#(they’ve got cellphones but that’s it)

[king-orange]

You can write Alan email!

Email? Is that like texting?

[taleeater]

Fragile Part 6

😈😈😈

(This chapter got too long- I had to cut it short,,,, :]]] Enjoy!)

Generation: Bayverse TMNT

Tmnt x Reader Fanfic

Pronouns: Gender Neutral (except ‘dudette’, 'miss', and ‘princess’)

Warnings: injury, blood, electrocution, graphic depictions of torture, not proof read

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Today you were spending time with Donnie while he worked in front of his monitors. You liked it there much better than in his lab. He had a map of the city up with little marks indicating spots where the Foot had been spotted. But that wasn’t what he was working on right now.

No, you and Donnie were doing much more important things at the moment.

Like playing the new update in Stardew Valley.

“Fishing mods are cheating.” 

You gawked at him in mock offense. “But you can’t pause in a multiplayer farm, there’s no time to play the fishing mini game!!”

“That’s why it’s more of a challenge!” He stuck his tongue out while he clicked his mouse rapidly to fight off a slime in the mines.

You pouted, adjusting the laptop in your lap. “I don’t need my cozy farming sim to be challenging…” 

Donnie did not miss the cute grin that graced your face after, his heart fluttering in his chest. 

These past few days you found yourself smiling more and more easily. Whether it was Mikey getting covered in flour while you baked cookies together, or Raph teaching you how to purl stitch, or Leo showing you how to wield a sword. You were enjoying spending more personal time with the turtles as you got to know them better.

Your toes curled where you were perched in the chair beside Donnie, glancing up at the map again. Your eyes always drawn to the blinking red dot marking the location of the lab you escaped only weeks before. The police had raided it and found it empty, which only increased your unease as to where Dr Stockman might be hiding. It already felt like a lifetime ago, that night when the turtles first found you. 

You owed them your life.

“Hey (y/n), you almost ready for afternoon training?” Leo came over, snapping you out of your thoughts. Leo leaned against the back on Donnie’s chair, earning a dismissive swat from his younger brother.

“We’ll stop after we finish up this day, Leo.” Donnie said not even taking his eyes off the screen. You giggled and got back to fishing on the beach.

You were two hours into your training session with Leo. 

“Okay, good. Now when you kick, focus on your balance. Stay firmly planted and your leg should have more power.” Leo coached you. 

Master Splinter was supervising while sipping his tea. It had barely been 5 days since your mutant abilities had manifested. But you were already making astounding progress in unlocking its potential. Leonardo had played a big part in the process, being the one who had helped you work through your fears of using your mutant reflexes, so the abilities came more easily to you when training. He trained with you every day, while Master Splinter provided guidance. Everyone was doing their best to support you through all the changes.

Casey suddenly jogged in through the entrance of the lair. 

“Guys! Just got word, the Foot are planning to rob a warehouse full of high tech weapons tonight. We gotta go intercept it.” He said waving around his cellphone.

“What? Where? Their communication frequency has been quiet since they moved those chemicals to the old Sacks building!” Donnie spun around in his chair to face Casey, you and Leo walking into the living room with Raph and Mikey close behind.

“Queens. Our contact in the Foot Clan leaked the info to us just half an hour ago.”

“Huh, that’s strange. That’s all the way on the other side of town. Aside from Sacks Tower, they’ve only really been active around the East Village and ChinaTown this past week. Maybe they changed their frequency again to throw us off track.” Donnie was quickly typing up info on his keyboard. 

“Well, regardless, we better go check it out.” Leo sighed. He wanted to keep training with you, but it would have to wait.

“Heck yeah! I’m bringin’ the steak-out snacks. Who wants Doritos?” Mikey grabbed his ratty old Jansport backpack and started shoving cans of Orange Crush into it. 

“(Y/n), you stay here and keep an eye on Donnie’s computer. The Foot might try to communicate about their raid tonight. Donnie’s program will intercept it. April will be here in about an hour, so just tell her if anything suspicious comes up.” Leo asked you.

“Right!” You said standing to attention and giving a military salute with a silly little grin on your face. 

It made Leo’s heart melt in his chest and his expression turned soft. 

“Just, stay safe, okay?” He patted you on the head then headed for the exit. 

As the rest of the boys filed out of the lair, they each stopped by you. Mikey getting a high five, you quickly cleaned Donnie’s glasses for him, and Raph, always last, ducked down for a quick hug when his brothers weren’t looking. Casey rushed ahead of them.

Master Splinter waved goodbye to his sons next to you. Once the boys had left, he informed you he was going to go meditate, and to come find him if you needed anything.

About 45 minutes later, you were casually watching YouTube videos on Donnie’s computer when a flashing red light appeared on the screen. It was indicating that Donnie’s program was intercepting a message from the Foot’s closed communication server. A message popped up on the screen, and you gasped.

“We have captured the turtles. Continue with the plan.” 

Then a video feed loaded up on the main screen. 

Your blood ran cold.

It looked like the feed from a security camera, depicting Leo, Mikey, and Donnie all locked in glass cages, restrained with thin tubes of red connected to their arms. They looked weak, they looked bad.

“What….? No… No, not this… please no…!”

Where was Raphael? He was nowhere to be seen. How did they get captured so fast…? They had barely been gone an hour!

Your mind was racing. You recognized those machines. Dr Stockman used them to take blood samples from Bebop and Rocksteady. If that was the case, there was no time to lose.

You made up your mind.

You snuck past the dojo and muttered a quick apology to Master Splinter. You knew Master Splinter wouldn’t let you go, so you kept quiet. Then you grabbed the handheld GPS device Donnie left on his work table. You entered the location on the map where the message was sent from. 

The old Sacks Tower. 

Time to move.

April arrived at the lair much later than expected. She and Casey had just finished speaking to the commissioner about police activities being leaked to the Foot. When they entered the living room, they were confused to only see Master Splinter waiting for them. The old rat was pacing and anxiously stroking his beard. 

“Splinter? Where’s (y/n)?” April asked, confused.

Splinter shook his head. 

“You don’t know where they are?” April became concerned, walking further into the lair. 

“It appears, that our greatest fears have been realized.” His expression deeply troubled. Before April could ask, she noticed what Splinter was looking at. 

Playing in a loop on Donatello’s monitor was old CCTV footage from when the turtles had been captured 10 years ago by Shredder and Mr Sacks. April breathed a sigh of relief, immediately recognizing the scene.

“Splinter, the turtles are safe. I spoke to Leo on the phone only 10 minutes ago. They’re staking out a warehouse in Queens. This is old footage.” 

Splinter’s eyes widened and looked back to the screen. His expression turned contemplative. 

“If that is so, then perhaps Miss (y/n) has made the same mistake.” He spoke gravely.

April had a look of shock. She quickly pulled out her phone and speed dialed Leo’s number.

Leo thankfully answered quickly. “Hey April, anything new?”

“Leo, is (y/n) with you?”

Leo paused a long moment and sent a look over to his brothers, getting their attention. “No…. Aren’t they at the lair?” All of his brother's eyes were suddenly on him. Leo turned the phone on speaker.

“No!! They’re gone. And there’s a video playing on Donnie’s computer. It’s a recording of you Mikey and Donnie locked up at Sacks’ estate from over 10 years ago… I think this is what (y/n) saw before they left.”

“They left?” Leo felt his heart drop into his stomach. “To go where, Sacks’ estate?” His brothers immediately started packing up their stakeout equipment to leave. 

“No I don’t think so, the sender’s location was tracked, it’s still on the screen. It says it was sent from Sack Tower in Times Square.”

Donnie came over and joined in the call, typing furiously at the keyboard on his wrist. “Sacks Tower. That’s where they were spotted smuggling those stolen chemicals into the other day…! From my notifications, it appears that the message was sent through an older Foot Clan communication frequency approximately 43 minutes ago.”

“Donnie, how long will it take (y/n) to get to Sacks Tower.”

“From my calculations, if (y/n) left the lair heading to the Sacks building about 40 minutes ago, going by subway, they should arrive in about uhhh, approximately 8 minutes.”

“And how long will it take us to get there.” Raph asked.

“From where we are now, if we manage to hitch a ride on the next nonstop train to Times Square…… about 1 and a half hours.”

“Shit!” 

Raph cursed loudly and turned away frustrated, and Mikey put his hands on his head. Donnie was typing away at the keypad on his arm, trying to find any kind of faster route and muttering about how stupid he was for not making you a shellcell.

“We don’t have a minute to waste. Let’s move out.”

That’s all they needed to hear. Everyone sprung into action and booked it for the closest subway station manhole cover.

“April, we are headed to Sacks Tower as fast as we can. And get ahold of the police commissioner again. Whoever gave us the information to come to this warehouse tonight was intentionally planted with misinformation. There was no sign of the Foot at the warehouse. …..It was most likely a diversion.”

“Right. I’ll get back to you soon.”

Leo hung up the phone and jumped off the apartment building and dove down towards the street’s manhole cover.

Leo grit his teeth.

“Hold on (y/n).”

The halls of the building were eerily empty. This place made your skin crawl. The laboratory felt all too similar to the one you had been trapped in before. But this one had clearly been abandoned for a long time. Broken glass, graffiti, turned over chairs, scattered paper. But strangely the power was still on. You didn’t dare try to use the elevator in fear of giving away your position. But you were confused as to why you had yet to see any guards. This is where the message was sent from, the turtles had to be here, right?

You climbed the steps to another floor, but paused as you creaked open the door exiting the stairwell. This floor felt like a world apart from the previous ones. It was clean.

And the lights were on.

You kept low, and hyper vigilant. Steadying your breathing like Leo had taught you, you crept into the sterile white hallway. There were glass windows along the hall looking into different labs. One held chemistry equipment, another held big bulky medical equipment that clicked and beeped. Finally, the last room at the end of the hall, a room with no windows. You had a sinking feeling in your gut, but still you crept towards the door. Slowly and quietly you pulled open the heavy door, and revealed a large lit room with a high ceiling, and there you saw it.

“Guys….!”

There along the back wall were 4 glass boxes with 3 of the turtles strung up and being drained of blood. You had found them! Seeing no one else in the room, you rushed in. 

“I’m going to get you out of here, just you wait!” You went to the first machine in front of Donnie and reached out to touch the screen-

Your hand passed right through.

“What…?” You tried to touch it again but there was nothing there.

The hologram distorted, and then the turtles disappeared. You gasped.

It was a trap.

You turned around to book it towards the exit, but the door was opening again. Bebop and Rocksteady squeezed through the small door one at a time, and blocked your exit. Then over an intercom you heard the familiar laugh that sent a shiver down your spine.

Stockman chuckled darkly. “Just how I planned it! Like catching a fly with honey. So predictable!”

You backed up slowly as Bebop and Rocksteady approached you. 

“Did you miss us, little kitty?” Rocksteady sneered.

The intercom buzzed as Stockman spoke again. “Bebop, Rocksteady, keep them occupied until I arrive. I will be there momentarily. And let’s not have a repeat of last time, please!” There was a clicking sound and the intercom went quiet.

Bebop chuckled. “Hell yeah! It’s been so long since we last played! Let’s make the most of it.” 

“That’s right! And we gotta pay you back for all the trouble you caused us! We missed you so much after you left. You wanna go first Beebs?”

“My man!” Bebop smiled at Rocksteady and clasped his hand, they both laughed. 

You tried your best to steady your breathing like Leo taught you. Your hands were trembling. But you needed a way out. Bebop and Rocksteady were not fast, if you timed it right, maybe you can get past them to the door.

Bebop approached you. You stayed still and waited. Then when he got close enough, you ran right towards him, surprising Bebop. He reached out to grab you but you slid right between his legs, then jumped up behind him and tried to run past Rocksteady before he could react. He was still too close to you and managed to grab you from behind, but you were ready for him. Just like in training, you reached up and grabbed him around his neck, and taking a deep breath, you threw all your strength forward and down and managed to flip Rocksteady onto his back- stunning him. You quickly jumped over him and ran for the door, slamming into it fast and wretched the handle to pull it open. 

Locked. (Warning for graphic depictions of torture ahead.)

“No…!” You felt a bruising grip close around your arm, and you were torn away from the door. “NO!!” You cried out as you were thrown hard onto the floor between the two oversized mutants. 

“See? Now that’s your problem. You gotta go makin’ our job harder than it needs to be!” Bebop complained. 

Rocksteady was picking himself back up, rubbing the back of his head tenderly. “Don’t let them get to ya Beebs, we’ll sort them out quick before Stockman gets here.” Bebop then reached into his pocket and pulled out an all too familiar black taser. 

Rocksteady took the taser and chuckled. “Little kitty needs a check-up!” 

You tried to get up and run, but Rocksteady stomped down hard on your left arm. There was a sickening snap and you screamed, writhing in pain. You were pinned. 

“Tsk, tsk. You know what happens when kitty gets naughty!” The taser was flicked on, all you could do was close your eyes before a strong surge of electricity was shot into your ribcage and throughout your body. You convulsed as the shocks seized you, your shoulder getting dislocated from the spasms, then collapsed back on the floor. 

“Just like good ol’ times!” Rocksteady passed the taser to Bebop.

Rocksteady laughed and removed his foot from your arm, then Bebop tased you in the ribs again. You yelped and rolled onto your stomach, tucking your very broken arm underneath you and tried to crawl away. 

“Hey, where ya goin? We’re just getting STARTED!” Rocksteady punctuated his sentence by kicking you in the stomach hard enough to throw you across the room. You hit the ground and your body rolled another few feet until you stopped on your side and curled in on yourself, the air knocked out of your lungs.

Bebop took his time strolling over to you, and grabbed you by the hair to lift you up. You coughed and gasped for air, grabbing at his hand and tried to pry his fingers off of his grip. 

“Think you can just up and leave whenever you want, do ya?” He growled in your ear, then dropped you down haphazardly to the floor. You were on your knees, buckled forward and holding your left shoulder, when suddenly Bebop’s foot stomped down on your right ankle and you heard a loud crunch. 

You shrieked. 

Exhausted and riddled with unbearable pain, you crippled to the floor. It took everything you had just to pull breath. 

“Alright, I’m back! How is our lovely patient doing?” Came the cheerful sing-song voice of Dr Stockman entering the room through the locked door, Karai tailing behind him. 

“Hey boss! Uhhh, we were just warming them up for ya! See? They can’t run away no more.” Bebop nudged your side with his foot, knocking you onto your side so Stockman could see the pain riddled on your face. You were barely conscious by this point. 

“Excellent! Bring them to me.” Stockman ordered.

Bebop picked you up by your good arm and carried you over to where Dr Stockman was walking to in the back of the room. Karai stepped in Bebop’s way for a moment, taking in your beaten appearance, and back-handed your face hard for good measure, leaving a shiny bruise and angry red gash across your cheek. That woke you up a bit. 

Just enough to retaliate.

You took a deep breath and tore your arm out of Bebop’s grasp and punched Karai in the stomach, hard enough to throw her into a large display screen next to where Stockman was standing. Stockman squawked in surprise. She rolled onto the floor, and pushed herself up onto her side. Spitting a bit of blood onto the ground and wiping away at her lip. 

You tried to stand on your good leg but you were too weak and collapsed back to the floor. Bebop and Rocksteady grabbed you by each of your arms and brought you in front of Stockman.

He was looking at you in awe, and reached out tentatively to swipe at the blood on your cheek. He rushed over to his desk, jumping a bit in excitement. He put a drop of your blood onto a slide, and observed it under his microscope.

“Ha…! HA HA…! YES!!” Stockman shouted in excitement and did a little dance. Bebop and Rocksteady exchanged a confused look and Karai stood up and walked over to Stockman, eyeing you angrily and rolling her shoulder.

“What does this mean?” She questioned him. 

“It means that the mutation was a SUCCESS!!! Those stupid turtles must have triggered it somehow. And now we can finally proceed with the plan!!!” He grabbed something off his desk and skipped over to the stairs leading up to the circular titanium base in the middle of the room. “Bring them here!!” He called over, waving his hand to Bebop and Rocksteady.

They dragged you over to Stockman, and were deposited on the round podium that sat under a large glass tube. Stockman started to pull down long rubber tubes from above, and attached large thick needles to the ends. You tried once again to crawl away with your good arm, as Bebop and Rocksteady retreated. 

But Stockman approached you from behind. In a quick jab, he stabbed the two needled tubes deep into your back. You grunted and groaned in pain, but could do nothing, collapsing on the podium. Beaten, bruised, and bleeding.

When Dr Stockman was finished, he descended the stairs and rushed over to his computer, giggling excitedly he typed in a command and the glass tube descended over you until it clicked into place at the sturdy titanium base. Locking you inside.

“They’ll be placed in suspended animation. Once the tank is completely filled with the preservation fluid, they’ll become nothing more than a convenient blood bag, supplying an endless supply of mutagen for our mutant army.” Stockman rubbed his hands together evilly.

“And what about the turtles?” Karai asked. 

“It is already too late for them to stop us. Even if they manage to get through your guards, they will be unable to free them from this tank. Once I start the filtration process, I will delete the programmed command to empty or release the containment cylinder. They won’t be able to free them without my help!” Stockman typed away quickly at his computer. 

One of the tubes connected to your back began to pull blood from your body, leading up through a small opening in the top of the cylinder then down into a canister at the base. Then from the second tube, a white milky substance full of liquid nutrients began to filter through and down into your body. It did nothing to numb the pain you felt as you laid there in a state of half consciousness. 

Suddenly, the loud banging of gunshots could be heard somewhere outside the door. 

“We’re not ready yet! Hold them back!” Stockman ordered Bebop and Rocksteady, who positioned themselves between Stockman and the door. 

The door suddenly blew wide open, and the four turtles rushed into the room, angry and weapons at the ready.

“Where’s (y/n).”

Part 7

@itsberrydreemurstuff @thecreat0r64 @eli-chris @kurlyfrasier @autisticnutcase @drenix004 @donniesgirlie @cherryp-op @foggyturtleknightangel @blackrockshooter780 @l-n-g-t @peachesdabunny @silverwatergalaxy @willy-the-witch @caeliasaida @veri-varily @xnorthstar3x 

If anyone else wants to be tagged for the next update, let me know in the comments! :]

[astro-b-o-y-d]

Triangulum - Chapter 1- Return to the Falls

— — — — — — —

“Tree. Tree. Billboard. Gas station. Telephone pole. Tree. Billboar—hey, that one’s got a whale on it!”

The clink of metal to glass echoed through the nearly-empty bus as Mabel pressed her cellphone against the window. “I wonder why they always use whales as mascots for things like car washes?” she inquired. “It’s not like they can actually drive cars or anything! They’re too big to fit through the doors!”

Such a question drew an amused chuckle from the person on the other end of the phone. “I think the thought process there is, like…you use water to clean cars?” they guessed. “And whales live in the water? And then they figure everyone can make the rest of the connection from there.”

From the seat besides Mabel, Dipper looked up from his journal. “Whales are also filter-feeders,” he pointed out. “They filter their food through something called baleen plates, which kinda look like the flappy, hangy-down brushes and sponges in a car wash? Maybe that’s one reason.”

He pointed the tip of his pencil at Mabel. “Also, you know Dev can’t actually see the billboard over the phone, right? …Adding onto that, how are you getting a signal this far out in the woods?”

Mabel moved the phone from the window and pressed it tightly against her chest. “Through the power of love!”

“Yeah, well, I’m almost positive that the ‘power of love’ isn’t gonna make your phone magically grow a video screen and a high-quality internet connection.”

With a scowl, Mabel placed her hands on her hips. “Almost positive isn’t completely positive, Mr. Negative!”

She punctuated her remark with a raspberry, before turning her attention back to her phone. “Sorry, Dev, you know how Dipper is,” she said fondly. “The big dorkus always has to apply logic to everything.”

“He raises a good point, though,” Dev replied. “I wouldn’t’ve made the connection between baleen plates and car wash sponges on my own, so I’m glad he had all that off the top of his head.”

A laugh, before their tone grew more accusatory. “Almost as if someone’s in the middle of researching whales for a certain reason.”

Dipper shifted in his seat, his gaze suddenly and intently focused on a stain of unknown origin on the back of the seat in front of them. “I-I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“...Diiiiip, you promised we’d look into that story about those sky whales off the coast together!” Dev whined playfully. “We were gonna make a whole night of it once you guys got back, with a red yarn board and everything!”

“I swear I was going to wait!” Dipper insisted. “But, like, listen…we’re gonna be spending all summer with our great-uncles. And they’ve spent the last few months sailing around the world, hunting a bunch of cool, paranormal beings out there on the open seas.”

He pressed a hand to the back of his head. “And I thought…you know—”

“—you thought sky whales might be one of the things your uncles saw out on the ocean, and you wanted to learn as much as you could to look all cool and smart in front of them,” Dev finished for him. “Especially in front of the totally awesome, Multiverse-jumping—studier of all things weird and strange—Stanford Pines?”

