#dream and his niblings

[sunshowersanddandelionwine]

au where soap is medically discharged and doesn’t really have a “purpose” anymore. He enlisted so young, and had been in the military for so long that he’s got no fucking idea what to do next. In the end, he moves in with his oldest sister and her kids after his brother-in-law passes away suddenly.

While getting his feet back under him, he takes up drawing again. More seriously this time than just doodles on paperwork and scribbles on briefing notes. But real illustrations. It starts as a way to keep his hands occupied while idle at home, but then it becomes an actual hobby of his. He gets better and better, watching YouTube tutorials to learn things he wouldn’t have picked up otherwise.

It’s his 15 year old niece that gets everything rolling. She (without his knowledge) sets up a social media account to share his art. But a very specific series of art. See, he started illustrating the stories his 5 year old nephew told him. And the art, just like the stories, are mindblowing. Soap didn’t do it for recognition, but his niece insisted on sharing his work with the world.

The account starts to get a following, and when his niece shows it to him he nearly has a breakdown. But then he sees the comments. Parents of kids who feel seen in his art. Young self taught artists feeling seen through him. A whole community of people who connected with his work on such a deeper level than anything he’d expected. So, begrudgingly, he lets her continue to post.

Then comes the storefront. With prints and merch and all sorts of wild ass things he’d never dreamed of. And while the income is modest, it still an income. For a while, a part of him had felt guilty for “mooching” off his sister (despite her protests to the contrary) and now he can really start contributing to the household. Plus, a little bit of each sale gets squirreled away for his niece and nephew. Since without them, this whole thing wouldn’t be happening.

And then the email comes. It’s innocuous at first, something he’s gotten a number of times. The sender asks him if he’s willing to illustrate for an upcoming project with a children’s book author. They’d seen his work online and thought his style would match perfectly with the book. Initially, soap was going to politely decline the offer. As much as he’d come to accept the minor fame he’d gotten online, he didn’t think he was good enough to actually illustrate something for a traditional publication. But then he sees the sender’s signature.

S. Riley.

Not much was known about Riley as a person. Their personal life, much like their first name, was kept down tight under lock and key. But their books were beloved by so many, including Soap and his family. Riley wrote on topics that not a lot of other children’s book authors dared to touch, and not with the deft and delicate hand necessary to properly tackle them. Things like parental abuse, neglect, trauma, death; there wasn’t a subject Riley was scared of, and there wasn’t a subject that they handled with anything less than the utmost grace. Their book on dealing with grief and loss had gotten Soap’s niblings (and his sister, to be perfectly honest) through those first few months after their father’s death.

So, despite his misgivings and anxieties, soap accepts.

(Across the country, one Simon Riley waits with bated breath to see if his nephew Joseph’s (and his) mysterious favorite artist will say yes. For no other reason than professional curiosity. It definitely has nothing to do with the briefest glimmer of a bright blue eye caught in the corner of a recent post.)

[yandere--stuck]

would u ever write more for stanley.. its so dry out here.. stanation is suffering in a drought……….

You're so right, I'm so sorry, Stanation!!!!

---

💰 Stanley's obsession for you manifests into rocketing between pitiful internal justification for his possessive feelings for you and deep, deep self-loathing and disgust with himself while trying to distance himself from you. Oh, and who could forget, Stanley allowing himself to indulge in fantasies of you returning his feelings and living out happily ever after together. Ha, like that'll ever happen! … But, a man can dream, can't he? Just nice, sappy, romantic stuff, you know? Cuddling together in bed, making the kids breakfast with sleep still in both your eyes, watching the sunset together on the porch, and scaring off any lousy creep that tries to take what's his with one of his many guns. In fact, he may already be doing that last one.

🎲 Talks a big game and acts like a tough guy around you, but it couldn't be further from the truth - at least when it comes to you. In reality, when Stan's around you, he feels one second away from breaking and acting like a lovesick puppy. He feels like a kid with a crush! He hasn't felt this way since he was a young man! It'd be embarrassing if it, if you, didn't make him so happy. He just feels lucky he hasn't turned into a babbling, blushing idiot in front of you or the kids. That's for when your backs are turned. There have been some close calls, though. Like the time he got so lost in listening to you speak that he hadn't realized he'd started resting the side of his face on his hand while staring at you, hearts practically in his eyes. The moment he realized, he'd run off from you with a shout of, “Nonspecific excuse!”

💰 Stan is a bit of a collector, and that certainly doesn't stop with you. He loves snatching little keepsakes from you. Nothing you'd miss, or nothing you'd miss for long. Discarded doodles, forgotten gloves, change that had fallen to the floor unnoticed, and occasionally, your phone, to make sure he didn't have a competition. Everything he keeps goes into his study. He also likes swiping your unfinished snacks or drinks and finishing them himself - he thinks of it as an indirect kiss (yeah, he's gross, what of it?) And it's hard to admit even to himself, but he gets a certain thrill whenever he snaps a candid shot of you from one of the polaroid he swiped from stock for “store use.” That's not all, though! He goes through security camera footage and rifles through it for cute videos of you - ah, but hey, you're always cute, aren't you? He saves them all and watches them religiously. He also may secretly go through Mabel's scrapbook to find pictures of you and make copies of them for his own personal collection, always making sure it gets returned to Mabel seemingly untouched. It's probably the most organized collection he has! And, of course, he's put a framed picture of you right beside the one of Mabel and Dipper in the laboratory downstairs. It makes Stan think of an imagined, impossible world where you and he raise the two together. Your own little family.

🎲 Another fantasy he indulges in is drugging you up and keeping you hidden in the laboratory. It'd be so easy. You're so trusting of him when you really shouldn't be, when he doesn't deserve to be. It'd be so easy to steal you away all for himself. Gravity Falls is a weird town. Strange things happen, and they either go unremembered or unspoken. Sure, you'd be missed, but it's not like the police force in town would get very far. Heck, he'd put more faith in his grand-niblings cracking the case than Blubs and Durland! And, well, you stole his heart first. It's only fair. And Stan would take such good care of you, he knows it! He'd keep you all nice and drugged up. Maybe you'd be euphoric and clingy, or your brain too foggy to escape or do much for yourself, or maybe he'd give you something so that you're too sick to even consider leaving for the hospital lest your condition worsen any further. You'd need him. That's all he'd ever want.

💰 Stan is very protective of you. He tries not to be so obvious, but his temper had such a short fuse when it came to you. You were just so sweet, so nice, even to a scumbag like him! You were so good with the kids, always such a help around the shack, even going so far as to visit on your day off just because you liked the Pines’ company. Liked his company. I mean, how the hell could anyone think they're good enough for you? Nah, nah, nah, he's not letting any mouth-breathing idiots in this town try to make moves on you just because they're too stupid to realize you're outta their league! And if he even thinks he hears someone a bad word about you, he'll be up in their face, cussing them out and making threats (as well as very rude hand gestures.) It's embarrassing for him afterwards, though. He doesn't want to think he's losing control and becoming more obvious, but with how Mabel claims it was ‘so sweet’ of him to be so protective of you, he can't help but worry.

🎲 Stan gradually becomes more physically affectionate with you. “Accidentally” brushing his hands against yours, leaving a hand on your shoulder or arm for a bit too long, nearly embarrassing himself by wrapping you up in a hug in front of everyone. He just can't help it! He's… He's in love! He's in love with you, and he wants to be with you. You make him happy just by being near him. You make his life better just by being in it. He wants to hold you, hug you, kiss you, be with you, and keep you with him forever. But, Stan also knows he can't. You'd never agree to it, surely. No matter how much Stan wants to think otherwise. Old bastard like him, he wasn't good enough for you - but then again, he thought no one was. But he could take comfort in you just being near him (if you ever tried to leave, he doesn't know what he'd do…) That way, at least, he couldn't screw anything up. That's all he'd do, anyway. It'd fail, just like all of his other relationships and all because of him. He should know better. He should know that he's a fuckup, that he destroys everything he touches, and that everyone he's ever known has suffered because of him. He just… He just wishes he could be closer. He knows he's not good enough for you to love him or need him and that he never will be, but God, does he wish he was.

[thegnomelord]

For the 500 followers game (congrats btw) 9 with Price, soap, and m!reader???

Thanks anon, I went back and forth between giving reader or Price the piercing, but ended up with reader. I used some of @rodolfoparras old man price stuff as inspiration :Dd, play the game HERE.

Prompt: "You have a piercing where?"

CW: NSFW, M reader, sub bottom Price, sub top Soap, reader has piercings, oral, double penetration, body shots, light feminization of Price.

Like with most stupid ideas, booze was to blame. It had started out with just sharing a few drinks of Price's special whiskey after a mission, but knowing you and knowing Johnny, that quickly developed into taking body shots off each other. Price had been hesitant to do it but your and Soap's quick and loving, if a bit disorganized, kisses had swallowed his usual words— I'm too old, I'm not good at this, I— until he caved.

Whiskey swirls in the little glass, sparkling in the light as you pour it between his ample pecks, cold liquor forcing a shiver down Price's spine and sticking to his chest hair like molasses. Your hands ease the tension in his frame, firmly pushing his pecks together to create a deep valley you could follow with your tongue, the cold of the booze replaced by the little piece of metal piercing your tongue dragging against his skin as you slurped up the whiskey.

Your eyes meet Price's, your tongue sticking out to show off your piercing and the brown booze pooling around it before you swallowed.

