#THIS IS SO FUNNY AND PAINFUL FOR ME TO WIRTE | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

imnotevenhere9 · 4 years ago

Note

If you're still doing Matchups, could I please get one for Lotr and The Hobbit please? Thanks so much!

🌱 She/They Nonbinary // Bisexual // Autistic and Chronically Ill with a bonus Anxiety Disorder // 18 years old at the moment

🌱 I know a lot of Home Remedies and Superstitions for like no reason. For instance, did you know that Raspberry Tea helps with Menstrual Pain, or that knocking on wood invokes the protection of the tree spirit and that’s why it’s said to give you luck? I don’t know why I know that, but I do.

🌱 Winning a fight is on my bucket list, but it has to be for a good reason. I’m not one to just pick fights for the sake of fighting, and I’m actually pretty conflict-averse, so I need to actually have a solid reason for throwing hands. But I’ve always wanted to do it for some reason.

🌱 I often get the inexplicable urge to bake something, so my loved ones just kinda end up with surprise brownies and zucchini bread at random. This habit has only worsened over Quarantine, of course.

🌱 I really like studying Witchcraft for some reason. The first spell I ever performed was a Healing Spell to help my friend who was sick with Crohn's Disease. Thirty minutes after performing the ritual, I got a text saying he felt a lot better and he was released from the hospital a couple days later, so I guess it must’ve worked. 😁

🌱 My love language is definitely gift giving. I’m pretty cheap, but I’m also an artist, so when push comes to shove I’ll just make something for someone when I like them. I pay very close attention to what people like because it gives me more ideas on how to interact with them. I’m essentially a large, flightless Crow. You were nice, so you get something shiny. But though I like giving gifts to others, I’m not very materialistic at all. I prefer to be practical when it comes to things, and I get very nervous when spending money.

🌱 I LOVE going outside and getting messy. Playing in the mud, getting soaked in the rain, I’m the type to go outside and come back home covered in dirt and twigs. It’s just really fun to me.

🌱My Dad’s a really good cook and I seem to have inherited that gene. He actually has me make dinner whenever we’re having eggs because I always cook them better than he does.

🌱 I’ve always wanted to be a really good gardener. My dream house is just covered in flowers and plants and such. I want to live in a Greenhouse, basically.

🌱 I have a habit of giggling to myself just by remembering something funny that happened, even if it was a couple years ago. I also laugh when I do something stupid, because I find my flaws and shortcomings funny for the most part. I love to laugh with people, but never at them.

🌱 You know the sort of “Girl Next Door” trope? That’s my type. Like the guy in the dorm just down the hall, or the girl in my neighborhood who I casually flirt with. I’m a sucker for cute little interactions like that, so it’s not too much of a surprise that I always fall for people like that. I never forget people I meet on the road, and often find myself hoping to meet up with them again someday.

🌱 I know way too much about Spirits and Fae. My favorite book is called ‘The Encyclopedia of Spirits’ and it shows you how to contact and interact with a ton of different deities and spirits, and I’m addicted to reading it. It’s the best.

🌱 I’m basically like a tiny, less-impressive Aragorn. I love travelling on foot, getting messy outside, I was kind of a Horse Girl as a kid ngl, I’ve always wanted to be a knight or king of some sort, chances are that I haven’t bathed in awhile, and I too would pine for a hot elf girl for literal years on end.

🌱 I always have to have some sort of weight on me to feel comfortable, because of my Autism. That usually takes the form of a large backpack stuffed with books and snacks, or a big jacket. However, my muscles are always pretty stiff and achy, so that does kinda backfire too.

🌱My closest friends say I give off “Dwobbit” vibes. That’s a ½ Dwarf and ½ Hobbit btw. I’m around 4’ 10” tall, I don’t shave, I love crafting and art, I live in the Mountains, I’m tomboyish but I also love gardening and can be a bit of a homebody, I love going barefoot, etc.

🌱 I really love History, Folklore, Mythology and Fairy Tales. My favorite is the Irish myth of Oisín in Tir Na Nog. Look it up if you don’t know it, it’s a fantastic story. But I also appreciate myths from all sorts of different cultures, like the myth of Annapurna in India or the tale of Princess Kaguya in Japan. Did you know that in Mesopotamian Mythology, Nonbinary People were said to be given the gift of prophecy and magic by the goddess Ishtar? And that a recurring figure in Slavic Folklore is the Snake King, who’s just a big ol’ snake with a doofy looking crown? I love it.

🌱 I’m an Aquarius, INFP and 4w5 if that means anything. For reference, characters who are also 4w5 INFPs include Lydia Deetz (Beetlejuice), Wirt (Otgw), Frankenstein’s Monster, Luna Lovegood (HP), Napstablook (Undertale), The Phantom of the Opera, and Celeste from Animal Crossing. That kinda tells you a lot about me, doesn’t it?

🌱 I’ve been growing my hair out, so it’s getting pretty long too. It’s always messy, and I both use a lot of conditioner and it naturally curls when wet, so I basically end up having a very fluffy mane with a lot of stray hairs and weird curls. Also, fun fact, I never learned how to braid because I’ve only really made friends with boys and I have very poor hand-eye coordination when it comes to such things. And my hair is so thin and fluffy that it’s impossible to tame anyways, so the best I can do is put it in a ponytail, since I’m basically incapable of doing anything fancier than that. When worst comes to worse, I have plenty of hats though.

🌱 I have really pale skin that’s always covered in moles, freckles (especially on my arms) and lots of scabs. It’s also getting warmer out, so chances are that I have a farmer’s tan. I have blue eyes and glasses.

🌱 I have a habit of seeing shadows move out of the corners of my eyes, frequently mistaking them for people or animals, but when I turn to look there’s nothing there. I’ve gotten my eyesight checked multiple times, but there’s nothing out of the ordinary, so it’s either a lack of sleep, or the Fae are getting antsy with me. Probably the former of course, but part of me would like to believe the

Oof, sorry that description was so long! I really hope you don't mind. Thanks so much in advance!!

A/n: I made it really wholesome (at least in my eyes), so I hope you like it! ^_^

Masterlist • Prompts • S/o match ups • Taglist

S/o from The Hobbit: Kili!

will take your hands and kiss all the moles and freckles when you two are alone

listens to you talking about Fairy Tales while hugging you from behind and plays with your hair

likes to fall asleep with you on his chest, so he can plent small kisses on your head

loves everything you bake, it doesn’t matter if he heard of it or not, he always gets so excited to try what you baked

gives the best massages. He will prepare a bubble bath, help you stretch, whatever makes your achy muscles hurt less

small peaks behind your shoulder when you're

S/o from LOTR: Arwen!

adores your hair. Like literally. She loves to braid them, brush them, run her fingers through them, basically everything you can think of

please share everything you know and learnes about Home Remedies and Superstitions. She loves listening to you talk, it doesn't matter if she already knows all of it, she just wants to listen to you talk about it

your random giggles? In her eyes the cutest thing ever. Just hearing you giggling brightens her day so much

will probably go outside and get messy with you, because she loves to see you happy

gets shy when you give her gifts, she loves them all so much tho

will get you different books about Witchcraft, so you can learn and practice more!

