#pix writes

[catastrofriend]

Title: in over our heads Fandom: fallen hero Characters: Leigh Bennett (sidestep), Ricardo Ortega Words: 833 Notes: for years now, I’ve had this headcanon that is probably not rooted in canon at all but it is all but rooted into my brain that Ortega has panic attacks. They probably have had them on and off for years, in my head, since after heartbreak. Maybe they got better over time but now with everything with sidestep being back but the threat of losing them again and then them getting hurt, has just made it all so much worse again. Anyway, that shit means a lot to me. And it comes back in a lot of my writing. Like this one. AO3: here

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Recovery makes for long days. Boring days. You’ve been stuck in your own head too long and you’re painfully aware how you hate being there even in the best of times. It makes you wonder even more about his.

Ortega’s mind is the only one you can never see a glimpse of. You used to think he was an open book, he’d tell you everything, he was so forward and genuine you couldn’t imagine him keeping secrets. You were so stupid. Even a few months ago, he was fucking playing you. You thought you had him, but you really had no idea.

But at least back then he’d tell you something. Even if it was the smallest kernel, obfuscated by lies and misdirection and all the things you should have noticed, at least he was sharing something. These days he barely even talks to you anymore. Not about things that matter. You’ve tried arguing with him about it, asked him, confronted him directly about the lack of trust, even though he has no reason—that he knows of (probably)—to mistrust you. He keeps saying it won’t help you getting better to get all worked up. To take the time to rest, sort your head out a bit. He says you need it. He’s still an idiot like that.

It itches at you, not knowing what’s going on with him, the Rangers, the city. Hollow Ground. You keep up with the news but fuck knows that’s all bullshit, and most media barely glance over the things that really matter. And you know things are happening. They have to be. Life was put on hold for you, but not for everyone else. You know Ortega wasn’t cleared to go back to work when he did, and he’s trying to hide it, but you know better now, he’s exhausted. He’s pushing his limits and he’s not talking to you about it. Probably not talking to anyone. Very likely not even allowing himself to think about it.

See, you have figured some things out about him since you’ve been stuck here. You’ve wondered several times if his head is a worse place than yours to be in right now. It might be. He’s been unable to hide the sour moods, the tension, the anger he usually obfuscates by deflection and distraction. You’ve started pretending to fall for it again because asking him about it just made it worse. The first time he snapped at you about how fine he was left you shaking and with your back pressed against the wall for safety. He apologized later. And distracted you, put his tongue to good use. What you really wanted was an explanation, though, and he never did give that. But you’ve decided to let it slide, like so many other things. Like the pills he keeps behind lock and key (scared you’ll use them for other ends? Or does he simply not want you to know?). Like the nights he disappears to go for a drive or whatever he does, or the ones where he doesn’t come home at all. Like the panic attacks he tries to hide.

Okay, the last one is pure conjecture on your part, you still don’t have anything solidly pointing towards it, but it feels likely. You picked the lock on the cabinet he keeps his meds in (and every other lock in the apartment, besides), and you know what those are for. Sometimes he goes into the bathroom and turns on the shower but doesn’t use it (again, you’ve checked. No new laundry, no used towels) and you used to think maybe he wanted a private phone call but then you saw he didn’t take his phone. Maybe he wanted some privacy to crank one out but he’s been very open (and inviting) about that. (You’ve accepted the invitation to help once or twice). You’ve considered trying to catch him at it, but decided it would be inconsiderate and very unhelpful for either of you. You do know from experience that sometimes you need to break and you need to do it without anyone bothering you and trying to be helpful. So you let it slide and you think (hope) that he will talk to you when he’s ready and not after it’s gone too far. Despite his track record. And your own track record.

And now you’re here. Feeling more than watching him sleep, and thinking about the state of his head. He’s all gentle slopes and soft pressure against you now, and you like to think at least tonight you’ve helped him and not made it worse. It didn’t take much. Order takeout so he didn’t feel he had to cook after being home early for once. Let him close. Don’t talk too much, don’t ask questions. Claim you’re tired and insist he join you when you go to bed (lie awake restless and bored). Feel that little bit of your life, and your heart, slot into place.

[pixiedustandbluebutterflies]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Jupiter Ascending (2015) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Jupiter Jones/Caine Wise Characters: Jupiter Jones, Caine Wise Additional Tags: Omega Verse, Fluff, Meet-Cute, 2022 JA Secret Santa, Jupiter Ascending Secret Santa Summary:

Caine’s days at Aegis, a home for unmarked omegas, had been blessedly uneventful. He was quite content to live out his days in this safe space, free of the pressures of the alpha/omega dynamic.

Until the newest volunteer at the home crashed into his life.

Happy @jasecretsanta gift reveal day, @azc3nsion!

[pix-writes]

Stanford Pines relationship HCs

(ford pines x reader) there will be smut so, 18+ below... Some angst, mainly fluff, I HC that most if not all of the pines family are neurodivergent in some way.

A/N: I had a long journey last week and all I could think about was the stans, so this will become specific... 😅 Will do the same for Stanley too in the future.

Ford has a lot to catch up on when he comes back through the portal, but he won't jump into a relationship immediately, it will still take a little time, he's got a lot to adjust to in his home dimension and being with someone has not been his forte.

But once he does he's surprisingly clingy, will want to cuddle up to you, in bed, on the couch, wherever you both are. Not one for real PDA, but will be close to you and call you terms of endearment out in public, just a little less than he does at home. I HC that he'd call his partner "dear" "darling" "honey", looooves your hips and putting his arm around your waist (it's a great way to pull you in to snuggle).

Doesn't hold your hand at first but since you like him to hold your hand and give him assurance over the fact that you like his six fingers, he does. It loosens his insecurities around his hands a lot.

Gets addicted to kissing you, doesn't care whether it leads to more or not, Stanford simply loves kissing whether it's brief or a good long make out session. But he does prefer to take his time over it.

Stanford is very logical, good at patching himself up from decades of portal hopping and therefore will do the same for you if you need it, is meticulous if you get hurt in any way but also has an appalling bedside manner! Doesn't tell you if he's going to do something that will sting and tells you not to be overdramatic if you react negatively to it (you know how people can get a little angry when someone they love gets potentially seriously hurt?). And yet you know him to be a gentle man, generally touches you softly like you're made of glass (unless it's to pull you away from something dangerous), so having him take care of you can also be comforting, he'll never do something painful unless it's necessary. (Don't worry though, his brother will make you stan cakes to cheer you both up.)

Speaking of food, Ford definitely prefers his home universe food to what he had in the other dimensions, tried lots of different unusual dishes, some he even liked, but none of it can compare to his homely comforts. When not sailing and adventuring, he puts on a few pounds. Satiates his sweet tooth and caffeine addiction with mabel juice (is the only other one of the pines to like it), prefers it to coffee. Stanley swears his tastebuds must've been affected during his time away. Doesn't like it with as much edible glitter as mabel does, but this is the only deviation from the original recipe he has.

