#like think back to the old lair right? that thing had so many weird spaces that would be added when and if the story required it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

high-warlock-of-brooklyn · 3 years

Text

take every chance, drop every fear

Note: The art is made by the brilliant and amazing @miss-shiva-adler Thank you so much for agreeing to collab with me, you have been so terrific 💙

Summary: The Clave has given a mandate for Simon- a new mission. Get the dagger that killed the first Shadowhunter, and get it quickly. Only problem? The dagger is in possession of Jace Herondale, the continent's most notorious Vampire King. Simon has to fulfil the mission, come what may. Except, the Vampire is already aware of his intentions, and is ready to face him. The result is sure to be deadly for at least one of them. Except, the mission doesn't go the way either of them expect.

Ao3: LINK

---------

“I’m going.”

“No you’re not.”

“You can’t stop me.”

“Like hell I can’t.”

Simon sighs, putting the briefing file back on the ops table. “Are you going to be like this the entire mission?”

“No.” Raphael shakes his head. “I’m not. Because there’s not going to be a mission in the first place.”

“Raphael, this isn’t your decision to make.” Simon crosses his arms.

“Okay. You’re right.” Raphael scowls. “This is your mission. But I have to say, it’s a very stupid mission.”

“What’s so stupid about it? It’s literally the simplest mission we’ve ever done. Even the Clave signed off on it.” Simon shrugs. “Get in, get the dagger, get out. It’s that easy.”

“Except for the part where you’re going into the lair of a Vampire king who’s been known to hold grudges against Shadowhunters in the past, and who guards his property more fiercely than a Draconea .”

Simon seems to bristle at that. “You don’t think I can do this?”

“I didn’t say that. I just don’t want you going in without backup. We’re Parabatais, we’re supposed to watch each other’s backs.” Raphael explains, his tone softening. Simon’s face brightens like a Mundane child on Christmas morning. “Aww you want to come with me! You want to keep me safe! I knew you were a softie inside, you big ole huggy bear.”

Raphael’s scowl deepens. “I know two hundred and sixty ways to kill someone and make it look like an accident, don’t tempt me.”

“Noted.” Simon offers him a lopsided smile. “This isn’t gonna be a cakewalk, I know that. I just- I know I’m up to it. And I’m long due for assignments anyway, I’ve been on patrol duty for way too long.”

“Nothing wrong with good old fashioned Shadowhunting,” Raphael remarks. “But if you’re so adamant, I’m going to help you with the plan.”

“I already told you my plan.” Simon reminds him.

“Yeah and I said it’s a stupid plan.” Raphael rolls his eyes. “Listen, I might not be inside watching your back, but I’ll be damned if I send you in without a proper plan. And no- don’t you dare-” he slaps away Simon’s attempt to squeeze his cheeks, “Don’t try to stop me.”

“Aye aye boss.” Simon offers him a mock salute, earning another eyeroll.

“Now I was thinking we could chart the ins and outs of the DuMort, maybe get some floor plans from the Archive.” Raphael says.

“I have a better idea,” Simon follows him out of the ops centre. “There have been missions of this type that I’ve seen before, and I was thinking we could maybe go through those. Learn how it works.”

“There has?” Skepticism clouds Raphael’s face, “I thought the Clave didn’t normally allow missions like this.”

“I know,” Simon nods gravely, “But these are crucial. You could even say that they provide- leverage .”

That stops Raphael in his tracks, the older Parabatai groaning as he pieces it together. “Simon Levi Lovelace, tell me you’re not going to put me through hours of a Mundane heist movie.”

“Of course not. I won’t make you sit through a movie.” Simon assures him, before breaking into a shiteating grin. “It’s a tv series!”

“Ay dios mio.”

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

“I can’t believe you’re still grumpy about this.”

“I’m your Parabatai, I’m allowed to be grumpy about your lack of self-preservation instincts.” Raphael tells him flatly.

“Why are you so upset? I’ve done vigorous research as you’re aware!” Simon protests weakly.

“Watching hours of tv and reading up on the man is not enough. What if you need an exit strategy quickly?” Raphael holds out a hand, a tiny round disk on it. “I asked Lily to make this specifically for you. Put it in your ear.”

“If I had a dollar for every time someone asked me to put something in my ear, I’d have two dollars. Which isn’t much but it’s weird that it has happened twice.” Simon looks at the device, debating the decision in his mind. “I know you’re concerned about my safety, and I appreciate the gesture, but I can’t take it.”

“Listen-”

Simon cuts him off before he can complain further. “I’m not refusing it because I want this to be a solo mission. I’m not taking this because Jace Herondale is the most powerful vampire on this continent and I’d rather not be caught with a device on me that crackles every time it turns on. He’ll expose me in a second. I have to focus on keeping my heartbeat even and my glamour intact, I can’t have any other distractions.”

Raphael stays silent for a moment, and Simon worries that he has insulted his best friend by declining the clearly thoughtful gift. But Raphael is nodding in agreement the next moment, and relief almost knocks Simon off his feet.

DuMort looks as sullen and abandoned as it perpetually does, and Simon feels tendrils of insecurity creep in as he stands outside wearing a white t shirt under the black leather jacket he raided from Raphael’s closet.

What if the intel was wrong and there’s no party at all and he looks like a fool when he has to go back to the Institute empty handed?

His hands fly to fidget with the cuffs of his jacket, nervously bouncing on his toes. Finally, after an excruciating wait of three minutes, Simon spots the stray lights of a strobe, a distant thumping vibrating the ground under his feet. He walks into the building, his senses at the highest of his abilities. Simon isn’t sure if it’s because of all the runes he’s activated under his glamour, or his anxiety sending a tingling sensation at his fingertips.

A healthy dose of each, he supposes.

The thumping of bass increases tangentially the closer he gets to the party venue. Simon spots no less than six vampires lounging in the dark corridors, a few perched on the banisters. It’s not something to inspire confidence, but it’s certainly a manageable number, if a situation rises. Finally, after a few minutes of going through some of the most complicated floor plans he’s ever seen, he comes face to face with the actual venue.

The party is….well there is a reason the Vampire king’s parties have a certain reputation .

There are aerial acrobats hanging from the chandelier that’s roughly the size of Simon’s room in the Institute, worth way more than he can probably imagine. The buzz of music is ever present, the bass shaking him to his very bones. Numerous waitstaff in wide ranges of clothing mingle in the crowd, offering drinks to the patrons.

The Herondale Clan symbol can be seen standing stark against the ashen skin of their wrists, the tattoo of a set of fangs biting a dagger dripping blood seared in his memory from Raphael’s in depth briefing. The knowledge does very little to soothe his nerves, hands flying to fidget with the decorative chains on his jacket.

One of the waitresses approaches him, and Simon debates between turning her away to remain alert but risk sticking out, or drinking anyway and take a gamble on his generally lightweight nature. But turns out he doesn’t need to make a decision after all, as she puts a glass of golden liquid in front of him, gesturing to the back of the club when he looks at her curiously, leaving just as gracefully as she came.

Simon picks the glass up, the doubtless expensive glass a comforting weight in his hands. The back of the club is darkly lit, adorned with only a single leather sofa big enough for two people, three at most. Simon tries not to stare, all the wheels in his mind whirring loudly to figure out just who would send him a drink so soon since his arrival.

Call it a professional curiosity.

At last, the strobe overhead flashes in the direction he’s been squinting at for the past three minutes, and Simon catches a flash of golden hair, and a set of glowing mismatched eyes, and all the bells in his head go off at once.

-----------

Jace is trying really hard not to be offended. He really is.

It’s one thing to come to the farce they call Clave Downworlder Relations meetings and lie to his face. He expects that after so many years in the Shadow World. It’s another thing to plan to steal from right under his nose.

The moment his informant at the Institute told him about the operation, he was ready for the Shadowhunter to step into his club, so he could rip his throat out and get on with his night without a hitch.

He just didn’t expect the guy to be so non threatening. Almost……. cute .

Well it’s not a hindrance really, definitely not a wrench into his plans. More like a ring lost in a birthday cake dough that you only notice after baking. A spilled ice cream scoop at most.

Whatever, Jace thinks. He’s just going to have to toy a little with the guy before he kills him.

----------

“I haven’t seen you around here before.”

Simon tries not to bristle or let any excitement show as the golden haired vampire claims the seat next to him at the bar, the crowd parting reverently to make space for him. Simon fidgets in his seat, hoping the man assumes his racing pulse as excitement rather than the truth.

He’d rather not die so soon into the assignment. Who’d finish his new Lego set?

The vampire gestures at the bartender for a drink, not taking his eyes off of Simon even for a second. The bartender, a wiry pale man, almost passable for a Mundane were it not for the purple eyes devoid of any iris. He hands over a drink to Herondale’s hand, the liquid sloshing against the rim in his hurry. Simon notices the dark red of it in the pulsing strobe light, and shudders inside.

Blood .

Simon takes a deep breath, settling his nerves. He’s a Nephilim. This is a mission. There is no room for error. He takes a swig of his drink before speaking, the alcohol warming its way down his throat. “You know everyone who comes here?”

“I never forget a face. Besides, I’d remember a face that pretty.” The vampire answers smoothly. Simon hopes the warmth in his cheeks is from the alcohol and not the implication of whatever this is.

Hope being a loose word.

“I’m Jace Herondale, I own this place.” the blond nods at him, lips stretching in a brilliant smile. A set of fangs behind his flawless set of teeth glint in the club lights, and Simon feels a shiver go down his spine.

“Simon.” He offers, stopping himself before he blurts out the Lovelace part. Herondale raises an eyebrow.

“Just Simon?”

“Just Simon. For tonight anyway.” The brunette purses his lips.

“Well then, Just Simon ,” the vampire’s eyes sparkle with mirth, looking Simon up and down, then offers an elbow casually, “You look like someone who could use some air. Fancy a tour?”

Simon straightens in his bar stool. “Mr Herondale, I-”

“Jace, please. I insist.” Herondale smiles dangerously.

“Jace.” Simon says slowly, as if feeling out the sound of it first. “I have to say, I’m not as easy to impress as I look.”

“Well then,” the blond smirks, “I guess I will have to try my best.”

Simon takes the offered arm, walking towards the back of the club, and up the stairs towards a lavish penthouse at the top of the DuMort.

The eagle has landed in the nest, Simon thinks, the eagle has landed in the freaking nest!

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

It’s like taking candy from a baby honestly. Well, not that he’d actually take candy away from a child. He might be a bastard Vampire king, but even he’s not that much of an asshole.

Jace guesses it’s more like tearing throats of pretty, unaware Shadowhunters.

The Nephilim gapes as they step into the penthouse. Jace suppresses the urge to laugh as the boy stares at the glass ceiling, the New York sky resplendent with millions of stars, the Milky Way partially visible this time of year. “Cat got your tongue?” He asks. The Shadowhunter almost forces himself to tear his eyes away, as if regretting it the second he does.

Jace feels curious if Nephilims do ever get to have the time to look up at the stars.

“This- this is, just brillian- wait.” Simon stops in the middle of the drawing room, “Don’t sunlight also come in?”

“It’s reinforced. UV resistant.” Jace explains. “Made for people with sun allergies.”

Simon nods in understanding, face sincere. “It’s beautiful.”

“Thank you.” Jace answers. “Come on, I have something to show you.”

Simon follows him wordlessly, remnants of the childlike wonder still on his face, until he notices the narrow lobby and hand flies instinctively towards the breast of his jacket.

As if Jace wasn’t already feeling the glare of the adamas stele in his pocket.

Jace resists the urge to scowl. In his long life, if he knows one thing, it’s that Shadowhunters respond well only to one language.

He’ll show them what violence can mean.

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

“Why do you have four different bathtubs? In four different bathrooms as well?” Simon asks confusedly. “Seems kind of overkill.”

“So I can bathe however I like.” Jace shrugs. “Three of those are for specific moods, and one is for spaghetti baths.”

Simon stares at him for a moment. “I honestly don’t even want to know.” Jace laughs, throwing his head back. Simon tries not to pay attention to how beautiful the man looks when he smiles.

“It’s an inside joke.” Jace explains, before straightening up, expressions smoothing to neutral ones. “There’s something I’d like to show you. Come on.”

The man moves closer into the penthouse, and Simon follows, mapping out the escape routes almost instinctively, noting how far they are from any immediate help should he need to avail it in an emergency. There’s a twinge of disappointment somewhere underneath the part of his brain that has been trained for two and a half decades to be vigilant, and Simon has to remind himself to focus on the matter at hand.

Right. The mission.

“Here.” Jace gestures at an open door to a separate part of the structure, light from inside the room illuminating his golden locks into a resplendent sunlit glow. The Vampire offers him a tight lipped smile, and Simon notices the deadlocks on the door, and a set of biometric scanners that shouldn’t be needed for a vampire.

What the hell is he keeping in there? And what exactly does he want with Simon?

“Listen.” Jace says hesitantly before Simon can step inside, hand on the doorknob. “I haven’t really shown this room to anyone. This is somewhat of a private indulgence, and you are one of the only few to ever witness everything that’s in this room.”

Simon’s heart lurches, but he tries to keep the ruse going, lips stretched into a practiced smile. “Hey, at least if something’s missing, you’d know who to ask.”

“Yes I would.” Jace answers, fangs shining as he offers a sharp smile.

Simon is so fucking screwed.

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

“By the A-”

The Nephilim clamps both his hands over his mouth, possibly to keep himself from saying the name of their precious Angel. Jace pushes the eyeroll down under the feeling of knowing he rendered a Shadowhunter speechless.

“You- you have- this is- I mean I expected- but- but this- I-”

Simon sputters on, and Jace debates over how to approach the situation. He could keep up the ruse of this being a date and show off his prized possessions, and this would definitely send a clear message to the Clave not to mess with the vampire king ever again. Or he could step back and let the boy intimidate himself.

Oh well, his best friend has been telling him to practice subtlety for the past few centuries anyway.

Jace lets Simon go up to the aisles between the artifacts, eyes weaving between all them, as if trying to take them all in at once. Jace waits for a reaction, ready to relish in the knowledge that he outsmarted the Clave.

“This is the best day ever!”

Wait what?

-----------

It’s been a little over one and a half hours. They still haven’t left the collection room. Jace is beginning to fear he never will.

The Nephilim, to Jace’s utter astonishment, and more than a little disgruntled feeling, looks just as excited to see the sword that fell Vikramaditya as he is seeing the Black Volume of the Dead. He’s been over sixty such oddities, every single one of them the only one of their kind, either by nature or by design, eyeing them like a child on their birthday. He makes a mention of having a fascination with unique artifacts like these since childhood, telling Jace everything he knows about them, seeking out any extra facts the age old Vampire might know that a historical record could have missed.

Jace is starting to suspect the Clave sent this specific Nephilim planning to undermine his strategies.

Not that he’d ever admit that it’s working. Nope.

He definitely does not preen as Simon tames the usually wild Black Volume like a house cat. He absolutely does not smile indulgently when Simon gushes over the kukri used to stab Genghis Khan affectionately.

He scoffs at the mere notion that someone like him would ever even be anything other than wrathful at a Nephilim, let alone be…. fond .

Yet Simon is going up to the countless artifacts that any museum would sell all their available limbs for, and treating them the same way a Mundane might treat an old friend, and Jace’s lips quirk up in an amused smile without any conscious effort on his part.

Finally, finally, Simon rounds up the first room of the collection, coming to stand in front of a dais at the north-east corner where a single dagger lies buried in a mound of solid dirt, preserved in a decorative glass case, warlock charms the only thing keeping it the way it appears against the harshness of time.

Jace waits for something to happen, and feels something blooming deep under all the amusement and excitement and more than a little satisfaction, and tries to put a name to the feeling. It’s disappointment, he realizes a moment later.

It’s ever so rare to find someone who truly appreciates his collection, not for what they can be used for, but rather for what they represent- the undeniable unshakable proof of the world’s wonders, spanning millennia of history. It’s rarer for them to be the very joyous, caring and sweet way that he thinks is distinctly Simon.

That’s the reason for this sudden melancholy, Jace tells himself, because the alternative is so much worse. Especially when he’s going to have to wipe off the blood of the boy in front of him from his fingers in a few moments.

Simon’s back has gone ramrod straight, his expression troubled, and Jace wonders what lie he’s going to hear. Jace finds himself wondering if he will use adamas on him.

“I have a confession to make.” Simon says without turning back.

-----------

Raphael was right, he really has lost his mind.

“I need to tell you something.” Simon rambles on without a break, worried that the nerve he’s worked up will falter at the slightest pause. “I lied when I came here. I didn’t- I’m not- I’m not a Mundane. I’m a Shadowhunter. And this was my mission. To infiltrate the DuMort and obtain the dagger that killed Cain Shadowhunter. So that the Silent Brothers can study it.”

As Simon speaks, the glamour around him ripples as if every word is a stone cast in the water, and as he finishes, it falls away to nothing, showing the black runes stark against Simon’s pale skin.

Jace narrows his eyes, apprehensive of the Shadowhunter for an entirely different reason than he expected.

Simon keeps on talking. “I’m aware you might think I’m playing games with you, but I’m truly not, you can believe it. My Parabatai suggested a heist, not a con, and I wanted to do it alone. I watch a lot of Mundane TV you see, and I just wanted to test it out. Coming here undercover, flirting with you so you’d show me the dagger. All of it. But I wasn’t prepared for- for this.”

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

He’s done it, that wild Shadowhunter. He has managed to render Jace Herondale speechless.

He’s been expecting a lot of things. Lies. Accusations. Glamours. Even a fight. But not this. Not a clear admission of guilt. Not a confession. Not honesty.

Definitely not from a Shadowhunter of all people.

But standing in front of him, Simon looks as open as the book Jace’s mother used to read him, a time that seems like more than a few lifetimes ago. And just as familiar.

It’s not surprise, particularly, that makes him ask the question. Rather it’s the increasingly unsettling feeling, the uneasiness that claws inside some old forgotten part of him. “Why are you telling me this?” Jace asks, hoping the answer would tilt the world back into the way it was, the way it should be- a Shadowhunter cheating and lying their way into his lair, and him tearing them apart without a second thought.

But Simon, it seems, has a natural knack at surprising him.

He laughs, leaning forward, a clear sound Jace wants to hear again as soon as it subsides. His form shakes with the bouts of laughter, dark blue sneakers scuffing against the floor as Simon has to make a conscious effort to steady himself lest he topples the thirteenth century jade vase with a hidden message only to be read under clear moonlight.

Jace looks at him, questions swimming in his stare. Simon stops laughing for a second to catch his breath before he can answer.

“I’m telling you this because I’m an absolute idiot.” Simon wipes away a few stray tears that had sneaked their ways down his cheeks. “I’m a Shadowhunter, here to take back what is essentially historically ours. And I’m worried about you, the literal Vampire King, being sad.”

“What?” Jace asks, stupefied.

“My thoughts exactly.” Simon echoes. “Raphael is going to kill me.”

“Who?”

“My Parabatai,” Simon clarifies, then straightens up, shoulders rigid, the typical Shadowhunter mannerism shining through that lopsided smile. But even then, Jace notices it being filtered by a prism made of a good heart with an open mind. Then the Nephilim speaks, and the tone is, understandably, much more firm than it was a moment before.

“I have to take it. Dimensional portals are being breached, demons that haven’t been seen for millennia are swarming their way back. And we need more information. I’ll fight you if I have to. But really, you have to understand. This is a matter of safety of the whole Shadow World.”

That brings Jace back from his stupor, Simon’s words playing in his head on repeat like a beloved record. He squares his shoulders, regaining his lost composure, and regards Simon closely before he speaks. “I was aware of the ‘mission’, as you put it.” He silences Simon with a raised hand. “Yes, I have sources inside the Institute. Don’t insult my intelligence by arguing otherwise.”

“I was going to kill you once I caught you trying to steal the dagger.” Jace notices as Simon digs his nails in his palm, trying to fight off a shiver. “However, I have to admit, I was not ready for you to confess. And I was definitely not prepared for you to be so forthcoming with your intentions.”

Simon stares at him, expression resting somewhere between apprehensive and curious. “What should we do now, then?”

Jace turns, sitting against a high-backed leather chair he keeps inside the room. “In any case, I don’t see why we have to tarnish our professionalism.”

Simon squints in confusion. “You mean like a….. fight?”

“No, of course not. I see no reason we can’t be civilized.” Jace makes a show of mulling over the matter, before deciding on it. “I propose a deal.”

Simon crosses his arms. “I’m listening.”

“I offer the dagger to the Clave for their research, on loan . In return, I receive a generous compensation from the Institute.” Simon opens his mouth to ask something, but Jace keeps going on. “Let me finish. I also get a date with you. An actual one.”

That succeeds in shutting Simon up completely. The Shadowhunter stops, confident expression faltering at the face of the statement. He swallows, throat bobbing. “Why?”

“Why not?” Jace counters. “I had fun today, infiltration and all.” The blond smiles, as if letting Simon in on a private joke. “And it is awfully hard to find anyone that’s actually as interested in these as I am. I’ve been told most find these grim and improper for date night.”

“Ugh, amateurs.” Simon exclaims, face lit in a shining smile. “Okay then. I’ll go on a date. You know, for the greater good.”

“Ah, right. The greater good .” Jace teases.

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

“What the hell were you doing there for six hours?” Raphael asks in an accusatory tone as soon as he steps inside the Institute. Simon doesn’t answer, putting the wooden box gingerly on the ops table first, then shrugs off the jacket, bending his head this way and that to pop a muscle joint.

“You got the dagger.” Raphael says quietly as he opens the box. His eyes go wide once he takes in the content, enthralled to be in the presence of the stuff of legend every Nephilim child is told during bedtime.

“We have a mole here in the Institute.” Simon says, quiet enough only for Raphael to listen. The latter barely registers the words, eyes transfixed on the dagger at hand.

“Don’t be absurd.” Raphael scoffs.

“He knew about the mission, about me being undercover.” Simon raises an eyebrow.

That seems to snap Raphael out of whatever trance he’s been in ever since he took the dagger in hand. “What? Your cover’s blown?” Simon nods in agreement.

“We have to fix this right now.” Raphael puts the box away, focusing on the problem at hand. “We need to take Herondale out.”

“Already ahead of you, Rapha.” Simon claps a hand over his Parabatai ’s shoulder, assuring him. “We’re going out to Taki’s this Thursday.”

“Okay then.” Raphael nods along, before his face scrunches up as the words fully register. “Wait, what?!”

Simon can’t wait for Thursday.

