#//one of these days i gotta draw a map of his garden

[leathersandsours]

wait you're homeless??

“I have a home, I just don’t have a house.” He scoffed, arms crossed. His breath clouded in the cooling air as more snowflakes drifted down. “I haven’t had one in over ten years and haven’t lived in one in about three. I get by well enough without one.” 

Trekking through the tall grass he lead them onto a well worn path to his camp. It was in some disarray due to winter preparations. “I have a fire for cooking and heat,” he gestured to a main campfire with an array of pots and pans propped up nearby.

“My bedding area is wherever the pack sleeps,” there was a group of sour sherbats hanging off of a large tree sheltering the camp. Beneath them were a few sour limeoceros huddled together, there was a gap between two of the larger ones with a discarded blanket in it.

“I store things in there,” Weirdly enough there was a cluster of drawers and a closet sat near an old stone wall. The closet was open ajar showing it was full of non perishable food. Hal then pointed to a far corner--

“And that’s the outhouse.” There were scorch marks under the wooden structure, “All waste is burned.” 

[superfanficnatural]

To Build A Home

Pairing: Cullen Rutherford x Gender Neutral!Reader

Summary: With the mark on your hand growing out of control and Corypheus needing to be stopped, there was no shortage of problems for the Inquisitor. However, once your hand is forced, what will it mean for you and Cullen?

A/N: Hey guys! I’ve recently joined the Dragon Age fandom because oh my GOD their games are ridiculously good. Because of that, I have fallen head over heels for Cullen Rutherford (aka resident daddy) and I wanted to write something for him. I don’t currently have a masterlist for DAI so this post won’t be linked anywhere until I set it up. As always, I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Fluff, Angst.

Word Count: 3,119

Ever since the Inquisition was first formed, you could have never guessed that it would have led to you leading it and falling in love with your general, Cullen. You were the only one who could close the rifts with the anchor but you couldn’t do it alone, recruiting all types of comrades to help you in your fight. You had built the Inquisition from the ground up; taking over different forts and strongholds in the name of the Inquisition, closed numerous rifts across Ferelden and Orlais, recruited the best of the best to join you, and spread the influence of your organization. Throughout this, you and Cullen had been drawn to each other from the very beginning. There was something about him that drove you crazy. His confident and authoritative aura, paired with his kind hearted nature was something that melted your heart every time. Even during War meetings, he would offer you a small smile, avoiding the gaze of Josephine but never Leliana, for she was invested in your relationship. You couldn’t help the giddy feeling that rose in your chest whenever it had happened. That man had made you feel things you never thought you ever would, and you confided in him. With the heavy amount of responsibility that was on your shoulders, Cullen had offered himself as a shoulder to lean on and you were infinitely grateful to him for that. In return, you had done the same for him, wanting to show him just how much you cared for him. You remembered when the two of you had finally decided to stop dancing around it and finally admit your feelings for one another.

It was after you had gotten back from retaking the stronghold in Crestwood with the help of Hawke, stopping a ritual that was sacrificing Grey Wardens to summon more demons. You had walked up to his quarters with determination fueling you, repeating the same words in your head like a mantra, “Admit that you have feelings for him, admit you have feelings for him.” Though nothing went according to plan.

Opening the door to Cullen’s quarters, you walked in, Cullen’s gaze rising from the map on the desk to meet your own, a smile small spreading across his face. 

“Inquisitor! How may I assist you?” he greeted, formal as ever which made you roll your eyes.

“Cullen, what did I tell you about calling me that?” 

He smiled, a bit embarrassed, “S-sorry, Y/N. Is there something that you... wanted to talk about?” his left arm reached back behind his head to nervously scratch at the scalp. 

He looked ridiculously adorable and you couldn’t help but blush a bit seeing the influence you had on him. You walked up to him, stopping only about a foot away and looked directly into his eyes.

“Cullen, I...” you had the words but you couldn’t say them, the look of anticipation in his eyes rendering you unable to form words. “I uh... I gotta go!” you mentally beat yourself to a pulp and sprinted out of the room. Not ran, sprinted. 

You left a very flustered and confused Cullen behind and ran to your quarters, ignoring everyone looking at you in confusion. Though, when you got to your room, wanting nothing more than to hide under the covers and never speak to anyone again, you walked into Iron Bull laying back nearly naked on your bed like he owned the damn thing.

“B-bull!?” you nearly shouted.

“Look, Boss, I get it. You want to ride the bull, but I don’t think you know what you’re-”

“WHAT?!” you shouted at the top of your lungs, stopping him mid-sentence.

He hid his surprise at your reaction fairly well, continuing on hesitantly, “You see, us Qunari have rather large... weapons. I don’t believe that you could take it.”

The door suddenly slammed open, “The only ‘weapon’ that Y/N is going to be taking is mine!”

You had slowly turned around to face the door to see a red faced Cullen with his hand slapped over his mouth, to then hear Bull begin laughing behind you.

“Ohhhh, I see what’s going on here, I’ll just leave you two be,” he said, walking past you and Cullen to leave the room, closing the door behind him.

“Uhm, Inquisitor! Uhhh...” Cullen was a blubbering mess, unable to even form a single sentence, his face as red as a tomato.

As embarrassed, weirded out, and nervous as you were, you took your chance, “Cullen, what was it that you said when you walked in?”

His eyes widened, “N-n-nothing! I didn’t say anything at all!”

You hid your smile and forced your feet forward towards him, knowing that it was now or never, “Because if I heard you correctly, I would have to agree with you.”

He looked completely and utterly shocked, “O-oh... is that so?” he asked nervously.

You wringed your hands out by your sides, unbelievably nervous, “Cullen I-” you were at the precipice and you were still hesitating, but instead, you slapped yourself. 

Literally slapping yourself, Cullen blinked in confusion, but the pain snapped you out of it. You surged forward and connected your lips to his, Cullen going stiff for a second before he wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you closer to him.

You’ll never forget how happy you were on that day. While it was rather embarrassing half of the time, it led to you leading the most wonderful love story with Cullen you could ever imagine. Though, it was difficult, having to leave Skyhold so often to fight against hundreds of enemies. You knew the effect that it had on Cullen, he would plead with you, pray to the Maker that you would fight and return to him safely. One of the things that made you fall for Cullen so hard was how loving he was, he loved with all of his heart and he wasn’t afraid to tell you how he felt. Though, most of the time it included him blushing but that simply made it even better. 

Now, you were simply days away from confronting Corypheus in the Arbor Wilds. You led the bulk of the Inquisition forces, Cullen coming with you this time. You both knew that it was the end of the line. If you didn’t defeat Corypheus today, you would die, and so would the rest of the world. There was a heavy blanket over the two of you that day, you didn’t want to say goodbye, the both of you refused to even accept dying as a possible outcome, but you also didn’t want to revel in each other, the fear of losing that overbearing. As you reached Corypheus’ stronghold, you knew that this was something only you could do alone. Turning to Cullen, Corypheus could be heard in the back, taunting you, daring you to run to your death. You ignored him, focusing solely on Cullen. You could tell that he was using all of the will in his body to not break and stay strong, but you knew him well enough to see through his facade easily. 

You walked up to him and smiled lovingly, “Cullen Rutherford, I love you.”

A tear fell down his cheek as he responded, “And I love you, Y/N Y/L/N. Come back to me.”

The two of you shared one last kiss before you pulled away and smiled, turning to leave and meet your fate. For days, your mark had been growing and pulsing on your arm, it had never hurt before but now, it felt like your arm was being ripped off. You hid it from Cullen though, not wanting him to worry and not wanting to break his heart. You knew that you weren’t going to make it no matter what happened today, but you knew that no matter what, you were going to save Cullen.

“Foolish mortal, have you come to die?” Corypheous sneered at you, orb in hand as you reached the top of the tower.

You ignored him and instead looked down to the valley, seeing Cullen looking back at you. You couldn’t hold eye contact for long for he had sent a pulse of magic at you, forcing you to roll out of the way before recovering.

“This has gone on for too long, Corypheus! It’s time for your reign of terror to come to an end!” you shouted at him, building up the energy in your mark.

He laughed, “After I kill you, I shall lay waste to this world, starting with those mongrels down there.”

You could feel the mark radiating pure energy, sparks flying off of your hand and drawing Corypheus' attention.

“No, what are you doing?” he shouted, blasting a surge of magic at you.

It was too late, it reflected right off of you and suddenly you felt your body being lifted. Ever since you had first gotten the mark, you had spent every ounce of energy in your body making sure that you would never lose control. But now... you let go. Raw energy was coursing through your veins as you were lifted into the air, a ball of rift energy swirling around you. You opened your eyes to see Corypheus in fear, and Cullen looking on in worry.

Before you released all of the energy you had accumulated, you looked towards Cullen, mouthing, “I’m sorry, my love,” and released everything that you were holding.

Boom

Don’t have a divider for this fandom sorry - scene change.

It was a beautiful afternoon day when you and Cullen had decided to take a walk around Skyhold. You had found some free time after being gone for almost an entire month sealing rifts, making alliances, and spreading the Inquisitions influence. Frankly, you didn’t think you had the energy to do anything else for a while, you were completely wiped and wanted to do nothing but just be with the love of your life. Holding his hand as the two of you walked down the gentle breeze into the garden was soothing, it was exactly what you needed.

“You’re amazing, you know that right?” Cullen broke the peaceful silence.

You turned to look at him to see the pure adoration and awe in his orbs as he gazed upon you, “What?”

“This Inquisition wouldn’t be what it is today if it weren’t for you, and neither would I,” he added with a small blush forming on his rosy cheeks.

You blushed slightly as well with a smile, “You give me too much credit, you, Cassandra, and Leliana do all of the work, I just go out and fight and close rifts.”

He gave you an annoyed look, “And you dare pretend that your job isn’t a thousand times more dangerous than ours?”

You smiled at his protectiveness, “Cullen, I’m fine, and no one is as strong as me,” you flexed your arm with a goofy smile.

This broke him as he bent over laughing at your ridiculousness, the two of you sharing a chuckle before he straightened with a serious expression, “Y/N...”

You pulled him into a hug, resting your head on his warm chest, feeling his arms embrace you, “You have nothing to worry about, I will always fight to come back to you, no matter what.”

You could feel his relieved sigh, “You mean more to me than anything or anyone I’ve ever encountered. Even the slightest thought of losing you-”

You pulled back slightly, just enough to look him in the eye, “I’m not going anywhere. I promise, I will always come back to you, my love.”

Don’t have a divider for this fandom sorry - scene change.

The ground quaked with the magnitude of the explosion but Cullen didn’t even register it, shouting out at the top of his lungs for his entire world to still be alive. He ran directly towards the rubble, the sounds of people shouting his name behind him tuned out. He dug and dug for hours, Inquisition agents helping with the efforts.

“Over here!” someone had shouted.

Cullen ran as fast as his legs could carry him to a beaten and broken version of the person that owned his heart and his soul.

“No,” he whispered brokenly, dropping to his knees next to your body. 

He reached his shaking hand out to cup your bloodied cheek, “You promised... you promised that you would come back.” 

The only thing that the remaining soldiers could hear were the cries of their general, wishing that he had been taken instead.

Don’t have a divider for this fandom sorry - scene change.

Cullen was slunken over his desk at Skyhold, mugs of drunken beer scattered around, papers crinkled up and tossed haphazardly around the room. After the death of the Inquisitor, the mission of the Inquisition was completed, but Cullen had lost his will to live. 

“You promised me,” he mumbled, the tears rolling down his cheeks, “you promised you would come back.”

He held the necklace you had made for him tightly in his fist, pressing it against his heart in an attempt to ease the ache that was spreading out of it. 

“Cullen, do you have a moment-” Leliana was stopped in her tracks as she saw Cullen curled up in the corner of the dark room. 

She also immediately began to tear up but kept it hidden, walking towards Cullen and kneeling in front of him, “Cullen, I have something that might interest you.” He brought his gaze up to meet hers, “And what could possibly interest me, nothing does anymore.”

She sighed softly, “After the Inquisitor...” she felt a lump rise in her throat, “after the battle with Corypheous, I began to take care of all the loose ends the Inquisitor left behind. And in doing so, I came across this,” she took a piece of parchment out of her pocket and extended it to him.

Cullen wiped his tears and hesitantly grabbed it from her hands, “Hinterlands, in the Dead Ram Grove, the project is finally finished. Cullen will love it.”

He gasped, “This is in the Inquisitor’s handwriting!” He sprawled up immediately, “What was this project of his?”

Leliana looked crestfallen, “As a spymaster, I should know the information for what you ask, but the Inquisitor kept this project a well kept secret. You must go and find out for yourself.”

Not even thirty minutes after Leliana had presented Cullen with the parchment, he had set out for Dead Ram Grove.

“Where is it?!” Cullen shouted out, saddled on his horse as he looked around the area.

He wandered around on horseback, covering almost every last inch of the area until he came upon a house. 

“Impossible,” he spoke in a breathless whisper.

In front of him was almost an exact replica of a house he had wished for his entire life, the house he had only told you about. It was the spitting image of his childhood home but with a few modifications and it brought a fresh wave of tears. He snapped the reigns on the horse slightly to move closer to the home, dismounting and walking up the stone carved path. As he reached the door, his hand began to shake along with his entire body, the tears now dripping from his cheeks onto the ground.

Don’t have a divider for this fandom sorry - scene change.

“Then that’s where we’ll live!” 

Cullen laughed, “The materials needed to make a house like that do not even exist anymore, they were lost in the last Blight.”

“Doesn’t matter, if it makes you happy, then I’ll find them, even if I have to dig miles into the ground,” you said with determination. 

Cullen looked at you with adoration in his eyes, “You make me the happiest man on this planet, Y/N.”

Don’t have a divider for this fandom sorry - scene change.

“Damn it,” Cullen whispered, his voice cracking as his entire body shivered with the weight of his emotions.

After a few minutes, Cullen mustered up the strength he needed to open the door, walking into the foyer and immediately catching the faint smell of you. As he took the house in, he walked into the living room to see a piece of paper on the dining table. Rushing over, he picked it up and wiped the blurriness from his eyes to read properly.

“I told you I would build this house for you. Now, the only way you’re reading this note is if I didn’t throw it away before bringing you here myself so it must mean that I’m dead. I’m so sorry, Cullen, I know I told you that I would always come back to you, but this time, I lied. I love you with all of my heart and know that I will never stop loving you. Please, don’t be sad, live your life in this house, make a family. Knowing that I can leave this behind for you to be happy is all that I need. Goodbye, my love.”

The paper began to droop in his hands as his tears made the material soft, his hands were quaking and he couldn’t hold in his sobs. His back hit the wall and he slid down with the paper lodged in his hands, the necklace you gave him around his neck as he renounced you. 

“I don’t want to live a life without you,” he wailed into the empty room, “I don’t want to have a family if you aren’t here by my side.” He felt like he was being ripped in half, his love for you and his grief overbearing while his anger at you breaking your promise had his lip curling up, “A world without you is a dark and cold one, my heart.”

“Don’t cry my love, know that I will always be here with you.”

Cullen’s eyes widened as he shot up from the ground, “Y/N?! Is that you? Where are you?” 

“Turn around.”

His body instinctively turned before he could even think to, seeing the faint image of the love of his life staring at him, “H-how?”

You smiled, “Are you forgetting that I had the anchor? While my power dwindles, I only have a few moments on this side of the fade.”

“No, no, please don’t leave me again!” Cullen pleaded, moving closer to you.

“My love, please, take this house as my last gift to you, and use it to live out the rest of your life. Find someone to share your life with-”

“NO!” Cullen shouted. “I cannot be with anyone else!” the tears from his eyes seemed endless as he pleaded with you.

You sighed, defeated and heartbroken, “I cannot tell you how sorry I am that I broke my promise to you. I love you, my heart.”

Cullen was helpless as he watched you fade away, the room once again empty.

“I love you too, my love,” was the last thing heard in the room before Cullen had once again fallen to the ground.

Forevers Tag List: @magssteenkamp​ @shadowsinger11​ @donnaintx​ @flamencodiva​ @impalawrites​ @talesmaniac89​ @malfoysqueen14​ @wonder-cole​ @downanddirtydean​ @flashxspn​ @zooaliaa​ @huffle-pissed​

[cheeri0-queeri0]

My First Two Loves (WLW version): Chapter 3

Is she gaping? Emma has to be gaping.

“Ava… y-you and… Mason? Are…”

Ava grins rakishly, rubbing a hand along Mason’s back. “Madly in love? Or, well, lust - we haven’t gotten to that other L-word yet.”

Nails. Nails are being driven into her heart.

For his part, Mason looks taken aback by her reaction. “I meant to tell you last night, Emma.”

“You could’ve texted!” A lump is rising in her throat.

Mason scratches the back of his head. “I wanted to tell you in person. I tried to call, but when the line kept dropping, I thought…this is better?”

No. No it is not. It is one million times worse.

“Yeah, you’re right!” Emma forces the words to come out chipper, forces a placid smile. “I… I’m speechless. Congrats, you two.”

Congrats on secretly shattering her heart. But hey, what’s another secret to the now-sure-to-grow pile?

Mason’s shoulders relax, the tension falling from his face as he turns to Ava. “I almost forgot, babe! I got a little something for you.” He reaches over on the hood of Ava’s car where he put a cute little thermos.

Ava tentatively takes it from him, eyes wide in surprise. “Caramel macchiato?”

Mason gives her a shy, crooked smile. “With two shakes of cinnamon.”

Ava’s favorite.

The girl slings her other arm around his neck and rests her head against his cheek. “You remembered! Best boyfriend ever!”

Emma...is going to combust from agony.

“You guys are just so...perfect together,” she grits out, hoping it sounds passably pleasant.

Ava’s eyes find hers, softening just a bit.

Mason lets out a breathy laugh that seems more like a sigh of relief. “See, Ava, I told you she’d be happy for us!”

Ava blinks, breaking her gaze away. “I knew she would be. She is my bestie, after all.” There’s something off about her tone. If she hadn’t told Emma in the car that they were still solid despite Lauren dying to usurp her place, Emma would worry that maybe they weren’t best friends anymore.

Hell, maybe she’s still a little worried. And now for more than the Lauren reason.

“I should leave you alone for some...couple time. Catch you later!” Cue an ungraceful escape.

Mason jogs to catch up. “There’s so many times I tried to call. To tell you.” His voice turns plaintive. “Emma, I just want to double check. Are you okay with this?”

No! I am unequivocally not okay with this! God, how badly Emma wants to shout that at the top of her lungs. If she said it, Mason is exactly the kind of guy who would follow through and break up. He’s good. And that’s the problem.

“Mason. I’m happy for you. And for Ava.”

“...Yeah? Because your happiness means a lot to me.”

And now she has to sell it. “Yeah. I’m stoked. You’re so cute together. I should’ve played matchmaker years ago.” That...might have been overkill. “I just have some things to take care of right now. Talk later, okay?”

Mason nods. It worked. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Emma power-walks away, tears pricking at her eyes as she let her feet take her anywhere else.

After a short time, she rounds a corner, realizing too late that she’s behind the gym near the back parking lot she usually avoided.

And she wasn’t alone.

“Hey there, princess. What brings you to my place of business?” The boy is smarmy, leaning against the brick wall, hair gelled so thickly it wouldn’t move even in a tornado.

Emma stills, confused. “Your...uh, what?”

He frowns, pushing off the wall and wandering closer. “My store. My shop. My livelihood. What you buying?”

Oh. Shit. “I’m not - I’m just trying to get away from some people - ”

The boy comes to a stop too close. “Save it. A sob story won’t get a discount.” He looked her up and down, calculating. Though he definitely didn’t look like someone who was good at math. “Adderall. Has to be. A study buddy. Everyone needs one, right?”

He yanks a plastic bag out of his pocket.

“Oh, no thanks. I appreciate it, but I am not interested.”

His jaw works, clenching and unclenching. “The offer isn’t optional anymore. You saw what I’m selling. You’re part of this.” He takes one more step, his Axe body spray stinging the inside of Emma’s nose. “Now open up that bag and find me two hundred bucks.”

Several thoughts race through Emma’s head. The first, unhelpfully, is two HUNDRED dollars for one bottle of pills? Shortly followed by If I run, will he grab me?

Sensing the direction of her thoughts, the boy huffs. “I don’t like having to hurt people, really.” But he would, hung unspoken in the air.

“Leave her alone, Darren.” The voice is unfamiliar, low, with a rasp to it.

Emma whirls around to the girl stalking toward them. She’s...dangerous looking, leather jacket slung around her broad shoulders, green eyes boring unwaveringly into the aggressive pill-pusher.

The boy - Darren - backs up quickly. “N-Noelle? I didn’t know you were back in town. I’m just trying to run a business, okay?”

Noelle doesn’t speak, just wrenches the bag out of Darren’s hands and flings it onto the roof.

“You bitch!” Darren hesitates, glaring, then turns tail and runs.

The other girl watches him go, the ghost of a smirk on her lips. Up close, she’s taller than Emma, but only just.

It’s like the bubble of nervous energy inside her just bursts, and Emma blurts out, “W-wow, that was...kind of amazing -uh, amazingly stupid!”

Noelle hums, glancing at her. Emma doesn’t miss the way her eyes drift down to her stomach and back. “You gotta fight like with like.”

Emma laughs, a tittering little sound that she hates. She bites her lip, hard. “You’re lucky it didn’t come to a fight.”

The other girl shrugs, unbothered. “I like my chances better than yours.”

Okay...fair.

Noelle sighs, swiping a hand through her bangs to push them out of her chiseled face. “You should get out of here. I can’t spend all day playing guardian angel.”

“Oh.” The comment rubs her the wrong way, but Emma brushes it off. After all, she did call the girl’s heroics stupid. Maybe...maybe there’s a way to make it up to her? “Unless…you’re new, right? Maybe I can repay the favor and show you around?”

Noelle raises a brow. “How do you know I’m new?”

Not an outright rejection, Emma can work with that. She smiles. “I happen to know pretty much everyone here.”

“Don’t be so sure.”

“So you’ve been invisible the past four years? I would definitely have remembered you.” The last part comes out without her even thinking it.

Green eyes drop to the ground, expression shuttering off. “I’ve...been away.”

“Like on a trip?”

“Not exactly.”

Emma pauses. She honestly can’t tell what the other girl is thinking. “You...don’t seem to like answering questions.”

Noelle’s lips twist into a humorless smile. “I’m told it’s one of my best character traits.”

Emma’s heart pangs. That’s messed up. “I’m not sure who told you that. It’s...sad. It keeps people away.”

“Sometimes it’s better that way.” Her voice is flat, either matter-of-fact or defeated. Who’s to tell?

“Not always,” Emma shoots back, challenging.

Noelle studies her curiously, weighing her words. She runs her tongue over her lips, then clicks it against her teeth, coming to a decision. “Fine. So, hypothetically, let’s say I take you up on this offer. What are you gonna do? Draw me a map or something?”

Emma snorts. She’s dismal at drawing. “I’d give you a tour. The campus has changed a lot the last few years, and I know all the best new spots. Besides, I’m not letting you get away that easy.”

She means it as a joke, but - she means it as something else, too.

Noelle’s back straightens, and there’s a renewed interest in her gaze. She gives her an easy grin. “I like the sound of that. Alright, I’m in.”

Something in Emma’s chest swoops. She can’t help but beam. “Welcome to Eastridge High tour extraordinaire.”

She takes the other girl around the school, pointing out landmarks important and trivial. Noelle opens up, not by much, but enough that Emma gets a glimpse of who she is underneath all the stoic backtalk. Intuitive, dry humor in spades, and…

And maybe...very, very attractive.

Emma’s only ever really had a crush on Ava, so she’s not totally sure what her type is, but damn. Apparently badasses check a lot of her boxes.

They wind up at the greenhouse, bequeathed by wealthy alum’s generous donation. It’s dubbed the Garden of Truth, the legend going that questions asked near the fountain in the center must be answered truthfully, with a magical limit of one a day.

Noelle chuckles, like legitimately chuckles. “You have to be making that up. Right?”

Emma tuts, kneeling to dip her fingers in the fountain’s water. “One question only, so choose wisely.”

Noelle looks up at all the hanging plants, the vines climbing towards the ceiling. “You first.”

Are you into girls?

“Have you ever been in love?” Close enough, right?

Noelle stiffens. “No,” she says, sharply, then reconsiders. “Maybe. I had feelings for someone I- someone I shouldn’t have.”

No pronouns. No closer to an answer for that, then. There’s silence for a moment, Emma tracing patterns on the water’s surface.

“You looked upset when you showed up at the parking lot today. Why?”

Emma jumps, drenching her sleeve. She stands. “I wasn’t - ”

Noelle sends her a look. “We’re in the Garden of Truth, remember? Be honest.”

Emma takes a deep breath. It might be nice to tell someone, someone with no stake in the fight. “I found out the girl I like is dating my best friend.” She wraps her arms around herself, holding Noelle’s gaze. “N-no one knows that I’m… Don’t tell anyone.” Her voice actually quivers.

Noelle reaches out and puts a hand on Emma’s arm. “I won’t. I’m good at keeping secrets.” She takes her hand back, and Emma immediately misses its warmth. “This girl… Does she know how you feel?”

Emma’s vision clouds with tears. “No.”

Noelle tilts her head, eyes crinkling in sympathy. “Figures. It’s hard to imagine someone turning you down.”

It isn’t hard for Emma - that seems to be all she has been able to imagine. The way Ava’s mouth would hang open, the way she would back away, turn her down. How it would get out, first to the cheer squad and then to the whole school. There’d be whispers, cruel jokes, pity. Everything would change.

They walk back out. Emma spots a few cheerleaders lounging around a picknick table in the courtyard. They wave her over.

Noelle slows, shoving her hands in her light-wash jeans pockets. “Looks like that’s the end of the tour. Bye for now, Cheer Squad.” She walks off before Emma can reply.

“...Bye?”

Her steps felt lighter as she joined the group. Like Noelle had lifted the weight since the Ava-Mason bombshell went off this morning. A distraction, if only for a few minutes.

Ava’s watching her with a somewhat shell-shocked expression. “Emma, I can’t believe you were talking to Noelle Harris!”

To her right, Lauren looks delighted. She twirls a lock of black hair in her manicured fingers, eyes sharp. “Don’t you know who she is?”

Emma searches the team’s faces for a hint, but she can’t find one. “What, is she famous or something?” It’s meant to be sarcastic, but she’s so confused it comes of as genuine.

Toni clears a spot for her, patting the bench. “You’d better sit down. You need to hear the truth about her!”

Taking trepidatious steps, Emma has the sinking feeling she’s gotten herself further into a mess.

[raindrenchedstories]

Forever home CH 19

YES. It’s happening. No I didn’t abandon it. I’ll make a second post.

Richter sat miserably on Bear’s shoulder. Holding onto a thick chain necklace, and using the giant’s shoulder straps as a seat belt. The past few days he didn’t speak much. It took a little over a week to coordinate the meet up. In that time, Bear had been trying to pull the little fellow out of his funk.

It wasn’t really much use. Instead the nightly visits were converted into time to console his small friend. Richter had been reunited with his family prior, so there wasn’t much in the way of paperwork afterwards. Nor the more invasive, but much quicker memory probings.

Instead, he was just left to feel like a failure. Neil had been luckier, and managed to find the whereabouts of his father. The two managed to meet with one another and promptly decided the memories were too painful. Apparently they offered to stay in touch.

Bear’s relationship with Archibald took a small break in light of the events. Both men felt too guilty enjoying themselves while their friends were in such misery. Though, they did still spend plenty of time together. It was less focused on them, and more on... Richter.

Despite being surrounded by friends and family, there seamed to be a lot on the mans mind. As he stared glumly from his vantage point. Bear swallowed. Drawing the small mans eyes onto him. “Not far now. Um... There’s a warp.”

“That’s fine.” Richter nodded, before settling into his little ball again. As it turned out, it was fine. Not even Richter’s extreme discomfort with the gates was enough to shake him. Bear crossed the new surroundings. Having to pull a map from his overall pocket. He hoped this visit was enough to shake the human.

Crossing his way to Lev’s home he heard a tiny gasp from Richter. Finally some excitement from the man. And Bear could see why. Levas home was much like the woman herself. Flourishing with life. Many stone guardians, animals long since dead and reanimated through magic, surrounded her home. Protecting it. Her garden grew high above any small one’s head. A few even towered over Bear himself.

All vegetables and fruits. Quite the contrast to his flower garden. But nestled at the roots of every great tree, was a tiny little patch of small foods. Strawberries, peas, parsnips and the like. All of it culminated into a massive hill, with a door. Not quite Archibalds mountain. But it was large enough for a giant to live snugly.

“Gotta give her props for decorating.” Richter commented. Bear could only hum in agreement. He’d never really seen Leva’s house until now. Though, it clearly spoke of her. Bear’s knuckles gently wrapped on the door frame. He got a stony hollow barking in return. There was an argument before she shoved her way through the door.

“Quickly. And get a good hold on Richter. I don’t want Arrie playing with him.” Bear slunk inside, a firm hold on his human passenger. The large dog guardian bounding behind his knee caps. Excitedly attempting to greet the new guests.

“er. Hello miss Leva.” Richter inclined his head. Poking just above Bear’s index finger. Tiny hands resting just on the middle digit for support. Probably cover, as well. Richter was never a fan of new anything for the first three days.

The fiery giantess grinned in kind. “Good day Richter! Avery is waiting for you in his shelter. He’s anxious about your visit.” She gave the human a brilliant smile afterwards. Bear thought he saw his small pal blush. Soon enough Richter was set beside Avery’s shelter, and Bear was dragged into the living room. Just out of ear shot.

“How’s he holding up?” Leva hissed. Bear could only grimace.

“He’s... Well he’s holding. It’s just going to take some time. Maybe more time than I imagined. I’m getting worried.” He admitted.

*

Avery opened the door for him, leading Richter in. Once the giants were gone, and Arrie was sufficiently shooed into the other room. Avery leaned in conspiratorially. “Okay so I’m guessing it didn’t go well.” He threw an arm over Richters shoulders, guiding the human to his living room.

Which was apparently turned into a room sized pillow fort. Richter stared in bewilderment. “Not... Really. No.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, mouth agape.

“What? It’s effective. I don’t get a lot of privacy around here.” Avery dragged him into the fort. “I should thank you for giving me the idea. Here. Back towards the book cases.” He began crawling back to the indicated end. Resting on the bookcase were two small make shift bags. Supplies and clothing squirrelled away. A rough cut in the plastic and wood of the back wall of the book case making the plans clear.

“You’re escaping?” Richter gave him a curious glance. Though, he wasn’t about to pass judgment. He wouldn’t blame anyone for choosing an alternative to his own decisions. He was quite sure Neil would be doing the same if it weren’t for the ability to learn magic through Archibald.

Avery just laughed in return. He placed a warm hand on the humans shoulder. “No Richter. WE’RE escaping. Today. I had to pull some strings to get ‘em to wait. But I have a few friends waiting outside. I’ve already cut a hole in the wall across the counter. We just have to be quiet. Arrie is like a personal alarm system.”

