#gravity well projector

[swtechspecs]

Sienar Fleet Systems Interdictor-Class Star Destroyer

Source: The Essential Guide to Vehicles and Vessels (Del Rey, 1996)

[moonchildstyles]

gravity blurb where one day flower is sick and doesn’t show up to physics & she hadnt told harry she wouldn’t be coming to class and isnt answering her texts so he skips class to come make sure shes ok and take care of her ?? :,)

wordcount: 3.9k+

—————

Peeling her eyes open, (Y/N) winced at the stream of sunlight filtering into her room. She could feel a cold sweat on the back of her neck, her baby hairs sticking to her skin. Her bed was too hot but her body felt cold, the sun too bright in her eyes, and the quiet of the television on the other side of her wall entirely too loud. 

The headache she'd fallen asleep with had definitely taken a turn, she figured. 

Groaning—something that made her realize her throat was now sore as well—she tossed in her bed, reaching towards the offending curtain and attempting to tug it closed. Her limbs ached with every move, her bones seemingly creaking beneath the exhausted muscle. If not for how much she hated the light in her eyes and was already hot enough without the sun on her face, she would have given up on the mission just from how much her body ached. 

In the back of her mind, as she flopped back onto her bed, she knew she had classes today. If she had the mind to do so, she would have checked the time, seeing just how long she had to get ready before she would have to be on her way, but there was no way she was going to force herself to open her eyes once more after the reprieve of closing them.

She should probably text Harry, she thought. If she remembered what day it was, she most likely had physics this afternoon, and there was no way she was going to make it in this state. 

Despite how close her phone was, the idea of reaching for it on the side table was enough to have her exhausted again. She could sleep a little before texting him, she figured, turning in her bed with her eyes heavily shut. She'd wake up soon, and if she still feels this rough, she'll let him know she wouldn't make it to class today. 

Just a couple more hours.

With that though, (Y/N) fell asleep once more.

—————

With an iced matcha in one hand and a hot black coffee in the other, Harry made it to Stanfill's class to be one of the first in the auditorium—right on schedule. 

He nodded a small smile towards the professor, scaling the stairs up to his and (Y/N)'s unofficial-official spots. He had a feeling she would be traipsing in just before Stanfill locked the door for lecture. She hadn't texted him at all this morning—something she never did unless she was more than busy. 

There was a high chance she'd spent the majority of last night working on an essay she had due tonight, and, if he knew his flower, she most likely skipped her morning classes in favor of sleeping off the late night. As long as she made it to physics, he'd make sure to make up the rest of the day for her. 

Taking his time to set up his station, Harry periodically checked the double doors (Y/N) usually came through, waiting to see a familiar flash of her hair or one of the many sweaters she'd begun stealing from him through the last months. He pretended to fiddle with his highlighters and notebooks as if he wasn't disappointed when every swing of the doors revealed everyone but (Y/N).

It wasn't until Stanfill had wheeled out his projector and the auditorium was full of idle chatter and the shuffling of students that Harry became concerned. Though she cut it close at times, (Y/N) was never late for any of her courses—and she would let him know if something came up. 

That worry only intensified when he saw Professor Stanfill crossed the room and spun the lock on the double doors while the seat beside Harry stayed empty. 

Despite his professor whirring to life at the head of the room, speaking with his robotic dialect about today's concept, Harry pulled out his phone. He anticipated seeing a missed message from (Y/N), something to indicate that there was a reason she'd had to skip for the day. Instead, he saw nothing—only the Lock Screen of the pair of them together, tucked in a booth at Wanda's.

No missed calls or waiting messages. 

Pulling open her text thread as quick as he could without attracting Stanfill's attention, Harry typed out a quick message before firing it off: 

     Hey, love. Class started and you're not here, I wanted to see if everything was alright. Stanfill locked the doors, but I can sneak you in if you need.

While he wasn't sure if he was expecting any kind of response when he hadn't heard from her today anyway, Harry's shoulders still fell when the read receipt was left on delivered. 

Glancing up, he saw the slides at the front of the class beginning to shift, showing off decades old formatting from Stanfilll's archives. Harry felt antsy. 

He wanted to focus on the lecture, continue formatting and adding to his pristine notes, but there was no way he could settle down at the moment. 

(Y/N) never did this. While it wasn't odd that she was too busy with her morning courses to reach out to him, there was no way she wouldn't have let him know if she wasn't going to be in class.

Fitting his bottom lip between his teeth, Harry's worry grew. 

There were plenty of reasons why she wouldn't be able to reach out, if he let his brain branch out that far. For all he knew, there were plenty of terrible reasons why she wasn't answering her phone or in class with him. It was enough to have him biting down hard on his lip and tapping his foot on the floor. 

He could text her again, he decided. Just another to possibly grab her attention. Just from the amount of times he'd studied with her, she could have lost herself in an essay at the library. 

Maybe. 

Just as he began to type out a follow up message in his unanswered thread, a monotone voice echoed through the room, calling his name.

"Mr. Styles, is there something more important than today's lecture on your cell phone you would like to share with the class? I think we would all be interested." 

Whipping his head up, glasses sliding down his nose, Harry spotted the eyes of his classmates and his professor trained on him. He wanted to be embarrassed, feeling all of that attention when he hadn't asked for it himself. 

But, there were more important things on his mind.

"No thank you, sir," Harry mumbled, just loud enough for his professor to hear, "I actually have to leave for an emergency. Sorry to interrupt." 

Shoveling all of his things into his bag, Harry didn't linger in the space, ignoring whatever Stanfill was saying in his monotone syllables. Stepping out into the main corridor, his phone was up to his ear in an instant. 

"Hello?" Naomi, (Y/N)'s roommate, greeted.

"Hi, Ny," Harry muttered, heading towards the student lot he'd parked in, "Is (Y/N) home? Or with you?" 

"Oh, yeah," Naomi chirped, "I stayed home with her after I checked on her this morning. She's been a little bit out of it, but did she ask you if you could bring home some notes for her?" 

Harry stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, a pinch to his brow. "What?" 

A beat passed.

"Have you talked to her today?" Ny asked, finally.

"No. I texted her this morning, but I figured she was busy. Our physics class jus' started, and she never came, so..." 

"I'm sorry," she said, "She was out of it this morning, but she said she was going to call you later, so I didn't ask after she fell asleep again. But, she's sick—she fell asleep with a headache and woke up with a fever. She's been asleep most of the day, but I think she's got the flu or something." 

Naomi's explanation tamped down one section of Harry's worries, only to raise another. His steps became paces, his free hand running through his hair.

"Is she okay?" he asked, already picturing her prone form alone in her bed, pale and withering. 

"I think so," Ny shared, a drawling muse to her voice, "She hasn't left her room much, but I've checked on her when I can. She doesn't really have a voice, but as long as she keeps on top of her medicine, she's able to break her fever and sleep." 

Curling his fingers around the roots of his curls, he looked to his feet. "Do—Is there—Does she need anything?" 

Ny sighed through the receiver. "I've been trying to make her eat, but nothing sounds good or she just wants to sleep instead." 

"Okay," he sounded, nodding his head despite Naomi being unable to see him, "Okay, I can do that. I-I don't have any of our notes, but I can bring her some food if that's okay. Do—Would she be alright with me coming by?" 

This time, when she spoke, Harry could hear a smile in her voice, "I think she'd really like that, Harry. I don't know if she'll make any good conversation today, but I'm sure she'll be happy to see you anyway." 

A plan was beginning to stitch together then, for Harry. He had some soup he could make at home and bring to her apartment—something warm and not too heavy if she needed something easy for the time being. Was there anything he needed to pick up before he headed over? He was sure there was an extra fluffy blanket she wouldn't mind adding to the collection on her bed. 

"Okay," Harry repeated once more, "I've got to grab a couple of things, but I can be over in a few hours if that's alright." 

"That's perfect," Naomi encouraged him, "Just text me when you're here and I can let you in. I'll let (Y/N) know to give you a call when she wakes up—if she can, anyway." 

While he didn't enjoy hearing that his flower might feel too weak to even place a short call to him, Harry felt soothed knowing that while he was worried about her illness, she had Naomi there to take care of her. 

Their goodbyes were quick, Harry already going through the recipe for the soup he had in mind for her, a list coming together for his quick stop at the shops.

Beelining to his car, he typed out a quick message before he was swept up in his plans.

     Just called Naomi. She told me you're sick, and have been sleeping this morning. I'm coming by with some soup and medicine for you, flower. I'm sorry I didn't realize, but I'll see you soon.

       Love you so much.  

He didn't think twice before he pulled out of the student parking lot, Stanfill's lecture and his missed notes left behind. 

—————

The apartment was quiet when Ny let him in, Harry suddenly cautious of the crinkling of his bag. 

"Hi," he greeted, his voice low to match the volume of the television in the living room, "Thanks for letting me up." 

"Oh, yeah, of course," Naomi smiled, locking the door behind him while he kicked off his shoes, "Do you need help with any of your stuff?" 

Following her eyes to the bag in his hand, he held a swift debate in his head. While he didn't want to ask anything more of (Y/N)'s roommate after invading her home and pestering her about (Y/N), he also didn't really want to stay away for much longer.

"Actually," he started, taking out the Tupperware container of soup he'd tossed together back at his own place before heading over, "Would y'heat this up, please? Jus' on the stove, or whatever's easiest for you." 

Naomi's features softened as she took the container from Harry's hands. "Yeah, I can do that," she smiled, "This is for (Y/N)?" 

"Yeah," he murmured, rubbing his knuckle against the tip of his nose, "'S my mum's recipe—she used to make it when I was little and sick from school." 

An exaggerated pout crossed Naomi's face, her expression creased and warm as she looked up at Harry with her fingers around the container as if it were a velvet box of jewels. "That is so sweet, Harry," she bubbled, "She's going to love this." 

"I hope," he laughed, inching towards the hallway where (Y/N)'s door awaited, "Let me know if y'need help or anything."

Ny only waved him off, urging him to her friend's room while she padded through the kitchen. 

Hyper aware of the plastic bag on his wrist, Harry carefully made his way into (Y/N)'s bedroom. The space was silent as he crossed the threshold, her curtains cinched tightly shut with a pile of blankets covering the bed. A tissue box was placed on her bedside table next to a half finished bottle of water and her charging phone. While he couldn't spot her through her cocoon of quilts, he could hear a slight wheezing with every breath she took.

"(Y/N)?" he murmured, voice just above a whisper as he slowly approached her bedside. 

No response.

"(Y/N), love?" he tried again, spotting her head through the layers of blankets as he drew closer. Even in sleep, she looked tired, eyes heavy with circles underneath and her mouth dropped in a gape. Given the pile of tissues at her bedside, he wasn't surprised to catch the sides of her nose looking chapped. 

Instead of another attempt at catching her attention, he settled for unpacking his bag of treats for her, including a soft stuffed cow he hoped she could find comfort in. A reup of her medicine bottle was placed on her table, a nasal stick to help clear her sinuses with a sniff of the menthol scent, and a bottle of cranberry juice in hopes of giving her some vitamin C. When she woke, he'd show her what he brought, but in the meantime he'd settle for climbing in beside her. 

(Y/N) didn't even stir when he cuddled in at her side, body above the blankets though he still fit his limbs around her form. As much as he hated hearing the wheeze of her lungs, and the slight shivers that still ran down her spine despite her cocoon, there was a layer of relief having her back in his arms. He hadn't realized how worried he'd been back in the lecture hall until he could now see she was just fine—albeit a bit sniffly and fighting an off-and-on fever. A tension in his muscles had evaporated by the time he had her cradled into him as best he could through the downy blankets. 

He'd have to text Naomi that (Y/N) was still sleeping, the soup could wait. He'd give himself a moment first, though.

—————

"(Y/N), flower, are y'waking up?" 

Feeling her features twist, annoyed and hurt that someone would shout so close to her ear like that, (Y/N) only clenched her eyes shut tighter. 

A breathy laugh followed right after, filling the quiet of her head with something a little sweeter, even if it was uninvited. 

Whatever it was that was bothering her, she chose to ignore it, instead rolling under her blankets and giving them her back. Unfortunately, they didn't seem to get the hint, instead running a hand through her tangled hair, coaxing her to stay awake despite her best efforts. 

"You've been asleep for a while, love. I want y'to wake up and at least take some medicine," the soothing force tried again, tone matching their gentle touch, "I even brought y'some soup, if y'wanted to eat." 

The idea of exerting the kind of energy required to eat was enough to have (Y/N)'s body feeling heavy, sinking into the mattress. "Don't want to." 

"I know," he crooned, the velvet of the faceless voice finally conjuring up a vision of a bespectacled Harry. (Y/N) wanted to shift, see what cardigan he had on today, but there was no way she could roll over again. She didn't have that kind of energy. "Naomi said y'haven't eaten since this morning, flower. I think you'll feel a little better if you at least have a bowl."

"No," she whined, shaking her head as she attempted to burrow that much deeper on her blanket cave. "You're being too loud, Harry." 

Another plume of laughter sounded in her room, though it wasn't quite as uninvited as before, now knowing it was from her boyfriend.

 "Okay," he relented, voice decidedly softer than just a moment before, "We'll eat a little later, but you've got to take some medicine. I brought something that should help clear your nose out, too." 

(Y/N) hadn't even realized she wasn't able to breathe out of her nose until he mentioned that, her throat suddenly dry along with her lips. Through her sleep-addled, fever-drenched brain, she could only imagine  just how long she'd been fast asleep with her mouth wide open, only worsening the swollen throat she'd woken up with. 

The idea of a small reprieve was enough to have her tossing under her blankets to face him. Peeling her eyes open, Harry was crouched at her bedside, gentle smile on his face  with a dreamy vignette framed around him.

"Morning," he teased, "I missed you today." 

"Sorry," she croaked, leaning into the warmth of his hand when he pressed his palm to her forehead. She pretended not to notice when he cringed back after a moment.

"Don't need to be sorry," he murmured, a pinch settling between his brows as he reached towards a pill bottle on her table, "'M sorry y'don't feel good, flower. What happened?" 

"I don't know," she said, voice slow and drawling even to her own ears, "I thought I had a migraine last night, and then I woke up this morning, and yeah." 

Despite promising to stay awake long enough to take some medicine and sniff whatever it was that would clear her sinuses, the longer Harry fiddled with the bottle, the more of an opportunity she had to sleep instead. He'd wake her if he needed her, she decided. 

"Don't go to sleep, (Y/N)." 

She frowned at his scolding. 

"Don't make that face, love," he laughed, "Sit up for me." 

Her frown only deepened. 

If he said anything more in response, she didn't hear him. Instead she felt the mattress dip around her, Harry crawling up beside her. 

Slipping an arm underneath her, he helped her shift under the pile of blankets shrouding her form. (Y/N) let out a whine, unhappy with being moved from the wam imprint she'd left in her bedding. 

"Don't be like that, flower," he mused, "Jus' want to help you—your fever is making me nervous." 

Instead of giving any kind of answer, (Y/N) only twisted in his arms, cuddling up to the warmth of his chest. She turned into him, shedding some layers of blanket only to lean into his warmth that much more. He hooked his arm around her middle, supporting her with his forearm around her back and his hand conforming to the dip of her waist. Laying her head on his shoulder, she curled her hands into the knit of his top. If he had planned on climbing out after helping with her medicine, that was definitely no longer an option with the way she clung to him. 

"Here," he offered, prompting her to crack open her eyes once more to see a pair of coated pills in his hand for her, "I've got some water for you, too." 

There was a concerted amount of effort that came with lifting her hand to take the medicine from him, enough to have Harry squeezing his arm around her when he saw how much concentration it took. 

As soon as she popped the pills in her mouth, Harry passed along the bottle of water he had at his side, unable to keep himself from helping her hold the weight after seeing her previous struggle. She chugged down the rest of the bottle then, realizing just how thirsty she was, her breathing coming out in pants by the time she pulled the container from her mouth. 

