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captainfantasticalright · 10 months ago

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In 1985, one of the only persons interested in an interview with a “new” writer called Terry Pratchett, after his publication of the Colour of Magic, was one Neil Gaiman. Neil Gaiman was writing for Space Voyager at the time. "The Colour of Pratchett" was the name given here:

It ran exactly one page inside the June/July issue of that year. The interview took place in a Chinese restaurant in London.

Here is Neil many years later holding that issue. You can see it here if you want. Warning: extremely emotional video.

Neil arrived wearing a grey homburg hat. “Sort of like the ones Humphrey Bogart wears in movies” he later wrote. (Before saying that in fact he did not look like him, but like someone wearing a grown-up’s hat). Terry Pratchett, photo courtesy of one @neil-gaiman, was in a Lenin-style leather cap and a harlequin-patterned pullover. At this point, Terry was already a hat person, although not that hat.

Terry offered Neil this : "An interview needn't last more than 15 minutes. A good quote for the beginning, a good quote for the end, and the rest you make up back at the office"*. (Terry Pratchett had worked many years in journalism by this point ).

But the meeting went terribly well. The two of them realized they had "the same sort of brains". So well indeed, that in 1985, Neil had shown Terry a file containing 5282 words, exploring a scenario in which Richmal Crompton's William Brown had somehow become the Antichrist. Was a collaboration in the cards as of that moment? Not really. But Terry found in Neil someone to whom he could send disks of work in progress and to whom he could pick up the phone sometimes when he hit a brick in the road of his writing.

Terry loved it and the concept stayed in his mind. A couple of years later, he rang Neil to ask him if he had done any more work on it. Neil had been busy with The Sandman, he had not really given it another thought. Terry said, "Well I know what happens next, so either you sell me the idea or we can write it together". **

On collaborating together:

Here is a video of Sir Terry saying why he chose to collaborate with Neil, another video talking about the technical difficulties of writing a book when the two of them where miles apart ,and some pages from Interzone Magazine Issue 207 published December 2006:

An Interview with Sir Terry Pratchett and his works- and Neil Gaiman, where he shortly addresses the process of writing Good Omens.

Terry shortly mentions,

“Neil doesn't rule out another book with me and he was good to write with...yep, it could happen. With anyone else? I don't know, but probably not.?”

Neil says,

"Terry took that initial 5,000 words of mine and ran it through the computer (because I’d lost the files in a computer crash) and made it the first 10,000 words, and it was definitely Good Omens at that point. Neither one thing nor the other, but a third thing.”

"I think Terry could do a very good impersonation of me if he needed to, and I could do a very good impersonation of him; so we knew the area of the Venn diagram in which we were working. But mostly the book found its own voice very quickly. It helped that we were both scarred by the William books when we were kids...”

And as you know, unless you’ve been living in Alpha Centauri, the rest is history. That was the beginning of what would become William the Antichrist and later would get the name Good Omens:The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch. (Title provided by Neil Gaiman and subtitle by Terry Pratchett).

More about the writing process:

Terry took the first 5,000 words and typed them into his word processor, and by the time he had finished they were the first 10,000 words. Terry had borrowed all the things about me that he thought were amusing, like my tendency back then to wear sunglasses even when it wasn't sunny, and given them, along with a vintage Bentley, to Crawleigh, who had now become Crowley. The Satanic Nurses were Satanic Nuns.

The book was under way.

We wrote the first draft in about nine weeks. Nine weeks of gloriously long phone calls, in which we would read each other what we'd written, and try to make the other one laugh. We'd plot, delightedly, and then hurry off the phone, determined to get to the next good bit before the other one could. We'd rewrite each other, footnote each other's pages, sometimes even footnote each other's footnotes. We would throw characters in, hand them off when we got stuck. We finished the book and decided we would only tell people a little about the writing process - we would tell them that Agnes Nutter was Terry's, and the Four Horsemen (and the Other Four Motorcyclists) were mine.

From the introduction to William the Antichrist:

“In the summer of 1987 several odd ideas came together: (..)I found myself imagining a book called William the Antichrist, in which a hapless demon was going to be responsible for swapping the wrong baby over, and the son of the US Ambassador would be completely undemonic, while William Brown would grow up to be the Antichrist, and the demon would need to stop him ending the world. The unfortunate demon, whom I called Crawleigh, because Crawley was a nearby town with an unfortunate name, would have to sort it all out as best he could.

It felt like a story with legs.

Terry took the 5,000 words, and rewrote them, calling me to tell me what he was doing and what he was planning to do. The biggest thing he was going to do, he told me, was split the hapless demon into two characters – a would-be-cool demon in dark glasses (which was, I think, Terry’s way of making fun of me, a never-actually- cool journalist in dark glasses) who had renamed himself Crowley, and a rare-book dealer and angel called Aziraphale, who would embody all the English awkwardness that either of us could conceive.”

William the Antichrist being a direct inspiration of the 1976 film The Omen. If the baby swap had just been a little bit messier and the kid had gone off somewhere else he would have grown up as somebody else. “And then there was a beat and I thought, I should write it, it will be called William the Antichrist” says Neil. ***

“The first draft of Good Omens was a William-book. It was absolutely in every way it could be a William book. It had Violet Elizabeth Bott, it had William and the Outlaws, it had Mr. Brown”.

Over time they realized that they would have more creative freedom if they in their own words filed off the serial numbers. William and the Outlaws becoming Adam and the Them.

But the spirit of Just William was never far away.

The joy for Neil was to construct “perfectly William sentences”. The one when Anathema tells Adam that she has lost the Book, and he tells her that he has written a book about a pirate who became a famous detective and it is 8 pages long… that’s “a William sentence”.

If you want to read more details about William The Antichrist, here are some slides I made.