26 notes · View notes

overthegravityfalls · 4 years ago

Text

Bodies and Beasts

Hey, so, this fic I mentioned off-hand 5 years ago?

I finished it!

...Better late than never?

(please heed the warnings)

Rating: E Word count: 4,300 Pairing(s): Bipper/Beast!Wirt, Bill Cipher/The Beast Summary: "Those that enter shall become part of my forest. No matter how long it takes,” the Beast says, his eyes glowing with colour. “Oh, don’t worry, pal, this flesh-sack can spend an eternity here. You can have him. All I’m asking is to have a little fun with it first.” “Oh?” The Beast tilts his head, feeling the weight of his antlers as he does. Warnings: Main Character Death, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Gore, Cannibalism, Coerced Suicide, Child Death, Torture, Unhappy Ending, Self-Mutilation Read on AO3 here

There is a body in the woods. He discovers it on a day when the air is cold, despite the brightness of the sun. In another time, he would have receded into the deepest, darkest parts of his domain in such conditions, but he no longer needs to be so closely tied to the night and shadow; now, the plainness of day could serve him just as well.

The body reminds him of his own still-new form: made of flesh, bones, skin. Teenaged, brown-haired, slim. It is more similar to him than he realises at first.

It lies there motionless until he approaches it. When he leans down, its eyes open wide, and he can see through them that the being inside it is not one who belongs. The amalgam grins, and it continues to grin even as he wraps his hands around its neck and clenches hard. Such a body can usually be coerced into becoming a part of his forest, with muscle and intent being just as effective as the deceit and patience he was once limited to, but this one seems to warrant a different approach. It seems to enjoy the ministrations he is putting it through. Unconcerned, his fingers twitch and their grip loosens; he comes to a stand. After all, his lantern is still burning strong from that younger brother's oil, as little as his Edelwood tree had been; and he has, too, a heart within him which beats black around his body.

"Don't they teach you manners in this plane of existence?"

He stares at the being with white, narrowed orbs.

"As it happens, you're actually not that far off from what I want from you. But an introduction wouldn't hurt, pal! Here, look. Name: Bill Cipher, occupation: this kid's flesh sack. See how easy that was? Haven't even tried to strangle you yet!" It—he—rubs a hand across his neck and bares his teeth again in a facsimile of a smile.

"How did you come by that vessel and to my woods?"

'Bill Cipher,' as he calls himself, sits up, putting his weight on his forearms. He watches closely in case Cipher tries to do anything as unpredictable as his nature seems to be. "Oh, me and Pine Tree go way back. Introduced him to an awesome apocalypse before he and his family had to go and ruin everything." His voice lowers, and his face contorts into a scowl at those words, but, like lightening, it passes in an instant. He brings himself to his feet and dusts himself off, then meets his eyes. "Take it from me, do not wish on Shooting Stars, no matter what people tell you.

"Buuuut I'm getting sidetracked here. Point is, he was mine to control a few years ago, and after all those difficulties he and his family caused, I thought a little payback was in order. That annoying little pest took his time in dropping his guard--honestly, had more forms of protection than a Trojan factory! —but my waiting paid off. Eventually, he awakened my statue. Curiosity killed the cat, am I right? And so, here I am!" Cipher does a little flourish with his hands, and he notices that his white sleeves are stained heavily with red. “Now, you wanna introduce yourself, Beast boy?”

“…You know me. Therefore, you know that the Unknown is my domain. Those that enter shall become part of my forest. No matter how long it takes,” the Beast says, his eyes glowing with colour as he remembers the thrill of finding the brothers in his woods again. They had carried freezing water in their lungs ever since their fateful journey, and it had dragged them back to the forest from a pair of white-sheet beds. One to bear his weakened being, one to fuel his flickering soul. He blinks, his eyes white again.

“You got a bit of personality in there, huh? Yeah, yeah, I know you—got my mitts in all sorts of dimensions. The Unknown is a funny name for Purgatory, but, whatever. Just thought you could be polite about it, you know?”

He cares not for how much this being talks. Underneath all of the blabber, he wonders what he means to gain by coming here. If he thinks he can saunter out, he is mistaken. “You are… intriguing, but your vessel is still young enough; here, it will remain,” the Beast says, his voice soft.

“Oh, don’t worry, pal, this flesh-sack can spend an eternity here. He’s already suffered a punishing fate in his physical reality, but I am not satisfied with just making him kill himself and leaving all of those Pines heartbroken. You can have him. All I’m asking is to have a little fun with it first.”

“Oh?” the Beast says, tilting his head, feeling the weight of his antlers as he does.

“He’s in here. With me. Pine Tree. First time around, I kicked him out, but now, we’re roomies in this here head of teen angst. And hoo boy, he is not happy about it. See, I love pain, and I love how much squishy and breakable stuff is inside these gross human bodies. It’s hilarious! I had to rush through everything in the physical realm, but now…” Cipher grins so wide it looks like it could split his face in two. “I can take my time in torturing him. Care to explore with me, Beast?”

He follows along well enough with the story this demon tells, as strangely as he tells it, and his ideas stir something sadistic in him. He wonders, though, “Why would you simply dispose of the body when you could utilise it, Bill Cipher?” He himself enjoyed that shadow of consciousness within him and the empty, hollow sadness and regret it emitted. Wirt’s emotions had burned through his being initially, as heated as the fire of the lantern, but once the Edelwood branches were all ash, the boy gave himself fully to the Beast. There was nothing else he could do.

“Eugh, when I take over the world, it will be with my equilateral perfection. No, no, the slow torture and crash course in forestry will do just fine for Pine Tree—or should I say Pine-Edelwood Tree?”

“You should not.”

“You’re right, let’s just get on with it. Here, I have something that’ll help,” he says, reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out a knife coated with red.

The Beast plucks it from his hand, running his slim fingers along the flat steel. He taps on the point and a pinprick of black blood swells from his digit. “Yes, this will do nicely.”

“Why don’t I just lie back and think of England?” the demon says with a wink. He spreads his arms out like a cross and falls back, hitting the ground with an “oomph.” The Beast straddles him, taking his time to get comfortable, but Bill Cipher is impatient. He squirms and pulls at his shirt collar, making the button strain until the Beast carefully nicks the thread with the blade and sends the button flying.

First, he can cut his shirt open, then, he can cut his chest open.

Settled in place, the Beast works on revealing this Pine Tree’s milky skin. It is dotted with bruises and old scars here and there and looks unnaturally pale. His ribs are just about visible, his body skinny. Delicate.

“Get on with it, I’m vibrating in place here!” Bill Cipher urges.

He rests the blade on the centre of his chest, making Cipher still, and applies a bit of pressure to it. Blood oozes out and continues to do so as he pulls the knife down, past his ribs and across his stomach. It is only a shallow cut, surface-level damage. Enough to sting.

Cipher lets out a breath, sounding satisfied. The Beast repeats the motion horizontally, vertically, diagonally, until there are lacerations all over his chest.

