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a-solitary-marshmallow · 4 years

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Salt Water in My Veins - Ford’s Perspective

Someone commented on my AO3 about how they’d like to read Ford’s perspective on my earlier story, Salt Water in My Veins, and I got inspired! Let me know what you think :D

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Ford didn’t care.

He didn’t care.

His br- the person who had been kicked out had ruined his entire future. Of course Ford wouldn’t care about his wellbeing. It simply wasn’t logical for Ford to worry that Stan was out on the streets alone at night, or that he didn’t even have a jacket… the desperation in his eyes when Ford pulled the curtains closed…

No. It was illogical. And Ford prided himself on being logical. If he wasn’t a creature of reason and intellect, what was he?

He tried to sleep, shoving his pillow over his face to block out the sounds of Ma and Pa yelling downstairs. But try as he might, unconsciousness would not come to him. Ford blamed it on being accustomed to having another person in the room, sleeping nearby. It certainly had nothing to do with guilt and worry.

…Stanley didn’t even have his jacket.

Ford rolled over to glance blearily at the clock on his bedroom wall. It was nearly midnight. Downstairs was silent, so Ma and Pa must have gotten tired of their shouting and retired to bed, leaving the house empty. The only noise was the quiet ticking of the clock counting down to midnight.

The house had never been this quiet before.

Ford swung his legs over the edge of his bed with a sigh. Where did Stanley keep his jacket? A few errant beams of moonlight pieced through the gap in the curtains and spilled across his bedroom floor, lighting up slivers of the room as he searched. There, hanging on a stack of comic books. The watery light made Stan’s red jacket look pale and washed-out.

Ford grabbed it, rifling through his drawers to find his own coat. Oh damn it, he’d spilled gravy on it a few nights ago and Ma had taken it to be washed. His sweater would have to do.

Ford groaned and ran a hand through his hair. He was not considering this. He was not sneaking out in the middle of the night when Stanley was who-knew-where doing who-knew-what. The knucklehead had a car, he could have left Glass Shard Beach already.

Ford glanced back at his bed. Despite the promise of a restless night’s sleep it was warm.

He sighed and headed for the door.

He had despaired over it earlier, but now Ford was moving he realized that there was really only one place Stanley would go. The place he felt safe; where they had whiled away hours and hours, hiding from bullies and their father’s bad moods and the ever-present expectations of school. So Ford pulled his sweater tighter around himself and hurried down to the beach.

It was a short walk. Ford could smell the salty breeze and hear the soft washing of waves before the shoreline came into view. He shivered at the icy breeze. Where was that idiot? Ford hugged Stan’s jacket to his chest as he scanned the beach, glasses fogging up from the heat of his skin. He cursed and took them off to wipe them on his sleeve.

Was that a red smudge? Ford fumbled to put his glasses on, a sigh of relief escaping him when he recognised Stan’s car parked by the sand. He headed towards it.

The lights were off. Stan was probably sleeping – in his car, on the freezing beach! He could get sick! And that wasn’t even considering the threat of thieves. Ugh, it was like he didn’t even care about his own safety!

Ford rapped on the passenger side window.

“Stan? Stan, you forgot your jacket.”

It was ominously quiet. Ford peered through the window, only to find the driver’s seat empty. And so was the back. The car was deserted, keys sitting on the dashboard.

The keys. Why on earth would Stanley leave the keys where anyone could take them? At night, all alone, next to the shoreline…

A chill prickled down Ford’s spine that had nothing to do with the cold. He whipped around to the ocean, heart in his throat. No, no, no, please no-

Yes, the universe whispered back, because there, up to his chest in the water and getting ever-deeper, was Stan.

The jacket slipped from Ford’s numb fingers. He was running before he could even think to, before he could feel the wind whipping his face and taste the salt on his lips. His foot caught in a shallow ditch and he stumbled, hands hitting the sand, scrambling back up in an instant.

“STANELY!” No no no this could not be happening, Ford was having a nightmare and any moment now he would wake up.

In the space between blinks Stanley had disappeared under the water. Where was he? Ford couldn’t see him, couldn’t distinguish his brother from the unyielding blackness of the ocean. He plunged into the shallows and the icy water sprayed against his skin.

“Stan! Where are you? Stan!”

There was no sign of him. He’d been there just a second ago, gone the next. Ford struck out frantically for where he’d last seen his brother. The cold burned. He hardly felt it.

Water up to his waist, his chest, sloshing around him. Ford sucked in a breath and dove down, squeezing his eyes shut against the salt. Icy water closed around his head, the world turning numb and muffled. He felt around desperately and found nothing. Nothing but water and sand and fragments of seaweed. His lungs were already burning.

No, no, no! Ford broke to the surface to grab a breath before diving down again. His clawing hands groped at water, seaweed – and then an arm.

He kicked for the surface but Stan was heavy, a dead weight. Ford barely managed to drag them both towards the shallows, until he could finally get his feet on solid ground and stand, head breaking the surface. Besides him Stan let out a hoarse gasp that turned into choking. Choking but alive. Stan would have sunk back under if Ford hadn’t grabbed him, clutching his brother close as he dragged him towards the shore. Water and fog clung to his glasses. His own ragged gasping filled his ears.

They staggered onto the sand and collapsed.

Stan hacked, wet coughs that sounded painful. Ford grabbed his brother’s shoulders as Stan hurled up seawater – god, how much did he swallow? He was choking like his lungs were drowning, like he would never breathe again. Ford rubbed his back desperately.

“Stan, it’s okay, you’re okay. Just breathe. Come on, you can do it.”

It seemed like an eternity before the fit passed – and then Stan slumped forward onto the sand. Ford’s ears roared.

“Stanley?”

Stan was terrifyingly still. Ford shook him frantically, voice shrill with panic.

“Stanley! Stanley! Don’t just lie there, say something goddammit!” There was no movement. His voice cracked because oh god, what if his brother was dying and – no, no, Ford wouldn’t let that happen, he couldn’t let that happen. “LEY!”

Stan groaned.

Ford collapsed inwards, choking on a sob of relief. “Thank god.”

Stan groaned again as Ford pulled him into his lap, cold and limp but with a pulse thudding under his skin. Alive. Ford ran his shaking hands through Stan’s wet hair to reassure himself that his brother was safe and alive and there in his arms.

“Don’t you ever do that to me ever again. Do you hear me? Never again.” His voice cracked again. “Oh my god. Oh my god Ley. I almost lost you.”

Almost lost his brother. Almost lost the boy with the wonky grin and the childish sense of humour and fierce protectiveness. The teen who doodled in both their textbooks and dreamed of sailing the world and liked to box and cook even though it wasn’t ‘manly’, who borrowed his girlfriend’s kitchen for a day to make Ford cupcakes when their father had deemed them too old for a birthday cake. And Ford had almost lost him.

He whimpered, rocking them back and forth in the sand. What was Stan thinking? He’d almost – he’d almost died because of a stupid mistake. They were both so stupid, they could talk, why hadn’t Ford been willing to talk? He’d been mad and he wasn’t thinking and now-

Stan clumsily reached up to pat Ford’s cheek, breaking him out of his thoughts. Ford shivered and hugged him tighter. Stan blinked, evidently trying to focus on his brother’s face.

“S’okay.” Stan slurred. Of course Stan would be trying to comfort him. Hysterical laughter bubbled out of Ford’s chest. “I’ll be outta yer hair, n’ pa w’ll be happy fer once. T’ll be like yer an only child-”

“I don’t want to be an only child! I need my brother!”

Ford hadn’t meant to shout, and he regretted it when Stan flinched with a whimper. He lowered his voice hurriedly, stroking Stan’s hair with frantic hands, touching his arms, his face, anything to prove that he was real and alive and safe. “No, shh, it’s okay. It’s okay. You’re gonna be okay.”

“M’sorry I broke your project.” Stan mumbled into Ford’s sweater. Ford bit down another hysterical laugh.

“I know. I’m sorry too. I know you didn’t mean to break it, of course you didn’t. I was stupid.” Because really, how could Ford have ever thought that Stan would sabotage him on purpose? He was big and hot-tempered and used his fists before he used his brain, but he was Stanley. Stanley who was only ever proud of Ford for his achievements. Of course it had been an accident.

“I’m sorry.” Stan whispered again. “I… I’m so sorry. I’m sorry, Ford.” Ford tried to shush him but Stan was picking up momentum, voice cracking and shaking. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry I’msorryI’msorry-”

“Stan, Stan it’s okay-”

Stan grabbed the front of Ford’s sweater and clung on for dear life, shaking with sobs. Stanley was weeping in a way Ford had never seen before. “I’m so sorry-”

“Shh, it’s okay.” Ford cut him off, pressing a fierce kiss to his brother’s hair. Fuck their father, fuck the science fair, fuck that stupid college. His brother was hurting. Ford hated himself for not seeing it before. Well, he wouldn’t be making that mistake again. “I forgive you. We’re – we’re gonna be okay, Stanley. I promise.”

Stan’s sobs quieted into hiccupping, but he was still shaking. Ford rubbed his arm soothingly – it was icy cold.

Oh, he really was an idiot! Stan had been in the water for longer than him, and out in the open for who-knew how long. The shivers wracked his body.

“We gotta get you warm.” Ford gasped out. “We need to get inside. Do you think you can walk? Home is only a few minutes away and-”

“No!” Stan snapped up to grab Ford’s wrist, eyes huge and wild. “I can’t go back,” he rasped, “Pa’ll kill me.”

Oh, right. The whole ‘being kicked out’ thing. Ford bit down yet another hysterical laugh. Come on Stanford, keep it together!

“Right, right. At least let me take you to your car. And get you some dry clothes. God, Ley, you’re freezing.”

He ran a quick mental calculation. If hypothermia hadn’t set in yet it would soon, and a quick heating risked stopping Stan’s heart altogether, so getting his brother into a hot shower was out of the question. The Stanleymobile was insulated well enough – but they were still soaking. Ford had to sneak inside and get some dry clothes for the both of them, as well as any heat packs lying around. Ma would forgive him for borrowing them. And soup was supposedly good for people who were ill but Ford was hopeless in the kitchen – besides, he couldn’t run the risk of waking Pa up. Maybe the diner nearby would still be open? Should he get it and bring it back to the car, or bring Stanley inside? Either way that would have to wait until Stanley’s body temperature had risen enough to be stable…

Then Ford realized that he’d been saying all this out loud. He shook his head to clear it and tightened his grip on his brother, who was currently flopped against Ford’s wet sweater. Ford couldn’t help but ramble as he stirred Stan into action.

“Come on, get up. We have to move. I’m not gonna carry you, knucklehead, I’m not that strong and you’re not that light. Here, give me your arm – good. Let’s go. One step at a time. Yeah, you’ve got it. Not that much further. Oh, there’s your jacket. You forgot it at home, Lee.”

Stan mumbled something, stumbling even under half of his own weight.

“Of course I came to give it to you. Don’t you remember? Wherever we go, we go together.”

#gravity falls #fic #my fic #the stans #stangst

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jalebi-weds-bluetooth · 4 years

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There’s More To Her #3

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Understanding

Akash Raizada was a far cry from his powerful, hot headed, and insanely talented cousin. However, Akash was just as unforgettable for his empathy and altruism .

No man would part with the only token of his beloved, yet Akash gladly parted from the dupatta, his prized possession, for Khushi. It was the one thing that had made the sweet woman smile on that horrid day.

No man would remain kind to their orphaned cousin who took his surname and attention from him. But Akash knew that Arnav had as much right on being a Raizada as he. That working under Arnav was not the same as being in his shadows - he was grateful for being mentored by one of Asia’s biggest fashion tycoons. That Arnav, behind his masks of terror and anger, had been beaten brutally by life to become so.

Anjali might be Arnav’s biological sister, but to Akash Arnav was his brother - not cousin. He knew him better than anyone else.

Did he?

Shame was too small a word. And it was not due to what Arnav had said about the incident at Sheesh Mahal. It was the unsaid that occured after that. The events that Akash was too familiar with; the gossips of his brother letting Khushi fall a floor down, the forced photoshoot, the near accident at the parking lot, the guesthouse mishap.

Akash had doubted his brother’s sentiments for the woman he despised when he bolted off the house on that stormy night. He was not being heroic, he was making amends.

And Anjali, the sister he idolised, was not generous to offer Khushi a job. She was manipulative.

Akash took his spectacles from Payal and took a step back. He could not meet her eyes.

“I can’t say sorry for what my cousins have done. But I am sorry for everything, Payal ji.” He addressed her formally, as if they were back to being strangers - which was the truth. Today proved that neither knew their cousins - so knowing each other was out of the question.

“And I promise that I’ll never ask you to marry me.” He choked at the last word. Payal staggered, physically impacted by the implication of his words. How dare he write the future of their relationship? How dare he not attempt to change her thoughts?

“Please, it’s not a threat. My family has disrespected yours in every way but I want to respect you, by heeding to your request.” Payal knew she was doomed. Akash didn’t turn out to be the man she expected, he turned out to be better than she had ever imagined.

If he hadn’t listened to her, she would have wished he did. And now that he did, she wished he didn't. By accepting her refusal to marry him, he became the man she wanted to marry.

