This fic is about Aedion’s mom and Evalin going to Doranelle to speak to Meave about Demi-Fae rights. Instead of meeting her nieces, she sends Gavriel.
“So,” started Evalin, still holding a knife, “you met the Lion of Doranelle. Glaston will die with jealousy!”
“My brother was the last thing on my mind, Ev. Trustme.”
Emrys chuckled. “The Lion is quite handsome.”
Eleanor hummed in a dreamy agreement. “And the rest of the blood-sworn? All I’ve heard of them are war stories from my father.”
“They all are. Some more than others – or at least, in different ways.”
“Who did Glaston like the most?” asked Evalin.
“Whitethorn. He and father used to argue who was better – he or the Lion.”
“You take after your father then,” smiled Emrys.
“I have yet to meet Whitethorn. Though, we are cousins…”
“Distantcousins.”
“I can’t listen to this argument again, girls. Chop your vegetables.”
They prepared the food in silence, but Eleanor’s mind kept going back to Gavriel. She’d had crushes before – tones of them. And not one of them had been as inappropriate as this one. Partly because of the age difference but mainly because she was now betrothed to another man. Lord Flavian Baldor was a close friend to the crown and one of the biggest food suppliers in the kingdom – he was ambitious enough to rise even more in the hierarchy, and Eleanor had no doubt that he would use their marriage to achieve just that.
Emrys seasoned the food as it cooked over the slow fire and Evalin nudged her with her shoulder. “Still thinking about the Lion?”
“Lord Baldor.”
“Ah, the fiancé… What about him?”
“Nothing in particular. Just… wondering what it would be like when I marry him.”
“I’d like it better if your thoughts of him didn’t make you frown.”
Eleanor attempted a smile. “I like him. I’m sure I’ll grow to love him as I get to know him better.”
Evalin squeezed her shoulder and went back to chopping.
Gavriel was sharpening his knives when his senses alerted him to someone approaching. He sniffed, trying to make it out. It was the same scent that was still lingering in him from before, mixed with the smell of food.
He placed the knife he was holding on the bed and reached for his shirt – he’d taken it off while he was training. There was a gentle knock and he crossed the short distance to open the door.
“I didn’t chop vegetables all day so you could skip on a meal I helped prepare!”
Gavriel tried to resist a smile. The princess was standing in his doorway with a tray full of clumsily cut steamed vegetables, roasted meat and a goblet with ale.
“Hello,” he said.
She seemed confused for a second, then her beautiful face twisted into a sly smile. “Hi,” she said and leaned against the doorframe, spilling some of the ale onto the vegetables. “Oh, damn it!”
Gavriel chuckled and took the tray from her. “I always like my vegetables soaked in ale.”
Princess Eleanor stared at him for a moment before curtsying. “And that is why I did it.”
He laughed again. “Thank you for that, and for bringing me this food. You did not have to do it, princess.”
She waved a dismissive hand. “Like I said, I like to see people appreciate my effort. Can I come in?”
It was uncustomary for noble women, let alone princesses, to be alone in the company of a male they were not related to, especially in his sleeping chambers.
She rolled her eyes. “If you’re warried about what-”
“You can come in.”
She smiled and went inside, taking a seat on the table chair. Gavriel put the tray down on the other end of the small table. “It smells delicious.”
The princess nodded. “Emrys is a very talented cook.”
Gavriel plunged his fork into a half-circle of a carrot that had cut lines in several places. “And you are a very talented chopper.”
Eleanor crossed her arms. “Evalin chopped that one.”
“Of course.”
She smiled at him – a smile that lit up her entire face, and could light up more if he allowed himself to look at it.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”
“Boredom, mostly. I usually listen to Emrys’ stories after dinner.”
“He is the Story Keeper, yes?”
Eleanor nodded. “I’ve heard most of them from the Story Keeper in Wendlyn. But hearing them from Emrys… they sound very different.”
“In what ways?”
“Well,” the princess leaned into the table, “your queen, for example.”
Gavriel stiffened, but the girl said nothing of it. “What about my queen?”
“In Wendlyn, all the stories of her are filled with glory. She saved the world and now rules peaceful, happy lands from her stone throne in her stone city, waiting to protect us all again.”
“And what do they say here?”
Princess Eleanor angled her head. “Are you asking me to snitch?”
He laughed. “You are the one who brought up the subject.”
“They say… They say the same things, but in different ways. In Wendlyn, my aunt’s disdain of half-breeds is known only to those in the king’s inner circle. The people believe her armies are consisted of full-blooded fae because they are stronger, not because she believes them to be the only one worthy. In Wendlyn, when we speak of the battles she fights, the fallen soldiers are sacrifices for freedom. Here… it sounds like she does not care for her people.”