Good Omens was also inspired by a particularly antisemitic moment in The Jew of Malta and John le Carre's spy novels. (Neil’s ask)

Then I was reading The Jew of Malta by Kit Marlowe, and it has a bit where the three (cartoonishly evil) Jews compare notes on all the well-poisoning and suchlike they’d done that day, and as a Jew who never quite gets his act together, it occurred to me that if I were the third Jew I’d just be apologizing for having failed to poison a well… And suddenly I had the opening of a book. It would be called William the Antichrist. And it would begin with three Demons in a graveyard… (x).

“When we finished the book we estimated that the words were 60% Terry’s and 40% mine, and the plot, such as it was, was entirely ours.” -Neil Gaiman

"Neil and I had known each other since early 1985. Doing it was our idea, not a publisher's deal." "I think this is an honest account of the process of writing Good Omens. It was fairly easy to keep track of because of the way we sent discs to one another, and because I was Keeper of the Official Master Copy I can say that I wrote a bit over two thirds of Good Omens. However, we were on the phone to each other every day, at least once. If you have an idea during a brainstorming session with another guy, whose idea is it? One guy goes and writes 2,000 words after thirty minutes on the phone, what exactly is the process that's happening? I did most of the physical writing because: 1) I had to. Neil had to keep Sandman going -- I could take time off from the DW; 2) One person has to be overall editor, and do all the stitching and filling and slicing and, as I've said before, it was me by agreement -- if it had been a graphic novel, it would have been Neil taking the chair for exactly the same reasons it was me for a novel; 3) I'm a selfish bastard and tried to write ahead to get to the good bits before Neil. Initially, I did most of Adam and the Them and Neil did most of the Four Horsemen, and everything else kind of got done by whoever -- by the end, large sections were being done by a composite creature called Terryandneil, whoever was actually hitting the keys. By agreement, I am allowed to say that Agnes Nutter, her life and death, was completely and utterly mine. And Neil proudly claims responsibility for the maggots. Neil's had a major influence on the opening scenes, me on the ending. In the end, it was this book done by two guys, who shared the money equally and did it for fun and wouldn't do it again for a big clock." "Yes, the maggot reversal was by me, with a gun to Neil's head (although he understood the reasons, it's just that he likes maggots). There couldn't be blood on Adam's hands, even blood spilled by third parties. No-one should die because he was alive." -("Terry Pratchett : His World”)

(Here are some slides of mine where I go into some other details concerning the origins of Good Omens).

Another wonderful insight with Rob Wilkins in "The Worlds of Terry Pratchett".

*Quote: from Terry Pratchett A Life With Footnotes by Rob Wilkins, but said by Terry of course.

** All the quotes, facts listed here : see above.

***all other quotes by Neil Gaiman from various interviews and asks I’ll link.

#good omens #neil gaiman #terry pratchett #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #good omens fun facts #the colour of magic #the colour of pratchett #space voyager magazine

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layaispunk · 1 month ago

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a warm escape | joel miller x reader

summary: joel comforts you when you're having a hard time back home during winter break.

pairing: joel miller x reader

warnings: age gap (25/35), mentions of smoking, mentions of a dysfunctional family & family conflict, fluff, pet names, mentions of reader having long hair

wc: 1.2k

note: This is a personal one, and its my first time writing in first person!!!! 🫶🏼 i hope u enjoy and let me know if u want a part two

The chilly december air bit into my cheeks, my heavy breathing coming out like smoke. My nose was red and stinging, but it wasn't like I could spend another second in that house. Not with the yelling. I had to go for a walk for the sake of my mental health. I needed air, space - anything to gather my thoughts, and I was too angry to journal.

As I turned the corner, Joel Miller, my neighbor, was sitting on his porch with a cigarette glowing faintly in hand. He noticed me before I could pretend that I hadn't seen him.

"Cold out," he said, his voice a low rumble that somehow felt warm compared to the freezing air.

I nodded, pulling my coat tighter.

"You walkin' or runnin'?" he asked, tilting his head towards my childhood house.

I blinked. "Bit of both."

I wanted to go sit next to him. I didn't want to talk about what happened, but there has always been something fatherly about him, almost as if his presence would instantly make you feel better.

I hesitated for a second, the cold biting at my hands as I stuffed them into my pockets.

Then, without saying a word, I walked up to his front porch, and sat next to him. Joel glanced at me, he wasn't surprised at all. Didn't make me feel like I was bothering him, or intruding. He just held the cigarette out in my direction without a word.

I took the cigarette from his hand, the warmth of it was comforting against my numb fingers. Raising it to my lips, I took a small puff, and handed it back to him. It's been a while since I smoked last, but I needed it.

As if reading my mind, he mumbles, "You can keep it." Joel shook his head. "You doin' alright, sweetheart?" he said, his voice low and calm.

I glanced at him then, properly, really looking at him. The soft glow of the porch highlighted the crow's feet at the corner of his eyes. His hair was ruffled, dark brown and shiny, almost making me want to run my hands through it.

He didn't say anything else, just leaned back slightly, waiting for me to take the cigarette again.

Lost in thought, I wasn't sure what I was doing here, sitting on Joel's porch. Or, even better, I wasn't sure what I was doing here, visiting my family for the holidays, when I know things would never change. The same fights, the same bitter words ... It was hard to ignore the ache in my chest.

Joel must have sensed the shift in me, the way my gaze had turned distant, like I was in a place he couldn't quite reach. He didn't push it. The quiet attention he gave me was enough.

At that moment, his presence was enough. Breaking the fog of my thoughts, he placed a hand on my thigh, the weight of it grounding me, pulling me back to the present moment.

His touch was demanding, firm - but not aggressive. He was letting me know he was there.

Joel's voice cut through the air again. "You want to come inside for a cup of coffee?" he asked, his gaze steady on me. I liked the way he looked at me. Like he was seeing me. It was the first time that evening that I felt like someone was actually hearing me, like all the noise in my head faded away.

I nodded, the idea of a warm cup of coffee sounding like exactly what I needed. "That would be nice" I replied softly, my voice coming out really small.

Joel put out his cigarette on the ground, stepping on it with a quick motion before rubbing his hands together to warm them. Then, without a word, he reached for mine, his fingers warm against the cold. He pulled me inside, and as soon as the door clicked shut behind us, he wrapped his arms around me in a warm embrace.