“Mmm, this would pair perfectly with some lemon juice.”

The scarlet rivulets look too inviting to resist, and he leans down and licks his tongue up the red stripe. The bright, coppery taste delights his senses, and he collects more blood with his fingers and sucks them clean.

“Hey, think you missed a spot there,” Cipher says, his voice taking on a raspy tone. He props himself up and grabs the Beast’s face, swiping his tongue across a smudge of blood on his cheek. Cipher surprises him by twisting his face forward and invading his mouth, wrapping around his teeth and gums and all the inner spots he has missed. It is less of a kiss and more a cannibalistic instinct he cannot seem to help. The Beast allows it, closing his eyes and waiting for him to finish his exploration.

“Yum,” the amalgam simply states, then leans back without any further comment.

He notices he has spots on his cloak, though that is nothing compared to how many stains are on Cipher’s shirt, the contrast of red on white stark and harsh. Cipher decides to do away with it, taking the clothing off completely and discarding it besides him. The Beast can clearly see, now, the ugly gashes that had stained his sleeves, following his veins from his wrists down his forearms.

He wants to excavate this body.

The Beast takes a hold of Cipher’s hand, resting the knife where it had carved a path through skin in the physical realm. This time, though, he will take it deeper. He lets the knife feel its way down the path, then pushes, pushes, pushes, until bone scrapes against the blade. Cipher laughs dementedly, then screeches, then his voice takes on a different tone; it is agonised, raw and rough.

“Stop, stop, stop, PLEASE, I—AAAAAAAAH,” he yells. Cipher has lost control, and Pine Tree thrashes and fights against the Beast as he sobs and wails. He drops the knife, protecting himself against flailing attacks. Spittle and blood flies between them. Pine Tree finds his face and tries to dig his thumbs into the Beast’s eye sockets, but his hands tremble. His pain makes him uncoordinated. Cipher takes advantage of the unclarity; with a spasm, Pine Tree’s eyes roll into the back of his head and when his pupils appear again, they are elongated and unquestionably demonic.

“Woo! Did not anticipate how much he would push back from a little bit of torture like that. We are just getting started, pal,” Bill Cipher says casually.

The Beast has to pause for a moment, because he can feel his own storm inside him. Emotions that are not his own are flaring and twisting in his chest. He can tell Wirt yearns to save this poor creature, to bring himself a moment of redemption—but there is no redemption for him. Not after he failed to save his own brother. With this in his mind, the Beast lures him back to despair and resignation; he was so much easier to coax than that blasted brother of his, a boy good for nothing but firewood. It does not take long for his emotions to wither and dull. It is so comforting to feel nothing at all, is it not, Wirt?

There is no answer.

“Perhaps I should utilise the idea your host so kindly gave me,” the Beast murmurs, hovering his thumbs over Cipher’s pale, yellow eyes.

“Woah, woah, woah, I wanna see these innards, thank you very much. Shoo,” he says with the accompanying motion.

“Very well.”

“Why not reveal this Bleeding Heart’s bleeding heart instead?”

“Hmm…” the Beast considers, gazing at his chest. “Yes, that would do.”

He chooses not to pick up the knife again. He wants to do this himself.

With supernatural ability, the Beast buries his fingers into Pine Tree’s chest, buries into flesh and feeling around bone. He yanks back and rips him open. Skin and matter tear off in large sheets, Cipher’s cry piercing his eardrums, until there is revealed his ribcage and lungs holding a frantically beating heart hostage.

It is beautiful.

Even Bill Cipher needs time to adjust to this onslaught—he pants and lies there, presumably also keeping Pine Tree at bay more carefully this time around. With drool pooling from one side of his mouth, he says between gasps, “See, Pine Tree? Told you we were just getting started.”

The Beast drops his skin, leaving the amalgam spread open, a creature in the middle of a vivisection. Fluid coats his hands. The temptation makes him hunger. He cradles Cipher’s face with both palms flush against his cheeks, then drags them down over his neck, his grip tightening and then releasing. He wants to crush this human, but he has to remind himself to take it slowly. Cipher, now painted with shades of maroon and scarlet, licks his lips.

“So nice to find a kindred spirit. Just bros being bros, bonding over some good old-fashioned gore. Maybe I should come back here with Shooting Star sometime,” he contemplates.

“Let us not get ahead of ourselves. I want to appreciate what I have right here.” If he felt he could have another plaything, he really would crush this human all too soon.

“Oh, you’re so romantic, Beast,” Cipher says with a grin.

He traces each of his ribs, squeezes around the heart to feel the atriums and ventricles straining to keep this body alive. In the Unknown, it can work all it wants, beat until all the blood is drained and the skull is caved in and the body is in dozens of pieces that will never be reassembled. If it believes it needs to keep beating, it will.

Bill Cipher bites on his fist, like he needs to keep his thrill toned down to savour the intensity of the situation. Then, with a lightbulb moment, he remarks, “Apparently, the force needed to bite through a finger is the same as biting through a carrot.” Without waiting for a response, he sticks his little finger in his mouth and snaps his teeth around it. “Ow. Okay, that’s not true.”

The Beast picks up his knife again with his musical fingers, twirling it the same way Wirt would do in marching band. His body still has the instincts his mind has failed to overrun. “Allow me.”

“With pleasure!” Cipher agrees, stretching out to him like he is asking him to dance.

He takes his hand, caressing delicate skin, then lays it flat on the leafy ground, pushing down hard on his wrist. With his other hand, the Beast holds his knife with the tip squarely aimed at Cipher’s pinkie finger. In one swift movement, he drives it through air, body and into the soil, and holds fast against Cipher’s flailing to keep his hand in place. When he raises the weapon again, there is a neat severing right at the knuckle, the finger laying meekly as blood collects underneath it.

Bill Cipher tugs his arm back, and the Beast relinquishes his hold in order to allow the demon to appreciate his handiwork. It is strange how one small removal can so change the appearance of the extremity, the wrongness of the missing part highlighted by the bloody stump.

“Again! Again!” he cries, waving his other hand around.

The Beast grabs it with annoyance, and instead of placing it on the ground, digs his knife in between ring and pinkie and scores right in the middle. The gash in the connective flesh hangs open obscenely.

“Yeowch—not like that,” Cipher admonishes.

“Well, if you demonstrated some patience, maybe I would have a clearer understanding of your wishes,” the Beast replies tersely with a shake of his head.

“Oh, fine, fine, yes, take your time, just get the damn fingers off,” he says.

This time, the Beast acquiesces, repeating his earlier action, and Cipher yelps at the removal. He brings the cut-apart hand up to his mouth, placing his lips over the wound and sucking. Cipher moans weakly as the Beast looks at him from under half-hooded eyes.

The demon bites his lip. “Sexy.”

“Shall I continue to work?” he says once he pulls away, saliva and blood mixed on the abused hand.

“Yes, yes, yes, but just the ring fingers, alright? I still wanna be able to do some shit while we play. Just don’t ask for a pinkie promise or for my hand in marriage.”

“Duly noted.”

