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nat-20s · 4 years

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MEDIA THAT I RECOMMEND YOU CONSUME INSTEAD OF SUPERNATURAL FOR BOTH HEART AND HEALTH BROKEN DOWN BY TYPE OF MEDIA AND WHY YOU MIGHT LIKE IT IF AT ANY POINT YOU, LIKE MY POOR POOR SEVENTEEN YEAR OLD SELF, WERE INVESTED IN THIS ABSOLUTE GARBAGE FIRE OF A SHOW

with apologies to anyone on mobile who’s readmore function APPARENTLY doesn’t work

(I haven’t watched supernatural for at least five years and, given any sort of luck, I will never do so again, do not @ me)

hello babes. I am talking to you know bc I keep seeing supernatural, unironically, on my dash, and I think we can all do better. I see what’s happening and I think: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hU3i_o5Xd4g

Supernatural is fudge stripes. You are Megan. We can fix this.

So a list of alternate things that I think are overall better written/characterized/just generally more enjoyable that might scratch some of those itches:

TV SHOWS

Good Omens

okay look if u were on tumblr last year u probably already watched this show but like. If u haven’t, it’s only six episodes babe and there’s a large enough fandom that u can go down a fanart hole for days on end

Basic summary: the antichrist has reached that lovely young age where he’s supposed to bring about the apocalypse. An angel and a demon who have decided that actually they like the world as is, thank you very much, try to stop the end times. They’re not very good at it though, which makes for a comedy of errors.

Shared elements with supernatural that you might Vibe with: theologic (mostly christian) exploration/parody/imagery without inherently being a religious show. Fighting off the apocalypse narrative, which I think pretty much always goes hard as hell, but that’s just me. There’s a gay angel who’s socially awkward. There’s a fun very British demon. Touches on the hierarchies of heaven and hell, with framing Heaven as a bureaucracy and blurs the differences between angels and demons. Pining. Tenderness. A deep nostalgia for 80s music, though in this case it’s specifically queen, and who doesn’t love queen. Main character has a weirdly strong bond with his black vintage car. Satan is (sort of) fought.

Gravity Falls

sometimes...things that are kids shows...with a set story and a predetermined ending...are better

(also this isn’t relevant to any of what I’m talking about but I really appreciate that Gravity Falls specifically went against the thing that most begged me about ATLA aka that a 15 year old girl would be like yeah I’m into a 12 year old boy because the 12 year old boy has a crush on me and I apparently don’t get to really have a say in this. How does that make sense.)

Basic Summary: Twelve year old twins Dipper and Mabel go to stay with their Grunkle Stan for the summer in a small Oregon town called Gravity Falls. Turns out this town is filled with all sorts of strange phenomena that they often have to confront, work around, learn about, or befriend!

Shared elements with supernatural that you might Vibe with: The core focus of the show is a close sibling duo, but like It’s obvious that the siblings actually like and love each other and while they have their spats it’s still incredibly clear that they deeply care about each other even with their differences LIKE SORRY SUPERNATURAL YOU CAN’T JUST TELL ME THAT SIBLINGS CARE ABOUT EACH OTHER AND THEN THEY SPEND ALL THEIR TIME FIGHTING AND LYING TO EACH OTHER AND GENERALLY ACTING LIKE THEY CAN’T STAND EACH OTHER’S COMPANY BUT THEN OOOHHH YOU CRY ON TOP OF THE HOOD OF A CAR EVERY THREE EPISODE AND SUDDENLY THEY’RE SOULMATES OR WHATEVER

Anyway. Yeah. GF has a solid sibling dynamic. Monster of the week that builds up to greater over-arching plot. A little bit of body horror, you know, for humor. Fair amount of meta humor playing with the tropes of the genre. A Good Ol Big Bad that tries to pit the siblings against each other. Have to fight the apocalypse (you’ll see this point on like a good half of these recs, I really like ‘what are we gonna do about Armageddon’ media). Interesting creature design. Planned, satisfying ending (which supernatural absolutely does not have, but I still think if it had ended with the season 5 finale like it uhh pretty obviously was supposed to, that would sort of counted. Don’t revive shows that have clearly already told their stories kids.) Tie in media that gives you some fun extra stories when you miss the characters. (yes I read some of the supernatural novels when I was a c h i l d, yes I’m pretty sure there’s one or two of them still buried somewhere on my laptop, no I don’t wanna talk about it.) Older father figure (?) who owns a tbh kind of shitty shop. Both already in place and found family.

It’s a good show, and it’s two seasons. John Mulaney Voice: I dunno it’s 40 episodes

MINI REC ALERT! (mini recs are basically things that I’m not gonna go into detail about for whatever reason [probably either due to i’m not familiar enough with it OR I just don’t like. Have a bunch to say about it in regards to how it will scratch the itches presented to u by spn] but still seem like a Good Watch)

Mini Rec: Over The Garden Wall. Spooky Kids Media! Episodic! Miniseries so you can watch it in like 2 hours! Cool ass Animation! About two brothers encountering said spooky stuff! Big Bad tries to pit brothers against each other! Might haunt you for the rest of your life! Check it out!

The Haunting of Bly Manor

I think about this show every goddamn day of my life. (Also not relevant but Greg Sestero makes a brief cameo in it and I was like hi greg my friend greg!)

Basic Summary: An girl named Dani, while staying in London, decides to take on an Au Pair job for two young children, an older brother named Miles (age 10) and the younger sister Flora (age 8) at the spoooooky and mysteeerious Bly Manor, and she gets far more than she bargained for.

Shared elements with supernatural that you might Vibe with: Okay so supernatural doesn’t actually do this but I know I KNOW why we let ourselves be queerbaited in 2012. Four words for you: CENTRAL! GAY! TRAGIC! ROMANCE! You want some pining? Some tenderness? Some LOVE? Some dealing with internalized homophobia but no, like, actual violent onscreen homophobia? HAVE I GOT THE SHOW FOR YOU. If ur favorite episodes where the ones that make you sob (for me it was kevin’s death on god), I recommend this show. If you wished that supernatural literally ever had consequences or perma deaths or didn’t retcon major plot events like every five goddamn episodes so that there could be some exploration of like grief and trauma through the lens of/ higher stakes of horror, I recommend this show. If you really do stay up at night picturing a supernatural that wasn’t made by dumbass cishettie white men hack writers but was actually allowed to have Dean and Cas be in love over the course of the show so they could have like actual development and not the most homophobic gay reveal of all time, I recommend this show. Hell, if you just want a banger ghost story in general, I recommend this show.

As for what they actually have in common: horror setting/aesthetic without actually being all that scary most of the time. A strong sibling duo, though they’re not nearly as much of the focus of Bly Manor. Found family. Strong themes of grief. Questions of what turns someone into a monster (and done much better) An actual, much better noble sacrifice done out of love. Escalation of stakes until there’s a big final confrontation. Semi-big bad trying to tear this family apart. Found and pre-installed family. Sad orphans.

Watch this show. Vibe with me. Cry with me. Yell at me about Owen Sharma

MINI REC ALERT!

Haunting of Hill House- spiritual predecessor to Haunting of Bly Manor, though they’re not actually the same universe/story. However, it’s made by the same dude and has a shared aesthetic/sensibilities/some of the cast. This is only a mini rec bc I haven’t actually seen it, but I’ve heard good things and that it, while much more heavily leaning into family dynamics, has similar themes of exploring Grief and Trauma through ghooossstttsss.

Community

Okay I know that this may seem like a Wild rec considering community is a school sitcom with basically Zero paranormal elements but just like. Hear me out. And no this isn’t just because I think it’s a realy good show and I want more people to watch it, though that is a factor. If I was just recommending comedies that I think are good and more people should watch regardless of them serving as a replacement for supernatural I would demand you all go watch Galavant and Crazy Ex-Girlfriend. I’m gonna demand it anyway. Everyone go watch Galavant and Crazy Ex-Girlfriend. Now back to your original program:

Basic Summary: A group of students at Greendale Community College form a Spanish study group, and things quickly go Off The Fucking Rails in the best way possible.

Shared elements with supernatural that you might Vibe with: All right I’m gonna be real honest this rec is for all of my (correct) bitches who’s favorite episodes of Supernatural were French Mistake, Changing Channels, and/or Mystery Spot. You think if Supernatural would’ve been fucking fantastic if it had been a committed comedy instead of a CW melodrama that occasionally landed some admittedly really fucking funny episodes/concepts, Community (and the movies on this list) will gently take you into its loving arms and give you everything you desire. It’s about the Meta comedy. It’s about the discussion, exploration, and subversion of common tropes within the format. It’s about the grand use of group/ found family dynamics in order to max both the goofs and the heart. It’s about fantastic callbacks. It’s about having one of the few “asshole with a heart of gold” leads I can actually stand because. You know. Growth. It’s about the INCREDIBLE genre and pop culture parody. Which genre do they parody, you ask. All of them. They parody all the genres. The glee parody episode is a fucking masterpiece of television. If you don’t want to watch a show that features a Halloween party where everyone turns into zombies and the ABBA discography blasts in the background, you can stop reading right now, because I can guarantee you won’t be interested in a damn thing I have to say.

MINI REC ALERT: The X-Files. I’ve also never seen this but a: everything I’ve seen out of context has been fantastically weird and delightful b: it appears that there’s a general consensus that Scully and Mulder are one of the only valid straight couples so it’s probably pretty fun and c: let’s all be honest. Supernatural was already basically an x-files rip off, it had like half of their original writers swiped from the x-files crew, I’m pretty sure if you liked especially the first couple of seasons of supernatural, you’re gonna like the X-files.

Subcategory: TV SHOWS ( A WHOLE TWO OF ‘EM, OR MORE LIKE ONE AND HALF IF YOU WANNA GET TECHNICAL) I’M SPECIFICALLY RECOMMENDING FOR THAT COCAINE HIT OF PURE UNADULTERATED UNCUT 2012 TUMBLR NOSTALGIA

BBC Merlin

Yes, I know the show ended in 2010. Yes, it still provides that 2012 Tumblr nostalgia. 2012 Tumblr is a feeling, not an actual time period.

I love this stupid show. I plan on rewatching it all over the month of January. I harbor a deep amount of fondness for it. It’s why every time I see literally any depiction of Merlin I get just so fucking excited, and why I’ve consumed as many ridiculous Arthurian adaptations as I have (side note: my two favorite other ridiculous Arthurian legend adaptation are Avalon High, a DEEPLY silly DCOM that is required viewing to level up friendship with me, and The Kid Who Would Be King, which is the only movie that I think truly understands the comedic potential of playing a King Arthur Adaptation mostly straight but everyone in it is 12. I’m not sure it intended to be as fucking funny as it was, but again, they’re all middle schoolers. I have never been more jealous of an actor than I was of the 22 year old that got to play a 16 year old dumbass Merlin who was sometimes also Patrick Stewart and did all of his magic with ridiculous hand gestures That should’ve been me that should’ve been me that should’ve been me. Also Sword in the Stone by TH White is pretty good, because Merlin knows germ theory in the fantasy 400’s and he just uses it to be petty mostly. Also listen to High Noon Over Camelot by The Mechanisms. Also Also I tend to prefer family friendly adaptations because they don’t have the uhhh. You know. Incest and sexual violence of the original legend. Love to Not have that shit!) Whether you watched it initially and are due for a rewatch, or you’re intrigued enough by the concept of the show to watch it for the first time, you should join me on this wild wild ride.

Basic Summary: You know who Guinevere, Arthur, and Merlin are, come on. BBC said let’s make em all YOUNG let’s make em SEXY let’s make em FAMILY FRIENDLY and let’s make magic REALLY SEEM LIKE A THINLY VEILED ALLEGORY FOR BEING GAY BUT TO THIS DAY IM NOT SURE IF THAT WAS INTENTIONAL OR NOT BUT IT SURE SEEMS LIKE IT WAS. @ THE BBC MERLIN CREATORS WHAT IS THE TRUTH BECAUSE THERE WAS SOME INTERVI-

Basic Summary but like a bit more helpful: A BABY version of Merlin (and by baby I mean like 20 year old.) is sent from his small town to the big city the Kingdom of Camelot to find his destiny. Staying with the town physician and friend of his mom’s, Gaius, he ends up as both his assistant and personal manservant to Prince Arthur. But in a kingdom where magic is punished with death and the prince seems hell bent on getting himself into situations that are going to kill him, the young sorcerer has his more than his share of work cut out for him.

Shared elements with supernatural that you might Vibe with: Primo supremo queerbaiting. Like, yeah, okay, it’s queerbaiting, you know it’s queerbaiting, but you watch some of the scenes and ur like okay. I know why I let this bait me. Obviously with a modern show, I would expect more, I would expect better, I would raise my standards, but I gotta admit. Some of these scenes are fuckin compelling as hell, and the subtext is like barely sub. Monster of the week shenanigans. Some awful CGI creatures but like a charming awful. Like the kind of awful that tells you their very limited budget was more focused on cool swords than realistic creatures. Episodic stories build into a more overarching plot, with things getting darker in season 4/5. Shitty father that end up eating shit and while the son of said father is rightfully conflicted and upset over the death it’s cathartic and victorious as all hell for the audience. Multiple hot evil women, and I love hot evil women. There’s also nice hot women, which is a bonus. These women don’t all immediately stupidly die, so that’s a nice change. Also like a LOT of sarcastic humor and shenanigans if u like Sass Merlin is there for u personally name a more iconic line than “Oh I’m sorry, how long have you been training to be a prat, my lord?” AND THAT’S IN THE FIRST FUCKIN EPISODE brilliant amazing fantastic show stopping. Also you know those like dumb hijink episodes where like Dean was possessed by the spirit of a dog or some shit? You bet your bottom fuckin dollar BBC Merlin has those kinds of storylines. Also I know some people go to spn bc it had that HUGE fanbase and like BBC Merlin’s fanbase is still SURPRISINGLY poppin even though it’s been a decade since there was new content so like. Have fun!

Doctor Who but Specifically the RTD Era

Look I’m not here to say that the first four seasons of reboot doctor who are the only good doctor who or inherently better than all the rest (though the RTD era is my favorite personally) BUT when ur seekin that sweet sweet superwholock frenzy nostalgia, this is the ‘who’ that is being referred to. Also like. Stan 9. We should all collectively stan the ninth doctor. Chris Eccleston, the Objectively Best Famous Chris, deserved better.

Basic Summary: An immortal alien that goes by “The Doctor” travels across time and space with a variety of different companions, often to try and save the day or fix a (sometimes self created) mess. It’s distilled campy sci-fi with a family friendly tone that has made me cry on several occasions.

Shared elements with supernatural that you might Vibe with: Monster of the week that, you guessed it, builds into bigger overarching plot style narrative. Fighting off the apocalypse, but like every couple of weeks because worlds are in danger a LOT. A semi-tragic romance that made people go absolutely buck fuckin wild bc pining n shit. Wamen, but they aren’t fridged. (actually for real though none of the main women die and I just think that’s really fun and flirty even though I could go on a COMPLETELY SEPARATE rant about the injustice of one of the character’s ending YES season 4 is my favorite season and one of my favorite pieces of media ever and I am currently actively recommending it to you YES im still fucking pissed over how it ended YES we exist) Specifically, a Wonderful and Very Excellent woman named Donna who goes on a spa trip that doesn’t end up going very well. That seems like a highly specific example, and it is, but it did happen in both shows. (Also, to anyone that continued watching SPN after like idk season 9 what happened to Donna? I always liked her and I know she became a recurring character so like DM whatever probably injustice was the end of her story line pls and thank you) I’m also extra specifically recommending for Supernatural Fans and also The World At Large: Season Four of Reboot Who. I rewatched it last year and it still goes so fucking hard. Donna Noble is the best character in existence. In regards to the appeal for SPN, personally I think the best part of SPN was when people who are soulmates went on adventures and tried to save the day and it was a good mix of banter and sincerity AND GUESS WHAT’S BASICALLY THE ENTIRETY OF SEASON 4 OF DOCTOR WHO. It’s so good y’all I wish Everything was about soulmates going on adventures and trying to save the day.

OKAY TV SHOWS DONE TIME FOR M O V I E S which I don’t have nearly as many recs for but uhh here goes

What We Do In The Shadows/ Shaun of the Dead

I’m lumping these two together bc my reasons for recommending them are largely the same, and I would call them tonally similar enough that if you like one you’ll probably like the other

Basic Summary (Shaun of The Dead): Uh-oh! London’s had a break out of some of that good ol’ zombieism. Shaun and friends decide to hunker down in a local bar, but they have to get there first. Will they survive? Will they fuck up some zom zoms? Who’s to say?

Basic Summary (What We Do In The Shadows): Some vampire roommates dick around. I think there’s technically, like, a plot, but it’s really just about some vampires Doin Their Thing. Vibin.

Shared elements with supernatural that you might Vibe with: This is kind of similar to the Community recommendation, in that supernatural had the opportunity to be one of those things that was both a parody of a genre but also just a really good example of the genre. WWDITS and SotD are both those things for vampire and zombly movies, respectively. Have the aesthetic and some of the themes of a horror but is not actually all that scary. Horror Comedy is a god tier genre and I don’t know why it’s not more widespread. Fun monsters/cast of characters in general, so at least one person in it is probably going to make you go “oh gender” ya know? With SotD you have the fantasy power trip that comes with like any piece of media that involves hunting monsters. With WWDITS I go “yep that’s how bisexuals dress” and I Will Not Clarify which character I’m talking about.

MINI REC ALERT: All of Taika Watiti’s filmography. Thor:Ragnarok is one of like 3 marvel movies that I consider genuinely fucking fantastic completely independent of the MCU and my own tendency to be like “hurr bdurr I love. Superheros”. For the one that is most tonally like Supernatural But Significantly Better and Written By Someone Competent I think I would say try out Hunt For The Wilderpeople. It’s got a reluctant curmudgeonly father figure and I KNOW some of you motherfuckers were so invested in spn when you were like 16 bc you had daddy issues. This is a callout post for my friend [REDACTED], who I should text to watch Hunt for the Wilderpeople, actually.

MINI REC ALERT X2!!!: Bram Stoker’s Dracula. I’ve never seen it but it has both Winona Ryder AND Keanu Reaves so like. Goth bi rights.

Happy Death Day (and Happy Death Day 2 U)

happy death day was one of those movies that I saw the trailer, went “eh”, heard other people say it was great, watched, and went holy fuck this slaps. Not nearly as much of a slasher film as the trailers implied if im remembering the trailer correctly

Basic Summary: Our main character Tree keeps waking up on the day she was murdered. The day resets every time that she dies. That’s right, it’s a time loop storey babey!!!!!!!!!!!

