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gohyuck · 4 years ago

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1/7 of my milestone drabbles!

pairing: streetracer!mark lee x reader

genre: fluff/angst/smut

word count: 2.1k

plot request: @hansolstea said: streetracer au + “if you think you can beat me on the tracks, then you’re on the wrong side of the wheel”

warnings: not chronological so pay attention to timestamps, ambiguous relationship between the main characters, mild car accident, explicit sex, choking, ...cumming inside, mild overstimulation, slightly shitty aftercare due to the setting

SATURDAY 1:27 A.M.

“fucking take it.” he growls in your ear from above you, burying your face further into the pillow and readjusting your position so your hips are higher in the air. you let a gasping moan out without meaning to, and mark, almost without thinking, lands a hand against your ass in response, drawing forth a keening wail. “you think you’re all that, huh? think you’re invincible? hm? answer me.”

“n-no, fuck, mark, i-” he speeds up his hips, pistoning into you at a breakneck pace, almost smothering you into the motel bed’s surprisingly soft pillow. it’s obvious that he doesn’t care about what you say as long as it isn’t the safe word. you already know he’ll leave you bruised and battered, aching from how hard he’s fucking you, but you also know not to expect anything else.

mark lee is not your friend. mark lee certainly isn’t your lover. mark lee is a cocky, inflammatory bastard who has never hesitated to push your buttons in public. he brings out the worst in you, and you bring out the worst in him.

unfortunately for everyone involved, mark’s the best fuck you’ve ever had, and you know that he’s never had as good a time sticking his dick in anyone else.

as he pulls out, causing you to whine at the loss of contact, only to flip you over and immediately plow into you again, hard arms caging you in against the bed, you can’t help but think back to the series of events that led you here. not four hours earlier, you’d been on the ‘track’, jeno’s ford mustang right beside mark’s chevy corvette c6. everything that had happened there had led to what’s happening now.

“fucking take it,” mark growls again, almost unaware of what he himself is saying at this point. you’d laugh at him if you weren’t drunk off of him. his words bring you back to the present, your back arching until your chest meets his. “someone has to put you in your place.”

FRIDAY 9:55 P.M.

“come to get your ass beat?”

mark whirls around to see you leaning against your brother’s bright red mustang, a smirk adorning your features. he’s always been reactionary when it comes to you, and tonight is no different: his relaxed gaze hardens immediately as it falls on you, and his otherwise gentle smile morphs into a sneer. still, he attempts to maintain his composure, never wanting the first of you two to break.

“you’re not even driving tonight, princess. that’s big talk for someone too scared to race against me.”

“not my fault my brother wanted a piece of you first. be grateful - you couldn’t handle going against me.” you respond with ease, pushing yourself off of the car in favor of walking towards the man you can’t stand. his shoulders tense up for a moment, only to ease up again as he rolls them back, shoving both of his hands into his black bomber jacket’s pockets. you take a split second to appraise him, though you pray he doesn’t realize that you’re checking him out: black bomber, plain white tee, a thin checkered red flannel, ripped black skinny jeans, a dark brown belt, and a black beanie. even you can’t deny how attractive he is, no matter how badly you wish you could.

your eyes have trailed to his chest, and when you snap your head up to look at him, he’s smirking. that bastard.

“if you think you can beat me on the tracks, then you’re on the wrong side of the wheel,” he shrugs his shoulders, very obviously presenting you with a challenge. “should be inside the car, not outside it… unless you’re afraid, princess. i’d let you off the hook if you were, of course. it would be understandable: nobody wants to lose.”

“call me princess one more fucking time-” you retort, so close to him that you can smell his cologne.

“princess.” he draws the word out, and that’s the only mark lee you’ve ever known. the pain in your ass. he’s a good friend of jeno’s - hell, your brother even looks up to the man smirking at you right now - and gets along well with everyone you know. you’re the only exception, and you don’t know how to feel about that.

anger. arousal, maybe- no, just anger. it’s just anger, you tell yourself. before you can even sort out your own thoughts, you find yourself turning, yelling out your brother’s name.

“i’m driving tonight,” you call out, leaving no room for argument. “me versus mark.”

jeno looks at you, then at his friend, and then back at you, mouth falling open as if to argue. as his eyes meet yours, though, he knows: bickering with you is futile. your brother tosses you the keys to his precious car, and when you meet mark’s eyes again, you’re the one smirking this time.

“good luck,” you sneer, leaning close until you’re as in his face as you possibly could be. “princess.”

FRIDAY 11:39 P.M.

you’ve never seen him look quite this downright pissed. mark is genuinely one of the more easygoing, mild-mannered men you’ve met, only even acting ‘riled up’ whenever someone - typically hyuck or yuta - makes an inflammatory or downright jokingly flirtatious comment at him. it takes a lot for him to feel rage, and even you don’t think you evoke emotions that strong from him. he’s been insanely annoyed with you, yes, but it usually isn’t anything too far past that.

now, though? now mark fuckin’ lee has a steel grip on your left wrist as he tugs you out of the car. it isn’t too bad - the bumper is crooked, now, and one of the sideview mirrors is dangling and both taken together will cost a very unsexy couple of grands to fix without accounting for the paint - but you can hear your brother’s bemoaned wails at what you’ve done to his precious car. you’re surprised at yourself, too: you’ve never crashed before.

you’d looked over at mark for a split second too long while going just a hair too fast, and then, suddenly, the side of your - jeno’s - car was scraping some corporate compound’s metal fence. you’d panicked to a stop upon hearing the metallic crunching noises, and had only later heard mark’s c6 screeching to a halt up ahead. he’d yelled your name, you’d thought, but you were still dazed.

that, and jeno, who’d been just ahead at the finish line, had already started screaming by then. not for you. for his car.

“what the hell were you thinking?” mark yells, pulling you just a little too hard, causing you to stumble into his chest. “why didn’t you slow the fuck down?”

“i- shit, i didn’t realize until it was too late.” you can’t even throw the same tone of voice back in his face, too preoccupied with the realization that, had your steering been just a little off, you might be mangled in the mustang right now.

the race had gotten cut short then, with you apologizing profusely to your brother for as long as possible afterwards. mark had stepped back, watched on as the two of you assessed the damage to jeno’s car. it was only everyone else had left and jeno’d realized that he’d have to drive home with his car in the mess that it was that mark had stepped in between you and your sibling, offering to let you stay with him for the night rather than risk you and your brother killing each other over the mustang (‘nana’, so affectionately named by jeno after his best friend).

“thank fuck,” jeno’d said, eyes practically rolling into the back of his head in exasperation.

“fuck this,” you’d muttered under your breath, though a part of you truly is thankful for the intervention and the distraction both. mark had heard you. jeno hadn’t.

you expect to pull up to the apartment mark shares with his friends yuta and jungwoo, but, instead, he pulls into the parking lot of a motel you know well. of course you do - you’ve rendezvoused here with him on multiple accounts before. it’s only then, as mark fixes a hard, dark gaze on you, that you realize what you’re in for. his mouth meets your skin, your hands meet his hair.

“someone,“ he murmurs into the flesh that joins your jaw and neck. “needs to teach you how to slow down. that someone, though,” a fresh hickey blooms against your skin. he pushes open his car door with the hand that isn’t gripping your shirt’s hem. “sure as hell won’t be me.”

SATURDAY 1:29 A.M.

“someone has to put you in your place.”

mark reaches up your body then, curls a hand gingerly - almost too gingerly - around your throat. he presses lightly against the sides, only enough to make you feel slightly lightheaded. he’s looking down at you directly, gaze hard, daring you to look back. you’re close but it isn’t enough - you’re on an edge, but there’s nothing else behind you, no catalyst to push you into bliss.

his hand tightens, the other comes down to your pelvis, thumb swiping experimentally against your clit. you can’t help yourself - you tighten immediately around him, back arching slightly as both of you let out choked moans simultaneously. he swipes against your clit one more time before settling his hand against your hip, starting to rub circles into your bundle of nerves if only to feel your vice grip around his cock. you practically keen, gasping at the sheer amount of sensations your body feels.

you’re on the edge. you’re about to fall. mark’s hips stutter against your own, and he plays with your clit even more vigorously as he cums, not bothering to pull out. he never does, anyways. the hand around your neck tightens just a bit before he lets go of your airways entirely, and the sensation of finally being able to breathe properly again does you in, your chest fully arching almost against mark’s own as you reach your own orgasm.

it feels like an eternity until the stars are all out of your eyes, but you find yourself falling back to earth as mark finally pulls out. you’re panting, catching your breath, eyes glassy as you try and fix your gaze on him. he notices this, chuckling softly.

mark heads to the room’s bathroom, and you hear running water for a second before he emerges with wadded up toilet paper and a wet towel. you wince, knowing he’ll use the one-ply toilet paper on you first, but also knowing that neither of you are shitty enough to leave a cum-covered hotel towel behind for the staff to find. he wipes up the mixture of yours and his cum up from between your sensitive thighs, quieting shushing you and apologizing as the scratchy toilet paper meets your still-sensitive pussy. once he’s sure it’s all cleaned up, he wipes you down with the wet towel, doing his best to soothe your skin.

once he’s discarded the toilet paper and put the towel up, mark pulls on his boxers before gently pushing you over to get into the bed beside you. everything smells like sex, but you can’t bring yourself to be as disgusted by it as you think you should be. you move onto your side, wrapping an arm around him and throwing a leg over him, ignoring the fact that he’s like a space heater and you already feel sticky as it is. he allows his arm to wrap around your waist, pulling you even closer.

“i’m serious, you know,” he mutters after a while, sighing as he speaks. “you need to learn how to slow down. that could’ve ended very, very badly tonight… and as much as we… have our ‘differences’ or whatever, i don’t know what i’d do without you. okay? so pay more attention when you’re driving. you’re too valuable.”

there’s no response. mark shifts so he can see you, and he realizes that you’re fast asleep, bare chest rising and falling in tandem with mark’s heartbeat. you haven’t heard a word of what he’s said. a small smile graces mark’s features.

he lets his head fall back onto the too-flat motel pillow, finding that he, too, is suddenly very tired. his eyes slip shut, sleep pulling him in as the night goes on. he pulls you closer on reflex. you allow yourself to get pulled closer in the same way. in the morning, you’ll ask him what he means by ‘you’re too valuable’. you’ve got at least six hours ‘til then. you fall asleep with a smile on your face, mirroring mark’s own.