Gavriel gulped. The horrors of his last battle, those young boys – barely even males, the city she had made them turn to ash still clear in his mind.
“But you care,” the princess said with a nod to the inked names on his neck. “For the soldiers you command.”
“Every fallen soldier is a cause of great mourning for queen Maeve.”
“I’m just saying…” her voice was light and teasing again. “The people of Wendlyn like you and your group of warrior-friends a lot more than they like her. If you were to pledge your loyalty to someone else, your admirers would follow.”
Gavriel offered a smile, but it was not sincere this time.
“What is your opinion of the demi-fae?” she asked him.
“There are many things that define a person’s worth, but blood is not one of them.”
The princess smiled, lighting up the room. Gavriel tried to ignore the roaring in his veins that pushed him to get closer to her.
“Then you wouldn’t mind my company for the rest of your meal.”
“Of course not,” he smiled – this time for real.
“And you will listen to the concerns my cousin and I have regarding to your queen?”
“That is why I am here,” he bowed his head.
“It is why I am here, too. One of the reasons.”
He wondered if asking her to elaborate would be pushing a boundary in their still-new acquaintance. The princess was young, her spirit was wild. Gavriel’s had long been honed by pain, sorrow and battle, and barely remembering joy.
“Vere is a beautiful city, and the castle there offers a lot more pleasures. Why would you want to leave it?”
She scoffed. “Yeah, it offers the pleasure of my overbearing mother, annoying brother, infuriating sister-in-law and a hundred courtiers that are dead bound on making my life hell!”
Gavriel chuckled at the scowl on her face. “Now I wonder how you will ever want to go back there.”
Princess Eleanor sighed. “If every day here is like the ones I’ve already had, I would never want to leave. I would miss only my nephew, and some of the more handsome young lords. Although…” she trailed and Gavriel raised an eyebrow, asking her to continue. “Well, with you here, those handsome young lords are put to shame.” Despite the confidence in her posture and words, the princess turned a deep red in the cheeks.
“I am flattered by your words, princess.”
Female attention has never been unfamiliar to Gavriel, and there was a time when he’d been ready to give his heart to another, but now… Maeve had demanded he ended so many affairs in the years he had spent as her bloodsworn that at some point, he had stopped offering his heart.
“Don’t worry about it. Occasionally I must compliment someone other than myself as to not get a reputation,” she winked.
“Would not want that,” he agreed. “You said you would miss your nephew?”
“Galan,” said Eleanor and smiled – for the first time without a devilish side to it. “He’s my everything. He’s the sweetest boy ever! He has these big beautiful eyes that are always looking around and he rarely ever cries! But when he does… his voice is so cute I could listen to it all day!” she cooed.
“I am sure he will be a source of great pride to your family,” offered Gavriel.
Eleanor made a shaking motion with her head. “His mother whines every day that he was not born a girl so she could dress him up, and my dear brother is trying to turn him into a miniature version of himself.”
“I’ve known many Ashryvers through the years, and it is hard to make you into something you are not. Still, the young prince is lucky to have an aunt like you.”
“What about your family?”
“My father is a lord, and my mother comes from a noble house, as well.”
“Any siblings?”
“Two brothers.”
“Ah,” she clapped her hands. “Then you know my pain.”
Gavriel chuckled. “They are older than I am – and by the time I was born, both of them were wed. I grew up with their wives as my sisters as much as I grew up with them as my brothers.”
“I am sure all of them were proud when you swore the blood oath to my aunt.”
He nodded but said nothing. “Tell me more about your family. From the letter your father wrote to your aunt, I understand you and your cousin are the only ones… carrying concerns.”
“Oh, well… yes. My family holds your queen in the highest esteem. My brother has many responsibilities as crown prince, so I guess Evalin and I are the only ones with enough time on our hands to reach out to these causes. Speaking of, when are we going to get the chance to address said concerns?”
“Tomorrow morning?” If he took the princesses on a ride through the woods and showed them how peaceful they were – how peaceful Maeve kept them – perhaps he’d assure them there was nothing to worry about.
“Perfect.”
Evalin was enjoying a book in bed when Eleanor burst into her room with a huge smile adorning her face.
“Did you bed the Lion at last then?”
“Not yet, but I still come with great news.” She plumped herself on Evalin’s bed and sighed. “He has invited us to a ride in the morning, to talk about the demi-fae.”
“Do you want me to fake an illness?”
“What?”
“So that you can get the lion roaring.” Evalin winked at her cousin.
“Evalin! These kind of jokes are why mother won’t let me out of her sight!”
“Wyrd, she is strict! So is mine, sadly.”
“Do you think it’s one of those things where you age and think ‘My mother was right’?”
“No!” Evalin laughed. “I can easily see your kid and mine trying to get each other laid!”