The Beast hacks away the two fingers with ease, then collects the four severed digits and contemplates them as he holds them.

“Feelin’ peckish?”

“I desire something…more substantial,” the Beast finally says, placing the digits back besides their tortured body.

“I hear thigh of Pine Tree is especially succulent,” he suggests with a leer.

White eyes meet pale yellow as he considers this, and then the Beast decides to cut up the trouser leg to reveal more flesh, from calves to thighs. The smell of viscera is heavy in the air, emanating from such an array of exposed organs, but when he presses his face against the amalgam’s leg, there is a faint scent of mechanical oil. He knows just a little more about Pine Tree’s life outside of the Unknown now, he supposes. Not that it matters anymore.

He bites down hard enough to pierce the skin with his canines, and then, wretchedly, demonically tears off flesh. His heart squirms with Wirt’s revulsion as he feasts, a visceral reaction from the usually placid boy to his monstrousness. It is pleasing to the Beast to use this human’s body to eat another. Even more so since he would not yearn to cannibalise if it were not for humans in the first place. Every time they told their stories, every time they believed him to be more and more malevolent, they transformed him; their beliefs became his truth. And, sometimes, the people of the Unknown called him another name—wendigo.

And a wendigo he would be.

With the heightened pleasure from the textured, delectable meat in his maw, he almost forgets to notice Cipher’s reaction at all. His eyes flicker open. He pulls away and swallows. Cipher has his hands—what is left of them—inside himself, squeezing his own intestines to deal with the pain as he gasps. The ropes of gore squirm around his fingers, coiled snakes twining around and around each other in the cavity.

“It hurts…real good…” he says weakly, the nasal quality of his voice reduced to a quiet whine. All of their machinations are starting to add up—or, rather, take away from him; with chunks taken out of his leg, body parts missing and a red pool underneath him, Bill Cipher is fading. In a broken voice, he whispers, “Please…let me go… I just…want to go back to my family…” before he passes out. He hopes Pine Tree will not be the one to wake up.

The Beast places his slack leg down and dabs his mouth and chin clean with his shirt sleeve. As he straightens up, he can see that there are Edelwood branches starting to grow around the amalgam, reaching up from the ground and tipped with autumnal leaves. As much as Bill Cipher wants to enjoy this, his body is beginning to give up. It is inevitable. There is only the forest, and there is only surrender.

The Beast lets him rest. He trails a finger down one of the branches by his hip, a drop of oil leaking out. Then, he picks up his lantern from the nearby spot he had placed it. As he stares into the flickering firelight, what had once been rendered an ember by the Woodsman, he feels a strange sense of gratitude to the brothers who had changed everything for him. Were it not for them, the Woodsman would have never disposed of the lantern, would have never allowed the Beast to reform and take control of his own soul again. When he decided to fuse himself with Wirt, and become Beast and Lantern-Bearer, he gained entirely new ways of growing his forest. He still remembers how it felt to wrap his arms around Gregory’s neck until the twitching stopped and the wood grew. Though some aspects of his human form were tiresome, he knows he would not go back to his old trypophobic self.

Bill Cipher stirs, groaning and lifting his head up. He blinks one eye, and then the other, and shakes himself awake. “Whew. Did I miss anything?”

He puts his lantern down and gestures to the Edelwood.

“Oh, man. Guess we’d better wrap up, huh?” He lifts his leg to inspect the damage. “Had your fill?”

The Beast puts his hand in his hair, rubbing the base of his antler as he considers. “For now. I will have your heart after we are through.”

“Good choice. So, what next?” he says, feeling up his stomach and ribcage like it is a salacious act.

After a moment, the Beast’s hands join his, appreciating the slippery, warm texture of his organs. The colour in his vision intensifies as he realises he can now anything to this body; he no longer needs to hold back. His hands ball up into fists so tight they shake as he says, “I want to break you.”

Cipher’s eyes widen. “Then break me, Beast.”

He spreads his fingers wide over Cipher’s ribs and locks his arms straight. Pushing down from his shoulders, he applies enough pressure to make the bones fracture, only showing small amounts of damage at first, but as he pushes harder, they crack and break apart completely. The splintered bones pierce Cipher’s lungs as the Beast’s breathing becomes heavy and feral.

“I c—I can feel—,” Cipher attempts to say before he starts to hack up blood, decorating his already-painted face even more. The hacking coughs become laughs, as much as he is able to laugh. With his lungs filling with fluid, even this chatterbox has to admit defeat. The Edelwood branches are growing before their eyes, working their way around his limbs and intruding into his body bit by bit.

The Beast looks at Cipher’s smile and, wanting to give him one last thrill, takes his drenched hand back and picks up the knife again.

Cipher gurgles as the Beast positions the tip of the blade at the corner of his lips, a rough hand grabbing his chin and forcing his face to the left. His eyes squint with delight, elongated pupils staring straight at the pink, yellow and blue glow in the Beast’s. The Beast curves the knife up as he slashes across his cheek, making Cipher’s face-splitting smile literal. Warm blood gushes over his fingers as he turns Cipher’s face to the right and finishes the look.

The gashes pull apart and squeeze together as the amalgam works his jaw. He attempts to say, “Why so—,” before he’s coughing up blood again.

The Beast gives him a rare smile. “Why, this is the first time I have been able to hear my own thoughts since you arrived here, Bill Cipher.”

Cipher’s eyebrows lower, and the Beast chuckles darkly as he moves his hand down to his neck and his knife over his heart. “Now, it is time for your host to become a part of my forest.”

At the instant he drives the weapon into that frenetically-beating heart, a golden spirit somersaults out of the broken body. Triangular, with one eye and a black top hat. Bill Cipher’s true form.

The Beast flickers his attention back to his task, and he twists and rips the heart free of the veins and arteries holding it in place, takes it off of the blade and holds it in his palm. It beats once, twice, before giving up the ghost and stilling.

“Oh, Pine Tree, it sure did take some time but boy, was it worth it!”

Pine Tree’s body looks so bereft, so utterly fragile. His skin is starkly pale now, and his head is tipped onto the ground, his eyes closed and his mouth ajar. His arms, encased in branches, lay with his cut wrists facing the sky. All of the movement in his chest—the writhing intestines, the inflating and deflating lungs, the beating heart—have come to a stop. White, fragmented ribs are threaded with earthy Edelwood. His shredded clothes lay soaked in his own blood around him, flicked with bits of flesh and cut-up parts. He looks… small, in death.

“Yes. The destination is all the more sweeter when the road is long, is it not?” the Beast says, touching his own skin with his fingertips.

Cipher floats over to put an arm around his shoulders. “Ab-so-lutely. And hey, you’ve been swell, such a great guy. Thanks for hooking me up with this awesome venue for torture! Love what you’re doing with all the trees and whatever. But I’d best be going, things to do, chaos to enact, you know the deal. And we’re both great with deals, aren’t we?”

The Beast inwardly sighs, then admits, “I would not object to having more dealings with you. I have not felt that kind of pleasure in many moons. Thank you. For now, I shall bid you farewell.”

