#( ford reaching out ? going to oregon ?

[misc-muses]

🎤!!

Songs I relate to my muse // not accepting at the moment

Honestly, Scar Tissue by the Red Hot Chili Peppers is probably the song I think of when I write Stan, specifically in his 20s to 30s!

[angelyuji]

Please please make Fiddleford and Ford diddle y/n 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏

ok so full disclosure... i was not into fiddleford like that... HOWEVER... let me cook rq

im thinking....

tw // noncon, teacher x student relationship, freeuse, bill's a freak (probs ooc)

18+!!!!!!!!!! minors dni!!!

assistent researcher (y/n) who managed to snag a job out in oregon for two researchers with a nice giant grant. you were soo grateful for the opportunity to gain experience working with two very successful scientists. you heard from your professor that they had chosen you, specifically, so that must mean that they see you for your talent and genius!

WRONG. they pick you cuz you're HOT and you look like a SLUT. jk! they did pick you because you have the right experience and credentials! and for a time, everything was chill and cool. you have a great time working for fiddle and ford, researching gravity falls and transdimensional portals. ford and fiddleford had a slight thing for their young assistant, but they wouldn’t do anything to you cuz they dont want to jeopardize their career.

until a certain yellow triangle comes along.

bill had ford wrapped around his finger and both you and fiddleford were seeing that change in his personality. he was growing paranoid, being rude, and generally acting crazy. so one night, fiddle and ford were up late drinking, bill decides he wants to play a little game with his puppet and his crushes. bill convinces ford to propose a cute little offer to fiddleford. ("you guys deserve it! after all, you helped them, isn't it only fair?")

“you know, fiddleford.... we’ve worked so hard for so long. especially after taking in (y/n).” he looks over, nodding, already drunk. “you know… they haven’t payed us back for giving them this opportunity.”

drunkenly, “i guess, i didn't realize they needed to pay us." fiddleford leans his head back.

"all that we do, i mean fiddleford, isn't it only fair?" bill giggles gleefully inside ford's head, seeing how easily convinced the two men were.

fiddleford looks over at you, watching your chest rise and fall as you breathe. "they really haven't paid us back for our kindness yet, huh."

i like to think that they try to hold off on being too violent or rough with you at first, like it's small touches and grazes at first to see how you'll react. however as time goes on... they get more and more bold and they finally break.

ford breaks first, pushing you up against a wall, pressing a rough kiss against your lips. you try to push him off, but the older man was stronger, pushing your hands away from him. you taste black coffee and his minty toothpaste, you could feel his hand go under your shirrt when fiddleford walks in. ford lets go of you to gesture to fiddleford. you try to run, but fiddleford grabs your arm just before you reach the door. almost as strong as ford, you couldn't fight him off. "(y/n)! (y/n), where do you think you're going?"

"LET GO, FUCKING CREEP." you're sobbing, trying to get his hand off. ford makes a disapproving noise, crossing his arms, he walks over to you. fiddleford pulls you, your back hitting his chest. ford grips your jaw.

"where will you go? are you really going to lose your job, your career, your degree, because you didn't want to lay there for us?" ford's eyes flash yellow and you freeze.

fiddleford's grip on you relaxes as he feels you wilt. he whispers into your ear, "just listen to us, (y/n). that's all you have to do."

fiddleford is more gentle. he likes to use you at night when you sleep because then there isn't any guilt.

ford is very much hot-and-cold. sometimes he's bending you over on the desk and fucking you until you can't stand. sometimes he just likes you to cockwarm him while you're both working. sometimes he likes go down on you when you're chilling on the couch (hes a munch as they say) (if bill's possessing ford, you're getting fucked dumb like you're drooling, can't think, and bill won't stop until both you and ford have passed out.)

as fiddleford gets more and more comfortable, the both of them take turns with you at the same time. THREESOME!!!!! teehee

[midsommarbearsuit]

🩷🌲Just One Night- a Ford Pines x Reader Fic (18+)!🌲🩷

Hello lovelies! This is a FordxReader fic I've had banging around in my head for a while. WARNING: THIS FIC IS 18+! Didn't want to wait for an ao3 invitation to post it so here it is!

Summary: Ford agrees to let Bill possess him for one night of fun with the reader. she/her pronouns used throughout.

Enjoy! 💘

You knew Ford was shy. You’d known it since college, but this was ridiculous. Here you were, alone with him in the woods, helping him build this godforsaken portal, and he refused to make a move. Granted, most of the time the two of you were busy, crunching numbers and welding metal. But at the end of the day, when you would sit with him outside and stare up at the beautiful Oregon night sky, he still could hardly look at you.

So when you felt him actually looking at you one night, you were surprised. That is, until you turned around from your clipboard and were met with yellow, glowing eyes. 

Ford’s muse was pretty much a mystery to you. Ford would disappear for a few hours and return bursting with inspiration, eyes wild and face flushed, as he scribbled frantically in his journal. You’d watched him slip in and out of possession before. With a simple blink, this “Bill” would take up residence in your research partner’s mind smoothly and quickly. It was frightening, but the fear was kind of thrilling. 

Now, he continued to stare at you, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. You shuddered; that wasn’t Ford’s sweet, shy smile. It had a tinge of mania in it. 

“H…hello?” you ventured, shuffling backwards. 

“Hi there, y/n.”

That certainly wasn’t Ford’s deep rumble of a voice either. It was a giddy tenor, and you could tell it hid horrible secrets within its timbre. 

“Can I…help you?” you asked. You couldn’t possibly imagine what Ford’s muse could want with you. You obviously had an inferior intellect. 

“Not really,” Ford said frankly. “But I’m going to help you two.”

You were puzzled, so you opted for silence, waiting to hear him out. You noticed that your hands were trembling with fear, and you tried to still them.

“I’ve been watching how you two interact,” Ford said. “It’s kind of pathetic, really. I mean, you so obviously want him, don’t you?”

He stepped closer to you, and you took another step back, bumping into the lab bench behind you. It took a moment for his words to sink in, but once they did, you flushed deep red. 

“I…I-I don’t…”

Ford laughed, and the sound sent another ripple of fear through you. “Don’t worry, sweetness. Ford agreed to this. He knows it’s the only way he’ll ever get some.”

“Agreed to what?” you asked. You found yourself unable to look him in the face. 

At your question, Ford reached a hand forward and stroked your face as if you were a beloved pet. The feeling was certainly pleasurable, cutting through your confusion. Ford leaned down and touched his nose to yours, practically grinning now. 

“You’ll like it,” he assured, hand slinking down to wrap around your waist. “Like I said, I know you want him…” He paused. “Don’t you?”

You were faltering, the petting of your face becoming almost hypnotic. You finally got yourself to look directly in his eyes, and they were nothing short of captivating. 

“I do,” you breathed finally. “I do want him.”

“Oh good,” Ford smiled. The arm around your waist traveled down, till he was slowly lifting your skirt. 

“He is awfully handsome, isn’t he?” Ford’s strange voice said. He leaned down and placed his lips at your neck before devouring you there. You gasped, sidestepping and heaving a breath. 

“He would never do this,” you groaned, turning to leave the room.

“But doesn’t it feel good?” Ford said, closing the distance between you and taking your hand. “Aww, c’mon. Don’t deny yourself a little fun, y/n. You deserve it. You’ve been working so hard.”

The steady heat between your legs twinged at his words. He was starting to make sense.

“I tried making advances,” you confided, turning back around. “But he’s kind of clueless.”

“How can someone so smart be so dumb, huh?” Ford laughed. You couldn’t help but chuckle yourself, placing a hand over your mouth in embarrassment. 

“You’re sure he agreed to this?” you asked, your resolve beginning to soften like an overripe fruit. 

“Oh yes,” Ford nodded enthusiastically. “His exact words were ‘it’s the least I can do for her.’” 

Your face warmed pleasantly. The heat between your legs was moving up, flowing through your whole body now. It was getting harder to ignore. Ford could see the change, and he stepped closer.

“Mind if I try again?” he asked. But based on his tone, you knew he would whether you said yes or no. You nodded, even tilting your head to present your neck to him. 

“Good…” he breathed before latching his lips onto your neck, sucking at the soft skin. His hands were suddenly all over you; beneath your shirt, under your skirt, squeezing at your thighs. You gasped for air, immediately overstimulated. Clearly Ford’s muse knew what he was doing. 

His large hand found your panties, and he tore them down unceremoniously. You stepped out of them with shaking legs and kicked them to the side. 

Ford led you to the couch you and him had moved into the lab for late nights. You sat down, and he immediately got to his knees, hitching your legs up onto his broad shoulders. You gazed down, your vision hazy. Ford grinned up at you, licking his lips. 

“Y’know this isn’t just for your sake,” he said. “It’s been millenia since I’ve tasted a human woman…”

His mouth found your clit immediately, and the shock of pleasure made you jump.

“Oh God,” you squealed, goosebumps flying over your skin.

Ford practically purred as he lapped you up, strange yellow eyes rolling back in his head. It was sloppy and messy and felt so fucking good. The fact that the man you’d had a crush on since college was administering it only added to your excitement. 

“Feels so good…” you managed, reaching a hand forward to bury it in Ford’s dark hair. He chuckled into you, wrapping his hands around your thighs. You felt an orgasm coming, practically hurtling towards you. You were helpless to stop it. 

“Coming!” was all you could say in warning before you unraveled into his mouth. Ford’s tongue plunged inside you as you finished.

“That’s a good girl,” he said after he pulled away. You looked down at him. His stubble was soaking wet, and that shit eating grin was still there, seemingly even wider than before. His chest was moving up and down rapidly. He was practically buzzing with excitement. When he stood, you noticed the outline in his pants and marveled at the size.

“Like what you see?” he breathed, reaching for his belt. The sight of his large hands undoing it and unzipping his pants was almost too much to bear. 

“I’ve imagined this for so long,” you said, eyes huge and glued to Ford’s large form. 

“I know sweetheart,” Ford cooed. His pants fell to the floor. He stood with his white shirt rumpled and his tie askew, his hair a mess and his mouth glistening red, his cock standing at attention before you. 

“Fuck…” you breathed. “He’s so beautiful.”

“Isn’t he just?” Ford hummed, reaching a hand down and stroking himself proudly. He reached for you, hauling you up and turning you around. “Bend over like the good girl you are.” The high voice coming out of Ford’s mouth was smarmy and mellow. Normally you would bristle at such behavior, but you were so excited you didn’t mind. You did as he asked.

“Been a while since I’ve felt this too…” Ford mused. “I hope I got you wet enough.”

“I’m ready,” you moaned, swaying your hips slightly. 

“You look fucking delicious,” Ford said before entering you slowly, every inch stretching you out.

He shuddered behind you, his whole body shivering as he let out a helpless moan. “Oh I forgot how amazing this feels…”

And it did feel amazing. You fit him like a glove once he was all the way inside. Ford wasted no time; he began thrusting hard and fast, his hands gripping your ass. You heard giddy laughter behind you as you were jostled forward, your breasts spilling out of your shirt with the movement. This was so dirty and wrong; the real Ford would be absolutely mortified at this display. But the Ford behind you was ecstatic. He lifted a leg onto the couch for better leverage, grinding on you and panting like a dog.

“Fuck yes,” he moaned. 

“Gonna come again…” you whimpered. 

“Come all over my cock, y/n,” Ford practically commanded. “Give me a good show…”

You did as he asked, coming around him and shoving your ass back into the crook of his pelvis, his hands moving to your hair and yanking it hard. The pain made you see stars.

“Oh Ford…” you groaned. “Please…never stop…”

“I’ll possess him whenever you want, baby,” Ford panted. “Now that I’ve had a taste I’ll be damned if I’m letting you go. Hey, want me to do his voice?”

This last part held the giddiness of someone suggesting a really good prank. You nodded in response, desperate to completely immerse yourself in this fantasy.

“You feel so damn good, y/n,” he said, and it was his deep voice that came forward. The sound of it made you come again immediately, your head swimming with embarrassment at how easy it was to make you orgasm.

“So tight for me,” Ford’s voice continued. “Aren’t you just the sweetest little thing?”

You nodded again as you felt him swell inside you.

“Not gonna last much longer,” Ford said, deep voice melding back into Bill’s as he came closer to orgasm, like a radio stuck between stations. 

“Come for me,” you begged, “Please I need to make you come…”

“Whatever you say,” Ford laughed. He spilled himself inside you with one last wild moan. You savored the sensation, your heartbeat slowly beginning to return to normal. 

“Damn that was fun!” Ford whooped, pulling his pants back up. He lifted you to your feet, turned you around, and planted a kiss on your lips. “I should probably give you the nerd back now. You two certainly have a lot to talk about.”

You smiled, worn out and weak as you slumped back onto the couch, trying to catch your breath. 

“See you later, sweetheart,” Ford said before sitting beside you and shutting his eyes. Within moments you felt a six fingered hand on your arm, shaking you from a light sleep. 

“Y/n,” Ford’s hushed voice came to your ears. You looked over and were met with Ford’s sweet brown eyes, his sheepish smile. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you said, voice laden with so much emotion; gratefulness, embarrassment, and something like love. 

“Did you uhm…enjoy yourself?” he asked, fiddling with his tie.

“Did you see all that?” you asked incredulously. 

“Oh yes, I was watching,” Ford said simply. The embarrassment took over and you turned away, groaning.

“Oh God, Ford…I was a mess…”

“It’s ok,” he reassured. “In fact you were…stunning.”

You smiled to yourself at the compliment, face still red. “I suppose we should ah…get back to work.”

“Yes,” Ford smiled. “I suppose we should."

[rangerbarbz]

Music and the Muse

Disclaimer: hey yall! This is a story I’ve had on my mind while ive been on my trip, and I just had to write it out. It’s a bit different than my usual one shots, but I just thought this was so cute. Please enjoy!

Summary: Ford goes to Greasy’s Diner one night for some dinner and meets a gorgeous singer

Ford Pines was exceptionally hungry after a long day of researching the oddities that seemed to be in abundance in the town of Gravity Falls, Oregon. However, with no culinary skills whatsoever and no canned goods to be seen in his house, he decided to head to Greasy’s Diner for some late-night breakfast food. What he didn’t know is that every Friday night, a beautiful woman had been serenading the patrons of this cozy restaurant.

He walked in and found a seat at the bar where he ordered a cup of coffee and a plate of eggs with toast. He was so focused on eating that he didn’t notice the woman that appeared at the front of the diner. You were holding an acoustic guitar and had placed a microphone stand in front of you.

“Hello Greasy’s Diner! How are we doing tonight?” you asked the audience with a smile on your face. The few people that were there grunted in response. “Great! So glad to hear that,” you responded, enthusiasm unwavering. “So tonight, I’m going to start off with ‘Coal Miner’s Daughter’ by the lovely Ms. Loretta Lynn. If you know it, sing along!” You began to strum on your guitar, finally gaining Ford’s attention.

He looked up from scarfing down his food to see a vision. You wore bell-bottoms and a flowing blouse and had the voice of an angel. While the rest of the diner seemed to not be paying attention, Ford couldn’t help but be enchanted. He always struggled with just looking women in the eyes, but he couldn’t take his off you. The way you swayed back and forth, the way your hands moved along the strings of the guitar, and the way he could tell you were smiling while you sang without even having to look at you had him beyond smitten. He sat his elbow up on the bar and used his hand to prop his head up. He knew he had the goofiest smile on his face looking at you and hearing your melodic singing.

Your eyes were raking the room hoping to see at least one person who was interested in your singing. You locked eyes with a gentleman in a sweater vest and button-up. He looked out of place among the other patrons of the diner. He looked scholarly; he definitely wasn’t from around here. He had fluffy, brown hair and glasses, and the way he was gazing at you made you have butterflies. You continued singing but sent a wink his way. The man’s head perked up from his hand and rubbed behind his neck.

You made Ford Pines, certified genius, flustered; you just didn’t know it yet. Ford knew he had to talk to you, but he was so intimidated. You were confident, which was something he wasn’t. Eventually, time had passed, several more songs had been sung, and it was closing time for Greasy’s. The last person that was there besides you and Ford had walked out the door. It was now just you and him.

“Have a goodnight, sir!” you called after the man. You had started putting your guitar back in your case. Ford knew that if he didn’t make a move now, he might never have another chance. He got up and began to approach you. Your back was to him, and you were humming a country song he couldn’t remember the name of.

Ford cleared his throat to get your attention. Your body tensed as you let out a yelp. When you turned to face him with your hand on your chest, you chuckled. “Bout gave me a heart attack!” you exclaimed.

His face was red as he stammered out an apology. “I-I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.” He had a nice deep voice and kind eyes. You reached out and squeezed his arm to reassure him. He looked down at your hand as if he couldn’t believe you had touched him. You let your hand drop to your side so as not to make him uncomfortable. Little did you know, he was thinking about your hands all over him.