Richter glanced at him. Eyes wide. “Oh... Avery I. I’m not sure about this.” He shrugged. “I know you don’t like Bear but-”

“Richter. Listen to me. It’s not about that. Hell if it doesn’t work out, I’ll lead you right back to Williams door step. But how long has it been since you last tasted freedom. Real freedom?” Avery squeezed his shoulder.

Richter grimaced. Then shook his head. “Look. I’m not going to judge. And it has been a while since-”

“Good let’s go!” Richter was dragged out by the arm. Hissing his disapproval of the situation.

“Avery just listen dammit.” He was already carrying both bags for the elf as he began prying the back wall open. Suddenly a noisy barking sounded beside them. Thunderous and alarming. Leva and Bear both entered the room in time to see Avery pry the wall open.

“AVERY!” Leva’s voice was stern. Disapproving.

Bear just stood. Crestfallen. “Richter?” Richter wanted to say so many things to clear this whole debacle up. Instead he felt something press against his throat. A firm arm gripping his shoulders. His hands still full with both bags.

Avery snarled behind him. “Don’t you fucking move! You freaks just keep your hands to yourselves. I don’t need magic to slit his damn throat.” Bear froze up. Leva clapped her hands over her mouth. Avery started backing them both through the hole.

“If I even see one shadow waiting for me outside. Hell if I even THINK there’s something out there to stop me. You’ll have to be ready to bury this bastard.” He continued, never taking his eyes off the giants. Even doing his best to hide his form behind Richters. Being tall and sturdy had it’s disadvantages, it seamed.

He stuck the knife in the wall opening, shutting it behind them. Avery turned Richter around. “There. Now you have an excuse if you choose to stay. But please. Just walk with me. I just want to talk this out. Okay?” Richter rubbed his neck, but followed through the surprisingly thick, expansive walls.

Avery’s gate was erratic and sloppy, his eyes stayed ahead. In the minimal light from some unknown source, he could see the elf’s ears constantly turning. “Have you been sleeping? Like. At all?” Richter stared out at the carved and chipped walls. His response was hysterical laughter. Which basically told him everything he needed to know.

“I can sleep when I’m out!” Avery grinned. Richter shoved his hands in his back pockets, losing himself in his thoughts a little. None of which involved flattery towards his elven friend.

He gave a sigh before shaking his head. “You’re wrong.”

“Huh?” Avery glanced at him, eyes sparkling and wide. Filled with dream like wonder. Richter almost felt like he was about to break the news about Santa-clause to the guy. He took a breath to steady himself, then continued.

“The moment you’re out, it’s a game of survival. Let me ask you. Can you hunt? How about your friends? Do you know how to build a fire? Or purify your water? What tools have you brought for yourself?” He started rummaging through his bag. Nothing but clothes. Mostly summer wear.

“Do you have anything to help you survive the cold?” His lips pressed into a hard line. He almost wished he’d called more. Given Avery more of an outlet. The guy had a life before the war. Of course he knew he’d needed some more than this. Right?

“I...Didn’t think of that. But that’s why I want to bring you. You’re clever and innovative. Something we elves just plain aren’t. If it doesn’t have to do with magic, we fail at it.” He grinned. “Where did you learn all that anyhow? What do humans do when giants aren’t scooping you up by the ankles?”

Richter sighed. Stopping halfway down the tunnel. Avery paused as well. “Honestly? I only lived because of my old man. He was always paranoid about the end of the world. He prepared himself, and his family along the way. It ended up saving our lives. But there were still things we needed to learn.”

“... This is your chance to pass that on, you know.” It all came to a head there. Richters eyes started to tear up. He just gave a bitter laugh and motioned for Avery to join him sitting.

“I just can’t Avery. I can’t.” He shook his head resting his chin between his knees. “Hell I honestly believe living with Bear is better for me. Anything is better than wondering if you’ll wake up tomorrow or not.” He was shaking. And for once, someone his size held him. Pulled him closer.

“What do you mean by that?” Avery’s voice was emotionless, but that was fine. He simply wanted to understand. Richter took a deep breath. Held it for a second. Then let it go. Along with it, he spilled his entire past.

Richter wasn’t that old when the world had ended. He’d fled. Pulled by the writs to the nearest shelter with his parents. He couldn’t find Neil, or his family, But they were assured he was safe. That was a good thing at least. They waited in the rescue centre for days with no word. Supplies were dwindling, and surrounding him were unfamiliar faces he wanted nothing more than to know.

Despite this, folks remained hopeful. Joking, laughing, and making the best of a bad situation. Richter remembered one particular old man, who had made a point to read stories to the younger children. The older ones had taken to acting out some of the fairy tale drama behind him. If for no other reason than to distract them from sad times. It was just until disaster relief could get in.

Then the word got out. There would be no rescue. There would be no better times. Or rebuilding. It was a real, honest to god, end of the world. Richter vaguely remembered lamenting the lack of television. Of all things. But his parents, they were more concerned with getting the hell out of dodge. And for good reason. The bad news turned everything into a riot.

Even the old man with his stories and wonder, made for the hills before things got out of hand. Taking a few good souls with him. Richter often wondered what became of them. But over time, they mattered about as much as the buildings he slept in each night.

They first took shelter in the basement of their former home for a while. Gathering supplies and preparing for a longer trip. What followed was a long series of small trips here and there. Quite often they’d run out of food, or water. And gaining these resources was less than easy.

People would gather in small collectives. Some were docile, even friendly towards his family. Some weren’t. But everyone was hungry, thirsty, or tired. It ground down to negotiating what was needed between peaceful parties. Or an outright brawl for life giving supplies.

Richter remembered being forced to yank a satchel of food free from an elderly woman at one point. While his father stood firm between the pair and a large young man. They traded blows for a long time. He remembered the look on that lady’s face, as his mother dragged her back from him. Shrieking and pulling hair. There was only desperation and contempt in those eyes. If ever Richter needed to remember terror. He revisited that moment.

On occasion, Richter would be sent to a different room in their shelters. Always near the door. To keep watch he’d been told. He was fairly certain it was for other reasons, however. A few months later, his mother ended up slow, sluggish sickly or off balance. It was about then his parents realized their mistake. Richter was soon left holding his baby brother. A little brother who did not last long in the new world.

Richter held his arm in front of Avery. In all it’s scarred glory. “This is the only thing I have left of him. From the night we lost him. My parents left me alone to look after him. A pack of feral dogs decided to roam by. I thought they’d leave me alone. I mean, I was bigger than them. But I’m only one man.” He shuddered. “I still remember his screams.”

“Wh-... How did you get out of that?” Avery sat with him. Staring Richters scars down like they’d offended him.

“Dad heard me. Us. He had both hands and a weapon. I had a stick and a baby. They never blamed me. But... I couldn’t sleep after that. I kept thinking those dogs would be back.” Richter shrugged.

“And that’s only one of the things I didn’t expect. It’s a mess out there. Honestly I’m not the only one with a story like that. There are things you can’t be ready for. I’m not saying this to discourage you or anything. I don’t actually know WHY I’m saying this.” Richter ran a nervous hand through his hair.

“Because you’ve had a bad run of luck, and you just need to talk it out.” Avery shrugged. Richter scrunched up closer to himself. When finally he heard something he didn’t even know he needed to hear.

“Well, I finally got my answer to my biggest question. Why you could deal with my... Condition so well.” Avery pulled his knees in, mimicking Richter. “You’ve been there.”

“No. That’s because my mother was a therapist.” Richter laughed. “Look. I’ll walk you out and give you a few pointers before you guys try to survive on your own. Besides, you still have your magic, to some extent. So it’s not going to be so bad.”

“Right. I hope you don’t get into too much trouble with Bear.” Avery stood, tugging Richter to his feet. Richter shrugged. Laughing it off. The worst Bear could do was lock him in a room for an hour or two. In comparison it was nothing. Just a bit boring. Maybe a little degrading.

They spent the last of the walk talking about survival tactics. Until something drew Richters attention. “Wait. Where did you get that knife? And how did you do all this?”

“Like you said. I still have some magic. And the knife.... It was given to me by my friends outside. The resistance.” Avery shrugged. “You can ask them where they got it when we meet up. We’re almost there.” Light pooled in through a small hole leading outside. Richter took a breath of fresh air. Before turning to Avery.

“I do appreciate the attempt, you know?” He smiled sheepishly. “It’s just...I can’t.” Avery just grinned back and nodded slowly.

“I wish I’d known earlier how things were. I guess we find freedom in our own ways. Right?” They stepped into the warms sunlight, and the knife was reapplied to Richters throat. Lightly. Avery glanced about warily. It turned out to be well within his right.

Richter could just make out a few tell tale signs of Bear, but he couldn’t see much else. The brute could be stealthy when he wanted to be. No clearer had it shown than that moment. The only reason Richter knew he was there was having lived as the mans pet for so long.

There was just that looming sense. It was far away, almost invisible. But Richter could just feel it. He half expected to look up, and see the giant with a casual cup of coffee and a smirk for the ages. Waiting for the inevitable scream and fall. Such things still happened. Though now it was more a game between them.

Not this time. Richter knew damn well he was being watched. Bear was waiting to spring from his hiding place. Waiting to rescue him. Or scold him. Though Richter really wondered if it was really worth either. Of course, Bear had no idea what was going on.

Avery gave a short whistle. Three elves emerged from the garden. One gave Richter a harsh look. He folded his arms. Speaking quickly. Avery shook his head, responding in kind. Neither of them wanted to talk to him, it seamed. So Richter was left in the dark. Eventually it turned into an argument.

Richters eyes shifted over the group. They were all lean men. One bore a few scars from battles passed. Another had bright blue streaks across his skin. Another kind of scar, Richter had been told, from magic. The third was better off, clean of injuries.

The conversation finally translated. “So you’re just going to turn him lose? Avery just slaughter him now.” The blue streaked one commented. Avery shook his head.

“You just said he was a valuable asset! It’s not like he’s going to rat you out. He’ll have no idea where we ARE.” He argued. Poking his own palm to accentuate the point. “We just need a way to contact him without being noticed and-”

“And what Avery? You met this human what. Once? Twice? You’re really willing to put your life in his hands? OUR lives? Look at him. Pampered little pet. Give me one reason he won’t turn right around and give his master our location, and status.” The clean one barked. His eyes flicked over Richter. A sneer pulled his features.

Richter just shrugged. Waiting patiently for something a little more substantial to happen. “Besides, when have we elves needed any other species’ help?” The streaked one snarled. Their hands were twitchy. In an all too familiar way. Resolutely, Richter took two steps back. One to the left, finding himself safely behind Avery.

The friendly elf’s ear turned towards him a moment, before returning to his companions. “Listen, I had to kidnap this damn human just to get him out. Bringing him along would be a liability. His master would hunt his ass down, and by extension ours.”

“You said he’d come willingly!” The scarred one piped up.

“Everyone is willing with a blade to their throat.” Avery countered. Things were starting to go south. Richter could feel it. But Bear was there, right? He’d be protected if things went wrong. Relaxing his stance, Richter turned his head towards the three aggressors.

“Are you an idiot?” The streaked one spat out. His eyes started darting in every direction, ears swivelling nervously. “Is his master at least a soft heart like yours?”

Avery cleared his throat. He shook his head quickly. “No but-”

“Who is it then? Do we know them?” The scarred one kept his full attention on Richter. Eyes widening. The human, in turn, shrugged in an ‘I don’t know man’ fashion. There wasn’t much he could say in this situation. Or do. He couldn’t deny the fact that he had an owner. Or that they would be protective of him. Bear was nothing if not vigilant when it came to Richter.

It occurred to him. Would Avery be left alone to enjoy his stolen freedom? These elves fell under the responsibility act as much as he did. If a human were to try the same thing. Would they be hunted down? He was starting to understand the paranoia.

“We do, he’s-” It happened in a blur. Avery was wretched aside. The unmarred elf snagged the humans arm before something cold, and painful stung into his ribs. Richters eyes blew wide. He managed to stare up at his attacker. Before he heard Avery scream.

“He’s WILLIAM THE WARHEADS!” A look of horror struck the trio. The two marred ones glanced at the one with the knife in Richters breast. Then at Richter himself. Neither of them had to ask what would happen next. The clean one just released the blade. His hands trembled.

Avery shot for him, shoving the attacker aside and supporting the humans weight. “Richter. Oh gods above. Richter I’m so sorry this-” A mighty roar of anger crashed from some unknown hiding place. Richter had only enough time to see a massive palm snag his attacker into the air. The other two jolted away.

He clutched Avery’s shoulder, struggling to breath. “Av- A-a-a-Avery. How bad?” He winced watching the scene behind his elven friend. The blue streaked one dropped to his knees, hands up. There was a gasp as he was plucked from his position on the ground. The scarred one tried to flee, and was quickly snagged.

A looming shadow fell over the both of them.

*

It didn’t look good, he couldn’t understand either mans ramblings. Richter was spluttering out names at random. Both his, and Avery’s. As for the elf. He kept repeating apologies in his native tongue. He would occasionally check over his shoulder, wince, and look back to Richter.

It was clear the attack was unplanned. Based on Avery’s response. However, it happened, and now Richter was in critical condition. Where were Archibalds spells now? Of course protection against stabbings were tricky, there was no spell for true invincibility.

“Avery. I can’t see how bad it is. Hold up your hand if there’s a chance.” He tried to keep his voice from shaking. He would not repeat his past mistakes. Minutes passed. Avery remained still, fretting over Richter’s injuries. Bear licked his lips nervously.

When it was too long with no response, Bear reached forward. Avery’s voice cracked into a scream, but the giant paid it no mind. Instead, he scooped the small human into his hand. There was too much blood. Richter was struggling for air. He took a shaky breath.

“Ricky?” The humans eyes snapped to his, he seamed to force a laugh, leaning back.

“Hey big guy.” He winced. “Not exactly the ‘goodbye’ I was expecting when all this started.” There it was, that ever present smile Bear thought was extinguished. Only, it was far from a happy occasion.

“Don’t send yourself to the grave early bud.” The giant tried to smile, but getting Richter to any kind of medical facility would take an agonizingly long time. Avery was useless with the inhibitors, and Lev was no healer. Bear scrambled every memory he had searching for some kind of answer.

“Hey Bear?” Richter’s voice was merely a whisper. He was struggling to hold on, but the fight was draining him fast. The giant was sure his hands were causing the man a small earthquake.

“Yeah Richter?”

“It’s stupid I know. But was I... Fuck...” He paused, then cursed one more time. “Fuck it I’m dying anyways. Was I a good pet?” This shook Bear from his panicked stream of thoughts, turning to the man in his hands, he sat dumbfounded. Richter’s form was shaking with effort.

In the days after Richters translation Bear had stopped considering him a ‘pet’. He’d always just been a small housemate. A friend, and the only person he’d ever shared most of his concerns with. But there was a time before that. Bear gave a soft laugh. “Yeah. Yeah you were...”

“Hah. More than Archibald can say for Neil then. Beat him at something.” Neil... Oh how would Bear break the news to Richter’s long time friend? The two were thick as thieves. Sure at some point, he would have had to anyways. Neil was a familiar. Destined to live as long as Archibald did. Neil. Familiar. That was it!

Like a bolt of lightning a realization hit him. Bears eyes lit up with glee. “Richter! Ricky I think I can help you. But I need your answer on this. I need your permission.”

Richters eyes were starting to glass over. It had might have been just a bit too late. But he gave a short nod. Sputtering something that Bear hoped was ‘yes’. His palms lit in a feint green glow. Channelling magic between the humans limp form and his own. Every nerve sung for a moment, before the same glow echoed back from the humans form.

Richter pulled in a deep breath, then fell still. Eyes shut. The glow faded. The group sat in the garden waiting. But there was no response from the human. Bear took nervous pulls of air. Just waiting. “Richter?”

[ryik-the-writer]

Rumbelle Fic: Flying High

Summary: Belle is the neighbor of an eccentric artist with a young son who keeps throwing paper planes into her yard. One day Belle reads one of the planes and decides to send them off to their designated target.

A03

This was a summer project that FINALLY got done! Take that depression!!

­“And there’s another one!” Belle gasped on the phone as yet another sloppily folded paper airplane was thrown over her fence and landed in her garden.

This mysterious littering had begun less than a week ago after her new neighbors moved into the long-empty salmon mansion. The house was old and needed more updates than repairs, but somehow the color hadn’t faded a bit. Belle had thought it was the ugliest site when she first moved in, but had grown fond of the quirky color after a few weeks.

As per small-town tradition, Belle had tried to do the neighborly thing and introduce herself, but her neighbor—Milah, as Belle would later learn—wouldn’t leave the phone long enough to shake her hand.

“She’s always like that,” a boy had sighed from behind a corner when Milah waved her off. “It’s either her art dealer or her boyfriend.”

Belle had expected the remark to come from a young teenager, but was astonished to find it had come from a young boy with a mass of curls and glassy brown eyes.

Belle exchanged her not-so-homemade brownies for his name: Baelfire. He was five, liked to read and sometimes draw, and he and his mom had moved to Storybrooke for the “artistic aesthetic” as Milah would say.

Belle had snorted at that. Storybrooke was nice, but it was as dull as the day after Christmas and Milah would have a hard time finding inspiration.

“Though places like Storybrooke have their own kind of magic,” Belle said to Bae as she began to make her leave. “There’s a little bit around every corner.”

She frowned when Baelfire’s solemn face barely changed. She smiled bravely and knelt to his level.

“But sometimes it hides in the most unusual places,” she pulled out her purse and procured a crumpled library card. “Maybe you can find it there.”

Bae had thanked her quietly but had yet to visit her library.

Belle allowed the matter to rest, writing it off as settling in or a greater interest in video games than reading.

That is until yesterday when a paper airplane landed smacked dab in her glass of ice tea as she was lounging by her rose bushes.

“What on…” Belle gasped as she plucked the soaked paper from the ice and lemon. With a disgusted scoff she rolled out of her chair and slowly peaked through one of the spaces in her fence. She could just see someone moving about, and she moved to the next crack for a better look, and then the next one until she finally could see her familiar fluffy-haired neighbor. He was staring at the fence mournfully, as if he had just lost a major ball game. Belle frowned in pity, considering poking her head over and striking up a conversation (as well as an explanation about the paper airplane that had ruined her iced tea).

Before she could, an accented voice called out his name, and Bae made a procrastinated waltz back into the house.

Belle mused on the subject for a moment, the holding airplane up by the edge of it’s only dry corner. She considered going next door and talking to him and his mother, but immediately scratched the idea. She wasn’t some ornery old woman who shook her fist in the air and complained about ‘kids today’. She was a vibrate woman in her early 30’s who could handle a little neighborly chaos.

As she put the airplane in her rubbage bin, she decided to drop the whole subject and leave her neighbors be.

That is until she woke up the next morning and found not one but two airplanes in her yard.

As before, she simply put them in with the rubbish, muttering a remark about turning the darn things into compost. But then there was another plane the next day, and the next.

So enthralled by the strange occurrence, she called up her friend Ruby to try to figure out what to do.

“Oh, another, that’s three today!” Belle gasped, as excited for the occurrence like a starwatcher was for a meteor shower.

Ruby however found the whole thing to be side-splittingly hilarious.

“I can’t believe this is how you’re spending your time!” Ruby howled over the phone.

Belle rolled her eyes and could just see her painting her toenails and chewing on a twizzler as she balanced the phone on her shoulder, taking her less than seriously.

“Why don’t you just poke your head over the fence and tell him to stop,” Ruby inquired as her lips smacked around the candy. “Or tell his mom?”

“My fence is too tall, and I don’t want to be labeled a predator by talking to him through the cracks,” Belle relayed, ironically watching the activity through her blinds. “Besides, I don’t want to get him in trouble. You should have seen his face when I first met him, Rubes. He looked like someone just killed his pet.”

“Maybe someone did?” Ruby snorted.

“Ha ha,” Belle deadpanned as she stepped away from the window.

“So, what’s in them?”

Belle’s nose wrinkled in question. “What, the planes?”

“No, in Thanksgiving turkeys, yes in the airplanes!” Ruby snarked. “You remember in high school when we used to crumple up balls of papers and toss them while the teacher had her back turned?”

“You mean when you used to,” Belle pointed out as she poured herself a glass of tea.

“Yeah yeah,” Ruby’s rushed. “Anyway, we used to write notes in them. Maybe the kid’s writing you something and he’s using the planes to get to you.”

Belle nearly dropped her glass. What if Ruby was right? What if Baelfire was being abused or his mom was hurt and he was trying to get to her the only way he knew how?

“Belle, where’d you go?” Ruby called out.

“Gotta go,” Belle answered, hanging up on her friend and rushing next door.

The brown-eyed woman who Belle had met the first time opened the door, the phone once again glued to her ear. She pulled the device away from her face long enough to greet Belle, shaking her head in a way that said, ‘yeah, what do you want?’.

“I…” Belle began to answer, but instantly sealed her lips as her mind went blank. Her theory was dashed and now she was just some weirdo on her new neighbors’ porch.

Before she could give her an explanation, the person on the other end of the phone exclaimed their displeasure of being cut off, and Milah waved her inside while she stalked off to the kitchen to tend to her business.

Belle stepped into the foyer uneasily, searching her mind desperately for an explanation while Milah was occupied. However, her focus was instantly shifted to Baelfire, who was playing with a video game on the foot of the stairs.

“Oh, hi Baelfire,” Belle greeted with a gasp of relief.

“Hi,” the boy greeted passively, barely acknowledging her when she sat down beside him on the step.

“So…” Belle began, calculating how she could ease into the conversation about the planes. “How are you settling in?”

“Fine,” Bae said, his eyes not moving from the flashing lights.

Belle sighed, trying to pinpoint if Bae was simply disinterested in his neighbor’s visit, or—as she beginning to theorize—the poor boy in a state depression.

Yet somehow he had enough will to make those paper airplanes everyday. Maybe it was his way of coping? After all, she had yet to see Milah leave the house with him, and Bae was always alone in the backyard. Maybe he was just lonely and trying to get her attention?

“How have you been keeping busy?” Belle asked instead, hoping that would be enough for him to spill.

Bae simply shrugged, however, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the buttons of his game.

Belle frowned. Okay, time to rip the band aid off.

“So what’s with the airplanes?”

Bae paused, and Belle prepared to be patient with him while also encouraging his creativity. However, all such thoughts left her head when Bae dropped his game and looked at her with the most hopeful look she’d ever seen on a child’s face.

“Did they fly over?” Bae gasped. “Did my papa get them?”

“Your…” Belle shook her head, taking a second to strategize before she took the little boy’s hands.

“Why are you trying to send the planes to your dad?” Belle inquired gently.

“So that he’ll come home.” Bae answered matter-of-factly.

Belle’s heart cracked at his child-like innocence. “Where is he, sweetie?” she asked, praying she wouldn’t be hit with a deceased parent story.

Bae however shrugged, his eyes falling sadly. “Mama just said I couldn’t see him anymore.”

Belle began to understand. It sounded like Bae’s papa was in jail or someone that shouldn’t be around children, but Belle wasn’t about to put a label on anything until she got a few more facts.

“Is that why you moved here,” Belle asked. “To get away from him?”

Before Bae could answer, Milah came bounding around the corner, clicking her phone off.

“Bae I’m going to…oh you’re still here.” She frowned down at Belle, more annoyed than concerned that there was a practical stranger conversing with her son. “Did you need something?”

Belle jumped to her feet, plastering on a smile.

“I just wanted to see how you were settling,” she said quickly, making a swift exit to the door.

As she stepped on to the porch she sent a quick smile back to Bae and made a solemn promise: find Bae’s papa—who or wherever he was—and get the planes to him.

The second she was back in her garden she dug every single paper airplane out of the bottom of her bin, even the slightly soggy ones.

She cleared away her kitchen table and spread them out, giving extra care to the damaged ones, and noticed that they all had some kind of markings on them. Opening one, she found a hastily drawn message on the soft paper.

Dear Papa,

I have a huge room at the new house. It’s in a place called Storybook. I looked at a map and it’s so far from New York! I hope you can find it.

Belle smiled fondly at the simplistic childish message, glad to see that Bae wasn’t always as crestfallen as he outwardly appeared.

She folded the plane up carefully and put it aside for another.

Dear Papa,

Mama rented some movies for us to watch. They was funny, but she kept leaving to talk on the phone. She always does that.

Belle sighed at the mixed message before her. “Oh Bae.”

She read several more, her stomach dropping as the contents of each one seemed to get darker and more desperate.

Papa,

I asked Mama if we could go visit you. She yelled at me. What’s going on? Why can’t I see you?

 Papa,

Mama leaves a lot. She tells me not to leave the couch. She doesn’t care if I eat cereal all day. I miss your cooking.

 Papa it’s so boring here. I miss you. Are you getting my messages?

 Papa where are you?

 Papa please write me back.

 Papa I want to come home.

 By the last one Belle was holding back waves of tears, hastily wiping away the ones that had slipped out. This poor boy was missing his Papa so much he ached and thought that throwing his planes over her fence was somehow going to get him back.

Belle breathed in a deep breath, commanding herself to be strong for Bae’s sake. She had to help her young neighbor, had to find a way to get them back together.

But her logical side kicked in. What if there was a reason Milah had moved them from New York? What if Bae’s father really was in jail or some kind of abuser?

Belle thought on the idea. Storybrooke had specific rules about minding one’s own business. What you didn’t know you heard later in the gossip line. Not to mention if Milah found out about what she was trying to do it could end with them dueling with her or explaining herself to Sheriff Graham. Judging by how Bae was outlining her absence in his letters, there was something not quite right about that woman. However, Belle was not going to jump to anymore conclusions until she had more proof.

She’d find out who and where in New York Bae’s papa was. If he really was dangerous, she’d talk to Milah and Bae and try to help them cope with the whole thing. If not, then she’d try to contact the man and then tell him about his son’s ongoing depression before he became desperate enough to send torpedoes through her fence.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Belle didn’t consider herself ‘in’ with the people of Storybrooke, but she wasn’t quite an outsider either.

She was friendly to all who entered her library, attended all the charity events the town held. But she kept her distance from some of the more unsavory people and their gossip groups. Belle was one to mind her own business, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t created useful bonds in Storybrooke.

One such bond was that of Ariel Fisher, knick-knack enthusiast, volunteer life-guard during the summer, and more importantly for Belle’s quest—local realtor who just happened to sell Milah and Bae their house.

Luckily for belle, Ariel was enough of a gossiper that she would spill any information Belle needed with just the slightest push.

When Belle entered her office, they started talking like they were in high school again. About everything and nothing at all. It was good padding, and after some maneuvering Belle was able to get to the subject at hand.

“Yeah I have a new neighbor,” Belle sighed theatrically. “She has the cutest little boy, but I haven’t seen anyone around…” she paused, and like a starving fish, Ariel bit into the bait.

“Oh there’s a reason for that,” Ariel giggled all-knowingly.

“No!” Belle gasped in false shock. “Go on.”

Ariel spared a glance around her office. Her boss was in his office on the phone, far too busy to pay any mind to idol gossip.

“So I was talking to her when she was looking at homes in the area, and she said ‘it’s just me and my son’. She said it kind of like she just spit out a piece of sour candy, which—as I’ve learned from years of experience—indicates that she’s just recently gone through a breakup of some sort.”

Belle pretended to be surprised, but mentally pushed Ariel to get past the surface layer.

“So any info on the SO?” Belle inquired, her fingers tapping impatiently against the desk.

Ariel didn’t seem to notice and continued.

“Well actually, the check she wrote out wasn’t even hers. It was from…” she inched closer to Belle, as if the reveal was big enough to warrant a more intense whisper. “A Mr. Angus Gold. The ex, apparently.”

“How do you know?”

“Because according to her credit check she recently changed her last name back to her maiden name, Shelley, and who else other than a divorcee who is probably obligated by the courts to hand over such a sum would write out a check like that?”

Belle pondered on the information. It all seemed to fit, but she’d have to dig deeper on her own accord to make sure the pieces stayed together.

After another half hour of pointless chatter, Belle promised Ariel lunch and made a rush to the library, which was technically supposed to be closed on Sunday’s, but Belle was sure the city council had more to do than to monitor her electricity bill on her off days.

Luckily for her, a name like Angus Gold was very uncommon, and a not-so in-depth google search led her to him in no time.

Angus Gold was a top-notch lawyer who was part of the most pristine law firms in the States. There were little to no personal information on him outside of his contact number on the firm’s website.

Humming in thought, Belle put in Milah’s name and Gold’s last name, and felt her stomach turn in excitement when she found an article matching her search.

Ariel’s suspicion had been correct: Milah and Angus Gold divorced three months ago, and due to Gold’s status and the whopping half-billion he gave her as a settlement, it warranted a half-page story which included a picture of Mr. Gold in the courtroom.

The picture was a side profile, but Belle was able to catch some of the details of Baelfire in his face.

With a quick read through the article and another look at Gold’s picture, Belle was able to come to two conclusions:

Gold was a pretty damn good-looking dude, and that there was much more to this story than the internet could provide.

The article labled the cause for Gold’s divorce ‘inconsolable differences’, but there was no financial reason Gold couldn’t provide for his son.

Belle sighed in exhaustion and picked up her phone, going back to the page for Gold’s contact information.

Not surprisingly, it went straight to an automatic voice machine, and Belle left her short message as instructed.

“Yes, my name is Belle French and…this may sound strange but I’m your…ex-wife’s neighbor, and there’s something going on with your son. I mean, he’s not hurt or anything it’s just…well…it’ll make more sense once I can talk to. Please call me back at your earliest convenience…thank you.”

Hanging up the phone did little to ease Belle’s anxiety about the whole situation, and she began to ponder the consequences of the matter.

What if he called Milah as soon as he got the message and the woman came to her place to choke her in the middle of the night?

Or worse, what if Gold really didn’t care about his ex-wife and son at all and told her not to call him again, and she was left with a depressed little boy in the next yard?

Belle managed to sort her thoughts by the time she reached her house. No matter what happened, she would sleep easily knowing that she had tried, and it that meant being cussed out by a lawyer or a painter, so be it.

Yet several days passed and Belle heard nothing, not from her neighbor, nor Angus Gold.

She did however notice that the amount of planes going over her fence was decreasing. Five a day, then three, then finally, none.

Belle gathered them and put them in a box in her living room, afraid of what she would find if she read them.

That evening when she went to make sure she hadn’t missed any, she heard a small muffled sound coming from the other side of her fence. She squeezed a peak through her tightly-build boards and the sight before her shattered her heart.

Bae was sobbing into his legs, alone, Milah nowhere in sight.

With tears in her eyes and her fist clenched, she stormed through her house and turned the three feet into Milah’s yard, pounding on the door until the woman—with her signature cellphone stuck to her ear—opened the door.

“Put that darn thing down now,” Belle ordered, earning a shocked look from her neighbor.

“I beg your pardon” she barked, placing the phone against her shoulder to muffle out the conversation from the person on the other side.

“Your son is in the backyard crying. He’s been moping around since you both moved in here and you haven’t seemed to notice.”

Milah’s eyebrows arched in confusion before she shot around swiftly and stalked to the back door where Bae was.

Belle shunned the urge to run after her and defend the boy when she heard her hiss something at him. A second later Bae went bounding up the stairs, and Belle saw a peak of his red face, her rage spiraling all the more.