A beat. “…The one you promised me you’d get an autograph from and I’m totally not using this as an excuse to remind you about that?”

This earned a laugh out of Dipper. “Subtly noted, but it’s just…they’re gonna have so many stories about the places they’ve been over the past nine months,” he elaborated. “The most exciting story I have is that Phoenix incident, and it wasn’t even a real Phoenix!”

Dev let out a groan. “Ugh, don’t remind me! Whose bright idea was it again to smuggle a chicken into Science class?”

“I guess that’s one mystery we’ll never solve,” Dipper added with a look of disgust. “But what we did learn is that burnt feathers smell like someone lighting their hair on fire in a barn.”

“No kidding! I’m never gonna get the smell of stale hay and dirt outta my nose!”

“This is why pigs are the superior livestock,” Mabel said, punctuating her point with an indignant harrumph. “No stinky feathers!”

Dipper nudged her with his elbow before he set his journal and pencil down on his lap. “Weren’t you complaining a month ago about how Waddles is too big to smuggle into school anymore?”

“That’s not his fault! It’s the fault of society and their inability to stop body shaming everything!” She pressed her hands, phone and all, against her cheeks. ”Especially the most adorable wittle piggy in the entire world and his fat wittle piggy tummy~!”

This earned a laugh from Dev. “They’re just jealous they can’t be him, I bet,” he agreed. “Either way, Dip, it’s no worries about the sky whales thing. Just means I’ve gotta start stocking up on new research material for when you guys get home.”

There was a light tapping sound from the other side of the phone, as if Dev were tapping the speaker with their finger. “And it means that you owe me one!” they insisted. “Which you can easily pay off by spilling all the deets about what went down up there last August!”

The twins exchanged a mirrored look. “Dev—”

“Come on, Dipping Dots, you can’t leave me hanging forever,” Dev begged. “I know it was more than just some weird weather patterns! Just…just give me a hint at least! Was it ghosts? Aliens? …Alien ghosts?”

Dipper shot his sister a look, one that she returned with an understanding nod. “Dipper, stop trying to steal my boyfriend’s attention with your nerdy-nerd talk!” she said, loud enough for Dev to hear. “I wanna get as much talking time as I can with him before we get to town!”

With a smirk, he gave her ribs another nudge with his elbow. “Hey, Dev was a part of the Paranormal/Supernatural Club before you two started going out!” he pointed out. “So technically—aha, stop!”

His words dissolved into laughter as Mabel retaliated by putting as much of her weight on him as she could. “Technically, schmechnically, you can’t do nerdy-nerd stuff with Dev if you’re flat as a pancake!” she said, her body vibrating with giggles as she smushed against him.

“Dev, help, I’m being smothered!” Dipper called to the phone, between bouts of his own laughter. “Tell Mabel she’s cute or something!”

This earned another laugh from Dev in response, one warm and full of affection. “Mabel Syrup, could you please stop trying to kill my best friend and Paranormal/Supernatural Club co-president?”

Smiling wider, Mabel straightened herself upright in the seat and held the phone in her ear. “We~ell, since you’re using that nickname, I guess I can be merciful today!”

With a dramatic gag, Dipper pointed a finger at his throat in disgust. “Ugh, I said call her cute, not break out the pet names.”

“It’s not my fault she’s as sweet as her namesake.”

“It’s not her namesake!”

“Boys, boys,” Mabel interrupted with a giggle. “As fun as it is to both flirt with my boyfriend and annoy my brother at the same time, I do think we should circle back to the point Dip made earlier about my cell reception.” She held the phone back up to her ear. “Since we’re almost at the Falls anyway, you wanna go ahead and hang up before the majestic oaks of Oregon do it for us?”

Dipper raised a finger. “Technically the trees around here are mostly firs and birch trees.”

“Oaks, Oregon…I wanted the words to sound all samey-samey,” Mabel pointed out. “And firs doesn’t start with an O.”

“...Neither does majestic?”

“Yeah, we can hang up for now,” Dev said. “I’m sure you guys probably wanna spend the rest of the day settling in, but if you don’t mind talking later tonight—”

“Uh, of course we can talk tonight~!” Mabel interrupted excitedly. “Not only that, I can introduce you to my Grunkles if they’re finished settling in by that point, too! And I’m sure Soos and Melody will want to say hi—ooh, and of course you can meet Candy and Grenda when we have our inevitable ‘Back In Gravity Falls’ sleepover—”

“Okay, maybe we slowly ease Dev into the weirdness that is Gravity Falls and everyone in it?” Dipper suggested. “Besides, I’d like some time to talk to them over the summer, too!”

“Hey, I take offense to that,” Dev said. “The first thing, not the second. Are you forgetting who sought you out to join your club in the first place? And brought his own research material to the very first meeting?”

Dipper gently pulled the phone towards him. “Are you forgetting who’s actually been to Gravity Falls in the first place?”

“No, but I’m also not forgetting who’s keeping all the juicy details about what happened last summer to themselves,” Dev pointed out in return.

“Okay, okay,” Mabel said, pulling the phone back. “No more nerd talk about nerd things, you’re wasting all my minutes! Use your own minutes for that!”

She returned it to her ear with a wide grin. “But we can figure out a proper talking schedule later,” she said sweetly, then paused. “...After tonight though, because you already said we could talk and no take backs!”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Dev assured her. “Love you.”

“And I looooove—” Mabel wiggled her finger with a mischievous look before booping it against the screen of her phone. “—you~!”

“...Did you boop the phone?”

“Yeah-huh~!”

“Bye, Dev!” Dipper called as well. “...I know you two are having a moment, but I wanted to say bye, too!”

“Bye to both of you!” Dev replied. “Talk to you tonight!”

There was a click as the call ended and Mabel pressed the phone against her chest. “Ehehe, I love them!”

“So I’ve gathered,” Dipper said with a smile. “What’re you guys at now, seven months?”

“Seven months, and seventeen days~!” Mabel clarified, with a closing slap of her flip phone and a delighted kick of her feet. “Can you believe it? Last year I would’ve gone through at least seventy guys in that amount of time! Now look at me! Miss Lady-In-A-Serious-Relationship-With-One-Of-The-Best-Guys-In-The-World over here~!”

“You know that number’s a wild exaggeration, right?”

“You’re a wild exaggeration,” Mabel retorted, with a nudge to his shoulder. “And I like how you couldn’t even argue the ‘one of the best guys in the world’ thing, because you know it’s true! Well, he’s the best guy whenever he’s actually in guy mode, of course. Otherwise he’s just the best significant other! But right now, he’s the best guy in the world! 

With a wide grin, she snaked an arm around Dipper’s shoulder before once again smushing most of her weight against him. “Except for thiiiiis best guy in the world, of course~!” she said, words slightly muffled from how her cheek was squished against his arm. “Who knows he absolutely doesn’t count when it comes to me talking about the best guys in the world, because it already goes without saying that he’s the best guy in the world!”

She gave him a squished little smile. “He knows that, right?”

With a warm smile of his own, Dipper gently pushed her back to her side of the bus seat. “He knows that. Although ‘best guy in the world’ is starting to sound like a fake sentence.”

“Haha, yeah,” Mabel agreed with a giggle. “I used it a lot, huh?”

An oink beneath their legs turned their attention to the underside of the seat in front of them, where a fat, pink hog peered up at them with a lazy tilt of his head.

With a squeal of utter delight, Mabel reached down and scooped him up in her arms. “Aww, we can’t forget about the other best guy in the world~!” she cooed, cradling him like a baby. “Are you having fun crawling around and eating all the abandoned wrappers and gum stuck to the underside of the seats?”

Waddles let out another oink and contently buried his snout in the bend of her arm, as if he considered himself nothing more than a simple lap dog. Despite his own amusement at the sight, Dipper raised an eyebrow at his sister. “Seriously, you should probably stop letting him do that before the driver gets fed up and makes us walk the rest of the way.”

“He wouldn’t dare,” Mabel insisted. “This bus is probably the cleanest its ever been! If anything, the driver should be thanking Waddles for helping him out!”

After giving Waddles’ body a shake for additional emphasis, she pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “Isn’t that right, you big, pink angel? You even missed your chance to say hi to Dev because you were too busy being the most helpful piggy around!”

“Too bad we couldn’t use him as a distraction,” Dipper said, and reached for his journal again. “You know Dev’s as crazy about him as you are.”

Mabel’s smile fell, and she tightened her embrace around Waddles’ body. “Right…”

Dipper’s hand froze less than an inch from the journal, and he gave her a sympathetic look. “The squishing me was a nice touch,” he said with a halfhearted smile of his own. “Really took his mind off the Weirdmageddon topic…”

With a sigh, he flipped it open to the page he’d been writing on and picked up his pencil. “You know, we could just ask Mayor Tyler if we can bend the rules a little bit and tell our buddy back home about what happened last summer.”

Mabel leaned her body back towards the window, her head hitting the glass with a light thump. “What if he doesn’t believe us?”

“Who, Mayor Tyler? I mean, if we promised that Dev wouldn’t go blabbing it to other people and told him about how obsessed he is with the town, he’d probably understand—”

“Dev, Dipper,” Mabel clarified. “What if Dev doesn’t believe us?”

“Have you met the guy?” Dipper asked. “Out of anyone back home, I feel like he’d be the first one to believe us. I mean, are we forgetting that this is the same person who swears up and down that they've kissed an alien before?"

A pause. "Before following that claim up with ‘but I’d rather kiss Mabel before kissing a thousand aliens’ like the hopeless romantic he is?”

A small smile tugged at the corners of Mabel’s mouth, but disappeared just as quickly as it threatened to appear. “I mean, he does say that all the time. But…”

“But?”

Mabel let out an uncertain hum, but any further response was cut off by the sound of faint crackling from the bus’s loudspeaker. “Attention, passengers, we are approaching the city limits of Gravity Falls, and will be arriving within the town itself in a matter of minutes,” the driver’s voice rang out cheerfully. “Just in case anyone was interested in peering out their window as we passed by the welcome sign, for sentimental reasons.”

The twins shared a mirrored look before quickly scooting over to the window, just in time to see the familiar sign that marked the town’s border whiz past the bus.

It was a fleeting sight; one that came and went within seconds. But their silence continued for a just a bit longer after it passed, even as the endless line of trees finally began to melt into familiar homes and buildings.

Still keeping her attention fixed on the view outside, Mabel’s hand instinctively found her brother’s and gave it a light squeeze. “We’re back…”

Dipper nodded, squeezing her hand in return. “We’re back.”

They remained still, letting themselves be lost in the thrill of finally being back in that old, familiar town for just a few minutes longer, before the realization that they needed to be ready to exit the bus finally motivated them to start gathering up their belongings. “Okay, since we’re now officially back in town,” Mabel began, setting Waddles aside so she could pull her bag to her lap. “What’re you looking forward to the most this summer?”

“Hmm, hard to say,” Dipper said, reaching for his own. “I mean, last year I spent most of the summer trying to uncover the mysteries behind the journal’s author, then spent the remaining time after that with the author himself!”

He unzipped the front and stuffed his journal inside. “Guess I’m just looking forward to spending more time with Grunkle Ford again, now that he doesn’t have to stay down in the basement and deal with all that Bill stuff,” he said. “I know I wanna tell him all about the stuff me and Dev have studied together, and—ooh, I really wanna introduce him to that DDnmD podcast we've been listening to recently—”

“Hey, that was what I was looking forward to, too!” Mabel said delightedly. “Well, not the nerd stuff but the ‘spending time with Grunkle Ford’ stuff! You got to spend so much time with him last year, and I barely got to see him at all! I know we got to cover Bill's dumb grave with all that unicorn hair together, but that's BARELY a blip on the Niece-and-Great-Uncle-Bonding Time scale! So this year I’m determined to spend as much time with him as I possibly can! You know a guy who puts that much effort into his journals has to be a pro at scrapbooking!”

She reached into her bag and pulled something out with a wide grin, before holding it up for Dipper to see. “I even made him a personalized sweater, so he has another one to wear besides his red one!” she explained, pointing to a smiling picture of Ford on the front. “See? I knitted a happy little picture of him—” She moved her finger to the next one. “—and this one’s of the six-fingered hand that was on his journals—”

And finally her finger landed on the stitched writing at the bottom. “—and this part says ‘A-FORD-able! Not like ‘affordable’, but like ‘adorable with Ford!’’ …I was already halfway done when I remembered ‘affordable’ was already a word, so I just added that last part instead of undoing everything.”

While she stuffed the sweater back into her bag, Dipper added: “I think I’m also looking forward to just spending time with Grunkle Stan in general, too. I mean, sure, we got to spend a lot of time with him last year.”

He waved his hands. ���But he was hiding such a big secret, one he had to deal with by himself. This year, he’s got nothing to hide!”

Mabel held up both pointer fingers. “Right! Because the something he had to hide is gonna be right there next to him! And the thing that was hiding no longer has to hide in any way!” She smushed them together with silly little noises for emphasis. “And since Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford are getting along now, it means we can all spend time together like one big happy family!” 

Satisfied with her own amateur pantomime, she dropped her hands and returned to her belongings. “Speaking of which, who did Grunkle Stan say was going to be greeting us at the bus stop?” she asked. “I know Soos and Grunkle Ford will be there, but I really hope Candy and Grenda can make it!”

She beamed widely. “Grenda said in her last letter that she’s been taking up wrestling, and that she learned a move that could possibly snap me in half! Although Candy discredited this claim with the fact that she only got a fractured disc when Grenda tried it on her, but you know what they say: practice makes perfect!”

Dipper raised an eyebrow. “You guys can’t just hug each other?”

“We can hug as she’s breaking my spine in two!”

With a shrug, Dipper slung his bag over his shoulder. “Well, to answer your original question; yeah, Ford and Soos are gonna be there. Other than that, I’m not sure. Your friends being there is something you’d know more than I would, and I can’t think of anyone else who would come.”

He tapped a hand to his chin as he thought hard for a moment. “I know Soos and Melody wanted to throw that welcome-back party for us tomorrow, though. So maybe they’ll only have a small group of people at the bus stop today. You know, to give us time to get settled in without being bombarded by a billion people?”

Mabel stuck out her lip and gave the seat in front of them a defiant slam with her fists. “Boooooo, I want to be bombarded by people! I wanna be able to give out at least three-dozen hugs before Grenda snaps me in half like a twig!”

“I once again ask why you guys can’t just hug each each other.”

“Bombardment!” Mabel chanted, slamming her fist in rhythm. “Bombardment!”

There was another crackle of the loudspeakers over their heads as the driver spoke again: “Attention, passengers; this is a follow-up to the previous announcement, but there might be a bit of a delay in getting you to the next stop.”

Dipper and Mabel exchanged a curious look, before Dipper cupped his hands around his mouth and called: “Why?”

“Has the traffic here gotten that bad in nine months?” Mabel added.

Another crackle from the intercom. “See for yourselves, kids.”

At the driver’s suggestion, the twins scooted out of their seats and into the aisleway, remaining bags in hand and Waddles at their heels as they made their way to the front of the bus. As they came to a stop near the bus driver’s seat, their eyes grew wide at the sight that awaited them in the street below.

To the eyes of an unknown tourist, it would look like nothing more than a dozen garden gnomes stacked atop each other before a collection of golf balls spilled all over the road. 

To anyone who’d spent enough time in Gravity Falls, however—

“For the last time, Franz; either you cross the street quickly or we’re letting a car run you over.”

At the front of the collection of golfballs—or more accurately, small persons by the name of Lilliputtians who happened to strongly resemble golfballs—a blue ball crossed their arms with a sour look towards the gnome at the top of the pile. “And we’re telling you for the last time, Jeff, we’re going as fast as we can!” he argued in return. “It’s not like we can just stack ourselves on top of each other like you gnomes can!”

“You’re golf balls!” The gnome, Jeff, pointed out irritably. “You can roll!”

Franz scoffed and placed his hands on his hips. “Oh, so just because we happen to look like golf balls, you think we can roll everywhere?” he asked. “What about you gnomes, huh? Without linking up to each other, I’ll bet you couldn’t go more than a few feet without getting winded!”

Jeff crossed his own arms with a roll of his eyes. “Yeah, well, you’ve never seen Shmebulock run after six nosefuls of mushroom spores.”

His point was emphasized by an enthusiastic “Shmebulock!” from one of the gnomes at the bottom of the snack.

From the bus, the twins shared a knowing look before Mabel turned to the bus driver. “You know what? You can just let us off here, we can walk the rest of the way.”

“And we’ll see what we can do about clearing the road for you,” Dipper added.

With a shrug, the driver opened the doors to the bus and the two headed down the stairs; Mabel bounded out the door and onto the sidewalk with a delighted laugh while Dipper followed behind with more reserved steps. 

Despite their different methods of stair descension, their smiles were equally bright as they looked to the smaller beings still crowded in the middle of the road. “So, what do you think’s going on?” Dipper asked.

Mabel turned back to the bus steps and reached out to grab Waddles, who had slowly and piggishly ambled down the steps after them. “Not sure, but isn’t it wild to see both groups just…out in the middle of the street like this?”

“Right?!” Dipper said with enthusiastic agreement. “It’s like—not even five minutes back in town and we’re already getting a taste of peak Gravity Falls weirdness!”

After setting Waddles down to the sidewalk, Mabel clapped her hands together with just as much gusto. “I know, isn’t it great?”

“I’m warning you for the last time, Jeff: get out of our way before we knock your bearded butts down like rolling pins!” Franz insisted firmly. “You wanna see how fast we can actually roll? Keep pushing my buttons and you’ll find out!”

The twins exchanged a look. “Right, we should probably do the thing we got off the bus early to do,” Dipper said. “Otherwise we just made getting to the shack harder for ourselves for no reason.”

“Well, at the very least you can add ‘breaking up a fight between golf ball people and gnomes’ to the list of cool stories to tell Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford,” Mabel pointed out. “I’m almost positive they haven’t had a chance to do that yet!”

Dipper let out a laugh. “Weren’t you just saying a little bit ago that almost positive isn’t completely positive?”

With a laugh of her own, Mabel pushed a lighthearted fist to his arm before turning her gaze to the groups bickering in the road. “So how are we doing this?”

A shrug. “I mean, smartest method would just be to ask them why they’re fighting.”

“Very true!” Mabel said. “And who knows? Maybe if we know why they’re fighting, we can help them work it out peacefully.”

“Or we can at least distract them long enough to get them outta the road,” Dipper pointed out. “Then if they wanna continue the fight on the sidewalk, we just start heading for the shack.”

“That is also something we can do~!” 

She cupped her hands around her mouth and called loudly: “Hey, boys! What’s with all the commotion and bus blocking?”

“Yeah, none of you are more than two feet tall, and you should probably get out of the road before cars realize they can just run over you,” Dipper added helpfully.

From his spot in the road, Jeff let out a scoff. “Maybe on our own, but we gnomes could always just—”

He fell silent, the delayed realization of whom he was speaking to finally settling in as he looked to Dipper and Mabel with wide eyes. And he was not the only one; the attention of both gnomes and Lilliputtians alike were now focused solely on Dipper and Mabel.

“Well, shiver me timbers, amongst other pirate-y exclamations of surprise!” One of the pirates piped up. “The Saviors of the Falls be returned to us at last!”

“The Hugelings are back!” A knight Lilliputtian added excitedly.

The rest of the group (both gnome and golfball alike) let out similar exclamations of delight, their crosswalk argument momentarily forgotten as they all hurried to the sidewalk to greet the twins. 

And once the bus driver took advantage of the cleared road to continue onwards, the commotion was enough to also draw the attention of other nearby townsfolk. Townsfolk who—Dipper and Mabel observed as they got a good look around—were not quite as human as they had been the year prior.

A fair number of them were still clearly human; Tad Strange could be seen purchasing a loaf of bread through the window of a nearby store, while the man known as the ‘Free Pizza’ guy was taking a leisurely stroll just a short distance up the road.

But there was also no mistaking the mermaid in a small, mobile tank at an outside table for the nearby bistro, pulling her attention from her waterproof phone long enough to look their way.  Or the Abominable Bro-man stepping out of a nearby Jeep, the remaining three Bro-men still seated in the vehicle and pumping their fists in the air as they chanted his name with fraternal unity. A chant that quickly melted into the twins' names when the original Bro-man pointed them out with a look of pure, righteous elation.

And there was certainly no missing the flock of Eye-Bats resting comfortably on the nearby powerlines alongside a group of ordinary woodpeckers, or the Woodpecker-peckers that had taken up residence upon the original birds’ backs. While the peckers and pecker-peckers showed little interest in the kids, one Eye-Bat shifted its attention down towards them with mild curiosity, before turning to the nearest Woodpecker-pecker and shooting a burst of energy from its cornea. In a flash, the miniature bird had been transformed into solid stone, the extra weight causing the powerline to sag beneath the original—but otherwise unbothered—Woodpecker.

