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leossmoonn · 3 years ago

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Wish Upon a Star

masterlist

pairing - jess mariano x fem!reader

type - fluff

note / request - requested by the lovely @arkofblake “i am in dire need of either jess or tristan x reader stargazing date.” enjoy!! also the summary for this bye 😭

summary - you and jess go on a stargazing date first as friends, but end the night as lovers

warnings / includes - mild language bc it’s jess, a little bit of smoking bc well, it’s jess, and kissing and PDA

————

*gif isn’t mine*

“It’s so cold!” Jess groaned.

“Since when have you been worried about the cold?” You scoffed.

“It is 20 degrees outside,” he stated. You shrugged, laying out the blankets and pillows. “Does it look like I care?”

He rolled his eyes, muttering incoherently to himself as he took out his pack of camels. He started to light a cigarette, but you smacked it out of his hand, stepping on it and crushing it with your sneaker.

“What the hell!” He scoffed. “Look, I know you don’t care about your teeth, throat, lungs, but I do. Plus, the nicotine smells so bad. Just lay off the cigs for one night, please?“ You explained yourself. You gave him your best puppy dog eyes and innocent pout.

“Fine, but only because I know you won’t shut up if I don’t listen to you.” He slid his pack back into his jean pocket, plopping himself down on the blankets.

“I’m not done setting up!” You frowned.

“Too bad,” he said. “Ugh. I don’t even know why I invited you here,” you muttered.

“Because you have no other friends?” He hummed.

You gave him a glare, punching his arm as you sat down next to him.

“I hate you,” you grumbled. “No, you love me,” he smirked.

I do, you sighed in your head. Instead you shot him another glare, sticking your tongue out teasingly. He mirrored your actions, making you break out into laughter. Oh, how he loved that sound.

“So, why did you drag me outside in the middle of night?” Jess asked.

“Look up and you’ll see!” You cuddled up in a blanket and laid on one of the pillows you brought. You pointed up to the glittering sky.

“It’s a night sky full of stars. How special,” he remarked.

“Stop being so sarcastic! You’re ruining this,” you scolded.

“It’s two in the morning. What do you expect me to —”

“Look! It’s the Big Dipper!” You pointed to the constellation.

Jess followed your finger and scrunched his face in confusion as he looked at the stars. He tried to see what you saw, but he couldn’t.

“That’s not the Big Dipper. It’s a random cluster of stars,” he said.

“It is! Just look. That’s the handle and the bowl part!” You drew it in the air, hoping it would aid Jess’s sight. Sadly, he still couldn’t see it.

“You are hallucinating,” he snorted.

You rolled your eyes. “You’re being mean.”

“Never said I was a nice guy,” he shrugged.

You looked at him, trying to bite back the smile that was creeping up. As much as he did annoy you, you both knew you loved it. He had always been this way since the day you met. He was always difficult, hard to please, and very pessimistic and sarcastic. Not unusual since that was his personality, but he pushed your buttons more than he did others. It was his way of showing his affection towards you so to speak.

“Tell me you at least see that square,” you said.

“I do,” he nodded. “See! I’m not seeing things,” you smiled.

“You want a medal?” He asked. “Yes, please,” you nodded.

You two laid in comfortable silence for a while. You two snuck glances at each other. Even in the dim street lamps you looked beautiful to him. Your eyes outlined each constellation and your lips upturned into a small smile every once in a while. Jess didn’t know what you were thinking. He wish he did. Maybe there was a chance you were thinking of him and smiling.

“Thank you for coming out with me tonight. I know you were sleeping when I came over,” you said.

“No problem. You know I’d do anything with you no matter what time of day.”

You smiled, “That’s my favorite thing about you.”

He smiled, butterflies filling his stomach. “Good. I only do it for you.”

Your heart skipped a few beats. You scooted closer to him, resting your head on his shoulder. He put his arm around your waist, hugging you close. You cuddled into his warm body, loving the fact that he was always warm.

“You have a pillow, you know,” he stated.

You rolled your eyes. “You just ruined the moment.”

“That’s my job.”

“Just shut up for once.”

“When did you become so hostile?”

You peered up at him beaming. “I learned from the best.”

“Yeah. You sure did,” he whispered. His eyes slid down to your lips as you smiled. He looked back up to your eyes, adding tension to the air. You felt the heat between you two.

You moved closer to his face. You were able to feel his hot breath on your cold, chapped lips. There was barely any room between you two. His arm was wrapped around your body, holding you against him and your face just millimeters away from his. Maybe if you just moved towards him…

“Look at the shooting star!” Jess exclaimed.

You turned your head, eyes widening as you saw the star fly across the midnight sky.

“So pretty,” you hummed.

“Yeah. It’s really pretty.”

You turned to him, smiling as he was looking at you. “That’s such a cliché line.”

He shrugged, “I try.”

“Can I try something?” You asked. Your eyes flickered down to his lips. You wanted to kiss him to bad. You’ve wanted to kiss him so bad ever since you met him. And you’ve had plenty of chances, but none of them felt like the right time. Until now.

“What’s up?” He asked.

You didn’t say anything. You pressed your lips against his gently. You waited to actually kiss him until he gave the okay. His hand went up to your neck, cradling your head as he kissed you back. You opened your mouth, sighing in relief and in satisfaction. Your peck changed into a mini-make-out session.

Your hands went up to his cheek and your fingers outlined his jawline. Your right hand snaked up to his hair, running through his raven locks. Your tongue slipped into his mouth and tasted him. He tasted like nicotine and mint. You didn’t mind the combination. You wouldn’t expect Jess to taste or smell like anything else.

You gasped for air in-between kisses. You felt your lungs burning, but you didn’t want to stop. If you could, you would stay kissing him forever. You pulled away, chest heaving and lips wet and puffy. You stared into his eyes, seeing the stars reflected in them.

“Making out underneath the stars on your bucket list?” He asked.

“Stop ruining the moment,” you muttered.

He smirked, “Make me.”

Without hesitation, you crashed your lips on his again in a wet, tender kiss.

————

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@arkofblake @myalupinblack @lukes-orange-beanie @gallysonegoodlung @iaminlovetomhollandmarvel @chloe-smith @mystic-writings @greengarsstuff @almost-a-ladybug

#jess mariano fluff #jess mariano x reader #jess mariano imagine #jess mariano x reader fluff #jess mariano imagine fluff #gilmore girls

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where-the-wild-things-sleep · 2 years ago

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Ghosties part 2

part 1

Technically, Oakleaf Books employees were not allowed to sit in the armchairs on the job. Today, Dipper simply did not care. The only other person on shift was Cami, and she was at the register and also not a narc. Dipper had caught her three too many times in the maintenance closet hooking up with her boyfriend and was secure enough in their general distrust and understanding of each other that each of their secrets were safe. It’s not as though they were really doing anything worth losing their jobs over. (Well, Dipper wasn’t). Business was slow. Sometimes you just can’t bring yourself to pick up another book. Dipper had read an entire shelf’s worth of books in the science fiction section already, and he had only been working for a week so far.

The tinkling of the bell that hung above the door broke Dipper’s attention from his book. He set it down and stood up, stretching his shoulders as he did so.

“Hi,” he said as the new customer faced him. “Can I help you find anything?”

“Eh, naw, I’m good, I think,” the man said. Dipper tried inconspicuously to watch him as he wandered over to the historical non-fiction aisle. What was a guy with spiked frosted tips, a lip ring, and surfer shorts doing in historical non-fiction?

“You lookin’ for a reference book or something?” Dipper heard Cami ask. She had evidently left her post at the register, something she had already been warned about by their boss multiple times. Dipper momentarily wondered if he should take it over for her, but he decided it wasn’t worth not getting to listen to their conversation.

“Naw, but you got any books in here about–”

Cami put up her hand and the man went silent. “I’m gonna stop you right there. I have no idea. Maybe Dipper can help you?”

Dipper popped his head around the bookshelf that separated them.

“Sure. What are you looking for?” he asked.

“Mm, I’m lookin’ for somethin’ about this area, yanno? Like the history of here and stuff.”

“Oh. Um, yeah, we have some books on the local history…” Dipper began browsing the aisle with the man. After a few minutes, he discovered a leatherbound journal, seemingly written by an early settler of Oregon. He walked over to the man and presented it to him. “How about this?”

“Nice!” the man said after just a second’s lookover. He flipped it over and his spirits visibly died upon looking at the price. “Damn… Mind if I stay here and read it?”

“Not at all,” Dipper said, the corner of his mouth curling slightly. Who was this guy and what did he want with an early Oregon settler’s diary? If Dipper had had to guess on the man’s preference, he’d suggest surfers’ memoirs or maybe young adult science fiction or something. “There’s plenty of places to sit. We close at eight.”

“Thanks man.” He took the journal over to a worn armchair at the end of the aisle and plopped down into it, opening up the book to the first page.

Dipper bit back the urge to question the man about his choice of reading materials and slunk back over to his own armchair. He picked up his book, and only looked back up again when he felt a shadow fall over him. Startled, Dipper nearly dropped the book into his lap as he snapped his head up to look at the imposing figure above him.

“Oh, did I scare ya?” the man from earlier asked, an amused smile on his face. Dipper shook his head very unconvincingly. “Well, it’s almost eight so I gotta get goin’, but is there any way you could save this book for me? Like put it in the back or somethin’?”

“Oh, sure,” Dipper nodded. He stood up and took the book from the man, the same leatherbound journal from earlier. “Are you coming back tomorrow?”

“Yep. I’m doin’ research. My friend keeps talkin’ about historical stuff about the town, stuff even our history professor doesn’t know, and I’m tryna fact-check him, ‘cause ya know people can make stuff up to seem smart sometimes. He said he’d give me 100 dollars if I found anything that didn’t match up with what he said. But so far I’ve only found things that prove him right. He won’t tell me where he gets any of his information, though. Say, this is a little random, but do you happen to be lookin’ for a cheap place to stay? He needs a new roomie.”

“Um…” Dipper had to take a moment to process all of that information. “I mean, the place I’m staying right now is definitely not ideal, but it’s the best I could find, price-wise. I don’t… have a lot of money.”

Sure, the hotel was cheap, which was fine if this was going to be a short trip. But the days were drawing on and all Dipper had managed to do so far was scout certain areas where people had reported seeing ghosts… or something of the like. Dipper couldn’t be exactly sure what was going on. He had spent days trying to figure out if this was a haunting, the work of demons or magic, just a case of mass hysteria, or perhaps a Charlie No-Face situation. But Dipper knew it was ghosts. A visit to a reportedly haunted playground had provided him with five human teeth, sitting neatly on the stained seat of a rusty swing. But a few teeth on an old swing set did not pay the daily $40 Dipper needed in order to stay in his dingy, dirty hotel room. At the pace his investigation was going, rooming with some college student would actually be cheaper.

“Hey, that’s chill,” the man said. “My buddy Wirt charges practically nothing for rent, it’s crazy. He’s got his own house, paid off mortgage an’ all, so he doesn’t really need people to pay rent all that much. I’m sure you two could work somethin’ out, if you wanted t’ move. What’s your number? I can send you his information.”

“Oh, thanks.” Dipper spluttered out his number, and within a minute he felt a vibration in his back pocket. He cleared his throat. “Um, I’ll definitely check it out. Uh, what’s your name? For the hold?”

“Mikey Bluff,” the man replied. Dipper wrote down the name on a piece of scrap paper and set it and the book behind the front desk. No, he had not been trained on holdings. Or anything, really.

“Cool. Thanks for coming in, Mikey. Um, see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, see ya!” Mikey waved on his way out the door. Dipper watched him and waited until he was out of sight from the shop windows before he took out his phone and looked at the text Mikey had sent him.

It was a link. Dipper tapped it dubiously, reasoning that Mikey seemed nice enough and would definitely be coming back for his book, so there was no chance he was pulling one of those funny pranks where you give someone’s phone a virus or steal their data. A web browser popped up, loaded for a moment, and then opened. The site seemed to be a specific forum for local students to post ads for roommates. Wirt’s was front and center, the background a deep shade of red and all the neatly arranged boxes of texts and photos outlined in dull gold. Wirt’s picture and name were in the top left corner.

Not bad, Dipper thought to himself before he had time to fully process. He blinked, then smiled incredulously. Here he was, on a ghost hunt in a new town, living in a shitty hotel, working a boring job, barely making enough to eat, and he was drooling over the first guy who was even remotely his type? Shaggy dark hair, hazel-green eyes, sharp features… a total stranger. Dipper supposed he was lonely. Besides, the thought of prematurely developing a crush on a guy who he may or may not be living with soon was an awful idea. Dipper pushed all unnecessary thoughts and feelings away, including the loneliness which threatened to pull him under a tidal wave of emotions anytime he dwelled on it for too long.

...Everything was fine.

Wirt’s ad gave a general description of the house– a four bedroom, four and a half bath, three-story mansion compared to what Dipper had been cramped into for the past week. Rent was, just as Mikey had said, ‘negotiable’. The ad didn’t have quite enough information for Dipper’s liking, but it gave Wirt’s phone number and address, which meant in order to find out if this was a good fit for him, Dipper would need to actually talk to Wirt. Which, again, the thought shouldn’t have been as harrowing as it was, considering Dipper might be living with him soon.

I wonder if there’s information on this guy, Dipper thought, tapping on anything around the page that might be a link. Sure enough, Wirt’s profile popped up. Once again, there were only the absolute basics. Twenty, renting a room in a house on campus. Nothing else. Scrolling down, Dipper began to think his phone was glitching. Wirt had posted this same ad multiple times already. It took a few scrolls before Dipper was finally at the bottom and was faced with the first-ever ad Wirt had ever put out. It was from last summer. Every one of the ads was posted on a different date, spanning almost a year, so it couldn’t have just been a glitch. Dipper examined the dates, noting that usually there was a month or two between each posting, a few for longer, and even some just a few weeks apart. That was… odd. Sure, this was a college town, people come and go, but it just seemed like a lot. Why were so many people so hot to get in, and then out of there? Dipper decided he would ask about it the next time Mikey came around. Maybe this was all some detailed human trafficking scheme, and Wirt was going to hold him hostage and then sell him away to god knows where. Or maybe Dipper was just being paranoid again.

Whatever the case, he needed to get out of that damn hotel room.

#over the garden wall #gravity falls #over the gravity falls #dipper x wirt #pinescone #pinescone au #pinescone fanfic

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nataliedanovelist · 3 years ago

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GF - Timestuck AU: The Power of Mabel ch.6

While fighting over a time machine so one twin can win a pig or the other can win the heart of a girl, Mabel is left stranded in a snowy forest with no time machine and no brother. Oops.

