#roofwalk

[uwmspeccoll]

Native American/First Nations Woman Writer of the Week

SUSAN POWER

March may have come to an end, but there is still time to celebrate! The next Indigenous writer I would like to give the spotlight to is Susan Power (1961-), a Native American novelist who is an enrolled member of the Standing Rock Sioux Tribe of the Dakotas. She was born in Chicago, Illinois and raised by her mother, Susan Kelly Power (Gathering of Stormclouds Woman, in Dakota) who is also an enrolled member, and her father Carleton Gilmore Power, who was a publishing sales representative. Her parents raised her to be politically and socially aware, and with their help became active in the Civil Rights movement. She was named Miss Indian Chicago when she was seventeen and after that went on to get an A.B. degree in Psychology at Harvard/Radcliffe, and later received her Juris Doctorate from Harvard Law School. She worked her way up from a housekeeping job to being the editor of the University of Chicago Law Review, which was the catalyst for motivating her to pursue creative writing. Her mother used to recite stories about their native lineage, and her father read her stories at night; she states that her inspiration come from her mother’s native influence as well as Louise Erdrich, Toni Morrison, and Shakespeare. By the age of twelve she had memorized the entirety of Romeo and Juliet.

Power ultimately decided to end her law career and pursue creative writing fully while she was recovering from an appendectomy. The catalyst for this choice was a Dakota Sioux woman standing in her hospital room wearing a sky blue beaded dress; this vision spirit would later become a main character of her first novel The Grass Dancer, which was published by Putnam in 1994. This novel went on to win the PEN/Hemingway Award for First Novel in 1995. Her short fiction has also been published in Atlantic Monthly, Paris Review, Voice Literary Supplement, Ploughshares, Story, and The Best American Short Stories 1993.

Power focuses heavily on themes of ancestry, dream images, and intricate storytelling to fully engage her readers. She uses the strengths of these themes to relate her personal experience as a Native American woman while leaving room for the reader to interpret and respond to her writing in their own way without limiting the possibilities. 

UWM Special Collection preserves Power’s Sacred Wilderness (Michigan State University Press, 2014) and Roofwalker (Milkweed Editions, 2002).

View more posts on Native American/First Nations Women Writers.

- Elizabeth V., Special Collections Undergraduate Writing Intern

[imhomeinspections]

How our inspectors inspect a roof and stay safe in the rain! #RoofSafety #RainyInspections #HolidayHomeChecks #InspectorOnDuty #ChristmasSafety #HomeMaintenance #InspectorInsights #RainyDaySafety #RoofWalk #PropertyProtection

[mariasmemo]

Up Scuttle

Isn’t this a lovely image?  This was taken this summer by one of our artists in residence, Henry Michaelis.  On nice days, we leave the roof walk open, as the Mitchells would have done – though we do add a screen!  This allows the House to breath – hot air moves up through the House and exits the roofwalk hatch.  The flow of air through the house as it makes its way through the open front door, and up the stairs and hall can at times create a nice soft and gentle breeze cooling and drying out the House to some degree. 

Roofwalks were put on the tops of houses for fire prevention and to put out chimney fires.  The densely packed community of wooden houses all leaned in together made fire and its spread a big threat.  The Great Fire of 1846 was not the only large fire on Nantucket.  The term “widow’s walk” was not something that Maria Mitchell would have really known – at least earlier in life.  The widow’s walk term was likely coined during Nantucket’s change from a whaling to a tourist economy in the late nineteenth century.  It sounded far more romantic then saying it was a platform use for fire prevention.  If you know that wood was scarce and expensive on island and it all had to come from off-island, then you would realize a housewright and the home’s owner would not be putting a walk on the top of his house for his wife to pine away for him and his return from sea.  Wood was expensive – and she had a household and an island economy to run and grow.

JNLF

[tourexpert]

Dubai and Abu Dhabi City Tour: A perfect guide for your vacation

Dubai is a wealthy region that was formerly a desert. But nowadays, this Arabian Peninsula beauty is not just a business centre but also a popular vacation spot for couples on their honeymoons and families looking for a place to spend time together. In addition, a trip to Dubai would not be complete without stopping in Abu Dhabi city, the capital of the United Arab Emirates.