“Thank you.” She whispered, which meant I love you. Akash nodded and walked into the car, opening the car door for her.

Arnav and Khushi, mutely, followed their cousins into the car.

---

Payal sat by the temple, dusting the idol of Shiv Parvati over and over again. Khushi stood by the door, a big bowl in her hand. After fifteen minutes she gained enough courage to meet her sister.

“Jiji, here’s your favorite gajar ka halwa!” Khushi sat by Payal and gave her a generous portion of the dessert.

“To anyone who says that a man’s way to his heart is through his stomach, he must have never seen a woman eat! What not have you forgiven me for this carrot dish! Remember when I spoiled your science project? Or when I stole all the chocolates you got for your birthday? Or to support Salman ji’s friend, Himesh ji, I took you to watch Karzzzz?” Khushi and Payal winced at the memory of the film, it was the most traumatising experience of their lives. Payal could not trust Khushi for two years on film selections post ‘Karzzzz’.

They both burst into laughter recalling how Khushi followed Payal like a puppy, a bowl of gajar ka halwa always miraculously present until Payal relented.

Khushi took Payal’s hand, her smiles overwhelmed by her tears.

“Jiji, today, for the last time, forgive me-” Payal enveloped Khushi into a tight hug. This Khushi was the one Payal had known since forever.

“My sister would talk to me, try to understand me.” Payal broke their hug, wiped Khushi’s tears and handed her tissues before she could blow her nose in either of their dupattas.

“I do understand Jiji, but I don’t know why I thought you were being stubborn. I didn’t want to force you, I just wanted you to know how much Akash ji means to you… I thought you didn’t know how you felt.” Khushi confessed.

Payal kept their dessert bowls aside and held Khushi’s hands, “Khushi, a woman can accept, challenge or deny her feelings, but choosing either means she knows what those feelings are.”

In this turn of conversation about feelings, one can readily forgive Khushi for forgetting her sister’s feelings and remembering hers. To violently deny them though. Especially when a six feet tall, boorish, handsome man was in question.

“I was scared that you were hiding your happiness. That you were doing this for our sake.” Khushi mumbled.

“No Khushi, no matter how much I loved you all, I would never sacrifice my happiness for others. I need a man who can respect my decision.” And with a rue note, Payal realised that Akash had precisely done that.

“Good. Don’t ever sacrifice your happiness for others. It makes living difficult.” Payal would have thanked her sister, had she not noticed Khushi twisting her engagement ring.

For the second time of the day, Payal felt her blood run cold. Those words weren’t of a concerned sister, rather of a broken woman. In all the mess, Payal forgot that her sister was engaged, and to be married in a month if it went by Bua ji’s will.

Payal touched her shoulder. Khushi shook, pulled rudely out of her thoughts.

“Khushi-”

“Jiji, I’ll be back in an hour.” Khushi sprinted off. For a woman who was aware of a cheap metal key, she didn’t even bother when the single cut diamond engagement ring slipped off her finger and fell to the floor with a considerable clank.

Bua ji picked it up and yelled from the end of the hall. She waited until Khushi slowly slipped the ring. Shyam entered the hall and offered to help Khushi with it.

“No, it’s ok.” She forced the ring back and walked away, giving a polite nod to both Bua ji and Shyam.

“Aw, she’s still shy of you.” Madhumati gushed.

“It will all change after marriage Bua ji,” Shyam grinned.

An unsettling fear settled in the pit of Payal’s stomach. Khushi was far from shy, and Shyam’s comment didn’t reflect his earlier unease and patience about marriage. How hadn’t she seen it before?

---

Arnav loved silence, unpredictability and accountability - but not when they were directed to him. Akash said nothing, asked nothing and kept firmly to his business on their way home. He behaved like Arnav, and in any other time or day he would be happy to see his brother aping his best qualities.

Except today. He wanted to talk, explain and be held answerable to the man who was more than a brother. One chance before he was judged, forever.

“Akash, what I did-” Arnav began.

“It’s not about that.” Akash interrupted, “I don’t need explanations Bhai. I know you, maybe not enough to understand your actions, but enough to defend your intentions.” His words humbled Arnav. And he royally failed today to secure the happiness of the one person in his family who expected nothing from him.

He parked in the garage but remained in the car, “I’ll fix this mess.” Arnav promised.

“This is no mess.” Akash saw no reason to debate or blame his brother when he finally saw reason. The thirty minutes of silence gave him enough time to think about what went wrong in his relationship with Payal.

Relationship? Akash recalled all the times when he met Payal. There was attraction, respect, admiration, even love but not relationship.

“I’ll help you clear the misunderstanding.” Arnav offered, his eyes taking the sharp look which formed whenever a successful plan formulated in his head.

It was simple - he needed to go to the Guptas, convince them that they would ideally not find a better deal than that of a matrimonial alliance between Payal and Akash. If there were any doubts, he would guarantee that Akash would financially aid them as well. Akash loved Payal, Payal loved Akash - there was no need to waste further time.

In the society they lived, marriage solved everything. As Akash had said, there was no doubt about Payal’s place in his life - which said more than what Arnav could say for his fianceé.

Akash placed a hand on his shoulder, bringing him back from his thoughts.

“No Bhai, there’s no misunderstanding. Payal ji has said no, and that’s enough.”

“But you love her, you said you won’t regret bringing her in your life.” Arnav protested.

“It’s a marriage, Bhai. A transaction based on mutual interest and possibility of profit for both the parties involved!” Akash got out of the car and slammed the door shut on Arnav’s face.

Counting to ten, he waited for Arnav to join him by the front door.

“Sorry,” Akash mumbled, fishing for keys in his pocket. Arnav gave him a half smile, his brother was forgiven even before he apologised. He rung the doorbell

“Bhai, Payal ji is not just the woman I love. If I’m bringing her to my life, I’m bringing her sister, her aunt, her parents, her values - everything! Tell me she won’t regret living as a Raizada.” Akash quieted as a flurry of footsteps approached the door.

In real life logic and example rarely followed each other in quick succession. To Arnav, Akash’s understanding felt all too sudden, and all too true. But when the door opened to a smiling Anjali, an unsmiling Nani and a confused Lavanya trying to understand the difference between different kinds of rice - Arnav finally understood the logic and the unfortunate example.

Lavanya Kashyap was a force to reckon with. The same could not be said for the to-be Mrs. Arnav Singh Raizada.

Akash has brushed away his discomfort with the modern-turns-sanskari program only because he believed his brother was a righteous, indestructible force who would let Lavanya become her old self once they were married. He had relied on the same shield to gain the courage to marry Payal.

“Do any of you have plans to enter Shantivan?” Anjali chuckled, clicking her fingers before Arnav and Akash. Once they sat in the lounge and had been served their favorite tea and coffee, Anjali attempted to dissipate the silence between the three of them.

“So how was your day?” She asked, preparing a plate of digestive biscuits.

“Di, I pay people to do that,” Arnav grumbled, taking the plate from her.

“I met Payal.” Akash said, keeping his cup of tea aside.

“I asked her to marry me.” Like a wise sister, Anjali kept quiet, not knowing how Arnav would react to the news of Akash and Payal. Like a wiser brother, Arnav nodded to his sister letting her know that he knew everything and did not have a problem. Breathing a sigh of relief, Anjali grabbed Akash’s hands, excitement spilling from her incessant chatter and smiles.

“Thank God Chote! First I thought I’ll have to manage you, then Mami!” She rolled her eyes at the mention of her aunt, “But then since you agree, I can involve you into the plan of getting our younger brother hitched as well!”

“Yes, and marriage means that she’ll be my wife. Her family will be like my own. Her sister, as my own.” Anjali nodded, her traditional instincts proud of Akash’s understanding of marriage.

Arnav loved Anjali too much to question what he had learnt from the Gupta sisters. Akash loved Payal too much to keep quiet.

“Exactly, what did she say?” Anjali asked.

“What any woman would say to a man who’s sister blackmails hers for a menial job.” Anjali stood up, dropping his hands like hot coal. Arnav stood up as well, with all intention to stop Akash. Anjali had to have meant well.

“Khushi ji said she forgave me,” Anjali whispered, unable to look at Arnav.

“Her sister didn’t.” Akash got up and placed a hand on Anjali’s shoulder. It hurt him to see his brother protect Anjali from a scolding she deserved but he could not judge. Arnav and Anjali so often switched between playing each other’s parents that they probably didn’t even realise when they did it.

“Don’t worry Anjali di, it happens,” Akash smiled, “we forget that people have families. Have respect. Self respect. It happens when our clothes cost twice of someone’s ten months rent.” Akash stormed out of the house, leaving a sobbing Anjali and a stoic Arnav behind.

“Chote, I truly thought that-” Arnav shushed her, “It’s ok Di. I just wish that I was the only one who made such mistakes. Now Payal will never understand that Akash-” Arnav stopped. Payal would not understand, unless someone made the effort.

In a flash he picked up his car keys and phone.

“Chote-”

“Di, I’ll be back in an hour,” He stopped on his way and turned around to face his sister, “and Di, I’m not upset that you did whatever you could for my happiness.” Anjali sighed in relief and approached her brother but he raised his hand, gesturing her to be where she was.

“But, I told you that the contract was no longer legally enforceable. And you knew that I didn’t tell Khushi.”

---

Work is therapy. Akash wished that was true. The two hours he spent negotiating the launch of the winter collection only added to his headache.

A wise man once said that words, like arrows, cannot be taken back. Especially the ones said in anger. And Akash was wise, furious and had a choice of words simmering in him all afternoon in the office. Hence he declined every single phone call from Shantivan, Anjali di, and even Hari Prakash, until he switched off his phone.

Unfortunately now someone was at his office door. What can a man do to get one peaceful day!

“Sir, you have a visitor.”

“Rakesh, you know I don’t want any visitors.” Akash said.

“How about a friend?” Khushi Kumari Gupta, disrespecting all beautiful rules of privacy, entered the room and stared eye to eye with a shocked Akash.

“Khushi ji, what a pleasant surprise. Is Payal ji here? No… why should be? Khushi ji, I have decided to understand Payal ji’s no, so there is no yes in the no. You are my friend, but I won’t be convinced. You know how Payal ji is,” This was another case of verbal diarrhea.

Victim, Akash Raizada. Cause, first love and heartbreak syndrome. Previously seen in Khushi Kumari Gupta.

Khushi wondered if this is how she sounded to her family members throughout her life. That would explain her nicknames and her sister’s continuous worry of her health. Right now Akash would faint if not interrupted, as in the case of diarrheas, and her sister would have her head if she inadvertently caused the death of Akash Raizada.

Oh wait, even the Laad Governor would have her head, without any preliminaries, if anything happened to Akash. So, out of pure selfishness, Khushi had to act.

“... Payal ji was right. I had no idea Di had enforced the contract on you. Don’t worry I have understood Payal ji’s no. You do not, please, convince me otherwise-” Akash babbled.

“Stop! Hey Devi Maiyya, who told you I’m here to convince you?” Khushi asked. Akash violently colored and sat on his office chair, to stand up again, show Khushi the office guest chair and sit down back in his chair.

“Oh.”

“No means no. But now that you’ve understood her no,” Khushi began, “don’t you think it’s time you understood her?”

---

“Coming! Khushi if you knock once more-” Payal opened the main door and stopped. Last she remembered, Khushi was not six feet tall, wearing a pompom free and colorless suit, with a beard and a permanent scowl on her forehead. Also, she was not a man.

“You’re not Khushi.”

“So I’m told,” Arnav said.

If there were any doubts on Payal being Khushi’s sister, her inconsequential observation, and the necessity to voice it, removed it. Seldom had Arnav been faced with female attention not directed towards them, especially when he was in their line of sight. But Payal had other plans, and other intentions, as she craned her neck to find the taller, spectacled Raizada.

And even more rarely, had Arnav been pleased by someone’s utter lack of interest and disappointment in his solo arrival.

“Akash is not here.” He informed her. Payal blinked at him in a way that he interpreted as I-was-not-searching-for-him-at-all. It reminded him of Khushi.

“Why are you here?” Payal asked.

“I need to speak with you.” Arnav answered.

“I don’t want to speak with you.”

“What the fu-”

“What?!” Payal glared, knowing well where the last word went.

“Future. Of yours and Akash. He loves you.”

“I have said no.”

“I’m not here to convince you. I’m just saying that - damn it - Payal, not everyone gets the chance to marry someone they love.” Arnav said, his words betraying his inner turmoil. It struck Payal, love, it’s what Khushi spoke about and believed in but her current situation deprived her of the one thing she ever wanted.

“Ok, meet me in Happy ji’s garage, five minutes.” Payal instructed.

“Why Happy’s - his name is happy? - garage?” His question was promptly answered with a loud ‘Hai Re Nandkisore’. Payal raised her eyebrows, gesturing a conversation between Bua ji and him. Arnav was intelligent, he chose his battles well.

“Right, Happy’s garage, in five.”

---

Next Chapter

A/N: Thank you for your great feedback/response. Be sure to stay safe, alert not anxious during this season! Take care

#ipkknd #there's more to her #arnav Singh raizada #khushi kumari gupta #isspyaarkokyanaamdoon #fanfic #fanfiction #story #shortstory

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acrobaticcatfeline · 5 years

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Logan and His Little Bumble Bee (Single Dads AU) Chapter 2!!!