Excellent teacher, you want to learn how he does something? More than eager to teach you with a steady hand and clear pace. Will teach you regardless how to shoot his laser and magnetic guns, how to defend yourself and how to meditate (if you didn't know these already). Can get into the information and ramble like you know about a topic and then realise (eventually) that he needs to break down or explain what he means.

Despite this he also has a romantic streak, whilst he can forget everything aside from his work or adventures, including important dates, he can also be a very considerate and supportive partner and post-portal wants to include you as much as possible in his life and conversations. You can talk for hours about any and all topics and he loves to be mentally stimulated in a relationship, however that may be.

Does sometimes have nightmares and deep guilt over Stanley and is dealing with it as best as he can, likes to know he can count on you for comfort and guidance, makes him feel less panicked or paranoid after Bill. He and his brother talk things out too and these talks can go on all night into the early morning and it's best for them to have space, Ford is grateful for your patience and willingness to be involved in his life, especially as he knows he wasn't good at opening up to you when you were starting to become friends let alone a relationship.

Ford would be shy at first, but once he gets comfortable with how to pleasure you, expect this man to be kind of obsessed. That absorbing focus he can have on his projects and studies? Yeah that can be transferred to you just as easily, which can be a little intense!

You off-handendly mention something about sexual experiences, perhaps even a joke about things you haven't tried, catching his perplexed look afterwards, you say it's simply fantasy and not really something you need to experience. However what you took for confusion or slight insecurity was actually Ford processing what you said. In fact, it doesn't leave his mind and so he does something he's good at: he does some research 😏

One night you might even wake up from sleep to find him sitting upright, lightly snoring, bedside lamp on, clearly fallen asleep whilst writing on his portable writing desk (it's either a gift from you or the twins, not sure which to choose!), when curiosity gets the better of you and you sneak a page out into your hands, you're faced with his attempts at organising fantasies, what he thinks you would want to try, how would you react to different stimuli or some of his own fantasies... Mainly figuring out how many orgasms he could coax out of you or how long he thinks he could edge you over time, what positions or rp you might like: he's worked it all out in a haphazard kind of way, like he's brainstorming the best approaches.

It's so plan-sexual scientific it's frank but... attractive, because it's so... him.

Whether he wakes up on his own or you wake him up, he ends up blushing, though he's not really sorry that you've found it. He's looking at you with this mix of nerves for how you'll react and new found smugness when he sees that you've been affected by what you've read... And yeah, neither of you are leaving that bed for a long time.

Basically, like a true scientist, he is down to experiment! 😄 He's willing to try anything as long as it's not going to seriously hurt you or it's something he wouldn't try on himself first, this is a boundary he's never willing to cross. Trust and open communication is an important thing for him post-weirdmaggeddon especially, and he's getting better at it as he goes along, so even though he often doesn't feel confident, he is infuriatingly good at aftercare and all the rest!

This means when he's not tripping over his words or flustered by you himself -he can be a damn tease at times and will chuckle to himself when you curse him out for the subtle touches he'll give you over the course of the day before pulling away. Sometimes he doesn't even know he's done it, which is evil.

Stanley will make grumbly jokes about how "you two lovebirds need to get a room!" Or about needing to move out 😅 but honestly he's truly happy his brother is happy and if you get married he will sob the whole time, even through his roasting joke filled best man speech! (Cracks a joke more than once to you that you need to make Ford an "honest man" and then laughs at it himself before whispering to you that he can get the rings if you really want to.)

Will and does suffer in the warmer months because he will wear long sleeves, full length pants and or a turtle neck for the comfort aesthetic

Personality wise him and Stan are different as can be but they often sync up physically in their mannerisms or what they say, as freaky as it is cute in a way, when you are tired/drunk you can swear you're seeing double, which amuses both of them.

His favourite shared past time with you is any kind of board or card game, some of them the rest of the family will join in for, but will also love someone to play d&d&md with if you're willing! Loves to get into the details of the rules of whatever you're playing together and it can get quite heated (secretly finds your frustrated side quite attractive, as long as you're not actually angry at him).

I feel like Stanford would get into videogames as soon as he becomes more adept at technology in this dimension, likely it's dipper who is the one to introduce it to him and he loves it (nerd). Will marathon catch ups on all the movies and shows he's missed; especially the series he was into that got continued after the portal incident. You lose him to Star Wars prequels etc for at least a couple weeks of him getting his head round all the lore and how it works, may have controversial opinions and needs to work it all out, may need to contact dipper about this.

Regularly has calls with the family (mainly the twins) over video chat (and will always call it 'video calling' no matter what platform they're using), so once you're together that includes you too and be prepared to be bombarded with questions from them (your their new graunty or grunkle after all) ❤️

[1-marigold-1]

When your best friend is a bilblically accurate angel

They are all in the same situation guys (Yes I headcannon Pix as a watcher, since the Empires x Hermitcraft crossover hghgh)

They are three stages of one expierience

Mumbo: confused, shocked, kinda uncomfortable when around Grian in his full form, starts getting used to it

Impulse: Used to it

Sloy: Literally. Doesn't care. "You're a watcher? Cool."

Also this meme

That's the vibes I get from them

Ngl "My best friend is a biblically accurate angel" sounds like a good movie/book title

[teddytoroa]

the thing about joe hills of nashville tennessee is that on a server of folks roleplaying mad scientists and zombies and kings and creeper-goats and kakashi of naruto and mayors and businessmen and slimes and iskall and dungeon masters and doom guy and dwarves and elves and aliens and whatever the gigaverse is, you have Joe Hills The Regular Human Guy From Nashville (Tennessee), and yet his normalcy is frequently more bizarre somehow than whatever else is going on. and this never ever fails to enchant and delight me.

[pixiest1cks]

i'd like to think no matter where he's at in his life, dottore likes to ramble as he works.

no matter if he's prime, or the more ill-tempered scholar from the akademiya or even omega build, dottore quietly mumbles as a habit when he's working.

some things he says aloud are just to commit certain details to memory. in the grander scheme of his plans, the details seem small-- but they hold a crucial grip on the entire project. because of this, dottore reasons that the habit holds its merits.

sometimes, he makes sarcastic remarks when something doesn't go well. short, choppy words that mostly go unheard even by those in his general vicinity. when you first worked under him, he had mumbled to himself like usual (it was second nature at that point). what he hadn't expected though, were your responses.

"stupid thing tightly screwed--"

"do you need a wrench, sir?"

before he could respond, you had one held and ready to hand to him. from then on, you would help him out here and there in his more foul moods and dottore would be lying if he said the additional assistance wasn't helpful.

the mad scientist had found an adequate assistant.

work went by smoother, toning down a good portion of his irritation. it's almost as if having someone to support you (even if it was strictly for work purposes) provided more benefits than he had originally thought. of course, he would never admit that. the most he would do is thank you here and there when you proved to be extra useful.

work continues the same for a while. the interactions grow more frequent and so his musings change from your responses. instead of talking to himself, he talks to you. he asks you for your input, for you to pass him whatever he can't reach from his other desk, he asks for you.

that is, until you're gone one day.

dottore doesn't think anything of it. he's worked alone for his whole life, what's a few days without you? but his segments have been more irritable as of late, resulting in lackluster performance as a whole not only from his segments, but his troops. the fatui are fearful of the doctor, but even more so of an irritated one. you'll turn up eventually and everything will be back to normal, he reasons.

but as the days go on, you are still nowhere to be found in the cold, desolate laboratory. he finally pauses in his work to think about where you could be.

something must've happened. something outside of his jurisdiction. it's not like it's his problem. you might've proved a useful assistant to him, but his work holds utmost priority.

yes, work. back to work.

and dottore mumbles as usual, but it's not the same.

by habit, he calls out for you to hand him something--

but you're not there.

dottore is a scholar first and foremost. all it takes to find you is a little bit of research, so he does exactly that. he finds out you've been working somewhere else, somewhere closer to home to better support your family.

well, that's no problem. he'll have his assistant back as soon as possible, no matter the cost. all he needed to know was your whereabouts.