"Bloody tease," Price growls, bringing your faces closer with a hand on your chin so he could kiss you. This is new; you have plenty of piercings but your past partners had soured the idea of wearing more 'extreme' piercings around them, but in this moment Price is happy you'd forgotten to take it out. The heat of your mouth contrasting with the cold metal, the 'clack' it makes when clicking against his teeth, the sensation of something foreign swirling around his mouth— it is just such a new sensation. One he is getting addicted to.

"Oi, don't bloody forget me," Soap growls, capturing your attention and your mouth the second you separated from Price, giving you a sloppy kiss.

"Wouldn't dream of it." You chuckle, reclining back on the bed just enough for Soap to pour booze haphazardly on your abdomen just so he could taste your sweat mingling with it. They were all half naked and sticky with spit, alcohol, and sweat, a heavy scent of heat in the air making you flush.

"Fockin' 'ell," Johnny breathes against your skin, collecting the last drops of liquor in his tongue and jerking up to kiss you, sharing the burn the whiskey brings. "That piercing's some'tin' else." He chuckles, suckling on your tongue and the piercing.

"Do you have any more lad?" Price asks, a low flame burning in his belly from watching his sergeants act like that.

"Got my dick pierced." You shrug without thinking.

Price sobers up real quick at your words, glancing at Soap as if to ask if he heard you right. "Repeat that," He says, his eyes narrowed. "You have a piercing where?"

You open your mouth, but Soap beats you to it. "Hold on," He shakes his head, a look in his eyes denoting trouble. "Yea've got a thing in yer knob?" He looks bewildered, then perks up. "Show it."

Your eyes swivel to look at Price to see a familiar look on his face; that uncertainty — same one your previous partners had. "I don't know..."

"Oh come on, I'm begging on me bum knee," Soap whines, tugging on your pants with a desperate whine, turning his attention to Price. "C'mon, back me up here geezer."

Price's eyes narrow at the name, but can't help the way heat flares in his stomach. There's a sort of morbid curiosity in him, wanting to know what your cock would look like with piercings, what they would feel against his tongue, how they'd feel inside him—

"Yeah," He breathes out, leveling his gaze with you, determination hiding the slight trepidation nibling on his bones. "Yeah, we want to see it."

You look unconvinced, but relent. Shuffling off the bed you quickly find your piercings and come back to bed, sitting on the edge. Before you know it Soap's in front of you, "Oh, don't go hiding now." He grumbles, watching your every move like a kid on Christmas.

"He's right," Price sits next to you, a gentle hand on your neck as he kisses you sweetly, "We won't judge you."

You breathe out a short laugh and quickly undo your pants, your hard cock springing free. They watch transfixed as you put your piercings in, a prince albert and an apadravya, the metal shining brightly against your flushed skin.

"Well fock me sideways," Soap laughs in disbelief, falling to his knees and taking hold of your shaft, "It's like yer cock's got horns!"

His words bring a laugh out of you, and Price chuckles along, the light atmosphere helping him gain the courage to sink to his knees next to Johnny, their broad shoulders keeping your legs spread open. "It is something." He hums, licking his lips.

"Stop staring at it." You grumble, not expecting Soap to swallow you balls deep in one go the moment your words leave your mouth. The way your piercings hit the back of his throat has Johnny groaning like a whore, bringing moans from your chest.

"Leave some for me you muppet." Price growls, yanking Johnny by his hair, a wet and lewd 'slurp' ringing across the room, your shaft shining with Johnny's spit. You don't have any time to breathe before Price leans in to experimentally lap at your cockhead, his breath stuttering as he takes you into his mouth.

It's the sensation of the cold steel resting on his tongue and Soap's encouraging but sloppy kiss at the corner of his lip that has him taking a bit more, wrapping his plump lips around your shaft and hollowing his cheeks to swallow around you, his own dick getting harder from your resounding groan.

Johnny joins in soon after, giving wet and messy kisses along the flesh not in Price's mouth, the difference in Price's constant pressure on your cock and the sloppy tongue bath Johnny's giving your balls making heat gather in your stomach. Hell, the sight of them both almost worshiping your cock has your mind fuzzy with desire, your heart fluttering every time you feel Price's inquisitive tongue swirl around your metal piercings.

"Shit," You breathe out, your fingers carding through their hair without trying to push Price down further on your cock. "I'm not gonna last long." This time you grip Price's hair just firm enough to lightly tug him off you, patting your thigh "How about it captain, want us to take care of you?"

A violent and pleasant shiver races down Price's spine, not at all aided by the hungry groan Johnny lets out. The last time you two had 'taken care' of him he'd been fucked within an inch of his life and been walking funny for a week, but fuck, had that felt wonderful. And not to mention that now he was given the chance to feel your piercings inside him.

Price doesn't say anything, only standing up long enough to take off his pants and boxers before sitting in your lap, your cocks hard and flush as they rub against each other. "Yeah," He finally says, his hands wrapping around your neck when you roughly fist both of your cocks, only to jump when Soap's tongue sloppily swipes across his puckered rim.

"Fock, forgot what an ass yae have Capt'n." Johnny groans, blindly passing you the lube before he focuses on eating Price out like he's Johnny's last meal, wetly slurping at his hole, his spit drooling down his chin and cock twitching at the way Price groans.

Price shivers and whines, his head falling to rest on your shoulder the moment your lubed fingers press alongside Johnny's tongue, cock twitching the moment your first finger breathes him. "Yeah? Like that Captain?" You put emphasis on his rank, pushing a second finger in and scissoring, spreading his hole open so Johnny's tongue can push inside unrestrained. "You like it when we use your cunt?"

"Yes," Price groans, mind swimming with arousal, low and husky moans falling from his lips with every brush of your fingers against his prostate, every swipe of Soap's tongue, the way you work him up to four fingers making his body burn with the stretch so pleasantly. "I love it when my Sergeants use me."

You smirk, continuing to stretch him open, uncaring of how much he shifts and tries to wiggle his hips in an attempt to get you to fuck him. "Hear that Soap?" You hum, feeling Soap's groan vibrate against your fingers. "We'll have to fuck him good, pump him full," You continue, knowing how much your dirty talk fuels both of their arousals.

Price is whining soft little 'please, sir fuck me,'s against your ear when you finally pull your fingers out of his spasming hole, even without looking you can tell his hole is clenching around nothing, greedy thing. "You get your wish now." You lift him up to position the head of your cock against his hole, letting gravity do all the work on the way down.

"Fuck-" He moans, head lolling back and heavy chest heaving for breath. You'd stretched him good, but he's unaccustomed to the way the piercings scrap against his walls, precum spurting weakly from his tip the second your piercing presses insistently against his prostate. "-so good,"

"Don't forget about me," Johnny grins, wrapping a rough hand around his waist, his cock nudging against Price's hole as it flutters around your shaft. "Here ah come," He says and pushes. Initially his body tries to resist, clamping down on your shaft you nearly cum there and then, but a few swipes of your thumb against Price's tip has him relaxing just enough for the constant pressure of Johnny's tip to finally slip inside.

A weak sound leaves Price's throat, mouth moving in a silent moan as Johnny pushes inside inch by inch, forcing his body to yield. You all stop to give him a few seconds to catch his breath, your cocks twitching inside his tightly clenching walls. "So good for us captain." You chuckle and buck your hips without warning, drawing a moan and a spurt of precum from him when your piercing brushes against his prostate.

"Aye, good fockin' cocksleeve." Johnny groans in Price's ear, following your movements and bucking harshly into his tight heat. You swallow Price's moans with bruising kisses, letting Johnny rut into him like a bull while you languidly roll your hips, abusing him with sensations that leaves him shaking and moaning, pathetic tears prickling his eyes.

"That's right captain?" You ask, subtly picking up the pace, spit and lube noisily 'squelching' as both of your cocks push and pull inside him, "That's what you're good for, taking us so well,"

"Yes, yes, yes-" Price moans, cock dribbling precum like a tap from the way your cocks stretch him, from the way your piercings rub firmly on his prostate, "-please, give me, I need-" He moans before he can finish, but you understand what he wants, one look at Johnny telling you he won't last long either.

Finally you two cum, and the sensation of your and Johnny's cum flooding his insides pushes him into his own orgasm, painting your front in white, watery cum. The both all but collapse on top of you, your cocks plugging up your mixed cum inside him.

"You alright?" You ask, brushing a sweaty lock of hair out of Price's hair.

"Yeah," He smiles, pleased like a fat cat. "Maybe I should get a piercing too." Price slurs, giving you a lazy kiss.

[nowimjustastranger]

Not a fic request; I just recently discovered and binge-read your Somebody to Call My Own Au and I was struck with an idea I'd love to share.

I love your post about stcmo!Ford meeting the Canon Grunkles, but I got to thinking, "Why would he need to go to dimension 46'\?" And the most obvious answer is, Grunkle Stan almost died.

So picture it, the sea Grunks have been living their shared dream for close to a year and have been steadily making their way back to Gravity Falls for their niblings second summer there, when 46'\ Ford detects an anomaly that's not too far off course. He convinces Stanley to go investigate it as one last hurrah before they turn in for the summer.

However, in an attempt to document it, they ended up angering the creature and now have to fight it or risk their boat capsizing. Stanley ultimately ends up falling overboard, and while Ford is concerned, he is rational enough to know that Stan's wearing a life jacket, has fallen off the boat before (and knew how to pull himself back up by now) and always turned out fine, save for falling ill for a bit.