“No worries,” you replied with a grin. “So, what can I help you with, stranger?”

“Ah, well…” Ford trailed off. He didn’t think he would get this far. “I just really enjoyed your singing, and I wanted to let you know.”

You gave him a wide smile. “That’s so sweet! That means a lot to me. I’ve been doing this on the side every Friday to make some extra money. I’ve never seen you before, though. Are you new to town?”

Ford wasn’t necessarily new to town, but he also didn’t want to tell you that he was holed up in his house with his studies all the time. He never went out in public unless he absolutely had to. “Yes, I am. I, uh, am here studying…wildlife.”

“That’s so neat! I love nature. What kind of wildlife are you studying?” You were genuinely interested in what he had to say about Gravity Falls. He wasn’t used to people wanting to hear what he had to say.

“It’s a little hard to explain. Do you know what anomalies are?” Ford was trying to contain how excited he was by fiddling with the loose thread at the end of his sleeve.

“I do, but I wouldn’t mind hearing you explain it to me,” you answered, picking up your guitar case. “Let’s get out of here before we get beaten with the broom, though. My truck is out front. We can sit on my tailgate if you’d like,” you suggested.

Ford was grinning like an idiot. “Sure. I would love that.”

“Great. Also, I really like your hair. I noticed it earlier; it looks good on you!” you complimented him. You meant every word of it, too. You tried not to let your nerves show, but you thought he was the cutest thing you had ever seen.

Ford’s face had turned crimson. “Oh gosh, well thank you. You’re too kind.” He felt like he was floating. First a girl wanted to see his research, and NOW she likes his hair. This felt unreal. As you two walked towards the exit, Ford opened the door for you.

“Why thank you, kind sir,” you said in a fake posh accent. “What a gentleman.”

Ford laughed. “Of course, madam.” He followed you out to your truck. It was a hunk of junk, but it got you to and from, and that’s all that mattered to you. You pulled the lever on your tailgate door and pulled it down. You climbed onto the truck and placed your guitar on the flatbed. You found a seat on the cool metal of the tailgate and let your legs dangle. You patted beside you beckoning for Ford to sit down.  

He hopped onto the tailgate and pulled a small notebook out of his pocket. “So, this isn’t my official research because I don’t have my journal with me, but this is a little sketchbook I have.” He opened it up to reveal detailed illustrations of creatures you had never seen before.

You gasped in amazement. “Did you draw these?” you asked wondrously.

“I did. Do you, uh, like them?” You were the first person he had shown his drawings to.

“Like them? I love them! You found these in Gravity Falls?” Ford’s eyes lit up and he pushed his glasses up onto his nose. He began to tell of his adventures and all he had learned since he had been here. You were entranced by his stories and his passion for oddities, and you believed every bit of it. You have seen some strange things since moving here, but not like he had. You could have listened to him till your hair turned gray. It was like he was a shaken-up soda can exploding carbonation everywhere. You continued to listen intently to him until you noticed his hands.

“Wait,” you interrupted him. “I apologize if this sounds rude, but do you have an extra finger?” Ford looked down bashfully at his hands.

“Yes, unfortunately. Been made fun of it my whole life,” he responded sadly.

“Oh, no,” you murmured. “I think it’s beautiful.” You began to trace your fingers along his hands. They were big and he had calloused fingers. It looked like his extra digit fit right in.

“T-thank you. No one has ever told me that,” he said softly.

“Well, it’s true.” You looked into his eyes, and it seemed that tears were on the brink of falling. You wanted to change the subject.

“Hey, you know how you thought that Gravity Falls was kind of a magnet for weirdness? I think you’re right. Can I show you my birthmark? It’s on my back.”

Ford’s head tilted slightly to the side. “Are you sure? You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“I want to. I promise.”

Ford nodded his head. You shifted so your back was facing him and lifted your shirt exposing the discolored lightning bolt like marks that covered your skin. They were all over your body, and it was something you had always been insecure about.

“Oh my,” he mumbled. “May I touch them?”

You blushed. “Yeah sure.” His fingertips began grazing your back gently, following each line on your body. You felt so at ease showing him. You felt no judgement at all. You heard him whisper “extraordinary” under his breath which made you smile to yourself.

“Are these lines everywhere?" he asked, scribbling in his notebook.

“They are all over my torso, chest, and parts of my arms.” What you said next, you said without thought, and you yourself couldn’t belief you had the guts to suggest this. “Would you like to draw me?”

You heard the scratching of his pencil stop, and you turned your neck to look at him. His mouth was slightly agape, and his eyes were wide.

“I uh…uh…” he stuttered.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“No- I mean, I would be honored to. I have never seen a skin condition such as yours. I just don’t want to cross any boundaries.”

You smiled. “Trust me, I don’t mind.” You pulled your shirt over your head leaving you in just your bra and blue jeans. The lightning bolt like marks spread over your body like vines. Ford exhaled sharply as he looked at you. He had never even touched a girl, let alone seen her topless. His heart rate began to pick up.

“You’re…magnificent,” Ford breathed. The way the moonlight shined on your skin and your hair flowed around your head made you look like a goddess.

Your face grew even more red. “Thank you.” There was a pause as his eyes drank you in. “Is this an okay pose?”

Ford nodded eagerly. “Yes, perfect.” He began to get to work sketching your body. He wanted to get every curve, every line, and every spot that covered you. In his head, you were the epitome of beauty. You felt utterly worshipped by this man you had just met. It was an indescribable feeling. You didn’t feel like an object; you felt like art.

“Could you turn over, please? I would like to get your back as well.”

You grinned and obliged. You rolled over and laid your head on your arms as he started his sketching again. After a couple of minutes, he was finally done. You had dozed off and he was tapping your shoulder to wake you up.

“I’m finished. Would you like to see?” he whispered. His low voice sent a shiver down your spine. You sat up, and Ford adverted his eyes to not look at your cleavage. You thought this was adorable considering you were literally shirtless, but he still wanted to remain respectful.

You looked at the drawings, and you were speechless. These drawings had made you see yourself in a way that you never had before. You looked gorgeous.

“I’m sorry if you don’t like them I-‘’ You cut him off by planting your lips on his. You don’t know what took over you, but you knew you didn’t want this to end. His lips were soft and unsure. Your hands were on either side of his face as his hands settled on the clothed part of your hips. He sighed into your mouth contently before you broke the embrace.

“Was that okay?” you asked in a ragged breath. “I’m sorry if that wasn’t okay, I don’t-“ This time he interrupted you with a kiss. He was more sure of himself now with one hand on your exposed waist and the other snaking it’s way into your hair.

“It was more than okay.”

You giggled at him. “So… I guess now is a good time to ask for your name.”

“I would say so,” he laughed his hand reaching out to you. “My name is Ford Pines.”

You shook his hand. “And I am Y/N Y/L/N. Nice to meet you.”

[dvrk-moon]

POPULATION 300 - JAKE SIM

TEASER 1

synopsis : it was some bullshit that jake had to stay in a city barely on the map called elmbridge rather than going to italy with his best friend. being forced to spend a whole summer there, all jake expected to be there was old people, not a girl who hasn’t left his mind since that one night at the gas station.

word count : .9k

genre : summer love, jake x fem!reader

warnings : mentions of suicide

playlist : tba

expected release date : next month lol

i. SUMMER TRIP TO NOWHERE

There were two things that Jake hated most in the world. Heights, and going away from home.

When Jake was five, before going on a trip to an amusement park with his mother, he was fine with heights. 

But when his mom and him had reached the top of the mock Eiffel tower during their day out, and Jake had managed to watch someone’s last moments on the tower as they decided to take their own life, it was a different story.

The header: “24 Year Old Man Takes His Life After Plummet From Mock Eiffel Tower at Ark Island Amusement Park”. Forever engraved in Jake’s mind, he swore to himself to never intentionally put himself in a situation where he would be so high in the air that anything remotely similar could happen to him, someone he loved, or even a stranger. 

On the other hand, the idea of going away from home just irked Jake in such uncomfortable ways that he grew to resent it. The resentment eventually turned into hatred. 

So, when it was revealed to him that he’d have to spend his whole summer in some nameless town in the middle of the U.S. with his aunt rather than spend his summer in Italy with his parents and best friend, Sunghoon, naturally he declined. In what right mind would anyone choose an unknown town over Italy?

Clearly his aunt would. 

No matter how much he tried to persuade his parents out of it, no matter how much he attempted to convince his aunt that taking him and his younger cousin, Huiyeon, on this trip was a bad idea, and no matter how much he struggled to make Sunghoon talk to his parents about taking him to Italy anyways — because they clearly loved Jake enough to at least try and do so — instead of ‘Middle-of-Nowhere-Ville’, all his trials ended fruitlessly.

Because two weeks after receiving the proposal of the trip, here Jake was, sitting in the passenger seat of his aunt’s half-working 1998 Ford Escort, trying to drown out Billy Joel by using his hand-me-down cassette player from his dad. 

Seated behind him was assorted bags that each person inside the car had chosen as essentials to bring, Huiyeon: some old dolls she’d bought with her mom at an antique store during a trip to a small town in Oregon, her quilt since birth, dress up clothes, and of course clothes suited for a seven year old such as herself; Jake: about 20 different flannels, about 20 different cassettes, an ugly doll that he originally was going to leave at home, but since his mom considered it ‘necessary’, he packed it in his suitcase to appease her, and his polaroid; and his aunt, Seulyi: clothes you could typically find any 31 year old wearing, a picture book, a couple cassettes she had found for Jake, and some jewelry.

There were also more bags in the trunk, loaded with clothes. Due to the trunk space being so unexpectedly small, each person only got to pack two bags of clothes. The remaining things that needed to be packed were left in the bags in the backseat row, or left at home, due to lack of room.

A newly awakened Huiyeon interrupted the comfortable silence — aside from the Billy Joel songs from the radio — in the car.

“Are we there yet?” she yawned, stretching herself over as far as she could in the row without touching the bags that occupied the spot next to hers. One hand rubbed her left eye while the other one was shaken. “My whole body feels fuzzy.”

“Like TV static?” Jake questioned. He figured she was trying to wake her body up from falling asleep.

“Yeah. I feel fuzzy.” She responded, yawning a second time.

“We’re almost there,” Seulyi reassured from the drivers seat. Huiyeon and her met eyes from the rear view mirror, “give it about 20 more minutes, Hui.”

As Seulyi focused her attention back on the road, Jake took this time to fully take off his headset and pause his cassette. 

“Hey, Aunt Seulyi?” 

Seulyi hummed a half response.

“What’s the name of this town again? I forgot to look it up when I still had my phone…” Jake semi laughed. His phone was probably on his dresser at his house, or maybe in his parents room. Two days before the trip, they’d confiscated it in hopes that ‘he’d learn to keep away from it for a while’ and ‘he’d actually have to connect with people his age in real life’. Apparently, according to both them and Seulyi, the service there was horrible anyways.

What a load of bullshit. If Jake had to guess, the town would most likely be filled with old people, not anyone his age he could connect with. 

“The town is called Elmbridge. The population is only around three hundred people, so it’s more than likely you’ll see the same people more than once while you’re down there.” Seulyi informed. “That means don’t pull anything dumb, Jake.” 

Seulyi glanced in his direction, not in a way to berate him, but more in a warning way. Jake half assed a laugh as he turned out to face the window to watch trees as the car flew on the highway.

“Also, just to let you both know, we’re about forty five minutes away from actual human civilization,” she joked, “so this experience will be something interesting for us all.”

a/n : ive been formulating this story since 2020 LMFAO originally i wrote it with nct’s renjun in mind but i felt bad for emu having a sad ending for jake so here is his redemption arc

[incomingalbatross]

Gravity Falls, the first year after canon:

Kids start school basically as soon as they get home. Wendy and Co. go back into high school. Dipper starts boxing lessons at a local gym.

Stan and Ford get the Stan O' War II operational around the end of September, making a detour to sail south and see the kids before heading to the Arctic. Meet the Pines parents! (I really wanted them there for Thanksgiving, but I couldn't justify delaying their voyage by a whole three months. And end of September situates their sailing right after Yom Kippur, which from my limited understanding seems nicely symbolic.)

The kids + parents spend Thanksgiving with their dad's side of the family. May involve a belated realization that no one told Grandpa Shermie he has two brothers again. Oops? Situation is rectified.

Through the Magic of Christmas and a fortuitous run-in with Santa, Stan and Ford unexpectedly get to go home for Christmas! They even get to visit Piedmont and (with the kids) Gravity Falls before they zip back to their boat. Lots of reunions. This is also when Soos and Melody announce they've just gotten engaged. :)

Spring is less eventful in terms of California-Oregon-Arctic traffic.

The second school lets out, the younger twins are racing the older ones to Oregon. It's a photo finish probably. Everyone crowds into the Shack, which is fuller with Soos and Abuelita there, but it's also full of secret rooms and a floorplan that makes no sense, so it's fine.

Stan and Ford's birthday is on June 15!! It is a Very Big Deal. Dipper and Mabel go all out on the party planning, though they keep it mostly confined to the Shack crew.

Somewhere in here (maybe at the start? maybe in the middle?) Dipper and Mabel's parents come up for a couple weeks of vacation. It's a little disorienting for everyone, but they learn to love the town and Mabel and Dipper love getting to share it with them.

Soos and Melody get married on July 13 - Melody is making a Statement with that choice of date, which Soos understands and is overjoyed by. Half the town is at the wedding and all of it is at the reception (even though anyone not on the limited guest list has to pay admission. Stan is weeping with pride).

McGucket uses his new wealth to throw a ludicrously wild and extravagant shindig for the town on the date of the traditional Northwest party.

Despite the reach of NMAT, everyone feels unsettled on the anniversary of Weirdmageddon. People end up congregating in the town square in the evening. Wendy and her gang start a bonfire, people start bringing out food, and suddenly people are singing apocalypse folk songs? Trading stories? It's a whole thing in the end, but it helps people make something fun out of their memories.

The summer ends on a better note for the whole town, though, with a blow-out party to celebrate Mabel and Dipper's fourteenth birthday. This year their parents come up to give them company on the trip home, so they get to be there for the party too!

[princess-schez]

Fic: Sweet Dreams, Beautiful Nightmare - Chapter 10

Warnings: Some language. Just Bill being Bill. Genre: Bill Cipher/Reader fanfic Summary: The Reader has been plagued by violent nightmares for as long as she can remember. Deciding to move to Oregon for a simpler pace of life, it is there she meets the dream demon himself and begins to unravel a mystery connecting them both. Notes: Bill is such a little perv, but we love him so...

Chapter 10.

You heard the front door opening downstairs, and you hurried out of the tub, drying yourself off and throwing on your clothes as quickly as possible. You had no idea how long you were out for. Everything felt like a blur. Time had slipped past, and you weren’t sure if it was day or night. You sat down on your bed, taking a deep breath. There was something about this town and the ability it gave you to have some of the most vivid dreams ever.

“If you can call them that,” a voice said.

Startled, you looked around to see who was talking to you when a now-familiar yellow triangle appeared out of nowhere. “What?” you asked, feeling like the universe was playing a joke on you and this was just the start of a horrible punchline at your expense. The triangle smiled, or at least that’s what you thought it did, given you had few facial features to work with.

“Are—are you gonna kill me or something?”

The triangle—Bill—actually seemed somewhat surprised at your statement. His eyebrow lifted as though taken aback. “I may be a demon, but I would never harm a hair on your beautiful head.” He bent in an almost bow, reaching for your hand to kiss it.

You swallowed hard, unsure whether to believe him or not. “What do you want?” you asked, pulling your hand away.

“To see you, my love.”

You blinked, surprised by his antics again. “So... how do you know me, exactly?” you asked.

“You still don’t know?” He seemed almost disappointed. Saddened. 

“You already said that to me before!” You didn’t mean to be so cross, but if this was a joke at your expense, then you missed the punchline. And you were getting tired of it.

“Maybe if I showed myself in the van?”

Your heart stopped as an icy chill ran down your spine. “That—that was you?” Your voice began to rise as panic and another emotion you weren’t sure of began to fill you. An invisible triangular demon groped and edged you in a van. If it weren’t for the fact that it felt so strangely good, you would have almost been completely disgusted.

“Or maybe in the bathroom? That show you put on was brilliant. Beautiful. The moans you made—” He gave a chef’s kiss before he wriggled his eyebrow and made an obscene gesture with his hand as though pumping himself.

You stopped, locked eyes with it as his words registered in your head, and your voice rose with each word until you practically yelled. “You fucking, perverted, little freak—”

You hadn’t realized how loud you had gotten or that Ford threw the bedroom door open, with Stan and the twins behind him looking bewildered. 