"Want more?" he asked, reaching for another bottle he had positioned on the bedside table.

"No, no," she shook her head, already slumping against him once more with shuttered eyes, "Tired." 

This time he didn't laugh or seem amused at all at her mumbling. Harry only tugged her tighter to his side, his free hand pulling up one of her blankets to cover her up to her shoulder. "I know, flower," he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, "Y'sure y'don't want to eat right now?" 

"Just want to sleep," she said, shaking her head against his shoulder. 

"Go to sleep, love," he crooned, "I'll be here when y'wake up." 

Though it wasn't hard to stay asleep, it was hard for (Y/N) to fall asleep with the ache in her body and the pressure in her head. She needed an extra push, something to lull her to the edge. 

"How long have you been here?" she asked, hoping Harry would unwittingly put her to sleep with the melody of his voice. 

"Only a few hours," he told her, shifting until she was laid atop his chest as he reclined into the pile of pillows behind them, "After y'didn't come to Stanfill's, I called Naomi." 

"In the middle of class?" she blanched, attempting to picture Harry being so disruptive in the middle of lecture.

She felt his laugh more than heard it, rumbling from his chest underneath her. "No, I stepped out before I called." 

"And he let you go back in?" 

Flexing his hand on her waist, she could feel him shake his head before planting a kiss to the crown of hers. The vibrations of his voice accompanied by the soft of his touch was already working on her, distracting from the ache in her muscles enough to stretch closer to the edge of sleep. "I don't know—I didn't really stay to find out." 

"Wait," (Y/N) drawled, her features pinching, "Did you skip?" 

"I suppose y'could call it that; I did go, I jus' left early." 

"Harry," she whined, elongating the syllables of his name, "Why would you do that? You love physics." 

"Because," he started, an affectionate current to his tone, "I wanted to see you. I was worried about you, love. You've never jus' disappeared on me before like that—I wanted to make sure y'were alright." 

"But," she attempted to fight, though she didn't have much organization to her thoughts, "It's physics." 

"I know," he crooned, a smile audible in his voice, "And you're you. I can make up the notes another day, but I can't make up another day with you, can I?" 

It was a sweet sentiment, enough to have her softening that much more. If she'd had the energy, she may have cried, instead opting to burrow closer to him. 

"I love you," she blubbered, her words barely decipherable given her thick throat.

"I love you too, flower," he reciprocated, tender notes to his voice, "Go to sleep, I've got you."

That was all the permission she needed to drift off, no doubt that Harry would keep his promise. 

Maybe it was the medicine beginning to kick in or the warmth of Harry's hold, but (Y/N) swore she might already be beginning to feel better.

—————

thank you so much for requesting nad taking the time to read this! So sorry if theres any mistakes I missed!!! if theres any ideas or requests you have pleaseeeee send them in :)

[revelboo]

That Thundercracker blip was pretty good, I think I detect a new seeker to add to my collection 👀

I see TC as the most affectionate of the Seekers, mostly based on the IDW comics where he adopted a dog and takes shockingly good care of it, being the ultimate doting pet parent. This mech needs someone to take care of, but instead of Buster, he latches onto you. I feel like he’d be just a hopeless romantic, and try way too hard. Go overboard.

Better Open the Door Pt 3

Thundercracker x Reader

• It’s stuck in his processor all day, that dance between the main characters as they grew closer from your movie. It’s a curious thing. Caught in each other’s gravity, struggling against each other, then coming together. Meant to be. He thinks of you, too. Curled against him, entrusting yourself to him. You’re so small after all compared to a Cybertronian. Fragile. You need him to protect you, you just don’t know it yet.

• He’s there waiting for you before you can even set up the little screen and projector the next Friday, just melting out of the woods with such little sound for something so huge. It’s the bush he has in his fist that you notice first though, he’s yanked up someone’s rose bush roots and all apparently. And he just grins down at you, kneeling to hold it out to you while you smile weakly, because what are you supposed to do now? He just looks so proud. “Hey, thanks,” You manage, rocking back to avoid the thorns. “Roses.”

• “For you,” he says, sounding pleased even as he realizes you can’t or won’t take the bush from him and finally sets it down. “You like roses, right?” He glances from the bush to you and back, that smile faltering somewhat.

• “They’re lovely,” you assure him because he looks so crestfallen. Someone is probably going to have a fit when they wake up to find their rose bush just gone, but he means well. When’s the last time a guy’s brought you flowers? Even if the guy is a giant alien. It’s kind of sweet and his smile brightens again. “I have a couple of different movies this time,” you begin, but he’s crouching, a huge finger sliding against the inside of your arm until it presses against your palm.

• Pleased at the feel of your hand on his, he has to resist the urge to scoop you up. It’s like holding hands, your little palm not quite in his. “Anything is fine.” Because as fun as the movies are, he wants to discuss them with you more, get your opinion. Hear you talk. And usually he pays attention to the movie, but as you get it started and wrap yourself in your blanket, he offers you a hand. And all of his attention. You hesitate only a minute, peering up at his face before settling yourself in his palm. It’s not even halfway over before you’re out. So tired. He’s not sure what you do during the day, but it’s clearly too much. Adjusting your warmth against his frame, he vents. You need rest. Someone to look after you. Keep you safe and happy. As he transforms oh so carefully around you to trap you in his canopy, he knows he’s doing the right thing. You need him, you just don’t know it yet.

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[chillinglyadventurous]

Starlit Movie Night

Thank you anon for the request!!

Tags: Absolute fluff

You had been watching Ford for day, lost in his research about Weirdmageddon’s lingering effects on Gravity Falls. He was so deep into his work that it was starting to consume him. Late nights at his desk, barely eating, hardly sleeping were his normal, but this was even more obsessive than before. You knew he cared about the mysteries of the town, but it was starting to worry you how much he was neglecting everything else, including himself.

Mabel, ever the little spark of joy, noticed too. One afternoon, while you were helping her clean up around the Shack. She suddenly perked up, her face lighting with one of her signature bright ideas. “You know what we need to do?” She pondered, tapping her chin. “Ford needs a date night! You two need some alone time. I’ve got the perfect idea!”

You chuckled, already intrigued by her energy. “What’s your plan?”

“A movie night, but not just any movie night! We turn the Mystery Shack into a cozy, romantic drive-in theater!” Mabel’s eyes twinkled with excitement as she bounced on her heels. “It’ll be perfect! I’ll set up the lights, get the projector going. You and Ford can just relax and be all lovey-dovey under the stars.” She gave a gasp as stared up at you with puppy eyes, “Maybe he’ll ask you to marry him!”

It was impossible not to get swept up in her enthusiasm. The idea sounded amazing. Ford loved classic films. The thought of turning the shack into something magical for the two of you made your heart flutter.

“I love it,” you said, smiling. “Let’s do it.”

That evening, while Ford was absorbed in his study, Mabel worked her magic. She set up the projector outside, draped fairy lights around the trees, and found an old white sheet to act as a screen. You arranged the snacks, making sure to include all of Ford’s favorite. You had bought an ungodly amount of jellybeans. Mabel even pulled out a few of her more tasteful blankets and pillows to make everything cozy.

By the time the setup was finished, the Mystery Shack had been transformed. The golden glow of the lights cast a soft glow. The blanket pile looked warm and inviting. A gentle breeze rustled through the trees, and the night sky was dotted with stars.

Mabel gave you a thumbs-up, winking. “Go get your man,” she whispered dramatically.

You laughed, your stomach full of butterflies with anticipation as you made your way to Ford’s study. Peeking in, you saw him sitting at his desk, still buried in his notes. His brow was furrowed and he was scribbling something in the margins of a research paper. He looked stressed. You didn’t like it.

You stepped in quietly, standing by the door for a moment. “Ford?” You sighed.

He glanced up and, when he saw you, his expression softened. However, you could tell he was still lost in his work. “Oh, ,[Y/N], everything alright?”

“I think you need a break,” you said gently, crossing the room and standing by his chair. You laced your arms around his neck from behind. You placed a soft kiss to his temple. “You’ve been working so hard. I miss you.”

Ford sighed, leaning back slightly, his fingers brushing against your face as if realizing just how tired he was. “I know, I’ve been a bit absorbed, but-”

You knelt by his chair, placing your hand over his, “I know how important it is to you, but you’re important to me. We’re important. I’ve planned something for us tonight, with Mabel’s help. Well, she did most of the work.” He gave you a smile. “Just trust me. Come outside with me?”

Ford hesitated for a moment, his mind clearly still on his research, but when he saw the look in your eyes. Your pleading gaze softened in him. He nodded slowly, pushing back his chair, “Alright, for you, and Mabel, anything.”

You led him outside and the second he stepped into the yard, he gave a heavy breath. The sight of the makeshift drive-in, the soft lights, and the cozy setup took him completely by surprise. He blinked, speechless, his gaze shifting from the flickering screen to the stars above, and, finally, to you.

“You did all this?” He asked, his voice low and full of wonder.

“Again, Mabel did the hard work,” you grinned. “But it’s for you. I thought we could use a night just the two of us.”

Ford’s face relaxed. His hand reached out to gently brush a strand of hair away from your face. “You always know how to remind me of what’s important,” he murmured, his voice tender. “I’ve been so wrapped up in all this and, yet, here you are, pulling me back to reality.”

His hands lingered on your back, holding you close as if grounding himself in the moment. “Come on,” you whispered, tugging him toward the blankets. “Let’s just enjoy tonight.”

The two of you settled into the nest of pillows and blankets, your bodies naturally gravitating toward each other. Ford’s arm wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you close as the movie started playing. You rested your head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart as the film flickered on the screen.

Every now and then, Ford would murmur something into your ear, whether it was some trivia about the specific War Stars movie playing or a soft comment about how beautiful the night was. Each time he spoke, his breath brushed against your skin, sending shivers of warmth through you.

As the stars twinkled overhead and the soft glow of the projector bathed you both in a golden light, Ford shifted slightly, turning to you with a quiet intensity in his gaze. His hand found yours beneath the blanket, his fingers lacing with yours. “You know,” he murmured, his voice deep and full of emotion, “moments like this, I never want to take them for granted. I never want to take you for granted.”

“You never have,” you whispered.

Ford’s lips curled into the softest of smiles before he leaned down, capturing your lips in a lingering kiss. The world seemed to slow down around you, everything faded into the background as his lips moved against yours..

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the cool night air. “I love you,” he whispered, his voice low and full of feeling.

“I love you too,” you whispered back, your heart soaring.

[eldritchpotato]

Bovine Mixup

Working on a farm has never been easy, doubly so with the recent disappearances of a few cows. When you attempt to get to the bottom of this mystery it’s you who ends up taken next. You’re not a cow but such things can be fixed.

Part 1, Part 2.

Content Warning: alien abduction & experimentation, hucow transformation, GN reader, brainwashing, lactation & milking, pregnancy, and intelligence reduction.

It was so bright, that was the first thing you realized as consciousness swirled back to do. You felt utterly disoriented and confused. The last thing you remembered was angrily marching out to the barn to investigate the ruckus the cows were making in the middle of the night and then… that light…

You tried to move but couldn't. You weren't even on a surface either. Squinting through the bright light you realized you were touching nothing… you were floating. What the fuck.

The light swiveled away and you blinked rapidly to try to adjust. The room was… and… the… it was a little overwhelming. You found yourself floating in some kind of beam of light, suspended in the air. The room was somehow mechanical and organic, strange greys and fresh tones. You didn't even know what you were looking at.

But what really drew your attention was the figure in a lab coat bumbling about with various machinery. It was… well it was a fucking alien. 

The purplish floating tentacled thing had a glowing angler lure dangling out from the neck hole. It wasn't even humanoid enough to wear a lab coat, somehow having just draped the garment over itself. It let out a wet trilling sound, its flaps wobbling as it used coiled tendrils emerging from the arm holes of the lab coat to press a few buttons in the wall.

“Greetings bos taurus, your fluids are required. Do not be alarmed, Dr. Homan is the best human bovine doctor, there will be no probing.”

The mechanical voice continued but you were distracted by “Dr. Homan” floating over to investigate you. A large crooked claw poked you in the chest and its folds vibrated. It floated away to twist more dials. It was clearly machinery but how it worked you had no idea.

You were a little more focused on the whole getting kidnapped by aliens thing. Though…

“This is clearly a misunderstanding,” you croaked. You were a human, not a cow. Dr. Homan hardly seemed to care.

“Specimen does not match. Identifying species… human.”

Dr. Homan let out a warbling humm and busily interacted with the machinery.

That was good right, they realized their mistake. Surly they would just send you back to earth.

“Synthesizing mutagen. Probes will be required, prepare yourself subject”

Oh that didn't sound good. But try as you might there was nothing to strain against, you remained suspended mid air and could barely move a muscle.

A panel in the wall squelched open like the opening of a sphincter and Dr. Homan retrieved some kind of device. It looked similar to a needle that you started to squirm. The liquid that sloshed about was an utterly impossible shade of green that was reserved solely for cartoon radiation.

Dr. Homan floated closer and raised up the syringe. You couldn't turn away but you could wince back slightly. Dr. Homan paused and clicked a few more buttons.

“Calculating resistance reduction methods.”

That also sounded extremely bad. You could wiggle your fingers ever so slightly, and you were pretty sure you were getting closer and closer to the edge of this weird anti gravity beam thing. Just a little longer and maybe you could get free.

“Optimized method identified. Executing.”

Fuck. Lights lip up your vision again as whatever strange projector lit back up. This time however it wasn’t just a bring light. A koledscoping pattern flashed across your vision disorienting you. You felt like you were falling into it, dizzy and confused.

The more you blinked to combat this onslaught the more your eyes were drawn to shapes and colours. The movements were hypnotic, overwhelming. So distracted were you that you hardly felt Dr. Homan slid the needles into your neck and injected you with the liquid.  

You kept spiraling down further and further, deeper and deeper. Whatever resistance you had could not be mounted whole your brain was occupied trying to keep up with the onslaught.

Your neck stung, but then the shapes dropped again and you only had the capacity to focus on one or the other. The serum coursing through your blood went forgotten.

Passively you noticed your clothes had been removed at some point. You weren’t even floating anymore. Wasn’t there something you were supposed to be doing.

Oh right, the colours. You kept watching the colours.

You didn’t put up any resistance as metal segmented tentacles wrapped around you. Obediently you opened your mouth to let one slip inside. Since you had already let one in you might as well let them all in. 

At some point you found all your holes filled, the arousal surprising you as your body pulsed with heat. The tentacles probed deeper, and you greedily welcomed them even if you were too busy watching the spirals to encourage them any further.

You could figure that out later. For now, you just had to see where this spiral was going.

[carionto]

Accurate Reenactments Based On Facts

Most cultures across the Galaxy do their utmost to preserve and remember their history, both the great achievements, and the terrible mistakes. Humans go a few dozen steps further.

They introduced us to a concept called "Historical reenactments" - accurate recreations of the situations and conditions of ancient events, usually battles, played out with prop equipment by real people. They also said they sometimes do these just for fun and don't care about being 100% accurate.

This particular reenactment was of a battle called Thermopylae. Using numerous historical records, they recreated the location, printed slightly lighter versions of the armor (well, helmets only for some) they wore, and dull weapons with embedded stun shockers that would create a kinetic "bump" upon contact to prevent actual injury by pushing the person back instead.

Once everyone was geared up the atmosphere changed, both visually as the holographic projectors did their thing, and from the Humans themselves - their demeanor became that of... wilderness. Ferocity. Deadly focus. It was quite fear inducing even from afar.

Then the defenders in red, the "Spartans", created a sort of spiky dome with their shields and spears. Then the attackers in blue, the "Persians" unleashed a terrifying volley of arrows, the sky hologram went darker, then a bright beam of light shone upon the defenders as they swept off arrows stuck to their shields in dramatic fashion before proceeding to charge towards their assaulting foes.

