#sorry for not shutting up about him but like he's the pirate's grandpa i gotta talk about him

[sevenheven7011]

Ratbeard and the pirate's dynamic goes so much harder when the pirate's backstory is armada or mutiny

the guy's already a parallel to the pirate, so like the pirate's parents meeting a violent end where the cause isn't nature but instead is an individual drives it even further

when the pirate is solely driven to defeat the armada cause they killed their parents or on a dark quest to hunt down whoever started the mutiny is it like looking into a mirror for him is ratbeard with his captain on their quest for vengeance or does something not sit right with him seeing a kid who is younger than he was grieving so badly and being driven by anger Does seeing what anger is doing to us make ratbeard look back on himself

[lunaraen]

Can I request a fic where Ivor notices Radar overworking and babys him like he does f!Jesse and the rest of the New Order when they overwork? Because if Ivor is their father/uncle figure, then he’s gotta be Radar’s grandpa/greatuncle figure.

Some people live to breathe inflowing seas of anxiety, gasping for relief that never comes, to feel thepressure of what has been and what might be and, worst, what might never happenpushing down on them, to run on the burning coals of deadlines and expectationsand the fear of having so much to do while being surrounded by people who careso much. Radar is one of these people.

He’s also a teensy bit sleepdeprived, not that he really cares about that, and it makes him a little poeticand reflective. Probably a little too much.

Radar may as well be best friendswith his stress, because it’s something that’s been with him for nearly all ofhis life, especially recently. He might not be able to rely on his body to lastas long as he would like without food, or water, or sleep, but the stress willalways be there and will always push him to do everything and anything.

It’s a constant borne of hisanxiety, or one that conveniently arrived alongside it and decided to stayforever, and it pushes him to do things every other part of his body screams athim to not do or to push off for the sake of basic care.

(The issue here is that he knowsJesse felt the same pressures, because Radar was brought on to alleviate all ofthem and also dragged Jesse away from work to have her actually take care ofherself multiple times. It’s harder to do with himself, especially becauseJesse’s everything he is and more.

It’s easier for Radar to tellJesse she deserves a break than it is for him to think the same of himself. Hisjob was to worry for her, but worrying for himself seems to just add to hisworkload.)

Not that Radar would neglectvisible items of basic care, like showers or laundry or combing his hair,because his stress likes to scream at him about those things at odd hours ofthe day and he knows hygiene is extremely important, especially if being neatmakes it so people don’t worry about him.

And if he looks overall neatwhile maybe a little disheveled on a personal level, well, he’s a leader. Theydo that.

Radar’s fairly certain he looksthe right amount of leader busy without looking like he’s running on no sleepand little food, but it’s also a good thing that he’s fairly certain no oneelse can see him as he walks down the hall, arms full of way too muchpaperwork.

He’s also walking by a giant,gorgeous window, but it’s high enough up that he gets to see far more of theoutside world than they do him.

Like all the houses safely withinthe walls, all the colorful, winding buildings and busy roads filled withmilling, busy people. Busy people all under his protection, along with theirhomes, their jobs, their friends, their animals, and everything else they careabout.

So every one of them’s countingon him, at least a little, to not only do his best but the best they expect andmore.

If this is what Jesse saw all thetime, it explains a lot.

And makes Radar acutely aware ofhow much nicer running away on adventures with an awesome pirate girlfriendwould be than having to deal with any more of this.

For all of Jesse’saccomplishments, none make him more jealous.

Except that he’d need an awesomepirate girlfriend to do the same, or a girlfriend at all because that sort ofbreak just sounds nice in general, never mind how nice a break in generalsounds right now, and Radar finds himself counting the people walking bybecause if he doesn’t figure out how to both ground and distract himself he’sgoing to lose his mind.

While he’s counting peoplewalking by and trying to figure out how in the world he’s going to find himselfa conveniently awesome pirate friend to save him, though, he’s not paying thebest attention to what or who’s ahead of him.

This is a problem because he’sstill walking and still trying to physically balance his workload.

(Mentally balancing it hasn’tworked out near as well for him so far.)

Slamming into another walkingperson helps get his attention, and Radar can’t help but be relieved that thetowering pile of work stays in his hands even as his fingers twitch, curlingtighter around the pile as his shoulders hunch.

His glasses nearly slide off ofwhere they’d been precariously sitting at the edge of his nose, and it givesRadar one more thing to take care of as he tries to compose himself.