But while Ford's busy making sure the boat doesn't turn over, he realizes Stan is taking a lot longer than he should to climb back up.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he catches a flash of blue light and a dark figure landing on his deck. It takes him all of two seconds to realize who it is, and in that time, the guy has already dove into the water. Motherfucking Stanford Pines from dimension 419"3.

So now Ford is pissy because this edgelord version of himself, who beat him up once over having a shit take years ago, just showed up for no reason and will probably make his day even worse.

And then he comes to the chilling realization that 419"3 Ford only shows up when a Stanley is at risk of dying.

In the meantime, 419"3 Ford kills the monster and ends up having to unhinge it's jaw in order to drag Stanley out of its mouth. He's unconscious, but alive.

The boat settles and Ford 419"3 drags Stan onto the deck to perform cpr, make sure he does get hypothermia, y'know, standard procedure. Ford 46'\ is instantly glued to his brother's side and is insistent that once he is breathing clearly and conscious, Ford 419"3 has to go.

Frankly, he's knee-deep in denial that Stan was even going to die. His Stan isn't like the other Stan's that need help. He's tougher. He beat Bill Cipher for crying out loud! He doesn't need help, especially from 419"3 Ford!

He's always fine.

Of course, 419"3 Ford disproves that claim, saying that's a very naive way of thinking. That 46'\ Ford had believed Stan was "fine" for ten years, when he very clearly wasn't. In fact, there was a 100% chance that Stan would die in that fish's mouth because Ford had prioritized the boat over rescuing Stan.

419"3 Ford says he's going to stick around to ensure that Stan is healthy and he might even stay until they reach land because he doesn't trust 46'\ Ford to not get distracted by some other big fish.

46'\ Ford is appalled by the idea that he'd put his brother’s health even further at stake and is pretty insistent that they get Stan to a hospital asap, which they both can agree on for once. (I like to imagine Stan's in the background very much not wanting to go to a hospital because he's still legally dead and would honestly like to keep it that way, but he's being ignored in favor of his health.)

Still Ford 46'\ wants 419"3 gone. He knows his methods, he knows his MO, and he does not trust him with his brother. He does not need to be tested. He's learned the lesson already. The thought of losing Stan again kills him inside.

And yet the thought lingers. Stan would've died, barely a month before their first shared birthday in forty years. He'd have to return to Gravity Falls alone. He'd have to break the news to Dipper and Mabel.

Their hero was gone and it would've been his fault.

But he wasn't. And Ford wouldn't admit it out loud, it was all thanks to Ford from 419"3. That asshole saved his brother.

But we all know how much Ford struggles with saying "Thank you".

Anyways, that was just something my angsty ass came up with because your Au is so compelling and inspiring. I'd actually write a fic of it, if I wasn't already committed to a long fic rn. Hope your days going well☺️💗💗💗

Omg... why do y'all keep giving me the brainworms??? You know I'm gonna have to write something for this now, right?

[oatmealdaydreams]

Black Hole Fantasy: I'm pulling in the driveway, I'm turning off the car

Let me know if ya wanna be added on or taken off the general taglist!

Part 1

Inspired By Works: the Shifter Stan AU made by @the-east-art! Check out her stuff, it's super good. Shout out to East!

Pairing: Stan Pines & Ford Pines, gen

Warnings: Homelessness, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse

Summary: After reconciling, Stan answers what he can while Ford asks questions about his shifting abilities. Most of them are expected from his nerdy brother: how certain shifts work, what kind of limits there are, what the deal is with partial shifts, and all that. But then Ford asks about how he found out about his abilities, and…and Stan debates if it’s a good idea telling his brother about his time driving in Mount Tammany.  Stan cannot lie to Ford without him seeing right through it, anyway.

Notes: Wrote a majority of this today (as of posting) because I damn well know a lot of us need some comfort right now.

[Masterlist] | ao3 link

[read under the cut]

Stan expected this. It’s Ford, he’s gonna be all nerdy and ask questions and wanna know more about things he doesn’t understand so he can understand them. He expected this. 

As soon as the question leaves Ford’s mouth, he can tell it probably isn’t the best thing to ask, for whatever reason that may be, because Stan tenses in his seat and his gaze darts away from his brother. 

Stan expected this. It’s Ford, he’s gonna be all nerdy and ask questions and wanna know more about things he doesn’t understand so he can understand them. He expected this. 

The younger twins are due to arrive within the next week or so for another summer. Stan’s surprised their parents are letting back to Gravity Falls—depending on what they told their parents—but he’s not complaining. He grew attached to those chaotic gremlins rather quickly. They’re family, after all. Stan knows he’s got a weak spot for ‘em. Ford gives him shit about it sometimes when he’s being all stubborn and grumpy. It doesn’t come from a place of hypocrisy, though. Ford’s just as bad as Stan is when it comes to their niblings, and he most often admits it.

The time sailing across the vast seas on the Stan O’ War II with Ford helped with remembering things. Stan had remembered most of his life—the important bits, at least. There were still holes in his recollection here and there, still are, but important memories stuck before the rest of it. The fact that he had a twin brother named Stanford, his niblings, most of what he’s done while in Gravity Falls, the entire Portal Situation, and almost everything that has to deal with a certain triangular dream demon. When he has relapses, Ford is always there to help him remember and support him until the memories come back. Childhood can be a bit blurry sometimes. He doesn’t quite remember much about their father, but Ford reassures him that he’s not someone to worry about; Stan trusts Ford. That, and the way Ford’s eyes darken every time he mentions him…well, he can piece things together on his own. Some people aren’t worth remembering. That’s okay. 

One of the periods in his life he struggles to remember much of is the ten years before he arrived in Gravity Falls. Ford doesn’t know much about them, either. When a memory from then resurfaces, it can be…really shitty. Sometimes, when a relapse happens and it involves something from his years being homeless, it gets a lot harder to calm Stan down. Especially since all the memories he’s remembered from then so far have been what his niblings would call ‘unfairly traumatic’. Stan knows by now where he got all his survival skills, at least. 

There are a few memories from when he first got on the streets that aren’t so bad. A few failed attempts at cheap products that got him banned in some places. He vaguely remembers his Stan Vac, the whole not-rash-causing rash-causing bandaids, little things like those. His leaky towels that made stains worse. 

His drive up through Mount Tammany. 

Stan remembers a particular night from that. Getting banned from New Jersey and trying his luck in the next state over. Dark nights where the skies were perfect for stargazing if he’d only let himself stay still for a few minutes. But then again, staying still for even a second on the road is the kinda thing that gets ya killed. So. He can always stargaze now, though. Ford always watched the stars when they got the chance at sea. Maybe they can do that again, now, in a place that doesn’t involve a surprising constant of sea-bound critters out ta get their asses. 

The fucking point: he remembers sitting in his car on the roadside, alone, in the middle of nowhere up on a mountain, getting all teary over his stupid fucking hands. He’d shifted them by accident, and suddenly six fingers replaced five. Missing Ford did that kinda shit, he supposes. Intertwining a five-fingered hand with a six-fingered one nearly broke him. Stan can punch a pterodactyl in its damn face, but he’s weak when it comes to his family. To his brother. 

Stan hopes Ford never finds out about it. He hopes he does find out about it. It’s a complicated mess of things. 

They sit in the chairs in the living room. Some rerun of an earlier Ducktective episode plays at low volume, perfect for background noise. Ford noticeably has a notepad and a blue-inked pen out on his lap. Stan’s counting down the seconds it takes for his brother to ask whatever questions he has on his mind. It only takes about thirty seconds for him to burst. A new record, really. 

“Can I ask you a few questions about your shifting?” Ford’s eyes twinkle like the fucking stars. 

Stan shrugs, genuinely open to it, “Sure, why not.” 

Ford’s excited little smile is plenty of reward for agreeing to this. He knows if he said no, Ford would back off. He’d be a bit disappointed, yeah, but he’d back off. Brothers are like that, y’know. 

His brother readies himself with his pen and all, eagerness leaking off him like some weird mist or something. 

“How can you shift into a mermaid but not into a partial fish shift?”

“It’s not that simple, Poindexter. There’re limits to it.”

The sound of a gliding pen across paper, “I suppose that makes sense. Even with Shifty, he had to learn through visualization before he could shift into something. Perhaps you mimic in a similar fashion,” There's a brief pause as Ford writes another note. “What are the limitations?”

“Well,” Stan grunts out a sigh, “for one, shifts hafta be made of the same base stuff that humans are. Size is another thing. Can’t shift inta somethin’ too small or too large. And, uh, partial shifts are their own thing, not very sustainable. ‘S why I gotta shift into a full merfolk instead ‘a partial fish.”

Ford nods along to his brother, scribbling notes hastily as he talks. There’s a sense of ease that blankets the air between them. Lounging in the tv room, talking, listening, just hanging out with each other. When was the last time they did shit like this? When was the last time it started to feel easy? Maybe it’s because he’s answerin’ the things that he does know about his shifting abilities, but a warmth blossoms in Stan’s chest at the realization of how much it reminds him of being kids. Yappin’ with each other. No arguin’ or nothin’, just…yappin’. It’s nice. 

“Wait, so—” a readjust of Poindexter’s glasses, “Then how come you’ve shifted into partial cat eyes or…ah, the partial bear shift the kids told me about?” 

“It ain’t sustainable, so it doesn’t last long,” Stan tries, though he’s pretty sure he just explained the partial shift thing. “Wouldn’t wanna randomly shift underwater, y’know? And fish shifts are always a bitch to shift in and outta.” 

“Ah, I see. Why are fish—”

“The gills, nerd. Breathing’s all different an’ shit.”