Abu Dhabi's proximity to Dubai makes the vacation experience even more exciting and unforgettable. This is why including a day or two for Abu Dhabi city tour makes every trip schedule to Dubai even better. So, in order to guarantee that all of your expectations are met with extraordinary experiences, below is the Dubai and Abu Dhabi city tour schedule.

Among tourists from around the world, Dubai is one of the most alluring cities. Dubai's stunning architecture, unique culture, opulent setting, and man-made islands draw the bulk of visitors, but some come for the city's alluring topography and its magnificent dunes, which may be used as a carpet to lie on while gazing at the stars. You will have a blast with the Dhow Cruise trip, the Desert safari, and the BBQ meal.

But with Abu Dhabi city tour, your trip will be on another level. Yes! Everything is an irresistible opportunity, from the exciting adventures at Ferrari World and IMG Worlds to the breathtaking structures like Emirates Palace and Sheikh Zayed Mosque.

Start from Dubai

When you land at Dubai International Airport, go straight to your hotel. After getting clean, spend the entire day exploring Dubai City. This region of Dubai is known as Modern Dubai because of the Burj Khalifa, the Dubai Fountain, and the captivating underwater aquarium. So, to experience everything at your convenience, travel directly to Dubai Mall.

Discover Old Dubai's Historical Beauty

Head to Dubai's historic towns after spending the entire day admiring its contemporary splendour. Retrace its naturalistic and historical beauty here by visiting the oldest forts, sand dunes, and antique shops, where you may buy some unique gifts.

Things You Must Do in Abu Dhabi city tour

With a morning desert trip, you may start the day off with some enjoyable activities like sandboarding, camel riding, and dune-bashing. You can go there at night to camp and view the stars. Additionally, by visiting Desert Safari Park, you may learn about the bio-diversity of the desert and see local species like gazelles in the Arabian desert.

Visit Yas Island to boost the excitement of your Abu Dhabi city tour. Theme parks with adventure, water parks, golf courses, and more can be found on this island. Spend the second portion of your day exploring Ferrari World in Abu Dhabi.

There are four unique zones in this indoor theme park that let you lose yourself in time. Try all 37 of the rides—from Roofwalking and Ziplining to Flying Acre and Turbo Track—and you'll have the adventure of a lifetime.

There are many eateries and cafés nearby where you may grab some wonderful lunch.

Know more

Tour Expert UAE

Abu Dhabi city tour

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Abu Dhabi tour from Dubai

Private Abu Dhabi tour

Abu Dhabi sightseeing tour

Abu Dhabi mosque tour from Dubai

Book Abu Dhabi City Tour

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Dubai city tour cost

[steincoindustrial]

List of some trendy industrial structures in the market.

 EQUIPTO SECURE STORAGE

Using EQUIPTO secure storage to make the most out of your commercial space

Finding methods to make the most of your space for your team to operate productively and harmoniously together is one of the main challenges of setting up an office or workshop. For this reason, you must spend money on cabinets and storage options that will help you do this. EQUIPTO has long been recognized for providing the most space-efficient solutions that let commercial settings make the most of any given area. The company is well-known for such goods as:

-Lockable, mobile, and portable carts and cabinets

-Safe racks and shelves

-System of aisles

-Built-in workstations that may fully customize to match any size room

Because its high-quality products have been utilized by many industries worldwide, EQUIPTO has always been the highest in the game regarding intelligent storage solutions for the office, workshop, or any other commercial location. The business has established a solid reputation as the go-to source for safe storage over a long period, enabling you to maintain your organization, protect your belongings, and save money. Regardless of the tools, components, or equipment you use, EQUIPTO is likely to have a storage option for you.

WIRECRAFTERS STORAGE LOCKERS

Secure storage solutions are essential for many reasons (in different sectors). We must be able to meet the needs of our consumers, who have a broad range of varying storage requirements.

WireCrafters provides a range of rigid wire and metal storage lockers in various sizes to meet the demands of residential, commercial, industrial, and military clients.