[pix-stuff]

The Duke of Meropide is not the biggest fan of the use of violence against well behaved prisoner. Everyone should have a chance to recover from past sin or mistakes, it's up to them if they wish to take it or not.

But the impostor is.. Another subject. Their sin is too deep, too serious. It can't be easely forgotten, even with an entire life of repentance.

It is more than faking an identity, it's stealing one of a divine instance.

But they seems to be protected from everything. Wriothesley will not use violence against them by himself if they don't use it first, but he has seen other try.

Some have tried, but never succeed. There was even this one time where he was watching over them from afar when another prisoner was sneaking behind the impostor, trying to hurt them; but fell instead and almost goes from the first floor to the main floor. They would have probably broke their legs.

There was also this moment when the impostor tripped but Sigewinne was miraculously passing by and grab her.

Sigewinne was never suppose to be here at this time of the day.

All the coincidences he saw over the few month of their stay in the prison were particular. Even if most of the people around them wanted to crush them, they all seems to fail. Always. They didn't bleed a single drop while their stay.

But today is the day of their judgement, when Monsieur Neuvilette will finally judge and weight their sin, according to the laws of Fontaine.

He would have like to observe them a little longer.

He has a bad feeling about this..

(here's another story I post a while ago, if you want to check it out, It would be really appreciated 🤸❤️)

[starboundpix]

day three ✧ beachcombing

inspired by the mermay prompt list @/muzzlemouths made!

"Come here," hisses the mer, midnight blue tail thrashing, tossing up a splash of seawater that never makes it anywhere close to you.

You don't spare Moon a glance, eyes focused on the sand and seaweed beneath your feet as you search for hidden treasures. "No, thank you, today is a stay dry day for me," you tell him, crouching down as something glints under the early morning sunlight. Lifting up a tangle of seaweed, you pick up a piece of light yellow sea glass, edges rounded out by the beating of waves and sand over time. As you hold it up to the light to admire how the sun makes it seem to glow from within, you say, "You don't have to stay and watch me, y'know? I'm just looking for pretty shells and glass. Besides, isn't it past your bedtime? Go to sleep, old man."

There's another splash, louder than the waves, and the accompanying snarled, "Brat," tugs your lips into a smile.

The next hour or so passes relatively peacefully as you continue across the beach, finding sea glass and intact shells, gently adding them to the growing collection forming in your bag. You can feel Moon's gaze on you all the while, red eyes squinting against the sun but still observing you from his location further in the ocean.

When the sun starts to get unbearably hot, you decide that you've done enough beachcombing for the day and move toward the end of the beach where the sand meets the rockier part of shore and the cliffs looming above provide some shade. You settle on the rocks, cooling your feet in the ocean, and pull out your water bottle.

As you drink, a splash of water signifies the emergence of Moon. He pulls himself out of the water enough for his upper body to rest on the rocks, propping his head up on his hands. He flicks his tail, sprinkling droplets of water onto your legs.

"Hey!" you protest, but there's no real heat in your voice.

Moon snickers and does it again. "Slowpoke."

Rolling your eyes, you start to dig through your bag to pull out the things you had collected from the beach in a mini show-and-tell that you always do, starting with the yellow sea glass you found first. "I like this one a lot," you tell Moon, placing it onto his palm, "because it glows when you put it up to the sun. It's also a very nice shade of yellow."

"Like Sunny," he says as he holds the sea glass up to the sky between two clawed fingers, squinting when it catches the light.

You squirm. "Well, yes, like Sun, I suppose." You hadn't thought about it when you first found the glass, but its particular shade matches that of a certain yellow mer's tail.

"Anyway," you say, quickly placing the next item—this one a small clamshell—onto Moon's hand. You explain what you like about it and why you decided to keep it, and he studies both you and the shell. He's a patient listener as you ramble about your findings for the day. By the time you reach the last item in your collection, his hands are full of your little shells and glass and pretty rocks. He cradles them carefully, the webbing between his fingers helping to make sure he does not drop a single one of your newfound treasures.

"This last one is another piece of sea glass, but look at how round it is!" You hold it up so Moon can see, rolling the near-perfect sphere between your fingers. "I don't think I've ever found such a nicely rounded one before. And look at its color, it's such a nice shade of blue. These dark blue ones aren't as common as the light blue ones."

Moon looks at the sea glass, takes in the deep blue color, and a wide grin stretches across his face. He tilts his head to the side, red eyes fixated on your face, and says, "You like dark blue, hm?" His tail lifts out of the water, sunlight showing the iridescent sheen on his scales, midnight blue fins flicking a bit more water on your lap before settling back into the ocean.

You stare. Your mouth opens, then shuts. Your face is hot, cheeks burning, but surely that is from the heat, surely.

It takes a few more seconds for your brain to properly function again and you pull your arm back toward yourself, stuffing the sea glass back into your bag. "I'll have you know that blue is my favorite color. I've always liked blue things and– don't let any of this get to your head!"

He laughs, a sound that warms you from the inside out. Moon carefully tilts his hands, spreading your trinkets onto the empty space beside you. "Stay," he demands, then pushes backward off the rocks in a beautiful arch and disappears into the ocean.

You're left speechless again, only able to stare at where the mer had just been.

Eventually, you start to pick up your little treasures and return them to your bag. Knowing that Moon probably would not tell you to stay if he would be gone for too long, you drink some more of your water and pull out a snack you had prepared for your beach activities today.

Soon enough, the blue mer reappears, pulling himself back onto the rocks with ease.

"Welcome back," you say. "Do you want to share why you disappeared after– after being so rude to me like this?"

Moon snickers. "Not rude. But I share this." He brings one of his hands up toward you, waiting for you to open your hand before he places whatever he was holding onto your palm. His claws scrape the slightest bit over your skin as he finally pulls back, sending a tingle up your arm.

Your eyes widen as you take in the shell that rests in your hand. “Moon, this is such a large shell!” It nearly covers your entire hand. The surface of it is rather rough, a mix of greys and browns with hints of green. Seven indents curve close to the outer edge of the shell.

You look up from the shell at the mer who gave it to you. “I’ve never seen something like this before! Thanks, Moon.”

The discontent on Moon’s face surprises you.

“No thanks, yet. Look at this.” He flips the shell over, so the curved inside is revealed to you.

