#so that just begs the question… what did they actually mean by ‘optimization.’ which memories are they taking out

[jaekaicx]

they forgot to edit the newtopian script! its supposed to say “optimization in progress”

THERE’S HOPE !!!!!!!!

[hollywoodx4]

The Other Track (3/?)

I have a snow day today (which. My boss NEVER cancels school, so we’re celebrating hard.) so I’m trying to get things done, which means of course I’m writing instead of getting actual work done. So here’s some more underground railroad AU

____________________

Orpheus keeps himself between the two woman instinctively, although Eurydice doesn’t allow for much else. She walks along with him, looks mostly between him and the ground. She’s quiet. He cranes his neck often to whisper to her, to console “I’m sorry,” he breathes “I love you. We’re going home.”

              “It’s not your fault. Don’t blame it on yourself. We’re going home.” That’s all she says to him-some combination of three phrases, strung together with an I love you but always quiet, slow. She doesn’t look the same-to the untrained eye, maybe, but to a man who’d noticed everything about her from the moment she’d set foot in his life, there’s a lot to take in.

              Her posture is slightly hunched, her body a bit thinner and more worn. She struggles to take even steps, to keep herself in pace with him although he shortens his gait. Her clothing is sturdy yet stained, scuffed and used and without the even rows of stitching that made what she’d worn up above her own. She couldn’t repair what she’d worn underground. Orpheus knows this, but the lack of knowledgeable, thoughtful stitching hits him as he looks her over. And her eyes; they send his heart crashing down into his chest. Guilt wracks his entire body, makes his breathing heavy and course, his head spin. In her left eye, just in the very corner of its deep, warm brown, is a slight speckle of grey. The color had begun to drain; right there, on his lover, a reminder of what had happened. When he had been trying to save everybody else, he’d failed her. He can feel himself memorizing the detail, the muting of her eye, before he can stop his brain from doing otherwise. When she leans her head on his shoulder, he sees gray. Even when she squeezes his hand, looks up at him and he is consumed with a smile and the need to keep her close, his vision is clouded by the discoloration that will now be a permanent piece of her.

              -what he did to her.

              He can hear Hermes, an ever-present voice in his head. Orpheus is brought back to his childhood-to sitting on a barstool with a towel on his shoulder, wiping down glasses as his guardian looks on. He’s brought to his tiny hands on a guitar the size of his long, skinny torso, to the frustration of chords that didn’t quite sound right.

              “Try again,” Hermes would say, gentle in tone and with a soft hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay that it’s not right yet. Try again.” And he’d try; he’d try until the bar was closing, until Hermes hung up the last glass and looked at him with shining eyes-with pride. And then he kept going, learning notes and chords, instrument after instrument. He filled the bar with music that grew with him, with melodies that came as second-nature even as a young child. The things in his mind translated easier this way, through stories that could be told through pretty instrumentals and narrated by a voice carrying a melody. It didn’t take Orpheus long to pick music up once he’d started, but once he’d been on the receiving end of Hermes’s pride he vowed never to give it up.

              He’d spent most of his childhood trailing behind Hermes; tugging on his suitcoat, holding his hand…he’d grown to telling everybody that he was his father. To Orpheus, to a boy who had found a home filled with a guiding sort of love, Hermes was no less than a perfect match. He was accepted, he was loved, he was home. He hadn’t felt home in the mother who’d considered his melodies a burden, who ignored his curiosities with rolled eyes and told him to “just go play.” With Hermes, who let him sit on the barstool and chat to his heart’s content, who kept a conversation and let him speak for hours on one subject alone, Orpheus felt whole.

              There’s a memory that strikes him while they’re walking, while he’s pushing through dead leaves and kicking up dust with his shoes. While Eurydice holds him he feels her desperation, the need to stay close to him as he needs to stay close to her. He hasn’t felt this anxious, frantic sort of panic since childhood, and even now the memory is hard to access. There’s footsteps, even and firm. He’s walking to new territory-his mother barely even looks his way. He’s young-maybe six or seven-and he carries with him a knapsack containing nothing but a change of clothes and a blanket he kept with him everywhere he went. She holds his hand, but her grip is loose and passive. He can feel himself asking his mother question after question; where are we going? What are we doing? Where are we? She never answered him-didn’t need to. When she knocked on Hermes’s door, when they had their volatile conversation behind closed doors, she didn’t need to answer. He wished she didn’t.

              “He’s too much to handle-need a life of my own-a nuisance child-too loud, too loving, too much,”

              As they walk, as the scenery refuses to change and challenge him, the rest of him fills with the sound of their footsteps; brushing, echoing. Persephone is a driving force, knowledgeable and directive. She leads them along the broken railroad tracks, only speaking to let them know of bent-up metal, roots grown too far out of the ground.  She does not speak directly to Eurydice but looks often between her and Orpheus. He can read her-feel the crossroads between confidence and uncertainty, the slight falter in her usually exuberant, dominant presence. He nods at Persephone, gives her a smile and keeps himself tethered to his lover. It is not from a place of mistrust, but thanks. When she turns her head to look at them, the shattered, apologetic nature of her slightly dropping posture, he looks down at the hand entwined with Eurydice’s, then back up. It’s a way of thanks, this silent conversation, and it drives her forward.

              Eurydice pulls him from his daydream; she’s calling his name, each syllable dropping softly from her lips. From her place beside him she looks up-looks at him and he can see it there, her love. He can see it as clearly as he ever has. Even though her cheeks are gaunt, even though she’s changed in the time it’s taken him to travel all this way…even though she’s not the same, her love is. Orpheus can’t wait to bring her back, to sit with her at the bar and play music, to build a house and a garden and a life he can finally see stretching out in front of him with certainty. He can’t wait. This life stretches out in front of him, creating pictures in his mind of the way that things could be if they surmounted this obstacle. And then….too loud, too loving, too much. He closes his eyes, begs the memories to stop clashing with his present. They create a dissonance, an echo of doubt as his mother’s voice takes over the future in his mind. The home and the garden and the life with Eurydice shifts; he finds himself alone, back in the bar, playing music to a noiseless crowd. Eurydice is gone, has found someone who can provide for her the things he was not able to. He takes in ragged breaths as this possibility crosses his mind, fights to erase his boundless optimism with the voice of his mother, the one who’d doubted him and cast him out, plays a ferocious soundtrack on a continuous loop.

              “Orpheus,” Eurydice-her hand holds soft pressure on his shoulder, shakes him gently. “Orpheus, listen to me.”

              When he blinks into focus her gaze is warm, her eyes glistening with emotion. She shakes her head, brushes her hand along his cheek and takes pause there. She’s scared too-behind the warmth, behind the comfort and the run of her fingers along his shoulder, her own breathing is uneven. She’s quaking-just the slightest bit, just enough for him to feel against his body. The rest of the world-the dust and the brambles and the smoke-swirled sky-everything disappears for a moment. His focus is Eurydice, her voice chasing away his doubts, turning them into dust that joins the air.

              “I need you to think about something for a minute.” She settles herself as comfortably as possible on the hard ground, curls herself into his side and rests her head in the space just below his neck. He adjusts himself to fit her without thinking, brings both arms around her and rests his back against the slope of the hill so they can lay at an incline. The pressure of her body against his sets his breathing back and he hitches his focus to it, to brushing his fingers through her hair as he watches her speak.

              “When we get home, can we get chickens?” He almost laughs, the combination of her soft, low voice with such a random question, the way her expression seems to dance between the present and the future, just as his hand, dreaming.

              “Chickens?”

              “I mean, not right away-I don’t know much about them other than the fact that my grandpa used to have them out in his backyard. I used to help him get the eggs, put them in a little basket and bring them up to the house. Sometimes we’d sell them, sometimes we’d eat them…”

              She stops mid-thought, glimmering, the corners of her mouth upturned. He can’t help but kiss her then, pull her body further into his and hold her there. She laughs against his lips, presses her forehead against his and runs her fingers along the hair at the nape of his neck. Orpheus takes her in, attempts to memorize the feeling he’d gone so long without. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he hopes they’ll make it. In the forefront, where he’s filled with the rush of relief that comes with her body against his, Orpheus knows they’ll be alright.

              “Chickens.” He says, almost a confirmation. She nods her head, still laughing, and a feeling of exuberance bubbles upward from his toes, settles in his stomach in a happy little dance. “Alright, chickens it is.”

[marvelandimagine]

In My Home (Chapter 2)

Series summary: After Wakanda opens its borders, you begin working in Shuri’s lab as part of an all-women STEM program, and you meet a certain White Wolf. What starts out as mutual bonding over science turns into much more than you ever could have anticipated. 

Loosely inspired by Young the Giant’s “In My Home”

Pairing: Bucky x scientist reader

Word Count: 1,960

Warnings: Language, PTSD, sexual thoughts

A/N: WELP Bucky’s internal POV turned out longer than I thought but I pinky promise chapter three is going to be dialogue for dayzzzz

Reader Tags: @staringmoony @noxxia @mikithekiki @just-a-littlebit-of-everything  @galaxy-siren 

Bucky can’t stop thinking about you. He knows he’s in deep because he finds himself replaying conversations and moments together with you over and over in his head, trying to engrave their details into his memory—the sound of your laugh, how you talk with your hands, the glint in your eyes he thinks he’s seen whenever the two of you end up physically close (which seems to be a lot lately)––that goddamn indecipherable look that’s driving him crazy as he mentally weighs the pros and cons of finally acting on what he desperately wants, to finally bring his lips to yours, to feel your body pressed against his while your tongue slips between his teeth and his hands tangle in your hair––

And he keeps trying his best to stop his imagination right there (often failing) because he’s not sure he can trust his mind on this. Because the thought that you could ever reciprocate, could even come close to feeling the way he feels about you, would ever want to be with him in any sense of really being with someone, that had to just be a dream.

But then his brain tugged at him to recall moments that had happened between the two of you that he was pretty damn sure he didn’t imagine. How welcoming you were when he first met you, how you were willing to open up to him about your past so that it might help him in his present. And when he found himself spilling his guts about his uncertainty regarding whether or not Shuri had really fixed him, not knowing what to do with the lingering anxiety and flashbacks and nightmares––you still didn’t treat him like a bomb that was about to go off. You just treated him like a human being.

And it wasn’t like he hadn’t experienced that since Steve snapped him out of his Hydra programming—a lot of people had been kind to him. And he’d done what Shuri asked and hit up a few veteran support group meetings in the city and even livestreamed a few in the States, so he had related to others with similar experiences before meeting you. He just couldn’t explain it, the connection he felt to you, like you both went through life following the same rhythm. As ridiculous and sentimental as it sounded in his head, it was like your souls seemed to be in sync.

You were funny and hopeful and kind and so, so pretty, even in a lab coat and faded band t-shirt. You drew him in without even trying, and the connection he felt with you––that he wondered, hoped, dreamed you could maybe even feel a fraction of––kept growing stronger the more time you spent together. He initially couldn’t even believe you wanted to spend time with him, but he slowly stopped questioning it and tried to just go with it without waiting for the other shoe to drop.

He just tried to enjoy being present with you, whether he was reading your loaned copy of Bill Nye’s Undeniable: Evolution and the Science of Creation while you whirled around the lab, or utterly absorbed in listening to you do your best to catch him up on a highlight reel of humanitarian achievements and pop culture while he told you about 1930s New York City and the inventions that blew his mind (he still was waiting for a flying car, but self-driving cars were still pretty damn impressive) over sambusa and the best lamb and rice dish he was sure he’d ever have, confiding and laughing and flirting all over the city.

He may not have been with a woman in literally decades, but that didn’t mean he didn’t notice signs of seeming attraction and affection, small actions and comments you dropped here and there that made his heart stop and start at the same time. What he did forget was how maddening it could be, the slow burn of glances and touches and before someone finally made a decisive move. Back before everything happened, he never had a problem making that move, but now, the fear of losing someone who already made him the happiest he’d been in years kept him rooted in place.

It was driving him crazy, especially when it came to hints in your touch: your hip gently nudging him to scooch farther down your lab table; your thigh grazing his as you sat side by side on the Maglev train; your palm swatting him on the shoulder as he made another comment that had you shaking your head but chuckling nonetheless. He savored each of these moments, no matter how seemingly insignificant, his longing for even further closeness with you becoming harder to ignore each time. So he experimented to see if maybe he really did have a shot at this, taking your hand in the middle of the crowded street, raising his voice so you could hear him over the chattering crowd and music echoing around the city:

“I’ll get lost otherwise.”

“You’re right,” you called back, smirking as your free hand gestured to the predominantly Wakandan crowd. “How would I ever find you amongst this sea of white men with bionic arms?”

You didn’t let go of his hand, though, and Bucky felt hope rise in his chest along with his heartbeat.

There was the day when you had made him promise to not let you leave the lab no matter what you said until you finished a new round of cross-referencing your updated personal data samples with the 500 something you had collected while getting your doctorate. But then it turned out that there was a music festival happening two blocks away from the lab, and how were you supposed to focus with the booming sounds of drums and the wafting aromas of roasted street fare, but Bucky wanted to mess with you a bit.

And so he stood between you and the door, trying his best to keep a straight face.

“You said, and I quote ‘Bucky do not let me leave this lab, no matter how much I beg, or plead, or––“

You waved your hands.

“That was old Y/N who was bright-eyed and full of caffeine and optimism. This is 7 p.m. current Y/N realizing that I will literally be here until 3 a.m., which I’ve already done twice this week. Current Y/N Y/N just needs to dance and eat some mandazi.”

“A promise is a promise! What if this was the very night when you were destined to be struck by genius with a breakthrough that changes the course of humanity, but I prevented that from happening by breaking my word.” Bucky shrugged, the corner of his mouth turning up. “Not chancing it.”

You sighed in feigned resignation.

“You’re right, you’re right.”

Bucky was thrown off for half a second but your concession, but then you were sprinting past him as best as you could sprint past a genetically enhanced soldier, your cackle turning into profanities choked by laughter as Bucky easily caught you, arms wrapping around your waist.

“Goddammit, Bucky!”

He was barely even holding you, so nervous about hurting you, but it was still enough to keep you locked in place as you struggled, both of you chuckling for a few more seconds before you gave up, going limp in his arms. He could feel the rise and fall of your chest, was close enough to breathe in the bright scent of your perfume.

“Guess I’ll die here.”

Your light tone then turned bitter on a dime, taking Bucky by surprise.

“I lied, I really don’t deserve to get out of here tonight, not when my dumbass has been stuck on the same problem for weeks, and everyone else in that lab has actually been able to do their fucking jobs.”

“Hey, Y/N, that’s not true.” Bucky broke his hold on you, turning you around to face him, watching as you shook your head, chewing at the corner of your lip as you averted your eyes.

“You’re one of the smartest people I know. And I see you, everyone sees you working your ass off in there. Give yourself a break.” He paused for a second before placing his hands on your shoulders, the action prompting you to bring your pained gaze back to meet his.

“You know I’m not actually holding you hostage, right?”

You had mustered a snort of laughter and nodded but still had that defeated look across your face, and Bucky’s instinct to care for you overshadowed his nerves. 

“C’mere.”

And he pulled you toward him and you immediately settled into his embrace, letting out a deep exhale as you burrowed your head in his chest, arms winding around his waist. And as much as he wanted to, he didn’t dare try to kiss you in the midst of your mini crisis, not knowing if you’d misinterpret it as only being given to try to make you feel better as opposed to showing you how deeply he felt about you.

