#people are a lot less mad if we call at 1 to say 'hey pickup is pushed back to 5' than when they show up at 4 and have to wait til 5 anyway

[candlewitches]

okay i love my job but they have *got* to stop overbooking the high volume spay/neuter and then sending us emails saying we're not giving each patient enough attention/that we're rushing things/we need to be mindful of pickup times

like. when u book 8 dogs (incl 3 large females!) and 22 cats for 4 techs/VAs and 2 surgeons, or 26 cats for 3 techs/vas and a single surgeon, either we have to rush things or pickup time is going to be pushed back

also i need the hospital manager to stop going "how can i help:)" when medical is behind because she/admin booked 2 sed/rev drop offs for techs (on top of the regular appts + tech appts) and booked a euth first thing in the morning (and a second right after lunch), meaning we're behind from the get go

like ma'am u could help by not overbooking + not booking euths at the worst possible times. book them *before* lunch and as the final appointment, so people saying goodbye to their pets dont feel rushed!!

[codylabs]

Chapter 21: Stay Strong

Links: P 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20

The shapeshifter stopped off at Tambry’s house just long enough to drop her off, then hid Robbie’s van in the woods and continued through town on foot, wearing a disguise that would draw no attention: that of some random out-of-towner.

He was somewhat at a loss of where to start his search for answers, so he stopped by the GF Gossiper to pick up a copy of the local paper. NEW SPECIES OF FUNGUS DISCOVERED IN LOCAL REPORTER’S ARMPIT! The headline read. He turned to the next page. RAIN EXPECTED DURING BAKE SALE! LIKELY WATER! He flipped a few pages ahead to the sports section. DEATHBALL TRIBUTES CHOSEN! Remember kids, next year it could be you!

Geez. The shapeshifter wondered. What kind of sad, pathetic sack of human waste would actually consider this news?

But then, one headline caught his eye. INVESTIGATION CONTINUES INTO MYSTERIOUS KILLER ROBOT! If you are the evil mad scientist responsible, please turn yourself in!

Ah yes…

That whole thing… The Shifter read through the article. Apparently, nobody really seemed to know where this ‘killer robot’ came from, what happened, or why. The inept police force was getting less than nowhere with their “investigation”, and local coot/genius/former mad scientist Fiddleford McGucket was indisposed to answer questions, even though he was the one handling the machine’s autopsy, over at the former NorthWest manor.

With nothing more pressing to do, the Shifter decided he may as well pay McGucket a visit. After all, the old human was one of those who’d trapped him in that bunker all those years ago. A little payback had been a long time coming, and really, who would miss one eccentric old man? Besides, he might know something about the Shifter’s origins.

He asked a passerby on the street if she could point him toward the manor, and followed her directions down the road and up a hill.

Twenty minutes later, he found himself disguised as an ordinary deer, standing just outside the property. The front entrance was currently being blocked by a gigantic human in a gigantic pickup truck, whose combined bulk didn’t look to be moving it anytime soon. The deer glanced about, annoyed and impatient. Climbing over the wall would draw too much attention… Is there a way around the back? Just as he turned to search, movement by the gate caught his attention: a human girl had just exited the mansion.

But not just any girl.

THE girl.

Wendy. Wendy Corduroy. One of the few humans who actually did know something about the robotic life, and one of the most likely to know anything at all about alien life. Coincidentally, also one of the humans which had made an enemy of him.

He stared, and smelled, and listened.

The girl was looking tired and weak; overly pale, with rings under her eyes, tangled, unkept hair, and bringing a faint smell of unwashed sickness in her wake. Her walk was comparatively stooped and sluggish as she loped down the steps and opened the passenger-side door of the large man’s truck. The Shapeshifter wondered at his luck at finding her so helpless. In this state, she would be all but helpless before him, and all he had to do was wait until she was alone…

She closed the truck’s door behind her, and began to talk with the man inside. He couldn’t hear what they were saying…

“Wait feller!” A cackling southern accent entered the scene, and the Shifter saw Fiddleford scamper out of the building, a few tools in his hands.

Wendy rolled down the window to address him. “S’up?” The shifter enlarged and focused his ears to make out the distant conversation.

“Eh… Wull, uh…” McGucket scratched his scalp. “This little mission a yers… Who’s all goin’ with ya?”

“I don’t know…” Wendy shrugged. “You, me, Stan 1, Stan 2… And how ‘bout you, dad? You in?”

The gigantic man spoke up, his voice booming as if it had no lower volume. “YEAH.”

“Okay, yeah, I think that’s all…” Wendy nodded. “I… don’t really wanna drag Soos or Mabel into this after what happened…”

“Uh-huh…” McGucket glanced down the road. “Uh… Yeh ain’t goin’ now, is ya?”

Wendy shrugged again. “Well… Yeah, close to now. Like, an hour? What do you have to do to prepare?”

“Oh, okay, uh… Just need ta charge up me robo-legs… And get the plasma beam ready for a field test… And reviewify some of my notes…”

“ROBO LEGS?” The large man frowned.

“Plasma beam…?” Wendy asked.

“Eh, ye’ll see…” McGucket waved a hand dismissively. “Gimme two hours?”

“Okay… I think the Stans are at the Mystery Shack now, so meet us there then.”

“Right gab-smack tootin!” McGucket turned to head back indoors.

“WAIT.” Dan stopped him. “SO… SO WILL THIS SUPERWEAPON THING OF YERS DESTROY ALL THE ROBOTS? THAT HOW IT WORKS?”

Wendy opened her mouth to answer ‘yes’, but then closed it again. She looked at McGucket. The old man shuffled uncomfortably. “Wull, I… Most of ‘em, I’ll warrant… Tidal forces’ll rip the larger things apart, and a lot of the smaller things’ll be crushed in the mix… But there’s a swell chance a few critters might find a safe place, underground or in a shell…”

“Ugh.” Wendy glanced back at her dad. “Job for another day then.”

Dan considered this for a moment. “WANT ME TA GET A POSSE TOGETHER? MY CREW, SOME BIKERS, THE GLEEFUL GANG? THEY’VE GOT A SOFT SPOT FOR THINGS LIKE THIS.”

“A posse…? To do what?”

“TA HEAD INTA THE FOREST. Y’KNOW, WHILE THE REST OF YOU ARE DOWN IN THE SHIP, WE COULD BE CLEANIN’ UP STRAGGLERS”

She thought about it, then nodded. “Sure, uh… Just remember to stay… Stay… Hey, how far from the blast should they stay?”

“Eh… Lesse here…” McGucket twiddled his fingers like the beads of an abacus. “If we tune the ol’ banjo right, it’ll only completely overpower the Earth’s natural gravity within a mile radius. I’ll reckon much further than 2 miles, ya won’t feel nothin’ but a hiccup… So… Keep yerself 3 miles out ‘till it’s done firing, and you’ll be safe as corn puddin’.”

“Okay…” Wendy dug around in her pockets and produced a map. The shifter saw her draw a circle on it, and then hand it to her dad. “Just at least outside of here until we shut down the field. We’ll give you a call when it’s safe…”

“RIGHT… WHAT KINDA WEAPONS SHOULD WE BRING…?”

“Umm… Magnet guns would be great, but we only have, like, 3 of them…”

“I got the parts ta hootinany up 4 more’a them jiggers.” McGucket suggested. “Want me ta bring ‘em?”

“…Yeah.”

“AND IF THEY DON’T WORK?” Dan asked.

“Uh, if they don’t…” Wendy scratched her head. “If they don’t, go in with axes, shotguns, or… I don’t know, get creative. If it’s one of the lions… We killed a small pack of them earlier, so that may have been all of ‘em. I don’t know. But if you run into one, they’ve got a weak point in their armor. In the back of their neck beneath their antennae. Once you stun them, drive a steak or something far enough in there, and it’ll sever their spine… Also, if anybody has logging chaps, those work pretty well against saws… That’s… Oh geez, that’s how Dipper killed the last one… Uh…” She turned to her dad. “Am I forgetting anything?”

“THINK WE’RE GOOD. I’LL DROP YOU OFF AT THE SHACK THING, AND GO GATHER PEOPLE.”

“Okay… Oh yeah, it’s also kind of a secret that aliens exist.” Wendy reminded her father. “You kinda just found out, but this should stay between as few as possible.”

“I’LL TELL EM IT’S ALL MAD SCIENCE.”

“Great…”

The truck drove off down the road, and McGucket returned indoors.