As more townsfolk—human and supernatural alike—also turned their attention towards the kids, Dipper cast an amused look to his sister. “You still in the mood to get bombarded by a bunch of people?”

Mabel giggled in response, and carefully picked up one of the Lilliputtians for a hug. “I don’t know what point you’re trying to prove, this is awesome! It’s like our own little welcome parade!”

“Well, if this isn’t a delightful delight of a sight~!”

At the sound of another voice, both turned their attention towards a thin man approaching them from further down the sidewalk. His overall demeanor was riddled with giddiness and a cartoonish banner that read ‘Mayor’ was displayed prominently across his chest. “Dipper and Mabel Pines! I was wondering when you two would finally get back to town!”

He waggled a finger at them. “And here I thought I’d have to wait until tomorrow night to say hello to you kids again!”

“Hi, Mayor Tyler,” Mabel said, giving him a wave with the arm that wasn't wrapped around the Lilliputtian, before using it to gesture to the rest of them. “I see someone’s been having a busy nine months~!”

Dipper nodded in agreement. “Yeah, it’s so cool to see the gnomes and everyone else just…wandering around the town like this!”

From where the gnomes were gathered, Jeff let out a smug little chuckle. “Hear that, Franz? We got a personal shoutout and everything.”

Franz turned to glare at him. “You know he was only using you pointy-hatted jerks as an example!”

“I’ll make an example outta you, you round son of a—”

Their heated exchange from before returned in full swing as the two groups began to argue again, the Lilliputtian in Mabel’s arms leaping back down to join the fight with balled fists and a collection of gnome-targeted obscenities.

In response, Mabel’s gestured arm shifted to a pointing finger. “Oh, right, they were fighting in the middle of the street and blocked our bus.”

With a sigh, Tyler pressed a hand to his forehead. "Again?"

Near his foot, a French Lilliputtian piped up with a mighty: "Sacré bleu!"— one that likely translated out to "Again!"—before he hurled his body at the nearest gnome.

While they watched this unfold, Dipper looked back to Tyler. “So is this, like…normal for them?”

“I’m afraid so,” Tyler replied wearily. "They simply cannot stop butting heads no matter how I try to clear the air—oh, hold on, I worry they might start biting if I don’t do something—”

He moved towards the center of the combined groups, carefully tiptoeing between the small golf balls with an ease that implied he had done this countless times before, and came to a stop near both Franz and Jeff. “Now, boys, you know we’ve talked about this no less than a week ago!”

Franz pointed a finger at Jeff, eyebrows furrowed. “He was trying to rush us again—”

“—and I was pointing out how, again, they can just roll across the crosswalk!” Jeff argued in retaliation. “I just don’t understand how they’ve got the ability to move that fast, but then get mad at people for pointing out they have it!”

Franz shook a fist at him. “Oh, I’ll show you fast, with how fast I can ram my hand up your—”

“Okay, gentleman,” Tyler interrupted quickly, and took a knee so he could be closer to them. “Jeff, you know what I’ve said about antagonizing the Lilliputtians. If you and your boys can’t play nice, I might have to resort to—well, looking elsewhere for a crossing guard!”

“Wh—aw, come on!” Jeff protested. “That’ll be the fifth job we’ve lost in a month! Do you know how hard it is to nab the attention of a potential queen if we go back to being a bunch of unemployed chumps?”

Franz rolled his eyes. “Yeah, pretty sure it’s not the lack of a job they hate about you.”

“Why, you little—”

Jeff launched his entire body at Franz as the two of them began to squabble again, and Tyler reached out to grab them both by the back of their shirts. “Hey, come on now! I’m a fan of a good fight as much as the next guy, but you’re setting a bad example in front of our special guests—”

This earned a shrug from the twins. “I mean, we really don’t care,” Dipper said.

“One of them tried to kill us, the other tried to marry me,” Mabel added. “We’ve kinda already seen both of them at their worst already.”

“Need some help?”

A familiar voice from behind—followed by a massive shadow enveloping both of them in shade—turned both twins around, only for them to be greeted by the sight of a tall Manotaur towering high above them. But what really grabbed their attention was the teenager seated on his left shoulder, smile wide as she hopped down to the sidewalk in front of them. Her hair was much shorter than the last time they had seen her, just barely peeking out from beneath the faded hat that she had swapped with Dipper for her own. And her original green flannel shirt had been exchanged for an unbuttoned red one over a white tank top. 

Despite the differences in her appearance, however, there was no mistaking who she was—and her old hiking boots had barely touched the pavement before the twins rushed to embrace her in a joint hug. “Wendy!”

With a laugh, Wendy slunk an arm around each of their shoulders to hug them in return. “And here I thought you squirts would beat me up to the Shack,” she said, moving her hands to playfully noogie the tops of their heads. “What’re you doing all the way down here?”

Mabel gestured to the small crowd before them. “Well, our bus had to stop because—”

“Oh, for the love of—” Wendy interrupted with a sigh, before looking over to Tyler. “Are they fighting again?”

From where he stood—desperately holding the two leaders at arm’s length to prevent more blood from being drawn—Tyler’s expression melted into a look of relief. “Wendy! Thank goodness you’re here!” he said. “Uh, would you and Chutzpar mind—”

She crossed her arms with a miffed look. “You know, people are going to think it’s unprofessional that the mayor has to keep getting help from outside sources to solve the town’s issues—”

“Wendy, please?”

Wendy rolled her eyes, and looked up towards the Manotaur beside her. “Whaddaya think, Big Guy?”

“Many months ago, I would’ve encouraged the idea of using violence to solve one’s problems,” Chutzpar said stoically. “And I still would, were it not an inconvenience to Mayor Tyler.”

He held up a finger. “Punching out your feelings is not inherently a bad way to solve some issues, but there is a time and place for it,” he continued. “And right in the middle of town where people are looking to enjoy their day isn’t the right time nor the right place! So KNOCK IT OFF or I’ll knock YOU OFF!”

He punctuated the last sentence with a warning stomp of his left hoof, one strong enough to rumble the sidewalk beneath everyone’s feet. And once he was finished, he looked to Wendy hopefully—as if he were expecting her to praise him for his answer—and she gave an approving nod before looking to the crowd: “You guys chill now, or does he need to do that again?”

Thankfully the fighting had immediately ceased at Chutzpar’s warning stomp, both gnome and Lilliputtians alike trembling in shock. “H-hey, that’s a really rude way to get someone to stop doing something, you know!” Franz said irritably.

“Yeah,” Jeff piped up in agreement. “You can’t just use your Manotaur buddy to push us around like that!”

“Yeah, well, maybe next time you’ll stop fighting when Tyler asks you to stop first,” Wendy said. “Besides, it worked, didn’t it? You guys are actually agreeing on something and have chilled out a little bit, right?”

Franz and Jeff exchanged a skeptical look, before they both turned away in disgust with halfhearted mutters of “I guess so.” and “Whatever.” in unison.

“Guys...”

Jeff crossed his arms. “Fine, I guess it doesn’t really matter how long they take to get across the street," he said defeatedly. "Besides, the longer we man the cross work, the more chances we get to snag attention from potential queen candidates who'd be impressed by the fact that we're employed."

“And I guess we could speed up a bit when we walk,” Franz added. “We’ll probably have to now, if we wanna make it to the sticker store and back to the golf course before our lunch break is over.”

Tyler clasped his hands together. “There, you see? Problem-solving!” he said delightedly. “Now, let’s clear off the sidewalk and give Dipper and Mabel some breathing room, okay?”

With only a small handful of grumbling, the gnomes and Lilliputtians shuffled back towards the crosswalk. Once they had properly dispersed, Tyler stood up to full height again and clasped his hands together. “Thank you so much, Wendy, you are an angel in lumberjack’s clothing~!”

Wendy crossed her arms again, expression souring at his compliment. “I meant what I said; you’ve really gotta get a handle on doing stuff like this by yourself,” he said. “The town’s not gonna take a guy who can’t even break up a fight between some gnomes and sentient golf balls seriously.”

Tyler chuckled nervously and once again pressed a hand to his forehead. “Well, regardless, your help is always appreciated!” he said, with a look to Chutzpar. “And thank you once again for all your help, big fella. I’m actually glad I caught you, I was actually on my way over to the lumbermill to discuss Thursday’s plans with Dan—”

This earned him an annoyed scoff from Wendy, while Chutzpar simply nodded. “Yes, that is the reason we were on our way to see you—”

“I was on my way to the Mystery Shack.”

“—why we were on our way to see you, before we made our way to the Mystery Shack,” Chutzpar continued, paying no mind to Wendy’s interruption. “I come with a message from him. And a gift.”

He looked to Wendy, who gave him a nod far more halfhearted than his own, before he held out the small object he had been carrying in one of his mighty fists. 

It was a small, wood-carved animal (a bear to be specific), and it was clear that every notch in the wood had been carefully sculpted with care. A care that Tyler recognized with a look that was far less whimsical than his usual demeanor, and more of a genuine tenderness as he took the carving in his hand. “Oh, that darn man really knows how to spoil me rotten, doesn’t he?”

His smile widened as he looked back to Chutzpar. “You said he also had a message for me?”

Chutzpar nodded and reached into his pocket for a small stack of index cards. After taking a moment to shuffle them, he cleared his throat and began to read: “‘I am looking forward to Thursday. I was wondering if you would wear the panther shirt to dinner that I bought you in that two-for-one special. Panthers are powerful, and could tear a puma to—”

He casually flipped to the next index card, before gripping the entire stack tightly with both hands and ripping it in half a powerful yell of: ”—SHREDS!!!!’”

He held his stance for a moment, before slipping back into a more relaxed pose. “He specifically requested that I rip them up when I said ‘shreds’,” he explained. “It was an opportunity to be needlessly loud and violent in a healthy fashion, so I was in full support of the idea.”

“Aww, a show of force and a clever pun?” Tyler said, pressing his hands to his flushed face. “He really does know what I like~!”

He gave Chutzpar a wink. “Well, you be sure to tell Dan that I will certainly be wearing the panther shirt on Thursday!”

“Super,” Wendy said, her tone deadpan. “Can we go to the Shack now?”

“Of course, sorry for holding you up,” Tyler said with a laugh. “I suppose I should be getting back to work as well. This town’s not gonna mayor itself, after all~!”

“It might if you don’t learn how to break up fights without help,” Wendy muttered under her breath.

Tyler gave the group a little wave with the hand that held the wood carving. “Oh, and welcome back to town, Dipper and Mabel~! Can’t wait for the party tomorrow!”

With that, he turned and headed down the sidewalk in the opposite direction of the group, leaving Wendy to turn her attention to the twins. “So, you guys need a second to unpack everything that just happened, or are we good to continue on to the Shack?”

Dipper and Mabel shared a look, before Dipper took the initiative: “Yeah, so I have about a dozen questions—”

“What are the gnomes and Lilliputtians and all the other creatures doing walking around town?” Mabel interrupted quickly, with a wide gesture of her arms. “What’re you doing with a Manotaur? And why’s he giving Mayor Tyler gifts from your dad?!”

Dipper pointed to his sister. “Actually yeah, she covered pretty much all the questions I had,” he said, turning his full attention to her. “Except for the last part, because I feel like that’s pretty obvious, Mabel.”

Mabel placed her hands on her hips. “Duh-doy, I know it’s obvious. I just want to know when it started being a thing,” she explained. “I don’t remember hearing about it in any of the letters we got.”

Wendy made a face. “Yeah, it’s…kinda new.”

“They have been dating for four months,” Chutzpar pointed out.

“It’s new,” Wendy said flatly, before giving a shrug to the twins. “Anyway, the other stuff’s pretty easy to answer. Wanna swap stories as we head to the shack?”

“Yeah!” they answered in unison, before Dipper looked further up the road. “Kinda wish we’d asked the bus driver to stick around, though. The walk to the shack from here’s going to take forever.”

Wendy looked up at Chutzpar with a smirk, and he nodded knowingly in return. “Sounds like the two of you require a ride.”

Before either twin could question what he meant by ‘ride’, they suddenly found themselves being scooped up from the sidewalk and settled onto his muscular shoulders.

Wendy watched with a smile as they adjusted themselves. “You two chill up there?”

From the left shoulder, Dipper gave a thumbs up. “All good!”

Doubling over in a fit of giggles, Mabel reached over and grabbed hold of Chutzpar’s horn to steady herself. “Oh, this is way better than taking the bus~!”

Wendy let her gaze fall to the sidewalk below, where Waddles was staring up expectantly. “And while he’s got you, I’ll get—”

She bent down to pick him up, lifting him with just as little issue as his owner, and adjusted him until he was situated comfortably in her arms. “Woah, buddy, you feel a lot heavier than fifteen pounds this year!”

“I’ve fed him only the finest of leftover table scraps,” Mabel said proudly.

“And he used to sneak into my junk food stash at least once a week before I found a way to stop him,” Dipper said, giving Waddles a pointed look.

Waddles gave him a proud snort in response as Wendy took another quick glance at the sidewalk again. “Alright, no bags or any other random pets that you might’ve picked up since last year?”

“Bags are in our arms,” Dipper said, giving his a pat for good measure.

“And sadly no,” Mabel added in a solemn tone. “Mom said owning Waddles is like owning three pets in one. She says it as a compliment, because that just means he’s three times as lovable. But like we said before, he also just eats about as much as three animals so she don’t see any reason to get a fourth.”

This earned another proud snort from Waddles and a laugh from Wendy. “Sounds like an okay to begin walking, then.”

Chutzpar nodded, the sidewalk rumbling with every thunderous step he took as the group began their trek towards the winding trail on the edge of town.

— — — — — — —

“Mr. Pines, there’s no need to be so nervous.”

“What makes you think I’m nervous?”

From beside Soos, Grenda raised her hand. “The fact that you’re pacing in a circle so much, you’re practically digging a new bottomless pit with your feet?”

Candy turned to her, eyes bright with inspiration. “Ooh, if there are two of them, maybe they could be advertised as twin bottomless pits!” she said, holding up a finger on each hand. “Twin pits for twin pairs—“

She brought her fingers together with a smile. “—of twin Pines!”

Grenda let out a loud cackle, and gave her friend's shoulder a hearty slap. “God, Candy, save some of that genius for when Mabel gets here!”

While Candy rubbed her sore shoulder with a wince, Soos gave the two of them a thumbs-up. “But I’m adding that to the list of attraction ideas when we get back to the shack. It’s a good one, dude.”

Stan looked down at the thin dent in the gravel that he’d worn down with his shoes, and crossed his arms with a gruff sigh. A sigh that was interrupted by the familiar sensation of a six-fingered hand on his shoulder.

His mouth curled into a smile as he locked eyes with the hand's owner, a near-identical set of features to his own staring back at him. “They raise a good point, Stanley,” Ford said. “Mostly about the nervousness, not the second bottomless pit idea.”

At that, he gave the girls a thumbs up. “But that is some impeccable wordplay, Candy!”

“My name gives me plenty of chances to make puns in everyday conversation,” Candy informed him with a smile. “It’s second nature to me at this point~!”

Stan tsked at that, although his smile didn’t disappear. “And who’s to say that pit idea a' theirs ain’t exactly what I’m doing?” he said. “Building some kinda new, twin-themed shack attraction with my feet?”

Candy held up another finger. “Shack-traction!”

“I said, stop! You’re gonna use up all the good ones!”

While the girls chattered on, Ford turned his gaze from them to Soos. “Actually, Soos, don’t you and the girls want to go, uh—” A pause. “—discuss that second bottomless pit idea further?”

Grenda ceased her attempt to give Candy a noogie of approval, and raised an eyebrow at him. “Why? He already said we’d—”

“Don’t worry, Dr. Pines!” Soos interrupted quickly, taking each of the girls’ hands in his own. “I’ll keep ‘em busy!”

Ford gave him an appreciative nod, one that Soos returned with a smile as he lead them away; not too far from the bus stop, but far enough to give the older men some space.

Once the three of them were at a distance that would make eavesdropping impossible, Stan playfully nudged his brother’s arm. “Real subtle there, Poindexter.”

“Wasn’t trying to be,” Ford said, as he turned back around to face him. “And even if I was, it’d be a lot more convincing than you’re trying to be about not being nervous.”

Stan rolled his eyes. “Hey, I’m the King of Subtlety! Or are you forgetting the New Jersey Lil' Wise Guy Subtlety Competition of 1956, where I took first place?”

“It was 1957,” Ford corrected him. “And I distinctly remember you quite literally taking the first place medal and attempting to pawn it off to one of the customers in the shop. Which failed, because you were three.”

Stan pressed a hand to his forehead. “Was it? Could’ve sworn it was—” With a huff, he waved it away. “Whatever, so maybe I’m a little nervous about seeing my great-niece and nephew again for the first time in nine months,” he said with a halfhearted shrug. “So what?”

“As I’m sure we’ve discussed at least two dozen times on the ride back to town—”

“Three dozen.”

“—there’s no reason to be nervous about seeing Dipper and Mabel again,” Ford finished. “If all the letters they sent to the Mystery Shack are anything to go off, they’re just as excited to see us as we are them.”

Stan waved his hand again, this time with the addition of a scoff. “Oh, I’m not worried about all that,” he explained. “I know the kids love us, and I know as soon as they step off that bus, I’m gonna put on the tough-as-nails, no-nonsense Grunkle act and pretend I wouldn’t erase my own mind for ‘em again if they needed me to—”

“Don’t joke about that.”

A shared look of somberness crossed their faces for a brief instant, before Stan’s gaze fell to the ground again. “It ain’t us I’m worried about,” he repeated. “They headed outta this place only a week after we barely managed to save it from going to heck in a handbasket. Barely managed to save them…”

His gaze returned to Ford. “Just don’t want them comin’ back to a whole boatload of new things to be worried about, you know?”

The hand on Stan’s shoulder moved to Ford’s own hair, which he pushed back with a tired sigh. “Don’t I know it. I’ve had this pit in my stomach for about two weeks now, both from the excitement of getting to spend the full summer with my great-niece and nephew and—”

He paused, before letting his hand fall back to his side with a weak laugh. “Well, I guess it was inevitable that our return to town would be accompanied by some…complicated emotions.”

Forgetting his own nerves for a moment, Stan’s attention immediately snapped to his brother. The shift in Ford’s features was subtle, as it always was whenever the topic of Bill came up in passing. But the pain behind Ford’s eyes, a pain that held the weight of the past thirty-plus years, and the way his entire body tensed from the memories that Stan could only assume made up that weight—

Stan shoved his hands in his pockets with a sigh. “Psh, listen to me gettin’ all worked up over the kids, when I should’ve been asking if you were alright.”

Ford looked to him, eyebrow raised. “Wh—no, that’s not the point. The point is—”

He was cut off by Stan slinging an arm around his shoulders, his knees buckling slightly from the extra weight. “The point is we’re both stressed,” Stan said. “And if we’re both stressed, then the kids are gonna end up stressed as well and that’ll just have the opposite effect of what we want. Like that law. You know, from that one guy?”

With his free hand, he snapped his fingers thoughtfully as he racked his brain for the answer. “Somethin’, somethin’, every action’s got a reaction and it’s opposite?”

An amused smile spread across Ford’s face. “Are you referring to Sir Isaac Newton and his laws of motion?” he asked. “Those laws by that world-renowned philosopher?”

“Hey, you’re the one that finished high school, Smart Guy, you tell me!”

Satisfied with his answer, he shifted the arm around Ford’s shoulder to pull him into a proper headlock. Ford attempted to slink out from beneath his brother’s embrace with a laugh, but unfortunately the past forty years had done little to weaken Stan’s technique and kept him locked as firmly in place as it had during their childhood.

On the other hand, three decades of wandering the Multiverse had provided Ford with a few defensive maneuvers of his own. Combined with spending the past nine months on a fishing boat together, it had taken little time for him to readapt to his brother’s attempts at rough-housing—

His gaze fell to Stan’s exposed ribs, to which he delivered a light—yet firm—jab with his elbow.

—and even less time for him to find the most effective methods of countering them.

Sure enough, Stan released him with a surprised yelp, one that melted into a fit of rough laughter as Ford effortlessly slipped out of his grasp. “Cheap shot.”

“I believe you’re the last person to talk when it comes to fighting dirty, Stanley,” Ford replied with a smug grin.

“Oh, I’ll show ya dirty—”

The laughter doubled as the two of them spent another moment attempting to one-up the other in lighthearted fisticuffs, until the distant, rumbling sound of tires against asphalt pulled them back to reality. And if the sight of the approaching bus alone hadn’t been enough, Grenda’s boisterous cry of “THE BUS IS COMING!” as the rest of the group hurried back to rejoin them would’ve done the trick.

As they straightened themselves out again in preparation to greet the kids, the brothers exchanged another look. One that clearly displayed their shared nervousness that even rough-housing hadn’t completely eliminated.

It was Stan who broke the awkward silence first, mouth curling into a halfhearted smile. “Guess we’d better give that Newton chump a call, huh?”