“Thank you.” Your voice was muffled against him and you pulled back, sniffling but smiling. “Sorry I lost my cool there.”

“You don’t need to apologize. Come on, let’s get you some fresh air and some mandazi, you’ll feel better.”

“Good plan.” You both started walking down the hall, and Bucky could feel your stare burning through him, turning and seeing you giving him that look again.

“What?”

“Nothing ... just glad I met you.”

Even with that seemingly picture perfect moment, gnawing fear kept him from showing you right then and there how he really felt, settling instead on words that felt safer instead.

“Feeling’s mutual.”

He’s recalling all of these moments in his head, especially how he’s kicked himself after each one for not making a move. What was wrong with him? How long was he going to let fear dictate his life? The life he had fought for, the one he was still clawing his way out of the past for?

He’s jolted out of his reverie by the rumble of an engine in the distance, and his head snaps up to see trees rustling in the distance.

Even the sheep look startled.

“What the hell?”

And then he sees you come barreling out of the tree line in what looks like a military-grade hummer, except in a rich violet color, wearing sunglasses and a grin, the car’s speakers blaring that one Black Keys (Black Locks? He can never keep all the music you tell him straight) song he’s heard a few times in your lab, and he doesn’t know if he believes in a god, but damn, of all songs to be playing, it’s one hell of a cosmic coincidence that it’s this one.

“Woah, oh oh, I’ve got a love that keeps me hanging. 

I’m a lonely boy, I’m a lonely boy.”

“Son of a bitch.”

Bucky’s heart was beating fast, mind working overtime in a last-ditch attempt to dissuade him from stopping the chess match between you two and taking the chance he wanted to since practically the day you met. He’d been controlled for so long, shoved around with no agency, no say in what he could do.

But this, right here, right now, this was his life. And he didn’t want to waste more of it waiting, waste more of it hanging because of his own hesitation. He had the ability to make choices today, even when it seemed terrifying and vulnerable and could potentially end in disaster. Or, it could end in something fucking great. Something that made him feel happy, feel understood, feel alive.

Isn’t that all he really wanted?

And as you pull up near his hut, he makes a barely noticeable nod to himself. He’s made his decision. Today, instead of choosing fear, he was going to choose you.

[hisgirlwonder]

East to West - Part One

Length: 4.1K words Warning: Sadness, angst, Michael being an asshole, etc Synopsis: Palos Verdes called your name from the moment Michael suggested the move there. Would it live up to your expectations or would it be the beginning of the end? You were soon to find out. Notes: Since getting a tug at my heartstrings to write for Duncan and Jim the idea of this popped into my head. Fair warning about this series and that Michael is the antagonist. Jim is a precious little lamb who has graduated from school and he will get the life he deserves. PS. this is going to have a few parts because I have admittedly been struck with a plethora of ideas for the story. // (FYI: The name is more than just a play on the direction they moved in. If you can guess correctly what it’s about then you get a gold star.)

This had been a long time coming. You were growing sick of the concrete jungle you lived in and wanted to be closer to the ocean; the place where you belonged. Michael suggested making Palos Verdes your home and you agreed without hesitation.

“There you are,” you mutter when you spot Michael in the living room; head down, completely immersed in his phone and those slender, ring-adorned fingers sporadically tapping on the screen. You drape arms over his broad shoulders and whine like a child about the fact you’re bored. His attention remains mostly unbroken but he pipes up with a smart ass remark, “Hi bored, I’m Michael.”

He was beginning to impinge on your last nerve but you knew this is how it was going to be; being forced to deal with that constant regression into a state of immaturity. You push yourself off his chair and amble over to the couch, moping as you move, “Wow, what a great help you are.”

You slump down onto the couch and feel an ache bellow in your chest; unhappiness roaring inside, begging to be released. The lack of deliberation over your deep-rooted feelings recently had become too much and you can’t help yourself from complaining, “Ever since we arrived I feel like all I’ve done is watch re-runs of films and read the same handful of books. I’m going crazy, Michael. You’re at work all day, almost every day, and I have nothing but these four walls to keep me company.”

Why am I so unhappy? I thought moving here would make everything better. Closer to his friends, closer to the beach. Why do I feel so empty and unfulfilled?

He queries what you actually want to do but the words are flecked with apathy; sounding as if the care he was trying to convey was non-existent. If you likened Michael’s attention to anything besides himself as of late it would be a tiny drop of water in the ocean.

“Maybe I could take up an art class, make friends, or even get a job.” You suggest, trying to fight through your hurt with optimism. Michael responds with a mouthful of disbelief, “Get a job? Somehow I can’t see you working.”

Shrugging off the doubt you pick up a pillow and throw it in his direction. It hits and bounces weakly off his shins, falling to the floor. “That’s because I haven’t found anything that calls to my soul. Besides, you’ve never let me work.”

Michael doesn’t understand your need or desire to go off and work. He thought because he gave you everything that that should be enough. It was as if he liked to ignore your need for independence because he wanted you to be like the wife of all of the men in his growing company; a trophy to look at. You were wild at heart - longing for a challenge and for something to pour yourself into.

He disregards the last ten minutes that he’s spent putting your feelings down entirely when he breaks the concentration to look up and grin at you, melting your core into a puddle with those blue eyes. When he was like this, it seemed as if butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth.

“Sandy and Phil should be back from their holiday any day which means we can have them over for dinner. Maybe you can go with Sandy to the art classes she’s been attending? Phil said she loves them.”

Sandy and Phil Mason are the married couple who partly prompted the shift to Palos Verdes. Phil told Michael to bring his business here because “Palos Verdeans” as he calls them, would eat up what he was creating. Michael, never one to turn down a challenge or offer, accepted and the rest is history. You went along with it because after all it was near the beach and you were a water baby at heart.

*

Rumbles erupt from your starved belly as a reminder that you haven’t eaten so you stroll to the kitchen and open the fridge. Your hungry eyes peruse over the contents and settle on some fruit; also taking a bottle of water for good measure. You perch yourself on a seat at the counter and pop a few grapes into your mouth to sate your appetite for the moment. Past the sound of your teeth piercing the flesh of the fruit, you overhear Michael talking to someone.

“Hey Phil, it’s Michael. How are you doing? Yeah, I’m good. Getting settled in, you know the drill. Palos is great. Are you two back from holiday?”

There’s a break which you figure is probably Michael listening to Phil rattling off some useless information; a habit which he was all too guilty of apparently.

“Wow, that sounds like that would have been interesting. I was thinking that maybe you two and the kids could come over for dinner tomorrow night? You all can finally meet Y/N. I can show you a few things I’ve been working on.”

Another pause but this time when the silence is broken there’s a change in his tone as if he’s saddened by something Phil said.

“Oh, they can’t come? That’s alright. Y/N has plenty of time to meet them. What time works for you? Ah, That’s perfect. Hey, buddy, don’t bring anything. We’ll see you then.”

The focus drops from Michael and you start to guzzle the water to quench your thirst but are interrupted when he yells out for you to come to him. “God, what is it now?” you mumble under your breath as you’re wandering back over to where he’s sitting.

“What do you want?”

“Can you be a doll and organise something for dinner tomorrow night? Just don’t make anything with olives in it – Sandy hates those.”

Your brows furrow because you can’t believe the way he’s acting; forgetting how you’ve told him many times that olives are the one thing to make you gag. His lack of manners and preoccupation with the Masons were starting to get to you. The annoyance you’re feeling doesn’t stay hidden for long when you subtly drag Michael with a reminder of how long you’ve been together and questioned when you ever cooked with them. He doesn’t flinch and instead smiles, remarking how it will be perfect. You wanted to throttle him but you swallow the distaste and start to walk towards the stairs.

“Y/N?” Michael calls out as he’s headed in your direction. You’re standing at the bottom of the stairs, holding the bannister and you turn back to see that Michael is closer than you imagined.

“You’re going to love them, I promise. Their kids, Jim and Medina, are great. You couldn’t pick a better family.”

“I’m sure I will. But, right now, I have to plan what I’m going to wear tomorrow night.”

You continue as you were, running up the stairs to the bedroom.

-

A hum of excitement sings through your body while you browse through the dresses in your wardrobe. Nothing seemed to be fitting for the occasion until you got to the very last hanger – it held a plain black, mid-thigh length dress. You didn’t own anything fancier because that wasn’t you. Your style was more boho-chic – you preferred long, flowing skirts matched with bare feet than to shove them inside a pair of heels and wear a tight skirt.

You’d be lying if you said the thought didn’t cross your mind as to why and how you and Michael were still together – he thought with his brain, you with your heart; his style was sophisticated and suave, yours was something else; the music and art you love had soul – Janis and Stevie stole your heart and Michael could never understand that because he preferred classical music; you were a vision of natural beauty with your wavy, untamed hair and your sun-kissed skin with freckles adorning your upper cheeks and nose whereas he was always made up and looked incredible. You’d find yourself looking in the mirror and wonder what Michael saw in you. They say opposites attract, but this was “other ends of the spectrum” opposite.

You’re suddenly hit with a longing for the way things used to be, growing uneasy at the thought. Back when the nights were spent kissing every crevice and curve, plaiting his hair in spring right through the summer, singing to him as you play your guitar every Sunday in bed, after making love first thing in the morning. All of these things were slowly disappearing and becoming distant memories alongside your first kiss, your high school graduation, and learning to drive.

There’s a spike in your sadness when you suddenly remember your guitar was broken in the move and Michael is all too indifferent about it. He knew that it was your life and he did nothing to remedy the situation - you were soon to learn that maybe this was a sign from the universe to prepare for Michael breaking your heart repeatedly from this day forward. You think now or never and place the hanger on the hook on the back of the door before running downstairs to Michael.

-

Waving hands in front of his face proved pointless because he was locked into whatever was so intriguing on that phone. You wanted to throw it, break it, smash it into a million pieces but you know that wouldn’t do anything to diffuse the tension that had birthed itself in your marriage.

“You’re glued to that thing, I swear.” You nag; usually you’d lighten that with a sarcastic tone but today was not that day.

“Well, some of us need to work, Y/N.”

There was a taunt in his voice. A tinge of resentment, maybe. Michael was never really that vocal and the air of mystery that once drew you to him was becoming an irritation.

“Did I not just tell you earlier I’d go out and get a job?”

“Now, would you want to go and do something silly like that?”

“Because all of this is driving me insane, Michael. If you had bought me a new guitar like I’ve been asking you in the first place, then I wouldn’t be feeling like I want to rip my hair out.”

He doesn’t want to listen to you any longer and gestures in a direction towards the coffee table. “Take one of the cards and go buy it yourself. I just really need to finish what I’m doing for next week.”

Of course you do.

You grab his wallet and pulling one a card out at random then slipping it into the back of your phone. “I’ll do the food shopping for tomorrow as well,” you mention, throwing the wallet back on the table.

“Uh huh, uh huh, sure thing. Whatever you want.”

He’s not even listening.

“Maybe I’ll run away while I’m at it.”

“Sure, have fun, honey.”

Why do I even fucking bother?

“I’ll see you later, Michael.”

You storm off, snatching your keys from the bowl by the front door and slamming it shut on your way out.

-

Where are the guitars? There are records, there are music DVDs, there are posters.

Out of nowhere, a young man interrupts (probably younger than you) and asks if you need any assistance from him. He called you ma’am to which you laugh; a faint shade of pink painting your cheeks in embarrassment. With your sight on him, you get the feeling that he’s all too familiar but there’s no explanation you can think of as to why.

Your brain ticks over the small list of physical impressions that you notice. Firstly, the two of you both had wavy, brown hair. His seemed virgin and untouched whereas yours had been dyed; you were growing it out and currently were left with bleached tips. Secondly, his eyes are a beautiful blue; they felt from the few moments you looked into them that they could consume you whole with how deep they were. The third and final thing you notice is that, funnily enough, the two of you have the same beauty spot beside your right eye.

“Ah, no need to call me ma’am. Call me Y/N.”

“Okay, Y/N, can I help you?” He asks. His tone is sincere but charming all the same and it seemed like he really meant it when he asked if you needed help. Your eyes drop to his name badge and see that his name is James.

“Actually, you can, James. I’m his looking to buy an electric and an acoustic guitar and I need you to point me in the right direction. Do you have any Les Paul’s?”

“Do we?” he scoffs, “Of course. Follow me.”

The two of you walk across the room until you reach the cash register and he fans his arm across the wall beside; it’s lined with an array of guitars. “Here you are. These are what we have on display but we can order anything you like.”

“Thank you so much. Oh, I’m so sorry, I don’t mean to be taking your time up.”

“It’s fine, honestly. It’s not every day I get a woman in here who seems to know what she’s talking about music-wise.” He admits and becomes flustered, switching abruptly to asking if you liked the look of anything in the shop. You’d been married for what felt like an eternity and had forgotten the simple signs of when a man is interested in you; blind to the fact that this guy before you happened to be visibly giving his attraction away.

You’re pulled towards the mahogany coloured one and figure it’s best to go with your gut. He tells you it’s his favourite and commends you on your excellent taste while pulling it down and explaining that it was a new model with a few modifications for easier playing.

Those blue eyes meet with yours and you become awash with calmness, unlike the all too hot to handle glare that Michael would stare at you with. You fall into a fixation on him until you’re snapped back into reality as a result of noise in the close distance.

“Thanks,” you smile, trying not to blush when you realise what just happened. “Can I also just get a Gibson? I like-“  

The sentence is cut short by a phone call from Michael calling to find out what you’re doing. You cover the mouthpiece with a hand, whispering loudly to the assistant that you’ll be one moment and walk off to the side to unwillingly take the call.

A sharp tongue hisses that if he was listening earlier then he would know. He shoots an attempt at a Michael apology (one where he makes it sound like you’re actually in the wrong) but you intervene, reminding him he’s always busy. After a deep exhale you continue, explaining that you’re shopping and you’ll make the vegetarian lasagne he loves so much. There’s a silence followed by a groan because apparently, Michael doesn’t want it.

He rattles off some excuse but you’re not buying it. You stare at the floor and try to massage the tension out from its hiding place in one of your temples. Unaware, he is watching you and feeling the discomfort. “Just send me whatever you prefer and I’ll pick up the ingredients.”

You lift your head back up and draw your phone away from your ear before holding it in front of your face to stare at the screen and flip a middle finger up at the screen. Michael was testing your patience and you didn’t know how long it was before you’d snap completely

As you’re walking back to the counter, you slide the phone into your back pocket and the assistant asks if everything’s okay; not long followed by an apology for listening. Your stomach suddenly feels as if it’s holding butterflies and they’re flying out of your throat when you stumble on the words “you’re so kind” and instead it comes out more like s-s-so kk-k-kind and you want to slap yourself.

You smack the bottom of your palm to your forehead, telling him to excuse your inability to speak. He’s laughing and you can’t help but feel like an idiot. “Smile,” he grins, explaining that you didn’t need to be embarrassed.

“Before you ask, the answer is yes, just be back before closing time.” His tone is half confident and half confused.

How does he know exactly what I’m thinking or how I’m feeling?

You attempt to hide the excitement by gnawing the inside of your bottom lip and hold back the smile but it’s seemingly all too obvious. “Wow, I was right. I knew it,” he clucks his tongue and throws his head in the direction of the supermarket, “Go and shop. I’ll be here, waiting.”