#hmdiscord #nephilimdaily #idrisnnetdaily #tsccreatenet #dailyjimon #jimondaily #jace herondale #simon lewis #shadowhunters #the shadowhunter chronicles #tsc #the mortal instruments #tmi #jay.fic #collab fic #art

7 notes · View notes

remmushound · 3 years

Text

Beyond the Bay Chapter 19, Traximus

Summary: The Turtles meet a dinosaur

Tags: @brightlotusmoon @selfindulgenz @ilo-artistry @unhealthyobsessions101

Content warnings: swears

Bubble, bubble, bubble went the water as it swelled and displaced. Weapons were drawn, and the katana in Leonardo’s hand felt as foreign as if someone had just given him a book in Chinese and instructed him to read it. The handle was smaller than his odachi, and the blade was shorter, and it was thinner, and its weight was lighter, almost nothing. Still, a weapon was a weapon, even if he naturally navigated toward the back of the crowded group to put a wall of muscle between him and whatever was emerging from the cesspool.

There came two curved horns as long as Leonardo’s arm and as thick as Leo’s at the base, curved forward and angled close together. The gap between then formed an almost triangle shape. First came the horns, and then came an apricot head that rivaled the size of a small car, revealing a third smaller horn on the tip of a muzzle just before heavy, meaty flesh parted to a hard, bony beak. The head shook from size to side, a loud whoosh resulting as the broad frill caught the air. Further still the triceraton revealed himself.

His shoulders were as wide as the frill on his head, and he had a torso that could be mistaken for a brick wall. He was clothed in a red and orange regalia that could have once been a beautiful suit but was now stained with waste and ruin, heavy from the submergence. His nostrils flared to blow away the water that still cascaded along his muscular form, his breaths coming in heavy and labored grunts. Donnie couldn’t help but take notice of many wires hanging loosely around the triceratons shoulders, several of them severed or otherwise damaged; what use could they have once served? The options were limitless!

The triceraton didn't charge, but the clan held their ground. Eyes of an impossibly bright emerald sought something among the group; what that something was was anyone’s guess, but it must have been important. Apparently it was Donnie that held what the alien sought, because when his eyes found the box turtle they stopped searching. His head bowed and the turtles once more braced themselves for a charge. The triceraton lifted his arms up to his horns, arching his fingers downward so they formed an inverted triangle; joined with the angling of his horns, a diamond shape was revealed.

“Awaiting… orders… general Mozar.” He sounded as if he had swallowed a cheese grater.

Raph’s confusion disturbed the unyielding stance. “Who?”

All eyes gleaned over at Donnie. The box turtle paled at all the attention suddenly on him, his throat drying and a visible drop of sweat dripping down his forehead.

“Dudes this is so weird…” Mikey breathed.

“Woah!” Despite the many shouts of discouragement and several attempts to stop Michelangelo, the box turtle made his way to the front of the group to oggle the still giant. “How can we understand you?! Is there some super cool alien translation device?!”

“Actually Michael, I think he’s just speaking english.” Donatello commented absently.

“Oh.” Michelangelo deflated, “That’s less fun.”

The giant seemed to tolerate Michelangelo’s presence surprisingly well; that is to say, he didn't immediately try to beat the young turtle into a puddle.

“Should we be concerned that he’s not, you know… pummeling us right now?” Raphael asked, his hands still fixed firmly on his tonfa.

“Don’t let your guard down.” Leo whispered to the group, “He still might.”

“I don’t think he will.” Leonardo said, and his eyes were locked on the dinosaur as if seeing something no one else could.

“Excuse me?” With a hand perched on his hip, Leo addressed Leonardo’s words with scrutiny.

“Donnie.” Leonardo said to the box turtle, “Raise your hand…”

Donnie, though confused, raised his hand. The triceraton lowered his strange salute and raised his hand; Donnie leaned curiously to the side, and the dinosaur leaned to the side. Donnie leaned to the other side, and the dinosaur followed, like a baby mimicking its mother.

“Ooookay, things just got a whole lot weirder.” Mikey whistled.

“Guys, you remember that one really red triceraton?” Donnie asked quickly without removing his eyes from the ten foot giant before him. “The one with the lopsided horns?”

“Yeah, the leader.” Leo said just as quick as Donnie, just as urgent.

Donnie didn't answer verbally, but made a point of motioning to the goggles perched on his head, the lopsided lenses glistening.

“Aaaaand sidebar!” Despite being the smallest of all eight gathered, Leonardo was able to wrap his arms around the other mutants and whisk them to the side while Traximus returned to his unsteady salute. “Okay bros; how we feeling ‘bout this?”

“That dino dude’s acting weird…” Mikey said, and made a point of enunciating the last word,

“Yeah, like Mikey weird.” Raph whistled.

“Hey.” Mikey narrowed his eyes.

“And his gears all busted up.” Donnie reported, “He doesn’t have his mask on anymore for one.”

“And why is he playing some twisted version of Simon Says with Donnie?” Raph’s words came with a sharp scoff.

“Maybe he’s friendly?” Michelangelo offered up.

“Unlikely.” Donatello disagreed.

“Well the robot was nice.” Michelangelo pointed out.

“That is a fair point.” Leonardo nodded and agreed.

“And what’s that meant to be, some kinda salute?” Raph lifted his head from the group to look back at the giant. “An’ why does he think Don’s this ‘Mozar’ or whatever?”

Donatello cleared his throat to call everyone’s attention. “I would like to offer a theory if I may?”

“Yeah, shoot.” Raphael said.

“You mentioned something about a mask.” Donatello said, holding one hand over his mouth and nose to resemble a mask, “Like, a cloth mask or an oxygen mask?”

“Uh, oxygen.” Donnie nodded his confirmation.

“Right.” Donatello nodded, and pointed over at the dinosaur. “I see no oxygen tank. If he had one to begin with, it’s gone now, and yet he’s still up and walking.”

“I… don’t remember any oxygen tank.” Leo shook his head.

“That’s because it probably wasn’t an oxygen mask. Not if all five of your dinosaurs were wearing ‘em in a place where there was quite clearly oxygen. That, my dear friends, is a pattern, not a coincidence. If they all had it, chances are it’s some sort of filter, like they’re meant to be breathing something that’s not our air. And if someone from our planet breathes in something that isn’t oxygen…”

“It kills them?” Leo wasn’t following.

“Yes, and no. How about you?” Donatello pointed at Donnie.

“It can cause… delirium, confusion… hallucinations…” Donnie was following perfectly.

“Who’s to say the effects aren’t the same for someone like him?”

“You’re saying he’s deprived of some type of breathing apparatus?” Donnie’s eyes lit up like the skies on the Fourth of July, “It makes sense!”

“And it would explain the confusion.” Leonardo said.

Leo, wanting desperately to get on to a more important subject, urged, “Do you think he’s dangerous?”

“Yes.” Donatello answered confidently, “But he also thinks dear Donald here is his beloved General Mozar, and we should keep it that way.”

“General…” The dinosaur called,. “Awaiting orders…”

“Uh. At ease?” Donnie offered.

The dinosaur stared at him for the longest time, trying to decipher why his bold and brash commander had spoken so strangely before lowering his arms to his side. Donnie cleared his throat and stepped forward away from the group, trying to make himself as big as possible which wasn’t much of a task for the tree-like turtle.

“Remind me of your name and rank again, soldier.” Donnie’s voice slowly gained more confidence and tone, and the dinosaur seemed to be excited by it.

“Major Traximus of the Ygthian fleet, serving our great and powerful Prime Leader.”

“That’s right.” It felt almost fun being in a position of power, and it quickly went to Donnie’s head. “My command for you, Major Traximus, is to help me escort these… diplomats back to their home.”

“Yes Commander Mozar…” Traximus bowed the immensity of his head. “As you command…”

Though one could expect a beast of such immense proportion to lumber at an awkward gait, it was quite the opposite as Traximus walked with such speed and determination. The turtles parted to allow him plenty of space to pass by them. He was a man— or alien— on a mission that would stop for nothing. Glances were exchanged, followed by ‘what else are we gonna do?’ shrugs and curious excitement as the turtles were quick to keep up with the charging titan.

“How’d he get through anyway?” Raph asked; he was the one now holding Splinter, cradling the rat to his chest and still working absently to dry his fur.

“He was the one chasing us back in our world.” Leo said, “Maybe he got through the rift, ended up in the sewers. Lord knows the time rift had ask of us scattered to the winds.”

“Awesome…” Mikey breathed, followed up with, “I told you he was out here!”

“Yeah…” Both Leo and Raph faltered their steps, “You did…”

They made good time getting back to the lair where Yoshi and April were sat together at the living room coffee table assembling a puzzle; it was one activity that Yoshi didn't need help with, since the pieces were so big and obvious, and the old rat took great pride in each success. April, like her turtle brothers, had grown and matured greatly. She had forgone her usual buns in favor of tight braids clinging to her scalp and cascading to just above her shoulders, and she wore a modest yellow jumpsuit and rubber rain boots, perfect for traversing the wet ick of the sewer. One thing was familiar about her, however, and it was that same green coat she had been wearing since her younger adolescent. April looked up when she heard their approach, the smile turning to her mouth hanging open and her eyes bulging.

“Holy Jurassic Park…”

Leonardo took Splinter from Raph’s arm and immediately whisked him away, leaving Raph with his empty arms still out in a cradle, pouting and desperately pawing at the air that had once been his dad. Donnie parted from the group and tried follow Leonardo to the infirmary, but the red eared slider stopped him.

“I got him; you and the guys take care of our little… guest over there.” And Leonardo motioned to Traximus, who was still and awaiting orders.

“Oh. Right.” Donnie watched Leonardo leave like a distressed puppy watching his owner go to work without him. Seeking some guidance, Donnie turned to his brother. “Leo?”

“Maybe we… get him something to eat?” Leo offered.

“What do dinosaurs eat anyway?” Raph huffed; now without anything to hold, he shoved his hands in his pockets.

“Nothing that still exists.” Donnie muttered bitterly, and his eyes passed over the orange dinosaur trying to make better sense of the alien presence.

“Well, he is an alien dinosaur.” Michelangelo pointed, “Maybe he eats something different.”

“If it’s alien, it still won’t be on our planet, Michael.” Donatello added.

“Oh.” Michelangelo’s expression deflated.

“But we can still try.” Leo said, arms motioning widely as he called attention to himself, “We need to make his comfortable before we can get anything out of him.”

“Are we sure he even knows anything?” Donatello asked, and he was looking absently at his nails, “Doesn’t look like there’s much happening upstairs.”

It was true that Traximus’ eyes did look remarkably empty, but Donnie wasn’t convinced he was completely gone. The dinosaur could talk, and could obey orders, even if he couldn’t recognize them as not being from his own species. And they had been there for two days now! He didn't know a damn thing about alien triceratops digestion, or how long they could go without food, but he did know a thing or two about empathy. Did this triceraton need food? Maybe. Water? Maybe. Donnie would make sure the creature didn't go without either.

“Major Traximus?”

The triceraton snorted and shook his head as he brought his focus to attention at the call of his commander.

“Would you care to… indulge in… sustenance?” Donnie tried to choose his words carefully, but it was difficult, if not impossible, with knowing next to nothing about who he was meant to be portraying.

Traximus tilted his head to one side, and then the other. “Commander Mozar…?”

“Yes, that’s me.” Donnie gulped, raising his head a little higher and keeping his expression still and serious. With eyes as beady and small as Traximus’, he wasn’t sure the alien could even see him. “You must be hungry soldiers. Follow me to the… dining room and select something to eat.”

Without another word, Donnie turned on his heels and guided the way to the kitchen. Traximus, confusion evident on all of his features, trailed behind with the gaggle of curious turtles following him. They got to the kitchen and he surpassed Donnie, intent on obeying the command and maybe just plain starving as he pulled the fridge door open— more like ripped it off its hinges— and began to dig around inside. The turtles watched in curious awe.

Now that they weren’t in immediate danger of being trampled and crushed by this titan of a creature, it was like they couldn’t stop watching him. Something not human, not yokai, not mutant— something new! You didn't have to be Donnie to see the beauty in this new creature, nor to feel a desperate urge to know more and more about them! Raphael was practically exploding with excitement. He had always wanted to be so close to a dinosaur but now it was happening? He could hardly breathe! The kitchen was barely big enough for them all, but they managed to crowd around in such a way that they all could get a good view of what was happening.

Traximus picked up the gallon of milk first, shaking it a bit and then promptly discarding it. In fact, he discarded all the liquid, tossing drinks behind him and letting them shatter and spill over the floor. Not even Michelangelo cared about the mess made of his precious ingredients— not when it was this beautifully intricate creature doing it! Once all the liquid contents were out of his way, Traximus began a long pattern of selecting food, taking a bite, deciding he didn't like it, and tossing it carelessly. This process continued on until the fridge was almost barren and Michelangelo was finally regretting not intervening sooner. One of the final things left in the fridge, chili peppers, were the next thing Traximus grabbed.

“Wait— maybe you shouldn’t—” Raphael tried a little too late, as Traximus was already shoving a handful into his mouth, stems and seeds and all.

Everyone cringed, even Raph— who had taken on a hot pepper challenge many times again Leo and always somehow lost (he lost because Leo had switched out all of his own peppers for sweet peppers, but Leo would never admit that). They waited for the burn, for the scream, for the desperate scramble to find coolness. Instead, Traximus chomped happily and his mouth began to drool in response to the burning stimuli, his lips curling up as his tongue poked out to lap up all the drool that tried to escape. He dumped the rest of the basket into his mouth and dove back into the fridge in pursuit of more burning delights.

“We have a winner.” Raph said with a satisfied smirk.

Michelangelo’s eyes were firmly fixed on the mess at their feet. “And we have no dinner…”

7 notes · View notes

steve0discusses · 3 years

Text

Yugioh Ep33 S4 pt 2: The Best Storyboarder Came Back Just so They Could Draw Tristan Getting Hit in the Nuts

OK lets just get to the good stuff.

God bless you, storyboarder.

(read more under the cut)

The team has entered the Atlantis lair of Dartz, which is also accessible through Paradius in San Fransisco, but youknow...we don’t have magic so it’s not like we could’ve skipped like 10 minutes and just done that instead of the helicopter escape, the Military moment, and the ride through a hurricane.

Oh wait, we do have magic, that’s right...well...for now, pretend we don’t.

Enjoy the snakes.

Strangely, Kaiba does not feel comfortable with the snakes, when snakes really just a smaller and cuter dragon. I love snakes. Never owned one...but I trust em.

Dartz has the Yugioh “old guy” aesthetic of “We just really like yellowed sandstone”

I get that they want this place (and also Yami’s house) to look like a tomb so there won’t be any paint on the wall but this is just a pet peeve of mine that Ancient times freakin loved garish colors on the wall in layers and layers of patterns and yet in fiction we never show that.

But...it doesn’t go with the vibe. I’ll let it go because it would absolutely ruin the vibe to have a bunch of swirly stuff in neon orange and green.

Before we have a chance to grab a step stool and just kinda yoink Yugi Muto, Dartz shows up, and this shot happens.

I couldn’t not grab a cap of that. I mean...look at it. It is SO HARD to foreshorten hands so it looks right and then bam they just did that. It’s just...

...I’ve been breaking down foreshortening in Yugioh shots for a while now trying to figure out why when I do it, it looks like a busted huge hand, but when they do it, it looks really good, and I’m starting to realize that maybe it’s more than just stacking but also...the composition?

You can’t really look at this picture as a whole. The hand is such a strong focal point that you must start there, and then follow down the arm to the face. I think when I do these foreshortening shots I make the hand the same weight as the face, and that’s my downfall. You gotta let the composition force the viewer to slow down and take time in order for the optical illusion to happen...maybe? I’m like over 30 now, you’d think I’d figure this out by now.

Whatever, that’s another post.

So like...what happened to those two people who used to be there????

And now prepare thyself for my lazy math. I know this math is bad. For people out there who feel like working out the geometric growth and calculate just how many souls Dartz slurps up--feel free to tell me. If I like the explanation, I will adjust the Death Count to match it. It’s just too 2020 for me to do more than multiplication at the moment.

Did I count how many people would have existed 10,000 years ago? no. Did I account for plagues? No. Like this math of 4 a day is bad...but eh it’s all I got right now in my mental ammunition.

Something that we did think about was...

Why not slurp up the Pharaoh soul when Yami was still alive? Like we assume the puzzle existed in the past but like...did Yami not get superpowered until Yugi woke him up? Was he in fact useless until he got a little bit of a battery charge during Season Zero when he was dumping people off of bell towers?

And like I get not knowing about the underground Ishtars, and not being able to get a hold of Shadi because Shadi is a lazy ghost, but Bakura was RIGHT THERE. You can’t munch up Pegasus off screen and then say “eh but Bakura’s kinda low tier” we know for a fact that Bakura is not...so like...there must have been some copyright situation where they couldn’t use certain characters. This is a filler arc--but it would have been nice to have at least some explanation as to why it took Dartz so long to finally murder the hell out of Pharaoh.

Which is me expecting way too much out of this show. Just something I was really hoping would get addressed but leave it for the headcanon.

It’s at this point that Mokuba realized he’s standing on top of people.

A crypt made out of human souls! Crazy, usually we’re in a crypt made out of one single human soul....and both of these crypts have Yugi in it.

In Raphael’s storyline, he’s been busy just cleaning up after everyone else. It’s supposed to come off as very serious but I was totally busting up when he’s just dropping bodies into the back of this jeep.

And in the Kaiba Corp plotline, Roland is anxiously wondering if he should be a Dad and save the kids or if he should be a dog and stay in the plane.

He stays in the plane.

Strangely this was the right call. (And this is why Roland has never died)

So they start throwing around cards, as you do, and Dartz puts down his Orichalcos, has he does, when suddenly...they started seeing stuff again. Can’t have a single card game without it.

So the Orichalcos is just a backstory device? For reals?

Something I alluded to quite a few episodes back with Valon was just...wondering why the hell the Orichalcos crew had so much freakin magic as to make all these visions during duels. Turns out...it’s just a thing to occasionally trip on Oricalchos juice. I’m not sure why we never had a vision with Mai, Weevil, Rex, or Gurimo, but at least we now know that Raphael and Valon weren’t as magical as I thought they were.

So we’re in like...outer space. Kind of the last place you’d expect out of ancient Atlantis and Dartz isn’t having ANY OF IT.

And honestly that makes sense. Imagine giving someone 10,000 years ago the run down on outer space. They’d freak. They’d definitely think you’re talking about demons.

If space is an elaborate analogy, we don’t know that yet. For how this is presented, it’s just an old man hootin and hollerin about how much space sucks, and I love that.

PS how anime is this shot of the earth behind the orichalcos symbol and the dude in the middle with the ass length blue hair--really damn anime, right?

Like at least one of you has this wall hanging, right?

For those that are too tired to look it up, Pangea was 280-230 million years ago.

THAT REALLY CHANGES MY MATH.

AND I’M TOO TIRED.

So my thoughts are...either the math is wrong and I’ll fix it eventually in post, depending on my mood come next Wednesday, OR...humanity was deleted and then came back later??? (because the dawn of mankind was 7 million years ago)

OR...

They just felt like drawing Pangea 10 million years ago. Maybe that’s all. Maybe I don’t have to fix anything. I dunno.

Maybe this isn’t Earth.

Maybe Yugioh Earth never had Loma Preita because it isn’t actually Earth. And, like a Final Fantasy situation, is a second planet on a parallel plane of our own?

Either way, I’m not redoing the math because I actually don’t know how to change it anymore. I’m v undecided of the timeline now......maybe the next episode will tell us more? (I doubt this very much)

RIP deathcount.

Yo Atlantis!

I have a lot of questions!

About Atlantis!

And the purpose of the aqueduct going the wrong direction.

Is that in fact the poop shoot?

But wtv it looks neat.

So anyway, that’s all for now, I hope you enjoyed my bad math, and I hope you enjoy your Halloween. Ours is a whole lot of nothing. I’ll be watching lots of Phasmaphobia streams while eating Butterfingers that I legally can’t give to children because it’s an epidemic (butterfingers is like the last candy that my old 30 yo ass can handle without passing out or gagging. Weird how getting older makes me hate all the good things I couldn’t eat when I was younger because I was too young to be allowed to eat them.) and that’s about it.

WHY did Halloween finally fall on a Saturday DURING an epidemic? I only get so many Saturday Halloweens in my youth...just why.

(and here’s a link to read these in chrono order)

#ygo #yugioh #recap #photo recap #humor #atlantis #yami #seto kaiba #mokuba #dartz #tristan taylor #getting hit in the nuts #roland #hallucinating while playing cards who knew?#S4 #Ep33

84 notes · View notes

skellebonez · 3 years

Text

Smoke, Flasks, and Unfinished Tasks: Chapter 4

AO3 Link!

Chapter 1 Link!

Chapter 2 Link!

Chapter 3 Link!

Summary: No one is happy with Wukong’s suggestions, not even Wukong himself. But they only have so many options and depending on what they learn from certain demons they have fewer options going forward.

Warnings: Discussion of past canon violence in Journey To The West

Chapter 4: Oh I can back them up and than some, show me what you got

"Have you lost your fucking MIND!?” Pigsy snapped, getting up and grabbing the tails of Wukong’s cape to drag him down to eye height. “DBK? The Demon Bull King? You want us to team up with HIM!? You buried him under a mountain for centuries, what makes you think he’d agree to that!?”

“Red Son.”

Pigsy froze for a moment, grimacing as he began taking the time to think this response over. The Demon Bull family had a... difficult relationship with Red Son, one that was undeniably unhealthy (and now that he had seen how much Red had mellowed out and blossomed since defecting to their side it was one the pig was glad he was out of). But the two demons were clearly protective of him in their own twistedly weird way.

He remembered how much they fought during their attempts to gain Princess Iron Fan's fan, fueled by anger at Wukong defeating their son and sending him off as Guanyin's disciple. MK had told him how PIF herself had defended Red from DBK when he was possessed by the White Bone Spirit, Red explaining that they had never stood for anyone physically hurting him outside of a proper battle when the topic eventually came up again, so there was some level of... care there somewhere. Bizarre and messed up care. Even if he didn't think it was anywhere near enough to make up for whatever had happened to undo Guanyin's teachings, it was something...

Something that they could use to their advantage to get them on their side temporarily.

"I hate it to admit it," Pigsy conceded with a gruff sigh as he let go of the monkey's cape tassels. "But you might be right. If they know he's missing they'll come runnin to look for him, and I’d rather them learn from us and work with us than fight against them if they find out themselves.”

He looked back at his phone, setting up the map on his phone to the nearest docks. “I don't like it, and if we DO ask for their help there ain't no way we're letting them get close to being alone with Red! I really don’t like that we even have to consider it, but if that’s what it takes I’ll do it.”

To say everyone looked surprised by his quick concession was an understatement, even Wukong himself raised an eyebrow at the shorter man. But no one knew what to really say to argue against it.

“So...” Wukong finally said as he stood with a smirk, dried and looking as regal as he ever did. “What’s the official plan, brother?”