“Sorry he disturbed you,” Milah waved her off absently, staring down at her phone. “Won’t happen again.”

“That’s not what this is about,” Belle growled, making sure she stayed just outside of Milah’s living room. “You’re never with him and he’s depressed being cooped up in here all day.”

Milah lowered her phone and stared at her with a mix of rage and horror. “How the hell would you know how much time I spend with my son? Have you been talking to him behind my back? Or have you been spying through the fence?”

Belle pursed her lips together, keeping mum about the airplanes.

“I know it’s hard moving to a new place,” Belle tried instead. “That sometimes you can neglect some things over others but—”

“Look,” Milah snapped. “What goes on in my home is my business. And if you ever step foot into it or talk to my son, I will have you locked up so fast the rest of the country bumkins in this town won’t have time to gossip about it!”

She slammed the door so hard Belle had to jump back to keep from having her nose crushed. Her fist remained clenched and her heels deep in the wood of the stained porch.

What was Milah’s deal? Her behavior was bordering on child abuse and Belle was not going to stand for it!

As she stalked off the porch and began to circle into her own yard, she felt the weight of a pair of eyes on her back.

She looked behind her to find Bae staring at her through his closed window. She couldn’t read his expression, couldn’t decipher whether he hated her or was grateful for her intervention. She did know however that she wouldn’t rest until the boy was actively smiling again.

“I promise Bae,” Belle breathed. “I’ll find your Papa and get him back to you.”

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Three days later, Belle was standing outside of Angus Gold’s robust law firm, her bulky box clutched awkwardly in her arms.

The trip to New York had been pure hell, and she wasn’t even sure yet if it would be worth it.

She had to dig deep into her savings for the ticket alone, and she was overrun with a dozen security guards the second she walked into the airport. On top of that she was shoved between a snorer and a woman who complained about something every five minutes, so by the time she was at her destination, she was understandable ticked and gods help him if Mr. Angus Gold gave her a hard time.

The building holding the law firm was huge, at least 50 stories, and Belle was already overwhelmed with the site of it. It occurred to her that she should have planned better at getting more information on Mr. Gold, considering she didn’t even know where his office was now.

With a determined sigh, she started in the lobby, coming across more suits than she’d ever seen in her life.

A large desk in the center was an impressive aquarium and a woman making kissing sounds at the fish inside.

While odd, it didn’t deter Belle at all, and she cleared her throat to gain the secretary’s attention.

The woman turned from her aquarium and gave Belle a bored stare.

“Can I help you?”

“I’m looking for Mr. Angus Gold’s office,” Belle responded, shifting the box. “It’s a bit urgent.”

The secretary—Ursula, her plaque read—lowered her gaze to the box. “Is there anything flammable or poisonous in there?” she inquired in the same tone.

“Um, no,” Belle frowned.

“38th floor, sixth to your right.” Ursula sighed, turning back around to her fish.

Belle blinked, but did not dare try to question the easiest part of her journey so far. Thus she squeezed herself in with the businessmen and women and waited for the elevator to reach her floor, her heart pounding against the cardboard box in anticipation.

She was the only one to get off on the 38th floor and found the area to be surprisingly quiet. She cautiously made her way down the hall until she came across another secretary, this one dressed like she belonged in the fashion industry rather than a law firm.

Unlike Ursula, she didn’t even look up from her magazine, a pen twirling in her long, painted fingers.

“Do you have an appointment?” she sighed, sounding just as bored as the other secretary had.

“Um, no,” Belle said. “But this is very important.”

The secretary—Cruella, her plaque read—grunted and pressed a button on the phone without looking.

“Goldy locks, some woman is here to see you. She has a box so I believe it’s an assassination.”

“Didn’t I tell you I’d fire you the next time you called me that?” came an accented snarl from the intercom.

“Yet I’m still here.” Cruella returned, her lip tugging wolfishly. “Go ahead in darling,”

Belle smiled nervously, praying Gold cared a bit more than his secretaries. She used her shoulder to open the door, struggling not to drop the box.

“Careful,” Cruella said, earning an annoyed glare from Belle as she all but threw herself into Gold’s office.

As soon as the door closed behind her, Belle was finally face-to-face with the man at the center of her current dilemma.

Mr. Gold stood from his chair, smoothing out his tie as he took her in. His expression was impassive, seemingly unsure just what to make of her.

“You could have just left that downstairs.” Gold commented.

“I…it’s not just a package I need to see you about.” Belle returned, assuming that introductions were off the table.

Gold shook his head, returning to something at his desk.

“I’m a very busy man, Miss.” He stated, the comment rehearsed. “If you need to me to represent you than talk to my secretary about setting up an appointment.”

“It’s nothing like that,” Belle protested, looking around for somewhere to put down her damn box. “It’s about—”

“If your inquiry is not urgent, then please make an appointment,” he said, his voice rising slightly.

“Oh for goodness sake!” Belle exclaimed, lowering the box just enough to open it. Using her knee, she tipped the box over, dozens of paper airplanes spilling across Mr. Gold’s desk.

Mr. Gold’s expression slowly melted into  glass-eyed confusion.

“They’re from your son,” Belle revealed. “He’s trying to find you.”

Gold’s head shot up to stare at her, disbelief sinking into his well-sculpted mask of indifference.

With a shaky cry be began tearing into the planes, opening and savoring each sprawled message Bae had sent to him, a small smile stretching over his lip.

Belle smiled, feeling more at peace than she had in weeks. No matter what happened after this, she was proud that she was able to give this man such a small piece of happiness. He seemed so relieved, so ecstatic to have a part of Bae with him. How could Belle had ever thought Gold wasn’t completely in love with his son?

Her smile faltered some when Gold’s expression dimmed. Belle knew instantly he had come across one of Bae’s more darker letters.

He looked up from the plane to her, his eyes darker from what he had read.

“What’s happening with my son?”

Belle actually gulped from the heat in his voice. He was beginning to crave blood, and it would be hers if she wasn’t careful.

“It’s a long story,” Belle said. “But I promise you, Bae’s okay. He’s just…” Belle sighed. “He’s very depressed.”

Gold was very still for a moment, Belle’s words sinking into his brain.

Bae, his beautiful little boy who had been smiling since the day he was born, was depressed?

With a swift movement he reached down to touch a button on his phone.

“Cruella,” he barked. “Clear the rest of my day, I’m taking…” he paused, looking up at Belle expectedly.

“Belle,” Belle answered with a gulp. “Belle French.”

Gold nodded. “We’ll be back.”

“I don’t care what you do,” Cruella snarked over the intercom.

Gold rolled his eyes and reached down to bring out a gold-headed cane, much to Belle’s surprise.

“Shall we,” he motioned to the door, and Belle didn’t try to resist.

As they passed the secretary’s desk to the elevator, Belle and Gold both blushed when Cruella called after them:

“Send me a wedding invitation!”

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Gold ended up taking her to a small café in the building, where he seated her at a table while he gathered refreshments.

While he was gone, Belle tried to gather herself. Gold seemed like a decent man, abet a bit dry. He obviously loved his son very much. However, that didn’t mean he deserved to know where the boy was. For all Belle knew, Gold’s downfall was with Milah, and even if she didn’t like the woman, that didn’t mean she should bring a potential abuser to her door.

She was pulled from her thoughts when Gold sat a Styrofoam cup in front of her, the scent of black tea hitting her senses. With a sniff, she discovered Mr. Gold had gotten her favorite chai tea to drink, the slight lack of sugar the only difference with how she would take it.

“I got you what I got myself,” Gold said when he saw her face. “I apologize, I should have asked.”

“No!” Belle protested, her hand landing over his to stop him from taking her cup away. “I actually like tea over coffee.”

“Me too,” he said with a hint of a smile.

Belle blushed, her eyes landing on their touching hands, her tips grazing over a glassy blue ring on his finger. She pulled away before she could feel the softness of his skin, reprimanding herself for getting off-track. She was here for Bae, and Bae only. She couldn’t get distracted with a silly infatuation.

“So,” Gold coughed, sitting up straighter. “How did you know about this?”

Belle told him about how Bae began sending the planes shortly after he and Milah moved in next to her, about how she confronted the woman when Bae’s depression seemed to get worse, and how she couldn’t keep silent a second longer out of concern for Bae’s well-being.

“She’s always on the phone,” Belle went on. “I’ve never seen her with Bae, and I have yet to see him leave the house. I mean, Storybrooke’s as safe as a padded cell. She could let him roam around by himself for a little while.”

“She hasn’t changed a bit then,” Gold scoffed, his hands clenched tightly together. “Miss French, you’ve read Bae’s planes more thoroughly than I have. Did he say anything about Milah abusing him?”

“No,” Belle declined. “Just that she left him alone a lot, and that he was very unhappy there.”

“Borderline neglect,” Gold said with a hint of a smirk. “That could work?”

Belle blinked. “What could work? What are you going to do?”

Gold stood, seemingly ready to leave Belle where she was. “With all due respect Miss French, this is as far as you need to go.”

“Excuse me?” Belle scoffed.

Gold shook his head. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention, but I can take this from here.”

“No,” Belle said, standing to Gold’s height. “I’m involved in this until things change for Bae, and if that means I’m stuck by your side until then, so be it!”

“Miss French,” he sighed, ready to put her down.

“I think it’s time you gave me more information on all of this, Mr. Gold,” Belle demanded, placing her hands on her hips. “I need to know right now that you aren’t a threat to Bae or Milah.”

“She’s the only threat to him!” Gold hissed, his voice rising.

“Did you hit them?” Belle inquired bluntly. “Did you yell or do anything to them at all?”

Gold paled, his eyes bulging like he had just witnessed a terrible accident.

“N-no,” he breathed at last. “I never, ever, hurt my son or Milah!”

“Then why aren’t you with him!” Belle accused. “Why would you allow him to be whisked off so far away and then not keep in touch with him!”

“Because I thought it was for the best!” Gold yelled, the room seeming to quake at his exclamation.

After they both brushed off a terrified security guard, Gold and Belle eased into their seats, taking a moment to compose themselves.

It was Belle who spoke up first. She’d always had an unfortunate habit of jumping to conclusions and letting her logical side slip away.

“I’m sorry,” Belle apologized. “Please, what do you mean it was for the best?”

Gold was quiet for a moment, haunted by having to let his son go.

“Milah asked for the divorce,” Gold revealed. “We just grew a part, and I went through with it. I assumed when negotiations were being made that we would split custody of our son. But Milah declared she wanted full custody, plus a large sum of alimony to boot.”

“She must have wanted full-custody for the financial benefits,” Belle pondered.

“Most likely,” Gold commented coldly.

Belle nodded, listening intently to finally uncover the mystery.

“I fought against it, but she cried to the judge that I was never home,” Gold continued. “That I was too busy with clients and work to be a full-time father, and that her job as a painter would give her a more flexible schedule, though that wasn’t entirely true. Milah was rarely at home either.”

“Was she right, about you?”

Gold mused on the memory, on the slander Milah threw at him in the name of their son.

“I thought so, at first.” Gold continued tightly. “I did work a lot, and I didn’t spend all the time I wanted to with him, but…” Gold rubbed a hand across his face. “I didn’t think I was an absentee father. But Milah convinced me…and the rest of the court…and I gave in.”

Belle watched as a horrifying realization hit Gold directly in the heart.

“I stopped fighting for my son.”

Belle instinctively reached out and took hold of his hand.

“You tried to give him his best chance, and now you can fight for him, and try to get him back.”

Gold breathed, not wanting to cry in front of this beautiful stranger.

“What if I fail? What if Milah fights harder and takes him somewhere I’ll never see him again?”

Belle gave his hand an encouraging squeeze. “You won’t because you have a first-hand witness who can vouch for Bae. I won’t let you do this alone.”

Gold smiled thankfully, breathing in to calm himself. A bit more contained, he stared at Belle, trying to find the venom in her soul, the ulterior motive that she must have to have endured all she had in the past few weeks.

“Why are you doing this?” he finally asked her, his instincts warning him not to put his trust in her just yet.

Belle shrugged, thinking about he solemn little boy who didn’t seem like he’d ever smile again.

“Because…” she laughed wetly. “When I first met him, I told him that there was magic in places like Storybrooke, and that he could find it if he just looked a little. I guess…somehow he found it, and used it to try to send you those planes.” She blinked back tears at the thought.

“Does he know that you have them?” Gold inquired.

“No,” Belle declined. “Neither does Milah. As far as Bae knows they’re…” she laughed. “Still flying through the sky.”

Gold nodded. “I like that idea.” His smile faded and he sat up, taking on a true business demeanor. “Miss French, I won’t ask you to involve yourself any further with this. I’ll take the planes as evidence and leave you out of it completely. Either way, I’m going to get my son back.”

Belle shook her head. “Like I said, I’m here until this was all over.”

Gold chuckled. She was a determined one. “Very well. Where are you staying?”

“Um, a hotel about a block from here,” Belle answered uncertainly. “Why?”

Gold stood and offered Belle his hand. “I know you must be tired, but I rather get on with this as quickly as possible. If you’ll permit me, my driver will go by your room to pick up your things and then we can head to the airport.”

“Um…” Belle blinked, her body instantly becoming tired at the thought of getting back on a crowded airplane. But Mr. Gold was right, they needed to be quick for Bae’s sake, and for that little boy Belle was take on a dozen plane trips.

Convinced, she took Mr. Gold’s hand and picked up her purse with the other.

“Let’s go.”

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

It turned out Gold had connections that made their trip much quicker and much MUCH more comfortable (first class seats baby!). Not to mention they were able to get Bae’s box of paper airplanes through security with no fuss, their evidence secure.

But by the time they entered Storybrooke city limits in Gold’s rented car, Belle began to feel nervous once more.

Gold had made several phone calls during the course of their trip, one of which Belle knew for sure was to social services. She began having visions of Milah coming after her in the dead of night with a sharpened paintbrush, of her taking a sledgehammer to their shared fence in a sort of ‘The Shining’ moment.

But when they parked down the street from the salmon mansion and she turned to Gold, her own fears melted away to make room for his. Mr. Gold looked petrified, like he was about to meet his worst nightmare. His anxiety over what would happen was rolling off him in waves, crashing onto her.

Belle couldn’t blame him a bit. If things went southward, Gold could be barred from seeing Baelfire until he was well over 18, and Belle herself could be labeled a predator!

Worse yet, she had no idea what to say to comfort him. This whole situation was beyond her. She wasn’t a parent or an ex-anything. She couldn’t relate to him at all.

But Belle did know what is was like to be brave when all she wanted to do was hide. Thus, she reached out and placed her hand over Mr. Gold’s, the man jolting once more from the sudden touch.

“It’ll be okay,” Belle said.

Gold took in a deep breath and nodded, peeling away the true skin of a terrified father and replacing it with the mask of a professional go-getter.

“Where’s your home?”

“The yellow one right beside hers,” Belle pointed out, her breath catching when a card with the social services logo printed on the side pulled up to Milah’s mailbox, followed shortly by a police cruiser.

“As soon as I’m inside and Milah is distracted, go to your home and don’t leave,”

“I’m not—”

“I don’t want you to get hurt,” Gold said. “Milah can be very persuasive when she wants to be. She might say something about you that could get you in trouble.”

“I’m already in trouble,” Belle said, taking off her seatbelt just as the agents knocked on Milah’s door. “I haven’t done anything that could warrant my arrest, but she has.” Belle closed the door before he could respond, stalking up to Milah’s porch while Gold called after her.

She waited at the front step, Milah’s shrieking making her just the tiniest bit nervous, as Gold inched past her to Milah’s door.

“You!” the woman hollered as Gold became visible to her. “What the hell is all this?”

“This is me doing what I should have done to being with,” Gold announced. “I would have never let Bae go with you had I known you were going to neglect him so.”

“This is outrageous!” Milah scoffed, turning a pair of pitiful brown eyes to the agents.

“My son is sad because he’s in a new place,” she cooed. “And I’ve been so busy getting the house together and setting up my art gallery that I just haven’t been able to spend as much time with him as I want.” Her gaze hardened when she turned to Gold. “But I have not neglected him.”

One of the agents turned an arched eyebrow to the slew of boxes along the wall, still taped despite how Milah had been moved in for nearly a month.

“We’d like to talk to Bae for a moment,” the agent said. “Just so that we can address his well-being.”

Milah blocked their access to the steps. “That’s not right. He’ll say anything right now. He’s—”

“Papa?”

Belle inched closer onto the porch and caught site of Bae’s mass of curls peaking over the banister.

“Bae…” Gold gasped, his fierce facade melting at the site of his son.

“Papa!” the little boy exclaimed, hazardously darting down the stairs and past his mother to jump into his father’s arms.

“Papa you found me! I knew you would!”

Belle blinked back tears as she watched Mr. Gold drop to his knees to capture his son, the man’s body seeming just to melt now that Bae was in his hold. She decided then and there that no matter what happened, what Milah or anyone else did to her, she was happy because she made the site before her happen.

She reunited a parent and his beloved child. How could she ever regret that?

Well apparently, Milah was dead-set on making her.

“You!” she snarled, storming up to Belle and jabbing a finger into her chest. “Why the hell can’t you mind your own damn business?”

Belle spared a glance in Gold’s direction and caught a wide-eyed look from him and Bae before Sheriff Graham pulled her aside.

“Ms. Shelley, please,” Graham warned. “If you would come downtown with us for a little while, I’m sure we can get this all straightened out.”

“That’s a good idea,” Gold spoke, his voice holding a deadly tone despite the little boy clinging to his leg.

Milah glared at her ex-husband, the look intensifying as Graham led her past Belle. Belle took in a deep breath, shaking off any uneasiness the woman had the ability to stir in her.

“We’ll have to take Bae along with us,” one of the agents said to Mr. Gold. “It’s just standard procedure.”

“Papa?” Bae cried, fear quaking his little body.

Gold stooped to Bae’s level. “It’s alright son, I’ll be right behind them,” be leaned forward to the boy’s ear. “I have you planes in my car.”

Bae smiled at this, but his eyes were still filled with worry as the agents led him to their car.

Belle covered her face, trying to compose herself.

“Are you alright?” Gold asked her, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“Yes, just…overwhelmed.”

Gold nodded, slowly sliding his hand away.

“Miss French, I know you want to see this through, but…I think I need to do this alone.”

“Mr. Gold—”

“Please Miss French,” Gold breathed, permissively cutting her off. “You’ve been a godsend through all of this, but if I want to earn back my son, I need to do it myself. I need to show him, and Milah, and everyone else that I’m not the same man who couldn’t fight for him three months ago.”

Belle nodded. As much as she wanted to witness Milah’s downfall in person, she agreed with Gold’s reasoning. Though, it did disappoint her tremendously.

“I’ll keep you updated,” Gold promised. “I’m sure they’ll contact you for a statement soon.”

“Yeah,” Belle said as she followed him out the door. She silently walked him to his car, unable to say anything else. She knew Gold was trying to keep her out of Milah’s clutches, out of the mess the next few days would accumulate. But she still wished that there was more she could do.

“Thank you again,” Gold said in a business-like tone, shaking her hand like they had just agreed to a real estate deal.

But Belle shook it anyway, noticing how he wasn’t quite able to meet her eyes.

She watched him drive away, both worried and on-edge for the outcome of this situation. As she entered her garden, she felt questionably sadness and relief that there were no little paper airplanes strewn out across her yard.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

In the end, Milah Shelley’s worse nightmare had come true: she was the subject of the Storybrooke Gossip Hotline.

The messages on Bae’s paper airplanes and a statement from the boy himself was enough for child services to question Milah’s parental abilities.

Gold didn’t contact her after he left, but Sheriff Graham did pay her a visit for a statement on her involvement.

She told him about the paper planes and how she did her own digging to find Mr. Gold. About confront Milah on Bae’s actions and how she was met with a cold reception. And finally, and more shamefully, how she had taken the matters into her own hand.

Graham had laughed at this, though Belle didn’t find it nearly as funny.

“You could have just called me,” Graham said as he drank the ice tea Belle had offered him.

“I know, and maybe I should have,” Belle said. “But I guess I was afraid Bae would end up in the system rather than with his father. I didn’t want to risk that.”

Graham nodded, not too much of a stickler that he didn’t symphonize with her reasoning.

“So how much trouble am I in?” Belled asked.

Graham shrugged. “Legally, you’ve done nothing wrong. Though Ms. Shelley said she wanted to, and I quote, ‘sue you for all you were worth’.

Belle chuckled. “She’d be disappointed. All she’d get is an antique tea set and a maxed-out savings account.

“I think Gold told her the same thing.” Graham teased.

Belle saw him out to his car, but didn’t go back inside right away. She now had to stew in the reality that her part in the paper plane mystery was over. She wasn’t going to be charged. She had given her statement. There was no need for her now.

And Gold had yet to call her.

She heard from some gossipers at the diner that the proceedings were dirty, that there was yelling and cussing and death threats.

She also heard that they were tamer, and that Gold and Milah ended up doing the dirty deed in a back closet—which Belle nearly burst out laughing in the middle of the restaurant when she heard it.

By some grace of fate, Belle’s name had been kept out of the story entirely. No one knew of her part in it, and once again she was on the outside of the inside.

The only one who seemed to have any knowledge of her involvement was Ariel, who all but dragged her into her realty office.

“What the heck happened?”

“It’s complicated,” Belle sighed, flopping back in a chair.

Ariel scooted up to her, hungry for the story.

Belle spared some of the more intimate details, but gave her the bones, and apologized that she had used Ariel’s to get the information she needed.

“Well I’m certainly not happy with it,” Ariel huffed, “But I’m glad you got what you needed. What happens now?”

“I don’t know,” Belle said. “He hasn’t contacted me, but I guess there’s no reason for him to.”

“What?” Ariel scoffed. “He wouldn’t even know what was going on if it weren’t for you.”

“I know, but maybe this is for the best,” Belle shrugged. “All I wanted was for Baelfire to be reunited with his father, and he was. I guess…I just wish I got to say goodbye.”

Ariel nodded sympathetically. “Well, maybe you will one day. Or, you can just live with the fact that you did a good deed and rest with that.”

“That might be my only option.” Belle agreed.

They chatted comfortably for another hour before Belle excused herself, wanting to get home and continue her comfortable if mundane life.

Just as she circled the corner to her home, she stopped dead in her tracks when she saw not only two moving vans parked outside of the salmon mansion, but Mr. Gold, Bae and Milah.

Belle quickly ducked in some bushes, watching the scene from a safe distance. She couldn’t make out what they were saying, but judging by how stiff Gold’s and Milah’s postures were, it may not be the most pleasant of conversations. Bae thankfully was by Gold’s side, his small hand swallowed by Gold’s. Behind them movers were moving things in an out to the point Belle couldn’t see what was going where.

Soon enough, one of the trucks drove off while the other stayed, waiting for someone.

Belle watched as Milah knelt down to Bae’s level, keeping her distance but her expression softened at whatever she was saying to the boy. Bae stayed very still as she spoke to him, and Belle almost felt sorry for the woman when Bae didn’t run into her extended arms.

After a moment Milah stood and got into the moving truck, and soon left Storybrooke with her ex-husband and son in the dust.

With a breath of relief, Belle carefully walked up to her gate and instantly caught Bae’s attention.

“Miss French!” he called out, his face more bright and vibrant than she’d ever see it.

She gasped when Bae hugged her, his forehead banging hard into her hipbone.

“H-hi,” she greeted, fluffing his curls as Gold approached them. He smiled when she met his eyes.

“Miss French,” he greeted.

Belle felt a spring of happiness burst inside her. “Hi.” She smiled, releasing Bae as he ran back to his father. “What’s going on?”

“Well,” Mr. Gold sighed as he ushered Bae back to the house, “Milah and I had a long talk, and decided to alter the custody arrangements.”

“And,” Belle pointed to the mansion.

“Part of the deal was that I buy the house from her. She said that this town had ‘lost its aesthetic’, whatever that means.”

Belle giggled and listened comfortably as Bae back and forth through the mansion, viewing the house as a home for the first time.

“So you’re both here to stay?” she inquired, her stomach fluttering in anticipation.

“For now,” Gold answered. “Bae never did get to explore the town, and perhaps small-town life will do him some good.”

“What about you?” Belle said. “There’s not too many lawsuits in Storybrooke,”

“I’m sure I’ll find something,” Gold said.

Belle nodded and stood in comfortable silence with him for a while. That was that then. Mystery solved and story over. A happy ending really. And Belle couldn’t be happier.

But then why did she feel like there should be more?

She shook her head, perishing the foolish thought. Bae was safe, Gold had his family and courage back, and Milah was somewhere far away where she couldn’t harm Baelfire or anyone else.

She should let it rest and move on.

“I’ll let you two settle,” Belle said, making the turn to go through her garden. When Gold didn’t call after her, and she couldn’t help but feel the slightest disappointment.

She made her self a glass of iced tea before she changed into one of her summer dresses to lounge in the garden in.

She did a good deed, she told herself, and now she needed to continue with her mundane, but comfortable life, and allow the Gold’s to start their new ones.

As she stepped out into her garden, she saw that a neatly folded paper airplane sitting in grass.

Her stomach turned in mixed anticipation as she picked it up, opening it with careful precision.

When she saw the neat cursive-written message inside, her heart clenched and a wide goofy grin spread over her face.

I never did thank you properly for all you did. Join us for dinner tonight?

On the other side of the fence Belle could just see someone standing on the back porch, waiting for her response.

Belle blushed and bit her lip with a giggle, running back inside for a pen.

Dinner sounds great! She wrote back before sending the plane over the fence.

[blankdblank]

I Believe in...Dwarves

In a mix match of requests from @deepestfirefun here is pt 1 of this roller coaster ride. :D

…

Jack of all trades didn’t come close to describing you. Even in your youth you still had settled quite a list of accomplishments to your name, but then again with such a strict upbringing like yours who couldn’t get a lot done. With a big name comes privilege and also expectation and in the first sign of what is seen as betrayal to those plans the guillotine drops. Not that you really cared now that you were free from it all you were off again in New York in the latest of your plane hopping job’s scheduled stops for three months.

Patterns, it helped to keep patterns to stick to, and after your first week or so of confusion and nightly sessions of memorizing maps marked with your frequent stops you had it down and even in your loneliest days you found a series of steady travel companions to share your commute with. Tiny tethers binding you together on your journeys through your varied lives; a helping hand here or an offered holding of a door for a few moments more bound you as the loosest of friends without ever sharing your names.

One man in particular seemed to stick out. Now still faceless in your usual frenzy the large man seemed to melt into the seat beside you at your scoot over in realizing he had nowhere else to sit on the subway due to game day rush. In a wave his warmth and cologne instantly taking you off to some log cabin in the woods under a blanket of fresh snow just stirring an ache in you for some cider or cocoa. Out of the corner of your eye you spotted the novel he cracked open to the slip of paper inside marking his place and the ball cap pulled low covering his eyes. But in your attempt to steal a subtle glance at his face you softly muttered, “Oh,” as his eyes dropped to your touching thighs for the vibrating phone in your pocket.

Scooting down a bit in the seat you dug your left hand into your right pocket and pulled out the offending phone you flipped the cover back on to huff and roll your eyes to the caller stirring chuckles from the usual musician sitting across from you adjusting his violin on his lap away from a man moving past him. Answering the call you raised it to your ear, “I’m on my way.” You must not have seemed to belong to your voice as you felt the eyes of the stranger on your right lingering on you for a few moments. That was the big beginning you never saw coming. Diving into a slew of back and forth jabs about the best flavor of salad dressings, of which you clearly won at being able to name more than three and subconsciously had somehow prepped for this battle over the years with detailed descriptions of each in both flavor and texture and proper foods to use them on.

All of this amusing your bench buddy who chuckled a total of four times until you both shared an awkward joint stand where his hand settled on your hip to keep you from falling over at his belt catching on yours for a few moments. A soft thanks from you and a “Don’t mention it” in a scratchy British croon just aching for a hug in return at the hidden taste of lonely buried in it later and you were both unknowingly off to the same coffee shop.

At which he opened the door for you enjoying the continued one sided battle in front of him lingering until you were both out on the street and splitting at a corner two blocks over nearly making you pause to turn and see where he was headed. Something that would have let you know he had done just that, waiting for a couple minutes until he saw you trot up a stoop into a local publishing company before continuing on.

..

Daily you would cross paths, never a word traded between you past common polite acknowledges of presence. Always holding a spot open for the other in a silent bond of untested trust.

Three minutes your buddy was late. A swelling crowd in the subway left his seat taken by the elderly woman living a few stoops down from you, and a tall man with a fiery Mohawk who released the door he faked holding open for you nearly tore the strap off your bag when it caught on the strap set you off even worse without your friendly shadow behind you.

More than once you had felt him move closer to you faking an arm around you when a less than savory glance was cast your way along with a couple confidence bolstering times in his avoiding the attention of assign females ready to approach him. So standing there in the coffee shop alone in line you spotted the last glazed blueberry scone and in the reflection on the glass coated menu aimed at the door you hatched a plan.

A subtle addition to your order later and by the time he was third in line your hand stretched out turning your hat loving friend’s head. A surprisingly smooth set of fingers with a few random calluses folded around the back of your hand in claiming the bag and tall disposable cup. An impatient man behind you nudging you into your shadow’s side stirred you to move along with your shadow following after. The crowds passing by made it impossible for him to slip you the cash simply leaving you turning your head to say, “See you at five.”

A low chuckle followed and you swore you could hear him reply, “Ta, Love” followed by a hushed argument with himself at using that nickname.

.

Five came and went and found you with a bag of your favorite pretzel rolls you seemed to be too late to buy this week gifted by him earning an excited squeaking thanks drawing chuckles from him in return. Back and forth small favors and acts of kindness kept being traded until one day you were just gone, drastically dampening his final week in town when he had planned to get your number to keep in touch. Seven days he wallowed in his heartbreak at a lost chance with his ray of sunshine.

He had a long and turbulent time filming in the Hobbit trilogy and had loaded up his first few months after to record audio books to try and unwind, but now he was back off to London to be in the Crucible. John Proctor, yet another brooding emotionally damaged man going through his own personal, partially, if not completely self induced hell. No one knowing him well couldn’t say Richard Crispen Armitage wasn’t a glutton for punishment from time to time, even if self imposed. But he needed to bury himself, he needed to escape Thorin after having put so much of himself in bringing to life the proud Dwarf.

He needed an escape, he needed to find himself and across the pond in that first day on the subway an argument on which salad was best with steak from a passing couple had brought him into some sort of an aching need to be by you. His tiny ray of sunshine he hoped he could have spoken to past a few words here and there, something more substantial, something he could proclaim to others as proof that he could possibly have been yours, if even for a moment. Every inch of him begged to have been yours but endlessly is doubts would creep up, not to spoil your life with his moods, you didn’t deserve the pain of him coming and going off again so soon, you were too precious, he didn’t deserve you.

.

England welcomed him back with open arms, no fan fair, no parade but the drizzly day was his welcome home hug as he vanished into the masses unnoticed off to his home from the early morning landing. Down in the tunnels he could have sworn he heard you, could have sworn he could smell the scent of your usual caramel apple cider mingling with the scent of your perfume all but making his mouth water. A rushing gust of wind sounded in the arrival of his train, a few people in the slow crowd passed him up until he heard your voice again. Turning his head his mouth fell open seeing you one handedly holding your phone with one hand also clamped awkwardly on your drink as your elbow pinned your open bag inches from spilling out as your other arm fumbled for your jacket sleeve behind your back.

