screen side by side, it clicked and I fully understood and appreciated her character for what it was. God damn this show was great.

Bubbles (PowerPuff Girls-NOT the reboot, the reboot doesn’t exist): The PowerPuff Girls was one of my favorite shows when I was little, and I found that I always fit seamlessly with Bubbles. She sleeps with stuffed animals, I sleep with stuffed animals. She likes to draw, I like to draw. She was confirmation to Little Me that it was okay to be sweet, and cute, and to like nice things, while still being cool. I kind of wish I’d remembered those lessons through middle school and highschool during which I went through my “teen angst-everything is negative and I’m in a perpetual bad mood” phase.

Dola (Castle in the Sky): Remember all those things I said about Grandma Sophie and Izumi Curtis? Dola is like both of those characters in one. Stubborn badass old lady sky pirate with a husband and more sons than you can shake a finger at. The Tiger Moth crew was like one big flying found family.

Captain Amelia (Treasure Planet): What a role model this lady was. Strong, confident, respectable, sassy, smart, wit as sharp as her claws, scathingly articulate, with a giant man made of rock as her first mate. So inspiring.

Edna Mode (The Incredibles): Honestly, who doesn’t love Edna Mode, she’s hilarious. Very smart, classy, lots of self esteem, sassy, snarky, reliable, what’s not to love?

Secretary Washimi (Aggretsuko): This is the most recent favorite on this list. Firstly, I love secretary birds and the way they stomp everything, and I also love smart, competent ladies who take no shit, and obviously this character hits those notes.

Tagging: @pareidoliaparadise, @gretchensinister, @torn-by-dreams, @ksclaw, @sylphidine, @emeraldembers ummm, ummmmmmm and anybody else who wants to do this thing of a thing.

#rambles of cha #there seems to be a running theme of strong ladies able and willing to beat the shit out of things

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severelybabykryptonite · 7 years ago

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The Picnic by SBK

A/N: 4th and final installment for the Richonnefics’ Date Night Series; a Speed Dating sequel.

Rick tries his best to contain his excitement but is failing miserably as the smile spreads across his face at the mere thought of spending more time with Michonne. They’d been out on three dates excluding the first night they’d met but they haven’t had the chance to be alone. Sasha and Daryl always manage to fandangle their way in resulting in a double date each time. Michonne had finally made up her mind that they should have their very own date and told him to leave it all to her.

Saturday morning wasn’t what he had in mind but he cleared his schedule and made arrangements for Carl to spend the day with his parents. He walks into his bedroom once again and checks his appearance. All she told him was to prepare to spend some time outside. He donned a nice but casual dark blue t-shirt, jeans, and his boots. He reached for an old cowboy hat but quickly tossed it aside, running his fingers through his hair and smoothing down his eyebrows.

She insisted on picking him up which he wasn’t used to at all. Is this how women do things nowadays? Are the roles reversed? He tries not to think on it too hard but doesn’t want to appear out of touch or too old fashioned. What if that’s a turn off for her? He recalls their dates and she didn’t seem to mind when he held the door for her or made sure she was seated first. He gives himself a mental shake, realizing that he is overthinking it all. He takes a deep breath and reminds himself to just enjoy the time with her.

The doorbell chimes and he is moving hurriedly to the living area only to pull up short seconds before opening the door. He composes himself quickly and opens the door with a small smile. She looks up with those beautiful brown eyes and smiles right back.

“Hey,” she offers.

“Hey.” He steps back and gestures for her to come in, watching closely as she walks past him in a clingy purple sundress. He breathes in her scent and ensures that his eyes are on hers once she faces him. “How’ve you been?”

“Great. You?” She looks around curiously, loving the color scheme and openness of his foyer which leads into an even more impressive living area. She remembers the box in her hand and holds it out to him. “This is for you. A little housewarming gift. I remembered you said you just bought this place. It looks great by the way.”

He appears a bit taken aback by her generosity. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s fine. I wanted to. I hope you like it.” She smiles as he accepts the box from her, touching her hand deliberately in the exchange.

“Mind if I open it?”