Imagine: Being married to Jamie and disobeying him so you get punished
“I said I was sorry.” Y/N said as Jamie threw her over his shoulder. “ I don’t care you still disobeyed me and now you will be punished.” Jamie said as he delivered a harsh pop to her ass. Setting her down they looked at each other for what felt like hours but was really 30 seconds before they were all over each other. “God damnit I love you so fucking much.” Let’s just say you had a very naughty night.
Summary:As Alfred recovers in the hospital, your Aunt Dory asks you to act as a temporary replacement as staff in Wayne Tower. But you get much more than you bargained for.
Reader is a psychic per request. More specifically, she’s an empath as well as a spirit medium.
Also, I was listening to When The Party’s Over on repeat while I wrote this. This is also really silly but I digress.
Might publish a bonus spice chapter, might not, who can say?
Before all this, you were pretty sure you’d met Bruce Wayne only once.
You’d been twelve years old, visiting your Aunt Dory with your mother, and as much as you tried to be friends with him, he kept to himself, and though he didn’t tell you, you knew why. The people he missed the most passed on their love through you, but when you tried to tell him that, he didn’t speak to you for the rest of the visit.
You tried to explain that you were a medium, but he didn’t believe you. Aunt Dory told you he’d come around, but you were pretty sure she was just trying to comfort you.
Now, you were pretty sure he’d forgotten all about that incident. And you were seeing him again.
So, this has been a long time coming but I’ll make it short but not so sweet. I will be on hiatus for an indefinite time. I don’t exactly know when I’ll be back but hopefully it will be sooner rather than later. However, if I do return to this blog I may not be writing for Tom Holland anymore.
I’ve found my interest for writing shifting over the past few months. I no longer have a passion to write for that particular fandom and I’ve really been wanting to write for another but it’s a decision I am finding really difficult to make. While I still really love Tom and his work, I just don’t feel that love for writing about him anymore. It’s continuously becoming more and more of a chore than something I really enjoy.
I have truly loved the past four years on this blog and writing for Tom. I have talked to some truly amazing people, writers and readers. I 100% appreciate every single that has interacted with me or my works over the years. I truly hope that if I come back to writing (even if it is under a different pen name and for a different fandom) I can have this incredible experience again.
For the time being, please stay safe and happy during these times. Hopefully, we’ll meet again.
Hey there all! Another entry for @forduary in going with the theme of Week 3: Hands/AU where it takes place in the Lost and Gained AU, depicting times in Ford’s life involving more positive moments. Hope you all enjoy this ficlet!
__________________________________________
“Aw, Filbrick! Shermie! Come look!” Caryn Pines held up newborn Ford’s six-fingered hands to show her husband who held newborn Stan in his arms. “He’s got the six fingers like my father has!” Filbrick grunted, less enthused as his wife and the mention of her protective father brought back memories of how he didn’t like the old man of Caryn’s. But young Shermie was ecstatic.
“That is so neat!”
“He’s going to be made fun of,” bluntly imputed Filbrick.
“Well it didn’t stop my dad from living his life, and it won’t stop Stanford’s. He’s perfect as he is.” Little Ford giggled.
“You can shove off, Crampelter!” shouted young Stan at the older boy and his other two boys as they walked away laughing. Stan snorted and looked back at his twin brother who had tears forming in his eyes and his hands behind his back. “Hey, it’s gonna be okay, Sixer. No one makes fun of your hands on my watch.” Stan gave his brother a tight hug.
Ford really hoped this would stop at some point when no one cares how many fingers he has on his hands and be treated as normal.
“Hey, fellas!” greeted a young Andy as she and her penpal Lucina Evergreen approached the twin boys at the beach. Stan and Ford stopped what they were doing on their wrecked boat and faced their friend, and a new girl to them, walking up to them.
“Hey, Andy!” Stan waved.
“Greetings!”
“Who’s the new girl?” Stan asked. “Don’t think we’ve seen her around here or in school.”
“You remember me mentioning a penpal, right?” Ford and Stan nodded. The girl with the lengthy black hair shyly shuffled her feet, her bangs concealing one of her eyes, but keeping her left brown eye exposed while holding her hair. Andy smiled at Lucina. “These are my friends.”
“I’m Stanley Pines! But call me Stan.”
“And I am Stanford Pines, but you can call me Ford.” Ford extended his hand to shake hers. Lucina gasped upon seeing Ford’s six fingered hand in immediate amazement at seeing something unique she hadn’t before. Lucina shaked his hand with hers.
“Wow… six fingers. That’s… really neat!” Ford blinked. He was taken by surprise upon the new girl’s reaction to his hands. It was much better than what happened with Cathy Crenshaw. He was almost at a loss for words until Lucina moved her bangs away to reveal her right eye being a light blue. Complete heterochromia.