The moment his arms enveloped me, my brain went quiet - like the world had stopped spinning for just a second. It felt safe. Secure. And for the first time in what felt like forever, I didn’t have to think.

He pulled away, his hands still resting on my shoulders, eyes steady. "You can stay here for as long as you’d like," his voice was soft. "You know that, right? You know Sarah wouldn’t mind. I wouldn't mind."

I smiled softly at him, and nodded. "Thank you," I whispered.

As we made our way into the living room, I found myself missing the feel of his hand around mine. It was strange, an unusual emptiness that I couldn't quite understand.

The house was quiet. Sarah was probably out with her friends. It felt strange knowing we had the house to ourselves. Most of the time, Joel and I had always hung out in group settings before, rarely meeting one-on-one like this. He had always been the protective, friendly neighbor, the kind who made sure I was alright- while keeping a respectable distance, never pushing.

When I had told everyone I was moving to London for my masters degree, Joel was the one who went out of his way to make sure I had everything I needed. He cared more than my own family had, making sure I was prepared, asking if I needed anything before I left. And even after I’d moved, he’d called me a couple of times—just to check in, to see if I needed anything from back home, or if I needed help with my apartment.

It made me feel… tingly, in a way I couldn’t explain, like someone actually cared beyond the usual pleasantries. I often wondered how he felt about me. I was young - ten years younger than him - but he never treated me like a child.

Joel made two cups of coffee, one for him, and one for me. He grabbed the mugs and started heading towards the living room. He glanced over his shoulder when he realized I hadn't moved, giving me that familiar smile. "C'mon, darlin'."

As I followed him into the room, my eyes caught sight of the guitar tucked in the corner. I wondered if he played often, or if it was just there for the rare moments when he has some time to himself. The fire crackled in the fireplace facing us, casting a warm, golden glow on the room. It was so peaceful.

Joel turned on the TV with a casual motion, then grabbed a blanket from the back of the couch and draped it around me, the warmth settling over my shoulders as I sank into the comfort of his brown leather couch. It smelled like him. I wondered if he needed this company the same way I did. Knowing he was usually by himself, ever since Sarah grew up - spending more time with her friends, leaving him by himself most evenings.

I leaned against him, quietly, as we both drank our coffees. After a few minutes, I felt his fingers gently brush through my hair. At first, I didn't notice it, or maybe it just didn't register it as anything more than a casual touch. But then, it became more intentional - his fingers slowly running through the strands, almost like he was testing the waters, unsure of how I would react.

I didn't pull away. My body was trying to communicate that I didn't want him to stop. His touch was so soothing, and before long, my eyelids started to grow heavy. My eyes fluttered closed, and before I knew it, I was resting against him, my breathing slow, as I dozed off.

#joel miller #pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut #joel miller angst #joel miller fanfic #pedro pascal x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #marcus acacius

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quinloki · 4 months ago

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FuckNoWriMo

Here's my official Writing Challenge Post for anyone who wants to play along.

FuckNoWriMo will be held December 2024 for this year only, and will be held in March from 2025 on. Due to the terminology being used, this is probably an 18+ event, but I swore like a sailor at 12, and it's not like I can stop you from participating.

How to Participate:

Decide you want to write during the month of the event.

Write.

Bonus!

3. Post and share that you're writing, and what you're writing if you want \o/ 4. Tag your posts with #fnowrimo or #fucknowrimo

Want more structure? Certainly, allow me.

Pick one of the categories to run with and set that as your goal for the month:

A Word, if I May?: Write at least 31 words for the month.

Get That Shit Outlined: Write at least 1,000 words for the month. (33 words a day)

Give it the Gusto!: Write at least 5,000 words for the month. (162 words a day)

Hell Yeah, Write!: Write at least 10,000 words for the month. (323 words a day)

Words At Work: Write at least 20,000 words for the month. (646 words a day)

Punctuated: Write at least 35,000 words for the month. (1,130 words a day.)

Fuck It: Write at least 50,000 words for the month. (1,613 words a day)

Crazy 88 (it's a Kill Bill reference): Write at least 100,000 words for the month. (3,225 words a day)

Please note you may write anything:

An outline, several outlines, rough draft(s), poetry, journaling, lyrics, role-play with your friends, a campaign idea for a table top game, the script for a movie, show, visual novel, etc., notes to defend your dissertation, recipes, to-do lists - you get the point.

If you want to breakdown the granular concepts of an old historic text on index cards for shits and giggles, that counts too!

The event is less about the quality of the end result, and more about creating a habit to write daily. If you don't want to spend a lot of time fixing and editing a harried rough draft, then don't worry about the word count at all.

0 is a valid word count for the day. So is 1, or 10, or 100 or all those little numbers we often get discouraged seeing.

But set aside some time during the month, and write some fucking words, hell, write some words fucking. A real alphabet orgy. Be silly, weird, cringe, strange, gross, problematic, thematic - whatever \o/

Just write it yourself. I don't care if you dictate it, use the hunt and peck method, a pen, pencil, quill, or chisel.

But for the love of all that's holy -

No Generative AI

That's the only rule.

#quin muses #writing challenge #fucknowrimo #fnowrimo #december 2024 #march 2025

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moonieandi · 5 months ago

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snapshots pt. 4 | stanley pines x f!reader

summary: you and stanley unknowingly go on a date

warnings (TW): swearing, illusions of past abuse, alcohol consumption

tags: fluff, early relationship described, pining, slight angst, affection

notes: thank you all for the engagement! hope you enjoy <3

edit 8/27/24: hello! below i have linked an up to date masterlist of all the parts of this continuing series- hope you enjoy <3

word count: 3.9k

| masterlist | part v |

He had somehow managed to drag her out of the basement that day.

Of course, he had been down there assisting her in any way he could. A high school dropout only knows so much about mechanical engineering and quantum physics. Still, she seemed happy enough to dance around the chalkboard she (he) had dragged downstairs, bouncing off ideas with him contently listening, trying to piece back together complex wiring to get the ominous inverted triangle on the basement wall to whirl back to life.