The deer that had been watching the exchange tilted its head. ‘Mission.’ ‘Superweapon.’ ‘Ship.’ ‘Aliens.’ What mission? What superweapon? What ship? WHAT ALIENS? These tidbits all sounded very interesting; much more interesting than revenge. Perhaps for now, his part was but to wait and watch… After all, revenge was easy; he would always have a chance for something small like that. But to steal their knowledge and their secrets would be so much more important…

He morphed into a much faster animal, and was able to keep up with their truck with relative ease.

Fifteen minutes later, Dan left her at the Mystery Shack, and turned his truck back toward town.

Wendy glanced over her shoulder at the machine in her backpack: The computer system they could use to reactivate the UFO’s engines and destroy the Forest of Daggers. Today’s the day… Ugh, today’s the day… We’re closer than ever to finishing the mission.

But then she thought back to the robot lying dissected in McGucket’s lab, and to the answers its autopsy hadn’t answered… All the possibilities and trains of thought she’d chased to dead ends over the past few days, all the secrets and dark knowledge hidden in her mind. It seems she’d tried everything… We’re still further than ever from saving him.

She looked around at the trees, standing tall and indifferent around her. Somewhere deep in these woods, hidden in the dark, weird shadows beneath the trees, was there an answer? Was there a way to save him? This was Gravity Falls, after all; a solution to undo death wouldn’t be the weirdest thing they’d found out here. No… Definitely not the weirdest.

She would find something.

Or something would find her.

She felt like she was being watched.

But feeling like you’re being watched was nothing new around these parts, so she continued up the drive toward the Shack without giving it another thought.

She was almost there when the door flew open, and Stan stumbled out, across the porch, and off through the grass in the direction of the forest. He had a large electric jackhammer tucked under one arm, and a can of diesel under the other.

Wendy waved an arm and called for his attention. “Hey Stan! Need to talk about stuff; you got a minute? Where’s Stan 2?”

“Wendy…?” He turned around and saw her. “What…? Shouldn’t you still be in bed? Radiation poisoning and all that…?”

She frowned, utterly tired of people pointing this out. “Oh yeah, I probably should.” She went on the defensive. “Just like my dad should probably be at work, Stan 2 should be in a hospital from what I hear, and you should probably be in jail if this world were fair. But here we are, and there’s more important stuff than us, so do you have a minute or don’t you?”

Stan sighed, considered it for a second, then shrugged.

“So you mean business.” He remarked.

She nodded. “We’re gonna kill the robots today. Could use your and Stan 2’s help. You in?”

“Uh… Ford’s pretty sick…”

“Okay, well—”

“Hey, uh… Hold on.” He interrupted her and pressed the gas can into her arms. “Tell me on the way. I found something you’ll want to see.” And he led the way off into the trees.

Wendy’s curiosity won out over her impatience, (if barely) and she followed.

On the way, she told him the whole plan, and he listened with weary ears. From the woods not 10 meters behind them, the shapeshifter walked on silent feet, listening with ears that were very interested indeed.

Wendy finished telling the plan for what must have been the third time today, and Stan nodded slowly. “Probably for the best… Moving out now?”

“Soon as McGucket gets here with tools.”

“Hmm.”

Five minutes of silent walking later, Stan’s pace slowed to a stop near the center of a grove of birch trees. His eyes peered around the environment, searching for wherever he’d last seen their item of interest. Finally he found it. “Well, it’s still here… Uh… Good.” He sighed.

Wendy turned and saw it too. She recognized the shape instantly of course, but spent the first couple seconds wondering who would build such a thing, and why. But then the truth slowly dawned on her: that no man had made it. That somehow, it was the real deal. Before she even gave the command, her right hand had already drawn and readied her axe, and her eyes were sweeping the surrounding trees, looking for fires, smoke, monsters, eye-bats, or whatever madness this creature’s continued existence might spawn.

Seeing nothing but sunshine and grey/green trees, her eyes returned to the statue. “Is that really Bill…?” She asked.

“Yeah…” Stan cut her off, as if saying his name was somehow taboo. “It’s him.”

“How—”

“Remember when he left his body to enter my mind?”

“…Yeah…?” (She was a tapestry at the time, but she always left that part out when recounting the tale.)

“Yeah… Well… I think… I think this is that… This is what he left behind. Same size. Same pose… I don’t know what the whole story is, but… It’s him.” Stan hesitantly lifted a leg, and kicked the statue’s upraised arm.

No reaction.

“’Kay then…” Stan took out the jackhammer, and locked a large chipping bit into the end. “Help me with this.”

“Wait…” Wendy held up a hand. “Wait, umm…”

“’Wait’?!?” Stan spun on her. “Whaddaya mean ‘wait’?!? What, you wanna spare whatever’s left of him? give him a chance? Wanna shake a hand? Try and buy your little ‘boyfriend’ back?!? That it? HUH?”

“WHAT?!?” Wendy snapped. “NO! DIPPER WOULD RATHER HAVE DIED! I… I mean… I mean he would rather stay dead than… Than have us do that… I mean… What I meant was… Never mind. Never mind. Let’s do this.”

Wendy turned her axe around, gripped it with both hands, and used the flat part on the back like a hammer to strike the statues’ hat.

Stan hefted the jackhammer level with the statue’s eye, pressed it in, and pulled the trigger.

The sound of its metallic tapping seemed to fill the forest, echoing between and through the trees as if the entire forest could hear. The eye chipped, then chipped more, then cracked in two, then the bit was through the eye and deeper into the statue. Wendy’s axe finally smashed through the hat, and the item fell to the ground.

Thus did the dreaded thing slowly, slowly come apart.

Stan didn’t expect it to be hollow.

Wendy didn’t expect its insides to reek like a rotting animal.

No matter. Once they were through breaking apart the ‘shell’, Stan reached for the gas can, and poured diesel over the whole thing. While he did, Wendy used her axe to chop down a small tree, and cut off a few smaller limbs. She stacked the wood in a flammable way over the rubble, and Stan tossed a lighter.

The pile ignited instantly, and the wood kept it burning. In the heat, the last large chunks of stone cracked and chipped, until there didn’t remain much to see at all. The stink faded, and the smoke turned from black to grey, as if some small burden had been lifted from the natural world.

Wendy leaned back against a tree and crossed her arms. Stan sunk the tip of the jackhammer into the ground, and leaned against it like a walking stick. Both their eyes stayed fixed on the statue’s remains, while their hearts nursed hatred. The flames quietly flickered and hissed as the minutes stretched on, the only sound in the forest.

“How’d you find it?” Wendy finally asked.

“Just…” Stan shrugged. “Just… Goin’ for a walk… Found it.” His mind was far away, and didn’t bother to make his mouth lie well.

“We’re in the middle of nowhere…” Wendy frowned.

He opened his mouth, and closed it again.

Stan’s previous objection came back to Wendy’s mind: why would he think she wanted to shake its hand…? Where would that terrible idea have come from? “…Was it Mabel?” Wendy theorized, hoping she was wrong. “…Did she find it? …Did she shake his hand?”

Stan rubbed his hands through his eyes, and sighed. “If… Ugh, oh geez… Well, if she’d been about to… I woulda promised not to tell.”

So it really IS that bad. Wendy thought. This really IS our darkest hour. “Oh… Okay…” She said. “Right. I didn’t hear nothin’ from you…”

“No ya didn’t.”

They watched the fire for a minute more.

Suddenly Wendy let out a little yell, stepped up, and threw her axe at a nearby tree. The blade sank into the bark almost halfway. “Everything’s just falling apart!” She yelled at nobody in particular. “Everything! We… We all want him back so bad, but we don’t know how, and now that he’s gone… It’s like we’re not good people anymore! We’re not heroes! Does that make any sense? Like… Like remember Weirdmageddon? We all survived, but none of us did anything… It was only when Dipper came along… He found me, sitting on my butt, and he brought me along… And then we found Mabel, sleeping in a dream, and brought her along… And then we found you, hiding in the shack, and brought you along… And then we found Stan 2, helpless and trapped, and we brought him along… Dipper was the one that saved us all, because he was the only one who knew how to stand up and be a hero… Without him… It… It all started and ended with him…”

Stan scratched his neck.

“And now… Now it’s looking bleaker and bleaker... No way to beat death… Now all we’re doing is trying to avenge him… Now we’re getting desperate… It’s all. Falling. Apart…”

Wendy returned her axe to her belt and fell silent. She had more words to say, but didn’t want to let them out.

Stan thought about it all for a while.

“Who was he to you?” Stan finally asked.