ch.5 - ch.7 (finale)

~~~~~~~~~~

The air was still quite nippy and crisp, but the afternoon sun sparkled on the white snow and made the atmosphere pleasant to stand in if the Main Sequence Star was shining directly on a living organism, like it was on Stan from where he stood on the porch. He sighed tiredly as he dug into his hoodie’s pocket for a fresh cigar and lit it with his Zippo-style lighter. He knew he probably shouldn’t smoke with a kid in the house, but after the few days he’s had, he needed and had well earned a smoke-break.

The door opened and Stan hid his cigar by his side, his right arm glued to his hip to hide the newcomer on his left, but when he saw it was an adult, he relaxed and took another puff. “M’trying to quit.” He mumbled.

Ford snickered. “Yeah, it looks like you’re trying really hard.”

“Don’t be shitty.” Stan said casually.

“Mind if I lend one? I can replenish you in a few minutes.”

Stan stared at his goody two-shoes of a twin and handed him a cigar and the lighter. “You smoke?”

“Not often. For a celebration or after a long day.” Ford answered as he lit his borrowed cigar. “Maybe twice a month. Thrice?”

“Huh.”

Ford looked down at the lighter in his hand, and he was surprised when he recognized it. He can clearly remember seeing the tiny silver box in a store and thinking Stanley would like it as a Only One More Year of High-School present. “I gave this to you.”

Stan smiled as he took it back and pocketed it. “Yeah, it’s a good lighter. Only needed to change the flint a few times.”

“Hey guys!” A small voice called from inside the house. “Do you like vanilla or chocolate?”

The twins looked at each other, smiled, and called back. “Both. Both is good!”

“Both it is!”

Stan chuckled and shook his head. “Knucklehead… I knew she had to be family just by looking at her!” He bragged proudly.

“I suppose I was too distracted by the fact that a cold girl was at my doorstep to recognize the family resemblance.” Ford reasoned, shrugging. “I wanted to make sure I did the right thing. I didn’t exactly feel like getting arrested for kidnapping.”

Stan barked a laugh. “Yeah, you got a good point.” The conman yawned and stretched his arms over his head. “Guess I’ll head out tomorrow.” He mentioned offhandedly.

Ford stared at him, a little saddened and disheartened by this fact that was news to him. “You’re leaving?”

��I mean, yeah?” Stan equally stared at his brother, confused and not daring to be hopeful, but still. “What?”

“I just…” Ford hesitated and busied his mouth by taking a hit of his cigar. With everything that has been said and how well he and Stan have been communicating, he really didn’t feel like ruining it now. He relaxed his shoulders and said with his eyes on the snowy woods. “I was really hoping you would stay.”

Stan looked dumbfounded, like a child discovering candy for the first time, but he looked away and down at the porch floor. “Oh.”

“I’ll of course be taking care of Mabel until Dipper comes back in time for her…”

“He might not.”

“We got over our grudges. They can do the same.” Ford said firmly. “Still, you have a point. Dipper might not be able to come back. Regardless, whether it’s for a short time, a long time, or for the rest of my life, I will take care of her. I might not be the best for her, I can acknowledge that…”

“C’mon, Sixer, don’t be like that.” Stan scolded lightly, giving a sympathetic look to the nerd. “What else can you do, y’know? There’s no way in hell you’re gonna give her up, I’ll kidnap her and run away to Canada before I let you…”

Ford laughed and waved a hand as he smiled. “No no, I promise I won’t.”

“Good.”

“The point is, she loves you. Clearly. And it takes two, and I’ll be busy with my research, especially once the snow melts and the anomalies become more active in the spring and summer, but…” Ford bit his lip. This was a bad idea. If he makes it seem that the only reason why Stan needs to be here is because of Mabel, if or when she’s gone, then Stan will have no reason to stay. And there were many reasons why Ford wanted Stan to stay.

Despite how much of a social-cripple Ford was, he knew that Stan was homeless. His frequent traveling and how full his car was right now was enough proof of that. And Ford hated that for his brother.

But there was another, bigger reason why Ford wanted Stan to stay. So he better just say it.

“Do you know why I went to Backupsmore?” Ford asked.

Stan’s facial expression darkened as he looked away and he shrugged. “Cuz I fucked up your project?”

“No,” Ford answered plainly. “I may not have been accepted into West Coast Tech, but there were so many other colleges that wanted me. I could apply to Yale or Harvard or any college from New York to California and instantly be accepted.

“But I didn’t.” The author added grimly. “Stanley, when you left… When you were gone, I was a mess. So many days I just lied in bed without meals or sleep. Ma was hysterical. I failed most of my exams and only barely scraped a C in the ones I didn’t fail. My GPA dropped significantly and I even lost my Honor Roll. Thankfully my past grades were enough to let me graduate with a 3.2, but my clean record was stained and a lot of prestigious colleges didn’t want me.

“All I wanted at that point was to get as far away from Glass Shard as possible. Luckily there was a small college outside of San Francisco that practically accepted everyone and had a wide range of studies to offer, so I applied and was accepted by graduation day.”

“Good for you.” Stan grunted.

“No! The point is, I…” Ford groaned, feeling like he was failing, but he had to try. “I understand if you don’t want to stay. I understand you have your own life and things you want to do, and I can live without you again if I have to, but… I really, really don’t want to. Yes, I know that part of growing up is going in different directions and being independent and all the other bells and whistles, but it doesn’t have to be. So, if you can tolerate living under the same roof as me again, and if you’re okay with it, I want to offer you a job.”

Stan raised an eyebrow at the six-fingered man. “What kinda job?”

“The committee gives me monthly boosts so I can continue my research. As long as I prove to them once a year that progress is being made, I have a good income coming in. It is a big job, exploring the large woods, climbing mountains and waterfalls, combing the lake, mapping the Enchanted Forest, and hunting down monsters and anomalies to learn more about them. I’ve always managed to make it out of trouble alright, but… I need a partner, and I want to keep it in the family.” Ford smiled at the last sentence.

“What are you saying?” Stan sneered, not daring to believe, not daring to hope, but that stupid smile Ford had…

“I’m saying I want you to do this with me, Stanley.” Ford said matter-of-factly. “I can share the grant with you after bills are paid and groceries are purchased. We can renovate the small room on the ground floor to be Mabel’s bedroom and you can have the entire attic as your own space.

“I know it’s not sailing around the world, but… Please. Will you give me another chance?” Ford pleaded with a soft smile.

Stan grinned and shook his head. “Shit, Sixer, you’re a better salesman than me.” He looked him in the eyes. “Okay. Yes. I’ll stay.”

Ford’s cheeks puffed with happiness as he smiled, his lips pressed together, and he looked ahead, happily daydreaming his future. Being surrounded by weirdness for a living was amazing by itself; doing it with his twin and raising their niece together on top of it was better than anything he could have imagined.

Stan was watching him and laughed good-naturedly, then held out a hand to him. Ford blinked at it like a startled owl, but then returned the smile and sealed the deal with a high-six.

Both brothers stood contently outside with their cigars for a minute, but then heard a bowl clatter on the floor. Mabel must be making a mess in the kitchen, which was fine.

What wasn’t fine was the sound that followed of a body falling on the floor.

Ford raised an eyebrow and called calmly, “Mabel, are you alright?”

They both expected a quick “yeah, sorry, I’m okay,” and maybe an explanation to follow, like she tripped getting down from a chair or something. But there was no reply.

“Mabel, sweetie?” Stan hollered, trying not to sound mad or scared or anything but cool-under-pressure, but this voice trembled with fear.

Still no answer.

Ford and Stan quickly discarded their cigars and bolted inside. Racing like children for cookies, they soon stood at the doorway of the kitchen and were horrified to find Mabel sprawled on the floor on her front, her hair scattered over her face to hide her expression, and her legs and bottom-half of her body slowly fading.

Literally. Fading. Mabel was fading away. She was disappearing like a stain on cloth.

“MABEL!” The men screamed and were immediately on their knees beside her. Ford scooped her up into his arms and felt her pulse and looked over her.

“What happened to her?!” Stan cried out. “Pumpkin, what’s wrong?!”

Ford’s eyes widened in panic as a horrifying realization slapped him in the face. “Mabel… You changed history.”

The tired girl nodded with her eyes closed. “If… If you guys had a fight… and never made up… in my timeline, then I guess…” Mabel paused to yawn tiredly. It didn’t hurt, but she was really sleepy now.“I guess that timeline doesn’t exist anymore, huh? I guess I don’t exist anymore.”

“WHAT?!” Stan yelled and took Mabel’s hand and squeezed it. “We have to do something! You’re family! You’re… We can’t just let you d- not exist!”

Ford held Mabel tighter and closer to his warm chest, making her smile. She swore she could hear his heartbeat. It was too fast. She would have to fix that. Poor Ford was also shaking like a leaf. Mabel could fix that, too.

“I’ll exist.” She smiled up at her uncles. “In a few years.”

Ford bit his lip. He shouldn’t ask this, it was probably dangerous to learn about the future, but the worst was already happening. What else could possibly happen that was worse than losing his girl? Ford couldn’t help but ask, “When?”

“August 31st, 1999.” Mabel’s eyes dazzled. “You’ll meet Dipper, too.” She shifted her eyes to only Stan and whispered, “Did you know you were there? You came to see us when we were born?”

Stan’s eyes watered as he smiled at the new piece of information. “I did?”

“You did. I came out first. You were so proud when I kicked the doctor in the jaw.”

Stan made a watery chuckle and wiped at his eye. “That’s my girl.”

“Dipper came next. He was blue. Umbilical cord wrapped around his neck.”

“Was he okay?” Stan asked.

“He was fine. You knew he would be. You never doubted.”

“I never will, pumpkin. I swear.”

The fading is now much worse. It was spreading over Mabel like a virus. Her legs were hardly visible to the naked eye, and even her shoulders were losing color. This Mabel is almost completely gone.

Ford, pressed for time, bit his lip as tears flooded his eyes and he cupped Mabel’s cheek and cradled her. “I… I can’t let you go! We just started to become a real family! Wh-What am I going to do without you?!”

Mabel smiled and used the free hand not holding Stan’s trembling hand to caress Ford’s jaw and lower cheek, then cupping his face so her fingertips grazed his sideburn. “It’s okay, really. I’ll see you again, and next time it’ll be when both of you come to see us. Totally worth it.”

Ford held his breath, and shut his eyes, a tear escaping from each eye and sitting comfortably in the corners of his windows to his soul. Stan hiccuped a laugh and rubbed her hand between both of his. Both of them were doing everything in their power not to cry.

To that, Mabel laughed and said, “Boys are stupid. It’s okay to cry.”

The cursed power of Mabel. Making people be honest and breaking dams.

Ford curled into his niece, his face sloe to her heart, and cried gently. He wasn’t ready, but he didn’t think he could ever be ready for this.

Stan laughed with tears streaming down his face and he kissed Mabel’s tiny fingers trapped in his hold, then held their hands close to his bowed forehead and just focused on feeling her pulse between his palms.

It only lasted another minute.

Ford was mortified when his chest sank and his arms were empty. He threw himself back and stared at his lap and felt sick to his stomach to find his little girl missing.

Stan’s hands also clasped together and he squeezed tightly, his fists against his trembling lips as he cried.

The genius who always seemed to know what to do didn’t have a damn clue what to do with himself. He growled in his throat, squeezing his eyes shut and gritting his teeth, then let out a painful howl and moan that most definitely disturbed birds and made a deer or two gallop farther away.

Ford removed his glasses and held his knees, sobbing his heart out. Stan blinked his tears off his eyes, resulting in them rolling down his face, as he watched his brother completely shatter to pieces. He had seen him upset before, sure; all those years of bullying, of Pa’s outbursts and sometimes physical punishments, hopelessness that he was actually worth something. You don’t spend seventeen years with a person and not see them break every so often, granted the blessing to help them put themselves back together again.

But Ford didn’t need Stan to swoop in and fix it. There were no bullies to punch or parents to stand against or jokes to crack that would make this okay. All Stan could do was throw his arms around him and bury his face into Ford’s shoulder and cry, too.

So that’s what they did on the kitchen floor for over an hour.

~~~~~~~~~~

Dipper blinked to try to see, but all he saw around him was inky blackness for miles. His heart raced as he looked around for his sister. “Mabel? Mabel! Mabel, answer me!”

The boy scrambled and collapsed out of a portable potty at the fair. He blinked his eyes rapidly to adjust to the sunlight, scurrying off his hands and knees, clutching the warm time-machine in his hands. Wendy was still admiring her price and Robbie was still sulking, and Waddles was still trying to get away from Pacifica.

That didn’t matter! Mabel was stranded back in time! But how far back?! When was Mabel?! Dipper started jamming the button, but the machine wasn’t working, and it was soon swiped from him by a black-gloved hand.

“Mason Pines,” A gruff voice commanded above him and Dipper looked up to find two new guys with that Blendin guy. The two other guys were muscular and guarded with high-tech armor.

“You are under arrest for violating the Time-Traveler's Code of Conduct and for jeopardizing the timestream.” The man labeled as Dundgren stated as serious as death.

“Do you have any idea how many rules you just broke?!” Blendin squawked. “I’m asking. I wasn’t there with you. It was probably a lot, right?”

“Wait, wait please!” Dipper begged as the two members of the Time Paradox Avoidance Enforcement Squadrent each grabbed the boy by an arm. “My sister! She’s still back there! We have to get her!”

“You have the right to remain silent.” The man labeled as Lolph informed robotically. “Anything you say can and already has been used in the Court of Time-Law.”