Bill Cipher blinks—or winks—and spins out of his hold. “Have fun burning up this sad-sack and chomping on that ol’ ticker. See you on the flip side. The universe is a lie, buy gold, bye!” he shouts before flashing out of this existence.

The Beast pauses, raises the heart, murmurs to himself, “The loveliest lie of all,” and bites into it.

Wirt is just as drained and deadened as this boy lying in front of him; he cannot even feel disgust anymore. He cannot feel anything at all.

#Over the Garden Wall #gravity falls #bipper #beast!wirt #possessed!pinescone #the beast #bill cipher #dipper pines #fan fic #crossover #gore #bad end friends #who knows maybe one day I'll finish that sequel to Some Books Just Swallow You Whole #never say never :')

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midearthwritings · 4 years ago

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Could I please get an Lotr and The Hobbit Matchup, of you're still doing them? Thanks so much!

🌱 18 year old Woman // Bisexual // Autistic and Disabled with a bonus Anxiety Disorder

🌱 I have a litany of Chronic Illnesses including Autism, Generalized Anxiety Disorder, Depression, Dyscalculia (Dyslexia for Math), Scoliosis, Sleep Apnea, Asthma, a Growth Hormone Deficiency, Insomnia, and a very bad Overbite. I also have a condition where my right leg is physically longer than my left, which causes pain in my hip and right leg, as well as trouble walking. My usual symptoms include Fatigue, Back Pain, Executive Dysfunction (struggle to get tasks done), Difficulty breathing and talking, Very short stature, and difficulties with my balance. I also stim by pacing around in circles and talking to myself.

🌱 I have a serious fear of heights, partially because of my balance issues. It's so bad that I can't even use stairs without holding onto the railing.

🌱 Winning a fight is on my bucket list, but it has to be for a good reason. I’m not one to just pick fights for the sake of fighting, and I’m actually pretty conflict-averse due to trauma, so I need to actually have a solid reason for throwing hands. But I’ve always wanted to do it for some reason.

🌱 I’m an avid writer and am actually planning on publishing a book this summer!

🌱 I LOVE going outside and getting messy. Playing in the mud, getting soaked in the rain, I’m the type to go outside and come back home covered in dirt and twigs. It’s just really fun to me.

🌱 I've been told that I'm a very good cook, and I can bake pretty well too.

🌱 I’ve always wanted to be a really good gardener. My dream house is just covered in flowers and plants and such. I want to live in a Greenhouse, basically.

🌱 My closest friends say I give off “Dwobbit” vibes. That’s a ½ Dwarf and ½ Hobbit btw. I’m around 4’ 10” tall, I don’t shave, I love crafting and art, I live in the Mountains, I’m tomboyish but I also love gardening and can be a bit of a homebody, I love going barefoot, etc.

🌱 I’m an Aquarius, INFP and 4w5 if that means anything. For reference, characters who are also 4w5 INFPs include Lydia Deetz (Beetlejuice), Wirt (Otgw), Frankenstein’s Monster, Luna Lovegood (HP), Napstablook (Undertale), Erik The Phantom of the Opera, and Celeste from Animal Crossing. That kinda tells you a lot about me, doesn’t it?

🌱 I am naturally very shy and take awhile to open up to people. I also get flustered very easily and tend to avoid social interaction a lot. I’m a huge introvert, but I also really do love meeting interesting people, so I try to talk to them when I have the energy to.

🌱 I have very long Disheveled brown hair, that actually used to be blonde when I was little, so there’s a few lighter patches in there. It's essentially a fluffy mane at this point, but because of my poor hand-eye coordination I never learned how to braid it. I have really pale skin, with lots of moles, freckles and scabs. It’s also warmer out, so I almost certainly have a farmer’s tan. I have very light blue eyes and glasses.

Sorry the description is so long, I can't wait to see my results! Thanks so much, wishing you the best!!

Hey darling! First, wow that was really long! Sorry for taking so long to make it, as I mentioned before, I'm a fucking procrastinator.

Aragorn

For LOTR, I'm pairing you up with Aragorn.

Aragorn had probably loved you for a really really long time.

But he's extremely patient and careful with you, so it took him a while to confess his love.

When he did, it was kind of overwhelming for you, and you were really doubting the whole thing. But again, he was really patient with you.

Aragorn doesn't cover you in gifts to show his love. He shows it by remembering all those little things that make you you.

The two of you can spend hours telling stories and tales to the other. It's your favorite thing to do together.

He loves that you write and always ask to read your work. Although, he never pushes you and respects you when you refuse.

He knows about every single one of your illnesses and makes sure that you always have what you need.

Bilbo Baggins

For the Hobbit, I picked Bilbo.

Bilbo loves you deeply and truly. He thinks all the things that are annoying to others are what make you the most unique being he has ever met.

He thinks listening to you tell tales is more fascinating than reading.

Most of all, he loves when you read to him the stories that you have created.

Sometimes, your illnesses are a bit complicated for him to understand, but he does his best and listens to your needs.

His favorite thing to do with you is cooking. Sometimes, you will even compete over who is the best cook. Although he admitted more than once that you were.

When you are out gardening, he sits outside with you and watches you. He thinks it's beautiful how hard you work to make his garden look so gorgeous.

He is often insecure about losing you. He is scared that he won't be able to provide you with what you need, or won't be able to show you how much he loves you.

As for you, you fear that one day he might grow tired of you.

But the communication in your relationship is great and your insecurities are even washed away by promises of eternal love.

Again, sorry for the wait! I hope you liked it!

#max matchmaker #aragorn #bilbo baggins

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caffeinetoons · 5 years ago

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Name: Charles Woods

Nicknames: Charleston, Charlie

Voice: Wirt [Over The Garden Wall] www.youtube.com/watch?v=0Omrjw…

Species: Deer/Fox Hybrid Shapeshifter

Age: 16 and a half

Gender: Male

Personality: generous, determined, peaceful, caring, hard-working, creative, somewhat worrisome

Likes: music, playing his guitar, nature walks, painting, dancing, friends and family, reading, Maria smiling

Dislikes: people disrespecting his mum, his scarf getting dirty, strings on his guitar breaking (finds it annoying to fix), prejudice against Eboni

Family: Addison Woods [father], Camilla Woods [mother], Latika [foster grandmother], Autumn [uncle], Rusty [uncle], Andrew [cousin], Tina [cousin]

Charles has been known to be a calm-minded person, and one that never resorts to violence or anger when facing problems...except for that one time. He’s a very generous and friendly person towards many of his peers and teachers at the ZPA and is extremely talented when it comes to Music and Arts. His favourite instrument happens to be his guitar, which always seems to help express himself more and usually makes him feel a little bit more up-beat whenever he feels down. He is the son of Addison Woods and Camilla Woods.

Charles and his dad have an...ok relationship. It’s not like there’s been any bad blood between the two, they do sometimes talk to each other now and again, it’s just that his father is a little bit more distant. Though in the past they did spend more time with each other in the past, he’d always teach young Charles how to paint at either home or sometimes in the art wing of the ZPA. Though when Charles turned 12, his grandmother, Latika, was fighting of a serious disease that sadly ended up killing her one night in her sleep. This news devastated Addison instantly once he heard. Ever since then Addison hasn’t helped teach Charles more about painting, as him teaching was a constant reminder of her.