“Sandy, head straight for the docks,” Pigsy said with a smirk back, pointing to each of them in turn. “You’re gonna talk to the dock masters and get all the info you can out of them. Tang, you and I are going together and I want you to call all the food stalls and shops in the area to see if they’re still open and if anyone is still workin who remembers seeing them. If anyone finds something we call the other and keep them updated.”

He turned to Wukong, eyes blazing in that same determination he had during their old journey. “First off, get an umbrella from my lost and found so you don’t drench yourself again. Then I want you to head to the weather station. Human disguise, no disguise, I don’t care how much you gotta show off just get them to stop the storm. You’re the only one of us with a lawyer on speed-dial, get them to bail you out if you gotta.”

Had it been 500 years ago Wukong probably would have teased the pig demon for taking charge like this. But now, all Pigsy could see in his face was the same determination he felt and some odd aura of pride coming from him. “Whatever it takes.”

“Whatever it takes.”

----------

The plan was working surprisingly well, all things considered. Over the course of the last hour Sandy had managed to find his boat (it had indeed been confiscated for illegally parking and the dock-master was more than willing to let it slide with a warning) so they knew where they were supposed to go. Wukong himself had made quick work of the weather station, apparently just showing up as The Monkey King was enough to get the station head to approve a change of weather for the rest of the day (once the poor guy on duty managed to get him to look at the screen to prove he was really there). At the very least Wukong’s lawyer would have a much easier week.

Because of this, Wukong (now in human disguise again) and Sandy were able to meet back up with Pigsy and Tang, the later after taking the most obvious route to get to the food stalls the trio was last seen at. If he had found any evidence of them taking that route it would have made everything so much easier, but he hadn’t even found a scrap of cloth. But progress was progress.

“And you’re sure you never saw them?”

“Sorry, man, I’ve been here all day and I’d remember seein the guy who brings my lunch twice a week and saves the city twice as much,” the cashier said with an apologetic shrug. “Wish I could help ya more... when ya see the guy, tell him I’ll hold his game for him, it’s the least I could do.”

“I will, and you’ve helped us a lot more than you think,” Tang said, turning to leave the shop. “Thank you for your time!” He rushed out, grouping back up with the other three adults (and one cat).

“OK, apparently MK was supposed to pick up another game from this used game store before heading to training and they never came to pick it up!” He announced, accepting the offered coffee from Sandy and taking a gulp of it and wincing at the bitterness. But he needed the fuel. “Oh, that is disgusting... But back to the search, we know a rough area where they had to disappear from now!”

“Hmn...” Wukong wasn’t looking at Tang, instead watching the high space between two buildings to the side of them. “And I bet a certain someone we talked about earlier knows about that area too...”

The rest of the group looked down the alley and finally put two and two together about where exactly they were and realized it lead into the part of the shopping district where Pigsy always went to get fresh ingredients. The exact same part where a certain eight legged demon happened to make her home underground. When they followed Wukong’s gaze upward they could see the tiny spiderweb that had caught his attention.

“Oh God damn it,” Tang groaned.

----------

No one was happy about this, least of all Pigsy and Tang. But small bits of luck, they weren’t entering the lair of the Spider Queen by falling down a scary nightmare hole this time. Instead they drove to that nearest dock for Sandy to take the confiscated boat so the three non-flying men could enter from the escape route they had made the last time they had been down there (with some assistance getting through the still broken sewer drain). Once they were under the still wide open hole Wukong had flown them all up on his cloud one by one.

And it was still as musty and spider webby as it had been before. They knew it was pointless to try sneaking around, instead just keeping their guard up as they made their way toward the main lair.

“Maybe she’s out,” Sandy offered when they saw no sign of her, scratching his head.

“Or maybe she’s been watching you the whole time~.” The three non-monkey team members jumped at the voice of the Spider Queen, moving closer to Sun Wukong as she slowly descended from the ceiling. “Monkey King! To what do I own the prestigious displeasure of seeing you again?” Her voice held the same playful tone as before, but there was an edge of tenseness and anger under it. “I certainly hope you haven’t harmed any more of my family on your way in, ape.”

From their vantage point his teammates could see Wukong’s fur bristle in annoyance at the slight. “I think you of all people would know not to call me that.”

“Ah, yes, I remember our last meeting,” The Spider Queen bit back as she made herself comfortable on the other side of the room, as comfortable as she could get in a stance clearly ready to run off at any moment. “The one where you squashed all of my sisters alive and I barely managed to escape. My apologies. It’s good to know you haven’t forgotten about me entirely.”

“If you play nice I can promise this meeting will have much fewer spider guts decorating your walls,” Wukong hissed out, crossing his arms as he took a step forward. “It will be much shorter too. We just want some information.”

The Spider Queen hissed right back, crawling back a foot up the wall. “I’m not stupid enough to want to fight you again, not now. Go on, ask so we can get this little reunion over and done with.”

Tang watched as the spiders that surrounded them all seemed to move back in tandem with their queen, following suit for their own safety most likely. She was much more subdued this time around, and there was no playful tone in her voice anymore. Something told him the stories he pictured, where Monkey King squashed the six other spider sisters in tiny spider forms, were much less accurate than he originally imagined. He shuddered at the thought.

“Did you have any spiders out near the shopping district before the storm today?”

Raising an eyebrow, the Spider Queen waved her hand and called over a small handful of her normal sized spider minions. She held them up to her ear, listening to them without taking her gaze off the Monkey King. “Ah I see... so the little Monkie Kid and his friends are missing.” She allowed herself a smirk for half a second before frowning again. “Didn’t know going missing was contagious.”

“What does that mean?” Tang asked without thinking, flinching back when her gaze fell on him for a moment.

“That little trio isn’t the first group my spiders have overheard people looking for,” The Spider Queen elaborated, gently putting the spiders on her nearest web. “And unfortunately for me, that means it’s probably good you came here. Fantastic.” She crawled down off the wall, moving sideways and over to little cauldron pot thing she had planned on stewing Pigsy and Tang in, picking up... a business card? “Catch.”

She tossed the card to Wukong who caught it effortlessly, looking a the slightly haphazardly drawn but surprisingly professionally printed card with surprise. “’Jin and Yin, Gold and Silver Demon Tech Services. For whatever anti-Monkie Kid and non-anti-Monkie Kid tech you may need...’? Those two are still around?”

“And they owe me a replacement for something of theirs your Kid broke the last time he was here, probably would have gotten it sooner if I had noticed faster,” she scoffed, shaking her head. “They were supposed to meet me here a week ago and they’ve vanished to who knows where. No one who has any orders from them can find them. It’s like they were sucked into one of their calabashes.”

“Their WHAT?” Wukong snapped, his voice echoing in the cave and making his companions flinch at the volume.

“Did... did that Kid not tell you?” The Spider Queen asked in genuine surprise. “Those two wouldn’t shut up about it after it happened, they’ve been making calabashes with some kind of VR tech and somehow managed to catch the Monkie Kid on their own! It didn’t work for long, obviously, but the fact they had him went to their heads for like a month. Pretty obnoxious, actually.”

There was a growl heard from the back of Wukong’s throat. “Well... this isn’t exactly what I expected to hear from you.”

The Spider Queen hummed, looking thoughtful for a moment. “You know, I have no love lost for your kids or those two and quite frankly I don’t care what happens to them.” She smirked a bit at Pigsy’s snapped “HEY!” before frowning again. “But them going missing together? That just feels like an even worse storm is coming down and I don’t like the feeling of how that bodes for me. Maybe nothing will come of it. Maybe it’ll help me. But I don’t want to take that chance.”

Suddenly she jumped backward, situating herself on a large web far out of their reach high in her cave. “Your kids vanished after they got to the food market. They went into a tea shop and never came out. That’s all my babies saw. Now take your leave.”

----------

“Yin, this is a terrible idea!”

“Well we can’t exactly get out of ‘ere while she’s gone, now can we?” Yin snapped, bandaging a small cut on his elder brother’s head from when he hit the floor. “Do you have a better idea?”

The Gold Horned Demon sighed, shaking his head once the bandage was on. “No... no I don’t. I should though, I’m the one that got us into this bloody mess.”

“And now you can be the one to get us out of it. Hopefully.” Yin bit his lip, listening carefully as he picked something up. “Right, she’ll think you’re still in here restin’ after she hit you with too much of that smoke stuff. I’ll cover you as long as I can. Ready?”

“Ready.”

“Is your name Jin?”

“... Yes.”

#I think this is the longest chapter so far?#i spent most of my day rewriting the end and editing this #smoke flasks and unfinished tasks #sfaut #monkey king #sun wukong #tang #sandy #pigsy #mo (the cat)#spider queen #monkie kid #lego monkie kid #fanfic #jin and yin

24 notes · View notes

nobodyfamousposts · 4 years

Text

My-Crack-ulous: The Movie Trailer

Happy April Fools, everybody! (Yes, I know I’m late. No, I don’t care.)

When a villain attacked…

“Go forth my akuma! And evilize him!”

The corrupted butterfly flew up to the window.

And kept running into the glass repeatedly as the window was still closed.

“Dammit! I bought this stupid thing to be automatic! Hawk Moth cursed to himself as he kept trying to hit the button to no effect. Eventually he gave up and was forced to call Nathalie to have her open the window by hand while he made a note to fire the contractor.

When a Guardian was beyond reach…

Fu and Wayzz gaped in horror at the breaking news in Paris from their apartment in Hawaii.

“Master! It’s Nooroo! Someone has found the Butterfly Miraculous!”

“And is using it for evil.” Fu replied, narrowing his eyes. “We must act.”

“But Master, we’re halfway across the world!”

Fu pulled out his cellphone and dialed the airport to arrange for a ticket to Paris.

He was immediately put on hold.

When a monster was unleashed…

“Ivan?” Bustier asked.

“Not anymore!” The hulking rock monstrosity answered. “Now I’m Stoneheart!”

“That’s nice, Ivan—er—Stoneheart, but you still need to say ‘here’ for role call.” She admonished him, gesturing to his many terrified yet still seated classmates who had previously been waiting to be marked for attendance.

“Oh. Sorry.”

When a miracle wasn’t there…

“It’s okay, Marinette.” She worked to reassure herself as she carried the box of macarons to school. “It’s the first day of school. That means a new school year. New changes. New chances. Now to go out there and show them what you’re made of!”

She squared up her shoulders, held her head high, and prepared herself for whatever the school year would bring.

“RAAAAAH!” Stoneheart yelled, stomping down the street and causing random destruction. People were running. Cars were being thrown. Loud noises and screams filled the streets.

She stared.

Her grip on the box was lost and many macaroons went falling out and onto the concrete.

“Nope.”

And promptly turned right back around and went home.

When Paris cried out for help…

“NOOO!” Chloe screeched from position trapped in the monster’s grip. “I chipped a nail!”

The mayor gasped in horror. “Chloe! Oh no!”

Roger gave him a dirty look from the side where he stood with his broken arm and surrounded by a number of other injured officers. All of them incredulous over the mayor bemoaning his daughter’s chipped nail.

One hero answered…

A figure could be seen standing proudly beyond a den of smoke.

“Who dares?!” Stoneheart demanded.

The figure approached, revealing itself—

“HOO HOOT!” The Owl called as he threw a net at the surprised Stoneheart.

“What the—?!”

“Now I’ve got you!”

His identity unknown.

“Is that Principal Damocles?” Nino wondered.

“Affirmative.” Max replied.

“Wow.” Kim marveled. “I don’t believe it…”

“Tell me about it.” Alix snarked.

Kim grinned, excitedly. “Our Principal was a furry this whole time!”

Everyone else facepalmed.

His abilities a mystery…

“A hidden lair. An armored costume. All sorts of gadgets. Where did you even get these things?!” Mendelieve demanded.

“Google.”

She frowned.

“I see…”

A pause.

“And pray tell, exactly how much of a school budget do we have that you could afford it all?”

Damocles coughed and looked away.

A lone hero.

Damocles stood tall as he stared down the young student before him.

“I know you want to help, young lady. But it is much too dangerous for you to be fighting monsters.”

Marinette stared in confusion. “What?”

He shook his head. “No. Don’t try to argue with me! I’m only looking out for your safety!”

“But I didn’t—”

He looked down at her, his eyes shining with something almost like tears. “I know the call of justice is strong, but you are young! And you deserve a chance at a normal life!”

“I never said—”

He sighed. “I can’t stop you, can I?”

“I’m not—”

“Even if I say no, you’ll just go out there anyway.”

“Actually no—”

“Very well! You can be my sidekick!”

A slow blink.

“What?”

Standing alone against an unknown foe…

“Dad, I think we need to talk.”

“Adrien, go to your room.”

“I know you miss Mom a lot…”

“I’m pretty sure I just told you to go to your room.”

“And her loss was hard on us all.”

“Room, Adrien.”

“But I think the way you’re handling it isn’t healthy.”

“What?!” Gabriel gasped, affronted. “How can you say that?!”

“Well for one,” Adrien replied, “You’re wearing a weird suited luchador getup.”

Gabriel looked down, realizing he was still currently transformed as Hawk Moth. Multiple butterflies floated around, adding to the incriminating appearance and showing that he was, in fact, the real Hawk Moth.

“And for another,” Adrien continued, “WE’RE IN MY ROOM.”

…

“Oh.”

The city against him…

“Whoever could this mysterious hero be?” Nadja Chamack asked on her show, sounding almost bored as she read the words off the prompter in an almost sarcastic manner.

The Mayor was shown at a press conference. “Paris has no need for vigilantes who take the law into their own hands, even if it’s against a terrorist with magical powers that said hero is currently the only one who can deal with. And certainly isn’t using government funds to combat. Wink. Wink.”

“So we’re just going to pretend we don’t know who this guy is?” One officer asked another.

“But…don’t we know?”

“Everyone knows.”

In Hawk Moth’s Lair…

“WHO IS THIS MAN?!” Hawk Moth shouted angrily over a table of newspaper clippings. “And how does he keep foiling my carefully laid plans?”

“You mean the carefully-laid plan you made to attack the city you happen to be in to get magical jewelry you don’t even know is here thinking the exact ones you want will just crop up?” Adrien questioned, sardonically.

“Adrien, I don’t believe I let you out of your room.”

“You let your stupid butterflies take it over!"

"I TOLD YOU THEY NEED THE SPACE!"

His enemies conspire…

Adrien smirked at the picture of Damocles putting on the Owl mask.

“Well, that was easy. I suppose the only thing left to do is tell father.”

Chloe groaned. “No. Adrikens no.”

“What?”

“Your dad’s designs are bad enough. He does NOT need help from Principal Damocles.”

They move against him…

"Hey dad.” Adrien said upon entering the mansion. “School was great—thanks for finally letting me go, by the way. I made some friends, impressed the teachers, and found out that my principal is the Owl."

Gabriel looked up from his conspiracy board and squinted at Adrien. “Who let you out of your room this time?"

“The butterflies.” Adrien deadpanned.

Ever plotting evil…

“Clearly he’s using an Owl Miraculous!” Gabriel exclaimed.

“Whyyyy?” Adrien drawled, annoyed and just wanting to have a normal dinner in peace. A normal, non-villainy-focused dinner.

“Well, he’s the Owl! What else would he be?”

“An old man with a fetish?”

“Don’t be foolish, Adrien! How else would he defeat my akumas if he didn’t have magic?”

Adrien rolled his eyes. “Because it’s not like your akumas are stupid or your plans are dumb.”

“Quite right.” Gabriel said with a resolute nod. “It’s clearly a work of genius! And only magic could counter it!”

He wasn’t serious…

“Now why is there no mention of an Owl Miraculous in the book?”

“Clearly it must be the most powerful!”

Adrien just thumped his head against the table in exasperation.

But even so, the hero will not falter…

“Yeah, sorry about this.” Chat Noir shrugged apologetically before moving to attack.

“A battle between sidekicks!” The Owl exclaimed gleefully. “Go get him, Spooky! I shall deal with the akuma!”

“I TOLD YOU I’M NOT YOUR SIDEKICK!” She shouted after him as he took off towards the rampaging monster. “Why does no one listen?”

Seeing the interaction between them, Chat Noir paused. “Wait—you, too?”

“What?”

“Is he your dad?”

She shook her head. “No. Just a neglectful mentor who kind of dragged me into this.”

“Oh. Same. Except mine can’t in any way be considered a mentor. And there was no ‘kind of’ about this. Or any choice altogether.”

She frowned. “Then why are you helping him?”

“Because 'My father is an evil supervillain' isn't a valid reason for the courts to accept emancipation apparently.”

A pause.

“Are…are you okay?”

He stared at her in shock.

“That’s the first time anyone’s ever asked me that.”

Whatever may happen…

From above, video footage shows the Owl was climbing the tower. Pulling himself ever upward and towards his foe. Bearing a fierce look on his face as he prepares for battle.

A different angle shows he’s maybe a couple feet off the ground and panting heavily.

“Am I at least halfway there yet?”

He will protect this city…

The Eiffel Tower fell over.

And he will save us all…

Stoneheart trudged by, still covered in a net and entirely unconcerned with it or the man still attached

“I think he’s giving up!” The Owl coughed out as he continued to be dragged along after. “Any minute now!”

#ml au #ml prompt #plot bunny #ml parody #fake trailer #ML CRACK #gabriel is an idiot #bad dad au #bad dad gabriel #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #mr. damocles

261 notes · View notes

ghost-in-between · 3 years

Text

More Than Enough - Christmas Truce 2020

Merry Late Christmas @dailudannos! I’m sorry again that this is extremely late. Kinda funny thought that we had each other :D Hope you enjoy this sall piece. (I don’t think I’ve written Technus or Skulker ever for more than 2 lines, so I hope it’s still fun to read.)

Headaches were different for ghosts. Or maybe it was a weird personal thing for Technus. He hadn't asked. All he did know is that headaches sucked and being a ghost sucked and Christmas sucked.

Almost on autopilot, he was decorating the tree in the living room, putting ornaments too close together or too far apart. It wasn't his living room, or his tree, or his ornaments. The only reason he cared enough to put up with this was because Skulker had so nicely asked him to. Why he'd want to spend his time with Technus, he had no idea.

There wasn't much about him, really. He was the kind of person that was so lame that they try too hard to be cool. Skulker was the kind of person that was just cool without trying at all. Technus didn't know when they had started hanging out or how, but he still wasn't sure how much longer Skulker would want this. Neither was he sure how many more ornaments fit on this tree. Was this an appropriate amount yet? Probably. Maybe. Hopefully.

"Are you sure that's enough yet?"

Turning around, he was greeted by a smug grin, framed in metal. Unsure, he glanced at the tree, counting the ornaments silently, until he was interrupted by a chuckle.

"I was teasing you. It's more than enough.

Letting the air escape his lungs and coughing to hide his embarrassment, he closed the box of tree decorations. "I know that," he grumbled. A sudden increase in pain made his grip on the box loosen, but he managed not to drop it. Headaches always left a lingering wave of pressure rolling through his entire body. It was as though the pain didn't know to stay in one area.

Skulker grabbed the box from his hands and set it down by the table. "You good?" he asked, lightly masking his concern behind a grin.

Technus nodded, forcing a grin onto his face as well, dropping it the second the other turned away. Pretending to be cheerful for one holiday should really not be this hard. Music started playing from an old-timey record player, the tunes crackling gently as a Christmas song filled the air. "Oh, really? Is this necessary?" Technus wondered, less irritated about the song choice than the technology.

"Yes," Skulker confirmed, winking at him. Technus didn't have a response. "Be glad I didn't sign us up for the choir."

Oh god, the choir. Technus remembered hearing other ghosts talk about it. It might have also been in the weird newspaper that Ghost Writer has been sending out. He didn't care much for it. All it did was give him more headaches. "Yeah," he agreed, sinking into the couch. "I wouldn't have joined if you'd signed us up though."

Picking up some green and red lights, Skulker chuckled. "You think I would have given you a choice?"

"I would have simply not done it." Technus shrugged, watching the other finish up the decorations, by hand, no ghost powers.

"That's what you think." Skulker fiddled with the lights, getting them tangled up. "But-" He tugged on them. "In reality-" They got even more tangled. "You would have- ugh." He threw the lights on the ground in frustration. "Stupid lights."

"Here let me." Technus got up and swiftly pulled them apart, handing one end over to Skulker so they could hang it up together. He didn't get a thank you, but the fact that Skulker quietly accepted his help told him enough. The hunter was tough but he never failed to remind Technus of his soft side. It made him feel special. But it also scared him.

"I think that's all the lights I had left. I put some outside. Remind me to take them down again as soon as Christmas passed."

Technus nodded as he returned to his position on the couch. Couldn't have anyone see Skulker being a sucker for Christmas decorations of course. Another spike of pain made him screw his eyes shut, pushing himself into the cushions. Why did he have to be plagued by headaches, all the time? Part of him felt like he knew what caused them, but it was buried somewhere in his mind and he didn't have the energy to dig it out.

"What's wrong?"

Opening his eyes, he was met with the sight of Skulker, looking at him suspiciously.

"Nothing." He forced himself to loosen his shoulders and shake off the pain. "The record player is just painful to look at." Skulker rolled his eyes at the comment. "Shouldn't you like all technology?"

Technus crossed his arms. "I have standards."

"So do I, that's why you're here."

Taken aback by the compliment – flirt? – Technus blinked and shook his head. Skulker did love to tease him. "Because I have standards and won't spend Christmas Eve without anyone to admire by epic power and wit?"

Skulker pushed him lightly, or at least lightly for him. "Me? Admire your power and wit? Dream on."

He know it was a joke, a tease. But then why did it feel like a jab between his ribs? "Ah, of course," he said, intending to make it sounds confident and like he was playing along to the joke. Instead it came out sounding bland and disappointing.

Skulker looked the tiniest bit horrified, uncomfortable, like he didn't expect this response and now had to think really hard on how to react. "I mean, you-" He cut himself off. Had he realized it was the truth?

The headache was a constant pounding by now, shaking his limbs. This was beyond stupid. He was letting his own thoughts get him down, on Christmas Eve, a day that was supposed to be cozy and nice, apparently. He didn't get the hype, really. A knock on the door interrupted the awkward situation and Technus quickly got up to check the door. Only on Christmas would he ever witness anyone actually knocking before entering. Swinging the door open, he was met by the sight of Ember and a bunch of other ghosts, wearing Christmas hats. Before he could say anything they took a deep inhale and started singing.

"Oh, please no."

Skulker came up behind him, looking torn between being amused and irritated. "Guess you couldn't escape them fully, after all."

Technus felt him look at him from the side, hoping his expression wasn't betraying how tired he felt and how much he regretted not saying no to today. It was silly, maybe. One day wasn't so bad, one song from a choir of people that wouldn't have stopped by his lair anyway. Not that he would have wanted that. Of course not.

Suddenly he was being pushed back inside, before Skulker said "Thanks, Merry Christmas!" and shut the door on the other ghosts.