“Oh, well, nevermind then.”

Stan snorts at him, and Ford playfully rolls his eyes. He writes a few more notes down. Stan taps his fingers on the arm of his chair, lightly drumming out a tuneless rhythm. A companionable silence fills the room, and for once, he doesn’t feel the need to replace it with some sort of sound. Probably because he’s already making noise with his tappin’, but still. It’s like a gentle inhale of fresh pine air, drifting around them. It’s calm. It’s as quiet as any ambience can be. It’s peaceful. 

And it only lasts for a few minutes, thankfully, because Stan might’ve started tappin’ with two hands instead of one if it went on for too long. It’s still silence, after all. Nothing good has come with complete silence.

“Given what you’ve explained…how does your shifting work?” and this question has the stars in Ford’s eyes turning into spotlights that gleam onto Stan. 

Stanley clicks, shrugging, “Tch, I don’t know.”

Ford glances up from his notepad, pen stilling, “What?”

“I don’t know how it works, Six.”

“How can you not know how it works? It’s your shifting!”

“I’ve been busy.”

“But you just explained—”

“I know some things, just not everything!”

“How—wait, okay. What were you so busy with that you didn’t explore your shifting more?”

The peaceful air thins. There’s a slight pressure, tension, something that threatens to smother them if they don’t tread this carefully. A choking hazard. 

Stan scoffs, a biting voice, “Jeez, Six, do ya not remember bein’ shoved into a massive fuckin’ portal? And I thought I was the amnesiac.”

He winces as soon as he says it. That was a bit harsher than he intended, honestly. It’s in the past. Sure, there’re still some shit they gotta work out, but now wasn’t the time. Why is he always biting like a wounded feral dog when it comes to shit like that? What is he, a beaten hound? 

Ford goes sheepish, “Oh, right…”

It’s awkward. The tense air simmers like New Mexico’s summer heat. It blazes underneath the first layer of their skin. It fizzles and crackles and makes both of the older twins fidget in their seats. Stan shifts his weight in his chair, and his finger-tappin’ gets quicker. 

Ford clears his throat, “Right, well, I—thank you, Stanley.” 

A small, fond smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. Warmth fills his chest like waves of the ocean, his heart sighing pleasant beats. Ford’s said it a number of times while they were sailing. Some nights, when the beer was cold and the stars were glistening across the vast seas, they figured out talkin’ about shit. Not everything, no, not even some of the things they probably should, but they were still important things they needed to talk about. The portal was one of them. At least, some of it. The parts that Stan remembered in flashes. Memory of its entirety came back before they returned to Gravity Falls, but he digresses. They talked about some shit, and Ford made a point of saying ‘thank you’ a lot more. He still does it. 

The tense air dissipates a significant amount, easing, calming, gentle.

“Yeah, whatever, Poindexter,” Stan waves it off, but he couldn’t wipe the little smile on his face if he tried. “What else ya got, huh?”

Ford shares his own little smile, glancing down briefly at his notes, “Well, let’s see…oh! How did you initially find out about your shifting?”

And the tense air returns with a sharp bite. 

As soon as the question leaves Ford’s mouth, he can tell it probably isn’t the best thing to ask, for whatever reason that may be, because Stan tenses in his seat and his gaze darts away from his brother. 

“Of course, if you don’t remember it,” Ford adds quickly, “Just the earliest you can remember.”

Stan considers what to do here. He’s been given an out. He can just give the easy excuse that he doesn’t remember. It wouldn’t be too far a lie, what, with how fickle his memory from that far back can be. It’s still a lie, though. He does remember that night driving through Mount Tammany. Although it may not be his first experience with his new-found shifting abilities, it is one of the earliest. It would be around the time he first found out, anyway. 

And he’d promised Ford on the boat that he’d try and talk to him. They both did. They made that promise. Stan is tired of breaking things. He won’t break a promise to Ford, especially now that they’re on much better terms. He can’t risk fucking this peace up. It’s too precious now. There’s been too much work and hard nights and shed tears they’ll never comment on. Stan won’t break it for anything. 

He sighs, refusing to face Ford while he does this. 

“It ain’t much. Just a drive through the mountains,” he forewarns, “Nothin’ pretty, nothin’ ugly.” 

Ford’s eyes widen in momentary surprise, as if he’d expected Stan to take the out. He shakes it off, leaning in slightly. An eager listener. A nod to show he understands. 

Alright, we’re fuckin’ doin’ this, Stan thinks. 

A gruffer sigh, “Just been banned from Jersey, I think. A few failed business ventures or whatever, and I was drivin’ up through Mount Tammany.”

Stan ignores whatever Ford’s reaction is to him being banned from their home state. He can’t handle reactions if he’s gonna commit to this. Grabbing a half-drank can of Pitt Cola, givin’ something for his hands to do. Idle hands ain’t gonna do good. He can’t risk havin’ idle hands that reach for violence and excuses. This ain’t the time for it. Not now, not now. 

He swallows, continuing, “It’s dark, probably in the middle of the night. Got used ta drivin’ in late hours so much I don’t think it made a difference.” 

The scene itself starts to unravel in front of his mind’s eye. He can almost see it, hear it, smell it. He keeps talking. 

“Mind kept driftin’, so I had ta pull over. I was wonderin’ about…people. Where they were, how’d they been, all that. Guess they really got to me, heh.” 

Ford doesn’t need to ask who he’s referring to. This one, he knows. He knows what Stan is like when he talks about missing Ford. It’s one ‘a those times. 

“Not even twenty yet, y’know. Still young enough to have a weak stomach about things. I couldn’t keep drivin’ all those curves up in the mountains like that, else I was gonna crash or somethin’. I pull over.”

Stan has to pause for a moment, swallowing again. He tries not to get lost in the memory. He fidgets with the can in his hand, thumbing across its smooth surface. Remind himself where he is. Remember he’s in a chair next to his brother, and not breakin’ at the sight of holding a five-fingered hand and a six-fingered one together. Five plus six is eleven. It’d only been ten years when he saw Ford next after that, but it sure felt like eleven centuries with the way they’d changed. 

No longer lookin’ like each other. Both scared outta their minds and desperate. They’re twins; but back then, they’d been strangers that shared a last name. Not even that. Stan’s used many names throughout the years. He’s worn many faces, too. Droppin’ his shift for the first time in years, just to see his brother, had been a lot more unsettling than he thought it’d be. 

Right, explain’ Mount Tammany. 

Stan shakes his head lightly, ignoring his lingering thoughts of triangular portals. 

“I felt the extra fingers before I saw ‘em,” a hitch of breath besides Stan, but he continues through it, “Six fingers on each hand. The last I recall, I wasn’t the one with hands like that. Turns out I shifted ‘em without thinking.” 

Stan does that sometimes. In moments of heightened emotion—distress, usually—his body decides to kick into gear without askin’ Stan first and shifts itself into whatever it deems necessary to survive the situation. He heard Wendy explain it as a trauma response once. She’d been taking this psychology class to avoid some shitty required course that had a shitty teacher. She’s smart. Gonna do some pretty great shit one day, that kid. Badass enough as it is, really. What highschooler can say they’ve survived the literal apocalypse without referrin’ to a video game? 

“I was already a weak mess at that point,” Stan hesitates, thumbing the can in his hand again. Quiet noises come from Ford’s chair, and he tries to write it off as squeaky furniture. “I, uh…shifted one hand back, and…intertwined them. ‘Bout broke me. I was already fucked-up with drivin’ in the middle of the night, anyway. Y’know, lackin’ sleep and all. That shit.”

Stan cannot look in Ford’s direction after he’s finished. He keeps fiddling with the Pitt can in his hand. His other hand drums a tuneless rhythm on the arm of his chair. He can’t have idle hands. They reach for things. Reaching for Ford might not be a good idea right now. Hey, at least Stan’s actually thinkin’ for once in his damn life. Mabel’s childlike optimism is rubbin’ off ‘a him. 

The quiet noises include a sniffle, and Stan feels something in his chest crack like a statue about to fall off a breaking cliff. Something’s about to break and fall into the churnin’ waters below. The sea can be just as much of a hell as it can be a comfort. Life’s like that, he supposes. Your greatest comfort can be your easiest weak point. 

They sit there, not talking, not looking at each other, hardly making a sound. It’s a fragile air. It’s a thin glass sheet. They’ve had practice on the Stan ‘O War II with learning how to navigate moments like these, but this? This is something else. This is about an earlier memory of being kicked out from home. This is about when Stan learned he was just as anomalous as his brother. This is about one of the first times Stan lost a little hope. This is different. It’s fragile, and Stan’s never been good with fragile things. He breaks what he touches. He doesn’t know how to touch this without cracking the glass like a hammer to a stained glass window. 

Neither of them breathe for a moment. 

How the hell do you navigate a conversation like this? How did it turn into thinly-veiled raw emotion with the steadiness of a paper house? The pivot from your average sibling bickering and stupid smiles to something made of a deck of flimsy cards. A sharp pivot. A sudden pivot. Where did the fragility come from? 

Ford, surprisingly, is the one to break the stained-glass window. 

“Lee,” his voice is thicker, choking, full of hitching breaths and sniffling that becomes all the more noticeable with the uneasy silence. 

Stan can’t help but turn to his brother as soon as that nickname is uttered. There’s a lump in his throat at the sight of Ford’s red-rimmed eyes behind the guise of his blocky glasses. He doesn’t have it in him to swallow it down. 

Okay, they’re doing this. Great. This is fine. 