Shared elements with supernatural that you might Vibe with: If you were anything like me you were foolishly lulled into supernatural for way longer than you should’ve been on the promise that the characters would idk like grow and change and become better and learn lessons and some of that would be through the power of receiving love and kindness. You know. Like how good writers would do it especially if their main characters are kind of dicks that really should make some changes. Well, Happy Death Day fucking delivers on that promise in SPADES. It’s about growth! It’s about change! It’s about making the active decision to become a better person and putting effort into doing so! There’s heavy themes of like grief and trauma and acknowledging them and facing them head on in order to move on and the negative consequences of refusing to do so and just trying avoid it until it goes away. There’s a romance that makes my dumb little self do the pleading face emoji. Tree is also one of the only good asshole with a heart of gold characters. I also think media is improved by having at least one character that is a Good Good Boy (note: Good Good Boy character does not have to be a man.) and Happy Death Day has Carter. Oh on that note: Tree Voice: I’ve only had character for (the same repeating over and over) a day but if anything happens to him I’ll kill everyone here and then myself. Also the movie is funny so like hell yeah.

that’s all I got for relevant movies right now

BOOK RECS

jk i’m illiterate. Everyone should feel free to go ahead and add their own suggestions for this section The best I can do is uhhhh I think y’all would probably like Mira Grant’s novels, particularly the Newsflesh stories, bc sibling dynamics. Also the book The Haunting of Hill House is really good. Ballad of Black Tom slaps? There’s of course the Good Omens novel that the show was based on. I’m about to recommend some podcasts after this section which will include to Welcome to Nightvale because of course it will and the tie in novels for that slap, especially It Devours!, and I’m pretty sure they work as stories even if you know nothing about the podcast. Also also I think you should read “The Long Way to A Small, Angry Planet” by Becky Chambers It’s not thematically similar to supernatural at all but it’s one of my all time favorite sci fi novels and only like four people have read it which is a goddamn TRAVESTY.

Anyway yeah that’s it that’s all there is. Onto the medium that is like books but I can fold laundry or cook while consuming their narratives.

PODCAST RECS

Okay so this is getting uhhh wicked long so I’m gonna limit myself to only three full blown recs and a

mini rec

Alice Isn’t Dead

Fuck me running this show is so good. Literally hands down my all time favorite (and scariest!) horror podcast. Mamma mia, that’s a good fuckin story. The Book version is also good and has fewer Weird events but some further character development so I recommend them both.

Basic Summary: After her wife Alice disappears mysteriously, Keisha takes up a job as a long haul trucker, traveling all across America in order to find her, but ends up finding so much. Pursued by a deadly creature she calls The Thistle Man, the stakes of her journey are raised.

Shared elements with supernatural that you might Vibe with: okay so I have a lost of bullet points of things that appealed to me specifically about supernatural and how no other shows covers all of them which sucks bc it means I basically Yearn for a show that’s supernatural but good. Alice isn’t Dead, however, hits the most of these bullet points AND is so fucking good. It has monster hunting. It has stopping a cataclysmic event BUT also discussion of the cyclical nature of events such as these and how the fight never truly ends but you can make some fucking progress nonetheless. It has a central gay romance that’s actually a central gay romance. It’s the ONLY show on this list that really hits that the weird and dark underside of americana vibe but specifically the americana of not like suburbs and shit but that eerie haunted feeling you get when you’re hours into a late night drive on open roads with no civilization around and an expansive sky and it just Seems like something should be watching you. Have you ever been out for a walk at midnight and encountered a deer and you looked into each other’s eyes and it felt like it was telling you a message that you couldn’t possibly hope to parse? Have you ever felt an incredible sense of deja vu eating in a restaurant you couldn’t have possibly been in before, because you’ve been to a thousand diners a thousand times just like one, and there’s an incredibly sense of homogeneity even though you’re 2000 miles away from anyone and anything that could possibly know you? Have you ever traveled to an area that seems to be stuck in a bubble of time, the only thing that shows any evidence of having aged past 2006 being yourself, and you wonder how your cell phone even works around here? THAT’S the spooky americana I’m fuckin talking about! Messed up road trips! Too much goddamn space! America is scary because it’s big and Filled With Things but also Not Enough Things! Fuck yeah!!!!! That time bubble fuckin EXISTS in Wyoming the most recent song on the radio I heard was fuckin Hey Soul Sister!

Also has a thing where like are there even good guys and bad guys in a conflict or is it all just one umbrella nightmare that you’re trying to stand against in anyway possible (u kno..like how the overarching structures of both heaven and hell were kinda fucked in spn? No spoilers but similar shit be happenin in Alice Isn’t Dead). Exploration of what makes someone into a monster, like how do you go down that path? Also this is the only show on this whole damn list that southern gothic music really suits it so points for that.

The Magnus Archives

You know I had to do it to ‘em.

Basic Summary: Jonathan Sims has just become the Head Archivist at the Magnus Institute, a “research” “facility” that looks into paranormal/esoteric/unexplained phenomena.

John Mulaney Voice, Again: Nobody knows what the archivist is going to do next, least of all the archivist. He’s never been in an archives before, he’s just as confused as you are.

Shared elements with supernatural that you might Vibe with: Oh fuck this document is over 5k long I said I wasn’t gonna do this hhhhh so lipton lightning round: Slowburn Gay Romance but Actually Canon, Monster Hunting but Hey What Even Is A Monster Anyway, Acts Somewhat like a Loosely Connected Horror Anthology until it DOESNT, Little Things Build to Bigger Narrative, Characters Be Goin Through It (On God These People Need Therapy), Trying to Prevent/Fix The Apocalypse (X2!!!), Smug Asshole Big Bad, Horror as a Metaphor For Various Shit, Basically if you thought that the Men of Letter concept slapped and you think it should’ve been the whole damn show including being Deeply British you would probably really fuckin like TMA. Also if ur like the ideal piece of media is a horror tragedy but also like it’s a wacky sitcom but also also fuck cops. U will like tma.

Welcome to Nightvale

IF ANY 2012 TUMBLR FANDOM DESERVES TO MAKE A MASSIVE COMEBACK AND BE EVERYWHERE AGAIN AND ABSOLUTELY FLOOD MY DASH IT’S WELCOME TO NIGHTVALE WHY DID WE ABANDON THE SHOW THAT TREATED US THE MOST KINDLY DID YOU KNOW THAT EPISODES 108-110 ARE THE BEST FUCKING BUILT UP NARRATIVE REVEAL THAT I HAVE WITNESSED IN MY LIFE DID YOU KNOW THAT IT CONTINUED TO BE REALLY FUCKING GOOD AFTER MOST PEOPLE STOPPED LISTENING DID YOU KNOW CECIL AND CARLOS ARE MARRIED AND THEY HAVE A DOG AND A TODDLER NOW BECAUSE OF ALL THE GAY PODCAST PROTAGONISTS CECIL GERSHWIN PALMER LOVE OF MY LIFE ELDRITCHIAN CHEERLEADER AND CERTIFIED BIMBO KEEPS FUCKIN WINNIN BABY. DID YOU KNOW THAT CECIL THINKS PEANUT BUTTER IS A ROCK.

Basic Summary: Welcome to the sleepy desert town of Ņ̶̏ight V̶͚̰̮͗̔̊̊ale! Community radio how host Cé̵̟͚͕̗̞̙͂͑̽̄́c̵̤̼̞͈̪͓̍̽̋̚̕͜il Pǎ̵̧̨̢͚̻̈̂̄̇͐̇̊̀̆ͅl̶͚͎͕͉͖̬͓͑́̐̒̍̿̈́͢͜͝ͅm̸̧͙̟̖̠̳̬͋́͋́͌̚̚ͅȩ̙̖͎̖͂́̒͐͜͞r̢̢̛̰̻̮̺̩͙̼̈́͋̀͘ is here to k̠̠̰̦͙̯̥̎̄̆͌̎̀̿̔̌̚ê͒̽̈̓��̷̢̬̥̞̩̯̘̂̔̍e̶̡̝̗̺̫̪̜͆̓̿̈͌͌̆͒͞ͅp̵̹̗̬̼̠̬͙̏͐͐̉̅͊͊́͟͞ͅͅ ỷ̛͙̞̦̦͖̑̉̌̎͞͡͡͝ͅo̧̧̥͎̻̥̲͇͋́́̔̈͌͞ǔ̸̬̯̫͇̦̮͕̤̲̯̽̔̀̔͆͋̈́͘̚ up to date all the local happenings, including w̸̢̢̢̧̡̡͍͖̻̳̹̼̼̰̬̭̱͔̲͙͍̰̠̥̺̝͖̺̖̼̮̼̞̳̞̜͉̤̯͇̖̳͖̠̙̺̲̤͇͈͚͓̮̭̱̭̩͚̟̥̬̟̻̝̼̖͚̘͐̆̅̂̃̈́͆͊̉̏͒́̈́̋͗͑̄̉́̐̌́̿̌͛̾̎̊̾̃̈́̉̔̍̐͛̕͘̚͜͜͠͠é̵̢̡̧̨̨̡̧̨̡̛̹̥̥̞̮̯͙͈̻̝͓͖͙̦̰͍̖̜̲̰̞͎͈̭̯̳͕̗͓͈̭̫̼̯̪̞̯̰̲̘̭͎̪̱̗̝̝̞̤̱͉͙̯͎̬͎̙̜̗͉̩̦͕̪̳͇͙̺̙̰̠͚͎̜̠͔̬͎̺̣͕̜̊̓̃̐̂́͂̎̐̾̔̽̀̉́̍̊̂̿̎͂͐̎̐̄̍̔̋̐̃͗̈́͂̀̒̊̎͘͘̕̚̕͜͝͝͝͠ͅͅa̸̡̧̡̡̨̡̨̛̛͙̣̘̳͎͖̥̝̟̱̩̥͙͉̝̲̙̮̩̩̹̱͔͎̥̹̻̜͚̭̬̳͚̤̙̖̯͎̱̫̞̪̻͖̱̞͔̭̻̺͚͚̯̬͓͓̳͇̳̦͓̞͈̮̤̭̣͉̲̞͚̘͗̆̃͌̅̍͊̓̈̇̌̒͊͑̊̏̊͌̈̓̿͗̒̏̒͊͒̏̃̎̒̀̅̾̍̀͘͘͜͝͠ͅt̵̢̡̨̧̧̛̛̛̯̤͓̘̻̤͓̪̰͔̪̝̫͎̻͔͈͎͔͙͕͈̰͓͍̀̏͒̆͋̈́̈́͂̔͋͆͂̅͗̍̆̍̆̔̑͊̏̈͒́̽͊́̿͂́̓͛̽͐͌̌̐̈̇̃̓̆̍̅̃̔̚̕͜͝͝͝ͅͅh̸̨̨̡̢̢̡̢̧̡̧̢̡̨̡̭̜̬̬̙͕̗̙̻̯̠̘͙̻̥͉͚̼̗͚͇͉̰͍̥͉̗͎̬̫͖͉͔̼̮̯̞̫̬̟̻͉̖̙̥̫͖̬͚̟̜̭͇͎̭̘̝̲̤͕͎̰̭̗̯̮̤̙̙̯͍̞̭͚͔͎̞̹̲̟͉̩̭̖̱̠͍̺͈̟̩̋̆̈́͆̍̆̄̏͜ͅͅȇ̸̢̢̨̨̧̛̜͍̺͎̬̪͙̻̝̣͓͈̺̩̳̟̲̠̣͈͎͎͈͉̙̪͖̳̺͇̹̊̍͊͑̿͊̌͛̿̓͊̾̀͂͛̉͆̾̽͆̈̏͛̊͛̍̈́̇͋̔͂̑͐̂̿͊̽͑͘̚͘͝͝͠͝ͅͅŕ̵̨̡̨̨̢̧̡̧̨̘̟͙̦̲̲̪̦̙̼̠̳͚̞̦̞͖͚͇̳͖̲̭͕̜̫̳̖̙͖͉͎̘̘̤̠͈̬͕̝̻͚̥͍͕̠̥͙̙̪̖̯͍̘̘̲̣̹̜̪̲̭̟̮̫̖̤̰͔̩̩͉̲͚̟̝̦̬̪̘̬̮̱͔̻̦̼̃̐̂͋̐̅̋͒̉͛́̅̈́̒̒͆̑̆͊̒͒̀̍̈́̍͌̍̏̔͋͌̒̍̌͛̓̈̂̐̕͘͘͜͜͝͝͝ͅͅͅ ̶̢̡̨̛̠͇̹̯͕͍̻̟̼̼̗̩̱̗̙̱̥̜̬̫̜͎͉̺̣͓̟̯̱͖̣̞̠̝̥͍̲̳̙̠͔̹̘̲̲̻̖̈́̊͋͜͜ą̵̡̧̟͕̬̳̜͈͈̳̝̜̣̬͔͈͈͎͉͍̯̟̞̺͎̝͇̰̥͖̬̯͙̤̬̼̲̦̯̭͓̠̺̳̱̰̮̎͋͆̈́͌͆̎̉̓̇̐͋͋́̃̉̈̄̏̓̉̿̅̒̉̒̉͂͛̄̀̇̒͊͛́͊̎́͆̌̆́̌͂̈́̽̋͛͗̑̊̀́̍͊̌͆͊͐͆̅̒̊̉̾̄͛̑̕͘͘͘͘͝͝͝͝͠͠͝n̸̡̛̛̛̛̛̙͎̬̦̠̼͓͈̝̾̍͑͛̅̒̾́̌̍͛̇̋̇̓̏͛̔͛̈́͆̿̌͐̿͊̿́͒̍̃̀̈͐̐̆͐̉̒̂̉̀̅̇̾͋̍͒̋̈̌̿͒͐̍́͗̀̌̌̚̕̕̕͘̚͘͘̚͜͠͝͝͝d̴̡̢̢̛̛̛̺̠̳̬͎̞̲̣̲̱̳̪̹͉̝̠̱̗̙̫̠̹̼̙̝͉̲̟̮̙̙̮̻̹͈̦̙̞͚̜̙̖̞͓̙̭͉̃̽̌̅̔̾̈́̒̽͑́̒͋̓̈́͆͋̽̒̃̽̋̐͌͂̍͑́̽̋̍͗̋͗͂̅̽̈̈̾͐̄̃̕̕͜͠͠͝͠͝ͅͅ ̵̡̡̢̛̛̗͚͍̺͇̲̳̯͓̰͍̙̮̙̜̟̞̣̼͕̝͔͙̺̫͈͈̠̻̘̱͍̦̭͔͈̤̺̗̮͕̦̞̘͍̯̻̝͓̤̳̫͔̩͉̬̈́͋̈́̐͒́̔́́̿̓̆͐̎͆̇͒̄̈̿̓̑̾̏̔̿͊̌͆͒̒͊̓̅̓́̔̅̀̀̀̃̿̂̑͂͆̅̎̾̏̓̂̈́͛͌̇̾͌͐̈̂̆͐̅̓̍̓̃̆͗̃͛̏̒̌̀̅͊́̽̐̆̿́̌͘͘̚̕͘̕̕͜͜͜͠͝͠͝͠t̷̢̥͓̄͗̾̄̅̚͜r̵̨̡̨̧̧̢̛̛̛̛̛͍͙͚̥̱̞̜̦̜̼̺͉̠̬͎̰̻̜̼̫̤͓͖͖̤͇̞̥̖̈́͊̆̓͊̑̑̋̒̈́̔̆͆́̐͛͑͊͋̇̈́̓̑̍̏͐͛̽̋̎͑̃̈́͒̇̂̇̌͂̀̍̊̇̓̋̈́̌̏̕͘̚̕̚͝͝͠ǎ̴̡͓͓̯̘̥̱̱͖̦̺͓̘͉͖̞̟̦͈̜̥̰̘̞͈̦̠̼̯̙̭̼͚̟̖̲̠̝̜̐̅͆̏̈́̍́͂̃̾͑̓͋̽̄̾́̾̆̾͒͋̎͂̈́͘̕̕̚͜ͅͅf̷̢̡̡̧̢̨̡̧̢̢̧̡̧̫͖̖͇̲̫̮͕͉͓̩̪̳̹̩͎̖̟̤̤̲̟̪̫̻̻̖̟̦͉̼͎͖̭͍͖͎̖̳̳͙̜͉̝̘̺̖͚̙͉͕͙̯͖̞͚̮̲̻͉͙̺̭͓͎̤͙̦̦̺̯͕̜̰͍̳̙̦͉̪̥́͋̓̅̀͋͐̀̄̊̆̉̒̐͒̀̏̈̇̊̉̆̐̏̾̀̀̓͛͆̍̾͗͌̀̄̔͒̀̍̈́͆̔̒̑̏̍̏͆́̾̐̂͋̂̔̂́̓̓̌͌̉͛́̒̐̽̏́̑͊́̌̆̂̑͋̇̈́͌̑̿̅͗̚̕͘̕̚͜͠͝͝͠͠f̴̨̨̛̹͌̂̓͌͛̀͑̾̓̍͗̽͆̉̊͗̇́̍͌̊͐̔̈́̊̇͆̄̃̑̕̕͘͘͘͠͝͝͝͠i̴̧̡̢̢̧̢̨̨̧̧̧̛̛͎̗̳̦̘̙͓̦̙͔̜̼̘͇͇̺̭͉̠̩̟̤̥̘͙̤̩͔̪̱̻͈̪̼̼̞̠͎̟̹͕̻̭̤̪̲͕̟̺̻̻͖͕͚̣͇̖̰̝̩͈̤͕͇͕̝͙̙̪͔̗̫͇͎̙̲̲͖̗̘͉̲̣̤͎̔̐̆͒̄̈́̀̎̃̃̅͆̌̈́̽̈́̅̈́̑̄̇͒͐̀̐̀̒̍̀̓͌͗̓̽́͗̓̎͂͛̅̑̔̀͛̈́̽̾̃̊͊͆̄̍͑̍̆̌̾͗̄̊̽̉̅̆̀̎̀͑̿̎̋̄̆̃͐̾̏͛͒̍̋̅͘̕̚̕̕͜͜͝͝͝͝͠ͅͅc̷̛̛͚̝̻̣̞̓́̃́̀̃̓͗͌̂͛́̒̊͑̓͆̇̈́͑̏̆̀͌̑͂͂̄͌̉̔̋́̎͒̿͗͒͛̇͛̿̎̍̕̕̕͝͝͝͝͝ ̴̢̧̢̡̨̢̡̨̡̢̢̛̺̘̹̯̤̩̘̯͔̞̟̬̠̣̟̻̥̜̤͔̥͕̠̥̞͎̗̩̱̮͉͔͎̲̯̱̙̜̥̳̮͔̦̣͖͔̜͉̗̪̳̹̦̤͇̣̙͕̯̫̖̝̼̹͍̠͎͓̗͎̦͓̲̯̱̠̰͇̮̹͔̝͉͙̹̜̹͈̹̥͖̣̳̲͖̓́͌̈́̈́̀͌̄͂̌̾́̍̔̊̓̿͋͂͋̈́̋́́̒̓̀̒̃͂̀͑̐͛̆̆͒̈́̅̿͊͌̍͗̌̌͆̂͌́̉̏̒̓͊̾̒̓̋̽͐̏̾͘̕͜͝͠͝ͅͅr̸̨̢̛̪̞̬͓͔̥̤̣͔̭̥̙͉̦̗̠̳̩͙̂̈́͑͑̿̋̓̀͋͆̋̕͝͝ë̴̢̡̨̬͈͉̖̞͔͎͓͖̼̘̬͕̰͈̥͈̝̩͎͉͉̫̜͚͕̤͔̟̯͓͎̟͙̜̭̩̗̮͎̗̤͇̝̩͎̜̺̯͕͇̝͎̯͙̖͙̮̗̮̘́̑͑͛̂̅̄̌̽̓̒̾̿͆̏̏͐͛̾̂̃͑͆̅̄̿͋̅͂̈́̽͋͒̎͐̒̓͆̌̉͑͊́̀̈̾͛̋͑̋̎̈̀̽̀͊̏͘͝͝͝͝͠͝ͅp̴̧̧̡̢̢̢̛̛̛͚̟͓̖̭̪̻̪̲̬̥̙̥̰̼̹͎͕̪̞̮̺̰̬̘̫̤͉̦͙̮̖̙̹̻͔̖̮̲̞̣̻̜̠͇̬͚̱̦̼̲̮̀̂͌̍̈̒̍̋̌̏͐̓͛̉̂̈̀͑̈́͊͗͋͗́̂̎̎̃͆͒̅̑̇́̈͐̾̀̔̒̉͑͒̅̓̈́̋͋̀̍̄̿̌̀̉͆̇̔̈́͗̋̄̓̇͗̎̉̆͊̒͗̚̕͘͘̕̕̚͜͜͝͝͠͠͠͠͠ͅͅͅơ̶̢̛̛͔̦̼̰̠̯̰̟̲̣̜͙̲͙̪̱̍̅̄͋͑̋̍̊̉̄̈̽̈͐̀͌͐̆͊͂̐̋̃̎͆͛̐̀̂̿̈́͂́̈̌͐̇̀̒͋͑͐́͌̐̇̊͆̀͂͋̏́͋͆̏͗͂͑̂̓̽͘͘̚̕̕̕̕̚͘͠͝͝��̡̧̨̡͕̺̪͈͉̺̻̙̥̲̩̲̩͔̠͚̩͓̞̠̯̟̫̣̗̦̰͉͚͙̺͎̼͖̥̙͈̯̲̝̞͎̻͕̮͔̰̖͔̭͙̩̼͔̫̹̘͓͔̜̘͍͜͜ͅͅͅr̴̨̨̨̧̨̛̘͕͈͔͙̠̬̯̩̗̰̗̬̦͈̗̝̣͓͓̟͕͙͈̠̘̻͓̭̝̘̦̦͓̭̘͙̻̙̼̩̰̝͈̱̝̱̬͉͙̣̖̮̲͈̙̱̩̣͕̦̰̮͔͈͓̙̮͍̳̟̠̞͎̱̣̰͕̩̝̲̝͐́́̍̈͐͋̐̑̌͋̓̈́̈͗̿̈̈́͗̑̚͜͜͜͜͜͝ͅͅţ̴̢̨̧͇͉͎̣̬̣̝̗̬̹͇̮̞̈́̐̌̇̈́̌͊̐̅̂̌̂͒͌́̈͌̂̊͗̍̿͑͋̎̓͂̀̎̎͒̾̏̒͌̃̄͋̌̾̍̈́̐̏͑̊̍͑͆̉̓́̆̌̾̓͊̊̈̑͘̚̕͘͘̕͝͝͝͝͝s̴̢̢̡̛̬̹͚̻͉̦̦̣̦̠̜͕̤̳͓͙̟̬͕̘̦̿͗̉̏̒͆̓̄͊͌͛͂͑̒̃͛͘͜͝͝!