#mark lee #mark lee smut #mark lee angst #mark lee fluff #mark lee x reader #nct smut #nct 127 smut

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jedivszombie · 4 years ago

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Okay gang, since there are a bunch of anons going fucking wild across the dash tonight about some joking posts about Mark Webber and Ann Neal - that were someone’s shocked reaction to the age difference between them. I thought it would be interesting to go on a little journey together.

This little journey is the story of how Ann and Mark met, and will hopefully give you guys some insight as to why the ‘sexism’ and ‘ageism’ arguments you are currently using are bullshit - and why using these words in such a buzzword way actually is not the kind of critical thinking you think it is. And why this situation is more akin to a student and teacher starting a relationship - which I think we can all agree is not advisable, even if you don’t know why.

Below the cut is going to be a little discussion of Mark and Ann the early days; the reason the age difference is iffy at best and fucked up at worst; and, a little discussion about how these situations require nuance and the ways in which f1blr often likes to blow situations out of proportion.

I have split it into three parts:

Mark and Ann: The Early Days (1994-1997)

Nuance, my old friend. Anon hate, my enemy. (tw: for racism here, be careful)

The pitfalls of discourse and the importance of looking after yourself.

A little disclaimer for you guys: I do not pretend to know anything about this relationship, other than what is readily available to learn about it from what they themselves have put out about it. I am just providing a timeline and some facts. Whatever conclusions you draw from it are your own.

Feel free to come for me if you so desire.

Mark and Ann: The Early Days (1994-1997)

We start our story in Australia in February, 1994. Mark is competing in Australian Formula Ford Championship and Ann Neal is the new media and PR officer for the category. This is their first meeting. Just so we know what’s up here Mark was 17 at the time, and Ann was absolutely an adult (apparently there is a 13 year age gap, which may not sound like much but we will get onto that later, which makes her roughly 30 when they first met).

Some key things to be aware of from this first meeting:

Mark is 17, Ann is about 30. Mark is a young racer, Ann is the media and PR officer for the category he races in.

In an excerpt from Aussie Grit, p. 57 to be exact, we get to find out what Ann had to say about the first time they met:

“She thought I was a bit of a smart-arse when we first met. ‘But I liked how bold and cheeky he was,’ she says, ‘and how mature he seemed. When I asked someone how old he was, I was shocked when they said 17 – he was confident beyond his years.’”

In another excerpt from Aussie Grit, p. 61, Mark tells us other things Ann remembers about their first meeting:

“Ann remembers our first meeting and my opening remark about her being so important. She can even remember what I was wearing – a stripey green and red top, one of those United Colors of Benetton things – so that was pretty prophetic, as things turned out!”

Now this may sound extremely cute to some of you, like they’re just having a normal ‘aww remember how we met’ moment. But let me please re-direct your attention back to the fact that Mark is 17 (and still not an adult yet if this is what you are gonna nitpick about) and Ann is very much an adult, in a position of power.

So, a teenager makes a quip about how important you are and you commit to memory what he was wearing the day it happened?

Now let’s bring in the first quote I put up there where Ann herself was recalling the first time they met. I would like to draw your attention to the following sentence: ‘and how mature he seemed. When I asked someone how old he was, I was shocked when they said 17 – he was confident beyond his years.’

Hmmmm, where have we all heard language like this used before? If, like me, you have some experience of adults trying to start inappropriate relationships with you as a teenager then you will be very familiar to this sort of language. The emphasis is on how mature he seemed, is what’s sticking out for me here tbh.

Now, if this had been a fleeting meeting, and they had met again a few years later, I would be more on board for whatever justification some of the anons have been trying to use. However, it wasn’t.

Again from Aussie Grit, p.61:

“After that first meeting we kept in touch. My family sometimes met up with Ann and Luke for weekend get-togethers, and I ensured she got her motor-sport fixes by dragging all my old F1 tapes out. By way of revenge she would bring down all her British Formula Ford tapes for me.”

Oh cool, so she gained the trust of his family and Mark was hanging out with her son. This is so sweet Alexa, play Chosen Family by Rina Sawayama. Real talk though, again if this is how it had ended - with them just being family friends - then we would not be having this conversation.

BUT, we all know how this little story ends so onwards we march. We shoot forward to late 1994, Mark has done okay in Formula Ford but his Dad is no longer able to fund him. SO, he turns to their old pal - the ever present and super helpful Ann, bless her heart - to try and drum up some sponsorship for Mark so he can race.

Little background on why Ann was chosen to try and help with this, I’ll give you 3 guesses and only one of them is correct. Yes, that’s right, it’s her experience - which she has managed to get by being 30 and having a background in motorsports. She started out as a motorsport journo and ended up dealing with press and PR for Paul Warwick (Derek Warwick’s brother). In 1986 she started dealing with Johnny Herbert’s media before working for Formula Ford in Europe in 1991.

Ann begrudgingly accepts and draws up plans with Mark, which leads him to a Yellow Pages sponsorship for his next season in Formula Ford, and beyond - how sweet, how nice, they are #winning! We stan teamwork besties! And Ann started working with Mark and his family to further his career.

Ann had a plan for Mark, as outlined in Aussie Grit, p.69-70:

“By the end of 1995 Annie told me, in no uncertain terms, that – and I quote – I had to get my arse out of there. She didn’t just mean Australian Formula Ford, either: she meant Australia. She thought it was time for me to go and have a crack at some of the big guys, and she proposed to help me go about it in a serious, business-like way.

‘How the f#*k are you going to get to Formula 1 coming from Queanbeyan?’ Anyone who wants to trace my journey should start with a piece of paper that Ann drew up on 6 July 1995.”

So, now Ann has outlined her hopes for Mark and a glimmering career in motorsport. I would like us to know that at this point in time Mark was the ripe old age of 18, going on 19.

In 1996 Ann and Mark moved properly to the UK so Mark could drive in the British Formula Ford Championship - at this point Mark is still 19. At this point he is living in the UK with Ann and her mother, and Ann’s son.

So this is probably sounding pretty okay so far and sure it’s just a business relationship with a business set up, like no real cause for concern. But then we discover that this business relationship had turned into a relationship-relationship pretty damn fast.

From the horses mouth himself, Aussie Grit, p.87:

“Back in England, Ann and I moved house to Aylesbury in Buckinghamshire, on the edge of motor sport’s equivalent of Silicon Valley. We had started out as teammates and friends on a mission but over time our friendship had deepened into something else. I enjoyed spending time with her and we felt entirely comfortable in each other’s company. Moving to England was a huge step for me and I think it was a case of us needing one another and that’s how the relationship was formed.”

Okay, okay, okay so I know at this point Mark is 19/20 he’s an adult right? He can make his own choices. But, can we please admit that at best it’s an iffy situation because of the position of power and authority she was in? In his life? For his career?

There are a few other excerpts I found particularly interesting, about Mark’s family’s reaction (all from Aussie Grit, chapter 3):

“My parents came over to the UK in the English summer of 1997. While they were thrilled about how things were developing for me in racing, they’d been less thrilled by the romantic relationship that was developing between Annie and me....” “...Annie was bitterly disappointed at my behaviour. Her plan to take me to the highest level of motor sport was starting to go horribly wrong, so she left Australia earlier than planned and headed back to Europe. My family arranged for Alan Docking to collect my belongings from the house we had been sharing and the one and only car Annie and I had at that stage...Campese Management told her that they had been instructed by the Webber family to terminate her role as my manager and that Campese Management would be taking over all aspects of my career, including the negotiation of my driving contracts.“

“While I knew Annie provided the support and guidance I needed in my racing career, I was missing her in so many other ways too. We were such a dynamic force in every sense; we could make things happen when we were together. We were teammates, soul mates, call it what you want.“

“As to Mum’s concern about our age difference, that has never been a factor for us. When we began to be more open about being together, perhaps the top end of the age gap shocked a few people. In those days people were less accepting of a big age difference between partners, especially when it’s our way round. It’s not such a big deal nowadays and it makes us laugh when so-called celebrities reveal they’re dating an older woman or younger man!“

While the Daily Mail is trash, the beginning of this video is very revealing to me - particularly Jackie Stewart’s comments from 00:12.

Obviously you can make up your own conclusions from all of this information, and I would once again like to point out that none of us - not me, not the anons, not you - actually know the nature of their relationship. They have been together for 24 years - good for them! Whatever they have going has obviously worked for them, this is not me trying to shit on that or anything, and I’m gonna be real I’m not the biggest Mark Webber fan.

Nuance, my old friend. Anon hate, my enemy.

All I want to do is add some nuance to the conversation, an overview of the timeline, an understanding of what the facts are. So that some of those cowardly anons (or anon) can hop off their self-built thrones and get a grip. The sexism and ageism argument literally does not apply here, for all of the evidence and reasons listed above - if the situation was flipped we would still be calling it out. The only difference is you guys would probably be on board with it being called out.

So Ann is a woman? So, what? Do you think she’s above reproach? You think one person’s 50 note post on this site is gonna rock the foundation of a relationship that has been 26 years in making? If you have answered yes to any of these questions then you are either: a) Mark Webber himself, or b) delusional as hell. You really think that responding by sending anon hate to a teenager, who btw only made a post calling out the age difference because she was shocked and had just discovered it, is the right way to go?

You really think that sending me this message, attacking other people in such a vile and racist manner is okay?

So you don’t like Nehir and Sera? Good for you, go block them, if you follow them, unfollow them. Those options are free and readily available to you.

For me, it’s so funny to see you hiding behind that little Anon mask spewing this vile shit. The commitment you have to proving that you are just a cowardly person with nothing better to do than rag on a bunch of different people for reblogging a post, that in the long run is not going to reach the people it’s about, is outstanding. I really hope you pat yourself on the back for this one.

The pitfalls of discourse and the importance of looking after yourself.

There has definitely been a spate of ‘conversations’ that have been happening recently that have very much been straying into the land of discourse, over very small comments or posts. I think that some people need to remember that we’re all here for our own entertainment and as soon as it stops being fun - you are allowed to log off; you are allowed to block people; you are allowed to unfollow people.