“Six,” Stan responds, and he sounds just as bad as Ford.

He ignores the prickling droplets in his eyes. 

“You—when did—” words come tumbling out of Ford’s mouth like foreign concepts of another dimension. 

“It’s fine, Poindexter,” an attempt at waving things off, even with how messy their voices are right now, because he cannot stand seeing his brother look so distressed.

“It’s not fine, Stanley.”

“...It’s not.”

“You were banned from Jersey?”

Starting there, okay.

“‘S what happens when yer products are a total sham.” 

“I–yes, I get that, I just…I saw the commercials. Thought you figured it out, and  not…”

“You saw the commercials?”

A pause, “Ah, well, yes. It was the only time I ever saw you.” 

Something about that twists a heart or two. Neither of them can tell if it’s their own or each other’s. It doesn’t matter, really. It twists all the same. 

“You went through Mount Tammany?” Ford continues. 

“Headed towards Pennsylvania. Business opportunities and all that.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah.”

Moses, they’re pushing towards seventy and still this awkward? What are they, pre-teens?

“Can you show me?” Ford is so quiet that Stan almost doesn’t hear him.

“Uh, what?”

“Just—you said you shifted into six fingers, so…” the shrug he gives is a little unlike him, but this entire conversation is a little unlike them. Too many emotions going ‘round in a circus display of some spin-top toy. 

Well…not exactly where Stan thought this conversation would go, but it’s not a bad direction. Just show his brother that he can have six-fingered hands like he does. He’s done it before. It’s not the shift that holds a heavy weight behind it, but it’s the reason Ford’s even asking. He’s not gonna point out that Ford’s already seen him with similar hands before. 

Stan tears a hole in the paper house, and he nods. 

Ford watches with a gaze of…something. Careful curiosity is in there somewhere. Along with whatever else is racin’ through his damn head. Lots of things today, huh?

Stan doesn’t need to concentrate as much as he usually does with partial shifts. This one is something he’s practiced and done so often that it’s instinctual. In fact, he glances down and notices one of his hands already has six fingers. He shifts the other to match. Ford stares. He fidgets with his own six-fingered hands. They twitch like they wanna reach out. Stan feels that echo in his knuckles, his joints, the bones of his wrists and hands and even in his sockets. 

Stan slowly reaches out first. 

Ford spares a darting glance at his face, and he meets him halfway. 

They hold hands. 

The very much not-there-at-all tears glide down Stan’s face. Ford’s sniffling again as his breath hitches again. Quiet sounds flitter around the room. Little sounds. Sounds they won’t admit to making because that means admitting to crying over holding hands, and they sure as hell ain’t gonna do that. Doing that means facing the truth of how heavy it feels. Holding hands with your brother isn’t supposed to be heavy. He’s seen Mabel and Dipper hold each other’s hands, and they certainly don’t get weepy over it. Not that Stan would dare to make fun outta them if they did, no, he rather shift in and out of bein’ a fish a million times before he even thinks about doin’ such a thing. 

Ford squeezes, and Stan squeezes back. 

A deck of flimsy cards topples over and scatters across the floor in a whirlwind of sad old men and old wounds. 

Little birds keep close together for winter. 

A sparrow holds his brother’s hand, and it brings more comfort than he’d thought possible. Maybe the scared teen that drove through Mount Tammany heals a little. Maybe the lost kid that cried over his hands while stranded alone in his car starts to smile again. 

A small, teary smile tugs at the corner of Stan’s mouth.

Taglist: @lost-in-thought-20 @thegoldenduckie @not-sure-what-im-feeling

[cuubism]

Made in an Instant (2/5)

part 3 of Wish. Chapter 2: Dream's eldritch baby shower

--

Later on, Lucienne and Matthew put together a baby shower for Dream in the Dreaming. It’s very sweet. Hob invites Death, though by the time he does she seems to already know, he’s not sure how. Death brings Desire, Despair, and Delirium along with her, which Hob is a bit dubious about, but he can’t exactly tell Death what to do. Even Dream’s remade version of the Corinthian shows up, which Hob is even more dubious about.

They all meet in Fiddler’s Green, ostensibly to surprise Dream, though Hob tips him off beforehand because Dream doesn’t actually like being surprised very much. “Just pretend you weren’t expecting it,” Hob tells him. When they arrive, Dream doesn’t do a very good job of pretending, though he does seem touched. Lucienne catches Hob’s eye and gives him a little smile, and he realizes she was probably counting on him to do just that.

They set up on the grass under one of Fiddler’s Green’s large shade trees. For some unfathomable reason, the Corinthian is the one who brings cake. Hob doesn’t know who allowed him to be in charge of that.

Corinthian sets the cake on a picnic blanket. It looks extremely normal, which is only more unnerving.

“That doesn’t have eyes in it, does it?” Matthew asks skeptically from where he’s perched on Hob’s shoulder—presumably positioned there to keep Hob between himself and the Corinthian. Thanks for that, buddy.

“So what if it does?” says Corinthian. “It’s important for the baby to develop proper bloodlust.”

Seemingly unperturbed, Dream takes a slice and starts eating it with a tiny fork. Under the vanilla frosting, the cake is pure red. Hob hopes it’s just red velvet.

He’s too unnerved to eat any of it himself.

Despite the possibly cannibalistic cake, Hob is briefly hopeful that it might be a nice event. No one’s tried to kill each other in the first five minutes, so that’s a plus. Maybe things will actually be normal.

Then Desire sits down in the circle.

“Why are you here,” Dream says with open hostility, and Hob mentally braces himself.

Desire just grins at Dream toothily. “She takes after me,” they declare. “I can tell already. We may be enemies, dear brother, but I hold nothing but fondness for my little nibling. I will be Auntie and you cannot stop me.”

“Auntie?” repeats Dream with derision, but Desire does not seem put off.

“Indeed. I do believe we will be the best of friends.”

“Your influence can only be negative,” says Dream.

Desire waves a hand. “We all need negative influences in our lives. And you speak as if your influence will be any better.”

Dream’s mouth pops open in outrage, but Desire thrusts a gift into his hands. Not only did they bring a gift, Hob reflects, but it’s even wrapped. Babies make people so weird.

Dream looks at them suspiciously, then at the gift with even more suspicion, but carefully unpicks the wrapping.

Inside is a knitted baby blanket in the shape of a large red heart.

Dream stares at it while Desire grins at him. “For sweet dreams,” they say.

Hob thinks it’s meant to be at least somewhat mocking but it’s… kind of sweet, too? In Desire’s twisted way.

“Do not taunt me,” Dream says at last, glaring at Desire, and they roll their eyes.

“Can’t you accept one sincere expression of love?”

“Are you capable of sincerity?”

“Enough,” Death cuts in, and they both quiet. “I didn’t bring you to cause trouble,” she says to Desire.

“I’m not!”

Dream still looks suspicious, but when he looks down at the blanket in his hands again, Hob sees something soft flit briefly across his face. “If you are sincere,” he says, “then I thank you.”

Desire settles back, satisfied. Somehow, Hob actually believes that they genuinely want to be their child’s Auntie. He doesn’t know how that will turn out, though.

Dream sets the blanket in his lap. “Perhaps you should attend your own grandchildren before worrying about mine.”

Desire waves a hand. “Oh, we’re thick as thieves, don’t you worry. I gave Rose dating advice just the other day!”

Dream looks alarmed by that, as does Death, but before either of them can react, Delirium, who’s been bouncing in her seat, jumps forward and hands Dream her gift. “Open it! Open it open it!”

Her gift is not so much wrapped as it is… an immaterial swirling ball of sparkles. Dream takes it, and it hovers in his hands, then explodes in a shower of light.

Inside is a mobile hung with glittery fish, to put above the crib. Only it’s not really a mobile, because the fish aren’t actually attached to any wires. They just hover in the air, swimming around each other in mesmerizing circular patterns. Hob has to admit that even to his adult eyes, it’s… pretty hypnotizing. Almost trance-inducing.

“I made it!” Delirium says.

Unlike with Desire, Dream has no cutting words for Delirium. “Thank you, little sister,” he says solemnly. He sets it before him, and the fish dart up to spiral around his head, then return to their meditative spin. “You must come to visit, and set it above her crib.”

Delirium claps her hands in delight. “Babies have such fun imaginations!” she says. “Even I can feel them.” She throws her arms around Dream in a bear hug. He tolerates it in good humor, but Hob sees his tiny smile over her shoulder.

Everyone else has brought gifts for Dream too. He seems nervous about it, not being used to receiving nice things. Hob urges Lucienne to go next as he knows she’ll have been sensible about it—God only knows what Corinthian’s picked out. Hopefully just the bloody cake.

Lucienne gives Dream a newborn-sized onesie that says future librarian. Dream raises an eyebrow. “Claiming my daughter as your apprentice already?”

She smiles. “More an offer of babysitting.”

Lucienne is one of the few people in Dream’s vicinity that Hob thinks is actually capable of taking care of an infant. Everybody else in the Dreaming… he’s really not so sure.

“I thank you, Lucienne,” Dream says, and clasps her hands with a small, but warm smile.

Then Despair, who’s been keeping to herself so far, passes Dream a small package wrapped in newspaper. Inside is what seems to be a plastic teething toy shaped like her hook-and-ring sigil—though with the sharp hook suitably blunted.

Hob’s immediate first thought is will the baby even have teeth, which is insane and makes him wonder how prepared he actually is for any of this. But before he can ponder it more, Despair says, “When she is hurting, I can ease it.”