“You’re a lifesaver and who knows, maybe one day it’ll be you I’m cooking for,” you yell out as your feet walk towards the exit. You could have died the moment those words left your mouth. The two of you only just met about half an hour before and here you were almost offering him a meal. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

-

You’re only steps away from the store when your phone begins to vibrate - it’s a message from Michael telling you that to make whatever you want as long as you put meat in it. Suddenly the feeling of fuck it strikes and you rebel; leaving empty-handed and returning to where you’d rather be with an idea.

“That was some quick shopping. Can you teach me how?”

“Change of heart, I guess. Hey, James, do you know anyone who might want guitar lessons? We just moved here and I’m growing bored so I figure one way to entertain myself is by doing what I love; playing the guitar and teaching others.”

“As a matter of fact, I think I may.” He asks, picking a pen and a notepad off the counter and hands them over to you. “How are you liking Palos Verdes?”

“Amazing, beautiful, spectacular. Perfect for where I am in my life.”

“Oh come on, you can’t be much older than me.”

“I’m twenty-five but some days, like today, you need to add a zero onto the end of it.”

“See, you’re barely older than me. I’m nineteen.”

You scribble details on the paper then hand the pad and pen back. His eyes glance down to inspect your handwriting and he jokes about you giving him your number. You playfully tease, telling him only if he wants you to be his teacher. Anyone else would notice how obvious it is that he wants to say something else but he restrains and instead asks when you can start.

“We can start as soon as Saturday if you like?”

“Saturday’s perfect. It’s a date.”

He taps and clicks away on the computer, waving his hand in the direction of the machine to tell you it’s ready. You pull your phone out of your pocket and hold it over the terminal before tapping in the pin number and pressing enter.

Your cheeks heat up from those few words and you hope like hell he’s colour blind. It appears as if it may have the same effect on him when you see him rubbing the back of his neck. He interrupts the moment, providing a distraction from the slip of his tongue and hands you the receipt. “Don’t worry, I’ll bring them to your car.”

-

“Mikey, where are you? I have some great news!”

Michael knew something was up because you only ever called him Mikey when you were in a good mood. He appears and you thought he’d be happy (how stupid could you be) but his expression is confused, and he asked where the food is; lifting his chin and looking towards the car as if you’d tell him the bags were still inside.

“I figured we could order in.”

Michael stays quiet and crosses his arms, looking at you with a raised eyebrow and a look on his face as if to say order in, really? But you knew this would happen – you knew he’d be sassy because he’d done nothing but shoot you down at every corner when he was actually paying attention. You come fully armed, combatting the passive aggressiveness of his body language with some of your own.

“We could get a mix of different meals from that organic place we were reading about. If your friends are so lovely, then I’m sure they’ll understand.”

He throws down his arms, admitting defeat and begrudgingly claims that he thinks it sounds like a good idea. You try to break the cloud of the toxicity in the air, grabbing at his hands excitedly.

“Mikey! I got my guitars and managed to get my first student. I decided I wanted to give guitar lessons. It’s so exciting!”

You’re like a child again on Christmas who’s staring at the presents underneath the tree in bewilderment. Elation flowed through you and you thought Michael would share the same sentiment but he didn’t – he was like the Grinch; snatching every present away with one look.

“What? What is it now, Michael? What have I done wrong this time?” Tears well up to cause your vision to go glassy and fall from your eyes when you blink, spilling onto your cheeks.

“I just thought if you were that serious about getting a job it would be something a little more productive. Do you really need to spend all of your time playing instruments?”

His words sliced straight through your feelings of sadness and cut you deep. You wipe away the wetness from your face, curling your lip up and spit back at him, “I’m telling you right now I’m starting a business and you don’t seem to understand me.”

There he goes again with the raised eyebrow and crossed arms but this time he added in a cocked hip. You wanted to smack the holier-than-thou attitude out of him as he barks at you, “You call that a business? Strumming guitars for twenty dollars an hour isn’t a business.”

This is when you snap and your mouth explodes; causing you to speak what’s really on your mind. You’re edging closer to him as you say, “What the fuck do you expect me to do for work, Michael? Do you want me to tart myself up into a little skirt, cover my face in a thick coat of paint and call you Sir while I bend over and lick your shoes clean? Tell me because I’m all ears.”

You’re standing in front of him with what feels like nothing left to lose and you poke him in the chest.

“You know the kind of person I am and you can’t fucking stand it,” you mock him, laughing in his face. Your voice changes from mocking to stern as you begin to growl, “I really fucking love you but you’re treating me as if I’m a bug you’re attempting to destroy which makes me really fucking resent you. Don’t shit where you eat, Michael.”

You decide to take a breather and go outside to grab your new guitars before you really lose it. Once you’re outside you feel your phone vibrate again but you know this time it isn’t Michael so you’re slightly more relieved.

It’s me, your knight behind the cash register. The strangest thing is I’ve been talking about finding a guitar tutor and then you come along. Safe to say I’m more than excited for Saturday. – J

The sadness and anger dissipate temporarily as you read over the message again and again; completely unaware that this was going to turn into something bigger than anticipated.

Taglist: @avesatanormalpeoplescareme  @sensitivethot  @sacredlangdon @sammythankyou @taintedaffairs @langdonsdemon @queencocoakimmie @1-800-bitchcraft (PS. if I can’t tag you, I can’t add you to my list so please make sure I’m able to if you’ve asked!!)

[sunshinetrappedinourhearts]

Nathmarc month day 21: Mermaid/Pirate AU

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16491026/chapters/39165160 Okay, help. I don’t know what happened but this got WAY TOO LONG WTH. Also I don’t know if I should’ve interpreted this AU as a mermaid OR pirate au (as in, I should’ve made a choice) but this one is both. xD And it’s... long... (I put a read more tag, but you can also read it on my AO3~)

@nathmarcnovember

The first time Marc saw him, he had thought he was dreaming. It was early in the morning, about 6AM, during that time he was the only one awake on the ship. Because it was the only moment he could let his guard down a little and just think, look at the horizon, for just a short while feeling the illusion of freedom. He was standing on deck, leaning against the railing of the ship, his eyelids partly closed as the sunrise was blinding him. It caused golden glitters, dancing on the waves of the ocean. It was enchanting, no matter how many times he watched it.

Then, something appeared in the water, and Marc blinked. A dolphin?

But it was gone again. He frowned, rubbed his eyes and looked again.

There it was again. A lot closer.

He saw a hint of red, and he blinked again. Dolphins weren’t red.

Closer again, and then Marc saw.

He saw those beautiful ocean eyes, with just a small hint of green making them stand out from the actual water.

He saw the silky, slightly wavy red hair, almost covering one of their eyes, falling around the face, reaching to the chin.

The features of the creature were beautiful, almost feminine, rounded and soft, but still with a sharp jawline, making their appearance very androgynous.

For a while, Marc stared into those deep, ocean eyes, and they stared back. Until after a while, they turned around and dove underwater. In the process, a large, turquoise colored tail reached the water’s surface, and disappeared behind them.

Marc’s eyes widened, and he didn’t realize he was clutching the railing so hard until he saw his knuckles turn white and he let go.

He-

He was dreaming, right?

***

The second time, he saw him, it was while he was cleaning the deck, during noon.

They had been harassing him about not doing his chores well enough, which was, of course, not true, but they just liked making his life even more miserable than it already was. On top of that, they also enjoyed belittling and mocking him, so they had ordered him to clean the ship with only a small towel, so he had to clean it thoroughly almost every five minutes, and the water he was using also turned dirty soon, so he was constantly refreshing it. It felt like the chore would never end.

Marc sighed.

Does it even matter what chore I’m doing, though?

I’ll be stuck here for the rest of my life.

Or for as long as they will decide not to feed me to the sharks.

So he cleaned, and cleaned some more.

Then, when he turned around, his face focused on the direction of the ocean, he saw a familiar hint of red, as their face was just above the surface.

They seemed to be floating there, watching him with ocean eyes.

Alarmed, Marc glanced around him, but luckily, they were not in sight.

Yet.

He dropped his towel and leaned as close to the edge of the ship as he could.

‘Go away! Quick! They can’t see you! They’ll catch you!’

The creature blinked, than swam closer.

‘N-no, please! I said turn around! You have no idea what they’d do to you!’

‘But you’re not doing anything, are you?’

Marc almost lost his balance and fell in the water when he – obviously he, now that he had heard his voice – replied to him.

He blinked a bit, staring, unsure if he had imagined the words or not. The creature seemed amused, his eyes lighting up a bit as a smile teased his lips.

‘Didn’t think I could speak?’

‘Uh…’

‘Got it right, huh?’ He smiled a bit wider.

Beautiful.

‘P-please,’ Marc then managed to say. ‘It’s because I’m just a normal person, but they… They’ll catch you and sell you on the black market. I beg of you, bring yourself to safety-’

He furrowed his eyebrows. ‘Then, what about you?’

‘I’m… stuck here…’ he scratched his head. ‘I can tell you the whole story but please, not while they’re awake. Come back here at 6 in the morning, by that time, they’re all asleep until noon or-so.’

He seemed to be thinking for a while, and then nodded. ‘Alright. But… may I have your name, at least?’

‘It’s Marc.’

He smiled. ‘Thanks.’ And gone he was, his tail trailing behind him.

Marc didn’t have time to ask for his name.

***

He had been haunting Marc’s thoughts for the rest of the day, and night. So as soon as dawn fell, and the sounds of laughter and drinking died out, he hurried to the deck, not even feeling a slight hint of the cool morning breeze, his mind elsewhere.

He didn’t even have to wait, because when he arrived outside, he could already see the familiar red hair and ocean blue eyes.

When their eyes met, he smiled at him, swimming a little closer. Marc’s heart jumped, and he pushed himself against the railing as far as he could.

‘You came.’

‘Of course. You asked me to.’

‘I-’

Still thought I’d been dreaming-

As if he could hear Marc’s thoughts, he let his tail go out of the water, slightly, moving it a little.

He chuckled a little then, and Marc blinked.

He had been staring, probably, definitely-

‘S-sorry.’

‘I figure you’ve never seen a merman before?’

He breathed.

Somewhere deep inside, he’d known, but-

Mermaids, mermen, they were legends, myths of the common people. They didn’t exist.

Sure, he wrote stories about them, he had done so for as long as he could remember, but-

He’d never, ever thought his fantasies would be true.

‘That’s okay, though. You’re the first human I’m seeing, too.’ The merman smiled, wiping some strands of hair out of his face.

‘What’s your name,’ Marc blurted out. It didn’t sound like a question, but as a thought, lingering in his mind but not yet voiced.

‘Nathaniel.’

‘That’s… beautiful…’

Nathaniel’s cheeks colored a little, and he sank a bit deeper in the ocean, so the water reached up until his nose. After a while, he pushed his body up a little higher again.

‘So… those… other humans you’re traveling with… they’re not so nice, huh?’

Marc sighed a bit. ‘You noticed?’

Nathaniel nodded. ‘I’ve been watching the ship, just to see what humans are like… I’m… curious about them… But I didn’t like them much. They are loud and drunk and… mean. Then, I noticed you cleaning the ship, but you were a little different. So I started observing you.’

Marc breathed-

The merman had been watching him-

As he felt his cheeks burn a bit, he quickly looked the other way.

The sound of soft laughter met his ears, and he decided to look again. Nathaniel seemed amused.

‘What are you doing here, Marc? When you’re so different from them…?’

Marc pushed his hands under his chin, leaning his elbows on the railing as he sighed. ‘I’m their prisoner…’

The merman raised an eyebrow. ‘Prisoner…? What bad things have you done…?’

‘Nothing. These men… they’re pirates… Do you know what that means?’

Nathaniel shook his head, sinking a bit deeper again, until he got up. Absently, Marc wondered if he needed the water to breathe.

‘It means… they’re bad people… they rob other ships, steal treasure, carry slaves, they kill…’

Nathaniel’s eyes widened. ‘So… my father’s stories are true, after all… Then…’ he blinked. ‘Then, you’re the only one who is different?’

‘Ah, n-no, it’s not like that. There are many good people in the world.’ He smiled. ‘I’m just unlucky to have ended up here…’

‘Can’t you just leave?’

For the short moment his optimism lasted, the despair rose to his chest again, making him feel nauseous.

‘…I can’t… they’ll catch me… and kill me… I’m… going to be here until I die, probably.’ He didn’t want to look the beautiful merman in the eye while saying such sad things, so he stared at the horizon instead. The sun was rising slowly. There was no land in sight, not yet. It would take about 2 more weeks to get to the next harbour.

‘…how did they catch you in the first place…?’

Memories from months ago came back to him, like they did every night, haunting him in his sleep. They were dark, sketchy flash backs, and Marc closed his eyes, letting them wash over him.

He had just turned 18 years old, the right age to lead his life, make his own choices. Marc had packed only a small bag full of notebooks and pens, enough to last him at least a year.

‘I’m going, mom, dad,’ he had announced, eyes shining with anticipation.

‘Please, sweetie, be very, very careful,’ his mom had looked so sad, so fragile, and Marc had kissed her forehead reassuringly. In the past two years, he had grown taller than her.

‘It’ll be alright, mom! I’ll make sure to write to you every week.’

And so they had seen him off, and he had gone to the harbour, where the small boat he had bought was waiting for him. And he boarded it, beginning his journey to sail around the world; his search for the mystic, and to find inspiration to finish his book.

Marc opened his eyes again, and saw Nathaniel looking at him carefully, waiting.

‘I… I am a writer… So I set off to sail around the world in order to find inspiration, and finish my book… But after only a month I ran into these pirates… They stole all my money, and made me their slave…’ He felt a sad smile twitching around the corners of his lips. ‘They… even stole most of my notebooks, and they sold them for money… My stories are elsewhere now, they’re not mine anymore… There’s nothing left for me to live for…’

‘What were they about?’

‘About the ocean, the wonders hidden within them,’ he met Nathaniel’s gaze. ‘I wrote about sea creatures, mythical ones, like you…’

A small grin played with the merman’s lips. ‘Yet I am the first merman you’ve ever met.’

‘Well, yes… I wanted to meet one, but… Couldn’t fully believe they existed… And now that my stories are stolen, I found you… Ironic, huh?’

‘Why are you giving up so easily?’

Marc blinked. ‘There is no hope for me. There’s no way for me to escape.’

‘Hm,’ Nathaniel answered, and Marc didn’t know what that meant, but he didn’t ask.

‘I should get going,’ the merman then said. ‘My father is waiting for me. I will be back tomorrow,’ he smiled. ‘Stay strong, Marc.’

He wanted to say something back, but Nathaniel had already vanished before he could.

***

‘I am a bit like you, actually,’ Nathaniel said the next time they met.

‘…what do you mean?’

‘I make stories, too. Only they’re about the surface. About the people living there,’ he smiled softly. ‘And I don’t write them, I draw pictures about the people, about the life I imagine.’

‘So, we both… dream about a world different than ours…’

‘That’s right. So since I’m from the world you are interested in, and you’re from the world I dream about, I think we should tell each other stories.’

Nathaniel’s eyes had seemed even brighter than usual as he had said those words, and small sparkles seemed to be shining within them. They were like the sunbeams falling down on the ocean through puffy clouds, making the waves appear golden. Marc wished he could look at them more closely, but that was nothing but a fantasy.

‘Let’s do that,’ he said instead, blushing slightly. ‘You start… okay?’

That was the start of the exchange of stories.

And that evening, Marc had grabbed his long-forgotten notebook from under the broken mattress of his tiny old bed. It was the only one he had left, and it was still empty of words. The only reason why they hadn’t taken it.