Charles cares deeply for his mother’s wellbeing just like his father, giving the two a protective mother-son relationship. His mother introduced him to the world of music and dance, and his be grateful for her talent ever since his first dance move, which happened to be the waltz. The reason why he’s worrisome of his mother, is because it was when he was 15 he learnt about his mother’s past...and the favours she did. It was told through some older and horrible kids at ZPA who were making fun of his mum, and calling her not so nice names...which in the first time cause Charles to actually start attacking the boys. In the end he was sent to the principal’s office with the boys and each were given a few detentions, and the principal calling Charle’s mum and dad about the fight. Camilla felt so guilty and ashamed when she had to explain to his son about the things that she did, that she ended up covering her face and bawling in tears. Charles was shocked at first, her barely knew what to say and was trying to process all of the information. But he saw that his mother was in great pain because of her reputation and did regret it, and has since then promised to make sure that no-one was to hurt her ever again.

Before her passing, Charles was close with his grandma, he was always sent to her house whenever Addison and Camilla had a Date Night. He’d bring his guitar and play it with Latika dancing to the music, and she danced beautifully as she always did. She also helped him out with painting whenever his father was too busy with work, and has since then treasured those memories of her wherever he goes.

Ever since they were in diapers, Charles’ best friend was Princess Eboni, daughter of Prince Damian. They’d be brought together for play dates and would enjoy watching Eboni pranking others around them and would help her once they were older with potion brewing for another one of her schemes. To this day they’re always there for each other.

Despite them being polar opposites, Charles happens to be friends with the hot-header dragon shapeshifter, Maria. A lot of people question why he’s friends with her, and it’s because Charles was taught to never judge a book by it’s cover, and has seen Maria as both a good person and a valued friend...and may have a crush on her. He does admire how intelligent and mature she is, Eboni can be a handful sometimes, and finds it easy to talk to her without any havoc happening, and he will admit...she’s pretty.

Charles enjoys both Andrew and Tina’s company. He adores little Tina and how sweet she is and is more than happy to collaborate with Andrew on songs and poems. He does of course try and invite him on nature walks in deer form, but it’s usual hard to get him away from doing work, or Andrew panicking over something bad happening to his little sister.

Him and Quinn have been theatre buddies since they met at the ZPA. He enjoys dancing and singing with her for Music Assignments and sees her as a great friends. He also finds it quite funny how she’s completely oblivious of Andrew’s feelings towards him when he clearly blushes a bright red every time she hugs him.

He absolutely despises Drake Starlena for three reasons: he picks on his cousin, he flirts with Quinn and he picks on his friend Maria! Every time he sees him tripping Andrew or comparing his intellect to Maria, even placing his IQ test on his face, he can’t help but feel the need to tackle him to the ground and knock some sense into him. However, Charles never resorts to violence and isn’t a snitch, but is always there to step in and talk down to Drake, even if means Drake might put up a fight with him. He also doesn’t really pay attention to Drake whenever he brags about how much of a better dancer, singer or instrument player, as he enjoys seeing how much it bothers him for not seeing him as a threat.

Charles/Maria/Eboni/Drake/Andrew -> Me

Addison/Camilla/Latika/Damian -> VivziePop

This Next Gen was adopted from BorbTheOne

#zoophobia #zoophobiafanart #fan child #fanart #fankid #nextgen #nextgeneration #vivziepop addison #vivziepop camilla #vivziepopfanart #vivziepop #i ship em

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pinesconessecrets · 6 years ago

Text

Pinescone Secret Santa

AN:

Pinescone Secret Santa for @oakwoodouroboros-fics-and-art on tumblr!

Takes place after Gravity Falls. Wirt and Greg have gone up to Gravity Falls with Dipper and his family, and while everyone else is out, Dipper and Wirt decide to do a little hiking on their own.

Wirt wiped the sweat from his forehead. It was winter up in Gravity Falls, and he and his brother were spending their holiday vacation with the Pines family. Everyone else was out of the Shack visiting with friends, and Dipper had wanted to take Wirt on a hike through the woods. It was pretty cold for a hike, and Wirt could take or leave the forest, given some of his past experiences. But Dipper’s eyes had shone with excitement, and he was so eager to show Wirt his favorite bits of Gravity Falls weirdness, that Wirt couldn’t help but say yes. So they’d bundled up in sweaters and gloves, packed some food, and set off into the forest.

That was five hours ago.

Wirt took off his gloves. Hiking had made him way too hot, and his feet were aching. “Dipper, if we are lost in the woods again…”

“We’re not lost!”

“We’ve been hiking for hours. In circles. See that tree?” He pointed. “That’s from twenty minutes ago. When I lost my sanity.”

Dipper stopped and looked around. They’d reached a small, flat clearing, still carpeted with grass even with the approaching winter. “Well…I guess this is as good a place as any to –”

Wirt dropped his backpack with a thud and collapsed to the ground.

“– stop. Er…yeah.”

Wirt rolled over onto his back and let his arms flop out to the sides. “I feel a sudden and profound kinship with Sisyphus, pushing his boulder time and again to the top of the hill, just as we circle endlessly in this eternal forest. I am weary in my very soul.”

Dipper cracked a grin. “Sorry, Wirt.”

Wirt waved a hand and then let it drop back to the grass with a sigh, closing his eyes. The chilled ground felt great through his sweater. Not to mention that his feet and legs were practically creaking with relief at the opportunity to rest. It sort of reminded him of when he and Greg slept in the woods in the unknown. Right now Greg was off doing who-knew-what with Dipper’s sister, Mabel. He wondered if Greg was as tired as Wirt felt right now.

There came a scratching noise.

He cracked an eye open. Dipper was scribbling furiously in his journal.

“Oh, please tell me there’s not some magic bug thing in my hair.”

“Hang on one second, don’t move.”

Wirt swallowed. “There is, isn’t there? Oh man, if my hair turns blue like last time I –”

“Tada!”

Dipper held up his journal. He’d drawn a sketch of Wirt laying in the clearing, completely relaxed in the downy grass, an expression of perfect peace on his face.

Wirt blushed. “That is so unfairly cute.”

“Yes, you are!” Dipper said cheerfully, snapping the book shut. “I’ve gotta make a record of every amazing thing I see. And that includes a certain future Poet Laureate.”

“Don’t forget his muse, with the blessing of the heavens on his brow and the map to my heart in his hands.”

“Oh now who’s being unfairly cute?”

Dipper grinned and lay down on the grass next to Wirt, his head pillowed on Wirt’s arm. Wirt scooted him closer and turned, so Dipper’s hair brushed against his cheek like butterfly wings. Dipper drew one arm around Wirt and they lay there, just breathing, the quiet noises of the forest drifting over them, the cool air kissing their cheeks. He was already cooling off, but Dipper’s body radiated warmth and comfort. He sighed deeply. Maybe hiking for hours wasn’t so bad after all.