Wendy glanced at him, then back to the flames. She shrugged. “A friend.” Then answered, then amended it. “My best friend.”

“More than a friend?” Stan asked.

She nodded. “More than a friend.” She admitted.

He thought about this too. A tiny, bittersweet smile tickled the corner of his mouth, as he realized he was hearing the things that Dipper would once have longed to hear. “…A lover?” He asked.

“No… Yeah…” Wendy shrugged. “I mean yeah… No.” She glanced at Stan, who’d had many shallow, fleeting lovers over the years. “No…” She said. No, not the way it means to you. “What’s more than a lover?”

“…A brother?”

“What’s more than a brother?”

“Nothing’s more than a brother.”

“…Then he was my brother.”

Stan pursed his lips, and decided to change the subject. “…You know…” He said. “When I lost my brother… When I let him fall through the portal, when it seemed like he was gone forever… That was somethin’ else. That was when I remembered how much I loved him. How much I needed him. How much I missed him… And also when I realized how much I could do on my own, even without him; the sacrifices I was able to make, the things I was able to learn, and do, and say… I learned the lengths I could go to save him. There were 30 years in there… 30 years of hopelessness. 30 years staring at a broken machine, all alone, lying and stealing and putting on smiles and pouring over confusing old books. 30 years when all evidence and logical sense in the world told me he was gone forever, except I kept on trying… To believe like I did? To keep on hoping? To try and be his hero? That was a work of faith on its own…”

Wendy nodded, feeling these same things herself. “Why… Why did you keep that faith?”

“Well… I figured he couldn’t be gone forever. And I knew… I knew I still had a debt to pay to him. I knew I’d wounded him, that I’d let him down… I knew that that was my… Redemption…”

Wendy considered this for a minute in silence. Her eyes drifted to the ground, and it held their attention while she thought.

“Why… Why do I keep my faith…?” She asked out loud, even though nobody but her knew the answer.

Stan looked at her with a frown. He knew as well as anyone that her faith was probably empty; there was no point in hoping. Death was final. But she couldn’t hear that; it would be too harsh. So instead he repeated her question back at her. “Why?”

“Why…” She echoed again. “Well…It’s… It’s funny… Well… No… No, it’s not funny… But… But… Ooookay.” She finally decided that she had to tell somebody. “There was one secret I kept from Dipper.” She blurted. “We promised not to keep secrets from each other… But I told him there was one I had to keep, and he was okay with that, so I kept it.”

“Oh really.” Stan folded his arms.

“I… I guess there’s no point keeping it a secret anymore, because now it isn’t even true… Is it? I don’t know… But… But can I tell you? Just don’t tell anyone; especially not him, if we ever do bring him back… I just need to tell somebody to make sure I’m not going CRAZY… Could you please keep this a secret?”

Stan nodded. “Sure.”

Wendy hesitated one more time to gather her wits, then said:

“Time travel is a thing.”

Stan wasn’t necessarily surprised. “Ford mentioned that at one point.” He admitted. “He ran into it here and there in his… Dimension-hoppin' days. Way I hear it, there's a few 'advanced civilizations' out there who've dabbled…”

“Yeah, well, news flash: mankind is one of them.” Wendy told him. “And more than dabbled; a couple hundred thousand years in the future, it'll be borderline commonplace. Policed and regulated fiercely though, which I guess is why we don't see more of them around these times…”

“Great.” Stan shrugged. “So time travel is a thing, but not anywhere close to yet. What does that have to do with—”

“I MET MYSELF.” Wendy told him.

Stan frowned.

“It was last Fall.” She explained. “After Dipper, Mabel, you and Stan 2 left… I was sitting in my room not doing my homework… And she showed up. She was maybe 25… 30? I don’t know… But she was a warrior of some kind apparently, had a suit of armor, some weapons, a funny cyborg eye doohickey, a time machine… But… But she was ME, there was no mistaking it… She was chill, we were both like ‘hey, how’s it going?’ or whatever; shared a soda… And then she gave me some advice on how to live my life; to apply myself in school, to love my family, defend the town, stop being lazy, never lose my integrity, never roll over for all the boyfriends I’d one day have… Basically she remembered the thoughts and the mistakes that I would one day make… And told me the things she remembered I’d need… And she’s the reason I’m so deep into these adventures and mysteries and crap nowadays, she’s the reason I’ve been doing better in school. Because that’s the path to the life I know will one day make me happy and fulfilled… The… The day she showed up was one of the biggest days of my life…”

“Umm…” Stan scratched his head. “Not gonna lie, that’s pretty weird…”

“But you believe me? It’s not impossible?”

“Well… No, I mean… There’s been weirder things around. But… But this super-secret-time-warrior-future chick; did she tell you that Dipper was gonna die? Or tell ya how to save him…? Or—”

“NO.” Wendy ran her hands through her hair. “No, that’s the weird part. SHE DIDN’T. In fact, you know what she did say? You know why I hold on to faith right now? You know why I never told anybody about this ever? You know why this was the only secret I had to keep from Dipper? You know why I’ve been confused and divided and conflicted and determined for 7 months now?”

“…Why?”

“Because.” She said. “Dipper’s not really ‘like a brother’ to me. And he’s not just my best friend either… Someday… Someday Dipper was gonna be my husband…”

About 50 feet back in the trees, something that looked just like an ordinary mountain lion had been crouching for the past half-hour, listening. Now its paws grew fingers, reached through a fold in its skin, and removed Robbie’s phone. He shook the slime off it as quietly as he could, and opened a web browser. He searched ‘time travel’, then ‘husband’, and read briefly through the articles that popped up.

Putting the two sets of knowledge together painted a very strange picture, and he considered the implications with confusion and interest.

Then he realized the humans were talking again.

“Shut up.” Wendy was saying.

“I didn’t say anything.” Stan put his hands up.

“Yeah, but you’re thinking it. You’re smiling.”

“I--! Hmm… Okay…” The old man scratched the grizzle on his chin to hide the smile he knew shouldn’t be there. “What do I say here?”

“What do you say? What do I say? This isn’t funny, it’s weird! I’m not crazy, am I? Am I crazy? Why would I make this up? And why wouldn’t it be true anymore? What happened?”

“I… Okay…”  The old man gave it all as much thought as he could muster. “Okay… No, you’re not crazy. I believe you… And no, I don’t know anything else. I really don’t know how time travel works.” He admitted. “I don’t know if we changed the future somehow, or if this is all a dream, or if that was all a dream, or if that even was you from the future, but…” He shrugged. “Is there a way to bring him back? For real and good? That’s the real question, isn’t it? A way that doesn’t involve flirting with ancient evil…? Something that doesn’t just… Just make the pain longer and worse…? Heck if I know. But if he really means as much to you as you said… If you really believe you can do this thing, and really will do anything for him… Then… Then if there’s a way, I’ve a hunch you’re gonna find it. And… God help whatever stands in your way.”

She made a noise with her nose, about halfway between a laugh and a scoff.

“Seems to me.” Stan put a hand on her shoulder. “This is the part of the story where the world finds out who Wendy really is… And I think we’re all looking forward to it.”

She took a deep breath, and tried to smile. “Thanks…”

He gave her a pat, and turned away. “’Kay, hey, let’s head on back then. McGucket will be here before too long, right? We’ve still got some bots to flatten today, and we can’t keep your dad and his posse waiting.”

“Yeah, yeah… Uh… I’ll be with you in a minute…” She nodded.

Stan turned and started back toward the Shack, leaving Wendy staring at the last dying embers of Bill’s pyre. Once he was out of sight, she walked over to a nearby tree, pulled out a knife, and began carving shapes into the trunk. What were those, numbers? She seemed to have given the task all her attention.

Here we are, little girl. The shapeshifter thought. Alone in the middle of the forest. You have your back turned, and your brain preoccupied… I could kill you right now, it would be so easy.

Forget killing, I could HURT you. Disturb you. Torture you. Take anything I wanted from your body and brain, however I wanted.

I could.

I should.

But he didn’t.

Instead he watched silently for a few seconds as she finished carving whatever those shapes were. Then she flipped her knife closed, and stood back, allowing the shifter to get a good look at them. Was that a time and date? Suddenly Wendy turned her face upwards. “IF I EVER BECOME A TIME-TRAVELER!” She announced to the skies, and pointed at the numbers. “I PROMISE I’LL COME BACK FROM THE FUTURE TO RIGHT NOW, 11:03 AM, JUNE 12, 2013.”

