#like i'm sure she at least knows what fanfiction is pfft

[spectralscathath]

Tour Guide to the Unexplained- A Gravity Falls Fanfiction

Chapter 2- Blue Light Fright Night

Stan and Ford didn’t expect much when getting shipped up to Gravity Falls to stay with estranged family. Not a party-hating ghost, not new friends and new enemies, and definitely not the Mystery Shack and their lying uncle who runs it. But with Ford’s smarts and Stan’s punching, there’s no mystery they can’t solve.

Ao3 Link

"I can't believe it," Ford scowled as he restocked the snowglobe shelf. Little mini Mystery Shacks mocked him as they sat beside glass-encased Waddleses. How did Grunkle Dipper even get question mark-shaped glitter for these? "Gnomes on our first day- then we don't see jack!"

"Maybe we fought the gnomes so well they told the rest of the forest to be scared of us?" Stan polished the body parts jars on the other side of the aisle. 

"I think you're giving yourself too much credit."

"Hey-" Stan kicked him in the shin. Ford kicked back without thinking, focused on trying to get all the snowglobes lined up perfectly. "Maybe we're just looking in the wrong places? It's only been three days since gnome-pocalypse."

"We're not calling it 'gnome-pocalypse'. It was only a hundred or so gnomes. An apocalypse would require at least a thousand." He was rounding down as well. 

"Fine. What are we gonna call it then?"

"Uh-" 

"So are you guys coming to the party tonight?" Carla interrupted as she came around the corner, her nametag pinned to the front of her pink shirt and a flower in her hair. 

"Party?" Ford looked at her, setting down the final snowglobe. 

"Yeah!" Carla beamed and did a little dance in place, hopping from one foot to the other. "It's at the high school gym- the local sheriff sets up one every month for all the teens and it's super fun. You should totally come and meet all my friends- it'll be awesome!"

Ford's breath caught in his throat, an indescribable mixture of wonder and excitement filling him from the tips of his toes to the top of his head. A real invitation to a real party. They'd never had one before! And here Carla was, offering an invitation like they were normal . Like it didn't matter that Ford had six fingers and Stan had the school record for detentions. 

"Yeah, we'll definitely be there!" He blurted out immediately, unwilling to let the opportunity of a lifetime slip by. "Wow, this is so exciting- Stanley, our first party!"

"Have you… never been to a party before?" Carla's face fell. 

" Pfft - of course we have," Stanley jumped in, waving a hand. "He just means in Gravity Falls, yunno. Jersey parties are really different so-"

"Oh, totally. But get ready, a Gravity Falls party is gonna knock your socks off!" Carla was all smiles again. Ford could see the reason why Grunkle Dipper had her as a cashier, she had a very upbeat demeanour that seemed popular with the tourists. The way she talked to them, able to get them smiling and laughing and telling her stories about their travels, she made it look so easy. Like talking to people was easy. Ford wondered how she did it. 

Maybe if he asked, she'd let him observe and record her interactions for science?

"Earth to Sixer-" Stanley poked him in the face and Ford spluttered, swatting at his hand. "You okay in there?"

'I'm fine!" Ford looked around and adjusted his glasses. "Where'd Carla go?"

"A tour finished so she's gone to do her charm offensive on getting them to buy junk," Stan shrugged. "Are you sure you want to go to a party?"

"Yeah!" Was that even a question? "Don't you? Why did you lie to Carla? We've never been invited anywhere before."

"Listen, Fordsy," Stanley put an arm around his shoulders. "When people invite you to do stuff you haven't done, you gotta pretend you have, or else they'll think 'wow, what kinda losers are those guys, never going to parties'. You wanna be in the in-crowd, go along with the popular decision if you don't wanna stand out."

"How do you know that?" Ford scrunched his nose. It seemed unnecessarily complicated, wouldn't honesty be the best policy in any conversation?

"Just makes sense," Stan shrugged. "Now Carla won't be thinking, 'those guys must be lame', she'll be thinking we're cool dudes back home."

"But we're not?"

"Yeah, but you shouldn't say that." Stan patted his back. "Do you really wanna go?"

"Of course! This is a chance to meet the wider population of Gravity Falls, and I bet with all the anomalies in this area, I won't even be the weirdest thing anyone's seen today!" He'd always wanted to go to a party. Like a regular kid. Maybe Gravity Falls wasn't so bad. 

"You're not weird," Stan scowled. "If any of them give you trouble I'll hit them."

"Stanley, mom said one week. You still have three more days." Ford reminded him. 

"Blegh-" Stanley stuck out his tongue. "Now we just gotta convince Grunkle Dipper to let us go."

"Why would we need to convince him? Surely he'll understand how important this is to our preteen social development."

#

"Not a chance." Dipper didn't even look up from the pasta sauce he was stirring. 

"What?!" They yelled in unison, Ford looking like all his dreams crashed and burned and Stan slamming his hands on the kitchen table. He hid a wince. Toughen up, Stan. Be a man. 

"It's a cop party, no nephews of mine are going to a cop party." 

"Grunkle Dipper, do you have something against cops?" Stan had to ask.

"I didn't agree to more questions."

So the answer was a yes. Cool. 

"But Grunkle Dipper-" Ford whined. "We've never been to a party before and we told Carla we'd be there. Please?"

"Okay, here's the thing." Dipper turned around and pointed his pasta spoon at them, pajama pants and a threadbare sweater on. It was silly. It had a puppy on it. "Grenda throws these parties once a month for all the teens in town, and because everyone's kids are there, all the townsfolk treat it as a social event. It's loud, annoying, and seriously not worth your time."

"But we could be party rocking in the house tonight." Ford said it with all the sincerity in his soul and Stan wanted to know how his nerd of a brother had found out about songs that weren't from the 1700s or whenever.

"What?" Dipper's face scrunched before he shook it off and went back to mixing pasta sauce and spaghetti. "Let me explain: I don't 'like' or 'trust' most of the people in this town, and the feeling's pretty mutual. Why don't you just have a party here? This is a house, it can- it can 'party rock'."

"Can we invite people?" Ford perked up.

"No."

"Grunkle Dipper!"

Stan hid a snort-laugh as he watched, studying Dipper more so than Ford, head tilted to make sure he didn't miss anything. There had to be a magic word of some sort to get him to agree. He didn't trust the townspeople, hey?

"If you don't like anyone here-" he cut off Ford's rant about the 'psychosocial development of twelve-year-old brains' before it really got going- "then the smartest option is to bring us into town when everyone's gonna be there." Stan shrugged like it was the most obvious thing in the world, playing up the casualness. 

Dipper looked at him with suspicion. "What's your game, kid?"

"That way you can point out who to avoid and who we should keep an eye on so we can recognise them. I mean, we're gonna need to go into town eventually, might as well get it over with."

"... Alright, that's not a bad point." Dipper nodded, brow furrowed. Stan gave him an absolutely angelic smile, well practiced for when mom busted out the camera for family photos, and Dipper's brows furrowed harder.

"So can we go? Carla invited us as well, it would look bad if we went back on our word. And you said you wanted us to have a good summer."

"Okay, okay, okay." Dipper groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose, serving up three plates of spaghetti as he joined them at the table. "You can go, but if Sheriff Grenda asks about me, tell her I'm dead or whatever."

"Yes!" Stan punched the air. "Yes!"

"What?! How is that the conclusion of this?" Ford looked stunned, mouth hanging open.