Instantly his hand reached out and he guided the jacket in place for you to slide it up over your shoulder. Softly you said, “Thank you.” Reaching up you grabbed your drink with your free hand and continued onto the train saying, “Jimmy, I can’t-,”

A deep sigh left you as Richard hurried after you onto the train with an elated grin spreading onto his face wondering why you had been here by chance. Quickly he took the seat by the end spot where he knew you would sit, only to watch your bag drop to the floor along with your gaze to stare at it blankly though the voice clearly shouting through the phone. Nodding to yourself you stepped over your bag and sat in the bare spot taking a glance around the train, not noticing a few famous face in hiding staring at your bag just aching to help you pick up your books. Pinning your cup between your knees you lowered your phone to the metal guard by the doors on your right now shut in the taking off of the train, a quick punch to the metal divider drew all eyes to you quickly melting into knowing grins cluing Richard into their being familiar with you somewhat already.

Lifting the phone again you said, “Jimmy I gotta go someone just crashed into a muffin truck, I’m gonna go get me a free muffin. Get there when I get there.” Then hastily you hung up and set your phone on the bench beside you to lean forward at the others in the car beginning to laugh and chuckle as you were mumbling, “Asshole, he can wait till three.”

Setting your drink aside you filled your bag again and raised it to your lap to sit under your cup as you shifted to lift your now buzzing phone again breaking Richard’s chance to say something. A picture of your silver haired aunt in her garden brought a grin to your face as you answered the call relaxing back on the bench only to glance to your left at the familiar shadow on your left raising his fingers from his lap in a half hearted wave earning a weak chuckle from you at the odd coincidence.

“Aunt Nora.”

“Yes, the cottage is lovely thank you.”

“No, I am not using the crosswalk.” Chuckles sounded through the car, including from Richard, “No, there’s no jaywalking here. I am gonna jaywalk responsibly all over this city.”

Scattered chuckles rippled through the car, even from Richard in your sip from your cup. “Well Jimmy is an ass and he can wait. He’s never gonna take my advice anyways so why does he even call me?”

“No, saying he referred to me for my opinions on his screenplay doesn’t earn me a red cent.” You took another sip of your drink and hummed marking your having a response, “Twelve now, twelve screenplays about fly fishing reels.” That earned a snort from farther down the car from one of the other hiding actors, “And if he shouts at me one more time I will make sure he never talks to me again.” your head turned at the announcement of the upcoming stop, “Oh, I gotta go, my stop, hope you enjoy the toaster.”

At your pause the men listening in shifted on their seats, “Well then what box did I send you?” You huff deeply and roll your eyes shouldering your bag, “No, I know you have three blenders. Why would they send that? I bought a toaster.”

Stealing another sip you listened then lowered the cup again and shouldered your bag as Richard realized you had the same stop once again and readied himself, “Oh, that doesn’t seem practical, but if you prefer it over the others I will look into ordering a toaster for you.”

On your feet you stood and Richard did the same beside you, “I will see you Thursday, no, I am still not seeing anyone.”

You shook your head and pursed your lips for a moment, “No, I am fairly certain Jason Stratham is married.” You paused again at a snicker from farther down the train, “No, it’s not socially acceptable to tell a married man his thighs are delicious.” A loud laugh sounded behind you as you started to walk off the train. “No, I don’t know if she’s given him a son yet.”

“Well If I see him I will pass him the phone and you can tell him.” Richard chuckled lowly following you up to the street.

“No, I am not going to date him either. He smokes, I would rather not have to scrub my walls every six months because of someone blowing money on a four pack a week habit like uncle Ned.”

Again his grin held joining you for your joint walk through the quaint little corner town you were staying in that he saw your path to a lovely fairly large sized cottage he wondered if you were staying in alone on his path to his home farther down the street spreading his grin knowing you were so close. For all his hopes that you would get close once again his long final rehearsals had cut into his times with you in the early mornings but thankfully after his shows had started he got three days a week to share your morning stops in a café for a barely able to be called breakfast. And four nights a week he caught you after your late shifts for another trading of snacks and soft thanks for correcting nearly dropped items from both of you along the way.

.

Three months his show ran, three dreadful months of silence between you drug on until his final set of shows when you turned to him in his table beside yours in that café. Eyes never meeting as you kept having to guard your muffin from the bubbles the child that had stolen the seat across from you was blowing in his rebellious place in the table behind his parents freeing him for thievery by strangers. It seemed you had had enough and closed your notebook he had been trying to steal a peek inside for days now at your constant note taking.

A grin instantly flinched onto his face as you leaned in saying, “Ok, I had the best day at work and I know everyone in my family is far too busy to bother to care right now, so I have a deal for you.” His head nodded curious as to what you were suggesting, though right now he would agree to anything as he stole a glance at one of your other famous travel buddies claiming the seat across from him pretending to read his book hoping to keep catching this budding slow burn story right in front of him on his daily route. “So, I am offering to buy your breakfast-,” you said pulling your muffin and drink away from the child now pouring packet after packet of sugar into his juice, “Tomorrow, if, you just pretend to care for like five, ten minutes cuz I am just about to burst if I don’t tell someone.” A grin deepened on his face as you raised your cup for a sip while moving the sugar carrier away from the child as well.

Lowly by your side after another night of yelling he barely managed to grumble out, “Deal.”

That was all it took and there was a beaming grin on your face, and even in your distracted state he sat in a daze in the glow you seemed to give off in spilling out the full details of your being signed on to direct a play back in New York. Both tearing at his heart and solidifying your being there when he returned in two months time leaving him in a deadlock. But animatedly he nodded and held his grin commenting when he felt you were trying to hold back your excitement. All through your shared walk halfway to his work you continued until you had to turn, though this time his hand reached out for yours at the dropping of it in turning. The napkin his hand pressed into your palm was instinctually clutched as he strolled away smirking, seeing your reaction only in the reflection on the windows on a passing car.

A simple pause and glance down to your palm now exposing a number written across it under the note,

‘If you ever need to talk, I’m a great listener. No pretending, I care.

R’

In a glance back you caught his own glance back and second wave at you in his darting across the street, smirking to yourself you pocketed the note you whispered to yourself, “I care.” A soft giggle followed and you bit your lip, wondering what he could have meant by that all the way to your next appointed errand for the day on your way to work. Unfortunately for your audience of over involved hiding actors swooning at your real life love story two days later you were off across the pond again leading them to move closer to Richard asking if he’d gotten your number yet.

.

Two months, a cute picture of purchases from distant stops in at your usual café and random bursts of texts almost always remaining unread for hours due to the time zone differences but always just as enthusiastically answered when he finally got to them. Richard clung to what little conversations you did get to have on your sporadic shared nights off he would painfully put off sleep so he wouldn’t miss your call.

.

That deep husky voice you could have sworn to have heard a less weary version of from somewhere lulled you into a sense of calm no matter how troubling your days seemed to go. Yes you had been named as director but instantly after a collapsed roof from construction on the structure next door you were cut out of a job three shows early, though it came as a blessing when your leading lady kept getting sick since her weekend trip south of the border.

Like they say when one door closes, or in your case, roof collapses, either way, just answer the damn knock at the figurative door. Or in your case phone call. A long since dusted profession of yours would have to be dusted off and on the heels of your mysterious R coming to town for a week you would be off across the pond again.

For all your hopes of sharing at least a dinner together the planning for work sent you on a headless sprint all over town. Every day you missed your R and it hurt all the worse that his messages to you were filled with hope that you could somehow meet up again for food sometime.

.

A casual stroll down the block was all it took as your bags shifted across your back in your stroll out of the shop where you made your final purchases. Across the way in a stroll across a raised bridge a familiar bag wielding man drew your instant attention.

You only had two hours before you had to head to the airport, to yourself you mumbled, “I could squeeze a brunch in.” Only to see him avoid a bike messenger to get hit by another sending his bag flying over the railing and down into the creek below parting his lips and earning a furious head roll as he stormed off. “No..” Eyeing the bridge you knew just where it let out and you turned to rush straight through the park passing onlookers wondering at the heavy bag wielding woman running mad through the park.

Panting heavily you dropped your bags at the side of a turn in a small river narrowed from the racing river, around which you saw the outer pocket of the satchel now torn free the contents into the river. With shoes and socks removed and pants rolled up you stepped into the river gathering what you could, ignoring the pooling of your loose curls into your face and over your shoulders at your shirt dipping and steadily growing wetter at your gathering everything floating free.

Easing the strap over your shoulder and the bag onto your lower back you dug into the water for the pen set and the pairs of keys a freshly arrived goose tried to dig for. The keys you won after a painful bite on your fingers but the string formed goldfish on a loop of its own was lost and your curses chased after the thieving bird. Peering downwards again you made certain you had gathered all you could see then turned to head back to your bags.

Adding your socks and shoes again you crouched in rolling your jeans down again to open his satchel. Luckily only a little water had gotten in as you eyed the wavy expanding book you pulled out saying, “Huh…Why are you reading a romance novel?” Commenting on its being a twin to the copy of the new book currently in your bag as you looked inside again. “Passport, wallet, more keys, travel paper and,” you sighed eyeing his wet plane ticket formerly being used as a bookmark leaving him set for a flight same time as you, “Well, at least you possibly have your phone.”

Lowering your knee you pulled your own phone out to quickly message him, “Hey, wondering where you are and if we could meet up.” Softly to yourself as you gathered up the bag again you muttered, “Come on…”

The phone pinged and you read his clearly agitated message, “Can’t sorry, off to the British Consulate, just lost all my travel papers. Guess I’m missing my flight.”

Softly in your pocketing your phone after glancing at the time you mumbled, “Ok, I can do this.” Turning to dart off to the street where you halted at the corner and let out a shrill whistle and raised your hand, “Taxi!” Three cars stopped and you practically dove into the closest one saying, “British Consulate please.”

He turned to glance at you and clearly understood the urgency of the matter and was simply ensuring you were settled before he drove off as fast as he possibly could. Weaving through the crowded streets you sat shifting in your seat at his maneuvers until your curiosity got the better of you and you looked in his bag again to find his passport just hoping to settle your nightly debate on what color eyes your mystery man held. A simple flip of the cover was all it took on the thankfully dry booklet for you to see the bright blue eyes of the man you’d never dared to dream your amazing R could be. Folding it shut again you turned your head and dug into your own bag to get your copy of the romance novel to add to his dry pocket.

Surely you must have missed a time skip as when you looked up you were parked outside the Embassy. A grin eased onto your face as you passed the driver the cash thanking him profusely and darted out after the familiar man in the distance entering the door with yet another glance at his phone uncertain of why you hadn’t replied yet. Giving his need at the door he followed the directions from the guard, huffing and pouting his way to the distant window to accept his clipboard to fill out the mountain of papers for this arduous tasks.

.

Straight to the man at the door you went flashing him a wide grin luring a curious one from him in return, “Hi, um, quick question. Big fella, bout six feet something, grey sweater, jeans and boots with a huffy attitude, you wouldn’t happen to know where he went, would you?” His brow ticked up and all at once the words just spilled out of your mouth, “See, I’m his land lady and there was this whole mess with the plumbing and he sort of stormed off when he couldn’t find his bag with his papers in it. Only, I found it, so I just need to find him. Save the trees and all that.” Another grin popped onto your face and he chuckled eyeing your hands lifting the clearly dripping bag in front of your chest.

Shaking his head he turned and pointed down the hall naming the path for you that you promptly speed walked your way past the other agitated and bored people looking you over along the way. Three turns a flight of stairs and a breath stealing heavy door later you spotted the pouting man slump heavily into a seat fiddling the twine tethered tiny pencil into his long fingers in his reading the first set of squares to fill in. Lowly he muttered, “Last name.”

His huff died at your prompt settling into the seat beside him turning his head as you nudged his bag closer to him thigh parting his lips, “So, I think I got everything, passport, wallet. Your book was soaked through but I had a copy in my bag so I just added mine in case you needed it for something. I didn’t see any notes inside, just your plane ticket, which might need exchanging. All I missed was that plushy fish thing on your key ring some sadistic goose bit me for it and took off.” Lowering his eyes he eyed his bag and the reddened pair of fingers wrapped in an awkwardly crooked line of band aids from your bag coated in Snoopy cartoon strips.

“I, how? This flew off a bridge.” On the verge of tears he continued, “I can’t ever thank you enough. You must have had to hop the fence and then jumped in a river to fish out my things…”

His eyes met yours and you tilted your head to the side for a moment with a spreading grin seeing those stunning eyes of his taking in each detail of your face. “I know. Honestly I’ve dropped a thing or two off there so I know just the best place to go fetch them.” Stirring a disbelieving chuckle from him. “I just hope you hadn’t cancelled any cards or anything yet. You really have no idea how many times I’ve dropped stuff down there.”

“I, I can’t ever thank you enough.”

You shook your head, “Hey, that’s what travel buddies do. No bag left behind and all that. I would love to say you would fend off a goose for my bag in return but knowing geese, I wouldn’t hold it against you if you didn’t.” Making him chuckle again.

“How-,”

“Oh, I was in a shop, just down the way, wanted to catch you, but, bikes, and bridges.” Your eyes shifted to the glaring women behind the counters then back to him.

“How can I ever repay you?”

“Well,” a smirk ghosted across your face in your voice lowering, “Other than to pretend I’m your landlady, as that’s what I had to tell the guard to get in, just go be your spectacular self.”

His brow inched up, “Seriously, I have to do something.”

“Seeing as we both happen to be heading to the airport I could really use a well known celebrity expedited path there or I might miss my flight?” You said with a creeping pleading grin making him chuckle lowly as he folded his hand around the bag with a nod. A quick explanation that his documents had been found later he passed the untouched packet back to the woman who grinned seeing just who she had been glaring at. He nodded his head and turned back to the door you were crossing to and he met your side to walk quietly out the building to the street again past the grinning doorman who gave you a thumbs up making you giggle in his wishing Richard a better day.

Inside another taxi he flagged down he said, “Hope you don’t mind, my place is on the way, just have to grab my bags by the door.” You nodded and sat back for the short drive to the hotel where you waited downstairs in his rush up to gather his things to dart back down again with a widening grin seeing you still waiting for him. Closing the trunk over his bags he claimed the seat beside you again and the driver took off. Stealing another glance at you and your slowly drying clothes he asked, “Airplane, um, where are you off to?”

“Oh, New  Zealand.” Making his grin creep back out across his face, “My, um, Gramps is needing me for a job for a while.”

He nipped at his lip in a deep chuckle to purr lowly by your ear, “If I didn’t know better I’d say you had planned to fly out there after sneaking a peak at my schedule somehow.”

Smirking at him you asked, “You’re going back out there? Another Hobbit thing?”

He shook his head, “New project.” He wet his lips, “I’ll be out there in a month. Maybe, if you’re still there we could catch a bite?”

You nodded and once again in these seeming teleporting taxis you were parked in the arrivals gate where you both exited and planned to text upon landing to set plans for your unspecified meal in a months time. Up to the counter he went and claimed another copy of his ticket and then went through the full task of security on the way to his gate far far away from yours. His grin lingered as he settled into his seat eyeing the book you had given to him with a cute note about wanting to know what he thought when he reached a certain chapter over the double O’s marking hugs making him mentally mutter to himself, “Fuck, I still don’t know her name.”

Pt 2

[runningwolf62]

SURPRISE IT’S UPDATE TIME! It’s so bizarre being writing this at the same time Larry is because there’s like this weird overlap, we’re like ships passing in the night he’s finally caught up to my time and now is about to pass me.

Anyway, there’s some lovely art in here and a reference to a blog that actually exists, @ask-potoo-firestar. Art belongs to @lavendersongs, thank you for your amazing contribution to the Warrior Cats fandom and for giving me permission to include references to it in this fanfic.

Beep.

Larry curls up deeper under his blankets.

Beep.

He covers his head with his pillow.

Beep.

Fine, he’ll crawl out of his nest and see what had happened, maybe Nick was in trouble again, that Godot guy seemed to have a grudge against him for something.

u ok?

Only Nick texts like that.

haven’t seen u in few days

u alive?

Larry almost fires something back before thinking better of it, Nick had far too many people around him die to joke about that.

Yeah I’m fine, and you usually don’t see me for awhile.

yeah but u had a rough time

Larry hesitates before deciding to just call Nick. The phone rings a few times before Nick answers.

“Hey Larry,” he greets him, Larry can hear voices in the background, he thinks one is Maya, the other is young and high so probably Pearl.

“Hey Nick,” Larry runs a hand over his jaw, aw gross he’d ended up with that scraggly beard, he never looked good with that, he needed to go shave, “you in a crisis?”

“No?” Nick has the gall to sound offended, “I do not only call you during crisises!”

“Mmm might wanna check you phone bill there Nicky Boy,” Larry teases him, his voice is rough, he should haul himself out of bed and start putting himself back together.

“You want to talk about having a crisis you sound like you’ve been on a bender,” Nick fires back, Larry frowned and groused at him.

“Don’t be an ass Nick, I’ve been taking a week off, chilling and relaxing before I remake myself! You called while I’m still in the cocoon man!”

“That metaphor started strong but you took it somewhere very weird,” Nick replies, Larry laughs roughly.

“Alright, alright, you’re the one who texted me,” Larry points out, wrapping his blanket around him like a cloak to hide his shame from the world and stay warm from the chillier October day. He crossed to his laptop to open his resume, he’d need to update it and he might as well do that while chatting with Nick rather than sit around feeling shitty about it.

He chats with Nick, and Maya and Pearl when they demand a chance to chat with him. He interrogate Nick, or tries, but he doesn’t know what’s up with Godot either, other than he’s got one hell of a caffeine addiction, came out of nowhere and claims to be from hell.

Given half the stories Larry’s heard about Nick’s cases he’s tempted to believe it.

“Maybe you ought to have an exorcism performed,” he teases, he’s on speaker phone now and he’s sure they can hear him typing away as he adds his latest job to the long master list of jobs he’s held, “Maya, Pearl, can you do that?”

“I’d have to exorcise the entire Prosocution’s office!” Maya bemoans, Larry grins as she outlines everything she’d need to do to Nick.

“Maybe you should, it sounds like it has a few too many demons over there even before this guy,” Larry muses, saving his resume and opening Fanfiction.net. His stomach drops and his jokes trail off. There’s several messages from XxWolfDragonxX. Shit, he’d just dropped off the map after talking to the guy daily.

He immediately types a response, assuring the guy some stuff just came up, he got fired from work, etc. but he’s doing alright. He misses a question Nick asked him until he repeats his name.

“Larry.”

“Sorry, what?” He tosses the message to WolfDragon off, his friend is probably off work it’s well after six for him.

“I asked what were you typing?”

Larry glances at his messages and then at his minimized programs. “My resume.”

He refreshed FF.net and got a message from WolfDragon.

Man it’s fine, life happens! It’s just good to hear from you again. I’m sorry for all the shit that keeps happening to you.

Again I’m so sorry, and yeah, it’s just been that kind of year.

Do you have a discord? I have something to show you but I don’t think ff.net will send it.

Oh? Uh yeah actually, one second let me find my ID number.

It takes him longer than he should be tosses the information to Wolfdragon. After a moment he gets a friend request on Discord, from a XxWolfDrgonxX surprising absolutely no one. The avatar is a gray anime wolf with yellow eyes snarling, which also doesn’t surprise Larry though he wonders where it’s from.

However he’s still on the phone with Nick, so he accepts it and turns away from the computer, “so what are you all up to asides from calling me?” He hears Pearl giggle and Maya’s voice in the background, they’re moving away, “how are they Nick?”

“They’re good,” Nick sounds happy and Larry can’t help but hurt even as he’s happy for him.

“We’re probably going to do a few things today before they have to head back,” Nick’s chair creaks audibly, “do you have plans for Halloween?”

“Uh, not really?”

“Do you want to come over to the office and hand out candy with me?”

“People come to your office for candy?”

“Surprisingly yes,” Nick sounds equally baffled by this fact, “so, are you in?”

“Do you want me to bring anything?” Larry asks, glancing at his Discord occasionally, where he can see WolfDragon typing. “Beer, Soda, popcorn and terrible horror movies?”

“Popcorn and let’s go with lighthearted movies,” Nick suggests, and Larry wonders if Pearl will be there. He’ll bring soda then, just in case. That or Nick’s gotten to be more of a scaredy-cat since their last Halloween movie festival.

“Have you seen that one cartoon thing that everyone raves about?” Larry’s seen so much art for it for Inktober so he needs to actually sit down and watch the show obviously is what that means.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Okay, I’ll find it, it’s some kids show but everyone who’s seen it loved it,” Larry sends a quick message to WolfDragon while Nick talks.

You sure are dedicated to your brand.

It’s who I am

Furry.

WHAT IN GOD’S NAME IS THAT?!?

That’s Potoo Firestar you fool

I want to hate it but I’m laughing too hard, it’s amazing.

“Larry are you okay?” Nick asks, and Larry can’t answer, he’s wheezing at the damn Potoo Firestar, he cannot believe WolfDragon got his discord just to send him this, and that it’s somehow made him feel so much better.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine,” he wheezes, and clicks the link that WolfDragon sends him to this person’s blog, “just saw something funny.”

He hops off the phone with Nick promising to see him on Halloween and bring candy and popcorn and the cartoon he’s seen everyone drawing if he could just remember the name.

He spends the next hour teasing WolfDragon on Discord for his avatar and username, all the while scrolling through this blog, which WolfDragon has dubbed “the only pure Warrior Cats blog”.

It doesn’t take long for him to agree though he does have a few questions.

So I miss all the discourse but I also miss blogs like this?

Listen man, some people are still stuck in the can cats be gay discourse?

Seriously?

Yeah, like sure the Erins just made a mistake making some tortoiseshell cats toms. OR they made several trans icons.

I can’t believe Tigerstar was transphobic.

Firestar made the first call out post

“OP is literally a Transphobe and murderer but go off I guess.”

Scourge: *goes the fuck off *

Listen, he wear dog teeth on his collar he can do what he likes, I’m not gonna be the guy to try and stop him.

Oh you do know they made Scourge and Firestar half-brothers right?

THEY WHAT

Yeah they have the same Dad

Oh shit I’d heard that theory but I thought it was just a fan theory

Nah they confirmed it. Also Tallstar was super gay for him

Like canonly gay or the fandom has shipping goggles glued on

Like so canonly gay that the publisher calls them good friends

What?

One of the authors says Tallstar’s heart always belonged to his Jake, but the publishers say they’re just good friends

What’s better than this, guys being dudes.

You’d probably like Tallstar’s Revenge actually, there’s a lot of your fic in it

Seriously?

Yeah man, like leaving the Clans to discover yourself the themes of forgiveness and parents and family there’s a lot of good stuff in there

I guess I’ll have to read it then.

Yeah, that blog I linked you even did fanart of Jake and Tallstar

Oh my god.

Did you find it?

Not yet, but I’m looking.

FOUND IT!

THAT’S IT

Okay that is gay.

Much like my fic.

Now I gotta man.

He did just lose his job but Larry’s got some money saved from his last paycheck and the commissions. What the hell. He makes a note to buy Tallstar’s Revenge next time he’s at the book store, and gets up.

Thanks for this.

Of course!

Is this the best way to contact you, or should I howl out the window?

Haha

FF.net or Discord works I’ll probably review your fics on FF.net still but we can chat here

Larry grins and tells him he hopes he has a good evening. He needs to clean himself up and try and rejoin society.

He showers, shaves, and pulls himself together. He also draws Wolf as a Potoo and sends that back to WolfDragon which is obviously loved, if the fact he turns his avatar into it was any indication.

-

Larry spends Halloween crashing on Nick’s couch, Maya and Nick fighting over candy while he snags some and occasionally slips a piece or two to Pearl. The kid’s clever and smiles shyly at him every time he does so.

They do settle down to watch the cartoon though Maya grumbles at points about how she wanted to watch the Steel Samurai Halloween Special.

They enjoy Over the Garden Wall though, even if it sends the girls diving to hide behind Nick at one point from the Beast. He lets Nick comfort, while he cleans up some of the trash into the popcorn bowl which he sets to the side, making sure it will not be grabbed by mistake by someone hurrying to give candy to trick-or-treaters.

He’s honestly astonished at the number that turn up at the office, until Nick says he thinks Mia used to hand the candy out, which makes sense. It’s tradition now. And Nick must’ve gotten paid because he’s got the good candy and he’s letting kids take handfuls.

He doesn’t touch that stuff only the bag Nick bought for them to share and the stuff he traded Pearl for because she didn’t like nuts in her candy. Said they got stuck in her teeth which Larry felt was a valid reason to not like them.

He tells himself that means they have protein as he pops a handful in his mouth. While Nick’s busy with some teens at the door and Maya’s tucking Pearl in on the couch he sends a message to WolfDragon.

Happy Halloween.

Technically it’s November, and I didn’t grow up in America

Spoilsport.

WHY ARE YOU AWAKE?

Work

Work can suck my dick, it’s what- oh

It’s six in the morning

You’re going to work

Yup

Listen, I don’t need your sass

It’s not sass I just woke up Writer boy

Don’t you sass Wolfman

Tell me you at least watched terrible werewolf movies in my honor

I did not.

Watched kids cartoons instead.

Warrior Cats Authors

There was an actual child in the room!

Ah what’s being introduced to fear at a young age?

Trauma I believe, and the kid’s had enough of that

You’re a good guy you know that, don’t let people tell you otherwise

“Texting a girlfriend?” Maya’s teasing voice made him jump, she wasn’t peering over his shoulder yet but she might’ve been. She might’ve seen the teasing and… no, she was looking at his face.

“Nah, just a friend,” he shoves his phone back into his pocket, she and Nick are both staring at him intensely now, he’s not sure why but they are.

He swears he sees Nick counting to three but he’s not sure why that happens either. He and Maya share a look, and Larry feels himself tense more.

He looks to Nick, whose eyes pierce him as he looks at Larry, “I thought you said you were taking a break from dating.”

“I am!” Larry insists, careful to keep his voice low, glancing to Pearl because however much they want to interrogate him he knows they’ll kill him if he wakes her.

Nick and Maya look confused again but it’s not his fault they can’t accept that he’s just friends with some people. He’s not even into guys anyway!

He shakes his head and grins at them, “glad to hear you think I have that much game though Nick.”

Maya smothers a laugh, while the edge flows out of Nick’s eyes and a smile takes its place, “you keep getting girls to date you somehow.”

“It’s that I have an artist’s soul,” Larry pulls himself up and rests his hand over his chest, grinning at the two of them.

“I went to art school too you know,” Nick points out, relaxing and smiling.

“And who taught you all those tricks for backgrounds?” Larry fires back, he’s always been the better artist for backgrounds and forms, Nick just had more practice with human anatomy. Nick huffs and shakes his head.

“I showed you how to draw men’s jawlines, ‘cause you only paid attention when the model was female-”

“Nick I’ve accepted my heterosexuality and horndog ways will be my downfall,” he fires back which obviously takes his friend by surprise, Maya too, “hey, I can have some self-awareness you know.” He glances over at Maya, “Nick, Edgey and I are allowed the common sense of one person but we have to share and Edgey came back and took it all from Nick.”

“Excuse me?” Nick looks so genuinely offended and Larry laughs, shoulders shaking.

“You took some back, TSA wouldn’t let him take it all with him.”

Maya’s grinning and apparently not taking sides as he and Nick begin to playfully jab at each other about who has more common sense, and it’s nice to be able to talk about Edgey again without Nick’s anger, to have him laugh as he talks and recounts stories from elementary school to Maya is worth the few bits of his dirty laundry that Nick airs.

They end up on the other couch, Maya curled up on Nick’s one side, Larry on the other; with jackets draped over themselves as make shift blankets.

“Larry?”

“Yeah Nick?”

“Who were you texting earlier,” Nick’s not judgmental now but he is obviously curious, maybe hoping that in his exhaustion Larry will let something slip.

And he does.

“He’s a guy I met online, we talk about like books and stuff. You wouldn’t understand, you nerdy lawyer.”

Nick laughs softly as Larry slumps against him, “that so?”

“It is,” Larry lays his head back against Nick’s shoulder, “very so.”

-

They wake up in various states of aching and trying to hide it, all of them trying to deny they’re getting old while Pearl buzzes around the office. Larry wonders briefly if she’s gotten into the Halloween candy for breakfast.

He checks his phone and there’s a few messages from WolfDragon.

You still there?

Don’t eat too much candy, aren’t you doing NaNoWriMo this year?

Larry only barely manages not to curse in front of Pearl as he realizes that he’s going to have to write his first 1667 words with one hell of a crick in his neck.

[rebels-advocate-blog]

fbi: don’t move

hOwDy hO, hErE wE gO

Ivan is a completely ordinary, totally unassuming, simple meme-loving guy, and Alfred is the FBI agent who secretly lives in his camera. Governments and grudges are thrown aside as chance encounters in Washington D.C. bring them closer and closer together.

read it with your own eyes on fanfiction.net!

read it with your own eyes on archive of our own!

or, just scroll down a bit and read the first chapter right here! (with stolen eyes)

.

fbi: don’t move

Ivan laughed, which was to say he snorted very, very lightly. Even snorting was an overstatement; a silent wisp of breath escaped him as he swiped away at his screen, liking the photo and commenting: LOLOKOLKOLOLOL1!1! He switched gears to search up the hashtag under the meme, something he almost never did, and found a semi-sorted collection of posts following the same theme. He wasted no time screenshotting a few of his favorites to pirate for himself later.

Soon. Soon he would break 999K followers. And then, and then. Then he would have a million followers. A million was a lot, depending on who you asked. Beyoncé only had fifteen million—at least on Twitter. (On Instagram she had eleven hundred million.) He wanted to rule the Internet.

Ivan turned his phone off and threw it across the bed, forcing himself to get up and move if he wanted to retrieve it. Stretching languidly, he rolled out of the warmth of the covers and faced the day.

He dressed in comfortable, durable clothes; Ivan had recently secured a position as a horticulturist for the Smithsonian Gardens along the National Mall, which was a fancy way of saying he cut grass and trimmed hedges all day, except it was really nice grass and they were really nice hedges. Obviously, wearing his favorite scarf was less than ideal for the sweaty work, but Ivan would never and could never take it off. He slipped into his boots and thrust a spare pair of gloves into his pocket. Sadly, he couldn't use his phone on the job, but he could use headphones. He began to hum to himself, imagining the songs he would listen to on his first shift.

Before shoving his phone into his bag, Ivan took a glance at the blank screen. A strange feeling overcame him as his eyes drifted upwards, making contact with the minuscule blue dots of light inside his camera lens. He held its gaze for a brief, piqued interest that lasted about two seconds, then giggled. "Goodbye, Mr. FBI," he sang to himself.

It was silly. He dropped the phone into his bag and left his apartment with haste.

.