Shared elements with supernatural that you might Vibe with: Honestly, probably bc Nightvale and Alice are by the Same Dudes, a lot of these points are the same as Alice Isn’t Dead, but it’s less scawy and more funney. Also hits the “horror, but make it kind of a sitcom” vibes. Doesn’t have the same road trip vibes, but DOES capture the exact weirdness of South Western USA, so I’m still giving it “fucked up americana” credit. If you’ve never been to New Mexico ur like this is an exaggeration clearly no desert town is subject to like ACTUAL cosmic horror and unexplainable sights but I’m telling you New Mexico is just Like That. (I highly recommend visiting the land of enchantment if you ever get the oppurtunity it is a deeply odd and wonderfully unsettling experience.) Look man it’s gay it’s a horror comedy cecil has a wonderfully soothing voice and it hates capitalism so fucking much like oh my god so much what more could you want.

MINI REC ALERT: Wolf 359! I have nothing deep to say about this I just like it and my gut tells me that y’all would enjoy it too I know there isnt much for physical descriptions in the show but I know in my heart that the main character is so so pretty and so so stupid. I KNOW yall like some himbos that experience character growth.

Okay since It’s my party and I’ll speak if I want to rapid fire list of podcasts I just like and want more people to listen to even though I’m behind on like all of them shhhhh: The Penumbra Podcast, BomBARDed, Dungeons and Daddies, Stellar Firma, Wonderful!

SONG RECS

okay these aren’t like replacement recs or anything they’re just really good and I almost certainly would have put them on some sort of supernatural playlist in 2013 but I don’t, like, have a good playlist for them now so I’m subjecting y’all to them also they all have the youtube link for ease of access

Woah There Kimmy- Felix Hagan & the Family

Devil’s Backbone- The Civil Wars

Blood On My Name- The Brothers Bright

Awake O Sleeper- The Brothers Bright

The Bottom of the River- Delta Rae

Old Number 7- The Devil Makes Three

The Bullet- The Devil Makes Three

In Hell I’ll Be In Good Company- The Dead South

Bartholomew- The Silent Comedy

Pomegranate Seeds- Julian Moon

Curses- The Crane Wives

Tongues & Teeth -The Crane Wives

OKAY THAT’S IT! THAT’S ALL FOLKS! FUCK!

#long post #if you didn't want this blame of-mice-and-mentality for enabling me posting #supernatural

45 notes · View notes

redwinterroses · 3 years

Note

angsty third life prompt: grian missing his wings. bonus for impulse or tango interaction.

It actually turned out less angsty than I intended... Might revisit this one later. I was also inspired by this one piece of fanart I saw but can't find now, where Grian doesn't just have elytra he has actual parrot wings, but they’d been ripped off. It was beautiful and I am v sad that it has vanished. lol. Anyway, enjoy. ;P

_______

He really doesn’t like being stuck on the ground.

Grian shades his eyes with one hand, gripping his new iron sword in the other, and surveys the desert beneath Monopoly Mountain. The sun is just rising, but the heat rising off the golden sands is already enough to sting his skin and a bead of sweat rolls down his neck. Heat waves shimmer deceptively, nearly making him miss the real form moving across the dunes.

He glances over his shoulder at Scar, but the red-lifer is currently distracted doing… something with the storage chests. There’s no way it’s organizing, but probably best not to ask; instead he takes the chance to slip away.

Sliding down the side of a massive dune, he skids to a stop just as Impulse reaches the foot of the mountain.

“Halt, who goes there?” Grian says, brushing sand off his jeans and holding up one hand to stop Impulse. “Friend or foe!”

“Friend, friend – always a friend.” Impulse grins, and raises both empty hands. “Just came to chat with Scar.”

Grian rolls his eyes. “You’ll leave with less gear than you came,” he warns. “Scar’s been scamming people out of their stuff all day.”

With a gesture, Impulse dismisses his concern. “I heard, I heard… which is why I brought extra.” He pulls a pair of enchanted iron shoes out of his rucksack and waves them temptingly.

That gets a chuckle out of Grian. “Clever.”

Down at the level of the desert the heat is worse than before, and he instinctively twitches his shoulders to fan his wings – but, of course, there’s nothing there. The rough edges of the stumps twitch restlessly under his shirt, and the dull pain he keeps trying to ignore spikes a little.

Impulse, narrowing his eyes, rearranges the strap of his rucksack and jerks his head toward the distant treeline. “You want to… take a walk?”

“You just got here,” Grian says, but he glances up the cliff toward where he left Scar. He could slip away, just for a little bit… “But sure – this place is blazing hot. I almost can’t think in this heat.”

“You’re telling me. Come on, there’s a little pond just over that first hill; we can cool off there.” Impulse turns and starts trudging back towards the distant shadows of the trees..

Grian follows him, his feet sinking into the soft, shifting sand. He hates how it drags him down, hates the way it gets into his shoes and between his toes, as if it’s trying to remind him with every step that he can’t escape it.

“You, ah… you okay there, G?” Impulse’s longer legs have taken him further ahead, but he stops and waits for Grian to catch up. “Looking a little… tired.”

“Just – hating gravity is all.” Grian forces a little laugh and doesn’t stop when he reaches Impulse, continuing on. Ahead of them, the shady forest promises cool relief. “Stupid, I know.”

“Ah.” Deliberately slowing to keep Grian’s pace, Impulse nods. “Yeah, I miss elytra. It’ll be great to get back to Hermitcraft and be able to fly again – I bet it wouldn’t even take two rockets to cross this entire world.”

Grian doesn’t answer, but his wing-stubs flutter again in frustration. He feels so heavy. So earth-bound in this place – this tiny world that ripped his wings from him and dropped him into a killing game he only had a slim chance of surviving.

“Oh… right.” Impulse sounds like he’s answering a question no one asked. “Gosh, Grian, I’m sorry – that was pretty insensitive. But you’ll get your wings back too.”

I hope.

Neither of them say it, but they both think it – and know the other one is thinking the same.

As they finally reach the cover of the trees, and step into its cooling shade, Grian pulls off his shoes and shakes the sand out of them. “Stupid sand,” he growls. “Stuff gets everywhere.”

“You don’t have boots yet?” Impulse raises an eyebrow. “They keep the sand out—”

“No, Impulse,” Grian doesn’t even bother keeping the irritation out of his voice. “I don’t have boots yet. Or armor, or a decent kit, or anything but bread to eat, or even a partner who’s not probably certifiably insane.” He tucks the shoes under his arm, electing to go barefoot on the soft grass, and snaps: “Where’s this pond?”

Impulse doesn’t react to his harsh tone, and the sympathy in his face makes Grian feel like he should apologize. But before he can, Impulse leads him deeper under the oaks to a small, sandy-shored pond. “There,” he says, pointing. “And good idea – think I’ll stick my feet in too.”

They sit down in the shade of a massive oak tree, and Impulse pulls off his own boots, dropping them with a clank into the grass. Stretching, he leans back and lets his now-bare feet fall into the water. “Ahhhh,” he says. “Yep. That’s exactly what I needed.”

Dipping his own toes into the clear water, Grian weaves his fingers into the grass, and gives a sigh.

“Sorry, Impulse,” he says, his voice softer against the distant sounds of birdsong and the wind rustling the leaves overhead. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you. It’s just… hard to get used to, you know? Being… grounded.”

Impulse reaches over and claps him on the shoulder. “Hey,” he says. “It’s not forever.”

“No, just until I die. Or everyone else does.” For the first time, the realization that there will only be one survivor of this game strikes him fully, and he looks over at Impulse. “Impulse… by this time next week, one or both of us could be dead. We might kill each other.”

Impulse shakes his head. “Nah…” he says, but then falls silent, any further protest dying on his lips. They both know it’s true. As peaceful as this moment is, shared in the cool quiet of the oak grove with their bare feet making ripples in the water, it can’t last.

“Might be worth it,” Grian adds suddenly, forcing his voice to be light. “Cause some chaos, go out in a blaze of glory – just to… you know. Get back.” Back to Hermitcraft. Back to the sky.

“Aw, come on, G. Don’t talk like that – you’ve got a real shot at winning this thing.”

Grian shrugs noncommittally. “Maybe,” he says.

But I’d rather fly than win.

#third life #3rd life smp #3rd life #third life fanfic #grian #impulse #caffeinated animated redstone innovator

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giuliafc · 4 years

Text

Nightmares

Written by: JuliaFC

Betas: Khanofallorcs, Agrestebug, Etoile-Lead-Sama and Genxha. Thank you all so much!

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by (c) Thomas Astruc, TS1 Bouygues, Disney Channel, Zagtoon, Toei Animation. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Written for the Facebook h/c group “Hurt/Comfort Italia - Fanart and Fanfiction - GRUPPO NUOVO | Groups | Facebook”, weekend challenge, “Atonement 2.0”. I was asked to write a *coughs* drabble about character A being stuck somewhere and character B having to help them. If you speak/read Italian and are interested in the genre, join us! We’ll be glad to see you!

oOoOoOoOoOo

The sound of her frantic whimpers woke him up. He looked around wildly and, at first, panicked because he didn’t recognise anything. It took him a few minutes to realise that it was Nino’s lounge. He was sleeping in a sleeping bag on the floor.

Yes, the memories of the day before came back in a flash.

~~That morning~~

Marinette looked very tired that morning at school. Alya looked at her worriedly and told her that she shouldn’t stay awake all night working on projects all the time. She needed to sleep. So she acted instinctively, as she usually did, and decided that the only way that they could ensure that Marinette would have a full night of sleep was to be physically there to check up on her. Easy as pie. Alya was a master organiser when she had something in her mind. And she had decided that she wanted Marinette to have a sleepover with them at Nino’s. So in literally five minutes she cleared her schedule and Nino’s, rang Tom and Sabine and asked them for permission to ‘kidnap Marinette for a night’ and organised for Nora to look after Chris and the twins.

Marinette tried to complain. She really did her best to get out of the situation. But Adrien didn’t like that. Exactly like Alya, even he worried about the growing bags under Marinette’s eyes, and about how easily she fell asleep during their school day. She looked exhausted. He had asked her a couple of times in the last few weeks to slow down, because he really didn’t like how tired she looked. It seemed as though every time after, he saw her coming to school looking more exhausted than before. This time she literally fell asleep the second Mlle. Bustier’s lesson started and stayed asleep (aided by the fact that he and Alya explained to their teacher that Marinette’s health would benefit from the nap) for the whole lesson.

So when Marinette tried to complain about not wanting to take part in the sleepover and tried to get out of it, Adrien blatantly lied. He hated lying, and he wouldn't do it normally (except to protect his identity, of course), but Marinette was too dear a friend for him to worry about menial ethical concerns.

“It’s a shame that you don’t want to have a sleepover, Marinette,” he said. “I just texted Nathalie and she gave me permission to come too. But if you’re not going to be there, then the sleepover is usel—” He beamed when Marinette interrupted him.

“Oh no, you’re okay,” she muttered. “I mean, it’s okay. You’re perfect. I mean, it’s perfect. Yes, you’re not perfect, that would be weird. But mareding, I mean amazing. If you’ll be there, I’ll marry you, I mean I’ll come with you. Yes. Of course. I’ll be there. Right. Definitely!”

“Cool!” He gave her a soft look and took hold of her hand, causing Marinette’s face to flush deep red. “I’m looking forward to it, then!”

Alya and Nino looked at him with wide eyes, and Nino walked him to his car on purpose to ask him, “Did you really get permission for..”

“Nope,” he admitted. “But I will find a way. I may not get there very early and I may need to leave at the crack of dawn, but I’ll be there, Nino. See you tonight!”

When he closed the door of the sedan and was waiting patiently to return home, Plagg peeked out of the pocket of his shirt to give him a curious stare. “How are you going to pull this off, gamin?”

“I’ll pretend to have a migraine, go to bed and sneak out as Chat Noir.”

Plagg raised a disbelieving eyebrow. “Where is my holder? Tell the aliens to give him back to me. He buys me the best of cheese,” he asked. When Adrien gave him a dubious look, Plagg continued, “No, honestly. I’ve never seen you rebelling like this before. I'm proud of you, Adrien!”

Adrien chuckled. “Ha, thank you, buddy. It’s not rebellion. It’s just—”

“What?” interrupted the little furball.

Adrien sighed. “I’m worried for Marinette. I knew that she would agree to the sleepover if I was going to be there.” Plagg raised an eyebrow so Adrien blushed a little and looked away. “Don’t look at me like that. She’s always wanted me to get some freedom and experience things, so I knew she wasn’t going to give up on the opportunity to make me experience a sleepover.”

“Ah, okay,” commented Plagg. “Go figure…”

So that evening Adrien put his plan into action and, for once, everything went smoothly. At exactly nine o’clock he pretended to have a migraine and locked himself in his room, transformed into Chat Noir, turned his shower on in the bathroom (just in case. After all, Nathalie had a master key to all the rooms in the mansion!) and left to reach Nino.

He didn’t get disappointed. They had great fun playing a couple of games before going to bed. They even had a pillow fight, because Adrien had always wanted to do one. Then, nice and early (so that Marinette could get as much rest as possible), Alya set up four sleeping bags in the lounge and they all went to bed.

It didn’t take long for Marinette to fall asleep. He kept a watchful eye on her and saw that she tossed back and forth a few times. She also muttered things to herself a little bit, but in a matter of minutes, she was gone. Adrien smiled and exchanged conspiratory looks with Nino and Alya, happy that their plan had worked. Hopefully, it meant that finally Marinette would get some sleep.

A moment later, though, he raised an eyebrow as Nino and Alya got up from their sleeping bag.

“Where are you going?” he asked, a little surprised.

“Not to be funny, Sunshine, but Nino’s bed is much more comfortable than the floor and we would also like some privacy. So if you don’t mind…” Alya winked at him. “Would you look after Marinette for us?” They hadn’t even waited for him to say yes before walking away.

“Huh, great friends they are,” commented Plagg. “But at least I can get out from your pocket.”

“Be careful, though, Plagg. If they come back, or if Marinette wakes up, I don’t want anyone to see you.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll stay inside the sleeping bag,” retorted Plagg.

It didn’t take long after that for Adrien to fall asleep.