"What-" Technus looked at Skulker, at the door, then back at Skulker. "Why did you do that? I thought you enjoyed it?"

"But you weren't."

Taken aback, Technus focused his gaze on the wall behind to Skulker, unsure what to say. The pain in his head felt loud. As a ghost, he didn't need to sleep, yet he felt so, so tired.

"Why did you come?"

"What?"

Skulker was mustering him, like he was trying to analyze his thoughts. He was glad that telepathy was an uncommon ghost power. "You don't like Christmas, so why did you come here today."

He thought about it, thought about his feelings for the holiday, about his feelings for Skulker, about the constant ache in his body that reminded him that he was different from the technology he controlled. "I don't know," he admitted.

Nodding, Skulker sat back down on the couch, patting the space next to him. Afraid of what was going through the other's head, Technus hesitantly complied. He opened his mouth to say something, apologize, maybe, but Skulker was faster.

"It's okay. I think I need to apologize."

Wait, what? Technus was so surprised even his head seemed to clear for a moment of confusion.

"Don't give me that look. Listen-" Skulker looked directly at him, unafraid. "I think I've been taking you for granted."

"What, no-"

"Please. Let me finish, alright?"

Technus nodded.

"I've been taking you for granted because I assumed if I enjoy hanging out with you, then so do you." Technus felt the movement on the couch as Skulker shifted. "And not just that. I've been assuming that if you tell me you're fine, you are fine. But you're not like that, are you?"

Looking away, Technus shrugged. He wasn't the tough one. It didn't really matter, did it?

"Hey, I know I'm the one wearing a metal suit, but you're the one that makes himself untouchable. You can tell me when something is wrong, you know?"

It sounded so foreign to him, yet the concept seemed familiar. He was untouchable when he encased himself in hardware or when he turned intangible, but was he untouchable as a person? Was he even still a person? As if in response, an invisible knife plunged into his head, making him stop the habit of pulling hair in through his nose. Yes, it seemed to say. Just because he died, he wasn't not a person anymore. He still felt pain, just a little differently.

Glancing at Skulker, who looked so genuine that it was hard to imagine him on the hunt, he sighed. It was Christmas, he was here, the lights on the tree shining on them and mixing with their own glow. Would a bit of honesty, a bit of showing weakness even be able to ruin this?

"I just," he closed his eyes for a moment. "I just have a terrible headache." Skulker seemed surprised, whether it was at the fact that he was troubled by a headache or that his words had gotten through to him somehow, he didn't know. "And I'm tired," Technus continued. "And I don't like Christmas." Before Skulker could reply, he smiled at him. "But," The headache was still pounding in his head, but he felt like he was letting himself be wrapped in a blanket. "I guess I'd still rather be tired here with you, than alone. So if you still like me when I'm weak and lame-"

Skulker took his head , effectively making him shut his mouth. "I like you how you are, strong and interesting and right here."

And Technus believed him.

#christmas truce 2020 #christmas truce #secret santa #danny phantom #skulker #technus #i'm so sorry #this is later than late

17 notes · View notes

sweatersexual · 3 years

Text

In Gravity Falls, You Abduct the Aliens

Read on AO3

Read the previous work in this series

“This,” proclaimed Stan, “is not a house.” He waded through the piles of books, papers, and weird gadgets. “Seriously, who keeps a chalkboard in their living room? This is more like some kind of nerd lair.”

“I prefer to think of it as my own research lab that I have all-hours access to, but the term lair does lend a certain ambience,” said Ford.

Stan picked up a deformed skull that looked like it belonged to some kind of rodent. “This feels like the intro to a horror movie. With a plucky pair of teen heroes to terrorize and giant switches to a zappy doomsday device, you’d be all set.” He started playing with the skull’s jaw hinge.

Ford reclaimed the skull from him. “Well, it’s no doomsday device, but once I get the portal in the basement working, it’ll be plenty ‘zappy,’ as you say.”

Right, the portal. Ford had talked about it a lot on their drive up from Vegas, where the two of them had happened to run into each other and ended up reconciling. Ford seemed preoccupied by how he’d build the thing without his old flame, Fiddleford McGucket. Ford had invited him to join them in Gravity Falls as well, but when the two nerds realized they still had the hots for each other, Fiddleford had decided to do right by his wife and kid and stay in Palo Alto.

Stan, on the other hand, might be no mechanical engineer, but he was smart enough to realize there was more to this portal business than Ford was telling him.

“Man, you really have a one track mind when it comes to that portal, huh? You were even talking about it in your sleep while we were driving up here. ‘So sorry, shouldn’t’ve let my personal feelings get in the way. . . . ‘S only a temporary setback . . . won’t let all our hard work go to waste . . .’ Has somebody else been helping with the portal?”

Ford nervously spun the skull around in his hand. “Really, Stanley, it’s silly to read too much into sleep talk. I could’ve been talking about anything.”

“Come on, Sixer. If you’re gonna lie to me, you gotta try harder than that.”

“Don’t you trust me, Stanley?”

“Don’t you trust me?”

“I do, but . . . I don’t want you to think I’m crazy.”

Stan put a hand on Ford’s shoulder. “Listen, bro. I’ve been all over the world. Whatever it is, I’ll understand.”

Ford sighed. “All right, I’ll try to explain. But first, let me go get something. A visual aid, if you will.”

A few minutes later, he returned, having replaced the deformed skull with a ceramic jar in his now gloved hands. “I was lucky to get my hands on this,” Ford told him. “The Northwests hoard just about all the artifacts they can find. Please avoid touching it, I don’t have any disposable five-fingered gloves to protect it from the oils on your hands.”

He presented the design on the jar to Stan, who was doing his best to show Ford he didn’t think he was crazy. The picture was of a man with an animal pelt on his head talking to a triangle with one eye. “Don’t tell me you got recruited by the Illuminati or something,” said Stan.

“No, I haven’t joined any secret societies,” Ford assured him. “This depicts a man named Modoc from three thousand years ago, seeking wisdom from an ancient being. From time to time, this being presents himself to truly singular minds, giving them divine insight and knowledge. And now this Muse has chosen me.”

“Okay,” said Stan. “So you’ve gotten into some kind of niche religion. It’s not that weird. Just don’t drink the Kool-Aid, all right?”

Ford set the jar down on what little empty space his dining room table had left. “I haven’t joined a cult, Stan. I mean, it is a kind of spiritual experience, talking to my Muse, but there’s no organized religion involved. Ever since I summoned him, he manifests himself in my dreams. I never could’ve gotten this far in my investigations of Gravity Falls without him. And he’s helped me come up with the plans for this portal. I know it sounds strange, but there really is something otherworldly about him. And even if he is somehow all in my imagination, the inspiration has never steered me wrong.”

Stan’s bullshit-o-meter was going off, but not because he thought Ford was lying to him. Stan knew his twin’s tells, and Ford was definitely sincere about this muse thing. He couldn’t take Ford’s words at face value, but he could tell that Ford was really going out on a limb here, being honest about something that could get him called a quack at best or institutionalized at worst. So what if the guy was in his thirties and had an imaginary friend? Let him have his weird triangle dreams if it made him happy.

So Stan simply said, “Hey, whatever floats your boat, poindexter. But now that I’m here, you’re not just some weird hermit living in the woods. We’re a family. And families live in homes, not nerd lairs.”

Ford blinked, seeming surprised that Stan had changed the subject. But he went along with it anyway. “Right. Well, I have been meaning to organize everything for awhile now. My research keeps getting ahead of me. But I’ll probably be able to think better without so much clutter around.”

It didn’t take long for the twins to settle into a routine. Mornings were for cleaning and organization. After lunch, Stan would run errands while Ford struggled building his machine in the basement. Stan never imagined he’d get so excited about yard sale curtains and other furnishings, but after so many years never having a permanent place of his own, he relished the chance to decorate his own living space. Afternoons and evenings were dedicated to finding and studying anomalies, then Stan tried to persuade Ford to go to bed rather than get back to work on the portal again. He was rarely successful.

“I owe it to myself to at least stumble along with the limited mechanical knowledge I have,” said Ford. “And maybe I’ll find someone or something else that can help.”

Stan did try to help, but it took so long for Ford to even explain what he was trying to do, and it was so boring listening to him speak nothing but jargon, and Ford just didn’t think the way Stanley did. Stan would probably have better luck just taking Ford’s plans and trying to decode them himself, either way it would take ages. Instead he simply figured out how to use a welding torch and applied it where Ford told him to.

But Stan’s favorite hours were spent running through the woods with his brother. He had never expected to see a gnome for himself, or play with magic size-altering crystals. About one week into his stay, Ford was over the moon to find a sleeping gremloblin. “I don’t know when I’ll get another chance to study one up close like this!”

Stan helped take samples and measurements (it really was remarkable how heavy a sleeper this gremloblin was), then helped himself to his favorite toffee peanuts while Ford finished scribbling in his journal. Rustling in the bushes behind him turned his head, and before he knew it a red and black creature was running away from him, and the toffee peanuts that had fallen on the ground were gone.

Ford snapped to attention, too. “Did you see what that was?” he asked Stan.

“Something with a duck bill.” Stan held up his snack. “It was trying to get these.”

Ford grimaced. “I suppose there’s no accounting for taste.”

Stan rolled his eyes. Ford was so dramatic about his distaste for Stan’s favorite snack.

“Can I try to lure it back out?” asked Ford, reaching for the toffee peanuts.

“Fine.”

Once they had gotten the creature to reemerge, Ford was back to scribbling in his journal. “So the plaidypus legends are real! Fascinating, fascinating. Is it just me, or do you think it smells like maple syrup and bacon?”

They were able to track the plaidypus back to its burrow on the marshy banks by the creek, where they found a clutch of flannel-patterned eggs. To improve upon their fantastic luck, they had arrived in time to watch the eggs hatch.

“Look at that! They only have the horizontal stripes now, the vertical stripes must come in as they grow - did you get the measurements on that last one, Stanley?”

“Yeah, but what do you think the deal is with that one?” Stan pointed to a blue egg that hadn’t yet hatched.

“I have no idea. I’m not even sure that’s a plaidypus egg.”

Ford turned out to be extremely correct when the blue egg did hatch and a slimy white monster popped out.

“What the hell is that thing?” asked Stan.

Ford replied, “I’ve never seen anything like it,” then gasped when the monster mutated into another baby plaidypus. “It’s a mimic!”

“Wait - which one is it?” asked Stan.

Ford cursed. “I should’ve been paying closer attention.”

The shapeshifter soon revealed itself when instead of latching on to the mother plaidypus’s lactating glands, it sank its teeth into another baby plaidypus. “No!” cried Stan as he picked up the imposter and pried its jaw open. “Bad shapeshifter thing!”

Ford tended the baby plaidypus’s wounds while Stan wrestled the shapeshifter into a containment jar, where it resumed its original pale, slimy form.

The study of this creature quickly set Ford into what Stan liked to call Full Nerd Mode. They hardly seemed to get through a conversation without Ford bringing up how “Shifty”, as he’d nicknamed the thing, changed his DNA when he changed forms, and how the implications from that would revolutionize the field of genetics, or asking for suggestions for safe forms to add to Shifty’s repertoire. Stan had to admit it was nice to see his brother obsess over something other than that portal for once, though if he had his way he could think of several ways for Shifty to aid with some under-the-table schemes.

“Stanley!” Ford had chided him when Stan had joked about the idea. “You have a job with me now. You don’t need to get into more trouble with the law.”

Yeah, that had been weird, getting an actual, legitimate paycheck for once, and with his brother’s signature no less. And it really was quite a lot considering that Stan didn’t need to pay rent or anything. But Stan couldn’t help that niggling doubt in the back of his mind questioning whether he had enough, whether Stan’s luck might still run dry and he’d better get as much as he could while the getting was good -

Stan had simply shrugged at his brother. “A side hustle never hurt anything,” he said. “And with Shifty’s help, we wouldn’t get caught.”

“I’m afraid it’s out of the question,” Ford had insisted. “We wear masks around Shifty for a reason, you know. It’s too dangerous to have him impersonate humans.”

And Stan could see the wisdom in that, but even so, he thought he did a good enough impression of his brother to recognize the second-rate performance Shifty would put on. The little monster couldn’t even talk!

That last assumption was proven wrong one afternoon while they were working on the portal and a high-pitched voice called out, “Beans!”

Ford’s head perked up from his schematics. “Did you say something?” he asked Stan, who shook his head.

Stan pointed to the dog kennel where they kept Shifty. “I think it was -”

“Beans!” the voice repeated, and it was definitely coming from the kennel.

“Remarkable,” said Ford, replacing his mask as he walked over to kneel in front of the kennel, where Shifty could see him. “Are you hungry, Shifty?”

“Beans,” he repeated, “for me.”

“I’ll go get him some,” said Stan. As he climbed the stairs up to the house, he heard Ford ask, “What else can you say, Shifty?”

When Stan returned with the beans Shifty liked so much, the little monster was repeating the brothers’ names. “Stan,” said the little voice. “Ford. Sixer poindexter knucklehead.”

Ford laughed. “Very good, Shifty. Those are some other names we call each other.”

“Who am I?” asked the shapeshifter. Stan felt his mouth drop open. That wasn’t the sort of question a parrot asked . . .

“Why, you’re Shifty,” said Ford without a trace of the trepidation Stan was feeling just then. “Stan has brought you those beans you wanted, Shifty.”

“Beans!”

When he was done eating, Shifty went back to asking questions. “Who am I? Who is Shifty?”

“Speaking in full sentences already,” said Ford. “This is really quite incredible.”

“He’s asking if he’s a person, Ford.”

“Stan, don’t anthropomorphize him. Even parrots can repeat phrases -”

“Parrots don’t ask existential questions like that! And besides, when have we ever said anything like that around him?”

Ford frowned. “I’ll need to collect more data -”

“This isn’t about data, Ford!” Stan gestured to the kennel. “That’s a kid! A weird monster kid, but still a kid. And we’re keeping him in a cage. Take it from someone who’s been to prison.” At that, Ford glanced up at him in surprise, and Stan looked away. “It does things to you.”

Ford stammered, “Stan, I - I didn’t know - you never said -”

“I don’t like to talk about it,” said Stan. “And anyway, this isn’t about me. This is about him.”

Ford nodded. It was a moment before he answered, “Well, I will need to do more tests, and we do need to keep his abilities under control, but -” Stan opened his mouth to argue, but Ford placed his hand on Stan’s shoulder in a calming motion - “but . . . your concerns have merit. Even a parrot would need a more stimulating environment than this. Will you help me whip something up for Shifty?”

Stan grinned. “Of course.”

With Stan’s help, Ford was able to construct a walled-off enclosure in the basement, which Shifty took to happily. When Ford was able to determine that the burrow Shifty made in the corner was a bed and not an escape route, he found he could breathe much easier.

Ford spent an increasing amount of time in the enclosure, testing Shifty’s language and cognitive skills. Soon he had an impressive amount of data confirming the shapeshifter’s intelligence. Shifty was always eager to participate in the “games,” as he referred to them, and responded very well to Ford’s praise. Ford had to admit he also enjoyed designing activities to keep Shifty occupied while Ford was working on other projects. These activities usually took the form of a puzzle or scavenger hunt, with chicken nuggets as prizes.

Shifty was also making great strides in learning to read. Ford had picked up a number of secondhand children’s books, but only ones that contained no illustrations of humans or dangerous animals for Shifty to take the forms of. This still left him with a wide variety of benign anthropomorphic animal characters like Frog and Toad, Frances, and Little Critter, many of whom became common forms for Shifty to take.

Eventually Ford felt comfortable enough for Shifty to have supervised playtime in the house and walks around the yard, but he and Stan always stayed masked and kept Shifty from seeing any people or dangerous animals.

On one such occasion, Stan was keeping an eye on Shifty upstairs while Ford was getting in some work on the portal. A loud thump from the floor above broke Ford’s focus, and a second had him scrambling up the steps, adjusting his mask as he went. The last thing he expected to find in the living room was two elephant seals.

“You didn’t tell me humans can shapeshift too!” said one of the elephant seals.

“What? Shifty? Are you saying Stan turned into this elephant seal right here?”

The other elephant seal groaned, a grumbling, braying sound.

“Elephant seal,” Shifty repeated. His high voice sounded comical coming from such a blubbery monster. “I like being an elephant seal. I’ve never been this big before.”

This was a disaster. Ford had never intended to have Shifty turn into such a volatile creature. “I’m afraid elephant seals are too big to be in the house, Shifty. Would you please turn into something smaller?”

“But how come Stan gets to be an elephant seal?” Shifty complained as he morphed into Arthur Read, hands clenched into fists at his sides.

“I don’t want him to be an elephant seal either,” said Ford. “Stan? Can you try to turn back? What were you messing with, you know a lot of the artifacts I keep are cursed.”

Stan made a series of grunting seal noises, none of which were in the least helpful.

Ford sighed aggravatedly. “What happened before he turned into an elephant seal, Shifty?”

“Well, we were gonna build a blanket fort, so we got some blankets out of a trunk, then I put one of the blankets on my head and pretended I was a ghost, and Stan did too, only he used the -”

“The sealskin?” asked Ford. “The heavy one with the decorative beading?”

“I think so. He turned into an elephant seal after he put it on.”

“But that one’s cursed!” said Ford. “This is not good. We need to turn him back soon, or he’ll stay an elephant seal forever.”

Stan let out a series of angry honks and grumbles which, if translated to English, would probably be the kind of language Ford would not want Shifty repeating.

As it was, Shifty shrank into a field mouse, his ears meekly tucked behind his head. “What can we do?” he asked. “How do we change him back?”

“I’ll need to consult my journal,” said Ford. “I think I found a curse breaking spell somewhere . . .”

Ford tried to flip through journal 2 quickly, but had to pause every time Shifty climbed up to his shoulder, trying to get a glimpse of the pages.

“Cut it out, Shifty,” he said, setting Shifty back on the ground for the third time. “You’re slowing me down, and time is of the essence.”

“Why don’t you trust me?” asked Shifty.

“Come now, you know my journals are off limits,” said Ford. “Why don’t you make sure Stan doesn’t wreck the coffee table, hmm?”

A few minutes later, Ford found the page he was looking for. “Vis maleficiis expello. Fundere atque fugare in pacem. Purgare. Purgare. Purgare,” he chanted over Stan’s blubbery form.

Nothing happened.

Ford rechecked the journal entry. “Did I miss something? Let me try that again.”

The second attempt was no better than the first.

“This curse is clearly more malignant than I thought,” said Ford. “A simple spell is simply not up to the task. We’ll need to try something with a little more oomph to it.”

“Can I help?” asked Shifty.

“You can,” said Ford, “by waiting very patiently in your room while I take Stan to meet an acquaintance of mine.”

“But I can do more!” Shifty protested. “I’m sure I can.”

“I’m sorry, Shifty, but I’m afraid the risk is too great.”

“But what if he gets stuck as an elephant seal forever and it’s all my fault?”

“Shifty . . .” Ford was surprised Shifty had developed such an attachment to Stan, and a sense of responsibility. Though as far as Ford was concerned, it was entirely unwarranted. “I don’t blame you for any of this. If Stan had been more careful -” Stan snorted at that - “or if I had clearly labeled which items were cursed,” Ford conceded, “that is to say, this was just an accident. You don’t need to feel guilty.”

Shifty seemed to accept that, “But I still want to help. If you let me go with you, I promise I’ll be good. I’ll do what you tell me, I promise.”

Ford shook his head. “Shifty, it really will be more of a help if I’m not having to watch out for you while we’re undoing the curse. Don’t worry, I’ve dealt with phenomena far more malignant than this. Why don’t I refill your octahedron puzzle, hmm?” It was one of Shifty’s favorites. “By the time you’re done with it, we’ll be back, and Stan will be in his right shape again.”

Once Ford had started a reluctant Shifty on his puzzle, and gathered a few materials he thought might be helpful for curse breaking, Ford and Stan started hiking over to the lake. Well, Ford was hiking. Stan was doing more of a hobble. Ideally they would drive over, but the El Diablo wasn’t built to cart around elephant seals, and Stan wasn’t too keen to try.

“We’re going to summon a siren I’ve had some dealings with,” Ford explained to Stan. At his questioning look, Ford added, “She’s safe, don’t worry. We may have had . . . some miscommunications, at first, but we’re on good terms. Doripea’s been an excellent source of information. I just hope she’s not too busy.”

To their good fortune, she wasn’t. “Well, if it isn’t my favorite gentleman caller,” Doripea greeted Ford. Her angular face and pointed ears add to the mischievousness of her grin, aided in its brightness by the afternoon sun reflecting off her turquoise scales. “Here for another interview date?”

“Ah, sort of?” said Ford.

Stan’s snorts sounded an awful lot like laughter.

“Oh, I figured out Ford was gay pretty quickly,” she told Stan, apparently in response to a comment Ford hadn’t been able to understand. “What I couldn’t figure out was why he kept trying to summon me with a suitor’s call.”

Ford groaned. “The summoning instructions in Eatherena Aquatica didn’t specify -” He was cut off by Stan’s repeated laughter. “Anyway, I was hoping I could get your input, Doripea. You see, we’re in a bit of a pickle.”

“Aside from the shapeshifter stalking you?”

“What?” Ford whirled around, zeroing in on a deer which had frozen in place with a wide-eyed, panicked expression. “Shifty, I told you to stay in your room!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” cried the deer. “I just wanted to make sure Stan was okay! Please don’t hate me.”

With a sinking feeling in his stomach, Ford realized he wasn’t wearing a mask, meaning Shifty could now take his form if he wanted. Who knew how many people or dangerous animals Shifty had come across while tailing them to the lake? How could Ford possibly do damage control on this?

“You don’t have to panic,” said Shifty. “I said I’d be good if you let me come. I’ll do what you tell me, just please, I couldn’t just wait around doing nothing.”

“Amazing,” said Doripea. “You tamed it. I didn’t even know their kind could talk.”

Ford turned to her, curiosity suddenly overcoming his concern. “You’ve seen other shapeshifters before?”

She shrugged. “Not in a long time. It’s been, what, a century and a half? I saw it come out of its burrow to feed every now and then, but for the most part it kept to itself, I think.”

“Strange,” said Ford. “Shifty has tested well when it comes to social behaviors. It’s hard to determine such things with only one extant specimen, but I would’ve guessed his kind to be pack hunters.”

“As far as I know, only one of them has existed at a time. Can’t pack hunt without a pack,” said Doripea.

“Hmm.” Ford would have to examine the implications of this later, but for now, “Shifty, you can stay, as long as you keep close to me and stay in deer form unless I tell you otherwise, got it?”

“Okay.”

“Now, Dora, the reason I came to call on you. My brother here mishandled the selkie’s revenge and I was hoping you could help me change him back to human form.”

“How long has he been in seal form?”

“No more than two hours.”