And he started writing.

The light in his heart was back.

***

A week passed.

It was an hour before dawn, usually they would already meet up by then, to watch the sunrise together. But today, Marc wasn’t sure if he should go out to see him. Because yesterday evening had been horrible. And it was visible.

His face was beaten up, swollen from the aggression he had received, bruised from the fists he had seen flying towards him. He looked awful.

Just in time, he had fled from the scene, where he had become a punching bag of frustration, since they had lost a fight against another pirate ship, and had been forced to give up the treasure they had battled for.

It had happened a few times before, so Marc almost couldn’t feel the pain anymore. But it had been worse than usual.

If he hadn’t escaped then-

And he wondered, a tiny voice in his head did-

That if he had never met Nathaniel-

Maybe-

Just maybe-

He wouldn’t have tried to get away-

Maybe, he would’ve just lain there, waiting until death would’ve arrived to pick him up-

But he had imagined his bright ocean eyes and-

He had wanted to live.

Marc sighed. The merman had saved his life.

But he-

He looked horrible.

He-

He couldn’t see him like this…

Still, his heart ached if he imagined him waiting outside forever, possibly too long, so long that the pirates would already show up, and they would capture him, torture him alive, sell him and exhibit him and-

No.

Marc pushed himself up, and went outside.

As he had imagined, Nathaniel was already there, and a smile brightened up his face as their eyes met, but immediately, his expression darkened. And he swam closer.

‘Marc-’

He lowered his eyes, leaned against the railing, his hands trembling slightly.

He wished he was stronger-

He wished he could fight back-

Run away from this prison-

‘What happened, Marc?’ his voice was soft. ‘What have they done to you?’

He looked up, and Nathaniel’s eyes looked so sad. It didn’t suit him.

‘I’m sorry… It… happens… They… like to take out their frustrations on me,’ he laughed a bit, but it wasn’t because something was funny. It was because he felt awkward, and weak, and stupid. And he didn’t know what else to do.

‘They’re monsters… Real monsters…’ Anger, fury, fire in his expression. ‘I… want you to get away from this ship, Marc…’

‘But how? There’s just no way…! I have already accepted my fate, Nathaniel, there’s nothing I can do…’

‘Have you really…? You want to live, right? You want to travel the world, isn’t it? You want to finish your book… Even if you have to start all over again. There’s nothing you can do by yourself, but maybe I can help you…’

No-

God, no-

It was too dangerous-

He couldn’t-

‘No! You shouldn’t even be here, it’s dangerous. Do you even know what will happen to you if they find you?’

Nathaniel raised an eyebrow. ‘Yeah. They put me in a glass bowl full of nasty water and exhibit me to the world, and millions of humans will come to look and point at me. Like a prison, you know. Like, the way you are now, isn’t it?’

It took some time for Marc to process, and his mind was running in circles.

Because he was right, wasn’t he?

So if Nathaniel cared about him, just as he cared about Nathaniel, then…

Then it was only natural that he wanted to help him, right…?

He didn’t want Nathaniel to be caught and imprisoned.

So… it was normal that…

Nathaniel wanted to help him escape from hís prison… right…?

So he couldn’t answer.

Instead, he looked at him, and Nathaniel smiled softly.

‘Don’t worry, I won’t act recklessly. I’ll come up with a plan. Alright?’

Marc wasn’t sure.

He much rather wanted to stay imprisoned for the rest of his life than make Nathaniel risk his own, but…

He nodded anyway.

Because he wasn’t going to make the merman change his mind anytime soon.

Hopefully later.

***

‘After I help you escape, we should create a story together, don’t you think?’ Nathaniel said, half a week later, smiling brightly.

Marc’s wounds had almost healed, his bruises almost vanished. The anger of the pirates had slowly faded away. Since soon, they would reach land.

Which meant there was gold to be stolen, booze to be drunk, people to be robbed, ways to get rich again and forget all about the losses they had suffered earlier.

‘You want to make a story… with me?’

‘Of course! You can write, and I can draw, so we can combine our best skills to create an amazing story.’

Earlier, Nathaniel had brought his drawings to the surface. Most of them were carved into stone. When Marc had told him they used paper and pencils for drawing on the land, just like the way he wrote down his stories, Nathaniel’s eyes had brightened up again.

‘Then… we could only make that true when I actually.. you know… escape. And we have a secret place where we can meet…’

Nathaniel grinned. ‘I came up with a plan.’

Oh, no-

So soon?

He could just reject it, right?

Because he wasn’t ready-

He couldn’t sacrifice him.

Not even if there was a chance of success.

There was too much at stake.

‘You’re setting course for the land, right? And you’ll get there in about…?’

‘Three days, I think.’

‘Perfect. Then, in two days, when the beach is close enough, you’ll jump in the ocean and I’ll help you get to the land.’

Marc blinked.

That was way too reckless.

There was no way they would succeed.

He was good at swimming, but that far…?

Besides, that would mean Nathaniel would swim all the way to the beach and that-

That was more than a little dangerous.

‘You’re worried,’ Nathaniel observed.

‘Y-yes. I mean, there’s too much risk, there!’

‘Are you underestimating me?’ the merman frowned, and within his eyes, Marc could see that he was genuinely offended.

‘Well, you have no choice, if you don’t do it, I’m going to show myself to the pirates.’

‘W-what!’

‘It’s either both of us free, or both of us imprisoned. I’ll let you make the choice.’

And with that, Nathaniel left.

He didn’t show up the next day, nor the day after.

***

The pirates were having ‘dinner’ on the deck, which basically meant they were eating everywhere and nowhere, and mostly drinking booze to flush away the nasty food they cooked. Beside the fact that they hardly gave him any food, this was also the reason why Marc had lost a lot of weight in the months he had been enslaved by them.

He was cleaning the empty plates they threw on deck, running around to make sure he got to everyone just in time before they would get irritated and decided to hurt him.

Occasionally, Marc glanced at the horizon, where the land was already clearly visible.

He was feeling a bit nauseous, because he remembered Nathaniel’s words clearly, and he-

What if he-

Was going to be reckless-

He sighed, trying not to think about it, when suddenly, he saw silky red hair and ocean eyes reach the surface of the water, and he almost dropped his plate.

Nathaniel immediately spotted him and he nodded at him, then pointed at the land that was right there, too far for a human to swim, but no problem at all for a sea creature.

He reached out his hand. As if offering it to him.

But Marc took a step back.

Because-

Because no-

He couldn’t-

They’d notice-

For sure-

They’d go after them, use their small boats, drown and kill him, and then capture Nathaniel and sell him on the black market after harassing and humiliating him.

He couldn’t-

He couldn’t let that happen-

The risk was too high-

He glanced back at Nathaniel carefully, and the merman’s expression was far from pleased. He glared at him, and then, he was gone.

Marc’s heart stopped.

Maybe he gave up, maybe maybe maybe-

Please-

But he knew the merman wasn’t like that, he knew all too well.

And he was right.

Because not even a minute later, when he was back at the place where the pirates were gathered, Nathaniel reappeared in the water, sticking his tail out, swimming carefree.

God-

His heart pounded against his chest painfully and he had to do something-

Had to-

Too late-

‘Oi! Wuzzat? Mermaid?’

Some pirates laughed.

‘Yeah, right, you’re drunk as a skunk, man.’

‘No, look, I’m telling you!’ the first pirate stood up, stumbled on his feet and leaned against the railing. So far, that for a  moment, Marc was afraid he would fall in the water.

‘There she is!’

The other pirates looked, and so did Marc.

Nathaniel smiled sweetly, and waved.

Marc groaned. He was terrible.

‘Fuck! It is a mermaid! Go catch it! Jackpot, man!’

‘You catch it!’

‘Jump in!’

‘Pffffft, no way man, what if it’s a siren, it’ll drown and eat me.’

More laughter.

‘Okay, seriously though, catch it. It’s worth money.’

Marc breathed.

And took a step forward.

‘I’ll catch it.’

Silence. And about twenty pairs of eyes staring at him. They were burning holes in him. But they couldn’t hurt him. He was going to escape. He had to trust Nathaniel.

So he took some more steps forward, his head held high.

Then, laughter.

‘Whew, you finally ready to die, shrimp?’

‘Giving up your life?’

‘That’s a wise choice for once, mate.’

More laughter.

The captain came walking towards him, however, until he was only inches away from him.

Marc had to move his chin up to be able to look him in the eye.

‘You’re going to jump in there by yourself and catch it, and we’ll pull you up once you have it. If you fail, well,’ the captain smirked. ‘Then you’re for the sharks.’

Laughter.

Marc’s head was spinning.

Trust him.

‘Regretting your big mouth already? Too bad, you don’t have a choice anymore. Jump in there. Now.’

Marc breathed.

Around him, they began chanting.

‘Jump, jump, jump, jump.’

They were stamping their feet on the ground in time with their yelling, and anxiousness grabbed him by the throat, making it hard to breath. But he walked. One foot in front of the other, staring right in front of him instead of at the faces judging and watching him.

The ocean seemed so, so far away.

But at last-

He was there.

He tried not to look down as he climbed over the railing.

Tried not to listen to the yelling behind him.

The only thing he thought of were Nathaniel’s ocean blue eyes.

Trust him.

And he would.

He jumped.

The sensation was a strange one; it felt as if he was falling forever, but then suddenly, he reached the water, way too soon, and he quickly closed his eyes as the cold water embraced him.

And then, two soft arms.

He looked up, and stared right into those beautiful eyes.

Nathaniel smiled at him and Marc’s eyes widened.

He couldn’t stop staring.

He was right-

Right in front of him-

Only inches apart-

Up close, his eyes were even more enchanting-

Nathaniel leaned closer and whispered in his ear. ‘Take a deep breath. Close your eyes. Trust me.’

Marc was unsure what he meant, but he trusted him. So he followed his instructions.

The arms wrapped around him tightened and before he could register what happened, they were underwater. Moving downwards at an inhuman speed.

What-

What was happening-

Was he-

Did he-

Betray… him?

Was he going to die?

Were sirens real after all?

Had he-

Fallen prey-

Ah-

Lightheaded-

Little stars on his vision-

No sound-

Just blue, ocean blue eyes-

The only thing that mattered-

And then-

Two hands on his cheeks-

Soft lips on his-

And the air was back.

The stars were gone.

He carefully opened his eyes.

And coughed.

Some water exited his mouth and he blinked, trying to make sense of his surroundings.

The surface under his hands was warm, and a little rough. He looked down, and he seemed to be lying on some rocks. In front of him, the sun was setting in the ocean. It was a beautiful red, and orange, yellow, and purple, some hints of blue.

Enchanting.

Wait-

Where-

He quickly searched, but the merman seemed to be nowhere.

What… happened…?

Flashes came back to him, Nathaniel showing himself to the pirates, him offering to catch him, walking to the edge of the ship, and then- then-

He’d jumped down and-

Nathaniel had pushed him underwater.

But now…

He was on the surface.

When he turned around, he could see a village in the distance, belonging to the land that they were setting course to earlier.

The merman had brought him here.

He had saved him after all.

He…

He was free…

‘Looking for me?’

Marc almost lost his balance, and quickly turned his head in the direction of the voice.

There he was.

Looking at him, a small smile around his lips, as he was leaning with his arms on some lower rocks, letting his tail move in and out of the water.

‘N-Nathaniel…’

‘Marc.’

His eyes sparkled, and Marc-

He needed to get closer.

Now that he finally, finally could.

He wanted to take a closer look at him.

So he moved down a little, until he was kneeled down on the rock the merman was leaning on.

‘You… you saved me…’

‘I told you to trust me, and you did.’

‘T-thank you…’

Nathaniel shook his head. ‘You needed to be free. Besides, I want to create a story with you. You can’t do that when your imprisoned on that terrible ship.’

‘Did you… try to make it look like you killed me…?’

He nodded. ‘It was the easiest way to get rid of them immediately. It only means you need to lay low for a few days, until they have set sail again. So they don’t spot you.’

‘I… don’t know how to thank you…’

His smile widened. ‘Like I said, create a story with me. Although…’

‘Although?’

There was a slight hint of a blush on his cheeks, and Marc was mesmerized. ‘Although a kiss would be nice, too, I guess…’

‘A k-kiss?’

His mind was spinning.

How could-

Someone as beautiful-

Enchanting-

As him-

Want to-

‘Unless you don’t want to, of course.’

For the first time ever, Marc stopped thinking, and just acted.

He leaned in, cupping Nathaniel’s cheek with his hand, caressing softly.

And kissed him.

***

Months passed, during which Marc saw his merman almost every day. He had almost finished his story, and Nathaniel had been drawing many scenes to accompany them.

But Marc-

He wanted to go home.

He had written his parents immediately, and they had been delighted to finally hear from him. But after these adventures, he needed to see them. Take a break. Rest.

Only he didn’t want to leave Nathaniel. His heart ached just thinking about it.

He was sitting on the beach, thinking about his choices, watching the sunset with a sigh.

Then, in the distance, he saw a figure slowly walking up to him.

He frowned, squinting his eyes until he saw the person almost trip.

Immediately, he jumped up and ran to support them.

On the way, his heart skipped several beats, but only when he was by his side, preventing him from falling by putting his arms around him, he fully noticed.

‘N-Nathaniel…’ he breathed. ‘What-’

Nathaniel looked up at him, his legs trembling slightly, and he grinned.

‘Hey there, Marc.’

‘What did you do-’

‘I abandoned my tail.’

‘I can see that, but-’

‘I know you want to go home. And like that, with that… tail… I can’t go with you. Like this, I can… And besides…’ He scratched his head a bit. ‘I’ve… always wanted to live on the surface, anyways… And now I can become a proper illustrator, too… I couldn’t see any bad consequences, Marc.’ He smiled softly. ‘So I’m coming with you. On the condition that you properly introduce me to your parents as your boyfriend. And take me to see the world, after you’ve rested. Oh, and teach me walking, please, this is kind of hard…’

Marc just hugged him tightly, and some tears fell down.

But it didn’t matter, since they were tears of happiness.

[nezzfiction]

ENMY Chapter 88 - Operation Gun Dog

Chapter Synopsis: The Kingdom of Vacuo is about to enter its most daunting challenge, since the Third Crusade. Salem has personally come to see the end of some of Remnant’s greatest warriors, including Team ENMY. Assistance from Atlas is on its way, but will the Fleet arrive in time to make a difference?

Only one thing is certain. Whatever happens in Vacuo will echo the things to come for the rest of Remnant.

Series Synopsis: Team RWBY is disbanded, and Yang must find herself new allies. For her, that might very well be yesterday’s enemies. Joining up with the likes of Emerald, Mercury, and Neo, the four will comprise Team Enemy(ENMY).

Links to read the series: Ao3 or FF.net

Or hit the jump below

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Narrated by Yang

Previously on ENMY…

After watching from the sidelines long enough, Salem decides to bring the fight to Vacuo personally.

One of the dirtier plays she makes against the Kingdom, is sending a parasitic-type of shapeshifting Grimm into the city called Cuckoos.

While the Kingdom has its hands full with dealing with the infestation problem, Salem builds her army and chips away at the Kingdom’s forces.

With an alliance formed between Vacuo and Atlas, an Atlesian Fleet is enroute to provide Vacuo with aid.

The problem is whether it will get here in time, or be enough to make a difference.

This leads Weiss and Cinder to asking Qrow for help, or more importantly, the immortal called Titan.