“Jack, I didn’t…”Radar’s apology, while well-crafted to be the right amount of nervous to showthat he really is sorry without showing just how stressed he is, falls slightlyshort as he realizes he’s never seen Jack carrying so many vials, and that thereason for that might be because it’s Ivor who’s holding the thankfully corked,glowing potions. “Oh. I-Ivor. Ivor, not… I’m sorry. I didn’t see youthere.”

Well, that could’ve ended poorly.

Radar glances past the stillswaying papers and files and down at the ground by their feet. The carpet seemsentirely untouched, in the sense that neither of them dropped anything and thatno part of it seems to be smoking or burned.

His shoulders relax, and he’ssure his smile is one of his better ones if only because of that, at leastuntil he sees Ivor’s frown as he looks back up. He’s not uneasy so much asconfused, but there’s something sharp, something critical, to Ivor’s gaze thathas Radar swallow whatever other apologies he was going to give.

“…when’s the last time youslept?”

“Oh.” Radar blinks,attempting to push his glasses back up before realizing they’re already asclose to his face as they can be without the bridge uncomfortably digging intohis nose. “Oh, um… Monday, I think.”

Ivor’s gaze goes from harboringsomething sharp underneath to being nothing but sharp, intense as his voicegets closer to an exasperated growl.

As it turns out, Radar’s made atiny error in being honest.

“It is Monday.”

Radar thinks he can understandwhy he mistook Ivor for Jack at first, beyond that Jack’s been helping outaround the temple a lot too and that Radar appreciates both of their guidance.

He and Ivor have similarexpressions when they’re concerned or suspicious, and it sparks an identicalform of guilt. That look, the one Ivor has right now, is made of the same sortof worry that’s coupled with too much cunning aimed at someone who should maybebe dead at this point.

“Already?” Somethingbeyond stress begins to shriek at Radar as Ivor’s eyes narrow. He thinks itmight be self-preservation. “I mean still? Boy, it’s been a longday.”

The smile he gives is big andsloppy and not at all genuine looking, but Radar’s also carrying a stack ofpaperwork and has an awful lot to get to.

Most people would probably excusea weak smile for that, but Ivor doesn’t seem the type.

“It’s not even noon.”Radar bites back a yelp as Ivor takes a small step closer, head held high, eyesnarrowed, and shoulders set. “Pleasetell me you haven’t somehow been awake for an entire week.”

“…no?” Oh, he’s sodead. “Does passing out for a couple of minutes count as sleep?”

Rationally, Radar knows Ivorlikes jokes, and he’s heard Ivor make a couple of his own. Rationally, however,he also knows that Ivor scowling as his posture goes rigid means he’s notamused and may mean that Radar should be a little more concerned for his ownwellbeing.

“Do you have anymeetings?”

As someone who’s been carefullyconstructing nearly every part of his existence lately, from his appearance tohis words, Radar recognizes the pause before the question as the warning thatit is.

These words aren’t cold, or evensharp, but they’re measured and unnaturally even in a way Ivor’s almost neverused with him before.

It makes them their own kind ofscary.

It’s an uncommon reminder toothat Ivor has been many people before this, long before Radar met him, and thatone of those people nearly brought the world to an end.

“Not really. I just need tofinish putting away and sending off all these papers.”

“Good. My lab.” Radardoesn’t argue, but he doesn’t immediately agree either and that seems to sitabout as well with Ivor. “Now.”

Radar’s position as the Hero inResidence of Beacontown, or overworked glorified mayor, means he probablydoesn’t have to listen. Ivor’s more of a friend and someone he deeply respects,but still someone he can ignore.

Not that he wants to push theOrder’s healer to force him on medical leave or kill him.

His stress might wail about losttime and wasted opportunities as Radar follows right beside Ivor, but thedesire to live politely tells it to shut up, sending it to instead slowly hunchRadar’s shoulders as they move onto what might be his doom.

The trip to Ivor’s lab is asswift as it can be without Radar having papers blow or slip away on him, thoughthat point seems mostly moot as Ivor sets his potions down, grabs the stackfrom Radar’s hands without warning, and places it on his own desk as soon asthey enter the room.

Radar’s protest that he stillneeds to have those filed away is killed by the internal reminder that he’dlike to walk away from this in one piece, which has seemed to join his stressin bunching his shoulders up.