“Oh good, you caught it early. Stan, you don’t feel any strong urges to swim in this lake, do you?”

To Stan’s grunts she replied, “Well, if you get any, resist them. This curse is designed to turn you into an elephant seal in mind as well as body. Swimming in the water will kick start that process. You’ll be drawn to the other elephant seals, and before you know it you’ll be on the wrong side of a territorial beachmaster. You’re lucky we’re so far inland, and that it isn’t mating season.”

“I tried a simple curse breaking spell, and when that didn’t work I thought we would need something more specialized.”

“You got that right, Stanford. Did you bring any material we could use as a taglock?”

Ford nodded and produced some hair he’d removed from Stan’s hairbrush. Doripea listed a few other ingredients, some of which Stanford had on him, and another she could harvest from the bottom of the lake. She sent them off to gather cedar leaves while she retrieved it.

“See, Shifty, you had nothing to worry about,” Ford reassured him as the three of them set off on their short trek through the forest. “With Doripea’s help, Stan will be back to normal in no time. You didn’t need to break out of your room.”

“I guess,” said Shifty. “It’s just that you and Stan never let me go anywhere. And maybe I didn’t have to come, but now that I’m here, it’s not so bad. Why do you think I’m so dangerous?”

Ford hesitated. How wise was it, to let Shifty know how powerful his shapeshifting abilities were? How easily they could be misused? How much of Shifty’s good behavior was due to his innocence?

Before he could start parsing out his answer, something caught his eye. “Look, there! A cedar grove. Shifty, why don’t you change into bird form and help me gather the leaves?”

Shifty was sufficiently distracted by leaf collecting for the time being. But as they made their way back to the lake with their spoils, something seemed off about Stan. He would stop moving periodically, his head cocked to the east. Then he would shake his head and catch up with Ford and Shifty.

The third time Stan stopped, Ford asked, “What is it, Stanley?” but Stan didn’t seem to hear him. Instead he took off in the eastern direction.

“What are you doing?” asked Ford, running alongside him. “That’s not the way back to the lake!”

“He can’t help it!” said Shifty as he glided through the air above them, still in bird form. “Something is drawing him that way!”

“The river,” Ford realized. “It must be closer to this spot than the lake is! We can’t let him get in the water!”

“Can I turn into an elephant seal now?” asked Shifty, and he whooped gleefully when Ford gave his assent. With an extra burst of speed, Shifty flew several feet ahead of them, then dropped to the ground in elephant seal form. The two bull seals collided, and Stan looked even more frenzied as he tried to evade this new obstacle.

“Stan, don’t hurt him!” cried Ford. “You know Shifty, he doesn’t want to hurt you! Stan, look at me, you know you can’t get in the water! Snap out of it!”

Stan paid no attention to this. Clearly the call of the water was too strong. Was Stan hearing the water? Were there lower vibrations from the gallons of rushing water that elephant seals could pick up, but humans couldn’t? Ford could only think of one way to find out.

Grateful he’d thought to bring an infrasonic transducer, Ford quickly set it to the needed specifications. “Shifty, cover your ears!” cried Ford, demonstrating with his hands.

Shifty found a hole in the ground to duck his head into, just in time for Ford to press the button. Ford couldn’t tell by the sound if it worked or not, because it was far too low for human ears to detect. But Stan let out a cry and dropped to the ground, rubbing his head in the dirt.

“I’m sorry, Stan,” Ford said to the writhing elephant seal. “It was the only thing I could think of.”

“He’s mad at you,” said Shifty, pulling his head out of the ground. “But at least he’s not crazy anymore.”

“And what about you? Are you hurt?” Ford asked Shifty.

“I’m okay. It was kind of fun, wrestling like elephant seals.”

Ford sighed, relieved that Stan had snapped out of his frenzy, and that Shifty was unharmed. “You did very well, Shifty, thank you. I suppose it was good you came after all.”

Shifty turned into a dog, the way he always did when he was happy, and moved as if to lick Ford’s hand, but he paused. “Sorry, I didn’t ask if I could change -”

“It’s all right, Shifty,” Ford assured him. “You got excited. It happens.”

For the rest of their hike, Ford kept his infrasonic transducer handy, just in case the sound of the water got to Stan again. Luckily he didn’t need it. Doripea helped him grind all their gathered ingredients into a thick paste, which they applied to Stan’s body. Then, and only then, was Stan allowed to get in the lake. Ford couldn’t think of a time he’d been happier to see Stan’s face as he watched his brother resurface from the lake. He helped Stan wring his wet clothes out and put them on, then hugged him, unconcerned about getting soaked himself.

That evening, the three of them all ate dinner together, something they’d never done before, since Stan and Ford had always worn masks around Shifty. Eating at the dinner table was new for Shifty, but he took to table manners well enough. Ford could tell it would take some doing to cure him of talking with his mouth full, though.

“Why didn’t you want me to see your mouths and your noses?” Shifty asked around a mouthful of beef.

“We were trying to protect our identities,” said Ford.

“What’s an identity?”

“Your identity is, well it’s who you are? How do I explain this . . .”

“Let me show you something,” said Stan. He ducked into his room briefly and came out with a shoebox. He pulled a few driver’s licenses out of it. “These are fake IDs. Basically they tell everyone that I’m someone I’m not. They’re lies. And they’re illegal.”

“What’s ‘illegal?’” asked Shifty.

“Only the fun stuff, kid.” With a look from Ford, Stan added, “Kidding, I’m kidding! Lots of illegal things can hurt people. Like killing, that’s bad. So the government will punish you for doing those things. If I stole someone else’s ID, I could steal their money, or do bad things under their name, so they would get in trouble and not me. It’s called identity fraud, and humans take it very seriously.”

“So that’s why we didn’t want you to see any human faces,” said Ford. “Because stealing someone’s identity like that is wrong. Do you understand?”

Shifty nodded. “You don’t want me to lie and pretend like I’m a human.”

“Exactly,” said Ford. “You’ve seen our faces now, so it can’t be helped. But if you want to meet other humans, we need you to promise you won’t take their forms, all right?”

“Okay, I promise,” said Shifty. “I won’t turn into you, or Stan, or any other humans. I won’t lie.”

Ford realized he had every confidence Shifty would keep his word.

The following week went much more smoothly, now that Stan and Ford didn’t have to wear masks so much and could take Shifty with them on field expeditions and into town. It started to feel like Shifty was a third, junior member of their team.

Shifty made it clear he thought of it differently, when one night he asked Ford, “Are you my dad?”

Surprised, Ford put down the Little Critter book he’d been reading to Shifty. He shifted uncomfortably at the beseeching look from the red eyes of Shifty’s true form, which he always reverted to when tired or sleeping. “Ah, not biologically, no. I assume you’re referring to my social role as your caregiver?”

“Yeah. You tuck me in at night, like Little Critter’s dad. And we play during the day, and you take care of me. We love each other.”

Ford was surprised at Shifty’s word choice. He’d always found Shifty interesting, at least, and Ford couldn’t deny he’d become quite invested in Shifty’s welfare, but love? How did you quantify such a thing? How did Shifty even know what that meant?

“Isn’t that how human families work?” asked Shifty.

“I - yes, I suppose. I’m afraid it’s not my area of expertise. I never expected to make a human family of my own. I’m still just trying to be a better brother to Stanley.” Ford adjusted the cushion he sat on, next to the opening of the den Shifty preferred to sleep in, rather than a more traditional bed. “But you, Shifty, you’re not human. Why would you want a human family?”

“I dunno. I thought it would make me happy. We don’t have to be family if you don’t want to.”

Shifty curled around himself, rolling deeper into his den, and Ford felt his heart sink. “I do want you to be happy,” he told Shifty. And that was when he knew Shifty had become more than an experiment to him. He had more than a scientific interest in helping this creature learn and grow. He had felt that way for a long time. “You can call me Dad if you want.”

“Really?” Shifty scrambled out of his den, morphing into a dog as he went. His paws rested on Ford’s shoulders, and he nuzzled his soft, furry head into Ford’s neck. Ford reflexively hugged him back, stroking his pelt. “Thanks, Dad.”

The enormity of it hit him then. He was a father now. Another being depended on him, loved him. He was Shifty’s whole world. And Shifty was his.

Ford hugged him tighter. “I love you, Son,” he said.

“I love you, too. Dad.” said Shifty.

When Shifty called him Dad the next morning at breakfast, Stan raised his eyebrows. “Shifty’s your kid, now?” he asked Ford.

“Last night, I asked if I could call him Dad, and he said yes,” Shifty informed him.

“Really?”

Ford tugged at his collar. “Well, he is a sapient child whom I have grown to care and take responsibility for, so. It is appropriate.”

“Huh. Well, Shifty, if Ford’s your dad, that makes me your fun uncle!” He clapped Shifty on the back. “It’s Uncle Stan from now on, all right, kid?”

Shifty smiled back with Little Critter’s buck-toothed grin. “Okay, Uncle Stan.”

“Mazeltov, Sixer!” said Bill. He summoned some lavender balloons that read, ‘It’s a shapeshifter!’

“Thank you, Bill.”

“Hey, I’m just grateful you’re able to make time for me now you’re a working parent and all.”

“I’m sorry, Bill. I know between Shifty and not having the mechanical help I need -”

Bill waved off his excuses. “I told you, a solution for that is in the works. I just don’t want you getting lost in the weeds with individual specimens while your Grand Unified Theory goes unpublished!”

“Yes, of course. I’ll try harder.”

“And anyway, once you get the portal up and running, you’ll be able to find the dimension Shifty comes from. Think of how much you could learn about his species then! Things you should probably know if you’re trying to raise one of them.”

Ford hung his head. “You’re right. When it comes to figuring out Shifty, and what he needs . . . I’m stumbling around in the dark. He’d probably be happier if we made contact with some of his own kind . . .”

“Yeah, well, for now he’s stuck with you, isn’t he? With any luck, he won’t end up resenting you the way you do your dad, right?”

“Of course not! I would never treat him the way our dad treated us.” Despite his indignation, Ford was forcefully reminded of the inhumane way he’d treated Shifty all of a few weeks before, and was ashamed.

Bill clapped a reassuring hand on his back. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll do your best, Sixer.”

The deep midnight blue of the mindscape abruptly faded away, and another voice called out to Ford.

“Get out of his head!”

“Shhh, Shifty, let him sleep, he never takes a minute to rest like this . . .”

Ford opened his eyes and found Shifty in the form of a badger, scrambling to get out of Stan’s grasp. “Dad!” he said. “Did you tell the monster to go away?”

“He thinks something was attacking your brain while you were asleep,” Stan explained.

Ford shook himself awake, annoyed at himself for messing up his schedule like this. He’d only meant to sit on the couch for a minute or two . . . “Come here, Shifty,” he said, and extended his arms to Stan, who handed Shifty over.

Ford stroked his pelt and assured him, “I’m fine. Nobody was trying to hurt me. I was simply speaking with my Muse.” Really, it was quite extraordinary that Shifty seemed able to sense Bill’s presence. “Sometimes he enters my dreams and helps with my research. It’s nothing to worry about.”

Shifty looked unconvinced. “He made you feel bad. Bad shame wrong. He’s yucky.”

Ford gave an explanation that was close enough to the truth. “We were just talking about some of the obstacles setting back my project. It’s not his fault. How could you tell what I was feeling when I was asleep, anyway?”

Shifty looked confused. “You . . . smelled? No, not a smell. I just felt the, you know, the little waves, they tell you what the feelings are. I can’t feel them when I’m asleep, but I was awake. You were asleep.”

“You have a psychic sense for other people’s emotions?” asked Ford. Of course he did. Looking back, it was so obvious. Shifty had always been so confident when talking about how people felt. Ford really should have noticed sooner. “And that’s how you could sense my Muse’s presence?”

“Yes? Is that not something humans can do?”

Ford shook his head. “We can read facial expressions and body language, but otherwise, the only way we can tell how someone is feeling is if they tell us.”

“Is that why you didn’t trust me at first? Because you couldn’t tell I didn’t want to hurt you?”

“Well, yes,” Ford admitted. “I didn’t realize you were a sapient being and I didn’t know what your abilities were, or how you wanted to use them. So I kept you locked up. I’m sorry.”

“Oh. I thought I had done something wrong. I tried to be good.”

“Oh, Shifty . . .” Ford hugged him closer. “You are good. You’re a wonderful kid. I’m sorry it took me so long to realize it.”

Shifty must have sensed how guilty Ford felt, because he said, “It’s not your fault. You didn’t know. I know you love me now.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t deserve to be mistreated,” Stan cut in. “You don’t have to take care of Ford’s feelings. He’s a grown up. We should take care of yours.”

“You’re right, Stan,” Ford agreed. “I know we’re at a disadvantage, Shifty, when it comes to supporting you emotionally. I’m bad at dealing with feelings, even by human standards. But I’ll do my best for you. Will you tell me your feelings so I can help you?”

“Okay,” said Shifty. “I wish you had always been my dad. I wish you had never been mean.”

“Me too,” said Ford.

“I’m glad you said sorry, though. I still love you, anyway.”

“I love you, too,” Ford assured him.

“And I still don’t like your muse. He’s mean, and he’s sneaky.”

“I’m not sure I like him either,” Stan concurred. “When you first told me about him, I didn’t really take it seriously. I’m sorry, it was just really weird. But if Shifty can sense him, and he’s actually real, well, all that stuff you said, about how he only picks one brilliant mind a century and all that? If I were trying to con you, that’s exactly the angle I’d go for.”

“But he’s not a con,” Ford said reflexively. “I don’t think I did a good job of explaining him. If you met him in person, you’d see, Bill is amazing.”

“No no no no no,” said Shifty. “I don’t want him in my head! Promise me you won’t let him in my head.”

“Okay, I promise,” said Ford, alarmed by how much this agitated Shifty. “He won’t hurt you, he won’t hurt any of us. Ever.”

Shifty was still wary, but he accepted Ford’s comfort. Ford could tell Stan had more to say on the subject, though, and he did, after Ford had put Shifty to bed.

“Ford, I’m just saying, your mind is a powerful thing. Letting some supernatural creature inside it is no small potatoes. Whatever you’re getting out of this arrangement you got, make sure he’s not short changing you.”

“Of course he’s not! Look, Stan, if you want to see the truth for yourself, there’s a simple spell you can use to follow him into my mind, next time he’s there. You’ll see, there’s nothing to worry about.”

“All right,” Stan said tentatively. “I might do that. But just ask yourself this, Ford, what is this Bill guy getting out of this? Why does he want you to build the portal so badly?”

“Well that’s simple, he . . .” Ford realized he’d never asked Bill that question before, and he’d never volunteered the information himself. But clearly that just meant his motives were pure, right? “He’s a being of the mind, Stan. Scientific discovery is its own reward.”

“Are you serious?” asked Stan. “You’ve never questioned anything he’s said, have you? I thought you were smarter than that.”

Anger flared in Ford, quick and intense. “You have no idea what the hell you’re talking about! This is just like you, to barge into things you don’t understand -”

“Hey, don’t try to turn this around on me. I’m just looking out for you, like I’ve been doing since day one.”

“I can think of at least one glaring exception.”

“Seriously, Stanford? Are you going to hold that one mistake over me for the rest of my life?”

“It just shows you have a history of ruining my work right when it’s about to pay off. You never cared about the things that are important to me, you’re only interested in chasing your cheap thrills.”

“I never cared about what was important to you? I thought I was important to you! You think I went to prison in three different countries just for the fun of it? I did what I had to, just to survive. Which I’ve had to do for over ten years, while you never bothered to stick your nose out of a book long enough to check on your brother.”

Ford’s seething response melted away at the thought of Stanley shivering, Stanley hungry, Stanley alone. “Stanley, I - I didn’t mean to imply that I don’t care about you. These past weeks with you have meant the world to me. You’re right. I should’ve tried to reconnect with you sooner, and - and I shouldn’t still be blaming you for something you did in high school.”

Stan’s gaze shifted down to his feet. “It wasn’t that I didn’t care about your perpetual motion machine. I really didn’t mean to break it, and I should’ve owned up to what I did and told you instead of trying to fix it myself. I may not understand everything about this portal, but I really do want to help you. It’s just that this Bill guy seems fishy to me.”

“And I told you, you have a chance to talk to him yourself. Will you at least try to keep an open mind about him until then?”

“I will, if you try to keep your mind open to the idea that he may not be what he seems.”

“I . . . suppose that’s fair.”

“Now will you please get some sleep? Between the kid and the portal you’ve been running yourself ragged.”

“It’s not so bad as all that.” Ford tried to shrug it off. “I think if I change the alignment on the oscillator I might get a better charge on the clux fapacitor -”

“It can wait until tomorrow.”

“It won’t take that long to test out. Anyway, I got a nap in earlier, I’m fine.”

“Yeah, a ‘nap.’ Looked more like you passed out from sheer exhaustion. You definitely need more sleep.”

“I can sleep when I’ve published my Grand Unified Theory of Weirdness.” And with that, Ford escaped to the basement before Stan could respond.

Ford didn’t want to admit it, but this whole business unsettled him. Stan was the one person he trusted best in all the world, but Bill was his Muse, the one who not only saw what Ford could be, but gave him the tools to achieve it. Now the two seemed to be setting themselves against each other. Ford didn’t want to think of what the outcome would be, should he be forced to choose between them. He could only hope it wouldn’t come to that.

Read the next work in this series

#stanford pines #stanley pines #gravity falls #found family #fanfic #7500 words #do not tag as stancest

25 notes · View notes

bisexualsforprompto · 4 years

Text

How to Heal a Missing Heart Chapter Two

A/N Geez I’m sorry, this is long overdue, I’m gonna try to be more consistent with updates

Beginning One Next

Clark wasn’t sure what to think.

On the one hand this little French girl had just asked for his help and explained her situation, making his Superman urges burn. On the other hand the ridiculous story he was just told (a butterfly terrorist, really?!) was making his Clark Kent skeptical journalist who always checked his source’s urges burn. As he was being tugged back in forth internally trying to find the side he should listen to,

“I can see that you are struggling to make a decision,” The girl said in a way that made him feel guilty, “I’m guessing the problem is that you don’t believe me.” Clark nodded slightly. “Spots on.”

Clark didn’t normally have to shield his eyes from anything having extraordinary powers and all, but a blinding light overtook the little girl when she spoke those words and he turned his face away immediately.

When he realized the light was gone he turned back and saw the same young girl standing before him only this time in a spotted red and black costume with what looked like...a yo-yo?! beside her.

“My name is Ladybug, hero of Paris. Are you more inclined to believe me now?”

“How...what was that?” Clark asked.

“The magic of the miraculous, the same thing Hawkmoth uses to terrorize my city.”

“How can I help?”

~~•~~•~~•~~

“I don’t have a lot of information. A while ago I got a lead that Hawkmoth could be one of the Agrestes, but because of my...foolishness I ruled them out. Logically, it makes more sense if Hawkmoth was Gabriel Agreste, but he could also be Adrien Agreste the-“

“The model?” Superman questioned as he flew across the sky, keeping up with Ladybug’s yo-yoing.

“Yes.” She responded curtly.

Superman realized there must’ve been some unresolved feelings there, but he chose not to pry.

“So…What’s our next move, why do you need me?” Clark asked instead.

“I need you because we’re going to the Agreste manor, if my hunch is correct then I’m going to need backup. And my partner can’t be trusted right now.” She muttered the last part lowly to herself.

Superman sighed, the poor girl had obviously been through a lot, he could see the bags under her eyes and the exasperation she had in her inflection whenever she spoke about other people.

Clark understood, it was the voice of someone who had been abandoned and couldn’t trust anyone. He had seen it all too many times, and he knew that when they were done defeating the villain- Hawkmoth- he’d need to find a place for her...otherwise she could be the next villain Clark had to fight.

Superman huffed to himself, no child should’ve been entrusted with such a duty, and from what she had told him her old mentor was gone- he had lost all his memories- and she was the sole protector of extremely powerful jewels.

A teenager had this burden on her.

Clark knew he would have to take the stress off of her, she was used to being a leader, but what she really needed was to be somewhere with people who she could trust, and she wouldn’t have to feel so responsible all the time.

He knew the perfect place too…

~~•~~•~~•~~

“Aha!” Ladybug exclaimed with a grin, the first time Clark had seen a smile come from her. “Could you use your X-ray vision on this?” She asked, pointing to a metal circle shaped like a butterfly.

Superman squinted, he saw an empty space, nothing suspicious. He wondered why she was so intent on him looking...until he saw butterflies.

White butterflies flapping around frantically, everywhere. There was something else too…

A butterfly garden, but in the center-

“No!” Superman exclaimed, stepping back.

“What is it?!” Ladybug asked eagerly.

“There's a woman in there...I don’t think she’s dead, but she’s not exactly alive either.”

Ladybug’s eyes lit up. “It can’t be…”

“What?” Superman questioned.

“Can you look again, will you describe to me what she looks like.”

Clark nodded and squinted again, “She’s pale and blonde. She’s in all black and...her ring finger has a mark from where a ring used to be.”

“Emile Agreste…” Marinette murmured.

“Who?”

“You’ve heard of the Agreste brand, right?”

“Yes, Gabriel Agreste the head designer and Adrien their model, both who you think could be Hawkmoth.” Superman affirmed.

“It all makes sense…” Ladybug said to herself, then addressed Superman again, “Sorry! Um, Emilie Agreste is the wife of Gabriel, she disappeared and Gabriel fell off the map. He became paranoid and wouldn’t leave his home. He must be trying to bring her back…”

“What? How could he do that?”

“When the miraculous of the black cat and the ladybug, mine, are merged the can grant the user one wish. But it always comes at a price, and it’s the cost is always more extreme than the wish. If Gabriel Agreste wished for Emilie to be fully healed people all over the world would fall into comas.” Ladybug said, Superman could feel the stress radiating off of her.

He placed a hand on her shoulder, “How can we stop him?”

Ladybug sighed. She squinted at the metal circle that could help her access Hawkmoth’s lair. “I have an idea, but we need to be quick. Can you use your heat vision to make an entrance for us.”

Superman nodded and Ladybug watched as the red lasers coming from his eyes swiftly burned a large hole into the entrance of Hawkmoth’s lair. Superman stepped forward and went to go into the butterfly garden, “Wait.” Marinette said. “Gabriel is rich, he’s not going to leave his lair unprotected. Lucky charm!”

A spotted gun flew into Marinette’s arms.

“That’s a little extreme, don’t you think?” Superman shuffled nervously, hoping she wasn’t going to kill.

Marinette smirked. She tilted her head and came closer to the entrance that Superman had carved out. She angled the gun slightly and shot at what Superman realized was a security camera. Only, it wasn’t a bullet that came out, Ladybug had summoned up a paintball gun. He heard four more shots and noticed all the visible security cameras were covered in red paint.

“Clever.” Superman said stepping into Hawkmoth’s lair.