Meanwhile, Temujin comes up with a brilliant idea to exterminate the Cuckoos once and for all, and get this war with Salem back on track.

To do that, her Khans give Team ENMY the training session of a lifetime.

Whether we’re actually ready or not, we’ll find out soon enough.

It’s time for the war between Vacuo and Salem to continue…

As Team ENMY takes part in Operation Gun Dog!

.

.

Operation Gun Dog

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Gun Dog: n.- types of hunting dogs trained and developed to assist hunters in finding and retrieving wild game, usually birds.

.

.

The sun was a couple hours from cresting the horizon, yet shades of purple were already trailing into the dark canvas above. The morning would arrive early—immeasurably so.

As if Remnant itself knew the day would be a long one, a pivotal moment that would determine the world’s very Destiny.

…

On the eastern shores of Vacuo, Temujin pensively overlooked her brother’s grave. A stone polished endlessly by seawater. A white tooth which sprouted from the sands of Vacuo’s beach.

“I wonder what words you would have for me now, brother? How disappointed I’m sure you would be.”

The old woman felt a sharp wind blow sand into the cracks of her face.

“I knew my ways wouldn’t last forever. Our people are learning that, too. It won’t always be the strongest who survive Vacuo. Which only begs the question, who will? Will anyone?” she sighed. “Whatever the answer, I’m no longer fit to see it.”

The constant sounds of waves breaking on the shore soothed the jagged corners of her heart, if only a little.

“Then again, what is the thing called, strength?” Temujin scratched one of her frayed ears. “Peh! What’s the point in getting philosophical now? Why did I even bother coming here? It’s not like I’m asking your permission!”

The old woman turned, and began the trek back to the city.

“Hmph. To make sure my people live to see a world better than the one I forged—”

“What is one more sin, anyway?”

.

X  X X  X  X

.

At the mouth of a cave, staring through the waterfall, Inna Kao looked to the horizon.

In her hand, was a steel chain with three dog tags hanging from it. She shifted through each one, like a pious one did their prayer beads. The names of her late teammates cycled her fingers and formed silently on her lips.

“Ferret.”

“Remington.”

“Earp.”

Their deaths were anything but remarkable. They were three among the countless who lost their lives in this War. As a soldier, Inna knew it was only the way of things. It was inevitability, it was their occupation.

“Ferret. Remington. Earp.”

But it didn’t stop her from wanting to give them meaning. To give reason to their sacrifices. Out of the members of FIRE Team, Inna was its only survivor. She decided it was on her to accomplish what her teammates could no longer not.

And if the war’s end was brought sooner with Vacuo’s destruction…

“For the fallen…” she whispered.

Inna snapped her rifle to her shoulder, and aimed Raven down her sights.

“Good reaction,” the woman greeted coolly.

“Mornin’. Done conferrin’ with the enemy?”

“You do know the enemy is a matter of perspective? Unless, we’re talking about Team ENMY, in which case, it is their namesake.”

“…”

*Sigh*

Raven rounded her way to the other side of the cave’s mouth, and sat across from Inna.

“You and Bean are too smart not to see what’s waiting at the end of this.”

“I see Vacuo fallin’, and Atlas next.”

“So, you haven’t had a change of mind after meeting the illustrious puppeteer behind it all?”

“Salem gives me the creeps, that’s for damn sure. But she won’t be the end of the world. If anyone will, it’s gonna be Bean, and I won’t let him go that far.”

“If you only knew,” Raven sighed again.

“I’m sorry we’re comin’ after Yang, if it makes any difference. Condolences and what not.”

“Inna, you’re the one I’m going to feel sorry for, if you two actually meet.”

“That right?” Inna set her rifle to the side. “So, what are ya goin’ be doin’ when the battle finally breaks out? You can’t fight your home, but you can’t fight Salem neither.”

“I guess, all I can really do is sit back and watch.”

“Even if I take my shot at Temujin, too?”

“No direct interference with the Witch. Those are the rules.”

Inna couldn’t help but turn a skeptic look at that, but the woman only remained passive.

“I heard from Adam back in Mistral, you tried to kill Yang and her team.”

“Different circumstances.”

“And you tried again in Atlas.”

“Again, different circumstances.”

“…”

“The wording’s very strict on my contract. Me not being forced to fight Vacuo is one of them.”

“Team ENMY isn’t from Vacuo.”

“The moment Temujin put them under her protection, they were under Vacuo’s protection. To be honest, I didn’t know that loophole existed either.”

Inna breathed a small chuckle, then her demeanor hardened.

“But if Vacuo falls…”

“If that were to somehow happen, I’m sure Yang’s strong enough now she won’t be killed so easily by me.”

“You give a whole new meaning to the term ‘tiger mom’, you know that?”

“So, I’ve been told.”

Raven got up, and began moving into the cave. She stopped to glance back.

“I’ve had my share of fighting the wrong battles for the right reasons, Inna. I fought my own team, whole Kingdoms, practically made enemies of all the wrong people. And I lost a lot of good friends along the way.”

“…So?”

Raven’s expression became conflicted.

“You have an obligation to let them go, Inna. Trying to make a world that should have been with them in it isn’t an honor—it’s an insult. Don’t shame them by trying to make them stay. Death is a part of who they are now, and you can’t change the memory of your teammates. Took a long time for me to learn that.”

“……Does that preachy horseshit work on everyone, or am I the sole exception?

“No, it never works. But I tried.” Raven showed a sympathetic smile of sadness. “Maybe, I just like acting out a history that keeps repeating itself.”

“…”

“My Mentor once said the same thing to my team. I think my brother and I ended up more or less like him, if not worse. The question is, do you really wanna end up like me? Do you want that for Bean?”

“…”

“That’s a question you ask yourself. Or maybe, some things you can’t learn until it’s too late… Or maybe, you think about it.”

The woman turned to walk away, and Inna heard one more sentence echo back to her.

“For the fallen.”

.

X  X X  X  X

.

“Will this work?”

“If they fail, we have our options.”

“Yes, but will it work?” Weiss repeated her question.

“It depends greatly on Salem’s ability to read our intent,” answered Cinder.

“Yes, but—”

“You know, there is a reason we agreed that I be director of all affairs military.”

Weiss pouted at that.

Within Atlas HQ, the two queens and their Board of Directors watched a projection of Vacuo’s capital. The room had gotten fairly used to the debates between regents, to an extent they no longer paid it any mind when they bantered playfully, at least from Cinder’s side.

“Leave the chess game to me, my Queen,” the Black Queen smiled. “We have controlled what variables we can, stacked whatever odds in our favor as we could, prepared as many surprises as possible, and devised several failsafes should our initial plans fall through.” Cinder continued to read the projected layout of the land. “If there is a weakness to be found in our opponent, I will exploit it.”

“I suppose that is what you’re good at,” Weiss huffed. “Do you still need me here, when you have your generals?”

“Oh, don’t be like that. You offer an insight I could never hope to gain.”

“I vaguely remember you calling it naivety and optimism, right before choosing to ignore them.”

“And I would rather hear them, than not.”

“You’re insufferable,” Weiss crossed her arms.

“Yes, and I enjoy your company, as well. Now, I believe Team ENMY is about to begin the Operation.”

As all eyes turned to the floating hologram, Weiss sulked deep into her chair. Her worries continued to pile until they were mountains. She couldn’t help thinking there was something else they could have done—something they could still do.

…As it stands now, I can’t see Vacuo winning this, she thought.

Cinder knows this, too.

She’s looking for a mistake by Salem, but will the Witch really make one?

Weiss turned to her fellow regent, and saw Cinder with her usual confidence. But she knew deep down, the Black Queen held her doubts.

“Nothing is more troublesome than an opponent with a good sense for preparation,” she remembered Cinder telling her before. It was also one of the reasons, the Black Queen liked to keep her around—as she remarked right afterward.

“Nor, is there a more troubling opponent with good intuition.”

Weiss scoffed to herself.

Preparation vs. Intuition.

I wonder if that’s all it comes down to.

The cold math.

Weiss thought there should be another way. A method which varied from Temujin’s, Cinder’s, and the Witch’s. Some other element they could exploit, because as it stood now...

Even I can tell, the way this is playing out—if we go purely by numbers and strategy…

The White Queen shook her head vehemently.

I can’t think that way.

There has to be something we can do for Vacuo.

But any more dedication of our resources, and we practically forfeit crucial defenses for Atlas.

What more can we commit to this battle?

What can I commit?

…

I can’t help remembering, it’s because I fought that way, I lost to Cinder in the first place.

Weiss set her sights to the projection and the countdown on the corner of the map. It read ten minutes.

Is this all?

What we can sacrifice and what we can gain?

What moves are more effective?

How far we can predict our opponent’s moves?

…

Weiss stared at a certain holographic marking one of the four units with a [Y].

What would Yang say, I wonder?

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X  X X  X  X

.

Yang sneezed loudly, before wiping her nose. A moment later, their radios gave a soft crackle.

“Did I hear some nerd just short out her comms?”

“It’s called a sneeze, Em.”

“Someone was probably talking shit about you.”

“I wonder who.”

“Just sayin’… it was Ilia.”

“Wouldn’t put it past her.”

“I can hear you, you know?” Ilia’s voice resounded testily.

“Oh, don’t get your pony tail in more of a twist,” Emerald snickered. “Ready comms check. Gun Dogs Four, maintaining bored status.”

…

“Gun Dogs Three, ready,” Nai clicked in.

“Gun Dogs Two are ready and standing by,” Minerva answered.

“Gun Dogs One, geared and evil,” Yang checked in for her team.

They were positioned dead center of the city in the Hanging Gardens. The zone they were assigned was the most populated.

With her, were Neo and Mercury. Biding their time on the top balcony of the palace, her teammates double-checked their equipment.

“Think they’ll hold up?” Mercury tapped his steel toe against the floor.

“I doubt Masa could’ve done it any better, Merc,” Yang replied.

After having both their prosthetics broken, the two had to rebuild them from scratch. It was odd not having their reliable weapons tech in Masa Moon with them, but they knew their designs by heart. It was only a matter of trust at this point. And although Yang had entrusted him with far more, Mercury still found himself with the question.

“Hey.”

“What’s up?”

Mercury took a short breath, before speaking again.

“What would you think about me opening a weapons shop?”

“What, like here in Vacuo?”

“Doesn’t have to be here. Anywhere, really.”

“Sure. Why not?”

Mercury stared at her without another word. Only then, did Yang straighten with more attention.

“Merc?”

It wasn’t hard to read him now. He was trying to hide it, but he was obviously being sheepish.

“Oh,” Yang blinked a few times. “You mean…… quit Team ENMY and start a shop full-time.”

“When everything is over, I mean. It’s just a thought, but yeah.”

“You mean…When we beat Salem, end the War, and somehow stop Remnant from destroying itself, even when it’s already halfway there?”

“Yeah.”

“…” Yang cocked her brow. “You really believe that, don’t you? That we’re somehow going to win this.”

“What, you don’t?”

“I do, I just… never heard it out loud, or I thought I was the only one.”

Yang felt a sudden jab in her ribs by Neo beside her.

“Okay, okay. WE thought we were the only ones. But back to what you were saying…”

“Yeah, I- I don’t know. It’s just an idea that’s been bugging me lately. Reading my dad’s diary, killing Jupiter, meeting Temujin, working with Brig, and the other stuff. It just got me thinking.”

“That’s new-puh!” Yang felt Neo jab her again. “Sorry, Emerald’s influence. Go on, buddy.”

“All my life, I’ve been raised to be an assassin. When Cinder picked me up, it was pretty much the same. And then, there was this team. Don’t get me wrong, running with this crew… not as bad as I thought it was going to be. But working here, in Vacuo? I just kinda…”

Neo rounded her way, and hopped up to hug Mercury from behind. The expression was as transparent as the girl herself. Her gloved hand went to petting his head, like cooing a child. An encouraging smile beaming on her face.

“You heard the wife,” Yang nodded. “Me and Neo will support you in whatever you wanna do, any way we can.”

Mercury fought down the brimming emotion, and forced himself to turn to the scenery. A hand went to hold Neo’s, while a stuttered breath escaped him.

“Thanks, Neo, Yang. Means a lot.”

“Of course. Hey, I might even join you.”

“Seriously?” he asked in surprise.

“After some adventuring, though. I still want to live the life of a Huntress, but maybe after that.”

“You could sponsor me and have your name on the door. Mercury & Yang’s Workshop: Best Weapons Forged Under the Sun. It’s not a bad ring.”

Neo started pointing to herself eagerly. Shining expectation lit her grin.

“You could…be our billboard girl?” Mercury replied uncertainly.

“Our mascot,” Yang added.

Neo put Mercury into a headlock while puffing her cheeks.

Yang chuckled. “I don’t know about sponsoring, though. Me and Neo might be flat broke Huntresses. If you’re looking for sponsors, why not ask Em?”

It was then, she paused.

“Have you told Em, yet?”

“I…” Mercury sighed. “I don’t know what to tell her. I mean, we’re partners. She probably expects me to join her and Cinder in Atlas. Part of me thinks that’s what I should be doing. I mean, this weapons shop thing is just a dumb idea I came up with and—”

Yang and Neo jabbed him on each side.

““It’s not dumb!”” the two communicated. Then, Yang clapped his shoulder.

“I bet you anything, Em’ll support you even more than us. She’ll get it.”

“We are talking about the same person, right?”

“Aren’t we?”

“……Maybe, I’ll put the word with her and Cinder after this Vacuo deal is done.”

“Sounds good.”

The three took a moment to silently watched the morning sun rise.

“You know,” Yang started. “It’s bad luck to talk about stuff like this right before a life-threatening job.”

“Yeah, but we’re Team ENMY,” Mercury smirked back.

“Our luck’s always been shit.”

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X  X X  X  X

.

“Our luck’s always been shit,” Emerald heard the sentence, as well as the matter her partner discussed beforehand.

Idiot.

Why would you think I wouldn’t understand?

And why’d you go to Neo and Yang first?!

“Ugh! Whatever!” Emerald grunted aloud, and kicked the copilot’s console.

“Hey! Easy on the merchandise!” Ilia complained beside her. “If you heard something you didn’t like, maybe you shouldn’t be using your Semblance to peep on other people’s conversations.”

“Just a little warm up, ponytail. Get the mind juices flowing before I run the biggest brain acrobatic routine of my life.”

In an airship circling the capital, Ilia and Emerald continued to chat.

“Are you sure you’re up for this?” the chameleon Faunus asked.

“Not like your boss gave me much of a choice.”

“Either we will become nourishment for the fire, or the fire will nourish us,” Temujin lectured over the radio. “Life is nothing but an endless cycle of tests and trials.”

“And I thought I was the only mind-reader here,” Emerald replied.

“Well, I thought it was about time Ilia voiced her doubts about your abilities.”

“You could make that guess every two seconds to be fair. Flygirl here, has no faith whatsoever—and no problems showing it either.”

“Only because so much depends on your team,” Ilia growled. “Especially you. If you mess up your part even a little, our people are the ones that pay for it.”

“We’re only disarming a thousand ticking time bombs, surrounded by innocent people, across one of the largest cities in Remnant, in the span of half an hour. You should relax, you’ll live longer.”

“…”

Emerald sported a sarcastic grin.

“Alright, ladies and gentle-powerbottoms. It’s Hurt Locker time. I’m putting the sheep under.”

The girl stood from her chair, and made her way to the back of the cockpit. There, four Godmother devices were hooked up to a metallic helmet, which Emerald fit snuggly onto her head.