"Your brother drives a hard bargain, kid," Dipper pointed with a plastic spork. All his cutlery was plastic and Stan thought it was weird, no metal, no forks. But  it was the durable, colourful kind used for camping. "Eat your pasta and we'll get this over with."

Stan shoveled the pasta into his mouth, enjoying the taste of victory. Whaddaya know, for once Stan got them the win. That was never gonna happen again.

#

Ford's excitement only grew as they drove into town, staring out the window and trying to see anomalies in the dark. Stan kicked the back of the empty passenger seat and tossed his head back with a groan. "Why are we listening to BABBA?" 

"Because I love this song." Grunkle Dipper turned it up a notch and sang along, badly. Ford winced at the falsetto of "Dis-co Girl! Coming through! That girl is you!"

"Get me outta here!" Stan's next kick used both feet. "If you're listening, save me, Paul Bunyan!"

"Calm down, Stanley, we're almost there!" Ford could see all the cars parked outside the high school, and a giant RV with GIDEON across the side that towered over everything else. "What's that?"

"First people in this town you need to avoid: Gideon Gleeful and his lil b-" Dipper growled, cutting himself off before continuing- "Bud Gleeful. Gideon's the worst, they're just a creepy pair. Just got back from touring America with their fake psychic act."

"Okay." A fake psychic. Just like their mom. Ford missed her, she promised she'd call every week but it didn't feel like enough. "Anyone else?"

"Preston Northwest is about your age and a piece of work?" 

"I thought you'd have more enemies." Stan grinned mischievously.

"Those are just the child ones." Dipper hooked an elbow over his seat and looked back as he reversed into a parking space, wearing one of the baseball caps from the gift shop with a pine tree logo. His denim jacket and pajama pants clashed terribly with his 'dog playing basketball' sweater. Ford hadn't seen him wear the same sweater twice, but they all looked decades old, handknitted, and far too irrational for him. Perhaps he had some ancient sweater collection?

"How many adult enemies are there?" Stan unclipped his seatbelt as the truck stopped. 

"Don't you have a party to go to?" Dipper waved a hand at them. "Have fun and don't die or something. I'll be here when you want to leave."

"Thanks, Grunkle Dipper!" They chorused and hopped out, Stan racing around to Ford's side of the truck. 

"You ready?" He took Ford's hand for a second, and Ford snatched it back, trying not to think about his hands. It was gonna be fine, this wasn't Jersey. People here would like him. 

"Race you in?" He offered instead, shoving his hands into his pockets just in case. 

"You're on." Stan grinned and took off. He might have been better at punching, but they were both pretty fast from a childhood of dodging bullies. Usually it was a tie. 

This time Ford got there first by mere seconds and paused, able to feel the thud of the music inside in his ribcage. Of course- soundwaves were physical, that only made sense. He was about to lift his hand from his pocket before hesitating. His first party. Did he want to start off with a bad impression?

Stan caught up and pushed open the door. "After you, Sixer."

Ford smiled gratefully at him, stepping in as the smell of dry ice and cheese flavouring hit him. The gym was big, all the bleachers tucked away, and while there was no disco ball, someone had set up projector lights that sent rainbow shapes and lazers everywhere. The room was surprisingly full, and Ford had a sinking feeling they arrived late. "Were we meant to be here earlier?"

"Don't worry- it's cool to arrive late, I heard." Stanley stuck by his side as they stood in the doorway. "Should we find Carla? She's the only person we know here, I think."

Ford had a thought. A bit of a mean thought. Did he want his first impression on people to be Stanley as well? Not that Stanley was bad, Ford loved his brother more than anything, but his nicknames might give people the wrong idea, and the other way around- Maybe Stan would want to meet people without having to talk for Ford as well?

"We can split up, do a sweep on each side, and meet on the other end of the gym." He felt guilty saying it, but he couldn't help being interested in what would happen if he made introductions on his own for once. It was an experiment. 

"See who spots her first so we can talk to her, good idea." Stanley nodded. "Race you there."

He took off through the crowd to the right, leaving Ford to his own business and taking the other. He didn't move as fast as Stanley, keeping his hands in his pockets as he avoided the major crowd and skirted the edges. His head swivelled like an owl's as he looked around, trying to see anyone who might be safe to talk to. 

He saw something sparking near the wall and immediately remembered the various dangers of electrical hazards, resolving to check it and report it to the nearest grown-up- oh, but if that was Sheriff Grenda, Grunkle Dipper said not to talk to her-

Ford didn't really want to do what Dipper said, but… what if he got angry at them for disobeying?

More sparks. He blinked, regaining his focus, and sped up, noticing they were tucked beside the folded bleachers, hard for people in the crowd to see, hidden by the fog of dry ice. 

There was someone there. Two someones. Ford drew closer, in time to see a blowtorch light up and be lowered to a piece of metal. 

"What are you doing?" He blurted out, the two teenagers looking at him. It was hard to make out clear details in the dark hall, but the one leaning against the wall held a plastic bag of sliced bread, and the boy on the floor had a welding visor over his face. 

"Hi there!" The boy stood and flipped his welding mask up, revealing round glasses, a thin face, a long nose, and a friendly smile. "I'm Fiddleford McGucket, local inventor."

"You're an inventor?" Ford smiled. "Me too! I mean- I'm branching out into the field, I'm currently working on a magnet gun."

"Well that sounds mathematically feasible, I reckon." Fiddleford offered a hand to shake, absolutely covered in bandages.

Ford stared at it. "Uh- won't that hurt if I touch it?"

"I've got an un-nat-ur-al-ly high tolerance to pain, doctors say," he laughed, singsonging each syllable in a playful Tennessee twang. "Don't mind the bandages, all from my thingamajig building."

Ford hesitated just a moment longer before he pulled his hand from his pocket and shook Fiddleford's hand.

"Why, that is a mighty fine case of polydactyly you got there." Fiddleford complimented. 

"Th- thanks." He stuttered, in utter shock. No one had ever actually complimented him on it before. Most people didn't even know the term. "You too- I mean- not polydactyly, just thanks?" 

"Thank you kindly, and this here's my friend, Tad."

"Hi, I'm Tad Strange." The deepness of the other boy's voice had Ford reeling. Was that natural? He looked barely older than Ford, with shiny black hair and very neat clothes. He had to be the most nondescript person Ford had ever seen. "Would you like some bread?"

"Uh- okay?" Ford took some of the offered bread. Plain white sliced, from a grocery store. Was he meant to eat this without anything on it? Well- okay, he could try. "Do you carry this everywhere?"

"Of course. It's my emergency bread."

"Oh. Cool?" It didn't seem normal, but maybe it was for Gravity Falls? His hypothesis was correct, he was an anomaly in a town of anomalies! He could fit in here! "I like your voice."

"Thank you." Tad smiled. Ford liked his diction, how deliberately he spoke, how even his voice was. It seemed so calm. "It broke when Tad Strange was seven."

"If we're talking about weird body things, I'm double-jointed?" Fiddleford offered and pulled out a pair of black goggles, a matching pair to the ones Tad had pushed up into his dark hair, hard to see. "Here, put these on, I'm working on improving Tad's phone. I reckon I can really spruce it up."

"Tad Strange would like jetpack capabilities." 

"Yeah! I'd love to help!" Ford's smile was so wide it hurt at the edges, so excited he feared he may explode. Not that it was scientifically possible. 

Was this how easy making friends could be? 