“Oh,” you whisper. Although the inside of the shell is dark, deep blues shimmer under the light of the sun. Layers of lighter purples and silver thread through the ever changing blues. The colors are lovely and deep, reminding you of Moon himself. “It’s just like your tail. It’s gorgeous, I love these colors. Thank you for showing me this.” You look at the mer who has been intently studying your face the entire time. Stretching out your hand, you offer the shell back to him.

Moon shakes his head, an expression on his face that you can’t quite place, yet it makes you give him a sweet smile. His hand curls over your own, closing your fingers around the shell. “Keep. It’s yours.”

Your smile grows. “Really? Thank you, Moon! It’s my favorite shell now. I’ll take good care of it.”

“Good.”

A moment passes where his gaze holds your own.

Then a wave crashes into the rocks and water drenches your legs and shorts, startling you with the coldness of it.

You scramble to your feet, hand clenched around the gift from Moon. “I can’t believe it,” you whine, “Today was supposed to be a stay dry day.”

“Come swim,” Moon suggests, with a grin of sharp teeth.

Rolling your eyes, you pick up your bag, carefully adding your newest shell to your collection. “Nice try, Moon. I should head home to put this new beautiful shell I got on display. And you’re probably tired, old man.”

“Not old, brat!”

With a laugh, you hurry away from the edge of the rocks to avoid the incoming splash from Moon. “I’ll see you soon!” you shout, throwing a wave over your shoulder as you leave the mer.

Moon watches you go until you disappear, before diving under the waves. He can’t wait to see the look on Sun's face when he hears about you accepting Moon's shell.

note: the shell Moon gave Reader is actually a blackfoot paua shell! they are sooo gorgeous, i definitely recommend looking them up c:

mermay 2024 masterlist

[syn4k]

if tumblr existed in empires s1 then the dashboard would look a little bit like this i think

🏜️ cactus-abolitionist

MY CAT JUST RAN OUTSIDE IN THE MIDDLE OF A SANDSTORM IM

🌿 theres-no-place-like-gnome Follow

oh no are they okay?? i don't know how serious sandstorms are but maybe you could go after them?

🏜️ cactus-abolitionist

Sand blowing past you at upwards of 75kmh. It's also really hot sand. It's been known to literally strip the flesh off of bones wait post cancelled my cat just walked back in she's fine guys

9 notes

🏺 clay-the-dirt-man Follow

visiting the Mythlands today and me and my family found a neat lil natural floating island while hiking

🏺 clay-the-dirt-man Follow

to the people in my notes going "what the fuck": have y'all never heard of physics?

🥀 remorse-is-remorse-of-course Follow

OP WHERE THE FUCK DO YOU LIVE WHERE THIS IS NORMAL

🏺 clay-the-dirt-man Follow

western mezalea?? lol

🔧 verylostmechanic Follow

well that explains a lot.

🏺 clay-the-dirt-man Follow

Can I Help You

🔧 verylostmechanic Follow

ain't emperor joel dating a fish

🏺 clay-the-dirt-man Follow

yeah, they're married. Isn't Emperor Joey a demonfucker????

#dude why are the notes arguing over the ethics of being ruled by a demon 😭 what the fuck #op im so sorry

11,798 notes

🌸 prismarined Follow

...i'm in this class thats being taught by the headmaster today and she smells like weed. i'm not gonna say anything but like. what

🦦 i-like-otters

yeah the academy's just like that. as long as she's not like, actively dying or anything she's probably fine??? idk o7

#reblog

2 notes

⌛️ thelittlesandthatcan Follow

I JUST GOT BACK FROM A BUSINESS TRIP WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN THE COPPER KING'S GONE

🐟 kelpieselkie Follow

I DONT KNOW I DONT LIVE THERE BUT apparently nobody expected it either?? like some people are saying it was the Dragon Fight that did it (i know Emperor Joey came out with statements that Emperor Riffs actually helped kill the dragon and unleash the demon but its been two days and we all know that he hates that guy so idk) but nobody actually knows anything. it's crazy bro

⌛️ thelittlesandthatcan Follow

my mom said the royal housekeepers found a note from him alongside like everything he owned but they're not saying what's on the note yet. holy shit

237 notes

🐠 fishfucker997

this will definitely have an impact on the local trout population

🏰 all-the-kings-hen Follow

the Guardian of the Thirteenth Empire just died and you're worried about fish???? be for real omg

🐠 fishfucker997

have you people never heard of references in your life

🏰 all-the-kings-hen Follow

why are you interacting with me i literally have "codlanders dni" in my bio

🐠 fishfucker997

my brother in cod you literally reblogged this from me??

🐠 fishfucker997

they blocked me lmao

#how is this post only 2 days old

197,233 notes

🐪 camel Follow

she dragon fight on my copper king til i disappear

elvfish-deactivated-20210503

who the hell let a camel onto this site lol

🐪 camel Follow

You will die at age 87 with nobody to mourn you and no stars still shining to watch you go.

#911 i just witnessed a murder

87,546 notes

🌻 helantheia

anyone know who made emperor pearl's dress? it's really pretty :0

0 notes

📷 desertphotography

West of the River of Plenty, Pixandria

2,307 notes

[fogwitchoftheevermore]

@mcyt-aro-week day 3: solidarity / hobbies

It's a quiet day in Pixandria, all things considered, which is nice and rare these days. That is, until Pix hears the telltale sounds of rockets and someone skidding to a halt in the sand outside his storage room.

Pix closes the chest he was rummaging through with a sigh and walks outside to figure out which of his friends has appeared on his metaphorical front lawn. As he pokes his head out the door, he catches a flash of bright green- Jimmy, then, so this will probably be a relatively normal conversation, all things considered.

"Jimmy, hey, what's up?"

Jimmy turns around, frowning, and pulls his codboy hat lower than it's supposed to go so it covers his eyes- bad day, then.

Jimmy sighs, "Pix, can I talk to you about something?"

"Sure, sure, come on in," Pix ushers the man into the top area of the storage room and leans against one of the walls. "What's going on?"

Jimmy buries is head in his hands even further somehow and groans for a second before he starts talking. Very bad day, then.

"Well, I just left Rivendell cause Scott invited me to some sort of alliance meeting, except it wasn't really an alliance meeting, it was a date, and it was really clearly a date cause he had this tunnel of love thing going on and a picnic and it was really nice but I don't- I wasn't prepared and I don't know if I even like him- or anyone- like that but I didn't know how to tell him that in the middle of a date, so I pretended that I didn't know it was one, except it was so obviously a date so now he either thinks I'm even more of an idiot than he already did or that I was, I don't know, playing hard to get or something? I don't know how people think about these things, I just-"

Jimmy, who had been pacing and gesturing wildly the whole time he spoke, stops short, digs his palms into his eyes, and shouts a bit before stopping and looking up at Pix desperately.

"Help?"

Pix nods slowly. "Yeah, ok, that's... that's bad. So, first things first, the thing about not being sure if you like him, or anyone like that?"