Homeowners and tenants who share garages may keep bikes and expensive equipment in their homes with the help of residential wire storage lockers. These safe storage options are sent pre-assembled or ready for quick installation, and we may alter them to fit any area.

The same components are used in industrial structures, but heavy-duty steel offers the highest level of protection and is appropriate for many industrial facilities.

By calling our helpful customer service representatives or completing a contact form, you may locate these goods and more at Steinco Industrial Solutions.

UNISTRUT

You may distinguish safe industrial structures from one that is too risky due to the strength of critical structural elements. High-quality struts, channels, frames, and supports are essential for reliable operation regardless of the application.

For a wide range of applications, including manufacturing, construction, and many other sectors that require strong, sturdy, and dependable frames, surfaces, and structures, Unistrut manufactures various high-quality metal components.

The following are just a few of Unistrut's notable creations:

-Metal framing in three different gauges offers strength to any building and work. Sizes for metal frame range from 1 and 5/8" to 1 and 1/4" to 13/16". Additional items include electrical fittings, end caps, nuts, and closures.

-Various channel sections, fittings, nuts, bolts, and hardware are made of fibreglass. Flexible installation is made possible by pipe clamps, hanging, and other parts.

-Flexible, telescopic solid tube.

-Robust and interlocking grating helps create structures fast and stably.

-Supports for seismic and Unipier for increased security.

-Reliable roofwalk components that prevent a project site from enduring years of wear and tear.

Any Unistrut product you purchase from Steinco Industrial Solutions includes our extra services and has OSHA-compliant Unistrut components. We design and build sturdy structures anywhere you choose using high-quality Unistrut struts, supports, and industrial facilities, and we assist in managing their lifespan years after installation.

By calling our helpful customer service representatives or completing a contact form, you may locate these goods and more at Steinco Industrial Solutions.

[theblackbookofarkera]

Roofwalkers

Roofwalkers are a lowly type of malicious non-human spirits that go by many names across Arkera. Traveling in packs these beings single out isolated homesteads to terrorize the residents feeding upon the fear and paranoia they create. As their name suggests they often begin their torment by walking along rooftops with either light steps or thunderous footfalls. The more fear their victims generate the more powers roofwalkers gain such as being able to interact with the physical world and create disturbing illusions. Their bag of tricks is small and once these petty spirits are no longer feared they will quickly move on. For those who can see beyond mortal ken roofwalkers appear as humanoid beings formed from sickly white light.

[monstrosity-chiadna]

Omg 😱 what is happening the Rotterdam city center? Did the installation of Roofwalk turned into a sweet tompouce and cake?! Is it being eaten up by these cute monsters?! . . . #monstrocity #adventure #illustration #childrenillustration #rotterdam #roofwalk #dakendagen #pencildrawing #cutemonster #monster #cake #tompouce #instatravel #instillation #instadaily #dreamworld #cake #bread #monkey #bird #cloud (at Rooftop Walk) https://www.instagram.com/p/CfYGtcjtVV7/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[tinytomchimney-blog]

Yesterday was such a beautiful day to be on a roof! ☀️ #tinytom #yourlocalprovider #chimneysweep #roofwalk #repairs #calltoday 1-800-788-TINY https://www.instagram.com/tinytomservices/p/BxKUL1Xh6c0/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=9fsnkbgvlf6r

[hvacreferguy]

This is an example of a highly skilled electrical hack. I guess you can never have enough sealtight. #electrical #electrician #electricalhack #sealtight #hack #roofwalk #hvac @electricalhacks (at Prescott, Arizona)

[siryl]

Illustration by Garth Haslam of the Scandinavian Roof Walker.

[just-sariel]

[indyroofcompany]

Here are a few roofs we replaced due to storm damage in the central Indiana area. Give us a shout for your free exterior inspection, which includes a full photo report for your records! 317-281-5672 #indyroofcompany #preferredcontractor #roofwalkers https://www.instagram.com/p/CE-DJKCF3KO/?igshid=1vi9xmyrsv2de

[aureusian]

Margaret Jane McCarthy.