He looked at her for a few seconds, startled.

Then Wendy looked left. The shifter looked left too. There was nobody there.

Then they both looked right. There was nobody there.

Behind, in front, up, down…

They didn’t see anyone or anything. They waited a minute or so…

But nobody came.

A single silent tear glinted in the light as it rolled down Wendy’s cheek.

Well. The shifter thought. I suppose that answers that question. Yes, something changed, indeed. Your plans, your dreams, your precious little friend… Everything concrete in your life really IS dead for good, isn’t it? And now… It seems without your partner, without your hero… You have nobody left to lean on. You’re so weak, I could kill you now…

But he didn’t.

Wendy turned and started back into the trees toward the Shack. The shifter decided he had other business too, and started back toward Robbie’s van.

Once they were both out of sight, the dark figure crouching high in the branches disappeared in a flash of blue light.

Ow, that hurt.

Dipper didn’t wake up, because he was already awake.

He didn’t open his eyes, because they were already open.

He didn’t stand up, because he was already standing.

It’s strange; he hadn’t feel any sort of lapse or discontinuity at all, yet he’d been lying down, hadn’t he? Something had been wrong with his body, and the pain had been incredible, and he’d been lying down. But now, an unmeasurably long instant later, he was just standing…

Hey I don’t hurt anymore. He realized.

But… Wait… Wait, what happened? Why aren’t I itchy? And why can’t I remember?

He tried to move, but he didn’t move… He tried to close his eyes, but couldn’t… He tried to speak but… Why can’t I feel my tongue?

It’s true, his own body seemed to be missing entirely. And whatever was left was still here, staring ahead, all alone… Wait… He couldn’t seem to remember much, but shouldn’t someone be here with him…? Somebody… WENDY! Where’s Wendy? Wendy was here with me, just a second ago! I need Wendy. I like Wendy. Wendy is nice. Wendy is pretty. Wendy. I need Wendy. Where’s Wendy?

He looked around.

He appeared to be in some kind of forest, deep beneath the overhanging shadows of the Pines. In fact, it wasn’t dissimilar to the woods of Gravity Falls; that familiar, wild environment wherein he felt most at home in this world. He didn’t see any buildings around, though now that he looked, there did seem to be some kind of hatches and doors built and hidden into the landscape; in hollows in the trees, in the gaps between roots, beneath bushes on the forest floor. Quite a lot of hatches… That was his first hint.

But the world was also grey, perfectly grey. The shadows were deep, the light was uncertain, even flickering, and everything bore the unmistakable marks of decay and neglect. But it was all grey; not even a hint of color… That was his second hint.

Oh… He put it together. This is the mindscape. When we were in Stan’s mind, it took the form of his home, with memories locked behind creaky wooden doors. This takes the form of my home… Or at least, the place I love the most… With memories sealed beneath shadowy hatches, deep in the forest… Somehow, I must be inside my own mind…

What happened? Why am I here? Is Bill around? Does he have something to do with this? I thought he was dead. Who put me here? And why can’t I remember what happened? Is there anyone else here?? Wendy!

In answer to his questions, loud, omnipresent words suddenly echoed through the trees. The words had no voice, no form or language. As if the words had not been spoken at all, but rather their meaning had been carved directly into his brain.

-INPUT: This is a test. Can you receive and respond to stimulus?

Dipper found he couldn’t speak. Huh? He thought. What does that mean? Who is that? What ‘stimulus’?

-INPUT: Think about the color purple.

Huh? Why would I think of the color purple? He wondered. Many pretty flowers are purple. Purple lightsabers are cool. Pacifica wears a purple dress. Purple lightsabers are REALLY cool. But Wendy wears green. Her hair is not green. Also trees are green. There are no green flowers. Why aren’t there any green flowers? I guess it makes sense that there are no green flowers; the bright colors are for bees to locate them. How would they locate a flower that blends in, huh? All the green flowers would die out…

-INPUT: You appear to be thinking almost normally. Are you capable of memory and learning?

What’s this loon talking about?

-INPUT: Try to remember this phrase: the ball is yellow.

Which ball are we talking about? Everything here is grey, and I don’t see a ball.

-INPUT: To demonstrate that you can learn, repeat the phrase back to me.

I can’t really talk, so how am I supposed to repeat? Wait, was the ball red or yellow? It seems like red is the most likely primary color for a ball to be. Unless they’re tennis balls, or the Pixar thing with the lamps.

-INPUT: Good enough, I suppose.

Wait a minute, somebody’s reading my mind! The words are responding to my thoughts!

-INPUT: That is astute. Now, can you remember your name and other basic information?

My name…? Uh… My name is Pine Tree something… Dipper! Yeah, Dipper… Dipper Pine Tree. Right? Man, that’s a stupid name. Did my parents just hate me or something? A dipper is an old-timey ladle for serving soup. They call me dipstick when they want to be mean. Sometimes Wendy calls me dipstick too, but that’s kind of more like friendly mocking. Not mean really.

-INPUT: Can you recall your real name, your current city and state of residence, and your sister’s hair color?

Her hair was reddish-pink… But it changed from week to week. She was always knitting new hair. And I’m in California of course. Gravity Falls, California.

-INPUT: What is your REAL name?

Dipper…

-INPUT: The decay is extremely severe…

Decay? Dipper glanced around his mindscape, suddenly worried at the implication. And he saw craters in the ground, gaping beneath splintered, fallen trees. Hatches and doors shattered off their hinges, or buried in rockslide. Words and labels and maps blurred or burned or defaced. And he realized he was looking at a place of utter ruin. This is my brain… Good grief, has it always been like this? What memories are lying there smashed? What pathways are now unwalkable…?

I used to be the smart one…

If I’m not the smart one, who am I…?

-INPUT: Do you feel ready to understand complex ideas?

Complex ideas? Well… I don’t know, look at this place… Does this mean I need to go back to kindergarten? Am I retarded now? Wait, if this thing is reading my thoughts, did it hear that? And that? It did! It’s hearing everything I think! This is creepy! I can’t think about embarrassing things like Wendy! Wendy is nice. Wendy is pretty. Where’s Wendy? Is Wendy the one reading my mind? Oh no! Is Mabel the one reading my mind? If that’s Mabel, then no matter what I do, I cannot think about dead kittens.

-INPUT: This is your Great Uncle Ford, and you deserve an explanation.

-INPUT: You died, Dipper. You died in battle defending Wendy Corduroy. I recovered your body before it underwent cell death, and used the brain scanner in my study to make a backup copy of your consciousness. I didn’t tell anybody besides Stan for fear of raising false hope, and neither of us were optimistic. And… Honestly, my plans didn’t go further than that; than maintaining a copy. I’m not sure where to go from here. And seeing as how the copy is only partial, and how rapidly it decays, I doubt I can go very far.

-INPUT: You did not perceive any passage of time between your death and now because I did not have a computer powerful enough to accommodate a living mind.

-INPUT: However, I found a temporary solution in the form of your sister. She is currently in a coma in the lab, and her brain is being used to host both of your minds. She is thinking for both of you. However, she is only thinking a fraction as fast under the load; already half an hour has elapsed since I began this interface.

-INPUT: Your sister has been extremely troubled since your death, and Stanley brought her to me hoping I could heal her or cheer her up. That is the only reason you’ve been activated at this point. After I uninstall you from her mind and deactivate her coma, you will not remember any of this, although she will. She needs you. And this will double as a viable field test for further tentative experiments with your copy.

-INPUT: Do you comprehend all this information?

It took a little while, and it put some stress on the borrowed corners of Mabel’s mind, but Dipper did slowly ‘comprehend’ the situation. Evidently, Ford saw when he’d finished his understanding.

-INPUT: Good. Now, there’s somebody who wants to see you. I’ll leave you two alone.

In the corner of his eye, he saw something that wasn’t grey. Something colorful, picking its way towards him through the rubble. Something with a reddish-pink sweater, and brown hair. “D… Dipper?”

…Mabel?

“And you brought this WHY?”

“Wull…” McGucket fished his own mind for an adequate explanation. “We gave all them magnet guns ta Dan’s posse, so I gist thought we might need somethin’ if we ran into some ‘drones’ or somesuch down there… An I just built this, so I figured we could give it a go!”

“Well, yeah!” Stan shrugged. “But how far are we planning on carrying this? It’s like the size of my…!”

“Is that the ‘plasma beam’ you mentioned?” Wendy came walking up.