She was even more spurred on when he actually engaged, not that he raised his hand like he was back in class (not that he ever remembered doing so when he was in class). She simply seemed grateful that he was attempting to learn anything to help her. To learn how to move this whole fucking thing along.

She dragged him to the basement quite often now that the shack was half shut down for the winter. He had managed to see a few rounds of locals and tourists through the Murder Hut from early October until Thanksgiving when snow began to fall. Then tourists dried up, and only the locals frequented now, so Stan reduced his hours and gave some more of his time to helping her downstairs during the day.

Every night was spent downstairs in the basement though, there hadn’t come a day since she stepped through that front door that they both didn’t wander down to the portal. Of course, this was usually then followed by convening upstairs in front of the T.V., Stanford’s journal passed between the two of them.

She had grown more frustrated as of late, raving about alien material and compatibility with human electronics. He did his best to understand, and he followed along very aptly. Always wanting to be an attentive sounding board, and even bouncing his own, albeit stupid, ideas.

Not that she ever made any indication of them being stupid, and not that she would ever stop him from voicing them.

Educationally, he felt it was the closest he’d ever gotten to an actual education. Said education being advanced quantum mechanics, but everyone had to start somewhere.

But now they were out for dinner because, after yesterday’s long night of pacing and chalkboard rants, he thought they deserved to go out on the meager earnings of yesterday’s Murder Hut tour.

That and it had been exactly a year since he first laid eyes on her. Not that he was gonna tell her that.

He could acknowledge that she may have noticed the amount of time that had past, hence her growing irritation with the lack of progress in getting Stanford back, and her growing hours spent in the dark of the basement. But she more than likely didn’t know of the significance of the exact date, or care, which he figured may be more likely. Especially with the anniversary of Ford’s disappearance having come and gone.

December had been hard for the both of them really, and some things had settled somewhat awkwardly between them from the previous week.

They both handled the anniversary slightly differently, her with general avoidance, head somehow buried deeper in that god-forsaken journal. He found some semblance of self-soothing in diving head first into holding a conversation with any customer that walked through the front door of the Murder Hut that day.

Sitting across from each other at the dinner table was hard that night, and for the first time ever, she poured copious amounts of wine into their mugs on a weeknight. The kitchen had been eerily quiet that night, the silence only broken by scrapes of plates and mumbled conversation.

He remembers being disgusted with his hands that evening. Remembers thinking about how he had shoved his brother away that day, how Ford had stumbled from one end of the room into the other just to disappear before his eyes. How his hands had reached for Stanford, calling for him. How the journal made its way back to his hands, but his brother hadn’t. His hand had been constantly grazing his shoulder that day, running along the raised scar, a sickening feeling sinking further into him throughout the day.

They had both shuffled around each other that night, and she had not said so much as good morning and goodnight in her mounting grief, it felt like. She had felt bad about how she handled that day but had felt even worse about failing Stan and Ford. She knew of the hope in Stan’s eyes that day when she had trampled in through the door of the shack, knew the relief he felt in her knowledge and presence. But a year had passed, and she could feel nothing but shame when she looked at him. She saw both twins that night while looking over at his hunched figure across the dinner table. She had said goodnight to Stan and Ford that night and had wandered upstairs wondering if she could wash the image from her eyes in the bathroom sink.

They had both returned to normal by Thursday but had grown more determined than ever before. So yeah, Stan figured a night out may be deserved.

She seemed happier now, sitting crisscross from him in the Greasy’s diner booth, elbows on the table as she reached over to draw along the corners of his paper placemat with the crayons she had swiped from some kid on the way in.

Something that made him chuckle for a little too long. He must be a bad influence. He had sticky fingers and she knew it. It now seemed to be a competition between the two of them, who could steal the most random of objects.

Her hand was out, shielding the drawing on his placemat as she switched between the meager 4 colors the shitty diner crayon pack supplied. He nudged her hand aside as she giggled.

“No! My masterpiece! Give me a second you grump.”

“It better be good, Picasso, you’re hoggin all the crayons.”

She handed over the red one, and he elected to reach across to her own paper placemat, beginning to draw his usual comic-book-style figures. One of the figures, oddly enough, began to look like her.

Her face was so close to her drawing she might as well have been kissing the table, when she shot up, smiling at Stan and looking for approval.

“Ta-Da!” She moved her hand, showing a mish-mash of red, blue, green, and purple.

He stared contemplatively, sitting back in his seat humming. In truth, he had no idea what he was looking at, but he would entertain giving an “expert” review.

“Hmmmmm, now the color selection may be controversial to some but I think the blue and the purple over here are just lovely. Truly an emotional piece mhm.” He nodded his head, pointing at the corner of colors.

“You have no idea what it is, do ya?”

“Not a clue Doc.”

She laughed, pointing to the blue and purple figures. “Okay so these are two llamas and they are totally in love. You can tell by the cool rainbow and shooting star I put by them.” She pointed at what he figured was the “rainbow and shooting star” between said “llamas”.

“And they are here in Gravity Falls because I drew a bunch of pine trees behind them!” She pointed to what he supposed was the foreground and the mess of green sprigs she had tried to draw.

He hummed again. “Very moving, very touching Doc.” He moved to wipe a fake tear, sniffling along with his act.

“I ain't much of an artist, am I Stan?” She laughed, finding humor in her lack of skill.

He gasped, fake clutching his pearls, an even faker mean expression on his face. “Don’t say that Doc! This is a masterpiece!”

She smirked. “Okay, then that will be 50 bucks for said masterpiece, pay up!” Hand held out to him she made to grab his placemat.

“Pretty steep price there kid, don’t get ahead of yourself now.” He conceded.

She smiled again. “I knew you thought it was shit.” Shaking her head at him she moved to look at his own drawing. “Now what's this?”

He smacked his hand palm side down on the corner image, a blush on his face. “Nothin’!”