Word Count: 5924

TW: Ok geez, so Logan outright hates his ex, hes pan, abuse, cheating, drugs, abandonment, smoking, mental disorder, neglect, swearing, uhhhh I think that’s all. Let me know if I missed something!

Notes: First chapter here!!! I’m so tired guys. I’m so tired of everything and this was the best de-stress I’ve had in forever. I’m glad to be done with this part, I probably wont have time to write for real until summer. I have like 6 more weeks of school then comic con and then I go to my moms so I’ll probably write while I’m there. I love these boys and I’m glad you all enjoyed it, and I hope you enjoy this part just as much!!!

Pairings: logicality, past Logan and OC (her name Mercedes and I hate her a lot), familial logince, familial moxiety, platonic prinxiety

Summary: “DAD!!! VIRGIL WANTS TO HANG OUT AT THE PARK CAN WE GO???” It’s been 9 years. Yeah yeah what a time skip!!! It’s Roman’s 11th birthday, and he has to have dinner with his mother. We already know he has a large distaste for his mother. Logan is weighing the pros and cons of trying to keep his ex in their life, neither of them like her but it’s healthy for Roman to have her around isn’t it? He makes a big decisions and mistakes, but you know, it ends well in the end doesn’t it. I mean, this is a fluffy fic.

“DAD!!! VIRGIL WANTS TO HANG OUT AT THE PARK CAN WE GO???”

Logan sanders was tired. Yes still, we haven’t jumped that far yet! His son Roman, 11 years old today was as talkative as ever. He was in 5th grade now and he had made more friends and proved to learn words very quickly. In fact, Roman had been put into the honor program at his school and was excelling in all his classes, and to Logan’s surprise and delight, he enjoyed them all too. Roman would come home from school and do his math and science homework and would do his English homework with Logan when he had the time. Logan would have to hold his tongue when Roman told him about what he learned in history, he wouldn’t tell him just how horribly biased the information he was getting was until he was older. He still stayed friends with Virgil, as they went to the same school, but that also meant Logan has had to continue to keep his cool around Patton, who has only gotten more attractive in the past 9 years. And yes, he still hasn’t said anything about his affections, listen, he’s nervous and what if he says no it would ruin their relationship and then Roman would hate him for making him not able to spend time with his best friend and he can’t do it. I mean Roman already had trust issues with his mother he couldn’t do that to him.

Speaking of his mother…

“sure Ro, but remember your mom wants to come over and celebrate your birthday ok? We can’t be out too long, she’ll be here by 8 and its 4 right now. Grab your phone and we’ll go ok?”

“oh yeah. I guess… yeah I’ll be right back.”

Logan hated how deflated Roman got whenever his mom was brought up. He had tried, he tried so desperately to repair what she had broken with him, but he had no clue what had happened and as such couldn’t even begin. His ex had started making an effort supposedly, almost immediately making an appearance to attempt to fix what was broken.

She failed. Roman refused to visit her alone, he wouldn’t stay at her place for a weekend, he would almost go into a panic attack if Logan had asked her to babysit, causing him to find a way to cancel it every time. He hated that his ex had ruined her relationship with him so badly. He was desperate to give Roman a good family, but he constantly wanted to strangle her. She was just… so insensitive! He would get things for Roman that Roman hated, or something that Logan expressly said Roman wasn’t allowed to have, and directly going against his wishes as his caretaker. She would bring noisemakers, leading Roman to be infinitely noisier, and what person gifts a kazoo to a 10-year-old whose dad still got little to no sleep? Either way, it would be… cruel, to keep Roman’s mother from seeing him on his birthday, especially since she had put forth the effort. So here he was, forcing himself and his son to go through the interaction. At least he would be able to commiserate with Patton. That would give him the energy to get through dinner with her. Roman ran around the corner in his star fire teen titan’s black t-shirt and jeans.

Logan smiled at his son and ruffled his hair as they headed out to the park. He was especially proud of himself for raising his son without the idiotic idea of gender roles. Sure, Roman loved iron man and captain America, but his favorite superheroes had been wonder woman and star fire ever since he had started watching tv or reading comics. When Roman took a liking to star fire from the teen titans’ cartoon, Logan had taken him to the local comic book store and had bought the first 5 issues of the new teen titans comics, having done the research to ensure he got the right thing.

They walked to the park, and as soon as they got within distance, Roman took off running, already seeing Virgil. Logan chuckled, and continued walking. When he caught up Roman was clinging to Virgil who was laughing loudly. He approached Patton with a smile, and Patton held up a bag with a gentle smile.

“Virge said it was Ro’s birthday, so we got him a little something. I imagine once he can stop laughing, he’ll tell him. How are things lo?”

“oh geez, you didn’t have to, he’s spoiled rotten by you guys enough on every normal day.”

“nonsense!!!”

“heh, anyways, things are… tense. Mercedes wanted to come over and celebrate Roman’s birthday, and Roman is… less than excited to say the least.”

“oh gosh, that sounds like a time. Hopefully things are ok?”

“hopefully. I have a strong feeling she’s going to start an argument with me about how she should have custody if I’m not in a relationship because its detrimental or something idiotic, which you know I think is funny considering that Roman literally gains symptoms of anxiety and ptsd when around her, as well as the fact that I am a medical professional who works with children in actual detriment for half of my work days. Besides, even if Roman did want to live with her I wouldn’t be able to let him be there with her new boyfriend. I’m at least 70% sure that on top of his addiction to cigarettes he’s a drug addict, and I’m not putting my son in that situation. Oh, sorry that was, word vomit I apologize.”

“no no don’t worry about it, you have valid concerns and emotions. Its better for you to talk about it now instead of blowing up at her, if not for your sake, for Roman’s.”

Logan smiled and nodded. He often forgot that Patton was a therapist and had similar training in psychology. He looked over to see Virgil and Roman running over, Roman directly at him, and steadied himself for the incoming impact. Roman launched himself at him and Logan caught him and dispersed the energy towards him by spinning the boy in a circle. He lifted him higher with a smile.

“is this my little bumble bee? Hmm, I don’t know, my bumble bee giggles when I do… this!”

Logan flipped the boy upside down and Roman squealed with laughter. He put him back down and Roman surged forward again to give him a hug. Roman looked up at him with a big toothy grin and if there had been a piece of his heart that hadn’t yet melted from that little smile, it didn’t survive much longer. He smiled back and nodded his head in the direction of Patton and Virgil.

“I hear vee and pat got you a birthday present, you wanna go thank them and open it?”

Roman’s face lit up brightly and he nodded. He thanked the other two profusely and gave them big hugs and went to open the gift. He gasped loudly and showed Logan the contents, being a video camera, a set of big headphones and an adult coloring book, one of the few Roman hadn’t gotten yet. Logan smiled gently and silently thanked Patton for the gift, Roman had a tendency to break earbuds quickly, and would play his music on his phone very loudly. It was a much-needed expense that Logan hadn’t been able to get yet.

“you remember the rules with that right bee?”

Logan doesn’t have to elaborate, Roman nods firmly, pulling the red beatz headphones out and putting them on. He smiles even wider than before and launches into a hug for Virgil and Patton. Logan grabs the book and camera and smile at the 3. What he wouldn’t give for this picture to be a constant, where the 4 were simply happy in each other’s presence.

“remember Ro, we only have a few hours, we need to make the house presentable.”

There was tenseness in Roman’s shoulders at the reminder, and god he wished he could cancel, could tell her off, could keep her away from Roman but he had no proof, no evidence, that anything had ever happened, only the few things Roman had told him which essentially added up to ‘moms not here’ and while that could be from neglect or trauma, it could also just be that he was stating the fact of the moment. He had no way of knowing and Roman may not even have those memories stored. Regardless, they had to meet her, or she would try to press charges. And even if he would win, he didn’t have the time or money to deal with it.

Roman and Virgil played for hours, and Logan just talked with Patton until they had to leave. Roma was immediately uncomfortable as soon as they started walking home, and Logan hated it passionately. They cleaned a bit and Roman insisted he had to change. He came back down in a black long sleeve shirt and a white avengers t-shirt over it. He didn’t look comfortable, actively making himself look small, and he looked unhappy. Oh geez, how could he let this happen to him? He had a right to tell his ex off, to keep her from seeing him, she had formally signed over full custody when she first dropped Roman off, he had the right to keeping her out of his sons’ life, especially when her presence caused the poor boy so much stress.

That’s it. This is the last time. If Roman ever wants to spend time with her he will let him of course, but at the moment she was damaging Roman just by being brought up. He would tell her after Roman went to bed. If she had a problem, she could figure it out. She was… as Roman had put it years ago, bad. Plus, she had been a huge drain on his life as well. If he never saw her again it would be too soon…

Knock knock

Speak of the devil and she shall appear…

“hello Mercy, please come in!”

Please leave and never come back you spineless wretched bi-

“why thank you Logan! Roman!!! I’m glad I get to see you again!!! Happy birthday kiddo, I have a gift for you!!!”

I bet it’s a gift card to an adult shop, you have no tact you wicked monstrous ba-

“oh! Um, yay! Dad made dinner, do you want some pasta Mercy?”

And there was a look shared between the adults, an accusing one that made him out to be a tactless a- uh, jerk… who never referred to her as Roman’s mother as if that was the case… how dare she imply, assume that he would stoop to her standards.

“oh yes please Ro! I would love some!”

Roman gave Logan a look and Logan gave a small nod before Roman dashed into the kitchen. Mercy gave Logan another angry look as Roman rounded the corner, speaking in a hushed tone.

“so, I see you truly haven’t taught him to respect his mom?”

“I do my best to keep my disdain for you under wraps, so he doesn’t see it. Either way I rarely refer to you as anything other than his mom regardless of how little you deserve to be referred to as such.”

“oh yeah well it seems you’ve failed. I was so much more successful taking care of him you really should relinquish custody to me”

“listen if you want to have this pointless conversation again it can wait until Roman goes to sleep. I would prefer not screaming at you while my son is just around the corner.”

“oh woe, however could you let MY son see you being the truest form of you! A vicious monster who hates all women!”

“keep your voice down Merce. None of what happened more than a decade ago matters right now. I’m not vicious and I certainly don’t hate women. I just hate you.”

“why I outta-”

Roman bounded the corner with three bowls of pasta and a content smile on his face. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw his parents glaring at one another. Logan turned towards him and the scowl faded into a grin. Mercy also fixed her posture and made her face neutral. She turned and smiled at Roman sweetly, and it made Roman’s skin crawl. Nevertheless, he smiled back and set down their bowls. He couldn’t wait for dinner to be over, then he could go take a shower and go to bed. He just had to make it through dinner…

“thank you, Ro, I made some veggies too, I’ll go make us some plates of that. Why don’t you unwrap your gift Roman?”

Roman nodded and mercy smirked as she handed him a bag. As he walked into the kitchen, he heard the bag open and a small gasp. When he returned, he saw a t-shirt on the table and a plush captain America plushie in his hands. He slowly brings it into a hug and thanks mercy. Logan put down the plates and signals to start eating. Halfway through dinner, mercy asks the question he knew was coming.

“so, what did you get him Logan?”

He refrained from cackling and backed up to grab Roman’s gifts. He set down two boxes and Roman looked at him with stars in his eyes. He opens the top one first, revealing a rotating constellation lamp. He smiled widely and wiggled happily in his seat. Mercy’s face was already less proud and conceited. Then Roman opened the next one, causing him to squeal and tackle hug Logan.

“I really really wanted a ukulele!!!!! Thank you so much dad I can’t believe you actually got one!!!”

He smiled softly as he hugged the boy. He looked up at mercy and felt his smile widen at the distaste on her face. He coaxed Roman to sit back down and finish eating, and he gave mercy the smallest hug afterwards and then Roman went upstairs to get ready for bed. Now he and mercy were in a free for all. No holding back. Logan could already hear the shower upstairs running, nothing here was sacred. Mercy could and would play dirty now. And Logan wasn’t about to back down. They were both ridiculously stubborn and absolutely hated each other and thus why their breakup was particularly ugly.

“you outdo me every time. You know you don’t need to buy his love? You can just try to be a halfway decent father.”

Oh ok. No build up this time, straight to the arteries.

“listen mercy I know you’re narcissistic, but I didn’t realize you projected so hard! If I had realized I would have therapized you sooner! Please, tell me how your home life was like?”

“oh, ha ha! You need to give me custody of him Logan. He needs a stable REAL family and a constant mother figure. Its mentally damaging to him-”

“oh? Oh really? Really please do tell me, a mental health doctor, how it is mentally damaging for him to have a single parent? Please bestow your wisdom on me high and mighty waitress from Denny’s without a college degree!!!”

“listen jackass its been scientifically proven that it causes mental disorders!”

“by fucking who??? Freud??? Because if you listened to anyone ever in your high school years instead of fucking a grand total of 9 guys at once maybe you’d know that Freud is full of shit!”