Ford managed a weak smile in return. “You realize you’ve wildly misinterpreted the laws of motion and their relation to the situation at hand, don’t you?”

“And you realize you’re a giant nerd, right?” Stan countered.

“Well, regardless of misinterpretation, you do raise a good point,” Ford said. “If we’re both stressed, then the kids are bound to pick up on it and get stressed in turn.”

He inhaled slowly, and exhaled slower. “It’s a new summer. A chance for everyone to start over.”

“You know it,” Stan said, lightly touching his knuckles against Ford’s arm. “And hey, uh—that doesn’t stop at summer. We don’t have to do anything alone ever again, right?”

They exchanged a look, silently lingering in their shared understanding for a moment before Ford spoke again: “You’re right, Stanley. We don’t have to do anything alone. Not now, not ever again.”

The two remained still for a moment more, before Stan reached over to give him a nudge. “And y’know, if that doesn’t work, I’m pretty sure I saw some kinda zombie-summoning spell in one of those nerd books of yours.” 

He crossed his arms. “I know we chucked them down into the Bottomless Pit, but I also know for a fact that you’ve got one’a’those smart-guy photographic-memories and could probably recite it off the top of your head.”

“Are you suggesting I use necromancy to summon Sir Isaac Newton?” Ford asked, the corners of his mouth twitching in amusement. “To prove his first law that you seem insistent on misinterpreting?”

“I mean, I ain’t telling you to give him a kiss on the cheek or nothin’,” Stan said.

Their smiles widened in amused unison as the bus finally slowed to a stop, the creaking of the brakes echoing loudly through the forest around them. Almost as if they were announcing the long-awaited arrival of the teenagers on board to anything within earshot.

And as the group watched, the older adults with tense shoulders while Soos and the girls all leaned into each other with excited anticipation, the doors of the bus slid open to reveal—

“Are you all looking to get on?”

—nothing more than the bus driver.

Candy blinked in confusion. “Have Dipper and Mabel turned invisible since we last saw then?”

Stan’s brow furrowed, balling one hand into a warning fist as he stared at the driver. “Yeah, pal, what gives?! Where’s our kids?”

“The ones from earlier?” the driver asked. “Oh, they got off somewhere in town. There were a buncha golfballs and gnomes in the road, said they’d take care of it and for me to just go on ahead without ‘em.”

He pressed a hand to his chin. "Good kids, though! The bus floor's practically sparkling thanks to that pet pig of theirs!"

“Did they tell you if they were going to walk the rest of the way or not?” Ford asked.

“I believe that’s what they said,” the driver said. “But seriously, is no one here going to get on?”

A varying chorus of ‘No’s earned the group a closed door, before the bus continued onwards down the road. After it eventually descended down a hill and out of sight, Grenda’s shoulders fell. “Aw, man! I was gonna pile drive Mabel into the ground as soon as she got off the bus! Now our whole ‘Welcome Back To The Falls’ greeting is ruined!”

Candy patted her arm sympathetically. “I am sure she would’ve appreciated the effort regardless.”

“Of course she would!” Grenda lamented, her loud voice booming through the nearby wood. “She’s an angel who appreciates when we go the extra mile!”

“Back in town for five minutes and they’re already getting caught up in some kind of weird shenanigans,” Ford said, swelling with pride. “They’re a couple of Pines, alright.”

Stan slapped a hand over his eyes, and dragged it down the rest of his face. “Yeah, a pair from your side of the family, maybe.” 

It was said in exasperation, but there was an undeniable fondness in his tone. One that transferred to his expression as he turned to the rest of the group. “Alright, on one hand: the kids know the way to the Shack like the backs of their own hands and they’ll probably get here just fine on foot,” he pointed out. “On the other—”

“Getting here could take a while and none of us want to wait that long to see them again, so we go and meet them halfway?” Soos guessed.

“You got it.”

From beside his brother, Ford shot a glance down the road from whence the bus had come. “Looks like halfway might be closer than we think.”

He pointed a finger for emphasis, and the rest of the group followed his gesture to the sight of an approaching Manotaur coming up the road. One that was delightfully conversing with the two thirteen-year-olds seated on each of his shoulders, and the sixteen-year-old walking beside him.

A conversation that had been clearly happening since the four of them had been back in town, Dipper and Mabel’s attention fully fixed on Wendy as she continued to speak: “—and after everyone teamed up during Weirdmageddon, the vibes of the town just kinda shifted. As if a lot of the weird stuff in town suddenly realized: ‘Hey, we’re not much of a mystery anymore so there’s not really a reason to keep hiding’, and the people in town realized they weren’t as weird and terrifying as they originally thought.”

She pressed a finger to her temple. “Combine that with the Society of the Blind Eye going belly up and leaving no one around to go blasting memories out of people’s heads—” Then pressed her hands together and laced her fingers for emphasis. “—everyone and everything just kinda started mushing together over time.”

“Manly Dan caught news of us Manotaurs when we were forced to relocate our Man Cave,” Chutzpar added. “Impressed by our manliness and feats of strength, he offered us jobs in his lumberyard. We told him we’d only accept if the toughest combatants from his family defeated us in battle.”

“And you guys lost to him?” Mabel guessed.

“Not to him.”

Chutzpar cast a gaze down at Wendy, and the twins followed suit in the hopes of further elaboration. “Originally, it was just going to be Dad and my brothers in the fight,” she explained. “Not because Dad didn’t think to ask me; I was at work at the time and happened to come home just as all of them were getting their butts handed to ‘em on a silver platter.”

“It was a mighty battle of strength and determination,” Chutzpar said in a faraway tone. “They fought well, even if their efforts were inevitably in vain.”

“Nearly in vain,” Wendy corrected. “But then I showed up and volunteered to finish the fight.”

“And they let you?”

“Of course not, the big meatheads all laughed at the idea of fighting a girl. But then I punched one of ‘em in the gut, and suplexed another into the ground, where he got stuck by his horns.”

This got a laugh out of her. “Taking down the rest wasn’t too hard, since Dad and the others had already worn most of 'em down. But even if they hadn’t, it wouldn’t have been difficult. Their fighting style was all punch, no technique. Even an amateur could’ve taken all of them down with a few well-placed hits.”

She shrugged with amusement. “That was also why Dad wasn’t able to win against them; he fights the exact same way. It was just lunkhead against lunkhead out there, swinging fists wildly until at least one of ‘em hit something. And unfortunately for my lunkheaded family, they didn’t have as many fists as the Manotaurs to keep swinging around. Until I showed up, at least.”

While the twins giggled at the visual image, Chutzpar gave a stoic nod. “The Manotaurs lost the battle that day, but it was a loss we hold with pride,” he said, with a shift of the arm that held Dipper. “One that taught us that—between her and the things you taught us last year, Destructor—we have plenty to learn about what it means to be men.”

He gave his chest a hearty thump. “And that sometimes that manliest men among us are actually girls!”

Dipper raised a mildly-confused eyebrow at Wendy, who gave another shrug in response. “Eh, they’re still a little confused but it’s better than where they were last year,” she said, shoving her hands in her pockets. “Not to mention being called the Manliest Man in Gravity Falls kinda hits in a way I’m not complaining about—”

“Kids!”

At the sound of another voice hailing them from further ahead, Dipper and Mabel turned their gazes forward to see their welcome party hurrying towards them from the opposite direction. Grenda and Candy were bringing up the rear with Soos, while Ford was keeping a steady pace in the middle. 

But at the very front of the group, Stan was charging towards them with a speed and passion that couldn’t be matched by anyone else.

Except perhaps by Mabel, who had quickly jumped down from Chutzpar’s shoulder at the sound of his voice and began to sprint towards her great-uncle at Mach speed. “Grunkle Stan!”

It was a miracle that the two of them remained standing, with how hard they crashed into one another in a bone-crushing embrace; Mabel linking her arms around Stan’s neck like a spider monkey while he spun her around with a hearty belly laugh. 

Only for that miracle to shatter when the embrace of two became three as Dipper caught up to them, and all of them tumbled to the ground in a mess of laughter. “What, are you kids tryna kill me before we even get to the Shack?” Stan asked, slinging an arm around Dipper’s body. “I don’t remember the two’a’you being this big last year.”

Mabel let out a little giggle and pressed her hands to his face. “Yeah, well, you weren’t this hairy last year!” she pointed out in return. “I mean you were still really hairy, but now you’ve got a full-grown beard!”

“Sure do!” Stan said brightly, and patted the hair covering his chin. “Ol’ Poindexter and I made a decision early on that if we were spendin’ our days as men of the sea, then we were sure as heck gonna look the part!”

Mabel pressed her own hands to her mouth, stifling a laugh. “You sound like Dipper at Hanukkah! He was soooooo excited to show Grandpa Shermie his beard~!”

The last word was said with clear amusement, and Dipper shrank a bit before slapping his hands over his face. “Mabel, come on, you don’t have t—”

“Oh, didja grow one too?” Stan asked, peering at him. “Come on, Slick, let’s see those Pines genetics at work.”

After a moment of hesitation, Dipper nervously lowered his hands and Stan leaned closer to examine the few, noticeable hairs on his chin. “I-I know it’s not much,” he explained quickly. “But it’s more than I had last year! A-and Mom says that I’m bound to get more as I get older!”

With a proud laugh, Stan reached up to ruffle his hat. “You kidding? That’s more than I had at that age!” he said. “You be proud of those few hairs, and don’t let your sister steal ‘em for her scrapbook.”

“Too late,” Mabel said brightly. “I stole both one from the chin and one from the shin~! He has some there, too!”

Dipper gave her a pointed look, before turning back to Stan with a more confident smile. “I’d be more annoyed at her for that if she wasn’t right,” he said, and held up his leg. “Because look, I got so much on my legs, too!”

“Woa-hoh, get a load of Mister Big Man over here!” Stan said, and brought him closer for a proper noogie. “Those genetics really are kickin’ in early for you, huh?”

“He’s not the only one they’ve kicked in for,” Mabel added. “Or should I say—”

She kicked out one of her own legs with a cheeky grin. “—kicked~!”

There was a moment of pause, before she gave her leg another wiggle. “You get it because—”

“Mabel also got leg hair,” Dipper clarified. “If that wasn’t obvious.”

“I tried shaving it at first, but it just made my legs soooooo itchy,” Mabel said. "So now I just have built-in leg warmers!”

“I’d suggest the fire method, but it’s far more effective at removing facial hair than body hair,” a voice behind them said. “Also something tells me that your parents wouldn’t be too happy if we sent you back home with burns on your legs.”

The trio looked up to see Ford standing before them, a hand outstretched. “Room in the dirt for one more?”

A series of grins were exchanged before three hands reached for Ford’s in unison and pulled him down to the ground with them. “It’s good to see you again, Grunkle Ford!” Dipper said. 

“Especially since we actually know you exist now!” Mabel added. “This time last year, we still thought Grunkle Stan was you! And then when we did find out that you were you and he was him, we only got to spend a little bit of time with you!”

Her arms moved from around Stan’s neck to Ford's, her spider-monkey grip once again unbreakable as she hugged him tight. “But this year, we get to spend aaaaallllllll summer with both our Grunkles!”

Ford’s smile widened and he slinked an arm around her as Stan piped up with: “That’s right, Pumpkin! No more mysteries or weird demons or monsters or anything that’s gonna get in the way of me spendin’ time with you kids and my brother!”

“Well, I mean, a monster here and there’s not a bad thing—” Ford begin, just as Dipper finished with a: “I wouldn’t mind a mystery or two, honestly.”

The four of them doubled over in laughter as the remaining party from both directions finally caught up to them. “Aww, you guys are having a cuddle pile in the dirt without us?” Grenda piped up unhappily.

“Candy adds a dash of sweetness to every cuddle pile!” Candy added.

“Or did the squirts knock you down ‘cause you’re older than the dirt you’re sitting in?” Wendy chimed in, as her and Chutzpar also came to a stop.

“Watch it, Corduroy,” Stan said, pulling his arm out from around Dipper so he could point a finger at her. “Just ‘cause I’m not your boss anymore doesn’t mean I can’t ask Soos to fire you.”

Wendy raised an eyebrow in Soos’ direction. “Would you fire me if he asked?”

“Uh…” Soos shifted uncomfortably in place. “Do I really have to answer that?”

This got a disbelieving “Wow.” out of Wendy and a delighted cackle out of Stan, one that was cut short by a grunt of pain as he shifted in place. “Ow, maybe we should get up outta all this dirt and gravel,” he muttered. “I got rocks in place I don’t wanna mention in front of a bunch of impressionable teenagers, my brother, or Soos.”

Soos offered him a hand. “Maybe we can move the cuddle pile to the Shack, then? Then Melody can join us!”

With a look of disgust, Stan took his hand and pulled himself to his feet. “Pass. Last thing any of us needs is for you two to start making kissy faces at each other.”

“Keep that in mind,” Wendy muttered with a grin.

“Soos does raise an excellent point about making our way the Shack,” Ford said. “The sooner the kids get settled in, the sooner we can exchange...stories.”

He emphasized the last word with a knowing look to his brother, and Stan’s mouth spread into a wide grin as he offered his own hands to the kids. “Hey, yeah! You squirts wanna hear about the time your Grunkles tore the head off a Kraken along the coast of Texas?” he asked with a wink. “‘Cause lemme tell ya: when they say everything’s bigger down there, they mean everything!”

Dipper and Mabel exchanged a unanimous “Yeah!” as they were also pulled to their feet—

“Nope! I said I was giving Mabel a proper ‘Welcome Back’ pile drive, and I’m gonna do it!”

—and Mabel was immediately brought back down to the tampered dirt path by a charging Grenda, any pain from the impact momentarily drowned in a fit of giggles as she hugged her friend. “Oh, it’s just as spine-shattering as I hoped it’d be!”

“Don’t forget Candy, for a dash of sweetness!” Candy piped up, as she flopped over the other two with a laugh. “I made that pun already, but it was so nice, I had to say it twice!”

“Agreed, it was hilarious!” Mabel agreed, arms going around both of them in a tight embrace. “Ugh, I missed you girls sooooo much! I’ve got loads to tell you since my last letter—ooh, also I’ve got a phone now!”

While Mabel attempted to fish her phone out of her pocket, Wendy cast a smirk to the adults. “Anyone wanna bet that we won’t get to the Shack until nightfall?”

Chutzpar looked down at her. “I respect a show of friendly violence, but should I intervene again?”

“You know you don’t have to listen to me,” Wendy said, folding her arms. “I’m not, like, actually in charge of you guys or anything.”

“I’m aware.”

“And I don’t take any bets I know I’ll lose,” Stan said, and snapped his fingers at the girls. “Hey, come on, I know we’re all excited to be seein’ each other again.”

He pointed a finger at Grenda, which shifted between her and Candy. “But I already told you two that I need at least one night without wondering if a family of bats moved into my attic, or if you girls are tryin’ to break the sound barrier with your squeals.”

“Seconding that,” Dipper piped up quickly. “I would also like a buffer between now and the inability to sleep in my own room, please.”

The girls let out a chorus disappointed of ‘Awwwww’s as they untangled themselves and returned to their feet. “But Grunkle Staaaaan, I missed my people!” Mabel argued.

“And her people missed her!” Grenda added, squeezing her close.

“Never said you couldn’t hang out with ‘em after tonight,” Stan pointed out. “Plus there’s that party tomorrow—”

“Oh, yeah!” Grenda said excitedly. “We can catch up at the party!”

“We can catch up on stories while we tear up the dance floor!” Candy added with an excited wiggle, before she raised her fists to the air. “And remind this town who the real party animals are!”

She let her arms fall again. “Plus my parents said that I needed to come home after we said hi to you, anyway,” she explained further, then added as an afterthought: “Hi, Mabel!”

With a giggle, Mabel replied: “Hi, Candy!”

“And I got my pile drive in, so I guess I did everything I wanted to do today,” Grenda added with a shrug.

While Stan leaned close to Ford with a quiet: “I’d point out that it was more of a tackle than a pile drive, but also I don’t wanna be out here longer than we hafta be.” (earning a “Smart call.” from Ford in return), Mabel tightened her grip around the other girls. “Well, when you put it that way, I guess I can wait another day to hang out with my beeeeest friends in the whoooolllllle world~!”

Candy’s gaze moved over to Wendy and Chutzpar. “By the way, we saw that Dipper and Mabel got a Manotaur ride up here,” she said. “Is there an option to catch a Manotaur ride back to town?”

“Ooh, me too! Me too!” Grenda added. “Wendy, make him give us a ride!”

“Once again, I’m not in charge of the Manotaurs,” Wendy pointed out, with another look to Chutzpar. “It’s up to you, pal. You offering rides back to town?”

Chutzpar held out both hands for them to take. “Small girls who greet their friends with violent pile drivers are worthy of a ride,” he said, before raising an eyebrow at Wendy. “But will you be alright getting home?”

“I can always hitch a ride from someone,” Wendy assured him. “Or—”

She reached into her pocket for her phone, and glanced at the screen for a moment. “—yeah, or I can just spend the night at the Shack if I really need to.”

“Aw, what?” Grenda said unhappily from Chutzpar’s shoulder. “How come you get to spend the night and we don’t?”

“Good-bye, girls,” Stan said, and gave Wendy a pointed stare. “Tell the big guy to go.”

“I’m not—” Wendy started to say, then shrugged it off and gave Chutzpar a wave of her hand. “Go ahead.”

Chutzpar gave her a nod in return, and turned back towards the direction of the town. “Let’s make haste, small female children,” he said, and began to walk. ”I have a response from Mayor Tyler to deliver to Manly Dan about their Thursday plans.”

“We are teenagers now, you know,” Grenda pointed out with a mild huff of indignance. “Or at least I am.”

“Ooh, is the response a loooove message~?” Candy added delightedly. “Are the plans a date?”

“Oh, you know it—!”

Chutzpar’s voice echoed through the wood with amusement, the volume only matched in power by Grenda’s laughter as the trio drew further and further away from those who had stayed behind. Eventually though, even their powerful baritones could not be carried such a distance, and the forest around the group fell silent again.

Silent, until—

“So, we’re not gonna question the big man-cow thing?” Stan asked. “We’re just acting like he’s been here the entire time, then?”

Ford shrugged in response. “He was clearly a Manotaur, and one that seemed to be on good terms with Wendy and the kids,” he said. “Didn’t see any reason to question his presence.”

“He’s visited the Shack several times,” Soos chimed in as well. “Also he was staying with us in the Shack during Weirdmageddon.”

“Did he?” Stan said. “Huh, feel like I should remember that.”

“I also met him and the rest of the herd last year,” Dipper added, just as Mabel chimed in with her own: “The Manotaurs work for Wendy now, and also Manly Dan is dating Mayor Tyler!”

Wendy made a twirling motion with her finger. “What they all said, minus the ‘working for me’ thing. They’re part of my dad’s logging crew now, and even if they listen to me when I ask them to do stuff, I don’t want anything to get weird with that.”

“And the part about your dad and Mayor Tyler?” Stan asked, an eyebrow raised.

Wendy’s expression shifted for half a second, before her usual, disinterested grin took its place. “Hey, here’s something I never thought I’d hear myself say: let’s stop standing around and doing nothing, and get to the Shack so I’m not late for my shift!”

Soos raised a hand. “Uh, but Wendy, I’m your boss and it’s your day off—”

“Race you knuckleheads there~!”

Wendy took off like a shot before Soos could finish his point, taking great care to lightly plap a hand against the heads of the younger twins and deliver a loving fist to the arms of the adults as she zipped between them and ran towards the direction of the Mystery Shack.

With a laugh, the younger twins sprinted after her in a rush with cries of: “Wait for us!” and “How are you running that fast with a pig in your arms?”

The adults watched them go for a moment, before Soos turned to the Stans: “...We don’t actually have to run all the way back there, do we?”

Stan, who had been watching Wendy and the kids race ahead, pulled his attention back to Soos. “Absolutely not,” he said flatly, and pressed a hand to his back. “Especially not after the kids knocked me down like that.”

He winced as the three of them began to follow after the kids at a much slower pace. “Gonna be feeling that for at least a few days.”

“Well, at least it’s a sign that we won’t have to give Sir Isaac Newton a call,” Ford pointed out with a smile. “With the way the kids tackled you, there’s zero doubt that they’re thrilled to be back.”

Once again, Stan mirrored his smile with one of his own. “Yeah, well, if they keep on bein’ that thrilled, you’re gonna have to bust out that necromancy spell to talk to me.”

Ford’s expression tensed for a moment at his brother’s joke, but any unease passed just as quickly as it had come when the sight of the familiar old cabin peered into view ahead of them.

[medicetwork]

Mercs if they had modern day cellphones!

Heavy:

The screen is too small and his fingers are too big.

The screen also tends to hurt his eyes after a while but he absolutely refuses to turn down the brightness, saying it would make it even harder to see than before

His main favorite functions are video calls with Medic or his family and listening to music.