Jimmy takes a deep breath and shakes out his hands a bit. "Yeah, I don't know, I think I've had like, one crush ever? And I don't even really know if that was a crush? And I like Scott, I do, even though he's kind of a jerk sometimes, but I don't think it's like that? I'm not sure."

"Ok, well, do you want to be in a relationship with Scott?"

Jimmy pauses, visibly considering. "I... have no idea."

"Ok, so, first step is, despite what you might think, not figuring that part out, because that's going to take forever. First step is getting on the same page with Scott.”

“Does it have to be? Can’t I just figure out what my deal is and then everything is fine forever?”

Pix chuckles. “If only it were that easy.”

“It’s just-!” Jimmy walks over to where Pix is leaning and joins him for about two seconds before sliding down the wall to sit on the floor. “I don’t know. I don’t know how any of this is supposed to feel, I don’t know how I’m meant to know if I like someone like that or not if I want to be in a relationship with them or what and I don’t know how everyone seems to have it so figured out!”

“I mean, I don’t think everyone else does, to be totally honest. But even if they do, well, it probably felt a lot more like… something for them.” Pix joins Jimmy on the floor, staring straight ahead as he tries to think. “Because in my experience, sometimes it feels like nothing because it is nothing, but sometimes it feels like nothing because it’s something but not with this person, but other times it feels like something even when it’s nothing-“ Pix has no idea what he’s talking about, at this point. He’s not equipped for these things, and he says as much. “Why did you come to me for this, I’m not-? Your sister’s married to your best friend, I feel like they’re much better equipped to answer the question of ‘How do you know when you want to be in a relationship with someone?’”

“I mean, probably,” Jimmy says, finally letting his codboy hat go enough that Pix can see his eyes again. “But, well… you’re you. We’re us, y’know?”

Pix does know. He knows that Lizzie is Jimmy’s sister, but Pix was the first person to see Jimmy without the Codfather head on. He knows that Joel is Jimmy’s best friend, but Pix is the one he asked to build the cod statue in his base. He knows that he’s Jimmy’s… something, and this is what they do. And that, however unfortunately, he probably is the best person to ask about this type of thing, even if he doesn’t feel like he knows what he’s talking about half the time.

Pix reaches out and puts his arm around Jimmy’s shoulders, and Jimmy instinctively moves to lay his head on Pix’s shoulder. Well, they’ll figure it out eventually.

[cloudrumble23]

Puppet girl wanted her to get to know the other ghosts in the pizzeria. To help her "adjust." To prevent corruption from taking over her soul.

Well fine. Cassidy could do that, even feeling the rage boiling under her skin as she considered the thought of anything other than plotting her revenge on their killer. Did the puppet even care? Probably not.

Still, Cassidy could handle it. She could make friends with that quiet kid who never left the suit. Puppet girl hadn't even had a chance to have a conversation with him yet since she was too busy babysitting everybody else to prevent them from corrupting.

The golden suit was crammed far back in the corner anyway. Nobody really seemed to acknowledge it, and Cassidy knew that the puppet girl only knew about it because she'd put Cassidy's soul there. Unintentional companionship, Cassidy thought to herself, squatting down in front of the suit to examine the eyes.

Sometimes there was a faint pinprick of light when she did this. Other times, there wasn't hardly anything to spot. Today was a bad day. She squinted intently, trying to make out the spot of light that she knew was there constantly, but there was no sign.

Resigning herself to actually talking to this kid was maybe not a good idea. He was hard enough to communicate with on a good day, and today was definitely not one of those. Still, Cassidy dove straight into the suit, knowing she'd have to go deep to find the quiet kid who shared the suit with her.

"Are you down here?" Cassidy called, looking around the eerily red space. "Hello?"

She heard a faint sob in response and hurried over to it, seeing him curled up in a ball on the weirdly colored grass.

"Okay," Cassidy sighed, pulling him upright. "What's the deal?"

The boy had his face buried in his hands still, something that continually frustrated Cassidy. They'd encountered each other briefly before, and he never tended to speak. She knew there was the lingering mark of death on his face, a flag of red spilling down an otherwise monochrome appearance.

In life, Cassidy might've even said he was cute, but she didn't have time for such things anymore.

Her fingers looped around his wrists as she adjusted herself to sit in front of him. "Look, I'm not typically the pushy type, but you're the person I know best out of anybody here, and I'm supposed to be making friends so that I don't get corrupted or whatever. Which means you gotta deal with me."

He didn't respond, even as she managed to peel his hands away from his face, revealing thick, oily tears that spilled all the way down his face and coated his hands. Corruption, Cassidy thought suddenly, a chill running through her.

"Okay..." Cassidy exhaled slowly as he peered at her through his eyelashes, briefly distracted from his emotional turmoil.

She swiped at the substance, hoping it was easy to remove, but she ended up smearing it across his face more. "Umm, oops?"

He only blinked at her, seemingly unbothered by the mess.

"Look, I gotta be honest here. This is way out of my range of knowing what I'm doing. And uh... puppet girl says corruption is bad." Cassidy gestured at their hands, coated in corrupted something or other. "And this stuff looks like corruption."

"Oh," the boy answered softly. He glanced at his hands and then at hers. "I'm sorry."

"What? No, you don't need to apologize. We just need to-" Cassidy took a deep breath, something she wished was still helpful. "Okay, why were you crying?"

The boy's mouth thinned, trembling slightly.

"Never mind," Cassidy said quickly. "Could you tell me your name?"

"I... I guess..." he replied, shifting uncomfortably. "I'm... Evan..."

"Okay, Evan." Cassidy tried to smile at him. "I'm Cassidy. I possess Golden Freddy."

"That's not his name," Evan said immediately, his mouth turning down in a frown. Something flickered in his eyes, a memory of some kind. "His name is Fredbear."

"Uh huh." Cassidy didn't know what to make of that. She really did need to talk to the others, didn't she? Clearly, there were many things she didn't know. "I'm sorry, I didn't know that. I just kinda gave him a nickname, I guess."

"It's alright." Evan clasped his hands together in his lap. "That's a lot of blood."

"Oh, yeah..." Cassidy looked down at her torso, still unimpressed with the fact that the bloodstains had carried through with her death. "It's a symptom of death, I guess."

"Do I... Do I have one of those?" Evan asked, his mouth creasing in worry. "Is it on my face?" His voice seemed to get higher with every realization.

"I-" Cassidy didn't know how to respond as he crumbled into tears again. "Yes? I mean, we all have those. It's okay, don't cry."

Her reassurance didn't seem to get through to him.

"Hey," Cassidy pulled him into an awkward hug, making him tumble half into her lap. "It's not a big deal. Even puppet girl has some bloody marks on her face too. And her neck."

Evan hiccuped. "Really?"

"Yeah, it's something we all deal with. I mean, it still sucks because that's so invasive to just know how other people died, but-"

"At least we're all in it together?" Evan asked, the tears spilling from his eyes no longer dark and inky.

"Yeah." Cassidy tried to smile at him. "We've still all got some stuff we can keep private though, like what we were like when we were alive, but as far as dying and our killer go, we got stuff in common."

"Our killer?" Evan seemed horrified. "He killed other people? Besides me?"

