#and the bay turtles barely even look like teenagers?? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

remmushound · 3 years

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Bay/rise 24!! Sorry it ends quite suddenly; the fighting went on for longer than I anticipated. @selfindulgenz @brightlotusmoon @errorfreak88

Content warning!! Panic attack and violence are featured!!

Four solid turtles landed with solid thuds on the rooftop. Leo was thankful for the quick approach of sunset that cast the city into the shadows they learned to live by. One quick look around the rooftop revealed nothing out of the ordinary as far as Leo could see.

“Thought you said she’d be here Don?” Leo sighed. It wasn’t that he disliked going out of his way, not when the life of an April was at risk, but they couldn’t risk coming out when the city was still active.

“She should have been.” Donnie whispered, checking his wristband as his forehead wrinkled in concentration, “I don’t have footage of her leaving…”

“Well, you see a teenage girl anywhere?” Raph growled.

“Man, I was excited!” Mikey snapped his fingers, “This would be like the third chick I know! Hope she thinks I’m cute!”

“Who wouldn’t think you’re cute, Mike?” Raph snarled.

“Aw, thanks bro!”

“Guys!” Donnie said, his goggles now pulled over his eyes as he looked around the area. “I think I figured out our issue.”

The air around them was filled with the stuff. Like pink cloud of cotton candy betraying the faintest traces of Dimension X. He gave the goggles over to Leo so the leader could observe for himself. Leo became unusually quiet as he eyed the strange cloud, then gave the googles back to Donnie and stalked off to the corner of the roof to get what little privacy he could to mull over his thoughts.

“What’s Samurai Jack over there bummed about?” Raph huffed, his voice betraying the concern for his brother.

“There’s traces of Dimension X here.” Donnie explained.

“So? We already knew Bubblicious was back.” Raph shrugged.

“Yeah— we knew he was in his dimension, not that he could get into ours. If he can come through again, then he might be trying to bring the technodrome through.”

“So? We beat him once!”

“And Mikey was nearly cracked like a walnut! I’d rather not go through that whole situation again— it hasn’t even been a year!”

“Well we know what to expect this time so it shouldn’t be that difficult!”

Donnie opened his mouth, but then quietly reserved. “Leo— I— if Krang’s in the city still, I could probably track him?”

“What are the chances of that?” Leo asked, almost imperceptibly soft.

“Uh… not very likely… but if there’s even a small chance then…”

“Then you should try. Go ahead, then.”

Donnie nodded and set his tracker to work.

The wait was the longest ten minutes of Mikey’s life. Granted, every minute usually passed like an eternity to him, but it was always a lot harder when he got like this. Always without warning, it could seize him and squeeze him tight like some icky, cold octopus. Or maybe it was like… the thing he couldn’t think of. Maybe he was still there and that’s why he couldn’t breath and that’s why his chest felt tight and painful and why the world was suddenly spinning circles. He wanted to sit, so he did.

“Hey bro, you good?”

Raph’s touch was innocent enough, just a simple wrap of his arm around Mikey’s shell and a gentle squeeze, but for Mikey it was agony. It was like fire shot through his body and he just needed to run because if he didn't then his mind was screaming at him that he would die—

Donnie’s announcement came just in time to save Mikey’s life. “Hey Leo, I got a hit!”

That caught Leo’s attention. “Great. Where to next?”

***

“I’m only going to ask this once more. Where are the turtles?!” Baron Draxum demanded, his voice booming with a robotic enhancement.

“Last I saw, they were in Nunya.”

“Nunya?”

“NUNYA BUISNESS!”

Cassandra laughed and pointed at Baron, making the yokai glare back at her with angry eyes. “You walked right into that one! Just like ligma!”

“Ligma? Who’s ligma?”

“LIGMA BALLS!”

Both Cassandra and April laughed that time. April’s eyes were forever trained on the orb. April had long since given up on escaping the restraints but she was still bubbling with fury at seeing her precious orb in the grip of someone so villainous. Cassandra had the artifact strapped safely to her belt. Yet still, for some reason, April laughed along with the foot soldier that could destroy everything she protected at the slightest whim.

“You are really getting on my nerves, little girl…” Draxum leaned over April with a threatening scowl, his lion-like features visible even through the new armor that covered him.

“Why are you doing this?” April knew what she was doing. She had spent so long with Donatello that the drama and the tears came to her like the flick of a switch, the emotions on the outside not at all matching the inside. Outside, she was a mess of tears and distress while inside her mind was calculated and almost cold as she considered every possible escape. “I thought you changed…”

Draxum laughed. A cold, chilling laugh with no warmth in at all. No care for the fate of the teen in front of him. Caring only for his own self-preservation and willing to toss everything and everyone aside to achieve the goals in his mind.

“You seriously think thousands of years of being evil and I could switch to being all sunshine and daisies because some pathetic failure of an experiment asked nicely?”

April couldn’t hide her rage, giving a battle cry as she tried to lunge out of her seat. Baron Draxum pulled away at the last minute and laughed as April topped over, unable to catch herself due to her restraints and slamming her face hard into the cold concrete. Her war shout turned into a painful cry as the impact reverberated inside her skull and rattled her to her core. It took a few seconds of numbness before pain returned to her tenfold.

“Oops.” Baron Draxum laughed, “Sorry.” He laughed and raised his hoof to give her another solid blow, but the impact never landed.

“GET AWAY FROM HER!”

Baron Draxum looked up just as a massive figure came from the sky in a flip, a powerful kick landing on his outstretched leg and making the sheep bleat in a pain of his own. All April could see from her position on the floor were a set of massive green feet, but she didn't have to wait long before the chair was lifted effortlessly off of the ground and back upright, her binds undone with a quick flash of a pocketknife.

“Hi, I’m Michelangelo.” The massive green giant gave a dopey smile and pointed to his orange mask. “Like, don’t be scared dudette I’m totally here to be your prince in shining armor! Uh. With no armor!”

“Huh. Okay.” April had seen weirder.

Like she were little more than a sack of potatoes, April was lifted bridal style and carried away from the conflict by the strange mutant calling himself by her friend's name.

“Where’s Krang?” Leo demanded, aiming his katana at what he perceived as a mutant attacker.

Baron Draxum stared curiously. “You must be the Leonardo of this world. Strange. I imagined you smaller!” With the enunciation of the word, Draxum brought a vine down upon the leader and whipped him hard against the soft of his chest, sending ninja flying backward with the force.

Before Draxum could revel in his victory, a bigger force slammed into him and knocked him off his hooves, sending Draxum into the air a few feet. The yokai came down hard but turned his slide into a charge. Raph had his sai ready, deflecting the blows that Draxum tried to land on him while landing a few punches when the opportunity presented itself.

“Master Draxum!” Cassandra was momentarily distracted and Donnie took the opportunity to jump out of his own hiding place and swing his staff toward her. Cass caught onto the attempted attack from the corner of her eye and swung her naginata to intercept the blow, locking her and the mutant into a struggle.

Cassandra dug her feet into the ground as hard as she could, dragging the turtle as close to the other spar as she dared before putting everything she had into a sudden turn that caught Donnie off balance and sent him stumbling into Raph.

“What the Hell Don—“ Raph lost his focus and Baron Draxum jumped, slamming both hooves hard into the giants chest to send him knocking into Donnie once more. Then a sudden ankle-swipe from Cassandra had them both on the ground tangled in each other's limbs.

Cassandra ran to Draxum’s side and they gave each other a fist bump.

Leo charged back into the fray with a blow aimed at Draxum, but Cassandra caught sight of the attempted attack and shoved her master out of the way.

“Master!”

Leo’s charge handed hard against her and he didn't stop charging until he had slammed her into the wall.

“Cassandra!” Draxum, despite his years of experience, was dumbfounded by the sudden rescue from the general. He looked behind him when he heard another battle cry and spun to catch Mikey mid-jump, the vines wrapping around Mikey’s shell securely before spinning him around and tossing him carelessly. Mikey ducked into his shell before the impact and didn't come back out.

“You children are getting on my nerves!”

Raph and Donnie untangled themselves from each other finally and charged Draxum as a unit.

“Good teamwork.” Draxum brought his vines neck-level with the charging brothers and knocked them both flat on their carapace with their own momentum.

Cassandra was still too preoccupied with her assault on Leo to lend any assistance to her master. Leo was caught off guard by how weaselly the general was, zooming in and out and up and down and, by the time any of his blows were ready, she was already somewhere else. He didn't want to praise the enemy, but damn was she fast!

“Would you— stop moving?!” Leo was starting to get frustrated.

Finally, the soldier kicked off his chest and landed a short distance away on her hands and feet, shooting up quickly and brandishing her naginata. “FOOT CLAAAAAAAAN!”

She charged Leo again and flashed her weapon, the blade just barely brushing across Leo’s plastron before he was able to pull back and dodge the attack.

“Do not waste all your energy at once, general.” Draxum’s voice was surprisingly steady despite taking on Raph and Donnie’s attacks at once. He deflected another one of Donnie’s attacks and once more the lanky teen stumbled. “You need to work on your balance recovery.” Another attack from Raph that Draxum had been anticipating. “You need to mix up your attacks!”

Raph growled, “STOP GIVING ME ADVICE!”

#FOOT CLAAAAAN #Raph tries his best #poor Mikey #Baron Draxum returns!

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webrokethe4thwall · 3 years

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Can you write a Fanfic where Rupert Swaggart finds his own brooch and gets his live back?

Sorry for the wait @the-deku-guy, but here’s your request!

Brooches before Swine

A large man adjusted his trench coat and fedora as he scanned the stalls of the jewelers’ black market. He was not searching for your standard silver necklace or ruby ring, but a brooch. Specifically, a cloaking brooch. Meat Sweats was once again on the hunt for a mystic cloaking brooch. However, even now as he looked over the charms laid out on the table, his hopes plummeted. Several brooches, ranging from simple to ornate to tacky, were lined up, but none of them were mystic.

He had been through all of the black market stalls, antique malls, and even online auction halls. Each location yielded the same result: nothing. The former celebrity chef released a frustrated groan. He had been so close to reclaiming his old life with the last brooch he had found here. If only those two pesky girls—the curly-headed one and the slime-ball—hadn’t stolen it from him and ruined his plans!

And to add insult to injury, they had trapped him in that backwater barbeque studio. Did those amateurs not understand how to properly prepare meat before cooking it?!

“Rubbish, pitchfork-wielding hicks,” Meat Sweats grumbled, stalking away from the broach district. “Don’t know the difference between brine and a bay leaf.”

Regardless of the past, Meat Sweats was determined to regain his fame, his cooking show, and his previous life as Rupert Swaggart. Nothing and no one was going to stop him! …Well, except for his lack of a human appearance. Meat Sweats continued to mutter under his breath. He had seen other mutants—pardon, yokai—with cloaking brooches. Why was he unable to find one? Maybe there was a recall for some kind of mystical enhancement.

“One moment,” Meat Sweats grunted. “A memory stirs.”

He put a fist to his chin as he thought of a past conversation. It had been a few weeks ago with a tiny worm mutant whose name completely slipped his mind. The fellow had said he purchased a mystical enhancement jewel from some mystic shop disguised as a secondhand corner store.

“If that’s the case,” Meat Sweats mused, “perchance a visit is in order.”

That very night, the pig mutant went to the corner store. He pulled his clothes tight to his frame upon entering the store. He didn’t much care if he looked suspicious; he just didn’t want the police called on him tonight. The first thing Meat Sweats saw was some skinny greasy guy standing behind the counter. This fellow must’ve been the cloaked yokai. Meat Sweats took in the man’s lackluster appearance, baseball cap, and vague scent of chevon. After taking a moment to size each other up, the mutated chef decided to break the silence first.

“I heard that you sell delectable jewelry in this establishment,” Meat Sweats said.

“Oh, we sell all kinds of things here,” the man stated. “Lamps, dolls, and toasters to name a few; but yeah, jewelry is in the mix. The name’s Clem!” He gave Meat Sweats a lazy onceover. “You, uh, looking for something particular, friend? Nudge, nudge.”

“Nudge, nudge?” Meat Sweats asked. “It’s ‘wink, wink,’ matey.” What a peculiar character.

“Clem, get your act together!” The man shook his head in self-deprecation. Giving the password away again because he forgot an idiom. How embarrassing!

Before Meat Sweats could fake curiosity over what Clem meant, the man began shedding his disguise. The now purple goat yokai rang the bell on the counter, revealing hidden compartments in the displays that contained his mystical wares. Clem spread his arms out, showcasing the jewelry on his shelves.

“You said you’re looking for jewelry,” he droned. “What kind?”

“Cloaking brooch,” Meat Sweats stated, tearing away his trench coat. “Can’t really go on live television looking like this, now can I?”

“Wouldn’t really recommend it, no,” Clem said after a low whistle. “I’ve got just the thing.”

He knelt down behind the counter and pulled up a tray laden with stunning brooches. Clem plucked one up and handed it to the pig mutant. Meat Sweats turned it in his metal hands, admiring the star-shaped silver with a shining pink pearl in its center. He pinned the brooch to his collar and gave it a little shine. Soon his body was wrapped up in the soft pink glow of the mystical cloaking energy. Meat Sweats looked at himself in the counter’s shiny surface. It was perfect.

“All kinds of handsome is me once again,” Meat Sweats, now Rupert Swaggart, grinned.

With a wink and kiss sent to his reflection, Rupert threw a few bills at Clem. He had no appetite for goat yokai shopkeepers at the moment. No, it was time for Rupert to reclaim his previous life in full.

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A few nights later, Mikey upped the volume on his kitchen television. It was time for Kondescending Kitchen, and he was determined to make the perfect risotto!

“Are you ready to unleash the flavor?!”

Mikey came to an abrupt halt. That voice…it couldn’t be! He focused fully on the television. Meat Sweats, disguised as Rupert Swaggart, stood front and center for a cheering audience. Not good.

“Guys,” the box turtle yelled, already reaching for his kusari-fundo, “we’ve got a problem!”

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Rupert left the stage with the sound of the audience’s queued cheers pouring into his ears. He smirked to himself as he entered his dressing room. It was quite refreshing to hear after months of absence from his television career. The station manager even said that she was going to schedule an interview about his dramatic transformations and his unexpected final return. Yes, his cloaking brooch shining brilliantly on his apron was working greatly in his favor. The chef grinned as he picked up the night’s winning dish: pork risotto.

“Time to savor my victory,” Rupert hummed contentedly.

“Not a chance, Meat Sweats!”

One yellow and four green blurs swept into Rupert’s vision. No, not these reptilian nuisances and that ruinous girl! While Rupert hadn’t done anything more than reclaim his television program from an undeserving rival, Meat Sweats should’ve known that these pains in his tendrils would catch wind of his return.

“Not you rotten eggs!” Meat Sweats snarled, ditching his disguise in favor of his more combat-ready pig mutant appearance.

“You know it!” April defiantly retorted. “Which poor yokai did you steal this brooch from?!”

Now Meat Sweats was genuinely confused. He was also annoyed, but he had some modicum of integrity. He never stole the brooch. He didn’t even steal the first one! He bought both pieces fair and square. Granted his newest item was from a slightly more legitimate business. Nevertheless, why are these pests coming after him tonight?! He hadn’t even attempted to eat or poison anyone recently!

Before Meat Sweats could state his innocence, the fight was on. Raphael and Donatello charged him head on, while Leonardo and Michelangelo went for his sides. Meat Sweats easily knocked all four of them back with a swing of his meat tenderizer. He nearly missed April reaching for his rose gold cloaking brooch.

“Hands off!” Meat Sweats roared, stepping away from the girl and raising a protective hand over the shining pearl. “This is me own brooch!”

“Oh, yeah?” Mikey challenged. “Show us the receipt then!”

Meat Sweats, fed up with these annoying teenagers that always seemed to pop up in his life, shoved the seedy secondhand shop’s receipt into the smallest turtle’s face. The turtles and girl clearly didn’t expect this response. All fighting stopped, and it appeared the children were taking a moment to process the strip of paper between the pig mutant’s gloved fingers.