~~End of Flashback~~

But now, the sound of whimpers and muffled cries woke him up. He looked around, wondering if Alya and Nino had come back, but their sleeping bags were empty. There was only one person who could be whimpering, then.

He quickly got up and moved closer to Marinette. Her eyes were closed, but she was tossing and turning, the sweat pumping out of her. She was white as a sheet.

“She must be having a nightmare,” whispered Plagg, floating sleepily out of the sleeping bag and reaching the pocket of his pyjamas top.

“I know,” whispered Adrien. “Should I wake her up?” At Plagg’s agreement, he called out to her a bit louder, grabbing her shoulders and giving her a small shake, “Marinette? Marinette?”

“Nnnnnnnnnh, no, please,” Marinette was muttering. “You're wrong! I'm not Marinette! It's impossible, I never told you anything!”

Adrien’s eyes went wide. What kind of nightmare was she having? Why was she saying that she wasn’t Marinette? “Marinette? Please, it’s me! Wake up!”

“Nnnnnno! Don’t touch me, chaton, please!” she screamed and of course Adrien let her go and sat on his knees, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Chaton?” He sucked his breath in, his heart in his throat. Was she really talking to him or was she still dreaming? Had she figured him out? And if she hadn’t, why on Earth was she having nightmares about Chat Noir?

“It-it’s time to de-evil—” she started to say and then she crouched on herself, as if she was trying to duck a hit.

Plagg moved a little closer to Marinette and stared with massive concern at the girl asleep on the floor. His gaze darted from the sleeping girl to the stunned face of Adrien, and the boy could clearly see that his kwami was worried. No, worried wasn’t the right word. He was terrified.

“Never! LUCKY CHARM!” shouted Marinette and then she erupted into a massive scream that drained all blood from Adrien’s face. His heart skipped several beats as Alya and Nino ran in the room giving Plagg barely enough time to zip back behind Adrien’s head.

“What’s going on, Sunshine?” asked Alya running next to him.

“I-I don’t know. She started talking in her sleep and screaming, I think she’s having a nightmare but I couldn’t wake her up. I don’t know what else to do!”

Alya put a hand to her chin and frowned. "She had mentioned a couple of times that she was having nightmares. I wonder if that’s what has been keeping her awake or making her so tired. I’ll go make some camomile tea, for when she wakes up. You don’t move away from her, Sunshine. Nino, come with me.”

Adrien gave them a grateful look as they walked out of the lounge. “Plagg?” he asked after a moment. The little black kwami came out of his hiding place and gave him a sheepish look. “Don’t look at me like this, Plagg. Have you maybe failed to mention that—”

“OKAY! OKAY! I'LL GIVE YOU MY MIRACULOUS, CHAT NOIR!”

“Plagg!” Adrien put his hands into his hair. By now he knew that it couldn’t be an accident. The gravity of his discovery hit him like a big punch in the stomach. Marinette was Ladybug. There was no other explanation for what he’d just heard. But he didn’t have a chance to panic about it. The realisation hit him that his Lady was having a nightmare. A nightmare about facing… him? Chat Noir? Wanting to steal her Miraculous? Why was his Lady tormented with nightmares where he was an akuma? He looked at her again and saw that she was crying in her sleep. His heart broke. “What’s going on? What is she talking about? I’ve never b—”

“You will always be Chat Noir to me.” The way she said it. The sentiment that vibrated in each and every word. Tears were starting to worm their way out of the corner of Adrien’s eyes as he grabbed Marinette’s shoulders firmly and gave her a big, massive shake.

“BUGINETTE! Can you hear me? Please wake up! Wake up please!” He hugged her and couldn’t stop sobbing. “Please, My Lady. Please wake up…”

As he kept hugging her and gently patting her hair with his hands, he felt her body relaxing before tensing again. Until suddenly, she started hugging him back.

“Chaton?” she whispered. “Is that you?”

He broke the hug and looked her in the eye. He saw the surprise in her gaze and how wide her eyes and how pale her face had become. He wiped his tears with the back of his hand.

“It’s me, yes. Hi,” he said tentatively and waved nervously.

She sucked her breath in and gasped loudly. “I must still be dreaming. Yes, that’s it. I’m still asleep. Now I’m going to pinch my hand and I will wake up still laying in my sleeping bag and you will be sleeping too and nothing will have happened and I will just think of how stupid I have been in having yet another silly nightmare with Chat Blanc and… oh my God, usually I just see what had happened in the future again, not wake up with Adrien hugging me and claiming to be Chat Noir; it must be because I’m at this sleepover, and he’s sleeping in the same room as me, and I must have mixed things up and—”

As she was saying all that avalanche of words, Alya and Nino came back inside the lounge, carrying four mugs of piping hot herbal tea. Alya sat down with her legs crossed next to Adrien and cautiously gave the mug she held in her right hand to Marinette.

“What are you rambling about, girl? Here, have some camomile, it helps against nightmares.”

They sat down in silence. Nino gave Adrien another mug full of piping hot liquid.

Marinette’s gaze was literally glued into Adrien’s, her face as white as a sheet. She absentmindedly took a sip and winced, forgetting just how hot camomile could get. She started blowing gently on the liquid, but her eyes never lost sight of him.

“Sorry, Alya, I was having a nightmare,” she said eventually. “That’s why I didn’t want to come to the sleepover. I… I’ve been having nightmares for some time now.”

“What kind of nightmares, girl? I didn’t understand what you were saying, but you were screaming bloody murder a moment ago. Luckily, Chris is at my house with the twins, or we would have had three overtired children to deal with by now.”

Marinette moved her gaze briefly and met Alya’s worried brown eyes. “Sorry, Alya. My nightmares are nothing special, something about me failing my exams and my commissions. Nothing to worry about.”

Adrien glared at her. He knew that she had to lie, but he still didn’t like it when she lied that blatantly. “Are these nightmares the reason why you’re so tired?” he asked, sniffling a little. He couldn’t stop the mad pounding of his heart.

“Ah, no, don’t worry. I’ve just worn myself out too much recently, that’s all.” She made a dismissive gesture and smiled nervously. Right. As if he bought that. He and his Lady would need to have quite a long chat, as soon as—

Marinette put the cup back down on the ground, empty. “Thank you for the camomile, Alya. I feel better now. Shall we go back to sleep?”

Alya yawned and picked up the mug from the ground, standing up in a gracious gesture. “Are you sure you will be okay?”

“Yes I will, don’t worry. You and Nino go back to bed.” She smiled when Alya gave her a sheepish look. Marinette eyed her amusedly and continued, “Did you think I hadn’t realised you were gone?” She chuckled a little and a light blush dusted her cheeks. “You two go back to doing whatever you were doing. Don’t worry about me; Adrien’s here.”

Adrien saw clearly how Marinette winced when Alya’s eyes grew wide. To what must have been her great scorn, rather than going away as she had been asked to, Alya moved closer to Marinette. She sat back down crossed legged next to her and put a hand on her forehead. “Okay, where have you put my Marinette? Give her back, please.”

“What are you talking about?” asked Marinette, plucking Alya’s hand from her forehead and moving it back to her friend’s lap.

Alya folded her arms over her chest and raised an eyebrow. “Do you need to ask? We come back in the room and find you in Adrien’s arms muttering nonsensical stuff that we couldn’t even understand,” said Alya as Adrien took a big sigh of relief that neither of their friends had truly heard the secrets spilling out of Marinette's nightmare. “Then you don’t stutter at all in his presence and you dismiss us saying that you’re okay because you’re with him? Tell the aliens that I want my girl back. Please.”

Marinette blushed deep red, lowering her gaze to the floor. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m tired and want to go back to sleep. So if you don’t mind, Alya…”

Alya sighed. “Okay, okay, I got the message.” She got up again and gave her a look full of mischief. “I’ll leave you to it, then. Good luck!” Then she grabbed Nino by the arm and walked straight out, turning the light off.

They waited for a few minutes in the darkness, still like salt statues, listening carefully to ensure that Alya and Nino were really gone. After a few minutes of waiting, Adrien stood up and went to the door. He put an ear to the door and then looked at Marinette with an annoyed frown on his face. He slammed the door open and Alya and Nino both fell on the ground.

“Ouch, what was that for, Sunshine?” complained Alya.

Adrie sighed. “I thought Marinette told you to go to bed.”

Alya smiled nervously. “Uh, yes, we were just…”

“Picking something from the floor,” muttered Nino at the same time as Adrien said, “...spying on us. Do you think we don’t know your ways, Alya?”

Alya looked at both her friends sheepishly. “I know, sorry. We’ll go to bed now.”

“You’d better, Alya, I’m tired!” said Marinette with an exaggerated yawn. Alya and Nino waved goodnight and Adrien closed the door. He stayed near the door for a few minutes, tapping his foot on the floor nervously. Then he opened the door again. This time everything was clear. He closed the door and sighed.

He turned around and, without looking at Marinette in the eye, went back in front of her and sat down, legs crossed. His fingers started fidgeting with the silver ring on his right ring finger, bringing Marinette’s attention to it. He started slipping it off his finger, but gasped when Marinette grabbed his hand and stopped his gesture, wrapping his hands with hers firmly.

“Don’t you dare,” she commanded. He gulped, the grip that had already held his throat since he’d discovered the truth became even more painful. He breathed heavily, his hands falling listlessly on his lap.

“Who’s Chat Blanc?” he eventually asked. “Is he the reason why you’re so tired?”

Marinette sighed. She started fiddling with her own fingers now and looking at her hands with great interest. “Chat Blanc is… you. In another timeline you were somehow akumatised. I would rather not talk about it, minou, it’s not a nice memory of mine.”

“I’m sorry,” he muttered and grabbed her hand, causing her to give a startled gasp. He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles softly. Marinette’s face lit like a lightbulb and she gave him the expression he had been so used to seeing on her face up to then, that sort of grimace between a smile and a cringe that she reserved only for him. “I wish I could do something to help. I don’t even remember having been akumatised in the first place. When did th—,” he started, but then he gasped and put a hand on his mouth, his cheeks dusting slightly with pink. “Uh, sorry M’lady, you didn’t want to talk about it.”

Tikki flew between them and started floating right in front of Marinette’s face. “Although maybe you should, Marinette.” Marinette hugged herself and started rocking back and forth. Her eyes filled with tears as she sniffled loudly and shook her head in denial. Tikki sighed. “Really, Marinette, you’ve been having horrible nightmares for months. You can’t get it out of your head. Discussing it with him could—”

“NO!” said Marinette louder. “I’m so useless, Tikki. I had promised to myself to never let him know about it at all, and here I am, revealing myself to him because of a nightmare about his akumatised self that he doesn’t know anything about. It’s not fair. It’s not fair to him, to taunt him with a future that doesn’t exist. He doesn’t deserve it!”

“But talking about it can help you, Marinette. Adrien is your friend, he’s been worried for you. Alya and Nino have been worried for you. You know that this is the reason why Alya organised this sleepover. You haven’t slept more than an hour or two per night for months. You keep burning the candle at both ends. You’re taking on a burden as massive as the memory of this timeline, and the nightmares that came from it, all on your shoulders without asking for any help. It’s not healthy.”

“B-but I don’t want to burden him with it, he’s got enough in his plate already!”

Adrien cleared his throat causing both Marinette and Tikki to turn towards him. “‘He’ has a name, Marinette, and ‘he’ would love to support you and help you, you know? Me and you against the world, that’s how it’s always been, right, Buginette? Why do you never trust me with anything?”

Marinette paled, giving him a terrified look that broke his heart a little. “So-sorry, I do trust you, Adrien. I trust you with my life on a daily basis.”

“Only because I force you to, by putting myself between you and the danger. But you’ve never trusted me with anything else.” He pouted.

Marinette raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? You’re sure of that?” She gave him a tongue-in-cheek look and folded her arms on her chest. He gulped and his gaze fell.

“Uh, I know what you mean. The New York incident. You know who I am now; you know that I couldn’t not go. And you were the one to make it happen for me. I did try to ask my father if I could stay, but he had already packed my bags.” He saw her raising an eyebrow at him and pouted again.

“It’s not the fact that you went on the trip that disappointed me, Adrien, but the fact that you never told me anything.”

He blushed and was going to retort something. But then, he saw the disapproving glare that Tikki was addressing to Marinette and he gasped, realising what she was doing. “Don’t change the subject, Marinette. You’re trying to distract me, aren’t you? I have already apologised for not having told you anything when we went to New York. You promised me after that incident that you would try to trust me more. Why are you breaking your promise, Buginette?”

Marinette’s eyes filled with tears. “I’m not breaking my promise!”

“You are! You’re not letting me help you. I can see that you’re hurting, Marinette. I had been feeling that there was something wrong for weeks, and now I feel as if I’m only seeing the tip of the iceberg of what’s troubling you. It must have been a really traumatic experience. I want to help you. I’m your partner, right? You said so many times that we’re equals?” He put a hand on her chin and forced her to look up. Her face gained a deep shade of crimson when bluebell eyes met forest green.

“You are my equal, chaton, and I do trust you. It’s just… just…” She cupped her hands on her face and started sobbing loudly. He reacted on instinct and moved closer, wrapping her up in a tight embrace. He felt Marinette tensing for a moment under his touch, but immediately after, she relaxed and hugged him back. She cried for a very long time, her muffled sobs and his tentative ‘shhhh’ the only sounds that could be heard in the silence of the lounge.

“It happened three months ago,” she eventually whispered. “The day of your fifth name day celebration, remember?” He nodded quietly. “Bunnyx came to me a little after I left your room and brought me to this future where the world had been destroyed. You had even Cataclysmed the moon. The entire city was underwater and you were sitting atop Montparnasse tower, alone. You were completely white, including your hair, and had these icy blue eyes that shone with madness. You attacked me and tried to get my Miracu—”

He gasped loudly and broke the hug, looking at her with his eyes wide. “I attacked you? I would never attack you!”

“You were an akuma, Adrien. You had destroyed the world. You had… you had Cataclysmed Hawkmoth. And me. I found what I thought were the statues of myself and Hawkmoth underwater and when I touched them they shred into powder. You said it had been an accident.”

Adrien started breathing hard. “This doesn’t make any sense! Why would I Cataclysm Hawkmoth and you? I thought Hawkmoth gave orders to the akumas, they’re his champions. How can an akuma possibly kill him?” He put his hands into his hair. “No, no, no! I would never Cataclysm you, Buginette. Never. After what I did to Aeon,” he started, but Plagg appeared from his hiding spot and flew to his face.

“It’s happened once in history already where an akuma created by the Butterfly holder fought back. Hawkmoth no doubt severely underestimated the power of the Black Cat Miraculous, gamin.”

“Hi, Plagg,” said Marinette when the little God of Destruction finished speaking.

“Hi, Pigtails. Where has Sugarcube g—?” Plagg looked around, but he didn’t manage to finish what he was saying, because something red zipped to him and wrapped him in a hug.

“I’m here, Stinkysock.” She let go of him after a few moments and looked at Adrien. “You’re right in what you’re saying, Adrien. She’s been terribly traumatised. She can hardly sleep at night.”

Adrien’s worried gaze went from Tikki’s concerned eyes to his maskless partner. “You faced hundreds of Akumas, Marinette. Why was I any—”

“You really need to ask?” she interrupted him. She glared, her eyes full of tears that she wiped angrily with the back of her hand. “It was you. The other akumas don’t matter to me, chaton. You do. You mean the world to me.”

‘You will always be Chat Noir to me,’ he remembered her saying just before she woke up. His heart started pounding in his chest again.

“Every time I close my eyes I see those icy blue orbs staring coldly at me. You were calling me with my name, so you knew who I was. And you told me that our love had destroyed the world.

His face felt suddenly very hot as his heart took residence in his throat. “Our… love?” he said in a choked whisper.

“You told me that your heart was broken, that because I didn’t love you anymore then you would destroy yourself, me, our memories, everything. You tried hitting me with a really powerful Cataclysm that you were throwing at me like a blast of energy from your hands. That’s usually when I wake up, but I think this time I reached the end, or nearly. I only woke up because you hugged and then shook me.”

Adrien’s brain had switched off hearing Marinette say ‘I didn’t love you anymore’. He didn’t hear anything else. “You love me?” he asked out of the blue. Marinette’s face turned crimson.

“Uuuuh… you see, the b-boy I was telling you about when we fought Glaciator?” He nodded. “That b-boy was you. Adrien-you. I fell in love with you when you gave me your umbrella.” She sniffled. “A-and to be honest, recently the line between Chat Noir being my partner and me having feelings towards him had become so thin that I couldn’t see it anymore. I was terrified to love my minou because of what I had seen in the future but… I couldn’t stop myself. I have been so confused since we came back from New York, chaton. I still loved Adrien, my heart was doing somersaults every time I caught you looking at me in class, but I couldn’t help being fond of my partner. Not after having nearly lost him. I tried to forget you both by dating Luka and trying to reciprocate his feelings, but it was going nowhere. We broke up a couple of weeks ago.”

Adrien pinned his elbows on his thighs, passing both his hands in his hair. He was trying very hard to ignore the sudden jolt of happiness that ran through his very being the second she said that she was, in fact, in love with him. All of him. She loved Chat Noir-him and Adrien-him. And she had just recently broken up with Luka, so she was available. How had he managed to hit the jackpot so perfectly? His heart was fluttering on its own little spot between cloud nine and ten, but the matter at bait now was that his Lady had been having nightmares. About him. The akuma version of him he didn’t even know that existed. And those nightmares had been taunting her sleep and exhausting her. He could squeeze her into his arms and kiss her senseless later.

“This is so messed up! So in that universe we were together and you broke up with me. I freaked out and got akumatised,” he said.

“Essentially, yes, I think.” She sighed. “I don’t know what happened, but it must have left you devastated.”

He grabbed her hand and forced her to look at him in the eye moving her chin towards him with the other hand. “You left me. That’s what happened. My heart broke.” He said that with such determination that Marinette couldn’t dismiss it. “I can relate with myself on that.”

It made total sense. Absolute and total sense. Yes, the fact that she left him broke his…

Hang on a second. Marinette paled as her eyes widened. “Y-your heart b-broke? Because I left you?”

“Aha. That’s what akuma-me told you, right? You know that I love you, My Lady. My heart breaks a little every time that you reject me. I don’t know if I could take you breaking up with me.”

Marinette’s heart went into her ears. Then, what he said registered in her brain and she noted that he had said, ‘My Lady.’ She deflated and slumped her shoulders.

“Right. Yes, chaton. I know you love your Lady.”