“Clear your mind,” Minerva advised over the comms. “Remember, there are no limits to what the mind can do.”

“I know, I know. There is no spoon,” Emerald breathed deeply through her nose. “Just brain-tapping a whole Kingdom. Not like you guys are asking me to perform a miracle or anything.”

It was dawn, and the teams could see the citizens of Vacuo already waking. Many of which, were flooding the streets, busy with their daily commutes.

Emerald could sense their minds, some still vulnerable to sleep and dream. It was the best time for her Enchantress’ Semblance.

She closed her eyes, and the Godmothers hummed with life. Her fingertips pressed the sides of her helmet in concentration. The devices amplified her abilities, as the focus of her thoughts extended in every direction.

Once Emerald finished linking each mind to her mental network, a single word echoed the thoughts of Vacuo’s people.

(((♪Dream♪)))

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X  X X  X  X

.

As soon as Emerald voiced the mental chant, various bodies across the city collapsed where they stood. Everyone that fell under the girl’s Semblance was trapped in a dream of her crafting.

Meanwhile, the only ones still awake and unaffected by Emerald’s Semblance could only be the teams—and the Grimm.

On the outer crust of the city, the team assigned Gun Dogs Three, dashed through their designated area. The walls faced the most thorough inspections for Cuckoos, but there were still a few that made it through screening. And it was on Nai, Mouse, and Knives to eliminate them all.

The silver irises of the siblings glistened with a sharp light. They tracked their targets with their exceptional vision, and marked them for execution.

“Nai, the man at 2 o’clock,” Knives called.

Even without hearing the end of her sentence, the large warrior bolted in the direction of her sight. There, a lone man carried on with his inspection of a damaged truck, oblivious to the events unfolding outside his peripheries.

Nai braced his fist in his other hand, and drove his elbow through the man’s skull. A large splatter of blood erupted from the other side. There was a glimmer of doubt, before the person’s shape distorted into its original, grotesque bird form.

Before Knives called out the next target, Mouse spotted another Cuckoo, and drove his straight-edged dagger into its solar plexus.

The three continued to zip through the routes planned beforehand. Some of the Cuckoos were discovered and mapped prior to the operation. Some were not.

Regardless, they carried out their grim task with cold execution. Any person found moving was eliminated without second thought. If they hesitated, the Cuckoo might become aware and potentially kill anyone in their surroundings. Fortunately for the trio, most of their prey would be isolated.

The same could not be said for the team assigned Gun Dogs Two.

…

Standing on the highest branches of Shade Academy’s great tree, Minerva and Temujin gazed down at the tiny specks below.

Unlike the outer perimeter, the middle-zone was significantly more populated. Groups of Vacuo’s citizens and Shade Academy’s students were bunched together. The Cuckoos would no doubt notice what was happening.

Minerva had to act fast. Her spellcasting had to be swift, but precise. The point of her wand jabbed at the various focuses for her Magic, before violently flicking them upward. Bodies levitated into the air, clear of any sleeping innocents.

As some of the Grimm realized what was going on, they began to morph back into their monstrous forms. But by the time they could utter a single sound of resistance, Temujin silenced them.

The old wolf Faunus took a number of arrows shafts in hand, and loosed them all at once. A stream of projectiles coated in black Aura sniped the flushed prey like a high accuracy shotgun.

Without a moment’s pause to see the end of her partner’s work, Minerva was already levitating the next batch—and then the next.

“I need more targets!” Temujin hollered, after a time.

“Silence, you cackling fur rug. My role requires more concentration.”

“I can only hope so, and it isn’t about having second thoughts on killing your students.”

“They are not my students,” Minerva clenched her teeth, as she lifted another group of Cuckoos into the air.

“How certain. It’s very possible Emerald missed Enchanting a few.”

“There will not be any innocents among them.”

“It is possible.”

“…”

Temujin didn’t meet Minerva’s brief glare.

“Truth be told, if she missed a few, they would still be considered acceptable losses.”

The Headmaster’s anger boiled for a second, but was channeled into the violent purpose of her wand.

“Emerald will not err. I taught her myself…!” Minerva grunted.

“…I see.”

“And her Magic surpasses my own.”

“Hmph. Quite the pedestal you’ve placed for the girl.”

“As if you and I haven’t been training her team to combat the Witch herself.”

In the small break between shooting down her last targets and waiting for the next, Temujin spared a thought in the Hanging Garden’s direction. She wondered how the main team was performing—the three who were charged with the most occupied section of the city.

As far as they were, Minerva and Temujin could hear distant explosions. As well as the disgusting caws of dying Cuckoos.

…

“Clearing three!” Yang called out.

Racing down Vacuo’s main thoroughfare, Yang made a hard angle turn towards a trio of confused bystanders. When they saw the blazing blonde rocketing toward them, they began to drop their forms. But any resistance they could put up paled in the strength of the girl hurling them into the air.

At the same time, Neo made out a couple of moving bodies in houses. The team would waste crucial time trying to navigate indoors, so she dropped them down a mirror portal like a trapdoor. Her targets reappeared with the other Grimm flushed into the sky.

“I got ‘em!” Mercury shouted, before leaping off one of the nearby roofs.

He concentrated pockets of dense air at his heels. And then, with a resounding kick, the aerial bullets pierced the flightless birds. Their overgrown skulls cracked open with a sickening crunch, as they faded to nothing but ash.

Still treading the air, Mercury used his vantage point to spot the next number of confused wanderers.

“Five in my sights!” Mercury called.

“Pull!” Yang answered.

The young man dove down, and skidded across the rough road on his landing. His body postured low under the unsuspecting group. And then, with a chain of upper-cutting kicks, launched the targets into the air, positioning them much like Yang and Neo had done before.

The Spring Maiden stopped in her tracks to unleash a flurry of blows. Artillery shells from her Ember Celica detonated the prey at the peak of their lift. And then, it was on to the next Cuckoos.

It was a crude, but effective method Temujin developed. Each of the Gun Dog squadrons was assigned a spotter, a flusher, and an exterminator—or some mixed combination of the three. Emerald’s massive Enchantment negated any panic unwary innocents would have caused, while making it easier to identify the Cuckoos. Their next main focus was to separate the Grimm from its immediate surroundings, which usually involved casting them into the air. There, they would be safely disposed of.

Apart from the other two teams, Yang, Neo, and Mercury traded between roles in order to conserve as much Aura and stamina as possible. The fluidness of the interchange set a low margin for error, but the trio performed it with all the flawless execution of a perfect killing machine.

As Mercury and Yang hurled another group of Cuckoos into the sky, the pests managed to complete their transformations into their original forms. Their gross necks elongated their overly sized heads as their beaks parted. A cacophony of cries screeched above Vacuo.

Despite the altitude, the team could feel the life force sucked from the area, making the air thinner.

Neo took aim, her thin blade exposed from its sheathe. Her irises flickered a sharp light, as her sword worked a blinding fashion. Even though she was still groundside, her attack pierced the Cuckoos from afar.

Neo’s training with Raven did much to improve her sword work, as well as awaken the abilities of her Silver Eyes. Just like her “mentor” had shown during their deathmatches, the petite girl was now able to distort time and space to an extent that her blade was able to strike from a distance and seemingly multiple times at once.

Still…

This isn’t good.

Yang clenched her teeth, as she continued to lead her squadron’s charge through the area.

We’re starting to cut it close.

The last batch got their attacks off. More of them are starting to catch on.

We need to do move faster.

Seeming to read her mind, Neo and Mercury accelerated alongside her. Their wash, rinse, and repeat pattern grew more rapid in its pace. They carved a swathe of floating Cuckoos in their wake, paving from one section of the city to another.

It’s only a matter of time.

I got a bad feeling.

.

X  X  X X  X

.

“I have a bad feeling. Hm.”

Salem stood in the middle of the Black Oasis, while facing the direction of Vacuo. Her brow squinted in concentration, sensing the events transpiring in the distance.

“They are purging the Cuckoos,” Bean appeared at her side, having detected the same thing.

“So, they are. It is time we made our move, as well. Notify our forces. The moment for Vacuo to be put out of its pitiful misery has arrived.”

“I understand.”

The boy turned, and headed into the cave to rouse their soldiers. At the same time, he linked his thoughts to the various leaders of the Grimm Clans. Their dark army would be ready to march in a matter of minutes.

Salem allowed herself a small smile of approval, as she gave a passing gaze to the humongous black cocoon bridging two cliffsides.

“Well, then. A valiant effort on your part.”

But did you really think it would be so easy?

.

X  X X  X  X

.

Neo was the first to notice the abrupt change.

She immediately stopped midstride and closed her eyes, as if entering meditation. Yang and Mercury slid to a halt as well when they noticed. Just when they were about to ask what was wrong, the answer to their question came over the radio.

“Salem is aware we are eliminating the Cuckoos. She is activating them. All of them,” Mouse’s voice crackled.

“We still have a quarter of the city left we didn’t cover…!” Yang bit her lip. She looked to Mercury, and then, to Neo. The fight wasn’t out of them yet, and neither was it for her. “I was starting to think this was going a little too smoothly for an ENMY gig,” she commented with a light heart.

“See? Our luck’s total shit,” Mercury remarked. “I’ll get our ducks in a row?”

“And I’ll knock ‘em down. Do or die time.”

“The words our team lives by.”

“Can you get them all?”

“…Not all of them. Neo’s probably working her Silver Eye voodoo to find them, but it’s not like I can—”

“Neo maps them, I’ll translate the locations, Merc pulls, and Yang’ll mop them up,” Emerald’s sudden orders came over the comms.

“Em?! Aren’t you supposed to be maintaining the Enchantment?!” Yang exclaimed.

“I can multitask! Neo, feed me the positions of the remaining Cuckoos, double time!”

The petite girl’s scrunching face blinked open, and a bright light poured from her vision.

Her abilities were not perfect and far from infinite. But her sight encompassed an All-Seeing Truth. Whatever the moment, whatever the distance, whatever the depth, if Neo concentrated hard enough, she could see it. If only for a moment.

But a moment was all she needed.

“A trained swordsman must take in the world in a flash,” Raven’s mantra whispered the back of her mind.

“Read the terrain and your opponent, like that!” she snapped her fingers.

“The scenery changes, the landscape shifts, all in the blink of an eye.

So, you need to capture that.

It’s the world in a single moment.”

Raven’s katana drew just short of Neo’s throat.

“And you need to wield your blade in the same instant.

Knowing what I know about you, it should be something you can excel at.”

Neo viewed the locations of the remaining Cuckoos in vivid reality. Their outlines, their exact coordinates, all of it was captured in her memory, despite the enhanced sight being granted for a nanosecond. She tapped her communicator quickly after.

It was Emerald’s turn. She kept track of her team’s whereabouts and instantly accessed Neo’s memories. And like a well-prepared document wrapped in a bow, Emerald took what was mentally presented to her, and packaged it Mercury’s way. In the transference, she added her own brand of assistance to the data.

Mercury’s mind was suddenly filled with thoughts that were not his own. The familiar sensation of his brain being hijacked was something he was fairly used to, but never liked. Still, he allowed Emerald to take over his senses.

It wasn’t just plain sight that came to him, it was something he could only describe as a sixth sense being opened. A type of clairvoyance that was impossible to perceive by normal standards.

The locations of the remaining Cuckoos were not simply shown, but “illuminated”. He recognized the targets’ exact positions in reference to himself. A complete awareness of spatial cognizance layered into his conscience.

“Damn. They gave me auto-aim and no fog of war?” Mercury scoffed with an impressed tone. “Leave it to Neo and Em to prep the best cheats.”

He breathed deep and measured his timing. The Cuckoos were already about to siphon the life from their surroundings, but it would do no good to rush. His confidence had to be unwavering.

“Dominance is key,” Temujin’s words echoed his memory.

“Your Semblance and mine have a similar peculiarity.

You possess an aggressive heart.

You pent up all those things your environment gives you, and you trap it in that little chest of yours.

Your emotions, your suffering, your sins.

And then, when you’ve had enough, you lash out. Unleash what is inside onto the rest of the world.

But you lack direction.

Do not blindly release the storm brewing in your soul.

Temper it!

It is an instrument that can be used to control your environment.

And when you master such a thing, the sky will no longer be just an outlet for your rage, or merely your playground.

It will be your domain.”

“Everything above the ground belongs to the sky,” Mercury said quietly. “And I am the sky.”

The wings on his heels flourished, like a great bird of prey taking flight. Wind and air within a several mile radius answered his call. His influence extended to the very atmospheric pressure and weather itself. Even sound silenced at his increasing concentration.

It was a small motion, barely noticeable. But in the stillness of the thick stagnant space, the stomp of his left foot amplified, like the world shaking. As if a deity had laid down a new law on the mortal realm.

Every Cuckoo was expelled into the sky without exception. They were mere moments from killing those around them, but in the span of a breath, Mercury flushed them out like the poison they were.

“You really are something, Merc,” Yang couldn’t help, but say in amazement. “You, Em, and Neo are seriously something. It’d be embarrassing if I fell behind now.”

The Spring Maiden’s hair flared with blazing excitement, as she cracked her gauntlets together. Her irises painted with a bright-orange glow. She could see the burning cracks marking the Grimm’s weaknesses. The “life” fluctuating in their bodies was already emitting a feeble light.

“I Burn.”

.

X  X X  X  X

.

“Hm. It appears the team of miscreants is growing into a greater thorn than initially anticipated. Due to yours and Temujin’s teachings, no doubt,” Salem said, while staring off a cliff, in the direction of Vacuo.

“It’s not direct action against you,” Raven replied. “No breach in contract.”

“I know. Your offenses aren’t punishable…yet.”

Raven chuckled. “Is the great Witch starting to slip?”

“You can hope, but you’d only disappoint yourself.”

“…”

“The efforts of your daughter’s team and your old allies is of little matter. Vacuo will not see another sunrise after today.”

Raven couldn’t muster a comeback. There was no point. That, and the evidence laid before her silenced any realistic rebuttal.

The endless stampede of countless limbs trampled the desert below their perch. Grimm of all manner of make and terror made its march on the capital. A host of monsters Remnant would possibly never witness again. An army that painted the golden sands of Vacuo in shadow.

“For what it is worth, Raven, I am sorry it had to come to this.”

“……No, you’re not.”

��You were once my most loyal knight. And now, I destroy your home because of your previous betrayal. I truly do lament this.”

Raven wanted with everything to draw her blade, and cut down the woman in front of her. It would be a kill of weightless guilt. The easiest death she could ever gift.

“I can only wonder the price your next betrayal will warrant,” Salem resumed.

“You’ll have to end Vacuo first. It’s not decided yet.”

“Oh, is it not foregone conclusion?”

“The strongest will survive Vacuo.”

“My dear, tsk tsk tsk,” the Witch clicked her tongue, while shaking her head disappointedly. “How long do you plan to delude yourself? I doubt even Temujin still considers that creed to hold true any longer.”

“Despite all your schemes, you still don’t know how this story ends,” Raven spoke her last words of defiance.

“Oh, but I do, poor Raven.”

The Witch turned to the gigantic cocoon with a pulsing red core behind them. Large cracks in the shell began to heave like melted ice caps. The dark webbing gave way to the monstrous creature hatching inside.

The first part to break out into the light of day, were a pair of gruesome wings. So large and jagged, but possessing of some mysterious elegance. One beat of its dark sails kicked up a gale of tornadoes.