Sending anon hate is so counterproductive to whatever conversation you think you are starting or having with a person. Also guys, sometimes it’s not that deep - sometimes jokes are just jokes, sometimes someone finds out something they didn’t know about a driver or an ex-driver and they make a joke post about it. That does not give you the right to send them hate, or to make racist comments in other people’s asks.

Sometimes these discussions require a debate and sometimes discourse can be good - but honestly? I’m worried about some of you guys, it is not healthy to get so angry at other people for the things they post on their blogs that you are not obligated to follow or interact with at all.

I am also worried about people who turn every little thing into something discoursey. There are causes and issues to care about in this sport and community, for sure. But sometimes you also have to pick your battles - especially when I know a lot people in this community have fragile mental health. I do not say this to patronise any of you but to just provide a reminder that you do not need to engage with everything that makes your blood boil, and furthering some of these conversations sometimes is not doing you guys any good. Burnout is real.

Please take some time to take care of yourselves, the pandemic is doing a number on all of us and I know being online gives you a gateway to being connected to people, but sometimes you just have to walk away from a discussion. Sometimes you have to just go and reblog something unrelated, or stare at a photo of your favourite driver, or listen to some angry music. Anything else to process your knee jerk reaction, to give yourself time to figure out how you feel about something and whether it’s worth engaging in or not.

#maisie talks #the post that no one asked for but we sure as shit needed #anon hate below the cut #would also like to say that i am not pretending to know shit about their relationship and this is all information provided by the couple #themselves #under the cut is a bunch of information about their relationship up to you how you take it but i know how i feel #tw racism #i went insane i've seen the opposite of god #thnx ana for supporting my rage #here i am a hundred years late and a dollar short #mark webber

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thelastspeecher · 3 years ago

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Here Comes the Son

Hehehe a pun.

Anyways I stayed up late last night bc I had an anxiety attack and wound up writing during that time so here have some more Marriage of Convenience AU.

——————————————————————————————

“Want Mama,” Iris whined loudly at Stan. “Want see her.” Stan sighed heavily.

“You and me both, kid,” he mumbled. Angie had gone into labor last night, resulting in Ford rushing her to the hospital and leaving Stan alone with Orion and Iris. That morning, Ford had called to let Stan know Angie was ready for visitors. But when they arrived, Angie had already fallen back asleep. Now, Stan was stuck in the waiting area outside Angie’s hospital room, supervising his niece and nephew.

“Uncy Stan,” Orion whimpered, holding his arms out. Stan lifted his nephew onto his lap.

“Getting bored?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“Me, too.” Stan leaned his head back to stare up at the ceiling. “But your dad doesn’t want to wake up your ma. I guess she punched him the last time he did that.”

“Punch?”

“Yeah, punch. I’ll teach you how to throw a good one when you’re older.”

“Mmkay.”

“What are ya doin’?” Stan looked over. A strange man stood there, his hands on his hips. “Why aren’t ya in the room with yer wife?”

“Uh, ‘cause I don’t have a wife?” Stan said. Something about the man looked familiar, but Stan couldn’t quite place him. The man scowled.

“Don’t have a-” His eyes widened. “Wait. Yer not Stanford.”

“Nope.”

“But his children are with ya.”

“It’s called babysitting, hayseed. Ever heard of it?”

“Hayseed?!” the man squeaked. The door to Angie’s room opened. Ford stepped into the hall. “Stanford, who is this hooligan ya have babysittin’ yer children?” the man demanded.

“That hooligan would happen to be my twin brother, Stanley. We recently reconnected, and he’s been serving as our live-in nanny since.” Ford frowned. “Did Angie not tell you?”

“She mentioned that ya got a live-in nanny, but not that he was yer twin brother.” The man looked back at Stan. “I s’ppose that I should introduce m’self, then.” He held out a hand. Stan shook it. “The name’s Lute McGucket. I’m one of Angie’s older brothers.”

“So that’s why you’ve got that nose,” Stan said idly. Ford’s eyes lit up.

“Lute and Angie aren’t the only ones with that nose!” he gushed. Stan stood up.

“Your new kid’s got it, too?”

“Yes, he does!”

“He!” Lute gasped. “I got m’self a new nephew?” Ford nodded eagerly.

“Yes, the both of you do. Please, come inside, Angie’s finally awake and able to handle visitors.”

“Dada!” Iris toddled over to Ford. Ford knelt to pick her up. “We go see Mama?”

“Yes, my dear, we are going to see your mother now.” Ford poked Iris’s nose, eliciting a giggle from her. “And your new baby brother!” Stan, still holding Orion, and Lute followed Ford into the hospital room. The moment Stan’s eyes landed on Angie, he felt his heart skip a beat.

No, Stan, no. You are not getting a crush on your sister-in-law! Even if she and Ford don’t love each other romantically. But he couldn’t deny the feelings that had begun to emerge while Angie was pregnant. The two of them had spent a lot of time together and grown very close. Angie was beautiful, intelligent, funny, and even enjoyed Stan’s sense of humor. She’s the whole package.

And in that moment, Angie sat up in her hospital bed, looking almost ethereal. She glowed with happiness, a faint smile playing around her lips. Her golden hair shone in the light from the window. Nestled in her arms was a small bundle. From a distance, Stan couldn’t make out much of his new nephew’s appearance. All he could see was a long nose inherited from Angie and full head of thick, golden curls.

“Mama!” Orion squealed happily. Angie looked up from her newborn son. She beamed broadly.

“Hello, my babies. Are ya excited to meet yer lil brother?” she gushed. Orion wiggled excitedly in Stan’s arms.

“Geez, kid, calm down. Or I’m gonna drop you,” Stan teased. Lute gave him a dirty look. Stan brought Orion over to Angie’s bed and carefully set him down. Orion peered closely at his little brother. Stan couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face.

Dammit, Ford and Angie are good at having cute kids. Stan’s new nephew had rich, brown eyes and a round face in addition to the nose and hair Stan had noticed earlier. The baby stared at Stan with intense curiosity.

“He has twelve fingers and twelve toes,” Ford crowed proudly. He had come to the other side of Angie’s bed and placed Iris down as well. Iris crawled over to her new brother, brown eyes wide. Stan grinned at Ford, who had come a long way from hiding his hands constantly in their childhood. Angie had explained to Stan her theory. Ford’s children were polydactyls like him, so thinking poorly of his own polydactyly would be like thinking poorly of his children.

Makes sense to me. Stan’s gaze drifted back to Angie, who was happily watching Orion and Iris coo over their new brother. She’s a damn smart woman.

“So, what’s the na-” he started. The door slammed open. A man ran into the room. He had Angie and Lute’s nose, as well as Angie’s caramel-colored hair.

“Sorry, Lute came in while I parked the truck. And parkin’ took forever!” the man said. Angie looked up with a smile.

“Don’t worry, Harper, ya haven’t missed a bit. I ain’t even told folks this lil feller’s name yet,” she said soothingly. The man – Harper – came over to stand by Lute. Ford nodded at Harper.

“Harper.”

“Stanford,” Harper said. His eyes landed on Stan. “And this would be…?”

“My twin brother and live-in nanny,” Ford explained. Stan held out a hand. Harper shook it. “Stanley, this is one of Angie’s other older brothers, Harper.”

“I figured that out,” Stan drawled, breaking off the handshake. Harper’s eyes glinted with interest.

“Huh. Odd that ya never mentioned yer twin before, Stanford, and suddenly he’s not just in yer life but in charge of yer children.”

“Harper…” Ford said wearily.

Wow, Angie’s brothers really like to poke Ford, don’t they? I wonder if they’ve picked up on the marriage being for convenience instead of love.

“All right, I’ll drop it. Now ain’t the time.” Harper beamed down at the baby in Angie’s arms. “Tell me ‘bout this precious bean.”

“Yes,” Angie said happily. She looked at Ford. “Would you care to do the honors? After all, you were the one who decided the name.” There was a hint of a bite to Angie’s tone.

Huh. Maybe she doesn’t like her kid’s name?

“Of course.” Ford cleared his throat. “Everyone, I would like you to meet Apollo Hercules Pines.”

Okay. I get why she doesn’t like it.

“It’s nice,” Lute said, obviously lying through his teeth. Harper, however, nodded thoughtfully.

“I think it’s wonderful,” he said. “Strong and unique.” Lute rolled his eyes and muttered what sounded like “of course you do” under his breath.

“When I saw his golden hair, I immediately knew we had to name him after the sun. And his middle name was actually chosen by Stan from a list of options that Angie and I settled on.”

“I was sure the baby would be a girl,” Angie mumbled quietly. Ford frowned.

“Angie, is something wrong?”

“Oh, no, just-” Angie messed with Apollo’s blankets. “I weren’t plannin’ on namin’ my child Apollo Hercules.”

“I asked you what you thought. You agreed to it.”

“I wasn’t anywhere near lucid, with all those drugs they gave me durin’ the labor,” Angie argued. “And I was exhausted, too! You know how I get when I’m tired. I can’t think straight.” Stan cleared his throat, drawing everyone’s attention.

“Look, it might be a weird name, but it’s definitely gonna set the kid apart,” he said. Harper nodded.

“I agree. And honestly, Apollo ain’t close to the strangest name we’ve got in our fam’ly. I mean, Angie, yer full name is much stranger.”

“Even my name ain’t as bad as Fiddleford’s,” Angie retorted playfully. Stan frowned. “Another older brother of mine.”

“Yep, it’s a bit of a McGucket fam’ly tradition to have an odd name,” Lute said. He ruffled Apollo’s thick curls. “Since this lil feller’s got the fam’ly nose, makes sense he would have that other fam’ly trait.”

Angie and her brothers continued to chat cheerfully, discussing family gossip and cooing over the three children. Once again, Stan found himself watching his sister-in-law. She laughed. The sound awakened butterflies in Stan’s stomach. A hand was placed on Stan’s shoulder, startling him. He looked over. It was Ford.

“Stanley, thank you,” Ford said quietly. Stan raised an eyebrow.

“For what?”

“For stepping in. If you hadn’t intervened, Angie and I would have had a full-blown argument over Apollo’s name. In front of her brothers and the children, no less.” Ford took a steadying breath. “I can’t help but be enormously grateful that you’ve helped us so much. Not just in supervising the children, but in remedying some of the problems Angie and I had.”