“Complete heterochromia. That’s so cool!” exclaimed Ford. He then realized he still held onto her hand and let hers go, not wanting things to get awkward. “Oop. Sorry. It’s just nice to know there’s someone else who is different like me.” Lucina blushed from the compliment, happy he didn’t find her too weird.
“No, you’re okay. It’s nice to see someone who’s different like me, too.”
My@forduary entry, covering the prompts of Sleep and Au’s. I hope you enjoy! (A HUGE thank you to @snapback-gravity-falls for beta-reading and helping me improve this fic)
There was a shuffling outside of Ford’s room. Followed by several hushed whispers. The old man rubbed the sleep from his eyes and blindly passed his hand over his night stand for his glasses. It took a few moments. But he was able to read the bright red numbers on his alarm clock. 2:03 am.
“Greg, please, let’s not bother him.” Ford could make out Wirt’s voice from the other side of his bedroom door.
“Don’t worry Wirt!” Greg replied. He made little effort to lower his voice. “Mr. Ford will know what to do to help.”
“I just need to go back to sleep-Greg wait,” Wirt said, raising his voice.
There was a firm knock on his door. Stanford pushed himself into a sitting position, swinging his legs off the side of his bed. He took a moment to stretch before getting up and opening his door. Before him stood the two half-brothers he had taken into his care. Greg stood in front of the door, his stance confident, even if his drooping eyes showed that he was still a little tired. Behind him was Wirt, looking like he’d been fighting for his life. His eyes were bloodshot , he had hastily wiped away tear tracks along his cheeks and sweat along his brow. Worst of all were deep bags under his eyes.
“Good morning boys.” Stanford said.
“Good night Mr. Ford.” Greg said.
“Sorry.” Wirt’s gaze wouldn’t meet his, seemingly more invested in the floorboards.
“What seems to be the matter?” Stanford stepped forward and placed a hand on Wirt’s shoulder.
“It’s nothi-”
“Wirt had a bad dream.” Greg interrupted.
“Did he now?” Stanford raised an eyebrow. He pulled his hand back and placed it on his hip.
“Yeah, and he needs help getting a good sleep. But I don’t think I can do it by myself.”
“Greg, you’re making it sound worse than it is.” Wirt said quickly. He roughly pulled his brother back from Stanford. “I’m sorry, it isn’t anything to worry about. I’ll just take us back to our room.”
Greg squirmed against his brother’s hold. “But you need help sleeping.”
“No I don’t,” Wirt whispered harshly, tightening his grip.
“Wirt. Are you having trouble sleeping?” Stanford asked.
“It’s nothing serious, just some bad dreams.” Wirt reassured. He waves his hand, loosening his hold on Greg. “I think I’m just getting stressed from assignments.”
Stanford wasn’t convinced. He knelt down to Greg and whispered into his ear. The young’s sleepy eyes widened with excitement. He gave Stanford a salute before escaping Wirt’s grasp and running back to his bedroom. Ford stood up and walked over to Wirt.
“Are you sure you don’t want to talk about what’s troubling you?’ he asked.
“It’s nothing.” Wirt muttered, staring at a spot in the carpet.
Stanford gestured to Wirt’s face. “‘Nothing’ doesn’t give you bags that take up half your face.”
“Are they that bad?” Wirt asked, patting his face.
“No, but take it from someone who spent years staying up to dawn’s light for weeks at a time, you’re not the best at hiding your sleep deprivation.” Stanford smirked.
Wirt sighed. “It feels dumb. I didn’t want to come crying to you over something like bad dreams.”
“Believe me, I know that dreams can be far from harmless.” Stanford glanced down the hall towards the balcony. “Let’s get some fresh air.” He nodded towards the balcony door.
Wirt followed as Ford took the first few steps into the cool air of the balcony. The cool tiles against his bare feet made a shiver run along his spine. A much needed shock to wake him from his sleepy demeanor. He watched as Ford took in several deep breaths of the cold night air. It was still as the pair looked out to the black night sky, listening to the rustle of the trees in the autumn breeze.
“I won’t force you to tell me anything. If you’re not comfortable speaking about it, that is.” Stanford leaned forward, resting both his arms against the railing.
“I- I don’t know.” Wirt sighed. “I’m in high school…getting nightmares and crying to an adult about it feels like something Greg would do.”
“There isn’t anything wrong with seeking comfort Wirt.” Ford assured.
“I guess. Wait…how many times did Mabel have to grill you to think that naturally.” Wirt raised an eyebrow wryly.