She nudged his hand now, trying to lift his hand finger by finger. “No! I had to show you mine now fess up! What ya drawing?”

His hand clenched the corner of the paper placemat, ripping the picture of her from the corner of it and crumpling it up into his hand.

“Nope!”

“Yup!” She had risen up with her hands on the table, reaching for the corner paper now clutched above him in his fist. “Lemme see! Don’t do this Stan!” She giggled the entire time.

He panicked at her determination, fisting the paper into his mouth.

“Gross Stan!” She laughed. “What the fuck!”

He swallowed the paper, not thinking much of it. Saving himself the embarrassment of having to explain himself. He smiled across from her though, as she cracked up at his over exaggeration.

She looked just right, under the shitty diner lights. Car headlights flashing as they went by from time to time, he began to wonder how long she would stay. If she would linger around, once Ford had returned. Wondered what it was that note said, that she brought in with her that very first day she burst through their front door. She had put it away after that day, and he never really did get to see his brother’s usual cursive gracing the paper. What was it he had said, to get her of all people out here?

She was too good to linger, he figured, and Gravity Falls felt far too small for someone like her anyway. Even if the unknown waited past their doorstep, they both hadn’t made the move to wander into the woods in search of the creatures Ford had spoken about. Something they had both voiced before over dinner, their shared hesitation to walk too far from their doorstep. If it was just himself he reasoned he would have wandered into the woods looking for signs his brother had been there, he wasn’t fearful of the unknown, he had done plenty of other things that were far scarier than what waited in their backyard. But she was here, and he felt some semblance of duty to watch her back in particular. So they had made a pact to not wander off too far from the other, and they had stuck to that deal even when coming into town.

The townsfolk hadn’t seen Stan without her by his side since he trampled into the gas station in search of food that very first week. Surprisingly, not too many townsfolk approached her at all when they were out. If it was because he tended to glare at unknown men, she didn’t comment.

“Order up!”

Susan made her way back over to their booth, her hands full with two separate plates of short-stacks.

“For you Mr. Pines.” Settling one plate in front of Stan, Susan moved to place the other in front of her. “And the other for you Mrs. Pines!”

Brain short-circuiting, he freezes in his motion to grab his fork for his meal. His mouth began to move to correct Susan.

“Thanks!” She said across from him, a panicked look in her eyes. Face creeping up into a flush as she thanked the waitress.

Susan made her way away from the table after exchanging common pleasantries, all the while he sat in suspense.

Only after he could swear Susan was out of earshot did he lean into the table, chest close to his plate to whisper across at her.

“What the fuck was that?”

She looked beyond guilty, ringing her table napkin in her hands as her eyes flickered to every corner of the diner that didn’t contain him.

“I-I may have�� accidentally… at some point, perhaps…” She sighs, knowing the drive home will be silent, absent of the usual radio. At least it would be if they couldn’t make it through the mistake she had made all those months ago. “Accidentally, sorta, maybe, kinda, let Susan think that we were married?” Her voice rising in octave, her hands running along the rim of the diner table now.

He sits back, disbelief struck him. How the fuck had she managed that?

She answers his question unknowingly. “Okay, so for your birthday in June, remember how I begged you to come to town?” A nod. “Well, you know how I snuck off to Greasy's to get you some birthday pie?” Another nod, remembering how she had been so happy to have correctly guessed his favorite kind that night. He hadn’t even chastised her about the money she had spent on him.

She continues, hands now flying around, trying to flick the memory away. “Okay well, when I got the pie from Susan she had called my order and she called me Mrs. Pines. And I just…. froze up… and I didn’t know how to explain- well everything.” Her voice picks up speed. “I’m not good at lying, like I can do it, but she just caught me off guard. And we hadn’t discussed what we were gonna tell people- like what we were gonna tell people about us living together? And I thought of Ford and all that bullshit-“ she slumps further into the booth seat.

“And well, ya I just…I just didn’t correct her.”

Staring at him, expectantly now. Perhaps waiting for him to explode on her. But all he can manage to do is unravel his fork from his napkin and dig into his pancakes to finally take a bite. Chewing around it, he finally can ask something. He’s less likely to yell with his mouth full.

But the question dies on his lips. He feels more confused by the second, and then more frustrated also. The silence she figured would follow in the car seems to have raced ahead and sits between them at the table now. Her appetite diminishes by the second, and she no longer waits for some sign from Stan, some indication of acceptance. She didn’t figure there would be, she knew she had fucked up. Or at least, fucked up by not telling him about all this sooner, but she had more or less forgotten in between work and well… enjoying living alongside him. But perhaps the arrangement she had unknowingly shoved him into wasn’t something he was comfortable with, which was understandable. She hadn’t ever really believed herself marriage material, and more or less figured she was even less so in Stan’s eyes.

He knew she wasn’t the best liar, their old conversation concerning his name had rushed back to him. He hadn’t wanted there to be any lies between them, because he knew it would be difficult for her to upkeep them on top of everything else. That and he believed that their arrangement and reliance on one another wouldn’t work in the slightest if they were just spilling bold-faced lies back and forth to each other. But this arrangement she had stumbled headfirst into came as a surprise. Perhaps they should have rehearsed something to say to everyone who asked about them, but then again Susan didn’t really ask, she had just assumed that they were together, were married. He understood her stumbling into something like that, but he was struggling to find a way back out of it. Because he couldn’t allow her to live attached to him like this, didn’t want her to have to lie for their own comfort.

A lingering worry in the back of his mind, concerning his past. What if it all came rushing back? What if someone was out there looking for him? What if they hurt her?

He was far past frustrated, not at her though. At all the scrapping and clawing he had to do just to get here, to wind back up in the comfort of lies to survive. But he didn’t want her scraping by with him through this, he wanted her to live. At least before today, he believed she could leave him behind if it all fell apart under him. Always an escape plan somewhere in the back of his head, a way out, a door to reach in the dead of night. But she had shut it, and he didn’t know how he was gonna get her out of it now.