“Satisfied?!” Meat Sweats demanded.

“Wait,” Raph said in disbelief. “You actually, legitimately bought a cloaking brooch?”

“How much does one go for?” Donnie asked, squinting at the too small smudged numbers.

“Enough to get the job done,” Meat Sweats stated, stuffing the receipt back into his pocket. “Now, leave me be before I cook you all into turtle soup!”

“Not so fast,” Leo said. “Why do you need a cloaking brooch anyway. You’ve just been trying to eat and poison people this entire time. Did you want to do that when you were human, too, or is it a pig thing?”

Meat Sweats sighed in exasperation. Maybe he should’ve just let the fighting go on until either he passed out or they ran off. It was too late to find out, in any case. Now he had to converse with, ugh, teenagers about his rather tame plans and not-so-tame eating habits.

“Pig thing,” Meat Sweats stated shortly. He rubbed his cloaking brooch and reactivated his human façade. “I’m taking back what’s mine with this brooch. My show, my fame, and my life need my human face. I’m not about to let some mediocre fry cook take over my kitchen!”

The so-called chef the station had replaced him with was barely out of culinary school his skills were so dull. It boiled Meat Sweats’ blood. Whether those pesky teenagers liked it or not, Rupert Swaggart was making a comeback. Kondescending Kitchen needed him! Meat Sweats just needed a human face to rescue it. While some people were accepting of mutants or cosplay junkies, the public eye required a certain degree of discretion.

“How do we know you’re telling the truth?” April asked. She gave Rupert a distrustful once over.

“Not a problem!” Mikey interjected. He slid himself between his siblings and the returned celebrity chef. “We’ll just enroll him into my Evil League of Mutants Going Good Rehabilitation Program!”

“His what?” Rupert asked, baffled by whatever the exuberant turtle was rambling about.

“It is Michael’s method of transforming our enemies into allies,” Donnie drawled. “It has been showing promising results for Draxum. Though there may be a learning curve.”

“Yeah,” Leo reluctantly agreed, “but Draxum’s the only one that Mikey has worked with so far. How do we know it’ll work on this guy?”

“That’s easy,” Raph stated, fully confident in his baby brother. “Since we know that Mikey’s program worked on one of the worst people we know, we’ll help him with setting Meat Sweats on the right path.”

“And keep Mikey from getting star-struck,” April muttered, eying the way Mikey fawned over the sweaty chef.

Rupert rolled his eyes. What is wrong with these kids?! Were they seriously discussing the future of his moral status in front of him? He didn’t need to put up with this!

“Don’t I get any say in this?” Rupert demanded.

“No!”

All the teenagers glared at him, except for the orange clad turtle who had stars in his eyes. The audacity!

“Rubbish,” Rupert grunted.

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For weeks, Meat Sweats was under the unnervingly close surveillance of the Mad Dogs. A ridiculously unsuitable name for those five obnoxious kids. He despised how involved they forced themselves to be in his life. Telling him what to do and what not to do. It was annoying! Don’t eat the mutant silverfish this, and don’t sabotage your culinary rivals that. He was sick of it and was very vocal about his displeasure.

However, the teens didn’t seem to care nor let up in their efforts to conform him to the moral high ground. The chef didn’t know if reclaiming his glory was worth the hassle. At least he didn’t have to waste energy tenderizing their bones anymore. Michelangelo even had a realistic view of his character in spite of his fanboy attitude towards Rupert Swaggart.

The box turtle never expected him to become 100% kindhearted, if he ever became nice at all. However, Mikey did put limits on Meat Sweats and made him stick to some simple moral codes. Rupert just wanted to get his status as “Most Pretentious Chef in New York” back on track. Unfortunately, the youngest turtle did not allow him to perform any of his deliciously underhanded tricks on his competition.

“Meat Sweats!” Mikey admonished. He had just caught the reforming chef about to pour mystic poison into his delightful pizza puffs. Again. “What are we supposed to do with our culinary competition?!”

Meat Sweats released an annoyed grunt. He was getting tired of repeating his supposed mentor’s lessons, but it was mildly better than the intermittent fighting they used to go through.

“Out-serve them with quality meals, not quality poison,” Rupert droned. It was verbatim from one of Chef Mikey’s many “Maintaining Healthy Competition” lectures.

“Exactly,” Mikey said in a condescendingly sweet tone. He took the poison from Meat Sweats’ grip and yeeted it into the distance. “Now put on Rupert Swaggart, and let’s make filet mignon!”

Meat Sweats rolled his eyes at the young turtle’s antics but went along with it. Michelangelo was a decent enough chef for his age, proving his potential by the way he prepared that salmon when two drooling snakes were baring down on them. Rupert Swaggart activated his cloaking brooch and picked up a knife. He may as well humor Mikey with an attempt to mature his talent.

“Not a bad idea, lad,” Rupert agreed. “Filet mignon with roasted asparagus and,” he smirked, “truffles.”

Mikey’s eye twitched at the traumatic memory. “Not funny, sweat sock.”

Meat Sweats laughed uproariously, and even harder still when he saw Mikey’s annoyance growing. It was fun messing with this one. No matter what the chef threw his way, the young turtle always bounced back with an even snarkier reply. He might make a Kondescending Chef out of the boy yet. With no further preamble, the two mutants proceeded to craft a fine meal of filet mignon over roasted asparagus drizzled with mushroom sauce.

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A month later, Rupert’s program established itself as the most popular food-related show on television once again. Crimes related to a food truck driven by a pig mutant plummeted as the celebrity chef made more public appearances. He had finally achieved his goal. Now Meat Sweats could kick back in his apartment, resting in his easy chair, and let the adulation from his fans inflate his ego, and his wallet, once more. A loud knock on his door broke him out of the moment, and the door being kicked open entirely had the pig mutant falling out of his chair.

“What in blazes?!” Meat Sweats shouted, quickly activating his cloaking brooch.

“Sorry for the door,” April cheered, giving no sign of remorse at all. “But I come baring gifts, and they’re heavy!”

April lifted several plastic bags filled with groceries. Rupert gave the girl an annoyed glare. He got up from the floor, set his door back into place minimal effort, and stared his “visitor” down. The chef didn’t know why she was in his home without her turtle friends, but he did catch the delightful aroma of raw meat, seasonings, and vegetables wafting from the bags in her hands. April immediately went to the kitchen and dumped a few wrapped lamb chops, fresh artichokes, a jar of capers, and several other ingredients onto the countertop.

“What are you doing, girlie?” Meat Sweats asked, dropping his disguise.

He was well used to the turtles’ surprise visits, but they always came in through the window or a portal into the living room. April rarely came by herself, so the chef had yet to learn her favored way of barging in.

“Setting up an apology,” April replied, organizing the meat, spices, and other ingredients.

“A what?” Meat Sweats was taken aback. This teen had been screwing up his life for months. Why was she apologizing now? What was she apologizing for?!

“You’ve been doing pretty good since you got that cloaking broach and went into Mikey’s rehab program,” April snickered. She rubbed the back of her neck sheepishly. “And I started feeling kinda bad about trapping you in the ‘Sauce That Hog’ studio.” Meat Sweats frowned deeply at the memory, and April had the sense to move on to the ingredients on the counter. “So I brought over all the ingredients for fancy lamb chops.” She waved the bag of artichokes enticingly. “Including some mystic artichokes fresh from the Hidden City.”

Meat Sweats snorted at the attempt to woo his culinary pallet. He may not spend much time with the girl, but he knew April could kiss up to anyone’s better nature once she found their Kryptonite. His was fairly obvious, and the chef took great pride in flaunting his cooking skills.

“So you thought that catering to me superior culinary taste with mystic produce and corner store mutton would make up for that torment?” He wasn’t going to let April off that easily though.

“It’s actually hogget from my cousin’s farm,” April corrected. “She raises the best meat livestock I’ve ever tasted, so I thought you might like to try it.”

“No kidding?” Meat Sweats, surprised that April knew different types of lamb meat, looked at the wrapped meats inquisitively.

“It’s sheep meat,” April smirked, “not goat.”

“Why must you pun like the blue one?” Meat Sweats grumbled. “Just give me the ingredients and watch me—”

“Unleash the flavor!” The mutant and teenager chorused.

Meat Sweats wasn’t expecting that either. He gave April an odd look. Mikey was his fanboy, so what was her excuse? April just grinned.

“Mikey got me to watch a few episodes from his favorite seasons of Kondescending Kitchen,” she explained. “What can I say? It’s a catchy line.”

“Yes, well,” Meat Sweats countered, “it’s my line.” He knows it was a lame comeback, but he really didn’t know how to respond. One minute he and these kids are at each other’s throats, the next he’s cooking filet mignon and lamb chops with them. He shakes his head and gestures to the other side of the sink. “Hand me my knife block. I want to chop up these artichokes for a marinade.”

“Yes, Chef,” April saluted.

“Cheeky girl,” Meat Sweats commented.

He and April made a delightful set of lamb chops topped with marinated artichokes and seasoned capers. The chef figured that if the return of Rupert Swaggart meant being badgered by those annoying Mad Dogs, then there are worse fates he could have been forced to endure. They weren’t as awful as he dreaded. If he didn’t enjoy being a jerk so much, he may have been tempted to even call them his friends. He still might. Just not when they were around. He had an image to maintain after all.

#rottmnt #meat sweats #rupert swaggart #writing #my writing #fanfiction #my fanfic #meat sweats isn't fond of kids #but the mad dogs will force him to like them #mikey and april already endeared themselves to him in a way

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smegdwarf · 3 years

Text

But Who Could Love Me? (Rimmer x Reader) - Chapter 8

A/N: 👀

Warnings: Erm mostly fluff, some implied stuff 😏 also a little arguing!

Summary: Basically giving Rimmer the love his deserves :P

Even though Rimmer was always changing its hiding place you knew where the holo disc was after all you did know him better than anyone else.

“How did you know where I hid it?” Rimmer was stunned as you started unscrewing the cover of the air vent he’d hidden the disc in.

“I know you too well Arnie” You smiled as you pulled off the cover to reveal an empty vent “It’s not there?”

“What? It has to be? That’s where I put it?” Rimmer crouched down beside you to look in the vent “...Kryten!!”

“What about him?” You asked as you started putting the vent cover back.

“That bloody bogbot must’ve cleaned the vents” Rimmer shook his head.

“But don’t the vents self clean?” You asked.

“This is Kryten we’re talking about” Rimmer smiled.

“Touché” You replied as you stood up “Let’s go find him see if he knows”

After traipsing round the ship for what felt like hours, not surprising given it’s the size of a city, you finally found the mechanoid, happily humming away while mopping the medi bay floor.

“Hey Krytes you wouldn’t happen to know the whereabouts of a certain holo disc would?” You asked sitting down on the bed as Rimmer followed.

“Surely one Mr Rimmer is enough ma’am?” Kryten asked earning a grumble from the hologram next you.

“She means Kochanski’s disc” Rimmer groaned glaring at the mechanoid who hadn’t even thought about stopping what he was doing.

“I haven’t seen it sir, why?” Kryten asked finally coming to a stop.

“Yeah why?” Rimmer looked at you, realizing he never actually asked why you wanted the disc.

“Well Lister is quite obviously depressed and missing Kochanski” You explained.

“Well that’s nothing new” Rimmer scoffed.

“That might be true but I don’t think him seeing us together is helping” You replied as Kryten nodded in agreement.

“It’s true, you too are like a couple of lovesick teenagers, always giggling and kissing each other” Kryten complained, he may not have grasped all the human emotions but even he was getting fed up with you and Rimmer ...not that that was going to stop either of you.

“Hey I can’t help it, he’s just so loveable!” You grinned, gently placing your hand under Rimmer’s chin and placing a kiss to his cheek as he smiled.

“Ma’am please” Kryten shuddered, his neck disappearing into his suit like a turtle hiding in its shell.

“So if it’s not in the vent and Kryten hasn’t seen where is it?” You asked, looking at Rimmer.

In a matter of minutes every scutter on the dwarf was now lined up in-front of you, Rimmer and Kryten in the medi bay, Rimmer almost buzzing through the roof at leading his own little robot army.

“Right you lot!” He commanded as he paced back and forth “We’ve got a task for you! For some reason Y/N wants Lister to be happy! ...Ow!”

Rimmer jumped as you pinched him while Kryten tried not to let the laugh he was holding back escape.

“As I was saying before Y/N so rudely pinched me...” Rimmer shot a playful glare at you.

“Don’t make me do it again!” You warned him with a smile.

“We want you to search the entire ship for Miss Kristine Kochanski’s holo disc ...apparently Lister’s happiness matters now ...Ow! Alright I’ll stop” Rimmer chuckled as you pinched him again as the scutters set off on their mission.

“Good one ma’am” Kryten commended you with a nod.

“Thanks Krytes” You smirked at Rimmer as he pretended to sulk.

“Y’know ma’am I could see if Miss Kochanski updated her personality file before the radiation leak happened?” Kryten suggested “Just in case we can’t find the holo disc?”

“Kryten you’re a genius! ...personality files, why didn’t I think of that?” You smiled as you sat with Kryten at the computer monitor.

“Hey?” Rimmer made himself known as yours and Krytens eyes shot up from the screen.

“Everything ok?” You looked at him as he pouted “Tell you what, why don’t Arnold and I go check the holosuite?”

“Good idea ma’am” Kryten agreed knowing full well Rimmer just wanted your attention.

“Arnold?” Rimmer looked at you with an eyebrow raised, you very rarely called him anything but Arnie.

“Come on you!” You laughed as you pulled on Rimmer’s hand to take him out of the room “You’re a smeghead you know that?”

“Oh I know!” Rimmer chuckled in your ear as he wrapped his arms around your waist as you tried to walk.

“Now which way was the holo suite?” You pondered.

“We’re not really going there are we?” Rimmer groaned as you reached the lift at the end of the corridor.

“Do I really need to answer that?” You smiled as you gently pushed him into the lift “Let’s go!”

“Oooohhh” Rimmer sulked as you told the lift where you needed to go.

Finally reaching the hologram projection suite it had occurred to you that you had never actually been inside it, this was the room that was essentially keeping you and Rimmer ‘alive’. Flashing lights and monitors everywhere alongside a huge metal cabinet which you could only assume contained the Red Dwarf crew holo discs.

“Annnnd it’s locked ...let’s go” Rimmer was almost estatic that the cabinet was locked.

“Well is there a key?” You asked.

“I’ve never seen one and I would’ve thought Kryten would have mentioned it before we left the medi bay” Rimmer replied “Let’s go?”

“Ah ah not so fast!” You smiled as you pulled a hair pin from your pocket and a paper clip from a file on the desk.

“What are you doing?” Rimmer looked at you confused as you straightened out the pin and the clip “Are you going to try and pick the lock?”

“Not just try honey!” You grinned as the lock came undone and dropped to the floor “I would’ve thought someone like you would be a lot more prepared”

“Well this is normally Kryten or Listers area of expertise” Rimmer shrugged “My god it’s a mess!”

“Well let’s get started then” You smiled handing Rimmer as stack of discs.

An hour or so later and every surface of the holo suite was covered in discs, in stacks that were organized alphabetically by Rimmer.

“See I knew you find interest somewhere” You looked over at Rimmer who had sat down with his feet up on the table and his arms crossed across his chest.

“What do you mean?” Rimmer asked as you started putting the discs back in the cabinet in their new order.

“I have noticed the alphabetical order Arnie” You smiled “No Kochanski though?”

“You know if the scutters do find this disc and we give it to Lister, Cat will start complaining?” Rimmer mumbled.

“Yeah I know but there was only one other option and you’d lose your mind” You spoke calmly.

“And that is?” Rimmer sat up properly.

“Well I could let Lister take me on a date” Rimmer’s face started to turn red “One date!”

“No, absolutely not, no way” Rimmer snapped “I’m not letting him borrow my girlfriend”

“Ah so I am your girlfriend then?” You grinned as you walked over to him.

“Well I thought it was kind of obvious” Rimmer’s lips started to curl as you stood behind him.