“Ye reckon straight!” McGucket’s robo-pants whirred and clattered as he did a little jig, the massive sci-fi weapon cradled in his arms. “It uses these here magnetic containment thingums ta fire a six-million-degree trickle of deuterium-helium hogwash with an effective range of 50 meters, half-meter penetration capability into all types of material and armor, as well as tank capacity for 200 some-odd shots, and it even hambones yeh a tune while it charges!” He pressed a button and the weapon began to emit a country song from an onboard record player.

“…Why.” Wendy blinked. “You have a death ray. Why did you build a death ray.”

“Wull… I started fiddlin’ with it back when we first met them robit’s, as a weapon ta punch through ‘em instantly if push ever came ta shove… I…” The joy left his voice. “I guess I invented it too late.”

“Hmm.” Wendy grunted, trying not to sound too mean, but maybe sounding mean anyway by accident. “It’s okay. It’ll still be useful for the… Alien drone things though, right?”

“Aww, it’ll punch right through ‘em, surefire. The thermal expansion strain from even a near miss oughta be enough to crack their outer shells…”

“It’s still way too big.” Stan repeated. “You sure you can haul that stupid thing all the way down the ladder?”

“Ehhhhhhhh…”

“You do you then.” Stan grunted. “But I’ll be hauling some good ol’ fashioned ray guns.” He patted his bulging pockets. “You want one, Wendy?”

She took two. “And Ford isn’t coming?” She clarified.

“Can’t. He’s… He’s got work ta do. Plus he’s lookin’ after my other great neice…”

She shot him a glare that promised to carve out his kidney stones with a belt sander.

Somewhere in the middle of all this, an edgy, gothic van came rolling up the driveway behind them. As Wendy tucked Ford’s blasters into her belt, she glanced over her shoulder. “Ugh.” She sighed when she recognized the vehicle. “I’ll deal with this, guys…”

She met Robbie face-to-face before he’d even made it around from the driver-side. His slouching lope came to an abrupt stop when she demanded. “What are you doing here, dude?”

“Well, I just, like…” He looked almost as confused as he did sour. “I wanted to help…?”

“We’re fine, dude. Plus it’s kind of top-secret what we’re doing, so…”

“Well, I’m, like, prepared!” His slouch straightened just slightly, as he gestured to a weapon across his back. “I’ve got a sawed-off shotgun, some gnarly knives, a van, a skateboard…?”

“We’re fine.” She repeated. “We don’t really need… We’re fine… And hey, how did you even know we’re doing anything at all? This is kind of secret…”

“Well, I wanted to go with your dad’s gang out to the forest, but your dad doesn’t really like me, so I didn’t ask… And I didn’t see you with them so I thought I’d come here to… You know. What are you doing? I can totally keep a secret, I promise…! Like, I kept Tambry’s secret!”

“What’s Tambry’s secret?”

“Ha ha. Nice try.”

Wendy glared at him for a moment. “Why?” She asked.

That took him off-guard. “Well… Whaddaya mean?”

“Why are you so dead-set on coming with someone? To do something? What does it matter to you?”

“Well… Well, everyone wants to help… And… Especially after what happened, I just felt like I should—”

“Ooh-HOO, after what happened, huh? Yeah?” She challenged him. “You wanna tell me you’re sorry he died?” She stuck a finger in his face. “You wanna tell me he was a good man, that he died a hero, and that it’s really such a shame, and all that? It would be a nice gesture from anybody else, but from you, it’s dishonest! I’m dealing with so much crap right now… All of us, all of this, everything we’re doing, it’s all for him! So a little sympathy from his personal nemesis, a little kind word from you, that’s the last thing I need… Just… Just leave…”

Robbie hesitated for a moment, and his eyes fell, for he knew all this was true. “…But…” He set his jaw, seemed to draw some kind of determination, and tried again. “What if I said I was sorry?” He growled, as if angry at nobody in particular. “Not just ‘sorry’ as in ‘man, that sucks, sorry’, but ‘sorry’ as in ‘I… I seriously boned it… And I know it. Through the year I’ve known him, and the years I’ve known you, all I’ve done is just mess up and I haven’t given you or him the respect you deserve, and… And… I could have been there for you guys. At any point I could have. But I didn’t… So… So I’d do, like, do anything to make it up… I’m just… This is my chance to prove I’m not a loser. Like… Redemption, right? …I’m just sorry.”

Wendy understood that much.

She sighed and glanced at the other 2 men.

McGucket shrugged.

“My vote says scram…” Stan glowered. “But you know him best.”

Wendy turned back to Robbie. Ugh… Robbie… She sighed to herself. Why the heck did you have to get wrapped up in this? You’re the one person I DON’T want getting underfoot… But…

But he’s just trying to help. He said he’s sorry for what he’s done, and… He wants to clear his name. In my sight, and in Dipper’s posthumously. He’s seeking honor. Seeking redemption. Who am I to keep him from that? We all want redemption. We’ve all done countless wrong things that we long to repay for.

Perhaps he and I are in this for the same reasons. We want to prove ourselves. We want to cry out to the world that we’re not screw-ups… We want to become like Dipper: Somebody worthy of love.

But I’ve got a weird feeling in my gut that tells me he doesn’t really mean it. When I look deep into his eyes, something seems off, just slightly… There’s something here I should be paranoid about, but I have no clue what it is…

Something’s not being said here.

For a while after, Wendy wondered if she would regret saying “Sure. Fine.”

[peter-parkers-backpack]

67 Chevy Impala part 2

A/N: I was overjoyed but the comments on 67 Chevy Impala, and because of a request I’ve decided to write a part 2, sorry it took so long, I’ve been really busy. Hope you like it! Thanks for the feedback everyone!!

Pairing: Peter Parker x fem!Winchester!reader

Fandom: Spider-Man Homecoming, Supernatural

Summary: Peter never forgot somebody that he used to know. He had her number, but was afraid to use it, until the new Avengers Facility seems to be haunted. 

Warnings: Mentions of Hell (idk if this should be a warning but), violence, cussing, Season 5 of Supernatural just happened, so the time frames don’t add up, sorry about that, Infinity War doesn’t happen because I don’t know what events will take place and I don’t want to screw the story up.

Part 1

Three years.

That’s how long it had been since she had to move.

Peter had graduated now, he was living in the new Avengers Facility. After high school, he had decided that he actually did want to be an Avenger, and was immediately taken in.

His first few months there were great, he was the ultimate fanboy, and the others found it quite entertaining.

Until a new shipment of, well something, came in. Tony told them it was pretty important, but after opening the box, they found it just to be some old antiques. Apparently the supplies were for something he was working on, but no one really quizzed him on what that was. 

That night the heater seemed to fail, then the next morning the TVs glitched and turned off, before turning back on like nothing had happened. They began to worry, Tony’s systems didn’t fail continuously like this on a normal basis. 

Peter remembered something the first time something weird happened. He remembered a girl he used to know. The things she told him. 

It all added up, cold spots, glitches, that meant ghosts if he remembered correctly. 

“H-hey Mr. Stark?” Peter approached him the next morning, only to find most of the Avengers already at breakfast with him.

“Yeah, Spidering?” He responded, not looking up from whatever he was doing.

“I-I think I know how to- or k-know someone- w-who can fix the w-weird stuff that’s been going on.” He was so worried they would think he had gone mad that he almost couldn’t get out a full sentence.

Tony finally looked up. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t worried about what had been happening “And who is this?”

“W-well I used to know her at school, h-her family solves s-stuff like this. T-they are called ‘hunters’.

“Thanks, but I don’t need someone who can shoot deer, I need someone who knows what’s going on.”

“N-no” Peter stuttered nervously “T-they hunt m-monsters, I-it’s real, I-I promise.”

And after some laughing, and more convincing, Peter found himself dialing a number he hadn’t ever before. Though he’d be lying if he said he didn’t stare at his phone every night, debating whether to call or not.

(Y/n) had also left high school, but she didn’t have the chance to be a superhero. She had to help her brothers fight Lucifer and Michael. So yes, she may not be an Avenger, but how many people can live to say they stopped the apocalypse? Two, the answer is two.  

They used to be a family of four. John, Dean, Sam, and (Y/n) Winchester. Now they were all split up.

John had left first. He sold his soul to save Dean’s life, died a few hours later, and they hadn’t seen him since. 

Then Sam. He was currently in the cage in Hell, after winning a fight against Lucifer and jumping in to trap him forever.

Dean left next. He had made a promise to Sam, Lisa and Ben. He was happy, and that’s all (Y/n) needed. A happy Dean didn’t come to often, and she was determined to make it last. 