“Not at all.”

They move into the living area and sit on the sofa as he places the box on the coffee table, noticing the heaviness of the wooden container. He unfastens the metal clasp and opens it to find a glass tumbler set embossed with the initial ‘G’.

“Wow!” He gasps. “This is nice.”

Michonne swallows nervously, wondering for the 100th time if the gift was overstepping or overstating. She just wanted to make a nice gesture and she thought a housewarming gift would be harmless. Maybe it’s not. “I just….well friends celebrate friends and purchasing a house is a great achievement and I thought….a gift would be appropriate. Congratulations on your new house.”

“That was awfully kind of you. I’m a little speechless right now.”

“Well I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or overstep my bounds.” She watches as he closes the box and turns toward her. The look in his eyes is one of awe, sincerity, and longing all melded together. If she thought her heart was racing before, it just kicked into overdrive.

His heart rate is out racing hers as he allows his eyes to devour her. He can’t recall anyone being this generous towards him and especially not after knowing him for such a short time. “Thank you.”

“Oh it was nothing.”

He sits the box on the table in front of him, places a hand on the back of the sofa and leans toward her. “Can I thank you properly?” His eyes drop to her full red shaded lips and his mouth starts to water at the thought of finally getting a chance to kiss her.

Michonne absently allows her keys and cell phone to fall to the area rug below as she turns her body towards his. Her eyes search his before dropping to his slightly parted lips. She has thought about kissing him ever since she met him.

He watches her as she watches him move closer and touch his mouth to hers softly, gently. He closes his eyes and presses in deeper, capturing her lips with an instinctual moan.

She reaches up to cup his cheek, loving the roughness of what she assumes is a day without shaving. She wants to let him lead but finds herself opening her mouth and touching her tongue against his lips. He latches on and opens up so they can taste each other fully.

Seconds later, he is clearing his throat and rolling his shoulders, trying to gain control of his body. “I uh….would you like to see the rest of the house?”

Michonne pauses, wondering if this is code for something more. She gives him a questioning look and he picks up on it immediately.

He lets out a small laugh. “I just want to show you the house. That’s all. Really.”

Her first reaction is disappointment but she quickly masks it and agrees. For the next several minutes, he walks her through his home and they are both careful not to touch or stare at each other for too long. That kiss proved the undeniable attraction between them and neither wanted things to go too far too fast.

They end the tour standing on his patio overlooking his backyard.

“This is really nice Rick. Spacious and peaceful and it’s just you and your son?”

“Yep. Just the two of us. I wanted Carl to have a home just as nice as before the divorce. I found out apartment living is just not the thang for us,” Rick explains.

Michonne smiles, realizing that was one of the reasons she chose to buy a house for her and Andre. Of course he spends the weekends with his dad and the house seems awfully empty when she’s alone but she wouldn’t trade it. They are happy despite the fact that their lives changed with the divorce. “It’s amazing how much your life mirrors mine. I’d like to invite you and Carl over for dinner soon. Well, if that’s ok with you.” She pauses. “Maybe we shouldn’t meet the kids just yet.”

Rick smiles at her uncertainty, actually delighting in the fact that this well put together female gets a little shy and unsure around him. “I think that’s a fine idea. I’ll look forward to it.”

Michonne can’t express how his simple words bring her such comfort and ease. She also can’t help wondering where he has been all this time. “Well…..are you ready?”

“Let’s go.”

He climbs into the passenger’s side of the luxurious sedan and enjoys the ride as she pulls away from the curb and takes them out of his neighborhood and onto the nearby highway.

Almost forty-five minutes later, they are driving down a dirt road surrounded by nothing but land and trees on either side. He wasn’t sure what their destination was but he liked the obscurity of this location already.

He gives her a look and she smiles, knowing exactly what he wanted to ask.

“We’re almost there. I promise.”

She smiles as the serene view of the expansive lake surrounded by nothing but greenery comes into sight and is thankful Maggie’s family takes such good care of their land. She remembers coming here as a kid and for some odd reason, she wanted to share this special place with Rick. She slows down considerably and drives onto the grass to get them closer to the water.