Suddenly Dipper’s radio crackled with static.

“Dipper? Are you there?”

Dipper groaned and reached for the radio. “Yeah, Mabel, I’m here.”

“You’re back home by now, right?”

“No, but we’re close.” Wirt swatted him playfully and Dipper smothered a laugh. “Sort of close. Why?”

“So HAHA FUNNY STORY! You know that magic weather druid-rock we found last Spring and weren’t supposed to touch?”

“You didn’t.”

A shadow fell over them and they looked up. A massive wall of clouds was slowly moving across the sky, dark and foreboding. The air temperature started dropping so fast the hairs on Wirt’s arms stood straight up.

There was a buzz of static. “– to show Grunkle Ford!” Mabel said. “We’re all up at the Manor, so we’re inside and we’re safe – Greg too – only we might have caused a –” A burst of static cut her off. The storm was so vast and heavy Wirt’s ears actually popped from the pressure, and he could feel the weight of it on his chest. Thunder boomed and the clouds unleashed a blinding fury of snow and ice.

“BLIZZARD!”

They jumped to their feet and ran. Wind struck their backs and thin shards of ice cut at their hands and faces. And they were just at the edge of it!

“Dipper! Where’s the Shack?!”

“Dead ahead, I think!”

“You think?!” Wirt yelled. “This is it! We’re gonna get caught in a snowstorm and freeze to death!”

“Less talking, more AAH!”

They braked hard as a tree in front of them gave a mighty CRACK and one of the upper limbs began to fall. Dipper slammed into Wirt’s side, knocking them to the right. He hit the ground with a thud and heard Dipper give a sharp cry.

“Dipper!”

“I’m fine!”

He wiggled out from the edge of the branch, his backpack slung on his arm. Wirt pulled him out the rest of the way, squinting as snowflakes sliced at his eyes and face. The snow was thickening and the wind was now so strong Wirt was crouching to keep from being swept away.

“THE SHACK!” he yelled over the gale.

Dipper started to point and gasped, holding his arm. Wirt grabbed his boyfriend around the shoulders and ran, lengthening his stride. The wind screamed in his ear. He glanced back and saw nothing but a wall of pure white, swallowing whole trees, eating up the ground like a rabid beast. He ran faster but the storm was practically on top of them. They’d be swallowed up in seconds. His heart pounded.

Oh man oh man we’re gonna die we’re gonna –

Dipper yanked his hair and yelled. The Shack was ahead of them, slightly to the left, its dark peak already half-covered in white. He ran toward it. His legs ached and his lungs screamed and the snow drove icy fingers of death down his back –

They reached the door and Dipper hurled himself at it, forcing it open. Wirt tripped and crashed to the floor, dragging Dipper down with him. Dipper flung out a leg and kicked the door shut just as the blizzard reached the Shack, pounding furiously at the door, shaking the windows, whistling angrily from somewhere in the rafters like a very ticked-off tea kettle. The already-dark cabin slipped fully into the shadows as the windows darkened, so completely full of snow it was like someone had pressed pillows to every pane. The rafters creaked and groaned, and the shingles rattled, but the bones of the house stood firm.

For a second Wirt and Dipper lay on the floor, limbs tangled together, both of them breathing hard. Then Wirt dropped to the floor and started laughing.

“We made it!” he gasped. “I can’t believe we made it!”

Dipper went down on his elbow, half-smiling. “Yeah! Funny weather though! Oregon, am I right?”

Wirt laughed harder. It wasn’t even that funny, and at the same time he’d never heard a funnier joke in his life. The wind moaned against the wall and Wirt couldn’t catch his breath for laughing. Tears leaked out of his eyes.

“Geez, Wirt,” Dipper chuckled, raising a hand to push his damp bangs out of his eyes. Instantly his face turned white and he dropped his hand.

“Wh-what?” Wirt gasped, glancing up at Dipper. “You – okay?”

Dipper didn’t answer, just sat up with a low hiss, one arm pressing the other to his side. “I think the branch got me.”

Wirt sat up too, still breathing hard, and touched his boyfriend’s shoulder. Dipper turned obligingly.

Wirt held back a hiss of his own. The tree limb must’ve hit Dipper with its outermost branches – the ones that weren’t as heavy, but were even more flexible. It had cut across Dipper’s back like a whip, slicing a jagged line in Dipper’s sweater and leaving a nasty welt. Wirt very carefully pulled the fabric away from the skin and saw bruises already darkening along the line.

“It really stings,” Dipper said through gritted teeth. His teeth were starting to chatter, too. They were both nearly soaked from the snow, and Wirt’s socks were soggy with melted ice. He shivered.

One of his fingertips brushed Dipper’s wound and he jolted.

“S-sorry,” Wirt stammered. “Can you walk? If you g-get us dry clothes, I’ll m-m-make something to w-warm us up.”

“We should g-get these off, first,” Dipper said, motioning to their clothes. “At least our shirts and socks.”

Wirt was really freezing now, and his fingers felt like frozen fish sticks, but he grudgingly complied. When he took off his socks his feet were blue – actually blue, like a cold winter lake. But the worst part was taking off Dipper’s sweater. Wirt had to help him, and even then Dipper’s face was tight with pain.

They left their clothes by the door and stumbled down the hall together. Dipper and Mabel were staying in the attic for the summer, but the stairs might be dangerous with their lack of coordination, so they went to the study where Wirt was staying and grabbed two pairs of pants and some of his thickest sweaters. Dipper stepped into the hallway to get changed.

If Wirt thought his legs had ached before, it was nothing compared to how they felt now. They prickled and ached and were somehow weirdly hot even though he was freezing. And they seem to weigh about 200 pounds each. Changing into sweatpants left him shaking with exhaustion. When he was done he leaned heavily on the dresser, debating the merits of collapsing face-first on the floor.

Dipper knocked at the door. “Wirt?”

“Almost done.” The door looked so far away.

“Hurry. We need to start a fire and get draaagh…”

Wirt forced his legs to the door and opened it. Dipper had braced himself against the wall, holding his shoulder. He grinned weakly.

“Th-thought that’d get you.”

Wirt winced and pulled Dipper towards him, so he was leaning on Wirt instead of the wall. They moved stiffly back to the front of the Shack and into the parlor, the wind whistling bitterly in the cracks of the Shack.

Dipper’s friend (Soup? Stew?) had turned the parlor into a second living room, with two big couches that folded out into beds for the old uncle guys. It had a big rug, a coffee table, some book cases, and most importantly, a brick fire place complete with a stack of wood three feet high.

Dipper let go of Wirt and reached for the lighter and the newspaper on the coffee table. Wirt knelt on the brick and began loading log after log into the hearth.

“Easy,” Dipper said, with a small laugh. “If you pile on t-too many the f-f-fire won’t start.”

“I will never b-be warm ag-g-gain,” Wirt chattered. “Not unless we s-s-set the whole Sh-Shack on fire.”

“Let’s p-put a pin in that.”