“its not my fault you’re shit at relationships lo”

“yeah well its also not MY fault that you cheated on me with 8 OTHER GOD DAMN GUYS!!! Its also not my fault that your boyfriend is a fucking druggie!!! Of all the guys you’ve fucking dated I think I’m the only one who doesn’t do drugs, and you know I don’t feel comfortable letting my son that you DROPPED ON MY DOORSTEP and handed full custody of over after 2 years live in a coke den. Don’t particularly want him to get second hand smoke either. I’m not giving you custody. If you wanted fucking custody you would have fucking raised him. You know I’ve taken him to therapy, and I’ve figured something out. Apparently, he likely has DSED. But you don’t know what that means do you? Its disinhibited social engagement disorder. It’s a trauma disorder that has to be related to a traumatic series of events from before the age of 5. Seeing as some of Roman’s first words were ‘mom bad mom not here’ I have reason to believe that you have neglected and abused him and then handed him over to me so you couldn’t be held responsible. Now you want him back so you can claim its my god damn fault well its too fucking late Merce. I’m giving you a choice Mercedes. Either you walk away and keep out of Roman’s life unless he requests you, or I will file a restraining order. Your choice.”

“…you never change do you Logan. I hope you grow up some day. I truly do. I guess this is goodbye.”

“sayonara Mercedes. If I never see you again it will be too fucking soon.”

And she left. She’s gone. He’s never going to have to do this again, and neither is Roman. He lays against the front door once she’s gone and calls Patton.

“hello? Logan its pretty late for you, you don’t usually call this late, is something wrong?”

“no. no something is wonderfully great Patton I’m free. Roman is free, I finally gathered the nerve. She’s never coming back Patton. She’s gone, she’s out of our lives no more whispered arguments just out of hearing range, no more cursing yelling matches while Roman goes to sleep, no more pretending I can stand her for Roman’s sake, its done, its over good god I haven’t felt this happy since Roman spoke his first words.”

There was silence on the line for a minute. Then a chuckle.

“I’m so happy for you L!!! I’m so glad you don’t have to put yourself in that situation anymore! I’m so proud of you!!!”

Logan held the phone with both hands, feeling like a teenage girl in a love song video. He smiled wide and nodded before remembering that he wasn’t on video call.

“thank you, Patton. I’ll let you get some sleep. Good night pat.”

“night L”

He hangs up and make his way upstairs. Roman is sat in his bed patiently waiting for Logan. He dives under his covers when he sees him. Logan sits on the side of his bed with a smile.

“hey kiddo. Guess what?”

“what?”

You don’t have to see your mom ever again if you don’t want to. Any meetings will be completely your choice.”

Roman’s eyes widened and his smile grew.

“you really mean it?”

“yessiree”

Roman gave Logan a huge hug yet again, and Logan stroked his hair. He was finally able to protect his baby boy. When Roman let go, Logan walked to the wall and pulled out a bag and handed it to Roman. Roman looked at Logan and began ripping the bag apart at the nod Logan gave. He opened it to see statuettes of wonder woman, star fire, and Harley Quinn, his favorite superheroes, and villain, ever. He let out a gasp and tackled Logan in a hug for a third time in the last hour. He sets the half foot tall statues on the nightstand next to his bed.

“do you want me to set up your constellation lamp?”

Roman nodded excitedly. Logan hooked up the lamp and calibrated it with the date, so it showed tonight’s stars. He fixed a few other things in Roman’s room, cleaning up his laundry corner, rearranging his book shelf, and putting the last few toys away in his toy box. He hung up the new shirt Roman got and tucked the captain America plushie in with him. He set the new ukulele in a stand on Roman’s shelf. Finally, he unhooked Roman’s dream catcher from the string that hung above his head. He took it to the window and blew on it. He hung it back up and walked right next to Roman’s bed. He began to tuck the boy into bed.

“you want a lullaby Ro? And would you like me to plug in your night light as well as your lamp?”

“yes, and yes please dad?”

“of course, Roman”

Little child, be not afraid the rain pounds harsh against the glass Like an unwanted stranger There is no danger I am here tonight

Little child Be not afraid Though thunder explodes, and lightning flash Illuminates your tear-stained face I am here tonight

And someday you’ll know That nature is so This same rain that draws you near me Falls on rivers and land on forests and sand Makes the beautiful world that you see in the morning

By the time he reached that point in the song Roman was completely passed out. He smiled fondly on him and kissed his forehead before lighting the night light, a bumble bee on a lily, and the constellation lamp and leaving.

He went about his own routine until he laid in bed. He looked at the clock next to his bed. It read 10:03. He impulsively picked up his phone and dialed Patton.

“…uhh, Logan? What’s up? I was just settling down for bed…”

“um, sorry I just uh…”

“out with-it L, I’m too tired to understand your silliness.”

“…I’m in love with you. Have been for a long time now but I just um, I just had a burst of confidence and that confidence is abandoning me so I’m sorry, this is stupid, I’m stupid, ignore this I’m sorry I’ll go, sleep well Patton good night”

“wait what?! Logan wait hold on-”

Click.

Oh good. He’s going to have to own up to that in the morning. Maybe he should go have a drink? No no, much too late for that. He’d just sleep it off. Yeah that’ll work.

When he woke up the next morning his phone was blown up with missed calls, voicemails, and texts from Patton, which makes tons of sense in hindsight, but you know the saying, hindsight is 20/20, and his normal vision is significantly less. Either way, he hesitantly listened to the voicemails, after ensuring that Patton wouldn’t see that he did. There were varying levels of distress in each.

“Logan! Its Patton, please pick up? I need to talk to you about this. Are you ok?”

“Logan!!! Its Patton I swear its not what you think, please just pick up and talk to me!”

“Logan? Its Patton. I don’t know if you’re ignoring me or if you’re just asleep, but I… I need to tell you something too. Call me back when you get the chance.”

“………………”

Logan felt awful. He already felt awful, but now he felt even worse. Look what he’d done! God he was a mess and he had the gall to drag poor Patton into it. God why did he do it, why didn’t he think it through? Imagine what Roman would think of him now!!! God, he messed up so badly. He grabbed his phone and walked downstairs to get hugged by Roman as he met the bottom.

“dad dad dad! Virgil asked if he and pat could come over, can they can they can they???”

Of course. He should have prepared for this. Its Sunday, the only time he and Patton’s work schedules coincided the whole day. Patton worked evenings on Saturday and Logan worked mornings on Friday and it was always Roman and Virgil’s favorite thing to do to come over to their house for breakfast then play all day. The two were never bored of each other. And it just meant Logan would get his just desserts sooner than he intended. Patton lived about a 10-minute drive away and that gave him very little time to look presentable.

“yes of course ro. In that case, I’m going to fix myself up, and when I’m done, how’s about we make some blueberry pancakes?”

Roman squealed and jumped up and down, before running to his phone. Logan made his way back upstairs. He brushed his hair, his teeth, and he got dressed. He put on blue jeans that he liked, a black t-shirt, and a soft light blue hoodie with a heart on it. It was a birthday gift from Patton from he thinks about 3 years ago. He had treasured it, even though it wasn’t much his style, it was something that felt inherently Patton to him and as mentioned a multitude of times before, he is really really gay. He fixed himself a gaze in his full-length mirror, checking to see that he was truly presentable. He saw the faintest of bags under his eyes, but those were probably from ro. He gave himself a silent pep talk before going to the kitchen. He saw Ro had already gathered all the ingredients and utensils they needed. He smiled and ruffled Roman’s hair. He rolled up his sleeves and put his hands on his hips.

“you ready to get cooking Ro?”

“absolutely!!!”

They had made the mix, and a few pancakes when the doorbell rang. Logan set the scoop down in the bowl and pushed his hair back. He smiled at Roman and asked him to get the door. The second Roman rounded the corner his façade fell. He was lost and scared and had no easy escape from the conversation he knew would happen as soon as the boys went off to play. He wasn’t ready. Not at all, but he had no choice anymore. He’d have to face it sooner or later.

“hi pat!!! HI VERGE!!!!! Come in, dads making pancakes!!!”

“oh, does he need any help?”

He heard Patton ask and he really hoped Roman would cover for him. He needed a bit more time before he had to be alone with him.

“oh no, he’s got this, he’s the most epic master chef to chef the seven stoves!!!”

Oh, thank god. He chuckled at Roman’s antics, always amused at how ridiculous he could be. He finished the last of the pancake mix and brought out 2 plates staked high with pancakes. He set them down with a smile and retreated again to grab sugar, butter, and syrup. He set them down and invited them to seat themselves. He had sat next to his son, and of course Virgil sat next to Roman, leading Patton to sit next to him. He did his best to just… eat and listen to Roman talk about this newest obsession, but his gaze kept wandering towards Patton, and it seemed that every time he glanced at him, Patton was doing the same. It wasn’t long at all before Roman and Virgil were finished and racing each other upstairs. He quickly made himself busy with gathering the dishes, his included, and bringing them to the sink to get rinsed off. He bounded the corner again, seeing Patton still making his way through a pancake on his plate.

“that the last pancake you want?”

“uh yeah, sorry I’m taking so long today, I’m still a bit tired.”

Logan felt himself twitch at that. Had he kept Patton up with worry? Nope nope not yet, not ready yet. He grabbed the extra pancakes and packed them in a bag. He rounded the corner yet again, seeing Patton finish his pancake. He stood with the plate and Logan grabbed it out of his hands. He smiled gentle at Patton, and he could have sworn he’d seen a blush on Patton’s face, but he was sure he was imagining. While rinsed the plate he started his coffee maker.

“you want coffee pat?”

He looked at Patton and Patton shook himself out of some sort of trance before making a sound of affirmation. A few minutes later he poured them both mugs of coffee, pulling out his creamer and sugar for himself and Patton to choose from. After they finished mixing it up, he saw Patton start to think of something to say, and he interrupted. He’d already had one argument in that room, he didn’t need the possibility of another one.

“would you like to step outside?”

Patton, who was staring firmly at his mug, looked up suddenly with an odd look on his face. He nodded quickly and followed Logan out onto the patio. Logan stood next to the fence around the deck, leaning on it and looking out on the little empty field that was behind his house. He had spent so much time there with Roman, he could barely remember a time before he had the kid. He heard soft footsteps approach the railing and smiled down into his coffee, hating the show of emotion and weakness he was having. He heard Patton take a deep breath and he nearly laughed at the situation he was in.

“so…”

“yeah.”

He heard Patton turn around, his back now against the railing. He hated this. He couldn’t stand this he didn’t want to have this conversation, he wanted to go back to sleep.

“so um, what you said on the phone last night… was-was that true?”

“heh, yeah. All of it, I’m-I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have bothered you with that. Especially not as late as it was.”

He felt Patton’s gaze fall on him and he was harshly reminded how much he h a t e d this. He looked like a moron, can’t the time just reverse so he can choose not to decide to ruin his and Roman’s lives. God why did he fuck this up so bad-

“yeah no, if you had told me that literal years ago it would have saved us both some turmoil lo.”

Wait-

“what?”

Logan stood straight up and finally really looked at Patton. He had a gentle smile and soft eyes and god he never thought he would see that perfectly gorgeous look directed at anyone other than Virgil, let alone him. That was the look Patton gave Virgil constantly. It was a look of adoration and affection and love and god that was directed at Logan and he didn’t think he would be able to keep his composure if he kept looking at those beautiful blue eyes that were peering into his soul.

“I-I didn’t think-I mean you were just-god how oblivious am I?”

“only a lot when it comes to emotions. I mean, it’s not like I knew ether, and I literally talk people through their emotions daily for pay, so you know I think its pretty even there. You know you look really nice in that hoodie. I almost forgot I got that for you, I hadn’t seen you wear it in a good long while. I had thought you had gotten rid of it.”

“what? No, I would never! It’s the most comfortable thing I own honestly, and um, I was certain I was going to need comfort for this conversation but I… guess I was wrong.”

“Logan what did you think was gonna happen? That I would reject you and hate you or something?”

“uh, yeah? Well my worst-case scenario was that you would slap me for even thinking about it and then you would cut yourself and Virgil out of my life and then Roman would hate me as much as his mother, but you know its just how it goes I guess.”

“…Logan for such a smart man you can be exceptionally stupid sometimes.”

“I’ve heard that regularly, and I’m pretty sure my ex said something to that effect yesterday, so I mean you’re probably not wrong.”

Patton giggled softly. He continued to just gaze at Logan before stepping closer and placing a hand on Logan’s cheek.

“I really want to kiss you right now.”

“I-um, I uh me-me too-”

“may I?”

Logan nodded. Patton leaned in slowly, and Logan being who he is, impatiently closed the gap. It was… soft. It was soft and warm and everything Logan had imagined. However, cliché it may be, as Logan closed his eyes, he swore he could see fireworks. It felt like his own personal Disney happy ending that Roman loved so much. He was close enough to smell Patton’s hair, like a forest of olive trees and strawberries and happiness and love. Logan had never really been one for dramatics, but at the moment, he felt more at home than he had ever been before. He felt happy and he felt calm and he felt Patton’s arms snake their way around his hips and he wrapped his around Patton’s neck and god he was at peace.

“EWWWWW ROMAN OUR DADS ARE KISSING!!!!!!!!”

Well there goes the moment. Patton quickly broke the kiss and turned to see Virgil covering his eyes and hopping on his feet. He saw Roman run the corner and there were stars in his eyes. He covered his mouth and squealed while hopping around.