“What on earth? Are you okay?” Ford asked, eyes wide as he took in the sight before him. Bill was hovering close, maybe a little too close to you, his tiny hands raised placatingly. 

“Whoa, no need for the cavalry,” he laughed, snapping a finger as the door shut again. “We’ll need a little privacy if you don’t mind.”

“No,” you said, stomping your foot like a petulant child. “You’re going to tell me what the fuck is going on. Right. Now.”

You could hear Ford on the other side of the door, telling the others to start touching up the Bill-proofing of the Shack as Bill rolled his eye. He seemed unfazed as he sat next to you on the bed.

“Maybe I went about this the wrong way,” he said thoughtfully, with no hint of emotion in his voice.

“You think?” you replied, eyebrows raised. “It’s not every day someone gets felt up by a geometry problem.”

It was Bill’s turn to shoot you a look. You returned an equally blank expression to him as the demon sighed. “I was hoping you’d remember. You’ll have to forgive my wandering hands; I haven’t seen you in a very long time, and a demon has needs, you know.”

“No, I don’t know,” you sighed. You couldn’t help but notice that his very being seemed to light up every time he spoke. It was almost... cute. In a strange way. “But you seem to know me, so why don’t I know you?”

Bill sighed. “It would be easier to show you than to explain it.”

“So show me then.”

“It’s—not that easy. The quickest way for me to show you, I—I have to do something I swore I would never do to you.”

“What’s that?”

“Possess you.”

You watched the tiny being beside you, eyebrow furrowed as though the thought caused him turmoil.

“Possess me?”

“Take over your body to liberate your memories, if you will. But for me to do that, you have to make a deal with me.”

“A deal?”

“Yes, a deal. Red tape, it’ll drive you nuts, believe me. So whaddya say you let me get reacquainted with that bod—uh, mind of yours, huh?”

You opened your mouth to reply but stopped and listened, the unmistakable sound of a drill whirling to life. Ford and Stan were preparing to dismantle the door to get inside. The demon looked up at you, all cockiness aside, and you could have sworn his eye was almost pleading with you. 

“We don’t have much time. If you want to learn what exactly is going on, you’ll have to trust me.” Bill floated in front of you, hand extended. Bright blue flame engulfed it, and you looked at it warily. 

“It won’t cost me my soul, will it?” you asked with some trepidation. “And you’ll leave my body afterward?”

“No, it won’t cost you your soul,” Bill said softly, as though he were talking to a lover. “I just need permission to enter your mind. That’s it. I’ll leave right afterward.”

You could hear the sounds of a drill making contact with the screws holding it in place. It wouldn’t be much longer before they would be in here, and you didn’t know what would happen afterward. Especially to Bill. Biting your lip, you mulled it over. You wanted to discover why and how you were connected to this, with the bizarre dreams and all that. If Bill had the answers, could it really be all that bad to make a deal with him? 

Bill looked anxious as the voice of Stan and Ford grew louder. You had maybe seconds left…

“Okay!” you said, taking his hand as the flames engulfed yours. Right then and there, the bedroom door tilted to the side, enough for Ford and Stan to fit through as Bill laughed.

“Too late, suckers!”

You felt a painful burst in your head as Bill took over your body while his turned to stone and fell to the ground in front of you with a loud thump. At that moment, the two men rushed over. Their looks of complete horror were the last thing you saw before you passed out on the bed. _______ Chapter 9 / Chapter 11 AO3 / Wattpad

[anysin]

Fic: Fancy Meeting You Here

For an anon requester, Billford with a "meeting at a party whilst drunk" au! In which Ford does a Bloody Mary style summoning of Bill while drunk at a college party and Bill appears. SFW, hope you enjoy!

Fancy Meeting You Here

When Ford looks into the mirror and sees a bright, yellow triangle with a top hat floating behind him, holding a martini glass, he is suddenly very grateful he locked the bathroom door before doing the dare.

"Oh my! You have caught me on an awkward moment." The creature lifts its glass up, as if in a little toast, its lone, staring eye flipping over into a mouth as it tosses the contents of the glass into its maw. Ford stares at the triangle, trying his best to follow the every movement the creature makes as it drifts closer to him, reaching out to place its slender hand on Ford's shoulder. He shivers when he can feel the pressure of the hand, its small weight, the curling of the fingers.

He can't believe that the "Bill Cipher" chant, a legend from a small Oregon town of Gravity Falls, actually worked. Of course, Ford is quite drunk right now, so this could be some kind of a hallucination, but in the case it's not, it's absolutely fascinating. Ford glances briefly in the direction of the door, making sure that it's indeed locked, before returning his eyes to the mirror; he doesn't dare to look directly behind him in case it will make the triangle disappear. The triangle is still in the reflection of the mirror, its eye back in its socket as it stares at him, swaying slightly as it holds onto Ford's shoulder.

"Well look at you, not freaking out at all! I like that in a human being." The triangle laughs, waving its glass; it refills with new liquor. "You know, usually I would be pretty pissed off to be summoned out of a party like this, but you seem like an interesting enough a freak. What's your name?"

"Ford. Stanford. Stanford Pines." Ford blinks, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. It does nothing to sober him up, but it also doesn't make the triangle go away; it still glows bright in the dusky bathroom, and its hand is still warm on Ford's shoulder.

"What's your name?" He glances towards the bathroom door again, wondering if there is anyone outside hoping to get in, puzzled by hearing him talk to himself. He is pretty sure that even if the triangle is real to him, he's not real to anyone else.

"Bill Cipher! Pleasure to meet you." The triangle downs another drink, leaning backwards in the air as it does so; apparently, this portion is good enough to make it kick out a bit with its little black feet. It sways back towards Ford after it's done, bringing its eye close to Ford's face. "I can tell your brain is a busy bee, working even now when you should be having a blast drinking it out of your skull."

Ford shivers as the creature blinks, its eye so close to him he can feel the drag of its long lashes against his cheek.

"What are you?" he asks, raising his hand, wanting to place it on top of the hand on his shoulder.

With a laughter, the triangle sets its feet against Ford's back and pushes itself off, releasing him.

"That's a conversation for when I'm actually sober! But now that you have summoned me, you and I have a connection, pal." The triangle tosses the glass up into the air, snapping its fingers; the glass disappears before it can even start falling. "And I'm going to make use of that connection. I think we're going to have a good time together, Stanford Pines."

The triangle tips its hat off at him. "See you later, big guy."

"Wait!" Ford whirls around, reaching out.

But the triangle is already gone.

Ford stands there, and part of him wants to make a show of wondering if this really happened, and then dismiss the whole thing as a hallucination. But that's really it; it would only be for a show. He knows that he wants this to be real.

If this happened, it's proof of the existence of an extraordinary being. And Ford wants to know more about it.

Shaking his head, he goes for the door, ready to return to the party. He can only hope that Bill Cipher will contact him again.

[leviathainkinnie]

New Gravity Falls AU?

I’ve been working on this AU since pre Covid and I’ve honestly now got the confidence to share this to a lot of people. I’ve posted this on Amino, (yes, I did use Amino, shut up) So…… Introducing, The Cipher Twin AU!!

Bill and Will were born to The Royal Family, Queen Scalene and King Euclid. Royals are the only ones who could have human and 2D forms. Sometimes it skips on royals. Thats the exact case of their parents. The twins were in demon form until they reached the throne. Bill was the only one who was born with one eye. They were both treated fairly even though Bill said he could see stars. His parents were worried that the other kids would bully him so they made the executive decision to temporarily blind him enough so he couldn't see the stars. When the twins were equivalent to earth age eighteen, they decided that Will would be the next heir to the throne. Bill wasn't thrilled about the news. He tried to beg and plead to his parents to overturn their decision. They refused. He begged them to tell him why they chose Will over him. They refused to tell him. They still loved their sons unconditionally. Over the years, Bill got fed up with how the public was treating him. When Bill and Will turned earth age twenty-two, they both started their royal training. Will with his king training and Bill with his prince training. Two years went by and Bill broke. He trapped Will in a dungeon and convinced his parents that he went missing. He went into king training instead. The public still ostrichsized him and told him that he is not their king. Bill tortured Will into making him give up everything he has so he can be king. He refused. Bill became angrier over the months. He went into a blind rage and started what the universe calls ‘The Euclidean Massacre’. There were only 100 survivors. They hid where Bill wouldn’t think people would hide. During the destruction of their universe, Will broke free from his prison and fled the dimension with the survivors, granting the survivors human forms. They fled to dimension 46’/. They found themselves in Gravity Falls, Oregon. They lived there for years. Will took a liking to the new scientist in town, Stanford Pines.He and Ford went around the town and documented the weirdness. Will opened up to him about his true identity and his past. Ford listened and they grew closer. Ford found the cave with the incantation for Bill and read it aloud. He had the same dream as in cannon. Will found out and begged Ford not to go with what he told him. Will and Ford went no contact and thirty years later when Ford sent Will a letter, Ford explained everything. Ford and Will become friends again after Ford explained everything in person. Will eventually comes clean to the rest of the family about who he is and what he is. Everything was going fine for about two weeks until they found out Bill tricked the Axolotl and let him come back as a human with some powers. They brace themselves when Bill came to Gravity Falls. They evade him for a while and they did until Bill decided to try to ‘finish the job’. There was a big showdown with Will and Bill and Will won, sending Bill to the theraprism.

Fully Eucidian Characters

Shandra Jimenez

Robbie (doesn’t know)

Grenda (doesn’t know)

Ma and Pa Duskerton

Thompson

Robbies Mother and Father

Half Human Half Euclidian

Manly Dan and kids (from MD’s mother)

Soos (From his mother, lives with his fathers mother)

Tad Strange (From father)

Lazy Susan (From father)

Mayor Tyler (From mother, His mothers parents are fully Euclidian)

Durland (From mother)

Toby D (Grandmother)

[theflashjaygarrick]

Stanuary week 1: Mystery

This is my fic for week one of @stanuary. It's set after the portal incident when someone comes knocking on the murder hut's door with some questions about Stanley.

I don't have ao3 so I'm just posting it here. Hope you enjoy!

Stan Pines was snapped out of his math-fuelled haze by a knocking at the door. 

Who could that be? 

He and Ford had no friends in town as far as he knew. No neighbours either, no matter what that Dan guy kept claiming. As  a city boy there was no way he was going  count people who lived twenty minutes away as neighbours. The Manotaurs hadn’t come knocking since he chased one off with a bat, an ultimate shame for their kind. And what tourist would visit at six on a January evening? 

The mystery visitor knocked again, firmer this time. His stomach dropped. 

No. It couldn’t be. There was no way Rico would have been able to track him down to an Oregon town so backwater that it didn’t make it onto roadmaps. But still…

Stan shoved the freshman textbook away. He reached for his baseball bat before deciding against it. The bat was a trusty old thing but would be nothing compared to Rico and his goons with their guns. Besides, the bat would be an immediate giveaway of who he was. Same with his brass knuckles.

He briefly toyed with the virtue of answering with both a weapon and his best approximation of Poindexter. Just put on a mustard coloured sweater vest and start rambling about algebra and parallel dimensions and Area 51. If needed he could, with puzzled and owlish expression, tell Rico that Stanley Pines was dead. Car crash. Very tragic. Or it would be if he cared enough to miss him. 

Rico might even fall for that con. For all the disguises Stan had assumed over the years, he had never managed to settle into one so painfully nerdy. But if Rico still saw straight through it Stan would be just another John Doe tossed into a dumpster to rot. Ford would have no one to bring him back. His family would have another twin to grieve, and this time it would be the good one. The golden child. 

He almost considered leaving it unanswered. But if it was some confused tourist? Stan could never resist a sale. 

So he came to the door as Mr. Mystery. A loveable rouge of a showman with a broad smile and a garish yellow shirt littered with question marks. His weapon? A 'magical’ staff that was in reality a magic 8 ball duct taped onto a cue stick with the mystical ability to shut annoying people up with one good whack. 

He could not be Stanford Pines — the genius whose life he stole. Neither could he stomach being Stanley Pines anymore — the failure who had burnt everyone foolish enough to get close. Mr Mystery was a compromise.

“Welcome to the murder hut!” He said with the voice of a chain-smoking carnival barker. “What kind of spooky mysteries and weird — ah, weirdness are you after?” 

It was a woman. Long coat. Navy turtleneck jumper. Tortoise shell glasses. She looked like a nerd, and a short one too. Relief washed over him that he had not come out screaming with a bat.

“Uh, hello, Dr. Pines, can I ask you a few questions?” 

She must have been one of Ford’s old colleagues. Perhaps someone from whatever not-quite-West-Coast-Tech college Stan had condemned him to. Ford had been given some grant. And while it had become null a year or so ago they still may have sent this woman to follow up on that. 

“Its Mr. Mystery to you, and Mr Mystery is saying nothing about his potential research or any money he may owe.” 

She huffed. “Look, Stanford don’t care about your research. Look, I want to ask you about your twin brother Stanley Pines.” 

Stan froze. 

Cold dribbled down his spine like snowmelt. 

On instinct his eyes looked at her shoes. Brown boots. They did not seem to be of the steel-toed vanity favoured by undercover-cops. Still, a healthy distrust in humanity had never hurt him so far. He crossed his arms and stood up straighter. 

“He’s been dead a while. What’d you want?”

“I’m Helena Cale, a reporter for The Oregon Weekly and I think you’re brother’s story deserves to be told.” 

“Huh. Why don’t ya come in.” Stan said, just because he was sick of standing in the cold air. Nothing more. 

He took her to the kitchen. The half-packed away ‘exhibition’ and the cobweb-ridden gift shop felt far from the right place to discuss your ‘death'. Stan had gotten picky about that sort of thing since he got an actual house with different rooms in it. Imagine that? Stanley Pines paying off a mortgage. 

He plopped himself down on one of the old wooden chairs he had…acquired from a garage sale. Helena sat across from him. She pulled out a notebook and fountain pen out of her bag. Without asking a question she scribbled something down. Perhaps commenting on his charming personality or bold fashion sense. Still, the silence scared Stan. 

“What are you so interested in Stanley for? Sure the guy had personality but he’s hardly famous.”

“I’m actually curious about the circumstances of his death.” She responded.

Stan shifted in his seat. 

“He drove a car off the nearby cliff by accident. It wasn’t a suicide or anything.” 

The words escaped his mouth before he had time to consider how defensive they sounded. Stan Pines was a man who spoke before he thought. He refused to be ashamed about that even if it got him into many sticky situations.

“I never claimed it was. How much do you know about Stanley’s life after leaving home?” 

Stan barked a laugh. The wrong move. 

“Basically nothing. Stan didn’t call or make any effort to tell me what he was up to. Why, do you think he was penpals with some serial killers or something.” 

Helena glared at him —  her brow furrowed — before she recovered her previous unaffected persona. 

“According to the records your brother was homeless for most of his life and had an extensive criminal record. Including…” she rustled through her bag and pulled out a manilla folder “dealings with organised crime.”

He snatched the manilla folder from her and tipped it on its side. The pages tumbled out onto the kitchen table. He recognised most of them. Record after record about Stanley Pines, Steve Pinington, Eight-Ball Alcatraz; a loose spiderweb of mistakes and false identities he had spun throughout the Americas. And this was only a few of his aliases. 

“Who’s Eight-ball.” He said, plucking that sheet from the pile. “Looks like a piece of work.”

That eyepatch. That cut on his eyebrow which had since faded into a scar. Somehow, as he stared into the eyes of his younger self, the good memories flooded back. Late nights with Jimmy. Cheap beer and whiskey from the seediest of dive bars. Pride in being the slipperiest man in all of Arkansas — until he wasn’t. His fingers clenched into fists. 

“Well, he is believed to be one of Stanley’s many, many alibis.” She said. “Did you know he had fake identities?” 

“Figured he would have stopped after twenty-one. Heh.” His joke was met with silence. “But no, I didn’t. And what do you want to do about these? Stan Pines is dead.” 

“You don’t think it’s at all suspicious that a man who crossed so many shady figures just happened to die tragically young by ‘accidental’ circumstances.”   

Stan shrugged.  

“Fine. But even if there was a slight possibility of murder, wouldn’t you want to know for sure. He’s your brother. Hell, if my sister died I would not rest until I disproved any single possibility of foul play. And she’s a primary school teacher.” 

He got it. If Ford ended up dead then Stan would do anything to bring justice. But if Stan died? He wasn’t sure Ford would be bothered to schlep back to Jersey for his low-budget funeral. 

“This isn’t some Jim Thompson story. This is real life, and in real life sometimes no-good grifters die boring, stupid deaths. No mysteries required.” 