We noticed the "Spartans" were all much larger than the "Persians", and actually were equipped with subtle and very modern exoskeletons. Perplexed by this we asked if these Spartans had a very particular technological advantage for their time:

"Well, not as far as we can tell, but based on the materials we have, Spartans were, like, really buff and super strong compared to the average person of the time. Plus, according to the feats of strength they supposedly displayed, we suspect they became an extinct branch of Humanity at some point, so the exoskeletons are there to mimic what we think they were like. Anyway, look, this is the coolest part."

As they spoke, the artificial gravity was lowered slightly and there was a spike in the power output from the exoskeleton equipped Spartans. Now they were flinging the approaching Persians dozens of feet into the air, a single bare-chested man kicked three of them at once backwards at a whole group, knocking the wind out of them.

This sort of extreme violence continued for several minutes.

Suddenly, an incredibly large Persian man on a throne was carried to what was effectively the center stage. Him and a heavily bearded Spartan exchanged a dramatic dialogue, the Spartan threw his spear at the Persian, who dodged it with a single turn of his head, then proceeded to summon a massive horde of small Persians who quickly began to overrun the Spartans.

There were bodies and shields and spears and pieces of armor flying everywhere, but gradually all the red became engulfed by the blue, and only one remaining Spartan managed to wriggle his way out of the carnage and make a run for it back to their city in the distance.

Seemingly satisfied after plucking out the bearded Spartan from the pile, the giant Persian roared in triumph and this is when the reenactment ended and everyone gathered for a feast.

So this is how ancient Human Battles went, huh.

"Well, not all of them. Usually it's between more equal forces in large open fields, or prolonged sieges, which can be a bit boring to recreate.

You should come back next month, we'll be doing an old naval battle between the British Empire and Independent Pirates Lords. It ends with a really sweet whirlpool showdown. Man, what are the odds of that happening, eh?"

[captain-ultimat-doggo]

MORE SHIPRATS

More specifically about the suits. I'm picturing cyberpunk type stuff but lets be honest, Humans are humans. There's going to be helmets covered in fauxhawks and stickers, someone's going to opt out of everything practical in preference of a prehensile tail, we're going to express ourselves in thousands of ways. But functionality/general aesthetic I'm picturing for Katie, at least, is starting to form in my mind so you're going to get that. I mentioned a back mounted drone thing and I'll be honest, it's pretty inspired by Stray. One shoulder has a little thing like that, but probably in grey or black to blend in with the average guts of a ship. Maybe the drone itself is clear so that it's even harder for the giants to notice. The other shoulder has a speaker that can pop out that amplifies her voice to communicate if need be. I picture the grappling system to launch from the wrist but the line is actually attached to the waist and the suit works and supports like a rock climbing harness. Backpack is full of all sorts of tools, and Human-Grade adhesives and anchors. Cable management is hella important and superglue and duct tape have evolved to have built in pest repellent.

The Helmet itself is pretty cliche cyberpunk, but it's definitely got gills for aqua or other liquid adventures. There's a mic and earpiece in it of course, often synced to the little drone so she can scout rooms without exposing herself. It's got a little projector as well, mostly used to throw schematics up in place while you work on a problem. (think Ironman).

People have mentioned Magnet boots in the tags and replies, and there's definitely something there. I joked about rollerskates because I LOVE the idea of a little human zooming around underfoot across the smooth floors of a ship. Katie probably has some highly grippy-yet-silent shoes that are closer to those a rock climber would wear; form fitting but not restraining, flexible but still supportive. You need to be able to FEEL your foot placement running across wires and climbing up cables. There's also some ship-rats who insist on running around barefoot. there always have been and there always will be.

I like the idea of the suit having instead of typical oxygen tanks, algae tanks of some kind? like the oxygen is coming from plants that are growing symbiotically from the wearer's waste. They would be small. I Don't like putting too much on the back of this kind of thing because humans need to roll to absorb impact, and even with lower gravity there's a lot of fall risk in this industry. That's one of the reasons as much as possible is on the toolbelt and only bulkier tools would be in the back pack. in emergency you can attach it to the drone and have that hover in a safe spot until you call retrieval. So maybe the plants would be in a living space and the air just circulates through the suit, then you hook up to the plant take to refresh overnight? We know that For sure there's lots of plants and algae tanks in the homes of humans living in space, but Brownies like Katie don't exactly settle well. She's got the wanderlust in her that her parents realized they couldn't conquer, so instead they bought the best gear they could.

That is why short of getting crushed she's not going to be very seriously injured; she could survive in the void for a short period of time in that thing, it's puncture and slash proof, basically anything but blunt force trauma is going to bounce right off. The suit is armor, and it's all about safety. grapples and ziplines and tools are all well and good, but they mean nothing if you get cut in half by a cord snapping or a pissed off space-bug.

Obviously phasers and blasters and all sorts of weapons exist. We love making every kind of science into weapons. Katie relies on what the galactic committee classifies as a "Laser cutter and defabricator" and what humans call "Laser Rifles." She's also got a bunch of tools for cutting through metal that would work on pretty much anything if she needed it too. One of the most important tools, though, would be the spray can- (What did you think i was going to say?) A little can nozzle that can be dipped in anything you use to write, and then sprays it on a surface. Humans communicate through ten foot tall letters out of necessity when talking to Giants, and Graffiti artists figured that shit out forever ago. Katie's model is fancy and can dye the ink different colors if needed. Spray color coding wires and parts is always helpful, especially working in unfamiliar systems.

[valinbean]

Gravity falls headcannons

Mabel and Pacifica's first sleep over

Mabel definitely listens to Chappel Roan, Jonas Brothers, and Harry Styles.

Pacifica listens to Taylor Swift and Sabrina Carpenter.

The girls started becoming good friends! Mabel finds out Pacifica has never had a sleepover before, and she is flabbergasted.

She begs her grunkles to let Pacifica stay over, stan wants to charge her for the sleepover. Ford is a bit standoffish but agrees.

Pacifica lied to her parents and told them she was doing charity work for the family image.

Mabel is over the moon and super excited to host Pacifica's first sleepover!

She goes all out. And I mean all out. She has Dipper help her plan everything, just so he's in the loop and doesn't freak out like he did when Candy and Grenda stayed over the first time.

Stan was sent to the store with a very long list of supplies, he definitely 'buys' them with 'definitely real money' (stanbucks).

Mabel pulls out her karaoke machine, dresses waddles up like a butler, and dipper surprisingly offered to sleep on the couch. "You know.. so Pacifica doesn't have to sleep on the floor."

Mabel decorates their room, mostly pinks and purples.

She gets out all the board games and friendship bracelet stuff.

finds an old projector to play movies or the box set of Ducktective!

Pacifica is shocked when mabel drags her upstairs, "the number one rule is be yourself!" Mabel announced.

The girls have an incredible night and Pacifica and mabel deem the sleepover a success.

Then definitely plan more as time goes on, dipper hanging out with them as well!

[peydawgz]

saw your requests are open and i was wondering if you could do a lil thing where reader is like a inventor and makes a star projector for siebren?? romantic ofc :] hope u have a wonderful day!! !

You Gave Me The Universe || Siebren de Kuiper (Sigma) x Reader

Thank you for your request!!! I hope you like this!! It’s a little angsty, but wholesome ending :3

You and Siebren were tasked to work on a project together, your brilliant minds pairing perfectly. He came up with the ideas and physics, and you brought it to life. He was for the most part quiet, but he would go on rambles when the inspiration sparked.

You understood the trauma behind his mask. You took notice to the way he’d get lost in thoughts, the fear and anxiety, the shaking anger and frustrations. You were the only peaceful thing to come about his sad life. When the black hole appeared around him, and the gravity began to rise, he thought before there was no way to stop him. The thought of hurting the only one who could understand, oh it was like you had a sweet control over him.

Was it fear? Was it anxiety keeping him from you? You hadn’t seen him in a few days, you assumed he was recovering from his outburst. In the meantime, you worked on your own side project. It was just something small, something to keep his mind occupied and make the music fade for once. You cultivated a tiny machine, interpreting his interest in astronomy to create a holographic star projector. It would follow each moon phase, and could zoom in and out of each part of the known galaxy. You’d put so much work into it, you just hoped he would show up eventually so you could give it to him.

After waiting through your usually workday hours with no sign of him, you decided to pay Siebren a visit and see what was up. You tried to call but he would not answer, you still showed up anyways. You knocked on his door, expecting no answer but it only took two seconds before the door creaked open and the tall man stood before you. He wore a comfortable attire, black long pants and a plain white shirt. He looked defeated and uneasy, making you think perhaps he didn’t want you here. It was refreshing just to see him, though, you were worried of the disaster he could cause.

Without exchanging a hello, you lunged into Siebren’s chest, throwing your arms around him as to heal his saddened heart. He was tense, but completely relaxed at your touch. He sighed and invited you in for tea, happy to see your face as well. He didn’t want you to remember him for the monster he showed you he could be. You sat together and talked, mostly you catching him up a bit before getting to your point.

“I made something for you, to help you rest and strengthen your focus.” You told him. He looked shocked, he must not often receive gifts. Before he could say any mess about you didn’t have to get him anything- you told him to close his eyes. You carefully set up the projector out on the table, and shut off the lights. He had a smile creeping over his face, his demeanor changing into excitement.

“Okay you can open them up now.” You take your seat back next to him. He peeks at first, then opens his eyes and mouth in awe as he stares upon the illuminated ceiling. “You made this,, for me??” His voice is almost childlike in bewilderment, and the stars reflect on his glassy eyes. “Yeah! This way, you can relax, when your mind gets fogged up or if you need to fall asleep.” You responded.

“Fascinating…” he mumbled as he lifted a hand, controlling the coordinates with his gravity powers. As you watched him inspect your handmade device, you admired his happiness in this moment. In a state where all chaotic forces do not control him, his intelligence beams. He names each constellation out loud, like checking off a list he knows all too well. He pulled back so far out of the known universe you were staring into the purple clouds and star pools of your own galaxy, suddenly feeling small.

“You are extraordinary. I can’t thank you enough for this… you know me so well.” He said as he faced you. He pulled you in for another hug, his hands holding the fabric of your clothing like something might steal you away from him. He made a mental decision to keep you away from danger, to protect you at all costs and to also cherish your gift to him. No more running and hiding- he would have to fight with his mind to get it under more control, and was thankful for your help to allow him to see this path.

You were taken back by suddenly his whole body covering you in his craving grasp, not understanding the amount of emotion behind it. He was shaking a little, giving you the impression he may cry or his thoughts were becoming too much. You gently caress his back, and slowly moved up to pet his soft, greying hairs as if to soothe him.

His convulsions were that of being overloaded with affection aggression, his desire making him want to nearly crush you, with how sweet and caring you treated him. All signs in his head were pointing to yes, and he could no longer doubt those emotions any longer. He pulls away slowly, his gaze looking among the beautiful swirling colors around you, your own eyes moving around the room as well. He caught your chin with his fingers, crashing his lips into yours very passionately, like letting go of all that held him back. Your face felt hot, a blush showing over your cheeks as you moved closer for more. Once the kiss was over, Siebren slouched over and tucked his face into your neck, scared to look you in the eye for what he’d done. You thought he was so cute, trying to reassure him with more petting and caressing. He moved back, still looking away shyly, you were supposed to be just a coworker, how could he let himself be so inconsiderate to your profession. He looked sad with what he’d done, guilty even.

“It’s okay! I feel the same. There’s no need to worry about later, we should just enjoy now.” You assured him, always being the bright light in his black hole thoughts. He chuckled, reminding himself to relax again, and he leaned back into your touch to enjoy being in the moment with you.

“I can’t thank you enough for all that you do for me. My affection for you goes deeper than the universe.”

[astranite]

1 Hypocrites and Vulnerabilities: To Run From

John and Scott fight. Neither of them wanted to fight. Words are said and wounds are torn open.

Angst and hurt/comfort. AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56880745/chapters/144629212

This piece started off from two prompts by @smallfrysblog on tumblr then spiralled wonderfully from there. https://www.tumblr.com/astranite/754669532615983104. its the last two if you are curious.

I started writing this a while ago, adding to it and editing bit by bit so it was interesting to go back and see where my writing skills have grown over time!

---

Scott crept through the house, sneakers in hand, socked feet near silent on the wooden floors. He edged past his brothers’ rooms, wary in spite of the heavy sound proofing built into the walls. At Virgil’s door, he paused for a moment to listen to the soft snores from within. His Virgil, fast asleep, at home and okay. Not the set of blank brown eyes staring at him in his dreams.

(John never slept well these days, always to ready flinch awake at the first tones of a call incoming on the International Rescue frequency, fully alert in seconds because there were people counting on his expertise and they needed him switched on. His body never adjusted to the full night of sleep available on Island time, leaving him permanently jetlagged and awake at strange times of night.)

Entering the comms area, Scott tensed at the silhouetted figures lined up against the wall. They loomed in stiff formation. He stumbled back, exhausted mind racing with threats, searching for cover. 

Seconds stretched out, oozing and thick as tar. His heart raced. Then logic caught up, snapping into place. 

Their portraits. Hanging along the wall where they had always been. His siblings rendered in Virgil’s neat brushstrokes, all in their IR uniforms. Scott gritted his teeth, he needed to get a grip. He couldn’t be jumping at shadows, not when bigger threats were out there. His siblings needed a Commander, not whatever Scott was right now. Not Scott who’d nearly thrown himself to the floor at the faintest flicker of a threat, who couldn’t let go of things that were better off left to his nightmares.

The bright colours of their baldrics were meant to be visible in the worst of rescue conditions, in choking smoke, through turbid water and icy white out. They all blended into nondescript greys. Scott deliberately glanced away.

(He was exhausted and wired, barely down from Five. He’d peeled his space suit off like a second skin in favour of pyjamas he picked up off the floor where they’d landed last time he’d worn them. He hadn’t even showered before he’d clocked out. 

(That lasted for 45 minutes until a surge of adrenaline had John flailing, falling out of bed in a panic. The pokey bone of his ankle smacked a hard edge as he went down. Of all the fucking times, gravity! He was so useless here. Half-aware and automatically, he clawed himself off the floor, fingers curling around the comms watch they hit as he grabbed his bedside table to get up, going for the exit.

(He was listening out for call tones but he was awake because of near silent footsteps slipping past his door. They were Scott’s, of course he could recognise Scott’s footsteps, he could recognise the way his brother breathed over the staticky radio with every hundred thousand kilometres of distance between them if he needed to. The fear gutted him, and Scott was leaving —)

A blanket strewn over the back of a couch and a mug left on the coffee table were evidence of earlier activity in the now empty lounge. Scott took in a deep breath. A tiny, blinking blue light showed the On button of the holo projector. 

Dad’s desk was clear. Only Scott’s work tablet and a single reference book sat on the surface, stacked so the corners aligned with the ninety degree edge of the desk. Video game controllers, stray paint brushes and seashells were promptly retrieved by their respective owners on pain of being shoved in the one junk drawer Scott allowed. It overflowed into the others anyway. That was mostly Scott’s fault though.

The paperwork stored as digital files would cover the room if printed in hard copy. Forms for mission reports he was supposed to write. Blueprints he hadn’t yet looked over to approve. TI briefings marked as urgent he needed to read, flashing up red in his inbox but dated for weeks ago.

Scott shoved the thoughts out of his mind. He’d get to them. He wasn’t sure when but he had to, so he would. Likely it would mean another night of missed sleep but that didn't matter. He was handling it.

Right now, he needed to run. 

(Right now, he needed to find Scott.)

He needed to feel his heart race from exertion instead of fear.