Trained to be a weapon. Trying to find peace. Known as an emotionless bitch to those who haven’t found what’s behind her steel gaze.

She resides in a city along the east coast of the U.S. called Aureus City— often nicknamed The Gilded City. Charming and beautiful on the surface, but peeling back its layer of gold reveals something more ugly underneath.

But there are those who take it upon themselves to manage the corrupt surface beneath. Heroes. Vigilantes. Outlaws. They have many names, but in Aureus they are Roofwalkers.

Among these Roofwalkers, there is Zero. Urban legend has people believing that a machine patrols the streets at night, manufactured to surpass humans in combat and create constructs of hard light. A cryptic android with an unusual desire for justice.

They saw metal and forgot about flesh. She doesn’t correct them.

Margaret Jane McCarthy.

Aka Zero.

[getlitaesthetic]

I’ll miss you! 😭 But I’ll await your return dramatically on the Victorian roofwalk overlooking the sea.

Do it in a long dressing gown while sipping something expensive and eating charcuterie, please, my love

[mackdizzy]

hey brother, do you still believe in one another?

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21667843

Fandom: GRAVITY FALLS

Pairings: Stan and Ford (NON-ROMANTIC/NON-INCESTUAL)

Rating: T

Warnings: Eye Trauma/Horror, (Nothing too graphic!) Mental Trauma/PTSD (On Ford’s part,)//brief Bill mentions, etc. 

Summary:  intergalactic bounty-hunter AU. 8 pages of teeth rotting stan twins hurt-comfort, because I need nothing more in this world, apparently.

A/N: My first published one-shot, after I've done a lot of publishing and deleting; I think I'll keep this one up for good, though, I'm quite proud of it. Inspired by an rp I'm hashing out with @lemonpie , the entire love of my life. Also dedicated to those on the Fandom Fields discord server. You guys have made my week, seriously.

AU that Probably Has A Name But I Don't Know It in which when Mullet!Stan came back to see Paranoid!Ford, instead of fighting like idiots they made up, got Ford better, and are now intergalactic, multidimensional bounty hunters who love eachother a lot and care about eachother a lot.

It's pretty simple, guys. 8 pages of fluff because my poor little heart needs it.

First things first: shoes off. Ford hates the dirt.

It was surprisingly early when they returned to the room; barely breaching 4 in the afternoon. Apart from the trouble of finding a place to stay (you thought hotels were hard to find in your own dimension?), Stan and Ford usually stayed out late enough anyway. There was evidence to gather, there were clues to collect, there were people to bring to safety; all of this denouncing the fact that there was usually also something to kill, of course.

It had been almost a year since they’d completed the portal and left that old house behind. Not left it behind for good, per say; they would come back every now and then to drop off old gear and pick up new stuff, make sure nothing bad had gotten in when they were away--sometimes they just needed a break from all of….this. But not always, not usually. Breaks were appreciated, but the work was exciting, dutiful, and never-ending. Breaks were best (and usually) taken at moments like these, when they had the time to spare; him fixing the weapons, Ford poured over one of his journals or a book he managed to find, both of them hashing over what they were going to do tomorrow over cheap interdimensional food (strawberry waffles tasted good in any multiverse, his brother would always insist).

The routine wasn’t always as straightforward as that, but nothing the two of them did would ever really be considered straightforward. There were bumps in the road; there had been bumps in the road all year, really, but after the first week in that house “alone” with his brother, that was sort of to be expected. They did what was natural; they worked them out. Because that’s what family did, and because there was nothing he’d rather have done.

Currently they were located--precisely, he noted, pulling out the pocket compass-- at -36.85271, -68.54629, 1.56. If they were back at Ground Zero, he’d note them somewhere in South America (Argentina, maybe, or Chile). Here in the moonshine dimension (which apparently had nothing to do with liquor, despite the fact that he felt drunk every time he looked out the window), the cliffsides remained, but that was about all; the grass was magenta and the sky was a deep purpley color, and the stars saturated the sky so richly, 24/7, that they were almost blinding. Stan would’ve been happy to sit by the windowsill and stare all night, but they had work to do---and besides, they never left the windows open.