#

Stan plunged into the crowd like a superhero charged through henchmen, keeping his head cocked in case he heard Ford get in trouble. He had to be always ready for bullies, Ford could have all the hope he wanted, as long as Stanley protected him. 

He squinted through the dark, not able to see too much in the weird party lights, lots of pinks and blues and kinda dark. He didn't really like his glasses much when he had to wear them, they were nerdy and made bullies throw stuff at him. He could see most things anyway, just blurry, and as long as he could get the gist he could work with the rest. 'Sides, no point in him having glasses anymore, amount of fights he got in.

A hand grabbed his shoulder and he swung without thinking, catching air. Carla's laugh was bright and cheery. "Easy, tiger! Didn't mean to surprise you."

"Sorry." Stan mumbled. He wasn't as noble as some of the boys back home, who didn't hit girls. Seemed insulting to Stan, if they wanted to fight they should get to fight. But Carla wasn't like the girls back home, he didn't want to hit her. 

"C'mon, my friends are this way." Carla took his hand and pulled him through the crowd. Her hand was warm around his, and she didn't even hesitate. Known him four days and still took his hand. Wow, she was nice.

She pulled him to the snacks table, piled high with chips and chocolates and one very big lady in a cop uniform serving punch. Carla let go of his hand and spun around to face him, her skirt twirling as the lazers made the sequin design on it sparkle, and Stan suddenly got why Shermie used to get so weird around girls. Holy Moses.

"Stanley Pines, meet my besties!" Carla gestured at the group. One girl was spinning in place with an eye closed, two boys were having a string cheese war that looked more like flirting than fighting, the other girl was filming, and the last boy was cheering everyone on. "That's Shandra, Susan, Daryl and Edwin, and Tyler! Everyone, this is Stan!"

"Hi." Stan nodded at them, getting a nod back from the girls and Tyler. 

"And- wait, where's your brother?" Carla looked worriedly at him. "Didn't he come?"

"Course he did! Just went to scope out some of the party," Stan played it off, even as he looked around. What if Ford was already getting picked on? "He'll catch up."

"Okay, cool!" Carla looked up over the crowd and brightened. Didn't seem possible but she managed it. "There's Bud! Hold on, I'll get him." She dove into the crowd again, leaving Stan with her friends and no idea what to do.

He grabbed a random bar of candy to eat to avoid having to make conversation, shoving it all in his mouth in one go. He accidentally made eye contact with the cop and looked away too fast. That was probably suspicious. What was it Grunkle Dipper said? Don't speak English to cops?

Carla came back to the group with a wave, her hand entwined with another boy's. "Okay everyone! I need to introduce you all to my new boyfriend, Bud Gleeful!"

Stan was real dumb. Shoulda seen that coming, obviously Carla had a boyfriend. Little weird that it was one of Grunkle Dipper's enemies, but it was Stan's own fault that he got all weird just because the prettiest, nicest girl he ever met thought he was worth being kind to. No point being disappointed because he got stupid. 

"What a delight to meet you all," Bud smiled cheerfully, his brown roots visibly showing through white hair dye. Stan turned his back and started eating more candy.

The other teens offered a chorus of uninterested 'hi's, still focused on their cheese fight. Looked like Blubs was winning, if the goal was to spray as much cheese as possible in his mouth? 

Stan was starting to get why Grunkle Dipper didn't bother with the town, he was not impressed so far. Except by Carla, but she worked in the Mystery Shack so she didn't count. 

"And who might you be, lil fella?" Bud drawled from behind Stan, which had his hackles up and his fists clenched, ready for a fight. Bud was twice his size, but so was Crampelter, and Stan had won that last fight. He wasn't weak and useless anymore, he wasn't the wimp that cried after just one hit, not now that he could fight.

He turned around, feet shifting into the stance from his boxing lessons as he looked up at the bigger teenager. "I'm Stan. Who wants to know?"

"Why, just 'lil ol me'-" he spoke it like a quote- "it's merely just- well, small towns, I tend to know near-everyone. But I don't recall seeing you here before."

"He and his twin are Dipper's nephews and they're in town for the summer," Carla smiled, clinging to Bud's arm. "They're here all the way from New Jersey, how cool is that?"

The other teens looked a bit more interested hearing that, looking at him like he was an oddity, something to gawk at. Was this how Ford felt? All the time? 

"Yeah, what about it?" 

"That's quite a distance," Bud whistled. "Would I be right in assuming you're staying in that old shack in the woods?"

"Where else would I stay, smart guy?" Stan mouthed off, focus narrowing to who else might be coming in for a sneak attack. Crampelter had friends, maybe Bud did too. "My Grunkle lives there."

"Yes, a so-called man of mystery," Bud clicked his tongue. "He's quite a shameless fraud, wouldn't you agree?"

"Coming from someone who's dad is a fake psychic?" Stan aimed for what would hurt, because it hurt when he thought about it. "What a liar, bet you can't trust anything he says."

Everyone gasped. But they didn't know. He loved his mom so much, so much , but she lied so much, just because, even when there was no reason. She didn't mean any harm, but… 

"Hey now, that's not true!" Bud snapped, getting angry, and Stan regretted saying anything when he saw the look on Carla's face. She looked at him like he said something bad. He did say something bad. He was a bad kid, everyone knew it. 

What was he doing? He was ruining the party, he was making everyone upset, and Ford wasn't here, Stan needed him and he wasn't here, and why did he instantly make it a fight? Because Dipper said not to trust someone?  What was wrong with him?!

He had to get out of here. He pulled a smoke bomb from his pocket and hoped and prayed he got it right- got something right- and threw it at the ground. 

It shattered with a flash and a POP! and sent up a cloud of smoke and sparkles that had everyone coughing, and Stan bolted. 

He ran, sticking to the walls and the shadows, passing a supply closet as he looked for Ford. Where was his brother? 

He was rounding the bleachers when he heard Ford laughing. At what? He slowed his steps, peeking around the corner to see Ford holding a blowtorch and soldering something, laughing and talking with two other boys. He looked like he was having a great time. Without Stanley.

Stan felt the bottom drop out of his stomach, fists clenched tight and shaking with that energy he got in fights. Ford had some sciency name for it that Stan couldn't remember right now. 

Ford was fine. He found people who liked him. Just like he wanted. Stan was tempted to go over there and say hi- but if Ford wanted that wouldn't he have come and got Stanley? Ford always wanted to show off cool things he found, he dragged Stanley all over Glass Shard Beach, so this must mean Ford didn't want to show off his new friends. 

Stanley could take a hint. Heck- Ford would probably be better off with friends who were smart like him. Stan just caused trouble, everyone knew it. 

He backed away, genuinely considering sneaking out to go sit with Grunkle Dipper. Even if that meant listening to girly pop music. 

Actually-

Nah. Still not desperate enough for that. He still wasn't sure if Grunkle Dipper even wanted them around, Shermie had been the one to push for the trip. Even brought the bus tickets. 

Everyone else kept making decisions and Stan kept having to deal with them. He scowled and found the supply closet again, because at least Carla and Bud wouldn't find him in here if they wanted to get mad at him for causing problems. 

He closed the door behind him and shoved over the nearest thing, sending janitor supplies clattering to the ground as he yelled, just to get the energy out. "I never even wanted to come here! Ford did, not me!" 

He turned and punched the drywall. "I hate stupid parties!"

The drywall cracked. Cracked more. Fell away to reveal a big boxy safe hidden behind the plaster, rusted and covered in dust and cobwebs. Stan had a suddenly cold feeling, a looming sense that he'd done something very stupid. 