(Where was he going? John wouldn't be able to find him—down here on Earth he was slowed, severed from all his data, screens and sensors, his lightning fast connection to the whole world—but none of that mattered anyway when Scott wouldn’t wear his damn watch. John’s heart raced from standing too fast. And fear, he wouldn’t admit it, but it was fear .)

He needed to pull himself together because everyone else was counting on him.

(Scott was counting on him, they were all counting on him. Get it together, John. ) 

Beyond floor to ceiling windows, the sky was the deep, purple-black of true night. It was hours before even Scott’s usual early rising time, but there was no way in hell he was getting back to sleep, not with what he’d seen, not with how the raw terror clung to him. He didn’t want to try.

The outside beckoned him, his running tracks all over the island. They promised as much freedom as he could claw out of the world. 

He’d get in One and just fly , but the others preferred to have someone at base to be air traffic control when he did that, even when he hadn’t blown his flight limits out of the water already. Running was the closest he’d could get to looping, soaring aerobatic manoeuvres through the pre-dawn skies.

When Scott pushed himself hard enough, adrenaline and exhaustion blurring together, he’d finally find something like peace. It took getting too tired to see straight, much less think, to make his mind shut up.

(John hoped he wasn’t too late. 

((He’d been too late before.))

(He hoped he was right about the gamble of which exit, following on faith he didn’t have when he couldn't see and didn't know where he was going, looping through the house so he might, might just make it, hoping that Scott wasn't gone already. 

(John shivered and wrapped his arms around himself as he stumbled to a stop, suddenly hit by dizziness and bone-deep, soul-deep tired .)

Scott bypassed the main door to the balcony in favour of a smaller side door which would be less conspicuous to open so late at night. He’d put on his shoes on the concrete outside away from hearing range of his brothers and the possibility of rubber soles squeaking on floor boards.

He eased the door open carefully, barely crack at a time. Maybe he was overcautious, wary in case the well-oiled hinges creaked, paranoid . He had to get beyond the balconies where no one could see him, then he could run and run and just be .

(There was Scott. John’s breath caught in his throat. So he held it, then slowly let it out to try to stop himself from shaking. He shoved down the urge to anxiously stim with his hands when it would give him away, until he was perfectly, unnaturally still. 

(His fingers dug into each opposite arm, hugged tightly around him. If he couldn’t do calm, he could at least fake keeping it together.)

“And where do you think you’re going?” A voice rang out behind him and Scott flinched. 

He let go of the door. It slammed shut. He pressed his back to it, flattening himself and hunching his shoulders before he had a second to breathe.

[g0ose-bumps]

Soap Gets a Visitor (2/?)

Ghost becomes a ghost. Soap and Gaz have a chat.

Soap's attempts to get Ghost talking had all gone miserably. If Ghost thought he could outwait Soap, the man would only be left surprised. He was convinced that the LT was related to the cat incident. He had to have been. Soap could tell from every glance away, every pause the man held, that Ghost knew something. Something he was unwilling to speak or budge about.

It was maddening.

Soap was beginning to feel more like a dog with a particularly juicy bone than a sergeant trying to ask his lieutenant a simple question. He'd hounded Ghost at every turn, trying to sniff out the man's secrets. Of which no doubt there were many, but something about Soap's mysterious visitor had Ghost clamming up tight.

The man was even starting to avoid him, becoming more of a ghost than Soap thought possible. Except instead of haunting Soap's steps like he used to, Ghost would... well, he would turn into his namesake and disappear into their surroundings. If a man could do the physical version of ghosting in front of another's eyes, this would be it.

Soap tried not to be affected by it but he knew he wasn't convincing anyone with his 'Oscar worthy' performance. The alternative reasoning to why Ghost was ignoring him was something he didn't even want to contemplate. If it wasn't because the man didn't want to talk about Soap's visitor then— Soap cut himself off. Better to not dwell on it. He knew people were starting to worry. Perhaps it also didn't help he had been staring glumly into the wall for a good minute.

"Mate, you okay?" Gaz slides in to sit next to him. Thankfully the meeting they were in was loud enough for his whisper to be hidden.

Soap sighs and focuses on the next presenter. Ghost. His foreboding presence drew the whole room into his gravity as he stood at attention, hands tucked behind his broad back. He was standing centre front by the projector.

As usual the man seemed dismissive of all the eyes peeled on himself, casual confidence a footnote to the lieutenant. Soap traces the line of him, engraving The Ghost into his mind. He sorely missed looking at him with all the time Ghost spent avoiding him. The brooding spectre looked more like a carved statue than any mortal man should. And that voice of his. Soap had dreams about it. Many dreams.

Gaz nudges him. "Too busy daydreaming bout the Lt, huh?" He slyly whispers to Soap. "Thought there was some trouble in paradise. Guess I was wrong." The other sergeant had a massive shite eating grin strewn upon his face.

"Shut yer puss!" Soap hisses back at him, agitated despite himself. His words were louder than he'd meant it to be. A couple heads turned to look at them in irritation before focusing back in front.

Looking around briefly, Soap leans close to Gaz's ear, whispering furtively. "Look, Gaz, there's some shite. I dunno what exactly but it's gotten Ghost spooked."

"Well that explains it." Gaz says thoughtfully. "Aside from all the mandatory drills, I haven't seen Ghost around all that much." He grins mischievously. "Which is strange because if I saw your ugly mug, I'd be seeing a Ghost just around the corner afterwards."

Soap snorts. "Ye only wish ye had a face as fine as this." A halfheartedly retort back. Soap grimaces, unable to not think about the fact that Ghost had been ignoring him for the better part of a week. He grits his teeth, clenching the side of the chair hard.

A hand grips his tensed arm firmly, comforting in its solidness.

Gaz's concerned face peers up at him. "Tell me later what's up?" He asks worriedly. "Anything you want to tell me, I got your six." His eyes search Soap's for some sort of understanding.

Soap nods back, something easing in him with the other sergeant's promise to listen. If anyone were to believe him about a mysterious cat in their base, it'd be Gaz. He gradually eases his posture into something a little more relaxed.

The other sergeant leans away, his focus back on their lieutenant, thoughtful eyes noting the tenseness of Ghost's gargoyle esque impression. "Though if it's just your usual thoughts on the Lt, I might have to pass on that."

"Wheesht!" Soap exclaims. This time, Price glares at them loudly from the officers corner. A silent command to be quiet lest they wanted to attract his full ire on them.

They both shut up, unwilling to get in any more trouble. Gaz and Soap had played a prank on Price a couple weeks back that couldn't be traced to them. They could both tell that the captain was biding his time until there was something he could book them for.

The meeting goes on without a hitch afterwards: plenty of talking, tactical pointing and PowerPoints. Typical.

Gaz corners him right after the meeting ends, yanking Soap into an abandoned hallway.

"Okay, fess up." Gaz leans against the wall and crosses his arm. "What's with you and the Lieutenant?"

Soap splutters. His first instinct is to deny, deny and sprinkle some more denial onto his denial salad, but Gaz's earnest face stops him in his tracks. "There's a cat." He blurts stupidly.

"A cat?" Gaz questions, a quirked up eyebrow rising. "A cat from a mission or...?" He trails off one finger tapping at his side. Soap was beginning to regret this.

"A cat on base. It visited me one night. Laid on my bed a bunch till I fell asleep and when I woke up, it was gone." Soap cringes at his own words. Their base was patrolled nightly; a mouse couldn't squeak before it was heard and noted. A mysterious cat that showed up suddenly and disappeared as suddenly sounded patently ridiculous.

The other sergeant looks bemused. "And this relates to Ghost how?" He says, obviously humouring Soap in his words. There was a studied blankness to his expression that told Soap he was very skeptical.

"I asked Ghost about the cat and he just well," Soap pauses, unable to articulate Ghost, ghosting him in better words. "Well you saw it with yer own eyes."

Gaz hums quietly. "So you think Ghost has something to do with this mysterious cat."

"I ken he does!" His hands fly out to demonstrate. "He's been avoiding all my questions about tha' cat." Soap paces the hall, fully agitated. "The fact that he isnae saying anythin' bout it means he does ken somethin'. Why else would he keep silent on it?" His steps pick up speed. The movement felt good for his frustrated mind. This whole matter was bothering him more than he thought it would.

"Okay, Soap." Gaz hushes. "I believe you." He stops Soap in his movement, laying a hand on his shoulder. "Maybe Ghost is the cat's owner." There's another glint in Gaz's eyes, Soap just knew he was going to say something stupid.

"Wouldn't be the first time anyone's had illicit pusses hidden in their room on base." Soap groans, the double entendre not lost on him.

Gaz continues on like he didn't hear him. "Though this would be the first time it's actually just a cat." He barks a laugh, clearly amused at his own joke.

"Real funny, Gaz." Soap gripes, knocking away the hand on his shoulder.

Gaz glances at him and sobers up quick. "Sorry mate, thought it'd be something else there." He takes a deep breath, adjusting his hat and leaning back against the wall. "If it's just The Ghost bending rules and having a pet, I don't think that's a bad thing, all things considered."

Soap bristles. "What's tha' suppose ta' mean."

Gaz shrugs. "Nothing. Just that, you and I both know the Lt could use a little more love in his life." Soap flinches a little at Gaz's words, the other man unknowingly echoing his exact phrasing to the cat oh so many days ago. "If the man has a cat and you saw it, it'd make sense he doesn't want to talk about it—not unless he wanted the cat taken away."

"Suppose that makes sense." Soap sighs. "But how'd he even get the kitty in here in the first place?" The urge to pace was at an all time high. "Cats need supplies and a litter box at the very least. All very noticeable things." He finishes weakly. The obvious answer didn't feel so obvious to him. Soap's instincts were telling him this wasn't quite right. It seemed too simple. Ghost wouldn't be this rattled if it were.

Gaz shrugs again. "He's The Ghost. If anyone could do it without getting caught, it'd be him."

"Yer right." Soap says defeatedly. What was he even thinking. The cat being Ghost's made a lot of sense. They said pets often reflected their owners and that cat looked and behaved a lot like their lieutenant: all scarred up and massive for its species. Shy too.

Gaz stops Soap again, his feet unknowingly moving him without conscious thought. "Hey if it's any consolation, the cat visiting you out of all people means it must've liked you enough to do so." Gaz pats Soap on the back heartily. "Maybe Ghost has a rival to fight for your affections."

Soap wheezes, a laugh startled out of him at the thought.

Gaz grins, lighting up at Soap's tentative smile. "Tell you what, I'll help you corner Ghost into being in a room with you for longer than 5 minutes and then you can both make up." Soap opens his mouth. "Anddd, if that doesn't clear things up about the cat situation, we can break into Ghost's room to try to find the cat ourselves." He levers a cocky grin. "If it's you and me together, I'm sure we can pull it off without him knowing."

Soap chuckles. He knew Gaz would have his back. "Thanks Gaz."

"Nothing to it brother." Gaz holds a hand out. Soap smirks and initiates their secret handshake. They bump their fists, then a high five and a low five.

Gaz snickers and checks his watch. "Look Soap, I gotta go, see you at the mess hall later?" He asks, thoughts clearly drawing him away to whatever he had to get to.

Soap waves him away. "Get on wit' it."

The other sergeant goes. He stops suddenly as he gets near the corner, turning around to face Soap. A strange look flashes over his eyes.

"What type of cat was it?" He asks, a odd note in his voice.

Soap raises a brow. "A tabby with a bushy tail. Very large."

Gaz frowns. "A massive looking cat, yellowy green eyes and a ringed tail? Black tip?"

"Aye, exactly!" Soap exclaims excitedly. Maybe Gaz had seen it before on base. That would mean Soap definitely wasn't imagining things and that Ghost wasn't ignoring him because he'd gotten tired of Soap.

"Strange." Gaz mutters to himself.

Soap straightens. "What?" He asks hurriedly.

"I saw that cat. But not on base." Gaz haltingly answers him. "It was on my mission with Ghost a month ago."

He plays at the rim of his cap, mind obviously reliving past memories. "I only remembered it cause that's when Ghost went silent on radio—thought the man died on us or something. Then all of sudden there was this tabby near me and the next thing I knew it, it was gone."

Soap shivers. There was no way Ghost took the cat with him on a mission, was there? "Did the cat have scars on its face?" He asked, not knowing what he'd think of it, if the answer was yes.

Gaz grimaces. "I was too far away and it was too dark to tell." He looks away. "It was probably a different cat. Tabby cats are really common afterall."

"Yeah probably." Soap says a little numbly. Gaz was right. It was probably a different cat.

There was no way it could be the same one, could it?

+

[swtechspecs]

Kuat Drive Yards Eclipse-Class Star Dreadnought

Source: The Essential Guide to Vehicle and Vessels (Del Rey, 1996)

[gravity-falls-dreamer]

Gravity Falls: Dreamer Chapter 5: A Birthday to Remember

Dipper and Mabel knocked on Evalin's door. The sound echoed softly, followed by the faint click of the latch. The door creaked open on its own, revealing the inviting glow of the room inside. Evalin, perched on a chair, was tying bundles of herbs to the beams of her ceiling, the earthy scents of lavender and sage swirling in the air.

She looked over her shoulder as the young twins stepped inside, her face lighting up with a warm smile. “Hello, you two,” she said, hopping lightly down from the chair, her dress swirling around her ankles. “What brings you to my little hobble today?”

“Well, it’s our Grunkles’ birthday today, and we wanted to do something special for them,” Mabel began, her goofy grin practically splitting her face.

“We were wondering if you might help us out,” Dipper added, his tone more hesitant as he rubbed the back of his neck.

Evalin’s brow lifted in interest. “Oh! How old are they going to be today?” she asked brightly, clasping her hands in anticipation.

The twins exchanged a glance, their cheerful energy dimming slightly. “That’s… kind of the problem,” Dipper admitted, shuffling his feet.

Mabel sighed, throwing her arms into the air in exasperation. “We don’t know! That weird Age Eater thing totally scrambled their ages, and now they’re younger than they’ve been in forever!” Her dramatic gesture sent a handful of confetti fluttering out of her sweater, landing on the floor like tiny bursts of color.

Evalin tilted her head, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “So… you’re not sure how to celebrate because you don’t know what number to put on the cake?”

“Exactly!” Dipper said, relieved that she’d summed it up so neatly.

“And,” Mabel added, her tone turning conspiratorial, “we don’t know how the town is gonna react to seeing the new Grunkles. Like, how do you casually tell people, ‘Oh yeah, our great-uncles fought a time-eating slug monster, and now they’re decades younger. Totally normal!’”

Evalin chuckled softly, tapping a finger against her chin as she gazed thoughtfully at the ceiling. “Well, they’re going to find out eventually, right? Why not make the party a reveal? Celebrate the change instead of hiding it?”

Mabel gasped, her eyes wide with inspiration. “YES! A party and a REVEAL! Genius!”

Before anyone could stop her, Mabel darted over to a stack of paper and crayons she had brought along. She flopped onto the floor and began sketching furiously. “We’ll need chairs for everyone… and a table for snacks… and—oh! A projector! I’ll make a movie to explain the whole thing! There’ll be Stan fighting the Age Eater, Ford being all science-y, and then—BAM!—Evalin swoops in with her awesome magic and saves the day!” She thrust a crayon drawing of Evalin in a dramatic pose toward them.

Evalin blinked at the picture, her cheeks warming at the sight of the exaggerated heroics. “Mabel, I love the enthusiasm,” she began, her tone gentle, “but I’m not sure about, well, telling the townsfolk about my magic just yet.” She hesitated, her voice dropping to a sheepish murmur. “I don’t want to scare them. Magic’s not exactly… normal. And Stanley’s still not entirely thrilled about it.”

“Oh, he’s fine!” Mabel said, waving off the concern like it was an annoying fly. “And the people will love you! You saved our family, Evalin!”