Hob’s been a bit leery of letting Despair near the baby to begin with. But from what Dream has said in the past, when she isn’t being pulled into her twin’s schemes Despair can be the kindest of the Endless. Hob is still wary of that form of kindness, especially when it comes to Dream himself. But he thinks perhaps he can see what Dream means.

Matthew gives Dream the book Quantum Physics for Babies, which he seems to have procured from a Waking world bookstore despite there most definitely being a copy in the Dreaming library somewhere. “Listen,” he says, “I gotta give the kid a better start in life than I had. Speaking of which, should we set up a college fund?”

“Hob can afford higher education,” Dream says placidly.

“Great,” Hob complains, “just put all the childcare costs on me, then.”

“S’what you get for knocking up a guy who’s got no money,” Matthew says, then immediately croaks in regret for having said that out loud, hopping several feet away from Dream.

Dream just gives him a look but doesn’t comment. It’s not like Matthew’s wrong, after all.

Fiddler’s Green crafts a flower crown of budding blossoms, and floats it down onto Dream’s head, which makes him smile faintly, touching the soft petals. Corinthian gives him a stuffed toy cat with a baby-sized knife stashed in the belly; apparently, it can be eviscerated endless times and will just repair itself. Hob had been expecting body parts so he can’t complain, really. An indestructible toy might actually come in handy.

Death doesn’t have a physical gift for Dream. Instead she leans in close to his side and whispers something in his ear. When she finishes speaking, Dream is close to tears. And Hob thinks he knows what she’s said.

It’s something he hadn’t even considered. Dream had said the baby wasn’t Endless, but Hob had still been assuming she was like, kind of Endless, some sort of ethereal nonhuman creature. To think he was wrong makes his stomach drop; he nearly grasps onto Dream’s arm for balance before the past few seconds catch up to him and he remembers what Death said. Presumably said. Christ, not even born and the baby’s already giving him a heart attack.

“I thank you, my sister,” Dream says, with more than his usual solemnity, clearly—to Hob’s eyes anyway—blinking those burgeoning tears back. Hob finds his hand and squeezes it, close to tears himself.

“You know I just want you to be happy, Dream,” Death says, cheery despite the heavy topic. Not so heavy for her, though, Hob supposes.

“I do.” Dream almost seems to believe it.

Then, Death hands him a package wrapped in brown paper. Dream reads the label, frowning. Then just stares at it, for at least a full minute.

“Dream?” Hob asks tentatively.

Dream picks open the wrapping on the package and opens the box. He lifts out a child’s art kit, finger paints and crayons and so on. He doesn’t say anything.

Desire looks pale. “Is that from—?”

“Brother!” Delirium squeals, and snatches not the gift itself, but the wrapping from Dream’s hands. She turns it over, lifts it above her head to look at the underside, tilting her head and frowning. “No address.”

“Where did you get this?” Dream demands of Death.

“It was left on the doorstep, so to speak,” Death says, then doesn’t elaborate further.

Hob almost doesn’t want to ask, given their reactions, but he’s dying with curiosity. “Who is it from, then?”

“Our brother,” Dream says. It might as well be a sentence to death for the way he intones it.

Oh. Hob has heard about this. Or at least, he’s heard Dream say there are seven Endless and then only talk about six. He’s heard the space around that name.

“He’s not coming, though,” says Despair, twisting the lank strands of her hair between her fingers.

“I don’t think so,” says Death.

“Why would he do this?” Desire demands. “If you’re gonna stay away then just stay away.”

“But family,” says Delirium. She’s still holding the crumpled gift wrapping in despondent hands.

Desire snorts. “What family?”

“I’m sure he has his reasons,” Death says, defusing the argument. “Whatever they may be, he clearly wants to show he cares. I think we should leave it at that.”

Neither Desire nor Delirium look like they want to ‘leave it at that,’ but Delirium only fidgets nervously and Desire huffs, rolling their eyes, when Death casts them a look, but ultimately stays quiet. Meanwhile Dream has set the art kit down on the grass before him and is studying it, brow pinched. Hob rests a hand on his lower back.

“We will not solve the matter now,” Dream finally says.

The art kit vanishes, whisked away by dream sand to Dream’s chambers, or possibly deposited somewhere in Hob’s flat, it’s hard to be certain. Hob’s unsure whether it will make another appearance. Dream doesn’t seem like he’s quite ready to deal with that yet, and knowing him, their daughter will be as old as Hob before he is.

Gradually, the tension dissipates. Delirium folds the wrapping paper into a flower and tucks it behind her ear. Desire pulls the entire rest of the cake towards themself and starts picking at the frosting with their fingers. Despair joins in soon after.

Lucienne gathers herself and tries to rally them all. “Any other gifts?” she says.

“Hob’s gift! Hob’s gift!” Delirium chants.

Indeed, Hob is the only one left who hasn’t gone. Before he can even speak, Desire smiles slyly. “Hob doesn’t need a gift. He already gave Dream his sperm.”

“Desire!” Dream and Death say simultaneously.

“Wrow,” drawls Corinthian. “Let’s hear more about that.”

“Let’s not.” Lucienne glares at Corinthian. How she survives this on a daily basis, Hob really doesn’t know.

“Let’s not,” he agrees, and Corinthian grins at him with all three of his mouths. Hob shudders, but ignores the nightmare in favor of pulling a gift box from the fabric of the Dreaming.

He’s gotten better at manipulating the Dreaming. He’s pretty sure he even managed to hide his gift from Dream despite it being in the Dreaming the whole time and made of dream stuff.

Indeed, Dream takes the box, eyes widening in surprise as touch reveals its origins. He opens it and takes out a small rectangle, somewhat akin to a mobile phone in appearance. He tilts his head, studying it. Hob taps it, and the screen lights up, showing a camera view of the spare room in Hob’s flat they’d converted into a nursery.

“It’s a baby monitor,” he explains. “Has sound, too.”

Hob knows plenty well that, while he might be able to convince Dream to take some time off after the baby is born, Dream isn’t going to be able to just be with them all the time, even if he wants to. His job is too all-encompassing and too important. And Dream won’t complain about it, because he never does, but he will be sad about it, and he will worry about his baby when he’s not there. Hob just knows it.

Hence, the dream baby monitor that’s connected to the Waking world. Dream can, of course, look in on Hob via dreams if he needs to, or send Matthew to the Waking to be his eyes from afar, but he’s not omniscient, he can’t just know what’s going on in their flat. Except now he can.

“Getting it to connect to the one in my flat was the tricky bit, but I think I’ve managed it,” he says, and Dream turns to look at him.

“You made this?” he says.

Hob scratches the back of his neck. “Well, the Dreaming was inclined to help, I think.”

Lucienne is smiling. Death, too. Dream just keeps staring at him, perplexed, or surprised, Hob’s not sure.

He nudges Dream in the side. “I wanted you to be able to see her.”

“To see her,” Dream echoes. He looks again at the screen of the baby monitor. Touches the dream-glass with a light fingertip. His eyes shine, but he doesn’t cry—he never does in front of his subjects, and rarely does even in front of Hob. Hob rubs his back.

“Thank you,” Dream finally says, quietly, and tucks the baby monitor carefully into the inner infinity of his coat. “You have become quite adept at dreaming, it seems.”

Then he lifts Hob’s hand to his mouth and kisses his palm.

Delirium makes a squealing, cooing sound. So does Corinthian, but mockingly. Hob’s pretty sure he hears Desire gag.

But as usual, he only has eyes for Dream, and cradles his cheek in his palm, thumbing over the corner of his mouth. Dream’s eyes hold promises for later that needn’t be spoken in present company. But above all is the love there, the devotion, the promise that is the two of them. 

“Can we please open the wine now?” Desire begs, and the tension is broken, but Hob catches Dream’s gaze intermittently throughout the rest of the afternoon, and he knows what he sees there, subtle though it is. It’s happiness.

“He loved it,” Hob tells Lucienne later, when the group’s mostly dispersed.

She smiles, quietly pleased. “I know.”

[loveislarryislove]

this brokenness inside me might start healing

by LiveLaughLoveLarry/@loveislarryislove– 29k with art by @becomeawendybird for the @onedirectionbigbang

Louis grew up in a tiny town, where everyone knew everyone -- or at least, they think they do. Then he left, and became a successful singer-songwriter, a star that everyone in the country knows -- or at least, they think they do. But when Louis returns home for the birth of his first nibling, he meets a librarian who doesn't know him at all. And that's all Louis could ask for.

“I remember when you were a teenager," Miss Susan says, "telling me all the things you wanted to accomplish, the places you wanted to go. And I’ve seen a lot of kids, with a lot of big dreams – but you were different. You had this… quiet energy, this determined certainty. When you told me all you were going to do, I believed you.” She smiles, spreading her arms. “And now here you are.” Here he is indeed, Louis thinks bitterly. Back where he started. His dreams on pause, his future uncertain. His whole identity built out of secrets and half-truths, while everyone thinks they know exactly who he is. He left to find himself, he came home to find himself, and yet – here he is, feeling more lost than ever before.

[1dcommunityficrecs]

Long Distance Fic Recs

I didn't know this would happen when I picked this theme, but my fiancée spent the last week away at her sister's -- celebrating a new nibling! So an exciting time, but I definitely missed her, even for only a few days. So really feeling this list of long distance recs, loving each other despite the miles and yearning to be reuinited. Here are seven amazing fics!