A girl's voice whispered in his ear.

"Me too."

#

The screaming started as Dipper chewed a pen, brainstorming new attractions for the track. He caught the smell of ectoplasm in the air, able to recognise it instantly, and shoved open the door to his truck, sprinting towards the gym as a pale glow began to surround the building. 

He could hear the panic of the townsfolk,  his focus set on the door as he raced the ghostly energy, trying to get in before it cut off the gym from the outside world. The boys were still in there.

"No, no, no, no-!" The ectoplasm covered the door right as he reached it, the handle chilling his fingers as he failed to yank it open. He kept trying to jiggle it open before he switched to banging his fists against the glass. "Kids!"

"My lil Buddy-boy!" He heard from behind him, Gideon Gleeful running in his bedazzled suit, his white pompadour bouncing with each step of his wingtip shoes.  Dipper ignored him and braced his shoulder against the door, trying to shove it open. Now wasn't the time to start fighting his nemesis. Maybe? He could multitask.

"Hold on, son!" Gideon panicked before turning to the crowd, hand on his bolo tie. "Everyone, please! I need you all to step back and let me use my psychic abilities! Step back, everyone!"

Dipper felt himself step back before he could snap at Gideon to back off, watching Gideon raise his hand to the building.

"Spirit! I compel thee! Release our children and be banished from this place!" Gideon's voice boomed out bombastically, bringing his TV psychic bravado to the real world.

Nothing happened.

Obviously.

"Oh no! Something's blocking my powers! My innate abilities! That I definitely have!"

"Yeah, yeah," Dipper snarled and pulled a glove from his pocket, yanking it on as he stomped to the door. "Hey, ghost! Open up!" 

He drew back his fist and punched the door, the ectoplasmic coating jiggling like jello before it started to wobble faster, energy building up. Bad sign.

Dipper had enough time to swear for real before the ghost blasted him away from the building and into darkness.

#

One minute Ford was helping solder an ignition wire, the next the walls were glowing and tables and chairs were floating in the air. Snacks were flying, aimed at people's heads as screams filled the air, and Tad had to struggle to hold onto his bread as it threatened to fly away too. 

"What's happening?" Fiddleford clutched his hands together, rubbing at his spindly fingers. The rest of the party were freaking out, some rushing the doors, others trying to hide, some freezing in fear. 

Ford? Ford felt alive . This was it, the weirdness he knew was here. 

"Hold on, I may have an answer-" but the diary was so uncool-looking, what if his new friends didn't want to be his friends because of it? 

"Ford!" That was Stanley! "Ford, Ford, Ford!"

"Over here!" He responded without hesitation, because that was his brother calling and Ford would always answer. 

Stan rounded the bleachers and skidded to a stop, worn sneakers nearly losing traction on the smooth gym floors. His eyes were wide and he almost looked scared. Couldn't be true though, Ford had documented Stan's phobias and fear responses. Paranormal activity wasn't meant to register. "It's bad! It's really bad!"

"Wait-" Ford adjusted his glasses. "Stanley, did you do this?"

"I didn't plan on it, Sixer!" Stan flipped a switch into anger, shoulders hunched defensively. "I think it's a girl! I heard a voice!"

"A voice? So not only is this clearly paranormal activity of some form, but it's aware enough to manifest vocals and self-identify? Fascinating!"

"Uh, Ford? Who's this?" Fiddleford tapped him on the shoulder.

"Oh!" He'd completely forgotten they were there, so caught up in the supernatural. "Fiddleford, Tad, this is my twin brother, Stanley. Stanley, these are my friends, Fiddleford and Tad."

"Hi. I'm Tad Strange. I like bread."

"Yeah, great to meetcha, the nerd book , Ford, what does it say ?" Stan made a swipe for Ford's jacket, where he knew the book was. 

Ford backed up. "I don't- I haven't looked yet!"

"Why not?!"

"Because-" laughter, vicious and dark, rang out around the room, and Stan whirled, hand out like he was protecting Ford and his friends. Ford stared as Carla lifted into the centre of the room, her eyes glowing white from within and her arms outstretched.

She spoke with a voice that wasn't hers. "Sixty years I've watched you all party! Now tonight will be your last!"

"Hey!" Sheriff Grenda stomped forward and pointed at her. "You're under arrest for possession! Get outta that teenager!"

"Adults," the ghost scoffed, crossing Carla's arms. "You threw this party? Then I'll throw you!"

Carla pointed as Grenda was enveloped in pale light before she seemed to- rip apart? But it looked wet? But there was also no blood or anything, her matter was just rearranged? That was so cool! Oh- and bad too, right.

"Sheriff!" 

"Where did she go?"

"It turned her into a disco ball!"

It had. Ford had never seen a disco ball with a face before. He wanted to take so many notes.

"Back behind the bleachers, c'mon!" Fiddleford dragged both the twins to the corner he and Tad were hiding in, sitting them down as they hid in the shadows. It wasn't much of a hiding spot, but the panicking crowd likely drew more attention. 

"Poindexter!" Stanley grabbed his shoulders and shook him. "You gotta focus! How do we stop this?"

"Okay." He pulled out the diary and started flipping through, face burning. He hoped Fiddleford and Tad didn't laugh at the sparkliness of it. "Ghosts, ghosts, I know I saw something- here!"

He cleared his throat and began reading the sticker-covered page, googly eyes pasted onto a drawing of a happy ghost.

"Dear diary,

I fought a ghost today! It was crazy! He was really cute, definitely dreamy, but he was also a major meanie who wanted to destroy town, so dateability: questionable. 

Good thing I saw some of her ghost hunting tapes, otherwise I wouldn't have kicked ghostly butt! I bet this one would have counted as a Category 5, so kind of a ghost wimp. Lemme list the categories before I forget! Womp womp!"

Ford scanned through the categories before he found it. "This must be it! 'Category 8: Haunted Buildings- these ghosts are stuck in one place and make reality go all whoa! But they can't actually hurt people permanently and you can totally work things out with them by talking about their feelings, awwwwww' and then there's a heart drawn in? And people hugging?"

"We're all gonna die," Stan decided. 

"Stan, you have to tell me how this happened. Maybe there's a clue there."

"I just hit a wall." Stan shrugged, looking away. "Same as always."

"Perhaps we should ask the ghost what it wants?" Tad offered as a solution, looking abnormally calm while Fiddleford was having a silent freak out next to him, rocking back and forth and carding his hands through his hair. Ford felt a bit bad to see him so nervous, he must not have encountered an anomaly before. 

"I think it's pretty easy to tell what the ghost wants, Strange." Stan snarked.

"I WILL DESTROY ALL THE PARTY SPIRIT THAT HAS EVER EXISTED!"

"Yeah, that bit's obvious," Ford agreed. "It says that Category 8s aren't unreasonable, so maybe we can convince it to leave everyone alone?"

"We have to get it out of Carla," Stan agreed and took Ford's hand. Ford blinked at him in surprise. Stan must have really been scared, they hadn't held hands in a while. His fingers were trembling. 

Ford didn't let go this time. Not if Stanley needed it. He squeezed his twin's hand and pulled them both out of hiding, the room nearly empty from everyone being turned into party favours and posters and stuff. Carla's body floated, items swirling around her like a tornado, her flower missing from her hair. 

"Hey, ghost!" Ford yelled as he and Stan stepped up. "We wanna talk!"