“I know but I’ve never actually heard you say it, what’s going on with you anyway?” You spoke softly as you wrapped your arms around him “Is someone sulking because they’re not getting my attention?”

“A little bit yeah” Rimmer tried to keep a straight face as he looked up at you but with you stood behind him talking ever so sweetly in his ear he found it difficult.

“I also know you’re not too happy about helping Lister out when he stole your chance to tell everyone about us?” You continued to speak softly in his ear before placing a kiss to his cheek “May I remind you that even though it didn’t go the way you had hoped they’re still jealous ...isn’t that kind of what you wanted?”

“I guess yeah” Rimmer smiled as you walked round to stand in front of him.

“Anything I can do to cheer you up?” You asked as a devilish grin took over his face “Except that ...not here anyway”

“Ah damn” Rimmer had the devil in his eyes as you sat down on his lap, his arms instantly wrapped round you. In one swift action he could’ve had every disc and file off the desk and on the floor and have his way but he knew you’d tell him off.

“Maybe later though” You whispered in his ear as he chuckled leaning into kiss you as someone else cleared their throat.

“Gross!” It was Cat! Leaving as soon as he appeared.

“Hey look we’re three for three now” You smiled as Rimmer laughed burying his face into the crook of your neck.

“Come on let’s get this cleared up” Rimmer looked over at the endless piles of discs.

"I hope the scutters do find the disc" You sighed as you stood up.

"Why? Why are you so interested in Listers happiness anyway?" Rimmer grumbled, his good mood abruptly coming to its end.

"He's my friend?" You replied trying not to take Rimmers tone of voice personally.

"He's a goit!" Rimmer spat, his eyes locked on the discs he was placing back in the cabinet.

"Look I understand your still upset but I'm not going to put up with this every time my attention is focused on someone else" You were starting to get a little annoyed, you knew Rimmer was complex, that he needed reassurance and that this was always going to be a problem but it didn't mean it didn't upset you.

"You won't find that disc!" Rimmers voice dropped so much it could barely be heard.

"What?" You looked at him as he looked at the floor.

"You wont find that disc!" He spoke up still refusing to look at you as the guilt took over.

"What do you mean? Arnie what have you done with it?" You stood with your hands on your hips, your patience wearing thin "Why won't I find it?"

"Because I flushed it out of an airlock months ago" Rimmer finally confessed "And I hid the case in the air vent to make everyone think it was still on board"

"You have got to be kidding me?" You sighed "You let me do all this knowing full well I'd never find it? Why can't you deal with Lister being happy?"

"Look I flushed that disc way before you glitched here, it had nothing to do with you!" Rimmer tried to explain himself "That disc would've just made him more miserable, she split up with him for someone else before the radiation leak happened, she wasn't interested in him, I was protecting him"

"Protecting him? Or were you really protecting yourself so your esteem didn't crushed again?" You snarled, you didn't want to be mean but you were pissed and not about to let it go.

"Why are you pissed with me?" Rimmer couldn't understand why his mistake affected you.

"You know I love you more than anything but sometimes you are an insufferable prick Arnold!" You sighed as you went to leave.

"Please don't leave me!" Rimmer panicked.

"I'm not going to leave you ...but you do need to sort this jealousy of yours out" You replied before walking away.

You knew Rimmer meant no harm to you, after all he flushed it before you arrived on the dwarf but you knew all the while Rimmer's jealousy ran rampant in his head it would drive a wedge between the two of you. He's rationality knew you were only trying to help out Lister as a friend and nothing more but the raging green monster could only assume the worst and it was slowly taking over.

#arnold rimmer #red dwarf #arnold j rimmer #arnold judas rimmer #rimmer #hologram #arnold rimmer x reader #rimmer x reader #arnold rimmer fluff #red dwarf fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #fluff fic #fluff

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baby-grayson · 4 years

Text

Kind Stranger|GBD|Part 7

Parts 1-6 warning: fluffy Tags: @styles-dolan @evergreendolan @someonetogray @vintagedolan @prettyboydolan @dolansficsandpics @graysavant @baby-turtles

Kale? Spinach? Mushrooms? Eggplant? Grayson’s eyes surveyed the brightly colored board of food options. He weighed the consequences of choosing to include or omit tomatoes from his lunch order. His concentration on his lunch kept his anxieties at bay. Earlier that day, his palms left a greasy layer of sweat on the steering wheel of his Porsche, with his girlfriend and brother silent in the car. His girlfriend and brother now stood beside him, still silent. Ethan’s arms were crossed as he leaned against the back wall of the restaurant. Kate leaned significantly on her good leg, holding a hand on her hip and looking at the ground. Grayson eyed the pair quickly before returning his focus to selecting his meal. Why won’t they talk to each other? It’s like they already don’t like each other..

Grayson tried to shake thoughts while pondering the benefits of sweet corn. Kate glanced at Grayson, struggling to understand the complexity of the decisions that go into making a veggie wrap. Her eyes flickered up toward Ethan, who’s stare was focused straight ahead on a container of napkins. The similarity in the twins was still striking to her. The tattoos on Ethan’s arms were the only definite indicator of their identities. I should know my own boyfriend from his twin brother… Kate took in a breath and moved her gaze up to the ceiling, questioning whether the silence was comforting or eerie. She released a tension in her jaw she hadn’t realized she had been holding when Grayson looked back at her, scrunched his nose slightly, and smiled wide. Grayson’s smile washed over Kate as a wave of relief.

Ethan’s stomach lurched while his eyebrows raised. His brother’s new relationship was sweet, there was no denying that. Grayson shined when he picked her up that morning: his smile was infectious when he took her hand in his during the car ride over. Grayson spent the morning assuring Ethan that Kate was “Awesome! So funny and sweet”, promising that Ethan’s apprehensions would vanish after spending real time with her. Ethan almost felt bad for asking Grayson so many tough questions about her. Almost.

Grayson looked from Kate, to Ethan, and back to Kate, “How does carrots, humus, spinach, celery, and bell pepper sound?” “Like a stroke of creativity that definitely didn’t take you 20 minutes to think about,” Ethan responded sardonically, earning a breathy chuckle out of Kate. Grayson bit his tongue against a snarky response and looked at Kate, “Ladies first,” he motioned a hand in front of him toward the register. Kate stepped forward, chatting through her order with the girl behind the register. Grayson stepped toward Ethan, with an expectant look in his eye. “What bro?” Ethan unwound his arms at Grayson’s wide-eyed look. Grayson’s eyed darted away from Ethan, toward Kate’s backside, and back to Ethan for a second time. Ethan shrugged softly, not having enough information to give a real analysis, “She seems nice. You know I think ordering whole wheat is a sign of a great life partner.” Ethan couldn’t hold in the laugh that escaped his lips when he met Gray’s annoyed look. “Sorry,” Ethan shrugged again, trying not to ruin Grayson’s honeymoon mood, “She seems fine, I’ve barely talked to her.” “She’s great,” Grayson smiled wide at his brother before letting his eyes wander to Kate’s backside at the register. He noticed her give her credit card to the girl at the register and spoke louder, “I can pay for that baby.” Kate looked back at Grayson and shook her head softly. Her tone was nonchalant, “It’s fine, I got it.”

Ethan made a small hum of approval next to his brother, meeting his gaze. Grayson stepped forward to place his order, Kate stood next to him; avoiding joining the awkward air near Ethan at the back of the room. Grayson’s large, rough, calloused hand instinctively laid over Kate’s dainty hand. Ethan smiled softly at the gesture; his brother was always a romantic. In truth, Ethan was impressed by the simple fact that she paid for her own food. It was the first sign that she wasn’t interested in Grayson for his money or influence. She showed Ethan that, even in the smallest way, she wasn’t looking to be wholly dependent on Grayson.

The scene was interrupted by a small bell followed by a few high-pitched squeals coming from the door to the restaurant. A man in an expensive polo shirt and loafers was accompanied by two teenage girls, who were nearly bouncing at the site of the twins. Kate’s brow furrowed: What would make two girls scream in public? She followed their gaze to the twins and was hit with the realization: Grayson’s life was massively different from her own. The two girls bounced their way to the twins while professing their love and asking for a picture. Kate was impressed by how elegantly Grayson handled the situation. He smiled with genuine happiness and stood with grace, giving his entire attention to what they were squealing at him. When the teenagers and twins broke up from their picture, one of the girls got on the phone, to call who Kate could only assume was a friend. “OMG STACEY YOU WON’T BELIEVE! IT WAS THE TWINS! YES! I KNOW! AND ONE OF THE TWINS’ FRIENDS WAS HERE WITH THEM!!!!!!!!!” The small restaurant sounded like a Justin Bieber concern circa 2008. And yet the sound of Kate’s own heartbeat created a deafening silence in her head. One of the twins’ friends… Kate tried to shiver off the growing knot in her stomach, the words weren’t settling right inside of her. She had never been a particularly insecure girl, being a disabled woman in science demanded self-confidence, but the teeny bopper’s words echoed in her ears. Grayson stood beside her, equally awkward but for a different reason. He could only imagine what Kate was thinking after seeing something like that for the first time: a scene that had come to be normal for him since moving to LA. He wanted so badly to reach out and hold her hand in his. He wanted to brush his thumb over hers and give it a squeeze. He wanted to place a hand on her lower back, kiss her head, and breathe in that citrus scent that he could never get enough of. But he knew he couldn’t: not with his fans in the room, not with their phones in their hands.

If Ethan noticed the cumbersome emotions of his companions, he didn’t show it. He coolly ordered his lunch, keeping his voice low and posture relaxed. Meanwhile, his twin brother was producing enough sweat to provide water to an African dessert and his brother’s girlfriend was combatting her inner dialogue about independence.

Most of the trio’s problems faded into the air in Grayson’s Porsche. Grayson’s right hand securely coddled Kate’s, while his left casually hung over the steering wheel. Grayson loved sitting next to Kate in his car, her sweet smell filled the car and her cute laugh filled the air. Ethan loved sitting with food in his lap, its savory smell filled his nostrils and promised his stomach of good times to come.

Not soon after, they sat at the Dolans’ kitchen island with food, napkins, and smoothies strewn out in front of them. Grayson was in the middle of his fifth story about elementary school with Ethan. Kate tossed some sweet potato fries in her mouth, smiling gently and laughing at Grayson’s punchlines. Grayson followed one story with another, hoping some at some point his brother and girlfriend would release their tense energy and start to see all the great things he saw in both.

“—and then Cameron hit me over the head, and I ended up with a barbie doll arm up my nose—“, he had barely bit into the lunch he spent nearly a half an hour ordering because he was so busy filling the silence. Kate winced at the mention of a doll arm up six year old Grayson’s nose, “Ooh that’s a bad one.” Ethan shook his head, finishing a sip of his smoothie “That’s nothing. Grayson’s head is practically made of stainless steel. Barbies are kind of a bad omen for him though,” he picked at a pile of chips. “This one time when we were like 12, he was dating this girl from down the street. She went as barbie to a Halloween party and convinced Grayson to dress up as Ken.” Kate nearly choked on her sandwich as she let out a chortle, Grayson’s face turned a hot shade of red from behind his veggie wrap. “That means you’re a dedicated boyfriend,” Kate show him a playful wink between bites of her sandwich. Grayson, who’s face was the color of the bell pepper in his wrap, nodded, “I’ll do anything for my girl.” Ethan’s stomach lurched but he held back the urge to react to the happy couple, “He’ll do stupid things for you if you ask him too,” Kate laughed again, “He’ll do stupid things without you asking too, just to impress you.” Kate snickered, fingering a plate of sweet potato fries. She pointed a fry at Grayson “What’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever done to impress a girl?” Grayson’s cheeks flared, “I uh—well” Ethan gladly cut his twin off to finish, “This one time he tried having sex in a handstand just to prove he could hold himself up for that long.” A loud laugh escaped Kate’s mouth, while Ethan’s accomplished look met with Grayson’s mortified one.

“Should I ask if you could do it?” Kate looked from Grayson to Ethan and back to Grayson. Grayson stammered again before Kate finished, “Maybe you could show me one day.” She proudly flicked the last sweet potato fry in her mouth.

A wide grin grew on Grayson’s face, his cheeks slightly burning. Ethan nearly lodged a chip in his throat. “I knew you were the girl for me,” he reached for her hand across the island. Ethan shook his head softly, “Ryan did say he had a good feeling about this.” “Exactly,” Grayson triumphantly kissed Kate’s cheek as she asked, “Who’s Ryan?” “Ryan is our best friend--,” Grayson started, pulling away from Kate’s cheek. Ethan spoke over his twin, “—he produces our podcast, helps with the videos, pulls us apart when he beat up on each other too hard.” Kate’s eyes found the floor. She looked up at Grayson when Ethan finished, “I thought we weren’t telling people…about us?” Her eyes stared up at Grayson, wide and longing for reassurance. She felt confused, in a deep place. She had already put away her feelings about keeping their relationship private: coming to terms with the fact that Grayson’s life was different. Grayson wanted desperately to cup her face in his hands, seeing her eyes like that ate threw his heart. “Ryan is different, he’s our best friend. We can trust him.” Grayson’s heart quivered when he saw the emptiness grow in Kate’s eyes. Her thoughts raced: What was it about the people in her life that made them untrustworthy? The white walls of the coastal interior of the rental felt less beachy to her and more alienating in that moment. Grayson wrapped an arm around and leaned in to kiss the side of her head. His movements were shaking. He stroked his thumb on the small of her back, trying to put her at ease almost as much as he wanted to put himself at ease. He was normal. She was normal. Their relationship was normal, normal, normal. Grayson wanted so badly to hold her in that moment: to hold her as close as possible to his chest and let her hear his heartbeat, the heart that beat for her. Grayson was never very good with words, but he wished he could find the words to tell her how much she meant to him. He felt like she was sent to him, a strong shot in the dark with everything he always wished for. She was beautiful. She was smart. She was independent. She was driven. She was funny without being cruel. Her laugh sounded like a song. Her little snore when she slept on his chest sounded like a little teddy bear declaring its adorable presence to the world. She had overcome so much; she reminded the entire world of that every time she stood up. She was twice the person that Grayson was and it killed him inside to see her eyes look like that. A pain ran through his chest, he never wanted her to be upset because of him. He cherished her. Even though their relationship was new, his heart held absolutely no hesitancy. He looked at her like he was sure, sure she was meant to stick around, to change his life, to make him a better man: the best man he can be.

A loud creak scraped across the floor. Ethan awkwardly stood up from his seat at the island, feeling as though he was in someone else’s scene. He shifted his eyes from Grayson’s hand on Kate’s back. Ethan quickly gathered the bag and wraps from his lunch to dispose of. Ethan left the room, leaving the young couple in that position. Grayson’s hand found a home on Kate’s lower back, while she looked up at him, somewhere between bewildered and disheartened.

They snapped out of their trance long enough to clean the rest of the kitchen. Grayson led Kate out, placing gentle kisses on her head and squeezing her small hand. He wanted to memorize the way her hand felt: so small, dainty, and regal in his large, rough, calloused hand. His fingers tingled with jabs of pain when his open wounds moved, but it was worth it to get to feel her smooth, warm skin.

They stood at the front door together. Kate’s hand delicately in Grayson’s, he looked down at her with adoring eyes while she looked up at him. Her eyes had let go of their earlier state, but had yet to return the warm, brown fire Grayson loved so much. “Thanks for coming to spend time with Ethan,” Grayson started, “I think he started warming up to you.” Kate smiled passively, “He’s nice. I’m glad I came today.” She lifted herself on her toes and kissed his cheek gently before lowering down. She turned for the door when Grayson held her hand tighter, “Wait—” he took in a breath. How does he say this? How does he break this? Maybe he shouldn’t say anything at all? Maybe he should say everything? Lay it all out there right? Be completely honest. Honestly is the best policy.