Raven could hardly believe what she was witnessing. The sight of the nightmarish Grimm was enough to shake the most veteran of Hunters.

In the meantime, Salem only gleaned a satisfied smile to herself.

“Have I rid you of your naïve delusions?”

.

X  X X  X  X

.

As the last Cuckoo was eliminated, Mouse’s panicked voice crackled over the radio.

“Temujin! We have a problem!”

“Calm yourself, Mouse. What is it? Has a deviation occurred?” the elder asked.

“No. Purging the Cuckoos has incited Salem to attack as planned. But it is only now, that the means have been revealed.”

“So, her army marches?”

“Yes, but before that, there is a greater problem!”

“What is it?”

As Temujin wondered what could rattle Mouse so, she found her question answered by the enormous black shade flapping its wings towards them. She could see the Grimm over the height of the city’s walls. Although it was still far, she made a rough estimate of its size—and its sheer mass made her doubt her senses.

“What in the world?”

“Anyone else see that fucking thing?!” Emerald shouted over the comms. “I’ve never seen a Grimm that huge!”

“That is because there’s never been one…”

“I read up on all the Nightmare Class Grimm in Vacuo. Only one of them matches that description, and it’s supposed to be in hibernation, isn’t it?!”

“It appears the Witch modified its sleep cycle.”

“And apparently its diet! That thing looks roided out compared to the pictures!”

“Finish your Enchantments, Emerald. Remember to relay my orders. Our people must be ready to fight as soon as possible!” Temujin ordered.

“Shit! SHIT!”

Despite the curses, Emerald reached into the Vacuo citizens’ dream states, and carried out Temujin’s orders.

As she and Minerva readied to return to the Hanging Gardens, the elder woman could only look on to the horizon with a bleak expression. Salem’s Grimm army was circling to hit the city on all fronts. And making its way, in the most direct route possible, a monster-like butterfly continued to beat its wings.

“Behemoth…”

[novantinuum]

The Time We Lost, the Time We Mended (Ch. 6)

Read and comment on AO3!

Fandom: Gravity Falls

Rating: T

Words: 3700~

Story Summary: Before the summer of 2012, Ford and Fiddleford never thought they’d get the opportunity to see each other again. Now… they have a second chance. A chance to rekindle the love they once shared, reconnect a family once lost, and to mend old wounds. But as they'll quickly discover, fixing the mistakes of the past, especially in the wake of inevitable apocalypse, doesn't always come easy. RP to fic.

A Fiddauthor reunion story written by @the-ill-doctor​ and I! 

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

Chapter Summary:  In which Fiddleford leads Ford on a romantic walk through the woods, Ford has an unpleasant encounter with a townsfolk, and Tate discovers Ford's return.

Chapter 6: Universal Constant

Despite the long decades that had passed since he’d last set foot in this dimension, some features of Gravity Falls’ surrounding forest still retained a certain familiarity to Ford’s eyes. The trees and foliage had grown up, engulfing old cobbled paths and casting deep shadows in spots he once recognized as clearings, but even still he could notice details that, for all the area’s progression, hadn’t changed a bit: the deep clawed gouges in the bark of a tree that he always used as a landmark on his hikes, various large stone formations, a gaping pit in the ground he’d accidentally left behind after misfiring a spell he’d picked up from some wood nymphs. The difference now was that unlike thirty years ago— where he was Fiddleford’s guide through the untamed thickets of these magical woods— Fiddleford was now the expert, leading him along the dirt paths and between the thickets with practiced ease.

“I can tell you’ve journeyed through these woods quite a lot in the past few decades,” he said, walking alongside his dear companion.

“Oh, all the time!” Fiddleford chirped, swinging their hands as he led. “It’s the best place to look for nuts and fruits for munchin’! Jus’ gotta be sneaky when grabbin’ berries, ‘cause them pixies can get mighty noisome. Those critters have the nastiest bites.”

“Goodness yes, they do,” he agreed with a lopsided smile. He glanced down at their feet moving parallel, his clad in worn boots and the soles of Fidds’ feet swathed in thick bandages. (He offered him a pair of open toed sandals to wear before they left, but he vehemently refused, labeling them ‘feet prisons.’) “I must say, after all this time you must know your way around this valley more than I ever did.”

“Well, I ended camping out here a lot whenever it’d get dark. Gets pretty tough getting’ back to your shed when ya’ can’t see nothin’. But I reckon I’ve come a long way from wanting robo-legs for hiking, eh?” He nudged at his shoulder.

Ford chuckled, giving his hand an affectionate squeeze. “I honestly forgot about your joking obsession with robotic legs. Didn’t you always beg for me to carry you back home after our field studies?”

“Ya’ kept on takin’ me on day long hikes, Ford! I wasn’t used to walkin’ for that long back then,” he shrugged. “That, and it was a nice excuse to get a free piggyback from ya’!”

“Wait, wait, let me get this straight in my mind,” he began, pausing in the clearing, next to one of the rock formations he recognized from his researcher days. He pressed the fingers of his free hand against his temple. “Did you— in the early 80s, after your divorce— did you still have feelings for me? Even back then?”

Fiddleford turned bright red at his question, and started to softly laugh in embarrassment. “Well, ya’ see, they might’ve still been there even after we broke up.”

"Oh, Fiddleford," Ford sighed sadly, pulling him into a close embrace. "If only I'd known...”

“If only we could’ve been more honest with each other,” Fiddleford said, his voice slightly muffled through the thick fabric of his sweater. “But...” He gazed up at him, smile warm and steady despite it all. “I think we’ve done enough regrettin’, don’t ya’ agree?”

“I do,” he smiled in return. “As difficult as it may be to avoid dwelling on the past, what is most important is to enjoy the time we have to be together now.” Ford gently released him from his embrace, and took both of his hands in his own, folding all of his fingers tightly around his. “I’m so thankful we could find each other again. To be honest, when I returned to this dimension I never thought I’d see you again. It was... heh, it was actually Mabel early this morning who informed me that you still lived in town.”

“In that case, I’ll have ta’ thank her next time I see her,” Fidds said, beaming. He planted a kiss on each of his hands, sudden affection which caused the tips of Ford’s ears to go red. “She helped me reunite with my favorite pillow.”

When Fiddleford began to snicker— a sound which he reveled in hearing— his lips curved up in amusement. “Oh is that what I am to you?”

“Well, you’re strong, handsome, and very warm,” he said, and nestled into his side once more. “And ‘sides, anyone would be lucky to cuddle with that soft belly ya’ got!”

Ford swore he could feel the blood vessels in his face widening, increasing blood flow to the skin. “Th- thank you?” he stammered, glancing down at the, as Fidds put it, soft belly in question. He’d ran his body to its bitter limits beyond the portal, for sure— and had gained quite a bit of muscle mass for his troubles— but thankfully in the last handful of years he had access to enough food to retain an optimal, healthy amount of body fat as well. Which was nice, as there’d been a hard span of years early on where he was dangerously close to skin and bones.

Fiddleford let out a loud snort as he watched his dear friend’s face turn beet red. “You’re mighty welcome.”

“As flattered as I am though,” he laughed, “the only person lucky enough to cuddle with me as far as I’m concerned is you.”

“Then I suppose I must be the luckiest fella in the whole multiverse.”

“Actually, I might have to contest you with that one,” he replied, gently rubbing circles into the back of Fidds’ hands with his thumbs. “Because I happen to know another ‘fella,’ one who now gets to share his days with the kindest, most brilliant, forgiving, incredible man he knows.” Ford reached forward and tilted up his wide brimmed hat so he could see past the shadows cast on his face. “A man whose eyes are just as bright and beautiful as they were the day I first met you.”

Now it was Fiddleford’s turn to blush, not used to being showered in sincere compliments. Shyly, he glanced away, his knee bouncing. “Nah, I ain’t. I- I ain’t got those eyes no more, Ford.”

Hearing him brush aside his affection like this tore him apart. “You do to me,” he insisted, cupping his cheek in his hand, running his fingers through his beard. Apparently taken aback by his earnest words, Fiddleford sniffled, the corners of his eyes growing damp. He blinked, unable to keep the tears at bay. Gently, Ford wiped them away.

“G-Golly...” He let out a small, embarrassed chuckle. “Ya’ really mean it.”

“Of course I do,” Ford said, his soul swelling with a feeling he hadn’t experienced in this intensity for years, a feeling that— before today— he wasn’t sure he was still capable of experiencing. Although perhaps it wasn’t accurate classifying it as only a feeling, so much as it was a promise. A promise he’d forged within the deepest parts of himself to protect and care for and experience life alongside this man for as long as time would allow him. “All these years, all our experiences, the very shifting of our worlds... so much has changed, I admit this. Hell, I embrace this. And yet, even through the shadows of everything still unknown to me, through each unpredictable variable, there’s one universal constant I know in certainty to be true... and that’s that I love you. I’ve always loved you.”

For a moment, Fiddleford’s mind went blank, just like the confused, muddled fuzz he’d experience each time he used that dang memory gun on himself. Did he really hear those words? Was this real, and not merely a construct of his old, messed up mind? For years, despite his frazzled memory, the man had never truly left his deepest thoughts. Sometimes he’d even show up in front of him like a mirror to the past, an illusion only shattered when he tried to take his hand. But the hands holding his face now were solid and warm and fixed. This time, the Stanford Pines in front of him was real, and the promises he spoke were too.

The next moment was all but a blur to him. All he knew was that he suddenly found himself leaning closer... and giving him a sloppy, yearning kiss.

Ford fell into the rhythm of the kiss with ease, wrapping his arms tight around Fiddleford, allowing his hands to cradle the back of his head and his shoulder. His heart almost wanted to laugh in joy amid all of this at the gentle tickle of his beard against his lips and chin. For one very real, beautiful moment, the universe smiled down upon these two old men, and Ford experienced a sense of content like he never had before. When they finally pulled apart, he felt alight. Renewed. He beamed at Fidds with adoration, intertwining their hands once more.

In all these years Fiddleford never felt so much romantic love for another person. He gazed into Ford's eyes, the tiredness he had seen in them from last night having long melted away. “I love you too,” he replied, breathless in the wonder of it all.

Ford laughed softly, a sound that nearly blurred into something of a relieved cry. He pressed his forehead against Fidds, and allowed them to gently sway back and forth as a unit, their fingers still wrapped together. It was almost a dance, the two of them swathed in the privacy of nature and the heat of the late morning sun. Faint, but still noticeable all the same, the familiar scent of tackle filled his nose.

"Is the lake nearby?" he asked, still swaying with him.

"Hm?" Fiddleford said in a happy daze. "Oh! Yeah, I reckon' we're close! There's a lotta good spots for banjo practice n’ relaxin’ there! Wanna head on over?"

"Of course," Ford said, grinning as well. "The lake was always one of my favorite places in Gravity Falls..."

Fiddleford started to pull him along. "Well, come along then!”

The closer the two came to the lakeside, the more Fiddleford’s pace receded and slowed. He was trying to calm his anxieties, but he knew his son was working in the bait shop today, and not only that, but the townsfolk could be so cruel in their jeering sometimes. On any other occasion he’d shrug off these realities like water off a duck’s back, but along with his memory’s return came his long forgotten sense of shame. He prayed there wouldn’t be any problems, that he and Ford would be left to their leisure unbothered.

But he still wasn’t convinced.

Ford eventually must have noticed his incessant twitching and squirming, because he squeezed his hand to ground him. “What’s bothering you, dear?” he asked softly, the lakeside looming on the horizon.

“Hm?” he muttered, snapping out of whatever repetitive mental blockade he’d fallen into. Ford’s worried face greeted his gaze. “Oh, it’s nothin’! I’m just spacing out a little.” Not entirely a lie.

“Fiddleford... please know I’ll listen to anything you have to say, if you’re ready to say it. No matter what.”

His shoulders tensed for a moment, scrunching up beside his neck. He took his hand from his partner’s, twiddled his fingers together. “All- all right. I don’t, uh, I don’t exactly have the best reputation in town.”

Ford’s eyes softened. “I know the feeling,” he said. “From my time in the multiverse. I’m so sorry they’ve judged you so harshly. If you’re not up for walking around the lake with all the people who are here today, I’m more than willing to continue our trek through the woods instead.”

“Nah, nah, it’s fine,” he replied, breaking a small smile again. “There’s actually someone I wanna see.”

“Oh, you have a friend in town? Excellent! I’d love to meet them.”

He started to fidget with his beard again. “You already have. It’s my son, Tate! He’s the ranger at this here lake.”

Ford’s eyes shot open wide, for a split second flashing with an emotion Fiddleford could only hope to describe as something between hurt and dread. “Tate?” he exclaimed. “Tate lives here?”

“Yup, moved on up and started workin’ here right outta school.”

“Goodness, I... I haven’t seen that boy since the week he stayed with us in ’81,” he mused. Something about his demeanor as he spoke still seemed... unusual to Fiddleford, but too distracted by his own worries he chose not to bring it up.

“Well, I can guarantee he’s grown up a whole lot since then!”

“So I’m sure,” Ford said, the edges of his lips curving up.

As per every weekend, the lake was crowded with townsfolk enjoying themselves in the sun. Fiddleford clung to his partner’s side as they approached the shore, readying himself emotionally for all the misplaced attention his presence was sure to attract. He squeezed his hand, and Ford squeezed his back in an effort of comfort, three times.  

Where Ford himself was concerned, the glimpse of townsfolk he caught— some he vaguely recognized, and others who were all but strangers— spiked his heart rate up. This was the largest group of humans he’d been faced with since returning home. Hell, even a simple family breakfast alongside his brother, Fiddleford, and his new grandniece and grandnephew was nerve wracking enough. He dearly hoped he’d be able to act halfway normal around these strangers, to act as if he hadn’t been entirely detached from the customs of humanity for thirty years.

They reached the dock, and naught a breath after their feet touched the wooden planks, an older woman with a beehive of powder blue hair and caked eye shadow spotted them and made her sinister advance.

“Well hi, Stan!” she said nasally. “Haven’t seen ya’ in the diner for a while. And wow, what a nice sweater that is!”

Initially Ford was met with nothing but confusion, before he realized with frenzied frustration that his brother had lived here and build a rapport with these people for the past thirty years. They thought he was Stan. As much as he didn’t desire to have a conversation with this woman at all, however, he knew this was a great opportunity to set the records straight...

��I’m sorry, I don’t believe we’ve actually met?” he began. “I think you’ve confused me with my twin brother, Stan. My name is Ford.”

“Wait, whaaat?” she gasped, lifting up her lazy eyelid to gain a better view of him. “Well, I guess your hair is styled a lot different than I last saw it. And you do have more fingers than I remember...”

“Heh,” Ford laughed softly, nervously glancing between her and Fiddleford. “Indeed. It’s called polydactyly.” He raised his hand up so she could clearly see it. “A genetic mutation, resulting in extra digits. For future reference, between Stan and I, just check the number of fingers.”

“Oh, all right! My name’s Susan, by the way, Lazy Susan! ‘S nice to meet you.” They awkwardly shook in greeting. As they did so, she leaned closer to whisper in his ears. “Between you and me, I’d watch myself around that hillbilly fella you’re with. I’ve dealt with him in my diner for years, and he’s quite the pickpocket.”

Ford’s jaw clenched. Even ignoring the sheer level of ignorant judgement interwoven into her words, his blood boiled at the cavalier way she referred to him. That hillbilly. They lived in a town small enough that everyone could reasonably know everyone else’s name, and either she hadn’t made that tinniest effort with someone she perceived as lesser, or she knew his name and didn’t care.