“Hey, I’m doing what I was put on Earth to do,” Stan said firmly. “Help you out.” A smile appeared on Ford’s face, but disappeared just as quickly.

“But can that make you happy?”

“Geez, Debbie Downer, relax.” Stan elbowed his twin. “Your son was just born. On Halloween! Celebrate!”

“You didn’t answer the question.”

“I’m fine, Ford. Really.” Stan shrugged Ford’s hand off his shoulder and leaned over Angie’s hospital bed, smiling down at her and Apollo. He didn’t notice the contemplative look that came over Ford as he watched Stan fawn over his sister-in-law and new nephew.

#is that Stan beginning to catch feelings for his sister-in-law? why yes it is!#and the best part: it's MUTUAL #Stanford Pines #Stanley Pines #Lute McGucket #Angie McGucket #Marriage of Convenience AU #ficlet #my writing #speecher speaks

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untaemedqueen · 5 years ago

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The Lions Den

Mafia!Jimin x Wife!Reader

Genre: Mafia!AU, Smut, Fluff, Angst

Chapter 2.

Warnings: Smut, Blood, Guns, Knives, Excessive Cursing, Excessive Alcohol Intake, Smoking (Cigarettes and Cigars), Mental Health Issues

Warnings for this chapter: Angsty Babies Fight

TagList- @ayyyocee, @mysugabear03, @wisebtsgot7prune, @imaforeigner, @yeonkiminnie, @stories1907, @ppersonna, @brilee64, @gooplibrary, @vivpurple7, @xjoonchildx, @brightwingr5, @yaniposts22, @rjsmochii, @taeslittletiger, @pjmcth, @bts-chub, @kpoppingthempills

Sequel to The Bird Cage

You stand on the balcony overlooking the casino as the night begins to drag on. There were men and women as far as the eye could see. “Madam.” Your head turns to the voice before smiling at Kirsoon.

He hands you a glass of champagne and you thank him quietly before turning your attention back to the game floor. Your eyes have been on a man, sitting at the blackjack table for quite some time. He was in a Tom Ford suit, classically styled as he sips on his brandy. He hasn’t moved from the table in two hours and the chips in front of him indicate just how good at blackjack he is. Good at blackjack is not a sentence to be said. Unless, you’re counting. Your eyes narrow at him as he flicks at the corners of the cards leisurely. He has on sunglasses so you can’t tell how shifty his eyes are. You can’t ask him to take them off, it’s not against the casino policy to wear shades. But, something is off.

Then your eyes catch it. When he flicks the corner, the man opposite him does so as well. “Kirsoon.” You call to the man behind you and he steps forward as you lean back calmly. “I have counters at blackjack four.”

He stands up straighter before nodding his head and taking off. “Counters at black four.” He mumbles into his wrist before he descends the stairs. Your ankles cross in front of you before leaning your chin on your hand.

“Counting?” You hear from behind you, before arms wrap around your waist. You hum as lips drift over the back of your neck. “I missed you, baby.”

You smirk before turning your head to your husband. You kiss his plush lips gently before hearing commotion downstairs. You turn your attention back to the floor as Kirsoon grabs the chips and places them in a velvet bag. The Tom Ford clad man gets hauled up before being dragged towards the staircase and you click your teeth as innocent patrons jump nervously. “Idiots.” You mumble as your husband’s grip on you tightens.

His hands run over your sides before kissing down your exposed shoulder. “Come home, I miss you.”

You don’t want to go home, though. To go home would mean to have sex with him. Which would lead to another heartbreak when you don’t get pregnant for him. “Soon.” You mumble before kissing his cheek and squeezing out of his grip.

“Kitten?” He whispers confused, you turn your head to him before running your fingers through his hair.

“I have to go take care of this. See you at home?” You ask him gently, but your feet are already walking towards your grandiose office. You hear his hands slap his thighs but you don’t dare turn around to face him. You have guilt just like he does.

You hold out your two fingers before a cigarette is placed within them. Kirsoon lights your cigarette and you smile at the man now tied to the chair in front of you.

“Hi. Good evening.” You whisper to him as he looks around the office. He seems nervous. Looks nervous more like, as you watch sweat begin to bead on his forehead. “Take off your sunglasses.” You tell him before ashing your cigarette into the glass tray on your desk.

You look at his bound hands before clicking your teeth. “Nevermind, Kirsoon will do it for you.”

The tall, stocky man rounds the desk before taking them off of his face and looking at the lenses. He snorts before handing you the glasses and you hold them daintily between your fingers. The lenses were a shade of blue, something that could be seen in the bright lighting of your office compared to the dim lighting downstairs. “You have ink on your fingers?” You ask quietly to the man in the chair in front of you.

He stays silent before showing you his hand. It was free of any ink and you rolled your eyes before putting the glasses to your face. Through the blue lenses you can see faint light blue streaks on his fingers and you hum to him. You break the glasses before Kirsoon holds out his hand beside you. They get discarded into his palm before shrugging your shoulders. You watch as the beads of sweat begin to run down his temples.

“Very nervous for someone who was so confident at my tables not too long ago.” He grunts gently and you lean back in your chair before inhaling some of your cigarette. “You had a partner downstairs. I saw.”

His eyes shift to his lap and you tilt your head before crossing your legs. With an exhale you burn out the cigarette in the glass ashtray and fold your hands in your lap. “You must be very smart to count cards.”

“It’s not hard.” He murmurs and you nod to him as he turns his head to look back at two security as they stand at the double doors. “Where’d you learn to count?”

His eyes flicker back to yours and before clearing his throat. “Princeton. In America.”

“Very good.” You say in English before leaning forward. “I’ll be speaking with you in English then since you can handle it.”

His eyes squeeze shut before his form turns smaller under your piercing gaze. “How much money can you win? If you have all night to do so?”

He bites nervously at the skin on his lip before opening his mouth, “If I can do it and do it without getting caught I can turn over about one hundred thousand a night.”

You whistle, the sharp noise making him shiver before you nod to him. “And can you do this without getting caught?”

He sighs gently before straining his arms against the confines of the rope he is in. “You’re the only person who’s caught me so far. I’m usually pretty good at it.”

You tilt your head before looking him over, if he can do it without getting caught it would be very profitable to the Lions. “Interesting.” You whisper before leaning back.

“What’s your name?”

“People call me Shownu.” You click your teeth before sipping your champagne.

“Well, Shownu. You’ll be working for me from now on.” He cringes before sitting up straighter. “Look, ma’am. I don’t- don’t do this all the time. Just y’know, my brothers need some extra cash so-”

“So you’ll steal from me? That’s what this is, you’ll just take money from my casino?” He bows his head in defeat and you stand up drawing his attention.

“You will work for me and repay everything you have tried to steal, and then some. You’ve been to the Mad Hatters Casino?” He gives a stiff nod before you look at Kirsoon.

“You’ll be taking their money from now on. What’s your real name?”

“Hyunwoo.” He whispers as you round the desk.

“Hyunwoo.” You let the name roll off of your tongue before nodding. “Welcome to the Lions Den.”

He curses gently before you look over at Kirsoon, “Guess someone will be getting the money you so easily lost.”

You pat Hyunwoo on the shoulder before walking towards the doors. “Make sure he doesn’t run anywhere. We have a lot of money to collect.”

“Yes Madam!”

Arriving home, there was little to no noise besides crickets chirping as the sky became an onyx black littered with small dots of stars. You could only hope Jimin had gone to bed by now so that you didn’t have to beat around the bush as to why you didn’t come home with him. Kirsoon was very capable of dealing with things on his own and the both of you know this. You take off your heels before stepping up the left staircase silently. Your eyes straining to see anything in the darkness but it’s welcoming to have this time to yourself.

You step up to the third floor before sighing gently, eyes lingering on the three metal doors to your right before anything else. Feet padding gently against the wooden floor you stop before the kids room which used to be yours. With a gentle push the room comes into view illuminated by the Tinkerbell night light that is plugged into the wall. Hawon sleeps soundly, arms over her face in her small bed and you find the corners of your lips turning upwards as she rolls over in her sleep. Minseok sleeps in his crib, on his stomach as per usual and you sigh gently.

The love you have for your two children could never diminish, never compare to anything else. You find yourself so immensely grateful for the both of them and your lips press into a straight line as you lean on the door frame. You and Jimin work hard to make sure they know how loved they are amidst your busy schedules. And, although you try to hide what you do from them you know they’ll discover it as they become older. It’s only a matter of time.

Your hand comes to your mouth as you stare at the both of them. There’s something tugging at your heart in this early hours of the morning, something akin to being empty. Your heart was full and your womb was empty. Maybe it wasn’t in the cards to have another one, maybe God was punishing you both for killing men and doing the jobs you’ve created for yourselves. Maybe just maybe you were fated with two and no more.

You shut the door to the kids room before looking over at the intricate wooden doors of the master bedroom. The lion so diligently carved into the wood makes you sigh. You remember a time when you stayed in the kids room and would open the door to look at Jimin’s doors with curiosity and burning passion. There was a sort of mysticality and longing when you first got together, he was something new and different for you and it brought a fire to your veins like nothing you had ever felt before. There was passion and ardor still, but there was also guilt and worry. Two emotions that sit in the pit of your stomach, roiling your nerves to no end.

You can only look forward to getting the Im’s and giving them payback. It’s something that keeps you going, keeps you moving. Because if you stop, that’s when the guilt and worry really settles in.

You open the door to the bedroom quietly, eyes scanning the moonlit room before seeing your husband in bed. You breathe a sigh of relief as he lays beneath the covers, one arm under his head and the other on the spot where you lay. His lips are parted as he lays still and your heart feels lighter just looking at his handsome face. That’s something you always find yourself grateful for. How being with him can change your mood like whiplash. Your worry is never at the forefront of your brain when you're with him. But, when you're alone that's a different story.

Climbing into bed you feel him shift, eyes opening blearily before smirking. “Hi Kitten.”

You hum to him as you lay down on your back, eyes on the canopy above you. He shifts closer to you, wrapping his arm around your body before putting his head on your shoulder. “Missed you.”

You kiss his forehead before closing your eyes, fingertips traipsing over the skin of his arm. “Missed you too.”

“I love you.” He mumbles sleepily and you smirk before getting comfortable beneath him, “I love you, too.”