Alfred grabbed street food on the way to work, washing it down with a hefty Starbucks to go. Whipping the shades off from overtop his regular glasses, he strode into headquarters. Immediately, he had to give up his meal so it could be scanned for toxins while he himself was stripped and searched. Elizabeta Héderváry, chief of the gray division, took an eternity to scrutinize Alfred's badge. Alfred tapped his toes and fidgeted to himself. Predictably, Ivan would be online in seven minutes. "Alright, Jones." She handed back Alfred's ID. "You're clear. But don't let me catch you in here again, or it's straight to the slammer." She drew a line across her throat.

Alfred gratefully collected his food and his badge. "Wait, what the? Dude, I work here!"

She stared him down.

Alfred, without hesitation, steadied himself and stared back.

After a few seconds of silence, Chief Héderváry burst into hearty laughter. "I'm only testing you, kid! I guess it's very Gilbert of me. But gosh, you would have thought I had just admitted to you that the tooth fairy isn't real, or that Santa is Illuminati propaganda, or that JFK is still alive up on a secret moon base in space...oops." She covered her mouth. "I've said too much."

Alfred blinked slowly. "Okay. I'll just...get to work then, um, before you zap me and wipe my memory."

The agent nodded. "Better bolt. Gotta keep you on your feet." She then began drawing her stun gun, but Alfred had already disappeared down the hall. He frantically dove into an arriving elevator and jammed a finger down on the button to close the doors as the clunky boots of the Héderváry's footsteps came closer. Alfred hugged his food to his chest and pressed into the corner of the tiny metal box. He had had his memory wiped before, he was certain, and had even had to do it to others once or twice—it was a ghastly, abominable experience. The chief's image appeared between the elevator's two closing doors and Alfred screamed, but when the shot was fired the elevator had already begun its descent.

Alfred shivered, cradling himself. He was safe for now. He dug into his food and snuck out a bite of greasy fry. It would be two hundred more dings of the elevator before he arrived at the secret underground black zone where all the FBI agents monitored their respecting, (un)suspecting citizens.

Alfred had finished half of his coffee before he made it to the negative two hundredth floor. It was pretty swampy down there, due to the thick consistency of cubicles, the heat coming off of so much compressed technology, and also due to the government having concealed the fact that, yes, Washington D.C. had really been built atop a swamp. He had his semi-greasy fingerprints scanned a second time and then navigated the maze toward his cubicle. He only had two minutes at best before Ivan came home.

Ivan was Alfred's monitor man, Alfred's subject of spy. Alfred had Ivan's schedule practically burned into his brain: he woke up at six-thirty, dabbled on his phone for fifteen minutes, then put it in his pocket and didn't use it again until four, when he got off work. Ivan did not have a computer, making Alfred's hacking tasks both easier and harder by reserving everything to Ivan's cell phone. Alfred would transfer Ivan's morning visuals to Alfred's own laptop to monitor in the morning, and Alfred usually came to headquarters to watch Ivan during the rest of his day. Sometimes he took shifts with another agent, but lately Alfred had been finding himself at headquarters more and more. After all, it was important to develop a deep understanding of your subject, even if your subject had no idea you even existed.

Alfred fired up his special, government-issued laptop, opening the monitor. Just in time, too; Ivan's face soon filled the screen. Alfred sighed. It was on.

Alfred knew almost everything about Ivan. His names (Ivan "Vanya" Braginsky), his family (one older sister and one younger sister), and even the songs he sang in the shower (surprisingly a lot of Taylor Swift). Alfred knew Ivan was the head of a semi-famous online meme domain. Alfred knew Ivan watered the sunflowers in his window every day as soon as he came home. Alfred knew Ivan didn't have many friends. Alfred knew Ivan had long, red scars circling around his neck, hidden under that huge off-white scarf he always wore. Alfred knew Ivan liked soft things and had five blankets on his bed. Alfred also knew that Ivan was at the top of the FBI's list of suspected dangerous Russian intelligence agents, and it was Alfred's duty to report any fishy activity. So far, Alfred had observed none.

Other than the fact that Alfred had to be constantly alert in his job, monitoring Ivan was pretty easy. Ivan had a cute face, and often made little childish noises and expressions whenever he saw something that grabbed his attention. Alfred had trained in the Russian language for years and still couldn't capture the melodiousness of Ivan's murmurs to himself. Sometimes Ivan would be scrolling through social media at night and fall asleep on his phone, which was annoying but undeniably adorable. And he was an immigrant; Alfred could damn well appreciate the hard work it must have taken Ivan to leave his homeland and adjust to life here.

However, this morning, Ivan had addressed Alfred personally, saying "Goodbye, Mr. FBI" before he put his phone away, and that had been hella creepy.

Ivan wasn't saying anything now, just staring at the screen, his eyelids half-shut, eyes moving in line formation over whatever he was reading. Alfred took a sip of his Starbucks and tapped into Ivan's phone display, bringing up a rectangle of white with a thick block of Helvetica text. Alfred's eyes scanned it himself, knowing it was another online post, and Alfred had read thousands of Ivan's. They were quality. When he finished laughing, he switched focus back to Ivan's camera visual; the ceiling behind Ivan was moving as Ivan sat down at his kitchen table. Ivan picked at his lip, snorting a little. The sound of his bags hitting the floor echoed to Alfred, and soon Ivan began humming a sweet song.

Alfred kicked back in his ultra-comfort wheely chair and popped in another fry, enjoying the music. He had no reason to feel so comfortable in the artificial presence of a creepy Russian, yet his wariness was drowned out by tribute for the memes. And Ivan's face. Thank god Ivan at least had a nice face that Alfred got to stare at all evening.

There was a knock on the wall of Alfred's cubicle. He spun around too quickly in the wheely chair and had to overcorrect, graciously spilling a couple of fries into his lap. "Whaddya want?"

It was Toris. A fellow FBI monitor, the long-haired Lithuanian stood stiff in the doorway to Alfred's workspace, making more eye contact with Alfred's inspirational NASA star map poster than with Alfred. "Hi. Um, Felicks went to the bathroom, so I was going to be taking break, and if I remember correctly, you told me to 'mosey on over when you get a chance, because I got the goods?'"

"Aw yeah!" Alfred pushed down his laptop screen so it was at a forty-five degree angle. Toris knew who Ivan was, and sometimes covered Alfred's shifts when Alfred stayed up too late playing video games or reading Marvel fanfiction, but Alfred still didn't want to be interrupted on the job. After all, both Ivan's screen and his camera were blank and black; he must have gone to take his daily shower. "Right here, man. Check it out. They were handin' them out all down the Mall, and I managed to snag a few extras!"

Toris took the item in his hand and inspected it cautiously. "This is a…a SAVE THE WHALES sticker?"

"No, a SAVE THE WHALES magnet!" Alfred corrected, spinning it over. "I thought you might want one, since your space is so plain and boring and all. It'd give you something to look at other than Felicks's fancy skirt collection, or whatever."

The tips of Toris's ears turned red. "They're designer." Yet he didn't refuse the magnet.

Not every FBI monitor happened to be stationed in the vicinity of their subject; Felicks lived halfway across the world from Toris, and was an alleged underground market weapons dealer, with emphasis on alleged. Mostly he just took selfies in the bathtub and embarrassed Toris to no end. Alfred considered himself lucky that Ivan was only half a city away, though they had yet to cross paths in public.

Toris drifted out with the magnet in hand and Alfred was left to finish dinner in peace. He flipped his screen back up and found that Ivan was at the stove, cooking his own meal while watching a Vine compilation. Alfred grinned, keeping up both the front camera and screen views as he dug in so he could laugh along with Ivan. "I smell like beef." A long time passed. They finished eating their dinners at the same time; Alfred imagined the noodle casserole thing Ivan had cooked tasted better than Alfred's weak Starbucks.

Now Ivan had set his phone against the wall to rest while he washed the dishes. He was mumbling peacefully to himself again, but Alfred couldn't tell if he was singing or talking over the sound of swishing water and clinking silverware. After a couple more plates, Ivan's movements slowed, and his gaze slowly climbed back up to the phone screen. The phone camera. "Are you there, Mr. FBI?" he whispered.

Alfred jolted in his seat. It was just like this morning! No warning, no nothing. In English! There was no way Ivan could ever know, of course, that he was being monitored, so the sudden unprompted conversations with a seemingly inanimate object had to stem from Ivan's latest meme obsession. Alfred knew about it.

He was onto them.

"How was your day?" Ivan asked, redirecting his gaze towards the skillet he was scrubbing. "Mine was well. I planted flowers today, and I had a nice conversation with a policeman. Do you talk to police often, Mr. FBI?"

Alfred let his shoulders relax, his mind wandering unintentionally, following Ivan's statements. Coincidentally, his brother Matthew was a DC police officer and friend of the division, but sadly, they didn't have many chances to talk. "What are you doing, man?" Alfred blurted out. "You know this is weird, right?"

Alas, Ivan would never be able to hear Alfred. He had already begun saying something else by the time Alfred was done speaking: "...and work around the people, because it is so fun inside, and there's AC! People are scared to talk to me when I am working outside. But at least I don't have to stand all day." Ivan's voice had gotten quieter, forcing Alfred to pay closer attention. "Do you stand all day when you work, Mr. FBI?"

"Hell no." Alfred kicked the wheels of his chair. "But don't get excited—it's a curse, dude. I would choose a nice garden with fresh air over this stuffy old garage any day."

Ivan was silent and complacent, as if he was really listening, Dora the Explorer-like, and Alfred still couldn't discern if it was endearing or eerie. Ivan's eyelids were halfway shut, a tiny smile gracing his lips. He waited a second more, then nodded. "Is your work boring, Mr. FBI?"

He considered. "Yeah. Not that you're that boring, but…" Alfred let the sentence hang. It wasn't as if it mattered if he finished it, anyway. And the fact was that Ivan was pretty boring. He was the only one ever in his apartment, and went to bed early on Friday nights. On Saturdays he did laundry and cleaned, and every Sunday he napped and called his sisters! "I'm just glad you work so much so I don't have to. Wow, I did not mean for that to sound mean. Um, it's true, though. If you had a computer, things would be differen—"

"Agent Jones?" a recognizable accented voice peeped around the doorway. "Whom are you talking to?"

For the second time that day, Alfred jumped and pushed down his screen, muting Ivan. "No one, good golly, don't scare me like that!"

Chief Arthur Kirkland, Alfred's boss and the head of the black division, didn't appear to notice or care. He stood stiffer than Toris had, clipboard and pencil in hand. "Okay, so, listen. You're mates with Agent Beilschmidt, right? He never checked in with Chief Héderváry and she wanted me to ask—"

Alfred adjusted his glasses, scrunching up his nose. "Which Beilschmidt?"

"The elder." Arthur steeled himself, putting a perplexed finger to his temple. "Apparently, Gilbert's gone MIA."

Alfred crossed his arms. "I haven't seen him since office bowling on Friday. He got his arm stuck in the ball return. Today Héderváry tried to stun me when I checked in! What is up with the gray division?"

Kirkland shook his head to himself, beginning to pace in place. His eyes were as wide as quarters, staring unforgivably at his clipboard as if it held all the answers. "With Carriedo missing already, I'm sure there's foul play to suspect, or even worse—the Mafia. They're on the same team; it's too much of a coincidence. It also means—" He gasped suddenly, raising his crazy blond head in epiphany. Then his voice lowered to a whisper. "It means someone else will be next."

Alfred sat up straighter, suddenly excited. "Whoa, really? Can I help? What case were they working on before they disappeared? Who saw them last? Where—"

"No." Arthur Kirkland was cross. "Not your division. Just let them handle it. Who are you monitoring, again?"

He hesitated. "Ivan. I mean, Braginsky. The...the guy—"

"The Russian spy, right." Arthur stuck his pen behind his ear. "Well. I'll be off, then. Remember to record any—"

"I know, I know." Alfred waved his hand. He felt more and more antsy the longer the Chief was in his space. "Just get on with it. It's fine."

"Right." Arthur frowned and touched his headpiece, half-turned away. "Good day, then. Do your work."

Alfred swiveled back to Ivan, groaning loudly as Arthur departed. Sometimes he felt like he was never taken seriously, but then again, he did sit at a desk and watch a famous memer's life all day. He wasn't sure if such a job should be taken seriously or not.

"I wish I was in a different division," Alfred blurted out. While he had been distracted by Arthur, Ivan had finished washing dishes and was now wiping down his stove and countertops. "I want to do more field agent stuff. My job would be a lot less boring if, instead of hacking all your gadgets and watching you from behind this screen, I could actually go out and spy on you. You know, like, shadow you from around street corners, hiding in the bushes with binoculars, open up the refrigerator door and BAM I'm there!" Alfred slapped his hands on his knees, grinning. "Eat all your food. Make you drop your croissant."

Ivan was still smiling to himself in that charming, unnerving way as he strangled the last drops of water from his rag and hung it over the faucet to dry. "What do you like to do when you're not working, Mr. FBI? Or do you work all the time? I imagine you taking shifts with someone else. Which FBI do I speak to now?"

"Nope, just me. I mean, other black division monitors like Toris sometimes, or Ludwig Beilschmidt if I can convince him, but mostly just me. They all have other guys to watch; y'all suspected criminals are weird. If I wasn't here I would be at NASA." Alfred glanced wistfully at the star chart above his head. "But they wanted me to work on computers, and I wanted to go to space. Diddly darn dang, I love space."

Ivan waited five more seconds before responding. "That's nice."

Alfred nodded fervently. "Damn right it is. Arthur—what a mom—says I waste my talents—"

"I hope you are having an good day, wherever you are," Ivan mused. "I assume you work at FBI headquarters. I walked by that place today. Tomorrow I work in the butterfly garden. It is very close, and my favorite place to work."

"That's rad. I've been there. It's right next to the Museum of Natural—"

"It is next to the Museum of Natural History." Ivan was staring directly at the camera. For the many months Alfred had been Ivan's monitor, he hadn't noticed the purple hue his eyes took on in this dim kitchen glow. "Very beautiful, da? Convenient that most of the Smithsonian buildings are close to each other, all in the same place. I can look at prize artifacts and arrange flowers at the same time."

Alfred was silent. A vision of Ivan with a butterfly perched atop his big nose entered Alfred's mind. He wished Ivan used his phone on the job, wondering what Ivan actually looked like while working. The phone was harder to hack when it was turned completely off; Ivan normally kept it like that during the day while Alfred was away.

"Oh. That reminds me. One moment, Mr. FBI." Ivan walked off out of view.

An idea began to take shape in Alfred's mind, replacing the image of Ivan and the butterfly. Really, allowing Ivan to go that whole slot of time without documentation was a bad strategy, especially if Ivan really was a dangerous Russian intelligence agent. Who knew what he could be up to? And with all the gray division field agents being abducted by the Mafia, apparently, there would be less people to go out and make sure Ivan wasn't, like, putting poison into the plants or something. Alfred could step up and ask. Alfred wanted to see Ivan irl.

And speaking of Ivan, where the heck was he?

Alfred instinctively leaned forward before forgetting it was impossible to see around the kitchen through Ivan's phone. He was positioned so he was staring at Ivan's undecorated refrigerator. He couldn't even hear Ivan, though he remembered Ivan had excused himself.

Ivan never did this. After dishes he would always make himself a lunch for the next day, spend another thirty minutes online, read a little of the book he was slowly working through, check his phone again, and then get ready for bed. Alfred stared frustratedly at the screen, willing it to shift. "Hey, get back over here!" he protested. "You can't just leave me hanging like this!"

From the other room came a thump and a crinkle of plastic that sounded like an empty Doritos bag.

"Ivan!" Alfred huffed. "Don't make me do it!" He brought up a tab of the phone's controls. His finger hovered over the mouse. "Alright, you asked for it. Hear that? I'm doing it, Braginsky!" He pressed a button, making the phone burst into a frantic buzzing.

A few seconds later Ivan reentered the kitchen, his soft boi face appearing innocent and concerned through the screen. Alfred shut the phone's buzzing off, crossing his arms smugly. "Explain yourself."

Ivan, however, didn't say anything. He picked up the phone, opened it, and went straight to his meme account. Alfred felt betrayed when Ivan didn't speak any more, just swiped through his feeds. "So close," he mumbled to himself, having switched back to Russian. Alfred was a bit startled by this, as well; if Ivan knew (or thought he knew) that no one was going to hear and respond to him, why had he been using English when he spoke to "Mr. FBI?" Alfred accepted it was just another of his quirks that made Alfred's job easier. But it signified that their conversation was now over.

"Okay, whatever, it's chill, then." Alfred glanced at the time. He still had a few long hours to go before Ivan clocked in for the night. He had been caught off-guard by the unprompted half-conversation, and now was embarrassed at how he had whined about being ignored. Deep down, Alfred didn't really believe Ivan was a criminal or a spy. Criminals didn't get drunk on vodka home alone and laugh so pleasantly. Spies didn't jump on their beds in excitement whenever it snowed and knit their own oven mitts. Ivan was as ordinary and unassuming and simple as one could be, and immigrant or otherwise he had absolutely no reason to be on the FBI black list.

So Alfred sighed and settled into his cubicle for another evening of memes, same as always. He waited, watched and waited, stole food from Toris and waited, but it turned out that Mr. FBI didn't even get a "Goodnight."

.

Ivan had no intention of telling his phone goodnight. In fact, he had been reading (and posting) so many FBI memes lately that he left his phone on his bed under the covers in paranoia while he went to the bathroom. But not because it was gross to have someone watching him do his business, which it was. It was because under his sink, squeezed behind the water pipe, was a laptop computer no one knew about but himself and an invisible faction of Russian hackers. Stored on that computer was vital information he had been slowly leeching from the Smithsonian Institute. He didn't know what the circle would do with the info when he sent it, wrapped up with ribbons and bows over a deep web email provider, but he knew if he didn't do his job there would be consequences. He made sure to flush the toilet and run the water on his way out.

Ivan hopped into bed and picked his phone back up, humming as if nothing had happened. He refused to look at the camera lens again, but chided himself. If someone really was watching him, he would know. He distracted himself by checking his meme account once more.

Ivan buried his body under the massive pile of blankets, turning off the lamp and letting his phone screen be the only source of light in the room. He had read that blue light before bed destroyed the eyes, but figured he was already too far gone in that direction to fix anything now. Someone had commented "Congratulations! Heart emoji, fireworks emoji, clapping hands emoji," on his most recent post. Ivan's breaths picked up as he doubled back to check his follower count, gasping when he saw it.

He had broken one million.

.

I have nothing to say for myself.

[dragqueen-eddie]

Our Last Summer (4)

Summary: The Losers come face to face with Pennywise.

A/N: I’m so sorry for not uploading, school started again and i’m currently procrastinating revising RE. I’ve been writing this for a week and its shitty im sorry.

(PART 1) (PART 2) (PART 3)

The Losers had gathered at the fair. You were all stood in an alley way looking at the missing kids posters, which had began to stack on the wall. Knowing that the posters were now stacking made you feel physically sick. The most recent poster had the name ‘Edward Corcoran’, plastered in bold on the front.

“They’re saying they found his arm all chewed up by the stand pipe.”

“He asked to borrow a pencil once.”

Bill stepped forward and flicked through the missing kids posters.

“It’s like when a new kid goes missing, the rest are forgotten.” You muttered

“Is it ever gonna end?” Stan said from beside you

“What are you talking about?” Eddie asked as he passed Richie an ice cream cone

“What they always talk about.” Richie scoffed, as he took the cone.

“I actually think it will end, At least for a little while.” Ben said, you all turned to him.

“What do you mean?” Bev asked

“I was going over all my Derry research and charted all the big events. The iron works explosion in 08, The Bradley gang in ‘35, and the blackspot in ‘62, and now all the missing kids... This stuff happens every 27 years.”

It was a little while later and you were all now sat on some benches in the park, all around the kids played and watched whatever was happening on the stage behind you all. You sat with you legs crossed and your head resting on your arm as you listened to them all talk.

“So let me get this straight... It comes out from wherever, eats kids and goes back into hibernation?” 

“Maybe its like... Cicadas? They come out every 17 years.” Stan spoke with a small shrug. Mike shook his head.

“My grandfather things this town is cursed. He says that all the bad things that happen in this town are because of one thing. One evil thing that feeds off the people of Derry.” Mike looked down at his hands

“It can’t be one thing, we all saw something different.” Stan said

“Or maybe IT knows what scares us the most and that’s what we see?” 

“I saw a leper, it was like a walking infection.” Eddie’s voice shook slightly. You thought to what you saw

“I saw Betty Ripsom in the woods, I was definitely not afraid of her.” You rolled your eyes slightly.

“But you didn’t. Because none of its real. Not Eddies Leper, Or Y/N seeing Betty, Or Bill seeing Georgie, Or the woman i keep seeing-”

“Is she hot?” Richie interrupted which gained a small groan from you

“No Richie. She’s not hot. Her face... its all messed up. None of this makes any sense. They’re all like bad dreams” Stan ranted 

“No they’re not i know the difference between a dream and reality, if it was a dream, how do you explain Y/N’s scratches huh?”

“What did you see? Did you see something too?” Eddie asked Mike.

“Yes. You know that burnt down house of Herrace avenue? I was inside when it burnt down. Before i was rescued, my mum and dad were trapped inside the next room. They kept trying to get to me. But it was too hot. When the fireman finally found them... The skin on their heads had melted down to the bone.” Mike’s lip quivered. You gave him a look of sympathy. “We’re all afraid of something.”

“You got that right.” Richie scoffed.

“What are you afraid of then?” You asked, He paused before replying.

“Clowns.”

The next day you all rode your bikes over to Bill’s house, and gathered in his garage. You helped Bill hang up a poster of Derry’s sewer system on the wall. The group gathered around the projector and looked at the wall, Bill  flicked on the projector and the town map appeared over the map of the sewers.

“Look.” Bill pointed the poster “Its where G-Georgie d-disappeared. There’s the iron works, and the black spot. Everywhere it happens, its all tied by the sewers. And they all meet up at the-”

“The well house.” Ben interrupted. You could feel your stomach sink as you could recall the story Ben had told you all at his house. 

“It’s in the house on Neibolt street.” You said quietly

“That creepy ass house where all the crackheads and hobos sleep?” Richie asked just as Eddie took out his inhaler.

“I hate that place, it always looks like its watching me.” Bev shivered 

“That’s where i saw it. That’s where i saw the clown.” Eddie wheezed 

“T-that where i-it lives.”

“I can’t imagine anything wanting to live there.” Eddie shot up from his seat and stood in front of the group

“Can we stop talking about this? I-I can barley breath! It’s summer! We’re kids! I-I’m having a fucking Asthma attack! I’m not doing this!” Eddie shouted before ripping the poster off the wall

“What the hell! Put the map back!” Bill shouted the Eddie, just as he finished the projector started the flip through the pictures on its own. your breath hitched in your throat, pictures of Bill’s family began to project onto the walls, pictures of his mum, dad, him... and Georgie,

“Whats happening?” You stood up with wide eyes. Mike tried to fix the projector but the pictures just kept changing, Until it got to a slide of Bill’s parents with Georgie, His mum’s face was covered by a messy mass of ginger hair. The slides began to change again, this time more rapid. Instead of the pictures changing it stayed on the same picture, just zooming in on Bill’s mother, it sped up until it began to look like a moving picture. The hair began flowing and it revealed a clowns face, smiling sickly at you all. You screamed and everyone around you began to stand. You could feel your breathing increase, Richie was shouting and so was Eddie.

“Turn it off! Turn it off!” Bev shouted, and Mike kicked it over, though that didn’t do anything. The projector just continued to click. It projected another image of the clown onto the wall, where Stan stood. It continued to do so until the image was empty. You held your breath unknowingly. The projector clicked one one time before the clown came to life and jumped out of the wall. You screamed again and backed against a wall, vaguely aware of everyone around you shouting to Stan. The lights flashed on and off as the clown crawled across the garage, trapping Bev against the wall. You snapped out of whatever trance you were in and ran over to the garage door and pulled it open, light began flooding in and the clown was gone. Bev staggered over to you and thanked you before going to hug Bill.

“What the fuck was that?” You asked, wheezing slightly

“It saw us! IT knows where we are!” Eddie shouted

“It always did.” Bill muttered as he walked out of the garage and into the bright day light. “Let’s go.”

“Go where?” You asked, a puzzled look on your face.

“Neibolt. That’s where G-Georgie is.” Bill looked determined.

“After that? Are you crazy?” Stan shouted

“Yeah its summer. We should be outside.” Richie murmured.

“If you say its S-Summer one more f-fucking t-time,” Bill said angrily as he grabbed Silver, and rode away. Leaving the rest of you.

“Bill! Wait/2 Bev shouted after him but he simply ignored her and continued on. 

“We should go after him. Come on.” You said as you walked over to your bike and climbed onto it, Bev followed and so did the rest, albeit reluctantly.

“Bill!” Bev shouted to him, h was stood in front of the Neibolt house’s doors. “Bill you can’t go in there! This is Crazy!”

Bill stood his ground in front of the group, a determined look on his face.

“Look! You don’t have to come with me. But what happens when another Georgie goes missing? Or another Betty? Or another Ed Corcoron? Or one of us? Are you gonna pretend that it isn’t happening like the rest of the people in this town? Because i can’t. I go home and see that Georgie isn’t there. His clothes, his toys, his stupid stuffed animals but.... He isn’t. So walking into this house, for me... It’s easier than walking into my own.”

“Wow.” You glanced at Richie who was stood beside you.

“What?” Bev asked

“He didn’t stutter once.” Richie said before walking up the porch stairs of Neibolt. The rest of you began to follow, but were stopped by Stan.

“Wait! Shouldn’t we have people keep watch?” He asked. You could tell he was terrified to even be stood in the house’s garden. “You know, just in case something bad happens?” 

“Who wants to stay out here?” Bill asked, everyone except you, Bev, and Bill raised their arms. 

“You guys are wimps.” You sighed.

“Fuck.”

In the end, the group decided to draw straws. Bill, Eddie, and Richie were the ones that ended up going inside. You, Bev, Ben, Mike and Stan stood outside, staring at the house.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this Bevvie.” Bev looked over to you and put her hand on your shoulder. 

“They’ll be fine...” She muttered, but her tone sounded as if she was trying to convince herself that they would. 

Behind you Stan had began crying, You turned around and walked over to him.

“I can’t go in that house Mike. I can’t.” He sobbed quietly. You felt your heart drop, you looked over to mike who had the same sad look in his eyes. He put his arms around you both and you leaned into Mikes side.

After a few moments of being stood like that, crashing and screaming could be heard inside the house. All of you jumped and looked at each other.

“We gotta get inside. They might be in danger.” You said to them, Bev nodded in agreement.

“Shouldn’t we get somehelp? Like an adult?” Mike asked, fear evident in his voice.

“Adults are the ones ignoring this shit. We’ve got to go in before its too late!” You shouted, Bev looked around the garden and picked up a bit of fence that had broken off.

“Come on.” She said before running into the house, you ran after her and so did the others. 

The five of you followed the sound of voices into what you assumed was the kitchen. You got there in the nick of time, The clown was running over to Richie in Bill but Bev quickly impaled it through the head. Your hands went to cover your mouth as you screamed, its face was distorted and the blood didn’t drip or flow like a humans... It just floated. 

“Get Eddie!” Someone shouted but you couldn’t move. You were frozen in fear. You just stared at the clown, your breathing heavy. The rest of the losers were screaming, trying to help Eddie up, but all you could do was watch the creature in horror. Its hand became distorted and turned to talons. It stepped forward and screamed, making the others scream too. It laughed a twisted laugh before turning and slashing its talons on you and Ben. It slashed Ben’s stomach and Grazed the top of your thigh, That’s when you snapped out of your trance. Pain took over your leg and you bucked over, letting out a whimper of pain. Your leg felt like it was on fire, white hot pain shot through your leg as you tried to stand to escape. Your breathing was rapid as you could feel hot tears racing down your face.

“Don’t let him get away!” Bill said, strangly calm as he got up and followed IT. 

“Bill! We have to help Eddie!” Richie shouted “I’m gonna snap your arm back into place!”

“Don’t you fucking touch me!” Eddie shouted, holding his arm away from Richie, which became evidently futile as Richie grabbed it and snapped it back with a sickening crack. Eddie screamed out in pain. 

The group began to run out of the house. Richie and Bill helping Eddie as you tried to support your weight. You screamed in pain as you fell over.

“Guys! I can’t walk!” You screamed, Bev ran over to you and helped you up, she supported most of your weight as you ran to the door as fast as you could. Bev helped you down the stairs. Richie held his bike up and helped Bev get you onto the back. He quickly peddled away , as he did you risked a glance at your leg. The flesh was ripped open and blood stained your shorts. You let out a whimper as you felt tears flow down your face again.

“You! You did this!” Eddies mum pointed an acussing finger at you all, as she grabbed him roughly and threw him into the car. 

“W-w-we were atacked M-Mrs. K-”

“No! Don’t!” She shouted, silencing Bill “Don’t try and blame anyone else.” She shouted. She began to fumble with her keys, dropping them on the ground.

“Let me help-” Bev began to bend down to grab her keys for here but was silenced by Eddies mum

“Don’t! Get back!” She said as she bent down, with obvious difficulty. “I know what they say about you miss marsh. And you (L/N) and i don’t want dirty girls like you toughing my son.” She got close to your faces, you leaned back. Richie, who was helping you stand and keep steady, frowned at her words. She began to walk back to her car, with a few more insults to you all, she got into the car and drove off, Eddie looked through the window at you all with a frown as she drove away. The group walked into the road and watched them drive off. 

“I saw the Well. I k-know where IT is. A-And next time w-we’ll be more p-prepared.” Bill stuttered as he turned to the group. The idea of returning to that place made you sick to your stomach.

“No! There will be no next time Bill!” Stan shouted, he looked near enough to tears again. “You’re insane!”

“Why? We all know no one else is gonna do anything.” Bev sighed 

“Eddie was almost killed! Y/N can barley walk! And this mother fucker is leaking hamburger helper!” Richie shouted, He used his free arm to motion at Ben, who stood with his hand on his wound.

“We can’t pretend it’s gonna go away!” Bev shouted, You had never seen her more determined. “Ben you said it yourself it comes back every 27 years.”

“Fine! I’ll be 40 and far away from here.” Ben frowned. “I thought you wanted to get out of this town too.”

“because i want to run towards something. Not away.”

“I’m sorry but who invited Molly Ringwald into the group?” Richie shouted, you gave him a little push. “I’m just saying! Lets face facts! Georgie is dead stop trying to get us killed too!”

“T-Take that B-Back.” Bill growled. Richie pushed you away, Stan grabbed you before you could fall over. 

“Richie-!” You began, but before you could finish, Bill and Richie began to fight. 

“Guys stop it!” 

“This isn’t going to solve anything!”

“Stop it!”

Richie got pushed to the floor and you and Stan held him back and Ben and Mike held Bill back

“You’re just a bunch of fucking losers! Stop!” Richie shouted as he puched you and Stan away. 

“This is what IT wants. It wants to divide us! We were all together when we hurt it. That’s why we’re still alive!” Bev shouted.

“Yeah? Well i plan to keep it that way.” Richie shouted as he walked towards his Bike, Shoving Bill. Stan, Mike and Ben followed. Yous stood rooted in the ground and Bev turned to you.

“Y/N-” she started but you shook your head.