His life is complete when he discovers E-books

He can’t read them on the screen but he loves being able to clean Sasha while having his favorite book read to him

Medic:

Really doesn’t use it for much else than phone calls and the occasional google search at first

When he discovers mobile games that takes his interest though!

He becomes a candy crush mom.

Oh you have a broken arm? Wellll…You can tough it out, champ. He’s on level 7,229 right now.

He would make all the other men get Life360

Scout:

Total social media zombie(I say as if I am not one)

Surprisingly he’s very popular on apps like Twitter and Tik Tok. People think he’s hilarious!

Unfortunately somewhere along the way he says something less than respectful about something and his account gets banned

Eventually he’s on account number 6 and trying to regrow his following

It never recovers

He finds out about NFT’s

Sniper:

Mainly uses it to watch youtube and play music

His phone is always on silent and Do Not Disturb

He loves those videos where those guys go out into the middle of the woods and just start building a fucking house out of clay and sticks.

He prefers texting to calling, finding it much faster(he just like me fr)

Baffled by just how much porn he has access to now….

But he’s not complaining.

Soldier:

He doesn’t use it because he just keeps breaking his phones.

They’ve been dropped, blown up, set ablaze, dropped in water, eaten by a bread-tumor monster, eaten by Soldier(???) and run over.

Even if they didn’t get destroyed within 3 days he still wouldn’t use it for much else besides setting alarms and sending confusing group texts.

However, with each new phone he has gotten he asks Pyro for stickers and sticker bombs his phone just for fun

Has an American flag wallpaper

Pyro:

Watches a lot of Youtube!

They love art tutorials, cooking tutorials and those videos with the guys that put molten hot metal balls into water and those videos of people crushing things in Hydraulic presses

Their search history is so fucking strange:

“my little pony free episode”

“my little pony movie free”

“how to draw clouds”

“gasoline cheap prices”

They follow Scout’s pages and always send him nice comments and like his videos

Engineer:

Loves listening to music and watching movies on his phone

Eventually learns how to code and make his own apps

This is also how he discovered he could jailbreak his phone and turn it into a universal remote for his sentries

Very slow texter

Uses way more emoji’s than needed

“Hello yall 👋🏻 going to the hardware store today 🔨let me know if yall need anything while im out👋🏻🚶🏼”

His most used app is the settings app

Spy:

Of course all of his phones are burners.

He never uses one for more than one week

Loves pirating movies on it and watching them in bed

He has no contacts. No personal information and keeps his location off at all times

Likes to pretend to be different people and play around with Google and Youtube’s targeted ads and algorithms

One day he’s an 86 year old woman that’s recommended nothing but metal bands and funeral home ads

The next week he’s four years old and getting recommended Mario and Minecraft let’s play videos

He uses twitter

He’s doxxed many people on Twitter

Like Scout he has MANY banned accounts and has also hacked and stolen many accounts

…He hacked one of Scout’s accounts and got it permanently banned

Demoman:

Loves watching Top 10 videos

Also loves having so much ease and access talking to his lads

He video calls his mother often even she just nags him the whole time and keeps accidentally hanging up

Is frequently texting the other team’s Soldier and laughing at what he says back

Uses Discord and Reddit and is in many servers and communities that focus on paranormal activity, urban legends and cryptids

Actually makes his own youtube videos searching for said cryptids

Frequently comments “cringe” under Scout’s posts

[thereareeyesinsidethetrees]

blorbos are how we are coping with current events

so uh. here’s a few nice lighthearted gravity falls headcanons for you all (and yes there is a lot of ford centric ones here. no negativity about him on this post, please. preferably not about anyone else featured here either)

-both stan twins are trans. shermie was the first one they told about this, and he’s been immensely supportive of them. he started referring to them as ‘boys’ whenever he could, especially when filbrick was around (‘you boys ready?’ and stuff like that). even though the twins haven’t seen him in a while, and his relationship with ford is a little strained, they both still feel safe around him

-shermie’s daughter, the mother of the mystery twins, is transmascfem. they’ve always been much closer to her than to their father. it was her idea to get a cat, and she let the niblings pick it out. they collectively named it ‘smoky’

-both mystery twins are trans as well. as soon as he knew, stan made damn sure they were aware of his support for them. mabel told ford she was trans before dipper did, and he made sure they both knew he would support them as well

-the stan twins get a ship cat with polydactyl and name him icarus. he was supposed to work as pest control, but ford babied him too much so now he’s just there for emotional support

-upon figuring out how cellphones work, ford took an immense liking to the camera function. he frequently sends stan and the niblings pictures of anomalies, animals, or just cool stuff he finds

-stan keeps his cool when being insulted, but absolutely cannot stand it when the same happens to his family. type of guy to go ‘ok’ when you tell him he sucks, and then turn around and threaten to murder you when you say the same to ford or the niblings

-gideon is an exception. gideon crossed the line with mabel and now stan can’t help but get irrationally angry every time he sees or hears him

-ford isn’t as good at math as people tend to thinks he is, and he is. so anxious about someone finding that out

-ford has maladaptive daydreaming disorder, and so does mabel

-ford initially bought the painting in the attic of a ship in a storm because it reminded him of stan

-melody and soos got a tabby cat and named it metronome. soos chose the name because it was similar in theme to ‘melody’ and cause he thought it sounded cool. melody calls the cat ‘bloop’ and at this point it probably thinks that’s its actual name

-mabel uses exclusively edible glitter due to all the pets in her life (waddles, smoky, icarus, metronome)

-mabel helps pacifica realize that she’s transmascfemneu. this makes pacifica think about things a lot, and eventually she ends up in a qpr with mabel (featuring candy and grenda as wingmen)

-wendy is bigender and enby

-ford nearly cried the first time stan made pancakes after the portal

-it’s become a running bit to call ford anything but his name and at this point he’s just given up on correcting people and chosen to embrace it

-robbie’s first name is actually robin. his friends started calling him robbie when he came out as trans and the name just stuck. he’s still very attached to ‘robin’ though and has no problem being called that as well

-stan repaired his old winter jacket, though he doesn’t wear it any more. ford sometimes does

-because stan runs hot and ford runs very cold, ford has a tendency to come up to stan and hug him under his coat. stan is fine with this, despite his grumblings about ford just doing it to steal some warmth

-ford experiences cuteness aggression to the max, while stan really doesn’t at all. icarus has experienced both threats of being eaten/crushed and ford screaming into his fluff

-icarus has separation anxiety with ford

-stan doodles on ford a lot. the only rule is nothing on his face and do NOT touch the neck tattoo (destroyed as it may be from weirdmaggedon). yes, stanley, the all-star one. get that smug smile off your face- stop laughing-!

-ford’s sleep schedule has significantly improved since getting icarus. this is mostly because he sometimes falls asleep while waiting for icarus to move off his lap (can’t move til the cat does, y’know how it is)

-stan loves loves LOVES sunny cloudy days. they remind him of running across the beach with his brother, and watching the niblings throw water balloons at each other, and hearing his twin laugh as he tells jokes on the stan o’ war ii

-stan had ford custom engrave his lighter. he thinks it looks cool as shit

-ford has made several smoke bombs for stan. he has no clue what he keeps using them for, but he likes building things, so he doesn’t mind

-mabel has set up three music playlists for the stans. one only for ford, one only for stan, and one that’s visible to both where they can both add music

-mabel introduced ford to breakcore and noisecore. she was very surprised that he liked the two genres

-ford is agender and anattractional

-stan’s favorite smells are cinnamon, bergamot, and saltwater

-stan made sure to always have supplies to make brownies and hot chocolate on the ship in case of them need some mood lifting

-ford has a plaid weighted blanket. the cat laying on top of him every night also helps

-ford made sure stan got a good mattress that would work with his back before they set sail. stan argued with him the entire time, but he has been waking up in less pain since then

-ford always ends up hogging the blankets in any bed. more cover = better in his unconscious mind. stan doesn’t really mind too much, but he would like to keep at least one blanket some time

-ford makes a startlingly good seagull impression

[tgmsunmontue]

It's not who you know 1/4

YEAR 1 - Non-angsty Nepo!Baby Bradley and his first year at the USNA and his head-in-the-sand approach to the nepotism and the fact that he ends up being known as the guy with the two hot dads instead...

YEAR ONE – 2001

                “You don’t want us to drop you off?”

                “No! I don’t need a… a Captain and an Admiral coming to my first day. It’s not school!”

                “Lots of parents will be dropping their kids off. It’s the beginning of Plebe Summer…”

                “Yeah well, it’s not like I haven’t been there before. I know my way around already, you know your way around! Please don’t…”

                “Are you… embarrassed to be our kid?”

                “Uh…” Bradley refuses to meet their eyes.

                “Oh my god, you are!”

                “No! No. I’m not embarrassed okay? It’s more… I don’t want people knowing I’m a legacy kid.”

                “Oh,” says Ice then, expression going understanding and Mav looks confused.

                “What? What am I missing?”

                “Bradley wants to prove himself. Doesn’t want others to think he got in because of his… connections.”

                “But… he did.”

                “He also tested crazy high, he would have got in regardless.”

                Bradley feels a flush of achievement at the sheer surety in Ice’s voice, proud and no-nonsense.

                “But… you’re more than just a legacy kid. You know that right?” Mav asks, and he suddenly seems so unsure, like Bradley isn’t aware of how good he is.

                “Yeah Mav, I know that.”

                “Anyway, you’re a triple legacy kid and plenty of the brass at Annapolis already know you’re on your way. You going to pretend you don’t know half of them?”

                “If I have to…”

                Mav cackles then and Bradley lets out a laugh as well when Ice just lets out a resigned sigh. He needs to make a couple of phone calls. Another job for tomorrow.

…             …             …

                “When did we become uncool? He doesn’t want anything to do with us! Maybe it’s just you that’s uncool, do you think he’d let me take him? I want to take him.”

                Tom rolls his eyes, because Mav is nothing if not dramatic.

                “We have to let him go. I’m sure we’ll figure out some way of keeping in touch. My parents wrote me letters.”

                “Too slow. We could get BeepBeep one of those transportable phone things.”

                “Calling him BeepBeep is another reason why he doesn’t want to be seen in public with us. Also, it’s a mobile, or cellphone, you’re not old so stop sounding like you are.”

                “Yeah yeah, just because you have one.”

                “We can get you one at the same time we get Bradley one…”

                “Hmm, I feel like it would just be another way you could tell me no.”

                “It would be another way in which you ignore me telling you no.”

                “You like it when I don’t say no,” Mav says, turning toward him and grinning.

…             …             …

                “Mav, where are you?”

                “Uh… I took a couple of personal days?”

                “To do what? Also I find it highly suspicious that these personal days coincide with the start of Plebe Summer. Tell me you aren’t stalking Bradley.”

                “I’m not not stalking him?”

                “Jesus Pete…”

                “He doesn’t know I’m here! I’m just… making sure he arrives okay!”

                “He’s an adult. He flew there, we put him up in a motel and he then caught a taxi. Shit. I still haven’t rung Sli and let him know Bradley’s going to pretend not to know anyone…”

                “Oh! Don’t do it. Let Bradley cause havoc! Can you imagine some of them talking to Bradley like they know him and Bradley just… pretending they’ve got the wrong person?”

                “Do you really think Bradley would be that rude?”

                “Depends how committed he is to this whole ruse. And he was pretty stubborn.”

                “I wonder where he gets that from…” Tom remarks dryly.

                “One of life’s mysteries,” Pete replies, clearly distracted and Tom lets out a long breath and reminds himself that he loves Mav. Mantra or curse, he loves the man.

                “So what are you actually doing?”

                “Watching everyone arrive. I’m just parked in a car up the road and watching everyone walk in. Bradley will be easy to spot because he’ll be all alone…”

                “So you’re in a car outside a naval training center staring at cadets as they arrive. Tell me you don’t also have a pair of binoculars.”

                “They’re small ones.”

                Tom groans and hangs up on him, glad that he did go through with getting Mav that cellphone after all. As much as the idea of letting Bradley cause chaos may be appealing to Mav, he knows better and he really needs to make that phone call.

…             …             …

                “Welcome back to Annapolis Bradley!”

                “I’m sorry sir, you must have me confused with another cadet…”

                “Bradley Bradshaw?”

                “That is my name sir, but I think you have me confused with someone else…”

                Admiral Mackenzie blinks and frowns and then steps back.

                “Sorry Cadet Bradshaw. On your way then.”

                “Thank you sir. Nice to meet you.”

…             …             …

                Tom sighs and wonders what the easiest way of dealing with this is going to be. He’d fully intended to make this phone call months ago, not leaving it until the first evening of Plebe Summer when Slider is no doubt at his busiest.

                “Hey Ron…”

                “Oof. First name. What did I do?”

                “Not you…”

                “What did Mav do?”

                Tom snorts and rubs at his eyes.

                “Not him either…” He won’t mention the creepy sitting in a car aspect of Mav’s latest craziness.

                “Bradley? Baby Goose? He’s never any trouble…”

                “Well, I think he’s going to make up for it.”

                “At Annapolis?” Ron scoffs disbelievingly.

                “He’s going to pretend he doesn’t know anyone…”

                “Uh. But he knows everyone.”

                “I’m well aware. Just… can you prepare everyone for Bradley being an idiot and pretending he knows no one?”

                “Oh… I think this conversation is coming too late. Mack came into my office earlier and said that Bradley completely blanked on him.”

                “Oh shit…”

                “Well, at least we have an explanation. He was worried that he might have memory issues.”

                “Who? Him or Bradley?”

                “Either. Both? Anyway, I’ll let Mack know. As well as the others, because that could have backfired horribly.”

                “I know. They’d think he was getting smart. He just… I think part of it is wanting to be judged on his own merits, but also not have anyone use him to advance themselves.”

                “He’s a smart young man. I look forward to watching his career.”

…             …             …

                “You seem to know how everything works around here…”

                “Uh. I did a lot of reading in preparation for coming. I didn’t want to be taken by surprise by anything you know?”

                “Smart move. You definitely seem to have caught the attention of all the instructors at least. They all know your name.” Bradley grimaces, because that’s not necessarily a good thing. At least no-one has called him MiniMav, BeepBeep or Baby Goose. There are others, but he doesn’t need his childhood nicknames coming common knowledge. “Although, I guess Bradley Bradshaw is an easy name to remember. Kind of rolls off the tongue. Brad Brad.”

                Bradley lets out a sigh, resigned to yet another nickname.

…             …             …

                Mav follows through with the other visitors. He hasn’t really told Ice or Bradley that he was planning on coming today. Unlike Ice who went through USNA Mav never really allowed himself to show too much interest, directing it all toward the flight school after doing his Bachelor degree. Now that Bradley is here though he can ask all the questions. Even the ones he’s pretty sure he knows the answers to. He spies one of the cadets with the last name Trace and wonders if this is the same one in Bradley’s platoon. Maybe.

                “Hi! I’m Peter, Bradley Bradshaw’s dad. Nice to meet you.”

                “Good morning Mr. Bradshaw. Natasha Trace. Bradley didn’t mention that his parents were coming…”

                “Well no, I hadn’t been planning on coming. I can’t often get away from work, but I thought I’d try and make an extra effort with it being the parents day and all…”

                “Oh, did your wife come with you?”

                “Uh, no, I’m not married…” The young cadet looks awkward then and Mav takes pity on her. “I’m just going to join one of the tours. If you see Bradley tell him his dad Pete is here. I’ll catch up with him later. It’ll be a surprise!”

                “Uh, but if I tell him then won’t it spoil the surprise?”

                “He’ll still be plenty surprised when he actually sees me.”

…             …             …

                Bradley still hasn’t seen Mav, and he knows it must be Mav, because Ice surely wouldn’t fuck him over like this. He’s heard through three others that his dad is here, and also a few comments that he looks good. Bradley hopes like hell he’s not in his fucking uniform, although everyone is fairly desensitized about uniforms looking in any way sexy when everyone is wearing them. He’s more worried about people finding out exactly who Mav is… But he can’t seem to find him in the swarm of people, everyone showing their family around. Plus Mav is short and likely knows Bradley is looking for him.

                “Bradshaw! I just met you dad, holy fuck he’s all sorts of hot isn’t he?”

                “Short guy? Dark hair?”

                “Why? You have more than one dad?”

                Bradley freezes, suddenly unsure of what to say because in his head he’s got space for three dads and they’re all very distinct people. None of whom he would ever describe as hot. Gross. God, it’s even worse than thinking of them having sex.

                “I, uh, yeah… fuck.”

                “Like… a dad and a step-dad, or are we talking a couple of dad’s who adopted you?”

                “Closer to the second one I guess,” Bradley says, resigned, because fuck it, it’s close enough. He’s not going to get into the specifics but he guesses he can share some rough details. “My dad died when I was a little, his best friend is my god-father and he was pretty much my dad growing up. And once him and his partner figured their shit out I got another dad…”

                “What about your mom?”

                “She died a few years ago. Cancer.”

                “Oh wow… so you really have two dads.”

                “Yep. And one of them is here?”

                “Yeah, he said his name was Peter Bradshaw?”

                “Oh. Huh. Of course he did…”

                Trust Mav to fucking come up with a cover story but not tell anyone else what is.

                He doesn’t end up finding or seeing Mav for the entire day, although he does receive a couple of overly exaggerated winks from some of the teachers, as well as Uncle Slider and Admiral Mackenzie. He takes it with good grace because they’re humoring his need to try and stay as anonymous as possible, even if Mav seems to be intent on fucking it up.

…             …             …

                “You couldn’t have stopped him?” Bradley asks, and Tom would almost call the tone whining, but there’s too much desperation there.

                “I’m sorry, are we talking about the same person? Have you ever tried to stop him doing something once he’s set his mind to it?”

                “Ugh, I didn’t even get to see him! What was the point?

                “So he could see you. See that you’re happy and alright.” Just like that the wind seems to leave Bradley’s sails, like he has to let Mav have this. Has to be grateful for small mercies that Mav didn’t learn how to do sky writing, which he’ll keep to himself because it’s totally something Mav would want to try out. “And you should know he’s actually being fairly restrained, especially if he didn’t approach you. He did follow you out there for your first day and just watched from a car like the giant dork that he is.”

                “What? Ugh. Dork, yes. Giant, no. Ugh. Why is he like this?”

                “I really have no idea. Do you like the taste of whiskey yet? I find that helps.”

SECOND YEAR

[danibee33]

More Simon “Ghost” Riley brain rot because I’ve been in a car for 8 hours 🙃

But this time, make it undercover!Ghost🩶

(inspired by “Billie Bossa Nova” by Billie Eilish - reader goes by callsign: “Hela”)

+++++

•thinking about Ghost being absolutely livid that he’s the one chosen to attend the event- some ritzy, wildly overpriced and stupidly exclusive, art exhibition.

•”You’re the only one that they wouldn’t know- they can’t recognize a face they’ve never seen. We’ve already talked about it-“ Price pinches at the bridge of his nose, sitting behind his desk, sitting in the same exact position he was in an hour ago, trying to convince his lieutenant that it truly was a last resort.

•Ghost huffs out a rumbling sigh, only just barely fighting back the urge to roll his eyes- the military bearing far too engrained in him to disrespect a superior officer. But really, he knows it’s because he respects John too much as a friend.

•and he’s just about close the door behind him when he hears the older man’s voice again, “Hela will be your second.”

•sure, he could try to argue like he so badly wants to, but judging by how far he made it with this, he wouldn’t be getting the answer he wanted either way.

•it’s not that the 141’s newest lieutenant was incompetent or incapable, no, you were far from either of those things.

•you were smart, a great leader, and even better in a team than he could ever dream of being. you had only made them better-

•but you were a fucking pain in his ass, with your annoying and, at times overbearing, sunshine fucking personality. Your habit of wanting to learn things about him and the others just to see them perk up a bit, though you’ve yet to figure out what makes Ghost not look like a walking rain cloud-

•and it had taken them months to figure out how the hell you got such a dark and foreboding callsign such as Hela, Norse fucking goddess of death- it didn’t make any sense, there was no way, right? No way someone so sweet and chipper could be that brutal.

•boy, how wrong they were.

•you were downright certifiable on mission, merciless on the battlefield, with your laughter trickling through the radios after a particularly challenging kill- there was something wrong with you, but he guesses that’s why you fit in so well with the rest of them.

•they were all a little fucked up in the head. You had to be, to do what needs to be done, to do all the terrible things no one in their right mind could do.

+++

•when the night arrives, Ghost is left staring at his own reflection, and it physically pains him to leave the comfort of his balaclava laying on the bathroom counter- even though he knew Price had made sure to limit his exposure to only the bare minimum, it didn’t make it easier.

•”You’ll meet Hela inside the venue, she’s in a black, floor length dress, red purse, hair up.” He nods at his captain’s words, committing the details to memory as he slides into the back seat of the blacked out SUV.