“Wow! This place is beautiful.”

“It really is. I’ve been coming here since I was a kid and I thought this would be a nice back drop for a picnic,” she shares.

“So this is your land?”

“Oh no. One of my best friend’s family owns this place. They’ve had it for years, passing it down from generation to generation. This is basically my second home.” She breathes a sigh of contentment and pops the trunk as she exits the car.

He follows and helps her unload the supplies. They work together seamlessly spreading out the checkered blanket and unpacking the basket. His stomach growls at the sight of all the food she brought.

“I’m starving. I kinda skipped breakfast coz I was so excited about today,” he admits.

She laughs. “Me too. Good thing I packed plenty.”

They pounce on the food enthusiastically, talking and enjoying each other’s company. Afterwards, they walk around the lake, tossing rocks and sticks into the water.

“So did y’all ever swim here?”

“All the time when we were kids. I haven’t done that in ages though,” she answers.

“Well how about today? The weather’s nice….” He shields his eyes from the sun with a hand, looking all around. “…..no one’s around.”

She scoffs with a slight giggle. “You can’t be serious.”

He reaches down, lifting a knee, and pulls one boot off and then the other.

“Rick…..we don’t have suits. We…..”

“And we don’t need ‘em,” he states as he lifts his shirt over his head and tosses it to the side.

She holds in a gasp as her eyes connect with his solid wall of a chest and flat abs. “We are not doing this.”

“What’s the matter? You afraid?” He teases.

“I’m not afraid of anything,” she retorts. Except you.

“Well in that case……I dare you.” He smiles as those luscious lips of hers drop open with surprise. He remembers Sasha saying her friend never backs down from a dare.

He watches as her eyes take on a determined glint and she kicks off her sandals before pulling her dress over her head to reveal a lacy strapless bra and matching panties underneath. He wastes no time in getting the rest of his clothes off, standing before her in a pair of boxers.

She puts her hands on her hips and says, “I guess you wanna race now too?”

“Naw. That wouldn’t be fair,” he returns.

“And how is that?”

“Coz I’m just gonna beat you anyway.”

They both take off at a sprint, laughing as they race neck and neck. The splash they make breaks the quiet serenity surrounding them as they both resurface, gasping with the unexpected coolness of the water.

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this.”

“I didn’t talk you into anythang. You’re the one who can’t back down from a dare,” he reminds her.

She rolls her eyes heavenward. “One of my many flaws.”

“You’re flawless.”

The atmosphere changes slightly as he looks at her with admiration and longing. She recognizes it immediately and knows her expression mirrors his.

She reaches forward and brushes a pesky insect off his shoulder but doesn’t pull her hand away. She likes the warmth, the firmness of his skin. She gasps when she feels an arm encircle her waist and finds herself flush against him.

“I wanna kiss you again.”

She doesn’t answer just slowly but surely places her lips on his, pressing in bit by bit until he responds, opening his mouth to allow her inside. Moments later, they are breathless and holding each other tightly.

“I don’t think we’ll get to the horseback riding today,” she informs.

He gives a small laugh. “We’ll save it for next time.”

She pulls away to look into his eyes. “Next time?”

He nods. “Yeah. We’re here together now and I’m already looking forward to the next date and the one after that and the one after that.” He smiles. “You’re having that effect on me.”

“Well I hope that’s a good thing.”

“Oh it is. It’s a very good thang.”

She kisses him one last time before challenging him to a race. Any more time spent in his arms would result in them getting naked and having sex in the lake. She muses that it’s not a bad idea but for some reason she believes this one is a keeper and she doesn’t want to rush it.

He accepts her challenge, conflicted because he knows they shouldn’t take it too far but wouldn’t mind if they did. He looks over at her as they swim further out and knows without a doubt that she is someone he could be with for a very long time.

You can read the prequel, Speed Dating, here:

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11445160/52/Richonne-Ficlets-by-SBK

#Date Night Series #Rendezvous #Richonne #fanfiction #SBK #The Picnic #Richonnefics #November

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