“Don’t fucking tell me you’re going to do what I think you’re going to do.” Jimin mumbles with a mouth full of food before pointing his chopsticks in your direction. You sip your screwdriver before putting the spoon up to Minseok’s lips. You watch as he eats greedily before smiling at him and wiping his chin with your thumb. “And, what do you think I’m going to do?”

Jimin swallows before picking up his cup of coffee, “You’re going to send this Hyunwoo to steal from the Ims casino.” You look over at him before smiling. He scoffs gently as you pick up another spoon full of the scrambled eggs for your son. “Kitten.” Jimin mumbles before putting his hand on your knee.

You look down at his hand before crossing your legs, effectively knocking it off of you. He sighs loudly as you kiss Minseok’s forehead. “What if he gets caught?”

“He won’t.” You say before handing Minseok to Mirae as she sits at the breakfast nook. “But, what if he does? Isn’t the Casino Night enough? Shouldn’t we be worrying about that then having him take their money from counting cards?”

You hum to him before standing, you finish your screwdriver before kissing his forehead. “I want it all.” You flick your finger underneath his chin and he puts his hands over his face with a groan.

“Mirae watch the kids.” Jimin mumbles before chasing you.

“Hey, hey. Baby.” Your husband whispers, hands running over your bare arms as he stops you in the sitting room. Your arms fold before you look up at your husband. “Can we talk?” He begs of you and you clear your throat before walking past him. You cannot stop, you will not let the guilty set in.

“I have to go count the safe at the casino before it opens for the day.” Jimin’s tongue licks at his lips before he’s following behind you. “Please, Y/N. Give me five minutes.”

You enter your bedroom before walking into the closet and your husband closes the door behind you both. Locking it shut and pressing his back to it so you can’t leave even if you wanted too. “Very mature Jimin.” You mumble before rifling through your clothes.

“Are you angry with me?” He asks quietly and you raise your eyebrow before grabbing a Chanel dress you had bought not too long ago. “Angry? For what?”

His hands rub together and he stares at the floor. “You didn’t come home with me last night… I waited for you for hours.”

Oh God. Here we go. “I told you, I had Hyunwoo and the card counting to deal with.”

He nods thoughtfully before his head lolls back against the clouded glass door. “Kirsoon can take care of that stuff, too y’know.” You know this.

You take off your nightgown before sitting on the bench in your walk in closet. “I wanted to take care of it myself.” You whisper, guilt starting to set into your bones.

“That’s it? That’s the only reason why you didn’t come home with me?” You hesitate before nodding to your husband. “It’s not because we aren’t pregnant yet?”

Your jaw flexes in annoyance before you’re standing up. “Get out of my way. I have to take a shower and go.” You mumble stepping towards the door. He makes no move and you scoff before putting your hands through your hair.

“Baby.” His voice is gentle and it only makes you more upset. “Get out of my way Jimin.”

His hands reach for you and you take a step back, “Move. Before I make you.” You whisper to him. He swallows thickly before his mocha irises meet yours. “I know it must be really painful for you to not be pregnant yet and I’m really so-”

“Stop!” You cut him off before shoving him out of the way and unlocking the door. “Y/N. I know it’s probably taking a toll on you and I just want to make sure you know how much I love you.” He says as he follows you towards the bathroom.

“Leave me alone, Jimin.” You mumble before kicking open the bathroom door. You go to slam the door in his face, but he’s too quick and strong for that. He shoves the door open before following you inside and you groan loudly.

“What?! What do you want from me?!” You yell to your husband as you throw your dress onto the marble bench of the bathroom.

His eyes show sorrow as he looks at you and it only makes your heart clench tighter as you turn away from him. “Leave me be.” You tell him before turning on the shower.

He walks towards you before hugging you tightly and you shove at his body as your cheeks become inflamed with embarrassment and guilt. “Get off!” You yell to him before he tightens his grip.

He buries his face into the crook of your neck and you sigh impatiently as the bathroom begins to fog up with steam from the hot shower. “I love you.” He murmurs into your skin.

“I love you, too.” You mutter out before he loosens his grip.

“I don’t want to fucking talk about it. I don’t want to fucking think about it. So just leave me the fuck alone.” You tell your husband, perfectly manicured finger pointing in his direction.

He picks up your dress before sitting down on the marble bench. His legs cross and he watches you enter the steaming hot shower. He can feel his eyes begin to sting as you put your forehead to the white tiled wall. “Kitten, I think you’re projecting your anger about not being pregnant towards the Ims.” He whispers as his hands run over the expensive fabric of your dress.

“Didn’t I tell you to shut up?! Didn’t I?!” You yell before sitting down in the shower. With a heavy heart he continues on, knowing you need to hear this. “I know they killed your parents. I know there’s anger there that boils you like it does to me. But, you’re becoming aggressive. Like Jeongguk, you’re going about it in an unhealthy way. And, I think the reason is because you’re feeling guilty and hurt that we haven’t gotten pregnant again yet. I know that-”

“OH MY FUCKING GOD! GET OUT!” You scream at the top of your lungs as water begins to berate your head as you lean forward. Jimin bites his bottom lip as you turn your face away from him.

“I love you so much, baby. Another baby will come. I know it.” You scoff before putting your hands to your face, your foot kicks at the porcelain tub. “We just have to keep trying.” He mumbles before rubbing his hands on his suit pants.

Jimin has never been one to just let things lie. It’s what you loved about him, if you’re being honest. He always takes time to talk to you about things that might be troubling you or him so you never have to tiptoe around each other. After the first fight you had when you were pregnant with Hawon, he never kept anything inside after that. You just wish for once he would leave you alone. “We have been trying. Trying and failing.” You find yourself saying, your voice cracks and his head hangs lower at the raw emotion behind it.

“I know, Kitten. I know it’s really hard for you right now. But, I’m your other half, you need to talk to me.” God, he’s so annoying and so right.

He takes off his clothes, folding them neatly onto the bench before climbing into the shower behind you. He sits down, legs sprawling out beside yours before hugging you tightly from behind. It’s then that a sob rips from you unexpectedly. Your arms fold over your knees before your face is pressed to them. Jimin kisses over your shoulder, letting the hot water soak his body as you begin to cry. “You’re the strongest woman I know. But, it’s okay to not be strong sometimes. That’s why I’m here. To be your other half for you to lean on.”

Your tears that fall blend in with the water as it runs down the porcelain tub and down the drain. You don’t cry, you don’t break down. You’re Park Y/N, the vixen. And yet…

Your husband sits with you for a while, just letting you cry and even that makes you feel worse. “I feel so empty.” You whimper to him and he looks up at the ceiling as his eyes fill with tears. Trembling lips caress your wet skin and he blinks out a few tears before nodding.

“We’ll get pregnant again. I know it. My heart bleeds for you, you know that. I see the way you look at yourself in the mirror these days when you think I’m not paying attention. I see it all, everything.” You bury your face into your legs at his admission.

“We’ll get through this just like anything we’ve done before. Alright?” You nod weakly as he runs a hand over your soaked head. “I love you, Kitten.”

A cigarette dangles from Hyunah’s lips as you lean back into your chair. “So what? I’m uninvited to Casino Night then?” She says to you before lighting her cigarette.

“Yes, you’re uninvited.” You tell your friend as you sit in her office. She scoffs before rubbing her hand over her forehead. “Why is that?”

“Because it’s not a party. It’s a death sentence and you are not invited to die.” You tell her before lighting your own cigarette. She frowns at you before folding her arms. “That’s when I have fun though. I love a good death sentence.”

You giggle gently before ashing your cigarette into the ashtray. “Why do you look like shit?” She questions as her butler places two glasses of wine on the desk.

You look down at your Chanel dress before raising an eyebrow. “I look like shit?” She hums as she pulls from her cigarette.

“You look all strung out and miserable. Not like a lioness at all, in fact.” You frown before pulling from your cigarette. “Hyunah. I’m really not in the mood to feel more shitty about myself today. Okay?”

She raises an eyebrow before leaning across the desk and wiping her thumb under your eye taking off some of your concealer. “Why’d you cry? Do I have to go kill that little boy?”

You roll your eyes before pulling away from her and grabbing your glass of red wine. “No. This isn’t about him. It’s about me.”

She tilts her head before clicking her teeth. “You want another baby?”

“Oh my God, can you not do that fucking shit for like three seconds?!” You whine to her before standing up. She watches you pace in front of the fireplace before looking at her butler. “Brew some tea, with the tea leaves still inside.”

“No!” You whine to her as her butler leaves. “Yes.”

“I don’t want that shit! I just want to forget about it!” She shakes her head before grabbing her glass of wine. “Tough shit, lioness. We’ll see what the spirits say.”

You stare at Hyunah as the tea pot is set in front of the both of you. She pours you a cup before holding it out. You fold your arms and she shakes her hand gently. “Drink the fucking tea and then swirl the sediment. You’ve done this before when you were pregnant with Minseok and everything I said was correct. Yes or no?”

You grunt gently before nodding, “Then drink the fucking tea.”

You grab the cup before sneering at your older friend. She sips her wine before smirking at you. Good old Lee Hyunah. You chug the tea, the bitterness making you wince before you swirl the cup and hand it back to her. She clears her throat before setting the cup onto the table.

“Let’s see.” She mumbles and you lean forward without a second thought. It’s not that you didn’t believe the tea leaves. It’s that you don’t want to hear bad news from her that you’re suddenly infertile or some shit.

“Interesting.” She whispers to herself and you find yourself rolling your eyes. “Hyunah!”

The leaves just look like blobs and dashes to you and you find your tongue roaming over your teeth afraid any had gotten stuck in the crevices. “I see many things here, lioness.”

“Like?” You mumble feeling nervous now.

She points to four circles in a row before looking up at you, “That’s a chain, symbolizes a string of events coming your way.”

“An anchor is also apparent, meaning things are going to become difficult to change. Maybe within the string of events.”

You tilt your head as her eyes widen, “There is something like a basket which usually symbolizes fertility and a new addition.”

Your breath catches in your throat before you’re leaning your elbows onto the desk for more information. “What else?” You whisper as you peer into the cup of sediment.

“A bouquet. Symbol of a happy marriage.” You begin to smile before she takes a sharp breath between her teeth before picking up the cup.