•the ride blurs by, he doesn’t pay attention to anything going on outside, preferring to focus on the parameters of the mission; it would be mostly recon, some light pick-pocketing, a little slight of hand, a cellphone full of intel procured-

•he certainly doesn’t dwell on how excited you were to had been to go undercover, or how you had talked fucking relentlessly about the dress you picked for your “007 moment”, as you so lovingly to referred to the mission- and to his surprise, Johnny had apparently helped you pick it out.

•and there’s no reason whatsoever for that fact to have made him want to wring the Scot’s neck.

•Ghost steps out the car at the curb, straightening and buttoning the fitted, black tuxedo jacket- the grimace on his scarred lips doing a well enough job of carving a path through the sparse crowd.

• “C’mon, LT- ye could try ta’look like ye spent an obscene amount o’money ta be here.” Johnny playfully drawls through the ear piece, “and lemme tell you-“ he pauses to give a quiet whistle for effect, and this time Ghost doesn’t stop his eyes from rolling back, “Hela is lookin’ real bonnie, aren’t ye, lil’ LT?”

•”Keep it tactical, Sergeant.” Ghost grunts back, eyeing the upper windows of the surrounding buildings before waltzing through the grandiose entrance-

• “Hm, I thought it was nice.. thank you, Soap.” You say, and he swears he can hear the smile in your sultry tone. The one that you just love to use on comms.

•Johnny gives a low chuckle, “Ye’re very welcome, ma’am.”

•Christ fucking alive. Ghost is in hell, he’s sure of it.

•but then, he sees you. And at first, he’s not entirely sure he’s even looking at the right person- because, of course he’s seen you in civilian clothes, even some more form fitted PT gear; and he’s always had a hard time dragging his eyes away from you even then. Right now, though?

•right now, he’s ardently staring at your profile, studying the lines of your face under the soft glow of the museum lighting- the way your glossy pink lips are parted just slightly as you look up at the painting in front of you, your fingers daintily clasped around a flute of champagne, a deep red leather clutch in your other hand.

•something compels him to blend back into the crowd, silently moving to take you in from all angles, his eyes roaming and lingering all the same-

•and it’s at that moment he realizes Price severely understated your “black, floor length dress”. Yes, it was all those things, but fuck.. a warning would’ve been nice-

•he also decides then that he will wring Johnny’s neck- because if he helped you pick this? well that means he’s already seen too much. And Ghost couldn’t have that-

•the dress you chose is fitted like a second skin, high neck and long sleeves, entirely modest and yet.. it manages to leave so, so little to the imagination with the way it hugs every single curve- but it’s the back that causes an awful flicker of arousal to make his cock twitch.

•the back is completely, and gloriously, exposed- from the petite span of your shoulders, all the way down to the godforsken pair of dimples that decorate the lowest curve of your spine before the fabric meets together again right above the delicious swell of your ass-

•it takes everything in him to stay on track, to keep aware of his surroundings as he makes his way to your other side. It’s only then that you finally turn towards him, certainly having felt the weight of his gaze. But by the time you crane your neck to search the crowd, he’s already out of sight.

+++

•you scan over the strange and unfamiliar faces, unable to shake that feeling of being watched- it was probably just nerves, you knew Ghost would be with you on this, which means you’re well aware that he would be maskless tonight.

•and you really should not be so excited- this was still a mission, you shouldn’t be thinking about him.. shouldn’t be imagining what hides beneath the balaclavas-

•you’re so lost in the thought you can’t help to but gasp when you hear the familiar, brassy voice in your ear, “Spotted the target.”

•you barely stifle another gasp when you feel the sweltering heat of his palm suddenly pressed against your lower back- and you don’t know why the touch sends a rush of chills down your spine. Maybe it’s just knowing you’re finally about to see the ever enigmatic man’s face, or it could just be how comfortable he seems putting his hand on you like that.

•but when you try to turn, he holds you in place, the hand that was at the small of your back, moving to the gently hold the nape of your neck,

• “Wait..” He whispers, an odd mixture of authority and desperation in his tone.

• “Why?” You ask just as quietly, your eyes fixed ahead, but the beautiful art is lost on you now, too consumed by his proximity- by the standoffish brute of a man who had only looked at you like a nuisance for months. It’s ridiculous, what you should really be asking is why you care so much-

•but you don’t think you would know the answer to that, not for sure anyway; maybe it was that you craved his approval- you had earned it from literally everyone else by this point, but his had alluded you. And you couldn’t fucking stand it.

• “Ghost?” You try to pry a little further, his callsign coming out a bit breathier than you meant for it to, but the way his thumb is rubbing back and forth, back and forth, so softly, so slowly.. it’s enough to drive you crazy.

• “Target’s directly to your left- cellphone in his right jacket pocket.” Without warning he removes his hand and brushes past you, taking with him the chance to see any of his features apart from the head of wavy, honey blonde hair that’s been messily swept back.

•and it’s the purposely careless movement that causes you to stumble, your crystal flute knocking right against the sturdy chest of the man that had just approached the painting,

• “Oh! Oh, my god- I am so-“, you slip the device from his pocket almost too easily, “so, sorry, sir.”

•it’s easy to distract him, flashing a bright, slightly nervous smile- bat your pretty lashes up at him, maybe let your hand linger a bit too long on his bicep..

• “‘M sorry, sweetheart-“ Ghost is back, and you have to force yourself not to immediately focus on his presence, instead noticing how he efficiently leans around you to slip the bugged phone into the target’s pocket.

•and again, it’s unsettling how natural it feels for him to snake a muscular arm around your waist, and god, the way he settles his big hand possessively over your lower stomach has your knees weak and an uncomfortable pressure building between your legs.

• “Just saw an old friend, and he wants to meet you, love.” He says it like it was the most normal night in the world, holding you like you could’ve been a couple- but, he’s just playing his part, right?

•after another round of apologies, Ghost promptly leads you away, your hand held firmly in his as he weaves through and around the small groups of people who couldn’t care less about you.

“Riley- hang on.” You hiss just as he turns a corner, finally far enough way to give the all clear to Price and Soap without concern of being overheard, but he’s still just ahead of you, his face still just out of view.

•you struggle to keep up with his monstrous strides in your outrageous heels, “That excited to get away from me, huh?”

•no, you don’t mean for it to sound so bitter, it was suppose to be a joke, but maybe it’s a little more honest than you care to dive into right now. But, it does finally get his attention, his feet coming to such an abrupt halt that you stumble right into the thick, solid mass of his back.

•he opens a door, quickly turning to walk you backwards into the dark room- slamming the heavy wood shut as soon as you’re both inside.

•with effortless speed, he pulls your earpieces out, shoving them him in his pocket, “what. the. fuck, Ghost? What are you doing?!”

• “Fucking hell, do you ever shut up?”

•you scoff into the darkness, his giant silhouette still looming over you- and with your curiosity too quickly turned to rage, you shove him backwards,

• “What’s your problem with me?” You have to stop yourself from shouting, you know you’re away from the party, but there could still be staff close by, “Well?! What did I do tonight except everything I was suppose to? Please, tell me what I did wrong, because I am so fuckin-“

•the last thing you expect is to feel his hands grasp either side of your face, and it’s completely unfathomable what happens after-

•Ghost’s lips collide with yours in a rough, hungry kiss, one that leaves you to stunned to do anything but let your body do what you’ve fantasized about one too many times.

•but too soon, he pulls away, out of breath and still gripping your face, “No, sweet girl, no. You’ve been perfect tonight, and you look..”

•you reel at his praise, your lungs seizing at the sound of the pet name on his tongue- internally cursing the lack of light for depriving you of getting to see his expression.

•Because you so desperately wanted to know what the actual fuck was going on and why it was happening right now.

• “-so bloody beautiful.. you’re fucking stunning, y’know that?”

•he kisses you again before you can even attempt to think of an answer, but this time you’re ready, turning your head to deepen the gesture into something dangerously close to sinful. Heated and passionate, you cling to him, letting your purse drop to the floor so you could wrap your arms around his neck.

•his hands wander, needy, yet so languid, you feel him trace the lines of your back, every touch delicately ravenous. And the fire you feel spread through your entire body at the simple skin to skin contact threatens your already very thinly tethered control-

•you take a step, then another, your hands now splayed out over his broad chest- pushing him until you both feel his back make contact with the door, his lips moving lower now, hands pulling you closer.

•the old light fixture crackles to life when you flip the switch, effectively freezing you both in this moment- crossing boundaries that could never be uncrossed, seeing each other in a way that couldn’t be forgotten.

•and you don’t know exactly why you keep your eyes clamped shut, even when you feel him lean back just slightly, though his nose still grazes across your cheekbone, and his fingertips are still dug into the flesh of your hips.

•your breath stutters when he presses a single kiss to your lips, the taste of champagne mixing with a hint of tobacco and peppermint, it was an odd combination, but you find yourself craving it already- what a terrible drug he is.

•without pulling away, he speaks against your lips, and you can feel the smile on his, hear the timbre in his voice, “It’s all right, love.. you can look. I know you want to..”

++++

>>>> {Part II}

PLS DONT HATE ME. I never meant for it to be this long, so I’m splitting it into two parts 😬 (unless I shouldn’t??)

[jqmalikhsgib]

blue skies

chapter: two

note: 5x10. ethnicity mentioned towards end of the chapter but it’ll most likely be the only time mentioned.

aaron watches while his son looks at the tv screen. jack had asked to see any and every home videos they’ve got of him and haley. he couldn’t deny jack that. he deserved to see his mom. even if it was just on a screen.

aaron gently walks over to his son before bending down slowly. “hey, buddy, it’s time for pjs.”

“can i watch one more time? im waiting for mommy.”

aaron looks over at the screen. he watches jack sitting next to a birthday cake while haley’s right beside him.

“i miss her too.”

“can i sleep in your room again?”

jack didn’t have to ask. aaron was going to let him anyway. “sure.” he goes around the couch and lifts jack up. after aaron changes his sons clothes and lies him down on the bed he rest right beside him. he waits for jack to fall asleep before he gently gets out of bed and heads to the kitchen.

he grabs a glass and pours himself a glass of scotch. aaron drowns the drink down instantly.

he didn’t want to feel anything. aaron wanted to forget seeing his wife lie dead on the floor, he wanted to forget letting foyet destroy himself, he wanted to forget his guilt.

he loved haley, no doubt in his mind. he just stopped being in love with her a long time ago. he knew why. he just couldn’t bring himself to admit that he’d moved on from the woman he fell for the moment he laid eyes on her.

haley had been his best friend since high school. when he was nothing but the weird kid who auditioned for a part in the schools play just to get her attention.

he felt guilt rushing through. maybe if he’d admit to himself that he’d moved on haley would still be alive. this was the gods, the universe, whatever’s out there punishing him for hurting not only haley, but yn.

he feels guilty even thinking about her while his wife’s rotting in a grave. aaron felt like a broken man.

he thinks back to the last night he saw her. the last night he kissed her, held her, loved her.

the more he drinks the worse it gets. finally he does something he didn’t think he’d ever do.

he grabs his cellphone and unblocked her number. he fights with himself on if he should call. his drunk brain clouding his judgement. he listens to the rings. he waits patiently before he finally hears the silence.

“yn?”

“aaron?

god he missed hearing her voice. she still sounds so majestic. he still remembers how she smelled. he remembers how she taste. his cock twitched just at the thought. he shouldn’t be thinking of this. his mind should be on his son. on his wife!

but he couldn’t help it. he spent three years missing her. three year of distancing himself from just the thought of her.

“god, yn, i missed you. im sorry, baby. so sorry for hurting you.”

the silence killed him. he needed to hear you. just one last time.

“aaron, i—im sorry about haley.”

you had no clue what to say. maybe apologizing about his wife’s murder wasn’t the right choice. you listen to his heavy breathing. you wait patiently before he speaks once more.

“i should be mourning her. i should be down on my knees praying for her return. i should miss her. i do—i do miss her! but i should miss her more. but all i could think, the moment i saw her was, thank god it wasn’t you. fuck! that’s sick isn’t it? im a sick twisted man. my wife was killed and here i am thinking of another woman. the mother of my child will grow without his mom. and a woman i slept with three years ago��no! the woman i fell in love with three years ago is listening to me yap about my fucked up brain.”

your heart broke for him. you knew he loved haley. knew he’d do anything to get her back. even if it meant sacrificing himself. he was drunk and frustrated, angry and pissed, sad and lonely. aaron was heartbroken.

“oh, aar! you—you’re a great man, okay?! a great father to jack and you were a great husband to haley,”

he laughs at that. “i was shit! i was a shit husband to her and a shit boyfriend to you. you both deserved better. jack deserves better. he deserves his mom. not his fucked up father who’s barely around.”

“don’t say that, aar! you’re a great dad.” he’d be a great dad to lizzy if he only knew.

“no! any child would be better off without a father like me!”

“stop, aaron! stop that right now or ill hang up on you and never speak to you again, you hear me?! you don’t get to talk down on yourself like that! jack needs you, alright?! he needs you more than ever now that his moms gone. do you hear me aaron hotchner?”

the silence took over once again before you hear him whisper.

“yes. yes i hear you, baby. i hear you.”

you sigh in relief.

“you need to get some rest, aar. please get some sleep for me. okay?”

“ill do anything for you. anything you need. i—im gonna fix everything, yn. gonna fix my relationship with my son, gonna fix my team, gonna fix us. you hear that, baby? im gonna make things right with you. gonna marry you and everything. no running away this time. please don’t give up on me?”

you closed your eyes as the tears gently shed. you knew he wouldn’t remember any of this once he wakes up.

“promise me now, honey. gotta hear you say it.”

“i promise, aar. i won’t give up on you.”

you soon hear him snoring. wiping your tears you end the call and cry yourself to sleep.

aaron wakes with a pounding headache. he sighs roughly before immediately going to the bathroom. he gently closed the door so he wouldn’t wake jack.

he looks in his medicine cabinet and grabs the aspirin before downing it with nothing. aaron looks at himself in the mirror. he looked like hell. he needed to wake himself up. he decided to grab a few clothes and take a cold shower.

once he was done he finally heads to the kitchen and makes breakfast for jack.

jack walks into to kitchen just as aaron finished up. he sets the plate down in front of his son as he then pours himself a cup of coffee.

once jack was done with his breakfast aaron decides to finish unpacking all of jacks things.

a few hours go by and they’re almost finished. jack opens his box of toys as aaron looks around.

“okay jack listen. i want you to figure out where you want to put all your toys, okay?”

“okay, daddy.”

“alright, sweet boy.” aaron hears a knock on his door. he rubs jacks head before walking towards the door. aaron looks through the peep hole before unlocking his door.

“chief strauss, i appreciate you coming to me.”

“oh, of course. this isn’t the time for you to be away from your son.”

he allows erin to come into his apartment before locking the door once more. the two adults walk over to aaron’s couch and sit down.

jack says hi, just as his father asked before going back to playing with his toys. “so, how you holding up?”

“im okay.”

“how’s jack?”

“he’s coping. i don’t think he fully understands everything that’s going on.”

“oh, right, well, how could he?”

aaron takes a deep breath before getting to the point. “you said that there was something you wanted to discuss with me?”

“yes, i do.”

strauss reaches in her bag and aaron some paperwork. aaron looks through it with a confused facial expression.

“this is retirement.”

“ive talked with the director. given the circumstances, there’s no reason you should have to return to the bureau. we can offer you full pension and benefits.”

aaron looks at her sternly. he looks at the paper once more before speaking. “are you saying that you want me to leave the bau?”

“well, obviously that’s your choice, but im offering a way out.” she starts. aaron looks at her once more before she continues.

“agent morgan’s promotion was temporary, but he exceeded our expectations, and im confident that i could make it permanent, if you decide to step down. the team would be together and you could be with your son.”

“and when would you like a decision?”

erin looks at him blankly. “i thought i would be leaving with one. what’s your hesitation?”

“i would just like to weigh all my options.”

“whatever you need.”

aaron walks strauss out before going back over to his son. he helps him put away his toys. once they finished aaron put jack down for his thirty minute nap.

he grabs his cellphone and dials yn number once more. he needed to apologize for his behavior. or at least that’s what he told himself as he hears her voice once again.

“aaron?”

“hey.”

“hi.” she whispers.

aaron stayed silent for a few hours before he continued to talk again.

“im sorry for last night. it was out of line.”

“it’s okay, aar. how are you?”

“ive been better.”

“im sorry for your loss, aaron. i know—i know how much haley meant to you.” you whispered.

aaron hums.

“yeah.”

“im having a hard time, yn.”

“a hard time?”

“yeah. i—you know how i feel about my job. how i worked my ass off to get where i am today. i chose my career over my wife, over my son! it cost me her, you know? she—she died because i couldn’t let go. and now i have this opportunity. a good deal to leave the bau behind and focus on being a better father to my kid but i still want to go back! i don’t wanna let go. is it wrong of me to feel this way?”

“it’s not wrong, aar.” you whisper.

“how is it not?”

“your job saves people! you catch the most evil and sadistic murderers, rapist, sociopath, and psychopaths. you save jack and other kids from having one less sick killer out there. it’s who you are and what you do.”

“but it cost me haley!”

“you know haley wouldn’t hate you if you went back?”

“that’s the problem.”

“jack wouldn’t either, aar. no one will blame you. if you went back to the bau.”

“i needed to hear that, yn. you always make me feel better.”

you listen to his steady breath. you miss hearing his heartbeat. miss being beside him as he holds you comfortably.

“im here for you, aaron. any time you need me.”

you knew despite everything that aaron would always be your person. maybe that means being single for the rest of your life but it was worth it. the memories you shared with aaron was worth even the heartbreak. you hope one day you’d be able to reconnect with aaron. maybe even be a family with him. but you won’t hold your breath over it. especially now.

you have no idea if aaron would ever want to be with anyone ever again. and you wouldn’t or couldn’t blame him.

“thank you, yn. that means a lot. may i—may i call you more?” aaron asked.

“yeah, aar. call me any time.”

“i should get back to jack.”

“yeah. goodbye, aaron.”

“bye, yn.”

the call ended. you got up as you lied right next to your sleeping daughter. she was the perfect mix of you and aaron. her hair was dark and curly, her eyes were hazel, she was definitely beautiful. you loved her more than anything. you’d do absolutely anything to protect your baby girl.

you feel her moving. her eyes slowly open. she blinks a few times before speaking.

“mamma? what ‘ya doing?”

“sorry, baby. just wanted to hold you a little. how was your nap?”

“okay, mamma.”

you kiss the top of her head before you pick her up and sit her in her high chair. you head to the kitchen and grab one of your daughters small bowls. you put a few grapes in it before handing the bowl to her.

“eat your grapes, bug. mamma will be sitting right there.” you point to the couch before walking over and finishing up last minute paper work.

aaron walks into his kitchen and sees his jess making pancakes for dinner. “oh, man, pancakes for dinner. is there anything better?”

“no, there’s not.”

aaron bends down as he watches his son play with his action figures.

“hey, jack, who are these guys?”

jack lifts up on action figure. “this is you, and this is the bad guy. they’re fighting.”

“who wins jack?” jess asked.

“daddy. no one beats daddy.”

aaron rubs his sons back. “aunt jessica’s almost got dinner ready. i forgot, what do we do before we eat?”

“wash our hands.” aaron helps his son out of the chair before jack walks away.

“he build those himself. i hope its okay?” jess speaks after jacks out of earshot.

“of course. listen, i really appreciate your coming over. all your help and support, its been great.”

“he’s my nephew, and you’re my family. ill be here as much as you want.”

aaron takes a deep breath before sitting in front of jessica. “the bureau has offered me retirement.”

“what did you tell them?”

“you know, jack needs me now more than ever. that means being here full time. after haley and i were apart, he didn’t have me very much, and that was hard, but i knew that at least he had his mom. and right now he really needs his dad.”

“of course he does, aaron. we both know you and haley didn’t separate because you stopped loving each other. your job just got in the way. your team needed you, and despite this offer, i doubt that’s changed. maybe you don’t need to retire. what if i stayed with jack when you had to be away? “

she was half right. aaron and haley did love each other but it was different. truth was they stopped being in love since jack was born.

with caring for their child and aaron being away for work, the relationship got so much more complicated. aaron noticed the changes in their behavior for awhile.

he would make up any excuse to stay at the office while haley no longer had that sparkle in her eye when she looked at him.

he didn’t admit it until he met yn. always telling himself the separation was temporary. jess didn’t need to know that though.

“jessica, i appreciate that,”

“please? it would mean a lot to me if you’d let me help you out with jack. for haley?”

you finished telling your daughter a bedtime story before shutting on her nightlight. right when you were about to leave you hear your daughters voice.

“mamma?”

“yes, bug?”

“may i hear ‘nother story ‘bout daddy?”

you simply smile. you never deprived your daughter of knowing her father. even just a little. she didn’t know who he was or what he looked like, but she knew he was a hero.

you told stories of aaron as if he was a superhero. in your eyes, he was.

you went as far as calling the bad guys ‘villians’ occasionally. she loved hearing stories of her crime fighting father.