He tried to smooth out the tremble in his voice. His father had made clear enough that men should never cry, or really any vulnerability. At least if they knew what was good for them. Thankfully, his coarse voice often hid any emotion which forced its way in there despite his efforts. It had served him well on the streets.

“Jim Thompson?”  Helena asked. 

“Crime novelist.” He answered simply. 

Of course she was probably too much of a nerdy snob to read a pulp thriller. And if she was, Ford definitely was. He probably read those more intellectual books. What was that author Ford liked’s name? Agnes Christopher? 

He was so caught in his musings he missed her next question. “What did you say?” 

“I asked if you were the last person to see Stanley alive?” 

“Eh, yeah. Think so.” 

“Did he say anything suspicious?” 

What had he even told Ford? Had he mentioned Rico? Jimmy? Probably he had just complained about his stupid mullet. He shook his head. 

This hurt — no, it couldn’t hurt him. He was a Pines man, after all. Whatever. It was still a ridiculous waste of time. He needed it to end.

“Get. Out.” Stan said, rising to his full height. 

Helena dropped her pen, leaving blue ink pooling on the paper. But she did not leave, or at least thank him for humouring with what was likely a desperate attempt to capitalise on his brother’s — or really his own death — for clout. 

“Actually, I have a few more questions.” 

“Yeah? And I have one response. Leave.” 

“Your brother’s death is a mystery. Potentially the story of the decade. I need to get to the bottom of it.” 

How many damn times could he hear about a brother dying? See the fake pity of a woman who did not know what she was talking about?

“Well, maybe I don’t care about that good-for-nothing leach.” 

The words clattered in the silence. She leaned back in the seat, her eyes boring into his own. It was not anger that she had met him with, but rather a mixture of pity and disappointment. It was the same look that Mrs. Aylward had given him back in seventh grade when she realised that despite all the help she had given him, he had just copied off of his brother for the final assignment. Well, at least he had plenty of practice disappointing people. 

“You don’t really mean that.” Helena said. 

“Yeah. I do. You didn’t know that bastard like I did. He was a clingy, selfish liar who road on my coattails and when I told him to stop he ruined my life. Then when he finally left he couldn’t even make something of himself. Imagine that!” 

The words flowed from Stan’s mouth with the ease tears could never match. It was too easy to imagine all the terrible things Ford felt about him. Fed by the pure vitriol he felt about himself in his darkest moments.

“You know why he came to see me here in gravity falls? He came to beg for more money and a place to stay. He couldn’t even deal with the consequences of his actions as a grown man. Huh. Guess, my father was right about him. Dying was the most worthwhile thing he ever did. So, yeah, I don’t want some Sherlock Holmes messing around with what should be dead and buried.” 

His breathing was ragged and hoarse. Adrenaline coursed through his body. 

He might have been a bit harsh in his impression of Ford, but there was something cathartic about venting all of his guilt and fears and his anger towards his stupid genius brother who left him with a house and impossible debt. And his hatred at himself for being the one who had all but pushed him into the portal.  

He definitely was too harsh on this poor reporter looking for a scoop. He shrunk in on himself in a way he had not done in a while. His shoulders slumped, his hands clasped in front of him. Helena did not seem to notice his change in demeanour. 

“I understand, sir.” She said instead, grabbing her things and shoving them back into her bag. “I’ll leave you alone here. It seems you were not the kind of man I thought you were. Perhaps you were too…involved in this death.” 

“Look, I meant —”

Of course Stan had found another way to blow things. Helena thought he had killed his brother. And yes, he may have in a way, but it was an accident he would die to amend, not some coldblooded murder. And for all of his flaws he knew that Ford would never kill him.

The door slammed. He heard the rumbling of an engine revving to get out of this cursed patch of wood. Now all he had to do was wait for the howling of police sirens coming down Gopher Road. 

He had never been arrested for murder before. The thought was almost funny before he realised that meant his chance of getting Ford back was zero. North West Realty would come sniffing and the cabin in the woods would go to some random family of holidayers from California who had no idea what monstrous secrets lurked beneath the creaking floorboards. 

He couldn’t let that happen.

He had to fix this. He could talk his way out. He was Stanley Pines, the conman with a silver tongue. Images flashed back of Ford closing the curtains and of him being shoved in that trunk, being tied up in a warehouse, shanked in the side. He grimaced. 

This time he could not afford to fail. 

He had to meet Helena again and try and plead his case that he was a grieving man who was dealing with it badly. He looked at the empty liquor bottles on the counter. Yeah, that story was believable. He could even throw in the fact that he was drunk. 

Heh, perhaps he should have thrown in some ramblings about those gnome jerks who were always going through his trash. That would have convinced her. 

But it had to wait to the morning. The last thing he wanted was to look like a stalker as well as a fratricidal monster. In the morning she would would probably be in Greasy’s Diner. It was the only place to eat in town after all. And she couldn’t cook a decent meal in whatever dinky hotel they had set her up in.

He poured himself a nip of Scot - ish Whiskey (the finest from Washington State!) to steady his shaking hands  and took a seat at his Easy Chair. He had a feeling that he was not going to get a lot of sleep that night. 

The sun had only just crested the mountains by the time Stan was out the door. He clambered into the front seat of the Stanleymobile and turned on the engine. That loud hum was more soothing than anything else in his life. Sitting in the driver’s seat made him feel powerful, like he was in control — sometimes to a dangerous extent. 

The drive to Greasy’s Diner had never felt this long. He wondered whether the mist around here had sort of time-slowing side effect. It would be far from the strangest thing he’d seen and while Ford had never written about it he had always had a flimsy grasp of the passage of time. Besides, that man didn’t know everything. No matter what he thought. 

He parked outside the log-shaped diner. As he got out some lady in a grey flannel jacket swore at him from her truck. So much for small town hospitality. And all because he had sped up at the last moment to take the last spot from her.

Ridiculous. 

Just like it was ridiculous that the place was bustling so early in the morning. Most of the tables were full of couples, and families with small children, and groups of friends. Gravity Falls was full of morning people. He scanned the place for any sign of Helena. She was no where to be seen. 

He considered leaving until that waitress — Susan he thought it was — asked him if he would like to get a table. He was going to decline but then she laughed at that cheesy joke he delivered with his trademarked--Stan-Pines grin so he said yes. He ordered pancakes and a black coffee. 

Then, by the time he was about to leave, Helena came in.   

“Hey, Helena! Can we talk?” 

She looked at him. Her eyes narrowed and she gave him a sheepish smile. 

“I’m sorry? Do I know you?” She said. 

She must have had a rough night. Her eyes seemed blank and her voice hollow, compared to that fiery spark he had seen in her last night. Her white blouse was muddied and her coat buttons were done up wrong. Her hair looked unbrushed.

“Uh, it’s Mr. Mystery. Or Stanford Pines. We talked about your story?”

“I thought that I came here to report on lumberjacks and you don’t look like a lumberjack. No offence.” 

“I just live near one. You came to the wrong house.” He lied.

Maybe she had amnesia? She could have fallen and hit her head. It was a ridiculous lucky coincidence but after years of terrible luck he supposed the universe owed him something. Besides, what else could have caused her to forget such a recent memory. It made no sense. But he supposed not much in the town did. 

Ford would ask a billion questions and chase down the answers until the mystery bit him back. Stan was nothing like him. He was a guy who was content to let what happened happen. He had learnt the hard way that messing in what didn’t concern you rarely ended well. It would keep him safe in this strange, old town.

“Well, welcome to Gravity Falls. It’s the kind of place you’ll never forget.”

[unculturedmamoswine]

Gravity Falls Fic: Call on Me

My fic for day 2 of @polyshipweek! The prompt I chose was second chances. It’s a Ford/Fidds/Emma-May fic set when Ford calls Fidds for help on the portal. Emmy has another idea. You can read it under the cut or on AO3 here.

Bill doesn’t like it, but it has to be Fiddleford. Ford’s finally made his muse see the wisdom of bringing in someone with Fiddleford’s talents. Much as he’d like to say that he’s capable of designing and building a poly-dimensional meta-vortex on his own, he has to admit that, really, he can’t. “And, no offense, Bill but it seems like you can’t, either,” Ford had pointed out. “Unless you have a depth of mechanical knowledge you haven’t revealed to me yet?” he added, half-hopefully.

Bill had laughed ruefully and scratched his head (the tip of his body under the hat, rather.) “Yeah, yeah, you got me there, IQ. Go ahead and call your buddy. But keep me under your hat, got it?” For a dramatic exit from Ford’s mindscape, Bill had squeezed himself into a tiny fraction of his usual size and disappeared into his own hat, which then popped out of existence, allowing Ford to wake up and stare at his ceiling until light crept through his window.

-

That had been five days ago. Ford hasn’t heard from Bill in that time, and so hasn’t had anything to distract him from his anxiously churning thoughts.

What will I say? What will he say? What do I say if Emma-May answers the phone? Should I ask to speak to her if she doesn’t? What if their son answers the phone? Do (whatever age he is) aged children answer phones? Did Stanley and I ever get the phone when we were children? Maybe Shermie answers the phone at home. I should call Mom and Dad and see if he answers.

“Look,” he tells himself in the mirror one afternoon. “You’re just going to have to do it.” Ford drags the razor across his jaw. “You’ve reached the point of shaving to avoid talking to Fiddleford and Emma-May again,” he points out. “So you know you’re being cowardly. If you want to achieve anything in your life, you have to be willing to face your fears.”

Ford rinses his face and gives himself a stern nod in the mirror. He’s right. He should listen to himself.

-

Ford makes the call in his office, hoping the professional atmosphere will keep him grounded. It’s been years. He’s a grown adult now, he reasons. He’s surely over his bizarre youthful experimentation stage, and over any lingering hurt feelings over any breakups that might have resulted in Ford moving alone to Oregon and Fiddleford and Emma-May getting married and settling down. In the last couple of years, he’s been better able to look back fondly on his… relationship time with Emma-May and Fiddleford. He used to try to avoid thinking of them as much as possible. He couldn’t say he resented them; their parting of ways was mutual, after all. But he couldn’t say he was entirely sanguine about them, either.

Ford makes the call in his office, hoping the setting will make this feel like a professional interaction. He paces like a dog on his short leash, twisting the phone cord in his fingers. He fits each finger of his free hand in between the tightly curled spirals of the cord, and thinks suddenly of Emmy’s– of Emma-May’s hair on the days she took the time to do it. It curled almost as tightly, those times. The rest of the time her hair was much like Ford’s– an unhappy medium between curly and frizzy, usually settling into fluffy on days she didn’t wash it. They used to sigh about it together when they were alone and Fiddleford wasn’t around to tease them.

He’s jostled out of his memory when the ringing stops. His stomach drops sharply, but that’s nothing new, not specific to this situation. It’s always unpleasant when someone he’s calling actually picks up.

“Hello, Fiddleford Computermajigs.” A very large portion of Stanford’s nervousness curls up and withers away as if it had never been. It’s Fiddleford, after all. Just Fiddleford, who Ford has always been able to talk to. He grins and shakes his hand free of the phone cord.

“Fiddleford, it’s Stanford Pines. It’s been a long time, I know, but I was calling because I was hoping you’d help me with some work I’ve been doing. I’ve hit a roadblock.” Fiddleford stays silent while Ford explains what he’s doing and what he hopes Fiddleford will be able to help him with. When Ford is done, all Fiddleford says is that Ford’s idea is ‘mathematically feasible,’ thank god. (Both thank god that Fiddleford doesn’t need convincing that it could work and thank god that he’s still the same old Fidds and is instantly invested in an interesting problem, rather than any pesky emotions either of them could be feeling.)

“It’d be a real treat to come up north and help you out with your project, Stanford!” he says, with perfect sincerity. “What number are ya callin’ from? I’ll talk to Emmy about it and call you right back.”

Ford gives Fiddleford the relevant information and hangs up, monumentally relieved.

Buoyed up by the idea that Fiddleford will be here sometime soon, Ford launches into some work regarding recent magnetic field disturbances for some fun. He thinks it’s probably just Crash Site Omega acting up, but without making the trip out there he can’t be sure. For a while he is thrilled to realize that whatever is going on is also causing faintness, weakness, and shortness of breath, but sadly, the feelings go away once he’s had lunch.

Once one PM rolls around, it starts to occur to Ford that Fiddleford is taking an awfully long time. Would Emma-May have told him he shouldn’t go? In a way it would make sense. How many wives would want their husbands spending extended time alone with an ex, even if it was a mutual ex? She hadn’t seemed angry or resentful when they’d last seen each other; she’d hugged him and cried, but hadn’t yelled or thrown anything.

Ford, sweating in the heat, opens his refrigerator door to stand in the cool. Rather than worry over things he can’t influence, he forces himself to list his least favorite professors from Backupsmore, starting with the worst and moving on to the most tolerable. When the phone rings he springs to answer it.

“Hello, this is Stanford Pines.”

Click. Great, another prank call. He gets them very rarely, but it does happen.

Now he has to wait around again. Ford angrily hangs up the phone, and then jumps into the air when the phone rings again immediately. He yanks the handset off the receiver.

“Hello?” he demands, sounding like an angry recluse even to his own ears.

“Hi, Stanford, it’s Emmy. Heard you needed Fiddlford for something up in Oregon? You’re still in Gravity Falls?”

“Yes,” Ford says automatically. How did it not occur to him that Emmy might be the one to call back? “I can’t think of anyone better suited to help me with my work. At least, the work I’m doing, uh, at the moment.” He chuckles nervously.

“Well, I think it’s a great idea,” she says easily, with a determinedly casual air that Ford recognizes at once. It’s the cool, easy demeanor she adopts when she’s about to say something outrageous that she wants to trick people into going along with. “I’m gonna come, too, I think. And Tate, of course, he’ll love gettin’ to run around and get some fresh air. How’re the schools up there, d’you know?”

“Well, fairly bad, I think, but, Emma-May,” Ford stammers. He takes a breath to organize his thoughts as quickly as he can. It’s an absurd idea, and she knows it. “All three of you can’t come up here for an undetermined amount of time, surely? Fiddleford said his own work can wait, but don’t you work for the city?”

“I was thinkin’ I might take some time off soon.”

“Ah. I suppose then I can see why you might not want Fiddleford gone,” Ford says slowly.

“So you see why it makes so much sense for us all three to come see you,” she persists. “Fiddy shouldn’t be the only one who gets a vacation.”

“I’ll pay him!” Ford squawks indignantly. “I’m not asking–”

“I know it, Ford, I’m kidding!” Emmy laughs, her deep, hoarse voice gently teasing.

“Emmy, I have a lot of work to do,” Ford tells her, trying to hide his frustration. “Fiddleford and I, if he comes, will be very busy.”

“And if I don’t come, we’ll be all alone here anyway, Ford, Tate’n me,” she points out. “If, up in Oregon, you two spend all your wakin’ hours building a time machine or whatever, I won’t be any more by myself than I would be here.” She hesitates. “Look, Fiddy agrees. It’s been too long since we’ve seen you. We’d like to catch up. You oughta meet Tate.”

Ford has no idea (except that he does, a very stupid and wrong idea that he won’t entertain) why he ought to meet Fiddleford and Emma-May’s son. He’s never even seen a photo of the boy.

“I’m sure he’s great,” Ford says weakly. “But.” He can’t tell her that he’s trying not to want to see her, that wanting to see Fidds again was already so much. He can’t tell Emma-May that Bill wouldn’t like it if Fidds brought his whole family along to distract from their work. He can’t say that Gravity Falls is beautiful and anomalous in the way he’d always dreamed, in a way that she could appreciate for the wildness and strangeness, while Fidds would value it for its wealth of scientific oddities. Couldn’t possibly tell her that they’d both love the small town full of outdoorsy people that Ford hasn’t gotten to know, but that they undoubtedly would, given half a chance.

He couldn’t ever say to Emma-May that he can see her and Fiddleford living in Ford’s little town as clearly as he sees the gnomes that steal his trash can lids.

Emmy takes a breath, clearly planning to carry on with her campaign, but Ford, suddenly feeling decidedly weak-willed, interrupts.

“You’re right. You’re right. I have no idea how long I’ll need Fiddleford, so… yes, fine. All three of you. Come to Gravity Falls,” Ford is grinning foolishly. He always could be talked into any old crazy scheme, given the right circumstances and light persuasion.

He’ll probably regret it, and Bill won’t be happy, and he may possibly be miserable when Fidds and Emmy leave again, but why not? Why not do something slightly crazy? He doesn’t have much time left before he becomes a household name and he won’t be able to get away with this kind of silly, emotionally-driven decision.

“Great! Oh, Ford, that's great. I can’t wait to see you! Fiddleford and me have got some things to sort out down here, but how about I have Fiddy call you tomorrow and we’ll let you know when we’ll be there?”