“I’m so happy with you and I love that my brother got to know you better. I’m so glad he got to see you being you.” Grayson gulped softly, Kate turned to face him again, closing the space between them softly. “You’re sweet, so sweet. And you make me happy. Like really fucking happy,” his eyes watered slightly. “I don’t know if I’m supposed to say this, but I was starting to get really lonely before you. And then you came out of nowhere, dropped out of the sky and right into my lap, being here and fixing my problems since the moment I met you. You’re so different, like nothing I’ve ever seen before. I didn’t even know girls like you existed.” Grayson let go of her hand to run both of his hands through his hair before looking down at her again, melting more by the minute. The warmth returned to her brown eyes, as her lips slid into a kind smile. “You’re—I—We—I want to keep you around.” Grayson decided on, nodding subtly as he spoke.

Kate lifted herself up by her toes and placed a sweet kiss on his lips. Grayson cupped her face in his hands and deepened their kiss, drinking her citrus scent and becoming intoxicated on the sweet taste of her tongue. He ran his hands through her soft, luscious hair. He moaned softly, dropping his hands to her waist and pulling her body in closer. Kate wrapped an ankle around his calf, pulling her body up to continue to meet his mouth, tracing her fingers against his shirt and feeling the curves of his body underneath. She didn’t retract when she felt a hard bulge against her waist, in fact she pulled herself even closer to him—eliminating any space between the two of them. Grayson grabbed onto her, feeling a strip of silky skin when the hem of her shirt rose. His lips became frenzied, obsessed with kissing her at maximum capacity for as long as he could. Her nerves caught on fire when his tongue slipped against her bottom lip, begging for an entrance. She opened her mouth slightly, allowing him entrance. Her hot skin started to flame when her mouth was filled with the honey taste of his decadent tongue.

Grayson let one dauntless hand fall from her waist, grabbing lightly onto her ass. She smirked into his kiss, triggering a physical mechanism inside of him. He grabbed tightly onto her ass, his body tormented by not having her in this moment. It was Kate who pulled back first, her face covered in strands of unruly hair, flush cheeks, and swollen lips. She breathed in softly before lightly stepping out of his grasp. She nodded and smiled up at him, attending to be sweet but failing while the heavy air hung in the moment. ��I’ll see you soon,” she kissed his cheek quickly and moved swiftly toward the door as Grayson mumbled his own words of goodbye. His body, mind, and spirit felt intoxicated by her. He tried to step but recognized a shaking leg as he made his way to the couch. He ran his hands through his hair and laid down. Yeah, she was the one.

A/N: Thank you for reading! I had mixed feelings about this part while writing it. I hope you enjoyed lovie!

#banana squad #if you know you know #grayson dolan #dolan #dolan twin #ethan #ethan dolan #grayson x OC #grayson dolan romance #fanfiction #fluff #fanfic #youtuber #twin

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allthethingamabobs · 4 years

Text

family sticks together, bruh

Notes: I was re-watching the Bay-verse movies and suddenly got irritated at the no last name thing at the end of the second one. April O'Neil was right there. Their ride-or-die, their badass older sister, their hogosha. So here's my first contribution to the TMNT fandom. I literally wrote this in half a day, so if you see any writing errors all I gotta say is...my bad. Enjoy the found family fluff!

Rating: G

Also on AO3.

April figured it all started with a package hastily stuffed in her mailbox. It was barely small enough to fit, wrapped in that tough paper-cardboard material, and took a few careful pulls to get out. She couldn’t recall ordering anything recently, so the least she could do was try not to destroy what was most likely her neighbor’s mail. But when she flipped it over for the addressee, she was surprised to see “Mikey O’Neil” on it.

April and her “childhood pets” had been reunited four months back now, and it continued to throw her life upside down. A happy upside down, though. Those two names together were doing a number on the loner habits she’d built up since her father’s death. Apparently, all it took was four mutant teenagers and their father to start breaking down those walls.

She snapped a photo of the package and sent it to Mikey as she walked up to her apartment. Her phone lit up with a video chat request seconds later. The boys were just like any other teens when there weren’t bad guys to fight—they loved texting (on their one-of-a-kind turtle phones), sending her snaps, and video chatting whenever they could. April supposed that 15 years alone in a sewer could make one a little starved for new attention, and she was always happy to talk.

One of Mikey’s eyes filled the screen first, and then his grinning face when he pulled back. “You got it!” he hollered.

There was a thump from somewhere behind him, and Leo yelled something about peace and quiet when meditating. Then all she could see was a blurry carapace as Mikey quickly escaped to some other part of the lair. “You got it!” he cheered again, down to a whisper-yell.

“Sure did,” she answered with a smile, while making sure her apartment door locked behind her. “A little heads up would be nice, though. People do steal packages.”

“Man, that would’ve been no bueno. It has my name on it and everything.”

She shrugged—it was New York, what could she say. “About that… Mikey O’Neil, huh?”

He brightened. “Yeah! Makes sense, right? You’ve always been family even if we got separated for like, way too long, and who wouldn’t want to be a badass O’Neil?”

“Hm.” Her smile was fond even as she bit her lip to keep herself from doing something dramatic like tearing up. “You make some excellent points.”

Mikey nodded, seemingly proud of his reasoning. “You get me, April. So when are you gonna come hang out?”

“Not until tomorrow at least.” She set the phone on the counter as she turned to mess with the oven dials. “I’ve got to eat, and then a grimy bathroom and donation boxes are calling my name.”

Two weeks ago, a great aunt she hadn’t talked to since her father’s funeral had passed away and apparently left her succession rights to a New York miracle: a rent-controlled apartment above a quiet antique store. It was a dated unit and still smelled a bit like old people, but she was making it work.

A whine came from her phone. “Aw, shell… Oh, hey! We could help! Four mutants and a human are better than one!”

“That’s sweet, Mikey, but I’ve got this.” Plus, she was starting to pick up the brother’s dynamics. That visit would devolve into complete chaos in no time, given the cluttered mess. There were a lot of breakable objects she was still in the process of either packing up or donating.

“Your loss, Ape. Guess we’ll see you tomorrow.” He got up close to the camera again and whispered dramatically, “You’ll bring the package, right?”

She snorted and leaned over so he could see her face. “Pinky swear.”

“I don’t have a pinky, so I’ll have to believe you. Bye, April!”

The screen went blank, and April had a glimpse of herself in the reflection. She had to admit… her smile looked a lot more genuine these days.

In work news, however, life had been a lot of sucking up to Bernadette and the team after getting her job back, so she didn’t get down to the lair until late in the evening. Entering through the water system wasn’t exactly ideal, so they’d built a biometric, heavily enforced door as an alternative. Leo spotted her first as she shoved her way in and waved from where he was cleaning his katanas.

The new lair seemed to change every time she visited—more light-up signs or beat-up furniture appearing—and she still felt a little guilty for being the reason behind the move. The guys had assured her that they didn’t blame her, and they were having fun with the tall ceilings and tunnels in the new space. Splinter had even claimed one to start a bonsai garden.

“Hey, April! How was your day?” Leo called, carefully setting his weapons aside to get up.

“Not too bad, mostly research on some detox craze—”

“April!?” There was a crash from the back where they had set up a gym area in an upper opening. Mikey came tumbling out, almost right on top of where Raph was exiting the lower tunnel, and he gracefully avoided retaliation. “You got the goods?”

Leo shot her a confused frown, and she answered with a fond “don’t ask” look before rummaging in her bag to pull it out. “Yes, Mikey, I have the goods.”

Mikey bounced over and pulled her into a quick, bone-crushing hug before taking the package out of her hands. He ripped into it and pulled out a gaudy gold chain that looked like it once belonged in a 2000’s music video.

“Bling, bling!” he crowed and threw the shell necklace off to be replaced.

“Wait a minute, is that what was so important you had to order it?” Donnie said as he and Raph joined the group. “That’s such a waste of money!”

“Some ninja you are,” Raph snorted. “You can see that ugly-ass chain from a mile away.”

Leo hummed at that and then frowned. “Mikey, did you even ask April if you could send that to her place before you ordered it?”

Said turtle shrugged. “I knew she wouldn’t mind.”

The others seemed to erupt at once.

“Except it’s an unknown package being sent to her place, especially with the Foot Clan knowing her association with us—”

“Even worse, it’s inconsiderate to just assume—”

“Even worse, Leo? What kind of bullshit is that—”

April was an only child (well, not so much anymore), so she wasn’t used to how quickly one small thing could turn into a full blown argument. If pushing got involved, then 6-foot mutant turtles or not, she would break up that fight—yup, there’s the shoving.

“Guys, GUYS!” April moved forward and intercepted the beginning of whatever as they all avoided bumping into her. “It’s fine. You can have stuff sent to my place, I don’t care. As long as I can get it down here.”

It took a little more convincing to assure them that no, they were not imposing on her, and then they seemed excited about this new opportunity. Apparently, they’d had to scout out addresses before and sneak the package away before the occupants realized. Obviously, this was much more convenient.

Steadily, they all started to order stuff online (with what money or credit card she had no idea) and have it sent to her place. Parts for Donnie, books for Leo, and though she only felt it through the packaging, yarn for Raph. At first, Mikey was the only one who used O’Neil for the address. Then something changed, and they all started to use it too. A package of tea addressed to Splinter O’Neil gave her a small laugh one day. Raph had been the last to address himself as O’Neil, always so stubborn, and seemed almost shy when she delivered it.

April knew she was very biased on this, having seen them as teeny-tiny babies, but her little-big brothers could be pretty adorable sometimes.

---

The last name thing had come up with Splinter one day as they sat in his quiet bonsai garden, enjoying some tea while the boys burned off energy around the rest of the lair.

“I don’t want to overstep any boundaries or anything, but I’ll admit it’s… nice. My dad was really all I had for family, so it was just us and then me for so long. It’s almost like this has all… I don’t know, come full-circle? If that makes sense?”

Splinter smiled and reached out to lay his hand on hers.

“I was not lying when I said I modeled my parenting after your father. One way or another, you both cared for this family, and you know we consider you a part of it.” April nodded, a little choked up, and grasped his hand. He’d said it himself, but she wasn’t ready to fully relive how Splinter felt so familiar, so comforting.

“Besides,” he continued with a chuckle. “Michelangelo has quite enjoyed having a last name, and I think the others were a bit hesitant before they saw that you didn’t mind.”

“Of course not, I’m all for it,” April laughed, wiping under her eyes. “Now there’s more than just me to make the O’Neil name proud.”

---

One other thing she had discovered about being a big sister to four trouble-prone teens: full names were extremely effective.

“Donatello O’Neil!” she shouted the second she stepped into the lair, and all movement ceased. Leo balanced on one foot, mid-throw, Raph was mid-swing across the lair, and Mikey had an orange soda titled towards his face, where it slowly dripped down his front.

A weak “Oh, shell” came from the direction of the lab, and she stormed over. A taunt from Mikey followed but was quickly cut off with a grunt. Donnie was hunched over his desk, head turned slightly to look up at April’s furious approach.

“Why the hell did I just find a tracker in not one but all of my jackets?” She reached into her pocket, grasped the tiny devices, and tossed them on the desk. “I almost had a panic attack thinking I was being tracked by someone else. You know that’s been one of my worst fears ever since the Shredder, and we’ve talked about privacy and emergency plans, Donnie. I have a panic button on my phone, and I gave you permission to track it when absolutely necessary.” She let out a frustrated huff, pointing at the trackers. “What. Are. These?”

He’d sputtered a bit and avoided her eyes as she spoke, but he finally looked up when she stood silent, waiting for an answer. His shoulders drooped, and he wheeled back from his desk to face her. Even sitting, Donnie was only slightly shorter than her.

“Contingency plan,” he finally bit out. “Phones are most likely the first thing a kidnapper would get rid of to avoid tracking.”

“Wh— kidnapper?” That caught her off guard, and the tension in her shoulders released a little. Was there a new danger she didn’t know about? “But who… Oh.”

Movement on his tablet drew her eye, and the footage there followed a shady van that looked very familiar.

The Foot Clan—because an organization that big could still survive with their leader in jail for a year now—had disabled her turtle-approved security system and ransacked her apartment a couple of weeks ago. The cameras from across the street told them that and how the intruders had missed April coming home by a mere 12 minutes. They had obviously been searching for something specific, and she eventually realized it must have been the box of notes from Project Renaissance. Luckily, they had been stored in the lair for safe keeping.

After coming home to that mess, April called Donnie right away and started packing up her necessities. All four of the turtles had met her at her usual sewer entrance, and they formed a tense detail on the trip back. She worked out-of-office that week as she laid low in the lair and waited for the all-clear while they doubled up her apartment’s security. Splinter and the boys were good about giving her space when she was working, but she could still feel the hovering and worry. The guys had been in and out more often, Splinter always had some tea ready for her, and she just knew there had been many hushed conversations out of earshot.

Sure, deadly henchmen being in her apartment had freaked her out, but it had really freaked out her new family. April held her own against all of the weird shit they got dragged into, but there were always reminders that she did not have a shell or ninja training; a sprained ankle, one small concussion, too many bruises to remember, and even a few less inches of hair when it got singed in an explosion.

She looked between the tablet and Donnie, but now he held his gaze steady. “The Foot know where you live, and you refuse to move. This was the best way for us to always be there when you need us.” His voice was even, calculated, but his hands were clasped tightly and one foot tapped insistently.

Oh, her sweet, overprotective boys. Under all that bullet-proof shell, they were all just teenagers who had five people in the world to call family, and they did not take that for granted.

April sighed and turned to sit against the desk, holding out one hand. Donnie took it and held on, grip tight. “It comes from a good place, Donnie, but you have to tell me about these things. Trust goes both ways, okay?”

Leo, Raph, and Mikey were hovering around the entrance to the lab, and she gave them all a stern look to reiterate her point. “I know I don’t have a shell, but I am scrappy, stubborn, and awesome at running in heels.”

“Way better than the Jurassic World chick,” Mikey piped up, and Raph lightly punched his arm.

“You’re damn right,” April answered, smiling at his effort to lighten the mood. “So I appreciate the worry, guys, but you need to talk to me. I worry, too. You might forget, but you’re not invincible.”

“Better off than you,” Raph grunted. This time Mikey punched him, not as lightly. “What, it’s true!”

April sighed. “Come on, Raph, you know muscle isn’t everything.”

“No,” he grumbled, “but you got us. Whether or not you like it, we can take the hard hits.”

“What he means to say,” Leo said, shoving Raph back with his shoulder, “is that we were worried, and we didn’t think you were taking the threat seriously enough.” Donnie’s hand gripped hers a little harder, and she looked back to see him nod in agreement. “We are sorry about the secrecy, though.”

April sighed. “Fair point. You know I love you guys,” they perked up at that, “but having back-up is kind of a new thing for me. It’s habit to go solo, and it’s habit for you four to be a team.”

She held out her other hand. Leo was closest, and he took it with some hesitation. “Still a learning process all around.”

Mikey eagerly grasped Leo’s other hand and then Raph’s, refusing to let go even as Raph gave a shake, so they were all joined. “Family sticks together, bruh.”

---

The O’Neils had been a thing for awhile now, but writing it down was very different to actually saying it outloud. Mikey had no trouble claiming his new last name, and had even dubbed some pizza monstrosity he concocted from as many toppings he could get as the “O’Neil Special.” For the others, it took some time to say it—at least when she was around to hear.

Eight months. Donnie had been talking a mile a minute about a phone meeting set up with an award-winning engineer currently teaching at NYU. He’d been given 30 minutes to ask her all the questions he wanted. April had kind of bullied Vern into setting it up with his new connections, and Donnie had asked her to be there for moral support. She assured him it was all going to go great and to just make the call already. His shoulders went rigid under her hands when the call connected. “Hi! Hello, uh, this is Donatello O’Neil, I got your number from Vern? The Falcon?” She squeezed his shoulders in comfort, grinning proudly for many reasons.

One year and 2 months. Raph had been playing a one-on-one basketball game with Donnie while April refereed. Even as the self-proclaimed muscles, Raph was agile, and he did a quick maneuver around Donnie to score a perfect 3-pointer. “And Raph O’Neil makes the shot!” he whooped, doing a quick victory dance. He didn’t seem to realize it, but April certainly did. She felt warm and fuzzy after that, so she let him get away with traveling a couple minutes later.