“is Patton gonna be my dad too???”

Logan couldn’t help but hide his face in Patton’s neck.

“maybe? We don’t know yet Ro, we’ll need a bit more time to figure that out.”

Logan was eternally grateful at Patton’s talent for answering children while also not revealing everything. He mumbled a small ‘I hope so’ into Patton’s neck and Patton giggled. He whispered back a ‘me too’ and Logan could swear he felt his heart swell in his chest. Virgil uncovered his eyes and looked at Patton with awe.

“wait… does that mean me, and Ro will be brothers??? We’ll be eternal playmates!!! Ro we’ll get to play together for forever this is so cool!!!”

“YEAH!!! I went from having one parent to two and a brother!!! YAY!!!!!!”

“oh gosh they’re excited”

Logan turned his head, now laying on Patton’s chest and looking at the kids.

“you two are so silly. You go back to playing unless you needed something”

“well uh we wanted to ask if you would play with us?”

“yeah!!! We wanted to play princes and villains, but neither of us wanna be villains. Could you please play with us?”

Logan leaned back and looked at Patton who had a bright smile on his face.

“why not? I’m actually already hungry again. I think some little princes would be delicious!”

The boys squealed and ran away, and the two adults gave themselves a moment, as well as the boys a head start.

“you know as over used as it is, I really am glad I get to be with you now. You have been my dream guy for years and now its not a dream anymore. Now I don’t know about you, but I have an appointment with some princes.”

“you know, so do I. how about it then? Ready to go?”

Patton gave a toothy grin and placed a small kiss on Logan’s cheek. He chuckled at the blush that grew on his face before releasing him. He held out his hand to Logan.

“as I’ll ever be! Let’s go!”

Logan grabbed his hand and two rushed upstairs. The two were so completely utterly in love. For once in their life they had another person by their side who they could hold close and trust aside from their kids. It was nice. It was really nice.

Taglist: @fivebyfive-finebyfive @tacohippy56900 @analogical-mess @crookedlyoptimisticdestiny @angels-and-dreams @asleepybisexual @starbucks-remy @idioticsky @ijustreallylovesanderssides @superwholocked-for-life @band-be-boss-blog @llamaly @logicality-trash @fiive-second-cookies @whats-going-on-kiddos @snowshoe-main-blog @007ardra @internetwhy @musikasworld

Let me know if you want to be tagged in my writing!!!

Thank you for reading I will see you later ladies lords and nonbinary royalty!!!

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seventeen-scenarios-blog · 7 years

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62&91 DK ANGST. Can you please make in an open end?? Please make me cry. Thank you so much!! 💕💕💕 Also congrats on your 2k!!!

62. “How are you so pretty?” (Very Nice)

91. “If you can hear my heart, please come back to me.” (Don’t Listen Secretly)

A/N: I AM SO SORRY I NEVER MEANT TO HURT SUNSHINE AND UNIVERSAL SOURCE OF HAPPINESS LEE SEOKMIN BUT YOU ASKED ME TO MAKE YOU CRY SO MY ANGSTY WRITING ENGINES TOOK CONTROL OF ME IM —- ;; PLEASE FORGIVE ME

wooed

Genre: Soulmate!AU, angstWord Count: 997Warnings: description of injuries/bloodshed

You fell in love with him the moment you heard his voice echoing through your head on the day of your eighteenth birthday.

It had been a simple, tentative “H-hello?”, the sound of a silvery voice causing you to shoot up from your covers in bed, reeling from a rush of delight and pure adrenaline. It is truly a feeling to behold, when you first discover a telepathic connection with your soulmate.

It was a phenomenon that seems to transcend science and logic, the concept of it all baffling even the most decorated of neuropsychologists. Most just accept it as a marvelment of destiny.

You wrinkled your eyebrows as you try to get used to the unfamiliar (yet strangely pleasant) sensation of having someone present in your thoughts. “Are… you my soulmate?” you nervously project into your head, and you wait with bated breath for his response.

His subsequent reply was so bright, the sun could have risen up at the sound of his voice.

“I’m Seokmin! I’m so happy to finally meet you, soulmate!”

Months have pass since your birthday, and even in that short time, you’ve established such a strong connection with your soulmate, both mentally and emotionally. You didn’t know that you could ever feel this close to someone you’ve never met face-to-face. Your relationship with Seokmin is one to be desired, your friends often whining about how they wished to be in your shoes.

You’ve exchanged numbers on the first day, but that ceased to be of use quickly when you both realised how much more convenient it was directly talking through your mind. Seokmin is nothing short of sweet, checking up on you ever so often to make sure you’re okay, always respecting your privacy, never crossing any boundaries to make you feel uncomfortable.

You have lost track of the number of late night telepathic conversations you’ve had with Seokmin. To others, you’d look like a lovestruck fool, grinning giddily to yourself alone on your bed. But between you and Seokmin, you’d talk about everything under the sun till daybreak: his favourite music, your hobbies…

There are times where he’d sing to you too (by god, those were your favourite nights), his soothing voice reverberating through your head in the most beautiful of ways. You love him so much already. You can’t wait to meet him.

It was a Saturday afternoon when it happened. You were on your way to your weekend classes. Seokmin too, was going about his average schedules. You both promise to chat later over lunch, planning his visit to your city when winter break rolls around.

“So, later at one?” he asks while you sweep a glance across the busy road.

“I’ll try to be on time, I have to make a trip down to visit Grandma Song at the park. She usually forgets her meals when going about her cleaning duties…” you told him.

It was silent for a moment, and you frown in concern. “Seok?”

Then a sigh, “How are you so pretty?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, earning some confused, others knowing, glances from passers-by. “What would you know, you never even seen me. Dork…”

“You’re so pretty,” Seokmin continued as you stepped off the pavement to cross the road. “You have such a pretty heart and soul. Gosh, I’m so lucky to have you…”

You were halfway across the road, smiling.

“… to call you my soulmate…”

A screech hit your ears, and you whipped your head to the left. The sight of what greeted you drains all colour on your face, rendering you rooted to the ground.

“CAR!”

That was the last word Seokmin would ever hear from you.

Hurts… Everything freaking hurts.

You couldn’t move. Each miniscule shift of your body sent a thousand superheated knives stabbing through your skin. A weight on your chest crushed any breath left in you. You can only lie there, your body shattered like the glass around you, in a pool of your own blood. It flowed… and flowed…

“Baby… Baby! Please!” Seokmin cries, voice shrill and cracking with panic, “You’re scaring me! Please answer me!”

Seok… you wanted to call out to him, to soothe him. But every attempt to connect with your soulmate subjected your head to excruciating pain, like having an axe hacking through your skull. The more you tried, the more it seemed harder to reach him.

“BABY!” Seokmin was beyond hysterical. “Please! If you can hear my heart, please come back to me… Please give me a sign that you’re okay!”

Panicked voices surrounded you, and along with the incessant ringing of your ears, Seokmin’s voice became barely audible.

No… Seokmin, no…

Everything grew fader and morphed into a blur before your eyes. You black out, Seokmin’s heart-wrenching sobs pulsing through your head.

It’s your third week since you’ve woken up from the accident. You’re not quite recovered, but the bandage around your head still proves to be an uncomfortable pain in the ass. You sit up on the hospital bed, immediately going about your morning routine.

You’re not well enough for visits yet. The doctor did allow your parents to see you a few times a week during your physical therapy sessions, but even then they hardly spoke to you.

Not since the day the doctor asked you for the year. Not since you’ve replied, “2016” with difficulty.

You still wonder why your answer made your mother break into tears.

Your doctor kept your friends at bay, insisting that he’d stop once he’s certain you’re ready. Your phone had been crushed beyond repair during the accident, cutting off any connections to the outside world.

Maybe that’s why you’ve been feeling like you’re missing something in your life, the hole in your heart potent and irreparable.

It’s always too quiet for your comfort in the room, and you can never quite explain why.

Oh well, maybe things would change once you found your soulmate.

You can’t wait for your eighteenth birthday.

IM SORRY GUYS IM SO SO SO SORRY GAH I FEEL SO DAMN GUILTY

#seokmin #dk #lee seokmin #seventeen #seventeen dk #seokmin angst #diamond life scenarios: 2k followers event #seventeen angst #seventeen scenarios blog #diamond life scenarios

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stricklandwitch · 4 years

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Flashback (sort of): Persephone Strickland

Trigger Warning: Mention of assault, mention of abortion, mention of miscarriage

Admin note: I do not take the character's deciding process lightly. If there's any part of this writing piece that doesn't sit well with you or you think could be written better, please don't hesitate in messaging me. I do not want anyone feeling offended or triggered in any way. Also, I’d like to give Jessamine’s admin a writing credit for helping me. -C

Persephone stood in front of the sink in the bathroom she shared with her roommate. She was staring at herself in the mirror. Her shirt was raised exposing her stomach. It had just a slight roundness to it. She couldn’t wrap her mind around the confirmation that she was having another baby. She hadn’t needed to see her stomach to know. Not when the last couple of days she was exhausted but couldn’t sleep, nauseous all the time, and her emotions were all over the place. The memory of her confirmation was fresh on her mind.

Christmas day, her birthday, she went to the infirmary to get a test. The nurse gave her a judgey look as she handed the test over to the blonde. Seph hurriedly walked back to her room and to the bathroom. Several minutes later, she stood in the bathroom after she took the pregnancy test. The minute she had to wait felt like a lifetime to her. She paced back and forth, her eyes darting to the test every couple of seconds. When the minute was up, Seph picked up the test. Positive. It was positive. The blonde leaned on the sink for a support. She was in shock for she knew how this baby came about. Her fingers curled around the edge of the sink in a tight grip as hot angry tears formed and started to roll down her face. She was pregnant by the monster that assaulted her, that took her life, that broke her.

“Seph?”

A light feminine voice sounded from the doorway. Persephone’s head whipped up to see her roommate, Emery, standing there. With a deep breath, the hybrid stood up straight and wiped her eyes. Clearing her throat, she finally responded. “Hey, Em. Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in.”

The younger blonde looked up at her with concern on her face. “It’s okay.” She paused taking in the distress that the older female was displaying. “What’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

Seph shook her head and wiped her eyes again. “Nothing. I’m okay. I’m just ‘in my feels’ as you kids call it.”

Emery gave the woman a look before sighing and moving closer to her. “Persephone, whatever it is, you can talk to me. You’ve become like a sister to me since we started sharing the same room.”

It took a minute for her to respond, but Seph let her walls down for her new sister. “I never told you completely what happened to me.” She pauses and took a deep breath. “I didn’t lie when I said I was tortured to death. I just didn’t want to say how... I was raped by one of the guards.” Seph looked down at the floor, not wanting to see Emery’s shocked and horrified reaction. “And after I got free, I completed my transition by killing him. I thought maybe it would make the pain easier, knowing he had paid for his crime.” She shook her head, more tears falling down her cheeks.

“Oh my God, Seph. I’m.. I’m so sorry,” Emery started.

A sob erupted from the older female’s chest. “I can’t ever escape him. He’s in my nightmares, his blood runs in my veins, and I’m carrying a small part of him.” That was the first time she was able to admit she was pregnant, and as she realized what she said, Persephone looked up at Emery.

“I was a science experiment in a way. My conception took place in a petri dish, so the scientists could change my necromancer genes.” Emery explained, ringing her hands. “My mother just wanted me to be normal, but her love for me never wavered when I grew into my powers. She loved me so much that we never had a stable home so that she could protect me. She protected me even from my biological father, the monster he was.” The younger girl took the hybrid’s hand. “From what I’ve seen, Seph, you’re a wonderful mother. Your son loves you so much, and so will your new baby. He or she will think you to be so brave for what you went through and for seeing that they were happy and healthy.”

A soft sniffle came from the older female. “Em.. I don’t think I can have this baby. I just… It hurts.”

Emery nodded in understanding. “Have you thought this all the way through? I can only imagine how overwhelming this is.” She paused as Seph shook her head. “Give yourself some time to truly think about it. As your friend, I will support whatever choice you make, but I don’t want to see you rush into a decision.” The necromancer gave her friend a small smile.

Seph took a deep breath, her emotions calming. Emery was right. She shouldn’t rush into this when a tiny sliver of her had hope and wanted to raise this child. She pulled the younger girl into a hug. “Thanks, Em.”

They pulled away from each other after a moment. “Of course, Seph. I’m always here for you if you need me.” The little blonde squeezed the hybrid’s hand then turned around and left the bathroom. Seph remained standing there, Emery’s words settling into her mind.

Two days later and Emery’s words still rung in her head. Later that same evening, she and Emery bonded more and she gained more insight of the necromancer. She understood completely what Emery went through. She had lost TJ for over 200 years till she met the woman who was able to bring him back. Seph warred with herself still on the decision. Her reason seemed logical to her. It wasn’t because she didn’t want another baby. If the act had been consensual, her pregnancy would have a more positive tone around it. How was she supposed to raise a child that would be a constant reminder of what happened to her? What if she resented her child for existing? She couldn’t go through that; she couldn’t put her unborn child through that. Of course she considered the other option beside the blatant two. She could have the baby and let it be adopted or see if Annabelle or Isobel or any one of her friends would like to raise it.