“what do you wanna know, bug?”

“has daddy ever saved you?”

you think for a minute of how to explain the story of your abusive adopted parents to your three year old.

“yeah, he has. wanna hear?”

“yes, mamma.”

“once upon a time there lived a princess. your mamma. she was a lonely kid for a long time. one day a mom and a dad spotted her. they thought she was pretty and sweet. the princess thought they were kind when she talked to them. one day they took the princess home. at first they were the nicest. they bought her new clothes, toys, shoes, anything her heart desires. but once they took her in full time, forever and ever, they became mean,”

“oh, no mamma.”

you run your fingers through your daughters hair before continuing. “oh no is right baby. suddenly they forced her to cook, clean, and babysit their kids,”

“like ella?” you knew she meant cinderella.

“exactly! the little girl was bullied by the mom and dad as well as the kids. she felt lonely and hopeless. the princess decided to run away. she was still very young. only fifteen. but she survived. when she finally turned eighteen she and her best friend decided to find a castle together. when they found one they lived happily for many many years. then the princess met a prince. your daddy.”

your daughter gasped.

you chuckle. “she fell in love with the prince over time. but the moment she really knew was when the princess was in trouble,”

“what happened?”

“mom and dad found her and hurt her real bad. see, the prince was coming to visit the princess, so when she heard a knock on the castle doors she thought it was the prince. but it was mom and dad. they had found her and hurt the princess really bad.”

“oh, no. why, mamma?”

“because they’re villains and wanted to see the princess hurt. but before they could do anymore harm the prince rushed into the castle, fought mom and dad, and sent them away. he then took the princess to the doctor where they patched all her boo-boos while the prince stayed and held her hand. that’s when the princess finally knew for certain, the prince was the one.”

“im glad daddy saved you, momma.”

“me too, baby. get some sleep, okay? you get to see sara again while mamma’s at work.”

“ok, mamma. night. love you.”

“i love you too, baby. sweet dreams.” you keep the door cracked open before walking into the kitchen. you poured yourself some wine and continued reading the novel you’d started.

aaron stares at haley’s grave. he felt a presence next to him before looking up.

dave stares straight ahead. they stayed silent for a moment before dave finally spoke.

“i had a feeling id find you here. have you told her yet?”

“told her what?”

“that you’re coming back to the team? that fighting the bad guys is who you are.”

“i don’t have to tell her. she already knows.”

dave turns and rest his hand on aaron’s shoulder. he walks away. leaving aaron to grieve.

aaron stays a little while longer before heading to his own car and driving home. when he gets there he sees jack and jess on the couch. aaron silently tells jess to come here.

they walk to the kitchen before he speaks. “you’re right. my team does need me. and jacks gonna need all the family he can get.”

jess nods. she waits for him to finish. “may you watch him for a few days. i need to take some time. figure some things out.”

“of course, aaron. anything you need.” jess replied.

aaron nods his head before walking towards his room. he grabs his go bag and starts stuffing a few clothes in there before calling penelope.

“sir? are you alright?”

“garcia, i need you to look up someone for me.”

“anything, sir. what’s the name?”

“yn holmes. she’s from johnson city texas.”

“five names popped up.”

“she’s african american, garcia.”

“found her. she’s thirty-three, works at a local business as an assistant, lives with a woman named jane lopez, and has a three year old daughter.”

aaron paused at that. “what? what’s the daughters name?”

aaron hears penelope clicking on her keyboards. she gasped. “penelope?”

“elizabeth joan hotchner.”

aaron runs his fingers through his hair as he paces back and forth. “are you sure?”

“yes, sir.”

“okay. okay! do me a favor, penelope?”

“anything.”

“keep this to yourself. promise me garcia. no matter how many times they may pester you, don’t utter a word. is that clear?”

“yes, sir! i promise.”

“thank you. send me the address.” aaron ends the call. he was pissed.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Lisa Needham at Public Notice:

Elon Musk is busy. No, not because he’s attending to any of his multibillion-dollar companies. For Tesla and SpaceX and Starlink, he’s full of wild promises with very little actual progress. But what Musk is really spending time on these days is attacking the core foundations of American democracy on multiple fronts. There’s his thus-far successful effort to get rid of the National Labor Relations Board (NLRB). There’s his political action committee, America PAC, which pretends to help register people to vote but is just hoovering up voter data to give to the Trump campaign. And there’s his lawsuit seeking to force companies to advertise on X, despite the fact advertisers generally do not want their ads running next to the Nazi content X is full of now. All of these efforts have the potential to succeed because the federal courts are broken, and the administrative state is dying a slow and painful death. 

Immiserating workers

Let’s start with the NLRB. It’s no surprise that Musk is no friend to labor. He doesn’t believe in unions, saying that they create “a lords and peasants sort of thing,” whatever that means. When workers at his Fremont, California, plant began an organizing campaign, he tweeted that they would lose their stock options if they joined the union. This sort of threat is extremely illegal, and the NLRB sided with the workers who brought multiple unfair labor practices charges against Tesla. Tesla also prohibited workers from wearing t-shirts with union insignias, even though the right to wear pro-union clothing at work has been a legally protected activity for several decades. Then, of course, there’s the class-action lawsuit in California state court, where almost 6,000 Black workers at the Fremont factory recently got the right to sue Tesla for ignoring massive racism at that plant. How massive? Nooses at the workstations of Black workers massive.  [...]

A scam PAC

America PAC purports to help people register to vote. If you live in a state that isn’t a swing state, that’s what the PAC’s website does — sends you over to your state’s voter registration page. But if you live somewhere in play this November, the America PAC website asks you for detailed personal information, including things utterly unrelated to voter eligibility, like your cellphone number. After all that is entered, the PAC doesn’t register you at all. It doesn’t even send the user to their state registration website. It just displays a “thank you” page.  So, swing state voters may think they’re registering, but they’re not. Instead, they’ve handed over their data to a PAC that is coordinating with the Trump campaign. While PACs are generally not allowed to work directly with campaigns, America PAC is a door-to-door canvassing group, and those, inexplicably, can work hand in hand with a candidate. However, pretending to register people to vote is probably a bridge too far.

[...]

Suing advertisers

Mr. Free Speech is also availing himself of the courts to try to force companies to advertise on X. On Tuesday, X filed a lawsuit against the World Federation of Advertisers (WFA), an advertising trade group, in the Wichita Falls Division of the Northern District of Texas. Why Wichita Falls, some 300 miles from Austin, where Tesla is located? Because the Northern District of Texas enthusiastically embraces judge shopping, and every case in Wichita Falls goes to Reed O’Connor, a George W. Bush appointee who routinely tries to throw out the whole of the Affordable Care Act and is a reliable vote for anything conservatives want. (The WFA announced Thursday that it’s shutting down because it does not have the financial resources to fight X in court.) Musk already has another case before Reed O’Connor on a similarly twisted legal theory.

Late last year, X sued Media Matters in O’Connor’s court after Media Matters accurately pointed out that ads were appearing next to the Nazi and white nationalist content that is rife on X now. That case shouldn’t exist, period, and it especially shouldn’t be in O’Connor’s courtroom. As Mike Masnick pointed out over at Techdirt, X is incorporated in Nevada, with headquarters in California. Media Matters is in DC, and the Media Matters writer named in the suit is in Maryland. The only connection to Texas is that Reed O’Connor is very friendly to conservatives.

Elon Musk is selling out to enemies of America who seek to erode our democracy.

[pianokantzart]

Yes please. The first scene of The Mario Brothers sets the tone for their relationship so well, and I’m so glad it carries through the entire film.  Most of the screenshots taken from this posted clip: X

I ADORE THAT THE FIRST SHOT OF THEM IN THE MOVIE IS THEM SIDE HUGGING EACH OTHER. They’re just standing there in front of the television, watching their commercial, two goobers barely able to contain the excitement of what they’ve accomplished together.

The commercial ends, and immediately they start showering each other with complements while teasing each other. “Wow! You were great!” Mario shouts while slapping Luigi’s cap over his eyes.  “I was great? Are you kidding me!? You were great!” Luigi shouts back as he playfully jabs at his brother’s stomach. 

While they’re both proud of the commercial, Mario expresses some minor worries. He says “I’m so glad we spent our life savings on this commercial” as though he was having doubts before, and wonders if the goofy Italian accent was too over the top. But Luigi is fully optimistic, describing their ad as not just some commercial, but true “cinema.” He is about to reassure Mario about the accents too, when the Giuseppe... who naturally has that same goofy over-the-top accent... chimes in to voice his support.

“Well well well...” Then a new voice joins the conversation, and the moment Mario and Luigi hear it the mood changes. Both brothers tense up and turn to look.

In an instant, their instinctual reaction is “Ah fuck, not this guy.” “...If it isn’t Brooklyn’s favorite failures, The Stupid Mario Brothers.”

“Oh great, Spike’s here.” Luigi’s comment is one of passive annoyance. He stays behind his brother, his body language anxious and anticipatory, his expression looking more and more worried the closer he gets to Spike.

“Hey, Spike.” Mario, on the other hand, is assertive. He immediately walks over and stands confrontationally in front of his old boss, arms crossed in front of his chest.

“Yeah. IT’S-A ME!” Spike retorts with an imitation of Mario’s put-on Italian accent and aggressively laughs in his face. He isn’t “annoying but well-meaning” the way Mario’s uncles are, he’s deliberately trying to get under his skin. Mario squints when Spike laughs a little too close for comfort, but otherwise holds his ground and maintains his composure.

Spike wipes a tear from his eye and switches gears from obnoxious mockery to cold belittling. “Tell me, have you even gotten one call since you left me to start your dumb company?”

So right off the bat we learn two things: 1. The Mario Brothers quit Spike’s business, and he’s bitter enough about it that he’s tracked their future endeavors and goes out of his way to make fun of them for it. Clearly there’s an issue of pride here– two little nothings quitting his business to try and make it on their own? Who do they think they are? 2. Mario, in return, is bitter enough about whatever happened while they worked for Spike that he takes the bait and gives Spike the time of day. Luigi looks like he would prefer to dip out of the situation altogether, but he does his best to support Mario when he thinks he’s got a leg up…

While Mario is still taking a breath to form his reply, Luigi summons the courage to step out from behind his brother, looking smug as he waves his cellphone around. “Actually, Spike, we have!”

Mario is excited for a moment until it’s revealed the phone call is from their mom. Luigi is proud enough of her support that he sincerely considers it a bragging point, happily clinging to his sibling all the while Mario is internally begging his brother to stfu.

Then, Luigi mic-drops the phone. It audibly shatters. Instant regret. Mario looks like he’s going to implode from embarrassment.

Spike, naturally, finds this hilarious. Giggling, he grabs a napkin, wipes the pizza grease off of his beard, and lobs the crumpled napkin at Luigi. “Good luck running a business with this idiot.”

With lightning-fast reflexes, Mario reaches out and catches the napkin before it hits its target. The music takes a dramatic shift as the mood of the conversation gets more serious.

“Say that again about my brother, and you’re gonna regret it.” At that point, it might have been smarter for Mario to just throw the napkin in the nearest bin and walk away, but Spike just made the mistake of going at Luigi. Nobody is allowed to treat him like that, not while Mario’s around.

Mario retaliates by throwing the napkin back in Spike’s face, hitting him square in the forehead. Spike does not take this lightly. Where Mario has a sense of basic dignity, Spike has an overinflated ego, and he won’t take even the smallest offense lying down. He rises to his feet, fists clenched, chest puffed, ready for a fight. “Oh yeah?”

Mario also looks ready to throw down, but rather than raise his fists his first priority is to press Luigi out of harm’s way. Luigi, in the meantime, looks terrified, stepping back and bracing himself, his already anxious body language tensing further. Both Mario and Luigi are startled when Spike actually follows through with getting physical, snatching Mario by the overall straps and lifting him up off the ground.

“Get this through your tiny brain Mario: You’re a joke! and you always will be.” Mario doesn’t fight or argue, he just squints as Spike talks uncomfortably close to his face like he’s trying to goad him into throwing the first punch. Mario does not take the bait, and does not give Spike the satisfaction of any reaction at all. When it comes to petty insults like this, he can take them like a champ.

Luigi is shocked into a standstill. His gaze rapidly flicks back and forth between Spike and Mario. He has no idea what to do, he’s just worried about his brother in every sense of the word, taken aback by both the vitriolic comment and threat of an actual fight.

Spike, after getting the final word in, throws Mario to the ground. Luigi drops to his knees and holds out his hands to help his older brother up, but Mario recovers himself before Luigi can assist.

Luigi looks far more hurt by Spike’s insult than Mario, and seems to be calculating what their options are if things escalate any further. Mario holds what little ground he has, staring defiantly up with his hands clenched, as if he’s daring Spike to try something.

Luckily, things simmer down. Spike proudly dusts off his hands and heads toward the door, taking a moment to leave money on the table. He’s an asshat and a blowhard, but he still plays by society’s rules. He doesn’t dine and dash, and he’s not going to carry a confrontation further than he feels he needs to, especially not in a public restaurant. Spike has the potential to win this fight, but at the end of the day he has a business to run.

Despite having been dropped flat on his back, Mario is the first to get up. He straightens his cap and dusts himself off, staring daggers at his old employer’s back while Luigi rises to his feet and begins questioning his brother’s decision. “Are you insane!? He’s three times your size!”

Spike’s insult was cruel, but it clearly didn’t effect Mario too much. It’s more of the same ole same ole from him, and can’t be taken too seriously. Luigi is more concerned about the physical risks involved.

“Luigi, c’mon! I mean, you can’t be scared all the time.” To me, this comment doesn’t feel like Mario criticizing Luigi as much as it feels like Mario defending his own approach to life. Both him and Luigi are young (probably early 20s), little guys working in manual labor. They’re at the bottom of the totem pole, but Mario maintains his sense of pride. He’s eager to fight back against adversity and prove himself to the world, even if it means taking serious risks.

“Mmmm, you’d be surprised.” Luigi, in the meantime, has complete opposite approach when facing life’s challenges. He is not as good at rolling with the punches as Mario, and being very anxious and sensitive by nature, his way of getting along is by avoiding confrontation altogether. 

CONCLUSION: Mario’s strong drive pulls Luigi into situations that go against his instincts, but that’s for the better. If Mario hadn’t been there, Luigi definitely wouldn’t have attempted to talk back to Spike like that. Is he skilled at backtalk? Not in the least, but it’s the spirit of attempting to stand up for himself that counts. Mario gives Luigi room to be vaguely adventurous and assertive by providing protection, clearing the path, and making things easier for him whenever he can.  As a result, Luigi would follow Mario anywhere– and does, supporting him in all of his endeavors with full confidence. There is a reason why Charlie Day described Luigi as “die-hard loyal,” and for someone like Mario, who has gumption, big dreams, and a lot going against him, having someone at his side who sincerely supports and believes in him with all his heart is indispensable.

The beginning shows us a good example right off the bat of Luigi’s confidence regarding Mario’s dreams, and anxiety regarding outside threats. Meanwhile, we see glimpses of Mario’s anxiety regarding his own dreams, and confidence when facing outside threats. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: they really do balance each other out. 

[nophunleague]

stare decisis: chapter four - solitudo

solitudo: latin for loneliness

masterlist

wc: 1023

rafael barba x original female character

“Shakir Wilkins? What’s the big deal Sonny?” Quinn asks the gushing young detective as she reads over his preliminary report. 

“Other than the fact that he’s a well known celebrity that just signed a huge clothing deal; he’s also one of the best basketball players to have ever lived,” Amaro’s voice rings through Fin’s cell phone that’s sitting on the table, on speaker phone. She rolls her eyes at the sound of his voice. 

“Amaro, hang up before Tucker checks your cell records,” Fin mumbles parting words to Nick and slips the phone back in his pocket. 

“You don’t need to be such a hard ass Brady. He’s coming back here and needs to be updated on the cases,” he excuses himself from the conference table, Quinn rolls her eyes and turns her glare back to Sonny. 

“Speak.”

“Vic says she had a nightcap with Wilkins after driving him back to the city Memorial Day weekend. Told her boss. Then last week she got a deposit for $5,000.”

“So three months ago. She just disclosed now. We’re missing something,” Quinn ponders, skimming the report again.

“Shakir’s been a public figure for two decades, never has anyone accused him of something like this,” Rollins speaks up from her side of the table. The elevator footage of the victim attacking Shakir plays silently on the TV. Amanda’s phone dings, “my old captain in Atlanta says they’ve got a girl down there claiming Shakir did the same thing to her.”

“Rollins head down to Atlanta. This is SVU, we take disclosures seriously people,” Liv instructs from the head of the table. 

***

“This girl kept the underwear she was wearing when she was raped by Wilkins?” Quinn asks Sonny incredulously after he had returned to the precinct and Rollins had gone to Barba’s office, unbeknownst to Quinn. 

“Yeah said he raped her after a March Madness event at the store. Same story as the other girls,” Sonny says through a mouthful of food; it’s a late lunch day apparently. 

“But now that was five months ago. Is the DNA even usable anymore?” Sonny takes another bite of his sandwich, chews, swallows, then wipes his mouth before speaking again. 

“We’ll find out soon, Shakir and his attorney, and Rollins are meeting in Barba’s office right now,” his toothy delivery sours as he realizes that Quinn, as co-ADA for the unit, should also be in that meeting but was shut out of it. He watches her calm demeanor as a flush of red creeps up her pale neck, betraying her by showing how she’s feeling. 

“His attorney is a real shark, Rita Calhoun. Her and Barba go back apparently. Maybe he made a courtesy call and didn’t want you to get wrapped up in it,” he’s trying to comfort her; but they both know he’s lying. She’s packing up her tote bag with pink pens and legal pads before she knows it.

“I might not have been here long, but when have you ever known Rafael Barba to give a courtesy call to a defense attorney,” she grunts and is off, not even saying goodbye. “And in my own goddamn office,” she mumbles as she reaches the elevator. He’s got hell to pay. She luckily steps into an empty elevator, finding refuge she takes a deep breath then pulls out her cellphone. She taps the contact for her little brother and presses the device to her ear; it rings twice before he picks up. 

“This is Brady,” she feels herself relax at the sound of his voice, a small smile gracing her lips.

“No, this is Brady,” he laughs breathlessly at their typical joke; both siblings having the habit of answering their phone like they’re always at work. 

“Bad week at work? This is not your usual lunchtime call,” she can hear the slight background noise of a TV and the tiredness in his voice; it’s getting late in Germany and for him. “You’re on the Shakir Wilkins case right? That’s got to be tiring.”

“You heard about that already?” The elevator doors open and she steps out, ushering past patrol cops to get outside.

“Of course I heard about it, he’s only one of the best basketball players to ever live,” his voice raises in excitement, from the shuffling she hears she knows he has just sat up in bed.  

“You didn’t even play basketball,” she chuckles, looking around before mentally deciding to walk back to the courthouse. “I could have gotten to meet him today but my ass-wipe of a co-counsel shut me out of the meeting with him and his attorney,” she apprises him of the source of her call; he hums in understanding.

“Still not getting a warm welcome, huh?”

“One of the detectives admonished me for being a hardass because he was on speakerphone with the cop that got kicked off the squad when we were discussing this case. If he’s gonna make the squad again, he’s got to earn it; and that means following the rules,” she explains her run in with Fin.

“I’m just sure they don’t understand where you’re coming from. They still don’t know you,” he reasons. 

“It’s been months, Mac. And they’re not trying to get to know me. It feels like they're keeping me at arms length,” a gust of wind rushes through her ginger hair as she crosses the street, a slight wind tunnel created by the massive skyscrapers of Manhattan. 

“Are you sure that you’re not also doing that? You tend to do that too,” she blinks slowly and it’s like he’s standing right in front of her; like they’ve had this conversation before - they have. 

“I gave them all my cell number on my first day. I’m carrying around pink sticky notes for god sake. I’m making it a point to be more friendly than I want to be!” she runs a hand through her hair and rounds the corner to the courthouse. “Okay, I’m walking into the courthouse. I have to go. I’ll talk to you soon; I love you Mac,” she rushes off the phone, but not before he says goodbye too.

[fromthemouthofkings]

Once Again, the Future

King stands in the convenience store deli aisle, frowning over two different sandwiches. They’re both good sandwiches. He continues to frown. Above him the fluorescent lights flicker, and the refrigerated cases give a quiet hum. In beat-up sneakers and a hoodie pulled down low over his eyes, and shooting furtive glances at the girl picking through the apple crate, he doesn’t exactly look the part. 

King woke up the night after a police officer shot his classmate point-blank in the back while the kid was running away. A wizard came to him in his dreams and told him that he had to do something about it. Yeah, seriously. (The man had a long, white beard and was wearing a star-patterned blue robe. That’s how he knew he was a wizard.)