Ladybug used her yo-yo to drop in front of the coffin like structure that Emilie Agreste was laying in. “We don’t have much time. Hawkmoth will be down here any minute and we need the upper hand. Superman I need you to stand next to Emilie’s coffin, prepare to destroy it if need be.”

“But-“

“Don’t worry, I’ve got it covered.”

Superman knew it would be futile to argue with the teenager, she clearly knew what she was doing and he was just going to have to trust her.

Suddenly, Superman saw someone being lifted up by a platform into the lair.

Hawkmoth was scared, both heroes could tell, but more so he was angry.

“What is the meaning of this?!” He shouted, preparing his cane.

“Gabriel Agreste.” Hawkmoth stepped backwards inadvertently at the use of his real name. Ladybug kept going with a stoic expression, “You have terrorized the people of Paris for too long. If you go peacefully with me and turn yourself and your co-conspirators in, I can guarantee no harm will come to your wife.”

“Is that a threat Ladybug?” Hawkmoth spat.

“That depends.” Ladybug said with fury in her voice, “Are you going to come with me and give up your Mayura, who I’m assuming must be Nathalie Sancouer, am I right?”

“You can’t do this to me.” Hawkmoth hissed, “I have worked too long and too hard to bring her back! I’m not going to let you ruin everything!”

“Mr. Agreste!” Ladybug boomed, “If you try anything I can guarantee the police will surround this place. I’ve already dialed them, they’ll be here any second.”

“Fine Ladybug.” Hawkmoth seethed, “You win.”

Taglist:

@northernbluetongue

@dawnwave16

@weird-pale-blonde-person

@mystery-5-5

@worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry

@fandomkitty8

@18-fandoms-unite-08

@royalchaoticfangirl

@zalladane

@bamagirl513

@nomiegnome

@winter-gardenflower

@caffeinetheory

@magicalfirebird

@mer-mel

@seraphichana

@persephonebutkore

@nillajinx

@shreky-boi

@throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen

@chaosace

@moonlightstar64

@thequestionablyhuman

@paradoxal-occurance

@loysydark

@jayverca

@risingmoonyue

@zalladane

@thestressmademedoit

@nanakeid

@meanids

@ellerahs

#maribat #kaldurnette

270 notes · View notes

aion-rsa · 3 years

Text

Marvel’s Loki Episode 5: MCU Easter Eggs and References

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

This article contains Loki episode 5 spoilers.

Marvel’s Loki episode 5 is a big one. Yes, we know…last week felt like that. And the one before it, too. But this one really IS, with the entire episode taking place (as DoG’s Kayti Burt put it) on top of a literal “trash pile of MCU and Marvel Comics Easter eggs.”

With that in mind, let’s have some fun with all the incredible Marvel references they managed to sneak into Loki episode 5.

Journey Into Mystery

You probably already know this, but Journey Into Mystery was the book that first introduced the Marvel Comics version of Thor, with Loki following shortly after. The title eventually was just renamed Thor since the Asgardians had become the primary focus of the book for years by that point. However, Journey Into Mystery was revived a few years back, with its primary focus being on the adventures of Kid Loki this time around.

Thanos Copter

The Lokis pass a helicopter with “THANOS” on the side. This is a reference to Spidey Super Stories #39 from 1979. The all-ages comic featured a story of Spider-Man and the Cat (Hellcat) taking on Thanos, who was on the hunt for the Cosmic Cube. He flew around New York City in his own helicopter with his name on the side. The reference comes up as a joke here and there, including an issue of Deadpool. Even Thanos’ giant two-sided blade weapon from Avengers: Endgame has been considered by many to be a sly reference to the Thanos Copter.

Ecto-Cooler

While the Lokis are all drinking wine, Kid Loki is shown drinking Hi-C Ecto Cooler. The Slimer-based citrus drink was a tie-in to The Real Ghostbusters cartoon of the 1980s and lasted into 2001 due to its popularity. Afterwards, it became a fondly-remembered relic to time. Ecto Cooler made a brief return in 2016 to coincide with the Ghostbusters reboot. Sadly, there’s no news of it coming back for the upcoming Ghostbusters: Afterlife movie.

Speaking of Kid Loki…

Kid Loki

Kid Loki seems to be wielding a flaming sword, which looks an awful lot like Laevateinn, the sword he wielded in the Loki: Agent of Asgard comics.

Polybius

In the background of the Lokis’ lair, we see a Polybius arcade machine. Polybius is a long-running urban legend. Supposedly, back in 1981, an arcade machine was set up in Portland, Oregon, watched over by various men in black. The game was so addicting that it caused fights to break out and horrible side-effects to its players. We wrote more about the decades-old mystery of Polybius right here.

Pretty sure there’s an old Williams Space Pinball machine in there, too but that’s not as wild as Polybius.

The Void

Fittingly, the realm where all the pruned victims end up is called the Void. In the comics, the Void is a dark, inexplicable, and possibly biblical entity that acts as the evil side to the Sentry. During the storyline Siege, the Void murdered Loki, which facilitated his rebirth as Kid Loki.

Alioth

Alioth first appeared in Avengers: The Terminatrix Objective #1, the same 1993 comic that also introduced Ravonna Renslayer to the world…and one that features Kang as its central villain. Hmmmm…

Oh, and Alioth was co-created by Mobius M. Mobius inspiration/model Mark Gruenwald, who gets another shout later in the episode.

Vote Loki

The “politician Loki” who we see leading (inasumuch as they can/want to be led) the loose coalition of Variant Lokis is modeled almost exactly on the version of Loki from Marvel’s Vote Loki story by Christopher Hastings, Langdon Foss, and Paul McCaffery. In it, Loki ends up running for President, with his ridiculous campaign built on the “honest” deception of openly lying to the American people inadvertently aided by a credulous news media. It’s a good read and you should check it out.

This episode also engages in the old MCU/Star Wars tradition of someone getting a hand cut off…in this case it’s our pal, “Vote Loki.”

Frog Thor

A frog resembling Thor is shown in a jar labeled “T365.” Wouldn’t you know it, Thor #365 is the issue where Loki transforms Thor into a frog. Yes, it was a whole thing. Walt Simonson’s run on the Thor comics is really spectacular.

“Frog Thor” also got a mention in Thor: Ragnarok, during the “play within the movie” seen as “Loki” apologized to “Thor” for turning him into a frog.

You know, there’s even an independent wrestler with a Thor Frog gimmick. Life is beautiful sometimes.

Classic Loki

So it appears that Classic Loki is basically what would have happened if “our” Loki survived the opening of Avengers: Infinity War, which he did by allowing Thanos to kill a duplicate while he disguised himself as some debris. Classic Loki went into hiding and developed a taste for brighter greens and yellows, and aged into Richard E. Grant, before he was pruned by the TVA and found himself here in the Void.

Classic Loki’s line about “the god of outcasts” comes from 2019’s Loki #5, by Daniel Kibblesmith and Andy McDonald:

“I am Loki. God of outcasts. They see themselves in me. And I in them. All of us, alone together. It’s why my stories always end with someone trying to put me in a box. And begin with my spectacular escape.”

Later in the episode, Classic Loki and Kid Loki literally “exit stage right,” in what feels like a very deliberately “stagey” moment that plays on the Shakespearean overtones of all of this.

The Living Tribunal

On the ground in the Void there’s a large severed head…and it’s that of The Living Tribunal, a cosmic entity created by Stan Lee and Marie Severin back in 1967. The presence of a Living Tribunal (even one who is dead at this present time), whose entire purpose for being is predicated on the existence of a multiverse, means that the TVA is trying very hard to cut all ties and any evidence of the fact that the multiverse is already out there.

U.S.S. Eldridge

The USS Eldridge was a real Cannon-class destroyer in the U.S. Navy in use from 1943 to 1992. It was supposedly sold for scrap after it was decommissioned but Loki posits that perhaps it was an unwanted Variant in the Sacred Timeline. Perhaps this is because the ship was rumored to be subjected to the “Philadelphia Experiment” that was supposed to render it invisible to the human eye. The story is sadly probably a hoax.

There’s a not exactly great 1984 movie called The Philadelphia Experiment which adds time travel to the equation, making this little callback even more Loki appropriate.

Is That Stan Lee?

At about 9:38 there’s a mural in the TVA headquarters. On the right there’s a guy in prescription shades, with a familiar moustache and salt-and-pepper hair. We’re not saying that’s Stan Lee, but…

The Castle

Yes, we know, that ominous castle sure looks like Doctor Doom’s home of Doomstadt, but…it’s probably not (or is it?). More likely, this is Castle Limbo, home of Kang the Conqueror (or…is it?).

We unpacked these possibilities some more here.

The Music

The “heroic Loki” theme at the end sounds like it’s about to break into Wagner’s “Ride of the Valkyries.”

Speaking of, the regular Loki theme is very similar to the part of the Delfonics “Ready or Not Here I Come (Can’t Hide From Love)” that was sampled for Missy Elliott’s “Sock It To Me.” The original (also sampled for the Fugees’ “Ready or Not” and Dr. Dre’s “Still D.R.E.”) was about the inevitability of love, and Missy’s song was about sneaking into somebody’s house to get your back blown out, so basically the same thing. Could have some bearing on Loki and Sylvie’s story.

The music that plays during the “Loki brawl” is this show’s equivalent of Scooby-Doo chase music. That’s a good thing, by the way.

Pixar, is that you?

Was that the Pizza Planet truck? Mobius’s ride, a station wagon with a slice of pizza on top, immediately brought to mind the popular Pixar easter egg/elaborate timeline mcguffin that has appeared in every Pixar movie to date. Also, very nice touch having Lightning McQueen himself drive it.

An even nicer touch is the license plate on the car Mobius is driving: GRN W1D. As in “Gruenwald.” As in (say it with us, kids!) Mark Gruenwald, the Marvel writer and editor who Mobius is based on.

Ant-Man

At one point on the ground in the Void we can spot a gigantic Yellowjacket helmet. Yellowjacket is the codename for several size-shifting superheroes in the Marvel Comics, but is best known to MCU fans as Corey Stoll’s Darren Cross from the first Ant-Man flick.

Guardians of the Galaxy

There’s lots of crashed spacecraft, one of which kind of looks like the Dark Aster (Ronan the Accuser’s ship in Guardians of the Galaxy), and there may be a Helicarrier hanging around. There’s also a flying saucer that vaguely resembles the ship from John Carpenter’s The Thing, and a pirate ship that if Doctor Doom were actually the villain of this show (he isn’t…or…is he?) would make us think of that character’s very first appearance in Fantastic Four comics, where he sent Ben Grimm back in time to become Blackbeard. No, really.

Miscellaneous Time Variants

The fate of the Lokis is reminiscent of What If? #12, otherwise known as What If the X-Men Had Stayed in Asgard? At the end of the story, after tasting defeat yet again, Loki begged Those Who Sit Above in Shadow to allow him to rule Asgard. They agreed by sending him far into the future at the end of time. As reality started to break down, Loki went out laughing in the face of oblivion.

The bus ad at the beginning is for Calum Ross, who is an editor on the show.

The shot of all the Lokis walking as the camera swoops overhead is very much reminiscent of Peter Jackson’s Lord of the Rings movies.

Loki and Sylvie are cold in The Void. But wait a minute, aren’t they both Frost Giants? Why then would Loki conjure a green blanket? Unless he wants a convenient excuse to cuddle up with his Variant…

Loki is drinking “RoxxiWine” pinot noir…out of a box…which is a nice touch.

Is that weird, very large plant in the bowling alley hideout supposed to be a Variant Yggdrasil? Or wait…what if that’s Plant Loki?!? He’s green, isn’t he?

Next to Alligator Loki’s kiddie pool there’s a copy of The Mystery and Lore of Monsters, a 1930 book by Charles J.S. Thompson.

The tower we all keep thinking is Avengers Tower is in fact Qeng Tower, the headquarters of Qeng Enterprises, the company that Tony Stark (mistakenly) sold the old Avengers tower to in the comics.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

Spot anything we missed? (Probably, right?) Let us know in the comments!

The post Marvel’s Loki Episode 5: MCU Easter Eggs and References appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/3Az8Dbv

#aion-rsa #Den of Geek

1 note · View note

lasttimeonthenegaverse · 4 years

Text

The Life and Times of the Negaverse- part one

Back to Bright

Negaduck screamed as he was pulled down the universal drain. His hands gripped tightly the sloping sides of eternity and he struggled to escape the cake before it collapsed in on itself. He’d dealt with the multiverse collapsing in on itself before. Not a pretty picture. There was no way to note how much time was passing in non-existence before everything fixed itself and you woke up in your propper reality. ….. Yeah. He’d lied to Darkwing Dunce. Shocker. But the fact of the matter still remained that his beautiful Saint Canard was ruined . And now he had to deal with an actually competent team of super zeros. He managed to scramble out of the cake and jumped off. He hadn’t been launched out, which was a testament to how far gone it was. Pity. The slight concussion was always a nice warm welcome that said ‘hey honey, you’re home’. But for now….. Negaduck growled under his breath, standing back and watching as the cake twisted, turned, and finally folded into crimson light. Shit. He’d need to make another one of those soon. He left the back room to see. …. His beak curled back in disgust. Those preppy do gooders had cleaned the BAKERY! The absolute NERVE of some jokers. And there was no sign of LaunchPad or the Muddlefoots…...more importantly, Gos. When he found her he was gonna make her…..He blinked, trying to figure out what was wrong with his eyes as he left the building. But….the sun. How had they gotten rid of his precious smog clouds so quickly? He frowned, sensing the hand of someone much smarter than the ‘Featherbrained Four’ at work. Ugh. Grounded . That brat was GROUNDED the second he got his hands on her! Granted, Gos wasn’t the main problem here, but the main problem was a literal world away and right now he was tired and sore and didn’t feel like dealing with clawing his way back across interdimensional lines. They’d all show back up sooner or later. The heroes were too moronic to keep them for long. Instead of worrying he plotted as he stalked through the city. The plants were flourishing thanks to that Buffon BushRoot. Liquidator the Lousy had made all the nice black water clean again. And worst of all MeekVolt had started the power everywhere. That’s probably what made the smog go. Uggghhhh, and the power being up meant that the disgusting dog was clearing all of the slime via the water filtration plant he’d never gotten around to blowing up. Time got a little weird with traveling through the fourth, fith, and sixth plane of existence. Let alone at the same time. It was kept stabilized by the cake, however that worked. It had been a ‘I’m too good for this world so notice me’ gift from Morgana. And it was probably the only spell she’d ever done right. But he was sure he could replicate it with science….and the right greased palm. Since the cake had gone funky near the end he could have been gone an hour, or a year. He shouldn’t have been gone a year, but this looked like more damage than an hour. Then again, what had they called themselves ‘Darkwings Ducks’. Urgh. One was bad enough….and crepilly efficient. Four was going to be the ‘Pests of the night’. Joy. Just what he always wanted, bedbugs. The trip back home was mostly uneventful, and that was the most irritating thing he had to deal with. Rather than cower and hide, people looked at him on the street. Like they had any right to. Like they had any rights at all. He’d have to stop by the mayor’s office and put some good old fashioned fear back into the city. Annoying. All thanks to the four flies that had ripped apart his magnificent chaos. Luckily the people weren’t too far gone. He must not have been missing too long. No nimrods tried to stand up to him or evil forbid follow him. But they watched him, only scattering away when he sneered. He didn’t want them to scatter with a sneer. He WANTED the streets clear in terror of him ever WALKING them. Fucking annoying . The door had been kicked open some time ago, and he’d know that bootprint anywhere. A wilted Rosebush was in pieces on the ground, along with a bag of toys. Hmmmm…..it had gotten ripped up and slashed so it hadn’t had water, but the flowers weren't so withered that he couldn’t tell what they’d been. He was gonna eyeball and say he’d been gone a week or two. Maybe a month. Not a year by the trepidation he was still treated to. No one had settled into foolish hope to snuff out. He checked the toybag for the amount of dust on it. Yeah, two weeks, at most a month. But hey, the kitchen was nice and filthy. She’d done a good job on that at least. He looked at the fridge but decided against it. Anything in there after this long wouldn’t be edible. He’d order something later. Not for the first time was he glad to have abandoned The lair on top of the bridge. It was nice and intimidating, but it didn’t have the space for a battered and overstuffed couch, which was where he flung himself. He didn’t have to worry. No one he trusted was stupid enough to end up seriously hurt by the idiots known as the Feable Four. But he on the other hand, was bruised. And not in the good way. Venomous green eyes slipped shut as he slipped into rest.

DD~ND~DD~ND~DD~ND~DD

Negaduck wasn’t sure how much time had passed between when his eyes had closed and when he woke up. He didn’t know how much time he’d had an atual restful sleep, but he had gotten some actual rest. He registered the sounds of screams before his eyes slid open. With a deep breath he took a moment just to relish in them. Ohhhh, that was nice. A particularly pitchy scream of agony still had the sound of a cracking bone to accompany it.

“That eyebrow wiggle thing means you’re awake boss” Nega scowled slightly at his husband’s tone. Playful, but not ‘lets go cause some chaos’ playful, more ‘affectionate but still going to lecture you’. Hmmmm, maybe if he curled up further into the bed he found himself occupying? A heavy weight settled on the mattress. “You know the longer ya take before making me happy, the worse I’ll complain about it later.” Negaduck scowled and threw off the covers, sitting up abruptly to glare right into the amused smirk of one LaunchPad.

“How long?” The question had to fight through grit teeth.

“Did ya sleep? I got home about two hours ago so...longer than that. Were ya missing? A little over three weeks.” the larger duck let his hands tap absentmindedly on his own knees. “I held down tha fort fer ya, no worry on that ND, but….” And he made a sound. A sharp, short laugh forced through teeth grit with bitterness. “Little over three weeks.” Shit. Negaduck groaned.

“Ya know. If I’d known ya’d fuckin NAG me about her, I’da never picked up the fuckin brat.” That was a lie and both men knew it. The simple fact of the matter was that LaunchPad had been vocally against the twerp at first, but she’d been captured for almost a month of a far too quiet house and he was horribly worried, whereas NegaDuck had seen her less than an hour ago and so was significantly less worried. The stupid city was still standing….for now . Better calm down his husband. “Ya tracked her or do I have to do everything around here?” He snarled. “Didn’t need to. They’re holded up in the Mayor’s office giving hopeful speeches near round the clock.” And to prove it, the Television was turned on. The Liquid Lunatic was warbling his way through a speech about the importance of clean water and how he was working together with BushRoot to make the air clearer. The redheaded ten year old sat just in view of the camera, kicking her legs slightly and smiling at everything. “Wonder how any of em have time to do anything.” Nega nodded with the information, absentmindedly thinking. Hmmm, she was kept on camera, which made things a bit more difficult. But those goody goodies probably had her on a bedtime. Night break in then. Or…..well, depending on what she was thinking they may be able to get a mole in. LaunchPad knew better than to storm their hideout without his husband, even for their daughter, but the big softy was anxious without her. Probably watched the news like crazy to make sure she was alright. “Alright. I’m gonna go grab that lil bitch and see if I’m better off letting her rot with hero scum, you get her room set up for if I let the little turncoat’s sorry ass back in here. LaunchPad rose, grateful for the order. By the set in his jaw that poor girl’s room had been cleaned and rearranged at least fifty times. He always got like this when she went missing. After a while, Nega just stopped letting her out of the house. This was the ‘nightmare scenario’. One of many. The longest she’d been missing before was two weeks. He grabbed LaunchPad by the wrist before he could leave the room, and pulled him backwards. The taller man understood and lowered his head so that Nega could grant one of his rare kisses to his temple. “Relax. You’re going to stress yourself out and die. Then I’ll have to marry Herb and neither of us wants that.” It works and the old and odd joke causes LaunchPad’s eyes to soften as a grin slits across his beak. Then he’s gone. Into Gosolyn’s room to arrange everything just so for her return. Negaduck pays full attention to the T.V. watching to see when they switch off or put her to bed. He can’t run in blind, not with them being smarter this time around. He couldn’t let the Dimwit’s ducks know he was back yet, not till he had her back. Hopefully he’d been vicious enough to the idiots that had seen him on the way home that they didn’t go BLABBING.

See, Unlike the Morons. he could count . He had more people to work with, and he alone was smarter than them putting their heads together. They lose automatically. It was stupid of them to try, but even this single lucky victory grated on his NERVES.

Watching the news he’d noticed that only one of them was ever on at a time. And that they responded to disasters based on who specifically was best to solve them if the way Liquidator had runoff like a swimmer upon hearing about a fire. Gos was alone for almost a minute before QuackerJack had raced onto the scene. Some dead air time where she’d just read a book with a soft smile. Idiots the lot of them. Who freaked out if a ten year old was left alone for two minutes? While the WHOLE CITY was watching her? It was ridiculous and stupid, but it did give him a plan by the creeping light of dawn. Said plan was recorded in a notebook once LP came back in the room to settle into a restless sleep beside him. It was frustrating. Nega was tired. He had his favorite sound playlist of breaking bones and anguished screams, LaunchPad’s arm was heavy on his chest, almost crushing him. He had a great plan that only required the bareest amount of intelligence from his next door neighbours. AND he didn't have to deal with his BRAINLESS allies anymore. That being said, he felt the missing warmth from the spot where Gos usually would have fluttered her eyelashes to squirm into. He could feel LaunchPad’s erratic pulse every time the other man had a night terror about her. At the end of the day, his family was broken . This couldn’t happen again. He needed a way for LaunchPad to live AND for him to have fun while not letting her get taken. What kind of ‘princess of malice’ got STOLEN once a week!? The hints of a plan nudged at his brain, but he was too tired to fully acknowledge them.

ND~DD~ND~DD~ND~DD~ND

“Excuse me?” BushRoot looked up at the studious looking boy at the gates. “Hello. I don’t know if you recognize or remember me.” “Of course I do!” BushRoot smiled brightly and the boy took a step backwards. “You’re Gos’ little friend . Oh I’d know you anywhere. You know come to think of it, we should’ve taken you too! Your family was awful. Are you here to see her?” Tank nodded with a slight smile.

“Yes actually. If that wouldn’t be too terribly horrid a thing to request?” He asked. BushRoot smiled down at the boy and ruffled his hair.

“Oh no it’s absolutely fine! We were just about to switch out her guard in fact. Megavolt was just going to run to do patrols.” Tank smiled happily as he was led through the hallways and to the center office, where the mayor had been before they vacated and left the city in the less than capable hands of NegaDuck. “That’s my report Dear Lovely Citizens” Megavolt smiled happily. “Please enjoy your new freedom as we continue to fix this town from the misery and suffering perpetrated by the evil known as NegaDuck.” He turned as the two came in, Bushroot waving at him. “TANK!!!!” Gosalyn jumped out of her chair and ran to her best friend as Quacker Jack took over the programming. The boy hugged her tightly for a moment before they both turned to BushRoot.