Evalin shifted uncomfortably, her fingers fidgeting with the brim of her hat. The idea of standing in front of a crowd, being celebrated for something she tried so hard to keep hidden, made her stomach churn. But Mabel was already bouncing away, babbling about decorations, leaving no room for protest.

Dipper noticed Evalin’s hesitation and stepped closer, his voice quieter, more reassuring. “Hey, don’t worry about it,” he said, though the uncertainty in his tone betrayed his confidence. “Mabel’s, uh… she’s got a way of spinning things. It’ll be okay. Probably.”

Evalin tried to smile at his attempt to comfort her, but her brow furrowed as worry lingered. “I hope you’re right,” she murmured, her mind racing with thoughts of how the night might unfold—and how easily everything could go wrong.

To kick off the twins' ambitious plan, they transformed the back room of the Mystery Shack into a makeshift barber shop. A bit of creativity—and Soos’s enthusiastic help—had turned the normally cluttered space into something that looked surprisingly authentic. An old-school barber chair gleamed under the warm overhead light, surrounded by neatly arranged tools of the trade: a leather strop, a vintage straight razor, and a collection of combs and scissors. A faint scent of aftershave lingered in the air, completing the illusion.

The pièce de résistance, however, was the barber himself: a burly older man with a neatly trimmed mustache and twinkling eyes, radiating old-fashioned charm. His name was Chester, and he greeted the Pine twins with a broad smile and a booming laugh as Mabel and Dipper led their great-uncles into the room.

“My goodness!” Chester exclaimed, clasping his hands together as he surveyed the brothers. “You two look like you’ve been through some adventures! Let’s get you cleaned up—old-fashioned style!”

Stan squinted at him, his skepticism practically radiating from his hunched posture. “Don’t go crazy, alright? Just a little trim… and maybe one of those warm face towel things. I’m a man of simple tastes,” he grumbled, easing himself into the chair with an audible creak.

Ford hesitated, standing stiffly in the doorway. “Is this really necessary?” he asked, fidgeting with the cuffs of his jacket. “I mean, I could just—”

“It’s very necessary,” Mabel cut in, practically bouncing on her toes. She nudged Ford in the side with a grin so dazzling it could’ve sold ice to a yeti. “C’mon, Grunkle Ford, it’s a classy look! Trust me.”

Ford sighed, a small smile tugging at his lips despite his misgivings. “Alright, sweetie. I do trust you,” he said, reluctantly sitting in the chair beside Stan.

“ALRIGHT, BARBER MAN!” Mabel declared at full volume, throwing an arm out dramatically as though she were directing an army into battle. “THEY’RE ALL YOURS!”

Before either Stan or Ford could object, Mabel slammed the door shut with a decisive thud and locked it with a flick of her wrist. Dipper stood just outside the door, clipboard in hand, and gave her a thumbs-up.

“Phase 2!” Mabel announced, punching the air. She twirled on her heel, her sweater glittering as she bolted down the hall. “Let’s rally the troops! We’ve got a party to set up!”

Back in the barber shop, Stan and Ford exchanged a look. “Did… did she just lock us in?” Stan asked, raising a skeptical brow.

Ford sighed, leaning back in his chair with a faint frown. “It seems that way.”

Chester chuckled, snapping a crisp towel in the air as he approached Stan. “Don’t you worry, gentlemen! You’re in the hands of a professional.” He began to lather up some shaving cream, humming a jaunty tune as he worked. “Now, which one of you wants the full treatment first?”

Stan crossed his arms, eyeing the razor warily. “Let’s just keep it simple, alright? I’ve got enough trouble with these kids as it is without lookin’ like a… like a fancy banker or something.”

Chester laughed heartily as he spread the cream across Stan’s jaw. “Don’t you worry, Mr. Pines. We’ll keep you looking rugged. Handsome, but rugged.”

Ford, meanwhile, sat stiffly in his chair, his gaze flitting from the tools to the door. “This all feels unnecessary. Is this what people consider relaxing?”

Stan snorted. “Oh, relax, Sixer. What’s the worst that could happen? You look halfway decent for once?”

“Very funny, Stanley,” Ford muttered, his tone dry. But he stopped fidgeting as Chester draped a warm towel over his face, the steam soothing against his skin.

“Trust me, you’re both going to feel like a million bucks when I’m done,” Chester promised as he set to work.

In the hallway, Mabel pressed her ear to the door, grinning mischievously. “Mission distraction is officially a success,” she whispered to Dipper, who scribbled something on his clipboard.

“Great. Now let’s get Phase 2 set up before they realize what’s happening,” Dipper replied. He adjusted his hat and turned toward the main room, already running through a mental checklist of everything that needed to be done before the guests arrived.

Mabel gave one last glance at the locked door before skipping off to join him. Behind her, the faint hum of Chester’s cheery tune drifted through the air, mixing with Stan’s occasional grumbles and Ford’s muffled sighs. For now, at least, the birthday boys were thoroughly occupied.

Dipper and Mabel quickly rallied their friends—Wendy, Soos, Candy, and Grenda—to help spread the word about the surprise party at the Mystery Shack. Within hours, the group transformed the cluttered main room into a festive space filled with streamers, balloons, and a makeshift stage for Mabel’s “mystery movie.” Fairy lights twinkled overhead, casting a warm, playful glow over the tables piled high with snacks and drinks.

Meanwhile, Evalin had spent most of the day in the kitchen, pouring her focus into baking the cake. As the smell of fresh frosting filled the air, her nerves simmered—she hadn’t been around so many people before, and the thought of being the center of attention made her stomach flutter uneasily.

When Evalin finally carried the finished cake into the party room, she stopped in her tracks, her eyes widening at the sight. The transformation was nothing short of magical. Streamers crisscrossed the room, the lights twinkled cheerfully, and cheerful chatter filled the air as Mabel, Dipper, and their friends rushed to put on the finishing touches.

“Wow,” Evalin murmured, blinking in awe. “You guys did… amazing!”

Mabel spun around at the sound of her voice, her face lighting up. “Oh my gosh, Evi!” She darted over, threw her arms out as if presenting Evalin to the world, and announced dramatically, “Here is the hero of our story!”

Evalin froze, her cheeks warming instantly as all eyes turned toward her. She gave a sheepish wave, pulling the brim of her hat lower over her eyes to shield herself. “Oh, um, hi,” she stammered.

Undeterred, Mabel grabbed Evalin’s free hand and dragged her closer to the group. “Guys, this is Evalin Dreamer! Evi, meet my besties, Candy Chiu and Grenda Grendinator!”

Candy, a petite girl with jet-black hair and round glasses, stepped forward, her eyes gleaming with curiosity. She wore a striped jade-green dress and white socks, her polished black shoes clicking lightly on the floor as she moved. “Hi, Evalin! Mabel has told us so much about you. You’re even prettier than she said!” she exclaimed, shaking Evalin’s hand enthusiastically.

Grenda, towering over Candy with her short ponytail and broad shoulders, chimed in with her signature deep, booming voice. “Yeah! You’re, like, some kind of woodland goddess or something!” She crossed her arms and grinned, as if daring anyone to disagree.

Evalin’s blush deepened, and she let out a nervous laugh, tugging her hat further down her forehead. “Oh, um… thank you?” she managed, feeling a bead of sweat trickle down her temple.

“Hey,” a calm voice cut in. Evalin turned to see Wendy Corduroy strolling over, her red hair catching the light. She was leaning casually on the broom she’d been using to clear stray glitter, her easy smile putting Evalin slightly more at ease. “Nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you. Soos said you’ve got your own little fortune-telling stand here at the Shack—and that you’re scary accurate.”

“Oh, well,” Evalin began, fiddling with the brim of her hat, “I just pick up on small things and put pieces together…”

Wendy smirked. “Humility’s a good look on you. Don’t sweat the Pines family. They’re weird, but they’re the best kind of weird.”

Before Evalin could respond, Soos popped out from behind a stack of chairs, waving enthusiastically. “Hi! I’m Soos! Soos Ramirez! I’m the guy who hired you to work that stand at the Shack!”

Evalin blinked at him for a moment before a giggle slipped past her lips. “Soos, we’ve already met.”

“I know!” he said, flashing a big, goofy grin. “But, like, everyone else was doing introductions, and I didn’t wanna miss out!”

Evalin couldn’t help but laugh, her earlier tension finally breaking. “Thank you, Soos,” she said warmly. “You truly are a gem.”

Soos puffed up his chest proudly. “A gem who loves cake!” he declared before dramatically sniffing the air. “Is that homemade frosting? That’s some next-level stuff, Evalin.”

She chuckled again, the warmth in the room easing her nerves bit by bit. Turning back to the group, she offered a small but genuine smile. “Um, hi. I’m Evalin Dreamer. It’s nice to meet all of you. And… thank you for letting me help with this.”

Candy clasped her hands together, her voice bubbling with excitement. “This party’s going to be amazing! We’ve got lights, snacks, and Mabel’s movie! You’re going to love it, Evalin!”

Grenda nodded fiercely. “Yeah! And if anyone says otherwise, I’ll crush ’em.”

Evalin let out a startled laugh, feeling oddly reassured by Grenda’s enthusiastic support. Before she could respond, Mabel, ever the conductor of chaos, clapped her hands loudly, drawing everyone’s attention.

“Alright, people!” she declared, hands on her hips like a general rallying her troops. “The cake is here, the decorations are up, and the guests are gonna start showing up any minute! Time to get into position and prepare for the ultimate surprise!”

Evalin watched in awe as the group scattered like a well-oiled machine, each person diving into their assigned tasks with gusto. For the first time in a long time, she felt like she was part of something bigger. She glanced at Mabel, who was now directing Soos to adjust the snack table, and smiled softly.

“Thank you, Mabel,” Evalin murmured under her breath.

Mabel, as if sensing her gratitude, turned and flashed Evalin a wink. “You’re welcome, Evi. Now let’s make some magic happen!”

Mabel flung open the barber shop door with her usual flair, stepping aside with a dramatic bow. “And now, the moment you’ve all been waiting for—the birthday boys!”

Stan and Ford stepped into the room, the transformation immediately drawing murmurs of oohs and ahs from the crowd. Stan, ever the showman, strutted forward first, his dark brown hair slicked back in a style that highlighted his sharp features and youthful confidence. His fitted black suit and polished shoes gave him an air of unexpected refinement, though the trademark smirk on his face assured everyone he was still the same old Stan underneath.

Ford followed a step behind, adjusting his glasses as he surveyed the room. His neatly styled dark brown waves softened his angular features, lending him an approachable sophistication. The tailored black suit he wore fit him like a glove, complemented by the subtle scent of cologne the barber had insisted on. He moved with a quiet grace, his usual academic air intact, though he seemed faintly self-conscious under the room’s curious gazes.

“Daaang, Stan!” Soos hollered from the crowd, cupping his hands around his mouth. “You look like you’re ready to negotiate a billion-dollar deal and break someone’s kneecaps in the same afternoon!”

“Don’t get used to it,” Stan replied with a smirk, though the way he glanced at himself in a nearby mirror suggested he might be warming up to the look. “This much classiness in one outfit should come with a warning label.”

A murmur rippled through the crowd, punctuated by gasps and whispered exclamations. “They look amazing!” Candy breathed, her hands clasped under her chin.

Grenda let out a loud whoop, her voice booming over the applause. “Lookin’ good, birthday boys! You’re like a couple of movie stars!”

Stan threw a mock bow, waving graciously as if he were royalty greeting his adoring subjects. “Thank you, thank you. I know, I know—it’s hard to believe, but I really am this handsome,” he quipped, his grin widening as the crowd laughed.

Ford’s cheeks flushed a faint pink, and he adjusted his glasses. “I, uh, appreciate the effort,” he said, glancing toward Mabel, who was vibrating with excitement. “Though I can’t help but feel this is all a bit… excessive.”

“Excessive?!” Mabel gasped, placing a hand on her chest as if he’d just insulted her deepest artistic masterpiece. “Grunkle Ford, this isn’t excessive. This is legendary!”

Stan snorted, clapping Ford on the back. “Lighten up, Sixer. For once, the kids did something right.” He leaned in, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “And admit it—you’re kinda digging the cologne.”

Ford opened his mouth to respond, but the scent of the cologne caught him mid-thought, and he found himself smiling despite himself. “Perhaps it’s… not entirely unpleasant,” he conceded softly.

Mabel flung open the barber shop door with her usual flair, stepping aside with a dramatic bow. “And now, the moment you’ve all been waiting for—the birthday boys!”

Stan and Ford stepped into the room, the transformation immediately drawing murmurs of oohs and ahs from the crowd. Stan, ever the showman, strutted forward first, his dark brown hair slicked back in a style that highlighted his sharp features and youthful confidence. His fitted black suit and polished shoes gave him an air of unexpected refinement, though the trademark smirk on his face assured everyone he was still the same old Stan underneath.

Ford followed a step behind, adjusting his glasses as he surveyed the room. His neatly styled dark brown waves softened his angular features, lending him an approachable sophistication. The tailored black suit he wore fit him like a glove, complemented by the subtle scent of cologne the barber had insisted on. He moved with a quiet grace, his usual academic air intact, though he seemed faintly self-conscious under the room’s curious gazes.

“Daaang, Mr. Pines!” Soos hollered from the crowd, cupping his hands around his mouth. “You look like you’re ready to negotiate a billion-dollar deal and break someone’s kneecaps in the same afternoon!”

“Don’t get used to it,” Stan replied with a smirk, though the way he glanced at himself in a nearby mirror suggested he might be warming up to the look. “This much classiness in one outfit should come with a warning label.”

“Wow…” Wendy said, crossing her arms as her gaze flitted between the brothers. “You guys clean up real nice. Didn’t think that was even possible, but hey, guess miracles happen.”

Candy clasped her hands under her chin, her eyes wide with awe. “They look amazing! Like princes from a fairytale. No—better! Like movie stars at an awards show!”

Grenda let out a loud whoop, her voice booming over the murmurs. “Lookin’ good, birthday boys! You’re like a couple of heartthrobs!”

Stan, never one to miss an opportunity, threw a mock bow, waving graciously as if he were royalty greeting his adoring subjects. “Thank you, thank you. I know. It’s hard to believe, but I really am this handsome,” he quipped, his grin widening as the crowd chuckled.

Ford’s cheeks flushed a faint pink, and he adjusted his glasses. “I, uh, appreciate the effort,” he said, glancing toward Mabel, who was vibrating with excitement. “Though I can’t help but feel this is all a bit… excessive.”

“Excessive?!” Mabel gasped, placing a hand on her chest as if he’d just insulted her deepest artistic masterpiece. “Grunkle Ford, this isn’t excessive. This is legendary!”

Stan snorted, clapping Ford on the back. “Lighten up, Sixer. For once, the kids did something right.” He leaned in, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “And admit it—you’re kinda digging the cologne.”

Ford opened his mouth to respond, but the scent of the cologne caught him mid-thought, and he found himself smiling despite himself. “Perhaps it’s… not entirely unpleasant,” he conceded softly.

Evalin, standing at the snack table, was oblivious to the buzz at first. She was carefully adjusting the cake she’d spent all day baking, making sure it was perfectly centered on the table. She brushed a stray crumb from the edge of the plate, her focus entirely on the task—until she turned around.

Her breath caught.

From her vantage point near the back of the room, Evalin had a clear view of Stan and Ford. The sight of them, polished and striking in their suits, made her freeze in place. Her hand instinctively went to the brim of her hat, tugging it down over her eyes in a nervous gesture. But it wasn’t Stan’s confident swagger that had her cheeks warming—it was Ford. Something about the way he carried himself tonight, quiet but assured, set her heart racing in a way she couldn’t quite explain.

Ford’s gaze swept the room and landed on Evalin, lingering for a moment before he started toward her. She stiffened, suddenly hyper-aware of every breath, every motion.

“Evalin,” he greeted warmly as he approached, his tone soft. “How are you holding up?”