What happened? Adrien frowned as he scrutinised Marinette’s pout. Was she disappointed that he loved her? But she had said that she loved him too. What was the issue? He had felt the tension building within her and she had looked happy for a fraction of a second and then, out of the blue, her mood had changed. He saw her eyes filling with tears and his heart sank. What had he done wrong? Why was she upset? He kept going through what she had said, and what he had said, trying to find a clue, a reason why her mood had changed so much. Then, it suddenly struck him.

“Oh no… no no no no no, Marinette. You’re Ladybug. You’re the one I love.”

“I know you love Ladybug, Adrien. Don’t dig the blade deeper, please.” Her spiteful tone was the last clue he needed.

He grabbed her by the shoulders and gave her a shake. “Marinette, how many times did I tell you how amazing and great you are? How many times I praised you the same way Chat Noir praises Ladybug? God, I also called you my Everyday Ladybug once! You’re Ladybug, Marinette. Ladybug is you. You’re not a different entity from her, you’re her. Now it’s so clear that I really don’t understand how I didn’t see it before!” Her gaze was still looking down, the sparkle in her eyes completely absent.

“Please,” she muttered. “I’ve always been ‘just a friend’ until you discovered I’m Ladybug.”

His heart sank. His gaze started darting around, not knowing where to focus. He tried to say something at least four times, but every time he opened his mouth he changed his mind about what he wanted to say. Eventually, he met Plagg’s electric green eyes. The black kwami raised an eyebrow and folded his paws over his little chest. Adrien blushed and looked away. He knew what he had to do. He took a big breath and looked at her.

“You have never been just a friend for me, Marinette.” He felt his face getting really hot, but he knew that he had to say it. The time had come for him to tell the truth. He gulped. “Plagg can confirm what I say. He’s always been frustrated with me because I didn’t get it, and when I got it, it was too late and you had started dating Luka.”

He cringed at the sound of his own voice, so hoarse that he could hardly recognise it himself. “Rejection stings. Ladybug rejected Chat Noir’s advances so many times that it bruised my heart. I-I didn’t want to be rejected again, and by you, and ruin our friendship. Our friendship is so important to me; you’re my first friend. You’re so precious to me, Marinette.” He looked at her briefly; she stared back with glassy eyes, a big frown on her beautifully flushed face. “So I kept my mouth shut. But lately it has been getting more and more difficult to keep away from you, especially after New York. I was so happy when we had that dance under the moonlight. Somehow I felt that I still had a chance. But then,” his voice cracked, “when you didn’t stop me from leaving, I got heartbroken. I felt that both girls I loved had abandoned me.”

She gasped loudly. He fell silent for a long time, trying to fight the tears that were prickling at the corner of his eyes and the sobs that were itching to pour out of his clenched throat. “Little did I kn—” he tried to continue, but he had to stop. He couldn’t see anything any more because of the tears that were falling off his eyes. His throat had completely shut and didn’t allow his voice to come out. He wiped his eyes with the back of his right hand as his bottom lip quivered badly and the sobs he had been trying to hold came out, loud and clear. He panicked and his gaze darted around, the shapes of his surroundings dancing in front of him following the flow of his tears. When his green eyes met her bluebell ones, he saw that she was crying too. As soon as their gazes met, Marinette jumped on him and wrapped him in a massive hug.

“I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry!” she cried as she hugged him, and he hugged her back, desperately, as if he was being billowed away by a tornado and she was his only handhold. “I was shocked because Chat Noir—uh, you—had given up your Miraculous and I couldn’t think straight. By the time I gathered my thoughts again, your car had started to go. I ran after you for ages, Adrien, I picked up a bike lying on the tarmac and I followed your car screaming at you to stop. But the rain had made the ground slippery and I fell. And you were gone. That was the worst moment of my life! I had lost the two boys I loved the most in the entire world.” Now her voice was hoarse and cracking too. “I’m so sorry, chaton. I messed up so much!”

They hugged for a long time, happily lulling each other in the warmth and sensations that the close proximity to the other gave. Adrien’s hand was patting Marinette’s hair gently, the delicate smell of coconut (probably her shampoo) intoxicating his senses. He had to physically prevent himself from sniffing her neck. She smelled of vanilla and baked goods, maybe a hint of wildflower. It was absolutely divine. As he passed his fingers through her hair, he undid her pigtails and happily plunged his fingers in the soft silkiness of her corvine strands. The rhythmic sound of her breathing was grounding him, regulating him and helping him calm down.

“Can I kiss you?” he eventually asked. He felt her tensing at the question and regretted having asked. Maybe it was too early for her? Maybe she wanted more time to get used to the idea? “I-if you don’t want, it’s okay, you don’t have to.”

She broke the hug and looked at him, giving him such a soft look that his insides melted as a tingle running through his whole spine. But when she moved quickly and removed all gaps, meeting his lips with hers, the tingle was renewed in its strength. The butterflies (the right kind of butterflies) took residence in his stomach as he deepened the kiss. He felt his heart explode from the surge of electricity that ran through his core when Marinette, after a little gasp, allowed him to. Her hands moved to his hair, and Adrien learned that he really liked Marinette’s hands combing through his bangs.

Then, as suddenly as their lips had met, they had to break the kiss to breathe. They looked at each other, panting hard. Adrien touched his forehead tenderly with Marinette’s and stroked her cheek with his thumb.

“I love you, chaton,” Marinette whispered in his ear, causing him to shiver. He held her stronger and placed a soft kiss on her temple.

“I love you too, Marinette.” He stroked her hair gently some more. “Can I sleep next to you? I promise I will be a gentleman. I-i just want to feel you next to me.”

Marinette nodded and they laid down on Mariette’s sleeping bag, still wrapped around each other. Marinette fell asleep almost instantly, her head resting happily on his chest, one of her ears pressed against his ribcage right next to his heart. He placed another soft kiss on her hair and started feeling his eyes closing from the exhaustion.

And that was how Alya found them, a few hours later. She had entered the lounge to wake Adrien up and tell him it was time for him to go back home, if he didn’t want to get caught. Alya erupted into a big, huge, massive grin and tiptoed her way back to Nino’s bedroom to grab her phone. She beckoned for Nino to follow her and they both sighed, looking tenderly at the two lovebirds fast asleep.

“I knew that my little birdie would leave his nest eventually,” whispered Nino with a big smile on his face.

Alya beamed at him. “I’m nearly sorry to wake him up,” she whispered back. Nino gave her a curt look and she sighed. “I know, I know, he risked a lot to come here and we don’t want to blow his cover. But first,” she said and messed with her phone, putting the camera on and taking a picture, “There. For the wedding album!”

Then, she gave Adrien a big shake and was thankful that she caught his surprised blushing face as soon as he opened his eyes.

‘That's another good one for the album,’ she thought, taking one last shot when Marinette also opened her eyes at Adrien's surprised gasp and her face became the colour of Ladybug’s suit.

Those two. Honestly, they'd never learn.

Fin

Author’s note

There you go. A bit later than I wanted to, but here’s the second story for that challenge. Which sadly ended before I finished the story, but never mind, I post it anyway ^-^

Hope you liked this story. Please feel free to drop any compliments, screams, insults, kisses… incoherent rambling… anything you want in the comments and hit send. I love reading your feedback, please be nice with this poor sleep deprived soul who writes at 3 am for tort—, I mean to delight you with these loads of rub—, er, these beautiful stories of mine. *Coughs*. Good news is (oh well, good… depending from the point of view), I have more plans in my head, so I’ll tort—, I mean I’ll delight you with some more very, very soon.

Aren’t you happy? :D

#miraculous #miraculous ladybug #miraculous adrien #miraculous les aventures de ladybug et chat noir #chatnoir #adrienette #adrienagreste #adrinette #adrien and marinette #marinette dupain cheng #chat blanc #marinette needs a hug #identity reveal #ladybug reveal #chat noir reveal

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bewitchingjediandavengingnarnia · 4 years

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Tagged by my good friend @skysofrey :)

Rules: Answer 30 questions and tag 20 blogs you are contractually obligated to know better.

I definitely won’t have 20 on here so I’ll tag the usual suspects; @vickylynntwin2 @megratwin1 @jeffwatersismyhusband @slurpeeeez and @tea-at-221

Any of my followers can do this too! 💚

Hope I’m not being annoying ^^; If you don’t wanna do this you don’t have to of course.

1. Name/Nickname: Anna

2. Gender: female?

3. Star sign: Sagiittarius and I don’t know what that means except that I’m a centaur with a bow and arrow. Cool.

4. Height: 1 Danny Devito. Seriously I’m that short.

5. Time: 9:32am

6. Birthday: early 90s, this month! :D aka December

7. Favorite bands: oh dear there’s a lot- Coldplay, Muse, Linkin Park, the Beatles (what of it Tumblr), My Chemical Romance, Cage the Elephant, Airborne Toxic Event, Queen, Pink Floyd, Led Zepplin, Maná, The Eagles, Beegees

8. Favorite solo artists: my dad <3 <br>

Does John Williams count? Shakira and lately falling in love with Dodie

9. Song stuck in my head: My head’s empty at the moment

10. Last movie: Pirates of the Carribean 3 ugh it was my dad’s choice I only love the first one

11. Last show: The Mandalorian

12. When did I create this blog: 2012

13. What do I post: Says in my blog description but I guess more specifically my main fandoms are Marvel, Star Wars, Disney, Harry Potter written by Daniel Radcliffe, Lotr, Narnia, 90s cartoons, Umbrella Academy, Avatar the Last Airbender, Gravity Falls, Steven Universe, and probably a lot more

14. Last thing I googled: MCR vinyl record. Should I treat myself? 👀

15. Other blogs: My artblog @annakarinaart :) feel free to check it out! I draw stuff like the fandoms mentioned above. Also have @221beelieveinjohnlock completely dedicated to johnlock/bbc sherlock so if you’re into that you can check that out too! Sadly haven’t had time to post much fanart on there but I hope to be more regular on that some day.

16. Do I get asks: Mostly from skyofrey XD

17. Why I chose my url: I wanted to defy the attitude some people have on tumblr that long urls containing references to your favorite fandoms are cringey. My first url wasn’t like that and I felt I missed out on the fun so guess what cringe is dead and I’m having fun

18. Following: 77

19. Followers: 218 most of which are dormant

20. Average hours of sleep: 8-9?

21. Lucky number: My favorites are 3,4, and 6

22. Instruments: the teensy tiniest bit of guitar and drums

23. What am I wearing: a green sweater that does not go with this red shirt and my harry potter pj pants

24. Dream job: auteur/animated series showrunner but only if I know I can do a good job of it ^^;

25. Dream trip: Florence yeah yeah it’s cliche but it’s the city of art okay

26. Favorite food: fried chicken or spaghetti

27. Nationality: Mexican American

28. Favorite song: Not sure right now but I’ll always have a soft spot for a song my dad wrote me

29. Last book I read: Well read completely was probably a Percy Jackson book, but I’ve been listening to audio of Sherlock Holmes stories I’ve already read

30. Top three fictional universes I’d like to live in: Narnia without the witch, Lotr specifically the Shire and Rivendell, and I’m afraid of space but I guess Naboo from Star Wars

#tagged #is that how i should tag this?#phew that took a while

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thedeadlyspacepirate19 · 5 years

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Hello everyone! I know it has been awhile since I posted on this blog. I dont know how many of my followers even care but I do feel I owe an explanation anyway. I explained this before on my other blogs but this particular one is different so I think it deserves its own unique version of what is going on. But it is more or less the same words as what I stated in my other blogs so if you also follow them sorry for just a different and longer version of what I already said.

But there is more details in this message that I hope you all take the time to read everything if you want.

So enough rambling here we go. Now many will know I mostly started this blog with showing off my zadr art and other things I enjoyed. There is no real purpose for this blog. Just random fanart I draw sometimes and reblogging things I like.

But for most of it, I did put a focus on zadr and it did attract the attention of at least one anti. I feel like the drama has slowed down a bit since then so sorry to bring it back up to a small extent. But I was heavily bullied by this anti. I dont have thick skin so I couldn't just ignore it and move on. I let it get to me. So around the time the Holiday season came around last year I was starting to give up on drawing zadr stuff and in turn it made me stop wanting to work on stuff for this particular blog.

This also made me give up on writing my invader zim/gravity falls fan fiction. And I am so sorry for that. (But good knews for that story before I move on, is that I do have 1 chapter and a half of another chapter finished and will upload them on my ao3 account soon after I finish more. So I can end up with on big update. )

Okay moving on finally. Now I am finally starting to feel better after the anti just stopped sending me messages through anon but my anxiety and depression hasn't really stopped messing with me.

And in my own personal life a lot has happened that made it even worse. So my motivation to work more on things for this blog vanished even more.

I want to make more drawings for this blog (which includes showing off zadr pictures again and other things as well) and I want to write more in my fanfic. I'm sorry it has been a while since I've done so but I hope you all understand why I haven't done that for a while.

I hope to post more on here soon. So see ya for now!

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hellmandraws · 8 years

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Stanuary week two: Protect He might not always be able to be there to protect his brother from bullies, but at least he can keep him from taking their words to heart.

You can see all of my Stanuary entries here.

#stanuary #gravity falls #stanley pines #stanford pines #me: okay the last one was 4 pages long. can't do something like that again #me: *does a 5 page comic instead*#dear me: wtf #also #let's face it #all of my stanuary entries will be a bit painful #( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)#they were so pure when they were young *u*#(then they both became human disasters)#my aesthetic is ford being a giant weenie as a kid but a huge badass as an adult #fanart #long post #fan comic #gravity falls comic

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dope-squish · 6 years

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Programmed And Damned [ RK800 Connor X Reader ] [ Detroit: Become Human ] - Chapter Four - Do You Believe In Soulmates

[ Goal - 60 Hearts/Reblogs ] [ Sorry for not updating. personal shit happened but now i'm back and i'm lowering the hearts or reblogs because why not ] [ Comments are extremely appreciated so please do comment. it makes authors feel great, i promise. it boosts our confidence ] [ Please press the heart button, the reblog button and share this fanfic to anyone and anywhere, this way, we'll more likely reach our goal ] [ Special mention to @timelizzy21 , @angsty-otters-blog , @connorshero , @divadonadance1 , @this-was-her , thank you so much for commenting *^* your comments made my day and i will continue making this story interesting so please keep reading on ][wanna make a fanart or soundtrack for the story? feel free to do so but if you ever do, please send them to me so i can post them in the future chapters so they can be appreciated]

It was basically considered a treachery when an android - a being created by humans' hands to obey orders they spout - feels any sort of emotion or anything at all but as you held a useless example of a father by his throat, the distressed crowd of humans is warm crimson blood stuttering to a halt as your fingers threaten to puncture the his rough skin - a total contrast to Autumn's which momentarily made you question about their relation - you can't help but to relish on the feeling of sickening pleasure it brought and it felt too fucking good to stop.

Ruth thrash about and put in great effort to oppose to your restraining and smothering clutch all around his bruising neck, brazenly sewing out string after strings of colorful and vibrant profanities that can and shall put a veteran sailor to shame, his livid glower zeroing solely on your monotonous facial expression. If his sight could burn as warm as the sun, then there was no ounce or a smudge of doubt that your optics would have melted. "You little plastic shit," A small but tempting part of your program felt the need to laugh at this man's chosen words - and broken speech - but realizig the gravity of the situation, you bit your tongue to refrain yourself from bursting out of laughter. "What the hell do you think you're doing? I am your owner. I control you ; you're supposed to obey me! Unhand me this instant! This is an order!"

An incredelous jeer dribbled from your sneer painted lips. An inhumane (so basically in-android? in-deviant) snarl was at risk to tear from your throat as your tongue spout out unregistered sentences from your system. "I don't take orders from anyone, and especially not from you." You spat out in disdain. "I am not a little plastic shit."

[ I AM DEVIANT ]

"I am a Deviant."

[ I AM HUMAN ]

"I am a human."

[ I AM ALIVE ]

"And," You wrenched him closer to your face until you were for certain he is aware of the warmth of your breath fanning his face. "I am alive."

Your vice grip around him was unyeilding and constricted even more so than you have ever imagined CyberLife would allow you (but then again, you are an android which serves a purpose for battling so it didn't really come much to a revelation). From this significant but effective change of strangulation, Ruth's calloused and grease tainted fingers let Autumn's silky auburn hair slide delicately through his ditt encrusted fingertips, unwillingly granting her freedom from his grasp and allowing her to flee from his ghastly intentions to lay a hand in her. Mentioned woman crawled away on all fours from her father and clumsily staggered back up on her feet, body lurching back and fro and hands blindlessly darting around her surroundings until they landed on some sort of leverage. Your enhanced pupils surveyed and calculated the enviroment enclosing Autumn's frame and the second you were guaranteed that she was safe from any form of hazardous danger, you - with a grunt in effort - inconsiderately flung Ruth as far as your arm power could conjure away from Autumn's location.

Ruth landed unpleasantly on more than a few heaps of bare containers and from the impact his stature had bestowed, their balance sense of stability became a chaotic jumble and plunged all over him, one particular box having been able to get caught on his head. A couple of men who stood standby, additionally the other Clashers - among them was Daryl's equally aggresive owner, William - scurried to Ruth's position to come to his aid. While they were being occupied with Ruth's welfare, your hand retracted from the puncture your fist constructed and outstretched it towards Daryl who immediately recoiled away from you, shrinking to what could be meraphorically described as a small mouse; traumatized to an absolute amount and thinking you were to move to harm him.

Your enhanced eyesight drifted to the microscopic wounds your android and mechanical induced body created around frail throat that were leaking with small amount of thirium. Undetectable by human eyes but noticable by androids's optics. An odd, indescribable feeling burst within the wires spreading across your body, overfilling you with the need to apologize and gain a confirming acceptance from the person included in your problem. Your system surfed throughout the web in search for an acceptable apology for someone you've almost and near deliberately harmed someone to bring them to their demise.

[ MALEWARE DETECTED :

GUILT ]

"Come on now, we don't have time to waste," You murmured under your breath and took tight hold of Daryl's hand in your own and hauled him back to his feet in one tug, steadying him as he tumbled wobbily on his two left feet. Your eyes surveyed the area and with a quick scan the surroundings, you manage to locate the oldest and rusting metal door in the arena which was your only hinderance to your desired freedom. Puckering your lips to point its idle existence, you clamored, "Over there!"

Avoiding all the pieces of what's left of the androids you callously obliterated in your state of android service for the humans - [ System Error ^ ] - you towed Daryl alongside you as your synthetic frames stood presented before the rusting door obstructing your journey to your freedom, you decreed, "Stay back."