“Oh, lioness.” You can hear the concern in her voice and it makes you shrink in form. “What?” You mumble uneasily.

She points at a black smudge of leaves before swallowing thickly. “That’s a beast, it means misfortune. And right next to it is a skull.”

She looks up at you before closing her eyes, “The one next to it is a raven.”

She opens her eyes before exhaling long and slow, “It means you’re going to die.”

#the lions den #the bird cage sequel #bts story #mafia!au #bts mafia!au #mafia!jimin #mafia!jimin x reader #mafia!jimin x you #bts angst #bts smut #bts series #btscreatorscorner

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orangeoctopi7 · 5 years ago

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A Tale of Two Secrets

@stanuary Week 2 is Secrets! Stan's been keeping major secrets from his family for years, but he never stopped to think maybe his family was keeping secrets from him too.

Author’s note: This is a disjointed rambling mess and it ends up being more about Shermie towards the end, but hey, I need SOMETHING to post for week 2 of Stanuary, so here ya go!

To the people of Gravity Falls, Stan had been playing the part of his brother for almost a year. But now that he’d faked his own death, he was going to have to pull a much tougher con: posing as Ford to his own family. He’d already decided that he was not going to attend his own funeral, no matter how much flack he got from Ma about it. First of all, it would be way too depressing. Second of all, everyone who was most likely to see through his lie would be there. Ma, Shermie, maybe even Dad. No, better to play it off like he was too grief-stricken to show up, which, honestly, wasn’t that far from the truth.

He should have known that he wouldn’t get away with just a tear-stained letter explaining he couldn’t bear to sit through his own twin’s funeral. The same day the letter arrived in Glass Shard Beach, he got a call from Ma. As expected, she tried to convince Stan (Stanford, as far as she was concerned) to come to the funeral. Stan almost broke down and told her everything right then and there, and by the end of their phone conversation, he was sure she’d seen right through his imitation, sure she’d call back any minute demanding to know what happened to Ford, or worse, that she’d show up on his doorstep in the next few days. But instead, an hour later, he got a call he wasn’t expecting.

“Hello, this is Stanford Pines.” Stan recited. He’d heard it enough times in his own failures to reach out to Ford over the years that he could copy that answer flawlessly.

“Stanford, it’s… uh, it’s Sherman.” A deep voice answered.

“Shermie!?” Stan exclaimed before he could stop himself. Shermie’d been just a baby the last time Stan had seen him, just starting to walk, and now he sounded like a grown man! He hadn’t left home that long ago, had he?

Luckily, Shermie didn’t seem to notice how his voice changed, as he went right on talking “Ma wanted me to try and convince you to come to the funeral, but--but I get it if you don’t want to come. I know things were kinda… complicated between you two.”

Stan took a deep breath before returning to his Ford impression. “Thank you, Shermie, I appreciate it. You’re right, things were complicated, and that certainly doesn’t make his death any easier. Attending the funeral would be too much for me to handle while I’m still--still processing things.” Stan didn’t have to fake the waver in his voice.

“Then don’t come. We won’t think any less of you for it.”

Stan gave his best impression of Ford’s dry chuckle. “I doubt Mom would agree with that sentiment.”

“Yeah, well, give her some slack. She’s not taking it well. Probably doing even worse than you.”

Stan wanted to kick himself for doing this to his own mother. But, he reasoned, she’d probably take it even worse if she knew what really happened. That Ford had disappeared into some sci-fi portal thing and Stan, the leach and the failure, had taken his place.

“How are you doing, by the way?” Shermie asked, interrupting Stan’s thoughts.

“Uuuuh…” Stan hesitated. He wasn’t sure how to answer that. Idiot, of course people would ask him that! What could he say that would sound convincing? What would Ford do if he was grieving? “I’m mostly just trying to concentrate on my work… sooo… so I don’t have to think about it.”

“Oh. Well, uh, I hope that works out for you…” Shermie said awkwardly. “There was something else Ma wanted me to tell you…”

Please don’t say you’re comin’ out to check on me, please don’t say you’re comin’ out to check on me!

“But… uh… You--you’ve already got so much on your plate right now. Don’t even worry about it.”

“What?” Stan asked, curious.

“It’s--it’s nothing really, I think she just wanted me to tell you because she thought it’d convince you to come.”

“Ok, I won’t ask then.” Stan said, and then instantly regretted it. Stanford “Curiosity killed the Cat but Satisfaction brought it back” Pines would never respond to Shermie’s cryptic statements with “Ok, I won’t ask then.” He knew he’d just blown his cover.

Except he hadn’t.

“OK well nice talking to you, Stanford, take care!” Shermie said quickly.

“Y-yeah, you too.” The word “too” wasn’t even halfway formed when Shermie hung up.

Well, that was weird. But if it meant Stan could pull off this con a little longer, just long enough to get that portal working and bring Ford back, then he wasn’t going to question it.

***

The next time Stan heard from Shermie was several years later, with news that almost gave him a heart attack.

“We’re moving to California.”

Crap, are they gonna want someplace to stay while they move in? Are they gonna want me to help them move in? They’re definitely gonna want to come visit, probably every major holiday. Mom’s gonna figure it out, for sure!

“That’s--that’s great news. Did Dad, uh… did Dad sell the pawn shop?”

“Oh, Mom and Dad aren’t moving!” Shermie clarified. “Just me… and Trudy and Micha.” he added two unfamiliar names at the end so quickly and quietly, Stan almost didn’t hear him.

“Who?”

Stan heard Shermie take a deep breath, like he was preparing to dive into the cold ocean. “Trudy and Micha. My wife and my son.”

“Wait, what!?” Stan exclaimed, completely forgetting his Ford voice. “Shermie, since when are you married?” He wanted to complain that he wasn’t invited to the wedding, but… he hadn’t invited anyone to his wedding to Marylyn, so he really wasn’t one to talk. Wait… no, that was what Stan would think. Ford would definitely complain about not being invited to the wedding. “Why didn’t I ever get a wedding invitation?”

“Nobody got a wedding invitation. We eloped.” Shermie explained. “It… it was right before we found out about Stanley, so… so it didn’t seem like the right time to tell you.”

That weird phone call with Shermie all those years ago suddenly made a lot more sense.

“And, what, it just slipped your mind for the next few years that you hadn’t informed your own brother? And you just conveniently forgot to tell me when you two were expecting? And you were just too busy to let me know when your son was born!?”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry!” Shermie apologize, and to his credit, he did sound sincerely remorseful. “It’s just… it got to the point where it had been so long that I didn’t know how to tell you. So I just kept putting it off, and the longer I waited, the harder it was to tell you, and it just became a vicious cycle. And it’s not like you ever come out to visit, so I thought I could get away with it.”

Stan felt a stab of guilt at that last comment. But it wasn’t like he had a choice. If he showed himself in Glass Shard Beach, his charade would be finished. How could he ever explain himself to his mother, much less his father?

“It’s fine, really. I’ve been very busy with, uh… with my research, and I probably couldn’t have made it anyway.”

“Oh, phew.” Shermied sighed with relief. “See Trudy, he said it’s fine.” Stan heard faintly, as though he had turned away from the receiver. Then there was an “Oof” that Stan imagined was the sound of Shermie getting elbowed in the ribs.

“But, uh, to make up for lost time, Trudy was thinking --oof-- Trudy and I were thinking maybe we could come up and visit you on our way out to Burbank?”

“No, I’m too busy.” Stan said automatically.

“Oh... yeah, that’s fair.”

Stan’s heart sank. It wasn’t like he was holding a grudge against Shermie for never mentioning the marriage or the kid. It wasn’t like he didn’t want to meet his little brother’s family. He just had a huge secret to keep, and his relatives were the people who were most likely to figure it out. But Shermie… Shermie had still been a toddler when Stan left home, and by all accounts, Ford hadn’t come back to visit much, if at all, after he graduated. Maybe he could pull this off.

“But, uh, hey, maybe I could come visit once you’ve all settled in. That’ll give me time to make room in my, uh, busy, busy schedule.”

“Oh, uh, are you sure?”

“Yes I’m sure.” Stan said firmly. The last thing he wanted was for Shermie to feel cut off from his family like Stan had.

“Greaaaaaaat. Just. Great. When, uh, when’re you coming?”

“Uh…” Stan looked at his calendar. Tourist season was in full swing now, and he didn’t want to miss that, but maybe towards the end of the summer. “Is your kid in school yet?”

“... Y-nnnno. Nope. Well I mean-- yes, technically. Uh, Kindergarten? He’s in Kindergarten.”

“Alright, then how about the week before school starts?”

“Y-yeah! We will be ready for you. The week before school starts.”

“Great, and, uh, I’ll be ready too. To, uh, see you. For the first time in years.”

***

Stan didn’t know whether to be annoyed or relieved. After going through the trouble of coming up with an elaborate backstory of why he, Stanford Pines, had decided to undergo surgery to remove his extra fingers. After going so far as to apply what Stan thought was pretty convincing effects make-up to look like scars along the sides of his hands. After all that, Shermie hadn’t even said anything. Hadn’t even glanced at his hands, as far as Stan could tell.

Maybe he had noticed, and was just being polite. Maybe he was waiting until his kid, Micha, had gone to bed. Maybe he was just really, really not paying attention.

Did Shermie even remember Ford had six fingers? It seemed unlikely that he would have forgotten. Sure, Ford hadn’t gone home to visit often, but a physical abnormality like that tended to stick in the memory. Maybe… maybe Shermie was misremembering which twin had the weird hands? Well, whatever the case, Stan certainly wasn’t going to draw attention to it.

“Uncle Stan, catch me!” Micha demanded as he sprung off his mini-trampoline, abruptly tearing Stan from his thoughts. The con man barely had time to raise his arms before the boy crashed into them, nearly knocking them both over. Stan was pretty sure he felt a joint pop.

“Huf! Geez, careful, kiddo!” He set the boy down as gently as he could with his arm feeling out-of-socket. “He’s pretty big for a kindergartener, isn’t he?” Stan asked.

Shermie laughed nervously. “Is-isn’t he though?”

“Mhmm. He’s our big boy!” Trudy scooped her son up in a big hug.

Stan realized with a pang of guilt he couldn’t remember if Shermie had told him exactly when the boy was born. “How old are you, Micha?”