“I’ll have someone move these toyour desk later. Or, if you’d rather, you can do it after you wake up.” Ivordoesn’t look up from the bubbling cauldron at the fire as he points to a cot tucked intothe corner of the room, the blanket as neatly tucked as it can be onto a cotand the pillow looking fluffy in a way that’s far too tempting.

Ivor’s lab is large, everypolished counter lined with some sort of cage, or case, or selection of glowingvials.

A few even hold odd plantsRadar’s never seen before, even though he knows he was in here a few daysago.  They’re as varied in color and sizeas the number of content specimen, the cot beside and below a particularlygnarled, leafy plant that he hopes won’t strangle him as he sits down.

It’s hardly the first time Radar’sbeen here, even in a week, and still he finds it hard not to stop and stare.

The glow of potions mixessurprisingly well with the glow of the fireplace, the latter dimmed somewhat bythe slowly smoking cauldron, the inky mixture inside tinged purple and almostseeming to shine as it swirls about.

Radar’s eyelids already feelheavier and while this is his fault, he can’t help but feel a little betrayedby his own exhausted body.

Ivor seems to take the pause tomean something different.

“You may take the bed, ifyou prefer, but I have work to attend to and as I clearly can’t trust you to get the sleep you need on your own,you’ll be staying where you can rest and I can keep an eye on you.”

Radar’s grateful that Ivor takesbreaks from attempting to get the past Order members together for adventures,and even more so that he takes the breaks here and decides to still care aboutsomeone like Radar when he’s probably exhausted and wishing he was adventuringwith Harper instead. Or sleeping. They’re both experts at each.

He could never forget how amazingthis all is, or how lucky Radar himself has been.

The thing with Radar is that italmost feels like he’s been handed the world’s best set of hand-me-downs, wheresaid hand-me-downs are entirely aware of the serious overall downgrade. Jesse’sfriends are his friends, which is incredible given that many of them have beenhis idols for nearly as long as he’s been around, and while they’re allwonderfully nice and funny and understanding, he can’t help but wonder how theyfeel.

They all like Jesse getting abreak, but that doesn’t change that Radar’s hardly a good replacement forJesse. Being a leader is one thing, and he think he’s honestly doing alright,even if it means he hasn’t been eating more than the occasional snack bar orsleeping at all, but Jesse’s an even better friend.

And Radar isn’t exactly Jesse. Hehas the stress down, and the desire to help people, but doesn’t have theexperience or a wide network of friends made firsthand.

Even the friends he made whileadventuring with Jesse are still at least partly Jesse’s friends, if not moreso hers than his.

That feels ungrateful too.

He wants to prove himself, but ithardly feels like an accomplishment, to have driven himself to the brink whileLukas is out of town dealing with basic but important portal network diplomacy.It doesn’t say good things about his reliability or independence.

His awareness is also lacking,seeing as how it takes Ivor all but shoving a cold bottle into his hands forhim to realize he’s standing there.

The frosty, pitch black potion isfamiliar in a way the sparkly sludge in the cauldron isn’t, but Ivor takes careto still explain at length what getting it means as Radar uncorks it.

(The cork nearly falls to theground, but it doesn’t and by Notch that shouldn’t be an accomplishment.)

“This is not a safety net.It is a last resort that I hope you’ll never have to use again.” It’s asleeping potion, one of Ivor’s more basic, and it’s been a while since Radar’sheard Ivor talk about one so seriously. “It’s one I hope I never have toforce you to use again and one I’m sure you’ll never push yourself to having touse ever again. You may sleep here whenever you want, but you may not allowyourself to rely on this again.”

He knows plenty about potiondependencies, from the overall warning of don’tand common horror stories involving the friend of a friend of a friend’s friendwho ruined their life to actual experience with potion use and the rush theytend to give people. Even just as a guaranteed, Radar can understand the appealof being able to instantly fall asleep or even not need sleep with the use ofonly one tiny vial.

It was a struggle sometimes tonot use them to help Jesse actually rest, and Radar can also understand theconcern.

(There’s a big difference too,between Ivor spiking the hot chocolate he makes with sleeping potions afterlong days so the others will sleep well and Radar drinking a sterile, carefullycontained, pure dose of potion. The need to do it to rest not because ofnightmares but because of stress and stupidity probably also changes things abit, and no matter the reason Radar does appreciate the warning.)