Daryl had half the mind to part his dry lips to question your motive but his inquiry remained unspoken as he was rudely interrupted once your clenched hand made contact with the metal door, sending said object flying back to meet with the cemented wall right behind it with a booming and resounding noise within the interior of the factory that garnered the watchfulness of every being with a beating heart. Without sparing much less of an ounce of care for the destruction you've produced, you drew Daryl away from the arena and settled him behind you as your feet descended the small flight of stairs with hasty footfalls, thirium shaped footprints left staining the staircase. Daryl lurched at everg direction - threatening to fall off his footing - and had difficulty catching up with your pace yet - by some means - maintained impressive equilibrium, which you think was notable for someone having trouble inhaling. Maybe if he remembered he's technically still an android still, he would have no need to breathe.

Once your feet met the cold tiled floorings of the factory, so unlike the rough cement the arena held and as soon as your feet touched the very last staircase, they automatically brought you to where Autumn was positioned gripping her agobizingly throbbing scalp from the excruciating pain it endured from her only family. Your LED colored itself crimson red and your hand left Daryl's as it cupped Autumn's cheek gently, scanning if she sustained any fatal injuries. Your logical side was reprimanding you, telling you that you were overreacting seeing as Autumn had no evidence of red blood on any part of her nor does her clothes but you couldn't seem to find control for your motor skills.

"Autumn," Your murmured was broken from the concern injected into your tone, "Are you okay? How badly did he harm you? Can you move properly? Do you need my assisstance?"

Autumn softly took hold of the hand which held her cheek with an indescribable gentleness - which you didn't notice was quivering - and flashed you an uncertain smile as she pulled it away. She looked equally as perplexed at your uncommon display of affection. "I'm fine, [ Your Name ]," She reassured, her tone laced with scratchiness. "I'm fine," She repeated, more firmly this time around but the tragic lines of hurt on her face told you otherwise.

Your scanner made an attempt to inspect her wellbeing but for the first time, it failed to give any commonsensical information that would ease the concern blossoming in your thirium empowered artificial heart. "I apologize for my actions . . . I was, as humans say," You gulped. ". . . worried."

You didn't miss the dilation of Daryl's optics upon hearing your humiliating - as you deemed it to be - confession (the reason to your embarrassment must be coming from when you thought yourself as an unfeeling machine just a few minutes ago) as a small, jolly grin plastered on Autumn's features.

[ Autumn ^^ ]

[ Daryl ^ ]

Her beam brightened, if humanly. "Don't worry about me," She insisted.

Daryl interjected, yours and Autumn's heads snapping to his direction. "You must believe her. I scanned her. A few strands of hair was ripped off from her scalp and a mild numbing pain is present. Other than that, she's fine."

Your brows slanted as confusion positioned itself on your face. "But when I scanned her earlier - "

"She sustained no grave injuries, if that's what you're thinking." Daryl butts in. "What attained data your system received is undoubtedly an exaggeration. That's what commonly happens when an individual lets their emotions get the best of them."

The moment was cut off to a short when your proximity sensors caught a movement rapidly approaching your figure. In a swift motion, you grasped the arms of your two companions and pulled them down with you as you ducked. In unison to their bewildred yelps was the shattering of an empty bottle of beer that went overhead your frames and hit the floor with a sickening sprinkle. The surrounding crowd was chattering anxiously as they came audiences to a new scenario while some took the liberty to make use of this unfortune as an excuse to react negatively by spouting out colorful vocabularies and dangerous responses, hence the bottle.

Autumn was the first to stand, you and Daryl following suit to her actions. "That was a close one," She whimpered.

A smile threatened to appear on Darly's face - like some sort of silent agreement to her statement - but its possibility drastically went down as his sight trailed to the side. "You spoke way too soon." He spoke out in a tone you couldn't quite comprehend.

Autumn's brows furrowed in puzzlement, blinking. "W-What do you mean?"

Daryl's finger pointed and you followed its aimed direction only to locate Ruth Judge, along with the few other android Clashers all huddled together and glowering at the three of you with an intensity you cannot think was possible for any mortal to reach. From an expression you've stumbled across before in a shady website in the internet, if looks could kill, you'd be six feet below the ground by now.

Daryl faced them. "We need to go," He suggested. "As in, right now."

"No! We can't do that!" Autumn fought back, a scowl painting over her terrified expression. "We need to fight!"

A frown carved its way to Daryl's lips. "We're just wasting our time. And possibly compromising what little chance we have of surviving. We need to escape. And if you can't see, we're outnumbered."

Autumn, not one to back down on her decision, retaliates. "[ Your Name ] knows combat. That's enough. You've seen her take down those androids in the arena earlier. Humans are much more fragile and prone to injuries. We can help her fight back. We can't run away like cowards!"

He spat out, "There's nothing cowardly about wanting to survive, Autumn. It's too risky for us!"

"They're going to hurt us."

"Not if we run now." Daryl argues. "We can leave. We don't have to hurt anyone."

Uninevitably, the two faced your uncertain figure, both searching for your opinion in the matter at hand. To settld the feud, you scanned the premises and saw the probability of their suggestions.

[ Flee : 88 % ]

[ Fight : 92 % ]

You were torn between the two choices. Fleeing might be the wisest - and most pacifict - here for you had the knowledge these humans are no obstacle to you - a so called killing machine - but fighting was a display of dominance and in doing so, more humans will be less likely to chase you three after witnessing what brutality you had to initiate on them. After pondering and weighing the two options handed to you, you decided - [ Flee ]

"Your call," Autumn said so as she sent you a pointed look, as though telling you to make the correct decision. "Escape or fight back."

You took a moment to register your answer - making sure it was what you estimate as a better decision - before taking a hold of your companions' wrists and clamoring, "Let's move!" as you begin leading them through series of obstacles hindering your progress to flee from the group of men, sprinting as you rounded the large round arena in search for an escape passage.

[ Autumn / ]

[ Daryl ^^ ]

Regardless of the agitated screams tearing from the throats of countless frustrated Clashers, they were not the ones who managed to attain your undivided attention. Instead, from the corner of your eye, you took special note of the two familiar figures moving hurriedly with your pace - as though mimicking your response to run from danger - from the upper bleachers. Turning subtly to examine them more clearly, you spotted the same RK800 android sprinting - a look of programmed determination nestled on his perfectly symestrical features - with an old man with bulging stomach and untamed beard in tow who was clearly having a hard time catching up with the artificial human. Already knowing you can't extract any information from the android, your sight fleeted to the old man and scanned him for data instead.

[ Name - Hank Anderson ]

[ Occupation - Police Lieutenant ]

[ Handled Case - Deviants ]

"Fuck." The curse felt raw on your tongue as you spat it out in frustration and realization, head darting back to your main objective which was to exit the factory with Daryl and Autumn, unharmed and most importantly, alive.

"What's wrong?" Questioned Daryl as he matched your pace, brows burrowed together in concern for your outburst. "Is there something wrong?"

"A police lieutenant is chasing after us." You informed the two of them as you took a sharp turn inside a corridor, an unguarded metal door at the very end. "He has an android with him. A police android or something. They're here catching deviants."

The dilation of Autumn's frenzied amber pair of eyes was easily detected. "Deviants," She breathed out, "Like you and Daryl?"

You nod in response. "Like me and Daryl."

***

Once the trio entered a corridor and left his eyesight, a profanity spilled from Connor's lips and his pace significant quickened. "Hurry, lieutenant! They're getting away!"

"Well," An exhausted Hank huffed out as his cramping legs, damaged lungs and old age slowed him down to what Connor considered as a burden. "Try running after deviants and a very advanced prototype in my age."

Though hidden from Hank's sight, the RK800's LED bore a vibrant yellow color. "Androids don't age." Pointed out Connor in a matter-of-fact tone, to which Hank gritted his teeth to out of annoyance.

"Don't take it too seriously. I'm just stating my point." Hank retributed and soon enough, he slowed down to a stop. "Us humans aren't as indestructible and full of gasoline or thirium whatever as you are."

Connor's footsteps decelerated once registering the complaint that his human a parter spouted. "Do you want me to wait for you?"

Hank shook his head, back bent over and had one of his hand over his knee and the other dismissively waving his suggestion off like a pesky bee buzzing around. "No, no! Just go ahead and catch those deviants! I'll . . ." Hank leaned against the railing beside him, head thrown back. " . . . I'll just catch up with you."

"Got it," With an obedient nod, Connor whipped around and resumed his chase for the capture of the deviants and the female human. He scurried inside the corridors, his polished shoes slewing against the pavement and using his optics to unearth the faintest evidences of the combat android turned deviant's traces to pursue. He came to a skidding halt once a soft clink of a metal door softly closing reached his eardrums and soon enough, not a few second wasted, he found himself at the very last hallway built in the factory, and charged towards the door at the very end.

Shoving the door open with one of his calloused hand, he firmly stood at the very back of the factory where abandoned constructions machineries were laid like garbage and there - a cemented wall a few meters away from him - were numerous huge crates of different sizes where the duo of deviants and human Autumn Judge were using as makeshift stairs. New pop ups appeared on his optics.

[ Current Objective - Catch The Deviants ]

[ Side Objective - Question The Human ]

Without a single thought, Connor sprinted towards mentioned crates and as early as he calculated he was near enough, he extended his arm to reach and tightly took hold of the combat android's arm, tugging it back with all his might which caused it to stagger backwards until it fell from the crate it once stood upon and collapsed on the gravel covered groun. RK800 Connor parted his lips to reprimand the deviant of its desire to escape his clutches and the law's consequences - he could tell the deviant that it has the right to remain silent but seeing as humans' rights aren't applied with androids and deviants, it was out of the question - and surrender quietly but he nearly bit his tongue off when a swift kick was delivered to his face. Thankfully, his reflex saved him from ant damages. Before he could regain composure, a knee made contact with his chest followed by a powerful push. The thirium flowing in his thirium empowered pump temporarily stilled from the impact it endured and from that, Connor hovered a hand over his chest but kept his vice grip around its arm, unfazed as he staggered from its' assault.

"[ Your Name ]!" Autumn clamored in a moment of frenzy and made a motion to move from the highest crate to help and save the deviant - [ Your Name ] - from his duty-inclined actions but the other deviant - Daryl as it has stated earlier in the arena - was quick to hold her back and getting involved in the situation by wrapping his hand around her wrist.

[ Your Name ] moved towards him and grabbed both his arms, intending to redo its attack from earlier but already having seen it once, Connor successfully retaliated by ducking down, dodging the leg that thrusted above his head before getting back on his feet. Its leg got caught on Connor's shoulder and he used this opportunity to push forward in order to make it lose its balance and fall down and pin it helplessly to the ground. At this, it responded by letting go of both of his arms and flipped back to keep its state of balance. It's quite troublesome. Connor thought as he shot his fist towards it face but it leaned away and threw itself to the side. Connor had never encountered a deviant that could equal his intelligence and attacks, but encountering this combat android, he was proven quite wrong and if he ever had feelings, he wouldn't know how or what to feel.

"What are you doing? Let go of me! We need to help her!" Autumn cried out as she desperately tried tugging her wrist from Daryl's hold.

Daryl shook his head in disagreement. "You'll just get caught in it! We need to trust her!"

[ Your Name ] rolled towards the stack of bricks and skidded to a stop, teetering the said bricks to its precarious downfall. Connor took note of its subtle and sneaky fingers enveloping the brick that bumped against its footwear - he knew exactly what its intention was. It was too obvious to miss. Before he could process his next approach, the brick was already sent flying towards his rigid figure. In an instant, he swiped his arm to the side, the brick colliding with the synthetic skin of his forearm but his pupils dilated as a hand appeared charging to his face in a rapid speed. Though his bewildrement did not last long as the deviant wished it would. In a way to defend himself, he lifted his hand to catch the fist hurtling his direction in midair, just in time before it could cause any damage on him.

Connor's lips let a gasp slip from him, just like [ Your Name ]'s lips did once their hands connected. What information he failed to gain from the deviant was now within his grasp the second they their hands touched.

[ New Information Available ]

[ Model - AA 01 ]

[ Given Name - [ Your Name ] ]

[ Model - Combat Android ]

[ Owner - Ruth Judge ]

What on earth? Connor could see himself downloading all the information given to him but not because he wanted to or because of his purpose to acquire every single information needed to make a successfuly investigation, but because his subconsciousness wanted to. Subconsciousness, well that wasn't part of an android features and not having to run an analysis on himself, it especially wasn't part of his program. In that horrifying realization, Connor pulled away as though the combat android's hand stung him and fell to the ground with a soft thud, gawking at [ Your Name ]. It stared back at him with the same expression, LED glowing red. It must be experiencing the same thing but how come? He wanted to dwell more into this enigma but another realization dawned him - that after coming in contact with you, all his software instability disappeared in an instant. In fact, he could consider himself at peace.

"What are you waiting for? Let's fo [ Your Name ]!" Autumn hollered. Connor was idle, too stunned and too perplexed to chase after the three of them and settled only on watching as the female human dragged the combat android back up to the crates to escape the factory. Daryl jumped first, disappearing behind the wall and Autumn was next. [ Your Name ] was preparing to leap in tow with them but before it did, it spared a look back to stare at him. Connor stares back at it and said nothing as it jumped and ran off with its companions.

Connor picked up the subtle sound of the door slamming open behind him and the familiar footsteps of his partner in crime approaching him. However, he didn't look over his shoulder but rather fixated his sight on his hand which formerly held the deviant's fist. His hand was vibrating softly, as though desiring to touch and hold the deviant's hand once more. "Connor? Connor!"

Catching sight of the prototype merely sitting on the ground, Hank can't help but think of the worse and begab conjuring up ridiculous reasons as to why an android of his type was doing nothing to pursue its goal. "Are you okay? What happened? Where's the deviants? The human?" Hank questioned Connor but he was rendered shocked when an unexpected response from the RK800 reached his ears.

"Lieutenant," Connor starts as he begins looking back to stare into Hank's eyes, "Do you believe in soulmates?"

don't forget to click the heart button, reblog button and share this fanfic! wanna make a fanart or soundtrack for the fanfic? feel free to do so! please make sure to send them to me so i can post them on the next chapters so they can be appreciated [•^•].

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donutpwns · 7 years

Text

Journey to the Roots - Part 1

\o/ -- Part 2

So this was inspired by some fanart for this au by @illustratedacorns beep and @artsycrapfromsai boop. Go check out both of them, they’re both really great artists.

Her head was pounding; it felt like she’d drank a gallon of Mabel-juice with a Smile Dip chaser and was hitting the critical crashing stage. She groans, struggling to pull the collar of her sweater over her face and escape to Sweater Town until the feeling passed. Her stomach feels like it’s about to turn itself inside out. “Diiiiiipper, I’m dying!” the whine is out before she can even process the thought.

“No clue who Dipper is, kid, but if you’re going to die, could you do it somewhere else?” The voice is oddly familiar but most definitely not that of her brother.

Mabel’s eyes widened and she’s scrambling to get out of Sweater Town. “WHAT?!” her collar tugs down to only cover her mouth; she has to blink rapidly as she looks around where she’s at. She’s—wait, how did she get in the Stanley Mobile? And why was there so much more trash—ooh, new surprise tacos! She reaches to grab one only to have her wrist grabbed by a large hand. Oh. Right. The source of the voice. That was a thing. She traces up the arm, clad in a grimy red jacket that looked like a crime against heat as well as fashion, to the owner of both it and the voice. “WHAT?!” she screams again.

The circles under his eyes are much less pronounced with only the beginnings of crow’s feet at the corners, though they’re currently narrowed at her. His face is unshaven and unwashed; his hair is long and greasy and brown. It’s a little unnerving how much he resembles her dad. He drops her wrist at her second scream and lifts both hands in a telltale ‘no harm’ gesture.

“Easy, kid. You’re the one that broke into my car, if anyone should be screaming, it’s me.” He’s frowning at her before sighing. “Listen, if you’re trying to rob me, you picked the wrong target. I’m broke as they come.”

“Gr-Gr-Grunkle Stan?” her brain is spinning. Why was Grunkle Stan so young? It didn’t make sense. Something weird was going on; Dipper probably had the answer in the journal. No, wait, Grunkle Ford took the journal back. Oh, hey, Grunkle Ford would probably know what was going on.

Stan lifts a bushy brow at her; he’s got the look he gets whenever Dipper comes screaming about a new conspiracy theory. “No clue what a grunkle is, kid, nor how you know my name. But if this is a bit, it’s a weird one.” He reaches over her and opens the passenger side door. “If you work for someone that I owe money, tell them I ain’t gonna be paying up to a kid. Now scram.”

Mabel notices for the first time that the car doesn’t seem to be in Gravity Falls; it’s late at night and they’re parked in a sleazy looking alleyway between two large buildings. The air is icy cold when it hits her face. Gravity Falls doesn’t have any buildings this big. Ohh noooo. “Hot Belgian waffles…” she swears before grabbing the door and slamming it back shut and smashing the lock down. “Nope, nope! Not going out there, nope, hahahaha!” she turns back to Stan and jabs a finger towards him; he barely pulls back in time to avoid a good nose poking. “Younkle Stan! We have some weird stuff going down!”

“Youn—What are you on about?” he’s leaning back, back against the driver side door, twisted at the hips. “Kid, I don’t know you, so whatever you’re after—” he jumps when she scrambles to her knees in the passenger seat and leans super close to him.

This time he can’t escape the nose poke. “You! You’re Stanley Pines, you have a twin brother named Stanford and another brother named Grandpa Shermie—well, Grandpa isn’t part of his name but that’s what Dip Dop and me always called—NOT IMPORTANT!” she has to slam her hands on the middle console to de-distract herself. “POINT! You’re my great uncle but usually you’re all old and junk but now you’re young which, like, is not even close to the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen but it is definitely in the top fifteen, right after the time I found out my favorite boy band was made up of a bunch of clones grown by this real jerk who didn’t let them go outside but then I kinda did the same so—” a hand clamps over her mouth and she’s licking it on pure instinct.

Stan jerks his hand back at the same time she starts gagging; when was the last time he’d washed his hands?! “Holy shit, kid! Slow it down.” He starts wiping his hand on his jeans, which were about as filthy as his jacket. Grooooss. “Okay, okay, so you know more than most of the sharks I owe.” His eyes widen in a realization and it’s Mabel’s turn to jump back when suddenly he has a fist in her face, golden knuckles catching what little light the streetlights give. Wow could he put those on super-fast. “Did they send you to threaten my family? To let me know that you know who they are? Cause I don’t give a shit if they’re a bunch of assholes, nobody messes with my family! You hear that, you little punk?”