The boy glanced at his father. “Five!?” His answer sounded more like a disbelieving question.

Stan looked over at Shermie, who had suddenly hidden one hand behind his back.The young father simply shrugged and smiled.

“Huh.” Stan didn’t know much about kids. They were bigger than he expected. He swore he’d felt smaller at that age.

"I thought you didn't like people to call you Stan." Shermie suddenly changed the topic.

"W-what?" Stan asked, a deer in the headlights.

"Just now, Micha called you Stan, and you didn't correct him."

"Well… I mean… he's just a kid."

"That didn't stop you when I was even y-- when I was his age."

Crap. "Yes, well… there's no longer a need to distinguish between two versions of the same name any more, is there?"

"I guess I you have a point." Shermie hummed.

***

The rest of the trip was thankfully uneventful. Shermie still didn't ask about or comment on "Stanford's" hands, but this was honestly a relief. Stan was just miffed that he'd wasted all that fancy-pantsy make-up he'd stolen.

Meeting Shermie's family was like a breath of fresh air to Stan, after decades of being isolated from his family members. Trudy was quiet and unassuming, but also sweet and thoughtful. Stan could see why Shermie had married her. Micha was energetic as any small child, and had to be bigger than Stan had been at that age. He had the potential to grow up to be a great heavyweight boxer.

Now, Stan was facing a new dilemma. On the one hand, he didn't want to visit Shermie’s family too often, for fear of them figuring out he wasn’t who he said he was. On the other hand, he didn’t want to see them so infrequently that his visits seemed like a special event. If he did that, there’d be all the more chance that Shermie would call Ma about it, and they’d get to talking, and Ma would definitely figure it out. So, how to strike the right balance?

Once a year wasn’t enough. That made it seem like a holiday. Say, holidays! That could work! There were enough of those scattered throughout the year that Stan could drop by every so often without giving them enough time to really stop and start connecting all the dots. He’d just have to avoid the major family holidays, Passover, Thanksgiving and Hanukkah, because if he visited for those, Ma would absolutely ask Shermie all about it. And besides, he did decent business during the Christmas season and spring break. Speaking of which, Independence Day and Halloween were out too. Those were the Mystery Shack’s busiest days of the year. That left the likes of Labor Day and Presidents’ Day and all those other little 3-day weekend government holidays. Perfect!

***

With every year that passed, Stan felt a fresh new wave of guilt that he still hadn’t managed to reactivate the portal and bring Ford home. Every time he visited Shermie, every time he saw how fast Micha was growing, it was another reminder of what Ford was missing out on. The years just flew by. Stan swore the time between Micha starting Kindergarten and finishing 3rd grade felt like less than a year.

Before Stan knew it, he’d bluffed his way through both his parents’ funerals, he’d been running the Mystery Shack for almost two decades, and his rambunctious, chubby nephew had grown into a strapping young man.

Stan almost had a breakdown when he got the wedding invitation from Micha and his bride-to-be, a beautiful, button-nosed woman named Debborah. Time was slipping away too quickly. He’d already wasted so much of Ford’s life, and yet he was no closer to bringing his brother home now than he had been twelve years ago when he’d finished rebuilding the stupid machine from all the ruined scrap he’d been left with.

“Gettin’ mad at yourself isn’t gonna do anyone any good.” He scolded his reflection, and then picked up the phone. He had a nephew to congratulate.

***

It wasn’t quite two years later when Stan arrived at the maternity ward of a hospital in Oakland, California. He’d closed down the gift shop for the first time since that flock of Hawktopi descended on the Shack all those years ago. He’d briefly considered leaving tatoo guy there to watch over things, but honestly between him and that pasty, gangly teenager he’d recently hired on as a handy-man, he was pretty sure there wouldn’t be a Mystery Shack to return to if he did. He’d driven for seven hours straight to get here as soon as possible. He’d left the moment he got the phone call letting him know Debbs was going into labor. He’d been eagerly awaiting this moment from the time the ultrasound showed two tiny figures in the womb.

Another set of twins. Maybe there was something to the old wives’ tale of them skipping a generation after all.

He burst into the waiting room of the maternity ward, and everyone turned to stare at him. Stan vaguely recognized a short, skinny man standing next to the restrooms. Pretty sure he’d seen the guy at Micha and Debbs’ wedding. He was Debbs’ dad, if Stan remembered correctly.

“Are they here yet?” Stan asked him.

The skinny man nodded. Apparently he remembered Stan from the wedding too. “Yes, but the doctors have them at the moment. There was a bit of a complication with the boy.”

Stan paled. “I-is he alright?”

“Well, the umbilical cord got wrapped around his neck before he made it out the birth canal. He wasn’t breathing at first, but they cut the thing away and resuscitated him. Now they’re checking to make sure his brain didn’t go without oxygen long enough to do any lasting damage.” Stan’s worry must have shown on his face, because the skinny man continued. “But don’t worry! The doctor said this happens sometimes. He said it happened when his own daughter was born, and she’s grown up without a single hint that it ever happened.”

That, at least, gave Stan a bit of relief. “Where are Micha and Debbs?”

“Down that hall, third door on the left. It’s got a whiteboard with ‘Pines’ written on it.”

“Thanks!” Stan called over his shoulder, already moving down the hall.

He didn’t even bother to knock when he reached the door, just barged right in. The room was already a bit crowded, with Micha, Trudy, Debbs’ mother, a nurse, and Debbs herself. Stan had never seen someone look so tired and so peaceful at the same time. And in her arms was the loudest occupant in the room, an absolutely tiny baby with a pink bow stuck to her head, screaming louder than Stan thought possible with such small lungs.

“Uncle Stan?” Micha asked, barely audible above his daughter’s cries, “My dad isn’t even here yet! How’d you get here so fast from Oregon!?”

“I can’t answer that question on the grounds that it might incriminate me.”

“Hey, coming through!” A voice whispered loudly behind Stan. He turned to see another nurse, with the doctor in tow, and a clear hospital bassinet between them. Inside was an itty-bitty baby boy. Stan quickly got out of the doorway to let them through.

“I’m happy to announce that he’ll be perfectly fine.” the Doctor said as he gently handed the second baby to Debbs. Miraculously, the girl in her arms stopped crying the second her brother was next to her.

“Oooh, did you just miss your brother?” Debbs cooed.

Stan couldn’t help it. He started crying.

By the time Stan got his emotions back under control, Micha had already had a chance to hold the babies, along with Debb’s mother and Trudy.

“Would you like to hold them, Stanford?” Trudy asked.

“M-me?” Stan asked in surprise. “But… what about Grandpa, out there?” He motioned back towards the waiting room, where he’d met Debb’s dad.

“Tyson’s got a cold. He can’t even be in the same room as the babies for the time being.” Tyson’s wife explained.

“I got a text from my dad a few hours ago. He’s driving up from Burbank, I’m sure he’s just stuck in traffic.” Micha explained.

And so Stan gently took the tiny twins, carefully cradling both their heads in either arm. They were squirmy, squishy little babies, their new-born skin as red as a sunburn. The girl grabbed one of his fingers with surprising strength, and the boy snuggled into his suit. Oh boy, here come the waterworks again…

“I’m here!” A voice called down the hall. Shermie burst in the door, breathless. “Is everything ok? Where are they?”

“Uncle Stan is holding them.” Micha gestured to his uncle.

Shermie stepped up to his brother and reached out to take the babies. Stan leaned back.

“I just barely got them! Wait your turn!”

“Come on, Stanford, they’re my grandkids!”

“It’s your own fault for bein’ late!”

“That’s not my fault, I was stuck in traffic!”

Stan ended up leading Shermie on a chase around the small room before the nurse put her foot down and insisted they both stop or she would call security.

“What are you going to name them?” Trudy asked after things had calmed down later that day.

“We were thinking of themed twin names…” Debbs said. Stan groaned loudly. “Oh, nothing too obvious. Mabel and Mason. What do you all think?”

Everyone hummed in agreement.

“Good, cuz even if you didn’t, we’re set on those.” Micha grinned.

Within a few days, Mabel and Mason’s red skin cleared up, except for a few interestingly shaped blotches on Mason’s head that seemed to get more defined every day. That’s when he got the nickname Dipper.

***

Years passed. Dipper and Mabel came to visit. Stan finally activated the Portal. Ford came home. The world ended. And now, finally, Stan had some explaining to do. At least things would be easier with Ford by his side.

Dipper had suggested they get it all over with in one go, like ripping off a band-aide. He’d set up a conference call with his Grunkles, his parents, and his grandparents.

Honestly, it went over way better than Stan had been expecting. The story sounded crazy, but Ford being there was proof enough that it was true. Everyone just looked at them in shock as they explained the portal, Ford’s disappearance, Stan faking his death, Dipper finding the third Journal, Stan getting the second Journal from Gideon, reactivating the portal, Ford’s return, and their continued fighting until a common threat made them put aside their differences to help the kids. Sure, they glossed over the more dangerous stuff, like Bill and the end of the world, but Stan was still worried Micha and Debbs would freak out because of what he’d done and never let him near the kids again. Luckily, they seemed to be understanding, especially seeing how much the kids loved him.

The other one Stan was worried about was Shermie. How would he react, knowing the brother he’d finally gotten to know over the last three decades had been lying to him the whole time? He and Trudy hadn’t acted quite as surprised as the others by the revelation of a portal to another world. Shermie just stared at his brothers through the screen the whole time, the gears turning in his brain. Stan was about to ask if he was alright when Ford asked his own question.

“Micha, how old are you?”

“Uh, 34, why?”

“That… shouldn’t be possible.” Ford looked at Shermie pointedly. “When I left this dimension just 30 years ago, your father wasn’t even 16 yet.”

“Wait, what?” Stan asked.

“Sherman, what on earth have you been up to for the last 30 years?” Ford asked curiously.

“For the last 30 years? I’ve just been living a normal life!” Shermie said defensively. “It was just one time back in 1982 that everything went crazy.”

“What!?” Everyone asked, except for Trudy, who looked smug, and Micha, who looked like he’d just uncovered a repressed memory.

“Well now you have to tell them what happened.” Trudy elbowed her husband.

Shermie sighed. “Yes dear. Thank you for not saying ‘I told you so’.