She was lost in her thoughts as she walked down the hallway to Mark’s room. Maybe her little brother could provide some insight on what she should do. She reached his door and knocked on it gently. She heard a quiet “Come in” from behind the door, and she pushed it open to see her brother rocking his son to sleep.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Mark. I can come back later.” Seph turned to leave, but his words stopped her.

“Nonsense, big sister.” Mark moved and put Tristan in his bassinet. “Please come in. It’s been awhile since I’ve seen you. How are you?”

She walked further into the room after shutting the door. She took a seat beside him and let out a heavy sigh. “I…” Her gaze went to the floor and her hands fiddled together. “I’ve been numb, if I’m going to be honest. I thought if I could numb myself from the tragedy and the pain that I could move on with my life and cope. But I have constant reminders.” She finally glanced up at her brother.

Mark looked at her concerned. “Persephone, I’m not going to say I know how you feel because I don’t. I have never gone through what you did. And I have no words to comfort you, not that they would. But I believe you can overcome this. You are so strong and so good that I have no doubt that you can beat this.” He gently put his hand on hers.

The female’s eyes filled with tears and held his hand tightly. “Mark, I’m pregnant, and it’s that monster’s baby.” She shook her head. “I don’t know what to do, Mark. I’m terrified.”

The male vampire remained calmed. “Why are you terrified?”

Her hand went to her stomach on instinct. “I’m terrified that if I have this child that I won’t love him or her like I do TJ because of who fathered them. I’m terrified that I’ll resent them for being a reminder. But I’m also terrified that if I end this pregnancy, I know I’ll be making a huge mistake. I’ll be ruining two lives.”

Mark stayed quiet as his sister spoke, a thoughtful look on his face. “Persephone, the fact that you feel so terrified of those things proves that those things won’t happen. I don’t love Pixie or Roseclear any less than Tristan because they aren’t mine. Those three and their mother are my world. And I know that you will love this child more than anything, and I think you’ll do anything to give them the life they deserve.” He moved his arm around her in a hug. “Now, this is your choice. And no matter what you choose, I will stand beside you. But you’re already a great mother to TJ and this baby will be no different.”

Seph settled her head on his shoulder as she wiped away her tears. A wave of peace came over her. Maybe she could do this. The more time she took to consider, the more love and attachment formed her unborn child. The blonde placed a soft kiss on her brother’s cheek. “Thank you, Mark.” The pair sat there watching Tristan sleep. Deep down, she had decided that she was going to keep her baby. Mark and Emery were right, and if it was the last thing Seph did, she would make sure TJ and this new baby would have the life they deserve.

#thecrossingroleplay #solos

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danellt9 · 7 years

Text

A bit of closure

Court is over finally. The defendant will spend 316 days in a treatment facility. I will write more about it later. Here are the statements we read. FYI "addressing the defendant" means addressing his back. Dina also spoke but I don't have her statement yet. Statement read by Denny Testimony Your honor, I want to thank you for the opportunity to address the court. I’d like to start by reading a note from Daniel teNyenhuis, Patrick’s brother who cannot be here today. Dan is a retired United States Marine who still works to keep our nation safe. While we are in court for the sentencing of the man who caused his brother’s death, Dan is at work defending us. These are Dan’s words - “Patrick John teNyenhuis was my first friend and will always be my friend. I knew Pat before I knew anyone else. I spent my formative years with him. He significantly contributed to my personality and character. I owe much of my success to his influence. Yes, Patrick John teNyenhuis did live a blessed live. Pat deserved every blessing he received, including his three girls, Danell, Sierra, and Camille. Pat earned his other blessings through hard work and dedication, including his career as an expert Physical Therapist where he routinely helped others in need. Patrick John teNyenhuis was a COMPLETE man in mind, body, and spirit; from his music and career, to his health and physical fitness, to his family and faith. During his life, Patrick John teNyenhuis met people from all walks of life through his profession and his hobbies. Pat could talk with crowds and keep his virtue; he could walk with kings without losing his common touch. The world is a lesser place without the skills, music, and wit of Patrick John teNyenhuis. We all miss him. --Daniel Joseph teNyenhuis I can’t do a better job than Dan to describe Pat or the impact his life had on everyone around him. Before I sit down, though, I want to talk about the impact his death had, and the actions that brought us all here today. It’s important that everyone in this room understand that we are not here by accident. Recently, following a court appearance, a member of the defendant’s family told us that they were praying for us, but it was an accident. That is a lie. Pat’s death was not an accident. He died because of the irresponsible, selfish and illegal actions of the defendant. The defendant chose to buy an illegal drug. he defendant chose to take that illegal drug. The defendant chose to get behind the wheel of a car and drive while under the influence of that drug and the sleep deprivation that resulted from its use. Whether it was intentional or not, the defendant then hit and killed Patrick. No logical person argues these facts. Where logic still fails us all is the lack of accountability being shown here, and the total lack of justice. The defendant will be back with his friends and family within a year, while Patrick is gone forever from our lives. Neither are things we can change. We have to try and accept them, and choose to honor Pat’s legacy rather than live our lives filled with anger over the unimaginably deep and painful hole he left behind. We will spend the rest of our lives following Patrick’s examples. When this legal process started, many of us hoped that the defendant would be accountable for his actions and would take responsibility. As we learned more about his long criminal history, we were forced to give up that hope. On April 20 of last year the Defendant forever changed the lives of our family and his own. The only hope I have left for some positive outcome from this terrible crime, is that it is not too late for everyone in this courtroom to learn from a better example. For that hope I offer the memory of Patrick. Patrick was a man who loved God and his family. Patrick was a man who worked hard, every day of his life. Patrick was a man who worked for everything he achieved in life and always shared what he had with those in need. Patrick was a man who often worked six days a week to provide a better life for his wife and children. Patrick was a man who had dreams and worked hard to achieve them. Patrick was a man who touched the lives of everyone he met. Patrick was a man who accepted the blame when he made mistakes and did everything he could to do better. Patrick was a man. Today I asked the court to do all it can to encourage the defendant to be a man from this day forward. To be a man and accept the terrible results of his crime. To be a man and work hard to change his life, so that this awful scene is not repeated. To be a man and work hard to give his children a better example. To be, a man. Your honor, I thank you. My Statement name is Danell teNyenhuis. For the last 24 years, I was Patrick’s wife. Our marriage began in 1992 and ended on April 20th, 2016 when you took his life. I am not a vindictive person. I know very little about you. I know you are a father and I know that you made a series of poor choices that resulted in Patrick’s death. There is no punishment that will make up for the loss my daughters and I have suffered due to your choices. Unfortunately, our legal system was unable to find a way to adequately hold you accountable. So, you will do your time and then have the rest of your life ahead of you. What will you do with the rest of your life? Let me tell you how Patrick lived his life. He was an amazing husband! We were truly partners in life. He helped with everything including doing the grocery shopping and most of the cooking. He also found time to make me feel special and loved. He made all of my dreams come true. He was a wonderful father to our daughters, Sierra and Camille. His daughters were his pride and joy! When they were infants he would get up with them at night, change their diapers and then bring them to me to nurse. When they began eating solid foods he made all their baby food from scratch. He attended sporting events, helped with science projects and truly enjoyed spending time with them. They are beyond devastated by his loss. In the next year one will graduate from high school and one from college. Someday they will get married and have children and he will miss these important milestones. Patrick was an excellent physical therapist. I know because he helped me rehabilitate after hip surgery. I also know due to the numerous patients who have reached out to me since his death. Here is just one of the many stories that have been shared. 2009 I had a surgery which resulted in damage to my femoral nerve. Patrick became my physical therapist for an entire year, 3 times per week, as he persisted to try to figure out the best therapy routine and exercise regime to help my femoral nerve regenerate and function. He did not know if the nerve was severed, crushed, stretched or who knows what, but he was relentless in the challenge to help me be able to use my right leg again. I developed the greatest respect for him, his physical therapy skills, his tenacity and determination to take on the challenge and master the results successfully for me, as well as for his professional skills and efforts. The therapy was successful because of his training, perseverance and knowledge. I was able to move and functionally use my right leg again. He told me that I was a rehab miracle. The truth is, the miracle was God’s divine intervention transferred through Patrick’s passion for healing, professional skills and caring personality for his clients, including me. He became not only my therapist but my friend during those sessions. Patrick was also a devoted son and brother. And he was loved by 22 nieces and nephews and numerous extended family members. He was a good friend to many but was also humble and felt he only had one friend. His funeral service was standing room only. He was a great provider for his family and he worked overtime most weekends to ensure that he could pay for his daughters to go to college. He was unselfish and spent very little money on himself. I could go on and on but I think by now you might be realizing how many people were affected by his death. In my opinion you have been given the gift of a second chance. Will you choose to continue the same path and risk making a poor choice again? My challenge to you is that you learn from this tragedy. Do your time and then change your life. Do something positive. Make a difference in the world. Share your story as a lesson to others. I am not ready to offer forgiveness. But, if you want to atone for this then make your life matter. Sierra’s Instagram post from 4-20-16: My world crashed down the second they told me you were gone. Every minute I expect you to walk through the door smiling and cracking a joke, and every second I wish you were telling me about your day while drinking some of your home brewed beer. I'm trying my best to reflect on all of our amazing memories together without breaking down, because I know you would want me to stay strong and you would HATE seeing me sad, but I don't know what to do without you. I love you so much Dad. You are one of a kind. Instagram Post from Camille on 4/20/16: RIP to my incredible, hilarious, talented, caring AWESOME father. This picture was taken last week on his 49th birthday at the Paul McCartney concert. I'm so thankful to have this and so many other great memories with him. For those of you who never had the chance to meet him, he was a great man. He went to every one of my sporting events he possibly could. He managed to make it his whole life without owning a smart phone. He once argued that his flip phone was better than everyone else’s iPhone because he could fit it in his mouth then proceeded to prove it by putting his phone in his mouth in the middle of Red Robin. I know that he wouldn't want us to cry, he'd want us to remember the good times and laugh. It's hard to imagine what life will be like without him here, but I know he is with God and always will be with me and the rest of my family in our hearts and memories. Thank you to everyone for your support in this difficult time, your thoughts and prayers mean a lot. Patrick John teNyenhuis 4/13/67 – 4/20/16

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ecotone99 · 4 years

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[SF] Happy 92nd Mr Chivers

Marnold eases back into his chair and breathes a sigh of relief. It was his 92nd birthday; retirement age. No more 10am starts, no more having to relinquish three days a week to the full-time employment rat race. Finally.. free. He relishes the moment, feeling his chair snug him warmly, its material continuously and amorphously shifting around his frame to maximise comfort. The quality of the air, the heat from his coffee cup, the light beaming through his window. Goldilocks would be jealous, he joked to himself.

“Sim-space, show me my father’s television from 2018 please.” The sim-space AI assistant quickly peruses the latest scan of its owners memory and inquires, ‘The Samsung, Mr Chivers?’ Marnold confirms with a nod. The boundaries that contain the sim-space glow to resemble an empty cuboid against the wall, warning any bodied-beings not to come close. For a second, Marnold hears that call of the void that so many do and wonders “what would happen if I put my hand.. ?” He’d heard the horror stories, obviously, but couldn’t quite fathom the science of it. Some picoseconds later however, there popped into existence a perfect reconstruction of the television from his memory inside the sim-space.

Marnold picks up the remote, a device that was used to remotely control electronic devices back in Modern times, and looks through the simulated content on the television. Marnold squints at the screen, reacquainting himself with the 2-dimensional nature of Modern video. His eyes widen at a collection of pixels - ‘World Snooker Final’. It had been too long since Marnold had last watched a real game of chess with balls - as he would put it. His finger instructs the remote with a button press, and a pulsing infra-red energy bathes the room momentarily. The television summons to life a broadcast of yore; a gentle ensemble consisting of a giant green table centre-screen, with smartly-dressed human beings knocking sticks and balls over it. Marnold catches himself daring a smile, “the good old days.” He puts his feet up on the stool in front.

“Grea’granda!”

Plucked away from his contentment and with a whiff of irritation, “Wh-wha? Who’s there?”

“It’s Russ you fool, happy birthday -slash- retirement! Thought I’d whip by, ya know, see how you are. Thought it better than just sending another dopamine hit.”

Marnold smiles. He could never put his finger on it, but there was always something better about seeing people - he had never fully signed up to the idea of reading a well-wishing and injecting the enclosed gift of dopamine. It felt nice, sure, but he couldn't help but feel there was something missing. Cards, too! Of all the social-niceties that Marnold hoped would die off with technological progress, cards had stuck around like a bad smell. Maybe 92 is when you start getting cranky he thought to himself.

“Ahh thank you, it is good to see someone non-digitally once in a while,” he replies, concealing his cynicism nicely.

Russ points to the sim-space. “A television? C’mon gramps, of all the things you could will into existence.. a television?”

Marnold squirms. “Well the good vibes sure lasted didn’t they(!) Listen, sprog, being 50-something may feel like it has conferred some sort of worldly understanding upon you but, believe me, you’re just starting out. You still have no idea what the important things are in life. And if you can’t appreciate the simple things in life, you have no foundation for the complex things. This television is my simple thing. It is my birthday. My retirement day. And I wish to spend it as I mean to go on - appreciating the simple things.” So rarely does he socialise these days, Marnold had almost forgotten how quick he was to anger.