“Um….Mister BushRoot sir. Would it be possible to get a different room? I mean. I haven’t spoken to Tank in sooooo long and we really shouldn’t do anything that interferes with the oh so necessary hope building Programs.” BushRoot smiled at her and thought about it. “Well….we didn’t want to leave you alone in case the awful LaunchPad came to try and capture you. But you’re absolutely right sweetheart! You and your friend should have some time time to talk to each other alone.” He paused to think again, before snapping his leaves. “we’ll just hide you someplace you won’t be found. And I know just the spot . Common kids.” Tank and Gosalyn followed as Tank checked the time. 3:50. Away from the cameras BushRoot spoke a bit more freely. “I’m going to put you in QuackerJack’s lab. He’s our leader! And his lab needs a secret code to get in so you’ll be extra safe there. Tank’s eyes sparkled. “A Whole Lab? Boy oh Boy, does Tank like those” Gosalyn volunteered. “He just loves science.” Tank blushed, but nodded as they were led down to a bunker. BushRoot typed in a code, uncaring if the two little sweethearts saw. After all, they were good kids. “Thanks So MUCH Mr. BushRoot” The Redhead smiled brightly as she and her best friend went to examine the lab, heavy steel door closing behind them. The kids looked at the playground or mechanical wonder before looking at each other and grinning. “Cool Beans. This place is perfect ”

DD~ND~DD~ND~DD~ND~DD

At exactly 4:02 pm Honker and Binkie stood underneath the powerlines that connected the main grid to the city proper. At 4:00 every day-both morning and night, Megavolt had to recharge his batteries. Information gotten not from the few hours of programing, but from the alternate dimension. NegaDuck had only checked to make sure that the mouse was still as annoyingly predictable as he ever was. And Honker in particular had a bone to pick, having gotten shocked into oblivion on his birthday. Mother and Son looked at each other to smile. Then the handy dandy bazukas they had were put to good use, blowing up the poles, and their attached wires. See, had Megavolt been inside the main grid. He wouldn’t have noticed the shut down. And if he was outside of the building, wherever he’d been sucking power from was now gone. The two stood side by side waiting to see if he’d come either from being called or to get juice. If he was already in. Well, normally they wore leather jackets and leather pants. Said articles of clothing had been replaced with rubber, so he wasn’t going to cause too many issues .

Outside as it turned out. Great guess on Lord Negaduck’s part, that as a ‘hero’ he would be too moral to use public property for private use or something like that. After ten minutes he arrived, stepping out of his car. He glared at Binkie, whom was waving her gun around and shooting in the air while laughing maniacally. “Stop right there vile Villain!” Surprisingly, she stopped and waved at the hero. “Oh hello there!” She smiled. Megavolt, though confused, was polite. He waved back and nodded to her in greeting. “Do you remember me?” Binkie asked brightly. It caused the mouse to think for a bit before. “Um….no…..sorry. When did we meet?” She giggled. “Oh. I’m Binkie. We met at the bakery. It was my Baby Boy’s birthday! Remember! That whole thing with Darkwing? You shocked him so bad you sent him flying!” She giggled again. “He just wanted to say hi, same as me. Say ‘Hi’ Honker!” Well, evil had to have a few screws loose, but other than that she seemed fine. He turned with a smile to greet the villain he’d thwarted.

“Hi Hon-” That was as far as he got before a baseball bat of weighted glass was very violently introduced to his skull. He flailed and fell and that was all she wrote because Honker jumped off the car to follow him, swings as wild and crazy as his cackling.

ND~DD~ND~DD~ND~DD~ND

QuakerJack looked at the alarm, dragging his eyes away from the camera, where he was giving the kiddos an informative after school message with the help of his trusty clown. Two alerts. One at the Water Processing Plant and another at the Botanical Gardens. It was only 4:30 but the frequency of the alerts was what was getting to him. He shook it off as he pressed the hidden buttons on the back of the clown, smiling brightly to the kids. Bud and Bushie would easily handle their areas and rush back to the other’s side. He didn’t like all of them being gone at once, but Mega had been recharging when the power cut. Luckily, the broadcast was still going on due to a generator, but the second someone else came in, he was going himself to check out what happened and how far the extent of the blackout went. The Liquidator didn’t know what he’d find at the scene of the crime, all he knew was that suddenly the alert had gone off for high amounts of Pollution entering the drinkable water supply. Quacks had sounded the blinking alarm- be careful . Approaching the building, everything seemed normal. No signs of a breakin. He opted for stealth, going back around the building to sink into one of the waterways that was being admitted for cleaning. As he slunk around he definitely sensed….a presence whatever it was, it was big. Liquidator peeked his head up to see……..a man. He blinked twice to see if it was in his internal catalogue of villains that had been showing up to try and take NegaDuck’s place. …..No. Just….a rather large ordinary man. He appeared to be grilling in a Water Filtration plant which was odd enough to ring an alarm bell. …..shame, he just, couldn’t figure it out more than that it was undoubtedly odd . The man opened one of his many coolers and tossed out something slimy and with a sickly greenish yellow color. Just…..just upended the WHOLE COOLER while he hummed lightly. He’d also been at this for a while from both being able to jam the system and the fact that there were only four coolers left.

“EXCUSE ME!” The man started as he turned around and as if the color and smell wern’t indicators of something foul going in, the man himself was wearing rubber gloves.

“Oh Hi there Neghberino!” He waved. “Fine day ta get ridda somma the stuff around da house init it?” A warm smile. Was this man…... evil or just very stupid? “Yeah I’ve had this hangin around since last year. That’s a thing wit rotten fish bait. After a while, ya just don’ know what ta do wit it.” He shook out the cooler, poisoning the water as he placed it back down. “But when da wife says it’s gotta go. Well ol Herb aint stupid now ishe? Nosirie bob. My Binkie says it goes I says, ‘whatever’ll make you happy honey bun’ ‘s how Ah keep a happy marriage ya know?” Stupid he decided. Very VERY stupid. “Sir.” The superhero crossed his arms. “You can’t stay or dump here. This is a water treatment plant. It holds about forty percent of the water for the Reservoir of this fine city!” The man blinked a few times, flabbergasted. “Oh?” He got up and went to his grill “And here I thought the place what was cleaning was da bes fer tossin. After all, Water’s gotta get dirty afore it’s clean don’t ya know. Oh well. I’ll just empty mah coals n leave ya to yer lonesome sir.”

“Absolutely not!” And to save the water, the Luididator left it, going to grab the grill before ‘Herb’ could empty the coals. Poor Hero. He didn’t stop to wonder why one needed rubber gloves and as he touched the metal of the grill, the electricity surged through him, dissolving his form. Herb grinned as he looked down at the puddle and went for another cooler. Water absorbing powder solution. “Looks like you and me, we’s gonna be real good neighborinos. That is if anything’s lefta yous by tommara” He gave a slightly whistling ‘maniacal laugh’ as he cleaned up the Crimefighter.

DD~ND~DD~ND~DD~ND~DD

BushRoot was aware that there was a problem when he got too close to the Botanical Garden. He could hear his children screaming in agony before their lives were cruelly snuffed out. He just didn’t know what they were screaming about. As he went inside he saw that the door had been kicked off its hinges. There was no sign of any of the scientists that worked there, and what’s more- there was enraged screaming coming from the same direction of the screams of his children. Scariest, it was the Rare plants division.He sniffed at the air. Whatever the odd smell, it was causing them discomfort. He needed to fix that first. He looked carefully at the lab portion of the garden as he raced over. It struck him how odd it was that there were a few open flames, but he dismissed it as the scientist having been scared away before they could extinguish. He tried to keep to the sidelines so that he could see the problem as he entered where the cries for help were coming from. He needed to evaluate, figure out how best to handle the sit-

“YOU!!!!” BushRoot froze, feeling his stems shake. Upon entering the room it was just his luck that the problem was staring him down. And it was none other than a LIVID LaunchPad armed with a flamethrower. He had a weed killer in his hand and a shovel on his belt but the flamethrower was what really got him. All of the precious plants in here could be gone in an instant thanks to that Mad Man. A sinister smile crawled over the beak of the larger man. “You’re gonna tell me where Gos is. Else, all o ya kids….well. Longer I aint got mine. Worse off yours are gonna get. Capisce?”

“You are never going to harm that sweet little angel ever again!” BushRoot raised an arm and a tree near where the man stood swung down a heavy branch to club at him. LaunchPad barrel rolled away from the hit, but the tree picked up it’s roots and followed him. BushRoot got closer to his kids to better hear what they were screaming, but the smell was unbearable. He took a handy dandy water bottle as he let Susan handle the interloper. LaunchPad wasn’t as scary without his fearless leader. A little bit of water should handle the shiny looking nasty chemical on the leaves of his babies. As he gave a spritz he noticed that….it wasn’t coming off, almost arguing with the water. But the chemical was also by their precious roots. “HEY!” BushRoot looked up. He was on the second floor, by the roof. LaunchPad had a slightly manic grin. “Last chance freak. Tell me where Gos is, or alla ya kids are mulch.”

“As far as I can see, You’re running away. And I’m NEVER letting that poor girl near the likes of your EVIL ever again. She’s MY new Eco warrior of justice!” LaunchPad let out a snort and lit the flamethrower. BushRoot scoffed at seeing the sprinklers activate. “What’d ya THINK that’d do right under the….” His words caught in his throat. While the first few seconds had been water, that nasty smelling chemical had hit the fire and ignited “GAS!!!!!! EVERYONE OUT!!!!!” How had he not recognised the smell . He grabbed the plants he could as he ran for the exit but…..

BushRoot shook as he saw it. It wasn’t just the room he’d been in. All the fire sprinklers had been filled with Gas. All of the plants. All of the research….. He took the few samples he could and sprinted for it, feeling his own legs becoming dried out from the intense and rising heat before he got out. He did manage to make it out...though he didn’t know how. His mind had been filled with fear and adrenaline as he desperately ran for safety. But he crawled away from the inferno. Him and the Children in his hands. Crawling until the point of collapse. And He collapsed right in front of a combat boot. “Did I say Mulch?” LaunchPad started Conversationally. “I meant Firewood. Opps, slip o the tongue. Coulda happened to anyone . Now. I turned the daycare into a crematorium, where’s Gos?” BushRoot shuddered. This wasn’t a man in front of him, smiling brightly and still holding unto the flamethrower.

“She….she’s at the Mayor’s office. C-City Hall” Right now all he wanted to do was cuddle up with Bud. He felt like literal crap turning the girl over to the likes of…. this. But….But he was the weakest link…..yeah…..yeah. The others would forgive him for what he was doing. He was scared. They…..They could get her back. NegaDuck was Gone. Darkwing had seen to that. They couldn’t give up after one little hiccup! “ WHERE ” And that Flamethrower was right in face as he scrambled away from the maniac and towards the conflagration. “ EXACTLY is she” BushRoot trembled. He was kneeling on the ground and begging for his life here. They could get the girl back later.

ND~DD~ND~DD~ND~DD~ND

NegaDuck chanced a look at his cell. LaunchPad, Binkie and Herb had all called that their targets were neutralized. He let out a pleasant sigh. It was so nice dealing with people that were only mostly morons instead of COMPLETE Morons. Why didn’t he spend more time in his St. Canard? He pulled down the brim of his Fedora, closing his trenchcoat more tightly around himself as he walked up the stairs. Of course nothing could go right. At the top of the stairs the doors opened and two figures walked out, causing him to hide before he was spotted. “So He probably got them all already?” He knew that voice. That was her pouting voice. “And he’s just waiting at home. I know he’s grumpy, but that’s oh so very rude . He couldn’t even stage a kidnapping himself after I was gone almost a month!”

“Ah-Hem!” NegaDuck stepped out of the shadows, arms crossed. Gosolyn’s face brightened upon seeing him but he stopped her in his tracks with a single finger. “You are grounded. How grounded you are depends on your reasoning for this” He gestured around the still clean and bright once home. “DISGUSTING Mess.” “First, we haveta get away from City Hall. Too many nosy naughty cameras lurking around to spyie why.” As she spoke she hurried up, Nega falling into step behind her. “COMMEON HURRY!!!” He groaned, but followed his charge as she raced to his hidden ‘civie’ car. …..WHAT it was fine and good being the Evil Overlord, but it came with Do gooders and sometimes he was just getting groceries! …… or kidnapping people to cook said groceries! Either way. “We gotta get home by five! Tanky, what time is it?” Tank showed her his watch. 4:45 And she gasped. “FUCK! We gotta get everyone home and in front of the TV! I’ll explain there.” NegaDuck scowled but aquissed to her crazy request, sending out a mass text and FLOORING it to get back home with his charges. She scrambled to get out the generator so that the T.V. would work. Excitedly plugging it in she started the crank. LaunchPad came down the stairs as he heard the enthusiastic pitter patter of malicious feet. Seeing her at the Generator he cracked a grin. “Shoo” The word was soft as he lightly tossed her away from the generator. He was bigger and stronger and so better at cranking the damn thing. Unfortunately, once QuackerJack went out to get his little boyfriend he’d undoubtedly fix all their hard work. But more importantly. His daughter was back for him to yell at. And possibly kill. He hadn't decided yet what he was going to do to her. “Well!” She started when the TV was up, playing the same old 24/7 Newscast of Hope. “I had this plan for awhile. Just not any real way to put it into action until Darkwing Duck somehow showed up here! Luckily” And her voice went sing song, as it always did when she was particularly pleased about something. “I’m fucking fabulous!” Nega rolled his eyes, shooing Herb off of his coved space on the couch with just a glare. The large father of two relocated to the floor to his happy wife as she gave Honker another wep nap to clean his bat with. “But this, undoubtedly the BEST PLAN EVER is not truly my plan. I mean….I did all the thinking and hard shit. But a TRUE plot is always for the benefit of yourself. And this plan was created only half for me.” She shrugged as QuackerJack continued talking on screen. A cold smile grew on her face as the Jester themed Super got visibly nervous, checking his watch for the alerts to be handled. “The other half was for my dear Papa” “Me?” LaunchPad blinked uncertainty. With Gos there were only two options when she planned something catered exactly to you. Either she HATED you with every fiber of her being, or she was being nice in her own way. You’d know by weather or not you continued with your meaningless existence. “Oh yes. And it worked even BETTER than I thought.” She hopped up on the couch, snuggling into NegaDuck and patted the cushion next to her. LauchPad did a mental tally of who owed whom a near death attempt. He was pretty sure cyanide in the cake evened out livewires on the ground, so he took the chance to sit next to her. “I knew that there were Nasty lil wanna-be Heros trying to muck up Daddies city.” Herb and Binkie both flinched at the ‘sweet lil angel’ casually calling LORD NEGADUCK by such a title. Something so bright and sweet and cute and filthy. But she continued irregardless of their discomfort. Or perhaps, spurred by it. “I also know Daddy kept leaving to that other St.Canard. With their Other heroes to fight and their other Papa and their other GOSALYN” They weren't allowed to have nice things in the house, Gos ripping apart the seat cushion as she got angry. Binkie flinched at such wondrous ferocity coming from well, a ‘sweet little girl’. Gos took a deep breath and a smile spread across her beak. “Darkwing taught them to be better Heros and in Daddie’s absence, they made St. Canard a better place. One of laughter, of light, overflowing with seeds of new hope!” Tank’s watch went off and the little girl pointed to the Television with unrestrained glee. “What’s that noise?” QuackerJack spoke from the TV. And then they heard it…..the recording-Gosalyn screaming for dear life. “Gos? Sweetie? Pumkin?” And as he ran to try and rescue her, the room started shaking. The camera fell to the floor, then there was an ENORMOUS multicolored explosion. Screams from an unseen QuakerJack and his pained face before an even LOUDER BOOM. Then the camera was destroyed and the broadcast finally stopped. “They think they can win now! Their own hope will keep them trying….and trying…..and stupidly trying.” A giggle. “Even more fun than going to some other world and ripping their hopes away? Snatching the faint hope that tries to grow like a revolting rosebush!” Another giggle ripped from her system. “They’ll see that broken dream of theirs and despair. Then the heroes will try to regroup because surely if they did it once they can do it again. And YOU” She snarled at NegaDuck. “Can play right here with Papa and ME!!!!” It was vicious and evil and well thought out and…..

“Awwweeeee. My sweet little MONSTER ”

14 notes · View notes

undercoverwizardninjaturtle · 5 years

Text

Shattered Part 2: A ROTTMNT Fanfiction

Summary: The Best intentions don’t always don’t always have the Best results.

Word Count: 2545

Pairing: NONE

Rating: G

A/N I base Donatello’s struggles and Autism on my own experience and those of my family members who also have Autism. Also don’t be too mad at Leo, he’s trying

also I tried for HOURS to make a link to the previous chapter. I gave up, i’m sorry. I can’t even edit this thing after I post it to fix it, so this is it i’m sorry

Believe it or not, a family of mutants can have a normal morning.

For eleven year old Leo, that involved a bowl of Lou Jitsu Cereal, drowned in sugar (because the cereal was three years past its expiration date), and a morning of cartoons along his brothers. All crowded around the new projector Donnie had set up a few days ago. Which was a blessing, seeing as up until then they had to make do with an old rabbit antenna tv set that was always green.

Raph laughed loudly at the cartoons antics just as Donnie joined them, a plate of plane toast in his hands and his newly built tablet shoved under his arm, “Alright who has it?”

‘Has what?” Leo said without looking away from the screen

“My headphones,” As usual, even though Donnie was only eleven he spoke as though everyone else was the biggest idiot in the world. Leo never took offense though, if anything he thought it was flattering to be considered that stupid, “It’s 10:00 which means its time for my Ted Talk hour. I need my headphones back.”

Mikey finally tore his eyes away from the screen before popping up to his feet, ‘Oops! Sorry D, hold on,” he put his bowl precariously on a stack of magazines before hurrying away.

“See? No worries D.” Leo gave his brother one of his smiles, only to be returned with a scowl

“Leo, he took my headphones.”

“He borrowed them.”

“He took them without permission, I took me weeks to get all the parts I needed from the dump.”

Leo knew where this was headed, and unfortunately Raph was a little too wrapped up In the Looney Toons to pay attention to them. He set his bowl down as well before walking over, “D,” he thought carefully about what he was going to say, “He took them, but he didn’t’ do it to hurt you. You know, that right?”

Donnie glared at him, but Leo could see the anger and frustration slowly fading from his eyes. It had taken Leo a while to figure out how to calm Donnie down, usually facts did the charm. Information, something irrefutable, a word he had learned from Don, and thankfully Donnie was more forgiving of Mikey then the rest of them.

And it worked like a charm, Donnie took a deep breath,” Yeah…yeah, I know…” he exhaled a slowly breath, “he was curious…”

“Only cause he’s never seen a set of Bluetooth headphones before. Or headphones at all.”

Again, Donnie went silent, then nodded, “Maybe…I should make him a pair too.”

“I bet he’d like that. And if you want to go ahead and make us a third official unofficial twin robot-”

For the first time Donnie smiled, “That would be a triplet, would you and Raph like a pair too?”

“yes!’ Raph called from his spot without looking. Mikey hurried back into the living space, headphones in his hands with a guilty look on his face, “I’m sorry D, I cleaned them off with those wipes you like.” He held them out to him,” I’m sorry.”

Donnie again took a small breath and Leo worried that maybe he hadn’t calmed down enough but instead Donnie took the headphones back, “Just ask next time.”

“I will.” Mikey glanced over to Leo before walking back over to their cartoon morning. IT helped that Leo knew Mikey was truly sorry, but out of all their family members he was sure Mikey understood Donnie’s situation the least. That was something he had to fix soon before he did something Donnie couldn’t forgive. Leo smiled back at Donnie, “See?”

“Yeah,” Don’s eyes fell back on the purple headphones in his hands. Leo knew they were more than just a frivolous gizmo. They not only hooked up to everything electronic in the lair that had audio but also acted as noise filtering headphones when there was too much noise stimulation for Donnie to handle. “I didn’t mean to get worked up thanks Leo.”

“No prob.” And with that the morning almost seemed redeemable. Until Leo gave Donnie a pat on the shoulder with a large grin, “See? Aren’t you happy I’m always around to defuse you?” before he went back over to his breakfast, enjoying a morning he would forget by the next morning.

Leo didn’t notice the pain that filled Donnie’s eyes, or how Donnie stood completely still for several moments before scrubbing at his eyes and hurrying back to his room. Just like no one noticed the muffled sobs that came from his room for a few moments

Just like Leo didn’t ‘noticed Donnie changed after that day

-now-

Believe it or not, Leo did not like always being right. Well, he enjoyed being right most of the time. It was a sensation he never tired of. But sometimes being right wasn’t a great reward.

Especially after last night.

The red slider turtle squeezed his eyes shut, focusing on the sound of a gurgling coffee pot and overwhelming smell of the rancid bean drink. It wasn’t his favorite smell, but one of Donnie’s favorite things in the world. Responsible for many late nights, it was a personal joke for him to try and hide Donnie’s coffee maker wherever he could. Mostly to see his official unofficial twin tear the lair apart in a half-awake rage to find it. He didn’t’ much feel like laughing right now. Right now, he just wanted to make his brother coffee.

“-but I still don’t’ get how the Soup Minister found the Soup Princess- “

“You gotta pay attention Raph, Lou Jitsu was in a love triangle with Minister Minestrone and Princess Pumpkin - Yo Leo! What are you doing up this early? Are you putting dirt in Donnie’s coffee again? You know he hates that.”

For a moment Leo couldn’t bring himself to turn around, instead he focused on the brown liquid dripping to the coffee pot, “I’m not putting dirt in it.”

“fertilizer again? Seriously? That made him sick last time- “

Leo turned around, “I’m not making him dirt, or anything! I’m just making him coffee.” For a moment, he felt better to see Raph’s face slowly fade into confusion. Satisfied, in a way he didn’t like, “you ok man? You look awful?”

“Do I? Gee I hadn’t noticed, I was just up half the night with Donnie weeping in my arms then the other half cleaning up his room while he slept in my bed, so no Raphie I bet I do look awful.”

Raph blinked at him, others might have thought his inability to comprehend his words was because of a limited intelligence, but Leo knew better. Raph was capable but morning brain could take down anyone. Finally, it seemed to hit the largest brother, “Is Donnie ok?”

“NO, he’s not, he came home trashed his room, and came to room in mumbling about some weird facts. When I tried to talk to him, he just fell apart.”

“Where’s he now?”

“Sleeping, he cried but after a while he just pulled away and curled up on my bed. I thought it was better to let him sleep there. I checked on his room, a breaking mess even by Splinters standards I picked up whatever I could. I only got done recently then I came in here.” Uh oh, he could feel the anger coming back, building in his stomach,” I told you something was wrong. I TOLD YOU something bad would happen! And now- “Leo paused, taking a breath, sometimes he forgot to do that when he was riled up, “Now he’s home, with a black eye, and I don’t know what’s going to happen when he wakes up- “

“This isn’t’ dirt is it?”