“Ivor, I’ve used potionsbefore. You can trust me.” Ivor takes the smile and meant to be moreencouraging than they are words the way Radar takes cough medicine, and Ivor’sgrimaces are far more impressive.

“Frankly, I’m not sure Ido.”

Radar wishes he was good enoughto not flinch at the fair criticism, but he’s drawing in on himself before hecan even try to correct it, arms wrapped around his middle as he tries not tofeel horribly sick. There’s a moment’s pause before Ivor sighs, resting a handon Radar’s shoulder.

“That was… poorly worded.I trust you as a leader and as a competent individual, but I’m concerned foryour health. Such little sleep under such pressure isn’t healthy, and I can’timagine you’ve been doing a much better job with eating. Your body will starthurting you if you don’t eat, and if you’re injured… I don’t want to risk it.A healing potion does a dead person no good.”

Radar isn’t sure what to say tothat, so he doesn’t. His head stays low and he tries his best not to breathetoo deep or too quickly as his eyes burn.

He hates drowning in silences ofhis own making.

Ivor squeezes his shoulder gentlybefore letting go, his voice softer as he crouches to look Radar in the eye.

“You’re intelligent,compassionate, and as dependable a leader as Jesse. You’re also your own person,with your own needs.” Ivor lightly prods his chest, Radar nearly swayingat the unexpected poke. “Like the need to sleep. Or eat. Don’t do thisagain, and don’t you dare take that to mean ‘don’t let me catch you again’. Foryour sake and mine, take care of yourself, or I swear there will berepercussions.”

“I will, I promise.” Ivor huffs,but Radar raising his hands in defeat gets a smile out of him. There’s a nodthat means for his own good he’d better mean it before Ivor turns back towhatever he’s working on this time. “Good night, Ivor.”

The potion goes down quickly, icyto the taste and making the world feel a little bit lighter while his bodyfeels almost too heavy with sleep it hasn’t yet gotten to move. Still, Radarcorks the bottle and sets it down gently under the cot, because broken glassand spilled potions are never fun.

Then Radar settles himself underthe blankets as he lies down, and what happens after that is either animmediate fall to sleep or the ungraceful crashing of his head onto the pillow.

Both work fine, and the tug tofinally sleep is aided well by the soft chittering of secure creatures, thebubbling of elixirs, and the knowledge that Ivor would probably bite the headoff of anyone who’d want to force Radar awake to work more, Radar included.

[kittykat-creations]

Memories

"Marcella?"

"Mom? Hey!" Marcella held the phone between her ear and her shoulder as she looked for her car key. "I have like, ten missed called from you. What's going on?"

"Sorry, Ah fergot y'were at work- sorry," Bella responded.

"You're fine. Is something wrong?"

"Well- alright, no one died," Bella said.

"Mom..."

"Ok, there's a long story behind this, but quick version- yer dad got his mind wiped an' lost his memories-"

"What?!"

"Don' interrupt me. Ah'll tell ya the whole thing when ya get here- if yer comin-" Bella sighed. "He's havin' trouble rememberin' everythin' 'bout you an' yer siblin's. Ah thought it might help ta have y'all here. T' trigger 'em. That's how the rest of 'em have been workin'-"

"I mean- what, like, he has amnesia?" Marcella frowned.

"Eh- sorta? It's complicated," Bella said. "But there's ways ta get his memories back."

"Well if it helps, yeah, I'll fly over," Marcella said. "Sky'll stay here to watch Jacob and Brittany. And Brandon can fly back with me-"

"Thanks, sweetie. It means a lot."

"Of course, Mom. I'll see you soon."

"Hey, sweetie!"

"Hey, Mom." Marcella hugged Bella, accepting the kiss she left on her cheek. "Is Dad ok?"

"Yeah- yeah, he's alright," Bella confirmed. "Lee jus' got here yesterday- Ella hasn' shown up yet, but she said she'll be here t'morrow, probably."

"Ok-"

"Aunty Marcy!"

Marcella grunted as Taylor and Tyler slammed into her and hugged her.

"Haha! Hey, you two!" She grinned and squeezed them back. A third body joined the group hug. "And Jenny."

"Hey, Mom," Brandon leaned against the doorway leading to the living room.

"Ah! Baby boy!" Marcella grinned and hugged the boy, squishing his cheeks and kissing his forehead.

"Mom, I'm not a baby anymore-" Brandon complained.

"Shush. Where's your grandpa?" Marcella asked.

"In the living room," Brandon said.