Dipper pulled sheets of paper from the newspaper and threw them on the logs, then clicked the lighter. Wirt forced himself to stand up, staggered over to a couch, and grabbed the thick blankets that had been piled on top. He came back and sat down, pulling the blankets around them as tight as he could without scraping Dipper’s back.

“We should really di-disinfect that,” Wirt muttered.

“Mmm.”

The storm was still pounding outside. They huddled together and sat so close to the fire their knees practically touched the metal grate. For a second Wirt wondered whether Greg was okay (haha, whether), but then he remembered Mabel had said they were all safe and sound.

A sudden breath of cold air touched Wirt’s neck and he shivered, scooting even closer to Dipper. His boyfriend dropped his head on Wirt’s shoulder with a sigh. Wirt’s eyelids drooped. The flames flickered higher, warming his numb face, making his cheeks tingle. He was so heavy, and so, so tired…

Dipper woke up slowly. His first thought was that he and Wirt had fallen asleep in the clearing, and his back sort of hurt because he’d laid down on some rocks. Then the full memory of the blizzard slammed into his brain and the pain on his back roared to life.

“Ow ow ow owwww,” he muttered. He opened his eyes.

He and Wirt had fallen asleep in front of the fire. The storm was still going outside, and the fire had burned low. But he was wrapped up in thick warm blankets, and Wirt had somehow tipped over and sprawled across Dipper’s lap like blanket, snoring and all. Dipper smiled and gently brushed Wirt’s bangs from his face.

Wirt gave a snort and opened his eyes, glancing up at Dipper.

“Are we dead?” Wirt asked. “Because all of my muscles hurt like we’re dead.”

Dipper grinned. “If we are, then we must be in heaven…because I think I see an angel.”

Wirt groaned. “Well you poetry is clearly dead…”

Dipper laughed and then winced as the skin on his back pulled. Wirt groaned and struggled to sit up, wiping at his face with his hand.

“Alright, okay, I’m awake. Can you turn so I can see your back?”

He did, letting the blanket fall away. Wirt pulled up his shirt, carefully avoiding touching it.

“Okay, well the good news is, I don’t see broken skin. The bad news is that all the skin I do see involves all the colors of the rainbow.”

“Hurts like it does,” Dipper admitted. “Honestly it’s a good thing Mabel does such good knitting, or that thing probably would’ve sliced me way worse.”

He held back a hiss when Wirt let the shirt fall down. Wirt tucked the blanket carefully around Dipper again and then leaned forward to add more wood to the fire.

“Okay,” Wirt said, standing up. “I’m going to get some ice for that –”

Dipper groaned. “Not more ice.”

“– and you are going to sit there like a good little mollusk until I get back.”

“Can you at least bring snacks?”

“Yes, but only for me.”

Dipper let out a smothered snort. Wirt moved away, yawning, and in a minute he was out of sight.

Dipper looked around. It was warm, but it was also pretty dark in here, since the only illumination was the fire. He got to his feet slowly, using the coffee table for balance. His joints popped and cracked and he suddenly had a deep sympathy for his Grunkle Stan’s arthritis. He stepped carefully to the standing lamp and flicked on the light. Instantly the whole room looked much brighter, warmer, and safer, in spite of the snow still hurling itself against the glass. He looked around again. Now if only he could find…aha! Right by Great-Uncle Ford’s sofa was a fresh pad of paper and a pen. Perfect.

When Wirt came back he had again situated himself in front of the fire, hiding what he’d done under his blanket.

“Oh good!” he said, spotting the tray in Wirt’s hands. “You brought food! You are my favorite person ever I am so hungry.”

Wirt raised an eyebrow. “You turned on the light? I told you not to get up. Now I get to eat the snacks all by myself.”

“Oh c'moooon,” Dipper groaned. He looked at Wirt with his best puppy dog eyes. “Please? I’m so hungry I’m dying…”

“Oh, fine,” Wirt mumbled, blushing bright red. “But ice pack first. Put it on your back and then hold it there by leaning against the coffee table.”

Wirt handed him the ice and Dipper complied, settling the blanket carefully around him. Wirt set down the tray and they made short work of the pretzels, Smoreos, and instant hot chocolate loaded with marshmallows.

“How long d'you think the storm’s gonna last?” Wirt said minutes, nodding toward the window, a Smoreo in his hand.

Dipper shrugged. “Probably until my Great-Uncle Ford can figure out a way to turn off the magic rock. So not long. I don’t know how long we were asleep, though, so who knows how long it’s been since it started.”

“I know.” Wirt yawned hugely. “Feels like we napped for days and I’m still tired.”

He grinned. “That’ll happen when you run like crazy from a blizzard after five hours of hiking.”

“On that note –” Wirt pointed at Dipper “I am never ever hiking with you again. I happen to like my nose on my body, not sliced off by frostbite’s ruthless cleaver.”

“Aw, c'mon! This was a one time thing!” Dipper nudged him with an elbow. “You know you were having tons of fun until the deadly blizzard!”

Wirt rolled his eyes. “Keywords in there are ‘deadly blizzard’, Dipper. Bilzzards are not my thing.“

“Fair point, fair point. Counterpoint, if you don’t hike with me, then you will be deprived of epic poetry material forever. Two dashing young heroes narrowly escaping the indomitable forces of nature? Tell methat doesn’t have ‘epic’ written all over it.”

“Weeeeeeelllll…” Wurt was trying not to smile.

Dipper grinned. “Alright, then…would this change your mind?”

He pulled Ford’s notepad from under his blanket and held it up. On it he had drawn himself and Wirt asleep in front of the fire, one of Dipper’s arms draped across Wirt’s shoulders, with Wirt pillowed in Dipper’s lap, ensconced in layers of thick fluffy blankets.

Wirt turned bright red all the way to the tips of his ears. “That is so unfairly cute.”

Dipper laughed (carefully) and patted the floor next to him, inviting Wirt to come closer. Wirt grabbed his blankets and obliged, pulling the tray closer. He grabbed the pot of hot chocolate from the tray and refilled both their cups, then settled back comfortably against the coffee table. They weren’t cold anymore, but they pressed together anyway, shoulder to shoulder and knee to knee. The ice was doing wonders for his back, too. He took another sip of chocolate so he wouldn’t get too cold. The steam from the mug was soft and soothing.

Suddenly Wirt shifted. “Uh, Dipper, why is there a face in the flames?”

“Hmm?” He glanced up. “Oh that’s just one of those little soot ball things. Like from that one movie with the cranky girl who does all the chores? Mabel named it Cinderfuzzyballofcutenessella, but we just call it Fuzzy.”

Wirt grumbled under his breath. “The next time I see your sister remind me keep her far, far, far away from anything paranormal.”

Dipper chuckled and snuggled closer to Wirt. The fire burned strong and bright in the hearth, the smell of chocolate filled the air, and Wirt’s whole body warmed Dipper right to his soul, filling him with peace.

He rested his head on Wirt’s shoulder and drifted back to sleep.

#pinescone #pinescone Secret Santa #PInescone Secret Santa 2018 #Wirt #Dipper Pines #Over the Garden Wall #otgw #Dipper #submission

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