He said, “Like what?” and the wizard said, “It’s almost time. Assemble the Round Table. Wake up.”

Before that, he was just Art. Now, he remembers bits and pieces of another life, an impossible life, memories that absolutely shouldn’t exist. He thinks he might be going crazy. Except that he recognizes them, the people from his dreams. His brother, Kay. His half-sister, Morgan. Gavin. Lance. And they seem to recognize him, too. Each time, he holds out a hand to them, and they take it, blinking, like his touch has reawakened something inside them.

They’ve been slowly filtering into his life again. (He recognizes them. He always recognizes them, even though they look different now. Their faces have changed, but the eyes are always the same.) 

Each time, he thinks about not doing it. About just turning around and walking out. Going it alone. He could leave his friends and family to live their ordinary lives in peace. But he doesn’t.

He’s gathered most of the Round Table now. He can see the ring of it, in his mind’s eye. Perce and Tristan, Lottie, Bev, Gareth, Pell, and Elaine. There are just a handful of empty spaces left. 

It’s almost time. He doesn’t need a wizard to tell him that. He can feel it. Whatever comes next—it’s about to begin.

The girl beside the apple crate is talking on her cellphone now. Her fluffy black hair piles softly over her shoulders. King lingers there, watching her. 

“Are you planning to buy that?”

Oh, great. He’s been standing here too long, and now the shopkeeper thinks he’s trying to steal something.

Lance gets up in the shopkeeper’s face. He always was Arthur’s most loyal defender. “He’s taking his time to think about it. What’s wrong? You got a problem?”

King pulls him back. “It’s fine. I’m getting this one.” Blindly he chooses the Italian sub and brings it up to the counter to pay.

Lance was the first to wake up. An accident. King saw his familiar face, that morning after, and booked it across a parking lot, a wire fence, and two busy streets to ask him what the fuck was going on.

Lance was playing basketball with some of his friends. He was the shortest among them, with gym shorts and a shaved head and shiny new Adidas. He got up in King’s face then, too, asking “Dude, what the fuck is your problem?” 

“Who are you?” King demanded, because he didn’t know, then, that the others wouldn’t remember him until he touched them. 

“Who the fuck are you?” Lance had countered. 

Acting on instinct, King grabbed his scrawny shoulders, and Lance’s face had gone slack with realization. He dropped to his knees right there in the middle of the basketball court. 

King doesn’t know if he’s ever done this before. He thinks he might have. Once, maybe twice, maybe dozens of times before. 

King pays for his sandwich, and he and Lance head out. As he’s pushing open the door—that’s when he sees it, glittering in the sun. The sword is sunk into the sidewalk, with the hilt sticking straight up out of the concrete. 

He doubles back. 

The girl is checking out behind him. As he approaches, she’s digging in her purse for change. 

The shopkeeper gives him a dirty look, but he ignores it. 

“Hey.”

She looks between him and Lance, a confused half-smile on her face. “Do I know you?”

“Not yet.” He holds out his hand. “I'm Arthur King.” 

“Uh, hi.” She giggles. “I’m Gwen.” 

He’d almost forgotten how young she used to be before she came to Camelot, how young they all used to be (he feels like he has lived a hundred lifetimes since then). She’s just an ordinary girl, for this brief moment, worried about boys and grades and getting into college and her mother.

Then she takes his hand, and she is queen.

[readingsquotes]

Now Paxton has shifted his mode of attack, enlisting the help of a Republican DA who “referred” a case to his office. I’m curious to know on what grounds, and whether there was any coordination at work. Paxton has now used that referral as a pretext to conduct raids on the homes and offices of Latino voting activists claiming “voter fraud.” Among the targets are Democratic leaders and election volunteers. They’ve had their cell phones, computers and documents seized, and ordinary citizens are now embroiled in costly criminal cases.

Make no mistake: The charges are political and are intended to intimidate and to suppress votes under the guise of “secure elections.” Latino civil rights groups have asked the Justice Department to intervene.

...

Paxton’s latest deplorable move

With the courts telling him he couldn’t pursue election fraud charges on his own, Paxton shifted gears. He enlisted the help of Republican District Attorney Audrey Gossett Louis in the 81st Judicial District in Texas. That includes Atascosa and Frio Counties, where some of the recent raids were conducted.

The New York Times published an account of some of the raids. Some raids were conducted on actual candidates running for office:

On Tuesday…officers raided the home of Cecilia Castellano, a Democrat running against Don McLaughlin, the former mayor of Uvalde, for a state House seat, taking her cellphone. Ms. Castellano described her experience as “very frightening” and said she still did not know why she was targeted. “This is all political,” she said.

Police also broke down a door and raided the home of Manuel Medina, a consultant for Castellano’s campaign. Medina is also chair of the Tejano Democrats, a group advocating for greater Hispanic representation in the Democratic Party.

Elderly residents were also targeted, including Lidia Martinez, an 87-year old retired educator in San Antonio:

Nine officers, seven of them men, some with guns in their holsters, then pushed open the door and marched past a living room wall decorated with crucifixes, she said. “I got scared,” she recalled in an interview on Sunday, speaking in both English and Spanish. “They told me, ‘We have a warrant to search your house.’ I said, ‘Why?’ I felt harassed.” Ms. Martinez said that the officers told her they came because she had filled out a report saying that older residents were not getting mail ballots. “Yes, I did,” she told them. For 35 years, Ms. Martinez has been a member of LULAC, the civil rights group, helping Latino residents stay engaged in politics. Much of her work has included instructing older residents and veterans on how to fill out voter registration cards. “I go to a lot of senior events; I explain to them what they have to do,” she said. “I’ve been involved in politics all of my life.”

Reactions from Latino elected leaders have been swift and, understandably, full of outrage. State Senator Roland Gutierrez could barely contain his anger, claiming “Crooked Ken Paxton” had targeted and terrorized seniors in his district.

[dandelionjack]

‘maebh arden’ name meaning — she who rules the forest…

why i ever let people tell me this was a bad episode? sure it’s not outstanding, and people dislike it in comparison because it’s surrounded by whoppers, but the premise itself is pretty cool! and i don’t mind children appearing as supporting characters, they’re not even that annoying. plus, there are some fantastic lines of dialogue here!

• “trees don’t communicate” “you don’t need cellphones to communicate — i haven’t texted my mum but i know she’s worried about me!”

• “a tree is a time machine. you plant an acorn in 1796, and in 2014 you’ve got a great big oak tree with a tiny little bit of 1796 tucked away inside” what a brilliant fucking idea and also 100% true

• “you find yourself in the woods with a rather compelling masculine figure” “any minute now we’ll come across a gingerbread house with a cannibal witch inside it” (note how twelve says masculine figure, not ‘man’. that’s because he’s a butch lesbian. slash aitch jay.) (interesting continuation of eleven’s fairytale theme! darker fairytales this time: hansel and gretel face a more serious threat than peter pan and wendy)

• “she’s lost someone — people who’ve lost someone, they’re always looking, always listening, always hoping, so they notice more, they hear more” explains why he’s like that then

• “stars implode, planets go cold. catastrophe is the metabolism of the universe” and “that’s how this planet grows. a series of catastrophes” everything eats and is eaten time is fed, etc. twelve would love adrianne lenker

• “i can save you” “i don’t want you to.” “what, you don’t want to live?” “of course i want to live, i—” “you what?” “don’t make me say it. doctor, i don’t want to be the last of my kind.” “then why did you bring us all here?” “because it’s the only way to get you back to the TARDIS. make you believe you’re saving someone. this time the human race is saving you. make it worthwhile.” “this is my world too. i walk your earth, i breathe your air.” “and on behalf of this world you’re very welcome. now go, save the next one.” SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP????

• “the trees are not your enemy, they’re your shield. they’ve been saving you since forever, protecting you from everything that space can throw at you.” aaaand we have this episode’s doctor foil. it’s the fucking forest itself

• “i am doctor idiot.”

• “you’ll all forget it ever happened” “we are not gonna forget an overnight forest!” “you forgot the last time. you’ll remember the fear, and you’ll put it into fairy stories. the human superpower: forgetting. if you remembered how things felt, you’d have stopped having wars and stopped having babies.”

sure, the sister bit didn’t make any sense. to be honest nothing to do with maebh’s psychic powers made any sense at all. but none of that matters because look at everything else!! also, they put that fucking tiger there just for the william blake reference. commitment to the bit

[sundaynightlive]

alley rose (kagehina)

DISCLAIMER: I only watched the first season of this show before I got all worked up and dropped it. This was born of frustration and a steadfast belief that Hinata and Kageyama are soulmates. It also might be really wrong in some of the context of the actual show because I wrote it in an emotional crisis. I hope yall enjoy it anyway :) OH, I spell Hinata’s name wrong sometimes and I’m really sorry if I didn’t catch it!!!!

(guys i’m back!)

The cool night air soothes over Kageyama’s slightly burnt skin as he sits on the curb outside the market, gazing up at the waning moon. If only he could see the stars—there’s too much light pollution in this area, and the brightest ones, the ones he can see, are not stars at all. They are just passing satellites, not the real thing.

What’s the difference? Maybe nothing—maybe both are just pretty lights in the sky, but the comparison does little to alleviate his sentimentality. For all the marvels of humanity, nothing could ever replicate a body like that—so useful, so consistent, so beautiful.

Stars are what makes us, you know? Without them, nothing on this planet would exist. Not him, not this street, not the rocks under his shoes or the shrubbery across the way—not even volleyball. Stars are element factories, living, burning, dying, all for the sake of keeping things moving.

And things keep moving. They move too fast.

“Brooding already, crappyama?”

Hinata plops down next to him and Kageyama’s surprised he doesn’t have an armful of candies or buns or something. The days are dwindling—there’s not much time left, now, before Hinata will find himself in a summer training camp with the Jackals and Kageyama will fly away to Tokyo, far from Shoyo and Karasuno and everything he thinks he knows. It’s taken him months to get comfortable here, and for what? Just to leave?

And just as surely as the planet spins, this life will end, and a new one will begin.

That stupid astronomy class is really screwing with him, isn’t it?

He folds his arms and rests them on his knees, feeling small. He doesn’t know how Hinata does it—a whole head shorter than him and he’s still the biggest, brightest thing in Kageyama’s universe. In Karasuno’s universe. Does it exhaust him? Or does he burn with as much enthusiasm as he plays?

“I don’t think I can do this,” he admits to the street, avoiding Hinata’s piercing gaze as it turns on him, bright headlights where there are no cars at all.

“Do what?”

Kageyama adjusts his chin on his arms.

“Leave.”

It hangs heavy in the air around them, just one, stupid word that threatens to water his eyes and spill his guts. Pretty soon Shoyou will only exist inside his memory and his cellphone, another shitty hunk of metal that could never replace the real thing. What is it with them—humans? How could they sit there and think that would ever be enough?

Hinata bumps Kageyama’s shoulder with his own.

“It’s not forever, you know?”

Kageyama huffs.

“Yeah, I know.”

“You know that, like…” Hinata trails off. It’s like the words are stuck in his throat or something—he’s gesturing with his hands but nothing is coming out. Kageyama sneaks a glance and finds him looking up towards the sky, brows furrowed, finding it.

“Talk much?”

“I’m not—I’m still…”

Hinata is struggling so much he doesn’t even register the biting remark.

“Here?”

“Yours,” Hinata corrects.

Kageyama’s breath hitches and after that he forgets how to manage it properly. To hear Hinata say it out loud is… well, it’s something. It’s really something. They’ve been doing this weird tip-toe around it—the stolen kisses and the sleepless nights—but now Hinata’s really said it. Out loud. That he’s his.

And it’s almost too little too late.

He nestles his chin back down on his arms.

“Do you mean you won’t…”

Move on is what he means to say, but the words just won’t come out. He can hear his heartbeat in his ears, thudding there against his chest as he desperately wants to know the answer to a question he can’t even ask. He wouldn’t blame Hinata if the answer is no—it’s a long time to save yourself for someone, someone who hasn’t even mustered the courage to call you his—

“I can’t imagine there will be anyone like you anywhere else in Japan—in the world, even,” Hinata admits, “You were made for me, right?”

Tears sting in Kageyama’s eyes—he can’t fucking take this.

Shoyou’s fingers wrap gingerly around the back of his throat to guide him down. He goes gratefully, body collapsing around the older boy as their mouths meet in an all too familiar embrace, perfectly flush and cosmic. Sho’s hands start fucking with his t-shirt and he knows the instant those knuckles brush up against his ribs that he is not made for Hinata Shoyou, but made of him. There’s no other reason an embrace like this should feel the way it does—like coming home, like being whole. Like the birth of a star… or maybe the death of one.

And maybe that’s stupid for a couple teenagers, but it being stupid doesn’t make it not true.

He kisses Hinata like it’s the last time because maybe it is—how many more moments will there be like this in the next few days? Any? It’s impossible to say. They’ve got team bondings and graduations and families to attend to. They’ve got phone calls to make and living arrangements to secure and lives to begin. This might be the end, right here, on this street, burning out like the light half-way up the hill that casts them both in darkness on their long walks (or rides) home.

When they part he is breathless and Hinata is panting, too. They keep their foreheads touching, their noses bumping into each other awkwardly as they keep as close as possible. He doesn’t want to move, ever. He wants the earth to stop spinning, the stars to stop burning, the time to stop passing.

Even just for an hour.

“Yama,” Hinata whispers.

“Stay with me,” he begs, “Come home with me. Just once.”

Hinata’s face slides beside his own and they are hugging, well and truly hugging.

“No.”

Kageyama buries his face in Hinata’s shoulder.

“Please.”

“Don’t make this harder than it has to be, Tobio.”

It’s already impossible.

He says nothing. He holds Hinata for as long as he’s allowed, until voices can be heard chattering just inside the market and they ease apart, unwilling to give away just how close they really are, lest other people pitying them make it that much worse. Hinata is called away by an excited Tadashi, and Kageyama swallows thickly as it comes back to him that stars don’t belong to anyone or anything, no matter what Shoyou claims.

What an idiot, anyway.

[tails89]

(So many sentences) Sunday

It's Sunday here, so I'm getting the ball rolling with some big brother Buck.

...

Turns out, asking your best friend to marry you is easier said than done.

The last time he’d asked someone to marry him, his dad had put a hand on his shoulder and told him to do the right thing. Shannon was pregnant and Eddie was at least half responsible, so they were married a month later.

They’d been young and terrified, but Eddie doesn’t regret his time with Shannon, not when it gave him Chris.

He wants to do it right this time, and it’s not just Buck he needs to consider. There are four of them in this family. Because that’s what they are. That’s how Eddie’s been thinking of them, even before Buck and Zac moved in two years ago.

In that time they’ve been raising two kids together. They’ve been to parent-teacher interviews, school field trips, and supervised birthday parties. They’ve nursed both kids (and each other) through injury and illness together, sitting for hours in the ER when Chris broke his arm and when Zac had appendicitis.

(keep reading under the cut)

Eddie spends the whole weekend stewing over it, trying to get Chris and Zac alone without Buck around to overhear. It’s not easy when they’re both either at work together or at home together.

A whole week passes before he gets the opportunity.

It’s Tuesday afternoon. Buck’s at work, having swapped a shift with Jackson so he could have the next day off to chaperone a field trip at Zac’s school. 

The sound of screeching children drowns out the low rumble of the engine as Eddie waits, windows rolled down, for the pick-up line to crawl forward.

It’s hot, and the AC is broken again, pushing through stagnant air that’s only marginally better than the warm breeze blowing in through the window.

Eddie wipes sweaty palms against his jeans and lets the truck roll forward to the front of the pick-up bay.

“Eddie!” Zac is as enthusiastic as ever as he throws the back door open and clambers into the back seat. He freezes halfway across the seats, leaning over into the front. “Where’s Buck?” he asks, peering around like his six-foot brother might magically materialise in the front seat.

“He’s at work, remember,” Eddie tells him, biting back a smile at the confused look on the ten-year-old’s face.

“Oh, yeah.” The confusion clears and Zac grins, scrambling into his seat. “Did you know you can tell the age of a mammoth by counting the rings on its tusks?”

“Uh, no?” Eddie blinks at the sudden conversation shift and turns to shoot Zac a fold smile. “Seatbelt.”

“Yeah, it’s like how you can count the rings on a tree,” Zac continues, reaching for his seat belt. “And there’s a mummified baby mammoth that we might get to see.”

“On the field trip?” Eddie asks, piecing the puzzle together. 

He’s not sure who’s more excited for the trip– Buck or Zac. Their kitchen table is currently buried under the pages and pages of notes and education resources Buck had printed off the museum’s website.

“Hey Dad?” The front passenger door swings open and Chris shoves his crutches into the footwell. “Can I go to Matt’s house after school tomorrow?”

“Not on a school night,” Eddie tells him, waiting for his son to put on his seatbelt. “Maybe on the weekend.”

“But Dad,” Chris starts, “he just got Tears of the Kingdom and he said I could play it.” 

“Aren’t you still grounded?” Zac asks from the back seat.

“No, Dad said I’m not anymore.”

“It’s still a school night,” Eddie says, flicking on the indication to pull away from the school. “And you have homework. Why don’t you wait until the weekend?” he suggests. “You could have a sleepover.”

“Yeah, okay.” Chris pulls his cellphone out of this bag and Eddie turns his attention back to the road, his fingers drumming against the steering wheel.

“Hey, so I was thinking we could stop at the beach before going home,” he says, his hands suddenly feeling sweaty again.

“Really?” Zac asks, his reflection in the mirror leans forward in his seat and Eddie can feel his feet swinging against the back of his chair. “Can we get ice cream?”

“I thought I had homework,” Chris says slowly, lowering his phone.

“I know, we won’t stay long. I just— there’s something I wanted to talk to you about,” Eddie says, glancing back up to the mirror. “Before we get home.”

Chris’ expression twists into something thoughtful. “Is it about Buck?” he asks. “Is that why you picked us up from school?”

“I pick you up from school all the time.”

“Yeah, with Buck,” Chris responds, his tone edging into suspicion. “Because you hate driving.”

“I don’t hate driving,” Eddie argues.

“But Buck drives all the time,” Zac pipes up, joining Chris in this gang up on Eddie hour. “You never drive.”

“Buck’s at work,” Eddie reminds them. “And yeah, fine. It is about Buck, but it’s also about you guys and me and—” he stops and forces himself to take a breath. “Let’s just get to the beach and then we can talk.”

“Wait, are we getting ice cream because it’s bad?” Chris asks, his voice wavering. “Did something bad happen?”

Eddie resists the urge to bang his head against the steering wheel. God, he’s already screwing this up. 

“It’s nothing bad,” he says instead and pulls into a parking spot, cutting the engine. “It’s good. I promise.” 

They all bundle out of the car and head over to the little van that sells soft serve and slushies, and Eddie buys both kids an ice cream, stuffing his pockets with napkins for the inevitable mess that will follow.

They walk down to the beach, Eddie carrying Chris’ ice cream as they pick their way across the sand to find a spot near the water.

“So,” Eddie starts, handing over the ice cream. He wipes his hands on his jeans again, the stickiness more to do with nerves than the dripping mess Chris is eagerly digging into. “I wanted to talk to both of you about me and Buck and—” he hesitates, bracing himself. “How would you guys feel if me and Buck got married?”

“You’re getting married?” Zac sits up on his knees, his eyes lighting up. 

Eddie laughs, handing over a napkin. “Well, I haven’t asked him yet,” he admits. “But I want to.” He glances across at Chris. “Only if both of you are okay with it.”

“Yes!” Zac cheers, the ice cream dripping down his hand forgotten in his excitement. 

“Chris?”

His son’s lips press together deep in thought. “If you and Buck get married, does that mean he’ll be my dad too?”

“If that’s something you want,” Eddie tells him, watching carefully for Chris’s reaction. 

A bright smile spreads across Chris’ face and he nods fervently. 

“Yeah, that would be cool.”

The last of Eddie’s anxiety fades.  “So, you’re happy if I ask him?”

“Yes!” Both kids nod and Zac says, “Me and Chris will be brothers.” Then he notices the ice cream running down his arm, soaking into his sleeve and hurries to lick it up.

“No we wouldn’t,” Chris tells him. “Not really, Buck isn’t your dad.” He finishes his ice cream. “I think you’d be my uncle.”

Zac’s smile falters. “But you’re older, and I don’t want to be your uncle.”

“You can be brothers,” Eddie tells him, handing over more napkins so they can start cleaning themselves up. “But you can’t say anything to Buck. It’s got to be a secret, just for a little while.”

“Okay.”

Nodding, Eddie lets out a long breath. The conversation had been easier than expected, though in hindsight it shouldn’t have been a surprise. Both boys love Buck as much as Eddie does.

Still, that’s step one done. Now all Eddie needs is a ring and the perfect moment. 

Easy.

Tagging (no pressure): @fairytales-and-folklore @rosieposiepuddingnpie @spruceoutoffive @bigfootsmom