"Yeah? He killed all of us," Cassidy's mouth twitched. "Did you not assume that?"

"I thought it was an accident. He said he was sorry and that it was an accident," Evan started muttering to himself, hyperventilating.

"Okay, I think you need to calm down a little bit-"

"Calm down? We're dead because of him!" Evan's eyes flashed, and the hysteria in his voice increasing as he spoke. "He lied to me!"

The black inky substance was leaking from his eyes again.

"Evan, we all had that feeling of hopelessness that you're feeling right now, and I know it hurts, but please. You'll be corrupted if you don't calm down!" Cassidy felt pressure rising behind her own eyes as she spoke. The threat seemed much more likely now that she was witnessing it happen.

Evan shuddered in her arms as she tried yet again to wipe away the tears. "I'm so bad at this," she said to herself as she continued to make it worse.

"Join the club," Evan whispered, gripping his elbows with what would've been bruising force in life. "I can't ever seem to get anything right, either."

"It looks like I made a finger painting on your face," Cassidy admitted, wrinkling her nose.

Evan huffed out a small laugh. "Probably an improvement to how I looked before."

"Nah, I think you're cute, but I made it worse." Cassidy scoffed.

Evan froze. "You... what?"

"I made it worse?" Cassidy answered with a questioning tone. "Like, I made you cry a bunch, and then I smeared it all over."

"Oh, right. Yeah, that makes sense." Evan shook himself out of something.

"Did you always used to cry this much?" Cassidy asked, suddenly curious. She'd never heard him talk so much, and he was going to probably never do this again.

"Always," Evan said regretfully. "My family hated it. Mikey and Lizzie said I was the crybaby of the family, and they were right. It was so stupid. Mikey told me to 'man up' all the time and be a better older brother to Lizzie, but I just..."

"Your brother sounds like a jerk," Cassidy said.

"He's worse than a jerk, since he killed all of us," Evan huffed, peering up at Cassidy's face.

"Wait, what?" Cassidy frowned, suddenly confused. "Jeez, how long ago did you die?"

"Like... four years ago?" Evan answered, sitting up.

"But..." Cassidy was even more confused. "You seem too young to have died so recently. Like, your brother is a full-grown adult."

"No he isn't." Evan's face wrinkled up. "He was only fourteen when I died, so he wouldn't be older than eighteen right now."

"That makes no sense." Cassidy replied, shaking her head. "I died two years ago, and he killed me while wearing that stupid yellow bunny suit."

"Rabbit suit?" Evan echoed. "No, that wouldn't be Mikey. Mikey hated Spring Bonnie. Father kept trying to convince him to have more interest in the animatronics, but Mikey only cared about Foxy."

"Then..." Cassidy's throat tightened. "We weren't killed by the same person. We couldn't have been, not if you were killed by your brother."

"You were killed by my father," Evan told her, his face twisted in a different kind of sorrow.

He's trying to tell me without making me cry, Cassidy realized. How could anyone end his life like that? Evan was too sweet for his own good, and clearly some people hadn't appreciated him the way they should have.

"How do you know that?"

"He never let anyone else wear that suit, Cassidy. Not unless something changed after I died."

"Oh..." Cassidy didn't know how to feel about that. "So, your brother killed you, huh?"

"It was an accident." Evan stood up. "I don't..."

"We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," Cassidy said quickly. "I was just curious."

Cassidy stood up and glanced around a bit. "Do you ever wonder why everything down here is red?"

"Sometimes," Evan shrugged. "I don't see anything in any other color anyway."

"You... don't?"

"No."

"Have you ever left the suit?" Cassidy asked. "I only ever see you down here."

"I didn't know I could leave." Evan blinked at her.

"Come with me." Cassidy said suddenly. "You have actually been living under a rock, for real. Come see where we are."

"Oh. Okay..." Evan reluctantly followed Cassidy as she made her way out of the suit and back into the real world.

"So, this is Parts and Service." Cassidy gestured at the grungy room filled with broken animatronics.

"Who is this?" Evan asked softly, having walked away from Fredbear to trace a line down Foxy's snout.

"That's Foxy," Cassidy answered, coming to stand by his side. "Fritz doesn't tend to hang out around the suit much, not during the day anyway."

"Wow," Evan said, his voice wavering. "They actually made them all into animatronics?"

"Yeah, there's Freddy, and Foxy, and Bonnie, and Chica. They're a bit rusted out, and now they're just used for parts, but..." Cassidy shrugged. "I mean, the kids go around and have fun during the day, pretending to still be alive."

"You say that like you don't," Evan turned to her, clear tears running down his face. Does he ever stop crying? Cassidy wondered.

"I don't tend to join in. I'm a bit too aggressive for the things they like to do."

"What do you like to do, then?" Evan asked, his hand still resting gently on Foxy's head.

"I don't know. I just don't feel like playing anymore. I don't feel like pretending to be alive when I know we were all murdered, you know?"

"I guess..." Evan blinked. "What if you could help kids who were still alive?"

"Help how?"

"I don't know. Cheer them up when they're down or something, I guess. Like you did with me."

"I wouldn't say I cheered you up," Cassidy scoffed. "You're still crying."

"These are good tears," Evan replied.

"Well, I don't think that would work, in any case. Nobody can see or hear us."

"They can't?" Evan sounded disappointed. "Well, that's..."

"They can see the suits moving, at least," Cassidy offered. "It's just that you can't really communicate, and I've only ever used the suits to scare the security guards."

Evan stroked the fake fur on Foxy's head, not seeming to really be listening anymore. His shoulders drooped and the tears were darkening again.

"Hey, what's up?" Cassidy asked, finding herself reaching for Evan's face yet again to clear up the corrupted tears.

"It's nothing."

"Clearly that's not true," Cassidy pointed out, holding her inky hand in front of Evan's face. "Tell me what's going on."

"I want to see my family again. I guess I was just hoping that I could tell my brother that I forgive him and miss him and-" Evan cut himself off with another sob. "It's stupid."

"It's not stupid," Cassidy replied stubbornly. "I bet we can find a way."

"What if he doesn't even come here, Cassidy? What if he-"

"Foxy's his favorite, you said, right? Well, if that's true, we need to find a way to get him back in commission so your brother comes back. And then we can try to find a way to get communication between you two again."

"Why are you helping me?" Evan asked. He looked so silly with his face all squished like this, but Cassidy couldn't help it.

"Because I'd like to do something good for once," Cassidy whispered. "And I think it'd be nice to see you smile."

"Oh," Evan answered as Cassidy stretched his cheeks up to force his mouth into a makeshift smile. "Hey, stop it!"

Cassidy laughed. "Make me."

Evan swatted at her hand, a short huff of laughter escaping his mouth. "I can't!"

"Then you're stuck! Oh no, how terrible it is to smile again!" Cassidy grinned in his face, finally relenting in time to see him naturally smiling.

He giggled. "You're ridiculous, Cassidy."

And you're adorable, Cassidy thought fondly, surprised by the sudden protective urge that washed over her. "What are you going to do about it?"

"I dunno. Depends on if you're ticklish or not," Evan replied, the silver of his eyes gleaming menacingly as he dug his fingers into his sides.