“Let me go, Mabel needs-...” And Dipper and the three time-travelers were blasted forward in time.

~~~~~~~~~~

In the endless space of time, Dipper was levitated off the ground by a giant baby using the power of his forehead-hourglass to trap him in a baby-blue field. Members of the the Time Paradox Avoidance Enforcement Squadrent circled the two, and Blendin stood with his arms crossed over his chest and smiling smugly as the kid who caused so much trouble was getting what he deserved.

“You and your sister have broken the eternal laws of space-time.”

“I’m sorry!” Dipper cried out, trying to fight the energy circling him, but it was futile. “I’m sorry! Do what you want to me, just help my sister!”

“Your sister does not require help, nor do you require punishment.” Time Baby informed as he held his feet. “You are lucky the events that occurred do not change anything drastically. However, your timeline has shifted and therefore this reality’s version of you and your sister are no longer viable and will cease to exist.”

“What?!” Dipper squeaked and looked down at his body to find his legs disappearing. “No no NO! What’s happening to me?!”

“You and your twin sister will be born again on August 31st, 1999, but too many things are different in your timeline for this version of you to continue to exist.”

“W-W-What did I do wrong?! What did I change?!” Dipper cried out as his whole body was drained of color. “What changed in our timeline?!”

“Your uncles have amended their bond thirty-four years ahead of schedule. As unfortunate as this is, your sister miraculously delayed the plans of Bill Cipher by an entire millennia.”

“What uncles?!” Dipper asked, panicked as the fading reached his neck. “Who’s Bill Cipher?!”

“If you wanted the answers you sought out, you should have been patient.” Time Baby scolded. “We all get the answers we seek… in time.”

“P-P-Please!” Dipper begged as he appeared as a ghost. “Please! What did Mabel do?!”

Time Baby cruelly stayed silent, testing Dipper’s strengths, but he was dying, anyways. Might as well.

“She met the Author of the Journals. Your missing uncle.”

Dipper’s eyes widened. “Mabel…” He rasped, and then he ceased to exist.

#GF #gravity falls #gravity falls au #timestuck au #fanfiction #stanford pines #stanley pines #mabel pines #dipper pines #angst #why did i write this?#cuz fuck you that's why #I HAD TO I’M SORRY #pls don't hate me

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ashintheairlikesnow · 4 years ago

Text

Nice to Meet You

For @boxboysandotherwhump - Theo chose soft!Jameson, so here he is! @wildfaewhump gave me the three-word prompt “Space, shell, fair” for Jameson.

CW: Recovering pet whumpees, referenced past torture, scars, referenced dubcon/noncon, briefly referenced past dehumanization, consensual angst, fluff

When he opens the closet door, intending to press himself into his safe spot with his back to the corner, blocked by the boxes, he discovers Allyn is already there.

For a moment, his mind goes blank.

They look up at him and wince as the light cuts into the warm, velvet dark they were hiding in. Their long wavy hair hangs over their eyes, impossibly long legs bent until their knees are under their chin in the oversized sweatpants, gray eyes looking up at him, startled.

They’re more afraid of you than you are of them, whispers Nanda’s voice in his mind, soft and sweet as custard, the first owner, the one who took him on hunting trips where he had him sleep with the dogs and cut a line into the back of his thigh for every animal he slaughtered. All his memories of Nanda are grays tinged in blood - the gray of the sky, of Nanda’s eyes, the red of the bloodhounds, the drips that followed him across the floor.

Nanda also taught him about bears, while they moved through the woods. They’re more afraid of you than you are of them, boy. Vanilla custard, but held on the edge of a sharp knife, metallic under pillowy cloying sweetness. Nanda’s words always felt like blood in his mouth, spoonfed.

Allyn isn’t a bear - but they are definitely afraid.

“Why-” His voice cracks, shock of earthquake through ice on his tongue, and he considers simply closing the door and walking away. Allyn is his roommate, not his friend. He doesn’t have friends, none of them have real friends. Just other people also suffering nearby. Finally, though, he opens the door just a little wider. “Why are you in here?”

Allyn shakes their head, and it’s only then Jameson realizes their hair is uncombed, hanging lank and limp and lifeless, which Allyn’s hair never does. Their lips tremble, no perfect fucking party smile in place like usual, as they cringe back from him. No pretty blouse, no pretty anything. Just pale and shadowed, freckles standing out like someone stuck them on. “I-I’m sorry, I just… just needed-... a, a minute t-to breathe, I’m sorry-”

“This is my fucking space, Allyn. Yours is under the bed, so… go be under the bed.” His voice isn’t as rough and mean as he wants it to be, but it’s maybe mean enough - they sniff, and he sees their eyes glitter with tears.

His anger melts under something he tells himself isn’t guilt, and he exhales, slowly, before he moves to a crouch. He doesn’t like being loomed over, so they probably hate it, too, right? He’s had too many motherfuckers stare down at him in his cages. He stays that way in silence, right at their eye level, cocking his head as they breathe, wondering what color their eyes really are.

“I’m sorry,” They whisper, and he can see the shift of their oversized sweatshirt, three days past needing a wash. This isn’t like Allyn at all. Have they been like this for days, and he didn’t notice?

Well, why he fuck should he notice, they’re not friends, and Allyn is in his space, the only space in his entire life that’s all his and isn’t ringed in bars to put him on display-

No.

It’s not their fault, they’re upset, and the darkness of the closet is safer than anywhere else. You can hide in closets, he understands why they’re here. He forces down his irritation, and takes in the miserable worry in their eyes.

“Shit. Allyn, it’s... I don’t mean to be an ass, I just-... uh, what made you… need a minute? Exactly?” He should call for the big guy who runs this place, it’s his whole job to handle moments like this, but he can’t quite make it happen. Instead, he finds the voice he wants to be sharp is softer, his words feel like the heat of a kiss he actually wants, taste sweeter than any kiss he’s ever actually had.

They’re more scared of you than you are of them.

“Um, I-I was-... I was thinking… about… him.” The poison in the love in their voice is all in Jameson’s head, but he feels it seep into all his scars anyway. Acid, that him. Too much pineapple burning his tongue. They’re lucky to have had an owner they could love. Luckier still, to have one who loved them back.

Luckiest of all, to have an owner who wanted them to be happy.

Unluckiest, though, to get chucked out with the fucking garbage when the asshole died and they weren’t in his will. It’s not fair, but it’s fucking life, isn’t it? And in the end, which one of them is luckier? Him, for knowing it was suffering the whole time - or them, for having the chance to believe it was anything else?

“You miss him.” Flat, crash of knives on the ground, the clink and rattle and smack of their handles. Allyn only hears the words. He is starting to realize words feel inside him differently than they do to others.

Allyn nods, and the glitter of tears spills finally out.

He wants to touch their face - he doesn’t.

“I-I do,” They whisper. “I know I sh-sh-shouldn’t, but I… I do. I’m sorry, I know that you don’t-... that you weren’t-”

“Yeah, well.” He waves a hand, dismissive. The scars on his back and legs feel stretched, when he crouches like this, balances on the balls of his feet. He can feel the skin pull at itself, numbed but still here. Couldn’t kill me, motherfuckers, how about that? I’m still here, and three of you are gone. You’re just fucking corpses and your little blow-up doll with a heartbeat is still here. “You’re hurting worse than I am now, so I guess we’re sort of even.”

“I just… I can’t-...” Allyn’s voice buckles under the weight of their emotions, it shatters. Jameson tastes blood from the glass and watches Allyn lift their hands to hide behind them. Long fingers, delicate and graceful, even in this. Nails filed to perfect roundness. His own fingers are nothing special, two of them on his right hand broken until they don’t bend quite right anymore. He didn’t have to have perfect hands. He barely escaped Robert getting to keep his hands at all, and that was only because he was pretty fucking good at using them.

“I can’t live without him,” Allyn whimpers, muffled and thick. “I feel like… like I was made empty for him to fill up, and h-he’s gone, I can’t-... live without him, I can’t-”

He swallows the glass of their grief, buries it inside him. Wonders if he’ll ever know how it feels to give a shit what happened to the assholes who hurt him. What would it be like, to actually feel bad about the deaths?

“You can,” He says, low-voiced, and shifts forward into the closet, settling himself down and closing the door until only the thinnest crack of light can break up their safer darkness. Barely the width of a wire, the light illuminates nothing, only reminds them it’s there. He listens to the soft inhale, slower exhale, of the person beside him. Their presence is a weight, in his safest places, and his nerves are alight with how fragile it is, to have anywhere at all, how easily ruined by someone intruding. He clears his throat, uncertain, unused to being one to give comfort. More used to ignoring its existence. “You, um. You can live without them, I fucking swear it, Allyn. I lived without all of mine, for a while, ‘fore the next one caught me, or bought me.”

He hears rustling, and tilts his head just slightly to see them looking at him. They’re pale, but he is, too, a duller washed-out color from lack of sunlight for so long. Their freckles look like constellations, the stars he would stare at through Robert’s window in the dark. He notes, absently, that they damn near have a Little Dipper along their left cheekbone. “But-... but you didn’t love them… did you?”

He decides he sort of likes their voice. It slips into his mind, subtle sweetness, maple syrup but thinner. Weaker, but maybe it could be strong.

With time.

He swallows, speaking gruffly to cover up the strange twist of emotion. “No, I-... no. I didn’t love ‘em, but… but you keep going, you know? You’ll do it, too. I’m not… fuck, I’m not good for this. I wasn’t ever supposed to talk, so I’m not… super good at it now. Being, um. Like, helping… with words.” His voice is thick tar on his tongue, colored by his embarrassment.

But he tries.

There’s a silence, and he leans over, until his shoulder just touches theirs. Allyn tenses and then relaxes, and they sit like that for a while, listening to each other breathe.

Allyn’s head comes to rest on his shoulder, and he finds he doesn’t mind the weight.

“I’m so tired of being sad,” They whisper.

“Yeah, I’m-... sorta tired of being pissed off, myself.” He huffs a laugh. Then he feels Allyn’s hand - cold, slender, long-fingered - find his own, warmer and scarred. “Feels like we’re just empty seashells that get filled up with whatever the water brings, huh?”

“That… that sounds really pretty,” Allyn says softly. “Do you think pretty things a lot?”

“No. Most of my thoughts are really fucking ugly.” He manages another humorless laugh. “I guess I can surprise you, huh.”

“In more ways than one.”

“What?”

“I saw what you wrote on the wall,” Allyn murmurs, and they shift their head, breath warm on the side of his neck, where his collar is. Or isn’t. For a second, he can’t remember if he’s wearing it or not. He takes his off, sometimes. When he can. More and more often, as the days turns into weeks here.

“You did?” He closes his eyes, not that it makes much difference. They don’t let go of his hand. There is movement, out in the hall, in the rest of the house, but for the second, he and Allyn are alone.

“Mmhmm. You can read and write? Did your owner let you?”

It’s a secret he’s kept inside him for so long. It’s so hard to give it away, now. “I… no, none of them knew I could. When they took it from me, it… didn’t work. I never lost it.”

“Oh.” They’re silent for a moment. Their breath is warm, and despite himself, he feels a nervous flip of his stomach, his hair standing on end. It’s something trapped between fear and want, and it’s unlike any fear or want he’s ever felt before. “What did you write, on the wall?”

He could tell them anything. He could lie.

He tells the truth. “I wrote out our names. All of us. Um. The, Jake, and… his people. Eli, Nova, Sarita, um, Allyn…”

“Did you write yours?”

He lets his head gently fall back to rest against the wall. His heart might break out of him, bleed all over the floor. A different kind of bleeding, a kind that he sort of wants, even though he doesn’t. “Um. Yeah, I… yeah.”

“What is it?” They don’t move their head, they don’t let go of his hand. “What’s your name?”

He shouldn’t tell them.

It’s been his secret for so, so long. But… fuck, he’s so tired of secrets.

“Jameson,” He says, and it’s the taste of air just before rain, a chill breeze on a blistering day. His name, the one he gave himself. “I’m-... my name is Jameson.”

They’re quiet for a second, and then say, softly, “Nice to meet you, Jameson.”

It sounds better, in Allyn’s voice.

Everything does.

---

@burtlederp @finder-of-rings @whump-tr0pes @whumpiary @raigash @moose-teeth @orchidscript @astrobly @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @endless-whump

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mysterykidscasefiles · 3 years ago

Text

Mystery Kids and the Case of the Whispering Rock

Summary: Norman, Neil, Coraline, Wybie, Raz and Lili arrive at Grunkle Stan’s Summer Camp with the hope of having a summer of fun, or in the case of the two Psychonauts, with the intent of investigating a psychic disturbance. When they meet two twins that seem to be experts on the secrets of Gravity Falls, they find themselves reluctantly teaming up. But how much can they actually trust each other? There are secrets in this town, but more surprising are the secrets being kept from each other.

Table of Contents

Act 2

Chapter 24: The Right Tools

Thud!

“Oops.”

Tiny particles invade Wybie’s throat. He started coughing and found he couldn’t stop.

“I think you went overboard on the glitter…” Wybie managed to choke out.

“Nonsense! There’s no-” Mabel began to cough. “Such thing... as too much…” But she couldn’t finish her sentence, and instead, she doubled over with wheezing, hacking breaths.

“You were saying?” Wybie asked. It was becoming easier to breathe as the glitter began to settle on the floor of the attic bedroom around them. “Also… why did we need glitter again?”

“Neil, tell him,” Mabel said with a nod to the red-headed kid beside her.

"Glitter enhances everything," Neil informed him matter-of-factly. "It's called aesthetic."

"And more of a good thing is always a good thing!" Mabel added cheerily.

Wybie raised an eyebrow at her. "I'm not sure that's true." However, he didn't say anything more than that. Wybie had known the girl for only a few days, and he had already learned that arguing sense into her was pointless.

Wybie looked down at the square device on the ground which used to be black, but was now pink, had a collection of cupcake stickers, a cat made out of puff paint with big eyes, and rhinestones clustered in any additional left over space. With Mabel’s newest addition, the whole device was also now covered in glitter. As mismatched and horrible as the whole thing looked, he had to admit the cat was painted really well. After the mummy project, Wybie had no doubt that the girl was talented artistically, even if she did have… unusual tastes.

When Neil and Mabel said that they wanted to help Wybie fix the EMF meter, he expected that they would just help him find supplies. He didn’t expect… this kind of help.

“What’s wrong with how it looked before?” Wybie asked.

Mabel shook her head, as if he had just asked the silliest question she had ever heard. “If you were a ghost, what would you be drawn towards? A boring black square box? Or this work of art?”

“Definitely this,” Neil agreed. “It's a lot more fun and everyone likes cupcakes!”

“But the problem wasn’t about getting the ghost’s attention,” Wybie explained. “The problem was getting the device to work properly.”

After they got home from getting lost in the woods and finding the mysterious cabin, Wybie had started working on building the EMF meter while the rest of the kids finished the fake mummy for the shack. It wasn’t a very complicated device, and by the next day, Wybie had the device built. EMF readers detect electromagnetic fields that are given off by electronics, especially old electronics that don’t have their wires properly shielded. EMF fluctuations are also said to indicate ghostly activity. The idea was, even if they couldn’t see Luis themselves, the EMF meter should be able to pick up his ghostly energy… provided they were far enough away from any electronics that could set off the EMF meter. Wybye was still a little skeptical of the science, but he didn’t have a better idea.

Coraline and Norman had been eager to get back to the Cardinal’s old mansion to see if they could find Luis again as soon as possible. They wouldn’t be able to communicate with him if they couldn’t see or hear him, but at least the EMF reader would indicate if he was still around or not. Once they knew if Luis was still around, they could work on other ways of communicating with him.

When they arrived back at the old mansion, Wybie turned on the EMF meter and it immediately calibrated to the surrounding area. The device had an indicator needle that could swing between green, yellow and red; green indicating low electromagnetic energy, yellow indicating medium, and red indicating high levels.

At first, the device was reading green, but as they stepped further into the house, the needle swung to yellow, and the device started letting out a slow beeping noise. Excited, Wybie tried to find the source of the electromagnetic field disturbance by moving the EMF meter around. Coraline eagerly called Luis’s name, but she got no response.

As Wybie swung the device to his left, he noticed that the device started beeping louder as the needle detected more activity. He moved to the left and the beeping increased, the needle moving to red. Slowly, he seemed to be narrowing in on the location of the disturbance. He stopped in front of Norman, and Norman moved out of his way- only for the beeping to decrease again as the needle moved back down to yellow. Wybie adjusted his position, and he was able to pick up the trail again… only to find himself standing in front of Norman for a second time.

Norman’s eyes widened in surprise and the color seemed to drain from his already pale face.

“Wh-what does that mean?” Norman asked nervously as he eyed the EMF meter. “Why is it focusing on me?”

“I’m not sure,” Wybie said as he fiddled with some of the buttons on the meter. “Do you have your phone on you? You should give it to someone else. Maybe that’s what’s setting off the device.”

Norman did so, handing over his phone to Neil.

Norman stepped away from the EMF meter, but again, it focused in on Norman, beeping incessently.

Norman shifted uncomfortably as everyone stared in confusion at the device.

“Wait, I think I’ve seen this movie,” Raz exclaimed with a fake gasp. “Norman’s been dead the entire time!”.

A few lighthearted chuckles from the group eased the atmosphere, and Norman let out an awkward laugh himself.

“It’s probably because Norman was possessed by Luis,” Dipper suggested. Some of his ghostly energy must still be on him, which is messing with the EMF meter.

“Can you do something about that Wybie?” Coraline asked. “We aren’t going to be able to find Luis if the EMF reader keeps lighting up everytime Norman gets close, and I really don’t want to have to wait to find out how long ghost energy can last on a person.”

“I can probably make the device less sensitive,” Wybie said. “That should make it harder to detect Norman and more likely that it will detect a bigger electromagnetic disturbance, like a ghost… theoretically. That's assuming this is even a valid method of finding a ghost.”

“I can leave,” Norman suggested hesitantly. “Maybe that would make it easier for the EMF meter to work if I wasn’t here?”

Dipper shook his head. “No, you should stay. We want to make sure the instrument is actually reading a ghostly entity, not just left over energy. We can actually use you to make sure the calibration is correct.”

“The new calibration might take a while, but I think it will be ready by tomorrow,” Wybie said.

Coraline frowned impatiently, but nodded. “I guess we have no choice but to wait until then.”

“Oh! I can help you, Wybie!” Mabel said eagerly

“Me too!” Neil chimed in.

“Sure,” Wybie said with a shrug.

After all, how could more help be a bad thing?

Past Wybie had been so naive.

Well, Mabel and Neil hadn’t messed with the inside of the device, and as long as it was still functional, that was the most important part.

”You fixed the inside and we fixed the outside! We make a great team!” Mabel said, patting him on the back.

“The outside wasn’t broken-”

“Agree to disagree,” Mabel said flippantly.

“But I haven’t completely fixed it yet,” Wybie said. “I still need to screw this back panel on, but the screws I had to use for the back panel are a lot smaller.” It was a common occurrence when Wybie built things out of spare parts. No big deal. He just needed to use different tools. “I need to use something else. Neil, can you hand me that smaller screwdriver by your leg?”

“Sure!” Neil said and offered the screw driver to Wybie, who thanked him.

“I guess it’s time to find out if it works,” Wybie said as he finished tightening the last screw. “Coraline wanted to try the mansion again today as soon as this was done.”

“Didn’t Mr. Pines want us to work in the shack all day? Won’t he be mad if we all just left?” Neil asked.

“Raz and Lili left a few times yesterday and I think they were gone this morning and I don’t think Mr. Pines noticed. He was too busy with all the tourists,” Wybie said.

“Oh yeah… Why do you think Raz and Lili keep leaving without telling anyone?” Neil asked.

Mabel’s smile widened. "I bet Coraline’s right and they're sneaking away to make out!"

"But whenever they leave they are always really serious and determined. That’s not how people look on TV when they’re about to go kiss someone, or my brother with his boyfriend,” Neil said.

“Also if they are just sneaking off to kiss, why would they be gone for hours?” Wybie added.

“Because they are going on romantic dates, obviously!” Mabel insisted.

“Two to three times a day?” Wybie countered.

Mabel shrugged. “They’re in love!”

“Maybe.” Wybie said, but he suspected there was more to it. Perhaps they were trying to get out of doing work around the shack? Or maybe they had found something more interesting to do in Gravity Falls?

“Do you think your Grunkle would be okay if we left the shack early today to go to the mansion?” Neil asked.

“It depends,” Mabel said thoughtfully. “Grunkle Stan cares if it eats into the profits. With all the new customers we’ve been getting because of the mummy exhibit, he’s probably too happy to care. It’s also past the mid-day rush anyway. We probably won’t get another big batch of tourists until tomorrow.”

Wybie was glad he had been lucky enough to avoid the crowd of tourists that had come to the shop to see the grand reveal of the mummy. The reason Wybie had time to finish the EMF meter was because Coraline, Dipper and Norman were handling the gift shop so they weren’t needed downstairs.

Wybie looked over his EMF meter and turned it on. It hummed, but didn’t start beeping right away, which was a good sign unless the twins bedroom was hunted. In which case it should be beeping very incessantly…

Wybie sighed and turned off the device.

“What’s wrong?” Mabel asked.

“Machines I understand. I could tell you a hundred facts about the different spiders and slugs living in the Pacific Northwest. When I don’t know something, I can research it until I figure it out. But this… ghost stuff. I don’t understand it at all

Mabel cocked her head to the side. “And that’s… bad?”

“Yes!” Wybie said, throwing his hands into the air. “We spoke to a ghost, we found a cabin in the woods powered by magic! I’ve seen all this crazy stuff in the past two days and I don’t know how to make sense of it! How am I supposed to learn or study about something that just breaks the laws of physics? I know ghosts are real. I saw Louis with my own eyes and I’ve known monsters are real ever since… Well, that thing that Coraline doesn’t want to talk about. I can see it, and believe in it to a certain extent, but how am I supposed to understand it? What units of measurement do I even use for ectoplasmic energy or the amount of magic powering the cabin? How am I supposed to understand it, let alone build a device to detect it?” He held up the EMF reader in frustration.

To Wybie’s surprise, Mabel giggled. “You sound like my brother.”

“I do?”

“Dipper will go on and on and say that he loves mysteries, but that’s not true. It’s not the mystery he likes, it’s solving them. The truth is my brother hates mysteries. He can’t stand the uncertainty… he hates not knowing, it eats at him. What he really enjoys is putting the pieces together. You’re similar, you like taking things apart and then putting them back together, but better than before. But with this ghost and magic stuff you’re stuck.” She held up his discarded screwdriver. “Your usual tools aren’t going to help you understand.”

“So what I’m I supposed to do?”

Mabel shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t know how that stuff works either. What do you usually do when you’re stuck and what you’re trying to do isn’t working?”

Wybie frowned. It wasn’t uncommon for him to get stuck with an engineering problem, but what did he do when he was completely out of his depth?

“You get better tools.” Neil said eagerly and Wybie looked up. “Just like you had me get a different screwdriver for the different sized screws.”

Wybie nodded slowly. “I improvise. But how am I supposed to get better tools to understand magic and ghost stuff?”

Mabel shrugged again. “I guess that’s just another mystery?”

Wybie groaned. “I hate when there are too many mysteries and not enough solutions.”

Mabel grinned. “Welcome to Gravity Falls.”

I'm finally back with the beginning of Act 2! I hope you liked it!

I've also been busy going back and editing this story. I haven't made any major changes so there is no need to reread the story since everything is mostly the same!

Table of Contents <Previous

#Mystery Kids #mystery kids case files #psychonauts #coraline #gravity falls #whispering rock fic

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undyingskies · 4 years ago

Text

With You

request: yes,

“hi okay so i was wondering if when you write more requests and have the time(so no rush whatsoever) if you could write a fic based on i'm only me when i'm with you by taylor swift? in my head it seems like a very owen vibey song BUT write it with any of the JATP cast or character you see fit! thanks! love your work, keep it up!”

a/n: it took me a little to be able to write this but once I got into it I really loved it! I hope you enjoy!

warnings: none

tagged: @mah-gah-lee , give her blog a look she is amazing!

___________________________

It was like any other Friday night; you and your best friend Owen were hanging out as usual. He had dragged you along for one of his last minute adventures, deciding that he refused to do it alone and that you had no choice but to come with him.

It’s not like you would refuse anyways but watching the blonde boy on your porch explain to you why you had to go was too entertaining so you let him go on for a few minutes.

That’s how you ended up driving on the highway to god knows where, with a bag packed in the back seat of Owen’s trunk and driving under the night sky.

You have your leg stretched out against the dashboard, your window open and arm stretched out enjoying the summer air breezing by.

The radio was softly playing in the background as the two of you just enjoy each other’s company, making small talk here and there.

Your heart full and happy, you would be forever grateful for the small town boy that wiggled his way into your life and heart.

After months of Owen being gone, filming his Netflix show you were scared that he would forget about you. You were just a girl from a small town, like him, but you didn’t catch the big break he did.

You smile over at him, grateful that he didn’t forget about you, grateful that he was still your best friend the one you knew everything about . The months and distance between the two of you made you realize your feelings for him and that you never wanted to live without him.

Nobody gets you like him. You don’t know why it took you so long to realize that.

“We’re here.” Owen pulls you from your thoughts, the goofiest smile on your face.

You look out your window to see where you guys were, your jaw drops in awe of it.

Owen had taken you to this lake that you had been talking about for weeks now. You had never been but the moment you found out about it you wanted to go.

You had found it a few months back but refused to go without Owen so you waited until he got home to tell him about it.

Down the bank there was a dock that sat in the middle of the lake. It was decorated with tiny lights; the light was bouncy off the water making it feel like you were in a fairy tale. It was beautiful.

“Ready to go down?” He breaks your trance from the scene in front of you, you nod yes in response.

You hop out of the car, the warm summer breeze feeling like a blanket around you. You stand there for a minute letting the breeze flow by you as it lifts your dress a little, a smile gracing your face.

Owen stands by a few feet away from you smiling at you in admiration. He had loved you for some time now.

He walks up beside you, taking your hand in his and begins to walk down towards the dock.

When you reach the end, Owen pulls out a blanket, some snacks, and a speaker. He sits down and pats the spot beside him, smiling.

You follow his lead and sit next to him. You lay on your back, looking up at the night sky, enjoying the light all the stars provided.

The best part about the small town life is that you can actually see the stars and they lit up the sky.

You smile softly as you hear the song that’s playing through the speaker, “This is my favorite song.”

Owen turns to face you a smile on his face, “I know.” You smile wider at his words.

“You remembered.” You can feel your heart swell at your own words and the thought of Owen thinking of you and purposefully putting this song on the playlist.

“Of course I did, I remember everything about you!”

“Oh really? Everything?” You laugh, “even my secrets, or my deepest fears?” You wiggle your eyebrows at him laughing.