So as far as he knew, (Y/n) Winchester was dead, just like the rest of them.

(Y/n) found herself yet again living off of stolen credit cards and fake IDs. Just, alone this time. She continuously felt thankful that she had amazing abilities when it came to computers, or she’d be screwed. 

She didn’t have a car anymore. Dean had taken Baby with him, not like she expected otherwise, he thought she was dead. And who leaves a car to a dead person?

However, after awhile she got fed up with busses, and stole a beaten-down, two-door, rusty pickup truck from the side of the road that had a ‘for sale by owner’ sign on it. It wasn’t much, but she had a seat for herself and enough room to lay across he seats, and that’s all she needed.

The only belongings (Y/n) had were some clothes, a computer, and some weapons. Even these were mediocre, compared to what she was used to. She had three knifes, Ruby’s demon killing knife, one 8 inch hunting knife, and one pocket knife that seemed to have every kind of tool on it. Her favorite pistol, and a shotgun were the last guns standing, seeing as she didn’t have much room left for the other ones.

For the most part, she hunted demons, and considering how pissed she was at them, she was pretty good. In fact, she killed so many in a short amount of time that she soon became Hell’s most wanted. 

Her sole focus was to kill as many black-eyed sons of a bitches as possible.

That is, until her phone rang. And for the first time ever, the name Spiderboy came onto the screen. 

“Hello” she picked up, trying as hard as she could to not sound as pissed off as she was.

“H-hi (Y/n), I-it’s Peter, Parker, I- um- we have a problem. I think it’s a g-ghost, I can’t be s-sure, b-but I was wondering, I-if you could c-come get rid of it?” Peter was nothing but a stuttering mess on the other end, and (Y/n) couldn’t help but agree.

“Yeah, give me an address and I’ll be there.”

“Okay, a-are your b-brothers coming t-too?”

“No” she deadpanned, and after getting the address, she immediately hung up.

When a rough-looking pickup truck rolled into the parking lot, and a teenage girl ran up the steps, it was Tony Stark who answered to door.

“Sorry, I didn’t order girl-scout cookies this year.” He joked.

“Well I ordered a good joke, but clearly I came to the wrong place.” She retorted, smirking as his face fell “Look, I’m (Y/n) Winchester, and I’m here to fix your ghost problem.

Tony had heard that name before, and it wasn’t from when Peter was explaining what hunters were, in fact he now realized Peter never actually said the name of the person that was coming.

“Come on Spiderling, there’s a don’t be like this, there’s a party. Come join.”

“Sorry Mr. Stark, I really don’t feel like it right now.”

Tony sighed “There are plenty of girls out there” he kept trying to convince him.

“I’m not interested, thanks though.”

“Oh, well there are guys to-”

“N-no it’s not that, I-I just, I’m not interested”

Tony sat down “Alright who was it?”

“W-what?” Peter looked up at him.

“The one who broke your heart, who was it?”

Peter sighed “(Y/n) Winchester. S-she didn’t break my heart, she just had to move. Her family wouldn’t let her stay. She told me they move around a lot, at least five times a school year”

“Come on in then” He said snapping out of his thoughts. 

“So tell me, how long has this been going on?” (Y/n) asked Tony as she sat at the dining table, a fresh coffee in her hands.

“About two weeks.”

She nodded “And how long have you been living here?”

“Longer than two weeks, that’s for sure.”

She nodded “Ok, that makes it less likely that the building itself is haunted.” She thought for a moment “Have you had anything come in the building around the time the odd things started? It’s most likely something old.”

Tony nodded “Actually there has, I’ll show you.” 

They passed many rooms on the way there, including a theater, that happened to hold many of the Avengers. Natasha, Clint, Sam, and Wanda were perhaps the most curious people (Y/n) had ever met, and they insisted on following her and Tony to one of his labs. 

When they got there, (Y/n) saw a box labelled ‘antiques’ and immediately walked over and spread the objects out on a table.

Before she could do anything Tony asked “So why would a ghost be in an object?”

“Well ghosts are stopped when their bones are burned, but sometimes they leave a piece of themselves behind, often hidden in an object. This makes them tied to said object, so wherever it goes, they go. So what I’m thinking is that one of these things has a ghost tied to it, which is why nothing strange happened until after it got here.”

“Why are you using an old busted up Walkman?” Sam asked, looking at her like she was the strangest person in the world as she took the tool out of her pocket and pulled out it’s antenna.

“It’s an EMF meter, and it looks like a Walkman because it’s homemade. It was my brother Dean’s” (Y/n) explained as she waved it over an old rusted mirror.

“What does it do?” Wanda asked, eyeing the thing as she waved it over another object.

“Basically it tells if an object, area, or even person is haunted or possessed by a ghost. When it detects something it will-” then the EMF meter’s lights went nuts as she waved it over an old book “-do that.”

“Well what do we do with it now?” Natasha questioned, eyeing the book suspiciously.

“We salt and burn it”

Clint’s smile grew “Cool”

It had been one of the easiest cases (Y/n) had worked in a long time, and it seemed like a vacation from the black-eyes. But she knew she had to get back to what she was doing before. So when the Avengers wanted her to stay for dinner, they basically had to lock all of the doors, to which (Y/n) pointed out was kidnapping.

“Oh come on, you helped us, the least we could do is give you dinner.” Tony said “And don’t even try denying again, your food is already on the table.”

When everyone was seated and starting to eat (Y/n) was bombarded with questions about her life.

“Where do you live?”

“You said you have a brother, where is he?”

“Where are your parents?”

“Do you get paid doing this”

“What’s the coolest thing you’ve ever done?”

(Y/n) chuckled at their curiousness, and knew it was because they were new to the fact there were hunters out there and wanted to know how they lived.. “Ok everyone, slow down. I don’t live anywhere, I just sleep in a hotel wherever the case I’m working is, then I move on to another town. Actually I have two brothers. Dean is the oldest, he has a sort-of-family now. It’s a complicated situation, but he lives with them. Sam is the middle child, he’s“ she paused, her eyes beginning to fill with tears before she blinked them away “he’s dead.

“My parents are dead too, my mom was killed by a demon when I was a baby, I never knew her, and my dad died a few years ago to save Dean’s life. Another complicated story.

“No I don’t make money, people don’t exactly pay you for saving their lives. The coolest thing I’ve ever done…” She debated telling them she has had many conversations with the king of hell, or fought angels and demons alike, that she was number one on the most wanted list in hell, all things they would consider cool. “The coolest thing I’ve ever done was cut off a vampire’s head with Spider-Man’s web.”

Before anyone could react to her crazy, yet seemingly normal, answers, Peter Parker walked in the room. 

“Sorry I’m late, I was-” but he trailed off when he saw (Y/n) sitting there.

“Peter! How are you? Wow, it’s been awhile. I see you still have awesome t-shirts” she laughed at seeing his shirt had the NASA logo on it saying ‘I need more space’ .

He smiled and hugged her, which gave his stomach a warm feeling, “I didn’t know you were coming today.” Peter was also confused, he knew she was pissed at him, but clearly she was hiding it. 

“Well, I was closer than I thought.”

After dinner they all went to watch a movie, but when Peter tapped her on the shoulder, the two of them went outside to talk in private.

“I’m sorry”

“Is that all you got?” (Y/n) asked “I called you every night for months Peter. You would think you could’ve answered at least one of my calls.“

“I know, and I’m sorry, so, so, sorry. I just knew that if someone went after you because of me, I couldn’t forgive myself.”

“That has got to be the most cliché thing anyone has ever said. Come on Peter, if you are worried about someone getting hurt, maybe don’t date a hunter. I get hurt all the time, but you know what, not once has it been because of you. In fact, right now I have the king of hell looking to kill my ass, I should be the one worried about you. So don’t give me that shit, don’t even try.”

“I guess I just thought after a while that you would be to mad at me to answer the phone.“

(Y/n) looked into his brown eyes and remembered the boy she fell in love with years ago. “I never got that mad Peter.”

“Can you give me another chance?”

“Of course”

“Can I kiss you”

“Of course”

And then his lips were on hers, and for the first time in a long time, she felt all her worries slip away.