Cassidy gasped, surprised that the same jolt of nerves she'd always felt when she was alive was still possible as a ghost. "Hey!" She laughed, even as she crumpled forward, tucked into Evan's shirt as she continued to struggle.

"You want to know the best part about this?" Evan asked, grinning down at her. "I don't even have to stop."

He was right, Cassidy realized. She was laughing so hard she couldn't draw breath, but since they were dead, it didn't make a difference. It's crazy how much joy there still is, even after dying, she thought, still struggling to squirm free.

Maybe the puppet girl had been right after all. Cassidy just needed to make some friends.

Or a friend, she thought looking up at the laughing boy who shared the suit with her.

There was still joy after death.

Especially with Evan around.

Thank you to @pixlokita for this adorable piece of fanart for this, by the way!

[catastrofriend]

I’ve been sitting on a I wanna write and I have Feelings for a while now and yesterday this happened.

629 words, chargestep, nightmares and heartbreak

TW: sui mention

----------

A single breath. That's as far as you get. Then it catches up. The ground. So far, and then, right there. Welcoming you. Your legs feel funny, in the way that no feeling at all does that. But they hurt, how can they not be and yet hurt so much? Are they still there?

You scramble to check, force your hands, arms, elbows, to take your weight, look down, and yes, that's one leg. That's, yeah, that's the other one. Never saw it from this angle.

But no, you don't get that far. You open your eyes, start to push up, and scream. Your hand, your left hand, your arm. It's. Oh fuck it's a mess. That's not the shape of a hand. That's not the shape of anything. That's blood, and skin, and flesh, and bone and that's your hand what the fuck.

There's a fingernail. Further down the pavement.

No.

No no no this isn't what happened. Back up.

You hit the ground and then what?

Ortega. Screaming. You can see him leaning out the window. Idiot's probably cutting his hands open on the glass shards you left on the edge. He looks like he's going to come after you.

Wait, how can you see him, you landed on your chest--no, you didn't. You're on your back now, legs a mess, one arm trapped under you. There's something wet under you. Warm. And in you. You'll choke on it soon.

You want to yell back. You're okay. You're alive. (Right?). Stay there, you'll come right back up. It's just a little cut.

There are people around you. When did they get here, this is your dream, you get to call the shots. But they're still there. Ortega isn't.

You scream for him. He doesn't come. You scream anyway. Louder.

Please.

He never shows up. No matter how you play out this part, he's never there. 

You get scooped onto a gurney. Roughly. There are only flashes. Half faces, monstrous smiles, sharp stabs of needles and knives. There's an ambulance but don't go in there no it's wrong run.

You can't run. You have no legs. Or you're tied up. Or you're drugged. Or they're too many. You can't fight them all.

You fight them. You stand on broken legs that are fine, you have your gun. You have a knife? You kill them all and then yourself.

No?

No.

You have your gun.

No.

Knife?

They drag you into the ambulance kicking and screaming. It's over. You're better off dead.

No.

You have your fists. You stand on broken legs, and you fight them. The first few punches are easy, they don't expect it. They never do. Unconscious bodies don't start fighting.

They hit you with a taser but no they don't, you dodge it, duck down under it, stamp your heel down onto their foot, take it from them, you–

You?

They've got you tied up they've got you in a stranglehold they've got you. In their arms.

Gentle.

Fingers rubbing circles on your back.

It's a trick it's a trick it's a TRAP.

You fight. The first few moves are easy, they never expect it. Elbow to the face, ram a fist into his stomach, run.

But.

Ortega's there.

He's never there, not after they show up.

But he's there. He's here.

He's reaching out so carefully, like you're a feral animal. But they're–

He's rubbing circles on your back and you're. Breathing? Maybe?

He's pulling you closer and oh that's blood trickling out of his nose. Who did that, you'll make them pay.

He's holding you so gently. You could run. You probably should run. But your legs feel funny, in the way that no feeling at all does that. 

You take another breath.

[pixiedustandbluebutterflies]

Draco Malfoy may be a Master Potioneer, but he is barely an O-level herbologist. Luckily, Neville is more than willing to assist. My prompt was a Dreville "treat" - "Draco struggling with herbology but on better terms with the Gryffindors recruits Neville for help." I hope you enjoy!

Have a happy "treat" for the Holidays, @rubinbuckllly!

[pix-writes]

Uhhhh Stan adopting a teenage runaway who came from an abusive home. (He sees a lot of his past self when he was homeless in them and vows to save them from the life he had)

This is kind of adjacent to an idea for a fic I've already had! But I couldn't resist doing a little bit about this scenario! <3

Stan has already basically adopted Wendy and Soos already, even without fully meaning to with Soos he sees that he needs a father figure in his life and sort-of does the best he can to be that. With Wendy, its different too because it's basically canon that he just lets her get away with stuff because he knows she needs somewhere away from home to relax (even tho he could definitely get another employee who doesn't bunk off so much). Will he admit that's what he's doing though? Of course not!

Despite his exterior/persona, though, Stanley Pines is a kind man who wants to help people who most need it - like you say, he's been in that position enough times himself. I'm sure there's been the occaisonal person who's helped him out in the past, even if they never stuck around. Well, now he's Mr Mystery, he can sort-of be that person for others, not just because he's more stable, but also because he desperatly wants connection, especially after losing his brother in the portal (though that's also a reason to keep everyone at arms length to an extent, so they can never find out about his double life).

Runaway teen & Stan pines (under cut):

I can imagine you ran away from home and come across Gravity Falls, perhaps you had even seen the ads for tourist stops in this area, or maybe you just found the most random small town on your travels and decided to stop there - your travels are erratic so that no one can follow you or suspect you of being a runaway. Not that you really expect your parents to be concerned, at least not for long. That's why you had to get away and stay gone, you had reached your breaking point for what you could handle.

It starts to rain, you go to the local diner but your travel money is fast becoming less and less... you only order coffee, nursing it there for as long as possible, but when business starts to pick up you realise just how small of a town it is, everyone seems to know nearly everybody around here! You've already gotten a few curious glances or greetings put your way and you decide to leave.

Wandering around, you end up on the outskirts of town, there's a fair few campsites around, now lying half empty since its off-season right now, maybe you coud stay on the edge of the forest somewhere? Pinch some tent equipment from somewhere or from someone who doesn't need it? You already had a sleeping bag, water bottle, a torch. You just needed something to keep more of the rain off of you!

That's when you wander into an opening within the forest, notice the wooden signs nailed to the trees. You see a small group of tourists being spoken to by some guy, his voice carrying across the place, gravelly and jovial, and in your surprise you just stare dumbfounded - this place isn't closed? The group is moving and you take in your surroundings and you're so cold and wet and hungry, you're not really thinking ahead when go in, pulling your hoodie down over your face and sneaking in beind the throng of people, unnoticed.

But it turns out that you had been noticed, after the bizarre tour of this overpriced tourist trap, you lurk behind, the rain hasn't let up outside and you're wondering when the place might close, now that the tourists had filtered out the place was pretty dead, which is when a large hand lands on your shoulder making you jump out of your skin and your eyes land on the proprietor.