Her head’s spinning from so many swears, also the pounding headache that still hasn’t really gone away. Her eyes water before she can really process it because hello Grunkle Stan is threatening to hit her. She gives a loud sniff and mimics his hand gesture from a few minutes ago. “C-c’mon, Grunkle Stan. It’s—it’s me, Mabel! Your favorite great niece?” she pushes on her cheeks, trying to make her eyes as wide and cute as possible. “Don’t you remember me?”

Stan was doing his best to look unimpressed but she can see him cracking. After a moment, he gives a huff and lowers his fist. All the air seemed to deflate from him with the movement; she’s frowning as he slumps so far into the seat that his knees are pressed to the console. He groans, rubbing at his eyes with one hand. Mabel takes that as a good sign to relax. She shifts in her seat so she’s sitting cross-legged, taking the time to tug her sweater over her knees.

Well. This was awkward.

With a sigh of her own, paired with a pout, she reaches for the surprise taco she’d seen earlier. It’s practically grease-glued to the fast food bag it was in; when she finally peels the paper bag away, she sees a receipt similarly stuck to the taco wrapper. She doesn’t recognize the name of the restaurant listed at the top of the nearly translucent paper. Then her eyes fall on the date and she drops the taco entirely.

“81?! Is this taco right, Stan?!” she winces when Stan jumps at her shout, swearing even more at the way his knees banged into the steering wheel. Okay, so maybe she should stop yelling in an enclosed space with someone that didn’t seem to know her. Dipper may have been right about that. Not that she’d ever admit that. She was the Alpha Twin and therefore always right forever. But if this receipt was right, then that meant that Stan hadn’t forgotten her, this Stan hadn’t met her yet!

Stan was rubbing at his knees, frowning. “Of course it’s—how did you not know what year it is?” he’s reaching for her as if to feel her forehead before seeming to think better of it. “Are you, I dunno, sick, kid? I can give you a ride to a…hospital or something. I might have some quarters for you to call your parents?” his hand returns to rubbing at his eyes, “Shit, a kid breaks into your car and you offer her a ride. Going soft, Stanley…”

Mabel leans forward, checking the messy floorboards for a tape measure. She doesn’t remember seeing Blandin or messing with a time device. And wasn’t she with Dipper before…whatever happened? Huh. Now that she thought about it, she couldn’t remember exactly what she was doing before waking up curled up in the front seat of the Stan Mobile. She remembered breakfast with Stan and Dipper; she remembered dressing Waddles in the new sweater she’d made him. She remembered wanting to show Grunkle Ford the new finger puppets she’d made him: one for each of the Mystery family to try to get him to warm up to everyone else. Everything else is fuzzy and makes her head hurt to think about.

“Where are we? Like…are we in Oregon?” she’s hopeful; if she could get back to the Mystery Shack then maybe Grunkle Ford could figure out what was going on. Plus if Dipper was here too that’s where he’d go so that’s where she needed to look for him.

Stan gives a bark of a laugh, “Where—Okay, actually, never mind. I’m going to stop asking questions cause you’ll just scream and start talking nonsense again. Oregon? Nah, Arizona, kid.” His mouth twists for a moment, “…fuck it, one question. What’s in Oregon?”

“Home! Your home, and mine and Dipper’s for the summer. Though I think it’s technically Grunkle Ford’s house but, like, you’ve paid the bills for like thirty years—or you will after—WAIT!” her eyes go wide and she has to slam her hands on the console again. “This is before! Which means you and him haven’t! So maybe if we get there before there doesn’t have to be an after and we can fix everything right now!” she’s grinning, imagining what things will be like if her grunkles were the best friends they were supposed to be because twins are supposed to be the best of friends. Like her and Dipper, they were going to be together forever once she found him again. Yeah! “I need you to take me to Gravity Falls!”

“…did you say that’s where Ford is?” Stan’s face is softer, like when they went fishing with him or when Ford first stepped out of the portal. He shakes his head, the look lost with the gesture, “No. Listen, if you know anything about my family, then you know I’m the last person my brother wants to see.”

“But he’s in danger, Younkle Stan!” she bites her lower lip. When did Bill first start talking with Ford? “Aghhhh, Dipper would know when everything happened.” Her stomach was starting to twist again. Was Dipper okay? Maybe she’d been sent back alone. Oh, he had to be so worried about her. Him and the grunkles and Soos and Wendy. She has to rub at her nose as another loud sniff escapes her. It was hard to be optimistic when she was all alone. “We gotta get to Gravity Falls. We gotta!” she turns her eyes, cute set to full wattage, back to Stan and sticks out her bottom lip.

Stan stares at her for a long moment. He looks down at his lap then pulls down his visor, looking at a tiny map of the United States with most of the states crossed out. Arizona was already crossed out, huh, that was weird. But Oregon wasn’t, score. “…you say Ford’s in trouble? And going there will help you and him?”

Mabel nods so hard that her pounding head threatens to make her puke. “Yup! And my brother, Dipper! He’s my twin, like you and Grunkle Ford. And if I’m here then he’s gotta be here too cause, like, we never time travel without each other or go on adventures alone. So if I’m here he’s probably there cause that just makes sense. Or if he’s not, he will be cause that’s where I’m going so that’s where he’s gotta be going too. Right? Right!”

Stan’s mouth twists again and he drops his head back against his seat. “I really am going soft. Fuck it. Pretty sure there’s no warrants for me in Oregon. And if Ford is in trouble…” he shakes his head before giving Mabel a hard look. “I can’t believe I’m doing this, but fine. I’ll get you to Gravity Falls. But once we’re there and I’m sure Ford isn’t about to keel over, I’m bouncing. You got that, Mabel?”

Another bout of near-puke-inducing nodding. “Right! Thank you so much, Younkle Stan!” she can’t help climbing over the middle console to wrap her arms around his neck, nuzzling him with the force of the hug. “Eee, I get to go on a road trip with Stan! Dipper’s gonna be so jealous when we meet up.”

“Alright, alright, get off.” Stan pushes her back to the front seat, brows furrowed. “There’s no way we’re related.” He sighs before starting up the car. “Whatever. Let’s get this over with.”

-----------------

He’s freezing, cold down to his very bones, with a pounding in his skull. It feels like Bill has put his body through a ringer then locked him in a deep freeze. He groans and tries to push himself up, only to feel his hand go through something insanely cold and wet. His scream is high pitched as he scrambles up, blinking repeatedly to clear his vision. For a moment he thinks he’s gone blind as all he sees is white until he realizes that. Oh. Snow. There’s snow everywhere.

He was on the porch of the Mystery Shack and there was snow everywhere. No wonder he was so cold. He wipes his wet hand on his shorts, eyeing the outline of where he’d stuck his hand through. The snow had drifted nearly halfway up the door, haphazardly cleared like someone had kicked at the snow. Which sounds like something Stan would do; how long had Dipper been outside?

Sudden weather issues and memory issues? Geez, he hoped no one had gotten ahold of the memory gun; that was the last thing he needed. He was going to need to check with Grunkle Ford, see if he’d ever seen something like this before. Also, get something for his head. It was hurting bad enough to make him feel kinda sick, especially when coupled with how cold it was. Definitely not good weather for shorts and a T-shirt. He might have to finally give in and wear one of the sweaters Mabel had made for him.

Wrapping his arms around himself and rubbing at them, he stumbles his way to the front door. When he tries to open the door, however, he finds it locked. That’s…weird. Why would it be locked? Stan’s definition of home safety was a bat and his knuckledusters. Also why would they lock Dipper out? He rolls his eyes; Mabel must be playing a joke on him. “Real funny, Mabel. Yeah, let’s lock Dipper out. We’ll see whose laughing when I sneeze all over you.” He brings his fist down on the edge of the doorframe, “Hey! Let me in, Mabel! It’s cold!”

Instead of Mabel’s grinning face, he’s instead greeted with a crossbow in his face. Another high pitched scream and his sneaker slips on snow when he tries to jump back from the weapon. Cold bites into his butt and thighs; his stomach gives a lurch at the sudden drop. “Wh-wh-wh—”

“Who sent you?! How did you find this place?!” the holder of the crossbow yells at him, poking his head out of the doorway. His eyes are bloodshot, hair sticking out in all directions, and even from a distance Dipper can smell that he hasn’t showered in at least several days. He looks even more tired than Dipper remembers seeing him yesterday, the bags under his eyes deeper and darker than usual. But even with that, and the extreme scruff on his cheeks, he still looks younger.

Ford takes another step out the door and lines up the bolt with Dipper’s head, “I said: who sent you?!”

Dipper put his arms over his head, “Ahh! My name is Dipper Pines! I’m your great nephew, please don’t shoot me!” oh god, he was going to be killed by his grunkle. His idol of the summer was going to kill him with a crossbow. He was going to—wait, why hasn’t a painful but hopefully swift death came yet? He peaks his eyes open; Ford is giving him a suspect look, but the crossbow has been lowered just a bit. “Grunkle Ford?”

Ford scowls and lifts the crossbow again. “Show me your eyes! Your eyes! Before I put a bolt through that stupid hat!”

Eyes—oh! Oh, of course! Dipper pushes up to his feet, trying not to slip while doing so. He uses his hand to push his hair out of his eyes. “Look, see! Normal eyes! No yellow, no slitted pupils! I am not possessed by Bill!” that is apparently the wrong thing to say, as Ford’s eyes go wide and somehow even crazier.

“How do you know who Bill is?!” Ford takes a small step back inside. “This is a trick—a-a shape shifter or-or something. Trust no one, trust no one.”

Dipper lunged forward to try to keep up. “W-wait! I’m not a shape-shifter and I’m not working with Bill! I’m—well, I think I might be from the future, considering this isn’t exactly the Mystery Shack and—listen! I’m Shermie’s grandson!” he’s still shivering, but it’s easier to ignore the cold in favor of not getting locked out by his paranoid grunkle. “If you let me in, you can examine me however you need to prove I’m a normal human.”

Ford narrows his eyes at him for a moment before taking another step back and gesturing towards the inside of the house with the crossbow. He never stopped pointing it at Dipper’s head, but he’d take the victory of not being in the freezing cold.

Dipper was pretty sure he’d never seen the Mystery Shack so messy, bar maybe when Gideon destroyed it or when the zombies attacked. All the fake attractions and souvenirs were gone, replaced instead by piles and piles of books and loose papers. Dipper has to step over a pile of what looked like elongated bones, only bright purple. There’s also lots of drawings of triangles pinned to the walls, most with red Xs drawn across them or Ford’s paranoid mantra of ‘TRUST NO ONE’ written in dripping ink.

Okay, so he’d thought they’d been exaggerating how insane Ford was when they’d told him about the portal accident. This was…concerning. Even Dipper thought this was excessive. He didn’t really like seeing his great uncle like this. The number of times he’d imagined meeting Ford back in the days when he was writing the journals, he’d always pictured him as very similar to the Ford he knew. Excited in the same manic way that Dipper could get when there was a new mystery; fun and ready to play board games when not on an adventure. This wasn’t nearly as fun as he would’ve thought it would be.

Ford was peeking out the blinds even as he kept the crossbow pointed at Dipper. “Take a seat, kid. I have a lot of questions, as you can imagine.”

Dipper casts another look around the living room, eyeing the books that seem to take up every inch of the couch. There’s a stool in the corner, but there’s something that looks like half melted lime Jello on it and dripping down the sides. “Uhh, I’d prefer to stand?” despite the cold, Dipper can feel himself sweating under his collar. He wants to ask for a towel for the rapidly melting snow on his butt or a blanket to fight the still-present cold, but he’s honestly afraid to see what said items would look like given the state of the house and Ford himself.

“What?” Ford looks around, as if just noticing the mess that was his house. He seems to still have a small sense of decency as his cheeks turn a deeper red than just that from the cold and he points the crossbow towards the floor. “Oh, right. That’s—” he clears his throat and raises the weapon once more, “Never mind all that. You said you’re from the future?”

Dipper starts to nod furiously only to stop when it causes the pounding in his head to flare up. Ohhh, yeah, no. Can’t do that. Verbal confirmation then. “Yes! Or, at least, I’m pretty sure this the past. Well, relative to where I’m from, or when I’m from, heh.” He snorts at his own joke—Mabel would’ve loved that— before catching himself and straightening his posture. He mimics Ford’s throat clear, “Ahem, right. Yeah. My name’s Dipper, Dipper Pines. I’m from the year 2012.”

Ford’s frowning that deep frown he always got whenever Dipper first started asking him questions after he stepped through the portal. “There was the anomaly in the time readings a few years ago...my theory that time travel was possible, even though Fidds said…” His voice trails off into something too low for Dipper to hear before clearing his throat yet again. “Right. So, you’re my great nephew from 30 years in the future. Let’s say for the sake of argument that I believe that, given it is theoretically possible and you do bear a passing resemblance to Sherman. What are you doing here?”

Dipper hesitates, trying once more to push through the headache to remember what he’d been doing before waking up on the porch. Stan had made them Stancakes in the morning. Soos had showed him the new parts for version 2.0 of the rocket golf cart that they were going to work on come the weekend. He remembered wanting to show something to Ford and going to punch the code into the vending machine, but he can’t remember actually doing that. His stomach is twisting itself into knots as he tries to chase the memories that seem to be melting away like the snow on his shorts. Something had distracted him. What—

“Easy, kid.” A hand catches his shoulder, halting the swaying he hadn’t realized he’d been doing. Ford looks almost worried as Dipper tries to swallow down the nausea and dizziness that had suddenly taken over. “You’re white as a sheet, kid.”

Dipper shakes his head and takes a deep breath. What’s wrong with him? “I’m fine. I just can’t—I don’t remember how I got here.” McGucket hadn’t mentioned anything about physical side effects of the memory gun, just the affect it had on long-term memory retention. Why did he feel so sick trying to remember what had happened? He pats his pockets to make sure he didn’t have Blandin’s tape measurer again. Aside from some chewed up pens and a wadded up scrap of paper with ‘Wendy Pines’ written enough times to make his neck burn, he comes up empty. “I think I was talking with Mabel and—Mabel!”

He pushes past Ford, who lets out a very owl-like squawk as he nearly drops the crossbow, and rushes to the door. A blast of cold air hits him in the face—okay Outside was definitely colder than Inside— when he swings the door open, forcing him to squint as he scans the yard. How could he forget to check for Mabel? Oh god, if she was still unconscious in the snow…

The only tracks in the snow are from him and a kicked path that leads to a sign with big bold “STAY OUT” letters on it and barbwire on top of it. At the edge of the yard he can see what looks like rabbit tracks, but otherwise it’s all a blanket of untouched white. No other tracks and no Mabel-sized lumps. That’s both a relief and not. Dipper cups his hands around his mouth, “Mabel! Mabel, are you out there?!” his voice cracks on a yelp when a hand closes around his shoulder again, jerking him back into the house. He’s shoved back, nearly tripping over the pile of bones that seem to glow when his sneaker touches them. “Gah, Great Uncle Ford!”

Ford pulls the door closed and proceeds to lock a fairly frightening number of deadbolts. He’s got the manic look back on his face; his glare is enough to dry up Dipper’s indignation at being manhandled. “Calm down! Who the hell is Mabel?”

“Who—she’s Mabel!” he’s exasperated for a moment before, oh, right, past. It’s so weird to think of anyone not knowing who Mabel is at this point, what with the way that she seems to just be all the time. “She’s my sister; my twin. If I’m here, that means she’s probably here too. I’m pretty sure we were together before…before whatever happened.” He digs his fingers in his hair under his hat, still trying to fight past the headache and the nausea to remember what happened to his sister. “Ughhhh, why can’t I remember?! I had breakfast with her and Stan and then I wanted to talk to you about something but she was there and then—”

“Did you say Stan?” Ford’s voice cut through his own mania; he looks up at him to see a mix of anger and something soft warring on his uncle’s face. Apparently Ford has deemed him a non-threat as the crossbow has been hung up next to the door. “You know who Stan is?”

Dipper’s brow furrows before he remembers what Stan and Ford had told them. About their fight and the not seeing each other for ten years and then for thirty years because of the portal and the burn on Stan’s shoulder—Moses, Dipper had bugged Stan so much about that he was the worst— and the way the two glared at each other whenever they were forced to be in the same room. This was before the portal accident.

Dipper nods, rubbing at his arms. “I mean, yeah. He’s your twin brother. Mabel and I were staying with him for the summer.” He leaves it vague, not sure how much he should tell. You’d think after the thing with Waddles and epic Time Laser Tag he’d know how to handle being in the past. Plus the idea of telling Ford about him being trapped for thirty years hopping through dimensions makes him feel extra super sweaty.

Ford gives a huffing sort of a snort, “Your parents left you two with Stan? Once this is all done I’ll need to have a talk with Sherman about teaching his kids some sense.” He says it so casually, like it’s a practiced thing to dismiss Stan, and that irks Dipper a little but he keeps his mouth shut. Ford sighs and runs a hand through his hair; further messing it up if that was even possible. “Time traveling niblings. That’s gotta be too crazy, even for Bill…maybe. Damn it, all my notes about the time anomaly are in…Journal…”

It’s apparently Ford’s turn to sway. Dipper realizes, as Ford stumbles back against the door and begins slipping down the surface, that he might not be the only Pines that worked himself until he passed out. And if Ford paid as much attention to eating and sleeping as he did to his personal hygiene, then they were in all kinds of trouble. Dipper moves forward to try to prop his uncle up but only really manages to marginally slow down his descent to the floor where he proceeds to promptly start snoring.

Oh geez.

#gravity falls #timetrapped AU #timestuck AU #mabel pines #dipper pines #stanford pines #stanley pines #kainichivonwrites #fanfiction #fanfic #journey to the roots

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thelastspeecher · 7 years

Note

Ok, for the de-aging prompt. How about Stanley after he was de-aged by the axolotl, in a world where they couldn't reverse it and he has to grow up again. Can have any characters and any age, just something like that with Stan living in that world. Where the Mcguckets are raising him up?

(For people who might be a bit confused by the scenario, it refers to this adorable fanart/fanfic thing. I put most of it under the cut for length. At the end, there’s a few notes about things I think happen with this AU of an AU.)

August, 1971 – Gumption

“Here.” Pa McGucket slid Stan apiece of paper. Stan picked it up andfrowned.

“What is this?”

“Official adoption papers,” MaMcGucket said. Stan squinted at the nameon it.

“‘Banjomin Stanley McGucket’,”he read aloud. “What- why are youchanging my name?”

“Well, we’ve been tellin’ folksthat yer a distant relative, so we figured it’d be easiest to just…continuegoin’ that route. An’ it seems cruel tocompletely change yer name, so we kept the ‘Stanley’ in there fer ya.”

“…Thanks.”