“Oh of course, I have to remember so I can protect you from any Ferris Wheels.” You both laugh and you lean over to smack his chest playfully.

“You better watch it Joyner, don’t think I forgot about yours.”

A comfortable silence follows the end of your conversation, both of just enjoying the warm air and the sound the crickets chirping.

You spend the next few minutes quietly connecting the stars, making pictures out of them.

“You see that one right there?” You point to a section of the stars to the left of you guys, “they kind of look like a heart.”

Owen follows your hand and looks to where you’re pointing. “Dang, you’re right they do!”

“Wait look, that one right there!” He’s the one pointing now, “I think that one’s the big dipper!”

He’s very excited about finding it and you can’t contain the smile on your face watching him.

He turns to look back at you, catching you staring at him. You can feel your cheeks heat up, embarrassed that he caught you.

“You know, I feel like you’re the only person I can be myself with.” His confession not helping the pink tint on your cheeks fade.

“This may sound bad but I can tell when you’re around other people.” Owen feigns a shocked face, laughing at your confession.

“It’s just nobody gets me like you do Y/N.”

You knock your shoulders into his, smiling.

“I can say the same thing about you Joyner.”

He smiles at you, another silence falling over you. As much as you two can enjoy the silence, you can see the wheels turning in his head. His forehead wrinkled in between his eyebrows.

“I don’t think you get what I’m trying to say here Y/N.”

This time you’re the one with the wrinkled eyebrows.

“What do you mean then O?”

“It’s just...” He starts to fumble over his words, nervous at the thought of finally confessing his feelings, “It’s just that I mean it, you’re seriously the only person in this world I feel safe around. You’re the only person who I feel like I can be the real me around and still be loved, I can tell you everything my secrets, my fears, it all. I even cry in front of you without hiding it Y/N. You’re just my person ya know? No one gets me like you.”

A smile makes its way onto your face, his words warming your heart.

“I know O, you’re that same person for me too! That’s why we’re best friends!”

Your words cause Owen to let out a frustrated sigh. He’s pushing himself up to sit, he’s now turned away from you. You can see how tense Owen is, and now you’re confused.

You sit up and sit criss cross just like Owen and place your hand on his back trying to help calm him down.

Owen moves making your hand fall off his back, his actions really confusing now.

“What’s wrong?”

Owen sighs at your words again, he knew sometimes you could be clueless to obvious things but he just hoped this time it wouldn’t be the case.

“You know you drive me crazy like half the time?” He asks turning to look at you, he catches you scrunch up your face at his words, which causes him to laugh softly. “I’m here trying to tell you how I feel and you just think I’m talking about us being best friends.”

Again he lets out a laugh, it’s almost comedic how hard he was trying to tell you about his feelings and how clueless you were about them.

“Your feelings?” Owen turns to look at you again, rolling his eyes at you.

The two of you just sit and stare at each other, the only sound coming from the speaker. It seems like the world around you froze in time with the two of you as you just look at one another.

Owen starts to lean in closer to you, your knees now knocking into each other. You take a breath in and he is so close now that you can smell his cologne. You feel your eyes close for a second enjoying the moment.

Your eyes open though when you feel two warm hands move up and cup your cheeks. Your eyes make contact with his blue ones, you watch as he continues to lean in closer slowly. Your breath catches in your throat as he stops just centimeters from your lips.

Your eyes drop from his to his lips and then back up to his eyes. That’s all it took.

His lips are then on top of yours, moving softly against them. Sparks flying everywhere.

You pull apart softly, your eyes opening slowly as his hands drop from your cheeks and land on your thighs.

“Those feelings.” He whispers out.

You just stare at your best friend shocked. You didn’t expect this or even except him to reciprocate your feelings back. You feel your hand move up to your face and your finger softly trace your bottom lip, basking in the feeling of remembering his lips on yours.

Owen smiles at your actions.

“So?” He says, “Anything?”

Your brain is moving a 100 miles a minute, not knowing how to formulate a sentence. All

your feelings are running through your mind and you can’t seem to get a word out.

Your next move shocked you as much as it did Owen, you lean forehead a little harder than you intended and knock Owen down. Owen on his back and the two of you chest to chest.

Owen let’s out a huff and a laugh at your actions, confused but also entertained.

Then your lips are on his this time. You taking lead this time around, letting your lips move in sync with one another.

You pull apart smiling.

“I’m only me when I’m with you O.”

His smile grows at your words.

“And I’m only me when I’m with you Y/N.”

Then yours lips are pressed together again, the two of you enjoying the moment, enjoying your time together, and enjoying the fact that you both were able to confess your feelings for one another.

You two were meant for each other, like two puzzle pieces that fit together. You were your truest forms when together and you could not be happier being with one another.

#owen patrick joyner #owen joyner #owen x reader #owen joyner imagine #owenjoynerimagines #owen joyner x y/n #owen joyner x reader #owen joyner fic #owen joyner fluff #owen joyner fanfiction #owen joyner one shot #julie and the phantoms #jatp

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toplinetommy · 4 years ago

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54+57 for Cale from the updated smut list? Thanks!

turned what i thought was a wholesome smut request into this, also i’ve decided i absolutely love writing for cale

“Alright guys,” Tyson yawned, moving to stand up. “I’m calling it a night.”

“Yeah, me too,” Sammy agrees, joining Tyson in jumping out of the hot tub. You and Cale both bid them goodnight before you’re left alone in the warm water, the moon shining high in the sky.

It was all-star week and a bunch of the guys had decided to rent out a cabin in Aspen, most of the girlfriends and wives tagging along for the vacation, too. The cabin you all rented was beautiful with an all wood interior, a wrap around porch and accompanying balconies for most of the bedrooms. The extra large hot tub had to be everyone’s favorite amenity, enjoying it when both the sun and the moon were high in the sky.

You floated closer to your boyfriend, even with the newfound space, and found yourself sitting in his lap. Your hands fell atop his bare shoulders as he gripped your waist where the straps of your bottoms rest.

“Alone at last,” you tease, brushing a stray dipper of water off his rosy cheek.

“Alone at last,” Cale laughs in agreement. Quietness surrounds the both of you, the only noise coming from the woods surrounding you. You’re pretty sure everyone inside is either asleep or in bed with the lack of noise. You stare at one another for a moment, admiring the moonlight casting into your boyfriend’s pale skin.

A shiver runs through you as a large gust of wind blows through the air and Cale chuckles at you. His fingers brush against your waist in a comforting manner, a smile on his lips as he drinks you in.

You’re wearing a bright red bikini, a stark contrast to the color of your skin. It accentuates your chest in a way that has Cale trying to focus on anything else. His eyes follow the falling droplets of water scattered across your skin and the way your hips suddenly move against his. His eyes shoot up to yours at the action, his fingers tightening their grip.

You rock your hips against his once more with a smirk, before leaning and placing your lips on his. His hands pull your in tighter as you kiss him, your lips moving in sync with one another. The hot bubbles splash against your back, keeping you warm in the below freezing temperatures. His hands trail from your hips to your ass, his hands slipping underneath the bikini bottoms that leave little to the eye, and kneading the bare skin.

“You’re really bad at hiding how turned on you are,” you whisper with a smirk into his ear. You nibble on his ear, trailing your lips down his jaw until they meet his lips again.

“C’mon we can just go to bed,” Cale suggests, nodding his head back towards the door to the house. His voice has a slight strain to it, clearly showing that he wants exactly what you want, just in the safety of your bedroom.

“Or,” you draw out. “You can fuck me right here.”

Cale groans at your idea, already picturing your body bouncing against the bubbles in the water and the way your breasts float in water pressed against him. He thinks about it for half a second, before agreeing and springing forward to connect your lips once more.

He pushes the triangle shaped fabric that’s covering your breasts to the side, letting them hang freely. Your nipples instantly harden as the cold air hits them, the soft touches of Cale’s fingers sending shivers across your chest. His neck tilts down, his lips moving to wrap around one of your nipples, the other one being covered by his plan as he kneads the flesh.

His cock is starting to strain against his board shorts, the thin material of his shorts combined with your barely there bikini bottoms leaving very little between your bodies. Cale’s hand travels back down to your ass, moving the fabric to the side to expose your pussy. The movement has you gasping in surprise and you grind your hips down further.

“Now who’s the one that can’t hide how turned on they are?” Cale chirps as he releases your nipple from his mouth. He dips his finger into your folds, teasing you as he nips along your neck. A finger slips in you from behind, your body arching against him as your nipples brush over his chest.

He adds another finger, working you open for him. His fingers feel amazing, but you want more, want to feel full. Cale seemingly reads your mind as your hands move to the drawstrings of his shorts, sitting up on your knees to pull them just far enough down his thighs to release his cock.

You pump him under the water a few times, before you’re shuffling in his lap silently asking for Cale to enter you. He removes his fingers from you slowly, letting you adjust to the new empty feeling before brushing his cock along your folds in a teasing manner. He catches your clit a few times, shutters flowing through you body as you whimper for more. He enters you slowly, holding your hips to sit you fully on him. The fullness of it all is a lot, knowing where you are and who might catch you only adding to your senses. Doing this, fucking in a semi-communal hot tub, is something way out of the ordinary for your relationship. You’re all for the exhilaration of sex in water, but the newness of being outside and near his teammates has your breath hitching in your throat.

Your movements are slow, languid even as the two of you move in the water. Cale’s controlling the pace, gripping your hips as he helps move you up and down on his shaft. You place your hands on his chest, using his broad body for leverage as you start to take control with your movements.

You know you can’t make any noise, not only because you want to avoid any chirps but because the two of you are fucking in a common area people are spending time in, and they definitely don’t need to know what late night activities you’re partaking in. Your lips stay glued to his, swallowing each other’s moans and whispering praises against the others lips.

His hands spread your ass apart, using it as a method to move you up and down on his cock. You’re moving painfully slow, trying not to splash the water around too much. Your bare chest is pressed up against his, your nipples rubbing against his skin. His cock presses deep inside of you and you screw your eyes tight, focusing on the feeling of Cale inside you and his hands on your body.

Cale can see that you’re struggling to stay quiet, can see that your orgasm is right there. He moves his plan from where it’s spread across your ass to the front of your body, finding your clit and applying pressure. His fingers rub at your clit harshly as you start to bounce faster and harder.

“That’s it baby, you’re doing great,” Cale encourages. You let out a whimper, dropping your head onto his shoulder. “You gonna come for me?”

“Yes,” you let out in a whimper. You continue to chant quiet yes’s as your orgasm nears. “Fuck, Cale!”

Your pussy flutters around Cale’s cock, his hips twitching at the sensation. The clenching of your muscles around Cale has him chasing his own high as he lifts your hips higher above him and begins thrusting up into you. Your lips reattach to his, your lips moving in sync with one another as you both reach your high, his come filling you up. Your breathing slows down and you rest your forehead on his, both of you smiling goofily at the realization of what you just did. He moves his hands to the bottom of your thighs, standing and lifting both of you out of the water and stepping out of the hot tub. He’s still sheathed fully in you as he does so, careful to not let any of his come dribble out. Once he’s safely standing on the wood planks, he slides out and fixes your bikini to cover you back up.

+++bonus

The next morning, you and Cale are both rubbing the sleep out of your eyes as you enter the living room and kitchen, joining everyone else that’s awake in the house.

“Cale!” Ryan all about shouts walking into the kitchen after you, waking the two of you right up. “I have some beef with you.”

“Shut up, Gravy,” Cale mumbles as his cheeks reddens, knowing all too well what was coming next.

“You and y/n fucked in the hot tub last night!”

“What the fuck?”

“You guys did what?”

“Dude! I wanted to use it too!”

“Didn’t know Cale had it in him!”

“You know you would’ve done it if we didn’t beat you to it!” You yell, turning back to the comfort of your boyfriend's shoulder. The entire first floor of hockey players goes silent at the chirp, their jaws all dropping at the out-of-nowhere comment from the team couple that’s considered the purest. After a brief moment where you could hear a pin drop, the room burst into laughter, Josty giving you a pay on the shoulder as he walked behind you.

“I can’t believe we have to set a rule, no sex in the common areas!” Gabe laughs as he makes the announcement. You can see in his face as Mel runs his back that he’s getting tired of all the youngsters he’s consistently around, even though everyone knows he loves it.

#blurbies #alex writes #cale makar imagine #nhl smut

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harper-collins · 2 years ago

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7 years later... - Billdip Oneshot

Pairing: Bill Cipher x Dipper Pines

Warnings: Usage of guns, mention of drugs and mention/someone being called a prostitute - MATURE, If you don't like these topics please don't read!

Hiya! This is a continuation (in a way) of the idea that I had and the last oneshot that I made regarding that idea. It has both Bill and Dipper now adults and in the Mafia business.

If this isn't something people really enjoy, then I probably won't continue it, but this is where the majority of the story would take place (after this oneshot) if this were to become a fully-fledged story on AO3!

Enjoy!

It was another typical day with a lot to do for the blonde, and he was just getting started. He had quite a few ‘scheduled’ appointments today due to him wanting to check every single person under his new leadership now he’d taken control of his old boss's company, which had also meant going through each finance and seeing exactly who was in the ‘family’.

Although Bill himself had known quite a few people, especially the others that visited often, he never knew just how many people were connected to his boss, and after getting a light shock, he decided to see each and every person to see if one of them would be perfect as a personal bodyguard for himself.

His boss had bodyguards that he’d had before, and were given down to him… But Bill wanted one to himself that he trusted, due to the fact he’d managed to get past those same bodyguards and murdered his boss just over two weeks ago. Now, he had someone specifically that had interested him deeply.

Once he’d seen the name he knew that he wanted to meet him again. It had been about seven years since their last meeting, and the man he was waiting for this morning didn’t live in Gravity Falls, he was a part of the extended family that was specifically in California and had a blood relative living in Gravity Falls.

Whatever his legal name used to be, it wasn’t in the books, but that didn’t matter to Bill. He knew that this man was careful with any of his personal information from the moment he came into the business at the young age of twelve. Bill had been there when he had first met his old boss, and through the years the brunette and his boss had kept communication.

Bill had noticed that the male had been given finances from the male he was waiting for this morning and got them on a bi-weekly basis. It wasn’t listed exactly what those sales were or where the money was appearing from, but knowing that the brunette had a business that actively gave Bill money almost inspired him to speak to him.

That had been that. Bill had told his assistant to go and call the brunette (using the right equipment of course) and tell the male to come for today, at 10 AM. Must've been a bit of a shock to the brunette that he had been given a call at all because no one had been told that Bill had come to power officially. He had known it was trickled down the spine of the family, some coming up to him to actively support or congratulate him, or even kill him. Although, Bill was unsure whether this news had gotten to the brunette.

As ‘The Triangle’ was wondering about this exact topic, a voice took him out of his train of thought. “He has arrived Boss, do you want me to bring him through?” Py asked with an edge to her voice. Bill turned his seat around to look at his bodyguard and nodded. “Bring him through,” He replied and stood up, awaiting the brunette.

Bill lit up a cigarette and put it in his mouth, taking in the smoke to his lungs as he awaited the brunette. It didn’t take long for him to appear, and the moment Bill saw the light hit his face, he was certainly glad he’d called.

Dipper, or rather as many called him, Double Dipper, was a short, brown-haired individual. His hair was put in a fairly specific manner, it was obvious to Bill that he’d used wax for this particular occasion to keep his hair in place, and had the clearest skin that Bill had ever seen for a face. No scars in sight, and everything was intact. He had a chiselled look and the only thing slightly obscured out of view was his forehead, where Bill was aware of the birthmark being hidden behind the bushy hair.

He wore a suit, although it was noticeable to Bill that he didn’t like it, his shoulders were almost hidden from view which almost made him think that the brunette wasn't confident enough to meet him. It was the puffed chest that gave the confidence that the brunette needed to keep Bill interested though as the male looked him up and down.

“Pinetree,” Bill breathed. If it were any other situation, any other business, Bill was sure he’d run up to the brunette and hug him. This wasn’t a soft business, and that sort of attitude wasn’t welcome in these parts. Dipper nodded a little, keeping a calm and collected look covered across him. Bill got the faint smell of pines coming off Dipper.

“Mr Cipher, or would you prefer I call you ‘The Triangle?” Dipper asked, trying his best to stay formal, and not have anyone pointing guns at him. That wasn’t the purpose of this visit. He thought he’d been called in by the boss, not the man who had teased him every moment he’d been in Gravity Falls working under the boss.

Bill inhaled his cigarette again before taking it out of his mouth and blowing the smoke into the room. “Bill or Triangle is fine, you’re a friend, and I don’t want to be too formal with you,” Bill told him, eyeing the brunette up as he spoke. The more Bill spoke the more Dipper realised that the only person he was going to be talking to from now on was Bill.

“I’ve been going through our finances recently, and I noticed that your name and contact details were written down with a significant amount of money being given to me… I was wondering, where is it coming from?” Bill asked curiously. In all honesty, Bill didn’t care, he wasn’t that interested in figuring out what the brunette did that gave him the money, usually, all people cared about was that the money was given.

Bill had other motivations for asking this question though, it allowed Bill to understand the brunette more, and more importantly, he could keep him here for longer. “Narcotics mainly, but guns are also something that I tend to sell,” Dipper summarised, he wasn’t going to splurge his operation easily, and neither was Bill expecting him to give it. This information was probably the best Bill could be able to get out of the brunette without any fuss.

Bill hummed as he put out his cigarette in the dish next to him. “I was thinking Pinetree… Maybe you could come on another day for us to discuss things further,” Bill grinned and took a step forward to Dipper. His respective bodyguards inched closer, but neither of the men really noticed. Bill was feasting his eyes on the confusion that was evident across the brunette’s face.

“Not to be out of line, but why would we need another meeting if all we needed to speak about was finances?” Dipper asked, putting a hand on his hip. Bill clicked his tongue watching the movement and took a step back and sat down. “Pinetree you interest me so much… I’ve decided to offer you a position you might not be able to refuse… You just need to prove yourself,” Bill responded, giving him a ‘bored’ look, mainly for the show.

It gave the impression that the blonde had given this offer to other people, and as Bill wanted, it encouraged the brunette to get competitive. Of course, Dipper was the first one and probably the only one that Bill was actually offering for the job, but the more that the brunette was ready to put up a fight, the better his results would be. If he wasn’t easily breakable under the pressure of course, but he would be practically useless if that were to happen.

“My assistant will contact you on the day to come here when we’re ready for you, but for now, prepare,” Bill continued, watching as the cogs working in the brunette’s mind. He nodded a little. “Thank you for your time and offer,” He simply responded and Py took lead in leading them out of the room. Bill grinned, watching them both leave. This was going to be fun.

As Pyronica was leading Dipper out of the building, out of the twists and turns of the building, they had to cross a room he had originally gone through to get here without Pyronica, but this time it had become a little crowded. He played it cool going through until he looked up and heard something…

“...you see that guy? Seeing The Triangle? He’s too cute to be in this business or a killer for that matter…” He heard from across the room. Dipper looked over to the man who had been talking, who wasn’t facing him. Probably one of his biggest mistakes. “...probably just a prostitute,” He heard the man continue, and that’s what cost him.

In a flurry, Dipper put his hand on his Pistol, took the safety off and took it out of its holster. The brunette pointed the gun at the man’s leg, close to where it’d really hurt, and shot. The man wasn’t expecting it, no one was. A loud sound went through the room that silenced everyone, apart from the one who was shot. It was perfect and had gone right through the side of his leg, and almost out the other side.

He screamed and fell off the bar stool he had been sitting on whilst everyone else stood still, looking at Dipper. After a few seconds of watching the man’s pain, he put the safety back on, and slowly put his gun back in its holster. Once Pyronica had seen he was done, she grinned to herself and continued to show the brunette the way out, knowing that their boss would be happy to know.

He hadn’t shot to kill, but he’d shot to suffer. Something that she thought Bill would appreciate.

#gravity falls au #billdip #writing #bill cipher #dipper pines

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minijenn · 3 years ago

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Keys to the Kingdom Preview

So I'm having... a fucking week. Between the Smash reveal and a number of other IRL things, focusing on this chapter has been a bit... tricky. But here's a bit of what I've managed to write so far, enjoy more of Sora interacting with the Mystery Twins idk why but these interactions are really easy and really fun to write ahahah ^_^

***

“Ok,” he says, much to the twins’ shared relief. “I… guess I can make some time to stick with you guys a little while longer.” A little while longer before he can give the heirloom back to Bill, before he can get the reward he so desperately craves. Before he can finally be free.

And really, after waiting this long for that freedom, certainly he can afford to wait just a little bit more.

“Thanks, Sora!” Mabel exclaims warmly, bounding ahead to join her brother. “See, Dipper?” she whispers to him, aside. “I told you we could trust him!”

“Seeing as how he’s the only person we know who can actually get rid of those monsters, it's not like we really have too much of a choice…” Dipper says, though he wears a smile all the same. “But… I guess you weren’t wrong. This time, anyway.”

Sora swallows hard when he happens to overhear this, the sizable knot of guilt already settled in his stomach tightening to an almost oppressive degree. Whatever trust either of the twins might have for something is something he knows he hasn’t earned, something he definitely doesn’t deserve after what he’s just done. As he trails a few paces behind them, his hand drifts down to his pocket, to the heirloom, to reveal his crimes and come clean like he knows he should. And yet… at the same time, he knows he can’t. Not when this is perhaps the last and only chance he has at turning the tide, at undoing what’s been done, at saving his own life. Certainly, if Dipper and Mabel knew just what he’s up against, if they knew everything he’s already lost and still stands to lose, then they’d understand the lengths he’s taking to finally stop it all… wouldn’t they?

“Hey, Sora?” Mabel pipes up, pulling out of his fretful thoughts as they venture back into the woods. The dark path ahead is only sparsely illuminated by the flashlight Dipper had grabbed back at the shack, though that light does little to chase away the oddly ominous aura the forest carries at night. Or at least, an aura that’s even more ominous than the one that had filled it during the day. “I’ve been wanting to ask you for awhile now: what’s that Key thing that Xamnams guy wants you to get so badly?”

“Oh yeah, I was wondering about that too,” Dipper glances back at the older boy. “Is it the same key you fought those monsters with, or is it something different?”

“Oh, um, yeah, it’s different,” Sora nods, more than happy for the distraction this kind of conversation can serve his troubled mind. “It’s a special kind of Key that’s one out of thirteen that my--I-I mean his master has been looking for. And if they get their hands on it first… let’s just say something really… bad could happen.”

“Wait, so that guy isn’t actually your boss?” Mabel asks.

No, of course he’s not, Sora thinks, though the words refuse to leave his mouth. A small burst of pain constricts around his heart, one that feels far too familiar to the point that he doesn’t even think twice about where it could be coming from. That same pain bars him from saying what he really wants to, though this time, it doesn’t force him to say something else against his will. What he’s able to get out instead is still far from anything substantial though. “Uh… w-well, he’s my… I-I, uh… It’s-”

“Let me guess,” Dipper cuts in knowingly. “It’s something else that’s ‘complicated’, isn’t it?”

The most Sora can do is nod, rubbing his arm as he apprehensively glances away from the twins. Mabel’s quick to fill in the newfound silence, however, with a small coo of curious fascination. “Ooo, Sora, you’re such a complex guy!” she grins, a smile that turns a touch coy as she twirls a lock of her hair playfully. “Ya know I’ve always had a thing for men of mystery.”

Naturally, Sora still isn’t quite sure of how to respond to the younger girl’s persistent brand of “unique” flirting. Fortunately, he doesn’t have to as Dipper dryly interrupts. “What, you mean like that ‘mysterious’ guy you dated who turned out to be a bunch of gnomes stacked on top of each other?” he asks, flashing his sister a bit of a teasing smirk.

“Yeesh, I accidentally go out with some creepy gnomes one time and suddenly I never hear the end of it,” Mabel huffs, rolling her eyes. “At least I didn’t spend the entire summer desperately crushing on someone who’s waaaay too old for me.”

“Says the girl who’s literally doing that right now,” Dipper retorts, catching Mabel in the middle of the affectionate wave she’s sending Sora’s way.

“...And your point is?”

As the twins’ next round of insincere bickering kicks off, Sora does his best to try and focus on it, only for his thoughts to drift internally once more. As far as he knows, Xemnas, or any other Organization member for that matter, isn’t anywhere in the immediate vicinity, so how does their power still have such a restrictive hold on him, to the point that he can’t even speak freely? Has he really fallen so far under their sway that he can be forced to do their bidding from a distance? Does he really have so little freedom left that he’s bound to obey them even when not a single one of them is around?

It’s a grim, downright horrifying thought, a reality he knows he ultimately can’t escape from, at least not on his own. He draws in a steadying breath as he gently pats the pocket the glass globe is resting in, shuddering as he feels another wave of its palpable power wash over him. Regardless of whatever it is that globe actually holds, right now, it also holds all of his once-faded hopes, his nearly-dead dreams, his last chance at living the life he longs to lead instead of the life that’s fallen apart all around him. And all it’ll take for him to finally get that life is to take that globe back to its rightful owner, to give it back to Bill so that Bill can give him back everything he’s lost in return.

So that’s exactly what he’ll do. No matter how uncertain his mind and heart alike still are of whether or not he should.

#hahaha sora is having a moral crisis what else is new #dont steal kids stealing is wrong and it gives you Guilt #jen writes #keys to the kingdom #keys preview