Evalin’s fingers tightened on her hat as she glanced up at him, her cheeks flushing. “I-I’m fine,” she stammered. “Yeah. Fine. The cake’s… good. All set.”

Ford smiled, his eyes crinkling slightly at the corners. “Good. I wanted to make sure you’d be okay tonight. I know crowds aren’t always easy.”

Evalin nodded quickly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Y-you look nice,” she blurted before she could stop herself. The words hung in the air, and Evalin immediately wanted to retreat into her hat.

Ford blinked, caught off guard by the compliment, before his smile softened. “Thank you,” he said simply. His gaze shifted slightly, and he frowned in curiosity. “Oh, you’ve got…” He reached into his pocket, pulling out a napkin. Without thinking, he leaned closer, gently wiping a small smudge of frosting from her cheek.

Evalin’s breath hitched as Ford focused on the task, oblivious to her wide eyes and burning cheeks. “Did you make the frosting from scratch?” he asked, sniffing the napkin with mild surprise. “It smells incredible.”

Evalin nodded, her voice catching in her throat before she managed to speak. “Y-yeah. I did.”

Ford straightened, folding the napkin neatly in his hand. “Well, it’s impressive,” he said, his tone sincere. “Thank you for putting so much thought into this.”

“Happy birthday, Ford,” Evalin murmured, clutching the brim of her hat to steady herself.

Before either of them could say more, Stan called from across the room. “Hey, Sixer! Get over here! You’ve gotta check this out.”

Ford glanced back at Evalin, offering her another small, warm smile. “I’ll see you in a bit. Take it easy tonight, alright?” He turned and strode back toward his brother, completely unaware of the way Evalin’s heart raced in his wake.

Evalin remained frozen for a moment, staring at where Ford had stood. She barely registered Mabel’s approach until the girl nudged her in the side with a knowing smirk.

“So…” Mabel drawled, her tone teasing. “Ford looks pretty nice tonight, huh?”

Evalin’s face turned scarlet, and she tugged her hat even lower over her eyes. “I-I mean, yeah, he looks… good. But, uh, I need to go get ready for the party.” She stumbled over her words, taking a step back. “Excuse me,” she mumbled before practically fleeing the room.

Mabel watched her go, grinning like a Cheshire cat. “That’s what I thought,” she said to no one in particular, her tone practically singing with glee.

Meanwhile, Ford returned to Stan, who was standing in front of a nearby mirror, flexing in his suit. “Dude! Looking this good should come with a warning!” Stan declared, striking an exaggerated pose.

Ford chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re impossible, Stanley.”

Stan smirked and glanced sideways at his brother. “You over there flirting with Evalin?” he teased, his voice low and conspiratorial.

Ford’s brows shot up, and he rubbed the back of his neck, laughing softly. “Geez, Stanley. No. I was just making sure she’s going to be okay. People seem to make her nervous.”

Stan threw an arm around Ford, grinning like a troublemaker. “Hey, man, I don’t judge!” he said with a wink. “But just so you know, if I end up with a sister-in-law who can throw fireballs, I’m totally fine with that.”

Ford sighed, exasperated but amused. “You’re ridiculous,” he muttered, but he couldn’t help the faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Soon, people from all over town began filing into the Mystery Shack, drawn by the promise of a Pines family party and the ever-intriguing allure of the unknown. The room buzzed with energy as guests mingled, chatted, and sampled the carefully laid-out snacks. The older Pine twins quickly became the center of attention, each guest stopping to marvel at their youthful transformations.

“Stan! Ford! What happened to you two? You look like you stepped out of the fountain of youth!” Lazy Susan exclaimed, squinting at them as if she didn’t quite believe her eyes.

Stan, ever the opportunist, threw his arm around her and grinned. “What can I say? Some people age like fine wine. Turns out, I’m more of a rare scotch.”

Ford, on the other hand, looked slightly flustered as the questions mounted. “It’s, uh… complicated,” he said, adjusting his glasses as another guest leaned in curiously.

Before the interrogation could go any further, Mabel would appear out of nowhere, a sparkle in her eye and a finger wagging playfully. “Uh-uh! No spoilers! You’re gonna have to wait for the big reveal. Trust me, it’s worth it!” she declared with a mischievous grin, ushering the guests away.

Despite her best efforts to corral the curious townsfolk, the questions kept coming, keeping both Stan and Ford on their toes.

Amid the growing crowd, the double doors opened again, and Evalin stepped into the room.

She had traded her usual practical attire for something far more striking: a long dark purple sleeveless dress that flowed elegantly around her, paired with matching lace fingerless gloves. Her signature witch hat perched atop her head, its brim tilted slightly to the side, while her laced-up black boots added a touch of edge to her otherwise graceful ensemble. The soft glow of the fairy lights above seemed to catch the faint shimmer of the dress’s fabric, giving her an almost ethereal presence.

Ford froze the moment he saw her. His conversation with a guest faltered mid-sentence as his gaze locked onto Evalin. Something about her tonight felt… different. Striking. He couldn’t quite put it into words, but for a moment, the noise and bustle of the room faded into the background.

Realizing he was staring, Ford quickly shook his head, snapping himself out of it. Taking a breath to steady himself, he began weaving through the crowd toward her.

Evalin stood near the entrance, tugging lightly at the brim of her hat—a nervous habit Ford had come to recognize. Her eyes scanned the room, and for a moment, she seemed completely unaware of the subtle stares she was drawing from others.

When Ford finally reached her, he paused, clearing his throat gently to get her attention. She turned, and their eyes met.

“You look amazing,” Ford said, his voice low but sincere. The words slipped out before he could overthink them.

Evalin blinked, startled by the compliment. Her cheeks flushed, a soft pink dusting her face as she fidgeted with her hat. “Th-thank you,” she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Ford hesitated, his usual eloquence momentarily failing him. He wanted to say more, to articulate how striking she looked tonight, but before he could find the words, a guest called his name from across the room.

“I should, uh… let you enjoy the party,” he said, offering her a small, almost sheepish smile before stepping away. “But really—you look wonderful.”

Before Ford could step away, a cheerful voice cut through the hum of the party. “Well, I’ll be! Ain’t this a sight for sore eyes!”

Both Evalin and Ford turned to see a short, wiry man making his way through the crowd. His long white beard nearly reached his knees, adorned with a small band-aid and what appeared to be… a tiny raccoon tail sticking out of it. A battered brown hat, once sturdy but now more patchwork than fabric, sat slightly askew on his head. His bushy gray eyebrows nearly obscured his bright, wild eyes, and one arm was wrapped in a cast. Despite his disheveled appearance, his grin was warm and lively.

“It’s true!” the man exclaimed, stopping in front of Ford and looking him up and down with an expression of awe. “You really are young again! Thought them rumors were just hogwash, but here you are—slicker than a greased hog on ice!”

Ford’s surprised expression softened into a genuine smile. “Hello, Fiddleford. It’s good to see you again.” He glanced toward Evalin, who looked on curiously. “Evalin, I’d like you to meet an old friend of mine—Fiddleford McGucket.”

Evalin’s eyes widened slightly, and she offered a small, polite smile. “I-It’s nice to meet you, Mr. McGucket,” she said, fidgeting with the brim of her hat.

Fiddleford beamed, tipping his ragged hat in a mock bow. “Pleasure’s all mine, Miss Evalin. Any friend of Stanford here’s a friend of mine!” His sharp eyes flicked between Evalin and Ford, his grin turning a touch sly. “Though I gotta say, you’re quite the company tonight, Ford.”

Ford cleared his throat, slightly flustered. “Evalin’s been staying with us for a while now. She’s been a tremendous help with research and some rather… unique situations.”

“Oh, don’t be so modest,” Evalin interjected quietly, though her tone was genuine. “Ford’s the real genius.”

Fiddleford let out a hearty laugh, the sound filling the space around them. “Modesty, huh? Guess some things never change. But don’t let him fool ya, Miss Evalin. Stanford here’s the type to rope you into a lifetime of adventures before you know what hit ya.”

As Evalin offered a nervous laugh, something shifted in Fiddleford’s beard. Suddenly, two tiny raccoon faces peeked out, their beady eyes blinking curiously at Evalin.

Her hand flew to her mouth in surprise, and her eyes lit up with delight. “Oh my gosh, are those raccoons?”

“Sure as the sunrise!” Fiddleford replied, his voice brimming with pride. “Miss Evalin, meet Sassafras and Pickles, the newest additions to the McGucket family. My raccoon wife just had ’em, and these little rascals’ve taken a real liking to my beard. Cozy spot, if I do say so myself.”

Evalin’s astonishment melted into unrestrained joy. “They’re adorable! Would it… would it be okay if I held them?” she asked, her voice bright with excitement.

“Why, of course!” Fiddleford said, gently reaching into his beard. “These lil’ critters are friendly as can be. Sassafras is the sassy one, and Pickles, well, he’s curious as a fox in a henhouse.” He handed the tiny raccoons over to Evalin, who cradled them carefully, her eyes wide with wonder.

Ford, watching the interaction unfold, found himself unexpectedly amused. Evalin’s reaction was the exact opposite of what he’d anticipated. He’d thought she might be startled or wary, but instead, her childlike enthusiasm was undeniable. He felt his shoulders relax as a faint smile tugged at his lips.

“I have to admit,” Ford said, his tone light, “I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about… that.”

Evalin turned to him with a bright grin, the raccoons climbing over her arms. “They’re perfect,” she said simply before looking back at Fiddleford. “I think you and your raccoon family are wonderful, Mr. McGucket.”

“Well, ain’t you a sweetheart!” Fiddleford replied, clearly delighted. “Any friend who loves these critters is a friend of mine.”

As the baby raccoons pawed at Evalin’s gloves, she let out a soft giggle, the sound drawing Ford’s attention again. Her usual reserved demeanor seemed to fade entirely as she enjoyed the moment, and something about it warmed Ford in a way he hadn’t expected.

With a whistle from Fiddleford, the raccoons scurried back into his beard, disappearing beneath the wiry white strands. “They get fidgety if I let ’em wander too long,” he explained. “Don’t wanna lose ’em in this crowd.”

Ford chuckled and nodded. “It’s good to see you again, Fiddleford. I imagine you’ll have more questions for me later.”

“Always do, Stanford!” Fiddleford replied with a wink before tipping his hat to Evalin again. “Don’t be a stranger, Miss Evalin. Y’all take care now!” With that, he turned and disappeared back into the crowd, leaving the two of them standing together.

As the party buzzed on, Mabel suddenly gasped and grabbed Dipper’s arm, nearly pulling him off balance. “Dip-Dop! Emergency wardrobe change! We can’t host the greatest movie premiere of all time looking like this!” She gestured to her colorful sweater and skirt as if they were criminally underwhelming for the occasion.

Dipper blinked at her, adjusting his hat after nearly losing it in her enthusiasm. “What’s wrong with what we’re wearing? It’s a party at the Shack, not a red-carpet event.”

Mabel groaned dramatically, throwing her head back. “Ugh, Dipper. Sweet, simple Dipper. This isn’t just a party! It’s a statement!” She grabbed his arm again and began dragging him toward the stairs. “C’mon! We’ve got options!”

“Wait, what do you mean ‘we’?” Dipper protested, his voice rising as he stumbled after her. “You can’t just—Mabel!—I’m fine in this!” His protests fell on deaf ears as Mabel practically shoved him toward his room.

“Trust me,” Mabel called over her shoulder as she disappeared into her own room, “you’ll thank me later!”

Moments later, Dipper reappeared at the bottom of the stairs, tugging uncomfortably at the collar of his dark button-up shirt. The shirt was a deep navy blue with subtle star patterns that caught the light when he moved, paired with gray slacks and clean sneakers. His usual hat remained firmly in place, though he’d managed to comb his hair underneath.

Mabel followed shortly after, and the moment she stepped into the party, the room seemed to sparkle a little brighter. She wore a vibrant dress covered in colorful geometric patterns, paired with glittery sneakers and a matching bow in her hair. Her iconic enthusiasm radiated from her outfit, and the room couldn’t help but turn their attention to her as she made her entrance.

“Now this is premiere-worthy!” Mabel declared, spinning in place so her skirt flared out dramatically.

Dipper crossed his arms, glancing down at his own outfit. “Do we really need to be this dressed up for a party?”

“Ab-so-lutely!” Mabel said with a wide grin, grabbing his arm and pulling him toward the front of the room. “C’mon, Host Twin! We’ve got a show to put on!”

Mabel grabbed the microphone, her energy palpable as she addressed the crowd. “If we could have everyone take a seat, we can begin the show!” she called out, her voice carrying over the speakers.

The crowd began shuffling into place, squeezing into chairs or settling against the walls as the excitement buzzed around the room. Evalin, her dress catching the soft glow of the lights, took a seat next to Fiddleford, who let her hold one of the baby raccoons again. She cradled the little creature with a soft smile as it nuzzled against her gloves.

Up front, Stan and Ford settled into the VIP seats, Stan leaning back with a satisfied grin while Ford adjusted his glasses and looked around at the packed room. The turnout was even larger than they’d expected, and more than a few guests had to stand near the back.

As the lights dimmed, a hush fell over the crowd, the excited murmurs fading into eager anticipation. A spotlight illuminated Mabel and Dipper as they stood at the front of the room, their contrasting personalities perfectly reflected in their outfits.

“Ladies and gentlemen and Waddles!” Mabel began, holding the microphone like a true performer. “Thank you all for coming to the greatest movie premiere Gravity Falls has ever seen!”

“First, we want to thank everyone for coming out for our Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford’s birthday!” Dipper announced, his voice steady but carrying a touch of nervous energy as he addressed the packed room. He gestured toward the two Pine brothers in their VIP seats. “Happy Birthday, Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford!”

The crowd clapped and cheered, their excitement filling the air. Stan and Ford stood to acknowledge the applause, though it quickly turned into laughter as Stan flexed his arms dramatically.

“Yeah, yeah, keep it coming! Don’t strain yourselves,” Stan said with a cheeky grin, rolling up his sleeves as if to further show off. “These guns don’t just build themselves, ya know!”

Ford chuckled and shook his head, sitting back down while Stan took a moment longer to soak in the attention.

“As you all can tell,” Mabel chimed in, grabbing the microphone with a flair that matched her sparkling outfit, “Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford are no longer the grumpy old men you knew and loved!” She gestured grandly toward them, as if unveiling a masterpiece. “They are now absolute heartthrobs!”

Grenda let out a loud howl of approval, punching the air. “You get it, girl!”

Mabel beamed and pointed at her. “Exactly what I’m saying! But how, you may ask, did this transformation happen? Was it some crazy experiment gone wrong? An interdimensional accident? Did they just wake up this way?” Her voice dropped conspiratorially, and she leaned toward the microphone. “Well, everyone, you’re about to find out for yourselves!”

Dipper stepped forward, holding up a small remote as he continued. “Ladies and gentlemen, prepare yourselves for the most thrilling, daring, possibly terrifying film you’ll ever see: The Tale of the Age Eater!”

With dramatic synchronization, Dipper and Mabel stepped aside as the projector screen lit up. A strange, upbeat synth track began playing—a tune straight out of an ’80s action movie. The crowd clapped enthusiastically, their energy building as the first slide appeared on screen.

“We open with Grunkle Stan walking into the living room on just a normal day,” Mabel narrated, her voice rising theatrically. A hand-drawn slide of Stan as his older self appeared on the screen, looking grumpy but harmless.

Suddenly, the music shifted to an eerie, ominous tone as the next slide showed a grotesque, oversized slug-like creature looming over cartoon-Stan. Its glowing, menacing eyes seemed to pierce the audience.

“Suddenly, the Age Eater appeared!” Mabel declared, her arms flung wide as if conjuring the beast herself. “It locked onto Grunkle Stan, hungry for every single year he’s been alive!”