"Oh?" Carla's body raised a hand and they were both floating. Ford felt Stanley's hand go tight in a death grip, hard enough to hurt. His fear of heights, Ford had to do something. The ghost continued, making Carla's face angry in a way that didn't look right. "What do you possibly have to say? Here to defend parties like everyone else?"

"I- we wanted to ask why you're unhappy!" Ford blurted out. "We want to try fix it!"

"How can you fix it? You were invited to this party like everyone else, I bet you've been to lots of them, everyone has! Everyone but me!"

"No we haven't!" Ford tried to convince her. "Tell her, Stanley!"

"I-" Stan's eyes were scrunched shut, face pale and sweaty. "We haven't! Look at us, we're losers! Who'd invite us anywhere?!"

Everything in the gym stopped spinning. Then it all crashed to the ground, Stan and Ford included. Stan immediately dropped to his knees and pressed his face to the floor, while Ford landed a little steadier. He placed a hand on Stanley's back and looked up at Carla, or, more accurately, at the ghost that had appeared, holding Carla up by the shoulders.

She looked like a normal teenager in retro clothes, just with thick glasses like Ford. 

"You're losers like me? But you don't look like it!"

Ford held up his hand and wiggled his six fingers. "I'm definitely a loser. And my brother…"  they both looked at Stanley, currently muttering 'sweet Moses, I love you ground'. 

"But if you're losers, then why are you at a party?" She scowled and adjusted her glasses. "Especially when one of you hates them."

"Huh?" Ford looked at Stanley, feeling betrayed. Stanley didn't like parties? But he was the one who convinced Grunkle Dipper, and said they'd been to lots to Carla, and-

And, Ford suddenly remembered, dodged the question about wanting to go in the first place.

"Stanley?"

Stanley looked away and swiped his nose with his wrist brace. "Whatever. So what if I do?" He pointed at the ghost. "Why do you hate them?"

The ghost gave a very big sigh and Ford braced for backstory. "No one in this town ever invited me to anything."

"Even all of the parties that were meant for everyone, I would get an anti-invitation. An unvitation ." The ghost floated just above the ground, looking sad.  "So one day, I decided that I would ignore my unvitation and go to a party meant for everyone."

She tilted her head. "Unfortunately, that party was to celebrate Gravity Falls' Annual Heavy Object Tossing Competition, and a safe landed right on me."

"That can not be a real thing-"

"It's real!" Sheriff Grenda, in disco ball form, yelled out. "I've won it eight years in a row!"

"Okay…?" Ford shook his head, resolving to ignore that. "So you've been here ever since?"

"Yes. I've watched people party for sixty years here!" The ghost began to turn red and catch fire. "And still! No invitations!"

"What if we invited you?" Ford offered.

"Or Carla!" Stan blurted out. "Carla over there, you just possessed her. She's super nice and will invite anyone. She invited us, for cryin' out loud."

"Oh. Okay." The ghost floated over to Carla, sitting on the floor staring blankly into the middle distance, hugging her knees to her chest. "Hi Carla! Can I come to this party?"

"Uh…" Carla looked over at them, frazzled and ruffled. Ford nodded as hard as he could while Stan gave her very emphatic thumbs up. Carla looked back to the ghost. "Sure...?"

"Great!" The ghost snapped her fingers and everything went right back to normal. People turned back into people, Grenda was no longer a disco ball, and the music started up again. "I've always wanted to go to a party! Whoo-hoo!"

"Can I ask you a million questions about being a ghost?!" Ford asked now that the danger was gone, pulling out a spare notepad and pencil, not noticing Stan walk off.

#

Stan picked up Carla's plastic flower and held it out to her. "Are you okay?"

"I'm not sure?" Carla accepted the flower, putting it in her hair. "I think my whole worldview just changed."

"Yep." Stan hesitated, fidgeting with his wrist brace. "I'm sorry I said mean things to Bud."

"Oh. Well- thanks, but I think you need to apologise to him, okay?" Carla smiled at him and stood up, brushing off her skirt.

Stan nodded and scuffed his shoe against the floor. "I will."

"Thanks. You're a good kid, Stan." She patted his shoulder. "And for the record: I don't think you're a loser, you or your brother. Jersey doesn't know what they got."

"Kay." Stan agreed because how was he meant to argue that? Not when Carla was smiling at him like she believed it, like she wasn't so cool. "Thanks, Carla."

"Carla!" Bud shoved through the crowd, flowery shirt looking a bit rumpled. "Are you alright, dearest-darlingest?"

"I'm fine, really!" Carla beamed, taking Bud's hands. "Stan and Ford saved me."

"I can see that." Bud shot Stan a filthy look. 

"Hey, Bud." Stan shoved his hands into his pockets, having to drag the words out of himself. He didn't like apologising much. Usually it didn't help things. 

"Can I help you, Stanley?" He made it sound utterly frigid. 

"Sorry for what I said about your dad and stuff. It was mean." Stan looked away, looking at Ford, who was introducing the ghost to Strange and McGucket. At least he was having fun. 

"I… suppose I'm also sorry about what I said about your great uncle. It was uncalled for." Bud tugged at the collar of his shirt. "Perhaps we should call a truce?"

"Sure. Truce." Stan stuck out his hand, too late realising it was his braced hand. 

Bud took it, squeezing way too hard and making the bones hurt. Stan didn't flinch and dug his nails in as an answer. 'Truce'. Sure. When Carla was around, at least.

"Yay!" Carla did a happy dance. "The power of friendship wins again!"

They both put on a smile for her, immediately shooting daggers at the other the moment she wasn't looking. Looked like they'd be hating each other in secret. Stan could live with that.

"I'm gonna go check on my brother." Stan yanked his hand back and walked off, already sick of Bud Gleeful. He was joining his Grunkle's rivalry on the side of his Grunkle. 

#

They found their Grunkle Dipper snoring in the back of his pick-up truck, having one of those old people naps he usually had in his armchair. Ford poked his face with a pencil, not expecting him to bolt upright and immediately fall out of the truck with a surprisingly girly scream.

"Augh! Dipper down! Dipper down!"

"Grunkle Dipper, we met a ghost!" Surely he saw the building glow, right? He'd believe Ford now!

"Huh?" Dipper rubbed his head, accidentally showing off the birthmark on his forehead of the Big Dipper constellation. He picked up his cap and set it down, blinking blearily up at Stan and Ford. "You what a what?"

"Met a ghost. Fought her, invited her to a party, whole shebang," Stan yawned. "Can we go home now?"

"I made friends!" Ford already had so many plans. "Can they come over for a sleepover tomorrow? They already called their parents and asked!"

"Sure and sure?" Dipper dusted off his pajamas, surprisingly dirty for a nap in his truck, and Ford noticed something.

"What's that glove?"

"Glove?" Dipper looked down before he noticed the blue glove on his right hand. He made a weird face before he pulled it off. "Uh, it's a- a compression glove? Yep! That thing! For my old man arthritis. Flares up sometimes. 'Cause I'm old."

"Aren't you fifty-seven?"

"I'm whatever age a senior's discount at the movies is," Dipper snarked, and Ford scowled. That felt sorta illegal. Definitely unethical.

"I like your moxie, Grunkle Dip," Stan complimented as he clambered out of the back of the truck. "So did you see any of that?"

"Any of what? I've been sleeping." Dipper blinked innocently.

"Oh, come on!" Now Ford really had to find proof of the supernatural. Time to build a gnome trap.