“That sounds great, Em.” Ford can’t believe that he’s standing alone in his kitchen, blushing because a girl wants to come over. “I can’t wait.”

[thefrylord]

MIST

Garrett's pick-up lumbered down the slouching asphalt of Highway 101; the blue waters of the Pacific lay flat to his right, a wall of firs and pines on his left. It was one of those rare spring days on the Oregon Coast without a cloud in the sky. Garrett could tell that wasn't going to last long, though. A fog obscured the horizon, resting atop the ocean and stretching from north to south indefinitely it seemed. Garrett tilted his can of Keystone back, emptying the piss-flavored water into his throat before throwing it out toward the sandy beach, and his rickety truck kept rolling onward.

'Welcome to New Haven' declared a large, worn sign, 'the friendliest' it claimed.

Garrett scoffed loudly as he cracked open another Keystone, spraying spit across his windshield, "full of whiny, millennial bitches now."

The sun was reaching its precipice as he pulled his truck onto the gravel road that would lead him home, but its light was shrouded by the incoming fog. He had taken the bay road on a whim (the scenic route gives a man time to finish his beer), but that did not account for how quickly the fog seemed to pour across the bay like flame across the surface of an oil slick.

Garrett parked his truck on his lawn and opened his last Keystone, chugging it. His throat was parched and his mouth was rough like sandpaper. "Ahh," he exhaled loudly before belching even louder. He winced, becoming aware of a dull pain in his head. The creaking of his 1970's Ford (American, yessir) pick-up truck door was not appreciated either. He tried to close the door as gently as possible, the pressure between his ears, growing worse than any hangover he'd experienced. His eyes started to burn. He squinted, unable to make out his house through the thick fog. 

"The fuck?" He croaked, his chapped lips cracked and began bleeding.

His tongue darted out, instinctually collecting the liquid. It was thick and metallic, but offered little satisfaction for Garrett's thirst. Garrett started forward, arms outstretched. He kicked the step up to his porch and stumbled, catching himself on the rail. A mild pain shot through his foot, but Garrett became enraged. 

"FUCK YOU!" He kicked at the offending stair, and kicked, and kicked, losing control of himself. 

He ceased his assault and climbed the remaining stairs to his door, unaware of the blood filling his boot, or the numbing pain of several broken bones throughout his foot. His thoughts were now focused on getting some water for his dehydrated tongue, hard and swollen. It ran across his lips again, tasting dry blood, as he inserted the bronze key into the Master lock on the door. The door swung open and Garrett collapsed inside, tendrils of mist wrapped around him and slithered across his dirty brown carpet. He kicked out and slammed the door. He pulled himself up onto his hands and knees. His eyes were on fire, his dry tongue choked him. He crawled across the ash and grime covered carpet to the cracked and stained linoleum of his manufactured-home kitchen. Propping himself upright over the sink, he placed his lips around the faucet and guzzled the lukewarm liquid. 

He drank until his stomach churned and rejected the water. Water, saliva, and vomit coated his chin. He wiped his mouth with a flannelled sleeve and collapsed back to the floor. Despite the fresh water, his tongue remained hard and swollen, his lips cracked and bloody. Garrett was confused and grew angry. He struck the cabinet repeatedly with his fist until the particle board burst through, the jagged edges ripping across his knuckles. Garrett was oblivious to the pain now, and did not feel the blood pouring from his clenched fists. He stood up, the pain in his foot forgotten. He stared down into the sink, his thoughts were blurred and incoherent. The only thing on which he seemed to be able to focus, was his fucking tongue. He stood, staring, attempting to gather his thoughts for some time, when a glint at the bottom of the sink caught his eye. 

Garrett had been out with the boys, fishing (and drinking) on the river, just the previous day. He had managed to catch a decent salmon, despite almost swimming with it instead, and had cleaned the fish right away. He had yet to clean anything after that and was now holding onto the handle of his gutting knife, an old filet knife that had once belonged to his grandfather, that he had left discarded in the sink. As he inspected the edge of the heirloom, his grandfather's voice echoed in the back of his mind -- "ya gotta cut out the root of the problem."

Once more his tongue, now feeling like a rock in his mouth, slid over his lips. Garrett gripped the girth of it between his thumb and first two fingers, it really did feel like sandpaper. Resting the cold blade on his lower lip, Garrett pulled at his tongue while slicing through it with a single sweeping motion. 

Blood projected out of his mouth and flooded his chin, the tongue bounced lazily across the linoleum. "Finally," Garrett thought as he collapsed to his knees, "I'm not thirsty."

Feeling relieved, and very tired, he drifted off.

[glowing-disciple]

Tried something different this round: Sam was a banker (thus had a ton of money), brought along livestock, and I didn't have the family ration their meals. This meant I needed to either buy or trade for fresh supplies regularly, as they often ran out of fruits and vegetables.

Also, this time I had everybody settle in the Sacramento Valley instead of Oregon - which lead to some new adventures as I've never been this way before.

Sam's diary can be found under the cut.

April 30, 1847 Here begins the journal of Sam, formerly a banker. Tomorrow we leave Independence behind to begin our journey west to Sacramento River Valley. We must still purchase the supplies that our large farmwagon will hold to sustain us during our long trek. I hope that my skill in commerce/trade will prove of some value.

May 1, 1847 Took advantage of the package deal offered to me. What a relief not to have to shop for all that individually! Purchased 2 8-oz. bottles of alum, 2 butcher knives, 3 8-oz. boxes of Dover's Powder, 3 8-oz. bottles of Duffy's Elixir, 5 12-oz. bottles of epsom salts, 1 fishing net, 1 fishing spear, 1 frying pan, 1 hatchet, 5 4-oz. bottles of iodine, 5 16-oz. bottles of isopropyl alcohol, 3 lanterns, 3 4-oz. bottles of peppermint, 6 30-foot lengths of rope, 1 set of cooking utensils, 2 sets of eating utensils, 1 thermometer, 2 washboards, 5 water kegs. Purchased 6 oxen, 3 chickens. Purchased 1 25-lb. keg of gunpowder, 1 rifle. Near Blue River, had a wagon train meeting to discuss our current circumstances. Decided to ford the river. Our train lost 4 wagons and 9 people crossing the river today. The good citizens of the wagon train elected me as their captain. I plan to accept position of captain.

May 7, 1847 We had to double-team the animals to try to get our wagon out of the mud. Approached Westport today. Some people in our wagon train are very tired of the journey. Purchased 10 20-lb. sacks of rice, 75 pounds of salt pork. From our guidebook, estimated we would reach New Santa Fe today, and sure enough, there it was!

May 8, 1847 We lost a chicken today. The trail brought us to Lone Elm today.

May 10, 1847 Rested the animals near Blue Mound.

May 12, 1847 Passed Kansas River about noon. Decided to take advantage of the ferry.

May 13, 1847 Passed the hundred mile mark today.

May 14, 1847 Reached Red Vermillion River about noon--about time! Fording the river looks to be our best option. Our train lost 3 wagons and 5 people crossing the river today. We tipped the wagon and lost 44 pounds of bacon; 5 pounds of cheese; 9 pounds of coffee beans; 6 10-lb. sacks of cornmeal; and various other items.

May 15, 1847 Today I saw Scott Spring. We stopped along the trail to hunt. We obtained 83 pounds of meat.

May 17, 1847 Near Alcove Spring, had a wagon train meeting to discuss our current circumstances.

May 18, 1847 Had a bit of a run-in with another wagon party today near Big Blue River, but we patched up our differences before nightfall. A delay prevented us from crossing at Big Blue River. We're going to wait our turn to cross. Caulk the wagon and float it across, that is the way to go.

May 19, 1847 Our wagon tipped over. We lost 1 8-oz. bottle of alum; 28 pounds of bacon; 7 pounds of cheese; 4 pounds of coffee beans; 1 10-lb. sack of cornmeal; and various other items.

May 20, 1847 Reached another prominent landmark today: St. Joseph Road Junction.

May 24, 1847 The trail brought us to The Narrows today. Traded 2 sets of clothing for 2 25-lb. kegs of gunpowder. We stopped along the trail to hunt. We obtained 169 pounds of meat.

May 27, 1847 Dreadful thunderstorm today. I figured it was best to continue as usual.

May 28, 1847 In good spirits today; got as far as “The Coast of Nebraska”.

June 1, 1847 Today we saw Plum Creek. How sublime it appears by moonlight.

June 4, 1847 The trail's flooded. We had to wait for conditions to improve.

June 5, 1847 The trail's flooded. We had to wait for conditions to improve. We are still waiting.

June 6, 1847 The trail's flooded. We had to wait for conditions to improve. We are still waiting.

June 7, 1847 The trail's flooded. We had to wait for conditions to improve. We are still waiting.

June 8, 1847 The trail's flooded. We had to wait for conditions to improve. We are still waiting.

June 9, 1847 We came upon a portion of the trail that was flooded, and had to wait for conditions to improve. We are still waiting.

June 14, 1847 Jonas has cholera. I decided to administer epsom salts.

June 16, 1847 Reached another prominent landmark today: O’Fallon’s Bluffs. Traded 1 box of 20 bullets for 1 4-oz. bottle of laudanum.

June 17, 1847 Hans came down with a bad cold, and I decided to increase fluid intake.

June 18, 1847 Edward came down with a bad cold, and I decided to increase fluid intake.

June 21, 1847 We were inconvenienced by a serious thunderstorm. We chose to continue as usual.

June 22, 1847 Mr. Tillman claims it's the Oregon Territory up ahead, but the guidebook says it's South Platte River. Fording the river looks to be our best option.

June 24, 1847 We lost a chicken today. Passed the five hundred mile mark today. Today we passed Ash Hollow.

June 26, 1847 It was extremely foggy early today. We figured it was best to slow down. An oxen is missing. This time we plan to organize a search party.

June 27, 1847 An accident caused the death of one of our oxen. We'll butcher the animal for meat. We salvaged 145 pounds of meat.

June 28, 1847 Jonas has cholera. I decided to administer epsom salts.

June 29, 1847 A chicken died today.

June 30, 1847 Arrived at Courthouse and Jail Rocks, despite some “help” from Nicholas J. Tillman.

July 4, 1847 Today is Independence Day and we've decided to continue. Misplaced my guidebook at Chimney Rock today. Luckily we found it before leaving.

July 6, 1847 Passed Scotts Bluff about noon. Saw a small, foul-looking pool of water near Robidoux Pass. Could be poison; I prevented our animals from drinking it.

July 9, 1847 We saw a small party of coyotes today, just a mile or so west of Laramie River. Decided to take advantage of the ferry. Nooned at Fort John. Purchased 20 pounds of cheese, 5 10-lb. sacks of flour, 70 pounds of ham, 3 16-oz. tins of lantern oil, 2 mules, 30 pounds of pemmican, 40 pounds of salt pork, 2 spare horse or mule harnesses, 5 pounds of tea, 4 water kegs.

July 10, 1847 We found an abandoned wagon. We decided to search it for something useful. We found: 6 pounds of pemmican. Saw eagles today near Register Cliff. What majestic creatures!

July 14, 1847 Traded 1 8-oz. box of Dover's Powder for 1 10-lb. sack of dried beans. We spotted a group of strangers and decided it would be best to wait to see what they do. They approached us and we talked. Happened upon a fresh grave near Ayers Natural Bridge. A reminder of the hazards we all face on the this journey.

July 15, 1847 We spotted a group of strangers and decided it would be best to wait to see what they do. They moved on.

July 17, 1847 Saw a grave dug up by wolves near North Platte River--bones scattered about. A most distressing sight! Given the price, we will take the ferry. Nooned at Mormon Ferry Trading Post. Purchased 20 pounds of bacon, 10 pounds of butter, 5 10-lb. sacks of cornmeal, 3 10-lb. sacks of flour, 5 10-lb. sacks of salt. Arrived at Emigrant Gap today.

July 18, 1847 Made our way past Willow Springs late today. Trail could be better.

July 19, 1847 Passed Independence Rock. Road fair to middling.

July 20, 1847 We came across an abandoned wagon and decided to search it for something useful. We found: 1 saw; 1 30-foot length of chain; 1 ladle; 3 10-lb. sacks of shot. Camped today near Devil’s Gate.

July 21, 1847 Camped today near Split Rock.

July 22, 1847 Mr. and Mrs. Billings came by for a visit today near Three Crossings; had a very nice chat. The wagon train reached First Sweetwater River Crossing this day. Decided to ford the river. Another step on the trail; today we reached Second Sweetwater River Crossing. Decided to ford the river. From our guidebook, estimated we would reach Third Sweetwater River Crossing today, and sure enough, there it was! Fording the river looks to be our best option. Our train lost 3 wagons and 4 people crossing the river today. Our wagon tipped over. We lost 14 pounds of bacon; 1 box of 20 bullets; 1 10-lb. sack of dried beans; 1 5-lb. sack of dried fruit; and various other items.

July 24, 1847 We saw a small party of coyotes today, just a mile or so west of Ice Spring Slough.

July 27, 1847 Traveled past Final Sweetwater River Crossing this afternoon. Decided to ford the river. Mr. and Mrs. Billings came by for a visit today near South Pass; had a very nice chat. We rested a while not far from Pacific Springs.

July 28, 1847 Nooned near Dry Sandy.

July 29, 1847 Just heard that there's quicksand ahead. Looks like we'll wait for conditions to improve.

July 30, 1847 Just heard that there's quicksand ahead. Looks like we'll wait for conditions to improve.

July 31, 1847 Found some quicksand ahead. I decided to wait for conditions to improve.

August 1, 1847 Found some quicksand ahead. I decided to wait for conditions to improve.

August 2, 1847 Found some quicksand ahead. I decided to wait for conditions to improve.

August 3, 1847 Just heard that there's quicksand ahead. Looks like we'll wait for conditions to improve.

August 4, 1847 Found some quicksand ahead. I decided to wait for conditions to improve.

August 5, 1847 Just heard that there's quicksand ahead. Looks like we'll wait for conditions to improve. Just heard that there's quicksand ahead. Looks like we'll put weakest animal up front. The dust from other wagons has gotten bad. We decided to slow down. [name] came down with a bad cold, and I decided to increase fluid intake. Saw some Indians in the distance not far from “Parting of the Ways”. No incident, but some concern.

August 6, 1847 We found some wild vegetables and decided to stop and gather vegetables. We gathered 3 pounds.

August 9, 1847 Today we have traveled for 100 days. The trail brought us to Green River today. Decided to take advantage of the ferry.

August 11, 1847 Today we have traveled 1,000 miles! We found some wild fruit and decided to stop and gather fruit. We gathered 16 pounds. Heard news of a murder and hanging last night near Church Butte. Enough to send shivers down one’s spine.

August 12, 1847 Encamped a while near Name Rock. Traded 1 spare horse or mule harness for 20 pounds of cheese. Traded 1 spare horse or mule harness for 5 10-lb. sacks of cornmeal. Traded 1 mule for 3 boxes of 20 bullets. We stopped along the trail to hunt. We obtained 84 pounds of meat.

August 13, 1847 Today our eyes were greeted with the sight of Fort Bridger. Purchased 30 pounds of bacon, 10 5-lb. tins of biscuits, 5 pounds of butter, 10 10-lb. sacks of dried beans, 5 5-lb. sacks of dried vegetables, 5 10-lb. sacks of flour, 2 oxen, 60 pounds of pemmican, 40 pounds of salt pork.

August 15, 1847 Arrived at Bear River, despite some “help” from Nicholas J. Tillman. Decided to take advantage of the ferry.

August 16, 1847 Saw The Needles today. We were treated to a remarkably beautiful sunset near Cache Cave. Felt somewhat weary today. Passed Echo Canyon.

August 18, 1847 We came upon some fallen rocks on the trail and decided to try to clear the path.

August 19, 1847 We're nearly choking on the dust of the trail. We've decided to slow down. The ox yoke broke, and I decided to try to repair it. We were successful.

August 20, 1847 Made an early start this morning; passed Weber River. Given the price, we will take the ferry. Made it to Pratt’s Pass. Passed Hogsback Summit about noon.

August 21, 1847 We found some wild fruit and decided to stop and gather fruit. We gathered 8 pounds. Today we passed East Canyon.

August 23, 1847 Saw a mountain lion not far from Big Mountain Pass. Our wagon tipped over. We lost 12 pounds of bacon; 6 pounds of pemmican; 1 pair of shoes; 2 pairs of socks; 1 fishing spear; and various other items.

August 24, 1847 From our guidebook, estimated we would reach Little Mountain today, and sure enough, there it was! We stopped along the trail to hunt. We obtained 185 pounds of meat. I just got bitten by a wild animal. We're going to treat with an antiseptic.