The following slides depicted Stan engaging in a “brave” fistfight with the Age Eater. Each panel was filled with exaggerated sound effects—BAM! SMASH! POW!—and overly dramatic poses. Stan in the audience smirked, nudging Ford with his elbow. “You see that? That’s exactly how it happened,” he whispered loudly, earning a few chuckles from nearby guests.

“Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford fought off the horrifying beast together!” Mabel continued, gesturing wildly as another slide showed Ford jumping in with a heroic punch. “They were throwing punches left and right! WHAM! KAPOW!” She mimicked a few punches herself before Dipper nudged her gently, urging her to move the story along.

The next slide clicked into place, and the audience let out a collective ooh. The drawing was of Evalin, rendered in dramatic detail. She wore a flowing cloak, her eyes blazing with determination, and an aura of magical fire surrounded her like a superhero’s cape.

“Then, out of nowhere, appeared our mysterious friend, Evalin!” Mabel announced, her voice dripping with drama. “She raised her mighty hand and, with a single fiery blast, poof! The Age Eater was vanquished!”

Evalin, seated near the middle of the room, sank lower in her chair, her face burning as she pulled her hat down over her eyes. She had hoped to stay in the background tonight, but Mabel’s enthusiastic storytelling was painting her as a full-blown magical heroine.

As laughter rippled through the audience, Evalin chanced a glance around. To her relief, the townsfolk seemed more amused than suspicious, clearly treating Mabel’s story as an entertaining tall tale rather than a factual account.

Fiddleford, seated beside Evalin, nudged her gently with his elbow. “Didn’t know you were a wizard of sorts, Miss Evalin. Mighty impressive!” His grin was friendly, his tone lighthearted.

Evalin gave a small, nervous laugh, fidgeting with the brim of her hat. “It’s, um… mostly Mabel’s imagination,” she murmured, though her blush betrayed her embarrassment.

Dipper, noticing Evalin’s discomfort, stepped forward and gently took the microphone from Mabel. “Actually,” he began, his tone calm and measured, “Evalin saved Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford with quick thinking and bravery. She drove the Age Eater away. It wasn’t as fiery as Mabel says, but she acted fast, and that’s why Stan and Ford are, well…” He gestured toward the brothers, who gave matching waves, “…more youthful now.”

The final slide appeared, showing a cartoon depiction of the twins in their younger, revitalized forms. The upbeat synth track returned to wrap up the presentation, and the audience erupted into applause, thoroughly entertained by the whimsical tale.

Evalin glanced toward Dipper, her expression one of quiet gratitude. She mouthed a soft thank you, and Dipper gave her a reassuring nod before handing the microphone back to Mabel.

“Thank you, thank you!” Mabel said, taking a dramatic bow. “We’ll be signing autographs after the show!” The room filled with laughter as the projector screen faded to black, and the house lights came back on.

After the lights turned back on, the party shifted gears. Guests began moving chairs out of the way to make space for a lively dance floor. Music filled the room as people laughed, mingled, and danced, the energy infectious.

Evalin found herself approached by a steady stream of guests, each offering warm congratulations. Though her nerves prickled at first, she quickly realized their curiosity was friendly rather than invasive, their smiles genuine.

“Lady dude! That was, like, epic!” Soos cheered, his enthusiasm as boundless as ever. “You’re like, our own secret superhero!”

Evalin stammered out a series of thank yous, her hands fidgeting with the brim of her hat. “I-I wouldn’t go that far,” she murmured, though the corners of her mouth twitched into a smile.

As the guests moved on, Evalin exhaled, realizing something she hadn’t expected. She felt welcome. These people, quirky as they were, weren’t intimidating. With Mabel’s playful storytelling and Dipper’s steady clarification, the movie had been taken as the tall tale it was meant to be. For the first time in a long while, Evalin felt herself relaxing into the moment.

The music transitioned into a fast-paced dance tune, and the crowd surged to the floor. Mabel was in the thick of it, spinning with Grenda and Candy, while Stan showed off moves that seemed decades out of date but were undeniably entertaining. Evalin chuckled softly at the sight of him attempting the robot, a sheen of sweat already glistening on his forehead.

Not quite ready to join the fray, Evalin slipped toward a quiet corner. She was surprised to find Ford already there, leaning casually against the wall with a drink in his hand.

“How come you’re not out there dancing like your brother?” Evalin teased, a playful smile tugging at her lips.

Ford glanced toward the dance floor, where Stan was attempting a particularly daring spin. He let out a low chuckle. “That’s not really my thing,” he admitted, looking down at his drink. “Stanley seems to be having enough fun for the both of us.”

Evalin followed his gaze, watching Mabel cheer Stan on as he exaggerated his moves. “He’s got quite the energy,” she said with a laugh.

Ford turned his attention back to Evalin, his expression softening. “This is a nice party,” he said, his voice quieter now. “First one I’ve really had in a long time.”

“Oh?” Evalin tilted her head, intrigued.

Ford hesitated, swirling his drink thoughtfully. “It’s… a long story,” he said with a weak smile. “Another time. Don’t want to ruin the mood.”

Evalin studied him for a moment, sensing the weight behind his words. She nodded gently. “Well, I’m glad you’re here to enjoy it now.”

Ford’s gaze held hers, and for a moment, the bustling party around them seemed to fade. “Evalin,” he said, his voice steady but filled with gratitude, “your actions saved us both. I can’t thank you enough.”

“I’m just glad I could help,” she replied, her cheeks warming. She glanced away, adjusting the brim of her hat. “This place… it’s kind of become something like a second home for me.”

Ford nodded, his smile small but sincere. “If you ever need anything, you know where to find me.” His tone was warm, steady—yet something about it made her heart lurch.

Before she could respond, the music shifted again. The lively beat melted into something softer, slower, inviting couples to the floor.

Evalin glanced toward the dance floor, where pairs were beginning to sway in time with the gentle melody. Her eyes darted back to Ford, and before she could second-guess herself, she spoke. “Actually… I want to try something.”

Ford raised a curious brow. “Oh?”

“Do you trust me?” she asked, holding out her hand.

Ford hesitated for only a moment before placing his hand in hers. “I’d be a fool not to,” he said softly.

Evalin’s lips curved into a bright smile as she waved her free hand. A soft shimmer enveloped them, and in an instant, the world around them seemed to blur. Guests continued to move and laugh nearby, but no one glanced their way. It was as if Evalin and Ford had vanished entirely.

Ford blinked, turning his head as the shroud of invisibility settled over them. His eyes widened, and his scientist’s instincts immediately kicked in. “Incredible,” he murmured, his voice tinged with awe. “How does this work? Is it bending light? Some kind of refractive cloaking field? Or maybe—”

Evalin interrupted him with a soft laugh, tugging his hand lightly. “Questions later,” she teased, her tone carrying a playful confidence. “Right now, just trust me.”

Ford hesitated, his mind racing with a dozen theories. But it wasn’t just the spell that captivated him. It was Evalin herself. There was something different about her when she used her magic, something almost electric. Her usual nervous demeanor was gone, replaced by a quiet assurance that left him momentarily speechless. It was as if, in this moment, she was entirely in her element, unafraid to reveal the part of herself she so often kept hidden.

He followed her onto the dance floor, marveling at how effortlessly she moved. This wasn’t the Evalin who tugged nervously at her hat or stammered under a stranger’s gaze. This Evalin was steady, sure of herself, her confidence radiating like the soft shimmer of her spell. And Ford couldn’t help but feel drawn to her in a way he didn’t quite understand.

When they reached a clear space, Evalin turned to face him, still holding his hand. She placed his other hand on her waist, her own arms drifting up to rest around his neck. Her smile was bold yet kind, her eyes glinting with warmth as she gazed up at him.

“Let me lead,” she said softly, her voice steady.

Ford swallowed hard, caught between his analytical nature and the warmth spreading through his chest. “Alright,” he murmured, his voice quieter than he intended. He let her guide him, his hands resting lightly on her waist as they began to sway.

As the music surrounded them, Ford couldn’t stop himself from studying her. The way her movements were smooth and graceful, the way her touch felt grounding yet exhilarating. Her magic was a part of her, he realized, not just a tool she used but something intrinsic to who she was. And when she embraced it, she wasn’t the nervous, self-conscious Evalin he’d come to know. She was something more; something brilliant and extraordinary.

“You’re different when you use your magic,” he said softly, almost without thinking.

Evalin tilted her head slightly, her lips quirking into a curious smile. “Different how?”

Ford hesitated, searching for the right words. “You seem… freer,” he admitted. “More confident. Like this is where you’re meant to be.”

Evalin’s cheeks flushed, but her gaze didn’t waver. “Maybe it is,” she said softly, then added with a quiet laugh, “Or maybe this just feels right.”

Her words sent a warmth through Ford’s chest that he couldn’t quite explain. He let himself relax into the rhythm of the music, following her lead as they swayed together. The usual whirl of his thoughts quieted, replaced by the steady beat of the song and the feel of her in his arms.

For the first time in what felt like years, Ford found himself completely in the moment. The mysteries he’d chased his entire life seemed to fade into the background, replaced by the quiet wonder of the woman standing before him.

“Happy birthday, Stanford,” Evalin murmured, her voice softened by the gentle sway of their dance. In these moments, she seemed like someone else entirely—self-assured, happy, as though her magic brought out a side of her she rarely let anyone see.

Ford, overcome with gratitude and warmth, wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a hug that felt both comforting and intimate. “Thank you, Evalin… this is the best birthday present I’ve ever had.”

Evalin’s cheeks flushed at his words, and she felt a warmth bloom within her, spreading through her chest and making her heart race. She looked up at him, her playful spirit shining through as she held onto him just a little longer.

“Guess I should turn us visible again before anyone notices you’re missing, huh?” she asked with a soft smile.

Ford glanced around at the other guests, still obliviously dancing and chatting, their laughter drifting through the air. He hesitated, his own smile gentle but deliberate. “Not yet,” he said, his voice quiet. “Let’s step away first.”

Evalin nodded, her fingers still brushing his as she led him toward a quieter corner of the room. Her spell held steady as they slipped unnoticed through the crowd, the soft glow of the party lights glinting faintly around them. Once they were tucked near the edge of the room, away from the commotion, Evalin paused.

With a small, lingering gesture, she waved her free hand, dissolving the invisibility spell. The shimmer faded, leaving them visible once more, hidden in plain sight amidst the shadows of the room.

Evalin turned to Ford, her gaze meeting his as the noise of the party swelled around them again. His expression was one of quiet awe, his eyes soft with a sense of wonder.

“I’ll remember this moment, Evalin. Thank you,” Ford whispered, his tone carrying the weight of the sentiment behind his words.

Evalin smiled back, her cheeks still faintly pink. “I’m glad it could be part of your birthday,” she replied, her voice warm.

For a brief, lingering moment, their gazes held, the unspoken connection between them saying all the things words couldn’t. And then, as if drawn back by the energy of the party, they parted and returned to the crowd, each carrying a little more warmth than they had before.

As the last of the guests departed, a calm settled over the Mystery Shack, the earlier noise and energy fading into a tranquil stillness. Ford stood by Evalin near the door, both of them watching Stan carry a sleeping Mabel upstairs. Her little arms dangled over his shoulders, her face peaceful despite the smudge of glitter on her cheek.

Dipper trailed behind, rubbing his eyes and managing a sleepy wave toward Evalin and Ford before following Stan up to bed.

The party decorations remained strewn about, colorful confetti scattered across the floor, and leftover treats still spread across the table—signs of a night well-spent. Evalin let her gaze drift over the room, taking in the remnants of laughter, celebration, and warmth.

“This was… really wonderful,” she whispered, her voice almost swallowed by the quiet.

Ford glanced at her, his expression softening as his gaze lingered on her. There was a warmth in his eyes he rarely let show, a quiet gratitude that made her heart flutter. “It wouldn’t have been the same without you. Truly, Evalin,” he said softly.

Her cheeks warmed, and she quickly looked down, brushing at an invisible speck of dust on her dress. “I didn’t do that much,” she mumbled, though the pink creeping across her face betrayed her humility.

Ford’s hand shifted, gently reaching out to rest over hers. The touch startled her, and her gaze flickered up to meet his, her heart skipping at the unexpected warmth of his fingers.

“You did more than you realize,” he said, his voice quiet but sincere. “Tonight wouldn’t have been the same without you. I’m grateful you were here.”

Evalin felt her cheeks grow even warmer, her earlier confidence from the dance giving way to a nervous smile. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, struggling to find her voice. “I… I’m glad I could help,” she finally said, her words softer than she intended, almost a whisper.

They stood like that for a moment, the room around them feeling still and suspended in time. Evalin couldn’t bring herself to meet his gaze again, instead focusing on the steady, reassuring weight of his hand over hers. It was grounding and overwhelming all at once, as if the quiet world around them had paused to hold its breath.

“I should… probably get to bed,” Evalin said suddenly, her voice tinged with nervousness as she gently pulled her hand back. She smiled awkwardly, her heart racing in her chest. “It’s been a long day.”

Ford nodded, his smile growing softer as he sensed her shyness. “Of course,” he replied. “Goodnight, Evalin. And thank you—truly.”

Evalin gave him a quick nod, murmuring, “Goodnight, Stanford,” before retreating toward her room. Her heart pounded in her chest as she paused at her door, daring one last glance back at him.

Ford was still standing where she’d left him, his expression thoughtful, his eyes carrying that same quiet warmth. Seeing him like that made her lips curve into a small, genuine smile—a flicker of her earlier confidence returning for just a moment.

She slipped into her room, closing the door softly behind her and leaning back against it as she released a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. Her hand still tingled from where Ford had held it, and she clutched it to her chest as a bright blush spread across her face.

Crossing the room in a daze, Evalin sank onto her bed and hugged her pillow tightly, a grin she couldn’t contain spreading across her face. She giggled softly, replaying the night’s events over and over in her mind—their invisible dance, the way Ford had held her close, the sincerity in his voice when he’d thanked her.

‘He was so close… and he actually said he was glad I was there!’ she thought, burying her face in the pillow as her heart raced.

The sensation blooming in her chest was unfamiliar but thrilling, like the flutter of wings. She wasn’t sure what it meant to fall for someone, but being close to Ford tonight had stirred something entirely new within her. It left her exhilarated and bewildered, her thoughts drifting to possibilities she’d never entertained before.

‘Maybe this is what it feels like,’ she thought as she lay back, smiling into her pillow.

The thought lingered as she finally drifted off to sleep, her mind filled with the memory of their invisible dance under the stars. Evalin knew she’d carry this night with her for a long time.

<< Chapter 1 // < Chapter 4 // Chapter 6 >

[wealmostaneckbeard]

Lancer: Hostile Forces

Here are 3 unrelated factions (each consisting of 3 units) for the mecha/pliot table-top role playing game Lancer:

1. Voidborn Oppressors

They used to be humble spaceship salvagers during the war between worlds. Once the war was over, they found themselves to have more military assets than the surviving planet-bound nations. And so they've leveraged their power to regulate all trade and politics across the entire solar system. Anyone who shows defiance to their authority will be crushed with disproportionate force.

Demolisher + Pirate = Wreck Mistress

During the war, arguments over salvage rights were typically resolved in favor of whoever had a Wreck Mistress. It is an intimidating machine traditionally piloted by a cold woman. It incorporates the most terrifying weapons-tech from the war: Slaver Signal, Demolition Hammer, Coreworm Rockets, Seismic Destroyer. These mechs are passed down from mother to favored daughter. Wreck Mistresses were used during the subjugation of planetary nations to butcher both mechs and their pilots in grisly spectacle.