“Oh dear, it seems my secret’s out. I’m glad that you haven’t lost your wit after having your nerves rattled.” Ford chuckled. He tilted his head towards Wirt, smile falling from his face. “I may have considered it a sign of weakness when I was younger, but with some help from my family, I realized that being harsh on myself in such a way was not helpful to anyone.”
“Mm. I guess that makes sense.” Wirt rested his hands on the cold metal of the railing. The warmth in his hand was quickly sapped. It wasn’t an unpleasant feeling, it helped ground him a little more as he gathered his thoughts.
“If it’s about the Unknown, then it could be the beast trying to get a hold of you.” Ford hummed. He tapped his chin, eyes fixated on the trees that swayed in the light autumn breeze beneath them. “I should have some materials to make some charms to keep you and your brother safe.”
“I wasn’t dreaming about the Unknown.” Wirt crossed his arms, staring at the floor.
“Oh.”
Wirt’s nails dug into his arm. He turned to Ford, his throat tightened as he tried summoning the strength to speak. His words died on his tongue as he opened and closed his mouth several times. He was about to turn back into the apartment when a gentle hand was placed on his shoulder. Looking up Wirt found himself looking into Ford’s caring gaze, and for a brief moment the fear that felt colder than the cold autumn air disappeared.
Taking a deep breath Wirt started to recall his dream. “I was getting ready for a party with my friends from school. We were on our way back here, but instead of presents they helped me pack my bags. When I asked them what they were doing, you stepped into my room and said that I was old enough to be on my own…and…that I needed to move out. I tried to say something, ask why or convince you to not throw me out, but you would just laugh over me.
“I wanted to cry, but something in me made me scream out that you were being unfair. After that, the world around me shattered, like glass, and I was left standing in this inky darkness. I tried to run for help and find someone, but my feet were stuck to the ground. I looked down and saw that I was turning into a tree. I could feel the stiffness crawling up my legs. I reached out, trying to run away from my own feet. But I just ended up turning into an edgewood tree.” Wirt’s knuckles turned white as he tightened his grip on his arm. Wirt was drawn from his thoughts for a moment as he felt the warmth of Ford’s arm wrapping around his shoulders.
“It felt like an eternity had passed as I stared out to nothing in my wooden prison. But then, like the wind that blows through the branches of trees in the forest, I heard the same sadistic laughter from earlier. Then a hand holding an axe before it swung at my neck. I woke up just as the blade was about to… get me.” Wirt let out a shaky breath that turned into a weak chuckle. “Real dumb right?”
“As dreams go, I wouldn’t call it the most enjoyable. Unless you are a particularly sadistic lumberjack.” Stanford laughed softly. He glanced over in concern. “However, you were clearly shaken by this.”
“I don’t know why.” Wirt threw his hands up in the air. “You promised you wouldn’t leave me or Greg. You’ve helped us so many times…so why do I still feel like I’m always one mistake from being thrown to the streets?”
Those last words hit Stanford particularly hard. Images of a young man, hardly younger than Wirt staring up at him from the cold street one unfortunate night. Biting back the guilt, Stanford pushed away the image of angrily closing the curtains on his distraught twin’s distraught face to focus on the matter at hand.
“When someone is forced into a stressful situation, their body and mind adjust in order to survive. When exposed to that sort of stress for extended periods of time, your body will grow used to that level of stress and anxiety. Just because I say I won’t abandon you… that doesn’t mean your subconscious mind has adjusted to this situation. It will take you a while before you will properly adjust.” Stanford said slowly.
“How long will it take? I hate living like this.” Wirt scowled.
“There isn’t a real measurement for this sort of issue.” Stanford looked up towards the sky above, his gaze lost in the countless stars and the possibilities they held. “From my own experience, it took me the better part of three years to grow out of the habit of sleeping with my ray-gun on my person.”
“What kind of trouble left you needing to get used to that?” Wirt asked tentatively.
“The Stuck-traveling-through-the-multiverse-for-30-years-with-no-set-place-of-safety kind.” Stanford grinned.
“Oh.” Wirt looked ashamed at asking.
“Don’t worry, I’m home and I’m here to stay.” Stanford assured. “And if you need any advice on how I adapted, I’d be more than happy to offer some advice.”
“Mr. Dr. Ford! My mission is complete!” Greg burst out onto the balcony and gave Stanford a serious salute.
“Good job young man.” Stanford returned the gesture with a wide grin.
“What are you two planning?” Wirt looked between the pair with suspicion.
“You aren’t the first person in history to suffer from bad dreams. When I was a young boy-”
“Back with the dinosaurs?” Greg interrupted.
“Those were a little before my time,” Ford ruffled Greg’s hair. “As I was saying, my brother and I would sometimes be helped back to sleep by our mother. She would have us in one bed, rather than in our separate bunks. She’d read us stories, and keep us in arms reach for plenty of hugs. Some nights she would join us in bed.”