He reached for Stanley's hand again, resolving to talk to him later about stuff. Stanley squeezed his hand back, smiling at him before he yawned again. 

Ford yawned in response. Okay. Tomorrow. They'd talk tomorrow. Stanley shouldn't have to feel like he needed to hide things, not from his brother. 

Mystery twins forever, after all.

[ladybirdswritings]

BEAUTY AND THE HYBRID - Klaus Mikaelson Fanfiction

summary: the slip of burlap rope brings an unsuspecting girl into the arms of a vicious, bloodthirsty creature.

warnings: mentions of ab*se, stockholm syndrome, captivity, dea*h, and violence.

next chapter <3 | ao3 | tag list

one

"Oh fuck yeah!"

"Birdie!"

My face tints a rose-like pink, burning at my cheeks as I scold my sister with wide eyes. She is happy today, and that's rare for us. Regardless, happy or not, her sailor's mouth never fails to mortify me. The patrons of this syrup scented diner stare for a moment, but return to their meal soon enough.

Birdie is fourteen today, and her eyes are eager and swimming with starvation as she inhales the powdered sugar air. I can't really afford this, not right now at least. Probably not tomorrow either, but today is her birthday. She'll only be fourteen once and- mom would have done the same thing. In fact, mom did do the same thing. Many times for me. When I turned twelve, we snuck into a cake shop and ate each sugared treat cased in glass displays. That was my favorite birthday.

I am not brave enough or- stupid enough to steal from anyone else. I have done enough of that this week.

"Dude, they have french toast coated in chocolate syrup."

Birdie is drooling now, I smile at her.

"Whatever you want, Birdie."

It's sad, how this is like Christmas for her. A warm meal at a shitty Mystic Falls Diner for the big one four. I will do more, soon. This however, it will be dealt with if I just take over Riley's night shift at the Grille- she won't mind the time off anyways.

The waitress is a strawberry blonde, her legs seem to go for miles. Her eyes are a pretty blue and her smile is tinted pink. Birdie wastes no time.

"Chocolate syrup french toast please! Heavy emphasis on the chocolate syrup... Ooh! And a stack of four pumpkin pancakes with whipped cream and lots of bacon and eggs on the side. Some orange juice too."

The waitress stifles her grin as she jots Birdie's order down on yellow pad paper.

"And for you?"

Birdie looks at me hopefully. I gaze into her eyes for a moment and pretend that my next words will be a request of pumpkin pancakes too.

"Oh that's everything, I'm not hungry."

Guilt floods them,

"I can hold off on the pump-"

"No Birdie, really I am not hungry."

I'm starving. My stomach growls in protest, luckily quiet enough for only me to hear. Birdie believes me, at least I hope she does as she sinks back into the booth.

The waitress smiles sympathetically, nodding once before scurrying off.

Birdie is impatient, drumming her fingers on the cherry wood as we wait. It isn't just the food she's impatient for. She groans.

"Ahhh- apple! C'mon- can't we just take a two second peek at what's in the big dumb thing?"

My brows twitch in discomfort and urgency, and I lift my finger to hush her. Maybe what that man said was all just to scare me, maybe he thought it was funny. It is the month of halloween after all, I have learned in my years here how serious all of Mystic Falls takes it. Still, I don't wan't to take any chances.

I shake my head at her,

"No. Not happening. That dude told us to keep this locked tight under all circumstances."

Birdie only rolls her eyes at that,

"Pfft. That guy was probably just trying to scare us. Ooh! I bet its drugs, or illegal weapons! Or illegal drug weapons!"

I shush her again.

"It doesn't matter what it is, it's not ours. I'm not opening it. I need it safe till midnight, till I get the payout and we get the hell out of Mystic Falls."

Birdie frowns, eyes gazing at the lonely jack-o-lantern glowing golden on the concrete outside.

"You think all that money is gonna buy us real fancy meds for dad? Like ones that'll get him better quickly?"

I wince at the question, I want to say yes but I truthfully don't know. He's worsened this month, I only hope these days. So does Birdie. It's her birthday, I can't make her sad.

"I'm sure we'll figure it out, we always do. Dad's gonna be fine. We're gonna have lots of money, money for medicine and money for unlimited pumpkin pancakes until you're at least forty three."

Birdie nods in agreement with that statement, "fuck yeah." she whispers. She tries to keep it discreet but, I hear it anyways. I ignore it.

The strawberry blonde waitress returns, juggling Birdie's food on a golden arm. She places four plates down in front of my lanky sister, her eyes light up like a million fireworks have ignited within them.

"Brought you a coffee pot sugar, its on the house."

The waitress, Karen, she smiles softly and it's warm like the coffee pot. She throws pink packets of sugar and small cups of cream in front of me. It'll keep me awake, I'm grateful. I thank her as I pour the bitter drink into the mug and breathe in the aroma.

Birdie is devouring her food as if it will up and leave her.

"My my, all this food. Today a special occasion?" Karen inquires, I nod with a warm grin.

"It's her birthday."

Karen gasps, "A birthday!? Well how old are you sweetheart? Old enough to pay the bill?" She jests.

Birdie shakes her head, teeth crushing a mixture of chocolate whipped pumpkin toast topped with bacon and egg. Whatever she could fit in her mouth. "Nope. Fourteen." She speaks muffled with a mouth full of food- her words are hardly audible, masked by her chewing. I repeat it to the waitress.

"Well then, a birthday calls for a special treat don't it? I'll go get one."

I nod gratefully, "Thanks. Hey um- do you guys have a bathroom?"

She points to the right and I slide out of the booth-gripping the white oak case in my hands. I'll bring it with me. I would be a fool to lose it, let alone leave it with my very occupied sister. I almost don't believe it's anything of importance, probably just some cruel prank. My intuition reminds me just how too good to be true it sounds. Yet, I am hopeful this month. So I'm playing along anyways.

My eyes are glued to the case as I walk right, so much so that I don't see the polished boots in front of me. I gasp, accepting the fate of the floor before it even greets me. We never meet. I clutch on to the fabric smelling of maple and bourbon. It tethers me, lifting me to my feet.

It is silent, I meet ice blue eyes.

Christ...

They bore past my very being, into something I don't even see myself. My soul, maybe. He is tall, tall enough that it makes me feel quite small. He has golden brown hair that curls at the tips, and golden brown stubble that surrounds pink lips. His eyes, they're all I see.

I stumble, he steadies me again with two strong hands.

"Holy shit!" Birdie calls, maybe amused- maybe relieved. She saw that, everyone saw that. My cheeks are pink again, as are the tips of my ears. The man's eyes wander around us, and it seems like that is enough for everyone. They all mind their business and return to their meals. As if he just cast a spell to detour their gazes.

His hands still grasp me as his eyes devour my composure.

"Are you all right?" His voice is like honey, stuck in a glass pot but glazing sweetness dripping from the very lid. It is deep, accented. He isn't from here.

I can't speak, I feel like I am crushed under his boot, the same one I tripped over. I only nod.

He releases me, slowly.

His eyes remain on mine, until they don't. He peers at the white oak case with an expression I cannot begin to describe. I watch him for a moment, analyzing. Fear strums at my core... its familiarity- I think. Or maybe I am just paranoid. I gulp, bending down to collect the case in my hands in an instant before he gets the chance to. I gaze at it, praying my fall didn't disrupt whatever lay inside.

He gazes at it too.

I have to speak now, otherwise I will be stuck frozen here.