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fallen-gravity · 4 years ago

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Cheap Thrills and Expensive Snacks

Mabel grins. “Grunkle Ford, do you want to go on a road trip with us? One last adventure before we have to go home?”

Ford’s smile softens with sadness. He’d gotten so caught up in reveling in Bill’s defeat that he’d almost forgotten the kids were heading back to California at the end of the summer.

Ford shakes his head. “I would love to, but…” he frowns. “I’m not sure we have enough time”

The young twins exchange grins, like that’s exactly the response they were waiting for.

“I wouldn’t say that, Grunkle Ford” Dipper grins, looking like he’s struggling to suppress a fit of giggles.

“We have all time in the world” Mabel finishes Dipper’s sentence for him, and in perfect unison the twins pull out a roll of measuring tape from their pockets.

Notes: Here's my belated entry for Week 3 of Forduary: Road Trip!! I absolutely love the road trip trope, and highkey wish Ford could've gotten to see some of Stan's competitors just for the sake of how awful they were compared to the Mystery Shack. C'mon! Give Stan some credit.I also wanted an excuse for Ford to bond more with the kids before they went home, and what better way than through a never-ending roadtrip that somewhat breaks the laws of time and space?

@forduary

AO3

Ever since Ford heard the first bird chirping the morning after Weirdmageddon’s conclusion, he’s felt like a thirty-year old weight has finally been lifted from his shoulders. For the first time in decades, Ford has found himself able to sleep, able to eat, able to do and say anything he pleases without having to speak in hushed tones or cast a cautious glance behind his shoulders.

For the first time since his childhood, he truly feels like himself again, and no longer like a marionette whose strings are always on the brink of snapping under pressure.

It was that first morning after the war, upon waking up before others (out of habit, mostly), that he allowed himself to truly sit and ponder on everything he’s been missing since shutting himself out from the world in his early twenties. He quickly came to the conclusion that the things he missed most were always the things he’d always had just outside of arm’s length; He missed the thrill of discovery, of exploration, the passion for his life’s work that had faded into thin air the moment that fateful first test run of the portal had failed.

Most of all, he missed companionship.

As much as he hated to admit it to himself, Ford needed other people in his life more than anything else, even more than Ivy League schools and research grants and all the knowledge in the universe.

He told Stan the reason he wanted to take a boat out to the Arctic was to track and contain the remnants of Weirdmageddon that had begun to spread outside of Gravity Falls. But truth be told, he would’ve asked Stan if he still wanted to travel world with him regardless, because Ford found himself wanting nothing more than to chase their childhood dream and never let it go again.

There’s a light knock on his study door as he’s scribbling down navigation notes and he’s half-expecting to see Stan when he turns to the noise. He’s instead met with Dipper and Mabel, standing side by side in his doorway.

“Got a minute?” Dipper asks.

“We have something super important to ask you!” Mabel beams.

Ford places his pen down on his desk, and smiles. “I’m listening”

“Well,” Dipper starts. “We’ve been thinking about how we didn’t get to spend a whole lot of time with you this summer because...” he shrugs. “Well, because we didn’t know you existed until a few weeks ago”

“And that’s totally unfair to you!” Mabel throws her arms up in the air. “It’s not your fault you missed out on all the fun because you were trapped in another dimension”

Dipper nods. “And that got us thinking of all the time we spent with Grunkle Stan, and the road trip he took us on a few weeks ago without you. I don’t know if that was because he asked you and you said no, or if he left without telling you out of spite, or something”

“And that’s when a super genius idea came to us!” Mabel grins. “Grunkle Ford, do you want to go on a road trip with us? One last adventure before we have to go home?”

Ford’s smile softens with sadness. He’d gotten so caught up in reveling in Bill’s defeat that he’d almost forgotten the kids were heading back to California at the end of the summer.

But…a glance to the calendar hanging by the doorway tells him it’s August 29th, and the twins are set to leave after their birthday party ends on the 31st.

Ford shakes his head. “I would love to, but…” he frowns. “I’m not sure we have enough time”

The young twins exchange grins, like that’s exactly the response they were waiting for.

“I wouldn’t say that, Grunkle Ford” Dipper grins, looking like he’s struggling to suppress a fit of giggles.

“We have all time in the world” Mabel finishes Dipper’s sentence for him, and in perfect unison the twins pull out a roll of measuring tape from their pockets. Before Ford has even a moment to wonder what they could mean, they each pull on their tape, high five each other, and disappear into thin air.

Ford stumbles to his feet, nearly knocking his chair to the ground. Between one blink and the next the kids reappear, both of them wearing period piece costumes. The measuring tapes in their hand crackle with blue lightning.

Ford gasps. “Time tapes! Of course!” He approaches the twins in the doorway. “How did you two get ahold of these?”

“Let’s just say we have an inside to these sorts of things” Mabel replies, kicking her costume off and placing her time tape back into her sweater pocket.

“So what do you say?” Dipper steps forward. “Do you want to come with us on a road trip? We can literally go whenever we want”

“You mean when--” Mabel pauses, backtracking. “Oh, wait, you did say that”

“So what do you say, Grunkle Ford? One more adventure for the road?”

Ford’s chest fills with warmth. He’d love to; he really would, but…

“What about Stan?”

“Y’gotta give me some credit, poindexter” Stan’s voice rings from behind the corner. If Ford had to guess, it’s probably because he was waiting for his response. “Someone’s gotta tag along to babysit you three”

Ford wants to glare at his brother at the insult, but his excitement overtakes it and a grin spreads to his face instead.

“Let’s go,” he says, with all the wonder in his tone that he’d been missing for years.

Dipper and Mabel exchange nods, and take each other’s hands. With their free hands, they stretch their measuring tapes out the same length. Stan grabs on to Mabel’s shoulder, and after he and Dipper share a silent, knowing glance, Ford places his hand on Dipper’s shoulder.

Dipper and Mabel release their tape in unison, and a large flash of white light overwhelms Ford’s vision. When it finally fades, the four of them are still standing exactly where they’d been a moment ago, the only indication that anything changed being the sparks of blue lightning crackling from their clothes.

Dipper’s the first to step away from the huddle. “See?” He gestures at Ford’s wall calendar, which now displays June instead of August. “It’s practically the beginning of the summer all over again!”

Mabel breaks away to stand beside Dipper. “Now we can go anywhere we want! We could go to Portland, or Vegas, or the lost city of Atlantis, or anywhere in the world, because this bad boy prevents us from missing our bus ride home for as long as we want!”

Stan chuckles, shaking his head. “Not so fast, Mabel. I love the enthusiasm, but I’m not sure my old RV can handle driving into the ocean. Not unless Brainiac over here is willing to do some modifications on it” Stan throws an arm around Ford’s shoulder, squeezing it tightly. “Besides, I’ve already got a plan!” Stan’s gaze shifts to Ford, and the grin on his face could split it in two. “If you think my attractions look fake, just wait ‘til you see how bad my competitors look compared to me!”

“I dunno,” Dipper frowns, scratching at his chin. “Don’t you think going back to the place where you were almost eaten by a giant spider lady is a bad idea?”

“Hey, time travel rules mean that I never met her in the first place, right?” Stan crosses his arms. “Besides, it’s not like I’m gonna fall for her tricks all over again just because she offers me discounted tickets, or something”

Dipper and Mabel exchange worried glances.

“Mmm, okay,” Dipper says. “But we’re keeping an eye on you”

“That’s the spirit!” Stan exclaims, and slaps Ford on the back as he backs out of the room. “I’m gonna go pack. I doubt you have anything to pack, Sixer, but we’re reconvening in the gift shop in an hour. Go…take a shower or something. I don’t wanna spend next twelve hours driving with someone smelling like that.”

Ford glares at him, but before he has time to respond Stan’s already gone. The kids must’ve slipped out close on Stan’s heels, because when Ford turns he’s alone in his room. Rolling his eyes, he walks to his couch and kneels on the ground, reaching underneath for his emergency exploration pack. It’s a backpack torn and worn from age, and comes already packed with water bottles, nutrient bars, sunscreen, and just about every brand of monster repellent known to mankind.

A nostalgic sort of smile threatens to tug at his lips. He hasn’t seen this bag since his early research days with Fiddleford. He slings it over his shoulders, and pats at his trench coat pocket to make sure his journal is still safely tucked inside. He doesn’t necessarily plan on making any more additions, but he supposes that old habits die hard.

It’s a very bulky RV, much bigger than Ford was expecting. He’d assumed that Stan calling it an RV was just an exaggeration, and that the four of them would just be piling into the Stanleymobile as they tugged some tiny trailer along that they would only would only step foot in for sleeping. But as Ford approaches, he can see Dipper and Mabel chatting at a small table through the window, and Stan rummaging through a cupboard above them, and it looks as though there’s still plenty of room to walk between them.

Mabel taps on Dipper’s shoulder, points in Ford’s direction, and both of them wave frantically out the window at him.

“Took you long enough,” Stan suddenly appears in the doorway of the camper. “Now get in. The last thing we need is to run into the past versions of those two and get bombarded with questions” He gestures with his thumb towards Dipper. “Especially him. He sees that journal sticking out of your pocket and we’re done for”

Ford chuckles. “I can only imagine,” he says, and climbs aboard behind Stan. He’s about to take the passenger side seat besides Stan when the kids frantically wave him over.

“Grunkle Ford, over here!” Mabel beams, and hops down from her seat across from Dipper. “Come sit with us!”

“This is a road trip about spending more time with you, after all” Dipper nods. “What good will it do for us if you’re sitting way up front with Stan?”

“Yeah! No good interrogation ever happens from across the room!” Mabel exclaims.

Ford raises an eyebrow, but smiles at the pair as he takes a seat across from them. “Interrogation?”

“Yep!” Dipper grins. “We already know all of the heroic scientist stuff about you…”

“But we want to know the fun Grunkle stuff about you!” Mabel finishes his sentence for him. “You favorite ice cream flavor, your first kiss, the most illegal thing you’ve ever gotten away with…you know, just the basics!”

Ford blushes. “Well, I don’t know about that…”

“Aww, I’m sure it’s not that bad! Dipper’s first kiss was with a merman he had to give reverse CPR to!”

“Mabel!” Dipper squeaks, his whole a dark shade of red. “That’s not fair! You know I didn’t have a choice!”

Ford can’t help the fond smile that spreads to his face. It’s moments like these that he’s going to miss the most. Sure, he’ll have anomalies, and treasure, and the whole world to explore, but he just knows that none of that is ever going to compare to time alone with the kids.

Once Stan gets the RV up and running, Ford knows there’s no going back. He and the kids swap childhood stories for hours, only pausing when Stan pulls off the side of the road to fuel up on gas and snacks. Dipper tells him of the time him and Mabel shaved their heads after a bully stuck gum in Mabel’s hair on photo day, and Ford tells them of the time that he and Stan swapped clothes on photo day just to see if they could get away with it. (They could, and Ford still has the yearbook where their photos are mislabeled as each other hidden away in his study to this day).

It’s eye opening, honestly. The young twins really are a mirror image to himself and Stan when they were kids.

“We’re here!” Stan grins, screeching the RV to a sudden halt. Upon looking out the window, the only thing Ford can see is a gift shop about the size of an outhouse and a ball of yarn about three sizes bigger than the RV. Stan stands from the driver’s seat, stretching. “You think I overcharge for my tours, Sixer? This woman charges double the price of my admission just to take a picture of this fuzz ball” He reaches underneath the driver’s seat, pulling out a large hook attached to a thick rope. “We’re only doing her a favor by stealing it! Starting from scratch with a new attraction could do her some good”

“Hmm, I dunno” Dipper shrugs. “Don’t you think that doing the exact same prank on all of your competitors in the exact same order is just gonna result in them, I dunno, pranking you again in the exact same way?”

“Nonsense!” Stan brings his hand to his chest like Dipper had offended him. “The only reason they got away with it last time is because we left poindexter here home alone in the basement. There’ll be dozens of tour groups coming through the shack today with my past self taking care of the place for me.” He taps at his forehead. “Besides, wasn’t this whole road trip your idea in the first place?” He smirks. “Are you telling me that your own idea is dumb?”

Dipper opens his mouth to argue back, realizes he has nothing, and pouts grumpily as he hops out of the RV. Stan cackles, and hops out of the RV after him. Ford rolls his eyes, and hops out after them to take a look at his surroundings. Stan really wasn’t kidding; everything really is contained to the one parking lot with nothing to show for it but the giant ball of yarn and a converted outhouse with tie-dye tee shirts hanging from its roof.

“Don’t just stand there gawking at it!” Stan slaps him on the shoulder, grinning. “Either help the kids out or talk the old woman’s ear off long enough to distract her” he gestures with a thumb towards Dipper and Mabel, giggling and poking at each other as they tie the rope end of the hook to the RV. As Mabel walks to attach the hook to the large yarn ball, she notices Ford watching her and waves hello.

“Hey Grunkle Ford!” she shouts. “If there’s enough left over from this mound after we drag it home, I’ll knit you a sweater with it!”

Ford laughs as he approaches to help her. “I’m counting on it.”

As it turns out, she wasn’t joking. As soon as they’ve all piled back into the RV to head to the next tourist trapped, Mabel already has her sewing needles in hand and a tangled ball of multicolored yarn sitting on the table in front of her. It’s amazing watching her work, clicking the needles together so quickly yet delicately, not missing a single fold. Ford’s never seen someone pour so much love into something so particular since the early days of his research.

Ford doesn’t want to interrupt her focus, so he turns to Dipper instead.

“How long has she been able to do that?”

Dipper glances at his sister beside him. “Oh, you mean sewing? Our grandma from our mom’s side of the family taught her when she was about six.” He rolls his eyes. “Our parents tried to buy her an electronic sewing machine for our eighth birthday, but she flat out rejected it because she insisted there wouldn’t be enough love in her creations if she didn’t make them by hand”

“It’s true!” Mabel exclaims, not looking up from her sewing job. “I’m not gonna sit around and let some machine do all the work for me! How are my friends and family supposed to know I made them their sweaters with love if I didn’t sew my blood and sweat into the threads myself?”

Ford hopes she’s being metaphorical, but the sentiment is still there. “So you’re telling me that every sweater you’ve worn this summer is homemade?”

“Yep!” she beams. “All the way down to the embroidery.” She holds up the skeleton of the sweater she’s working on into the light. “You’re real lucky, Grunkle Ford. This’ll be my first sweater I’ve ever made out of stolen materials!”

Her use of the term first rather than only makes Ford laugh. The more time he spends with them, the less he wants to say goodbye to them. Stan must be the bravest man alive, being willing to send these kids home after three months with them, because if it were up to him he’d already be signing adoption papers to make them legally his.

“Stop two!” Stan yells from the front of the RV, and hops out as soon as they’re parked. Mabel places her work gently on the table, and follows Stan out without any effort. Dipper, on the other hand, takes one look out the window at where they’ve stopped and pales.

“Oh no”

Ford follows his gaze. It’s just a single story home turned on its head, absolutely nothing about it giving Ford the impression that there’s anything scary about it.

“What’s wrong?” Ford asks. “Do you get motion sickness? I learned quite a few tricks on how to deal with just the thing in the Spinning Top Dimension! You’re going to need a few things first, but I’m sure we’ll be able to find them around here somewhere-”

“N-no, it’s not that” Dipper cuts him off, face turning a dark shade of red. “The last time we were here I tried asking Grunkle Stan if he had any advice on how to talk to girls. And there was this one really cute girl, and we hit it off, but…” he rubs at his arm. “I acted like a total jerk. I treated her like she was just a number and I feel awful about it”

Ford frowns, getting down on one knee. “You’re not worried you’re going to run into her again, are you? This time loop should be stable enough to prevent her from showing up early”

Dipper’s gaze falls to the floor. “No, it’s more like…I’m so afraid of being myself that I feel like the only way I can fit in is to act like something I’m not. I just wish I could figure out a way to talk to girls without forcing myself to act like I’m better than them or something”

Ford smiles. “Dipper, I may not have any sound advice when it comes to girls, but I’ve only known you for a number of weeks, and I think anyone would be lucky to have you. You’re kind and caring and so brilliant for your age” Dipper opens his mouth to protest, but Ford shakes his head. “Some of the most brilliant minds in the world suffered from anxiety and depression, my boy, and look where they are now. I have the upmost confidence that the same thing is bound to happen to you”.

Dipper’s eyes are big and wide, like he’s about to cry, but the waterworks never come. Dipper throws his arms around Ford’s neck in a hug, and Ford hugs him back. Once they pull away, they hop out of the van to join Stan and Mabel outside to prevent Stan from coming back in to yell at them. This stop is a bit less complicated, just a simple walkthrough to make sure there isn’t a hoard of tourists inside before running back out to tip the whole house right side up. It’s a lot of laughing from Stan and sprinting back to the van, and once they’re out of the parking lot and back on the highway it’s as if they never stopped at all. Mabel gets right back to working on her sweater, and Dipper gets right back to chatting up Ford for life stories.

A good portion of their stops go equally as smooth. The kids convince Ford to go on the log flume at Log Land with them which he absolutely does not throw up on, thank you very much, and Mabel nearly gets lost in a corn maze, but otherwise there’s nothing much of interest. Ford’s starting to suspect that Stan must be right, that the Mystery Shack really is the most interesting tourist trap in the entire state, until a giant mountain looms over the horizon.

“There she is,” Stan says, as if he could read his brother’s thoughts. “Her first year of opening I lost over half my usual revenue and I’ve sworn revenge on her ever since” He balls his hand into a fist and smacks the top of the steering wheel. “Our biggest mistake last time was getting too attached. I say this time we run in, grab as many mummies as we can get our hands on, and book it back to the shack before Darlene notices.”

“Don’t you mean that was your biggest mistake?” Dipper quips. “Besides, didn’t we find out last time that those mummies are real dead bodies?” He shivers. “I’m not sure how comfortable I’d feel about stealing them”

From the rearview mirror, Stan raises an eyebrow at Dipper. “What, you afraid their souls are gonna follow us home and haunt us? Work on your moral compass later, kid, this is about revenge” He adjusts the mirror. “Besides! What’s the chance we rescue someone who isn’t dead yet, just slowly suffocating in that nasty tasting web?”

Dipper opens his mouth to say one thing, pauses, and starts again. “Grunkle Stan, are you telling me you tried to eat the web you were trapped in?”

Stan shrugs. “Hey, I’m no stranger to chewing my way out of things. I’m just lucky I didn’t break any teeth on it, like I did with that car trunk”

As if that doesn’t raise more questions than it does answers, Stan drops the conversation entirely and doesn’t say another word until the RV pulls into the parking lot. Ford can’t even see the mountain peak when he hops out, it’s so obscured by fog that he knows wasn’t there ten minutes ago. Fog is the number one trap produced by anomalies to hunt their pray, so it’s no wonder this place gives Stan the creeps. Ford can’t even begin to imagine the size of the spider monsters the others described to him.

A shriek nearly escapes him at the feeling of something spindly crawling up his arm, but when he whips around he sees it’s just Stan running his fingers along his shoulder in a quick, scattered pattern. When he catches Ford’s eyes, he laughs so hard that tears pour down his cheeks.

“You should’ve seen the look on your face!” Stan wheezes. “You were all oh no, mister spider half the size of my hand, don’t eat me!” he cackles, wiping at his eyes with his wrist. “C’mon, time is money, and we don’t have any to waste” he gestures to the kids, already waiting at the information booth. “If we don’t hurry the kids are gonna get on the sky tram without us”

Ford raises an eyebrow. “You? On a sky tram?”

“Dipper didn’t tell you?” Stan’s raised eyebrow matches Ford’s. “Mabel helped me conquer my fear of heights! Now I’m untouchable!”

Seventeen years of the boardwalk and all the cotton candy as bribe in the world couldn’t fix Stan’s fear of heights. Dipper and Mabel really do continue to amaze him the more Stan tells him about them.

“Right,” Ford shakes his head, smiling fondly. “Of course.”

It’s really no wonder this place boasts having the world’s slowest sky tram, because if it weren’t for the moving tree line Ford would almost think they weren’t moving at all. The bored expression on everyone else’s faces, a massive shift from the mischievous grins they’d been wearing before they got on has Ford choking down laughter. It’s about five minutes before there’s any sight of anything but tree bark, and the sun beaming directly into the glass car makes the whole thing feel like a sauna.

Still, it’s a dramatic shift in pace, and not one that Ford rejects. It’s really forcing him to slow down and think about his own feelings for once, a privilege he hasn’t had since he was in high school. Maybe it’s a little selfish of him to cherish the times he just gets to lose himself in his own head, rather than to spend so much of his time calculating plans to rescue others from danger, but-

“Whaddya think, poindexter?” Stan’s voice suddenly breaks through Ford’s thoughts, startling him.

Ford blushes. “What do I think of what?”

“The new plan!” Stan gestures to Dipper with his thumb. “Since this buzzkill is so against stealing ‘real dead bodies’,” he emphasizes with air quotes, “and since we probably couldn’t shove them all in this car anyway, we’re gonna go ahead with Plan B instead; Burning down Widow’s Peak!” Stan throws his hands in the air dramatically.

Dipper beams. “That way, they can’t make any more mummies for their mummy museum, and we might be able to save a few people from suffocating to death!” Stan and Dipper high five.

“It’s a brilliant plan, but…” Ford taps at his chin. “Where do you suppose we’re going to find the fire to burn it down?”

Stan cocks an eyebrow at him. “You tell me, mister ‘setting my face on fire is faster than shaving’. I wouldn’t be surprised if you had a lighter in your pocket right now. They have a bunch of prop torches in the caves, but if we pop the lightbulbs out of them and light them they should work good as usual” Stan’s mischievous grin is back on his face, a perfect reflection of when he was thirteen and pickpocketing a dollar from people’s wallets on the boardwalk to buy a box of saltwater taffy.

Turns out, it’s just as contagious now as it was back then. Ford reaches into the front pocket of his trench coat, and sure enough, comes up with a lighter. Stan erupts in laughter at the sight of it, and soon enough the entire car is infected with it. The rest of the ride up the mountain is much bubblier after that, with everyone swapping overdramatic stories of how the plan is going to go.

Widow’s Peak is much bigger than Ford was expecting. It’s a whole cave that looks like it stretches for miles, and there really are rotting skeletons hanging upside down from the cave walls and ceilings.

Ford shudders.

“Aww, c’mon, Sixer! I know for a fact this isn’t half as bad as the stuff in your journals” Stan jabs at his shoulder with his unlit torch. “Besides, didn’t you say in your own journal that most ghosts come from their old bodies not having a proper burial? He gestures at a skeleton hanging upside down from the ceiling, its left hand barely hanging on by a thread. “You think any of these guys look like their spirits were able to move on peacefully, or however it goes?” Stan shakes his head matter of-factly. “You really want some poor unsuspecting tourist to bump into a hoard of angry ghosts? Tsk tsk”

“Alright, alright” Ford raises his hands in self-defense. “I suppose you’re right”. He takes his lighter out of his pocket and tosses it to Stan. Stan lights up his own torch, helps Dipper and Mabel with theirs, and then he turns back to help light Ford’s.

“Alright,” Stan rubs his hands together the best he can with a lit torch tucked under his arms. “Everyone knows the plan. Burn as many mummies as you can find, rescue the poor suckers who are still alive, and signal if you hear Darlene coming. Since I don’t trust Sixer over here not to try and interview her and get himself in trouble again, I say I’m in charge of lookout duty.” He adjusts his collar and flattens down the wrinkles of his suits with a quick pat down. “I flirt with her just long enough to distract her, I throw my torch in her face, and then we book it out of here as fast as our legs can carry us”

Dipper still doesn’t look convinced. “I don’t know, isn’t that exactly how you got yourself tangled up in a web last time?”

“Oh please,” Stan scoffs, waving a dismissive hand. “The only reason that worked last time is ‘cause she cornered me when we were alone. Besides, where’s she gonna take me if she catches me that you can’t just throw a torch and rescue me five minutes after it happens?”

Dipper’s face darkens. “True,” he mumbles under his breath, which makes Stan laugh. Stan slaps him on the shoulder, and Dipper glares at him, but there doesn’t seem to be any malice in it.

It’s one final glance between the four of them, and they’re all running off in different directions of the cave. It’s not long before the stench of burning silk fills the air, mixed with the stench of something Ford doesn’t want to think too much about. The webs burn relatively quickly, and together they burn through half of the cave in a much faster time than Ford would’ve expected. He’s about to light up one that looks like it was left here fairly recently, until something inside it starts wiggling. Startled, Ford steps backwards until his back hits the cave wall, a soft oof escaping him.

“S’matter, poindexter?” Stan looks up from the fire he’s stomping out with his foot. “You see a widdle baby spider that freaked you out?”

Ford tries to glare at him, but the fear stabbing him in the chest doesn’t let it stick. He swallows hard, and points towards the wiggling cocoon with his torch.

“I think we have a live one” he whispers, stepping to stand beside Stan. Once Stan follows Ford’s torch with his eyes, something inside him tenses up.

“Ah, wh-what’d I tell you?” Stan’s voice shakes. “It’s probably just some poor sucker who fell for Darlene’s charms. Definitely not a gross sack of baby spider people or anything”

“R-right,” Ford swallows hard, and inches back towards the cocoon, rapidly waving his torch back and forth to potentially scare off whatever could be inside trying to break out. But the longer he waves the torch in front of the web, the more he can make out the silhouette of a regular human being.

Throwing all caution to the wind, Ford rushes forward and begins tearing at the web with his bare hands, just enough so that the man is free from the chest up. He takes large gasps of air, and upon realizing that his hands are free he begins tearing at the web himself. Once his feet are free and hit the ground, he takes one look at the Pines family, mumbles a startled thank you, and runs for his life out of the cave.

After that, the rest of the burnings go pretty smoothly. There’s significantly less living tourists in the cave than Ford would’ve expected from such a large tourist trap, and Ford’s not entirely sure whether he should find that reassuring or downright terrifying. He’s almost surprised everything went so well, until the four of them nearly collide with a woman on their way out of the cave.

She looks just as baffled to see them as Ford feels to see her.

“Can I…help you?” She asks in a thick Jersey-esque accent. The name tag pinned to her shirt reads DARLENE in large brick letters.

“No!” Dipper cuts in before neither Ford nor Stan can respond to her. He clears his throat. “I mean, uh, no. Uh, apologies if this is a restricted area, but we got lost trying to find our way back to the sky tram” he shrugs overdramatically, no doubt in attempt to show Darlene that his hands are empty. She squints at him, and for a moment Ford could swear he just saw her blink horizontally. The silence that follows, though it probably doesn’t last for more than a few seconds, feels like it drags on for ages.