“But I’m not a kid,” Wirt whined.
“You’re never too old for hugs, Wirt.” Greg crossed his arms.
“Well said, Greggory.” Stanford smiled. He led the way back into the house towards his bedroom. “Come on now, we need to get as much sleep as we can or we’ll all be late for school tomorrow.”
“Can we have waffles for breakfast?” Greg asked. He grabbed a hold of Wirt’s hand and dragged him into the apartment.
“If we sleep quickly I’ll make hot chocolate to go with them.” Ford promised with an indulgent smile.
The old man opened the door to reveal a pillow fort on his bed, designed and built by the one and only Greg. The boy babbled happily about how he had listened to Wirt’s talks about buildings and that he used the couch cushions to make it ‘stable’ and that he brought their blankets from his and Wirt’s room for extra warmth since Ford’s blankets were the roof of the fort. Greg sat comfortably, sandwiched between his brother and Ford, talking excitedly about how much fun this sleepover was going to be.
Unfortunately there wasn’t much excitement in the other two. Wirt and Ford listened intently, or at least tried to. However, the change from the cold outside, to the warmth in the expertly made pillow fort, had both of them feel their sleepiness returning.
Despite his initial excitement, Greg was the first among them to fall asleep. Ford followed suit not long after.
Last was Wirt.
He sat in the warm bundle of blankets and cushions that his brother had set up for him. The room was quiet, save for the gentle breathing of his brother and the soft snores from Ford. His heart wasn’t beating loudly, his breath wasn’t short, nothing about the situation made him feel like needed to panic.
‘It’s okay.’ He thought. ‘Ford won’t kick you out. I have a home here.’
The words felt foreign on his tongue. He looked to Ford, carefully he reached out. Wirt was half afraid that the old man would break into pieces, like everything that had just happened was another dream. Instead he was met with the sensation of warm wool against his finger tips. Ford was real. His nerves still felt on edge, as they always did, but for a brief moment Wirt felt relaxed.
He may not be perfectly fine, but he had family who were here to help him improve. And with that thought he drifted off to sleep.
~~~
Author’s note: I have an Au that’s been sitting on the back burner, which is based off of @reaganwarren’s College Drop out Dipper fic (TW: self harm). however this one is based on Dipper being a drop out in high school. The Au i devised had a series of unfortunate events that resulted in Ford taking custody of Wirt and Greg from their parents. This follows a possible situation with Ford taking care of the brothers.
A/N: Hey everyone! Here’s my late entry for @forduary Week One: Sleep. I’ve been busy and distracted throughout February so I may or may not finish the other weekly entries before the deadline. But anyhow, this takes place in the Lost and Gained AU where Ford is a parent and later grandparent. Hope you enjoy this ficlet!
Ford jolted awake from his eyes growing heavy from drifting to sleep.
Oh my. The boys need me.
It was a dark, not so quiet night in Gravity Falls in June of 1976, little Tate and his newborn brother Shiloh were crying and needing attention within their shared nursery. Thankfully, Ford had been awake for some time in getting some writing done in his journal at his desk. He raised up from his seat and walked towards the nursery, and on the way, waved at a tired Fiddleford to let him know he had it covered and he could go back to bed. He wanted to make things easier on Fiddleford and Lucina both as he can run on little sleep.
Ford opens the nursery door and sees little Tate holding onto the bars of his crib while standing and crying across from Shiloh who was also crying. Tate had six fingers on his left hand while Shiloh had six fingers on his right. Tate resembled much like his father Fiddleford, save for the brown hair, but it runs in his family as well as Ford’s. Meanwhile, Shiloh inherited Lucina’s black hair, darker skin tone and heterochromia eyes; Shiloh’s left eye was brown and his right eye blue. The room was spacious and colorful with painted depictions of the forest and animals and magical creatures. One day it was going to be both the boy’s room or until they choose to have their own rooms, respectively.
“It’s alright, boys, Dad is here.”
Ford scooped up Tate and Shiloh in his arms and checked if they needed to be fed, changed, etc before he got the boys to calm down. But they did when held in the arms of their father. He then takes a seat in the blue rocking chair in the room to rock the two boys to sleep after tending to their needs. He still finds himself amazed he’s doing something like this. Finding love. Including children in their active lives. And discovering new, wonderful and dangerous things in Gravity Falls; things he wants to share with his two boys when they’re old enough. And maybe they’ll share that love of adventure like he and Stan did long ago, before everything changed.
Ford would sing the boys a song his mother sang to him and Stan when they were little. An old Jewish lullaby from what he remembers. He found it funny she taught him the song ‘just in case you wanted to sing it someday’ but he sees what she meant now. It made him feel closer to her somehow. Tate yawned and fell asleep and so did Shiloh in Ford’s arms.