“His name is Fiddleford, for the record, not ‘that hillbilly,’ and he’s my most dear friend. I assure you, the person I ought to watch myself around? It isn’t him,” he said, scowling deeply at her. “Now, if you’ll excuse us.”

With that, Ford took Fiddleford's hand and walked him away.

Fiddleford was stunned with how protective Ford had gotten. It was actually quite flattering. He never considered hillbilly the worst thing people could call him, but he had to admit it did sting the callous way a lot of the townsfolk would sling that word at him. He leaned closer to Ford and nuzzled his head against his side as a way of thanking him. As they neared the bait shop, they became aware of an almighty ruckus emanating from inside. Clearly whoever wandered inside had no concept of indoor voice.

"Welp, sounds like Dan and the kids are shoppin' again!" Fidds declared, a skip in his step.

"Dan?" Ford says, making a face as he tried to place the name. "Wait... do you mean that Dan? The lumberjack? Oh, what was his name... Corduroy!” he exclaimed, snapping. “Boyish Dan Corduroy? He still lives here too?"

"Yeah, he lives in a cabin down in the woods with his kids! But, uh..."

The three Corduroy boys piled out of the shop all at once, adorned in matching life preservers and each holding a pole. "FISHING! FISHING! FISHING!" they chanted.

"KEEP THE CHANGE, RANGER!" Dan yelled.

"He ain't exactly boyish, anymore.”

Ford watched, mouth agape, as the mountain of a man dutifully lead his sons to the shoreline, where he’d tied up their boat. Wow. That was perhaps the most hair he'd ever seen on a single person. That young Corduroy kid certainly grew up into one manly fellow.

“He had a bit of a growth spurt,” Fiddleford giggled as he walked him inside the shop.

Inside, Tate rubbed his sore neck. Just seconds previously, Dan put him in an affectionate chokehold as an unconventional way to thank him for a discount he'd given.

"One of these days he's gonna pop my head off like a grape," he grumbled, not yet paying attention who had just walked in.

Instantly Fiddleford's fatherly instincts overrode his initial nervousness. He let go of Ford's hand and lifted himself onto the counter, swinging his legs over the edge. "You all right there, Tater-tot?" he asked, voice unusually calm.

"Hm? Dad?" Immediately Tate noticed the difference in his voice. For one thing, he hadn't heard that nickname since he was a kid. Was this one of his more lucid days? He glanced up to speak, but froze when he noticed who stood beside him, decades of guilt written on his face plain as day.

Cleft chin, six fingers, a leaner body type than the so-called ‘Stanford Pines’ he'd neglected to get to know in town.

"I— it's you.”

“Greetings, Tate,” Ford said quietly. “It’s… been a while.”

"A while?!" Tate snapped then, clenching his fists tight against his side. "You have the nerve to waltz in here after 30 years, after the state you left my father in, and all you have to say for yourself is that it’s been a while?! No phone call! No letters! No way of contactin' ya! The rest of the town never noticed the difference when that other Stan acted as your cover all this time, but I did!” he shouted, advancing towards him in fury. “I genuinely thought you died!"

"Tate—" Fiddleford attempted to interrupt, jumping off the counter to stand between his son and his partner.

"Why did you leave him?!" Tate yelled, his voice starting to crack. "Why did you leave my father behind? He needed your help! I needed your help to save him!" he finished, bitter tears streaming down his face.

Ford backed away from him slightly as he watched him fall apart right in front of him, his throat suddenly feeling as tight as it did in the elevator this morning. "I didn't know," he whispered hoarsely. "Didn't know where he went, if he left town or not. I lost him, Tate- I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I know it's my fault. I was distracted, falling into madness... I-I failed to look, I didn't- didn't think to," he stammered. "You have every right to be upset with me for- for a multitude of reasons."

"Yer damn right I'm upset! You abandoned him!" He wrapped his arms around his father, almost protectively.

"Tate..." Fiddleford looked up at his son worriedly. "He didn't want to leave me! He was forced into a right pickle with no way back," he cried out. "You gotta believe me, he wouldn't knowingly abandon me!”

"Why... why are you defendin' him?"

"Same reason I'd defend you," Fiddleford whimpered, hugging him back.

"And why would you do that, either?!" Tate snapped, holding him tighter. "I'm a horrible son. I started givin' up on ya’..."

Ford watched them silently as he considered his words, their past, the sum of his mistakes. A lump formed in his throat. He wrung his hands together.

"Tate..." he began softly. "Tate. You're not a horrible son. You... you stayed here with him, for thirty years. You picked up your entire life, and moved it so you could keep an eye on him. Even if you started giving up, at least you tried. It's... more than I can say for myself." He turned towards Fiddleford, gently cupping his cheek in his hand. "Fidds, I'm afraid he's right about me. I had all but abandoned you, had given up all hope of seeing you again... until Mabel told me you were in town. Like I told you earlier, we only reunited because of her. But don't you both realize?" He opened himself to both the McGucket men. "Despite all of our past mistakes, despite lasting regrets. We're all together today. And we all have a chance to make tomorrow a happier memory."

Both the Mcgucket men stared at Ford for a moment before Tate broke the silence.

"Damn, you’re still as overly poetic as I remember," he snarked. He wiped the remainders of the tears off his face, letting out a stifled, low laugh. "Damnit... damnit, I knew it... I knew I couldn't hate ya’!" he lifted the brim of his hat, revealing tired eyes and faint scaring slashed over his eyelids. "You’re here admitting everythin' and..." He laughed again. "What's wrong with me? I'm already ready to give ya’ the benefit of the doubt..."

"Tate," Fiddleford took his son's hand.

"I'm fine, Dad."

“Would you… would you prefer if I gave you two some time alone to reconnect?” Ford asked, a slight frown crossing his lips.

"Nah, nah just—" Tate let go of his father’s hand and pulled himself to sit on the counter. He hung his head low, and gave a loud sigh. "Just tell me... what happened. I want the full story."

[honestgrins]

Reset || Klaroline

Caroline had a bad habit of staying late at work, but the hospital never slept as proven by the late night car accident victim rushing into their emergency room. Left with his older brother, she makes an effort to at least reset the poor guy's broken nose. 

Warnings: slight mentions of past abuse, car accident, emergency room visit

"Go home, Caroline," Bonnie insisted, all but shoving her friend toward the locker room. "You've been on your feet for at least six hours, four of which weren't even your shift."

Sighing, Caroline rubbed at her neck tiredly. "I know, I'm going," she promised.

"I'll believe it when I see it," Bonnie snorted, following Caroline like a watchful parent. "Even doctors need their sleep."

As they passed the emergency room entrance, however, paramedics burst through the door with a gurney. "Motor vehicle collision, ten-year-old boy with a broken arm and labored breathing."

Jumping into action, Bonnie elbowed her way next to the stretcher as they rushed toward the trauma room. "Head wound, conscious?"

"Likely a concussion, some lacerations from the glass, barely awake," a medic explained. Caroline watched them disappear down the hallway, her heart clenched in worry.

Despite nearing the end of her residency at Mystic Falls General Hospital, it still hurt to watch patients come in dire conditions. Her desire to fix the boy's injuries almost sent her chasing after Bonnie, if not for the man running in the emergency room. He was pale and shaking, blood pouring from his obviously broken nose.

"Henrik!"

"Sir," Caroline approached him carefully. "I'm Doctor Forbes. Do you need medical attention?"

Shaking his head, he frantically looked around the hospital. "My brother and I were in a car accident, and the paramedics rushed him out of the ambulance before I could even stand. Where did they take him?"

With his swollen nose bleeding steadily, Caroline grew concerned about his own health. "They have him in good hands, but I'd really like to check out your injuries. Can I lead you to an exam room?"

He ran a hand through his hair, his shoulders tense with anxiety. "I just want to see my brother-"

"-and I can find you an update as soon as there's one to give," Caroline assured him calmly. "Until then, may I examine your injuries?"

His tongue ran across his chapped lips and he grimaced, probably at the tang of blood. "Fine," he sighed, weary.

"Thank you." Caroline walked him to the nearest exam room, grabbing a clipboard from the front desk. The nurse on duty glared at her, likely because he knew her shift ended earlier that afternoon. "Enzo, I'm taking room three for a quick glance-over. Will you let me know if there's any news on Bonnie's patient?"

"Sure thing, gorgeous," he answered in a smarmy voice. "I'll also let her know you have a patient yourself."

Taking the warning for what it was - crossing Bonnie Bennett was never a good idea - Caroline still rolled her eyes. "Thanks," she sang sarcastically. Turning back, she was a bit embarrassed at her patient's unimpressed expression.

Caroline coughed, letting him charge into the room so he could settle on the examination chair. "At the risk of making me seem like a bad doctor," she said in a prim voice, "I would like you to know I'm working on an extended shift with limited sleep. If that makes you uncomfortable, you can ask for another practitioner to take my place."

"I don't want to wait," he answered dismissively. His knee bounced erratically, his nerves likely on an adrenaline overload. "Can you just reset my nose and be done with it?"

Struck by his blase attitude about a painful procedure, Caroline tried to tamp down her natural curiosity by focusing on the clipboard. "Name?"

"Klaus Mikaelson."

Caroline filled in the intake form, forcing herself not to ask the question. "Seriously?"

Well, that didn't work.

Klaus frowned in confusion. "Pardon?"

"'Just reset my nose,'" she mimicked in a poor imitation of his British accent. "Get your noke broken a lot, or are you just a masochist who enjoys the pain?"

Giving her a wry, hollow smile, he shrugged. "More the former, love. I don't enjoy the pain, I'm just used to it."

She glanced up, meeting his eyes with an understanding of her own. Doctors received all sorts of training on how to look for signs of abuse; Caroline had a different eye on survivors who had long since survived their hell.

She recognized those eyes from her bathroom mirror every morning.

"Um…" Searching for the right thing to say, Caroline quickly gave up in favor of action. She gingerly traced the edges of his nose, noting where he hissed in pain. "Okay, I found the break," she warned. "I'm going to reset it one, two-"

A sickening crunch filled the room, nearly engulfed by Klaus's curse. "Fuck!"

"There, that should help with the healing," she said, plucking a couple of cotton balls from a jar. He accepted them easily, dabbing at his bloody nose. "Nope," Caroline chided, "stick them in there to help with the clotting."

Klaus sneered, but did as she said. He glanced up, as though daring her to laugh.

Professional as ever, Caroline just went about bandaging him up. Sensing his buzzing agitation, she figured a distraction might help him relax. "I haven't seen you around town before. New to the neighborhood?"

"My grandparents moved to Mystic Falls when my mother was in high school," he explained tiredly, clearly catching onto her game. "Despite raising most of her children in Chicago, she decided to bring out youngest brother back here."

"Do I sense some jealousy? Because trust me, growing up in Chicago sounds a lot more exciting than Mystic Falls. We have one bar that knew exactly who was underage. I mean, it wasn't exactly hard for a girl to get free drinks, but still." Caroline cringed the more she rambled. "Sorry, you don't have to answer, I'm just being nosy."

Klaus shrugged, showing no offense. If anything, he seemed mildly amused. "Not jealous," he clarified. "I suppose I should be glad Henrik will be raised here, away from… But I visit one weekend, and we get t-boned by some drunk driver." His breathing turned ragged, and Caroline could tell he was working himself up. His hands raised to cradle his head. "I can't keep him safe."

Caroline's heart broke for the guy, he was so upset. Poking her head out of the exam room, she called to Enzo, "Hey, anything on Bonnie's patient?"

"As soon as they stabilize him, they're taking him to CT to check for brain injury as a precaution," he answered. "Doc said things were looking good, though. He was awake and talking."

"Okay," Caroline nodded, turning back to face Klaus. "They're making sure his vitals are strong enough for some testing," she explained. "I heard before that his arm was broken, but it sounds like they're just doing checks in case other problems show up."

"He's ten," Klaus sighed, rubbing a hand over his face.

Shrugging, Caroline smiled wanly. "And he'll bounce back, provided everything goes well," she said. "People are resilient, kids especially." Klaus didn't seem to believe her, which made Caroline want to work harder to convince him. "Seriously, would you believe I became a doctor out of spite?"

Watching her carefully, Klaus at least seemed focused on her.

She tended to some other cuts on his face, like it wasn't a big deal she was sharing personal information with a patient. "Yeah, uh, I had this really shitty boyfriend in high school," she explained. "I ended up in the hospital for- Um, anyway, he came to visit. We were sitting there, and I made some comment on how cool it would be to be a doctor. Healing people, helping them, it sounded nice."

As she lost herself in the memories, Caroline smiled apologetically when the antibiotics made Klaus wince. "So, my boyfriend couldn't believe I thought I could handle a pre-med course load, let alone med school." Caroline snorted in derision. "Just because he failed out of a business major, I couldn't be a doctor."

"Well, you showed him," Klaus said, impressed. "Is that why you came back to Mystic Falls, to prove him wrong?"

"No," Caroline sobered. "No, he's in prison actually, good riddance. I came back for my mom, she had cancer."

Klaus nodded sympathetically, and Caroline hated to make him pity her when he was the one who had just been in an accident.

"She's fine now, in remission," she said, feeling incredibly awkward about blurting out her private life. "But yeah, doctor out of spite." She pointed her thumbs back toward her. "People bounce back."

"The moral of the story," Klaus noted. "Thanks, I suppose. Henrik could probably use some of that optimism."

Smiling, Caroline put on a final bandage. "You should call your mom, have her sit with you while you wait for Henrik. Enzo can finish your processing paperwork at the front desk," she said, handing him the clipboard after adding her notes. "I'll leave you a script for some mild pain meds, but you should probably have a full checkup once you know your brother is stable."

Before she could leave the room, however, a cold hand wrapped lightly around her wrist. Caroline turned back to face Klaus, bloody and earnest even with cotton balls up his nose. "Thank you, Doctor Forbes."

She was struck by his sincerity, something inside her begging to give him the same. "Caroline," she finally offered with a shy grin. "And you're welcome."

"Caroline," he tested on his tongue. "It suits you."

Snorting, Caroline rolled her eyes. "Okay, charmer, let's drop you off with the nurse. Don't believe anything he says about me," she warned.

"Would he say that you'd join me for a coffee one day?" Klaus asked. "Because I'd like to believe that."

"Smooth," she laughed. Still, Caroline was surprised to find that she wanted to accept. "I thought you were just here for a visit."

"For the summer." Klaus smirked, gesturing to his nose. "I promise, I'm usually better looking."

Caroline bit her lip in consideration. "I have no doubt," she muttered quietly.

"It doesn't have to mean anything, it could just be a thank-you coffee," he offered, just to tempt her a bit further. "Take a chance, Caroline. I dare you."

Nodding slowly, Caroline reached into the pocket of her lab coat for one of her business cards. "My cell number's on there, but any medical questions should probably be directed elsewhere. Got it?"

Klaus grinned, bowing lightly. "Last one, then," he said. "Where can I find my brother once he's done with testing?"

"Oh, Bonnie- Doctor Bennett will come and update you when he's ready for visitors," she answered. "The waiting room is going to be your best bet."

Squeezing her hand, Klaus nodded gratefully. "I'll call you for that coffee," he promised, heading out. "Something good should happen from today."

Caroline watched him go. She hoped good things did happen from today, and she had a pretty good feeling they would.