“Simple things, simple minds. That’s what father says.”

Marnold mumbles his frustration, “Yes. I know exactly the kind of person my son-in-law is.”

A palpable silence hangs. It’s funny how tension can manifest socially, no other emotion can fill a room in the same way. The 2040’s wave of pheromonologists got close to understanding it before you-know-what happened. Russell’s cortisol-meter started shrieking which didn’t subtract from the awkwardness, but does at least act as a call-to-action for someone to cut the tension, “Well- what are you watching then?”

“Snooker” is the unenthusiastic, staccato reply. Marnold continues watching the screen emptily, pretending to be engrossed but projecting annoyance.

“Didn’t know humans used to play.” Russ responded.

Marnold groaned as though those words were daggers to his sensibilities. “Yes... It’s just another domain that AI took from us. God damn robots - they have no philosophy! Pure pragmatists. They completely destroyed snooker - turned it from a gentlemanly game into an arms race.”

Through a flattened smile and nodding dog routine, Russ’s lack of interest was obvious. He signals to the entrance with his thumb, “Well I’d better be goi--”

“-- an arms race I tell you! That’s why there’s so many rules governing the game these days. It started off as a friendly between bot and human - just a novelty, like that Jeopardy show and IBM’s Watson?” Marnold looks to Russ for a bodily cue to continue.. nothing - at least, nothing encouraging. "Ah well," he thinks to himself, "it’s my birthday and I'll rant if I want to."

“Well, maybe it’s not living memory for you youngins but the world went crazy for the first bot v. human snooker match. It’s ironic thinking back on it now, we were clapping our eventual oppressors. Everyone tuned in to witness flesh versus circuits and saw a microcosm of their future. ‘Ronnie O’Sullivan vs G147-365’. Man vs machine. And what a machine(!) A jumped-up laptop connected to a junkyard frame. It couldn’t even pick up its own cue - it had to be carefully inserted into its grip by a technician.”

Russ was looking in Marnold’s direction, but you couldn’t charitably say that he was looking at him. Looking through seems more appropriate; his mind clearly pre-occupied.

“It was a bloodbath - metaphorically, of course. I mean, the bot started off quite slow, sure, but it was learning. Every time it whiffed a shot, it updated its algorithms to appropriately account for the mismatch. By halftime, the only shots Ronnie got to take was when it was his turn to break! G147 was hitting maximum points routinely by the end. And you know what? Not one of them were as beautiful as Ronnie’s 5 minute corker back in 1997.”

Russ, eyeing the clock on the wall, noticed a pause amid Marnold’s white noise and felt he had to prove he was listening. “Uhh... 1997 huh?”

Marnold, noticing that Russ had only picked up on the last word he’d said, continued with spiteful grace. “Yes. 1997. But that’s what I mean by no philosophy, there’s no meaning in what they do. It’s just all numbers and logic gates. No art, no style. Pure pragmatism.”

“It didn’t end there though. Ooooooh no. Then the bot v bot matches began. Every country in the world slowly jumping in to prove their AI researchers were the best. You know, like how America and Russia fought a proxy-war by proving who could get to the moon first - thereby proving who was technologically superior? Snookerbots were fast becoming that, except it had no end goal. They just competed endlessly, accepting diminishing returns on their victories each time - perhaps preferable to other forms of national chauvinism, granted.”

“But they’d be outfitted with fancy cameras and sensors - detecting every possible detail of the table. The knap, the humidity, the moisture of the cloth, microscopic blemishes on the balls - even mapping the material density of the side-cushions! Soon enough, they were making shots that made no euclidean sense since they could take advantage of unseen imperfections in the table and balls. It used to be that people would clap astonishing feats; maybe an amazing curve shot, or a cunning safety play. But it got to a point where the audience could only appreciate what they were able to understand - everything was so baffling. It was like chaos theory to everyone but the participants.”

Marnold continued with his frustrated nostalgia, “And the sonic booms! That was a game changer. The balls were starting to chip - and sometimes explode - from the impacts of the bots cuing them. So they were upgraded to some nano-whatever to allow the bots to really let rip. And boy, did they. They would hit the cue ball so fast that a mini sonic boom would disturb the entire table! The algorithms of course learned to account for this and soon enough every match was just a stalemate of mini explosions. No country's bot was able to win any more, all they could do was not lose by default - ie, their bot suffering a mechanical malfunction. So, a once-great game became a war of attrition.”

With Russ’s vague silhouette in his periphery, and still looking at the screen (though paying it no attention), he continues. “They’d reached an impasse - every bot was as good as the next one. No further improvements to be made because they were limited by the human imagination. Viewership figures dwindled, sponsors started pulling out and human snooker players were even being asked to come out of retirement - what a novelty(!) They all refused, naturally.”

“So, some hot shot from America gets the idea of asking the bot what it needs to improve. This is what happens when you don’t read and heed Asimov. The bots’ AIs up until this point were permitted to update their algorithms in accordance with sensor data. It was not permitted for an AI to freely rationalise - and for good reason! But, this was pseudo-Cold War 2, and global dominance had to be demonstrated. Now, I’m no AI researcher but I’ve heard it explained as them creating a sort of positive feedback loop between perception and reflection, causing something analogous to consciousness. I mean, whatever, however they did it, they did do it. And so, they fed it the question: What do you need to improve at your task? And do you know what it said?”

A silence goes unacknowledged as Marnold leaves his chair and heads towards his bookcase. He thumbs through a few newspaper cuttings and, after an insociable amount of time in quiet, he produces an article that had the ‘scoop’ back in the day - a printed transcript of the AI’s thought process. Marnold turns around to hand it to Russ but is met with an empty room, and then an empty spirit. He’d left. Marnold slowly lowers his out-stretched arm, article in-hand.

He wonders how long he’d been speaking to himself for, and starts his own feedback loop of doubt and self-loathing. “God damn it..” he scratches the back of his head and makes for his chair again. As he settles in, the material again moulds around him with a pathetic agency - but it is of cold comfort now. Unpacking Russ’s gift, Marnold loads the syringe and looks longingly at the television. “Happy 92nd Mr Chivers...”

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brajshukl · 5 years

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Stephen Hawking Biography

“I want to live more now” is the statement of none other than Stephen Hawking, one of the world’s greatest scientists. What he said on his last birthday, which the world was astonished to hear. Today, he has been awarded 12 awards, big or small in physics. All about Stephen Hawking Biography

But even today, he is living his life on the strength of his will and his blessing is that he should continue to live like this and keep us informed about new discoveries.

Early life:

Stephen Hawking was born on January 6, 1942, to the home of Frank and Isabel Hawking. Despite family financial constraints, both parents were educated at Oxford University where Frank studied medicine and Isabel studied philosophy, politics and economics. The two met soon after the start of World War II at a medical research institute where Isabel was working as a secretary and Frank as a medical researcher. The financial condition of his family was not good. The time of World War II was quite challenging to earn a living and his family moved to Oxford in search of a safe place.

Stephen Hawking is such a great cosmologist today, his school life was not very excellent. He was initially a student with below average marks in his class, but he loved playing board games. He was very interested in mathematics, even he made computers from parts of old electronic devices with the help of some people to solve mathematical equations. At the age of eleven, went to school and then to University College, Oxford. Stephen wanted to study mathematics but mathematics was not available at University College, so he pursued physics.

Stephen Hawking was a brilliant student, so always topped school and college. Within three years, he received a first-class honors degree in natural science. Which was nothing short of a dream for his father. Stephen Hawking, who considers mathematics a favorite subject, grew up with a particular interest in space science. This was the reason that when he was just 20 years old, Cambridge was selected for research in cosmology. Nobody was working in cosmology at Oxford, he decided to research it and went straight to Cambridge. There he did research in cosmology.

About Stephen Hawking

In this subject, he has given Ph.D. Also. His Ph.D. After doing so, Johnville and Cuse became first Richter Fellows of the College and then a Professional Fellow. This was a great achievement for him. But Hawking did what he wanted. Hawking, who believes in a joint family, still lives with his three children and a grandson. The quality of a Great Scientist was visible inside Stephen since childhood. Actually, there was intense curiosity about the construction and functioning of anything. This was the reason that when he was in school, all his classmates and teachers used to fondly call him ‘Einstein’.

When he was 21 years old, he had once come to his house to celebrate a holiday, he was coming down the ladder when he realized that he was unconscious and he immediately fell down. He will be taken to the doctor. In all, he considered her to be an incident due to just one weakness, but on repeated occurrence of this, he was taken to the elder doctor, where it was found out that he is suffering from an unknown and never-ending disease. Could name neuron mortar Disis.

In this disease, all the organs of the body gradually stop working, and in the end, the patient dies due to suffocation due to the closure of the respiratory tract. Doctors said Hawking is a guest of just 2 years. But Hawking had a complete hold on his will power and he said that I will live for 50 years not 2, not 20. At that time, everyone had mixed yes to comfort them, but today the world knows that Hawking showed what he said.

Biography of Stephen Hawking

In the midst of his illness, he completed his PhD and married his girlfriend, Jane Wilde, by then, Hawking had lost his entire right side, walking on the stick. Now Hawking started the journey of his scientific life and slowly his fame started spreading throughout the world.

Stephen Hawking met Jane Wilde in January 1965 during the New Year celebrations. Jane Wilde liked Stephen Hawking because Jane liked his pleasant nature. On returning from the hospital, when Stephen Hawking’s condition became miserable, Jane did not leave him. Jane now had the same goal of spending her life caring for Stephen Hawking. Slowly Dheer fell in love and they got married.

Well since 1960, Stephen Hawking Stephen Hawking’s condition began to deteriorate and it was almost impossible to walk with crutches. In a few months, his disease progressed and gradually all his organs started to stabilize. Despite suffering from the disease, he did not take any help and kept his daily work constant. After he got his doctorate in 1974, he started working on the theory of objectivity and the theory of mass. In this way, by combining these two principles, he made the theory of Mahayekita. With this theory, he got his name worldwide and he came to be known as an eminent scientist.

Stephen Hawking

Physicist Stephen Hawking

Stephen Hawking is an honorary member of the Royal Society of Arts, as well as a lifetime member of the Episcopal Academy of Sciences. Along with this, he was also given the President’s Medal of Freedom, which is the highest award in the United States. From 1979 to 2009 he was Professor of Mathematics at the University of Cambridge and soon became a commercial success due to his theory. The book A Brief History of Time written by him became the highest selling book of that time, at that time the book lasted for a record 237 weeks.

Famous British physicist Stephen Hawking has warned about the announcement of our presence in any Alien civilization, especially a civilization that is technically more advanced than humans. Hawking said in a new online film that our state of contact with any more advanced civilization might be similar to when Native Americans first saw Christopher Columbus and things did not go very well. In ‘Stephen Hawkings Favorite Places’ people can see five important places of the universe. In the film, Hawking hypothetically passes through the Glies 832C. These are non-Sauri planets located at a distance of about 16 light years, where life could potentially take place.

Idea:

They say if you are handicapped or handicapped, then there is no fault in you, and at the same time it is not right to blame the world or expect mercy on you. Just have positive thoughts in you and according to the situation you should contribute as much as possible; If a person is crippled then he should not be crippled or handicapped by his mind. I think they should concentrate in activities that do not present a more serious obstacle for a person with a physical disability. I am afraid that the Olympic Games for the disabled will not appeal to me, but it would be easy for me to say because I do not like athletics.

On the other hand, science is a very good subject because it is a game of mind. This is absolutely true, because many people have reduced their lot from many inventions, but theoretical work is almost ideal. My disability has not given any hindrance in my field of work which is theoretical physics. Rather it has helped me to preserve my speech and administrative work. I was able to handle all of this, thanks to a lot of help from my wife, children, colleagues and students. I noticed that people are always ready to help, but you should encourage them to feel that their efforts will prove to be just and appropriate.

Amazing idea:

• Look up at the stars above, not under your feet. Try to know the meaning of what you see and wonder what is there that exists in the universe. Be curious

No matter how difficult life is, you can always do something and be successful.

I have seen even those people who say that everything is pre-decided, and we can do nothing to change it, they also see before crossing the road.

Intelligence is the ability to adapt to change.

Science is not only a follower of logic, but also of romance and passion.

If you always get angry or complain then people will not have time for you.

My advice to other people with disabilities would be to pay attention to the things that do not stop your disability from doing well, and do not feel sorry for the things it hinders you from doing. Do not become handicapped by both soul and body.

The past is as uncertain as the future and exists only as a spectrum of possibilities.

We are in danger of destroying ourselves due to our greed and stupidity. We cannot continue to look inward at this small, rapidly polluting and crowded planet.

Also you read-

Political Personality

God

Socialism

sports Personality

Actor and Actress

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ciathyzareposts · 5 years

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Zork Marathon: Selling the House that Zork Built

Written by Joe Pranevich

On June 13, 1986, Infocom ended, but our story does not. That is the day that Activision officially acquired Infocom. The team had fun with the event, even hosting a mock (Jewish!) wedding for Activision CEO Jim Levy and Infocom CEO Joel Berez. This was 18 years before same-sex marriage was legal in Massachusetts, otherwise they might have been in trouble! Infocom had made tremendous games, but they were no longer the successful upstart they once were. Depending on your point of view, Activision’s purchase either kept the adventure ball rolling for a few more years or ensured its eventual downfall.