Ford would gently place the boys back in their respective cribs.
“Goodnight, Tate. Goodnight, Shiloh.” Ford placed a gentle kiss upon their foreheads and faced the doorway where Lucina and Fiddleford had been watching him the whole time. He smiled at the two. “I thought you two were in bed.”
“We were waitin’ fer you. Couldn’t help but ta watch and listen; it’s a very pretty song.”
“Thank you. It always helped me sleep when I was little. I’m actually sleepy from having sung it.”
Lucina and Fiddleford took Ford’s hand in each of theirs and led him to bed with them.
Stanford was quite possibly the most incredibly brilliant, uniquely infuriating person Fiddleford had met in his life. He had no concept of self-preservation, no regard for safety precautions or basic human needs like food or sleep or downtime. He drove himself harder than any three people, collapsed, regrouped, and drove himself harder still.
Fiddleford did his best to look after him. Sure, he offered his help to anyone who really needed it, but Stanford was his friend. An unusual friend, certainly, but a friend all the same.
Before midterms he’d come to Stanford with a question, one he needed an answer to before he could move on with a project. In hindsight, perhaps he should have tried taking his own advice about sleep before tackling advanced physics, but oh well. With hindsight comes wisdom and all that.
Stanford had clearly been in the middle of a work frenzy, looking more wired than any three of the contraptions in Fiddleford’s room. Still, he’d somehow managed to understand the concept he was presented with and explain it in a way Fiddleford could understand.
“Well,” Fiddleford had said, fairly disappointed with himself for missing the obvious answer. “That wasn’t much. I’m sorry for wastin’ your time, Stanford.”
Stanford had scoffed at that. “Don’t be ridiculous, Fiddleford,” he said, already turning back to his own work. “You’re never a waste of my time.”
And that was Stanford for you. Abrupt, distracted, probably running on caffeine fumes and stubbornness, but kind, in his own way.
It’s the end of @forduary - boy did it go fast! It’s been so fun and SO great to see everyone’s awesome work!
For Week Four, Hugs/Hug It Out, I lovingly ripped off an old Scottish legend. I hope you enjoy!
After Ford and Stan have a fight, Stan disappears. But when Ford finally finds him, it will take a little bit more than giving a hug and making up to get him back… Or maybe that’s exactly what it will take.
“I’m tellin’ you Ford, she was gorgeous,” Stan sighed as the brothers hiked through the autumn woods of Scotland.
“What was she doing talking to you?” Ford ribbed him good naturedly.
“Ha ha,” Stan answered dryly. “Anyway, then she brought me our food, and you know what she said?”
The first time Ford found Stan curled up on his bed with the blanket pulled over his head they’d been six years old. Stan had gotten into the new books Ford had received for Christmas and accidentally spilled paint all over them. Ford was furious, and didn’t talk to Stan for three days. Then he’d walked into their room and found Stan in a ball sobbing his little eyes out.
Ford sat on the bed hesitantly, looking at the floor while his brother pretended that he didn’t know Ford was there. Eventually, Stan peeked over the blanket and Ford began to talk.
“I’m still mad.”
“– I didn’t – !”
“I’m still mad.” He reached out hesitantly then abandoned caution and threw his arms around his brother. “I really liked those books.” To his horror, tears started to roll down Ford’s cheeks. Hiccup’s caught his breath and it felt like he couldn’t breathe. “I can be mad!” Stan held him while he cried.
Overall synopsis (for anyone who is newly interested):
A Gravity Falls AU idea where, in 1982, Stan threw a rope to Ford as he was being pulled into the portal. He let go of his journal in favor of grabbing the rope and it was lost to Bill’s dimension. Stan had saved him and for that, he was grateful. They talked and forgave each other for the past and all seemed well for as much as a day. That was when Bill’s ruthless anger became apparent and he took full advantage of his deal with Ford. Thirty years later, the demon is still punishing them for their refusal to rebuild the portal.
Chapter Summary:
Mabel is desperate to finish preparations for her show. Dipper is desperate for answers. Bill is desperate to eliminate a leak in his plans. Stan and Ford are desperate to prevent the end of the world.
Ten of the best Alicia Spinnet fanfics on Ao3. Called ‘OT3′ because they all feature her fellow Gryff chasers (and we need more poly fics of the three of them)!
Balls, Belles and BroomsticksbyWoldy (T - 1346) Constant vigilance,” Alicia reminded herself as she bit her lip and dragged her eyes away.
Nervesbylightofdaye (E - 1906) Alicia’s bicurious and Katie’s gay. Asking her out should have been simple but neither are as confident as they might seem.