They finished dinner in silence, something that also rubbed him the wrong way. He was frustrated, and taking it out on her. She folded into an odd shape across from him, now looking dim in the diner light. It only served to frustrate him more.

Susan didn’t comment or come by to further disturb them through dinner, which was odd for the waitress. She liked to talk, and Stan knew that the south half of town would know about their silent dinner by Friday night.

Bill paid, they made their way back to Stan’s car. His coat caught up in her arms, he opened her door and shut it again after she entered the car without so much as a prompt.

He didn’t voice a single word until he made it to his seat, he had been too wound up concerning what she had said. That and he hadn’t wanted anyone else to hear their conversation. To know about the lie she had sown, tying them unknowingly together.

“So you’re tellin’ me that this town has thought that we’ve been a couple, no married, for about six months?” His hands tight against the steering wheel.

“Well no, because it was just Susan. Like, maybe just a few people know?” She reasoned.

He shakes his head, chuckling. That’s not how small towns like Gravity Falls worked. “Nah, she told everyone. People in this town are nosey Doc. Everyone’s gotta know by now.”

He adjusts himself in his seat again, reaching his hand out to the back of her seat, like he always does. She’s swallowed by his red coat, her hand meticulously passing the patch he had put across his right shoulder. Humming to fill the silence. He sighs.

“This is gonna be hard, Doc. I get why ya shrugged off the assumption Susan made, really I do, but that doesn’t change the fact ya didn’t tell me.” His hand rubs his eyes, frustration seeping off of him. How the fuck was he gonna pull this off?

“What do you mean?” She interrupts. “It won’t be that hard Stan, we can manage this, it won’t be too hard.” She shakes her head, trying to smooth over his frustration.

“How am I supposed to convince this whole fucking town you married some sorry-sap like me doll?” He points between them, an intensity to his eyes. “Now this will be the hardest con. Because why the fuck would you have married me, huh?” He shrugs, throwing his hands up.

Looking over his scarred shoulder, feeling regret seep through his bones when he sees her now. Sitting there, his winter coat hung off her shoulders, a look of disbelief on her face. An apology on her tongue, he could almost hear it now.

“Don’t.” He shakes his head. “What’d I tell ya Doc, don’t apologize to me.” He turns back to face her now, still shaking his head.

“No.” Anger blooming on her face. “No, why the fuck would you say that Stan. Why the fuck would you even think that.”

She was fuming, a look crossing her face he had never seen before. He had never seen her this thrown before, and he hadn’t the smallest inkling as to why her anger grew tenfold in the face of his statement.

“Because I ain’t no good and you damn well know it!” Voice raising, hackles rising.

“No!” She shakes her head, fingers fisted into his coat sleeves. “You are good, Stan! I don’t wanna hear that utter bullshit from you, don’t say that to me. I don’t believe it, not for a second.” Shaking her head, refusing to leave his gaze. "You're kind to me, you're considerate to me. You're good to me." She reasoned. But he was only ever really good to her if anything. Only kind in the face of her everything.

He thinks of his parents then, their image mirroring their own, but only for a moment. Arguments in front seats of cars and in front of televisions. How they would bend and snap back to each other, how he figured his father would snap and his mother would lie, to soothe him. She would lie, to see the end of the argument, to soothe frustration and heal hurt. But he figured it had more to do with his father's temper more than anything, more to do with raised voices and raised fists. But she was a terrible liar, his Doc, and he would swear to be less of a terrible grump.

He slumps in his seat, turning glassy eyes ahead of him.

“I just didn’t want you to have to lie for me, hun.” He hadn’t called her that in weeks, a flickering memory of that dream always made him flush at the enderment. But he enjoyed how she melted when he did call her that, so he’d concede his embarrassment for her.

“Stan, we can do this.” She slides closer, into the middle spot of the long bench, reaching her hand to his chin and pulling him into an earnest gaze. “Stan we can do anything, we will do anything, to get your brother home. And if it means lying like this then I'm prepared to do it.” She chuckles, humourlessly. “Especially because I’m the one who got us into this mess.”

She’s beautiful, he thinks, this close. Diner light seeping in through the dashboard window, her eyes looking deeper than he'd ever been allowed to notice. She's even more beautiful, as she giggles across from him, slipping a stolen diner spoon into his hand. Slipping her fingers around the stolen object and his fingers. He chuckles finally, he's a terrible influence. His heart settled into that familiar aching sickness, something he doesn't dismiss as much now. Now that it felt as familiar as her. There was a certain comfort he fell into when it came to the feeling and her now, one that made his heart race.

It wasn’t a mess though, what she had done, but it did solidify what he had to do next.

He had been thinking about it for a while, thinking about what sitting in one spot would bring to his, their, doorstep. Thought of the crimes he had left behind, skipping from state to state. It's what had kept him up late at night during those early summer months. What had made him linger around the door late some of those nights also, what if it all caught up to him? Would she be safe?

No, he figured now. Now that she had intrinsically tied herself to him, she was safest next to him. That she hadn't shut any door, that there was a way out, but only for the old him. So she wouldn’t be leaving, but that old part of him would have to. Protect her, them.

He sighs, ready for the conversation they would have to have. He would have to be more honest about himself, he warmed, kinda like her. But really only with her.

“There's something I gotta do then, hun.” He shuffles, leaning into her warm palm along his cheek. “I gotta die.”

She pales next to him.