Scourer + Commander = Las-Boss

Using a mecha-scaled laser cutter to disassemble military cruisers requires a steady hand and a keen mind. One miscalculation or twitch of the controls could result in a small nuke going off. During the war there was always demand for a "lascut specialist" for the previously stated reasons. Those who survived long enough in the profession would earn legions of followers and the best berths in any station. These wartime scrap-stars are now looking for opportunities to prove they are still just as hot as their instruments, prior to cooling. They may be accompanied by a Squad or a couple of Assault Grunts serving as groupie-bodyguards. A Las-boss must have the Melt optional system and the Military Discipline trait.

Assassin + Spacer = Boarder

The Boarder MK.I was a standardized powered exoskeleton designed for high mobility and dirty close quarters combat. It's pilots would typically use Thumper Grenades to disable targets, Leap to close the gap, and a Heated Blade to finish them off. The Mk. II was designed for combat on planet surfaces and operating alongside Wreck Mistresses. This new version of the Boarder was equipped with a Gravity Rifle (much needed ranged firepower) and Kai Bioplating (maintaining it's mobility within a gravity well). The MK. III addresses the fact that Boarders were being destroyed by being out-ranged or out-gunned, and so it features a two-fold solution. The Assassin's Mark would give the Boarder some protection from a single attacker. And a Cloud Projector would give it the ability to dodge fire from multiple attackers. During protests against the Voidborn, effigies of Boarders are set on fire and paraded around.

2. Radiovore Colony

These organisms are like a cross between bombardier beetles and nudibranchs, scaled to megafauna sizes. Radiovores naturally produce hyper-reactive chemical substances that they use for a variety of purposes. They are able to do this because they feed on rare metals and radioactive materials which gives them the necessary mutations. Their diet puts them at odds with human mining colonies pursuing the same resources. Both the Nester and the Suitor have the Regenerator and Living Chassis traits from the Exotic template.

Monstrosity = Progeny

Casually classified as being old enough to leave their nest but not mutated yet. They have claws, a corrosive bite, and acid spittle attacks. Progeny use hit and run tactics on prey, while threats are safely melted from a distance. There doesn't seem to be a limit to how old a Progeny can get, ancient ones gain the Regenerator trait.

Pyro + Exotic = Nester

When a Progeny finds high quantities of mutation-inducing materials in a defensible nest, it will become a bloated Nester. It's acid spitting gland becomes a shorter range flamethrower. They use an ability similar to the FIREBREAK Shield to protect their eggs and Progeny. After mating with a Suitor, the nester will start to lay eggs. Radiovore nests filled with eggs generate so much heat they are practically kilns. Nesters have to have burn immunity and the ability to disperse heat in order to survive. As they get near the end of their lives, an old Nester will form a hardened shell (siege armor) over their body.

Seeder + Exotic = Suitor

Progeny that have left their nests, have found low quantities of radioactive material but little shelter, turn into Suitors. These Radiovores spend their time building biomechanical bombs with different kinds of yields and payloads for multiple purposes. At first their explosives are used for the creation of nests and exploratory mining operations. Once a Progeny has taken over a nest and become a Nester, the Suitor's bombs are then used in a courting ritual. The Nester will only mate with a Suitor who presents bombs that are highest-yield/least-stable. To minimize damage, Nesters will instinctively drive suitors far away from the nest. The Suitor has to make and transport their explosives from these remote locations. They may test out delivery routes to a nest with Stun, Sealant, or Shock Mines first before upgrading to the Explosive type. Wait long enough and an exterminator can follow a Suitor back to their nest, but actually tracking it (even in low flying aircraft) can be incredibly risky.

3. First Strike Team

Long range nuclear missiles, "Super-Hacker" NHPs, TBK bioweapon suites. All these human-made horrors need time to arm, aim, and launch. First Strike Teams can neutralize these threats to national security within that prep phase, if deployed accurately and correctly. Because of that big if, FSTs are maintained and commanded by covert intelligence bureaus, to ensure an uninterrupted flow of reliable target data. These teams are subject to less scrutiny than the superweapons they hunt and are only beholden to a bureau's director. Because of this, FSTs are viewed with suspicion by everyone who knows about them. When deployed to a target location, an FST is a frantic collective because they know they've only got minutes to save their world.

Mirage + Ship = Blink-Boat

The purpose of this ship is to get a Ground Team as close as possible to their targets. Blink-boats can teleport from their launch pad to anywhere within a half-lightyear but after that they can only make shorter jumps. That's when their secondary stealth functions are used, to protect itself and passengers from any immediate attacks by defensive. Given how delicate and experimental they are, Blink-boats do not carry any conventional weapons that can backfire on itself. There has been some speculation about what might happen if a blink-boat's launch-pad jump was sabotaged.

Squad = Ground Team

GTs will not leave their blink-boat until they are exactly where they should be. Once deployed, they will overwhelm hostile security with superior numbers and firepower. They are given all kinds of equipment and training depending on which target they are supposed to disable. The gear can range from breaching charges and system hacking tools to 3D maneuvering gear and heavy body armor.

Ace + RPV = Escorters

Durability, mobility, and firepower, these are the three virtues of the Escorter remote piloted vehicle. They deploy and spread out from the underbelly of the Blink-Boat after it has arrived in a target location. These robots will take the hits (which they will occasionally dodge thanks to Barrel Roll) that the rest of the FST cannot. This miraculous semi-autonomous weapon design comes at a horrible cost: Escorters are absurdly vulnerable to electronic warfare. However if one of them was hacked so thoroughly that it fired on the rest of the FST, the blink-boat's e-warfare suite would be able to keep the rest of the team safe.

[awakened-human-design]

EVERYBODY HAS TO WAIT

Every Design type has “to Wait” (Pt. 1)

When people first encounter Human Design, and they read that they have to “wait” they immediately go into contraction. “What do you mean I have to wait?! I’m here to accomplish projects and I’m here to be successful!”

To which I say, well, exactly. You are here to accomplish projects, to be recognized, and to be successful, but you still have wait.

Everybody has to wait.

[To find your Human Design Authority: https://app.maiamechanics.com/#/free-chart?no_reload=true]

The idea that one needs to “wait” is usually a negative connotation.

We think about waiting and we think about that time in the waiting room when we felt really sick, we were holding a little green ticket with a number on it, and it seemed like the clock on the wall would change to when our number was next in line.

That’s not the kind of waiting that I am talking about. The kind of waiting I am talking about in this great movie, or this great symphony we are all a part of, looks more like walking up to the counter at a cafe.

And instead of initiating, and asking the barista for a coffee, you wait. You wait, standing there in a really cool jean jacket that you painted yourself. You wait until she says “Hey, cool jacket…Can I get you anything?” and then you tell her you want a coffee.

Those with the Projector type must “wait for the invitation”

You waited, you were recognized and then you received recognition.

And then the signature of the Projector, success.

See? Doesn’t that make for a much better movie than just the story of a guy going up to the counter and ordering a coffee with a dollar bill?

How did you get to that cafe? Did anyone invite you there? Well no, in a way, “I invite myself.” To which I say, yes, you invited yourself, but what you really did was follow your Inner Authority.

[See my Video: What’s Inner Authority? https://youtu.be/JbWS1dgQ0uo?si=cfl7AtIo-T9LXIoQ]

Let’s say you have Emotional Authority. You’ve been walking by this cafe for weeks, imagining how great the coffee must be, but then also pained because you know that familiar feeling of disappointment when the cup is empty.

Plus, you just can’t seem to find the time. But then you find yourself sitting alone one day, resting in the now, and you look at your tab in your Google Chrome browser, it’s a link to the coffee shop’s website that you’ve had open for weeks and have been meaning to look at - and know you feel like you just know the truth - you need to get the that damn coffee shop.

Follow your Inner Authority, see where you end up!

Human Design is a very ‘yin’ system. It’s a ‘circle’ way of being. This is not how we have been raised or conditioned to act in the West - a way of life which wants us to hustle, get it done, do more, and faster.

And by the way, waiting is not just for Projectors, although that is the type that is usually told “to wait” and is the example I described in the situation above.

In fact, everyone has to do some form of ‘waiting’ Projectors are waiting for the invitation / Generators are waiting to respond / Manifestors are waiting to initiate / Reflectors are waiting a full moon cycle.

It’s up to each and everyone’s Inner Authority to guide them to the place or object that will invite, evoke response, provoke them to initiate, or surprise them by the moon.

But, you say “what if there’s not enough invitations?!” No, there’s always an invitation in the space. Just go out into nature for 20 minutes and see what wants to invite you next.

“Wouldn’t waiting make me lazy?”

Well, the question of what qualifies as “laziness” is really up to you. Is a fisherman activity looking into the pond, waiting for trout to bite the line lazy? Was Newton lazy waiting for the apple to fall on his head from the tree and he came up with the theory of gravity?

[By the way, I don’t believe in Newtonian physics, but that’s a story for another day…]

When a lot of people hear the term “Projector” they think about doing “projects.” At first, I had a bad reaction to this description, but now I think it’s pretty accurate.

Our ability to focus our aura and take in the life-force energy of a group can enable us to be enormously creative and push the boundaries in a way that has a lasting impact on culture.

In fact, Ra said some of the greatest mystics of the modern era had totally Open Sacral (i.e., Osho, Aldous Huxley, Pierre Teilhard de Chardin).

Osho was a mystic with a totally Open Sacral

So YES, obviously keep doing your writing and creativity and business plans and stuff like that and sharing them, etc. BUT make sure before you do that task, that you check in with your Inner Authority to see if it’s true.

If not, it’s really not yours to do. (someone else will do the dishes.)

The Projector needs to be a bit of a mysterious one, a method actor, a wandering sadhu or a wandering bard. Maybe the guy or gal who shows up to the party, talks to one or two people, drops a business card, and then leaves. And a few weeks later gets invited on a private yacht.

I mean..or not! I don’t know how it works.

I’m just here to investigate it, and test things out.

You don’t have to show up to the yacht, or go to every event or party.

You have to show up but also know when enough is enough.

This is your Design, your experiment, your movie.

Follow the moment of invitation, see where you end up.

[phanfictioncatalogue]

Long Fic Titles (8+ Words) (4) Masterlist

part one, part two, part three

came in from the wilderness, a creature void of form (ao3) - templeofshame

Summary: Dan considers safety, the internet, and rules he wants to break.

can you be sure there's gonna be more? (ao3) - danhoweiis

Summary: dnp go to their afterparty after their last tatinof show in the uk

Cross your legs and hope for the best (ao3) - waterbearer_sun

Summary: Dan is sitting in a lecture, desperate to pee and desperate for Phil to be his.

defining a life by full stops and him (ao3) - zvyozdochka (paperdaisies)

Summary: The book is a window, of sorts, framing your life in neat margins and a mess of brainstorming sheets. It’s easier to see in from the outside, and memories that had faded into a comfortable, if bewildering, wallpaper, are cast into stark relief. You can see, in black and white, how two entities came to be danandphil, and you will be honest with yourself as you try to be in these matters: it is quietly terrifying.

every kiss suspending gravity (but only the lonely survive) (ao3) - whatdoiknowx

Summary: Dan and Phil apocalypse omorashi.

Yeah, I don't know either. Enjoy?

How To Find Your Missing Husband, or, The Amazing Crossover is Not On Fire (ao3) - N_Chu4Ever

Summary: In the year 2063, just as International Rescue finally recovers from the absolute mess that is the Hood's attack on Tracy Island, an event known as the Great Restructuring occurs. Multiple universes are merged together, a teen who is supposed to be dead is revived (and promptly adopted), Sportacus is there... and two longterm partners, famously described as 'actual soulmates', are torn apart.

Will Phil ever find Dan again? Or are they doomed to be separated forever?

I Can Feel Your Pulse in the Pages (ao3) - coldtea (orphan_account)

Summary: Phil is a writer who can’t seem to stop including Dan in everything he writes.

i can hear it now (like i heard it then) (ao3) - kay_okay

Summary: Dan watches Phil light up, and suddenly feels like everything's in slow motion. They're still making their way up 7th, Times Square’s persistent neon glow casting waves of pinks and greens and yellows onto the pale of Phil’s face like a projector to a wall. He's struck by his own memory, their own night up on the Manchester Eye, surrounded by another city dark and light at the same time.

He doesn’t hear a word of Phil’s story.

I guess it's fine (it blows my mind) (ao3) - t_hens

Summary: things get interrupted when Phil's neighbor knocks on the door, but maybe the interruption can be used as a chance to discover something new.

I Know You Really Well (And Like You Anyway) (ao3) - abriata

Summary: At the time, Phil had rather liked the idea of playing matchmaker for two of his friends, especially when one of them was Dan, who seemed like he might like a little support in the dating arena.

In Phil's defense, he'd only known Dan about five weeks. He hadn't learned yet.

I'm gonna keep falling for you now (even if I keep falling down) (ao3) - t_hens

Summary: 'The first night that we met

We climbed up on your roof

You saw the sky light up the way I did right next to you

"We'll take it slow", you said

As we kissed inside your room

You saw the morning light the way I did right next to you'

i quit my dreaming (the moment that i found you) (ao3) - phanetixs

Summary: Phil pulls back when Dan’s teary-eyed and staring at the ceiling. “Whatever you’re worrying about, don’t. We’ll be ok.”

Or, the end of TATINOF and its implications.

lie with me (sew your heart to my sleeve) (ao3) - trademarkblue

Summary: You make me feel safe, Phil. I've never felt like that before. Safe like this. Not for a long time, at least.

A ficlet about comfort and new love.

Stacks of pancakes as tall as my love for you (ao3) - natigail

Summary: Phil loves pancakes and he loves Pancake Day but he isn't really in his usual mood for it when the day comes around in 2021. It's a pleasant and befuddling surprise when he finds Dan has taken on a surprise pancake project all on his own.

The city is so loud (but you drown out all the noise) (ao3) - natigail

Summary: Phil's pack might have kicked him out for mating with a human, but his love for Dan was much stronger than anything he'd ever experienced before. It wasn't easy to adjust to living with Dan in his - now their - small flat in London, but Phil would do it again in a heartbeat. With Dan by his side, Phil was sure he could get used to all the weird things humans did.

Two Chains, Six Letters: On the Edge of 2020 (ao3) - Spring_Haze

Summary: While spending Christmas with his family, Dan discovers an Instagram story that fills his mind with sensual possibilities. He can't wait to surprise his boyfriend on New Year's eve as they continue their ten-year-long tradition of beginning sex in one year and taking it into the next. Both men take turns surprising each other, and the end result leaves each of them speechless and supremely satisfied.

We balance each other out on the seesaw of life (ao3) - natigail

Summary: Phil had dragged Dan to Isle of Man after his return home from tour. The sea air would do him good (even if it gave him hobbit hair) and he could be surrounded by Phil's family (who were his family too). He hadn’t actively planned to drag him onto a seesaw on a playground but it turned out to be a precious moment all the same.

when it feels like nothing else matter, will you put your arms around me? (ao3) - commonemergency

Summary: “Sorry.” Phil says.

His father wraps his arms around him, and the embrace feels warm. It’s an embrace that he hasn’t felt in a long time. It’s like when he was a kid and something scary happened and his father just held him like nothing could ever hurt him because his father was there protecting him.

“It’s okay.” His father quietly whispers into his hairline. “It’s okay.”

He didn’t know how to tell him all the things that he wanted to say, like: I don’t know how to stop my thoughts from spiralling out of control. What if the medicine makes it worse? What do we do if things don’t get better? How do I live in a world that doesn’t have my dad in it?

“Let’s just enjoy right now.” His father says, and he doesn’t let go of him.

when you are young, they assume you know nothing (ao3) - orphan_account

Summary: After a misunderstanding at prom, Dan finds himself in a dilemma; should he fall into a summer affair with Phil, or should he make up with his boyfriend of 3 years, Blake?

Based on Taylor Swift's Folklore.

you look so good it hurts (in my favorite t-shirt) (ao3) - phantasticworks (steddieworks)

Summary: Phil is gifted with a "Mega Dilf" shirt. Guess who picked that shirt out?