The Seduction of Shirts byMagi_Silverwolf (T - 792) It was the best thrift store find Katie had ever made. It was surely going to let Alicia know exactly how much she wanted her. Of course, Alicia had plans of her own–because she knew her best friend.
Compromiseby@holyfantrashthings (E - 3485) If that is the trade-off, if that is the small prize to pay to be with Alicia - then there’s really no discussion, is there?
Alicia Spinnet/Angelina Johnson
A Really Bad Idea byarobynsung (M - 1937) There are bad ideas, and then there are bad ideas. This was definitely the latter.
Lost Timebyinkouragement (G - 1872) After a disastrous Quidditch practice, Alicia tries to cheer up Angelina. One thing leads to another.
Alicia Spinnet/Angelina Johnson/Katie Bell
Liquid Couragebyfreckles42 (E - 4316) (disclaimer, I’m still reading this) (but I like it) (a lot) The three former Gryffindors are pro quidditchers. They’re all back in their shared flat after weeks on the road.
Ten of the best Angelina Johnson/George Weasley fanfics on Ao3.
Resisting Ardourby@800wordsofheaven (G - 2895) “What?” he spluttered through a throat full of butterbeer, spit, and complete and utter mortification. He didn’t have a cool and casual bone in his body.
George and Angelina byCQueen (T - 3107) Angelina is woken up by Wood, who needs her to come to his place to look after George who’s had a small potions accident. Always willing to help a friend she agrees, never seeing what was going to happen next.
After The Yule Ballby@centrumlumina (T - 1363) The morning after the Yule Ball, gossip is beginning to spread about what happened, but two students are still asleep and Fred Weasley wants to know what happened to them after the party ended.
Picking Up The Pieces byCaptainWeasley (T - 35619) (I haven’t finished reading this) (but so far?) (I like it) After the Battle of Hogwarts, Angelina is devastated. She only has one friend who truly understands her: George. But after a while, she realises that what she feels for George is much more than just friendship…
Summary: Molly watches Fred, George, and Angelina grow up
Word Count: ~600
Molly Weasley knew since the twins were twelve that it would be Angelina Johnson to break her sons’ hearts. From the moment they came home after their first year at Hogwarts raving about the first year girl on the Quidditch team, she knew that Angelina was special in their eyes.
And in second year, when the boys befriended her, and the thirteen year old girl, who still towered over them came over one day in the summer. The three of them take off in the backyard, kicking gnomes, stomping in mud. Angelina and her extra three inches, lifts herself up onto the big oak tree and pulls George and Fred up with her. Molly watched as that little girl managed to keep up with her wildest children, she knew that that little girl had her twins.
And so she watched as Fred and George and Lee and Angelina grew up together. And she watched as the rough tomboy blossomed into a beautiful young lady, and she wondered what would happen once the boys saw her as a woman instead of their Ange.
It begins during after their fourth year, the summer Angelina doesn’t come over for a week at the Burrow. But she stops by for the day, and she spends her time laughing with the twins, but Molly notices there’s a grace about her actions now. She’s no longer running around the backyard skidding her knees. She’s started to fill out, and she starts to smile and shake her head at the boys’ antics, and she chats with Ginny this time. But she’s still there, and Molly watches the way the twins smile down on her, and she wonders if Angelina will only break one of their hearts or both.
George puts on a brave face, and Molly’s not surprised. George has always been the one more aware about people’s emotions. Fred claims that it’s no big deal, as George and Charlie make kissy faces at him over dinner. “It’s just a stupid dance.” He refutes. But Molly, finds the hidden picture of Fred and Angelina at the Yule Ball, and knows that Angelina has at least one of her boys’ heart.
Molly mostly sees Angelina when she drops by the store. Molly’s not even sure Fred recognizes all the small touches he gives Angelina throughout the date. A hug here, and arm slug around the shoulders, the slight brushing of hands. Molly observes as Angelina blushes, and coughs, and nudges him back. But Molly mostly watches as her sweet George grins through it all.
And the unimaginable happens.
They wait 3 months to have the burial. It’s the only reason Molly has the strength to leave her room. She misses her son, and she worries about her families, she prays everyday for George. He disappears after the service. She looks throughout the house, but George isn’t sitting with the guests in den, or eating food in the kitchen, but then she spots him.
In the backyard with Angelina. Molly watches as Angelina chases George around in the pouring rain, and she can hear his laughter from inside the house. It’s like their summer after second year, except her Fred, her sweet Fred is watching from above. She can’t stop her smile when they both come back dripping wet, covered in mud, and but she couldn’t careless about the carpet they’ve tracked mud on. For the first time in months Molly sees her boy smile.
Of course, she thinks. It would be Angelina to return her George to her. Molly knew since they were younger that Angelina had his heart.