“I can’t do this Bevvie. I’m sorry.” You muttered, frowning at her. You hobbled over to Stan who helped you onto the back of his bike. You looked back at Bev and Bill as you rode away. You felt guilty for leaving Bev like that, she was spur best friend. But, you couldn’t do this. Not after what had just happened.

It had been a week since after the incident at Neibolt and you still hadn't spoken to Bev. You ignored all her phone calls, asked your mum to say you were out if she came to your house, You even hid behind dumpsters if you saw her in public. Your mum had almost fainted when she saw your leg, Stan had ridden you home that night, helping you to your house. He even helped calm your mother, coming up with an excuse.

“Y/N where have you been- Oh dear god what happened to your leg!” Your mother shrieked. Your arm was around Stans shoulders as you stood at the door. Your mother stepped out of the way and let Stan walk you inside and sit you on a chair in the hall way.

“It was a dog. A big dog came out of nowhere while we were in the woods today. It jumped on her, but i managed t get it away, but i was a bit to late.” He rushed out

“Thank you, young man. Oh dear God we have to get you to A&E.” she sounded hysterical. She put your arm around her shoulder and stood you up, She grabbed her keys from the table and walked out of the door. Stan followed behind and closed the door. Your mother shoved you into the car and shut the door. 

“Do you need a ride, young man?” She asked Stan. He shook his head, and got onto his Bike. You watched him ride off down your street as your mother started the car.

After that, it was you, Stan and Richie. It was weird at first but you soon grew close to them. It was hard not to after the indecent. You found yourself sat in Stan’s Bar Mitzvah, next to Richie. You sat in a state of entertained shock as you listened to his speech. You couldn’t help but laugh quietly to yourself as Richie stood up, applauding him.

A few days after Stan’s Bar Mitzvah, you were left home alone. Your leg had healed enough that you were no longer in pain when you walked on it. You were sat at the kitchen table, finishing your summer homework when the doorbell rang. You looked up and glanced to your mum.

“Go and answer the door sweetie. I’m a bit busy right now.” She said as she took the laundry out of the washing machine. You sighed as you stood up and walked to the door, not evening looking through the glass at who it was. There stood Bev, an apologetic look on her face. You frowned at her.

“What do you want?” You asked

“Y/N listen, I need to talk to you. I want to apologise for what happened. I shouldn't have tried to push you like that, it’s my fault you’re injured. Please forgive me?” Her voice was sad, you could tell she was truly sorry.

“There’s no need to apologise Bev. It’s not your fault im injured, that’s all me. I was... Paralysed. I couldn’t move at all. That’s why i’m injured.” You gave her a small smile “Do you maybe wanna catch a movie? I heard that that new Nightmare On Elm Street was pretty good.” Bev laughed lightly and you both shared a smile

“Sure. I’D like that.”

Tag list: @sound-board-controls @its-called-being-spontaneous @veryweirdintrovert @heartless--girls @aritzapander @holycoldcoffee @michi-bruh @funelatra

(ones in italic are those who i couldn’t tag)

[imagines-tmr]

imagine #19

character - Minho

words - 1902

warnings - n/a

description - You and Minho become very close after arriving in the Glade with your memories wiped.

a/n - requested by @draqcnheartstrinq ; i changed your request a little so that it could fit with the events in “the fever code” but i hope it’s still close enough to what you wanted!

One night in and you were already starting to feel hopeless.

You couldn’t remember who you were — or who anyone else was — but a burning feeling in your gut told you that whatever happened to you was only the beginning. Coming up in a strange elevator with your memories gone, it scared you to find yourself entrapped inside four giant stone walls. It was a prison, had to be. You’d done something terrible and got punished for it. Why else would you be subjected to a torture like that?

The only thing you had was your name. And even that wasn’t much. You’d tried so hard to remember where you came from and what your story was, but your mind searched endlessly for something that did not exist anymore. Whoever you’d been was gone.

All gone.

The other boys were in the exact same situation as you. Some were handling it far worse, crying for hours. You hadn’t cried at all yet. You knew the tears would come eventually, but the shock of things had solidified your emotions for the time being.

Out of the forty people that had gone up through the elevator, you were the only girl. Yet another thing that confused you. The only girl amidst a group of boys — if they weren’t in such a bad mental state, they would have started to hit on you immediately. You were sure that if you gave them a few weeks and let them get used to a routine everyday and regain a sense of normalcy in their lives, they’d get around to flirting with you eventually.

How long were you even going to be in there for? A few days? A few weeks? A few months?

A few years?

Judging by the things provided by whoever had set you in there, your stay inside those four walls wasn’t going to be short. A barn and a garden — you were all expected to provide for yourselves. This was your new home. A new home where you wouldn’t be able to remember anything about your previous one.

You avoided the others. You didn’t want to talk to anyone or be in anyone else’s company but your own. They were nothing but empty faces to you, strangers that happened to share your misery, and it didn’t make them your friends. You knew it might eventually, but certainly not that day. All you wanted to do was mull over your thoughts until your head hurt, and then mull over them some more.

You sat with your back against one of the stone walls, tucked away in a corner away from the rest of the boys. Surely, they were talking about you, among other things. You being stuck there with them only added to their ever-present confusion.

One of them was coming towards you, walking alongside the wall you were sitting against. He held his hand out and brushed it against the ivy hanging from the top. He was the only Asian boy around, and you would go as far as to call him handsome if the circumstances had been different. You’d seen him before when you came out of the elevator — he’d been the one to hoist you up.

When he got close enough for him to hear you, you spoke up.

“If you’re going to ask me if I know anything about where we are, don’t,” you said.

“I wasn’t,” he replied. His voice was oddly calm given the situation at hand.

“Then what are you doing here?”

“Walking.”

A laugh escaped you before you knew it. It shocked you; you didn’t think you could find it in yourself to be amused at something this soon. “I know you remember your name,” you said. “What is it?”

“Minho.” Then, he kicked at a pebble. “What’s yours?”

“(Y/N).”

He kicked at another pebble and it skidded farther than the first. “It’s weird how you’re the only girl here.”

Of course he’d bring that up. Sooner or later, everyone would.

“I know. I know it is. But like I said, I don’t know anything.”

He took in a sharp breath and nodded. Then, he kept walking, stepping over you. When he was a few feet away, something unspoken in you clicked. Scrambling up to your feet, you ran after him.

“Hey, wait up! I’ll walk with you.”

Like you’d predicted, things had started to gain normalcy again after a few weeks.

Jobs were assigned to everybody, and you’d even given a name to your prison — the Glade. It was slightly less intimidating when you called it something else. “Prison” just didn’t have the same ring to it.

You and Minho both became Runners. Ever since you’d found out that the Glade was dead-center in the middle of a maze, a select few — the strongest and fastest of the bunch — went out everyday to try and find a way out. Running for hours was the only way to keep your mind from wandering too much to thoughts it shouldn’t. And having Minho beside you made you feel safe, like you didn’t need to worry about anything, even though you knew that was certainly not the case.

The two of you had been out in the Maze for about three hours when Minho decided it would be good for the two of you to stop and eat. He sat down against one of the ivy-covered walls and took out a sandwich from his pack. You did the same, slowly and steadily, taking your time the way you always did. Time was something you had far too much of in the Glade.

“Stole us some peaches before we left,” Minho said, taking two out of his pack and handing one to you. He knew how much you loved them. In fact, he knew a lot more about what you liked than anyone else.

“Thanks,” you said. He smiled at you, a smile that reached his eyes and lit up his face. He looked younger when he was with you, like everything that was bad about his life went away because of you. It had always been that way, since he’d hoisted you out of the Box. Minho just got you.

You ate in silence, but it was the kind of silence that was comfortable. This was why you liked being a Runner. Not because it got you closer to finding a way out, but because you always had Minho as your pillar of strength right beside you.

As you started packing up and preparing to run again, you heard an unmistakeable clicking sound. Your eyes darted to Minho, who tensed in an instant. He’d heard it, too.

He got up silently, fastening his pack around him, and moved closer to you, almost protectively. The sound grew closer and closer, mechanical and hollow, and then you saw something round the corner in front of the two of you.

It was something out of a nightmare. The thing in front of you was dark and bulbous with spikes and rods protruding out of almost everywhere. It seemed living, though you couldn’t tell whether it was a robot or an animal or something in between with all the whirring noises that came out of it.

You stopped breathing, in fear that it would come towards you if you did. But the creature headed down towards another corridor, its clicking becoming quieter and quieter until it ceased completely.

Minho exhaled shakily beside you. His eyes were wide, forehead covered with a sheen of sweat.

“We gotta tell the others,” you said. You were surprised at how easily you could formulate a coherent thought after what you’d just seen. Minho forced a nod and the two of you ran back down the way you’d come from, now more vigilant than ever.

When your leader, a boy named George, had gotten stung by one of those creatures you’d seen out in the Maze, you knew that things were going to get far worse for everyone in the Glade. He was buried in the Deadheads, the first of however many more were next to come. No one said it but you knew it was true; the Maze was no longer safe. You weren’t sure it had ever been. The false sense of security you had so desperately latched onto with Minho was crumbling and you couldn’t do anything to stop it.

Minho had been named Keeper of the Runners not long after that. Things in the Maze continued working the way they usually did. You’d go out and run and then come back in the Map Room and draw out what route you’d taken that day and what had changed.

That evening, Minho looked very distraught as he sketched his map. Most of the other Runners had finished and had gone to eat dinner, but you had stayed behind with Minho until he was done. It wasn’t like you had anything better to do anyway; the only people you liked talking to besides him were Newt and Alby.

“You okay?” you asked as Minho erased part of his drawing. He let his pencil clatter on the table.

“It’s nothing,” he said, running both hands through his dark hair. But his body betrayed him; he was all tense and coiled back like a spring.

“Minho, don’t lie to me. What is it?”

He sighed and braced himself on the table. “Ever since George got stung, I’ve been thinking.” There was a slight pause as he seemed to struggle to find his words. “Maybe you should stay back from now on.”

Your eyes narrowed. “You mean stop being a Runner.” Gritting your teeth, you shook your head. “I can’t believe you’d even say that. I’m not going to end up like him.”

“How do you know that?” Minho’s tone got dangerously harsh. “If something happened to you—”

“Nothing’s gonna happen! I’ll be fine because I’m always fine. Just because you’re the Keeper of the Runners now doesn’t mean you get to—”

But you didn’t get to finish your thought because Minho’s mouth cut you off. His lips were on yours needfully, kissing you, holding you in place like his world was about to fall down and you were the only thing that kept him steady. Your hands were in his hair, grasping at him, holding him until your lungs ached for air.

Nothing felt better or more right than the two of you together. From the time he’d helped you out of the Box to the first conversation the two of you’d had to the many days you spent exploring the Maze and getting to know each other, nothing felt better than kissing Minho. His mouth was laced with something sweet that burrowed itself deep inside you — hope. Hope that there was a future awaiting the two of you outside the Maze.

Minho pulled away and rested his forehead against yours. He was breathing heavily like he’d just come back from a run, although you were sure nothing had ever raised his pulse like you did.

“I’m not going to stop being a Runner,” you told him.

He gave you a light kiss.

“Minho, are you listening? I’m still going out there.”

Another kiss, this time longer.

“You slinthead,” he muttered. “You stupid shuck-face.”

“Yeah? Well, you’re stuck with me, buddy, so deal with it.”

[the-small-friendly-dragon]

Sing Me To Sleep

I read the date wrong, I thought the posting date was the 25th, I’m so sorry omg.

This is my (belated) Voltron Positivity Day thing for @pidgy-draws. I hope you like it!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They were falling.

Lance was screaming. Keith was screaming. The lions weren’t responding.

They were going to crash.

Blue hit the ground hard, landing on her back and skidding across the red-brown dirt.

Lance fiddled with the controls, desperately trying to get his lion back in the air.

“Come on, girl. Talk to me…”

“Lance. Are you okay?”

Lance had never been so relieved to hear that voice.

“Keith! I’m good. Blue isn’t, though.”

“Same over here. Send me your coordinates. I’ll come find you.”

Lance made sure his wrist computer was functional and sent Keith his location. “Be careful. We don’t know what lives on this planet.”

“Can you do a few scans?” Keith asked. “Get some information about the planet?”

“On it.”

Blue was functional enough to tell him about the planet, at least. He pulled up a map.

“The planet we’re on is called X573 Eta. Good news is, we’re not that far from civilization. Bad news is, we’re smack in the middle of Galra space. The atmosphere is a thin mixture of hydrogen and a gas I don’t recognize, but it looks super toxic. There seems to be no life other than us.”

“Good. We can let the lions recharge in peace while we locate the others.”

Lance was thankful the lions had self-healing properties. Otherwise they might never leave this planet.

Keith dropped through the hatch on Blue’s head a few minutes later. “How is Blue?”

Lance swiveled around in his chair. “She’s managing. She still can’t fly—”

The floor shook. Blue stood and roared.

“I stand corrected,” Lance said. “Let’s get you to your lion.”

He grinned. Even after he and Keith were thrown on a foreign planet by a malfunctioning wormhole, shivers went down Lance’s back each time he and Blue jumped into the air. He loved flying.

Keith’s breath on the back of his neck made it difficult, though.

Shut it, Lance. Concentrate on steering.

As they flew to the Red lion, Lance surveyed the landscape below them. There was, as Blue had told him, no life. There were no structures of any kind. The entire surface was flat, covered in nothing but rust-colored dirt.

Lance carefully landed Blue next to Red, who was sprawled out on her side, her eyes dark. Lance didn’t think she’d be getting up anytime soon.

Lance fiddled with his gloves while Keith tried, unsuccessfully, to reawaken his lion. After about ten minutes, Keith groaned into his helmet.

“Lance, she’s not moving. Get down here and help me.”

Lance smirked. “Didn’t anybody ever teach you manners, mullet? What do you say?”

The response came in the form of an exaggerated sigh and a monotonous “Please, oh great and powerful Lance, assist me in reviving my lion.”

Lance couldn’t help giggling as he made his way to the Red lion. “Okay, okay. How could I resist aiding someone so polite?”

“Shut up.”

Lance knocked on Red’s head hatch. “Open up, Keithy boy.”

“Why do you insist on making up dumb nicknames?”

“To annoy you, of course. Open the door so I can fix your lion.”

The hatch slid open, and Lance slipped through.

Keith was in the pilot’s chair, his back to Lance.

“So,” Lance started as he approached the other boy, “what seems to be the problem?”

“Everything,” Keith answered, swiveling to face Lance. “The power’s off. I can’t find a way to get it back on. There’s no localized blockage, no fried wires. Nothing’s really damaged. She just won’t wake up.”

Lance thought for a moment. “Did you think to reboot the system?”

“Of course I did. There isn’t a system to reboot. Nothing is working.”

“Well, maybe she’s hibernating for a reason,” Lance offered.

“Such as…”

Lance shrugged. “I… don’t know. Cats are weird. Maybe she sensed something and is playing dead?”

Keith raised an eyebrow. “But wouldn’t Blue sense it too? She’d have at least some reaction.”

“True. Maybe Red is just tired and wants a nap. We had a pretty intense fight back there. We should probably just leave her alone for a while.”

Lance was expecting Keith to counter, but he nodded. “Okay. Let’s explore the planet in Blue. We have nothing else to do until Red is healed.”

“Uh… okay.”

As Lance expected, the rest of the planet was pretty flat. They circled around, scanning the surface. It was just one giant desert.

And Lance could see why.

There was no wind, the atmosphere was as thin as a piece of paper, and the heat was intense. The small desert planet orbited a twin star system. Both of its suns were blue giants, and they weren’t that far away.

It was a death planet.

As they circled back to the Red lion, they came across the first structures that they had seen on this world.

And boy, were they impressive.

Tall rock spires, dozens of them, shot into the air. The shortest of them was still miles tall.

Lance put on a burst of speed and flew to the top of one of them.

The spires were flat at the top, and wide enough for both of the lions to comfortably sit. Lance marked the rock garden on his map. If anything, he wanted to get some pictures for the scrapbook he was making before they left.

The boys returned to Red, expecting to find her recharged enough to fly. Instead, they found creatures crawling all over her.

“What is that?!” Keith exclaimed. “Lance, I thought you said this planet is uninhabited!”

“I did!”

Keith moved to the back, so that he was standing on Blue’s lower jaw. “Drop me down there and cover me.”

Lance hit the eject button, and Keith was thrown out.

“Okay, girl,” Lance said. “Just you and me. We gotta protect your sister.”

She purred, a warm feeling wrapping around his mind. Lance grinned.

“Let’s do this!”

He and Blue hovered above the Red lion, picking off the creatures one by one. They were careful not to hit Red herself, and only fired at the aliens around her.

“Keith, are you inside yet?”

“Yeah. I’m inside. I think she’s waking up, but she’s taking her time.”

“Those things are climbing all over you. If I shoot at them, I might hit your lion instead.”

“Shoot the ones you can. We’ll have to be patient.”

In a few ticks, Red was up and roaring. She was visibly mad. She shook the aliens off of her and attacked them, but to Lance’s surprise, she didn’t jump into the air.

“Keith? You okay?”

“Lance, I’m grounded! Red can’t fly. Two of her thrusters were knocked out by those aliens. We’ll have to fix that manually.”

Fuck.

They took out the rest of the aliens, which took considerably longer than either of them expected. Soon there were dozens of bodies littering the dry ground. Lance tried not to think about it.

He landed Blue a ways from the dead aliens and ran to the Red lion, dragging his entire maintenance kit behind him. Keith was outside, examining her back paws.

Lance whistled. The damage looked bad. Both of Red’s back thrusters were completely busted. The boys would need all of the spare alien glass in both of their repair kits to fix it, and even then it might not be enough.

“I wish Hunk were here.”

Keith snorted. “We’re not that lucky.”

“I wish I’d paid more attention when he gave us that mini repair tutorial.”

“Wishing won’t do us any good now. Let’s just do the best we can. We can use the front thrusters to compare.”

They set to work. They had to stop frequently for water breaks due to the extreme heat of the planet, but eventually they fit the last piece on the last paw. They stood back to examine their handiwork.

“Well,” Lance said, “it’s not pretty, and definitely not long-term, but it should last long enough for us to find the others. Let’s test it out.”

Lance felt a swell of pride when Red successfully leapt into the air. He tried not to think about how many times his and Keith’s hands had accidentally touched while they were fixing Red.

Lance, stop being gay and focus, Lance chided himself. We’ll sort this out another time.

A wary Keith pulled Lance from his thoughts. “Uh… Lance?”

“Yeah?”

“Didn’t we kill those aliens?”

“Yeah?”

“They’re getting back up.”

“What the —”

Lance swung Blue around. The aliens they had just defeated were getting up again. They were charred, scratched, and smushed. Some of then were missing limbs.

“How the fuck?!” Lance yelled.

“Guess we have to kill them again!”

Lance and Keith quickly wiped out the aliens — again — and set down on the ground. Or in Keith’s case, fell to the ground.

“Keith! Are you okay?”

Keith groaned. “Lance! It didn’t work. Red can’t fly.”

“Well. Shit.”

“What now?”

“We sing to the flight goddess?”

“Please don’t start singing.”

“Oh, shut up, mullet. I’ll have you know, I have the voice of an angel.”

“I’m sure.”

“If you’re lucky, you’ll get to hear it one day.”

Lance sat back and closed his eyes. Help me out, Blue.

Blue purred, wrapping his consciousness in her own. She was so big, so immense, that Lance knew he would be safe in her. Everything would be okay.

Blue pulled back slightly. The movement was so sudden Lance jumped. “Blue?”

Danger. Behind.

Lance whirled around. “Keith! They’re coming back!”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Lance watched as the hostile aliens rose again. All of them… except for one.

There was one on the corner, a gruesome-looking thing with a large head and countless appendages. Lance noticed a hole straight through its head. One of the lions had probably stepped on it just the right way.

Why…

Whatever the reason, the alien wasn’t getting up.

“Keith!”

“Lance, come help me!”

“Hit them in the head!”

“What?”

“Hit them in the head!” Lance repeated.

“Might be a little difficult. I don’t even know if some of them have heads.”

“Just trust me!”

As they fought, Lance focused his lasers on what he hoped were their attackers’ heads. There were plenty different types of aliens — no two looked the same — so Lance did his best.

Blue slipped an idea into his head. A strange one, sure, but Lance had seen stranger.

“Keith!”

“Why do you keep shouting my name?”

“I think I know why these aliens didn’t show up on Blue’s life scan.”

Keith blasted a large giraffee-like alien and stomped on a small horde. “Why?”

“They’re zombies.”

“What?”

Lance knocked a small, furry alien into the ground. “Think about it. It makes sense. They didn’t show up on the life scan because they’re dead. They don’t die unless you hit them in the head. And they don’t seem to feel pain. They don’t stop until their brain is destroyed.”

A pause while Keith considered it.

“Lance, that’s ridiculous.”

“Don’t tell me Red hasn’t suggested the same thing. And it’s the only thing that makes sense. Do you have a better conclusion?”

Keith sighed. “Fine. Maybe you’re right. But that just means we’d better not get close.”

Once they killed the rest of the zombie-aliens — actually killed them — Keith joined Lance in the Blue lion as they discussed what to do next.

Lance pulled his helmet off. ���Fuck, it’s hot.”

Keith nodded. “We have to get off this planet. Our water supply won’t last very long. Maybe a few quintants at most.”

“Well, we killed the zombaliens, so that’s something.”

Keith scowled at him. “We are not calling them that.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s dumb, and because we have more important things to worry about. Like how we’re gonna get home.”

“We can’t broadcast anything,” Lance said. “It’ll be picked up by the Galra, and we’ll be toast.”

“What if we broadcasted something that isn’t visible to the Galra?” Keith suggested.

“Like what?”

“We could send out a message on a frequency that other ships don’t pick up. Like that time on Korbela a few months ago, when we sent out a message on an outdated frequency?”

Lance nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah! That might work. We don’t have Pidge with us this time, but I think I remember how to do it. We can record the message and then I’ll try to broadcast it.”

He jumped up and activated Blue’s microphone. “Attention, Castle of Lions. This is Lance and Keith. We landed on a planet called X573 Eta. Be careful, it’s right in the middle of Galra occupied space. Blue is doing great, but Red can’t fly. Come get us as soon as possible. Red and Blue out.”

Lance could feel Keith hovering over his shoulder as he tried to recall the frequency they had used. The Castle was super old, as was its communicators, so all they had done was broadcast on a frequency that was used in the day of the Castle but had been abandoned by modern radios.

He found one that looked familiar and hoped it was right. “Okay, here we go.”

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Keith said.

Lance grinned over his shoulder. “So do I.”

With the click of a button, he sent the message out. He knew it would carry for hundreds of light-years before the signal faded. He just hoped his team was close enough.

“Welp, that’s all we can do for now,” Lance said, lowering himself against the wall. “Now we just wait and hope.”

Keith sat beside him. Lance noticed that their shoulders and thighs were touching. He stopped noticing it and focused on something else. Anything else.

He ended up staring at a scratch on the wall for five dobashes or so before something pulled him out of his not-Keith-induced trance.

He looked up at the holoscreen. “Blue, what is that?”

The screen flashed, and a part of it was filled with video footage from behind the lion.

Lance and Keith gaped at the sight.

Hundreds, maybe thousands, of zombaliens were surrounding the lions. There were so many, the ground wasn’t visible beneath them all.

“The zombaliens called their friends,” Lance breathed.

“What could have attracted them like this?”

“The signal,” Lance realized. “They must have sensed the signal we broadcasted.”

“We gotta get out of here,” Keith said, his voice higher than usual.

“Should we try to fight them?”

“Lance, there’s too many of them. I won’t even be able to get to my lion. We have to go.”

Lance was already in his seat. “What about Red?”

Keith chewed his lip, which was definitely not cute, goddammit Lance. “We’ll have to leave her.”

“We can’t just leave her here. She’ll be destroyed!”

“What else is there to do?” Keith shouted.

“Maybe Blue can carry her. I’m gonna try it.”

Lance lifted off the ground and took a deep breath. Help me out here, Blue. You know what to do.

Blue opened her mouth and carefully closed her jaws around the Red lion’s neck. Lance pushed the thrusters and turned on a small boost that Pidge had installed (which was safer than pod booster fuel, thank goodness).

Lance flew as fast as he could to the first place that came to his mind.

“Lance?” Keith questioned. “Where are you going?”

“The rock garden,” Lance replied. “The zombies shouldn’t be able to reach us on top of those spires.”

Lance cheered internally when the rocky towers were in sight. He dropped the Red lion as gently as he could on the nearest one, and landed Blue. Lance looked at Keith, desperation in his eyes. “We have to get out of here.”

Keith nodded, but stayed silent.

Lance peered out of the front window. “Keith, whatever we’re gonna do, we’d better do it fast. Those zombaliens are moving pretty fast toward us.”

Keith was pacing now, helmet off, tugging at his hair. “I… don’t know. I don’t know. Lance, there’s no way we can go right now. I can feel Red, but her consciousness is weak. We can’t do anything. We’re helpless.”

Below them, the aliens were stacking on top of each other, leaning against the spire, and running in to it. The ground shook slightly.

“They’re trying to knock it over,” Lance realized. “Keith, look at me. Red has to fly. There is no other option.”

Keith nodded once and put his helmet on. “Okay. You’re right. I’m going to get her.”

Keith exited the Blue lion. Lance watched him, flinching with every quiver of the ground. They were very high up. If they fell, they would fall hard.

Some of the aliens were in the air, and Lance almost gave up right then and there, because of course some of them could fly, of fucking course.

Keith was almost to his lion when the tower started to fall.

The look of helplessness on the Red paladin’s face as he realized what was happening crushed Lance.

“KEITH!”

“LANCE!”

The amount of time it took for Blue’s thrusters to turn on was too much, the speed Keith was falling was too fast, and the flying zombies were gaining on him. Keith’s bayard was ripped out of his hands, and Lance didn’t know what was wrong with his jetpack other than it was not working.

No, no, no, no, no!

Blue, go faster!

Keith was kicking at the flying zombies, but he had zero maneuverability. He was already bruised and bleeding in several places by the time Lance caught him.

Everything was a blur. Lance’s mind refused to register the fact that Keith was bleeding out on the floor of the Blue lion.

Then he saw Red.

Red, whose thrusters were busted. Red, who was barely able to move. Red, who was physically unable to fly.

Red, who was tearing the shit out of some aliens.

Blue was getting attacked by the flying aliens, but she could hold her own. Lance had put her on autopilot in favor of caring for Keith. Both of the boys watched in awe as Red roared and blasted fire at the horde, reducing a good number of zombies to ashes.

With Red in a fighting frenzy, the two lions took out the rest if the zombaliens in less than nine dobashes. When it was over, Red’s eyes went dark, and she fell to the ground.

Lance couldn’t worry about that, his teammate was dying in his arms. He pulled a med kit off of a shelf and rooted through it for bandages. He pulled most of Keith’s armor off. He told himself that Keith would be okay.

Lance cleaned and wrapped a large gash on Keith’s side, then started cleaning the blood off of his face.

“Lance,” Keith croaked.

“No,” Lance interrupted. “Don’t speak. Save your strength.”

“But —”

“Whatever you want to tell me, you can tell me after you’re fully healed and not dying —”

“I love you.”

Lance paused, the wipe in his hand hovering over Keith’s nose. He let it sink in.

He loves me???

Lance couldn’t think of anything to say, for a change.

“And you decided to tell me this now because why?” He finally asks. 

“Well, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m dying. I wanted you to know. Even if you don’t feel the same. I just wanted you to know in case I don’t have another chance.”

“Um, no. No, no, no, no, no. Don’t say that. You are not allowed to die, nope, you have to live so we can discuss this later because I’m in love with you too.“ 

Tears are streaming down Keith’s face. Lance’s own cheeks are damp.

A few ticks pass before Keith blurts out “Sing to me.”

“What?”

“You said if I was lucky I’d get to hear your voice. Well, you love me, so I’m feeling pretty goddamn lucky.”

Lance wracked his brain for something to sing. He decided on a song from one of his favorite childhood movies, one that had been stuck in his head for the past week.

Dancing bears, painted wings. Things I almost remember.

He leaned down and kissed Keith softly as he sang. “I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you too.”

Far away, long ago. Glowing dim as an ember. Things my heart used to know, things it yearns to remember.

And a song someone sings

Once upon a December.

[thunderoad]

HMMM 6. 12. 48 for to the end of the night. 24. 50 - would you just talk to me a little about why you like found family as a theme.

BLESS U KATE ILY

6. how did writing change you?

oh shit, this is like a deep question right out of the gate?? i’m not sure, exactly. it’s definitely given me some of the best friends i’ve ever had. i think maybe that’s the best thing about writing, really - realizing how you can connect to people you’ve never met, both in the fic itself and in those friendships outside of it. aw. man. i’m gonna cry lol

12. favorite place to write

my bed! anytime i can wake up abt 7am, get my coffee, and open a word doc without any distractions i know it’s going to be a really productive day. i also wrote, like, the entirety of everything between my second fic and hold on at my friend’s place, often while watching tv. (quiet is only for the very end of a fic where i gotta tie up all those loose strings or let it all unravel)

48. three spoilers for (insert story title) to the end of the night

i’m not sure about spoilers, but i found my old notes doc for this one, so here’s some stuff i had planned for the fic that didn’t make the final cut. 

niall was originally gonna be taking some time off music work to enroll in uni. i was DEADSET - i have no idea why - on him doing this in toronto, or somewhere else northern and cold, but i couldn’t make that location work, which was a pretty good indication i couldn’t make that plot work, either. (at least, not from louis’s pov.)

the dedication at the beginning is to the mother’s we’ve lost. i’ve gotten some real nice comments on it, but it’s really nothing fancy - it’s exactly what it says it is, louis’s mom and mine. i didn’t even know she was ill till halfway thru the fic, but i didn’t have to make any edits to it at all, really, which probably says more about me than it should! it was really nice, though, at least on my end; that dedication at the beginning, and the run-on sentence at the end sort of act like this framing device where the whole fic is louis catching his mum up on everything she’s missed since she passed away. unlike louis, i like middles; i don’t think they ever really end. 

this is just a couple of deleted scenes that kind of capture a mood, but don’t really move the plot in any way: louis accuses niall of lying to him, and “Like you never lied to me,” Niall says, all the more hurtful because he’s not wrong. But that’s not the kind of relationship Louis wants to have with Niall. It hits him out of nowhere, how fucking lonely he’ll be if Niall gets up and walks out right now, how dependent he’s become on Niall’s warm, assuring presence. So of course Louis does his best to get rid of him right away. and, “Fuck,” Louis says, the feeling trapped inside his chest like a lead weight, like a jar of fireflies, like a helium balloon. He closes his eyes, and the image of Niall, sleepy and lax in his bed, the soft sheets slipping over his bare skin, springs forth. “I miss you.” “It’s okay,” Niall says, his voice gravelly with sleep. He means, it’s okay for you to feel like this about me. i never want to articulate feelings explicitly if i can help it for some reason, but i remember thinking of these scenes and going ohh, it’s going to be one of those fics. i really wanted to write a canon compliant fic that delved into louis’s character and looked at the way he coped with losing eleanor and zayn and having freddie all in one fell swoop, but time had just progressed too much. i remember reading that portraying louis as the commitment-phobic one in a relationship just doesn’t make sense, cuz he’s constantly in these big, beautiful romances, but i wanted to write a louis who was older and bitter and really deeply hurt, and i think that’s what these scenes were trying to get at. it’s like darkest timeline!louis. that’s where this monologue comes from that was later fiddled with a bit and mostly put in the final version of the fic: “The truth is,” says Louis, “the truth is, I don’t know that maybe he is better off without me. He can have a normal dad and a normal life and – and that might be better for him, wouldn’t it? And you, I don’t – for God’s sakes, Niall, you told me you’d booked more tour dates the other day and all I could think was can you cancel them so I can keep you a little longer?” Louis shakes his head. “It’s fucked up, and I’m fucked up, and I love you so fucking much. You deserve better.” He puts his hand over his heart like he’s been hurt. Sort of feels like it, to be honest. Now that he’s started talking it’s like he’s an oil station way out in the ocean and all this blackness is just pouring up and out into open water. “My dad, Eleanor, Danielle – even Harry,” says Louis. He draws up short. “Zayn,” he says, barely above a whisper. “Liam. I mean, there’s a fucking pattern there, isn’t there? It’s me, there’s something wrong with me that everyone stops loving me eventually.” “Louis,” Niall says, his voice hushed. “Don’t deny it,” Louis says. “You were there – you saw it happen. I just…can’t love them enough. And I just,” Louis runs out of steam. “I don’t want you to stop loving me.” 