August 28, 1847 Reached Last Creek Canyon. We were treated to a remarkably beautiful sunset near Donner Hill. The wagon train reached Great Salt Lake City this day. Purchased 4 pounds of butter, 10 pounds of coffee beans, 5 5-lb. sacks of dried fruit, 3 5-lb. sacks of dried vegetables, 5 10-lb. sacks of flour, 30 pounds of ham, 50 pounds of salt pork, 2 5-lb. boxes of yeast cake.

September 3, 1847 As expected, we made it to Weber River today. Decided to take advantage of the ferry.

September 6, 1847 Happened upon a fresh grave near Bear River. A reminder of the hazards we all face on the this journey. Given the price, we will take the ferry. Heard news of a murder and hanging last night near Malad River. Enough to send shivers down one’s spine. Decided to ford the river.

September 8, 1847 Saw Blue Springs, sight is most reassuring. Passed Rattlesnake Pass about noon.

September 9, 1847 Another step on the trail; today we reached Deep Creek. Caulk the wagon and float it across, that is the way to go.

September 10, 1847 Passed Cedar Springs about noon.

September 12, 1847 Made our way past Raft River late today. Trail could be better.

September 14, 1847 Enjoyed some good fiddle music today during our nooning near Salt Lake Cutoff Junction. Traded 5 pounds of pemmican for 1 20-lb. sack of potatoes. Traded 1 dollar for 1 25-lb. keg of pickles. Traded 2 dollars for 1 25-lb. keg of pickles.

September 21, 1847 Every day our journey comes closer to its end. Today we made it to Hot Spring Valley.

September 27, 1847 One of our wagon wheels broke. We have to try to repair it. We were unable to make the repair. We were able to replace it from supplies.

September 28, 1847 Reached North Fork of the Humboldt River. Decided to ford the river.

September 30, 1847 Misplaced my guidebook at Emigrant Pass today. Luckily we found it before leaving.

October 2, 1847 We found an abandoned wagon. We decided to search it for something useful. We found: 5 1-lb. tins of smoked salmon; 2 16-oz. tins of lantern oil.

October 4, 1847 Got as far as Gravelly Ford of the Humboldt River today. Decided to ford the river.

October 12, 1847 We were inconvenienced by a serious thunderstorm. We chose to continue as usual.

October 15, 1847 Mr. and Mrs. Billings came by for a visit today near Applegate Cutoff; had a very nice chat.

October 16, 1847 A thick fog rolled in today. Looks like we'll slow down.

October 17, 1847 It was extremely foggy early today. We figured it was best to slow down.

October 18, 1847 Sang and told stories around the noon campfire near Big Meadows. Traded 1 set of clothing for 5 5-lb. sacks of dried fruit. Traded 2 1-lb. tins of smoked salmon for 1 25-lb. keg of pickles.

October 19, 1847 Had a pleasant talk with Miss Whitney today in the vicinity of Humboldt Sink.

October 23, 1847 The eternal dust of the wagons ahead of us is most troublesome. We will slow down.

October 24, 1847 We endured a most unpleasant sandstorm today. We decided to slow down.

October 27, 1847 Had a bit of a run-in with another wagon party today near Truckee River, but we patched up our differences before nightfall. Decided to ford the river. In good spirits today; got as far as Truckee Canyons.

October 30, 1847 Our path was blocked by fallen rocks on the trail. We decided to wait for conditions to improve. Another group of emigrants cleared the path.

October 31, 1847 Misplaced my guidebook at Truckee Meadows today. Luckily we found it before leaving. Traded 1 set of clothing for 15 5-lb. sacks of dried fruit. Traded 1 spare wagon tongue for 5 5-lb. sacks of dried vegetables.

November 3, 1847 One of the oxen was injured. It looks like we’ll have to slow down.

November 4, 1847 Encamped a while near Donner Lake.

November 5, 1847 The animals are so exhausted they can't continue. We plan to stop and rest awhile.

November 6, 1847 Saw a grave dug up by wolves near Cold Stream Pass--bones scattered about. A most distressing sight! Much grumbling today about Nick Tillman near Summit Valley. Passed Donner Pass. Road fair to middling.

November 7, 1847 We rested a while not far from Donner Lake.

November 8, 1847 We tipped the wagon and lost 6 pounds of bacon; 4 pounds of pemmican; 1 hatchet; 1 16-oz. bottle of isopropyl alcohol; 1 washboard; and various other items. Our wagon tipped over. We lost 2 8-oz. bottles of alum; 17 pounds of bacon; 1 4-oz. bottle of iodine; 1 box of matches; 4 pounds of pemmican; and various other items.

November 9, 1847 Made our way past Cold Stream Pass late today. Trail could be better. Came to Summit Valley.

November 15, 1847 Nooned at Johnson’s Ranch. Purchased 20 pounds of butter, 10 pounds of cheese, 10 pounds of coffee beans, 5 10-lb. sacks of flour, 10 20-lb. sacks of rice, 30 pounds of salt pork.

November 17, 1847 Will this journey never end! Today we have traveled for 200 days. Sore feet today, but I'll manage. Saw American River. There was a delay at American River. Looks like we'll have to wait our turn.

November 18, 1847 Decided to take advantage of the ferry. From our guidebook, estimated we would reach Sutter’s Fort today, and sure enough, there it was! Purchased 10 5-lb. tins of biscuits, 5 pounds of cheese, 5 10-lb. sacks of cornmeal, 5 10-lb. sacks of dried beans, 10 5-lb. tins of dried bread, 4 10-lb. sacks of flour, 50 pounds of ham, 2 10-lb. sacks of onions, 3 25-lb. kegs of pickles, 2 20-lb. sacks of potatoes, 2 30-foot lengths of rope, 1 shovel. Arrived today at the Sacramento Valley!! At last we have reached our destination! Truly this is the land of opportunity!

December 27, 1847 Obtained a land deed today from the county for 436 acres. Now I can begin to build my new life! Final Score: 5930

December 28, 1847 Sam settled in the Sacramento Valley of California in 1847, building a home on 436 acres of land. After several years of mining, Sam decided to move to the burgeoning city of San Francisco, establishing a business that proved both successful and satisfying. An 1869 gold strike on a tract of land owned by Sam provided even greater wealth, much of which was donated to charity in later years. An early twentieth-century descendant repeated this good fortune by striking oil in southern California, providing the family with continued affluence and influence.

[the-nagakenny-archives]

I'm shy but I tried writing something hope you like it

One last sip of coffee and two stomps to properly secure his boots, and the Gravity Falls Weirdness Expert was out the door.

  It was on a particularly sunny, clear day that found Stanford once again out in the field for a little catch up on his studies. The past week had been uneventful within the confines of his basement, as if the world was allowing him time to compile the numerous foot notes and sketches of his latest findings into a fairly cohesive summary within the first few pages of his second journal. Nights and afternoons were spent humming over words that didn't quite flow, and cross referencing facts he had uncovered with rumors that fell deaf upon all ears but his. Lovely as the quiet had been, seven days was more than enough time to stay cooped up in a research shack when there was plenty more to discover.

  Stanford cupped a hand around his ear and listened. A woodpecker pecked away at its hole in a birch, determined for an early breakfast. Not too far from there, a squirrel skittered along branches, hoping for an acorn meal of its own. A gnome tutted at a rainbow puddle, helping its reflection pick at its latest zit.

  All sounded normal, the scientist regarded with a deep sigh of disappointment. It was uncommon to not have something completely new to marvel over. Were it not for the gnome, one wouldn't know that they were in Gravity Falls at all. It was all so peaceful and Oregonian. Perhaps the world was still holding its breath over more important things to come. Perhaps it didn't quite realize that Stanford was more than ready to jump back into the weird and the wild.

  Four more minutes of strolling and listening, Stanford was just beginning to consider going into town to replenish his supplies when he finally spotted an unusual subject he'd been craving.

  A long, long, long snake tail hung from below the branches of a bright red leafed tree. The tip, maroon and tan in color, swung slowly and rhythmically back and forth, like the tick and tock of a pendulum on a grandfather clock. Stanford's wide eyes traveled up the tail to see the colors recede to darker browns in circled patterns as the mass grew thicker the higher his gaze climbed. Whatever was up there, the leaves could only do so much to completely cover it. It had to be massive.

The first, most obvious thought that came to his head was Python, but he quickly dismissed it. Pythons were not native to Oregon, certainly not one of this length at the very least. Except, this was Gravity Falls, where the only acceptable thing was to accept the unacceptable. Even so, a Python, even one as gigantic as this, seemed too...ordinary for the town's infamy. He'd made it this far by thinking outside the box, so what else could possible have a snake tail of this capacity?

It hit him, and he had to choke back a gasp of delight. "A naga! An actual naga!" The whispered excitement seemed especially piercing in the quiet of the early morning, but he was too elated to care. This was exactly what he had been waiting for to break what had started as a monotonous walk in the woods. Patting at his breast pocket for a pen and paper, he wracked his brain for what little he knew about these creatures. From what he remembered, the bottom half was always a snake, while the top half-

  "Well, hello."

  Stanford yelped and juggled his pen for two seconds before he composed himself enough to acknowledge that he was not alone. Clutching his pen holding hand to his chest to steady his heartbeat, he replied hesitantly, "Hello?"

  A deep, throaty chuckle seemed to echo all across the canopy of trees, a pleasant sound, but not very becoming of his nerves. "Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you. You just looked so excited, I got a little curious."

  It wasn't hard to put two and two together. "I...should've realized that nagas were intelligent enough to understand human speech." Stanford cleared his throat, the thrill at the thought of another research subject spurring him on. "After all, if I'm getting my facts straight, your top halves are-"

Even if he had hypothesized it, he was not at all prepared for the sight that awaiting him. Slowing winding down from the thick branches was the top half of the naga; human in shape, and far more handsome than he could've imagined. Barrel chested with long chestnut hair, soulful brown eyes twinkling with mischief, and a long nose that only seemed to complete his features all the better. The naga's mouth curled into a playful smirk at Stanford's beguiled expression.

  "Impressed? Understandable. Not every day you run into someone like me, am I right?" He twisted his upper half upside down so that his long hair hung down in a wave of brown, barely tickling the grass beneath him.

  Stanford regained just enough sense to formulate a response. "Why, er, no, certainly not...hardly ever!" His excitement renewed, he clicked his pen and resumed reaching for some paper. "You must tell me everything about you!" His grin was all teeth.

  "Well, first thing's first, how about an introduction?" The naga said with no small amount of amusement. "My name's Kenneth. Call me Kenny."

  "Ah, yes, of course." Stanford shook his head and held out a six fingered hand. "Stanford Pines. Resident Researcher of Gravity Falls Phenomena. Pleasure to meet you, Kenny." Much to his delight, the Naga extended the red tip of his tail to shake with. "So fascinating! Your girth alone would take a whole page to describe! But more about that later; I must know all about your culture!" He set his pen to paper, waiting with baited breath and still beaming.

  Kenny returned the smile gleefully. "Well, I'm partial to smooth jazz, but I can't say no to samba. Oh, and don't get me started on-" The naga's rambles were cut short by Stanford's throat clearing.

  "Um, as stimulating as that is, I was hoping to do my research on your species as a whole."

  Kenny quirked an eyebrow. "Gonna need to clear me up on that."

  Stanford nodded patiently. "Well, it could be things like, what your diet consists of. Is English the most common language among your kind? Wouldn't a jungle be more befitting for a body such as yours? What natural abilities do you harbor, if any? How did-"

  "Ep, ep, ep!" Kenny, to Stanford's slight indignation, placed a finger to his lips, interrupting his little question vomit. "I think it'd be better to answer one at a ti-" The naga's eyes seemed to glint for a moment. "What was that last question?"

  Stanford pushed the finger off his lips to answer, "Um, what natural abilities do you harbor?"

  The glint returned, and the scientist knew that he'd seen a look like that many times before. Usually it was on his brother as he was hatching one of his harebrained schemes, one that would more than likely leave the two of them grounded, in body casts, or both.

  Suddenly wary, Stanford stuttered, "Um, actually, perhaps you could tell me about your diet-"

  "No, no, no! This is a question I know I can answer!" Kenny's voice took on a musical lilt, the sound of it somehow easing just a little of Stanford's reluctance. Besides, hadn't he wanted to study more creatures?  This was a rare opportunity, and the naga had offered. Stanford could always put out any potential fire with the extinguisher he'd hidden in one of the nearby trap doors.

  "Well, alright, what are your abilities?"

  Kenny's smirk returned in full force, and Stanford suppressed the urge to cringe. He was doing this for science, he reminded himself. For science.

  "Well, you see, Stanford...can I call you Ford?"

  "Oh, uh, yes."

  "Well, Ford, us nagas all have one very special ability in common." Kenny chuckled, the force of it rippling all across his coils winding around the branches. Stanford watched, mesmerized at the browns and tans that ebbed and flowed like an ocean of coils.

  "Ah, ah, ah. Eyes over here." Kenny's tail tip gently turned Ford's eyes back to his, amusement coloring his tone.

  Ford blinked himself out of his stupor. "Yes. Sorry. You were saying?"

  "Weeell, nagas have a very useful, very fun ability we just love to use." Kenny sang.

  Ford instinctively leaned closer, now more curious than nervous. "And that is?"

  "This."

  A ring of yellow gently emerged and flowed outward from the center of Kenny's eyes. Then came orange. Then green. Then blue. Back to yellow. Orange. Green. Blue. Yellow.

  Ford gasped softly at the display. "Enchanting." He breathed. "How on earth are you doing...that with...with your...y-your eyes...?" Odd. It was getting a little hard to speak the longer he observed them. His brain would form thoughts, but the patterns would compel them to swirl away into a silvery mist. Some thoughts would reach his mouth, but his tongue was becoming heavy and useless, like he'd downed a whole bottle of red mulled wine.

  Kenny smiled softly, nodding with satisfaction at the colors emerging in his volunteer's eyes. "Magic. Although I've been told by a friend that it's slightly more complicated than that. But what matters is, it feels nice, right?"

  "Y-Yes...it does..." Stanford sighed his agreement, the hand holding his pen going slack at his side. It really was the most wonderful feeling, like any care or worry that had ever crossed his mind just didn't matter anymore. The weight of expectations and responsibilities lifted off his shoulders, and in their place was an intense feeling of relaxation and peace, welcoming him to their cozy little world of lovely colors and rippling coils.

  Ford giggled curiously. "Wazzz...wh-what's...happening?" He should have been writing this down and asking more pressing questions, but his brain may as well have been cotton by this point. Everything felt soft and warm and good.

  Kenny giggled back. "Jussst a taste of my abilities, like you wanted." He tilted his head. Ford's own head followed, glued to his eyes. "You're looking a little sleepy. How bout' a little nap?"

  "Nnn...nap...?" Ford blinked sluggishly, the word sparking a flash of recognition to reignite his sleep addled brain."H-Hold on...jus' a..." It took a painful amount of effort and willpower, so much that his eyes watered, but Ford managed to tear his eyes away from the hypnotic spectacle, taking a moment to rub the drowsy out of them.

  "I...what just..?" He was dazed and dizzy. But he knew just enough to figure that he had to keep his eyes covered.

  Kenny blinked away his hypnosis, startled by the rare show of resistance from a subject. There were few who could resist when they were that far under, but Ford just made the very short list. Even so, he wasn't completely out of the park yet, if his sleepy ramblings were any indication.

  "Aww, hey, what's wrong?" Kenny kept his voice gentle, but couldn't suppress some amusement either. "I thought you wanted to know all about the abilities of the nagas?" He tilted his head, feigning hurt.

  "Of...of course I do, but..." Ford turned away from where he heard the voice, having enough sense to cover his eyes with his arms, but not enough to remember how close he was to Kenny's tree. "I...I need to be-OOF!" He smacked right into it, the shock enough to snap him out of the spell completely.

  He shook the swirls and cobwebs from his head, gritting his teeth and focusing on the pain. "You..." He turned back to where he thought Kenny was, eyes shut tight and pointing accusingly. "You tried to hypnotize me!"

  "Wrong way." The voice to his left snorted playfully.

  Red in the face more from embarrassment than anger, Ford turned in the proper direction. "What do you intend to do, use me as some sort of thrall?! Easy slave labor?!"

  Kenny clapped. "Ha! Much more original than any accusations of eating people! But no." Ford heard a rustling of leaves to his right, and he flinched backwards, into a mass of coils that propped around his shoulders like a friendly arm. "You asked me what nagas could do. I was just showing you the works."

  Stanford stubbornly remained angry. "You could've just told me! Or I could've watched you do it on a gnome, or...I don't recall giving you consent to hypnotize me!"