#gravity falls #gravity falls fanfiction #gravity falls imagine #stanley pines #stan pines #grunkle stan #stanley pines x reader #stan pines x reader

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mystery-twin-mystery-bags · 2 months ago

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Flashback Friday to when Stan got his amazing and not-at-all-morally-complicated idea of Mr. Mystery's Mystery Twins Mystery Bag Mystery Day! Comic by andyiguess505 The Mystery Twin Mystery Bags project is a Gravity Falls-themed fundraiser for Gaza aid in which 100% of proceeds will be going towards the Sameer Project. If you’d like to learn more about us, please check our pinned FAQ! ***PREORDERS OPEN DECEMBER 1ST!***

Instagram, Twitter, Ko-Fi

Image Descriptions:

1: Two comic panels by andyiguess505. Stanford Pines from Gravity Falls is sitting at the desk in the basement, staring down confused and frustrated. On the desk in front of him is the Mystery Bag (a navy blue pouch with Mabel's star and Dipper's pine tree in the colors of Palestine's flag) and surrounding it are various pieces of Gravity Falls much, such as a print of the mystery Shack, a pin of Waddles, a Bill Cipher keychain, a six-finger hand keychain, a pin of Stan's fez, etc. His journal is opened up on the desk open to his entry titled: "Mystery Bag." 2: Four comic panels by andyiguess505. Stan Pines goes down into the basement to check on his brother, he says, "What'cha workin on, Sixer?" Ford replies, "This bag! Something is wrong with this whole thing…" He holds up a pin of a triangle, stating: "I mean, look at the contents! This disturbing pin (a Bill pin that says "I got possessed by Bill"), a Toby Determined sticker, an alternate version of Bill Cipher?" 3: Two comic panels by andyiguess505. Ford looks confused as he continues explaining to Stan, "Why would anyone want MERCHANDISE of Gravity Falls?" Stan widens his eyes at the mention of merchandise. He smiles in the second image, his eyes now money signs. The entire background now green with dollar signs as well. 4: Three comic panels by andyiguess505. Ford looks at his brother, "Stanley… what are you doing? Think of the moral implications…." as Stan reaches for the Mystery Bag off of the desk. He is now running with with it, dollar signs still in his eyes and a big smile. He yells, "I'M SELLING THIS!!!!" as Ford cries out, "STANLEY NO!!!"

#gravity falls #gaza relief #palestine #gaza aid #mystery twin mystery bag #mtmb #gaza fundraisers

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deepestdelulu · 2 months ago

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Masterlist

♡ Notes:

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♡ Daily life:

Little things I love from daily life

What to do after a long week

30 things to make life unforgettable

Evening routine ideas

Summer movie watch list

Lonely girl boredom cures

Weekly self-care checklist

30 things to fill your life with

Girlhood things that I love

More girlhood things that I love

December and Christmas essentials

My Christmas movie watch list

A cosy guide to a cosy December

Autumn bucket list

Girly comfort movies

The perfect November sunday

Little things to look forward this winter

Little things to upgrade your morning routine

Small things that changed my life

30 things to alone during Christmas

Winter bucket list

How to touch some grass

♡ Mindset:

Be the girl you dreamed of when you were young

Embrace your lonliness

Things to do before doing something stupid

How to brain dump like a pro

Energy givers Vs energy takers

Little things to be more charming

Little things to feel softer

Learning to love yourself

How to be more organised

10 tips for casual elegance

Thewizardliz sayings to remember and repeat

How to make someone feel loved

Morning affirmations

How I grow up my hair to hip length

8 rules for self-respect

A happier life in 2025

How to stop comparing yourself

Little things to feel more girly

How to be confident

Getting in touch with your feminine energy

Ins and outs for 2025

♡ Academics:

Start journaling with this simple questions

Romanticizing school

How to study like Rory Gilmore

How to study like Paris Geller

Essentials for a cosy study day

How to get out of a reading slump

5 classics for my girlies

dreamy quotes to live by

Becoming better student

Becoming more productive

How to master public speaking

♡ My girls:

How to compliment and be complimented

Love ya🪷

Be the girl you wanted to be

Winter stuff ❄️

🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

Love yaa

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kentnaturaltribrid · 24 days ago

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2025 coming your way!!! ⚜️

Happy NyE!

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huellitaa · 2 months ago

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pretty girl winter 🧁❄️🎀

ok so winter is my FAVOURITE season ever!! i am THE christmas girl of all time and i wna make this the most beautiful pink christmas ever! and i am so excited to spend it with my favourite people ever (my tumblr girls) ❄️🩷

🧁𓂃 ࣪˖ winter music ♡

sweet dreams, tomorrow x together

last christmas, ariana grande

sleigh ride, the ronettes

merry & happy, twice

beautiful christmas, red velvet / aespa

santa tell me, ariana grande

doughnut, twice

winter wonderland, beabadoobee

jingle bell rock, bobby helms / aespa

rocking around the christmas tree, brenda lee

let it snow! let it snow! let it snow!, dean martin

have yourself a merry little christmas, judy garland

christmas dreaming, laufey

one more sleep, leona lewis

cindy lou who, sabrina carpenter

(🎀🗒 note: i also have a playlist filled with lots of these songs and music here! ♡)

🎀𓂃 ࣪˖ winter beauty ♡

moisturiser moisturiser moisturiser. hand cream is also a must so they dont get cracked and dry, especially in the winter! ❄️🫶🏻🩷

i dont take cold showers in the winter bcuz i get ill easily , so i always take warm showers w 30 seconds of cold at the end 💭🎀💗

vanilla, cinnamon, musk, chocolate, pomegranate, cherry, pudding and sweet, rich scents 💭🐧🫶🏻

makeup in pale pink, white, soft gold, silver, lots of sparkles, dewy and light

red lip gloss / stick is an essential! 💭🎀

🎄𓂃 ࣪˖ winter fashion ♡

fluffy coats!!!!! i personally love my massive black trenchcoat its v cute

scarves, hats, gloves, etc ♡ 🎀🧸

leggings, tights, long socks, leg warmers, etc. (i esp love sheer tights!)💭

anything faux-fur lined

pink, silver, gold, and white ♡

boots, uggs, doc martens, clunky shoes!