24. favorite scene you’ve ever written

i answered this before, but i really like this scene, too, from to the end of the night: 

They get as far as the back garden – straight through the living room and kitchen – before they lose the plot. Louis kicks one of Freddie’s little play footie balls into the pool and watches it bob along the surface like a fishing lure. He’s aware of Niall watching him from the corner of his eye, same as he’s looking at Niall every time he pretends to look away.

Looking out over Louis’s infinity pool, Niall says, “California,” in his best Terminator accent.

“I hardly ever come out here anymore,” Louis says. He’d had all these plans when he bought the house of playing footie with the lad and floating around on pool loungers and maybe even the occasional water balloon fight, and then he’d just kept saying “tomorrow” till tomorrow’s today, and it’s just him and Niall, silhouetted by the light spilling out of the kitchen windows.

it’s not really a crucial moment or anything, but i felt like it really captured that feeling of life passing you by; that bitterness of knowing you used to have something great, and having lost it, and the way you can want something or someone so bad you don’t even know how to ask for it. (at least, that’s what i hope it says.) 

50. found family - my FAVORITE theme

i have a healthy respect for fate - ‘there is a tide in the affairs of men,’ and all - but a lOT more regard for the bit that contradicts, ‘i have taken these tides of men into my hands and wrote my will across the sky in stars.’ there’s definitely a kind of crossover for me between family and genetics and even learned behaviors and fate, and on the other hand, found family and the parts of ourselves that we choose. 

my dad’s watchwords are ‘but they’re blood,’ as if that settles everything. which it SO doesn’t, at least not to me! a lot of reason for the way i am is because i want to be as unlike my family as possible, and that’s all about choice, really. caving to blood and genetics and stuff i can’t do anything about is like accepting defeat. (there’s a lot of this stuff in oaft, looking back.) but lotr is such a good example of the way you can sort of tie these conflicting values of fate vs. choice together, though, like all those times sam and frodo reflect on how they’d never have accepted the ring quest if they knew what it entailed, and will people tell their stories someday? you don’t often get to know the full extent of what you’ve signed up for, but you do get to choose. so that’s what found family is to me, really - a way of choosing your own fate, accepting the quest you think you can abide. 

i rely a lot on connections between people in my fics, whether it be one acting as another’s human credentials and making them seem lovable at their worst moments, or of tethering them to other people, memories, even parts of the world. i love the way those connections that are made, and not born, can be the most important thing. two of my favorite books, mrs. dalloway and howards end, are built around this idea of “Only connect . . .” where connecting  to people and then connecting them to each other is, like, what life is all about. i like to imagine it looks a bit like portolan charts from back in the day, where maps were made based on the connections between places. some were near and some far, but all tied into the same network, and all tied to each other, albeit with some degree of separation. whenever my directions start getting mixed up, it’s soothing to think of these forged connections making sense of everything. 

[dresdoodles]

Style Influence Map

I've been struggling to find my own style lately so I decided to go back and study my favorite art styles. This is a (condensed) list of the major studios that have shaped me as artist :)

[personal commentary under the cut]

1. My original style! I tried to draw this one first, but it just kept coming out wrong... But after practicing and studying the others, I decided to take another crack at it. :o)

2. Avatar: The Last Airbender - Gosh, what an amazing show. The eyes were always stylized, but the way they animated human anatomy was so incredibly detailed and fluid. Huge inspiration. 

3. Steven Universe - I see a lot of this style crop up when I’m drawing things on the cartoony side, specifically facial features like noses and lips! SU has such a diverse range of character designs compared to shows I watched as a child.

4. Over the Garden Wall - If I had to pick a favorite cartoon series, it’s this one. ♥ Often when I’m sketching, I start with rounded, flat faced heads like this!

5. Gravity Falls - This show is one of the main reasons I decided to go to school for animation! I love it so so so so much. I don’t know how many times I doodled Dipper or Bill in my notebooks.

6. Adventure Time - I love this show, especially the episodes with Bonnibel and Marcy. This style has paved the way for tons of modern cartoons. I've grown to love the noodle-arm minimalist look and occasionally use it in my own drawings.

7. Studio Ghibli - I think pretty much every animator has been influenced by a Ghibli movie. If you’ve ever seen one yourself, it’s easy to see why. My first movie was Spirited Away. Since then I’ve seen almost every film directed by Hayao Miyazaki (and his son) among several others from the studio. It was also my first taste of animation from Japan that was not drawn in the stereotypical shoujo/shounen anime style.

8. Insterstella 5555 - This one is just more nostalgic than anything. Daft Punk directed a French/Japanese animated film using their album Discovery as its entire soundtrack. It’s a really awesome movie, especially if you’re into retro stuff like I am!

9. Disney - Of course Disney has influenced me, I’ve been watching it since I was a baby! The drawing above was specifically inspired by Jin Kim’s work. It’s so expressive and solid!! I also admire Glen and Claire Keane, Chris Sanders, and Tim Burton.

10. Sailor Moon! - Like me, the Sailor Moon brand has grown considerably over the last couple decades. It started as a manga by Naoko Takeuchi and became a globally renowned anime series! Although it wasn’t the first Magical Girl series, it’s probably (definitely) the most popular. When I discovered Shoujo Manga in middle school, I began to emulate it every day. Take a look at any of my early works and this is pretty obvious, lol. Eventually I parted ways with Japanese styles and started experimenting more with realism throughout high school.

11. Code Lyoko - How funny is this style! I just wanted to throw it in there. It was really interesting creating a face with such straight, sharp lines. (Plus, have you seen this show? Iconic.)

12. Cartoon Saloon - Have you ever heard of this animation studio? Their films are incredible. Song of the Sea and The Secret of Kells are two of my favorite 2D animated films. The style is so clean and intricate and the animation is beyond inspiring. Sometimes I wish I lived in Ireland so I could join them!

If you read all this, thanks! It means a lot. :)

I’m happy share about things that have been such a positive influence on my life and the lives of so many others. If you’re also struggling with developing your own style, just keep drawing. You gotta keep drawing and experimenting. Study the things you admire about your favorite artists and make it your own.

- Dresden

[chiakibutblack]

I hate mondays

Pookey, cover me. I'm going in.

Sleeping beauty, wake up

You can stop dreaming about me, because I'm here now

Just wake up

You've got work to do. You're not just my owner...

...you're my primary care giver

Not now, Garfield

Alright, cut the sweet... easy now.

Trying to cuddle with me, huh?

Trying to avoid your duties, huh?

Well that just ain't gonna fly!

See, I'm doing my exercise, doing my job.

Just one quick CANNONBALL

- Good morning - Garfield!

OK, I think you're clean enough now.

Got your towel right here.

No, Garfield!

It's liver flavoured.

MMM Delicious.

Ugh, Liver!

Actually, it's liver 'flavoured'.

That was good breakfast. Now I think I'll fall off the Catkins diet

and get myself a little high fat chaser.

Garfield, look, the milk truck!

Oh, thatta boy Nermal. The milk truck comes every day.

Maybe not today. Maybe it's changing routes? Maybe this will be the last we'll ever see of him?

We're cats,we like milk. Let's go for it.

- No. - But...

But nothing. I don't leave the cul-de-sac for anything.

Out there it's a hornet's nest of trouble. Bad things happen out there, so I don't go out there.

Besides,I've found, if you wait long enough. Everything comes to you.

Here come the milk man. Here come the milk man.

Hey, Nermal. Let's play Astronaut again today.

- Yeah? - Yeah, I love that game

- You're such a brave little Astronaut - Alright

Prepare to jump into your spaceship, Commander Nermal.

Whoa, whoa! What about the milk?

Who needs milk when you can be in outer space?

- We've got a secret mission today. - Yeah?

You'll be exploring the Milky Way.

I get the chills when you jump in your little spacecraft.

The nation thanks you. Prepare to blast off!

Three, two, one!

Bon Voyage!

Look at me go!

Don't look down!

- Come to papa, baby - I can see everything up here

I can see my house!

Got Milk?

I can see the whole neighbourhood!

Well that's nice. That's very nice.

Hey, another milk truck!

Ooh, and that is even nicer.

I can see a whole......

Mission accomplished, Nermal

Whoa, Garfield. Do it again! Where did everybody go?

You're on the wrong side of the street, Fat Cat... beat it!

And you Luca are on the wrong side of the evolutionary curve.

Ok, that's it. You're gonna get it good today.

I make a point to get it good every day.

The real question is, Luca: How shall I outwit you this time?

- With simple maths? - I know how to spell.

- Or shall I distract you with something shiny? - Now you're making fun of me.

I hope so, you're no fun to look at.

You'll never get the best of me....

I think I just did.

Not the ducks again.

Jump back! and kiss my skin.

If I ever get off this chain, you're going down.

Everybody back up! I dont know how wild this thing's gonna get.

I love the smell of cinnamon apple in the morning.

- Smells like victory. - I hate this fat cat.

So much time, and so little I need to do.

Mouse!

No thanks, I'm full.

Get him, Garfield

Get him, Jon

Always gotta be smashing and crashing.

Nobody poisons anymore.

There's my ball.

What good is a cat, that can't chase a mouse?

I don't do the chase thing.

I know you don't hear me. But can't you just listen?

Louis, what are you doing in the house when Jon's home.

Sorry Garfield, man I couldn't help it.

Look, when he sees you he expects more from me. Don't you get that?

Jon's got those macadamia nut cookies, I'm trying to maintain.

- You understand? - Sure, as long as you understand...

that I have to eat you.

Good boy! See, I knew you could do it if you put your mind to it.

You're the best cat a guy could have.

Have you tasted yourself lately?

Hey, it wasn't exactly the first-class lounge in there for me either.

Get yourself lost, Louis. Take a powder for a couple of days, get a haircut and grow a beard.

Cool, I owe you one G

<< I've got a question for you. >>

<< Do you love your Cat? >>

Finally, back on my regular schedule.

<< Make sure he has nothing but Kibbly Kat food >>

That cat's puss is everwhere. TV, newspapers, t-shirts

I wouldn't want that kind of exposure (!)

- Hey buddy - Cut the small talk

What's in the bag?

<< Remember: Be Happy >>

I'm happy when I'm with you

You delicate melange of tomato paste, cheese, ground meat and pasta!

Garfield, don't even think about it.

That's my food.

I may just nibble.

<< Thanks Happy, and thank you for joining us >> << I'm Christopher Mello, remember: Be Happy >>

Cut!

Give me the Benadril!

Damned cat allergies

Any word from the network yet?

No, but they're looking for a dog-act on Good Day New York.

Dog act! Story of my life: Looking for a dog, and I'm stuck with a cat

- But the segment went quite well - "But the segment went quite well"

Of course it went well, you toad.

The fifty housewives who saw it, loved it.

<< This is Walter J Chapman, reporting live from the Hague >>

Oh, please. What a know-it-all.

And everybody always said I was the handsome one.

I was the smart one

And I was born first.

But there you are, "live from the Hague", and I'm here working with this sack of dander

on a dead-end regional morning show.

<< Back to you, Dan >>

Garfield!

Did you eat all four boxes of Lasagne?

It's not my fault. They started it.

What am I going to do with you?

Love me, feed me, never leave me.

Let's go for a ride to some place you love that always leaves you feeling pampered and refreshed.

Oh I know, Chucky Cheese

Thank you!

No, Wendys?

Taco kitty?

Well I'm stumped. Maybe olive garden, for you?

The only time I leave my cul-de-sac is when Jon takes me to the Vet.

Which he's been doing a lot recently. And it appears to have nothing to do with me.

Jon must want to go for his own reason.

Well, there's nothing wrong with Garfield

He's just a happy, fat, lazy cat.

No need for a second opinion.

- I worry about him. - I know you do.

Y'know, you care about him more than any owner I've ever known.

'Him' has a name. Is this an HMO?

Let's get Garfield in for his dip, I wanna talk to you, in private.

She's so beautiful.

Mr Pathetic, you've had a crush on her since High-School.

Will you please ask her out so she can reject you, and we can get on with my life?

I have to ask her out.

- Wish me luck - Ok, go get 'em big tiger

You the man, you the fella, you the boss

You preach to her, show her how the co... you hopeless loser...

Betty how about today you start me off with a Swedish massage, a manicure and a pedicure

Seaweed wrap, loofa, belly rub, tail waxing...

...then crack my toes to finish.

Jon, there's something important I need to ask you.

Something I wouldn't ask most of the guys who come in here.

No, wait. I think I know where this is going.

You do?

I do!

Liz, I've wanted to ask you the same thing for a very long time.

Are you sure we're talking about the same thing?

Absolutely

I've never been more sure of anything in my entire life

Liz, I'm ready to take a chance.

I'm ready for...

Thank you

A dog?

A dog, I'm ready for a dog.

I think he likes you.

Frisky little fella, isn't he

His name's Odie, and he's not going to make it if he has to live his life in a cage

He needs to be loved.

Well thank you, thank you very much Ladies and Gentlemen

Nah, maybe not in my neighbourhood

Hey, homer, I really gotta run

Gotta fly everybody, please, stay behind the security fence.

It's so great of you to come out and see me.

But I've got somebody waiting for me, very devoted. Almost crippled.

No, please, don't cry. I know what it's like to be unloved.

Well, you do.

I'll try to come back and visit. And if I don't, I'll try to write. Bye bye

Does anybody know this guy?

Goodbye everybody - Garfield is leaving the building.

Jon, you know, you don't have to do this if you don't want to.

No, no. It's okay.

Some part of me has always wanted to know what it's like to have a pet that actually wants to play with you.

You're a good friend.

One question: Am I still gorgeous?

Jon, I think we've got a little problem here.

Jon...

I want you to know I can help the transition go smoothly.

Jon, it's in my seat!

Jon...

We could all go out together.

Park, dog-shows.

Stuff like that

- Jon... - Wait a minute,

are you asking me out?

Jonny-boy, the time has come to get a car-alarm!

You're not gonna believe it! A mongrel-mutt has broken into your car.

Garfield, this is Odie. He's coming home with us.

Whoa: you went in there to get a date, and came out with a dog?

Well that's bad even for you.

Oh you're so sad. Oh no no no... We're not bringing a dog home with us.

Hey, I ride shot-gun! What are you lookin' at, tick-boy?

Jon, it's not too late. Quickly, turn around, before he finds out where we live!

Please take this trouser-sniffer back!

Come on Odie

This is your new home.

Come on Buddy

Jon...

You had me, a chick-magnet. And now you got a tick-magnet.

Garfield, Jon brought a dog home.

I am aware, Nermal.

Why would he do a thing like that?

Gee, I don't know, Nermal.

It just seems like a weird thing to do, bringing a dog into a house that already has a cat.

Can we drop it? I mean, it's no big deal. It's just a splattered bug on the windshield of my life.

A dimwitted, smelly, goofy splattered bug that I will deal with appropriately and enthusiastically.

Come on!

As you can see, I'm still Jon's favourite.

See you later, Garfield.

Good luck with the bug thing

This is payback for the liver thing, isn't it? Payback, ha ha ha

This is your new home Odie.

That's my office over there.

The TV over there.

The kitchen.

Go see the house.

Why don't you draw him a map?

Ok, I've got to remain calm, that's all

Jon's a cat-guy, not a dog-guy

This'll last a week, maybe ten days. Tops.

Boy this puppy is stupid gone wild

Nah, this is just a bad dream. I'm going to close my eyes

and when I open them, everything will be back to normal.

Nyagh! That's not normal.

Not close.

Oh great, dog-cooties. Somebody innoculate me please?

This is a nightmare. I just need a little quality time

with man's real best friend.

Television.

No, no. no.

[janeyjane-porter]

Emmeline Darce was born in Grants Pass, Oregon right on the Rogue River. She was surrounded by friends and family the moment she was born, doused in love, brought up in joy. Her grandmother owned a large house with a small dock and  one of the best views on the river bank. Her earliest memories was that of being strapped into a floaty every saturday to watch the boats fly by and wave to the tourists  She grew up in the woods and on the riverbank learning to hike and swim so much so it became second nature. It was a simple life. Her mother and father were young when she was born seventeen and eighteen respectively. But with a support system mixed with family and friends  things weren’t too hard for the little family. Her grandmother took care of her while her parents had school and they could usually be found in the garden or on the dock. On the weekends she accompanied her parents to work, either on the boat tours or at the restaurant that sat at the river’s edge. When they weren’t working they were camping, hiking, rafting, anything to be outdoors and from those moments she grew an appreciation for nature, for what it meant to be a caretaker of nature and it became an early passion of her’s. Once when she was about five years Emme announced one day that she would live in the woods and take care of animals and plants. SHe would build a shelter or live in the trees but she would often visit. Her parents of course went along with it. They encouraged her passions, never once questioning her joy.  Her childhood was simple, she was a bright child who loved school because it was repeated over and over that if she wanted to take care of nature she needed an education. So she always tried hard in class but daydreamed about classes outside, recess was always her favourite time of the days. Some Days she simply didn’t come in and stayed in the tree she climbed drawing birds or talking to the leaves. Friday nights in her house were spent around a campfire with other families, stories falling easily from her mother’s lips. Sometimes the fire moved as if images could be conjured. Emmeline never thought twice about this, it was just childhood imagination. It was around her tenth birthday that she noticed maybe it just wasn’t her imagination as when she was alone the earth seemed to move around her, kicking rocks and flowers growing underfoot. Again maybe it was just her mind thinking of amazing things. She told her parents her story but rather than the usual laughter concener fell on their features. Emmeline was utterly confused.

Then in the summer of July, scorching heat taking over the normally beautiful town she and was sat down on the riverbank the blue boats speeding by and she waving to every single one, however her parents quiet and unsure. She was told to move the rock. Her father’s voice never sounded so demanding and it frightened the girl. Emmeline didn’t understand what they were asking, and so she simply pushed the rock with her hand. Her mother shook her head and sighed. She was again told to move the rock and again Emmeline pushed it. Once more she was asked this time her father waved his hand and the rock moved. She furrowed her brows in confusion unsure, maybe this was a dream, maybe this was her imagination. For the last time she was told to move the rock. Emmeline stared at the rock thinking how on earth she was going to move this rock without touching it but it shifted and other one did and another. Emmeline looked up at her mother and father and they looked scared and maybe it wasn’t the best place out in the open to test her.  Panicking only made things worse. Emotional flooded the young girl and below her the ground shifted and the rocks rose around her and she was scared. In order to make it stop her father picked her and carried her all the way home.  It was then that they told her of who they were, what power they had. They ask why the ground didn’t  burn her, despite the heat( her parents had been standing in the water) and it was then they realized what needed to happen. Oregon was their safe haven but there were whispers and with Emmeline still so new to her powers people would surely find out.. They heard of Summerdale Arizona and maybe it was best for the family if they lived there. Her grandmother refused to leave though, her family owned the house for years and nothing happened why should she leave the beauty of her home. Even when Emmeline cried for her grandmother she refused, telling Emme she would understand when she was older.

The family packed up and left for Arizona. The red haired girl waved goodbye to the river, to the trees, to the birds, to her home, to her life. She was heartbroken, and in that childish heartbreak the ground cracked. It was best they go. And go quickly they did. When they arrived in Summerdale, welcomed by friendly faces Emmeline didn’t feel scared like she thought she might, the people weren’t so bad. One woman asked what she like best about Oregon and when she answered the hikes, the woman smiled and showed her a map of trails. It was the first of the many instance of kindness she would engage with. On the first night they were there her mother presented her with a necklace, a pebble from her beloved river, a moon pendant surrounding it, she’d always have a piece of home with her. She could live here, make this place her new home. The older she got the more she realized that things could always look up. And it wasn’t all that bad, she made friends, her bright red hair always making her stand out. Summerdale simply became her new home and her parents were right, it was a haven. She often wrote to her grandmother about the view and the heat and the people but she never complained or tried not to. She sketched constantly, the landscape she mastered, sunsets were much harder for her. Emmeline adapted pretty well to the new terrain pretty quickly. It was better to help her with her powers anyways. It wasn’t her lush green home, river singing her to sleep home but new sights and sounds comforted her. She begged her parents constantly to take her all over, the national parks and forest, the grand canyon. In this town she thrived. But everything was a distraction, her parents wanted to keep her distracted from the ever growing threat to the supernatural beings of the community. Rose coloured glasses was the way in which she viewed the world, everything hidden from her, talk was paranoia, incidents a coincidence, she was told so little, just enough to never make her raise too many questions. She was so sheltered even into her late teens. It was like her parents felt she couldn’t handle whatever the world threw at her.

Everything was fine. Until it wasn’t. Kissing her parents goodbye she was heading out for an excursion on the grand canyon, hiking and rafting and climbing it was going to be great Two weeks of her enjoying the splendor of her home. She looked out the window and like a child she waved goodbye to her smiling parents. Emmeline was a rest stop when she heard what happened. The world stopped and she had a drink in her hand and feel, her heart skipping beats until she finally broke down. The destruction of her home, the death of her parents, it was all too much. Her powers started to act up, the ground shaking beneath her, rocks floating around her and she ran. Instinct told her to run home thinking it was some sort of mistake that all this didn’t happen. The ruble engulfed her, her house a pile of bricks and memories burned to the ground. Her life was ruined. Too make matters worse her grandmother wouldn’t let her come home. SHe feared she would be next and wouldn’t have Emmeline surrounded by more death. It was better if she was on her own. The families she grew up with scattered, leaving her with no one. The rose coloured glasses crushed and her world turning into such bleak colours. She was crying when she heard the noises. The people coming to clean up the mess, to wipe them off the map. In her pocket a piece of rubble, a piece of her home, the red haired girl felt an overwhelming sadness and anger take over. One of the men saw her, she refused to let him take anymore of her and with palms down towards the ground she felt the ground shift, just like when she was little, emotions overtaking her. The ground swallowed him. Until the realization hit her. She ran. Everything she had left in her car. She drove and drove and drove. Until she couldn’t. Her car broke down in the middle of one of those southern states where the signs read Repent” “God will strike his mighty wrath upon your soul.” She felt like it was happening now. Light encroached upon her and she was scared but a friendly face smiled at her. A helping hand was what he offered her. Just a stranger on the road, who helped her with her car. He asked where she was going but she wasn’t sure. His hand curled against hers, “I hear Hollow Grove is pretty nice for folks like us.” He smiled, knowing. He looked down at their hands and smiled again. “Folks like us gotta have friends.” Tears fell down her cheeks because for the first time since everything crumbled she had help. She’d write, waved goodbye to him and drove away once more.

Getting to Hollow Grove was her mission now. And whens she arrived Emmeline felt like she could breathe again, familiar faces flooded her vision and she felt safe. She’d start over here, make it her new home like she did when she was a child. She found peace as a guide, the trails so much like her first home, she felt a sort of peace. Emme is still scared to call it home, she hasn’t unpacked yet, despite being there for almost three months, she’s afraid once she lets herself settle things will go bad. It doesn’t help that through all her trauma her powers are still unpredictable and it seems to be that her telekinesis manifested and she has little control over it. Emmeline just wants to live her life, she’s never bothered anyone and while she can’t say she’s never hurt anyone she still just put those rose coloured glasses back on. But they are cracked and she can’t fix them.

[poopypooppooppoop-blog1]

Garfield The Movie Script

I hate mondays

Pookey, cover me. I'm going in.

Sleeping beauty, wake up

You can stop dreaming about me, because I'm here now

Just wake up

You've got work to do. You're not just my owner...

...you're my primary care giver

Not now, Garfield

Alright, cut the sweet... easy now.

Trying to cuddle with me, huh?

Trying to avoid your duties, huh?

Well that just ain't gonna fly!

See, I'm doing my exercise, doing my job.

Just one quick CANNONBALL

- Good morning - Garfield!

OK, I think you're clean enough now.

Got your towel right here.

No, Garfield!

It's liver flavoured.

MMM Delicious.

Ugh, Liver!

Actually, it's liver 'flavoured'.

That was good breakfast. Now I think I'll fall off the Catkins diet

and get myself a little high fat chaser.

Garfield, look, the milk truck!

Oh, thatta boy Nermal. The milk truck comes every day.

Maybe not today. Maybe it's changing routes? Maybe this will be the last we'll ever see of him?

We're cats,we like milk. Let's go for it.

- No. - But...

But nothing. I don't leave the cul-de-sac for anything.

Out there it's a hornet's nest of trouble. Bad things happen out there, so I don't go out there.

Besides,I've found, if you wait long enough. Everything comes to you.

Here come the milk man. Here come the milk man.

Hey, Nermal. Let's play Astronaut again today.

- Yeah? - Yeah, I love that game

- You're such a brave little Astronaut - Alright

Prepare to jump into your spaceship, Commander Nermal.

Whoa, whoa! What about the milk?

Who needs milk when you can be in outer space?

- We've got a secret mission today. - Yeah?

You'll be exploring the Milky Way.

I get the chills when you jump in your little spacecraft.

The nation thanks you. Prepare to blast off!

Three, two, one!

Bon Voyage!

Look at me go!

Don't look down!

- Come to papa, baby - I can see everything up here

I can see my house!

Got Milk?

I can see the whole neighbourhood!

Well that's nice. That's very nice.

Hey, another milk truck!

Ooh, and that is even nicer.

I can see a whole......

Mission accomplished, Nermal

Whoa, Garfield. Do it again! Where did everybody go?

You're on the wrong side of the street, Fat Cat... beat it!

And you Luca are on the wrong side of the evolutionary curve.

Ok, that's it. You're gonna get it good today.

I make a point to get it good every day.

The real question is, Luca: How shall I outwit you this time?

- With simple maths? - I know how to spell.

- Or shall I distract you with something shiny? - Now you're making fun of me.

I hope so, you're no fun to look at.

You'll never get the best of me....

I think I just did.

Not the ducks again.

Jump back! and kiss my skin.

If I ever get off this chain, you're going down.

Everybody back up! I dont know how wild this thing's gonna get.

I love the smell of cinnamon apple in the morning.

- Smells like victory. - I hate this fat cat.

So much time, and so little I need to do.

Mouse!

No thanks, I'm full.

Get him, Garfield

Get him, Jon

Always gotta be smashing and crashing.

Nobody poisons anymore.

There's my ball.

What good is a cat, that can't chase a mouse?

I don't do the chase thing.

I know you don't hear me. But can't you just listen?

Louis, what are you doing in the house when Jon's home.

Sorry Garfield, man I couldn't help it.

Look, when he sees you he expects more from me. Don't you get that?

Jon's got those macadamia nut cookies, I'm trying to maintain.

- You understand? - Sure, as long as you understand...

that I have to eat you.

Good boy! See, I knew you could do it if you put your mind to it.

You're the best cat a guy could have.

Have you tasted yourself lately?

Hey, it wasn't exactly the first-class lounge in there for me either.

Get yourself lost, Louis. Take a powder for a couple of days, get a haircut and grow a beard.

Cool, I owe you one G

<< I've got a question for you. >>

<< Do you love your Cat? >>

Finally, back on my regular schedule.

<< Make sure he has nothing but Kibbly Kat food >>

That cat's puss is everwhere. TV, newspapers, t-shirts

I wouldn't want that kind of exposure (!)

- Hey buddy - Cut the small talk

What's in the bag?

<< Remember: Be Happy >>

I'm happy when I'm with you

You delicate melange of tomato paste, cheese, ground meat and pasta!

Garfield, don't even think about it.

That's my food.

I may just nibble.

<< Thanks Happy, and thank you for joining us >> << I'm Christopher Mello, remember: Be Happy >>

Cut!

Give me the Benadril!

Damned cat allergies

Any word from the network yet?

No, but they're looking for a dog-act on Good Day New York.

Dog act! Story of my life: Looking for a dog, and I'm stuck with a cat

- But the segment went quite well - "But the segment went quite well"

Of course it went well, you toad.

The fifty housewives who saw it, loved it.

<< This is Walter J Chapman, reporting live from the Hague >>

Oh, please. What a know-it-all.

And everybody always said I was the handsome one.

I was the smart one

And I was born first.

But there you are, "live from the Hague", and I'm here working with this sack of dander

on a dead-end regional morning show.

<< Back to you, Dan >>

Garfield!

Did you eat all four boxes of Lasagne?

It's not my fault. They started it.

What am I going to do with you?

Love me, feed me, never leave me.

Let's go for a ride to some place you love that always leaves you feeling pampered and refreshed.

Oh I know, Chucky Cheese

Thank you!

No, Wendys?

Taco kitty?

Well I'm stumped. Maybe olive garden, for you?

The only time I leave my cul-de-sac is when Jon takes me to the Vet.

Which he's been doing a lot recently. And it appears to have nothing to do with me.

Jon must want to go for his own reason.

Well, there's nothing wrong with Garfield

He's just a happy, fat, lazy cat.

No need for a second opinion.

- I worry about him. - I know you do.

Y'know, you care about him more than any owner I've ever known.

'Him' has a name. Is this an HMO?

Let's get Garfield in for his dip, I wanna talk to you, in private.

She's so beautiful.

Mr Pathetic, you've had a crush on her since High-School.

Will you please ask her out so she can reject you, and we can get on with my life?

I have to ask her out.

- Wish me luck - Ok, go get 'em big tiger

You the man, you the fella, you the boss

You preach to her, show her how the co... you hopeless loser...

Betty how about today you start me off with a Swedish massage, a manicure and a pedicure

Seaweed wrap, loofa, belly rub, tail waxing...

...then crack my toes to finish.

Jon, there's something important I need to ask you.

Something I wouldn't ask most of the guys who come in here.

No, wait. I think I know where this is going.

You do?

I do!

Liz, I've wanted to ask you the same thing for a very long time.

Are you sure we're talking about the same thing?

Absolutely

I've never been more sure of anything in my entire life

Liz, I'm ready to take a chance.

I'm ready for...

Thank you

A dog?