"You kids go on- let Marce say hi." Bella shooed the kids upstairs. "Dipper, Mabel!" Said kids appeared from the living room, Mabel holding a scrapbook under her arm. "Marcella's gonna say hi to Stan-"

"Ahh, are you one of Grunkle Stan and Graunty Bella's kids?" Mabel asked excitedly, eyes shining.

"Yeah! I'm your- cousin, I think?" Marcella said. "Wow, I haven't seen you since you were little! But, um- I'm not sure I've met you- Dipper, was it?"

"Y-you have," Dipper mumbled, glancing away and tugging his hat down a bit. "I'm, uh- I-I was-"

"He's my twin!" Mabel interrupted, throwing an arm around her brother. "We saw you when we were seven!"

Everything seemed to click into place rather quickly for Marcella.

"Ah! Ah, alright- yeah!" Marcella smiled. "Well, it's nice to see you again, Dipper. You guys were so small before! It's so weird seeing you both so big."

Dipper smiled and shrugged a bit.

"Alright you two, upstairs with yer cousins," Bella said, shooing them to the stairs. Marcella looked into the living room, where Lee and Stan were sitting on the couch. Stan wrapped an arm around Lee, noogie-ing his head.

"Ah! Dad, cut it out!" Lee laughed, shoving Stan off and adjusting his hair. "I have a thing goin' here."

"Yeah, no one likes the thing you have going on," Marcella teased, folding her arms.

"You don' know what yer talkin' about," Lee said.

"Sorry, who's the fashionista?" Marcella smirked. "Hey, Dad."

"Hey- ...which one are you, again?" Stan frowned a bit.

"Marcella," she said softly, walking over and sitting down. "Mom told me what happened. You ok?"

"Eh, great as I'll ever be." Stan shrugged. "So, uh- you're my daughter."

"Yeah. One of them," Marcella said. "Ella should be heading over. M-my twin."

"Is she the younger one?" Stan asked. Marcella perked up and grinned.

"Yeah! By seven minutes- you remembered!"

"Woah, wait, you're not dad-"

"Oh, um- apologies, I didn't mean to startle you," Ford said, folding his hands behind his back.

"Who- um- so, you're my Uncle Ford?" Marcella asked, frowning a bit.

"...I suppose so." Ford nodded.

"...I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude by staring-" Marcella shook her head, sitting down at the kitchen table. "Dad always said you were dead- it's a bit weird, seeing you."

Ford smiled a bit, turning to pour out a cup of coffee.

"What, ah- what are you doing up so early?" He asked.

"Ah, my routine has always started early," Marcella said, nodding for Ford to pour her a cup as well. "I'm not really doing my routine today, but I'm just used to waking up early. What about you?"

"I don't really sleep," Ford answered.

"...ah."

They fell into an awkward silence as Ford sat down. He ran a finger along the ring of his cup, glancing around.

"...you have polydactyly," Marcella spoke.

"Huh? Oh- yes, I do." Ford nodded.

"Dad told us about that," Marcella said, smiling a bit. Ford smiled back.

"I remember seeing you before the portal," he said. "You and your sister. You were... about two years old, I believe. And now, you're..."

"Old?" Marcella raised an eyebrow and smirked.

"N-no! Not- I didn't mean it like that." Ford sighed and rubbed the side of his neck. "You're grown up. When I saw you, I- I was excited to have nieces to watch grow up. But it never happened."

"...I heard a lot of stories about you," Marcella said softly. "From Mom and Dad. I always wanted to have an uncle like you. Uncle Michael and Jacen are cool, but not as cool as how you sounded."

"Ah- I'm not that cool."

"Ella sure thought you were." Marcella smiled a bit. "She loved hearing stories about you. Wanted to be just like you."

"I've made a lot of bad decisions. No one's goal should to be like me."

"Well, y'know, 'don't speak ill of the dead'." Marcella shrugged. "We never heard about anything really bad."

"...really?"

"Really."

"So, do we got a plan to help Dad's memories or what?"

"Well, Ah did dig out a ton'a old family movies," Bella said, setting down a box of VCRs. "Figured watchin' 'em might help."

"Oh, are there embarrassin' ones of Ella and Marcella?" Lee asked, grinning and digging through the box with Bella.

"Probably not nearly as many as there are of you," Ella retorted.

"Hey. Shut up."

"Hey. Make me."

"Moooom, Ella's being mean," Lee complained.