  Kenny held up his hands in a placating gesture(that Stanford could not see). "Easy there, Ford! You're saying you didn't like it?"

  Ford sputtered indignantly. "I...that's besides the point! I'm doing this for science, not for a...a nap! Can you imagine how many hours of precious research time I'll lose if I sleep?!"

  To his surprise, Kenny's voice took on the slightest bit of concern. "Um, when was the last time you slept?"

  Once again caught off guard, Ford had to gather his thoughts and take a deep breath to answer calmly. "I can handle not sleeping for a few days. What I can't handle is how the world moves on with or without me. Every second of every minute of every hour, something is happening. Creatures to catalogue, reports to write, disputes to diverge! I'm going to change the world with this project! I'll sleep when I'm dead!" Ford had forgotten what calm was by the end of his tirade.

  Still with that aggravating concern he'd often heard from his mother, brother, and Fiddleford, Kenny tutted and gave Ford's shoulders a little squeeze with his coils.

  "That's no way to go, buddy. Everyone needs sleep. Even life changers like you."

  "We're getting off subject." Ford gritted his teeth, trying to breathe evenly. "You showed your ability. Thank you. I'll write all about it in my next volume. Now leave me alone." Eyes still shut, Ford ducked under the coils and felt around for the paper he had dropped during his little spell. Kenny's tail curled around his right wrist, as though dejected by the lack of attention. The six fingered scientist yanked his hand away, cursing quietly when he dropped the pen it'd been holding. "I mean it, Kenny. I've had enough." He snapped.

  "Oh, but you really haven't."

  Maybe it was the cockiness with which the naga said it, but Ford couldn't withhold his curiosity. "What do you mean?"

  "I mean, that I'd only just begun, and you'd only barely felt the full effects of a naga's powers. You resisted, and that just sent everything off kilter. Imagine how much info you could write about if you only knew what it's really like to be hypnotized by a real naga?" Kenny studied his own hands smugly, feigning nonchalance and hoping the anticipation didn't show on his face. He needed a new cuddle buddy after all.

  Wait. Ford's eyes were still closed. What did Kenny have to worry about?

  Ford crossed his arms, tapping a finger against his jacket. Kenny was just using promises of scientific discovery as a lure for another hapless victim, that's all this was.

  Regardless, he did have to know something. "Why do you even want to hypnotize me, anyway? It can't just be because you think I need sleep." Ford huffed.

  Kenny shrugged(Ford could STILL not see it). "I just wanted a cuddle. The fact that you need sleep is serendipitous."

  Stanford had lost count of how many times this naga had had him completely flustered. "That's...that's why you...huh?"

  "Of course! It's what I do. And no, it's not really a naga thing. It's just a Kenny thing." The naga laughed.

  Ford found himself letting his guard down a little at the confession. "That's...really all there is to it?"

  "Mm-hm!" Kenny nodded confidently. "Besides, is losing a few hours to the best sleep you'll ever have really that bad? Think of the discoveries you're missing out on!"

  "W-Well, no, but...cuddle with you? I mean, that's just...uh..." Darn it, he was thinking of the discoveries! What could he be missing by resisting such power? Was sleep all that would happen? Could he dream under the effects of naga hypnosis? How long could a human like himself last before he gave in?

  The questions were leaking through the dam of resistance in his brain. It wasn't long before they'd break free. Not only that, but...it's not like anyone would know about this. There was no one around this area but him and Kenny. Losing a bit of dignity for a few hours couldn't be too bad, could it?

  Slowly, Ford allowed his crossed arms to leave his side. He knelt to the ground, feeling around for a good place to sit.

  "I'll take that as a 'Go ahead'?" Kenny couldn't hide his excitement.

  Hands patting a particularly soft mound of earth, Ford grunted and set himself into an upright sitting position, legs splayed. "Don't try anything stupid." He warned, determined to have as much control over this bizarre circumstance as he could.

  "No problem at all." Kenny giggled. "Now, how 'bout you open your eyes, first."

  Reluctantly, Ford slowly pried his eyes open, squinting against the light of mid-morning. Blinded, it took five seconds for his eyes to adjust the many colors of the day.

  But then, he realized, it wasn't the day he was looking at. It was a now familiar sight of oranges and yellows and...he could barely keep track. They were going at a steady rate, but when he thought he could pick out one color, that one would fade into another, and another, and another...

  Ford squinted, still stubbornly wanting to remain in control. Who said he couldn't monitor the scientific intonations in his head, after all? That way he could do research on the naga's hypnosis without losing any time to useless pastimes like sleeping.

  The colors are reaching a familiar pattern. They ebb and flow like tides of the ocean. One disappears, only to appear just when you've forgotten it existed. Incredible. Dazzling. So very...focus! I hear something. A voice...a song...birds? No. Smoother. Kenny? Is it a lullaby? Trying to make it more challenging? Do your worst. I'm not...sleepy...at...all...Beautiful...So pretty...FOCUS!

  Kenny watched, patiently awaiting Ford's lapse into sleep. One second his swirling eyes would droop, the next they would spring back up as he caught himself growing drowsy. Even when Kenny began to hum a gentle, lulling tune, Ford was putting up a good fight. But if the bags under his eyes told him anything, it was that he really needed a siesta.

  Right. Time for a little coiling.

  Noises of the forest are...fading...easier to focus on Kenny's voice...all that matters...wait. No. I was...I can't...sleep now...not yet...Focus on...ability...

  Getting harder...to fight...melatonin trigger perhaps...so sleepy...yes, must be...mela...the stuff that...makes you...sleep...eyes make it...easy...to sleep...using...colors...lovely colors...

  ...?

  Feeling...heavy...around...waist...

  Indeed, a coil was just starting to inch its way around Ford's abdomen, squeezing in especially tense areas and loosening any aches and pains he had been feeling just seconds before. Around and around the tail went, carefully pinning his arms to his sides, just enough to restrain, not enough to alarm or hurt. The tip continued on upward, reaching over his chest, feeling his slow, steady heartbeat. When the tail reached his shoulders, Kenny used his impressive strength to gently tilt Ford backwards, lying him on the ground, and making sure his hypnotic eyes were always in view.

  ...Warm...Blanket...? No...coils...? So...sleepy...Why was...I...fighting...?

  Kenny grinned over the helpless state Ford was in. His mouth hung open, his lids were periodically shutting and opening out of sync over his still swirling eyes, and his upper body was all wrapped up in his coziest coils. Still, even after all that effort, Ford looked like he need just one more little push. A nudge in the right direction.

  Kenny slowly, slowly, slowly pulled him into the air, so that he hung suspended over the ground, legs dangling with the direction he swayed in. Another loop of coils around his body, and Stanford was covered neck to toe in the warm embrace of a naga hug.

  ...Being..held...so...wonderful...

  Eyes lidded so low he could barely see Kenny's, Ford moaned softly at the sensations of his predicament. He couldn't remember why he had bothered fighting. Actually, he couldn't remember anything outside of his euphoric drowsiness and coil cocoon. Even then, Kenny noticed that his eyes hadn't closed just yet. Continuing his hummed lullaby, Kenny gave the coiled mass a little push, giving it a rocking effect.

  ...back...forth...back...forth...sleepy...so...sleepy...

  I'm...

  Falling...

  Falling...

  F...a...l...l...i...n...g...

  Gentle snores emerged from the cocoon, and Kenny sighed with satisfaction. "That wasn't so bad, was it now?" The tip of his tail closed Ford's mouth, where the snores turned into deep breathing. The coils gradually shifted from horizontal to vertical, so that his cheek was comfortably rested against his scaly bonds.

  Kenny ran a hand through Ford's brown hair, smiling with his usual mischief. "You wouldn't mind sharing your results when you wake up, would you?"

---submitted by b120583

OOC: I love this! :'3 Always nice to see a character like Ford in a situation like this <3

[nataliedanovelist]

GF AU - Hood Up

A fanfic commission for @elishevart! I had so much fun writing this little fluffy fic about Little A, and I hope you enjoy it, as well!

Commission info here!