“I know this ain’t the bestsituation, hon,” Ma McGucket said, beginning to stroke his back gently. “But it’s what we got to do, since thataxolotl wouldn’t listen to us.”

“Yeah…”

“We also wanted to let ya knowthat we won’t force ya to go back to kindergarten or anythin’,” Pa McGucketsaid. “We won’t degrade ya. But ya will be gettin’ some lessons from us,to make sure ya don’t lose any skills.”

“And when ya get a bit older, itmight be nice fer ya to start up again. Just to be socializin’ with folks,” Ma McGucket added. Angie walked into the kitchen.

“Good mornin’, y’all. What’s goin’ on?” she asked cheerfully. She ruffled Stan’s hair.

“Stan’s officially adopted,” MaMcGucket said. Angie beamed.

“Good.”

“You’re just happy you’re notthe youngest anymore,” Stan grumbled.

“That’s a bonus, that’s fersure,” Angie conceded. “But I’m alsoglad that no folks’ll be takin’ ya away from us.” She shrugged. “An’ like the axolotl said, it’s a chance to start over. Have a good childhood. Gumption’s a nice place to grow up, lil bro.”

“If ya say so,” Stan saidquietly. Angie grinned at him.

“Would ya listen to that! Yer already turnin’ southern!”

“…Great.”

—–

November, 1971 – Gumption

Stan stared at Violynn’s oldestchild, a girl named Layla. She staredback resolutely.

“Are they havin’ a starin’contest or somethin’?” one of the older McGucket siblings asked quietly. Stan was still figuring out how to tell themall apart, but it seemed like it was probably Harper who had spoken. He was the most talkative.

“I’m not sure,” someone elsesaid. “Stan?” Stan looked up. It was Angie. She sat down next to him. “Uh,are ya goin’ to talk to Layla?”

“Dunno,” Stan said. Angie cracked a half-smile.

“At least yer honest. Stan, ya need to socialize with some folksyer own age, okay?”

“But-”

“I know,” Angie saidsoftly. “But Ma and Pa think it’ll begood fer ya.” She rubbed Stan’s back ina reassuring manner. “An’ look at itthis way. Socializin’ don’t always meantalkin’. Ya can go play with thechickens together, or do some colorin’, or even watch television.” Someone cleared their throat. “Okay, Violynn don’t like the last one. But the first two are options. Spend some time with Layla. She’s a sweetie.” Layla beamed at the compliment.

“Okay,” Stan mumbled.

“Thank ya, Stanley.” Angie watched Stan stand up, grab Layla’shand, and lead her back to his room.

“He’s a bit of an odd duck, ain’the?” Basstian said idly. Angie sighed.

“Don’t act like that,Basstian. He’s been through a lot.”

“Yeah, uh, how are we related to him?” Harper asked. “He doesn’t really look like a Guckling.”

“He was some sort of cousin,then Ma and Pa adopted him,” Lute replied.

“Stan is a bit strange though, ya got to admit,” Violynn saidgently.

“Everyone in our fam’ly is a bit strange,” Lute pointed out. Violynn smiled.

“Touché,” she said. Lute exchanged a look with Angie. The two youngest McGuckets hadn’t been verypleased with the decision to hide who Stan really was from their oldersiblings, but they had to admit it was easier than the truth.

“Fidds was precocious like that,”Harper said. “Y’know, kinda mature ferhis age an’ all that. Maybe he’ll be anengineer, too.”

“I don’t know if bein’ aprecocious child means yer destined to be an engineer,” Fiddleford said. “But I agree that Stan has a lot ofpotential.”

—–

December, 1971 – Gumption

“So, you have five siblings?”Ford asked Fiddleford as they walked towards the McGucket house.

“Six,” Fiddleford corrected.

“Oh. But the picture you have-”

“My folks recently adopted oneof my distant cousins. Banjomin. But we call him Stan, ‘cause that’s hismiddle name.”

“Ah,” Ford said quietly,deciding to keep his thoughts about people named “Stan” to himself. Fiddleford opened the door.

“Fidds, is that you?” a southernfemale voice called from somewhere inside the house.

“Yessir!” he replied. Fiddleford pointed at a small basket nextto the door. “Put yer shoes in there, please.”

“Ah, so this is one of thosehouses.” Fiddleford snorted.

“We’re in the kitchen!” the same voice from before shouted.

“Okay!” Fiddleford called back.

Ford followed Fiddleford intothe kitchen. Sitting at the table doinghomework was a teenaged girl Ford recognized from Fiddleford’s pictures as hisyounger sister. Next to her was a youngchild, busily scribbling away at a coloring book.

“That looks mighty nice, Stan,” Fiddleford’syounger sister said kindly.

“Thanks,” the child said. “I’m experimentin’ with palettes.” There was a definite twang to his voice. Fiddleford’s sister chuckled.

So that’s the adopted brother. Fiddleford cleared his throat. His sister looked up, beaming.

“It’s so good to see ya again,Fidds!” she chirped. “An’ this must beyer roommate?”

“Yep,” Fiddlefordconfirmed. He pushed Ford gently towardsthe table. When he was close enough,Ford held out a hand.

“I’m Angie,” the girl said, shakingthe offered hand.

“Stanford Pines, but I go byFord.” The child sitting next to Angiestilled. Ford crouched down until he wasthe child’s eye-height, something he had picked up watching Fiddleford interactwith children. “Hello, your name is Banjomin,right?” The child looked up at him withblazing eyes.

He looks almost like a Pines child.

“Go to hell, Sixer,” Stan saidin a high-pitched, clear voice.

—–

January, 1982 – Gravity Falls

“I keep forgetting you looklike…that,” Ford said weakly, staring at his 16 year old twin. Stan shrugged. “How did you drive all the way from Arkansasto Oregon without anyone stopping you? You’re a teenager.” Stan shruggedagain. “Right. Well, uh, come in. Thank you for agreeing to help me.”

“Eh. Not like I had anythin’ better to do.”

And after that, everything justwent downhill.

Stan sat at the kitchen tablenow, staring at the thick book in his hands, trying to focus on itsweight. Trying to ignore the burningpain in his shoulder. It was no use. Tears streamed down his face.

I-I can’t do this. I’m just-just some dumb kid. Sixteen fuckin’years old. He looked at the phone onthe wall and walked over to it. Hisfingers numbly pressed buttons. Thephone picked up on the second ring.

“This is Angie McGucket.”

“A-Angie,” Stan sobbed. There was a rustle over the line.

“Stan? Is everythin’ okay?”

“N-No. I fucked up. I fucked up big time. B-bad. I- I-” He couldn’t force out any more words.

“Okay, where are ya?” Angieasked.

“G-Gravity F-Falls.”

“In Oregon?” Stan nodded, then realized she couldn’t seehim.

“Y-yeah.”

“Okay. Are ya in a safe location?”

“F-Ford’s research place.”

“All right, I know where thatis. Stay there. Don’t leave. I’ll be there as soon as I can, okay lil bro?”

“‘K-kay.”

Notes:

Stan does end up going to school again, but only when he’s the age to be in 5th or 6th grade. Ma and Pa McGucket don’t want him to lose a lot of his school skills.

Stan actually does pretty well in school, because Ma and Pa McGucket fight tooth and nail to make sure his needs are met (in this AU, he’s got a learning disability).

The longer Stan stays de-aged, the more he becomes mentally de-aged. It’s the whole “mind is a plaything of the body” trope thing. But he never completely regresses. He just seems to be a fairly precocious child.

Ma and Pa McGucket raise him right. He has a good second childhood, and more loving family members than he knows what to do with.

Yes, even though Stan is 16 in 1982 now, Ford still calls him and shit goes down with the portal.

When Angie gets to Gravity Falls, Stan insists that he wants to stay there to find a way to bring Stan back. Angie sends him back to Gumption to finish high school, but she also effectively takes over the shack.

Once Stan graduates from high school, he comes back to Gravity Falls, and he and Angie work on the portal together.

This is a Dangie AU. Angie marries Manly Dan and is Wendy’s mom. I’m handwaving the age gap for the most part. Maybe Angie does some research on Stan’s “condition” and combines it with Ford’s work, something goes wrong, and she gets turned 20-something when she’s 30-something.

This is also a Portal Angie AU. While working on the portal with Stan, it turns on by accident at some point and Angie goes through.

I’m sure other things happen, but that’s what I’ve got right now. I’m always down to chat about AUs though, so if anyone else has any thoughts, send ‘em my way.

#AU of Stanley McGucket AU #(gonna use that tag bc this doesn't happen in main Stanley McGucket AU)#Stanley Pines #Stanford Pines #Fiddleford McGucket #Angie McGucket #McGucket family #my writing #ask #agent-jaselin #Banjomin Stanley McGucket AU

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lakesandquarries · 8 years

Text

Great White Gravity - Chapter Two

Pairings: taako/kravitz, taako & angus mcdonald Characters: taako, kravitz, angus mcdonald Other Tags: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, sazed sucks, ango and his 2 dads, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, sad boys Warnings: sazed, ptsd, Summary: In the aftermath of the goblet, Taako tries to deal. Other Notes: hella spoilery. title from “lifeline” by imogen heap shoutout to @juicywizards for their amazing fanart!!

AO3

In the morning, Taako remembers why he never shares a bed with anyone.

For one thing, it inevitably ends with someone on the floor. He wakes up with his face pushed against the carpet, fibers probably being absorbed into his face. He does not have enough cleanser for this. Sighing, he pushes himself up, cringing at the feeling of lint clinging to his face.

Ugh.

Angus, meanwhile, is curled up in Taako’s bed. Taako’s big, beautiful, soft bed. He's even cuddling with Taako's sleep sack.

Whatever. It's not like he needs any more sleep. He stands, stretching his limbs and wincing at the series of cracks and pops. He takes a moment to glance in his mirror, trying to brush the carpet bits off his face, making sure his hair looks decent, adjusting his lacy pink nightgown.

He leaves Angus. Kids need sleep, right? Probably.

As he walks into the living room, Magnus waves. “Yo,” he calls. “You sleep well?”

“Yeah,” Taako says. It's only a half lie, really.

“Then why did I hear the door open at like, four am?”

….fuck.

“Uh,” Taako says, twisting one of his rings. “Look, Magnus -”

“You don't have to lie,” Magnus says. “I get it. Nightmares, right?”

“...maybe,” Taako admits.

Magnus stands and walks over to Taako. Elves are supposed to be taller than humans, but Magnus is tall and Taako's short, and Magnus is almost exactly a head taller than him.

Magnus holds his arms out, a wordless offering, but Taako makes a show of rolling his eyes and huffing before he accepts the hug. Magnus is good at hugs. He's like a dog, almost, big and soft and sometimes a little scary looking until you realize all he wants is to be friends. Taako lets Magnus envelop him, leaning all his weight on the human until Magnus is basically holding him up.

It's...nice. He'd never admit it out loud, of course, but there's something nice about letting someone else hold him. He lets himself zone out, shutting his eyes.

He wakes up two hours later, on the couch, Magnus still holding him.

“Heyyy,” Magnus says, patting Taako's hair. “You fell asleep hugging me.”

“I'm dead,” Taako says. “This is the worst thing to ever happen to me.”

Magnus pets his hair. Taako longs for death’s sweet embrace.

….speaking of. He sits up quickly, nearly falling off the couch. There’s a half-formed idea in the back of his head, working its way to actual thought.

Kravitz is dead. Therefore, if Taako fed him poisoned food, he’d be totally fine. And Taako could spin it as a romantic date, instead of him being a fucked up mess.

It’s perfect. A grin makes its way onto his face, and Magnus looks at him.

“Taako? You okay there bud?”

“Peachy,” Taako says. “I just had the best idea.”

“You wanna share, or…?”

“Nope!” Taako shouts, shoving himself off of Magnus and rushing to his room. He ignores Angus, still asleep on the bed, and digs through the pockets of his cape.

“Where is it, where is it…” he mutters, wishing he kept his pockets neater. Finally, underneath three candy wrappers and a ring, he finds what he’s looking for - his Stone of Farspeech. He glances at Angus before he calls Kravitz.

“Yo, Kravitz, my dude, you there?” Not his best opening, but whatever. He can work with it.

“Taako?” Kravitz asks.

“Got it in one. I was wonderin’ if you’d maybe like to….Come stop by? Hang out?”

Kravitz is silent on the other end.

Shit, Taako thinks. Shit, shit shit.

“Is this for business, or for pleasure?” Kravitz asks.

Taako grins. “Pleasure,” he tells Kravitz, voice smooth and with no trace of the panic he was feeling just a few seconds ago.

Kravitz makes a noise. Taako’s not entirely sure what it means - confusion, maybe? But he continues on. “I was thinking, our last….Meeting ended kinda abruptly, right? So maybe you could do you little rift thing again, come over at….well, time’s a little weird up on the moonbase, but let’s say in six hours?”

“Oh,” Kravitz says. “I would…” He mumbles something about jobs he has, and Taako can hear him flip through some papers and write something down, and finally Kravitz speaks again. “I can’t get there for nine hours,” he says, sounding genuinely sorry. “Would that be alright?”

“Yeah, that’d work,” Taako says, trying his best to sound like he doesn’t even care if Kravitz takes nine hours or three or two days. Gotta be cool.

“So. It’s a date, then?” Kravitz asks.

“It’s a date. Wear something nice,” Taako says, and Kravitz snorts.

“I’ll see you then, Taako.” Kravitz ends the call.

Nine hours. He can definitely be ready by then. He just has to get everyone of the suite, take a long shower, make sure he looks perfect, and cook an entire meal.

He can do this.

“Sir?”

Oh, fuck.

“Who was that?” Angus asks, tilting his head at Taako.

“How much did you hear?” Taako asks in response.

“Are you really going on a date, sir?” he asks, with a face that can only be described as “delighted”.

“Hells yeah,” Taako says, grinning at Angus.

“Who’s it with? Do I know them? Are they nice? Are they part of the Bureau? Are they -”

“Woah, woah, Ango, slow down. You don’t know him, he’s cool, and he’s not part of the Bureau.”

Angus frowns. “But if he’s not part of the Bureau, why’re you inviting him here? How are you inviting him? The Director won’t be happy, if she finds out.”

“Um,” Taako says. “Well, uh….He’s aware of the Bureau? It’s complicated, don’t worry yourself about it.”

“It’s okay if you don’t wanna tell me,” Angus says. “What’s his name?”

“I’ll tell you his name but you gotta promise not to tell anyone else. Okay?”

Angus nods, rolling his eyes.

“His name is Kravitz. And no one can know about that, okay?”

“Okay, okay. Can I meet him?”

“Maybe some other day.” Probably never.

“Okay!” Angus says, still looking delighted. Taako grins at him.

“Now, you gotta go back to your room, cause I need to prepare.” He makes a motion to push Angus and the boy nods, scurrying off the bed. He glances back at Taako, hand on the doorknob.

“Thanks, Sir,” he says quietly, a tentative smile on his face. Taako’s about to say something snarky, but he stops himself.

“Anytime, Ango,” he says, and Angus nods at him before slipping out of the room.

----

As it turns out, nine hours is just enough time. Taako takes an hour long bath, first, then takes another half hour just to dry off and fix his hair, and then it’s two hours to get dressed and do makeup, leaving him with five and a half hours to cook and get Magnus and Merle out of the suite.

Which, speaking of, he has an idea.

“Angus!” he says as he turns his Stone to Angus’s channel. “Ango, I need your help!”

“What do you need?” Angus says a moment later, sounding slightly out of breath.

“I need you to get Mags and Merle out of the suite.”

“I can do that, Sir!” Angus says cheerfully. “I’m great at distracting people. It’s an important part of being a detective! How long, and when?”

“As long as you can. I won’t need you to for another couple of hours, but I’m gonna need them gone. Can’t have those bozos screwing up my date.”

Taako can practically hear Angus nod. “Okay! Call me when you need me!” he says, and then, almost as an afterthought, he adds, “I love you!” and hangs up.

Fuck him, Taako might think he loves the kid back. He quickly takes his feelings and pushes them as far down as possible. Fuck that shit.

This is no time for feelings. It’s time for cooking.

He shoos Merle and Magnus out of the kitchen, quite literally, and makes a frankly unreasonable amount of food. Some of it is the kind of simple shit he makes Merle and Magnus all the time, which he nearly throws at them. While they’re eating round one he makes a quick call to Angus, telling him to do his thing

“You’re in a mood,” Merle comments as a sandwich nearly hits him in the face.

“Hello, Sirs!” Angus says as he opens to door to the suite.

“Oh god,” Merle says. “Who invited him?”

Angus’s shoulders slump. “I just wanted to ask you guys for some help…” he says quietly.

“What d’you need, Ango?” Magnus asks, ruffling the boys hair. Angus grins at Taako, and Taako gives him a thumBs up before vanishing back into the kitchen.

“I wanted to ask if you and Merle would….train me, maybe?” He whispers the last part, still loud enough that Taako can hear, continuing with, “I know Taako already is but he can only train me in magic and I wanna learn other stuff too!”

“Ugh,” Merle complains.

“Shush,” Magnus says. “Of course, Angus! Wanna go to the icosagon?”

“Yes!” Angus says, and Taako doesn’t have to look to know there’s stars in Angus’s eyes. He listens to Merle make a few more half-assed protests before the sound of the door closing and then blissful silence.

The silence lasts about ten seconds, immediately replaced by the sound of cooking and Taako’s loud, off-key singing.

He goes for something kinda simple. Pasta.

From scratch.

So, okay, not that simple. He’s got the dough ready when he realizes he has no way to flatten it into actual noodle shapes. He takes a deep breath.

Okay. He just has to reshape them with magic. It’s not even transmutation magic. He can do this.

It takes him twenty minutes to reshape the dough into noodles.

He leaves the noodles for now, letting them sit, and getting started on his sauce. Just a simple marinara tonight.

He can do this, he reminds himself, shutting his eyes and transmuting a cut in half tomato into a whole tomato.

Everything will be fine.

It’s incredible how much someone can cook in three hours. By the time all the food is ready, he has half an hour to set the table, which he manages in fifteen minutes, leaving him with just enough time to have a panic attack.

What if it tastes awful? What if he someone manages to kill an already dead man? What if Kravitz realizes how stupid and awful and pathetic he is?

Stop, he thinks. He can’t start crying now, he’ll ruin his makeup and he absolutely does not have the time to redo it all. He takes a deep breath, then another, than a third, until he’s breathing like a normal person again.

He’s fine. It’s fine. Everything. Is. Fine.

….probably.

#the adventure zone #taz #taakitz #taako taco #angus mcdonald #cora writes #adventures of cora #gwg

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