"I apologize I um- I should have been paying more attention."

He doesn't tear his gaze away from the case. Not at first, for a moment that seems far too long for me to stomach. He breaks, eventually and a part of me is relieved but it seems a bigger part of me wishes he would just return his stare toward the case again. His eyes feel like they're burning through me. Like as if I try and speak again, my voice will falter to nothingness.

"You're alright, sweetheart. On you go."

Sweetheart. It calms the nerves. I nod gratefully, but his eyes returning to what is grasped in my hands just reminds me of why exactly I should be stepping rather than shaking. A gulp, then I am on my way, feet clashing against the noir tiles. Birdie is accompanied by the waitress, I catch glimpse in a napkin holder and sigh in relief as I push through the faded blue door.

I am eager to release the case from my burning hands, I was gripping it tight enough to callous my reddened palms. I throw it on the ceramic sink as the faucet squeaks, my trembling hands splash my pink face with warm water. I heat even more.

The mirror greets my pallid features, sunken in with exhaustion and hunger. It also meets my eyes, swimming with a melting pot of emotions. My breaths are shallow and labored, and my heart is pounding on its cages.

I splash my face again and yet? I cannot shake the feeling that this won't be the last time I see that man again...

[cielrouge]

A peak example of how my parents should be proud of what their daughter is using her liberal arts education for: In the midst of writing a report, having to stop and seriously contemplate for a second: “Do I have to explain to my boss what a high school AU is?” 

[gay-tanuki-aus]

 Soulmate AU

Setting: School

It is said that the first thing, whatever it may be, said to you by your soulmate, would be imprinted onto your inner forearm like a tattoo. So there may be instances where the first things said might be super vague, something like "hey" or "hi". Then there were also the super-specific ones like "I remember seeing you at the bar last night, you were gorgeous, but I didn't think to say hi- so it's funny how we're meeting here again at a supermarket in the grocery lane." Last but not least, there were ones where it was just plain confusing.

"'Hi, I was wondering what kind of program you used?' I mean, who even asks that the first time they meet?" Ally groans as she stares at her forearm. No matter how much she thought about it, it just seemed impossible. It was always said that your soulmate was who you'd spend the rest of your life with and that you'd be lucky if you ever met your soulmate in your teenage years. Not many meet their soulmate this early on, after all, the world is so big, to make sure the two people meet, would need many variables to align. This made Ally feel slightly better about not meeting her soulmate yet, even though that particular sentence still confused her. It led her to wonder what kind of circumstances she and her soulmate would meet in.

At this time, Donut was also wondering about her soulmate. 'CSP'. That's it. That's all that is written. What baffled her the most, however, wasn't the short 3 lettered word or acronym. It was the fact that she didn't know what CSP meant. It wasn't like she didn't try searching online either, but all she got was "content security policy". Content security policy?? In what world would the first thing your soulmate say to you be content security policy? Did that mean she would have to try and get a job in that? Or maybe she just had to ask her soulmate what the acronym for content security policy was. No, that'd just be plain stupid. Imagine going up to everyone and asking that. Donut laughs a little at the thought, but she can't help but wonder if that's really how she'd find her soulmate?

Thankfully for both, it didn't take long for them to meet. As fandom people, it was only normal to be producing and enjoying fanart and fanfictions. So that's exactly how, and when it happened. It was at lunch, Donut decided to go to the Steven Universe fan club. She always enjoyed walking through the club room looking at the fanart which usually lined the club room walls. As she scanned through them, a certain fanart caught her eye. Intrigued, she had tapped a nearby person to ask them who drew it, and they pointed her to a girl- Ally not far off, sitting at one of the tables scribbling away.

Walking up, Donut decides to start the conversation up different. "Hi, I was wondering what kind of program you used?"

"CSP." Ally answers without looking up. Neither had realized what just happened until a second later Ally looks up almost aggressively. This only confirmed Donut's thoughts as she let out a small gasp.

"You're my soulmate???" Donut asks almost unbelievingly.

"Ok, but why are you taller." Ally seemed conflicted. "No, I mean- un-ask me that- please!"

"WH- I can't just un-ask you something like that!" Donut almost laughs at the absurdity of the request, but also slightly disappointed at her reaction. Did that mean Ally wasn't her soulmate? Or maybe they weren't meant to be soulmates? It is often said that one would feel a spark when they met their soulmate, but none of what was supposed to happen was happening.

"Oh, right, sorry, that was rude." Ally apologizes almost embarrassed but seemingly deflated.

"Oh pfft, don't sweat it, it's good! You see, so many people can ask you the same thing- so it probably isn't even me, I mean there are so many people on earth- y'know?? I'm sure you'll find the right soulmate." Donut says starting to ramble in an attempt to cheer Ally up. "Plus, we can just be soul mates with a space in between. Yes. We will be great friends or mates in this case!"

And that's what they did. They became soul mates. Kind of like when one would say 'Oh, this is my girl friend, with a space in between the girl, and the friend.' They would talk for hours on end about their ocs, and that's when Donut realized something was wrong. Something very wrong indeed, she may or may not be catching some unwanted feelings for her soul mate. Which was wrong. So what does a normal person do when they figure out something is wrong? They deny it.

"Yeah, then there's that boundary between acquaintances and friends." Ally says thoughtfully. The two were currently sitting at lunch talking about different types of relationships.

"I have like- friendship tiers I list everyone in. As you said, there are acquaintances, then there are friends. For me, there are three levels of friends: 'just met', close friends, and best friends. Then there is the slightly different topic of girlfriends. For instance, Theo would be a close friend." Donut starts to list off a few more examples as Ally listens, "And you- y'know you're like a super great friend, but I wouldn't date you. I mean, it's not like we're actually soulmates." She adds shrugging a little.

"Yep." Ally nods and that was the conversation; their attention brought back to fangirling over their ocs. If Donut could give herself a rating on how she did, she'd say she did pretty good, except she didn't.

A few months pass and Donut realizes her feelings were back, or more accurately, never left. So she decided, if Ally was interested in someone already, she'd just be a good friend and her ultimate wingman, but if Ally wasn't, she'd ask her out or something. Or not, since she's an awkward gay.

"So do you have a crush on anyone right now-" Donut had started the conversation, she'd ask every now and then just out of curiosity, except this time, she was going to make a decision afterwards.

"Huh, I mean everyone has one right, so I guess." The two were sitting at lunch again, just talking and enjoying each other's company.

Donut took a bite of her sandwich before looking back at Ally, "Oh?? So you do have one?" Now she was curious about who caught her soul mate's eye. "Who is it?" She asked almost a little too curious.

Ally didn't think much of it, however, and just shook her head. "I'm not telling you."

"Whaaaat- why not??" Donut whines. She really wanted to know now, who the mysterious person was.

"Why do you want to know so badly??" Ally crosses her arms almost defensive, but more flustered.

"Because I'm curious!" Donut exclaims. "I mean, you'd be the same if I said 'Hey Ally, I have a crush too.'" Lunch was almost over by this time, but hopefully, she could figure out who it was before then. Maybe a little push would help.

"You do? Who is it?" It was Ally's turn to be curious. "Y'know you should totally just ask them out, if it were me, I'd just ask my crush out."

"Yeah right." Donut snorts. "Like YOU would actually go up to your crush and just ask them out. That's not something the Ally I know would do." Donut teases Ally nudging her playfully.