"Yer thirty-three, figure it out yerself," Bella said. "Oh! Here's the one'a us bringin' Ella an' Marcella home!"

She put the VCR in the VHS and got it to play, moving to sit on the couch. (Though, because it was so crowded, she ended up on Stan's lap instead.

"Alright! This here's the video'a us bringin' Ella an' Marcella home fer the first time-"

"C'mon babe, do you really gotta do this?" Stan was grinning either way, holding one of the twins. The other laid in the crib by their bed.

"Oh man, I had a mullet?" Stan asked.

"You had one up until we had to switch clothes to defeat Bill," Ford said. "We had to cut it so you looked more like me."

"Ah miss it," Bella sighed, playing with the ends of Stan's hair.

"It's April 5th, 1975- the girls were born two days ago," Bella was narrating, though hidden behind the camera. "We just got home from the hospital."

"Still don't see why we have to document it," Stan scoffed, setting the twin he was holding in the crib. "Can't we just, I don't know, call your parents and tell them all this?"

"One day yer gonna be glad that we got these videos ta look back on."

"Yeah, yeah." Stan waved her off playfully. "Make sure you get the girls on camera."

"Here, you do some recordin'," Bella said, handing the recorder over to Stan. She appeared on screen, looking tired but happy.

"Woah! You were hot!" Stan exclaimed.

They all burst into laughter.

"'Were'?" Bella questioned.

"Uh- well, you still are, obviously," Stan stammered. Ford snorted.

"Nice save."

"They're so small," Bella murmured, now holding one of the twins. "What the fuuuuuck. They were really in me?"

"Haha! Yeah, babe- that's how pregnancy works."

"Damn. Ah'm still sorta... in shock," Bella said, shaking her head.

"You did a good job, babe," Stan said.

"We did a good job. Though yeah, Ah did do most'a the work," Bella joked.

"Heh. ...how do I turn this thing off?" Stan asked. The camera moved around like Stan was looking over the recorder.

"Here, it's this button-"

"Ah think the rest'a that one is just their first month 'r so," Bella said, standing up and changing out the VCRs. "Hm... let's do one from after Lee's born."

"Yeah, I wanna see myself as a baby," Lee agreed. Bella smiled and put in a new VCR.

"Girls, say hi t'the camera!"

Ella looked up, her finger in her nose, and grinned and waved at the camera.

"Hello!" Marcella chirped.

"Hey, kid, keep still," Stan grunted. He was painting a design on her face with glitter face paint. Both the twins were dressed as fairies, and three-year-old Lee was running around as a pirate, including the eyepatch Stan wore for tours.

"Lee, are ya excited fer yer first Halloween out trick-'r-treatin'?" Bella asked.

"Yeah!" Lee exclaimed.

"Hey pumpkin, show off your costume to the camera," Stan said. Ella grinned and spun around in her costume, grabbing the fairy wings to make them flap.

"An' we're taking the dolls Daddy made of us!" Marcella added, holding up her doll.

"I still have mine," Marcella said softly.

"You do?" Stan asked.

"Mm-hm. You learned to sew just to make them for us. Of course I was gonna keep it."

"I have mine, too," Ella said. "It's under my pillow in the van."

Stan smiled a bit at the two of them before turning back to the TV, grin remaining on his face.

It was late when Bella woke back up. She, Stan, and Ford were asleep on the couch, and it seemed like Lee and the girls had covered them with a blanket. She smiled softly, stretching and sighing. She slowly stood up, making sure to not bother Stan or Ford.

Although- she probably should make sure they get to their beds. Probably a lot more comfortable.

"Psst- Stan," she whispered, gently shaking Stan. She gently tapped the side of his face, successfully waking him.

"Huh- what-?" Stan grunted, rubbing at his eyes. "Ugh- wha's goin' on?"

"We fell asleep," Bella said, helping Stan up. "C'mon- let's get ta bed."

"Uh, yeah, alright," Stan mumbled and yawned. Bella poked Ford's side.

"Hm-? Oh, hello," Ford yawned. "Sorry. I didn't mean to fall asleep."

"Yer alright. We all did," Bella smiled. "Get ta bed, m'kay?"

"Yes yes, alright," Ford said, nodding and standing up.

"Seriously- no coffee 'r work 'r nothin'," Bella said. "Just get ta bed."

"I will, I will." Ford smiled a bit. "Goodnight."

"Night."