For Leo, it just hadn’t come up yet. Although, one day she’d been stress cleaning their mess of a kitchen, and opened one beat-up book in curiosity to see “Leonardo O’Neil” neatly written on the cover page. That was enough for her.

Then her amazing family had finally gotten the acknowledgement they so rightly deserved.

“To you, brothers. Leonardo, Raphael, Donatello, Michelangelo.” Chief Vincent paused. “Last name?”

The guys all glanced her way, and April didn’t care if her eyes were a little watery at Leo’s answer. “O’Neil.”

#tmnt #tmnt 2014 #tmnt 2016 #bayverse #tmnt bayverse #april o'neil #tmnt april #fanfic

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thefirstcourtesan · 5 years

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Fireworks (Nate/MC) [July Challenge Day 4]

Tagging @wughhumans @gennesaret @desiree-0816 @choicesarehard @kinda-iconic @choicesjulychallenge @tephy24 @dcbbw @endless-vall

Fireworks By Misha

Disclaimer- Not mine. Author’s Notes- I actually really love Sunkissed so far and I feel myself relating to the MC and I also think Nate is adorable. I ended up inspired to write for them because I think they have so much potential. This is for day four of the Choices July Challenge: Independence Day. My MC’s name is Amber Parker. Pairing- Nate/MC Summary- Nate and Amber enjoy the 4th of July Fireworks and create some of their own. Rating- PG-13

“So they are doing fireworks on the beach tonight,” Mom commented as we finished up our dinner, which had been BBQ by the beach, “I remember how much you both love fireworks.”

“I already have plans,” Alexis and I said in unison and then stopped and looked at each other.

I smirked, “Sai?”

Alexis flushed. “No! I met some girls who are here on vacation and they invited me to watch with them. But I bet your plans are with the hot lifeguard.”

“They are,” I admitted and then shot a guilty look at mom. I had lured her here for family time, it didn’t seem to bail on her for some guy I had just met, “but it’s no big deal, you can join us, Mom.”

“I wouldn’t dream of intruding,” she assured me, “I can watch from the porch with a glass of iced tea and a book.”

“I don’t even know these girls,” Alexis said suddenly, “I’d much rather watch you with, Mom. Remember when I was little and we would play a game of guessing color would appear next?”

I shot Alexis a grateful smile, making a mental note to do something nice for her as a thank you. Besides, it would be nice for her and Mom to spend some time alone bonding, so guilt assuaged, I grabbed my bag from the house and headed down to the beach to meet Aubrey.

The lifeguard station was closed for the day, of course, and for once he wasn't wearing his uniform. Instead, he was wearing a pair of cargo shorts and nothing else. My eyes lingered on his bare chest, remembering what it had felt like to run my hands over it.

“Hey Parker,” he greeted and my eyes met his, blushing a bit at the knowing smirk on his face, the one that told me he knew exactly where my mind had just been, “I’m glad you could make it.”

“Thank you for inviting me,” I told him, wondering if this counted as a date? Was it a first date or did our other encounters count? I mean, we’d already gotten pretty close and personal, but this felt different.

“There is no one I’d rather share this with,” he assured me, he motioned down the beach, “I thought we’d go to my favorite spot, it’s a little more private but still has a great view.”

“Sound amazing,” I told him honestly.

He leaned down and picked up a basket I hadn’t even realized was there.

“I packed a couple things,” Nate explained, noticing where my gaze had landed.

Ok, this was definitely a date then.

We walked along the beach, making easy conversation until Nate stopped. I looked around, we had walked a decent distance down the beach, away from the crowds, to a beautiful little cove.

“We’ll be able to see everything here,” Nate assured me, taking a blanket out of the basket. He also pulled out a bottle of wine and two glasses, as well as some containers of fruit and cheese.

“You think of everything,” I commented, taking a seat on the blanket.

“A lifeguard has to be prepared,” he said with a smile as he sat down beside me. He poured us each a glass of wine. “Happy July 4th.”

“Thank you,” I said, taking a sip, “and thank you for taking me here.” I looked around. “This must be the most beautiful view in Turtle Bay.”

“It is,” Nate told me, but I noticed his eyes were on me not the beach. I blushed. Somehow Nate had the ability to make me feel like a teenager, instead of almost 25.

“How was your day?” I asked after a moment, “I bet the beach was packed.”

“It was,” Nate admitted, “I actually had help today though.”

I pretended to gasp. “So you aren’t superhuman?”

“Only some of the time,” he laughed, “The guy who had the job before me still lives in town and he fills in sometimes, but he has another job now, so I don’t call on him very often, but holidays tend to be too much for one person. What about you, what did you do?”

“Hung out with Mom and Alexis,” I told him, “we made our traditional berry cake that we make every 4th. It was really nice.”

“Are they getting along better?” Nate asked me, wrapping his arm around my shoulders and pulling me in closer to him.

I leaned my head against his shoulder, noting how strong he was and how comforting his arm felt. “They are. They are actually watching the fireworks together tonight.”

“You didn’t want to watch with them?” Nate asked, gazing into my eyes.

“No,” I told him, “There’s nowhere I’d rather be than right here.”

Nate didn’t respond, at least not with words, he just pulled me closer, his lips covering mine. I kissed him back eagerly, our wine glasses discarded as we fell backward onto the blanket wrapped in each other’s arms. Hands and lips trailing over each other’s body.

I don’t know how long we were like that, totally lost in each other, but suddenly there was a large boom and a burst of color. The fireworks. We pulled apart reluctantly.

“We should watch the fireworks,” Nate said, his breathing labored, “that’s why we came here.”

I nodded, not sure I trusted my voice. We both sat up and Nate pulled me onto his lap, his arms wrapped around me as we watched the colorful blasts fill the sky, but my mind kept going back to a different kind of fireworks, the kind we created together. But we had a whole summer ahead of us and for now, this was perfect.

End

#sunkissed #nate x mc #choices july challenge #misha fics #nate x amber

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professorprophetess · 5 years

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Lost in Adaptation

Though there have been successful game based movies before, like Jumanji: Welcome to the Jungle, that was about a fictional game coming to life. It worked for a different set of reasons and they all had to do with the concept of half-real Juul talks about in the book of the same name(Juul 121-162). That begs the question, can real games get proper adaptations into film without having their attempts fall flat. The short history of video game movies does not really suggest that this is usually possible. Yet even then exceptions can exist. For the sake of simplicity I will be sticking to movies produced by the West AKA Hollywood that are not animated that feature real game properties being adapted into films. To get the greatest breadth of the attempts to adapt games into movies I’ll pick one per decade since the very first live action adaptation of a video game came out in 1993. That movie is one that I’ve often chosen to pretend doesn’t exist as it was a very disappointing childhood memory: Super Mario Bros. Next I’l jump ahead to the 00’s with 2008’s Doom. Finally, I’ll look at the recent game based movie Pokémon: Detective Pikachu. Where did the previous two movies from prior two decades go wrong where Pokémon: Detective Pikachu got things right is the question I seek to answer by analyzing these games based films from those decades. Please note, I will not be counting any movies made by Uwe Boll amongst adaptations that got things wrong as I am lead to believe he does not care about how far off track he takes his films and it would appear as if he does it on purpose. Therefore, all films he makes are anomalies and should not be counted.

First, the movie that started it all. Super Mario Brothers was a very big deal in the early ’90’s. As a child of that decade, I know first hand how ascendant Mario and Luigi were. My older siblings and cousins all clamored to play as much Super Mario Brothers games on their NESes as they could. Naturally, a movie based on their beloved game was going to be awe inspiring.Oh, it was but for all the wrong reasons. To be fair to Hollywood, games are hard to adapt into a movie because of that half-real element many games have to them, especially story light platforming games of the NES era. However, that still doesn’t fully explain how they went from a fantasy romp where the hero—an everyman Italian plumber— rescuing the princess from a monster into gritty sci-fi dystopia, extra emphasis on the gritty. The set design, cinematography, plot choices, and direction are all bizarre when one takes a step back to just look at it. For instance, their redesign of the iconic Bowser into a man with weird hair. Because of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles film coming out three years prior, the ability to have made a puppet suit for someone to wear to bring Bowser to life in all his dragon-turtle glory existed. Yet, for some reason, instead of respecting the intellectual property, whomever had purchased the rights handed the project off to writers who clearly were so embarrassed to be adapting a video game that they didn’t bother actually adapting it. As a small child, all I’d cared about was that they’d made Yoshi look weird and the goomba’s looked wrong. Now that I’m older, I’m more perplexed by why they’d choose to go so far a field. Their idea had no business being grafted into the Super Mario Brothers’ universe. In fact, had they not been supposed to be adapting Super Mario Brothers, their idea would have been fun for a Sci-fi B-Movie. Instead they just went so far off to the side that it left a shadow that kept Nintendo from allowing anyone to make movies from their IPs. The actors did what they could but a bad script and bad direction cannot be overcome by anyone. (Super Mario Bros)

The shadow wasn’t just cast by Super Mario Bros but other movies kept the belief that video game movies just would not work alive. Thus we get to Doom. I was far too young to play Doom at its initial height of popularity but I knew what it was. So by 2005, after strings of other not-so-good-to-so-campy-its-fun video game adaptations, it was Doom’s turn. The trailers looks promising. Then what happened was a clumsily cobbled together film that used elements of Doom’s barely there plot, as well as plot threads from Alien and other space horror flicks to produce a B-movie that bears next-to-no resemblance to Doomat all. There’s an instance where the movie switches to first person POV like the game, and the human antagonist has become and alien creature called a “pinky” which is a demon from Doom, but ultimately being PG-13 could not deliver on the gore factor needed to fully capture what it was that Doom was: a bloody maze of gore and violence. In this case, it was likely based on the fact it was Doom that they thought adapting it was a good idea, but in their fumbled and neutered execution they made a so-so space horror that almost utterly fails as an adequate adaptation of the game of the same name’s fame it had tried to cash in on. Again, the set design is questionable as it is set largely on a space ship instead of in a maze of tunnels through Hell, and the tame levels of violence are not reflective of the core part of Doom’s appeal at all. The acting was decent enough, but otherwise the story direction and direction in general are suspect. 2005’s Doom failed because it did not try to be the by proxy gore fest that its source material was and without that gore, the classic Doom doesn’t have enough of an identity to fall back upon (Doom).

Pokémon: Detective Pikachu: A film I’d initially thought would also fail. One reason was because I thought the game it was based on was a silly idea when it came out, but also because it had become an almost accepted maxim that all video game based movies would continue to be awful because when it comes to gaming that Half-real effect I mentioned that Juul wrote about makes it hard to fully adapt a game because we, the players are not just passive watchers but active participants with game play, meaning what we do is projected into what happens so even with highly story based games, like a Final Fantasy title, no two people are going to have the exact same gameplay experience (Juul 121-62). Yet, those games have a higher chance of being adaptable. Those games prior to Pokémon: Detective Pikachu that most consider to be meh-to-passable all tended to be those based on games that tended to have far more of a narrative world to them than something like Doom or Super Mario Bros which were adapted from a story light FPS and story extra-light platformer. In the case of Pokémon: Detective Pikachu versus the series it spun-off from, until Generation V, there really wasn’t much to the story to speak of, and though it’s still not central to the main games, it’s stepped up to keep with what Generation V did. Pokémon: Detective Pikachu is a point and click adventure the is full of story and characterization that is not dependent wholly on the player, making its world and story far more adaptable into film format. A second thing the makers of Pokémon Detective Pikachu got right was they kept the aesthetics of the Pokémon world whenever they were designing the set design. They only deviated as such to make sure that these things looked coherent and real in that sense but it still reflected the worlds the games had presented. The pokémon were also a huge factor. They had to be redesigned to fit with the humans in the movie, but those redesigns were made with respect to how these creatures would look were they actually real creatures, keeping the uncanny valley at bay. Also, in a start contrast to the Super Mario Bros movie, this world was not only vibrant but it was a live and full the the fantastical creatures people expect to see in a world full of pokémon. Which is to say, we expect to see pokémon and they fulfilled that and then some. The plot is nothing extravagant or especially complex, but it was fun, it had genuine moments of heart and it fit in perfectly with the insanity that can happen within the pokémon universe. It felt like it and the games took place in the same world (Pokémon: Detective Pikachu).

Doom and Super Mario Bros on their own are not actually purely awful films. Doom fits right in with a lot of passable sci-fi horror trying to be Alien—and failing— whereas Super Mario Bros is more like an 80’s sci-fi B-flick that is trying to be cool—and also failing. However, the problem is these movies do not exist on their own, they were in fact adaptations of other intellectual properties that their makers did not respect enough to properly adapt to the silver screen. Whereas the Pokémon: Detective Pikachu film had nothing but respect for the game franchise it was representing into a live-action/CGI hybrid. Pokémon Detective Pikachu fits into the Pokémon World. It feels like it belongs there, and these events could be in that same universe. That, ultimately, is where the other two films failed horribly. Both films, so caught up in trying to be appealing to everyone, lost their identities to the point that they no longer fit in the worlds they were supposed to be adapting.

Works Cited

Pokémon: Detective Pikachu. Directed by Rob Letterman. Performances by Ryan Reynolds, Justice Smith, and Kathryn Newton. Legendary Entertainment, 2019.

Doom. Directed by Andrzej Bartkowiak. Performances by Karl Urban,Dwayne Johnson, Rosamund Pike. Universal Pictures, 2005.

Jumanji: Welcome to the Jungle. Directed by Jake Kasdan, performances by Dwayne Johnson, Karen Gillan, Kevin Hart , and Jack Black, Sony Pictures, 2017.

Juul, Jesper. Half-Real. MIT Press, 2005. pg 121-162.

Super Mario Bros. Directed by Annabel Jankel and Rocky Morton. Performances by Bob Hoskins, John Leguizamo, Dennis Hopper. Allied Filmmakers, 1993.

#Detective Pikachu #super mario bros movie #doom movie #academic blogging

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virmillion · 6 years

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Some Kind of Magical - Chapter 2

Chapter 1 / Chapter 3 / Masterpost / ao3

Warnings: Past violence, let me know if you have any more

Words: 4449

Patton splits off from the other three, carefully using the warmth of their words to build a barrier around his heart. No telling how strong it’ll need to be tonight, but he can obliterate that bridge when he gets there—his dad isn’t supposed to be home quite yet. Picking up the pace, Patton pushes his black and blue glasses higher up his nose, trying to quell the rising terror that always accompanies his walks home.

The number of wild animals crawling out of bushes to greet him is less than reassuring—at this rate, they’ll follow him all the way back and his dad will use them as target practice. Patton shoes them off with handfuls of dried fruits from his bag, regaining his solitude by the time he reaches the front door. Thankfully, the house appears quiet, an unheard of occasion as of late. It’s a rare day when he isn’t greeted by furious yelling or pointedly aggravated silence—if Patton didn’t know better, he’d swear there was some sadistic being testing his resolve in striving toward pacifism.

“Please be okay, please be okay, please dear Cethyphyirr be okay,” Patton chants to himself, tripping up the stairs on his untied shoelaces. He ignores the gaping frame where his bedroom door had been just that morning and drops his bag to the floor, fooling himself into thinking it would be enough of a barrier to protect him. Without so much as a glance at the sea of garbage and mess at his feet, Patton wades through the clearest path to his closet door—still attached, praise Ceth. Shoving the shelves and weapons to the side, he removes the poster blocking a shallow hole in the wall to reveal a little cove of various babbling critters.

Tarasques and shedus and jorogumos alike peer out at Patton, each a different age and each recovering from some injury or another. Patton unrolls a cloth bandage, tearing it in the middle with his teeth and turning to the turtle-like tarasque. He patches up a hole in the shell, using his other hand to scoot aside the baying freybug that’s ventured out of the hole. The jorogumo skitters up his arm with several hairy legs, the face-like markings on its back seeming to wink at him.