Normally, they found absolutely any living space that felt hospitable and plopped down for the night--they were the opposite of picky--but after a couple of rough nights in a particularly rough part of the southern woods, he was delighted to hear Ford say matter-of-factly that he had connections in the mountains, and that’s where they were headed. They’d spent the entire morning traveling, and 4 hoverbuses in plus a lot of hiking later, he’d made the executive decision to check them in and call it a day. Unconfronted yet with the roofwalker who owned the place, someone who Ford had said it would be crucial to talk to, they’d checked themselves in nonetheless and taken the elevator up 38 stories to the bedroom arrangement.

Kitchenette in the corner, desk and 2 chairs, television, bookshelf (empty). Attached bathroom and bedroom--another TV, 2 chests of drawers. And 2 beds. They were always given 2 beds, and they always started out arranging themselves across both, and yet both beds were never actually slept in.

Still: shoes off first, because Ford hated the dirt. He unlaced his boots and threw them casually by the door, hoping that wouldn’t annoy his brother too much. What happened next was calculated routine. He took the window bed, threw his massive bag down. Crossed to the window, locked it, pulled the shades tight, wrapped the cord around the lock to keep them shut. Repeated the process with the window in the sitting room. Moved to the door, locked it tight, pulled the door bolt. Checked the lock on the bathroom and then checked all four locks again, just for safety measures. Next he spot-checked the room, corner to corner; their reputation wasn’t massive, but it was still slightly dangerous, so every inch was scrubbed for cameras, bugs, and any geometrically-suspicious looking artwork. Finally, lights on, buzzing radiator off, windows weatherstripped for sound prevention, tea on the kettle.

Ford never really watched him do any of this; it was more of a safety-net set of activities than anything. Ford didn’t stare at the windows so much if he knew he’d locked them, didn’t direct so much erratic attention to the corners if he knew they’d been checked. So once everything was underway, tea included, he made his way into the bedroom, to find Ford cross-legged on his bed, poured over one of his journals, referring to the other two and a general mass of paper around him as he scribbled. Stan leaned on the doorframe and raised an eyebrow, a soft chuckle escaping his lips.

“Ford, what are the beds for?” He tried not to sound too naggy, but he knew Ford’s sleep habits improved significantly if he wasn’t doing most of his work in the same place. He’d read that on a travel blog somewhere ...he thinks.

“You’re not my mother, Stan.” Ford grumbled in return, but it was half-hearted, and he stood anyway, gathering the paper in a messy armful and carrying it to the desk anyway. Stan took the chance to stand behind his brother and peer over his shoulder, where his loops of neat script had begun filling the newest blank page of the journal.

“Shapeshifters, huh?” He noted, fingers drumming against the back of Ford’s chair. They’d only dealt with shapeshifters once or twice--most of them were nasty, selfish creatures, the conscientious ones interested only in self preservation. With such little regard for the species, he wondered how they populated, but he supposed that could be said for some lines of human lineage as well.

“I believe that is what we’re working with, yes. With all we’ve encountered, I’ve yet to do an official entry.”

He leaned further against the hard-backed chair Ford was situated in, squinting his eyes at his handwriting. His dyslexia had never made it easy to read any of the perfect, neat script Ford had started writing in around age eleven. He did really like the drawings, though; his brother was an amazing artist, something they’d never really known about until he’d started drawing the things they encountered. He let himself stare a bit and wonder at the ways Ford was even able to make something with no defined shape come alive on the page, and all his little frantic scribbles; messy with excitement, not panic. It was a nice sight, but Ford kept stopping to---well, at first he thought he was just brushing away his hair or fixing his glasses, but the 7th or 8th time in about two minutes, it finally set in.

“Hey, hey.” He said gently, nudging Ford’s shoulder. “Your eye ok?”

“Fine.” Came the simple response, which was Ford-speak for No, but I’m totally busy doing my nerd shit and don’t want to be bothered.

Still, Stan could be good for one thing, and it was this. “Let me see.” He sounded slightly naggy again, and Ford rolled his eyes at the ceiling, but some things couldn’t be helped, and he was grateful it worked when Ford spun awkwardly around in the seat and gave him a fixated stare.