🎀💭❄️ simple formula to a cute winter fit:

skirt -> tights -> long sleeves -> coat -> shoes

(long sleeves can be anything from turtleneck to jumper, tights can be leggings / long socks or whatever you like, and the same goes for shoes! this is an easily versatile idea, not one size fits all 🫶🏻)

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ winter movies ♡

muppet christmas carol!!!!!♡ my fav ever

the nightmare before christmas

beauty and the beast: the enchanted christmas

the miracle on 34th street

the grinch (live and animated)

jingle all the way

the polar express

home alone

mean girls (not a christmas film, but the jingle bell rock scene is iconic)

(🎀🗒 note: one thing i like to do is compile a list of all ur favourite shows and their christmas / winter episodes and just binge watch all of them!! 🩷🫶🏻🎄🧸)

🌨𓂃 ࣪˖ winter activities ♡

i love journalling and scrapbooking at any time of year, but i feel like it's always extra cosy in winter! playing some christmas music, cuddling up in pink pyjamas and journalling 🫶🏻🎀🩷

anything to do with baking and hot food is so cosy; gingerbread houses and hot chocolate, christmas cupcakes !! 🎄🫶🏻

i dont really know what category this falls into, but around christmas time i always love to make things about my family and friends; painting, decorating photos and hanging them up, journalling about them, and so on ! 💭💝❄️

make a list of all the people you're getting christmas presents for this year and compile a little bundle of things for them! 💗💭

learn about old winter tales and folklore, fron your culture or from others 🌨🎀

take up sewing, knitting, crocheting, etc. even if you've never done it before 🩷🧸

christmas market hopping!!!!!! one of my favourite things to do in winter is go out with my friends, go shopping and just browse the stalls bcuz theyre always so cute and cosy 🧁🐧💗

writing & making christmas cards ❄️🎀

unnecessary acts of kindness! this should go without saying for majority of the time, but i always love to go the extra mile during christmas to keep with the spirit and everything 🫶🏻🧸🎄

ice skating. obviously. i wanna go w my friends this year !!! 🎀⛸️🧁☃️

all my love, and happy december! 🎄🎀🫶🏻💗

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highblkfemsociety · 4 months ago

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Finishing Strong: A Guide to Ending the Year with Intention

Hello Beautiful,

As we enter the final quarter of the year, it’s time to reassess, realign, and step into our power. For the high-achieving woman, Q4 is the perfect opportunity to manifest abundance, success, and peace. The last stretch of the year can be incredibly transformative if you take the time to focus on intentional growth and clarity. This guide will help you make the most of it.

Vision Boarding: Your Visual Blueprint for Success

A vision board is more than just a collection of inspiring images— it’s a visual roadmap to your goals. As the year draws to a close, this tool can help you stay aligned with your deepest desires and prevent distractions from trends that may not serve your higher purpose.

Why Vision Boarding Works:

Clarifies intentions: Visualizing your goals helps solidify them in your mind.

Amplifies focus: It’s easier to stay on track when you can see success every day.

Boosts motivation: A visual reminder reignites passion when the journey gets tough.

Tracks progress: As you achieve goals, you can reflect on how far you’ve come.

Encourages self-reflection: It’s a tool for assessing what truly matters to you, even as life shifts.

How to Create an Inspiring Vision Board:

Set your intentions: Before you begin, ask yourself what you truly want to manifest in the final months of the year. Be specific. Is it financial abundance? Career growth? Deeper self-love?

Gather visuals: Find images, quotes, and affirmations that align with your intentions. These can come from magazines, online, or even personal photographs that symbolize your goals.

Display with purpose: Place your vision board somewhere you’ll see it daily. It could be your workspace, bedroom, or even your phone wallpaper—wherever it can regularly inspire you.

Review regularly: As the quarter progresses, check in with your board. Adjust it as needed, whether adding new goals or removing old ones.

Vision boarding is not just about aesthetics; it’s a way to stay grounded in your purpose and connected to your inner desires. This practice empowers you to remain authentic and committed to meaningful objectives, ensuring you don’t stray from your path as the year winds down.

Journaling for Clarity: Unlocking Your True Potential

Along with vision boarding, journaling is an essential practice for self-discovery and personal growth. It allows you to access your innermost thoughts, uncover desires, and identify areas where you need to pivot or push harder.

The Benefits of Journaling for Clarity:

Fosters self-awareness: Writing helps you process emotions and ideas, leading to deeper understanding.

Refines your objectives: Journaling can reveal what’s most important to you, helping to prioritize goals.

Uncovers hidden strengths: Often, we don’t recognize our capabilities until we reflect on them through writing.

Helps you strategize: By identifying potential obstacles, you can develop plans to overcome them.

Enhances focus and motivation: Regular journaling keeps your objectives clear, making it easier to stay disciplined.

Journaling Prompts for a Powerful Q4:

What do I want to achieve by the end of this year?

What obstacles have held me back in the past, and how can I overcome them?

What are my strengths, and how can I leverage them to reach my goals?

How do I want to feel when I look back on this year in December?

What am I grateful for right now, and how can I use that energy to propel me forward?

When you make journaling a part of your daily routine, you create space for clarity and creativity. This practice is especially powerful for manifesting success and growth because it fosters a mindset of continuous self-improvement and reflection.

Mindset Shifts: The Power of Affirmations and Mental Resets

The final quarter is not just about working toward your goals but also about transforming your mindset to support your journey. Affirmations and mental resets are two key strategies for doing this.

Why Mindset Matters:

Success isn’t just about hard work; it’s about believing you are worthy of the results. Affirmations are a daily tool to remind yourself of your power and potential. Whether you say them in front of a mirror or write them in your journal, affirmations help shift limiting beliefs into empowering ones.

Examples of Affirmations for a Powerful Q4:

I am deserving of all the abundance that is coming my way.

I am capable of achieving everything I set my mind to.

I am worthy of success, love, and happiness.

I trust the process and know that everything is unfolding for my highest good.

I release any doubts and embrace my power fully.

Daily mental resets can also help you stay grounded when challenges arise. These can be as simple as taking a few deep breaths, practicing meditation, or taking a short walk to clear your mind. By intentionally resetting, you can approach tasks with renewed energy and focus.

As the year draws to a close, the fourth quarter provides an opportunity for reflection, growth, and manifestation. Whether through vision boarding, journaling, or affirmations, reclaim your power and finish the year with intention.

How are you planning to end the year with intention? Share your goals and insights below!

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