“You guys are lucky this cavity came with a size charm, you know that?” Patton sighs, watching his hand shrink each time it enters the gap to escort out another animal. The shedu’s tail puffs up, consuming a majority of the opening and growing into the space. It blocks Patton’s access to the other creatures until he can nudge the creature back to shrink down again. “Yes, Dad, absolutely I should go into Resolute,” he mutters. “Certainly, my one true calling is taking up arms against the creatures that I want nothing more than to protect. How ever do you do it, figuring out exactly what’s best for me? Even teaching me to solve my problems with my fists, to the point that my friends already know they have to restrain me.” Patton grits his teeth, clenching his hands into fists as his jaw begins to ache. He only stops at the whimpering of the freybug, which backs toward the nest with a wary focus on him. Slowly, his fists relax. “Really, Dad, you truly are a wonder to behold. One to rival the Ejnathryk itself.”

“Patton Thyrrdyn!” A furious voice bellows from downstairs. Patton holds back a groan, quickly and methodically replacing the poster behind the weapons and shelves. The last creatures vanish just in time, as the name is repeated louder and closer than before.

“Hey, Dad,” Patton says, descending the stairs to look at the man in the front entryway. “What can I do ya for?” He feels his pulse quicken for the ever-present dread that his dad might find the hidden creatures, but this rage doesn’t look like that of a betrayed father.

“Care to explain why there’s dirt tracked in here?” The panic recedes, leaving only a slight irritation at such a loud yell for such a trivial complaint.

“Guess I didn’t notice. Sorry.” Patton turns to head upstairs, to escape before the discussion inevitably turns to TryMyts, but nothing can ever be quite so simple.

“Did they discuss Trytsu selection today?” The edge in his voice alone is enough to make Patton hesitate. “Don’t worry. I know you’ll pick the right one.” He pauses briefly, watching Patton back away with a nod. “I only want what’s best for you, kiddo. I’m just trying to keep you safe.”

“I know.”

“So, any ideas for dinner?” A stab at conversation, and a poor one at that.

“No, but Logan, Roman, and Virgil are supposed to come over later. We were gonna try to get started on planning our TryMyts projects.”

“Who?” A hollow sigh takes up residence in Patton’s chest, begging to be released in a show of sheer aggravation. His dad has met all three of them several times over, and this is just an act to prolong the dying conversation. This information is the only thing keeping Patton from melting down into a stereotypical heap of groaning teen annoyance.

“Logan Thylktor, Roman Thyrrak, and Virgil Thriyv. We’ve been to each other’s houses a bunch of times, and you even met Virgil’s mom at orientation for senior year TryMyts stuff, remember?”

An ugly frown toys with his dad’s mouth. “The adoptive parents that don’t understand their place. Yeah, I remember those two.” It would be so easy for Patton to remark on his own mom’s absence, or how ridiculous it is to be upset that two people would willingly take in someone not related by blood, or how well-functioning the Thriyv household is, but he doesn’t. With thinly pressed lips and a slight dip of his chin, Patton retreats the rest of the way upstairs.

In his room again, he could easily get a head start on his project, or even on putting a dent in the mess on his floor, but that would be too easy. Instead, he lifts the lid from a glass box of miniature trees and grass, hidden in an unmarked crate beneath a heat lamp in his closet. After a moment, something small and green glides from one of the branches, its mottled red tail streaking behind. Patton allows that same wistful smile to cross his face, twin to the one that always appears when his healing creatures test out their reparations—rehabilitations, as it were. The amphiptere, a little winged serpent, finally comes to a rest at Patton again, concluding its tour of his room by wrapping its tail around his finger. The other hand, resting on the floor at his side, promptly stings with the dull pain of a bite.

“Hey,” he scolds softly, looking at the little beaked basilisk peeking out from his pile of clothes. In Patton’s defense, sometimes the mess is convenient. The reddish brown scales glow as it makes a muted guttural sound, its eyes barely cracked open. Damaged neurotoxin gland, a difficult fic to be sure, but that doesn’t mean Patton isn’t trying. The eyes, having long since recognized Patton as a protector, rather than a captor, avoid his gaze. Paralyzing its closest acquaintance probably isn’t the best course of action. Patton idly observes the progress of each of his creatures, whiling the time away until his friends can get over and ensure that his dad won’t barge in.

“Patton? Those Loman and Rogan kids you were talking about are here.”

He doesn’t bother to correct the names—the flub was probably intentional, anyway. Aimed at getting a rise out of Patton, prompting a reaction, proving he didn’t raise a broken boy that would never belong in Resolute. That what everything’s always been about, is trying to force Patton to stretch the extra three inches to fit in a six-foot mold. “Send them up, please.”

Of their own volition, the creatures return to their tanks and crates and corners, hiding from the people they don’t know well enough to trust. Only Patton is allowed to be graced with their presence, exclusively due to his persistence in trying to help them.

“Wish they’d stay out so I could meet them,” Roman comments on his way in, watching the speckled tip of the amphiptere’s tail vanish into the closet.

“Yeah, well.” Patton shrugs, nudging the door shut with his foot and clearing a path through the rubble of clothes on his floor. “Do we want to wait for Virgil?” Rather than answer, Logan drops his weight in papers to the ground, leaving Roman to carry the conversation on his own. Patton’s eyes track the motions of a few flyaway papers, floating gently like fallen butterflies.

“His mom said he didn’t come home this afternoon, and his mother was busy with a meeting, so his mom said he might stop by later, thanks for our time, but she really should be getting back to her notes.” Mid-sentence, Roman’s voice shifts up an octave in a remarkable imitation of Virgil’s mom. At least, as remarkable as the imitation of an adult woman can be, given that the imitator is a teenage boy.

“So basically, we’re on our own without the sarcastically comedic comments?”

“More or less.” Roman joins Patton and Logan on the floor, bringing his comparably meager supply of books with him. With one last sigh, Patton braces himself for the onslaught of work they have ahead of them. By the time a shadow falls over the small window on the far wall, he’s long since stopped paying attention to the outside world. He blinks, trying to force his hazel eyes to focus on what’s in front of him, to make sense of the endless lists and bullet points.

“What about this? A battle for glory in a ring of deadly creatures, lit by Cethyphyirr to symbolize your creation of a new existence into the world of an official Trytsu?” A decent suggestion from Logan, which lies in direct conflict with the neat scrawling on the paper he holds up—schematics for a Rehabilitate project. Patton squints at the paper, trying to comprehend Logan’s cramped handwriting—despite his penchant for artistic pursuits, he could certainly stand to improve his legibility. Although the situation might be less than ideal, it’s not the worst idea to circumvent Patton’s dad’s refusal to accept a non-Resolute Trytsu.

As Logan repeats himself for Roman to scribble the battle idea onto his notepad, Patton copies the written plan down in his own pages. “Hasn’t the whole ‘glory of Cethyphyirr’ thing been done before?” Roman pokes his cheek with an eraser, sticking his tongue out. “Not very original of a TryMyts, no offense.”

“First off, nothing is original,” Logan says, ticking off the reasons on his fingers. “Second, even if it’s been done, it hasn’t been done by you, which is what would make it stand out. Third, the point of TryMyts is not to be original.” He unfurls his remaining two fingers to gesture with his entire hand at Roman. “Every student might well do the same project, provided the result is worthy of finding a place in their Trytsu, be it that of their parents or a new one. Yours doesn’t have to be special. It just has to be effective.”

“But originality is what makes people stand out! What would you say if someone told you your work was boring, or had been done before?”

“In all likelihood, I would embrace the challenge of outdoing a previous accomplishment, though that should hardly be any of your concern.” The sparkle in Logan’s eyes sends a jolt through Patton’s spine, an inevitable debate waiting to ignite. “Suppose, Roman, that you were to do something entirely original. How, precisely, might you intend to pass off such a thing to your parents, if you don’t have the perfect grades to back it up? They will assume you won’t succeed if you haven’t succeeded already. Better yet, if there’s never been a safe trial run of your supposedly ‘original’ TryMyts before, how can you guarantee Pib’s safety when you attempt it?”

Patton is already on his feet and scurrying out of the room before Roman can come up with a retort, letting Logan’s triumphant debate-mode voice fade behind him. He makes up some excuse about getting snacks, the argument rapidly escalating and drowning out his mumbles. Of course, he already knows there’s no extra food lying around the house, but that’s beside the point. Even some ice to let melt on his tongue would be enough, just something to drown out his racing thoughts over Virgil’s absence. Suffice it to say, Patton was less than thrilled to hear about Virgil not making it home, even more so that he didn’t make it to the study session. He just needs a good distraction, is all.

Take an injured rabbit for example, on its side mere feet beyond the front door. Patton jumps down the last few stairs, ready to sprint outside and help—until his rescue is interrupted.

“Hey, kiddo, how’s it goin’?” Eyeing the suspiciously pink glow on his dad’s face, Patton shrugs noncommittally, desperate to keep his gaze off the rabbit. “How can you not know? Any project breakthroughs? Any of your little friends planning to betray their heritage and change Trytsun?”

“I don’t know, no, I don’t know, gotta go,” Patton says, bouncing between his feet and trying to squeeze past his dad. No dice, as the man has him trapped between the railings at the landing of the stairs.

“What about that Thriyv kid? Did his parents decide to keep their faux-altruistic ways out of other people’s lives for once?”

“I really don’t know. He might be over later, but I’m not sure.” For a split second, Patton lets his eyes dart to the door, where the rabbit remains. A pair of eyes gleams back at him in the darkness.

“Hey, hey, eyes on me, kiddo. Right here.” His dad grabs his shoulder, forcing his attention to snap back. “I just want what’s best for you, you know?”

“I know.” Ignoring the desire to remark on the peculiar way of showing affection, Patton finally slips under the arm braced against the wall. The eyes outside are closer than before. A dish of water, that’s all he needs, just a few seconds to get to the rabbit and get it hydrated and get it upstairs to safety. An ideal plan, simple enough in its success, if the faucet weren’t so slow, if all the dishes weren’t dirty, if his dad had moved sooner, if the rabbit were still warm. With his dad having disappeared to do Ceth knows what, Patton sinks to his knees beyond the door. The eyes have vanished, leaving only the vague sense of being watched as he carefully cradles the rabbit’s hind leg, snapped beyond a point of reason.

“I’ll help you, promise,” he murmurs, doing his best not to jostle the poor thing as he takes it to his room. Roman and Logan appear completely unsurprised as he sets about wrapping the rabbit’s leg and dribbling water into its mouth with a straw. The other two carry on with their discussion of possible TryMyts ideas, a relaxing backdrop of sound as he works. For however little it’s worth, the rabbit’s eyes slowly brighten, its body heat returning over the course of far too many minutes.

“Patton, I think we’re going to head out,” Logan says, jolting him from his concentration. “Our parents will be expecting us soon, and we don’t want to impose.”

“No problem,” Patton replies, barely taking his eyes off the twitching rabbit. “See you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” Roman agrees, offering a wave as he follows Logan out through where a door should be and down the stairs. Patton waits for the click of the closing front door, counting the moments that follow. After seven seconds, the inevitable complaints present themselves.

“Why did they have to stay so long?”

“Don’t know.”

“What are you doing?”

“Homework.”

“What?”

“Homework!” An edge of aggravation laces through Patton’s voice. This whole charade is as ridiculous and unnecessary as ever.

“Okay!” A twin spear of irritation lingers with his father’s response.

“If you need me to be louder, don’t go off at me for complying,” Patton mutters to himself, wishing he could slam the door shut. Of course, it doesn’t exist anymore, probably burned to high Ceth by now, in the name of his dad’s twisted ideas of what being in Resolute truly means. As the echo of a pitiful excuse for conversation fades, the annoyance on both ends slowly dissipates, the chasm of a closet remaining silent. With a careful parting of the obstacles, Patton places a finger into the charmed gap, watching his fingernail shrink down. The sudden visibility reveals all of his little friends curled up on top of one another, happily dozing away. To the quiet hum of the heat lamp’s whirring, the amphiptere huffs hot air out to match the warmth on its back.

Patton replaces the mess he’d sifted through earlier to disguise his creatures from sight, pleased at how well the posters and boxes blend in with the whirlwind of clothes and papers and projects. There, on the floor of his closet and slumped against the door, is how the morning sun finds him, an obnoxious beam on his crusted shut eyes. It takes a few slow, exhausted blinks for Patton to gather his bearings, before he jumps to his feet.

Mutterings of “gonna be late” and “crap crap crap” and “Ceth please lend me your speed” chase Patton around his room as he tugs on the first pair of shoes he can find. The clothes from yesterday will have to do, Patton decides, shouldering his open bag and running out the front door. Granted, the stolen bedroom door is a nuisance as well as an invasion of privacy, but it certainly allows for a conveniently fast exit. Down the sidewalk and onto the pavement, the pale sun overhead offers the smallest modicum of warmth for his shivering arms, coated in goosebumps. Twin birds flock behind him, cawing anxiously for their usual morning treats. Patton obliges, scattering a handful of raisins on the ground behind him as he sprints for the school. The last dregs of students filing into the building that rapidly crowns his horizon forces his legs to beat faster, his heart rate pulsing through every last nerve ending.

“Ceth, please, just a little faster,” Patton heaves, flinging his body into the building with reckless abandon. He collapses into his usual seat in his classroom—thankfully near the front door—and lets his head loll back as the teacher closes the door behind him.

“Late start, Thyrrdyn?”

“You could say that.” He lets himself laugh with the other kids, certain the bright pink burn of exertion is spreading rapidly across his face.

“Well, you sat down before I could shut the door, so I suppose I’ll let it slide. This time.” The telltale wry grin Patton sees toying with the teacher’s lips is enough to know he’s off the hook, with no bad blood to show for it. As the attention of the class reluctantly drifts back to the front of the room, turning minds toward pretending to learn, Patton tunes it out. He can get it all from Logan or Virgil later, rather than strain his willpower to be engaged now. More important of an issue is considering whether his room and reputation are safe, should his dad decide to snoop around while he’s gone.

The poster was definitely blocking the size-charmed nook, and he almost certainly knocked over the shelves and weapons in his rush to get out. At the very least, the mess should deter any would-be paternal inspectors of that odd spiderweb crack in the wall. There has to be something more, something else he’s forgetting, or he wouldn’t have this lingering sense of dread that something’s missing. Once more through the checklist, the heat lamp was on, the closet door was shut, the mess looked organic, everything important was contained behind closed doors, so everything should be fine.

“The rabbit!” Patton hisses, rapping the side of his fist on his desk. He darts his eyes around furtively, thanking Ceth that no one seemed to notice his outburst, but one mercy doesn’t solve another. He was helping the rabbit, Logan and Roman left, the mini-interrogation with his dad, and he passed out on the floor. The rabbit was probably long gone by the time Patton woke up—with any luck, it had at least partially healed. With any luck, it would know to hide itself, or get out while it still could.

With every moment that the teacher discusses whatever it is the class is supposed to care about, Patton feels his pulse pick up. If he could just run home, double check for any incriminating evidence, he could reassure himself and not have to fear his dad’s wrath. The bouncing of his eyes and the tapping of his feet aren’t exactly comforting ways to fidget, not to mention how they seem to agitate the teacher, but Patton can’t particularly find it in himself to care.

“Patton Thyrrdyn, do you have something you would like to share with the class?” He jolts, eyes wide as they focus on the imposing adult.

“Um, no, Myjhyrr. Sorry, I didn’t—Sorry.” Patton pulls his lips between his teeth, biting down until they tingle and the color drains away. Prodding the little teeth-shaped indents with his tongue, he smiles sheepishly at the teacher’s wary look. With a glare of warning, the teacher continues the lesson.