Suddenly, she’s donning an overly sweet smile. “Well, why didn’t you just say so? Let me walk you back. We’ve gotten more than our fair share of tourists who’ve gone missing from wandering too far into our caves, and I’d hate to have that happen to such a nice looking family like yours” She grins, flashing her unusually sharp teeth. The four of them stay quiet until they’re all packed into their tram car, and Darlene is waving sweetly at them from behind.

They each collectively sigh. “Woof, that was a close one” Stan says, wiping the sweat from his forehead with his wrist. In a sudden shift of mood, he reaches over next to him and pulls Dipper into a headlock. “How’s about it for this guy’s quick thinking, huh?” he grins, and the four of them laugh until they hear a horrifying screech that makes their tram car rumble. They turn, and see Darlene emerging from the cave, the bottom half of her body replaced by that of a giant spider.

“My food!” she screams, shaking her first at the tram cars. “You burned all my food! Mark my words, I may not have gotten your names but I don’t forget faces very easily, you hear? If you ever show your face here again you’re dead meat!” She screams, yanking on her hair to reveal the rest of her spider-like body under her human disguise.

Stan simply cackles. “Yeah, we’ll see about that!” he mocks, knowing well enough that she can’t hear them from inside the car. He turns his attention back to the rest of the family. “Maybe we should go and warn our past selves to bring bug spray!” He exclaims, laughing himself to near tears.

Ford only rolls his eyes, but can’t help the smile on his face.

If only he’d known what he’d be missing when he turned down Stan’s offer to take this road trip with him and the kids the first time around.

The tram ride back to the parking lot is even more relaxing than the ride up. The sun is setting this time around, and even if the wind can’t really reach inside the car the whole thing just feels cooler. Most of all, he finds that the sound of the Stan and the kids’ laughter is far more welcome than any old conversation he could have in his own head.

When everyone piles back into the RV, they do not drive away immediately like they had at all the other stops. Instead, Stan turns around to face the three of them. “Well, that’s the end of that. That’s all I had planned, and we still have…” he pauses to count on his finger. “Two more months ‘til the kids have to go back home, technically. I’m all out of ideas, and I’m sure the kids have seen enough of the Gravity Falls weirdness for one summer”

He smiles to the kids, who nod and in turn smile at Ford.

“So where do you want to go now, Grunkle Ford?” Mabel says, with stars shining in her eyes. The grin spreading on Dipper’s face matches hers like two peas in a pod.

“Any place in the world. Wherever you want to go…” He pulls the time tape out of his pocket. “…For however long you want”

#my writing #gravity falls #forduary #pines family

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thiswasinevitableid · 3 years ago

Note

Can you do 60 for indruck, NSFW? Thank you so much! Love your work!

Here it is! I set it in the same world as this sternclay fill. Credit to @bellafarallones for playing in this space on discord. Apollo is from my Super hero AU

“All I’m sayin is it seems mighty unfair to me that one fella gets a handler-assistant type deal and the rest of us don’t.” Duck crosses his arms as Ned fiddles with the pen on his desk.

“You’re not wrong, dear boy, but Apollo was in high demand from the higher ups-”

“Because he’s a shallow dipshit with a mean streak who’ll be good for ratings?”

“Precisely. He demanded in his contract that we allow his twin to continue his work as his photographer and assistant. He has over a million followers on Instagram, so those photos will be a boost to the show. Just try to get along for the camera’s?”

“His brother ain’t even on camera.” Duck mutters.

“I meant with Apollo.”

Duck shrugs, defeated, “sure thing, Ned.”

As he walks back to the main house, he mulls over the fact that the twin (Indrid, he thinks that’s the guys name) bugs him more than Apollo does. Apollo is vain, mean, and selfish, but at least that gets him things, even makes sense for the kind of show they’re on. Indrid gains nothing by helping him out here. Except protection from the bully, which Duck finds to be the worst kind of cowardice. Hopefully Vincent, this season’s bachelor, will see through the “influencer” and send him packing ASAP.

-------------------------------------

Four weeks in, and this is exactly what Duck was worried about. Not only is Indrid hovering around his brother like a nervous moth (excet when cameras are near, at which point he ducks out of frame), he’s doing fucking nothing to reign him in.

A few frontrunners are starting to emerge, and with that claws are coming out. Barclay, a chef and all around nice guy, is the target of choice. Nico and Josh both took bites out of him this morning. But Apollo sunk his teeth in like a dog on a fox, calling him, among other things, a pathetic, six-foot puppy dog who no man would ever want. The cook left noticeably teary eyed. Duck was about to block the cameras from following when Joseph beat him to it. Which is weird, because he thought Joe couldn’t stand Barclay. Apollo flounces off, but Duck corners Indrid where he’s been stoically watching his brother be a raging asshole.

“What the fuck man?”

‘Wrong twin.” Indrid says flatly, indicating his silver hair, tied back in a half-bun. His dark roots are showing and his eyebrows are black, unlike Apollo’s immaculate blonde dye job and bleached brows.

“Nope, right one. You’re his handler, cant’ you fuckin intervene when he’s doin’ shit like that? Or are you just here to let him hurt whoever he feels like?”

Indrid fixes him with a bitter smile, “If there were a way to make my brother be kind or, indeed, see others as people, don’t you think I’d have found it and used it everyday since?”

“I-”

“You people have no idea how much I’m already doing. I kept him from going after you yesterday by reminding him he looks ugly when he yells on camera. And if nothing else console yourself with the fact you all have only to deal with him for a few months. Some of us have endured twenty-eight years of it.”

With that, he turns and stalks from the room. As he leaves, Duck can’t shake the thought that his black denim jacket and worn jeans fit him better than Apollo’s designer ones ever could.

-----------------------------------

Indrid understands why there’s so much alcohol on set, but he can’t partake (too bitter) and it makes Apollo even harder to handle than usual. Which is why Indrid is out on the grounds at ten p.m, intending to hide from his brother until dawn.

At six weeks in, fan favorites are getting more established and Indrid, needing to predict Apollo’s mood in order to do his job, is keeping a close eye on them. His twin is well-liked for being snarky and hot, though he suspects the large number of contestants means there have been limited chances for his unpleasant side to be showcased. Joseph is another, because of course he is, movie-star handsome with an interesting past. Barclay is beloved for the very things that the other contestants torment him for. And Duck? Duck is quickly becoming the one people think Vincent will choose.

Indrid thinks they’re right. He’s charming in an understated way, funny, and while Apollo needles him for his “dad bod,” Indrid and Vincent have both noticed the muscles in his arms. Who gives a damn about flat abs? Indrid would much rather have something soft to rest his head on while those green eyes look lovingly down at him. His crush on Duck is useless, persistent, and must be hidden from Apollo at all costs.

His foot catches something solid and he tumbles over the obstacle to land ass-first on the lawn.

“Ow.” He glares at the object. The object turns out to be Duck Newton, who's obviously drunk as he sits up.

“Sorry man, thought no one’d come out here. Oh it’s you, it's, uh, fuck, fuck c'mon” he snaps his fingers as he searches his thoughts, “It's cute Apollo!”

“Indrid.” Surely Duck didn’t mean to use that adjective. Right?

“No, I’m Duck?”

He snickers, “No, I meant I’m Indrid.”

“Ohhh, right. You're Indrid. I'm Duck. That's the big dipper” He points at the sky. Indrid follows the line and grins, delighted.”

“It is!”

“Uhhuh. C'mere, can show you more.” Duck pats the spot beside him and lays back. Indrid scoots closer and reclines as well, making appreciative sounds each time Duck shows him a constellation.

As they’re studying the sky, the other man whispers, “Can I tell you a secret? I, I think Joe’n Barclay are into each other now."

“The way they look at each other is not exactly subtle.”

‘“Heh, yeah.” he links his hands across his belly, “I think they're in love. You ever been in love?”

“No.” He sighs, not wanting to dwell on that pile of baggage, “You?”

“Nope. And, uh, don’t, don’t tell anyone but I don't think I am with Vincent. Maybe I could be? Does that make me a bad person? He's nice, think he likes me a lot but, I, I dunno.”

“Not being in love with someone doesn’t make you a bad person. No more than loving someone does.”

Indrid is hard to surprise; years of getting out ahead of his brother and father taught him how to see things coming. But nothing could prepare him for Duck rolling to hide his face against Indrid’s chest. Not knowing what else to do, he pats his back, notices a woodsy scent tingling his nose.

“You smell good.” He winces; that was too creepy, now Duck will pull the comforting bulk of his body away.

“Thanks. I bought a bunch of cologne when I realized I was actually going to be a contestant. News clothes too. Thought it would give me an edge but...I dunno, can't compete with a guy like your brother.”

“Join the club.” Indrid reaches up to toy with a lock of Duck’s black hair, expecting Duck to bat him away. Instead, he sighs and turns his head to give Indrid better access.

“You could compete with ‘im. You're cuter. Nicer too.”

“Oh. Ah. Thank you.”

Duck’s fidgets with the mothman pin on Indrid’s jacket, “You wanna cuddle?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“No one cuddles with me. And we ain’t allowed to cuddle Vincent yet.” He looks up, lips pouting just enough to be charming.

Indrid let’s a purr enter his voice, “That’s a shame. I’m happy to cuddle.”

Duck rolls more of his body onto Indrid, resolutely nestling his head under his chin and tangling their legs together. His hands stay on Indrid’s chest and shoulders, though he’s now drunkenly petting Indrid’s collarbone, making him shiver. He expends four months worth of daring in a second, wrapping his arms around the curves of Duck’s torso. When Duck’s fingers brush skin instead of shirt, Indrid whimpers, then bites his lip and prays it went unnoticed.

“You don’t get cuddled much either, do you?” Duck murmurs thoughtfully.

“No.”

“Damn shame, you’re real good at it. Can cuddle me any time.”

Indrid “mmhmms” knowing the promise is like the stars; bright and comforting in the darkness, but ultimately beyond his reach.

Three day later, he drops his guard; Apollo’s been on his good behavior since Vincent’s been spending more time with him. You’d think Indrid would learn by now that all his venom has to go somewhere.

He’s huddled down in the rec room trying not to cry; it’s pathetic enough that he let such childish insults get to him, but to cry over them would confirm everything his brother said.

“Indrid? You, uh, you okay?” Duck’s reflection in the darkened T.V approaches his own.

“I'm fine.” It’s the same inflection he’s used hundreds of times, but Duck sits down on the couch all the same.

“Do you, uh, need a hug?’

“No.” He replies a hair too quickly.

“Do you want one?”

“......Badly.”

Duck opens his arms and Indrid shifts on the cushions, doing his best to curl his long limbs so they’ll fit in his embrace. The shorter man notices, concern flashing on his face.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“Not particularly.”

“Okay. You, uh, wanna hear the most exciting news of the day?” He waits for Indrid to nod, “there was a cougar sightin’ in the foothills near here!”

“That is both very exciting and alarming.”

“Doubt it’d go after folks, they try to steer clear of people. We don’t have ‘em back home, but you learn what to do when you’re also learnin how to deal with bears.”

“How does one deal with a bear? Other than buying them a drink.”

Duck snorts, relaxes further into the couch, “Depends on how soon you see ‘em…”

They emerge two hours later, and Indrid is so engrossed in their conversation about hiking incidents that he runs smack into a camera man. While he’s apologizing profusely, Duck guffaws, steadies him, and leads him off in search of somewhere to watch the sunset.

-----------------------------------------

“Oooh, ooh, look, sea lions!” Indrid points to the distant wharf.

“Good eye. Man, those fuckers are big. Glad none of ‘em were in the water when we did that fuckin cliff dive.”

“I for one would pay good money to see my brother chased by a sea lion.”

Duck chuckles, pops the tab on his WhiteClaw. They’re having dinner on the beach, a gourmet spread meant to encourage them to show off their pallets. Indrid took Barclay’s recommendation and ordered the whole, grilled snapper, which he assumed he’d be eating alone; Vincent’s attention has been on Duck ever since he went swimming this morning. Duck seems to be enjoying it, but come dinner time he demurred (“gotta let some of the other fellas have a chance”) and brought his basket of fried oysters over to join Indrid on the sand.

“Speakin of your brother, kinda surprised he didn't make any digs at this whole, uh, situation.” Duck gestures to the torso Indrid is currently aching to lick droplets of saltwater from. To subdue the craving, he licks salt from his fingers before replying.

“I, ah, the last time he tried to, I reminded him of all the pictures I have of him eating. He hates to be seen eating. Most of the time.” He tilts his head towards his twin, who’s chowing down next to Vincent without a care for the cameras. Indrid sets his hand on the warm sand, “I’ve been trying to, well, reign him in as you suggested. Or at least make him think twice about his choices.”

(Indrid omits the part where he’s most likely to risk it if Duck is the one with the target on his back).

Duck sets his hand down beside Indrid’s, brushes sand from the side of it with a calloused thumb, “Mighty good of you. But, uh, think I mighta read things wrong that day. You gotta handle him how you think best. Just, uh, just promise me you won’t sacrifice your own well-bein’ for my sake, or anyone else’s. We’re all grown-ass men; we can handle it.”

“I promise.” He lies.

The other man leans back on his hands, green eyes drifting across the waves. Indrid would gladly sit in silence the rest of the night, it’s so easy to be comfortable in the lull when it’s Duck filling the space beside him.

Eventually, the ranger murmurs, “It’s so fuckin breathtaking. The ocean, I mean. Maybe if you live on a coast you get used to it but man, it is somethin;.”

“More so than the forest?”

Duck smiles, “It’s like apples and oranges. Monongahela got its own charms; you’d have a blast takin pictures and drawin there, believe me. If, uh, if Apollo and I both make it to the final four, uh, maybe we could take a few hours durin’ my hometown visit and I could show you my favorite spot.

Indrid imagines the two of them beneath the trees, walking hand in hand.

“I’d like that.”

---------------------------------------------

“You know you’re just a distraction, right?”

Indrid doesn’t look at his brother, just flips the page in his book, “I doubt that. You’ve said, often, that I’m too off-putting to be interesting.”

“Not when there’s competition for someone superior; Duck knows he might not win. You’re his back-up if he doesn’t, and a way to kill time until the end. Once Vincent sends him home, which he most definitely will, he’ll keep you around until something better comes along.”

“Don’t act like you know him.” Indrid hisses, looking up just in time to see something scurrying behind the triumph on Apollo’s face: fear.

So, his brother has a new weakness. He’ll tuck that away for later; this is shaping up to be an unpleasant conversation, but not one requiring quite that degree of weapon.

“You should thank me. If I weren’t so captivating, Vincent would spend all his time with Duck. Then you’d be without any attention at all. Even Duck’s taste isn’t that abysmal.” He grins his several thousand dollar smile, “he and Vincent are probably laughing about it right now.”

Indrid stands, crosses the tiny room, “Shut up, Apollo.”

Then he slams the door. There’s a yelp, followed by “you hit my nose, you pathetic excuse for a man, ow, open this door this instant I’m not done with you!”

He flicks the lock and sits back on the bed. There’s a tin of sensory putty on his nightstand and he opens it, playing with it between his fingers. Duck brought it for him after a museum date with Vincent. The image of him not only thinking of Indrid when he saw something, but then buying it for him just to see him smile makes him want to grin and hide his face in a pillow like a teenager who just got asked to prom.

But maybe this date is going differently.

Indrid squeezes the putty, repeats the mantra he’s had since he was a child, “Apollo always lies. Apollo always lies.”

Eventually, he’s calm enough to work on some tattoo commissions, is coloring away when there’s a knock on the door. A secret knock Duck invented as a goof. Throwing open the door reveals the shorter man wearing a suit jacket and an exhausted expression. Indrid gestures to the bed, shuts and locks the door as Duck slumps on the mattress and sets his head in his hands.

“Whelp, that was a shit-show.”

“What happened?” Indrid sits cross-legged beside him.

“Vincent went in for a kiss and I, uh, I turned him down. I mean, he took it well because he’s a sweet guy but I, I feel like shit.”

“There’s no shame in not wanting to kiss just yet.”

“That ain’t the problem. I, I wanna kiss someone on this set, but it ain’t him. Indrid” he looks up, green eyes watery, “Indrid, I think I’m fallin in love with you.”

“Oh. I, are you sure-”

“The whole night, and I mean the whole fuckin night, I was thinkin about you. Thought how nice the trip to the botanical gardens would be with you there to point out color combos and get excited about butterflies. Wanted to hold your hand over dinner. Fuck, when they brought out the dessert menu all I could think was how fun it’d be to order one of each thing to surprise you so you’d do that thing you do with your hands when you’re real excited.” Duck turns, sets his hands on Indrid’s shoulders, “‘Drid, if you don’t want this, I’ll back off but-”

Indrid cuts him off with a kiss, let’s strong arms pull him down to the bed and presses as close to Duck as he can, as if any space between them might be a way for the universe to push them apart.

“Than fuck” Duck pants, cupping his face, “wait, fuck, what do we do now? I can’t string poor Vincent on.”

“We’ll get them to let you out of your contract. It can’t be that hard, right?”

--------------------------------------------

“Absolutely not” Ned shakes his head, “dropping out of the show is out of the question.”

“But that ain’t fair to any of us. Can we at least tell Vincent the truth?”

“No, it needs to look as if he naturally decided not to choose you. If not, we could be accused of manipulating results; the last time that happened, the ratings tanked for that season and the next. And my predecessor was fired.”

Duck looks at Indrid, “Guess I’ll just...pull back? That way Vincent won’t have a reason to choose me and’ll let me go soon.”

----------------------------------------------

“Droppin out is outta the question, huh?” Duck mutters to Indrid as they watch Barclay and Joseph walk off holding hands, the host eagerly asking them questions as they go.

“I suppose he didn’t drop so much as sprint.” Indrid glances at the rose in Duck’s hand, “congratulations on making the final...well, final three now.”

“Thanks? Guess Apollo’s pretty happy about it too.”

“Yes, but his ego needs no stroking.” Indrid smiles, “maybe this means you’ll get to show me the woods?”

“I hope so. Huh. What are they gonna do with the rest of us when it’s not our turn for the hometown visit?”

The answer turns out to be: drag everyone to each hometown. Because they no longer have Joe’s trip to do, Ned decided they needed more scenes of the contestants exploring where their competitors came from.

Kepler is first, and tonight is the night Duck’s been dreading. His romantic, home-town date that everyone expects to end with at least some kissing. He manages to make it through dinner, even enjoys showing Vincent the down-town he spent years roaming. But as they start down the river walk for a romantic stroll, his heart is trying to smash its way out of his ribs.

“It’s alright, you know.” Vincent stops, guiding Duck to face him, “the fact you want to be with Indrid.”

“I, uh, fuck, I, I don’t not know, uh, fuck-” he closes his eyes, “how’d you know?”

“I’m more observant than I get credit for.” Vincent brushes his cheek, “I’ve had a hunch for weeks now, but I kept you around because I liked having you here, even if I suspected it wasn’t going to end with us together. I’m very fond of you, Duck. You deserve someone who makes you happy. I promise I’ll send you home this next rose ceremony”

“Christ” Duck chuckles, “you’re a hell of a guy too, Vince. I hope whoever you pick treats you right. I, uh, can I, should we…?”

Vincent plants a chaste kiss on his cheek, then smiles, “go get him.”

----------------------------------------

“Any twos?”

“No. Go fish.”

Apollo grumbles as he takes another card. Given Duck and Vincent are on their date, neither he nor Indrid is having a good night. Before Indrid can make his ask, his twin says, “How do you get people to like you?”

“Why do you care? You’ve made it this far, so obviously Vincent likes you a great deal”

“I don’t just mean him. I, I mean, I want him to like me. To want me. But I suspect he’d like me better if other people did.”

Indrid idly taps his cards, “I suggest you stop acting like our father.”

“I’m nothing like him!” Apollo squawks.

“Oh, but you are. Everything he taught us you still hold as true; you’re just the newest version of men like him. Self-absorbed. Cruel. Shallow. I’m amazed you’ve gotten this far with Vincent, given that the age difference means you’d be caring for him in his old age.”

“I, I can care for him. I will!”

“Apollo, I wouldn’t trust you to care for a potted plant.” He sets his cards down.

“At least I’m not a-”

“Ambitionless deviant who has to ride his brother’s coattails to survive?”

“Wha--how-”

“Like I said; you’re just like him. Down to your insults.” Indrid stands, “I’m going to bed. I suggest you do the same.”

His brother remains speechless--a rare state for him--as he closes the door and heads for his room. He doubts Duck will do anything on the date (hell, the two of them have only been able to steal some kisses now and then), but the whole charade has him feeling low.

There are far more cameras in the rented house than there were a few hours ago. Which means the rest of the crew is back. Does that also mean…

“Hey, sugar. I was just lookin for you.”

--------------------------------------------------

Duck’s glad his door is open, because otherwise Indrid would have smashed it to pieces dragging them both through it. He’d only gotten out the barest explanation before the taller man was kissing his face and tugging at his clothes, purring “mine” over and over again.

“Yep, all yours.” He shuts the door as Indrid mouths at his neck, “which also means you’re all mine.” He yanks Indrid’s black sweater up and over his head, sends the matching t-shirt after it a moment later. Indrid whines, fumbling with Duck’s dress shirt, and he gets an idea.

“Uh uh, only good boys who show me why they deserve it get to feel me up.”

Indrid groans into his shoulder, fisting the fabric of his jacket “What constitutes good behavior in this instance?”

“One sec, don’t go nowhere.” He starts to step past him, pauses to grips his chin and pull him into another kiss, “and no peekin.”

As he digs through his bag for the strap on he brought just in case, he keeps an eye on Indrid to be sure he’s following the directions. The taller man’s fingers twitch, but his head stays still. God, Duck is going to memorize the shape of each of the tattoos decorating his skin with his mouth.

“You did real good.” He slips around Indrid once more, resting his back on the wall. Indrid notices the new bulge in his pants and thuds to his knees.

“May I?”

“You better.”

Indrid undoes the button of his fly. Then he looks at Duck over the rim of his glasses as he takes the zipper between his teeth and pulls it down. When the black silicone of the strap breaks free, Indrid cocks his head as if unsure of his options. Duck doesn’t really have a plan--he just wants to be with him, to make him feel good and show him just what weeks of pent-up desire have done to him--but he’s starting to regret that choice.

Indrid flicks hair from his face and wraps his lips around the head of the cock experimentally. He hums, sucking on it a moment, then pulls back blushing, “This is going to sound strange but, ah, I, I really like that. It’s such a lovely texture on my tongue, it’s, it’s almost soothing to suck.”

“Guess you better keep suckin it then, huh?” Duck runs the fingers of his right hand through Indrid’s hair.

“Is that really alright? It can’t feel like much on your end.”

“Don’t mean it ain’t fun to watch. But, uh” he touches the edge of Indrid’s red glasses, “it okay if I take these off?”

Indrid nods and Duck slides them free, tucks them into his breast pocket for safekeeping as Indrid draws the cock into his mouth again. He focuses on the head at first, humming and moaning as it bumps his cheek. Then Duck sees him swallow and relax the muscles of his jaw as he presses closer. Little puffs of breath tickle Duck’s skin as Indrid gets most of the cock in his mouth, cheeks hollowing and head bobbing as he sucks. Hungry noises burlbe up his throat, and the more he lets himself go the messier he becomes, spit coating his lips and eyes fluttering closed in bliss.

“Okay, I lied.”

Brown eyes shoot him a disbelieving look.

“This ain’t fun. This is one of the hottest fuckin things I’ve ever seen.”

Indrid wiggles happily on his knees, left hand dropping to rubs his own cock through his jeans.

“Needy little thing, gotta have somethin down your throat and around your dick at the same time.”

“MMMhhmmm” Indrid purrs, the picture of filthy perfection.

“If, if you swallow the whole thing, I’ll let you finger-fuck me.”

Both hands fly to his thighs with an excited moan. Indrid’s brow crinkles with determination as he slowly, carefully brings his lips to the base of the toy. Duck groans out “good boy” and shoves his pants down, Indrid helping to drag them to his ankles. Indrid keeps his left hand on Duck’s hip while the right hovers below his folds. Duck takes it, the toy making the angle a bit awkward, and guides it against him.

“Start with one.”

Indrid nods, moans reverently as he obeys. Duck curses, looks down to find Indrid watching him attentively. Duck is going to wreck him. Then he’s going to cuddle him to sleep and wonder at the fact he got this lucky.

“You’re doin’ great, sugar. Promise I’ll tell you if you need to adjustOH, ohyeah” he lets his head rest against the chipped white of the door, “that’s the spot. Fuck it, add one more, Ahfuck, yeah, those artists fingers are fuckin perfect for this.”

Another purr and then a sharp, choked noise. Duck looks down, realizing he rolled his hips without meaning to. Before he can apologize, Indrid grips his thigh and shakes his head.

“You like that?”

“Mmhhmmm” Indrid traces a heart on his belly.

“You’ll pull off you need to?”

“Mhmmmm.” Indrid curls his fingers as his stretched lips manage to grin.

“Fuck!” Duck giggles, “okay, if my darlin wants his face fucked, that’s what he’ll get.” He keeps a hand on Indrid’s shoulder as he lets loose, grunts and curses mingling with the increasingly wet moans of his cock claiming Indrid’s throat. Soon he’s out of words, too busy with the sight of himself forcing Indrid’s lips apart as he tightens around his fingers. Handjobs are a toss-up for him most days; sometimes they work, other times he can’t cum from them at all. It turns out what makes it very easy to do so is-

“‘Drid, fuck, fuck, sugar, yeah, right there, rightthererightthere ohfuckyeah.” He cums, jerking his hips hard enough to punch a new, high sound from Indrid’s throat. The other man pulls off, rests his cheek on Duck’s belly with shuddery, satisfied sighs.

“Y’know” Duck unbuttons his shirt from the bottom up so Indrid can more easily nuzzle the skin there, “I had this whole plan where I was gonna fuck you with this and then ride your face to cum.”

“I’m not opposed.” Indrid grins, bouncing a bit.

“Yeah, but I’ve only got one in me tonight. So” He tosses the shirt away, pulls off the harness as Indrid nibbles his hips, “if you wanna cum, you’re gonna have to do all the work.”

An edge enters his smile, “I can manage that.”

Duck hits the floor with a whump, Indrid trapping him on his back and climbing atop him, all the while kissing him with abandon.

“May I fuck you?”

“Hell yeah.”

“Condom?”

“Dop kit, bathroom, aw come back.”

“Patience, sweetheart” Indrid blows him a kiss, returns a few moments later doing an inelegant dance to kick his jeans and boxers away, “got one!”

“Good, now get back down here before I-AHfuck!” Indrid is on him and in him so fast it knocks his breath away.

“Before what? You’re not going anywhere, you’re mine, alllllll mine.” He drags kisses across Duck’s cheek, then bites his chapped lip as he looks down at him, “right?”

“You know it, nnng, fuck, that’s it sugar, be a good boy and cum for me. Fuck, darlin, wanted this so bad.” He locks his fingers into silver hair to keep Indrid in kissing distance as the other man whimpers, thrusts shallow and rabbity.

“Want you too, so much, I’ll be worth it, I swear, I’ll be good, I’ll, I’ll make you so happy.”

Duck rests their foreheads together, “You already do.”

There’s a high, gasping moan, almost like a chirp, and Indrid rides out his orgasm in drawn-out rolls of his hips. Then he collapses, laughing, on Duck’s chest.

“I, I’m sorry, I just never thought I’d get this. Someone wanting me. Choosing me.”

“I mean, I went on a T.V show to find love, so I know a little somethin about that fear. But I also know findin you is better than anythin I ever imagined.”

“Likewise.” Indrid nestles closer, one hand reaching out to hold Duck’s where it’s flopped on the rug.

“...You realize this means there’s a fifty-fifty chance your brother will win.”

Indrid shrugs, lifts his head to smile at Duck, “I leave that to Vincent. I already got my prize.”

#indruck #indrid cold/duck newton #bachelor au #meet ugly

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nataliedanovelist · 3 years ago

Text

GF - Mabel’s Worry

Collab with @clownwry! They’ve been super sweet and very nice, and after getting inspired by this post, I decided to write a full on-fic about it... but then it spiraled out of control, so enjoy an angsty story featuring the sweater twins!