Baby, I'm Right Here by FallingLikeThis/suddenclarityharry (8186, Explicit, Louis Tomlinson/Harry Styles) – fic post

Leave it to Harry to not realize he's in love with his friend until they're living in different hemispheres. It takes a date with a lovely guy who just isn't HIS lovely guy for Louis to finally say what they've both been thinking.

Reccer says: I love their easy back and forth banter and the comfortable solidness of their friendship. And when that transitions into romance -- beautiful. I'm always a fan of a meddling Niall, too, even if he's meddling in a different way than usual here!

Danger I can’t hide by CelticSky (227290, Explicit, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson)

Flying Officer Styles and Sergeant Tomlinson would have likely never crossed paths in a time of peace, their lives laid out neatly, predictably before them. But then the world became unrecognisable. Too soon they grew accustomed to fear, surrounded by death and destruction, not even their freedom a certainty any more. Until they found eachother. Comfort. Companionship. Understanding. Another person to lose.

Reccer says: In my opinion, this fic is the masterpiece of 2023. It's one of those fics that should be a movie. It's perfect. The script is masterful. The story is gripping. The characters are masterfully constructed. There's emotion, anguish. It's beautiful. It's powerful. A gem.

Du är mitt livs kärlek (You are the love of my life) by goldenkinglouis (1749, Teen, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson)

Harry finally meets Louis at the airport after six months of long-distance love.

Reccer says: This fic is so sweet my teeth hurt and I just want more. So adorable and romantic and full of love.

From Eight Until Late, I Think About You by supernope (35227, Explicit, Louis Tomlinson/Harry Styles)

Louis and Harry are both YouTubers, and if they didn't want all their viewers to ship them they should maybe stop flirting in the comments of each other's videos. They don't live all that far apart in miles, but it still takes almost a year for them to meet in person. When they're paired up as roommates at a YouTube meetup, there is NOT only one bed, but that doesn't stop them.

Reccer says: I always love watching a relationship build and grow, and this fic does it beautifully. From joking comments to texting to Snapchat to meeting up (and promptly making VERY questionable but hysterically funny decisions together) it's just great.

miles away from seeing you by LiveLaughLoveLarry (SoLongAndThanksForAllTheFic) (1749, Teen, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson)

Harry is in his final year studying marine biology, and is doing an international exchange at the University of Auckland. This fic is entirely told through images of social media posts and conversations (Image descriptions are available)

Reccer says: it was the first all-media fic i've read, but i was impressed how the entire story/feelings etc came across in just pictures

seven hours behind by justanothershadeofblue (5000, Explicit, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) – fic post

Harry gets Louis off over the phone during Louis’ first tour.

Reccer says: Really fun slice-of-tour-life fic, and also hot!

the blue never ending sky by justanothershadeofblue (4000, Teen, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) – fic post

a heart-aching AU where Harry and Louis had a dream to go off and make music together after school, but then Harry goes… without Louis. Louis PoV, with an epistolary element.

Reccer says: this fic is simple but perfectly angsty! you don’t see a lot of ambiguous-ending fics in this fandom, but this one nails it.

[chaosclimber]

receptionist

“...for the love of…” Hob muttered under his breath, then glanced back up at the receptionist. “No, I don’t have an appointment, I’m not here professionally. Desire is my sibling-in-law, and they’ve got my child today. I’m just picking Orpheus up. You’ve seen my ID, what can possibly be the hold up?”

“Mx Aeturnus was very clear that they’d receive no visitors today–”

“Because they’re spending time with their nibling!” Hob’s exasperation was reaching a boiling point. “C’mon. Please, ring up and ask them, if you don’t want to just let me in. I promise you, I am not trying to monopolize their creative energies, or do…paparazzi…things…or whatever it is you think I could be doing!”

She sighed audibly, then pressed the intercom button. “Yes, Mx Aeturnus? There’s a….Robert….here to see you.”

“I told you, no visitors, Brenda.” 

Robert.  Dammit, she had to use the proper name. No one ever called him Robert unless he was in trouble. Hell, he doubted Desire even knew that was what Hob was short for. He took a few steps away, and dialed Dream’s number. 

“...Not that I’m not happy to hear from you, Hob, but whyever are you calling?”

“Call or text your sibling, let them know I’m stuck in the lobby of their apartment.” 

There was a moment of silence, the slight crackling of the line the only noise as Dream absorbed the request. “...You cannot be stuck there. You’ve got your ID.”

“We’re not married, yet, love, so my name means nothing to those that care. And when she buzzed up to check with Desire, she just said Robert. Not Hob, not even Mr. Gadling–which, I think Desire would have recognized. Just Robert.” 

The wince was practically audible. “You poor darling. I shall inform my sibling of your arrival. Are you prepared to withstand the indignities of being addressed by your full name further? Desire will weaponize it now that they know it.”

“I don’t suppose I have a choice?”

“None.” There was very much a low rumble in his voice, notes of wry amusement that avoided coming out as laughter. 

“Damn.” Hob smiled lightly even as he said it. “Alright, I’ll let you go so you can pester your sibling on my behalf. We’ll see you when we get home.”

“Alright. I love you. Tell Orpheus I love him, as well.”

“I will. I love you, too.” He hung up.

Exactly three minutes later, the intercom crackled to life once more. “You didn’t say it was Robert Gadling, Brenda. My brother’s paramour is always welcome~” 

Paramour, huh? Well, at least he was welcomed. 

@domaystic

crossposted to AO3

[thicctails]

Gravity Falls is finally popping off again, so naturally my obsession with it has been dragged out from deep within me and thrust to the front of my mind, so here's a collection of various au ideas i have.

Explanations below! Contains Book of Bill Spoilers!!

A different form, a different time: Due to a widescale time and space fuck up, both Bill Cipher and the Axolotl get reincarnated (temporarily?) as humans. Specifically as older teens/very young adults. Hot topic wannabe and pink gumball son of a bitch must learn to navigate the hell that is mortality and human puberty as they set out on a road trip to try and reach the only place they can think of to find answers: Gravity Falls.

Obligatory dragon au: exactly what it says on the tin.

Time Stuck... with a twist: Something goes horribly wrong with the Time tape, resulting in Mabel, Dipper, and a 12 year old Billy Cipher being sent to the 80's. Trapped in the past/future, depending on who you ask, the preteens end up on the run with a mullet-wearing grifter with a familiar face, and must learn to work together to set things right. However, having two Bills' will make things much harder than usual, especially since one absolutely adores his star-marked humans and their weird Larger Human, while the other wants nothing more than to watch them burn.

Monster Falls but they're both Unitaurs: Mabel and Dipper are twins, let them be the same monster you cowards.

Under the Falls: This is one of my older ones! Its a strange little mer! au, where a younger Stan and Ford must take in their niblings after a monster hunter slaughters the rest of their family. Baby mers cant disguise themselves, so they must stay in the nearby lake. Luckily, their cat-eyed deer friend is more than happy to keep them company, and take them on Non-Grunkle-Approved adventures.

I Grow Maddened (From Grief): In the Book of Bill, we learn that Mabel and Dipper don't make it to 13 in pretty much every other timeline. Now, Bill 100% could be bullshitting, but i like to think thats its at least partially true: Dippers and Mabels don't tend to last in the Multiverse. But what about their Grunkles? Surely there are quite a few timelines where one set of twins is left to mourn the other.

This au follows a Ford that lost his Dipper and Mabel to a dangerous creature that escaped confinement while he was distracted by his work. It managed to also near fatally wound Stanley and nearly take one of Ford's eyes before he managed to kill it, leaving him with two dead family members and his twin on the brink. Consumed by guilt and refusal to live in a world without his beloved niblings, Ford set Stanley up on cryogenic life support and managed to lie his way into more time by convincing the twin's parents that both of them would be more successful under his tutelage.

Once everything was in place, he threw himself back into the multiverse (this time with a way back) and began hopping through other timelines, looking for the perfect replacements for his missing family. Man spirals hard, eventually deciding that the twins, when he gets them back, would not be leaving his and Stanley's sides again, because his twin is also not leaving. After all, their parents clearly dont value them like they should, and Ford knows that it will be easy to remove any memory of the twins all together.

Euclid + Scalene live (and get better children): Somehow spared from the genocide of their entire dimension, the deeply wounded Cipher parents eventually find themselves inexplicably drawn to a little backwater planet. The two find themselves becoming attached to a pair of twins that seem blessed by the Axolotl itself, and although their last child had caused violence on a previously unseen scale, both Euclidians find that they want to try again. The Ciphers become mostly unseen guardians to the little Pines, content to simply watch over them and bring them sweet dreams while they struggle to hold themselves together.

Then Bill shows up, and everything goes to shit.

[jessicamdawn]

The "We Are" Couples and Kids

Tan and Fang adopt a baby girl. The first time she cries when Fang is the only one home, Fang panics and calls Tan for help. Tan talks him through checking the reasons she's upset and, in a few minutes, she's happy in her father's arms.

Fang is the parent she takes her first steps with, and the one she curls up with to take a nap or watch a movie. Tan is the one who hypes her up, makes eating food she doesn't like or doing things she doesn't want to do into a fun game.

She's a loud girl, but she's proud and confident and pursues her dreams without hesitation.

Even into high school and college, Fang is the parent she is most comfortable going to with personal problems--not because she doesn't trust Tan, but because Fang is less likely to suggest truly outlandish solutions.

-

Phum and Peem adopt a ten-year-old boy. He's rough and angry at being abandoned, and the guys wonder if they made the right choice a lot in the first year. But Phum understands where he's coming from and talks to him a lot, and Peem's general calm and security comfort him as much as it ever comforted his friends.