For a moment, Leo almost forgot whey he was so mad. In unison the three brothers turned towards the sputtering coffee pot to where said Donnie was standing, giving them all a confused if not suspicious look “Which one of you heathens made this?” Before exhausted eyes fell on Leo, “It was you wasn’t’ it? I got sick last time when you put fertilizer in my coffee- “

“I- “ok shock over, “NO its just coffee I promise D.”

Donnie narrowed his eyes at him, before looking back to his coffee mug. Sniffing it, “Ok I trust it for now, but if I end up getting poisoned again, I will NOT be happy. Now, if you will excuse me, I have A LOT of work to do.” Before exit the room

For a moment, the remaining group could only stand there, before Mikey spoke up, “Um, yeah Leo he’s a total mess.”

“I-He- “it wasn’t often he was at a loss for words, but it was known to happen. Instead he waved at Raph and Mikey, “Just give me a minute!” before running out of the room. By the time he reached Don’s bed room, Don had already set his cup down and was picking up one of the boxes, “I supposed I should thank you for cleaning this up, soooo consider this that.”

“No problem.” Back in the bed room and the remains of everything Donnie had destroyed last night. Now that he was more awake, he could see that, thankfully, the monitors and more complex equipment was undamaged, but Don’s personal computer anything else had been broken in one way or another. Don’s loft bed had even been knocked over, “I guess you had a rough night?”

“I guess.” Donnie picked through the box before looking to Leo for the first time since he entered the room,” Have you seen my phone?”

Leo thought back to that night before reaching into his satchel, “I found it in here last night, I’m sorta surprised you didn’t’ have it on you.”

“Thanks.” Donnie took the phone from him before setting it on his desk, calmly pulling out the head piece of his bust, and slamming the large piece of metal over phone a dozen or so times with such ferocity Leo leapt back to avoid the showing of metal and glass. He jumped back so far, he collided with the chest of his oldest brother who had come to investigate the noise, “What the hell just happened?!”

“Uh, “Leo wasn’t’ quite sure himself, “I think Donnie just destroyed his phone with his own face.”

“Would you two calm down,” Donnie called from his spot, “I have extras and it backed up to my server.”

Calming down would have been fun, except he had once seen Donnie yell at a kitten for looking at his phone. But instead he gave Raph a pat on the stomach, “I’ll take care of this go ahead.’” Except when he turned to walk back into the room, Raph grabbed his shoulder and yanked him out of the space hard enough to make Leo yelp in surprise. Spinning him till Leo was facing him, two giant hands on his shoulders as Raph glanced back into the bed room then to him, “Look I know you want to help Donnie, and that you’re way better at this then I am, but doesn’t it seem like you should leave him alone before he treats your face like his phone?”

“I know Donnie’s a little unpredictable sometimes, but I can handle him. It’s a twin thing, if there’s anyone who can help him chill out it’s Leon.”

Raph gave him a look that clearly said, ‘do you REALLY have this or are you just saying that to make me go away’ but did so anyway. For a few moments, Leo stood at the doorway as Donnie puttered around the boxes. Donnie glanced at his direction with enough heat to stop him. He probably would have stepped closer except Donnie still had a death grip on his bust and it was becoming more and more likely by the second. So instead he took a different approach, “Have you eaten yet Don?”

“I’ll eat later, there’s too much work to do.”

“I can see that.” He took a step deeper into the room again, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

That was about what he expected. Leo moved over to lean on Don’s desk. Without really thinking about it, he drifted his hand out to land on his brothers’ shoulder, “D, bro its me. It’s Leon Neon. You can talk to me ok man? Why don’t you tell me what happened at the Yokai Mart? Did you get mad at someone? Did you get lost- “

“I said no, now let it go. I went out, came back and now I’m working. End of story. Why don’t you go calm someone else down?”

A flush of shame filled him, of course Donnie had heard him say that. But he shook it off, “Come on you know I have to talk that way to Raph he doesn’t get you like I do.”

“Yeah you get me, you can read my mind, you can defuse me. Now leave, I have a room to rebuilt”

“Yeah it needs to be rebuilt because you destroyed it, don’t you understand that?!”

Don’s shoulder jerked free of his hand and turned to him, “I understand, Leo because I did it. I know what I did. If it had been or Mikey or even, you none of you would have given it a second thought. But because I have Autism, everyone’s freaked out. So, they have to send in the bomb squad.”

“Hey, I’m just trying to help, you’re the one who blew up- “

Before Leo could finish his thought, and to be honest he wasn’t sure wanted to before Donnie’s hands came up and shoved him hard in the chest. The red slider turtle stumbled back, his shell hitting the desk to his right with a crash before falling onto the ground. His head was spared any contact with the ground, but he looked at Donnie with shock, only to be met with the same shocked expression “Leo-I-I’m sorry are you alright?”

“Yeah, just a little bruised.” He was about to climb to his feet when Donnie quickly took his hand and yanked him up hard enough to make him stumble. He danced for a little bit to keep standing before turning his attention back to Donnie, his eyes swimming in tears. “D- “

“Can you please go now? I don’t want talk anymore.”

“I- “Leo paused,” Donnie- “he wanted to argue. He wanted to stay. He wanted to assure Donnie that he was fine, that he was still here to help him. But now his brother was trembling so hard he was afraid he would fall apart altogether. And he knew if he tried to hold him like he did last night, it would only make things worst.

Donnie didn’t want comfort, or a shoulder to cry on

He wanted to be alone.

“Ok. I’ll go. I’m sorry,” Leo took several steps back, unwilling to let his brother out of his sight incase he changed his mind and asked Leo to stay. But he knew better, “I love you bro.” he said before leaving through the curtain.

A moment later he heard Donnie burst into tears for the second time in twenty-four hours.

And he was left helpless

Part 1

Part 3

#shattered #rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #fanfiction #undercoverwizardninjaturtle #leo #leonardo #donnie #donatello #autism

167 notes · View notes

ashfountainfanfics · 5 years

Text

The deadlights show a lifetime and then another and then another. Some moments are so clear cut that you’re practically there. Others are overlapped on top of each other, indiscernible and incomprehensible. Beneath it all is the feeling of wanting to die because you’re so painfully human and everything you’re seeing isn’t meant for your fragile mind.

The feeling intensifies as Richie watches a sharp claw burst out of Eddie’s chest. The blood that splatters on his chest and mouth is warm. It tastes like pennies. Richie’s voice cracks as he says Eddie’s name.

Richie doesn’t want to leave him. But It is dying. Richie wants It dead so he helps. When It dies, It crackles and floats away like paper set on fire. Maybe that’s all It ever really was; a paper clown. Richie goes to tell Eddie. But it’s too late.

Eddie’s dead.

Eddie gets left behind.

Eddie has a tomb.

With It.

Richie wants to die.

A vision surfaces out of the cacophony. It sweetly beckons Richie’s own body to climb up chair. Two bare feet planted firmly on a leather lined seat. It’s cold. The rope is scratchy around his throat. His heartbeat thuds in his ears. Now jump, the vision coaxes him in his own voice. Just jump.

Something else breaks through.

Richie feels like he’s being pulled out of heavy water face first. It hurts as much as it’s relieving. Eddie’s face is close and Richie slams back into his own body with a rough gasp.

“I did it!” Eddie shouts, “Holy shit I did it! It worked! It-“

Richie knows in his fucking bones that they need to move. Now. The knowledge doesn’t come to him as a vision nor is it spoken. It just is. Richie grabs Eddie by the shoulders and throws everything into rolling them over and away.

Before Eddie can question it he sees one of It’s spider like appendages crash into the ground. The sharp, claw like tip sparks against the stone and It shrieks at the harsh contact.

Richie's body shields Eddie’s. Eddie starts laughing nervously as It pulls back to its main body.

“I almost fucking died,” Eddie giggles wildly.

“C’mon!” Richie helps Eddie up and waves over the others.

They manage to find a momentary place of safety. The crevice of the cave feels humid and cold. It continues to rage at them; its legs and arms wildly looking for them.

Richie is cupping Eddie’s face and looking him over. He’s still hysterical and giggling. His breathing is too heavy and at this rate he’ll pass out.

“Eds! Focus!” Richie has to hold back from pushing sense into the sides of his skull.

Instead he opts for a hard slap on Eddie’s good cheek. It stops the giggling and Eddie goes wide eyed instead.

“I almost died,” he says again.

“You think you’d be used to it,” Richie says with a smile, “didn't you almost die this afternoon too? Or was that just a weird tooth brush accident?”

“Fuck you,” Eddie smiles back, “you okay?”

Richie nods. Meanwhile the others in the pack have been foiled in their plan to force It through the small entrance to It’s lair. Richie catches wind of a few shitty insults being slung by the Losers Club.

“That’s our cue,” Richie says quickly and again brings Eddie to his feet.

“What the fuck does that even mean!?”

Again, Richie just knows. He’s got an undoubtable knowledge of what’s happening and what’s to come. This time he’s going to take it up a notch.

It is already backed up into its original landing site. It recoils and hisses at the Losers as they call It out on everything they can.

“I know a joke when I see one,” Richie yells, “you, clown faced bitch.”

“You target kids because you can’t scare enough adults!” Eddie chimes in, “You can’t catch a real meal can you? You have to live off of- off of fucking snacks!”

“And you play with your food too!” Richie continues, “We literally teach your fucking food source better than that!”

It looks deflated coincidentally just like a balloon. It’s so small now and Richie cements It’s fear by grabbing an appendage and ripping it off. He tosses it aside unceremoniously. The Losers have taken on a mantra, calling It a clown and really what’s so scary about a clown?

Mike pulls It’s heart out as if he’s reached into a sad, skinny little Christmas tree and plucked out a hidden ornament.

Just like in Richie’s vision, Pennywise seems to flake and dissipate after the group squeezes It’s blackened heart into mush. The heart itself joins in the floating ashes. The strange and oddly secure knowledge that Richie had up until this point drifts away with it.

The cave starts to crumble and the Losers claw their way out just in time. Richie makes sure he can see Eddie at all times. He keeps him in front and almost shepherds him to safety. He may not have that surreal psychic link anymore but he has that memory. He’ll be damned if Eddie gets buried here.

Richie can feel the debris of the house on Neibolt street brush against his back. The force from the collapse sends him forward. This time Eddie helps Richie to his feet.

“I almost fucking died,” Richie mimics Eddie’s wide eye expression from before.

“Asshole,” Eddie comments.

Richie pulls him into hug. It doesn’t matter that he smells like sewer and sweat. He buries his face into Eddie’s neck.

“You smell like shit,” Richie laughs.

“Well you tasted like puke so-“

Richie lets go of the hug and his brow knits.

“Tasted?” Richie asks, “When did you taste me?”

Eddie’s face goes red. He puts his hands in his pockets and shrugs.

“You looked at the dead lights and I speared the fucker but you weren’t back. Your eyes were still doing that thing, that weird glowing thing. And everyone was busy and I remember how Ben fixed Bev so I figured- I don’t know.”

Eddie had kissed Richie.

Richie nods but avoids eye contact. The natural banter between them grinds to a very sudden and awkward halt. Richie takes stock of the others and notices Bill and Mike wordlessly walking down the street. Bev quietly takes Ben by the hand and follows. Richie curtly follows suit and Eddie trails after him. No one speaks until they’ve reached their destination.

—

“This is asking for streptococcus!”

Eddie’s cry deters no one. Bev gets a running start and once she surfaces, the others follow. The water isn’t as deep as they remember and it’s less clear. It’s aged in its own way.

When Eddie surfaces he carefully brings his hand off his wound. Covering it hadn’t done much good though as it’s soaking wet. Again.

In all reality, if he got streptococcus it was definitely because of sewer water. Let alone whatever else was floating around in that literal shit.

Bev playfully dunks Ben. Bill laughs and Mike seems to be entirely at peace as he floats on his back. Eddie searches for Richie with his ears, banking on some kind of joke or comment to be heard. There’s nothing though and that makes Eddie whip his head around.

Richie is sitting on a rock. Alone. Eddie doesn’t blame him; being kissed by an old friend and coming back from the- well not the dead but not quite the opposite- is a little weird. Truthfully, Eddie doubts that his kiss made any impact. He’s pretty sure Ben’s kiss didn’t do anything either. Coming off the deadlights is a delayed thing. Probably.

Eddie cautiously swims up to Richie. Richie is taken by surprise but doesn’t move his body at all. He stays hunched over, face half buried in his forearms.

“You’re quieter than usual,” Eddie comments, “and you’re never quiet. Just saying.”

“I -uh, I saw some shit,” Richie responds.

Eddie rolls his eyes and pulls himself up on the rock, forcing Richie into a tight shared space.

“We all saw shit.”

Richie goes stiff as their shoulders and knees make contact. Eddie feels an electricity as they touch. He feels it spread all the way to his toes and fingers.

Just static he tells himself.

“It’s weird now, right?” Eddie says in spite of himself.

Without missing a beat, almost as if he hadn’t heard Eddie say anything, Richie rolls right into his own train of thought.

“Do you think true love exists?”

Eddie doesn’t know how to respond. He thinks maybe he ought to pull away. Maybe this conversation shouldn’t play out on a rock in a quarry with no distance. Maybe they shouldn’t be touching.

“Like is Myra your one true love?” Richie asks a bit sardonically, “Because that would be kind of gross.”

“She’s nice, okay?” Eddie glares into the water, “I mean, yes, she can be overbearing but-“

“But what?” Richie relaxes one leg to let his foot dangle into the lake, “Do you love her or not? No judgement this time. Really.”

Eddie thinks about this. He met Myra around the time his mother died. His mother was, in many ways, a massive presence. She left a hole behind when she passed and the idea of losing her scared him. Myra was familiar, yes. She wanted badly to be loved but only knew how to instruct love not ask for it. Eddie needed that structure. It was the only thing he ever knew.

He recoils at himself as he puts into full thought that he absolutely married a copy of his own mother. It’s short lived though. Of course he did that. What other types of women did he know? None. His mother had made sure of it.

“No,” Eddie sighs, “I married her after my mom died. I needed… something. And please spare me the Oedipal jokes. I didn’t realize what I was doing and grief is complicated okay?”

“You going home to her?”

“Fuck no.”

This shocks even Eddie. But it’s true. He’s faced death head on twice now. He has a sinking suspicion that if he’d remembered the first time life would have gone differently. What would that Eddie even be like? His mother was like a sickness he carried around and for the first time he felt free of it. Imagine what all he could have done had he saved himself as a child?

There definitely wouldn’t be a marriage to Myra. Eddie can’t go back and change his past but he can free himself in the present. A divorce would be a good start.

Poor Myra.

“Are you still headed to Reno?” Eddie asks.

“That’s where the dream is taking me.”

“Your dream their nightmare.”

This gets no response. Not even a chuckle or a playful shove. It’s not Eddie’s A game but it at least warranted some kind of reaction.

“Nothing? Rich, talk to me. Insult me. Something. You’re freaking me out.”

“I’m freaking me out.”

The others are just far enough away to not hear but they’re noticing the lack of witty banter to the scene. Bev cocks her head to the side and says something to Ben.

“Why’d you kiss me?” Richie asks.

“I don’t know!” Eddie then hushes as it looks like the others are gathering, “I panicked. I thought maybe you’d be stuck like that forever and you’d never make another shitty joke or say you fucked someone’s mom or-“

Eddie takes a deep breath. If Richie never snapped out of it then he might as well be a floating corpse. Eddie thought that never hearing Richie give him shit ever again would be a blessing but that would be wrong. Even now, as Richie sits there in silence Eddie almost feels like his heart is breaking. He wants desperately for him to say something. Anything.

I missed you, asshole. Eddie realizes it quietly and only to himself.

Eddie puts his hand in Richie’s knee.

“I would have done anything to wake you up,” he admits, “You had puked earlier and I kissed you. That is literally the nastiest thing but I still-“

“I watched you die!” Richie starts off as a scream but it cracks at the end into a whimper.

The others swim over as quickly as possible. Bev gets there first. She places a hand on Richie’s.

“You saw it too,” she confirms without question.

Richie starts crying and Eddie cautiously puts an arm around him. Eddie is surprised by how openly Richie leans into it. He’s fucking sobbing into Eddie’s shirt like a kid. Eddie holds him tighter.

Of course Richie saw things. Why hadn’t Eddie considered that? It was clear that Bev had been affected deeply from the dead lights. Why would Richie be any different?

“It’s okay,” Bev continues, “it didn’t happen. It can’t happen now..”

“Yeah, Rich,” Bill is set right in front of him, “It’s over.”

“We won,” Mike adds.

“I can’t unsee it!” Richie muffles his cries in Eddie’s shirt, “I can’t!”

“Hey,” Eddie says gently, “Rich, I’m here.”

Rich looks up. He feels so massive huddled against Eddie like this. Their height difference becomes palpable. He takes Richie in, eyes red and wide. Eddie brushes the tear streaks on Richie’s cheeks.

“I’m right here,” Eddie says again before smiling, “you see me right? Or do you need your old Coke bottle glasses back?”

Richie laughs.

“Nah, life’s better without them.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, that way when I’m at home, your mom is out of focus. Ugly is better blurry.”

Eddie shoves Richie off the rock and he splashes into the water. Despite the joke at his dead mother’s expense, Eddie smiles a bit.

—-

Bev knocks on Richie’s door quietly. Her hair is still wet, at least this time it’s from a proper shower. She’s walking around barefoot. She only had the one pair of shoes for this trip and she promptly tossed them into the garbage when they all returned to the bed and breakfast. She had thrown away every article of clothing she'd worn during the final confrontation. It felt refreshing, like losing an old skin.

It takes Richie a minute to respond. He answers shirtless and his hair tousled. Bev realizes that Richie does have a certain attractiveness about him. It was something that she hadn’t understood as a child looking into the future but she does now. Laughter had aged him well and his height gave him presence. His smile had grown to be his best feature. It’s a shame the smile Bev sees now isn't genuine.

“Hey, Beverly,” Richie says, “I got to admit; this is a very poorly timed pre dinner booty call.”

“Beep beep, Richie,” she responds with a sense of endearment, “Or don’t. I actually want to talk if you can stomach the maturity.”

Richie sighs, half jokingly and the other half legitimately. Still he opens the door and Bev walks in. She takes a seat on the bed cross legged.

“Bev,” Richie smirks “I thought you were a married woman.”

“Not for long,” she states plainly, “I think divorce will suit me better.”

“Wow. Really? Shit, I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t do it sooner. Or that I married that asshole at all really.”

She pats the spot next to her. Richiel acts accordingly but when he sits down he’s so stiff and awkward. Bev reaches for his hand again like she did at the quarry and he tenses.

“I don't know if this will help but just listen,” Bev starts slowly, “The vision that hit me the hardest was watching Bill’s death.”

“Bev, I don’t know if-“

She tightens the grip on his hand. She can feel his pulse in her fingers. She already knows how fruitless it is to avoid the fear. The more you try not to think about it the more you think about it. For years she had to satiate the fear by talking to her therapist but back then she had no context. She could never fully process it all.

“Bill is drinking. A lot. He’s alone. He throws a laptop out of the window and screams. He drinks more. He looks at a bookshelf lined with his own work. He lights it on fire and then he… he passes out before he can douse the fire.”

Her hand has created a death grip on Richie’s. She knows her eyes have glassed over and even now she’s sweating. It’s a secondhand memory but it behaves like it’s her own. It’s too hot now and her chest feels tight. She swears she can smell burning paper and whiskey.

“Bill burned.”

“Bev, stop,” Richie says alarmed.

Bev takes a deep breath and plants herself back into her body. She relaxes her grip and apologetically cradles Richie’s bright red hand.

“I never understood it,” she swallows back the anxiety, “and I can’t even remember how the others went now except Stanley of course. God, poor Stanley.. and his wife.”

She doesn’t cry. Not because she can’t but because it doesn’t come naturally to her. Tears were a thing of rage. Here in this moment she is as composed as ever. Wherever Stanley’s wife may be, Bev sends out a momentary wish of peace to her.

“I saw It kill Eddie,” Richie begins, “it was right before I woke up from the lights. Fucker stabbed Eds right at his moment, yknow? He was so proud of himself. He thought he killed It.”

Bev watches him closely and stays still. If he needs to he can bruise her fingers. It’s the only time Bev will let another man bruise her ever again.

“We won in that scenario too,” Richie’s eyes go glassy too, “but Eddie didn’t make it. And you guys made me leave him there. You made me.”

Bev says nothing. Hearing and seeing someone else go through what she did doesn’t feel good but it does create a certain solidarity. She was always willing to die for her friends but as tear drops from Richie’s far away gaze an even softer spot is carved out for him in her heart.

“I can’t handle it. I think about him all the time. I keep seeing him everywhere. I go over our initials at the kissing bridge. He’ll never know about that. All this time I thought I didn’t want him to. I was wrong.”

Oh, Richie her heart breaks.

“I drink. Bourbon. I need it for courage. I never had enough courage. I throw rope over a support beam and and line up a chair. I keep drinking. I cry. I throw up. I drink more. I step onto the chair.”

“Richie,” Bev tries to pull him back.

“He’s dead,” Richie’s voice is so small.

“No. No, honey, he’s alive.”

Richie blinks a few times and seems to come back. He wipes his eyes with his wrist.

“You never said anything,” Bev isn’t accusing only bewildered.

“To be fair,” Richie half laughs, “I just saw it today. A few hours of silence seems pretty normal.”

Bev bites her lip.

“No, sweetie,” she tries to be tactful, “I meant- the kissing bridge?”

Richie goes completely pale and then laughs nervously. Bev knows what it’s like to keep secrets. God knows Tom kept her in the business of secrets long enough. Of course coming out as a victim of abuse and coming out aren’t really the same thing. Still that expression is familiar. It’s not like she hasn’t had a friend or two figure out the indoor sunglasses and out of season long sleeves.

“It’s okay,” Bev assures him.

“It’s- it’s not, I didn’t mean-“

Bev remembers her friends insisting that she leave. She remembers the legal information, the list of domestic abuse hotlines . She remembers the offers for doctor visits and a guest bed. She remembers with a heavy heart how she pushed all that a way and lost those friends.

You can’t make someone process something if they’re not ready. You’ll just drive them away.

“You don’t have to say anything,” she continues, “Just know that I love you and I’m here, all right?”

Richie hugs her so tight and so suddenly that she almost falls back. She hugs him back with equal force. It feels so nice to be held like this and not be afraid of the next moment.

Before Richie pulls away entirely he plants a soft kiss on her forehead.

“Thanks, Bev.”

#reddie #it chapter 3 ff #unbury your gays #ich3-1 #fanfiction

46 notes · View notes