~~~~~~~~~~

Mabel sat up quickly, breathing just as heavy as an Olympic runner. She shook her head to clear it and she hugged her knees in self-embarrassment. It was just a stupid nightmare. Vague, no real plot, but still carried the overall message, the fear, anxiety, and still made Mabel’s blood run cold and sweat sparkle on her forehead. She needed to calm down, get herself together. Milk. Warm milk.

And so she quietly got out of bed and left her shared attic bedroom for downstairs. Despite being gone for nine months, she still knew this dark home by heart. She could walk it blindfolded if needed, but the moonlight leaking in through the triangular windows helped her in her journey. That and a small light coming from the living room. Like a moth to a flame, Mabel sleepily dragged her socked feet to the room and peaked through the doorway, half of her face hidden by wood and shadow.

Grunkle Ford was sitting in the armchair, reading a book in the light of a lamp. Mabel’s spirit was lifted, relieved and happy to see him, but she was hesitant to bother him. He was happy with his book, she really shouldn’t bother him with her own stupid problems. She should probably just go get her drink and go to bed and leave him alone. But then Grunkle Ford’s instincts alerted him of a spy and he looked up and instantly smiled.

“Mabel,” His blissful facial expression dropped suddenly remembering that she went to bed a few hours ago and it wasn’t quite daylight yet. “What’s wrong? Is everything okay?”

This really wasn’t like her, for words to fail leaving her mouth, for her to be silent or non-vocal. But all Mabel could do was barely step into the light, hands behind her back, and shrug with her eyes to the floor. She was silent because she was afraid of what she would say if she dared to give herself the opportunity to talk. Ford grew more concerned, but he knew what to do; he had more practice under his belt now than he did months ago. He smiled softly at his niece, closed his book and sat it on the dino skull, and patted his thigh. “Come here.”

Mabel looked up and bit her lip. The dame broke over her uncle’s kindness. With watering eyes she ran into his lap and clung onto him tightly, burying her face in his chest and whimpering as tears left her eyes. Ford hugged her back tightly and petted her soft long brown hair. The girl might be thirteen, but that doesn’t mean she would stop having nightmares or no longer need comfort. Moses knows, as much as he would deny it, Ford still had nightmares and still needed reassurance. Not to mention it was well-earned after everything he and his family had been through… everything he put his family through…

Mabel was mumbling something into his maroon sweater. Ford thought it was moans, sobs, but as he listened he could actually make out words. “M’sorry… m’sorry…”

“Hey, hey.” Ford said softly. “There’s nothing to be sorry for, my dear.”

“... didn’t mean t’bother you…”

“Oh,” Ford cooed as gentle as a lamb. “Oh, sweetheart, you could never bother me. Never.”

Mabel sniffed. “M’sorry.” Whether she was still sorry for bothering him or sorry for being sorry was a bit unclear, but Ford decided it didn’t matter.

“It’s alright.” Ford eased. “It’s alright, my dear.”

After a few minutes of letting Mabel cry into his chest, Ford could feel Mabel make a sharp shiver in his hold. He got a pretty good idea, and so he gently had Mabel let him go. She whimpered like a puppy denied a treat, but she watched with sparkling eyes as Ford slipped off his maroon sweater, revealing a thin long-sleeved white undershirt, and he sweetly pulled it over Mabel’s head and smiled at her. She helped him by slipping her arms into the correct holes and she grinned as she now wore Ford’s old red sweater. Nearly every day he wore a Mabel Sweater she had made for her, whether she mailed it to the Stan O’ War while they were apart, or she gave it to him in person. Only every so often did he wear his old sweater, but they were both glad he did.