A dog, I'm ready for a dog.

I think he likes you.

Frisky little fella, isn't he

His name's Odie, and he's not going to make it if he has to live his life in a cage

He needs to be loved.

Well thank you, thank you very much Ladies and Gentlemen

Nah, maybe not in my neighbourhood

Hey, homer, I really gotta run

Gotta fly everybody, please, stay behind the security fence.

It's so great of you to come out and see me.

But I've got somebody waiting for me, very devoted. Almost crippled.

No, please, don't cry. I know what it's like to be unloved.

Well, you do.

I'll try to come back and visit. And if I don't, I'll try to write. Bye bye

Does anybody know this guy?

Goodbye everybody - Garfield is leaving the building.

Jon, you know, you don't have to do this if you don't want to.

No, no. It's okay.

Some part of me has always wanted to know what it's like to have a pet that actually wants to play with you.

You're a good friend.

One question: Am I still gorgeous?

Jon, I think we've got a little problem here.

Jon...

I want you to know I can help the transition go smoothly.

Jon, it's in my seat!

Jon...

We could all go out together.

Park, dog-shows.

Stuff like that

- Jon... - Wait a minute,

are you asking me out?

Jonny-boy, the time has come to get a car-alarm!

You're not gonna believe it! A mongrel-mutt has broken into your car.

Garfield, this is Odie. He's coming home with us.

Whoa: you went in there to get a date, and came out with a dog?

Well that's bad even for you.

Oh you're so sad. Oh no no no... We're not bringing a dog home with us.

Hey, I ride shot-gun! What are you lookin' at, tick-boy?

Jon, it's not too late. Quickly, turn around, before he finds out where we live!

Please take this trouser-sniffer back!

Come on Odie

This is your new home.

Come on Buddy

Jon...

You had me, a chick-magnet. And now you got a tick-magnet.

Garfield, Jon brought a dog home.

I am aware, Nermal.

Why would he do a thing like that?

Gee, I don't know, Nermal.

It just seems like a weird thing to do, bringing a dog into a house that already has a cat.

Can we drop it? I mean, it's no big deal. It's just a splattered bug on the windshield of my life.

A dimwitted, smelly, goofy splattered bug that I will deal with appropriately and enthusiastically.

Come on!

As you can see, I'm still Jon's favourite.

See you later, Garfield.

Good luck with the bug thing

This is payback for the liver thing, isn't it? Payback, ha ha ha

This is your new home Odie.

That's my office over there.

The TV over there.

The kitchen.

Go see the house.

Why don't you draw him a map?

Ok, I've got to remain calm, that's all

Jon's a cat-guy, not a dog-guy

This'll last a week, maybe ten days. Tops.

Boy this puppy is stupid gone wild

Nah, this is just a bad dream. I'm going to close my eyes

and when I open them, everything will be back to normal.

Nyagh! That's not normal.

Not close.

Oh great, dog-cooties. Somebody innoculate me please?

This is a nightmare. I just need a little quality time

with man's real best friend.

Television.

No, no. no.

Hey, new guy. Let me hip ya to the rules, ok.

Number one: That's my chair.

Alright, I even see you raise a leg, and it's on, it's go time, pal.

Very well.

Y'know, I may just have a mental advantage on this guy.

Leave me alone.

I'm not kidding, Yodel Odie.

Pop a worm pill, and hit the road, I'm busy.

You wanna play? Fine.

You can be my new astronaut!

You go jump in the pail, and we'll shoot you into outer space.

Come on, it's real simple!

Here, I'll even throw your ball in there.

Follow the ball and jump in the pail.

Come on, Odie

Just like this, come on over here and just jump right into the pail and help me.

No, just in here like this...

Uh oh - don't touch that!

Oh no!

Houston, we have a problem.

Odie, Get off the pail.

Ok, time for a new game.

It's called my claw in your foot game

Come here

I'll just use my left claw

If my legs were longer I'd have caught you by now - come here!

Just wait for one second.

Slow... down...

Well, well, well

I've got you now fat cat

Hey Luca - is that a new chain you're wearing? Fella?

Looks good on ya

You look great. You been working out?

Oh I've been waiting years for this.

Would that be regular years, or dog-years?

Get away from me pipsqueak!

You're nothing but a...

Luca, this is Odie. Odie, Luca.

Luca, do me a favour and eat him for me would you please?

Garfield, are you alright?

I think so.

Luca's about to have Odie for lunch.

If it wasn't for Odie, you'd be Luca's chew-toy

Yeah, he saved your life.

Odie's a hero!

Why? Because I wasn't ripped to shreds?

No: Odie's an imbecile, until further notice.

Hey Moondust, if I were you I'd grab a nice piece of carpet

Jon doesn't let me sleep up-top

Ever.

Odie...

You wanna sleep in the bed?

Ok

What?

Good boy.

You wanna sleep on the bed tonight?

Yes I do. Yes...

I think I'm going to blow cat chow chunks

Good night Odie

Good night Garfield

Great, wish me luck with the nightmares

Another day ruined.

Oh, you little suck up!

Whoa baby

No.

Down. Down dumb dog

What part of 'no' don't you understand?

The push off the chair?

I don't wanna play

Oh, look...

What am I supposed to say?

Thanks for saving my hide with Luca?

Ok, thanks for saving my hide with Luca. Get off!

Where was I? Right here.

Whoa, that was a cheap shot.

Hit a guy when he's not looking? Ok...

Oh, excuse me, I think you may have forgotten something.

I saw this and I thought, I was pretty sure it was your...

Watch out! You see, you can't touch this.

That's right. Don't sneak up on me, baby.

Oh, come on with that!

Get that weak step outta here!

Is that butt broken? No it's something like this here....

Can you do this? Shouldn't those hips be in the shop?

Walk this way please...

I'ma walking the dog

Let's step it up a little bit, something like this....

Whoa, look at this! Watch out now!

Watch out for this thing!

You probably should've practiced in the garage before you stepped up to someone of my level.

Bash up!

Maybe something a little bit more challenging.

How about this?

Look who's here on the porch. I'm walking the porch.

I'm holding the torch, I'm ready to scorch.

Hey!

Look, Garfield's dancing with Odie.

They're like buddies now!

Odie, what are you doing here?

I was doing a solo dance, and a creepy dog comes up next to me...

Did you guys see that?

Thank you fellas, thank you.

Uh oh, here's more trouble.

Look at the goony look on his face!

Come here Odie

Taking him back to the vet?

You're taking him back to the kennel, right?

Are you putting him up for adoption?

Hey Garfield, Jon's taking Odie on his date with Liz and he's leaving you behind!

I know, Nermal

They're off on an adventure, and you're still here!

And your point is?

Well, that's gotta feel bad

Being left by Jon, while he takes Odie out.

It's like you're not his favourite anymore.

Hey, whaddya say we play brain surgeon? Would you go get my powertools?

This is so sad. Jon has completely lost his mind.

He doesn't realise how important I am to him.

I need to be so understanding of him at this difficult time.

Hey, wait up! Wait up for me!

You forgot me!

Slow down! Please slow down!

I'm right back here!

I think I've pulled a hamstring!

It's ok. I'm on, relax.

Car broke my nose....

Yeah, go on ahead, I'll catch up with you. It's probably only a mild concussion.

Or a skull fracture.

Maybe I'll get a cat-scan?

A cat-scan!

Ladies and Gentlemen!

Welcome to the Dog Show!

But what if I compromised a little? How about I do the rolling around with the yarn-ball thing?

And I'll purr. I'll purr like a Ferrari!

Make that a Jaguar.

I won't climb drapes though, that's more than you'd get from some dumb... dog.

Oops, dogs.

What, you're all going to take it personally?

Now I'm gonna die.

Now I really am gonna die!

Excuse me!

Can I get through here?

Going under this tarp. That's my ear.

Owners, maintain control of your dogs! Control your dogs now!

Music!

Music, you idiot!

Yeah, play the music....

That's my bad knee, stop it

Alright, feet don't fail me now!

I apologise for this, please excuse this outburst

This is highly irregular.

Odie.

Odie.

Come back Odie.

Ok, alright, I need a ride

Madam, I'm a cat in trouble. I'm hitching a ride in your moo-moo

Come on, let's move!

Come on pinky, move it out!

Sorry, sorry!

Move move move, Pinky, Move Pinky move!

We certainly have a new star in the arena.

Ladies and gentlemen, this is amazing!

Talented little fella, huh

Yah Pinky!

They're gaining on us Pinky!

A cat's life is at stake

Excuse me ma'am, Please call 911 !

This is exactly what I deserve anyway

I promise if I survive, I'll never compete with a dog again

Ok, you got me, but before I say goodbye...

Oh isn't this the final irony, look who's here to witness this:

The mail man!

You're so stupid!

Odie, come here!

That's a good boy!

That, is one talented dog!

Y'know, this is exactly the kind of dog that could have a future in television.

Oh, thank you Mr Chapman, but Odie's just my pet.

and that's all I really want him to be

You're kidding?

No.

Ok

Well, this is for you.

And this is for you if you happen to change your mind...

you just ring me up and say "Hello, hello, I changed my mind"

"I wanna be a star!"

- Ok - Ok

Let's hear it for Odie!

Our winner today: a fabulous dancing puppy called Odie.

Never leave the cul-de-sac Never leave the cul-de-sac

Never leave the cul-de-sac

I'm home.

- I had fun today, thank you - Yeah, me too

Would you like to come in?

Not today

I knew that. I'm sorry

Jon, I wanna come over, just not today. I have to cover for another vet.

Oh, really?

How's Sunday?

Sunday's great.

Sunday's good. Sunday.

So I'll see you Sunday.

Why, why has this happened?

I was the one!

It was all about me.

Not about some stupid, snivelling, smelly, high-maintenance Disco Dog.

Oh no.

You just can't do this Jon. He's trying to tear us apart, don't you see that?

You know me. I'm too lazy to try to destroy your house.

I was provoked, pushed, prodded, driven mad.

You can't kick me out of my own house, like I'm some kind of animal.

Oh come on Jon.... Jon....

You know I'm scared of the dark.

I used to have Jon to myself.

Day or night, there was noone else.

From dawn to dusk, my meals would come.

I'd lounge about in my home

But now I'm out in the cold night.

All alone, til the dawn's first light.

I'm in a new-dog state of mind.

Used to think I had a home

A special place to call my own

But now the dog's in, and I'm out.

I've got no Jon, I've got no clout

I'm in a new-dog state of mind.

Leave me alone. You've won.

You're inside, with him. And I'm out here, all by myself.

Odie. You came out here to be with me?

I'm touched

And you must be touched in the head!

Bring out the dog, Bring in the cat

See ya in the morning little fella

You know, a puppy needs a little tough-love, every now and then.

I think it builds character.

Hello Pookey - miss me?

Y'know what: I'm going to make it up to Odie tomorrow. I'm going to teach him how to drink out of the toilet.

Poor Odie. That cat is such a pig.

Garfield's a pig?

You never put the dog out at night

Why not?

Because dogs run away.

Sure Jon, I'll eat all your lasagne for you...

Oh look, what do we have here....

You're a lost dog.

Well, we can fix that.

Oh, do I feel good this morning.

I slept like a fat cat

Hey tall dark and human, What's for breakfast?

Odie!

Where are you boy?

Relax, I think he was gonna camp out

Odie?

Well, he probably had a sleep over at Luca's, I think....

Odie?

Maybe he's fetching the paper for the neighbours?

Where is that silly dog?

I can't go on like this any more Wendel. I've got to get a dog.

I think that's a lovely idea.

I know you've been sad and lonely since the divorce

and I've tried to be your friend...

Not for me, you imbecile, for the act.

If I could get my hands on a really talented dog.

Walter J. just choke on his Emmy

Like Odie?

Yeah

Yeah now he was good.

Oh yeah

Y'know he was kindy dopey-looking and spry and...

Lost?

Hi, it's Jon. I was just calling to see if Odie's been over there.

I can't find him around. My name is Jon Arbuckle...

...and I can't find my dog.

I've looked all around the neighbourhood, and I can't seem to find him.

He was home last night, but I haven't seen him this morning....

if you see him, give me a call please.

Hi it's Jon, I was calling to see if you'd seen Odie, I think he's run away.

I was giving him a bath last night, and I forgot to put his collar back on.

Because Garfield hates his collar.

He's about 15 pounds, he's brownish yellow with big floppy ears....

Would you mind getting that?

I'm offering a reward.

Yes, that's right.

And he answers to the name of....

- Hi. - Hi.

I'd say the refrigerator is unguarded.

Wha, what are you doing here?

We're having dinner, remember?

Right. Dinner, the two of us.

Tonight. Of Course.

- Shall I come in? - Yeah?

Yeah, come on in.

Liz, I have a confession...

It's not really a confession, it's more of an admission.

It's a, you know it's like a declaration.

- I have a.... - I love it when you do that

- Do what? - Y'know, trip over yourself.

It's cute... It's one of the reasons why I had a crush on you in high-school.

- You had a crush on me? - Yeah....

I thought you were really cute, decent, not like all those other jerks.

I don't believe it, I had a crush on you too.

- Isn't that funny... - Yeah...

Hillarious.

So um, what's your confession, admission, declaration?

Actually, um,

I forgot about our dinner... yeah.

That's ok, I can go?

No, no. I'm glad you're here.

Let me just get my jacket and then we'll go.

What am I going to do? What am I going to do?

What am I going to do? I've waited for this night my entire life...

If you tell her the truth, you'll feel much better.

And you wont have to see her any more. It's kinda creepy having a vet around the house anyway.

I can't go out and pretend that nothing's happened, can I?

Well, I sure could.

The one thing you can't do is tell her the dogs gone...

- I gotta tell her. - No.

- I've gotta to tell her. - No!

That's not what I said!

Schmuck

Liz. We can't go out tonight.

- Why not? - Odie's run away.

- What? - He got out last night...

I feel terrible. I call the pound, I put up posters, I looked everywhere

...but I can't find him.

Why didn't you just tell me?

I guess I figured he was the only reason you were spending time with me.

- Come on. - No, I'm serious.

No, I mean let's go find him.

How can this dog be such a problem when he's not even here anymore?

Well I'm not gonna worry about him.

I believe you found my dog.

He answers to Odie.

- Odie. - Family name

Oh, Odie. Come on!

There you are!

I can live again now.

How could I ever repay you?

An autograph would be splendid.

Then splendid it shall be.

<< come on, boy >>

This is ridiculous.

Hey: what are you looking at?

Nothing, just looking for some company.

- Keep walking creepo. - What's going on?

We know how much you hated Odie.

We know how much you wanted him gone.

Wait a minute... all I wanted was to sleep in my own bed...

And to do it you cast Odie out into the cold, cruel world?

We saw how you locked Odie outside last night.

Oh I don't believe you guys, I didn't know he was gonna run away.

He's a dumb dog, no offence Luca.

Uh, what?

You can't blame me for that...

Any one of us could be next.

Yeah, there's no room for anybody else in Garfield's world.

Oh that's a little dramatic.

Well I may have been a little tough about protecting my turf,

...but I don't hate the guy.

<< I understand Happy has a big surprise for us, >> << a special treat... >>

<< What have you got for us, Happ? >>

<< Ah, guten morgan, Chris >>

<< I have been working with a very special new friend... >> << And I would like to introduce him to all of you... >>

<< "Odie Schnitzel" >>

Lookie here, It's Odie!

And he's safe and sound.

Although he seems to have found an alternative lifestyle.

He still can't dance.

Well this gets me off the hook with Jon and the gang.

Now, I'm gonna be the hero.

<< That's one talented dog >>

<< I'm glad you think so Chris, >> << because I have a little announcement to make >>

<< Old Happy Chapman and Odie Schnitzel >>

<< are going to be climing aboard that >> << New Amsterdam Ltd. at 3pm >>

<< bound to New York city, where we have >> << the opportunity to be regular contributors on >>

<< "Good Day New York" >>

That's his last name? Schnitzel?

Thank you for all your help yesterday...

You were great.

Jon, Odie's on TV. And he's wearing Lederhosen.

I'm sorry, Garfield. Not now.

I upped the reward to $200, and I'm going to put up some more posters tomorrow.

He's clog-dancing I think

...wearing Lederhosen.

I'm sorry, Garfield. Not now.

You're gonna miss this...

I'm sorry Liz,  I'll call you later.

Garfield's being... Garfield.

Do I have to bark like Lassie?

Come on! Humour me, would ya? Arf! Arf! Arf! Quickly!

While we're young. Today, let's go!

<< "Remember: Be Happy" >>

You're gonna miss this: he's the small one.

The small one in the guy's hands....

Garfield... I'm not in the mood.

Y'know, it's never good when you turn off my TV, and this may be the worst ever.

Odie's not ready.

He's months of positive reinforcement away from consistently performing.

Happy. You promised you'd never use that.

That collar is inhumane.

This collar...

...is the dog's future.

Do you have a problem with that?

Now we'll see how smart you really are...

Happy Chapman.

Not now Garfield.

Jon, you're denser than ever!

I gotta think outside the box.

Hey: the box!

Wait a second...

My box.

My box had something on it.

"Applejacks", "Frosty Flakes", "Coco Puffs"...

"Kibbly kat!", Yes!

There it is: Telegraph Tower!

That's where they make the "Happy Chapman" show.

Yeah, but, how far away can that be?

Hmm, a paw? A paw and a half maybe?

This is a done-deal. I can do this!

No. Can't do this!

Reached physical limits!

Shouldn't have tried it without snacks!

Must go back, and re-load.

And that's the sign that the tank is full...

I can do this.

Beyond this intersection,

is just another intersection.

and another, and another. On the otherhand...

I wonder if there's any meatloaf left in the fridge?

No, now is not the time for a plate of meatloaf.

Now is the time for a plate of courage.

Ladies and Gentlemen: Garfield!

...has left the cul-de-sac.

Now that's more my style.

Oh, Taxi.

Step on it, will ya driver?

No, Odie's not a hound-dog.

Yes I'm sure.

No, I don't want another dog.

Thanks anyway.

Garfield, lunchtime.

I made your favourite, Lasagne.

Garfield?

Garfield. Where are you?

Can anyone direct me to the pink building shown on

the back of the Kibbly Kat box?

It's the one right next to the blue and orange tree.

This doesn't feel pink building-ish...

Rats?

Rats the size of... Rats!

- Stop

Why am I being surrounded here? Some of my best friends are vermin.

Finally, some meat.

Meat, no. It's not meat.

They measured: it's 100% body fat. No nutritional value whatsoever.

Hey, body fat's good with us.

- Garfield. - Louis!

Hey, what's going on here?

- Louis, my friend! - Come on I've got 3000 tiny mouths to feed.

Garfield? What are you doing here?

Besides defending my life?

Jon got a dog.

Dog got kidnapped by a TV star.

...I'm trying to rescue him.

Seems like you got yourself in a jam, huh?

Wish there was something I could do to help you out...

Louis, I think you and I have an account still, remember?

The Macadamia-nut cookies?

I do love the Macadamias

Sorry rat-pack. This cat's with me. You all gotta roll. Go ahead, roll out.

Who wants to go to the Red Lobster alley?

Maybe next time, little critters. Good luck with the plague and rabies and everything.

Don't push your luck, fat cat.

Garfield, you can't just be wandering around the city...

There are dangers everywhere... Potholes, subways, animal control.

You think you could get me to Telegraph Tower?

Two more cookies and you got a deal,

but you gotta keep it on the down-low.

How down-low do we have to go?

Yo, Garfield, are you with me?

Louis, this is a little bit lower than I expected.

If I didn't have a box over my head, I'd be humilated.

Alright, we're almost there.

Now when I give you the signal, you gotta cross the street.

- Way over there, by the horizon? - Come on, Garfield!

Wait up! Wait up!

Am I dead?

- Garfield, don't move! - Don't move?

- Not a problem. - Just wait for the Walk signal.

It's a stampede! If I could just get away from this herd.

Garfield?

Garfield, where are you?

Garfield, get down from there, man!

No, I'm not coming down.  I'm happy to live the rest of my life up here, thank you.

Liz! Liz!

- What's wrong? - Garfield's gone.

I think he's run away too. First Odie, and now Garfield.

Liz, I am the worst pet-owner on the planet.

What happened?

I can't find him, you gotta help me.

I can't live without Garfield.

Let's start at the park.

Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet?

Are we there yet? Garfield. Relax!

- Look we're here. - We're here now?

"Curve Service" The Telegraph Tower, in all it's splendour.

It looks much smaller on the box.

You gotta go all the way up there? Good luck, player.

I'll catch ya later, I don't do the vertical thing.

- Thanks a lot, partner. - Oh yeah, hold up G.

- What? - Watch out for the popo, you know...

The 5-0. Controlo. Animal Control, man!

oh, that popo (!)

Keep it squeal. Thanks partner.

I can't try the door.

I couldn't handle another stampede.

First thing, Monday morning.

I'm going to get to work on losing those

last 20 pounds.

Ok, everything looks good out there.

Looks like we've got ourselves a blockage.

Guess we'll just purge the system.

Pardon me, that wasn't my stomach, was it?

Ah,there's a cooling breeze.

Nyagh, my poor nose!

Jon, stop the car!

It's Odie.

Somebody found him!

- 52903 Euclid Street. - Let's go

Odieeeeeeee.

Ooooodd.

Oooodster

Oood-man

This rescue thing is exhausting.

When do heroes get to eat?

Oh my, it's Odie!

Oooodie.

I've found ya.

I'm so sorry I got you into this mess.

Look, we kinda got off on the wrong paw.

But, come on, you can be really annoying sometimes

and you don't give me enough space.

And you're a major league suck up... but we have a common purpose

We share Jon.

Jon needs us even more.

And, I kinda want you back home too.

So: stand back.

Almost there....

You think he's ready for the audition?

Well, why don't you see for yourself?

Come on, Odie. Showtime.

"Good Day New York" - I know you're gonna flip for Odie because he

sure is flipping for you...

A shock-collar?

That's inhumane.

Hot doggy...

- When does our train leave? - Two hours

Poor Odie. He faces a future of torture, neglect and degradation.

Hey nobody gets to mistreat my dog like that, except me.

I'll be right behind ya, little buddy.

Gravity, do your thing!

Y'know, I think I had a nightmare like this once...

Once again, my life has been saved by the miracle of Lasagne.

I said Limo, not taxi, do you know the difference?

Odie here I come. Don't worry, fella, I'll rescue you.

- Gotcha - Huh?

Well, what have we got here?

Looks like we got us a cat with no tags.

Hey, there's an animal felony happening right there behind you.

I'm trying to do some rescue work here, pal

Welcome to my world, Red.

This is police brutality.

I have tags. I just left them in my other fur.

This is abusive, now. This is abuse.

- What is with the cage? - Ok, lock her down.

Oh no this is insulting. You know I'm house-trained.

- Settle down people - Oh, I oughta give you a bunch of fives, pal.

This is all a terrible mistake.

I was trying to save a friend.

He's not very smart, he needed my help. I don't belong in here.

I have an owner. I'm not a stray.

- Hi, I'm Jon Arbuckle - Hi

I think you have my dog, Odie?

I think you're mistaken.

No, I saw the flyer. Odie's my dog.

No, he's Happy Chapman's dog.

Happy Chapman?

The gentleman with the cat on Channel 37.

He came and took Odie home.

Odie's a family name, y'know?

Well, good day.

Happy Chapman took Odie.

He's got Garfield too?

I don't know. But we're gonna find out.

Could you please be quiet.

Guards, Guards! Oh this really is too much.

Persnikitty!

Happy Chapman's cat! What are you doing in here?

I 'was' his cat.

until I outlived my purpose.

Then he replaced me with a dog.

and dumped me in this wretched place.

All humans are the same.

Not Jon, my owner.

No way, he only does what's best for me.

He puts up with me, then he feeds me.

And he lets you vacation in this charming animal pound. Hello?

Not for long, Persnikitty.

Would you please just stop calling me that.

My name isn't really Persnikitty...

It's Sir Roland.

Sir Roland?

Yes, another one of Happy Chapman's acts of cruelty.

I was trained in the classical theatre, you know...

But now, I'm a "Celebrity Cable Cast-off Cat"

with a name I can never live down.

Well, this may hurt a little then,

I'm trying to rescue the dog that replaced you, Persnikitty.

I mean, Roland.

Happy and Odie are getting on a train in less than two hours,

going to New York to become regulars on "Good Day New York".

Wait a minute: did I just hear that right?

You're a cat that's trying to rescue a dog?

It's true. I know, it's a crime against nature,

at first I thought he was a pain, but,

he's grown on me. Like a wart you wanna have removed until you realise

it defines you, in some funny way.

Do you know, that is absolutely charming?

Let me ask you a question, chubby.

What are you talking about?

How could you understand?

He's my friend.

Oh, my gosh. How low have I sunk?

Guard, may I have some shoelaces please.

Well, hello there.

Right on time. Alright,  I need a five-cat line up right now.

What's going on?

Adoption. It's like one of us is getting outta here.

So, here to look at a cat?

Alright, let's see if we can't take care of that.

Come on boys, lets hurry it up

Can I say, your hands are freezing.

Come here

- You are heavy. - Excuse me, muscle weighs more than fat. Check this.

Alright, line it up. Paws on the white line. Tails in the air.

I don't need to be adopted guys. My guy Jon is coming to get me, I'm sure.

- That one! - Really?

She picked me, she picked me. She picked me, she picked me.

No, not that one. That one.

The one that looks like the cat on TV.

Back it up, Red.

Sorry love, better luck next time.

Now you be careful. That's sore.

Jon's going to be here in five minutes anyway.

When I give the signal, run like a mad-cow.

- What? - Don't you want to save your friend?

- Do I really have to run? - Now!

Eat Hairball, Happy Chapman.

We've got runners! We've got runners!

Stop!

You've not been cleared for release!

Garfield's been here.

Excuse me, can I help you guys with something?

We're looking for Happy Chapman.

Yeah he's on his way to the train station, he's going to New York.

Do you guys have a pass, or something?

Thanks

  Hello, excuse me.

<< Your attention please >>

<< The Amsterdam Ltd. is now departing >>

<< from Platform 12 >>

All aboard!

All Aboard!

Good afternoon, Gentlemen.

What will you be having today? Salmon, Steak or Lasagne?

Steak. I hate Lasagne.

Beep Beep! Cat coming through! Beep Beep!

Going through the tunnel.

I just had to do that.

<< Final call for the new Amsterdam Ltd. >> << The Amsterdam Ltd. is now departing from Platform 12 >>

No... wait... please. Stop. Wait. Don't!

You monster Chapman.

I can't out-run a train.

Watch the train, pal.

Hey, I got it.

It's just a train set, only bigger.

- Oh no, we're too late. - No...

...we're gonna stop that train.

Come on.

Somewhere around here

There's got to be a big table

With all the trains on it.

He looks like the type.

And this must be where he's got his little table...

I'm very sorry sir, there's simply no way to stop that train.

You don't understand, you have to stop the train.

My dog and my cat are on that train.

I suppose if Jon can do this, I can.

Ok, we gotta find our train. Let's see what happens when I do this...

<< Boston Express switching to track 18. >>

Oh, I'm sorry. The folks in Boston are going to be a little late today.

Let's see what happens when I do this...

- << Warning, Seattle Wind... >> - No, I don't care about Seattle.

Ma'am, I'm looking for one train in particular.

Just one second, I'm trying to find my train.

- << The New Amsterdam Ltd. >> - There's the Amsterdam.

- << Warning: collision 20 seconds >> - Gosh, you sound like my mother.

Hold up, everybody stop!

- Five, four... - Stop what you're doing...

Ok, everybody - let's take it from the top.

- You have to stop that train... - Hold on.

I'll be down to meet you at the station, Odie.

Actually, that train has stopped. It's returning to the station.

Are we on the right train?

Where are ya?

I think I recognise that whine.

Come on: see, these are the kinda seats you get when you book at the last minute.

Good to see you, partner.

Let's get outta here.

<< Your attention please: the New Amsterdam Ltd. >> << Is making an unscheduled stop on Platform 12 >>

- Sir, please take your seat. - No, no... my future is travelling away from me.

Will ya slow down? I've been doing this running thing all day,

and I am over it.

We're safe now, we're free.

- Oh, if it isn't Unhappy Chappy. - Going somewhere?

Nice accessory, but I don't think I wanna play dress up with you, pal.

Let's get out of here. Let's beat it.

Oh, right in the nose again!

So it's gonna get physical, is it?

Did you really think you could just run away from Happy Chapman?

Oh is this a cry for help.

No dumb, dirty animal is ever gonna get the better of me.

And lets see how you feel with 200 volts coursing through that thick canine skull of yours.

- Chapman... - Come here.

Get your hands off of my friend!

Hey boomer, what round is it?

- Good to see you, Chubby. - We're here to help

- Sir Roland? - In the fur.

Alright, here's the drill. Cats, scratch like you've never scratched before.

Dogs, bite... but don't chew.

and rats. See if you can get that pretty necklace around his neck.

Canines, Felines and Vermines... It's show time!

Thanks boys.

Thanks boys. The home team will take it from here.

Better split before Animal Control gets here.

Hey Garfield, take it easy.

Garfield good luck.

Odie would you mind sharing the remote, please?

Every dog has his day, Happy.

- Nice Kitty. - Let's see what's on the news...

Let me tell you something, Happy.

To you Odie might be just a dumb, stupid, smelly dog. But to me...

he's all that and much more.

He's my friend.

Odie, try something else. Maybe there's a game on?

Strong finish little buddy.

Odie, Garfield?

- Odie? - Odie?

Be Happy.

This is for stealing my dog and my cat.

He didn't steal me. I was doing the rescue work.

Garfield! Odie!

Come here!

I missed you guys so much. I was so worried about you...

Never gonna let you out of my sight again.

Never. You guys are my best friends.

You have me, but hello.

<< This is Walter J. Chapman with breaking news from >> << the Midwest. >>

<< Abby Shields reporting, >> << whatcha got for me, Abby? >>

<< Details are sketchy, but it appears that >> << a derranged man >>

<< may be the cause of all the trouble here. >>

A derranged man? What is this?

<< Police are bringing the suspect out >> << as we speak >>

Good grief, it's my idiot brother.

Hey - that's Happy Chapman!

He's going for a ride in a Police car.

<< But sources tell me that this incident somehow >>

<< involved a dog and a very heroic cat. >> - Garfield!

He saved Odie. Now he's a hero!

- Oh, I didn't realise. - Garfield's on TV - he's a hero!

Garfield! Garfield's a hero now!

Thanks everybody

We're a whole street full of heroes

- It's nice to be recognised by your peers. - I couldn't have done this without you.

You're a really great friend.

Jon, I wanna be more than your friend.

- Me? - Yeah.

Where do they find the energy?

Yeah, just one big happy family.

Yeah, right. Hit the floor.

No, seriously, you can come up buddy. Seriously, come on up.

Down you go. We just hit it off so well, because we both love the same thing...

and that is: Me!

Whoa!

<< I feel good >>

<< I knew that I would now >>

<< I feel good >>

<< I knew that I would now >>

<< So good >>

<< So good >>

<< I got you >>

<< So good >>

<< So good >>

<< I got you >>

Oops

Hey Odie, help me... I can't get up!