“It’s swollen.” Stan said under his breath before even really getting a good look at it, because it was. Pretty red, too. “Look at my finger.” He said, directing his brother’s eye around. Motion was good, that was a start.

“Is it bleeding?” Ford asked, and the sad, wounded little tint in his voice might have been enough for him to lie about it if it was (as if he could ever lie to Ford), but luckily, it wasn’t. “No.” He said, gently. “It’s red, though.” And then he grabbed the chair from the desk across from the room and sat across from Ford, placing his hands on his lap, and Ford rolled his eyes and went to face the journal, but Stan pawed at his arm, infuriated, so he eventually turned around to face him.

“What’s up?”

“Nothing.” Ford mumbled, averting both eyes. “Stan, I’d really like to get back to m--”

“Ford.” Just the slightest edge tinted his voice.

“It’s not fair!” Ford shot back, brushing his hair out of his eyes. Stan could tell he was starting to get a little worked up, and he tilted his head, half in curiosity, half in concern. “It’s not fair that I have to be the one with a---full blown facial anxiety tracker!”

“You know I would’ve noticed anyway.” His voice tried to be gentle, not all-knowing or condescending, and the sentiment was enough to get Ford to crack a smile (albeit a wounded one), which was all he needed, really.

“It’s also quite unfair how you notice everything, Stanley.”

And that got him to laugh, and then he extended a hand and Ford took it. He stroked his thumb along the backside of Ford’s hand and he felt all six of his fingers relax in his grasp, and once they were both pretty calm, he tried again.

“What’s up?”

This time around there was more honesty. Ford looked at his hands for a moment before shutting his eyes tight, taking a shaky breath. When he spoke, it was very quiet. “Haven’t been sleeping.”

“Really? You’ve seemed pretty restful to me.” Inside he’s cursing himself, though, guilt overflooding him. He should’ve been paying more attention, but Ford hadn’t asked, hadn’t brought this up, and he never wanted to seem too pressing. Still, Ford was right, he did notice everything, or at least...he was supposed to.

“Yes, well, my body’s alright, but my mind---haven’t been dreaming right, keep going to the mindscape, I’m stuck, stuck with---with---stuck with-”

“Alright, alright.” He gave Ford’s hand a little squeeze, stopped him before he had to say it out loud. “That’s what I’m here for. Do you ...do you think it’s real?” He had to admit, the thought dried up his throat a little bit. What he’d seen was pale in comparison to what he’d heard from Ford, but the scars didn’t lie, and neither did his own haunting memories of that twisted, inhumane laugh coming from Ford’s lips.

“...No.” Ford replied, but it was hesitant, and it took a moment. “No.” He said again, more resolutely. “Just--just me in my head. It’s getting worse, though, it’s not real REM.”

“How long has it been like this?”

“About two weeks?”

“Ford.” He groaned, his hand covering his eyes, another sharp wave of guilt consuming him. “Jesus Christ. Two weeks? Why didn’t you tell me, Ford?”

“You always worry so much.”

“That’s my job, doofus.”

Ford didn’t say anything in response to that, so he stood, stretching his arms above his head, and yawned, throwing his coat onto his bed. “Alright. Executive decision. Showers and then we’re sleeping. That--” He pointed to whichever journal that was-- “Can wait for the morning.”

Ford’s eyes turned to the clock. “Stan, it’s barely 5.”

“Yeah, well, it’s 2 o’clock somewhere.” He yawned again, and this time Ford caught on and yawned back, flipping him off (with two fingers as per usual) lazily for making him catch it. He laughed, and Ford stood and sluggishly made his way towards the bathroom.

“Want me to come?”

“No, it’s alright. Thank you, though.”

He nodded and made his way into the bathroom off the sitting room, taking the tea off the kettle for when they were both out. Once he was done he fetched it and poured two glasses, making his way into the bedroom to see if Ford was done yet. He wasn’t, but he’d been expecting that, so he set both of the cups on the desk, set on his own bed, and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

He’d gotten quite good at just waiting--sorting through his thoughts, and though Ford was the list-maker, planning; these days, boredom was nonexistent, any downtime was appreciated. But he did start to worry slightly when 45 minutes later Ford was still in the bathroom, and he was about to go knock on the door when he heard a scream.