"Shut up!" Ally clicks her tongue. "You are underestimating this gay. I would definitely ask them out. Anyways, what's your crush like huh? Since it doesn't seem like you'd be telling me the name."

"You're right I won't," Donut says with a smug look. "And I ain't telling you none of that." She was wrong. They spent the rest of the lunchtime talking about what their crushes were like. Right before the bell rings, Donut decides to go for it. "Wait-"

"Yeah?" Ally asks turning around, she was getting ready to go to class, but she decided that could wait. "What is it?"

"Good- luck in class!" Donut says after hesitating. She was going to ask Ally out, but on second thought, she could wait until later, or just not do so at all. She's pretty good at procrastinating anyways.

"Really now, I saw you hesitate." Ally crosses her arms in front of her chest. School can wait, whatever Donut was going to say had to be way more interesting than spending an entire hour in class listening to the teacher drone on about a random subject.

"IT'S NOTHING OK, GO TO CLASS." Donut was extremely flustered by now, she didn't think Ally would think too much of it, and now it seemed like she would have to tell her what she was going to say. Ally laughs a little and that makes Donut blush even more. "D-don't laugh!"

"Well it's funny watching you struggle for words, it doesn't happen a lot." Ally snickers some more. "So what's up my soul mate?" She had an idea what this was about, but she didn't want to ruin the fun.

"You're enjoying this aren't you- Oh my god. YOU'RE SO MEAN. I'M REALLY STRUGGLING HERE. Alright. I'll tell you, but if you laugh I'm leaving." Donut grumbles as Ally nods and laughs again. "Well uh, I think you're really cute- and like full homo-"

"There you go. Congrats." Ally giggled. "But really, I wasn't expecting this."

"What do you mean?"

"Remember when we had that conversation?"

"Which conversation- we've had many." Donut frowns trying to remember what Ally could be talking about.

"You said and I quote, 'You're like a super great friend, but I wouldn't date.'"

"That was-" Donut stammers completely forgetting they had that conversation, she then lets out an audible groan attempting to cover her face. "And like-"

"Yes?"

"Do you wanna like- go out with me?"

"I don't know hmmm-" Ally pretends to think about it. "What should I do..."

"C'MON ALLY. It's a yes or no question- the ones you're good at?" She then repeats in a slightly mocking but joking tone. "'Hey Ally, cats or dogs?' 'Yes'"

"Wooooow, don't make fun of me." Ally shakes her head in mock disappointment. "So rude. And I can't believe you don't want to be soul mates with a space anymore, I'm hurt."

Donut rolls her eyes a smile tugging at her lips. "So...?"

"Well- I have to go to class right now, so I'll let you know after school ok?? I'll definitely think hard on it." Ally winks as she turns to head to her class. Donut nods and gathers her stuff as well, there wasn't much time left to get to class before she was considered tardy. But that was hardly her concern at the moment. This whole thing had gone way better than Donut thought, and she was glad that Ally didn't flat out reject her which would've been quite devastating. On second thought, she also couldn't help but think maybe they really were soulmates.

TO BE CONTINUED...

(Because I can't write that much in one sitting plus I haven't spell checked anything so-)

[sweet-rabbit]

Hello! I'm new to the Voltron fandom! Could you explain to me how the Lotor and Lance ship came to be? I'm not complaining! Just wonder of this is something from the original show or something the fans picked up, or??? o:

*cracks knuckles and stuffs valentines dunkin donuts in mouth*

LET’S DO THIS! Move aside, Fandom Grandma steppin’ in here…

First and foremost welcome to the fandom~ Careful where you step, it can be a bit “sensitive” but I assure you that if you just filter the bad out it’s a GREAT place to be, I say this from experience. :D

Second, I can’t speak on behalf of the entire shipping community for lancelot/lantor/whatever but I can definitely speak on MY feelings in regards to it and why I find it appealing, as well as why I’ve been shipping this since season 1 first came out, like WOW. I got it baaaaad.

Background: So I mentioned in my comic post that I’ve watched the original voltron when it re-aired in the mid 90′s, so I was roughly 6 years old. Awesome afternoon, that and Sailor Moon was the BEST. No other shows then had girls fighting evil much less piloting a giant robot lion, like HOLY SHIT. And Lotor? Yeah, Lotor was the main villain I remembered. Haggar I remembered because she had a cat, but I seriously forgot that Zarkon was the official Big Bad. Dude waltzed around in a freakin’ crown and jewels, it was embarrassing and I couldn’t take him seriously. Good job VLD on Zarkon, way more imposing. :3c

So y’all are reading that correctly, right? I was SIX and I found Lotor to be an awesome villain. I was 100% aware that what he was doing was horrible, but I knew that whenever he was in an episode SHIT WAS ABOUT TO GO DOWN AND IT WOULD BE SO FREAKIN’ COOL!!! KICK HIS ASS VOLTRON, YEAH!!! Because, yeah, I like plot and conflict in my media, it’s quite a concept that I highly recommend. And yeah, sometimes that can be on the dark side but hey, that stuff ain’t a new thing when it comes to literature by any stretch of the imagination so I have faith in humanity.

CUT TO TODAY. Why was I so quick to not only jump on but attempt to try to start the lancelotor train (seriously I have a fic with this pairing started last november :P)? Quite simply, Lotor is a great plot device. He’s a VILLAIN, he’s going to come in and shake shit up, I look forward to it. And Lance? He’s my fandom bicycle, so OF COURSE I’m going to put him in Allura’s original position of “Lotor’s creepy obsession.” Again, I also ship Klance as a main ship (I’m meh on having OTP’s, they change all the time i can’t keep up), so it works great to have that little switch up happen since Lotor and Keith were rivals in the original.

You can also stretch it in that Allura piloted the Blue Lion in the original (Lance piloted Red… yet wore the blue suit, it made no sense and pissed my little self off to no end) so you could just say that Lotor has an obsession with specifically whoever pilots the blue lion for whatever reason. You want to keep his Oedipus Complex? Just say his mother was the original Blue Paladin, there’s his Altean-ness half right there possibly, and BAM you got yourself some lance/lotor conflict! And there WERE a few… interesting interactions with lance and lotor in the original, I can’t remember which episode but it was “stimulating” to say the least how Lotor was reacting to Lance as opposed to how he would Keith.

In regards to what we are currently working with, Lance has a lot of plot set up for himself going on. I personally theorize that next season will focus more on him in that season 1 had a focus on Pidge and 2 was Keith, so Lance at this time makes sense for focus in 3. His personal self doubt, his issues with Keith, and the tiny fact that WE DON’T KNOW WHAT QUALIFIES HIM AS THE BLUE PALADIN IT’S KILLING ME!!! Seriously, I was raised on murder mysteries and thus know when a show is pointing to an important plot point and when that happened in episode 1 I was like OH SHIT OH SHIT MAH BOI IS GONNA BE IMPORTANT!!! Anyway~ Yes, so then we also have Lotor coming in who is The Biggest Douche in the Universe

I will say that I am surprised by the amount of people making Lotor… nice? Like, I at the moment am not sold on the idea of a Zuko 2.0 since I love Villian Lotor way too much and so when Nice Lotor is written it’s just boring since we don’t have an idea for his character in VLD but yeah, I don’t care y’all you do what you love and I’ll support it…! I need to stop talking I’m at the rambling point. Basically, I just have A LOT to say about Lotor, clearly.

Summary: I see Lotor as a plot device for dark fic/humor and love to pair Lance with EVERYBODY… I also can’t spell “villain” correctly, huh.