"Hey! You gonna at least buy anything, kid?"

You apologise and stutter, feeling like you want to bolt but totally caught at the same time. Stan immediately picks up on the fact that you're so twitchy, even for a teen. He eases up on you, switching to a friendlier tone. Wendy asks you where you're staying, curiosity getting the better of her usually nonchalant demeanour. You tell them you just got lost from the campsite and Stan isn't buying it one bit but Wendy has given you the directions and you're out of the door. The interaction doesn't sit right with him. He knows exactly where you're hiding out by the time you've stayed there overnight. Having discovered the pop up tent you 'found' set up in the woods not far away.

He decides to keep an eye on you, he's worried being direct will make startle you, like a deer in headlights, at the diner he doesn't acknowledge you at first just pushes a plate of food subtly towards you, for you to swipe. After that he manages to make small talk, hes still wondering how he can help you, what excuse he can make so it seems like he's offering you something and it be believable instead of suspicious.

Maybe he complains there's no one around to do the stock take now that summer is well and truly over, you perk up, saying you'd like some extra pocket money. You come right on time and the owner of the Mystery Shack introduces himself properly, shows you what you need to do. You take your time, living rough has made you exhausted mentally/physically, and because... you've begun to like the place as kooky as it is. And wouldn't you know it, Mr Pines has made more food than he expected and wouldn't you like some? You come back the next day and its pretty much the same, though you are starting to pick up on where Stan is subtly gaining information on you. He both curses and admires how whip-smart you are, reminds him of himself a lot further into being homeless than you are (reminds him of someone else too...), he worries that night of whether you'll have run off, if you'd get into trouble somewhere else, but you return the following afternoon. This time, Stan levels with you -

"Look kid, I don't know what's going on at home and trust me when I say I get it - but whatever's going on, it's probably not worth staying out in the woods, epseically 'round here, it's dangerous!" He reassures you he's not going to call anyone, though, just asks you to reconsider, think about how much trouble you might get into, if you don't turn up to school how you're going to explain yourself, how are you going to get a job? You swipe frustrated tears from your eyes and thank him for being concerned, though its hollow. How can you return home now? All you're going to get is more abuse, you can only think of how angry they'll all be if you did!

You end up wandering to some other town, using the money Stan gave you to get a bus and find a place to stay, having seen a load of jobs you could apply for. Turns out though, that some of your family had been looking for you and tracked your phone, you end up in a fight with them, receiving a hard slap to the face before running away once more! You pack up your things and head straight to the first place you think of.

Once you get there, its dark, you hesitate before knocking but you've came all this way. When Stan opens the door all of the shock and adrenaline has seemed to have worn off and you see the mix of sadness, surprise and anger on his face at the clear mark on your face from the fight.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know where else to go." Is all you can get out before bursting into tears. He let's you stay, you've been out in the cold and so stressed over this time that when you come in you're shivering, you end up running a nasty fever. You're so exhausted there's nothing left but to accept your fate and Stan feels he must help you. He piles on the blankets and gives you hot drinks and plain food till the fever runs its course.

He still has a bit of trouble with authorities/some family members looking for you in the area, you traded your old phone in for another and Stan was eventually able to brush them off your trail. He couldn't help it, he liked the kid in the small amount of time he knew them and it was clear that you had danger waiting for you at home. You had told him a little after the first night you had stayed at the shack, words tumbling out of your mouth about your trauma, how you couldn't stand your family. His heart sank as he remembered his own life as a young man, a kid technically, homeless and making ends meet and was determined you wouldn't have the same fate. Yet he had to know you were sure.

"You really want to stay here - in this boring ol' town? At the shack?" You were determined you would, as long as he was okay with that, you vowed to work hard, sweep the floors, keep an eye on the gift shop when Wendy couldn't, anything to be useful. But, you didn't want him to get into trouble. Too little too late for that, he thought to himself.

"But, really do ya want to see this ugly mug every day?" He said gesturing to his face. That brought a slight smile to your face, in fact you ended up giggling and he knew he wouldn't be able to get rid of you now (like he ever would've entertained it).

He sighed. "So, do you trust me? Cause I need some kind of story if ya gonna stay here, kiddo."

He needed a lot more than that of course, he ended up getting you a fake ID and if anyone asked, you were family, here to stay for a while. When people asked anything more than that he got cagey, but he liked thinking of you being a Pines, another part of the family. Part of him felt guilty for doing it too, faking that you had the same last name, he still thought you might not want to stick around, you weren't blood family to him, you had no ties to him, but he wanted family so badly, was it so bad to pretend that you were?

He made sure you got to school, he even started to pack you lunches every day, he wasn't so bothered about homework, saying he didn't think much of school when he went anyway, you both had something more important than that (street smarts!), but when you were struggling with your math homework you were surprised that he semmed to know an awful lot, but then again you probably shouldn't be surprised, he did own a business after all. Whilst there wasn't a lot to do around the Mystery Shack all year round, you still found yourself picking up around the house part of the Shack, doing the laundry, washing the dishes, normal chore stuff - isn't that what teens were supposed to do? Stan was surprised to see a teen do chores unprompted and you were nervous that you'd done something wrong, because why else would he be questioning you? He recovered quickly though and just grumbled out something about 'finally, someone who knows how to pick up after themselves/work' but from the expression on his face, you are relieved to know that he is joking with you and he isn't mad. You're picking up on his quirks.

The months roll by and you started to feel safer, the shack became more familiar, you were less frightened and jumpy, people in town were more friendly, familiar faces and if people knew that you weren't actually related, that you were a runaway, they didn't say anything at all. You were starting to be referred to as 'Stan's kid'. No one had said so in front of Stan so far as you knew, it made you feel some residual guilt, even after all that you're family had done, were you really not a burden to Stan? Was it wrong to see him like a parent? What would you do if he no longer wanted you around? But as much as you were scared of being rejected, a situation came up at the Shack at the beginning of your first summer in the falls. A gathering was forming for a tour and some tourist had asked something or assumed he was your parent, something like that. Unbeknownst to you Stan had heard and he freezed, unconsciously waiting on your response.

"Oh, you'll wanna ask my dad, he's the one over there in the fez?" It just slipped out, you should've said Mr Mystery at work, but you couldn't help the feeling in your chest that it was right. Ever since then you had been tentatively saying it (you eventually start to notice how when you knew Stan had heard it he seemed a little emotional) and Stan now proudly referred to you as 'his kid'. You may or may not call him 'dad' to his face, maybe you'll still just call him 'Stan' but it seems like now you officially have a family!

[pixlokita]

Likes are lovely, reblogs are even lovelier but you know what really makes people’s day? Commenting !! Or heck even leaving tags TTwTT specially with writing ;v; a lot of writers on tumblr get so little interaction and it feels somewhat unfair because so much work goes into their stories y’know? Idk just getting that off my chest rn 🙏💖 it makes me sad to see them getting little to no attention when they pour so much detail into everything

[angelfishcake]

On their second day of walking, Orion, D-16, B-127, and Elita talk about names. (3-chapter fic)