Mabel allowed her head to sink deeper into the worn yarn. Her senses and lungs were drowned in Ford’s scent, which brought along happy memories and good emotions. She hugged Ford again and he happily held her, petting her hair and just being there.

A few minutes of silence passed, and Ford made a prediction that it was a good time to check on her verbally. “Feeling better? Mabel?” He looked down and Mabel was asleep, one arm still around him, one hand holding onto his undershirt. Ford chuckled warmly in his chest, slowly stood, and carried Mabel to the attic to tuck her in.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Dipper, they’re ready!” Mabel called.

Dipper hurried up the stairs and ran into his shared bedroom, plopped on the beanbag, and Mabel started the call on the laptop they had on the floor between the two beds. The grunkles answered at once, sitting at the table and grinning.

“Well hey there, gremlins! How was your week?” Stan greeted.

“Pretty good, just the usual school stuff.” Dipper answered.

“Did you get the package?” Mabel asked.

Ford grinned and picked up the large sealed box and placed it on the table. “Yes, perfectly intact! We picked it up in Pevek two days ago.”

“What?! And you haven’t opened it?!”

“Oh, well we thought we should wait until…”

“You two will freeze!” Mabel shook her head and smiled. “Open it and get warm!”

Stan rolled his eyes as he pulled out his pocketknife and cut the tape. “Sweetie, in the last two years we’ve been sailing you’ve sent us three trunks full of blankets, eight pairs of gloves, at least a dozen sweaters for each of us, six scarves…”

“Not that we don’t appreciate it, we always love your packages, my dear.” Ford interrupted. “But you work too hard. We’re never cold thanks to you.”

“Good. Let’s keep it that way.” Mabel said firmly.

“Oh wow! Mabel!” Ford gasped happily as he pulled out a new green sweater-vest with golden diamonds and a long-sleeved salmon button up. “This is beautiful!” Ford also pulled out a regular dark-orange turtleneck.

Stan noticed there had been two stacks of things. Ford had already taken out his stack, so the old conman grinned as he plunged his hand into the box and grabbed his new baby-blue sweater with a sailboat on it. “Sweet! And look here!” Stan pulled out another sweater, this one being a warm cream color with tiny pinetrees on the neck and wrists and waist of the sweater. “Wow, Mabel! Just when I thought your sweaters couldn’t get more impressive… this is so cool!”

Mabel blushed over the compliments. “I’m glad you like them. There’s still…”

“Oh, my dear, this must have taken you ages!” Ford pulled out one last item: a large knitted blanket to go with the others, this one made with very thick yarn that was as soft as the melody of youthful days. It was very large and could easily cover both men, and it resembled the sky perfectly, being dark blue with white specks.

“Thank you, pumpkin, this is amazing!”

Mabel grinned and said, “Just please stay warm.”

Ford smiled and nodded. “Of course we will. We’re always careful, my dear. And thanks to you I think I’ve forgotten what it’s like to be cold.”

Mabel wasn’t sure if she bought it, the number of times she saw their chattering teeth, tight jaws, and rosy cheeks and noses in pictures, but she decided not to fight it and she just smiled.

~~~~~~~~~~

There are some benefits to living in the glorious year of 2014. Many different forms of communication allow people to keep in contact, no matter how far apart they are. So not only did Ford, Stan, Dipper, and Mabel, text every day and send pictures and emails, they always had their Saturday night/Sunday morning video call. Always. So, of course, Mabel and Dipper were a little concerned when no one responded to their text messages to ask if they were ready for the call.

“Hey guys! Ready?”

“Rise and shine, sleepy heads! Can’t wait to see you guys!”

“Are you guys okay? We understand if you can’t make it this week.”

“Is something wrong? We’re not mad, but could you please text us.”

“Guys, seriously, this isn’t funny…”

“If we don’t hear back from you guys I will call the FBI! The CIA!”

“You guys do know how to use your phones, right?”

“Are you guys hurt?! ARE YOU DEAD?!”

Dipper looked up from his phone and across his bedroom. Mabel was in Sweatertown on her bed, buried in her favorite nightgown. Dipper sighed and moved to sit next to her. “Mabel, it’ll be okay.”

“They’re jerks.” Mabel mumbled from within the maroon yarn.

Dipper smiled and nodded in agreement. “Yeah, we’ll get payback when they finally answer.”

Mabel lifted her head just enough to peek at his twin. “But what if they never do…” And tears formed.

Dipper rubbed her back and said, “They will. I swear.”

But they didn’t. As time ticked from ten o’clock at night to midnight to even three o’clock in the morning, Dipper and Mabel stayed awake, waiting for a response, both of them knowing any attempt to sleep was futile. And when Mabel’s phone buzzed and rang for a video-call, they both dove and Mabel clicked the green button with a shaking hand.

~~~~~~~~

Stan gave his brother the mug of warm water. “You’re an idiot.”

Ford snorted and sipped the warm drink. “This isn’t coffee.”

“You don’t need coffee, you need to get hydrated.” Stan collapsed into the couch next to his brother. His eyes landed on the wall-clock, and he shot up quickly and ran for the bedroom. “DAMN IT!”

“What? What is it?!” Ford gasped.

“It’s Sunday!”

Ford groaned and slapped his forehead.

Stan grabbed his phone and found a dozen text messages from each kid and some missed phone calls. “Ah jeez, I know you’re wiped out, Sixer, but we gotta talk to these kids.”

“I don’t care if I’m on my deathbed, we’re calling them.” Ford hollered back as he loosened the grip of his blanket and Stan entered the room. His brother sat next to him and called Mabel’s phone.

At once Stan’s phone lit up with two distressed looking kids, both with wide eyes but missing their bedheads. “YOU’RE OKAY!” The two teenagers cried out.

Stan winced. “Kids, we’re really really sorry…”

“What happened?!” Mabel gasped. “Grunkle Ford, are you okay?! You don’t look very good, are you sick?!”

“Mabel, sweetie, I’m okay.” Ford eased. “I… erm, I fell overb-...”

“YOU FELL IN THE OCEAN?!” Mabel yelled in horror.

“Ssh, Mabel!” Dipper hissed, eyeing the door.

“Are you okay?! Are you on your way to a hospital?! Do you need anything? We can hitchhike…”

“Mabel, Mabel, please, I’m alright, Stanley’s been taking excellent care of me.” Ford said firmly. “I’m sorry we scared you, sweetie, but…”

“Well, good!” Mabel snapped, visibly angry and now full-on scolding. Stan and Ford glanced at each other nervously, getting flashbacks of scoldings from their mother. “You should be, knuckleheads! We can’t tell if you’re even still alive unless you tell us! Don’t you ever scare me like that again, you hear?! If something happened to you… I’m glad you’re happy and doing what you love, but PLEASE don’t kill yourselves doing it!” Mabel bit her lip as she realized she was yelling, and she used the long sweater sleeve to wipe at her damp eyes. “Sorry, I didn’t mean…”

“Aw, pumpkin, it’s okay.” Stan replied calmly. “You’ve got every right to be mad at us. I’m sorry, I should have at least texted you. But I honestly didn’t cuz I was busy keeping this dork alive.” Stan teased, elbowing Ford and making him smile. “So, yeah, that was really scary and that wasn’t fair, but he’s gonna be just fine and we’re both okay and you know that now. Right?”

Mabel held her knees and sunk her face into Ford’s old sweater, only her eyes and the top half of her face visible now, but she wasn’t looking at them. “Yeah… Yeah, okay…”

“Mabel,” Ford said firmly. “Mabel, look at me.” He waited until her eyes were on him, and he smiled softly and said, “We’re okay. I promise, we’re both okay.”

Mabel couldn’t help but return the smile. “Okay… okay…” She sniffed and lifted her head a little, but her chin was still happily buried in red yarn. “So, tell us what happened? Was it the Kraken again?”

Stan grinned at the opportunity for a story, and the kids happily sat and listened.

~~~~~~~~~~

Almost fifteen-years-old. Dipper should know better than to run off into the woods after a dangerous anomaly, but he did it anyway. Mabel stayed home to make sure the monster didn’t come back, and was soon reunited with her boys as they arrived, breathing heavily. Dipper was okay for the most part. His arm was hurt and he had a black eye, but he was okay, and their grunkles were only a little scuffed and there was a leaf or two in Ford’s fluffy hair.

Mabel hurried to Dipper, but instead of hugging him like the three guessed she would, she smacked her brother over the head.

“Hey!”

“Mabel!”

“You KNUCKLEHEAD!” Mabel screamed. “Don’t you EVER do that again, you hear?! Don’t you dare! What were you thinking?! You just HAD to go after it! Couldn’t go inside like a normal person!”

“Good to see you too, sis.” Dipper muttered. “I had it under control.”

“I don’t care! What if you never came back…”

Dipper blinked and interrupted her. “Aw, Mabel, that was never gonna happen.”

Mabel bit her lip, held herself, and looked away.

“M-Mabel, I’m really sorry…”

“Here, let’s get you cleaned up first, and then we’ll talk about this, okay?” Stan eased, sensing that they needed a time-out. “C’mon, kid.”

Dipper sighed and followed Stan to the bathroom where they kept the first aid kit, leaving Ford alone with Mabel, who was well prepared to talk to her.

“Mabel, my dear, you have every right to be upset with him…”

“How could he do that?!” Mabel looked up at her uncle. “How could he think for a second it’s okay to just run off like that?!”

Ford chuckled a little to try to lighten the situation. “You know your brother. He has high ambitions and is extremely curious.”

“That doesn’t matter!” Mabel snapped. “It’s still stupid and selfish! I know he needs to do what he loves, but doesn’t he know how much I need him?! How can he just leave me behind?!”

Ford stared at Mabel. Her voice was cracking, her lip was trembling, and something in her eyes was screaming to be heard. Ford thought for a second, then dared to ask, “A-Are you talking about Stanley and I as well?”

Mabel sobbed. She yelled out in pain and collapsed on the bottom step, burning her face in her hands, and sobbed her heart out. Ford was stunned to hear her cry so hard, in so much emotional pain. She didn’t even cry this hard over any nightmares, and he had dealt with a handful of them. Poor Mabel was crying so hard and violently she gagged and retched occasionally, her body torn if she could cry or not but it was out of her control.

Ford got on his knees before her, but did not touch her. It broke his heart to see her so upset. And he and Stan had done this? Whatever it would take to fix it, he would do it. He was reluctant, but if sailing around the world with his brother was causing this much pain for their girl, then they would both agree to dock for good. “M-Mabel…”

“I understand…” Mabel mumbled through her tears and into her palms. “I understand why you had to go… why you both wanna go… b-b-but what if something happens to you?! How many times have you both gotten sick or hurt or nearly killed?! I miss you all the time and I’m always worried I’ll never see or hear from you again!”

“Oh, Mabel, sweetie…” Ford reached out a hand to put on her shoulder, but Mabel threw herself into Ford’s hold and he hugged her back tightly.

“I get it… I understand why you have to go… so WHY do I still feel this way?!” Mabel sobbed, clinging onto his uncle for dear life. “I’m so angry and scared and hurt! But I don’t want you to stop, I want you to sail cuz I know it makes you happy, but I need you to be okay!”

A lot of things clicked in Ford’s brain. Why Mabel always sent packages full of warm clothes. Why she always asked what they ate. Why she always checked on them. Why she was very observant and asked if they were okay if something was slightly off. Why she easily got worried if she didn’t hear from them. And why she always hugged them like she never wanted to let them go.

Ford blinked his stiff eyes a few times and forced himself to keep it together. “I’m so sorry, Mabel. You and your brother are everything to us. I love you two more than anything. If… If sailing causes you this much distress we can…”

“NO! No no no!” Mabel screamed in horror, holding on tighter. “No, please don’t stop cuz of me! I don’t- That doesn’t matter!”

“Mabel Pines,” Ford said firmly and readjusted his hold on her so he could look her straight in the eye. “You matter.”

“I-I know. I know.” Mabel breathed. “But… please don’t stop sailing cuz of me. Please. I don’t want you to stop. But… I want you and Grunkle Stan to be okay. I… I can’t lose you…”

A large lump was in Ford’s throat. He tried to swallow it away, but it didn’t work. He compromised and took advantage of the silence. He cupped Mabel’s right cheek with his left hand and wiped some tears away with his thumb. Mabel covered his hand with hers and turned her face into his palm.

“I understand, my dear. I do. And I’m so sorry. I swear, we won’t stop sailing unless we want to. You have my word. But I also swear to you that Stanley and I won’t let anything happen. We;re too scared of losing each other to let anything happen, believe me.” Mabel moved her eyes to his. “We will always come home. I promise.”

Mabel hugged her uncle again and cried into his shoulder, leaving him to rub her back and pray she would be okay. Ford opened his eyes and caught the sight of his twin at the top of the stairs. He must have heard Mabel’s screams and come to investigate, but decided to stay out of it. But a look from Ford told Stan that Mabel needed him too, so Stan climbed down the stairs, sat behind her, and hugged them both.

#GF #gravity falls #gift #collab #ford and mabel bonding #fanfiction #clownwry #sea grunks #angst #ANGST AND FLUFF

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bellafarallones2 · 4 years ago

Text

a stranger in a strange land

Hollis recognized Indrid Cold like a traveler might recognize another from their home country. Indrid was studying the display of new nonfiction in the Kepler Community Library, arms folded across his chest. He was wearing jeans and a white tank-top.

Hollis moved confidently, black combat boots on gray library carpet. Indrid looked up a moment before they reached his side, and nodded to acknowledge them.

Hollis looked into their own face, reflected in his red sunglasses. Those sunglasses were familiar. They’d met someone, a few years back, when coolness was something they aspired to rather than claimed as easily as the double-black-diamond ski jumps, who wore sunglasses with a third lens in the center of their forehead. Indrid’s were mundane by comparison.

“Hey, I’m Hollis. They/them.”

Indrid waited a beat after they’d finished to start speaking. “Indrid. He/him. Pleasure to meet you.”

“You, uh, new in town?”

“One might say.”

Hollis laughed. “C’mon, man, not exactly a riddle.”

“Yeah, I am new in town.”

“Well, if you wanna meet people. There’s a bar called the Little Dipper. Cool spot.”

Indrid nodded. “Thank you for the recommendation.”

They didn’t see each other again until after the end of the world.

Indrid was sitting on the curb outside of the all-night diner. Mosquitos buzzed around his bare shoulders but did not bite. He’d been walking home along the dark highway, and the blend of neon and fluorescent lights leaking out of the big windows had been irresistible.

He heard the roar of a motorcycle before the headlight appeared around the bend. Someone in a yellow leather jacket and torn-up black jeans. They pulled into the parking lot of the diner and came to a stop right in front of Indrid. He saw his own face - sallow cheeks, round sunglasses - reflected in the opaque visor of their helmet, and wondered idly whether this was how other people felt looking at him.

Hollis pulled off their helmet and ran a hand through their hair, arranging it into their preferred state of dishevelment.

“Hello, Hollis,” said Indrid. Two futures stretched in front of him. Hollis might want to talk, or they might not.

“Long time no see.”

Indrid waited a beat before replying. It was still a conscious effort not to finish people’s sentences for them. “Yeah.”

During the apocalypse, Hollis was always the point of a V of motorcycles, but tonight they were alone.

“Where’s your…” Indrid could say gang, and Hollis would look sharply at him. Indrid could also say friends, and Hollis would laugh and say we’re a gang, old man. “Where are the rest of the Hornets?”

“Keith’s grandparents are in town, so he’s at home.” Hollis shrugged. “I don’t need an escort. You coming in, or what?”

Indrid pushed himself to his feet and followed Hollis into the brightly lit diner. The waitress sat them at a table near the window. The darkness beyond the dim parking lot was complete. It was like Indrid was a passenger on an ocean liner looking out into the Pacific at night, or rather that a bioluminescent sea had nothing on the darkness of thick pines.

Indrid flipped straight to the drinks section of the laminated menu and ordered an iced tea. Hollis seemed to know the waitress, joked with her, and there were a few futures where she flirted back, but it didn’t happen. Hollis asked for bacon and eggs and French toast and Mountain Dew.

They each had a paper napkin wrapped around a fork and knife and secured with a paper band. Hollis unwrapped theirs and laid the fork on the left side of their place setting, the knife on their right. The knife was thick and blunt, barely serrated, the kind of thing that could cut through eggs and pancakes but not anything sturdier without a fight.

Indrid’s compound eyes twitched. There were many possible futures, most of them benign, but in one Hollis gripped that knife white-knuckle hard and lunged across the table.

“Are you upset with me because I’m from Silvaine?” said Indrid quietly.

“What? No..” Hollis edged their hand away from the blunt dinner knife. “Why do you think I’m upset with you?”

“You’re thinking about attacking me.”

The waitress arrived with their drinks. Indrid dumped four sugar packets into his iced tea and stirred, watching the sugar swirl like flakes of snow. The futures shuffled.

Now he saw Hollis slashing at their own wrists, now holding the knife straight-up on the table and bringing their head down, forcing the metal through their own eye. The kind of violence Indrid hadn’t seen since the abominations.

“You can read my mind!?” said Hollis, angry but still speaking quietly enough that the waitress wouldn’t hear.

“No. I can see the future, or rather, all the possible futures, which means I can see what courses of actions you’re considering.”

“Considering is a strong word. I don’t want to do anything to you. It just… occurred to me that I could.”

Indrid sucked on his straw. Sugar crunched between his teeth. Now, teeth, that was something it’d taken him a long time to get used to.

“My therapist calls them intrusive thoughts,” Hollis continued. “I hate it.”

Indrid nodded. “Good to know you don’t want to kill me. It’d take more than a dinner knife, anyway.”

Hollis pressed their hands palm-down on the table, fingers splayed. “Am I going to hurt someone?”

“Well, just because I can see the possibility doesn’t mean it’ll ever become reality. The choice is always yours.”

The waitress came back with Hollis’ food. “Are you sure I can’t get you anything to eat?” she said to Indrid. “More iced tea?”

“More tea, please,” he said, and passed her his glass, which was now empty except for ice and undissolved sugar.

“So you’re telling me,” said Hollis, loading their fork with egg, “that you can see the future, and you’re still living in Kepler, West Virginia? You could be in a penthouse in Vegas, drinking iced tea out of a crystal wine glass. You could be absolutely drowning in pussy. Or dick. Whatever.”

“I won my Winnebago playing poker.”

“And you didn’t aim higher?”

“Nobody in Kepler will play me anymore.” Now Indrid was getting irritated. Who was Hollis to chastise him for lack of ambition? He'd moved all the way to another planet. He was the red light between the trees, the sound of wingbeats in the summer night, the silhouette on the trembling bridge. “Why are you still here?”

Hollis waved their hand dismissively. “I’ve been to New York, and I think I’m more suited to the big fish in a small pond lifestyle. I’m not interested in not being the best-looking, coolest person in town.”

“I have to exert conscious effort every second of every day not to be unacceptably strange. I can’t take my sunglasses off in public, ever, and my bedroom walls have dents from times they’ve fallen off when I’m asleep. I cannot afford to attract human attention.”

“Have you ever been to a big casino?”

“No.”

“What if you had a spotter? I could go with you, or Keith and I, or whoever you’re comfortable with. You wouldn’t have to do all the talking, and we could split the profits.”

Indrid saw plush carpet and hotel Jacuzzis big enough for his other body, bartenders serving Shirley Temples twenty-four hours a day. “Get me a Hornets jacket and I’m in.”

#taz amnesty #taz hollis #indrid cold #so i wrote this way back in august and i have always wanted to continue it #so if anyone has any enthusiasm for this please let me know

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