Maybe he could leave at lunch and be back by the next class, if he just sprints a little faster than his lungs would like to allow—but no, no, that wouldn’t work. The higher ranking people in charge of the school started assigning teachers to block off the exits months ago. Patton is well and truly trapped, and there’s nothing he can do about it. If he could just get to the door—

“Thyrrdyn! You know as well as I do that your record will tolerate very few further complications, and I don’t suppose you desire to toe that line. If you don’t want to repeat this year, I suggest you sit up, face forward, and pay attention.” It’s a bit difficult to discern what, exactly, is so pointed in the teacher’s words, but something in there makes Patton’s blood boil. The worst he’d ever done was give Than a much deserved nosebleed, and that’s hardly any of the teacher’s business to share in front of the whole class. As if they didn’t already know, didn’t already spread rumors to make him sound even worse, like he planned the attack instead of losing his grip on pacifism. At this rate, someone might well end up with a pencil stuck through their arm. Maybe a pen, just to spice things up from last time—which, in Patton’s defense, was an accident. It wasn’t his fault Than set his arm on Virgil’s homework after being asked repeatedly to stop. And besides, Than’s arm wasn’t the only casualty that day—Patton lost a perfectly good pencil.

At the teacher’s withering glare, Patton lets his eyes fall to his paper, covered in unintelligible doodles and half-hearted notes. Might as well pretend to pay attention now, if only to perfect his acting for when he’ll have to feign innocence at home. No time like the present to start coming up with an alibi. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time Patton was forced to be dishonest, anyway. He doesn’t necessarily want to hurt anyone, but if the good of the many outweighs the good of himself, of course he’s going to pursue the former.

By the time Patton reminds himself that yes, little white lies are okay in a few choice circumstances, the desks around him are empty, save for the kid asleep in the back corner. The teacher comes to a halt in front of Patton, an incessant clicking sound coming from beyond the desk. As the teacher begins to once more reprimand Patton for not paying attention, the clicking solidifies into the recognizable sound of a pen being shuttered and reopened far more rapidly than necessary.

“Thyrrdyn—” click “—you—” click “—need—” click “—to learn—” click “—to pay—” click “—attention!” Click click click. “I’m going to have to write you up if this continues.”

“Oh, no, there’s really no need for that,” Patton says, eyes trained on the infernal clicking pen. “Just an off day, you know?”

Click click. “It better be. Go on to your next class, but one” click “—last thing.” Click click click. “You’re aiming to switch into Rehabilitate, yes?” Click click.

“Yeah, but how did you—”

“Not—” click “—important. What is important is that I have a very close connection to the TryMyts advisors, including Myjhyrr Ryhanthyrri. It would be a shame if he were to find out about your poor aptitude for a place in the Rehabilitate Trytsu.” Click click click click.

“There’s really no need for that,” Patton repeats, wincing at his lack of more extensive protests. “I’ll do better, I swear, I just need to get the ball rolling on this year. Diving headfirst back into school and all, yeah?”

With a heavy sigh, the teacher’s eyes fly to the ceiling. The conversation needs to end soon, if Patton is to get to his next class on time, and they both know it. By some miracle, the clicking stops. His head hurts. “Look, Thyrrdyn, I just need you to pull your act together, alright? I’ve heard great things about you from other teachers, past violence excluded, and ideally I’d hoped you would keep it up for this final year. I don’t want to have to be the one to hold you back and make you redo your TryMyts, but I will, if that’s what it takes. Get it?”

“Yep.” Patton is already sidling toward the door halfway through the teacher’s hypocritical lecture, swinging his bag over his shoulder. “I will absolutely work on that in—whoops, sorry!” He dodges a student shoving their way into the room, half-wishing he could take back the apology when he realizes it’s just Than. No, nope, none of that, clean record in front of this teacher from here on out. Patton is nice and friendly and pacifistic and will act accordingly.

“Don’t disappoint me, Thyrrdyn.” The teacher sighs as Patton darts into the hall, out of earshot before the ominous warning can reach him.

Chapter 1 / Chapter 3 / Masterpost / ao3

#sanders sides #patton sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #violence mention tw #some kind of magical #labhwrites #mine

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angrypedestrian · 6 years

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(Perhaps more so than my ska themed episode tag last week, I am laying myself too bare in this trans!nate fic. Anyways it’s also on ao3)

Nate laid in his bed, worrying the dog tags hanging around his neck between his fingers. Even with Gideon’s med bay magic, he still felt the phantom pain of bruises his grandfather–Sara–Mallus had beat into him. A little part of him felt like he deserved it.

The sound of metal on metal kept the room from utter quiet, but the tags felt like just another totem he wasn’t worthy enough to wield.

Because he wasn’t the kind of man worthy enough to wield them.

Wasn’t the kind of man worthy of Amaya.

Wasn’t the kind of man his grandfather would’ve been proud of.

And even with all the rationalizing in the world, knowing that Henry was just a manifestation of his own fear, a trick by a literal time demon, those thoughts had still burrowed back up from the recesses of his mind. Because even though it had been more than 15 years, there was always that little seed of doubt, ready to bloom, that he was never going to be a man.

It made him feel like a child, weak, the scared teenager figuring out he was trans all over again, while his father just pretended he didn’t exist anymore.

All Nate had ever really wanted was to be the kind of man that his grandfather could’ve been proud of. It had taken most of his life, but finally, being a legend, saving the world, he felt like he had done it. Henry had said so, in his way, before sacrificing himself. Nate had felt it in his gut when Henry had pressed his hand against the glass of the cargo bay door.

But what if that he had just been trying to preserve the timeline by making sure Nate would tell Hank the right things to keep everything stable. What if he–

“You didn’t stay for dinner.”

Nate was knocked out of his thought spiral by Amaya, standing in the doorway to his bunk, concern etched on her face.

“Sorry,” he said, shaking his head to clear it. “Still a little shaken up by everything, I guess. Wasn’t feeling too hungry.”

She came and sat down on the edge of his bed, putting a hand on his to stop the scraping sound of metal on metal. “Well, I saved some for you, but I don’t know how long until Mick finds it.”

Nate let out a weak chuckle, and Amaya smiled fondly at him. It was crazy how quickly she could clear some of the clouds in his head.

“You okay?” she asked.

Nate paused a moment, wanting to tell her every half-baked thought of inadequacy he had. “No, it’s fine. Some of the stuff Mallus said when he looked like my grandfather it was–I’m sorry. It’s stupid.” He waved his hand in dismissal.

Gently urging Nate over, Amaya slid onto the bed next to him, keeping her hand on his, running her thumb over his knuckles. “It’s not stupid. Z told me that he looked exactly like her brother when he was young. I can’t imagine, seeing a ghost like that.”

“Is she alright? I’m fine if she needs you,” he said.

“She’s playing some game with Wally. They’re racing and trying to hit each other with turtle shells?”

“Mario Kart?” He felt Amaya shrug against him. “Man, I love Mario Kart. Oh! We should totally have a team Mario Kart tournament.”

Amaya laughed into his shoulder. “I think having Wally around has been good for her.”

“Yeah, he’s a good dude.”

They were both quiet for a long while. Amaya took the dog tags from Nate and traced Henry’s name with her fingers. Eventually, she tucked them back into Nate’s shirt and propped herself up on her elbow so she could look at him.

“What’s going on?” she asked

Nate glanced over at her and let out a sigh. She deserved to know. “He said that I wasn’t good enough, y’know? That I wasn’t good enough for you. That I wasn’t a man he could ever be proud of,” he said, staring at the ceiling, unable to meet her eyes again. “And I know that it’s bullshit and he was just preying on my fears, but I just–sometimes I feel like no matter what I do, it’s never gonna be enough, I’m never going to be the man that he would’ve been proud to call his grandson.”

“You know that’s not true,” she said.

“Yeah, I mean, rationally, I know that. But it’s just that little nagging thought that eats away at me. And Mallus, he just pulled it right out of my head and made the person I admire the most in the world say it to my face.”

Nate rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his hands. “Sometimes I think it would have been better if I had never met him, you know? It’s a lot harder to disappoint a picture.”

Amaya pushed Nate’s hand away from his face, and tilted his chin up to look at her. “Nathaniel, I knew Henry well, and you are exactly the type of person he would’ve wanted as a grandson. You are brave, selfless, and most importantly, you are kind. You chose to become a better man than your father, even though it was hard. You choose to let yourself be vulnerable because you know who you are. There are plenty of people who run from that because they think it’s weakness.”

She leaned down to kiss him, light and sweet. As she pulled away, Nate took her hand and kissed her knuckles.

“And you’re worthy of being with me because I choose to be with you,” she said, laying down to tuck back into his side, his arm slung around her shoulders. “And I believe Sara would call anyone who decides if someone is worthy of a woman some patriarchal bullshit.”

That finally got Nate to crack a full throated laugh, and he felt Amaya’s smile against his chest. “Well, captain’s definitely right on that one,” he said, craning his neck down to kiss the top of her head. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” she said. “You feeling up for dinner?”

Nate grabbed Amaya’s waist and rolled her on top on him. “You know what, Mick can have my share, I can get something from the fabricator.” he said, before pulling her down into a kiss.

#legends of tomorrow #nate heywood #amaya jiwe #steelvixen #trans!nate #the time idiots #my fic

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molovesvintage · 5 years

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January 2019

Getting to the village was an adventure in itself. After a taxi to the station, a grueling wait, an hour’s ride in the reclined seats of one of Southeast Asia’s ubiquitous sleeper buses, and a motorcycle ride with some dubious old Vietnamese men, we finally arrived. A teenage girl in glasses and pink pajamas approached us with a warm smile.

“Hello. I’m Hang.”

****

I had agreed to the trip on a whim. When I had discussed an overnight trip to the Mekong Delta with a new acquaintance at my hostel in Saigon, I had imagined we would take one of the dime-a dozen, bus-and-boat trips that are easily accessible, foreigner friendly, and liberally advertised throughout the city. But, by way of her well-connected Israeli travel Whatsapp group, Lital had found a homestay opportunity in the hamlet of Mỹ Tho, where a local girl would guide us and let us stay with her family in exchange for some English practice.

Hang’s house was humble, with only a few rooms, rudimentary plumbing, and a couple of noisy fans to keep the constant heat of southern Vietnam at bay. Scattered around the main room was an old-fashioned sewing machine, Hang’s English books, and an altar with family photos and incense as well as an icon of Jesus and a small, fake Christmas tree.

Upon meeting her mother, it was easy to see where Hang’s smile came from. Since she spoke no English, she communicated with us solely through smiles and laughter. The first thing she did, after setting down a plate of succulent watermelon and a basket of small, sweet bananas, was to share some of her prized possessions: baby photos of her children and her wedding album. I gently turned the pages, each containing photos of her in white standing with her tall, serious husband, her beaming smile repeatedly drawing my eye.

Watermelon and bananas.

Hang and her mother.

We accompanied them to church that night. Hang’s mother put on one of her handmade ao dai, the traditional dress of Vietnam, while Hang and her sister were neat but casual in t-shirts and legging-pants. The building was surprisingly modern, with the lyrics of the hymns projected on a screen, karaoke style. While I didn’t understand a word of the service, I was struck by the sense of ritual, and the large presence of song and chanting throughout. Not so different from the Jewish services of my youth. Before leaving, we went to a small building beside the main church, a mausoleum where the ashes of the congregation’s ancestors were interred. Hang gave us each a stick of incense.

“What do I do with this?” I asked her.

“You should pray to the ancestors and put it here,” she replied, gesturing to a round censer.

I shut my eyes and prayed, although I’m not sure to whom: her ancestors or mine, who were far off in a different time and place. I opened my eyes and stuck my incense in the censer.

****

After devouring a home-cooked dinner and slurping down cold fruit smoothies at a shop that repaired automobiles during the day, we were taken to Hang’s uncle’s house, to meet members of her extended family. I was led to the back of the house, to a simple, stone-floored kitchen, where I found a stout, old Vietnamese woman frying bananas over a wood-burning stove. Hang explained to me that even for the village, this method was unique, as most people had switched to gas stoves.

I had never seen anyone cook this way, and asked the grandmother about her banana recipe, with Hang’s cousin translating. Granny stared into my eyes, a cheerful grin on her face, and asked me a question. The cousin burst out laughing.

“What did she say?” I asked.

“She asks if you’ve ever fallen in love with a Vietnamese boy!”

I returned Granny’s smile. “Not yet.”

Frying bananas over a wooden stove.

Sitting cross-legged on the floor of the main room, squished between various cousins, we tried Granny’s fried bananas. They were soft and pillowy, a perfect harmony of sweet and savory, the best kind of grandmother food. On the TV was a Youtube video, where some people were fishing using nets in a river. The little boys were spellbound.

Another cousin arrived, a gawking, bespectacled youth. His presence caused a flurry of conversation and laughter from the family members. I caught the words “America” and “California”. They were definitely talking about me.

“Say hello, speak English!” barked Hang’s uncle.

“Hello,” the poor kid muttered as he blushed a vibrant shade of red.

It seemed Granny had found me a Vietnamese boy after all.

****

Hang’s home had one bedroom in the center of the house, which is where her father slept that night. The rest of us bedded down in the front room, her mother in a hammock and us girls side by side on thin mattresses on the floor, chatting like we were at a high school sleepover until we fell asleep, one by one.

The next day, Hang hired a boat and took us on a tour of a few of the famous islands on the Mekong Delta, Unicorn Island and Phoenix Island, named for two of the four sacred magical creatures in Vietnamese mythology (the other two are the dragon and the turtle, and there are two other islands for them as well). On Unicorn Island, we tasted locally produced honey and coconut candy from a tiny factory where we watched the candy being mixed, stretched, cut and packaged before our eyes, and listened to a group performing Vietnamese folk music. Phoenix Island, on the other hand, was a little less touristy and a lot stranger. In the 1960s and 70s, this was the home of the fringe Coconut Religion, formed by a French-educated chemist named Thành Nam Nguyễn who chose to become a monk and eat nothing but coconuts. The island these days looks like the relic of a wacky retro theme park, and it’s a fascinating place to wander around.

Local honey products.

Rolling coconut candy.

Coconuts! Image courtesy: Lital Bezalel.

Wacky lotus structure on Phoenix island.

The leader of the Coconut Religion.

Local honey products.

Tiny candy machine.

Rolling coconut candy.

Our captain.

On a boat. Image courtesy: Lital Bezalel.

Before too long, we took the boat back to the dock, and went back to Hang’s home to pack our things and take the bus back to Saigon. We signed Hang’s “guest book” a notebook where she has kept a record of every foreigner she’s guided, hosted, or had some sort of meaningful encounter with. It is an extraordinary book. Every entry is filled with warmth and gratitude, and it is clear that the people who have been fortunate enough to meet Hang value their connection with her as much as she does with them. As much as I do with her.

Time moves so strangely when one is traveling. It is so ephemeral yet infinite. How is it possible that a day feels like a week and an hour at the very same time? I was in the village of Mỹ Tho with Hang and her family for barely 24 hours, just one day. And yet, if I didn’t have that day, I don’t think I would have returned from my trip and felt complete. That was all it took, that one chance to really see what life is like for a young girl in Vietnam, surrounded by her family and community, and dreaming her big, bold dreams of the future.

For anyone planning a trip to Vietnam, do yourself a favor and attempt to seek out such enriching experiences. If you are going to Saigon or the Mekong Delta, please message me privately and I will gladly connect you with Hang, who is sure to have a smile just for you.

Happy Travels,

Hang, myself, and Lital. Image courtesy: Lital Bezalel.

The Smiles of Mỹ Tho January 2019 Getting to the village was an adventure in itself. After a taxi to the station, a grueling wait, an hour’s ride in the reclined seats of one of Southeast Asia’s ubiquitous sleeper buses, and a motorcycle ride with some dubious old Vietnamese men, we finally arrived.

#adventures #homestay #local encounters #Mekong Delta #My Tho #Southeast Asia #Vietnam

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amydiddle-fanfiction · 7 years

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You Have A Home Ch. 3

The twins have gone and left and now the small town of Gravity Falls will go back to normal, at least, as normal as it can be.

For Fiddleford that means taking care of himself the best he can while his father balances his jobs and barely has time to cook dinner. It should be easy to fall back into the routine but after a whole summer of affection and friendship and battling dream demons something feels off now. Something in his gut telling him that nothing can really be as normal as it used to be.

A Summer Out of Jesery: Years After Unedited

Chapter 3: Don’t Let The Rain Get You Down (Ao3)

September had fully settled in on the small town of Gravity Falls. Gone was the last remains of the summer heat, the green leaves, and the leisure that came from the wonderful time of the year. Parents were back to their jobs if they had taken time off and children were back in school to educate themselves to become the next generation of adults.