What on the surface is an old man babysitting is actually an aged scientist contemplating on how to save a friend.

~~~~~~~~~~

“She needs to stretch her legs, Sixer.”

“I know, but I’m not sure if we should risk anybody seeing…”

The conversation was put on hold. Banging noises and a little bit of black smoke came up from the closed door, making three pairs of eyes go in the same direction. 

“Ah, HA!” Stan stood up and shook a pointing finger at the door. “Alright, you blasted stupid furnace, get ready for a taste o… FU-“

Ford covered the toddler’s pointed ears as his twin brother swore loudly, tripping down the stairs to the furnace, and finally arriving at the beast and having a battle that would be heard all the way in Australia. The scientist sighed, smiled at the child between his hands, and said, “Looks like we’ll be doing the grocery shopping, Little A.”

And so Ford slipped her into her green hoodie, zipped up his blue coat, took the child by her tiny hand, and walked off the boat, down the dock, and into town. 

Sligo was a beautiful town in Scotland, north of their previous stop, Galway, and their last stop until they reached Reykjavík, Iceland. It was well-populated without feeling too crowded, and folks were friendly with a fiddler on the corner, a few carts with helpful salesmen, and children running down the brick sidewalks freely. Little A wiggled in Ford’s six-fingered hand, eager to play, but he gave her little hand a squeeze and made sure her hood was up, covering her pointy ears. 

“No.” He said quietly. “Not yet. Wait until we get to the park.”

Little A pouted, puckering her lip out, but knew better than to argue.

Ford was cautious as he walked down the street for the public playground, wary of abnormalities being detected, which was not too different from how he looked over his shoulder for thirty years out in the Multiverse. But he had to firmly remind himself that this was far more safe than having a bounty on your head. The worst that would happen is a few disgusted looks. They wouldn’t be staying long enough to cause serious trouble.

Once the park was within view, Little A was squirming with excitement to go play. Ford smiled in amusement, finally chuckling and bending his knees, ruffling her hooded head. “Okay, you may go play. Just keep your hood up and be a good girl.” And he let her go.

Like a bullet Little A giggled and ran up to the slides, taking turns with the other children, happy to climb the stairs, go through the tunnels and bridges, and then go down the slide. She kept to herself, cooperating with the other children, and so Ford could rest his old knees and sit on a bench, opposite of a young mother feeding mashed-up carrots to a one-year-old in a stroller.

As Ford watched Little A play, his thoughts went to his research for a cure, and his unfortunate block. As much as Stan and Ford hated to cut their sailing short, restoring Stan’s old friend to her original age was their first priority, and their best chance in doing so was back in Gravity Falls where Ford’s best research and tools were. So they planned to sail back to Oregon, arriving three weeks earlier than intended. Oh well. That’s what friends are for.

But of course someone had to be realistic and plan on what to do if there was no cure. If Little A would have to grow up all over again. Sailing in the Arctic Ocean was no life for a child, as happy as Ford was to do it with his brother. As much as Ford didn’t even want to conjure the idea in his mind, if Little A was going to stay little, then Stan and Ford may have to…

Ford’s eyes widened as Little A fell off the slide with laughter, her hood sliding down, and he dove with agility only a skilled traveler could have and fixed her hood. “Whoa there! Careful.” He chuckled nervously, hoping anyone who saw would assume he acted as such to make sure the fall didn’t cause her any harm.

Little A’s eyes sparkled and she pointed and begged, “Sisser, can I swing? Pwease? Pwease?!”

Ford looked to find only two-out-of-three swings in use, and he smiled and picked her up. “Okay, we can swing, but then it’s time to leave, okay?”

“Okay!”

Making neighboring mothers awe at the (in their limited minds) grandfather bonding with his granddaughter, Ford plopped Little A in a swing and gently pulled her back and let go, pushing her softly every time she swung back to him, making the toddler squeal, filling the air with cheerful bells of laughter, and making the old man smile peacefully. He may not be able to restore Little A to her intended age, but at least he can make her laugh.

For a few minutes, all seemed well with the world, even Stan’s battle with the furnace was looking victorious, but Ford was distracted by the slow-falling hood, until it flew off Little A’s head and plopped down her back, showcasing animal-like pointed ears and wild ginger hair.

Ford dove like a cat, picked Little A up, wrapped her in his arms, and fled the park as he put the hood over her head. Some parents gave Ford’s back dirty or confused looks, but most were too occupied with their own children to pay him any attention. And thank Moses for that.

The whole excursion in the grocery store, Ford was jumpy and scurried like a frightened mouse looking for crumbs. He got what he needed quietly, with Little A dozing in the shopping cart, until Ford placed her on his shoulders so he could carry the groceries to the boat, and the toddler made use of the fluffy charcoal hair in front of her and slept on it like it was a pillow.

Stan emerged from the shower, clean and in pajamas, just as Ford arrived. His cheeky smile was diminished by Ford’s worried look, and he asked, “What happened to you, too?”

“Little A’s hood came down.” Ford breathed as he laid the napping child on the couch.

“So?”

“So! What if someone saw her ears?!”

“Who cares?” Stan asked, giving his brother a dark look.

“I do! We have to keep her safe, Stanley.”

“You’re paranoid.” Stan muttered, rolling his eyes.

“I just want…” Ford growled, and then took a few deep breaths to force himself to calm down. He turned to the recently purchased food and began to put it all away. “I want to help her. I want her back to normal.”

Stan sighed tiredly, sat next to his old friend, and laid a strong hand on her small back, feeling her breathe, off in a world entirely her own. “Yeah. Me too.”

[aeonchangeling]

Luz hadn’t been sure what to expect when the day finally came to leave, Ford had claimed that all the travel arrangements would be handled and paid for, she expected maybe a bus ticket or something… Not a drive to Igor Sikorsky Memorial Airport, and taken through a side door to where the private jets waited. King had been hidden in her bag and made a few small sounds only she seemed to notice, Hunter didn’t seem to hear them, or at least didn’t acknowledge them. The staff barely paid them any mind as they rushed them onto a small but clearly expensive plane, and in less than an hour of being dropped off, they were on the taxiway.

Hunter and the newly freed King were both looking out the windows, this was a whole new experience for both of them, and the latter would ask questions about what he saw. Many of Luz’s answers were just “I don’t know” because how was she supposed to know how a plane works? She could explain the basics of lift and drag but not how the wing flaps worked or how fast they’d be going. She could only guess, offering very broad replies that were patched together by some educated guesses. She was surprised to notice Hunter looking at them while she answered, a hint of interest on his face. Both boys became pale when the plane began to take off. King clung to her side and Hunter noticeably tightened his hold on the armrests. They were soon in the air and she told them, “Look out the window!” They did so… and weren’t able to look away. “Whoa…” “Pretty cool huh?” she smiled as the city below became smaller and smaller. “That’s… one word for it,” Hunter said quietly. She smiled and took out the first Good Witch Azura book, she had come prepared for this flight. After nibbling on some chocolate, King took very little time to doze off, snuggling into her side, Hunter meanwhile continued quietly staring out the window. “Enjoying the view?” she asked, after finishing the second chapter. “...it’s so… green… and it’s so… big.” “I guess it would seem that way to someone who’s lived on an island their whole life.” “...how big is it?” “I don’t know the exact numbers, but we’re gonna be flying for a few hours.” His eyes went wide. “But… we’re already going so fast…” “Yeah… the United States is a big place. How’re those clothes mom got for you by the way? I know they aren’t the same as whatever you had in the Emperor’s Coven but are they comfy?” “They… are sufficient for now. It’s better than wearing the same thing every day.” He had attempted just that, he wore the same clothes he arrived in for five days before finally changing out of them. They were probably the only thing from the demon realm he had with him, so she couldn’t blame him for clinging to them a bit. He then reached into his carry-on bag and pulled out his palisman. It had transformed into its small wooden idol form for the journey through the airport, but now in the privacy of the cabin, it turned to flesh and blood.

“I still can’t believe he chose you as his partner, I mean I’m happy for him but you…”

“I what?” there was an edge to his voice, a warning. “You… accepted him. I remember what all you said about wild magic and just… I’m happy you decided to give him a chance.” Hunter paused at that before looking down at the little bird, who cheerily tweeted at him. A five and a half hour long flight was painful, even under the best of circumstances. Luz lost her ability to focus on her book after three hours and pulled out her phone. King’s nap eventually ended and he climbed into Luz’s lap to watch youtube, and enjoyed the snacks they brought along. Hunter spent a good portion of the flight staring out the window, the land seemingly went on forever. He pulled himself away to tend to his palisman and scratch its cheek.

They arrived in Oregon in the early afternoon, and were once again shuffled around quickly and quietly by the staff of Redmond Municipal Airport. They were taken to the parking garage, another staff member was waiting with their luggage, along with… their apparent driver. The woman was elderly, somewhere in her 70’s, and had an extremely warm feel to her. She was on the large side, her hair was tied back into a pair of large buns, and was wearing a green button up dress with a floral design, she also had a pair of large glasses on her round face. Everything about this woman screamed a single word, loud and clear: Grandma. “Oh hello dearies, you must be who I’m supposed to pick up!” Yup, even her voice was one of a grandmother’s and Luz took an instant liking to her. “Um, y-yeah, I’m Luz, this is Hunter,” she took a moment to make sure the staff had left, “And this is King.” The little demon burst out of her bag, and looked the old woman up and down. “Aaaawwwww, what a cute little kitty,” the woman cooed and patted his head. “I’m not a cat, I’m a demon! …and you smell like cookies,” he stated, pointing at her. “Oh dear, you caught on already?” she sounded a bit disappointed, “I have a whole batch for you children in the car! I figured after such a long flight you might like something to eat! Well, I’m Nancy, Nancy Domzalski, but you sweet little things can just call me Nana, everyone does!” Luz’s early feelings about her being a grandma tripled. Oh yeah, she was really going to like this sweet old lady. “Well no time like the present, let’s get you all to the school!” she said, gesturing for the two teenagers to follow her. They grabbed their bags and trailed behind her as she led them to a small sedan that was probably older than they were. They loaded their things into the trunk and, as they climbed into the back seat, waiting for them was a plate of cookies, covered in plastic wrap. Once they were buckled in, Nancy pulled the car out of it’s parking space… And began the most terrifying drive any of them would ever be on. Luz had no idea how they made it to the interstate, let alone off airport property without security chasing them down! Nancy Domzalski seemed to pay no mind to her screaming passengers, or the other cars honking as she weaved past them. She wasn’t angry or driving aggressively, she was even smiling that same warm smile. She just… seemed absolutely oblivious to the rules of the road she was violating. In the backseat, Luz yelled every bad word she knew in both English and Spanish, and the few Japanese ones she had learned from anime. Hunter clung to the seat and seemed to be praying to the Titan, either for survival or for his death to be quick and painless. King just screamed and clung to Luz for dear life. The interstate was a nightmare, each movement sent the three of them crashing into each other, right, left, right again, way too fast, way too hard. If they survived this, they were going to all be bruised, sore, and probably hoarse from their screaming. It was half an hour of this terror before the car finally came to a stop, and the trio tumbled out. They either kissed the ground, clung to the grass, or were violently sick in the nearest bush. None of them even tried to stand up for almost ten minutes afterwards. “Oh dear, you poor things must have delicate tummies to get carsick after that!” Nancy cooed after she got out of the car and opened the trunk, “Well, take all the time you need before heading inside. I need to move the car into the garage. Feel better, children!” She put their bags on the grass near them before returning to the car… and tore off like something out of a cartoon or video game. Luz felt dizzy just watching her leave, and flopped back, feeling her head spin. “Ugh…” “...human… if we have to get in that death trap again… I would rather walk back to your home,” Hunter said between shaky breaths. “I think… we both would,” her voice shook in reply. King whimpered in agreement. Once the disorientation and adrenalin was out of their systems, they finally had the chance to take in their surroundings. A massive gate was in front of them, large metal embroideries of the letters M and P were on the large wooden paneling. It was obvious that they were new additions, as the silhouettes of an N and a W were still visible on the wood, suggesting the property had belonged to someone else until recently. The large fence-wall that extended outwards from the gate had brick columns, breaking it up into sections; a pair stood on either side of the gate. On top were large statues of stags, and from that distance they seemed to be a third bigger than any real life deer could ever possibly be. Behind them was a winding path that led down the mountain, massive pine trees were on either side, it was probably some sort of private road that led to the school. It was so narrow that none of them wanted to think how Nancy-Nana, as she had insisted-managed to turn the car around so fast. “So… do we knock or-” King’s question was cut off by Hunter pushing on the gate, finding it unlocked, and it creaked open. The front yard beyond definitely belonged to some kind of mansion, a cobblestone path led to a fountain in the middle of a four-way path. Just beyond laid an extravagant mansion, built from the same kind of wood as the trees on either side of the road they had just come from. Small patches of ivy grew from the building, so small in fact that Luz had a feeling they were also a new addition, along with the hedges along the cobblestone paths. They were in a variety of species and sizes, they didn’t seem to be as uniform as she had seen on TV and in magazines, and some flowering ones were randomly scattered among them.

They made it to the front door and stopped… This was it… once they stepped through, this whole… school thing was going to be real. A school of magic, other worlds, time travel and who knew what else waited beyond… But most importantly, a chance to go back to the Boiling Isles. Any hesitation Luz had dissipated when that thought crossed her mind, and she pushed the door open. A massive foyer laid beyond, luxurious in every way possible, all built from wood. A massive staircase was at the end of the room, banisters circled the upper level of the room, and hallways branched off from there. Hanging from the ceiling was some sort of contraption, it seemed to be made from polished brass, turning wheels and cogs clicked softly. Large rings rotated and spun, so slowly that it was oddly soothing, like an odd lullaby. Hanging from it was what looked like a model of planets, moons and stars, all created from colorful glass balls, but it certainly wasn’t depicting the planets Luz knew. “...whoa…” “Cool, isn’t it?” The voice brought her back to reality, and was surprised to see a girl standing at the base of the staircase… a girl with very blue hair. She had a dragonfly hair clip, a shirt covered in thin stripes, jeans and bright yellow rain boots, even though there hadn’t been any signs of rain recently. “The former owners hung a whale skeleton from up there before this place was turned into a school,” she said, watching the strange thing tick away, “So… who are you guys?” “Oh, uh, I’m Luz,” she smiled at the younger girl, “This is King, and he’s Hunter.” King moved closer to her, Hunter didn’t give any indication that he heard anything she said. “I’m Coraline,” she smiled, “Coraline Jones. You must be the new kids.” “That’s what we’ve been told,” she nodded, “Are Ford or Strickler around? Or Teodora?” “Well, Ford’s down in the lab with McGucket, Strickler’s tutoring some of the other students, and I haven’t seen Teodora since breakfast so who knows,” she shrugged, “Anyway, Ford asked me to show you guys around if they didn’t finish up by the time you got here.” “They’re having a kid show us around?” Hunter finally piped up, sounding incredulous, “Seems irresponsible of them.” “Eh, they get caught up in their work all the time, genius nerds are weird,” she shrugged, “Either way, c’mon, we got a lot of stuff to cover.” She headed up the stairs, the trio looked at each other and started picking up their bags. “Oh, don’t worry about those, we got those covered,” Coraline told them, before calling out, “Hey bots! Come get these bags!” From seemingly nowhere, a pair of robots-yes, robots-flew out from the upper floor. They were only a head and torso, with a small rocket protruding from the bottom. They seemed to be made from unpolished brass, they were nowhere near as shiny as the contraption above. They had long, narrow heads, with what looked like a metal frisbee for a helmet on top.

“Whoa! Wha-What are-“

“Cool right?” Coraline asked, “These guys do all the boring chore stuff nobody wants to like the laundry and dishes… just don’t expect them to do your homework for you.” “...robots… there are robots here,” Luz had a frazzled look to her. “One of the older guys makes them,” Coraline explained, “He used to make them all the time in his world but since coming back they’ve only been used for mundane stuff.” “...this place just gets better and better.” “At least these things are cleaner than abominations,” Hunter grumbled, looking at one of the robots that was holding his bags. His palisman fluttered out of them and landed on his shoulder, nuzzling him with a chirp. “Well, let’s get going!” Coraline said as she gestured for them to follow. Luz scooped King up into her arms, he still looked woozy from that hell-ish drive. Hunter trailed behind, he probably didn’t trust her to walk behind him (even though she had done just that in Latissa and he had even less reason to trust her then.) The first thing Coraline showed them was the bedrooms, they occupied at least three hallways with doors on either side. So far as she knew, these rooms occupied the students alone, but given the sheer number of them, it was a surprise they hadn’t run into any of the others yet. Next were a few of the clubrooms that occupied the second floor, and from the names alone, the trio of newcomers couldn’t help but wonder what their future classmates were like. There were some ordinary clubs, such as the Arts & Crafts Club, the Music Club, the Science Club, the Cooking/Baking Club, and then there were the more… curious ones. A Meditation Club, the Monkey Boy Club, the Junior Flyers Club, the Senior Flyers Club and the Magic & Tech Experimentation Club were some of the most notable ones pointed out to them. Luz was already making a list of which ones to try out for once she got the chance… and how to protect the Baking Club from King.

Next they headed downstairs, and Coraline showed them where each of the classrooms were. The rooms were large and seemed to be filled with a variety of materials for each class, to the point it was clear that whoever taught these classes had a real passion for the subjects they taught… Both Luz and Hunter perked up at the mention of Magic Class, and were beyond frustrated to find the door locked. A series of blue runes circled the door handle, preventing anyone from even touching it. If they tried, a small shock hit their fingers and kept them at bay. Both teenagers made an attempt before Coraline’s laughter made them realize how fruitless further efforts would be. “As fascinating as this has all been,” Hunter said as they finished observing the final classroom, “Where is everyone else?  This so-called school seems very… barren, and uninteresting…” “That’s normal for school,” Coraline said, “The boring part I mean.” “Says you,” Luz smirked. “But most of the others are probably in the gym. The teachers usually offer to teach everyone how to fight around this time of day.” “...okay, that isn’t normal for a human school,” Luz quickly informed before Hunter could get the wrong idea.

She could feel King shaking in her arms as he snickered. Hunter’s next question got her attention.

“Why would they need to know how to fight…?”

“Well a lot of us were expected to protect the places we went to… or fight to survive. And a lot want to go back.”

Like the three of them did.

“Are these other worlds really so dangerous?” Luz asked after a moment.

“Some are, I don’t really get it all but some of them had world ending events happen but the kids who were there were able to undo it?”

“Wait… They undid the end of the world?!”

Luz’s grip on King tightened ever so slightly.

“Yeah, one guy said the world was actually split in half before it was put back together. Another said he and his friends were chasing this planet destroying monster and saw its handiwork before they could kill it.”

She felt the room start to spin, her mind becoming overwhelmed. She had thought dealing with Belos had been bad… she couldn’t begin to wrap her head around world ending events. King’s tail began wagging, being able to do all that, he could only imagine what it was like. Hunter stared at Coraline quietly, he either seemed to be processing this new information or thinking hard about it.

Whatever thoughts had been spinning through their heads came to an end when a voice called out, “Yo, we almost got ‘em!”

They looked down a hallway to see a group of little green… things skittering along the floor, making strange, gurgling, throaty noises. Trailing behind was a trio of boys, all teenagers and around Luz’s age.

“What the-“

“Hey, get out of the way!” one of the boys warned.

“Over here!” Coraline grabbed them by the arm and pulled them to duck behind a pedestal! The next thing any of them knew, the warm, stuffy air of the hallway was replaced by an explosion of arctic wind! The sudden change in temperature made the wood flooring creak and pop loudly, their bodies shook and Luz suddenly wished she had worn her cape.

The wind stopped as quickly as it had started, leaving a light dusting of ice on them, they could see their breath and it was suddenly quiet. When they turned to look at the strange creatures, they were met with a bizarre sight.

The hallway had been turned into a miniature winter wonderland, snow collected in corners and a frosty gleam reflected off of every surface! Three frozen statues were stuck in the center of it all, clearly in a pose to try and run away. Welll, statues wasn’t the right word. There was clearly something inside of the icy statues, Luz took a step forward to get a better look. It was the creatures, frozen mid-run, still as stone… Until their eyes moved, with an obvious glare, and a foggy breath formed on the other side of the ice, accompanied by an angered snarl. “Whoa…!” “...what in the name of the Titan are these things?” Hunter asked in disbelief. “They’re ugly, that’s what they are!” King said, pointing at them. “Ha ha! That’s three more for us y'all!” “Man, I love my ice powers!” Their attention was turned to the trio of boys, who were loudly celebrating, apparently for freezing the strange creatures. “How many does that make Randy?” a stick thin boy in a white shirt with a red oval on it asked. The tallest one, a boy with dark purple hair and huge eyes, pulled out his phone and checked it. “Okay, that makes 29 for us, 32 for them. They still have a lead but we’re closing the gap!” …was… this some sort of weird game? Why would they be turning these things into living statues for fun? “Do you guys have to resort to that?!” The chaos of the arctic blast and the strange trio almost made Luz forget that Coraline was still there. The young girl stomped up to the boys, bits of ice crunching loudly under foot. “Oh uh, sorry Jonesy,” stammered one of the boys, a Chinese kid with spiky hair that turned green at the ends, “We got caught up catchin’ these things.” “Well, be more careful! I’m showing some new kids around and they nearly got blasted by you guys!” she stomped her foot, another crunching sound came from the ice and the boys flinched. “Dude, you’re actually helping out? Did Ford have to bribe you or somethin’?” the purple-haired one, Randy, asked with a semi-joking tone. “He promised not to tell my parents about my last science experiment.” Her statement left the boys quiet for a moment until the skinny one with the white shirt spoke up. “...that wasn’t a science experiment. You used a bunch of grappling hooks and glue to make a fake “giant bug” skeleton… you know they have exoskeletons.” “So?” “You could have used the idea for art class or something! Instead you made that amalgamation of nightmares and got the younger kids confused on bug biology!” The Chinese kid cut off any further bickering by elbowing his company and pointed at Luz. “Oh, uh, right, new kids,” the formerly ranting male cleared his throat awkwardly as he finally took notice of them, “Sorry about that. We’ve been chasing these things all day. The name’s Danny by the way, this is Jake,” he gestured to the spiky-haired one, “And that’s Randy.” The purple-haired one waved at them. “Nice to meet you… um, I’m Luz Noceda, this is King,” she was still holding the little demon, “And that’s Hunter.” She jerked a thumb over her shoulder in the direction she thought he was in, “So uh… what are these things exactly?” She looked at the frozen creatures. “Oh, they’re goblins,” Danny answered, “We’ve had an infestation of them for months, every time we think we got them all, they pop back up.” “GOBLINS?!”* she exclaimed in delight, though some part of her knew that probably wasn’t a good idea. “Well, more specifically they’re one type of goblin,” Jake spoke up this time, “I’ve seen others that are real human-looking and just as smart, except they had blue or green skin, or maybe had a tail too. These creeps though,” he tapped one of them with his foot, “They’re more like rabid dogs, or piranhas… but with opposable thumbs.” “And not to mention they’re wonk as hell!” Randy proclaimed loudly, “Seriously, they’re the nastiest little things I’ve ever had to deal with!” “I think the word you’re looking for is vindictive,” Coraline groaned. Vindictive. That one word would have saved them from what happened next, if only it had been said a few seconds sooner. The sound of shattering ice filled the hallway, followed by a second one. Coraline, Danny, Jake and Randy all froze at the first one and immediately turned their attention to the frozen goblins. Looks of terror overtook their faces and Luz followed their gaze, suddenly feeling very confused and very worried. In the time Luz had taken to talk to the boys, Hunter had transformed his palisman into its staff form, and had taken a swing at the goblins. They had apparently exploded into a mess of ice shards and a runny, green substance that reminded her of jell-o that hadn’t finished chilling all the way. In fact, none of their insides seemed to belong to a normal biological creature, it was as if they were made entirely of the substance. He raised the staff to hit the third one before the others screamed at him to stop. “DUDE, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” Jake screamed. “WHAT THE CHEESE IS WRONG WITH YOU?!” Randy shouted. “NO, STOP!” Danny sprung to stop him, stumbling on the ice. “DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT YOU’VE DONE?!” Coraline’s voice rang out the loudest. “What is wrong with you?” Hunter asked, “You said these things are pests, I’m doing you a favor.” He swung a third time, the explosion of icy dust and green goop silenced all of them. “There, they’re dead, you’re welcome.” “Dude… you just seriously fucked up,” Jake whimpered, he sounded… scared. In fact, all of them looked scared. “What are you talking about? Weren’t you going to kill them yourselves?” “Once we trapped as many of them as possible! If you don’t get them all in one go-” Tap. From the ice, something small fell loose. A simple marker, white with a black cap, perhaps the most random thing for the goblins to have. It rolled across the floor, towards an unlit hallway. A pair of glowing yellow eyes opened up. Another pair of eyes followed it. And then another. And then more. “...they come after you for revenge.” Dozens of the glowing eyes now glared at them, some on the floor, some on the walls, and far too many on the ceiling. A single goblin came out of the dark, crouching down as it snatched up the marker. It then stood up right, refusing to break eye contact with the kids, uncapped the marker, drew a small, pointed mustache on it’s upper lip and muttered only to mutter two words. “Waka chaka.”

Danny responded with one.

“Run.”

The chase was on.