Ford’s scream.

He grabbed the gun out of his holster, changed the setting on it to the most powerful stun setting; not enough to knock Ford dead, but if something was in his body that shouldn’t be there, it would be enough to get it out. He’d had to use it twice before, and neither time had been pretty, so he hoped Ford was in control enough for it not to be necessary.

The bathroom door was locked, but that wasn’t a problem. He considered getting the lock kit from his bag, but hearing another scream was enough for him to discard that idea; he kicked at the hinge-points to loosen everything and then shouldered it hard enough to unlodge the lock before kicking it open the rest of the way. Hotel doors were always shit, no matter the dimension.

There was blood all over the counter, and it stained in the shower as well. Ice filled his veins and he could almost feel his breath stop, but Ford was still alive, still in there, needing him. One hand on the gun he pushed the shower open with the other, shoulders trembling. “Ford?” He said, concern in his voice, but a slight edge too; a warning, to anyone else.

Ford (Ford’s body?) was huddled in the corner, arms tight around his shoulders, his whole body trembling. Since he was undressed, it was easy to scan for the blood, and he was at least a little relieved to see that it was all coming from his eye--better for no blood at all, of course, but no self-decimation had occurred, and since that was usually Bill’s first step, it meant if there was possession, he was fighting it.

“Ford? Ford, are you with me?” He got down on his knees and reached out, safety out the window in lieu of his desperation to make things right, make things okay. Ford met his eyes, and another wave of relief--those eyes were so unmistakably his brothers, large and brown and mousy and right now they looked terrified, the left filled with tears, the right pouring blood. Those were Ford’s eyes, not anyone or anything else’s; so what mattered now was assistance, not violence, and he re-sheathed the gun, holding out both hands.

“Stan--Stan--” Ford gripped his sleeves and held on tight, tugging aimlessly, and he moved in closer, pulling his brother to his chest. It relieved him once again to see Ford clinging on; it meant he was processing things, he was still here, still recognizing him. “Stan, he’s--he’s coming, wants in, been too long without, Stan he’s angry, make me pay he wants me to pay Stan, I’m not safe you’re not safe watching, he’s watching, he’s--he’s--”

“Alright, Alright, Shh, shh--” There was blood in Ford’s hair from where he grabbed at it, blood on both hands, blood smeared on his face, and Stan just wanted to take him in his arms and gather him all up and make everything better for him. He held him close against his chest and whispered things into his hair as he ran his hands through it, down his back; useless, pitiful reassurances, I’m here, it’s okay, he’s not real, I’m real, you’re safe, until Ford’s racing mind finally gave out and he collapsed flat against his chest, head by his heartbeat, silent, still.

“There we go.” He soothed softly, tilting Ford’s chin up. “Whatever your head’s been givin’ you for the past two weeks, it’s bullshit. It doesn’t matter. I matter, and I’m right here.” Ford was soft like putty in his arms in a way that showed he trusted him, which of course meant the world to Stan after everything. Ford’s eyes met his solidly for a moment and he very briefly smiled but then he was out again, somewhere baseless and mindless, just breathing softly against his chest, the fingers on his left hand twitching gently against his leg. He stepped back just for a moment and turned the shower setting into the bath setting, laying Ford back in the tub with his head propped against the rim.

At that point he stepped out, getting a bundle of fresh towels from under the counter. He grabbed a couple of the mouthwash glasses (so as not to get blood in the tub) and used them with the water and shitty hotel soap from the tub to clean off Ford’s hands and face, taking his time and never stopping that soft mumbling, that soft reassuring Ford that he was safe, would be safe so long as he was here with him, and he was so brave and smart and strong, and that he could tell him anything at all, any time.

Eventually he set the soap down and doused the washcloth in water a few times, but he couldn’t even reach Ford’s eye before he felt six slim fingers close around his wrist. Gently he pulled back and caught Ford’s eyes, soft, and his smile, gentle.