“NICE GOIN SPIDERLING”

“TONY LEAVE THEM ALONE”

[hillbillyhippiemusicreview]

POST #7 - Tumbleweed: The Good, The Bad, & The Ugly

Y’all, this is my last post reviewing Tumbleweed and this post is a little different. I promised y’all from the beginning that I would be honest in all of my reviews. This post will point out the good, the bad, and the ugly, of the festival as a whole. I won’t be reviewing artists, but I’ll be pointing out things that Borda Productions and the Tumbleweed team did better than last year and things they could still improve on. This is by no means a bashing article, it is just constructive criticism and is not meant to be viewed as a negative review. So I will list all of the good, the bad, and the ugly until I can’t list anymore. Again, this is based solely on my personal experiences of attending Tumbleweed as a fan and from other attendees gathered through social media. So, here we go:

The GOOD:

1. Tumbleweed has one of the best lineups of southern rock, real, alt, and outlaw country of any festival in the nation. While some people argue that it didn’t compare to the lineups in 2017 or 2018, it was still a killer lineup for the price of the festival. Some say it was a little more rock than country, but honestly you have zero complaints or criticism from me.

2. There were quite a few more people present on staff this year. Last year’s staff seemed tired and scarce. This year, the staff rotated in and out and were always helpful. I actually heard several people comment on the hospitality of the staff.

3. The new “VIP Area” on the festival side of the lake. This year they had some benches and a small area gated off with garbage cans for all of us campers to sit and finish our drinks before going into the festival grounds. This is awesome considering I had 2 coolers full of booze and really didn’t wanna pay $7 for a Coors Light.

4. The selection and amount of Vendors and Food Trucks this year was much improved from last year. As far as food, there was everything from Fried Ravioli and New York Style Pizza to Gyros and Burnt End Sandwiches. The vendors ranged from cowboy hats, cattle feeders and jewelry to CBD oil and Hemp infused coffee. Throw in the festival and artist merch and there was a little something for everyone.

5. The libation selection this year (in my opinion) was better. Instead of only having Bud Light and Bud Diesel, there was a plethora of alcohol options. Beer was limited to Coors Light and Miller Lite unless you were a VIP. VIPs, if I was told correctly, were able to get some Anheuser-Busch products. There were also certain times where you get get “tastings” of Twisted Tea. You add those in with the mixed drinks and Jell-O shots available and you’re in for a good time.

6. They took advice from last year and moved the “general store” closer to the camping area. Last year we had to walk up and down “buzzkill hill” to the festival grounds in order to get ice. By the time you got back to camp, 3/4s of the bag was already melted. This year the “general store” was by the camping area and was much more convenient. From what I saw, they seemed to have a pretty good selection of everything.

7. Trash pickup (at least in our part of the forest camping) seemed pretty regular and nothing piled up too high.

8. The artists not taking part in the festival were amazing. You could just walk up and down the forest and RV camping and hear people pickin’ and singing. Apparently, there were several great song swaps that we missed out on. Y’all this festival brings out a ton of talent that isn’t listed on the poster and website. It’s where some people get “noticed” or get there start. In all honesty, you could never go to the main stage and still get the chance to see a plethora of talent.

9. And last but definitely not least, the artists were so personable and cool. I personally was able to meet Bryan James, Ritch Henderson, Laid Back Country Picker (along with Honey) and Senora May. While regrettably I didn’t get to talk to the Comancheros I saw them talking with a ton of people and they seemed like they were awesome guys. I also got the chance to meet a couple of artists not playing the festival, but there as fans. Cody Tyler and Jon Green are 2 great and talented dudes! Seriously, every artist that I just mentioned will sit there and have a conversation with you like you’re friends; and after you’re finished talking, you are friends!

The BAD:

1. I’ll start with this, because it is no ones fault and can’t be improved, but EVERY SINGLE CAMPER complained about it...”Buzzkill Hill” sucks. That is all.

2. This year there were significantly less artists than last year although there seemed to be more people there. This could be based on the price paid for the quality of artistry. I’m going to assume that BlackBerry Smoke, Whiskey Myers, and Alabama are not cheap, but that’s just my speculation.

3. Last year, I really liked the 2nd stage that was covered. I know there were complaints about not being able to see 2 artists at once, but hey, part of the fun of a festival is running back and forth. Plus the covered stage allowed for some relief from the sun. I would suggest the team bring it back for next year.

4. There was some miscommunication between staff and attendees that needed to be improved upon. For example, the shower houses and bathrooms had a large sign outside that said they were open from 9am to 9pm. When you actually got up to the door of the shower houses, there was a sign that said 9am to 12am. No one really seemed to know what the actual time was.

5. The distance between the forest camping and parking this year seemed to be an issue for a lot of people. While it was a trek and was a pain for carrying supplies, I’m not sure of a way to fix it. The good thing is that’s not my job. Yeah, the Tumbleweed team had people with carts, tractors and trailers, horses and trailers, etc. that could help for a fee, but I would still recommend them taking another look at the situation. I would also like to be transparent here and say I haven’t been to a lot of music festivals, so I’m not sure how it compares to others. It could be better, it could be worse, it could be the same.

6. The last criticism that I heard from other people was the height of the underbrush in the forest camping. If they could have brought a bush hog, weedeater or something through closer to camping time, the weeds and in turn the ticks MAY not have been as bad. Not a huge deal, but hey it was mentioned so I tossed it in here.

The UGLY:

1. Since the original fan vote winner could not make the trip out, they just removed the fan vote artist from the line up. I genuinely believe that they should have gone down the list until an artist was able to make the festival. Whether that be the #2, #3, or #4 fan vote, I think someone should have taken the stage as the fan vote winner.

2. The showers (men’s alteast) frequently ran out of supplies and weren’t always the cleanest. While I don’t blame this staff at all, this is just something that was in fact “ugly” about the festival. I don’t know why us men always have dirty bathrooms. Y’all- if you drop paper pick it up. If you’re too lazy to lift up the seat or you can’t aim, well I don’t know what to tell ya. Either don’t be lazy or sit down I guess. Good lord, no wonder women get mad at us and say that we are heathens... Anyways, there were 6 or 8 showers (I can’t remember how many exactly), 2 toilets and 2 urinals. That doesn’t quite seem like enough, but at least it’s something. $30+ worth? Honestly, no but I’ll still pay that to not use a portapotty and to have some running water.

3. FREAKING TICKS! Those things were everywhere. We used 2 cans of bug spray and still found a few of them little b@stards crawling on us.

The UNFORTUNATE:

1. While writing, there was one criticism that I heard from many people and even spewed out myself. Whiskey Myers only had a 45 minute set! That sucks. But you know, there was nothing to be done about it. There was a thunderstorm and heavy rain that passed through causing an evacuation of the festival and camping grounds. The Tumbleweed team also noted that Whiskey Myers had to leave at a certain time to make their next show. I’m not sure if 30 minutes would have made a difference or not, nor am I here to complain about. It sucked yes, but it was bad or ugly? No, because hey sh!t happens. No one could have stopped that weather. So instead of calling it bad or ugly, I label it as unfortunate, because it is. It just sucked and everyone, including the Tumbleweed team, was bummed about it.

Anyways, that concludes my series of write-ups on Tumbleweed. This post was not meant to bash or be negative in anyway. It was simply to cover all of the great things and the things that could be improved on as the festival goes on. Overall it was a great festival that I plan on attending again. This year was my 2nd year, but it won’t be my last.

Also a special thanks to Lauren, Lori, Matt, Jennifer, Angie, Tommy, Stacey, Jason, Bruce, Laura, Amy, and Becca for your contributions and thoughts.

Y’all give us a like of Facebook, follow us on Instagram and feel free to suggest any album reviews that you would like to see!

This post and all of the great things about Tumbleweed 2019 is dedicated to Nick LaDelfa. I didn’t know Nick, but from what I understand he loved Tumbleweed this year and served our country in the US Army. Unfortunately, Nick left this world shortly after he attended Tumbleweed this year. Rest In Peace sir and thank you for your service.

-Cheers, N.

*This is an independent review. The Hillbilly Hippie Music Review was not compensated in any way for posting this review.

*The Tumbleweed logo and imagery with the raven are not ours, nor do we claim it in any way. We simply added the words “The Good, The Bad, & The Ugly.”

[adri-mari-fabrica]

Challenge Four

A/N: HEY GUYS! This fic is probably really bad, but school happens, you feel. Thank you @haidenschreave​ @lizzy-matthews​ @winter-havilliard​, and @avalonbrooks​ for the RPs! Fic below the cut.

“Hey Lizzy,” I said, leaning against her doorframe. Per usual, the writer had left her door wide open. My fellow Selected was hunched over her desk, writing feverishly. So nothing’s new, I thought to myself, inwardly laughing. She wrapped up whatever she was writing and looked up at me expectantly. “Are you excited for the ball?” I asked her.