Rather than doing a regular check-in post, I hope you will humor me as we look at Infocom’s situation both immediately before and after the purchase. This analysis will be based on sales data and other information that has leaked out in the three decades since Infocom was a running concern. There will be charts! We’ll also briefly recap 1985 and the beginning of 1986 games before looking towards the future. What happens to our Infocom marathon once Infocom is no longer its own company? Does this mean I need to play Activision’s Murder on the Mississippi (1985) and Portal (1986)? No, but there are still more games in front of us than behind.

If you were expecting a Consulting Detective post today, I am sorry to disappoint. We will continue our exploration of the Pilfered Paintings shortly, but for my birthday I gave myself permission to make charts instead. What could be a better birthday present? I hope you enjoy this brief return to our Infocom Marathon which I hope to resume properly in a few weeks.

As the strange newlyweds looked each other in the eye on that fateful June morning, I like to think that Joel had just two words that he was dying to say to his new beau, two words that would tell his new partner exactly what he meant to him. In my head, that meeting could only have ended one way, “Hello… sailor.”

They were charging people for adware!

The Difficult Truth

Over the years, commentators have blamed Infocom’s demise on the iceberg that was Cornerstone development or the graphical overreach that was Fooblitzky. Those releases were failures, even colossal ones, and they both contributed to the premature end of Infocom as an independent company. And yet, here’s the big secret: I don’t think they had a choice. Using sales data that has leaked from the company since its closure, it seems clear that by 1984 Infocom knew they were up a creek. They scored one lucky break with Hitchhiker’s Guide and that bought they time and acclaim to land a bigger partnership, but that alone could not have cut it. If Infocom wanted to survive, they needed to get into different markets. They had to experiment because despite producing more than a dozen fantastic titles, they weren’t moving the needle the way that it had to be moved for them to have long term viability. We do not know today which games were “profitable” because they took different amounts of time and energy to make each one, but even without knowing their break-even point, the sales data shows something was amiss.

Infocom had some great successes. The hallmark of a title being a “success” in this era was often considered 100,000 units sold. Despite producing great games, only five titles met that criteria prior to the purchase: Zork I through III, Deadline, and Hitchhiker’s Guide. Suspended managed 99k units sold, so it could be an honorary member of that club. Except for Hitchhiker, those are all titles very early in the run. (Two more titles hit that goal under Activision: Wishbringer and Leather Goddesses. We’ll cover that in a future post.)

Even though they had a handful of successes, the truth is that Infocom only survived as long as they did because of Zork.

Two of these lines seem different than the others.

Zork I: The Great Underground Cash Cow

There is something different about the first Zork game. For reasons that are nearly inexplicable today, it captured the public’s eye at a critical moment in gaming history and held on to it. For years, new gamers discovered and fell in love with Zork, while experienced gamers bought new copies as they purchased new computers. Zork was Infocom’s best selling title in 1981, 1982, 1983, and 1984, not just by a little but by a lot. Despite taking swings at sequels, science fiction, mysteries, comedies, and many others, Infocom saw each one surpassed in turn by a five-year out-of-date juggernaut. Zork I actually increased in sales every year until 1984. It sold 152K units in that year alone! Of course, we can’t say whether these were bargain bin vs original full price, but it is a tremendous number of copies.

Let me highlight this fact for you because it is critical to the failure of Infocom:

20% of every title Infocom ever sold was a copy of Zork I.

If you include the two direct sequels, that total comes to 34%. What must it have felt like in a forward-facing company like Infocom, to take swing after swing at success… only to never once recapture the genie in the bottle that was their very first product. Even worse, it was a product created on a lark while their founders were still in college! Every new Implementor, every new revision to the engine, and every investment on play-testing and they still could not deliver a game that captured the imagination like a little house in the forest with a boarded-up front door. This wasn’t sustainable and the management knew it; Infocom needed another hit in order to stay relevant. In 1984, they managed just that with their release of Hitchhiker’s Guide, but it was too little and too late.

This is titles shipped rather than dollars, but not a good sign.

Declining Unit Sales

Even with Hitchhiker’s Guide sales through the roof, Infocom could not effectively respond to a weakening market. Too many new companies were producing too many new games, some of which were replacing quaint text adventures as the “must have” titles on new systems. A lot has been written about the Infocom pattern of having a large back-catalog: Infocom titles remained viable on the shelf of your neighborhood computer stores for years, making them sell more like books than the games of the era. This pattern was weakening by 1984 and by 1986 the company couldn’t move as many units as they had four years prior.

Given all of that, can we blame Infocom for their desperate (and misguided) attempts to branch out? Cornerstone cost too much to build, ran too slowly, and was poorly-adapted for the PC era, but that is the fault of the project management rather than a bad idea from jump. Similarly, experiments with graphical games must have seemed like a logical necessity. They chose a terrible way to do it, a least-common-denominator graphics engine that was far too slow for action games, but the idea isn’t wrong. Infocom didn’t fail to identify that they needed to do something else, they just absolutely failed to understand their new markets or build to them properly. The far-sighted among them realized that they could not win by making more text adventures. Even their best new games (many of which more fun than Zork I) could not get enough attention in the market to be viable. Add into this other boneheaded decisions such as wasting far too much money on rent at their new corporate headquarters, and failure was inevitable.

This declining pattern would continue under Activision, as we shall soon see. They pushed the Infocom team to produce more games faster, to offset the declining sales for each title by simply having a lot more of them. They ceased back-catalog sales. This would not prove to be a successful strategy either, but we will get to that part of the story in time.

I want to be careful here to stress that I am talking about declining unit sales, but somehow the top-line numbers for 1985 still looked pretty good. That year, Infocom reported a 15% increase from sales the previous fiscal year. My presumption is that the higher cost of Cornerstone offset the smaller sales figures, but this paltry increase (and the last increase they would ever show) was nowhere near enough to recoup the high development and marketing costs that were lost.

Activision pushed Infocom hard, but it was not enough.

The Sale

While I could wax poetic about the terms of the sale and how the staff felt about it, our friend the Digital Antiquarian has already done a better job of this than I am likely to do thanks to his research and interviews. You can read his explanation here, but let me provide my own views on the big points.

First and foremost, by 1985 Infocom was getting desperate. With their declining sales and poor strategic thinking, the company was amassing significant debt and had little to show for it. They had previously been courted for a merger by Simon and Schuster, but that deal was long off the table. Infocom CEO Al Vezza hoped to be acquired by a company like Lotus, but there was no interest. The dealmaking began that December with the first informal meetings between Jim Levy, CEO of Activision, and Infocom. This happened almost simultaneously with the layoff of the remaining business products group, cementing Infocom (in Activision’s eyes as well as the rest of the world) as a gaming-only company. This was followed by the resignations of Marc Blank and Joel Berez. (But don’t worry: Marc will be back for Border Zone in 1987.)

In February, Activision and Infocom signed an intent agreement; it was followed by the real deal in June. In just seven months from idea to execution, Infocom was “saved” from their imminent demise and given a new set of opportunities and a new set of promises. By all accounts, the next period under Jim Levy’s management was a positive one even as the sales didn’t precisely flow in. We’ll get to what life was like under Activision in the next yearly wrap-up.

Looking Back

Since our last check-in, we’ve looked at five additional games (Wishbringer, A Mind Forever Voyaging, Fooblitzky, Spellbreaker, and Ballyhoo), plus Cornerstone. It’s been months since I played Ballyhoo, but I am eager to get back into playing some text adventures. If you are coming late to this party, here’s an index of all of the games we have played so far:

Dungeon – (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8)

Zork I – (1)

Zork II – (1) (2)

Deadline – (Ilmari) (Joe)

Zork III – (1) (2)

Starcross – (1) (2) (3)

Suspended – (1)

The Witness – (Ilmari) (Joe)

Planetfall – (1) (2) (3)

Enchanter – (1) (2) (3) (4)

Infidel – (1) (2) (3)

1983 Books

Sorcerer – (1) (2) (3) (4) (5)

Seastalker – (1) (2)

Tutorial Game – (1)

Cutthroats – (1) (2) (3)

Hitchhiker’s Guide – (B) (1) (2) (3) (4) (5)

Suspect (Ilmari) (Joe)

1984 Books and Updated Manuals

Cornerstone – (1)

Wishbringer – (B) (1) (2) (3)

A Mind Forever Voyaging – (1) (2) (3) (4)

Fooblitzky – (1) (Video) (Interview)

Spellbreaker – (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6)

Ballyhoo – (1) (2) (3)

Wishbringer has become, without a doubt, my favorite game to play so far in this marathon. It is so whimsical, lovingly done, and beautifully connected to the Zork saga. If you play only one Infocom game in your life, you should play Zork I… but Wishbringer should be in everyone’s top three, at least so far. I’m not sure if the ratings exactly align with my feelings, but it is still a bright spot in my memory. Maybe as I get further through, I’ll assemble my final “Top 10” list, but Wishbringer has to be close to the top tier.

Spellbreaker and Ballyhoo, while good, feel like the Infocom crew put their fears on paper rather than making the best possible games. Both of these titles are about endings and times changing, topics on the teams’ minds when they were playing, but the melancholy has not aged as well as the other titles. Spellbreaker is nearly impossibly hard, even by earlier Infocom standards, although bringing our Enchanter’s story to a close was more fulfilling than the ending of the first Zork trilogy.

AMFV still just feels like an art piece and a product of the 1980s rather than a timeless classic. I have absolutely no desire to ever pick it up again.

Although technically part of the previous batch of games, I am still impressed by the appeal (even today) of the Hitchhiker’s Guide games. As of September 2019, the original “banned” Hitchhiker’s game is the #3 most read post on the site. The introduction to the Infocom game is #8. I doubt we’ll see many more games in our marathon with such crossover appeal! Our number one post is, appropriately enough, from Secret of Monkey Island.

Infocom’s least sold game.

The Long Road Ahead

With Infocom resigned to the dustbin of history, you’d think we’d be close to the end. Absolutely not! In fact, we have just about as much ahead of us as behind, assuming that we get to it all. The Activision years were busy years, even as the company struggled and Infocom branched out. These years also brought a continuum of collaborations to Infocom’s world, ranging from games as before where Infocom was the sole developer to games where they were just a label, and every possible combination in between. I’m not completely sure of the history of each of our upcoming games yet, but I am looking forward to researching them as we get there.

Here is a quick census of what we have left. Not all of these will get the full treatment; some may warrant only a bonus post or a slot in a yearly wrap-up:

The so-called Infocom “canon” is 35 games from Zork I to Arthur, even though a couple of the later games were developed by third parties. Of these, we have sixteen games left so we have made it just shy of half way. Only three were in the original Zork Marathon plan, now all but abandoned: Stationfall (1987), Beyond Zork (1987), and Zork Zero (1988).

There are four “Infocomic” releases, two each that tied into to the Zork and Leather Goddesses series. I’ve barely looked at these and have no idea how much “game” is in each one. According to the data that I have, ZorkQuest II has the dubious distinction of being the worst-selling Infocom title ever at less than 4,000 copies. These were developed in partnership with Tom Snyder Productions.

Other than Beyond Zork, there are two more RPG/text-adventure hybrids that Infocom worked on to different extents: Quarterstaff and Circuit’s Edge. We played the latter as “Guest Game 1” before the current format of the blog. Infocom also has their names on several other RPGs including two Battletech games as well as Tombs and Treasure for the NES.

Two graphical games, Leather Goddesses II and Simon the Sorcerer; we covered the first already. Infocom was consulted (how much, I am not clear) on the first Simon game, but was not involved in any of the sequels.

A promotional release of Mini-Zork I for the Commodore 64 many years after the C64 was a dominant platform. Why?

Six Infocom novels that take place in the Zork and Planetfall universes.

Four Japanese versions of Infocom games (Zork I, Planetfall, Moonmist, and Enchanter) which have added graphics. Another Japanese “Infocom” release, Nigel Mancell’s F1 Challenge for the Famicom, defies explanation.

And finally: Return to Zork, ending the marathon in 1993. It’s possible this may get played before some of the above games, but we’ll be pushing RtZ out to as late in 1993 as practical so that I can play as many of these as I can.

The games immediately in our future are fairly “normal” and it will be a while before desperation set in and we get the more bonkers choices. Thanks to Activision cracking the whip, 1986 and 1987 will see more games produced faster than ever before. Can Infocom keep up the quality with less development time and less QA? We’re going to find out soon.

We’ll start Trinity (1986) right after Consulting Detective, but I have one more bonus post before then: Crash Dive! (1984). This is Brian Moriarty’s second game and that last that he made before joining Infocom. His first game was one of the worst we ever reviewed, yet his Infocom debut was nothing short of amazing. Where will this middle work fall on the scale? I’m looking forward to finding out… just as soon as I figure out who stole these paintings. See you soon!

source http://reposts.ciathyza.com/zork-marathon-selling-the-house-that-zork-built/

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