He learns to paint from his dad, but Q teaches him to play guitar and Toey teaches him to skateboard.

He gets a lot of penguin-themed gifts from Pun every time they meet. He stops being scared of dentists and doctors because they always go see Chain.

Tan and Fang help him find ways to get his anger out that isn't punching, and trust him to babysit their little girl.

Mick and Matt buy him video games and play them with him. Beer teaches him to cook, since neither of his dads are very good still.

The kid has more family than he knows what to do with, and it's comforting, and it's warm, and he loves every minute of it.

-

Pun and Chain don't adopt kids. They adopt animals. Or, Pun keeps finding hurt animals on his way home from work and, as long as they're not a wild animal, Chain never has the heart to tell him no.

They end up with cats and dogs named Emperor, King, Gentoo, Humbolt, and Rock--all after types of penguins, obviously. They are the most spoiled pets any of the friend group have ever met, since Chain and Pun spend more money on them than the others do on their kids.

-

Q and Toey don't adopt, but love being uncles to everyone else's kids (or animals). They buy their niblings gifts, babysit, take the kids to events and theme parks. The others tease them for spoiling the kids rotten, but they just stick out their tongues and spoil the kids a bit more.

[vendetta-if]

Same anon as the gushing, but I don't know how to spoiler text things. Did Luka hook up with Skylar's dad (Mayor Marsh can't remember his first name) during the Halloween story? I love a puzzle. If he did, he must have been good. (Way to go Uncle Luka) A BMW is a big birthday gift.

Heyy, I’m so glad someone tried to figure out the little easter egg I put in the Halloween Side Story 🤭 It’s a good guess and it would’ve been funny if it was Skylar’s dad, but unfortunately, Mayor Moore doesn’t swing that way.

Marsh is actually the corrupt police commissioner guy that MC (or Ash) assassinated in Chapter 3 😆 It was simply a one night stand thing and I doubt any of them even thought about it by the next few days.

At least Luka didn’t think much about it. I don’t know about Marsh though; maybe he had those moments where you lie awake in your bed in the middle of the night and suddenly remember something from years ago and he was just like, “Damn, did I really sleep with Luka Morozov once or was that just some kind of fever dream?” 😂

As for Mayor Moore giving a BMW for MC’s birthday was more like, “I’m sorry I didn’t attend your nibling’s big 20th birthday party. Let me at least gift a good gift in exchange. Please, don’t get mad at me.”

[lbulldesigns]

I found this picture on Pintrest and can't stop imagining Jinx wearing this.

I even came up with a modern AU concept where Jinx distances herself from everyone, family and friends, because she feels like everyone doesn't really like her as a person. But lands a modelling gig, thanks to Silco before he died (in this story he and Vander were still close and he liked to spoil his niblings and left majority of his estate to Jinx), and this as well as school helps keep her too busy to really have a social life. Until one night, she goes out to the clubs to unwind (wearing this outfit) and runs into Ekko, whose out with the others (Vi, Mylo, Claggor, Scar, a few other Firelight characters I don'tknow the name of, and the guy who helps Vi in Nothing Left to Lose).

Vi, whose drunk, starts hugging Jinx and starts bawling her eyes out cause she missed her little sister (and because her and Cait are on a break) and Jinx feeling awkward and guilty sticks with them throughout the night just to keep an eye on her sister.

Basically, the AU is like one of those comedies where these people get themselves in increasingly more chaotic situations throughout the night and come out at the end with some new bonds and views on life or, in Vi's case, a wicked hangover.

Some of the chaos they get in:

- Drunk Vi wanders off and everyone goes off to find her, and somehow end up in a strip club where they find her dancing on stage (I've seen her Fortnite dances)

- Ekko and Jinx butt heads throughout the night because he's pissed she distanced herself from him

- The big guy (Vi's Enforcer friend) keeps getting hit on

- Scar and the other Firelights are working overtime to play cupid with Ekko and Jinx (there isn't any animosity with her, and they find Ekko's attempts to seem like he doesn't like her funny)

- Mylo keeps hinting at Jinx to put a word in for him to get a modelling gig (it's his dream job)

- Claggor, for some reason, has decided to film the night

- And, on top of all this Jinx has to dodge paparazzi because she promised Sevika, her disgruntled manager, that she would behave.

I might get around to writing this, I have so many story concepts converging in my mind.

Edit: If any of the lovely artists on Tumblr would like to draw Jinx in this outfit (with any Jinx-fied alterations), then I would be greatly grateful 🙏

[candyheartedchy]

I just had a little dream about your Digital Circus sona and Jax that I thought you would find pretty amusing.

You had posted a little comic about your sona and Jax doing a ventriloquism act (you were the ventriloquist, Jax was the "puppet"). (I'm guessing my brain went with that because Jax doesn't open his mouth when he talks.)

Either way, Jax was going way off script, telling his own jokes and your sona was getting mad about it. This ended up starting an argument (your sona was actually arguing, Jax was more bantering) which ended with a kiss? (Jax: GUYS I SAID "OOO YOU WANNA KISS ME SO BAD" DURING AN ARGUMENT AND SHE DID IT, SHE KISSED ME, WHAT THE FU—)

I'm not sure how accurate this is to your sona and Jax's dynamic, but I wanted to share. Enjoying all the Jax posting either way!

( @gible-love-nibles )

I’m sorry but I had to draw this out!

[oatmealdaydreams]

Y'all wanted the lore, so here ya go!

@localcanadiancreature62 tagged as requested

These are both variations of the Timestuck AU, so keep that in mind. Made these two AUs yesterday in the same hour of each other because I have brainrot and there's this really good timestuck fic I've been reading that got my brain rolling (Stan Overboard by itS_JuSt_a_thought on ao3).

Teen Dreams AU

Teen Ford ends up in 2013 with old Stan. Old Ford ends up with teen Stan in the early 1970s. The teen twins are from about a year after the science fair incident; so, teen Stan is a year into being homeless & teen Ford is a year into being in Backupsmore. No one knows how the fuck the Fords swapped places in time, but they need to get them back to their own timelines. This is all about two weeks before their birthday. Old Stan gets to see how teen Ford genuinely missed him back then. Old Ford gets a little glimpse of how teen Stan's situation was for him (this is during Stan's salesman days, think around the time he got banned from New Jersey and is heading to Pennsylvania). Teen Stan learns how much Ford cares about him and is protective of him, and he learns how to let someone else take care of him for a change. Teen Ford learns how much Stan truly cares about him and never meant to actually hurt him, which helps makes his grudge look pretty stupid in the long-run. Might have some 13 yrs old Dipper & Mabel help out in 2013. Would be interesting for teen Ford is get to know his future twin niblings & also talk about them to teen Stan when he gets back to his own timeline. PLENTY of moving parts via angst and hurt/comfort and the idea of Stan & Ford's inner-teen getting healed a bit.

Teenage Challenges AU [may change the name later, idk]

This one is the longer thought-out au, so buckle in! 13 yrs old Mabel and Dipper end up back in time with teen Stan Twins. Early 1970s an entire year after the science fair incident & Stan getting kicked out. Dipper ends up with Stan, and Mabel ends up with Ford & college Fiddleford. Fiddleford is about a year older than Ford because I say so. Their dymanics with their future niblings are more like older siblings and younger siblings than uncles and nibling because of being closer in age. Reminder that everyone is still in their teen years. The young Stan twins are between 18-19, and Fiddleford is about 19-20. So, in this context, there's like a 5-6 year age difference between the Stan twins & Mabel and Dipper. ANYWAY: Stan thinks Dipper is some homeless kid and he can't just leave him on the street in the cold, especially not when he kinda reminds him of his brother. Dipper mentions just wanting to get back to his twin sister, and well that's hits Stan's heart because that sounds a bit like himself in regard to loyalty to family. On the other side of things, Mabel has this very broken Time Tape she needs to fix to get back home. She mentions needing to find her twin brother, and with the fact that she reminds Ford of his time's Stan, well he's conflicted with feelings but he does his best to help her anyway. Fiddleford and Mabel get along quite well, especially when Mabel suggests a few ideas for his death bots that he "may never use but keeps the blueprints for because he may snap one day" & Fiddleford thinks her ideas are genius. Ford starts to see a little of himself in Mabel with her optimistic outlook when it comes to discovery and circumstances. She's also pretty good at certain math stuff and Ford admires her intellect. There's so much more with this, but this is so long already.

There, it's a post now. Have fun! And if anyone wants to write something or draw something for these, feel free to do so! All I ask is that you tag me 'cause I wanna see it :D

[ask-zedaph]

*Doc holds Doccy, watching as the sculk spreads on his child, too farcome in his own sculk to see very far. He just slowly keeps going forward, away from the lab he had found Doccy at.*

- @ask-docm77

*Zed wakes up in a cold sweat, having unintentionally fallen asleep with dreams of his friends skulked faces. He rubs his head and forces himself to stand*

Doccy, come on let’s get you some food…

*He looks over at the discarded art supplies, and his heart sinks*

Doccy? DOCCY? WHERE ARE YOU KIDDO!?!

*The sheep frantically searches the lab and finds the emergency lockdown switch deactivated*

NO! Nononononononono! DOCCY!

*He runs to the front door and sees a twisted, skulk version of what used to be a normal picture; Doc holding his sleeping child. Zed drops to his knees, knowing he’s failed yet another person, this time his poor innocent nibling. He lets out a pathetic Baa*