“Yeah definitely!” She grinned, “I’ve been wanting to attend a ball for a while. What about you?”

I had been expecting this question. Obviously she would deflect it back at me. Still, I felt myself struggling for the right words. “I guess I’m excited.” I thought about the crazy week ahead, “My maids keep asking what I want to wear and I honestly have no clue.” I said. In all honesty, my dress was probably the least of my problems.

Lizzy looked at me, unsure if I was serious. “I mean…” She started, doing her best to mask her incredulousness at my “problem”. “You could just let them decide on a style they think will look good on you. They’ve been designing clothes for you so long I’m sure they’d pick something great for you.”

I laughed at myself hopelessly, “I guess. I feel I’ll even do that wrong.”

Lizzy sighed, “When did I have to become the voice of motivation for everyone? You can’t get a color wrong. Anything will be fine. Just follow your instincts of what color you want, and everything will be fine.”

“The color was never really the issue. I’m just stressed in general.” Why am I even here? The only person who can help you is yourself, stupid. I told myself.

“Stressed about what?” Lizzy asked carefully. “Meeting the past Selected? Being in the Elite?”

I thought about the root of the growing anxiety in my chest. “The fact that there’s only ten of us left, I think. I feel like everyone’s just waiting for me to slip up.”

“Why would you slip up? How would you slip up?”

“I don’t know,” I said, attempting to clarify, “I could say something stupid in front of the previous Elite. Do something stupid at the ball.” The list is endless.

Lizzy took a deep breath. “The only people at the ball are the past Selected and the people who have been here in the palace for a while, who already know you. We already know how you are, and nothing stupid you say will change our opinions of you. And the previous Elite know how stressful this whole thing is, so they know if you seem too nervous or silly, it's probably because of the selection, and not a negative reflection on you. Listen to me carefully: You. Will. Be. Fine.”

Just drop it, Adri.

“You’re right, of course.” I shook my head, embarrassed, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“It’s fine. It’s just the nerves talking, and you just have to ignore it and keep your head held high,” She sympathized.

“Thanks Lizzy.” I decided to change the subject. “So what are you wearing?”

“Oh ummm,” She paused to think. “There’s a black dress my maids made a while ago that I’m going to wear.” As if struck with inspiration, Lizzy resumed writing with more motivation than before. I took that as a queue to leave.

“Pick a color,” I instructed Erin, my maid.

“For what Miss?”

“Just pick.”

“Oh… uh…” she said, flustered, “Green.”

“Perfect,” I told her, “That’s the color I want my gown. I trust you can take care of picking the style?”

“Yes, Miss” Erin answered confidently.

“Good,” I said, reassured. One less thing to worry about.  Now I have to hunt down Haiden. That should be fun.

“Hey Haiden. Excited for the ball?” I asked him. Wow Adri, real original. I scolded myself.

“Um, yeah. I guess so.” He responded, looking slightly uncomfortable. “Are balls a regular occasion here?”

“Unfortunately, yes. And I’m always terribly awkward about it.”

“Do you like dancing?” I asked.

“Depends on the dance.”

“Which do you prefer?” I prompted. Typical Haiden. Sure, just leave it up to me to keep asking questions to keep the conversation going.

Adriana get ahold of yourself. I scolded.

“Ones where I don’t make a fool of myself,” he admitted.

“Wow relatable.” I said, sharing a smile.

“I am a relatable person.” He said. “But hopefully my parents didn’t invest in six years of ballroom dancing lessons for nothing.”

“I would hope not.” Watch me make a fool of myself in front of myself with my dancing. “I’m a little concerned about my own dancing, but I should be alright.

“Don’t worry, I won’t laugh.” He assured me.

“I’m not worried about you,” Haiden would be the least of my concerns. “I’m more worried of making a fool of myself in front of everyone.”

“You're not a fool. No one will think that.” He attempted to console me.

“At this point, anyone’s willing to make fun of the Four. But thanks.”

“Hey, don’t let it get to you.” He instructed.

“I’ll try,” I promised half-heartedly.

“That’s really all you can do.” He said knowingly.

“Come here often?” Haiden asked flirtatiously. I wasn’t sure how the conversation had turned into pick-up lines, but I was loving it.

I rolled my eyes at his silliness. “I’ve kind of been living here for the past few months, of course I come here often.”

“Well, surely you can't give me a better pickup line.” He taunted.

“I bet I can!” I replied indignantly.

“Oh, I doubt that.” He said smugly.

“Are you a camera?” I asked sweetly. “Cause every time I look at you I smile.” I grinned at him.

“If I had to rate you from 1-10,” he began, “I would rate you as a 9 because I am the one that you are missing.”

I giggled at his pick-up line. I had to admit, it was good. Wait. Am I actually… enjoying myself? That’s new.

“Do you have a name? Or can I call you mine?” I asked him.

“Are you religious? Because you're the answer to all my prayers.”

“What do your flaws and Illeas' history books have in common? I can't find a single one.” I said. I thought that one might earn a reaction, but Haiden kept plowing through.

“If it’s true that we are what we eat, then I could be you by morning.” Haiden grinned at me devilishly.

“Oh my god Haiden.” Well that took a turn.

“Do you like bacon?” he asked, “Wanna strip?”

I felt my face turn red.

“Roses are red, Violets are blue, Even if you were a Seven, I'd still want you.” I was proud of my impromptu poem.

“Ouch.” he said, “What about an Eight?”

“Sorry, that wouldn’t flow the same,” I said, “Don’t worry, I’d still want you.” I said, grinning.

“Oh, I’m so flattered.” he said dryly.

“Is that sarcasm?” “Possibly.” he answered indifferently.

“I’m afraid they forgot to teach you manners here at the palace.”

“They must have forgotten to teach you good pick-up lines” He responded smartly.

I returned to my room feeling happier than I had in a while. Our conversation had continued with more teasing and pick-up-lines. Does this mean… that I actually have a shot? It had been quite some time since Haiden and I had spent time like that together. I had, for some reason, assumed it was a fluke that I was in the Elite. But maybe… just maybe… I have a reason to be here. He hasn’t eliminated me yet, right?

The ballroom was at it's most elegant that I had seen it yet. Tables filled with refreshments and delicacies lined the eastern wall. All around the ballroom, everyone was either chatting or dancing. I spotted Princess Winter standing by herself on the other side of the room. I should probably be social.

“Princess Winter.” I curtsied. “What an honor to meet you at last. I’m Adriana.”

“Hey Adriana,” she smiled warmly, “Trust me, it's not an honor. I’m but a lowly soul.”

One of the most influential women in all of Illea was telling me she was a “lowly soul”. Go figure.

“I think most of Illea would disagree with that statement, considering you're a One and all.” Wait I didn’t mean it like tha-

She clicked her tongue disapprovingly, “True, but caste doesn’t determine character.”

There I go being stupid.

“You don't know how much I agree with that statement, but I would argue that you're anything but a lowly soul.” Please don’t be mad.

“Maybe so,” she conceded, “I have a family, a job, and money. My soul is pretty happy.”

“I can only wish for that to be me one day... With Haiden or otherwise” I confided.

She smiled, “How are things with him?”

I don’t know. How are things?

“It's so hard to tell. He seems so guarded one moment and,” I chuckled, “flirtatious the next. I honestly don't know what to think.”

“Little bits of him come out at a time. He may feel more comfortable with you at certain times. He's nervous about all of this too.” Winter assured me.

“I’m sure,” I told her, “I can’t even imagine what it’s like in his place.”

“Sadly, I can never truly explain his feelings. I've only ever been on your side of things.” she said apologetically.

“Yeah. It's so weird how there are perspectives none of us will never know”

“And I can't even say I totally understand your feelings.” she laughed, reminiscing, “Heck, I hardly participated.” She leant in closer, whispering, “I was too busy making heart eyes at the wrong prince.”

“At least there weren't thirty four other girls trying to win him over at the same time.” I teased.

“There was one girl I thought liked Cody while we were in the Selection and it drove me crazy. She didn't. But I'm weird.” She confessed.

“It's easy to create doubts when there's really nothing to worry about. I have firsthand experience.”

“You're telling me.” Winter said, chuckling.

I eventually excused myself to eat food. During this time, I talked to Lady Avalon. She had the similar insights to share as Winter said. I danced with Haiden. I danced with some of the Selected. All in all, the night went a lot better than expected.

Maybe I should have been more excited