Fiddleford found the whole concept of school rather boring and sometimes a little slow but when it came to the start of the year it was worthless to skip days. He needed to settle into the flow, figure out what classes he could skip a few days in, and learn when he would have to walk home on his own.

The boy sat on the grass outside the school. It was almost an hour after the last class had let out and his father had promised to come and pick him up. He was hesitant to get up and start the walk home in case the man showed up but he was getting that side eyed look from the teacher that was supposed to watch the car line. The lady probably had been things to do then hang out at Gravity Falls Middle School with a lonely eighth grader.

Fidds pulled up a few more strands of grass before he stood up and brushed off the loose dirt. He was not going to be the reason this lady stood around for hours. The teen pulled his bookbag back onto his back and slowly started to head towards the main road so he could head into town. It was a long walk from the middle school to his house; he would have to be quick to make it there before it got too dark.

The woman said nothing as he started off alone. Maybe some part of Fiddleford wanted her to tell him to stay, that he did not have to walk alone, or maybe even offer him a ride. That part was delusional; he understood that. He had gotten this far in life with very little help from anyone and he would continue to do that.

The young teen started to hum a song to himself as he walked away from the school and back towards town. The little tune was there to keep his thoughts at bay. He was sure that his father had just forgotten and that it was not some terrible accident that had prevented his pickup. He was sure there was no terrible accident that would have hurt his father terribly.

Fiddleford’s pace picked up as he moved towards the town faster; his little heart picked up speed.

“Shouldn’t think like that,” he muttered to himself quietly, “Shouldn’t think like that. Pa is fine. Bet he just had to work late, is all.”

Fiddleford’s feet moved faster.

“Probably will be home before me at the rate I am walking.”

He was practically jogging at this point. The main town was getting closer.

“Probably…probably worrying over nothing,” he whispered to himself as he broke into a sprint.

His feet smacked down into the pavement as he tried to get to town faster. Once he was in town he could take the quickest route home and he could stop this kind of worry. His lungs burned from the activity and the added weight of his back pack.

The weight of the books moving around with every hurried step was his down fall. The poor teenager lost his balance and tripped over his own foot so he was sent down onto the concrete. The sting of the scrapes the hard surface left on his hands and knees made his eyes water. His glasses happily stayed put on his nose.

He forced back the tears and sat up slowly; the dumb back pack almost sending him falling backwards like a turtle. Today was just not his day it seemed.

Fiddleford observed the little dots of red that had started to appear in the pink scrapes. Dirt that had gotten wedged between the skin had started to get soaked with blood. A splotch of water fell onto his palms and Fidds watched it as it slowly ran down the crevices and fell from his hand.

Thunder rumbled above him as two more drops fell onto his scraped palms. He looked up at the rumble to find the sky had gone dark and a rain cloud had started to cover the sky.

The sense of dread and worry had started to change into anger. The anger did not last as it settled into a dull numbness as more drops of water landed on him. He pushed himself back onto his feet with a grimace as more dirt got wedged into his scraped palms.

The rain fall started to come down faster as he ran down the side-walk. The sky just seemed to get darker and darker as he hurried down the side-walk and rain began to stream down his glasses. The water obscured his vision and made the journey much harder than it should have been.

The teenager stumbled to a stop when a bright light blinded him and the sound of a car came to his attention. He expected the vehicle to get right past him but it stopped just a little behind him. A bubble of hope spread in Fidds’ heart that it was his father. That he had worried over nothing and that the man had just gotten caught up at work and had rushed to get him from the middle school.

A person got out of the car and he heard the pattering of rain drops on an umbrella. The teen’s heart started to pound in excitement and hope as the rain soaked through his t-shirt and drenched his hair.

“Fiddleford?”

The voice was not his father’s and he felt one of the few threads of hope he had shrivel up and die in his heart.

“Miss…Miss Pines?”

The figure came over and put the umbrella over his head. Mabel Pines stood over him with a rainbow umbrella. The rain that had started to drench him suddenly stopped falling on him as the woman got close enough to hold the umbrella over the two of them.

“What are you doing out here in this weather?”

Fiddleford stared down at his shoes and noticed the red that was running down his bare legs with the rain water.

“Walking home from school.”

Mabel frowned. The woman checked her watch and frowned, “At this time? I thought the middle school got out sooner.”

Fiddleford shivered as thunder once again shook the earth. It was louder this time so it meant that soon they would be seeing the flashes of lightening.

“I stayed after,” Fidds shrugged, “I didn’ know it was going to rain.”

“Doesn’t mean that you should be walking around in this storm,” Mabel said seriously, “You could get sick or lost or…” Mabel waved her hand around in a vague gesture, “My point is your father should have come to pick you up.”

Fiddleford shrugged again and looked down the sidewalk.

“I’ve walked home a lot before in the rain. This ain’t that big of a deal.”

A bright flash lit the sky and thunder followed it not a second after. Fiddleford put his hands over his ears at the noise. The circle of shelter the umbrella had created was starting to lose its purpose as the wind picked up with the rain drops. The water splashed at the two people from either side.

Mabel put her arm around the boy to shelter him and started to lead him to the car.

“Well, I am not going to be another person to leave you out in this storm.”

“Miss Pines, you don’t got to do nothing. I am fine with walking.”

“Look, pumpkin, we are either going to get in the car to avoid this rain or we are going to stand out in this storm until it passes. You only have these two options.”

Fiddleford frowned and looked down at his bleeding knees. The scabs had started to form over the dirt and other things that had been on the sidewalk. The storm around them had started to pick up the intensity so when the rain it the ground is splattered onto their legs. With the stubbornness of Miss Mystery there was no way around it and he was not one to let an old woman stand out in a storm because he did not want help.

“Alright,” Fiddleford sighed and let Mabel lead him to her car.

There was some relief when he did get ushered into the dry interior of the old car. The feeling of misery thanks to the chilly rain had been slightly driven away but it left him shivering. He was pretty sure that when he stepped out of the car he would have glitter stuck to him just because he knew how this old woman worked after a whole summer around her.

Mabel got into the driver’s seat not a second after he had gotten into the back of the car. She closed the door and threw the wet umbrella onto the seat next to her as she looked back at him.

“There should be a towel back there somewhere,” she said as she searched the back seats messy contents with her eyes, “I don’t think I took them out after the last pool trip.”

Fiddleford nodded and looked around for a towel. He found one under an empty cardboard box and shook it out before he started to wipe off some of the water from his face. Streaks had already started to dry on his glasses’ lenses and he did his best to wipe them away.

Mabel did not turn back to face the front of the car until she was sure Fiddleford was settled and had gotten some of the water off himself. The old woman took her time to pull away from the side-walk.

Fiddleford did not seem to care that the car was headed in the opposite direction. Almost all the roads in Gravity Falls connected to each other. The town was small and practically was a loop. No matter which roads you took you would eventually end up where you wanted to go as long as you did not turn out of town.

The teenager leaned his head against the glass window and sighed. His mind started to wander to the homework he needed to complete and he hoped that the things in his book bag had not been too damaged by the rain. He was not tempted to sing along to the cheery tune Mabel had put on as she drove.

Fiddleford stayed in his thoughts through two songs before he noticed something off about the route Mabel was driving him. His biggest alarm being the old woman turning away from the town and onto a familiar stretch of road. The view outside the rain splattered window was barren of buildings after a few minutes and became mostly the woods. He knew this road well; it was a road he had traveled a lot during the summer.

“Um, Miss Pines,” he said slowly. Maybe she had just forgotten he was back there, “I think yer goin’ the wrong way.”

“Nope. I am pretty sure I am going the right way,” Mabel said as she turned onto a connecting dirt road.

“But my house is on the other side of town,” Fidds said nervously.

Mabel turned the music down some more as the car bumped along the muddy dirt path. “Yep and my house is right up here.”

“But, I thought you were taking me home?”

“I am,” Mabel said as she turned onto her drive way.

“I…I mean my home, Miss Pines. Not your home.”

Mabel just hummed in response as she drove the car around the Shack to the front door. Mabel continued to hum as she turned off the car. The peppy music ended quickly and the rumble of the engine ceased.

“Miss Pines,” Fiddleford protested, “I thank ya fer the ride but I can’t stay over. I got school in the morning and my Pa-.”

“Your father will understand when I call him,” Mabel cut him off as she grabbed her umbrella.

“But I don’t wanna be a bother.”

Mabel looked at him from the mirror and she sighed. The old woman carefully turned his head and put a kind smile on her face.

“Fiddleford, you could never be a bother. Just humor an old lady for tonight, I just hate the thought of you being all alone at home in this storm.”

Fidds looked down at his knees; one leg had begun to bounce nervously.

“I have been home alone lots of times during a storm,” he protested weakly. In truth, he did not like to be alone when a storm like this hit. The teen jumped when a hand rested gently on the twitchy leg.

“Please,” Mabel said softly, “Humor me?”

Fiddleford sighed and looked up at the woman hesitantly. He wanted to protest and make her take him home. He wanted his desk and robot parts. He wanted his laptop. Most of all he wanted his father.

Fidds also did not want to hurt her feelings. He had not wanted to leave her side that last day of summer. He wanted to come back to Gravity Falls and be at the Shack.

“Alright,” he sighed, “but only so you don’t got to worry.”

Mabel smiled and squeezed his knee in an affectionate gesture. “Thank you,” she said before she turned to grab the umbrella and opened her door to open it up, “I’ll come get you so you stay dry, okay?”

Fiddleford’s nod was the only confirmation she needed before the woman disappeared into the rain.

Fidds watched her as she closed the door and walked quickly around the car to his door. With the car stopped he could hear the muffled sound of the rain drops as they quickly hit the umbrella. When his door opened the sound became louder and another boom rumbled over the sky.

“Come on, Sweet Pea,” Mabel said over the sound of the rain, “Don’t want to be standing out here too long.”

Fidds did not have to be told twice. With one last check to make sure his book bag was secure, he slipped out of the car and onto the muddy ground. Mabel closed his door quickly and made sure a hand was on him as they sprinted for the covered porch.

As soon as their feet hit the wood the door opened and Dipper stood in front of them.

“There you are, Mabel. I was starting to get worried.”

“You shouldn’t worry so much, Dipper,” Mabel laughed and splashed her brother with the water on the umbrella. “I was not in any danger.”

“Well I didn’t know that,” Dipper protested as Mabel pushed past him with Fiddleford in tow, “You could have been hurt or this storm could have brought something terrible down with it.”

“Like I said, you worry too much,” Mabel sighed and hung up her umbrella.

“I worry just the right amount,” Dipper closed the door behind him as he followed them. He would have continued the sibling bickering if he had not just noticed the boy next to Mabel, “Oh, hello Fiddleford. When did you get here?”

“I’ve been here the whole time,” Fidds whispered.

Mabel took the teen’s backpack and hung it up on the hallway hooks. “Don’t mind him, dear, I think he became a little oblivious in his old age,” Mabel said, “Now you head to the bathroom and I’ll be in there with a change of clothes and something to clean your knees. Okay?”

“Yes, Miss Pines,” Fidds replied softly and turned to leave.

“And Fiddleford.”

Fidds stopped and looked back at her.

“Calling me Mabel is still perfectly okay,” she said with a kind smile.

Fiddleford sent a smile back to her as he exited the hallway and went into the bathroom. The teen closed the door softly as he could before he sat down on the floor. His smile cracked into a broken expression as he sat on the bathroom floor. It took everything in his power not to cry in the few minutes he waited for Mabel to arrive.

The poor teen almost jumped a foot into the air when there was a knock on the door behind him. He got up to his feet quickly and moved back to sit on the edge of the tub.

“Coming in,” Mabel’s voice said after the knocks and the woman entered. “I brought some cool band-aids and one of the sweaters the boys left.”

“Thanks,” Fidds said. He hoped that his voice was not too emotionless. The teen did not want her to think he was not grateful for what she was doing.

Mabel did not seem to take note in the change of tone as she started to put something onto a cotton ball. “It’s no problem,” she said happily, “Now let’s see what the damage is.”

With a small crack from her knees and a groan, the woman kneeled in front of Fiddleford and looked at the scrapes on his knees. She gave a soft hum and then nodded with a serious expression on her face.

“These are going to take the special band-aids.”

“Special band-aids?” Fidds asked but he got no answer to the question.

“This is going to sting,” was all Mabel said before she began to dab whatever was on the cotton ball onto the first cut.

Fidds hissed in pain and held tightly to the bathtub.

“So,” Mabel said casually as she got a new cotton ball and started to clean the other knee, “Dipper is getting some soup heated up on the stove for us. I hope you don’t mind that for dinner but I haven’t had the chance to go grocery shopping yet. Was supposed to today but me and the girls got a little side tracked.” She laughed at the last statement and looked over her work.

“That’s fine,” Fidds said, “I don’t mind some soup.”

Mabel held out a hand for him and it took a moment before Fiddleford understood. After he was sure his feet were planted firmly on the ground he gave her his hand so it could be disinfected.

“You sure?” She asked, “I can see if we have any leftover pizza in the fridge or some pasta in the cupboard if you would want that.”

“I am sure, Miss Pines. Soup sounds good right now.”

Mabel sighed dramatically as she dapped the stinging liquid onto his injured palm.

“Alright, way to help me get something fun to eat,” she teased. After a moment, she motioned for the other hand and cleaned it carefully with a new cotton ball.

“Just let this dry some and then we can get them all blinged out.”

Fidds rested his hands in his lap and watched as Mabel cleaned up the cotton ball mess. He wanted to ask what she meant but that but decided it best to stay silent. There was a lot of things that did not make sense about Madam Mystery. He was just going to have accept this as something that he would not get until it happened.

He soon got his answer when the woman held out man different band-aid boxes. There were super hero ones, princess ones, rainbow ones, different shaped ones, and some he had never even seen in stores before. His eyes widened behind his glasses as he looked them all over.

“Special band-aids for a special kid. Choose whichever you want,” Mabel explained, “But you should know that the rainbow ones got bigger band-aids then some of the other ones.”

Fiddleford stared at the different options silently and then looked back up at her. He just did not understand it. She was nice to him all summer but that was because the twins were his friends. This woman had no reason to take care of him like this.

He looked back at the boxes and grabbed the rainbow ones. Mabel seemed to grin at the choice.

“I was hoping you would choose that box. Those are my favorite,” she said as she set the others down, “I just hope Stan didn’t steal all the heart ones before he left.”

“Even if he did I wouldn’t mind,” Fiddleford said as he opened the box and began to search through it, “I just want two big enough to cover up my knee.”

The teen did find a heart one as he searched the box for two rectangles. He was surprised by how large it was. The oddly shaped bandage would easily fit over the larger scrape on his right palm. Mabel helped him stick the bandages over his wounds and seemed to hum in approval.

“Now just one more thing before I can let you get changed,” the woman said.

Before Fidds could ask what that was a sticker was stuck into the middle of the heart on his right palm. It was a circle and in the middle of it was a cartoon drawing of butter with the words ‘Get Butter Soon’ around it. The middle schooler could not help but to smile at it.

“Now it should heal faster,” Mabel stated matter-of-factly before she stood up with a small groan. “Welp, I will let you change. Just follow the smell of terrible Dipper cooking when you are ready.”

“Alright,” Fidds said and slid off his seat. “Thank you, Miss Mabel.”

“Any time, Sugar.” Mabel opened the door and smiled back at him, “Any time.” With those last words, she left him alone in the bathroom.

Fiddleford looked down at the punny sticker on his hand and smiled at it. There was just something about it, other than the terrible joke, that made him smile like it was the best thing he had ever been given.

#unedited #gravity falls #gravity falls fic #gravity falls au #gravity falls au fic #mabel pines #dipper pines #mystery twins #Fiddleford McGucket #grauntie mabel #great uncle dipper #relativity falls #relativity falls fic #chapter 3 #Summer Out of Jersey #Summer Out of Jersey: Years After

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