“Hey.” Stan spoke, his voice barely audible above the dull running of the bathwater, beginning to work on Ford’s eye. His brother had since let go of his hand to let him work, but Stan had met his grasp with the other one, and rubbed his fingers alongside the back of Ford’s hand for the next few minutes as he worked to get him cleaned up, keeping his handiwork as gentle as possible. “You feelin’ okay?”

“Mmm.” Came Ford’s only response, half-cognisant, and he chuckled back, wringing out the last of the washcloths before brushing Ford’s messy curls away from his eyes.

“Alright, Brainiac. How about we hit the sack? I’m making sure you actually sleep tonight, idiot.” Ford nodded, half playfully half sleepily, and he stood, turned off the water, picked Ford up bridal style like he weighed nothing; he grumbled softly and fussed at first, and Stan was about to put him down when his brother apparently changed his mind, resting his head back against his chest. He set Ford down on his bed, and it only took a minute before he was sitting up, rubbing at his (good) eye sleepily. They both changed for bed, Ford climbing under the covers, and Stan sat on the edge of his bed but didn’t do anything further. “You want me here, or over there?”

A singular moment of silence, then Ford beckoned him over with two fingers. He wasn’t expecting anything less, not after tonight’s earlier confession, and frankly, he didn’t want anything less, so it was with no hesitance that he made his way over to the other bed; not by much, but big enough for two, and they’d slept in much more cramped spaces before. He laid on his back, one arm underneath Ford, the other one in his curls. It was a position that was nothing but familiar to them, albiet one he’d missed the past weeks, and he was happy to be giving something back to Ford for once; a night of good sleep was not arbitrary, not to them. Ford gently set his head on his chest, managed to get his arms over him and their legs tangled up in his sleep. He was cute when he slept, endearing when he mumbled math equations and excerpts about the paranormal.

It wasn’t long before he drifted off himself; day and night cycles didn’t exist here, so he set his alarm for a good solid 10 hours--way more than usual, but Ford needed it and they’d both earned it. He felt well-rested when it finally buzzed, and he was overjoyed to see Ford’s head still on his chest, his own chest still gently rising and falling, curly hair a mop around his head. He stirred gently when he heard the alarm, too, wiggling off Stan to rub at his eyes, and Stan placed a gentle kiss to his forehead before throwing his legs over the edge of the bed and stretching.

“Stanley?”

It was a very soft, very genuine call, and there was some caution as he turned his head, tilted it gently, furrowed his eyebrows. “Yes, Ford?”

“Thank you...for what you did last night.” Ford met his eyes. “I don’t think I say thank you enough, Stanley.”

“‘S alright, Ford.” He said, walking around the bed and sitting on it next to him. Ford’s head lazily collapsed onto his shoulder. “I told you, that’s what I’m here for.”

But Ford wasn’t done. “And that I love you.” Their eyes met again, Ford’s at somewhat of a crossed angle from his head on his shoulder, and Ford’s hands went to his sleeves, gripping somewhat urgently. “I need you to know that, Stanley.”

He laughed slightly, pressing another soft kiss to his twin’s forehead. There was a minute of silence, just the rustling of the trees outside and the smell of last night’s forgotten tea in the air and the two twins who needed nobody else in the world cuddled close. Then Ford jumped to his feet, laughing.

“Race you down the stairs!”

“Seriously, Poindexter?” Stan stood too, brushing himself off. “You think you’re gonna beat me in a footrace?”

“Never said footrace.” Ford laughed, hefting his travel bag with one shoulder and the portal gun with the other. But Stan always had an extra trick or two up his sleeve.

“Ford?”

“What?”

“Love ya’ too.” When Ford’s face softened, like he’d never needed to hear any other words in his life, Stan took the opportunity to snatch the gun from his now-relaxed hand and toss it on the bed, sprinting for the door.

“Last one to the bottom buys waffles!”

If you liked this, I’d really appreciate some reblogs and even better, some feedback. Or if you think there’s something I can improve upon!! Hell, use the tags to tell me what you had for lunch. I don’t care. I hope you all enjoyed my first real fanfic though!!