“One day, when I was walking to school back in Glass Shard Beach, I ran into this strange bald man in a jump-suit. He kept babbling on about stopping someone’s parents from meeting, but he couldn’t stop the parents from meeting because he’d already said that in front of law enforcement, so he was going after their grandparents. Obviously, I thought he was just a nut-job, so I ran. I was so busy tryin’ to get away from the whacko that I wasn’t looking where I was goin’ and ran smack into Trudy.”

“I’d just moved in that fall. I was a grade above him.” Trudy chimed in.

“The crash slowed me down enough that baldy showed up again, and when he saw me with Trudy, he freaked out even more, complaining about us meeting somehow ruining his plans. Then he pulled out this tape measurer type thing, pulled it back, and then grabbed a hold of both of us. There was a flash of light, and then BAM, we were in 1922.”

Mabel gasped, “Oh my gosh, Dipper, it was Blendin!”

Dipper slapped a hand to his forehead. “Grandpa Shermie, I’m so sorry, this is sort of our fault. We kind of accidentally cost that guy his job and he swore revenge on us.”

“Wait, wait, wait, you two know Blendin? As in Blendin Blandin?” Shermie asked incredulously.

“I mean, is there any other Blendin?” Mabel replied. “Yeah, I remember him saying something about going back in time and making it so our parents never met, but nothing happened, so we figured he forgot.” She laughed. “Looks like instead of stopping us from being born, he kinda did the opposite. That’s so funny!”

“If by funny, you mean seriously messed up.” Dipper groaned. “Just… starting to think about it makes my head hurt.”

“Wait, so if Micha’s 34…” Stan started to do the math he’d never bothered to even think about before “Shermie, how long were you in the past?”

“Long enough to get married and have a kid.” He answered.

“Just over ten years.” Trudy clarified. “First, Blendin zapped away and left us stranded. Luckily we had all our school supplies with us, so we were able to sell most of it for a little money to get by on at first. I’d been learning to knit and crochet from my mom for years, so I bought some supplies and started selling hats, gloves, and sweaters on the street. I gained enough of a reputation than a local seamstress took me on as an apprentice.”

Mabel gasped. “Is that why you started to teach me to knit when I was little?”

Trudy nodded. “I think it’s never too early to start learning skills you can use if you’re ever lost in time.”

“I, on the other hand, had absolutely no skills that were useful in the 1920’s.” Shermie continued. “I probably would have starved if it wasn’t for Trudy helping me. I tried so many jobs. Running carnie games on the boardwalk, selling light bulbs, I even tried being a photographer for the local newspaper. But nothing ever worked out long-term. Eventually I got a job as a bricklayer, and that, thankfully, turned out to be a steady job, even if it was rough work. It was around that time that Trudy and I decided to get married.”

“We were all the other had, it just made sense.” Trudy added.

“By that point, we’d kinda just resigned ourselves to living out the rest of our lives in the past. And honestly, it wasn’t bad. We were our own people, living our own lives in an exciting, prosperous part of history, no expectations from our parents. And a little knowledge from the future sure helped too. While everyone else was investing in the stock market, we were playing it safe and carefully saving up our money and non-perishable food.”

“It was mostly rice and hard crackers.” Trudy made a face like the memory still left a stale taste in her mouth.

“While the rest of the world was plunged into financial chaos by the Depression, we had a new baby and enough money to last us into the next decade.”

“But, the Depression lasted until the start of World War II.” Dipper recalled from his history lessons. “What did you guys do once your savings ran out?”

“Well, the same stuff most people did at the time. We grew as much of our own food as we could. We re-mended and repaired our clothes and furniture instead of buying new things. We both took whatever odd jobs we could find. When things got really tight, we ate at the nearest food kitchen.”

Stan and Ford both grimaced. They both had their own experiences with hunger and making clothes last way past the point of being threadbare. At least Shermie always had enough to keep a roof over his family’s heads.

“But how did you return back to our time?” Ford asked.

“It was 1933. Things were starting to get really bad. All our savings had dried up. Nobody was buying new clothes, so Trudy couldn’t find work. Nobody was building new houses, so I couldn’t find work. Micha was growing so fast, we could barely keep clothes on him, and he was… an active child, so a lot of things were breaking. Just when I wasn’t quite sure if we were going to keep a roof over our heads, Blendin showed up again, this time with hair.

“My first instinct was to punch him. Which I did. Then I tried to find that time travel tape he’d used on us before. The whole time he was blubbering on about how he was sorry, and he’d made his peace with the Pines family, and I was about to show him what I thought of his sorry and his peace when he said he wanted to put us back to the way things were before he stranded us.

“So I took him back home with me, and he explained to Trudy and I that he could go back in time and stop himself from ever taking us into the past in the first place. But the thing was… if he did that, we’d lose Micha. We’d lose all the time we’d spent together, the life we’d built together. And, well, we just weren’t willing to do that, even if it meant getting to go back to our own time.

“I asked him if we could go back to our own time the way we were,” Trudy picked up the story, “At first, he was really opposed to the idea. Said it was against all the rules and regulations of time travel. But then he stopped mid thought and muttered something like ‘Well, what does it matter? Time’s dead, baby!’ and he agreed to it.”

“Time Baby’s dead.” Ford muttered under his breath.

“What’s that?” Shermie asked.

“Oh, nothing, just… theorizing what his words could have meant. Continue.”

“Our troubles weren’t over when we returned to our own time.” Shermie proceeded. “We couldn’t just go home. From our parents’ perspective, we’d just been gone for a day of school. They wouldn’t recognize a couple of adults showing up on their doorsteps. It took a lot of convincing. Handwriting tests, palm readings. Luckily I have a distinctive birthmark of my own.” Shermie pulled down the collar of his shirt, revealing a reddish-brown splotch that looked a little bit like a crescent moon if you squinted. “That seemed to finally convince them.”

“My parents believed me when I showed them where I’d hidden my pet turtle under the floorboards.” Trudy added, “But that didn’t stop them from paying for a DNA test a few years later just to make sure.”

“Blendin warned us we couldn’t tell anyone outside our own immediate families, or else we could get in trouble with the Time Police or something. I’m sorry I never told you…” Shermie pointed at Stan, “But I was afraid you… Well, actually I was afraid you” he pointed to Ford, “Would take us away to try and learn the secrets of time travel or something.”

Ford blushed “30 years ago, I very well may have.” He admitted sheepishly. “But now I probably know more about time travel than the two of you do.”

“I can’t believe Ma never said anything to me about it!” Stan complained.

“She always said I should be the one to tell you about it.” Shermie clarified. “And I told her that I did, right before… before your fake funeral, I guess, but I don’t think she believed my lie.”

“I always said he should have told you.” Trudy said smugly.

“Hon, you ok?” Debbs asked her husband, who had been sitting quietly with a blank expression the whole time. “I know this is a lot to take in.”

“...Yeah… I think I’m ok… it’s just… I guess I convinced myself the whole thing was a game we used to play that my 4 year old imagination embellished into what seemed to be reality. But now I’m learning it really was reality. It’s… weird. I think I’m gonna need therapy now.”

“Join the club.” Stan grunted.

Ford shook his head. “I just can’t believe the two of you were so busy keeping secrets from each other that you never even stopped to think the other was keeping secrets from you!”

“Hey, I don’t know nothin’ about kids or how fast they grow, ok?” Stan defended himself.

“Yeah, and if you’d actually been around while I was growing up, I probably would have had an easier time seeing through Stan’s act.” Shermie added.

“Guys, guys, there’s no need to argue!” Mabel interrupted them. “Don’t you see? We have a great opportunity here! It’s like our family is getting to know each other again for the very first time!”

Stan’s heart sank. Would the rest of the family even want to get to know each other after all these secrets and lies being brought into the open?

“I think that sounds like an excellent idea, sweetie.” Micha patted her shoulder. “Mom, I know you’ve got to visit your sister this Christmas, but how about we all get together for Thanksgiving?”

Trudy nodded.

“Absolutely!” Shermie agreed. “Oh, that is… as long as you two are free. I imagine you have a lot of catching up to do.”

“Well, Stanley and I are going to make an expedition to the Arctic Circle--”

“Ah, come on, Poindexter, we can delay it a little!” Stan insisted. “I’m gonna need time to train Soos on runnin’ the Shack anyway. And we’re gonna need time to find a boat and gather supplies and all that other stuff to get ready for an expedition.”

“Oh. Right. I hadn’t even thought of that.”

“That’s cuz you’re brain’s too busy thinkin’ about nerd stuff, genius.” Stan threw an arm around his brother affectionately before turning back to the video call. “You can count on us being there!”

Shermie gave a relieved smile. Maybe Stan wasn’t the only one who’d been worried how everyone would react to his lies.

“Great. We’ll see you then.”

#Gravity Falls #Fanfiction #Stanley Pines #Stanuary 2020 #My Writing

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filmista · 5 years ago

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Noirvember: 10 Film Noirs to discover

Noirvember. The concept is simple: the entire month of November is dominated by dark shadows, tough men, seductive femme fatales and dented fedoras from film noir. With film noir, every film lover immediately thinks of classics such as The Maltese Falcon, Double Indemnity or Touch of Evil.

The movement (or genre) had its peak from 1941 to 1958 and characterised itself as a series of crime films, permeated with nihilism and dark melancholy. In order to not bore you with obvious choices, I’ve picked ten film noirs that are often overshadowed by the great classics, but believe are equally worthy of attention.

Gaslight (1944)

“Whatever you had done, I could have pitied and protected you. But because I am mad, I hate you. Because I am mad, I have betrayed you. And because I'm mad, I'm rejoicing in my heart, without a shred of pity, without a shred of regret, watching you go with glory in my heart!”

In the early 1940s, many directors were happy to venture into film noir, including George Cukor. With essential Hollywood films such as Dinner at Eight and The Philadelphia Story, Cukor was used to very different things. The power play between men and women is no stranger to film noir and also returns in Cukors Gaslight. Ingrid Bergman and her new husband move into the old house of her murdered aunt. Soon all kinds of strange events start to happen, which makes Bergman’s character doubt her mental health, without noticing that her husband is manipulating her. Bergman spent time in psychiatry in preparation for her role and eventually won an Oscar for it. Gaslight is also the film that coined the term Gaslighting:

Gaslighting is a form of psychological manipulation in which a person seeks to sow seeds of doubt in a targeted individual or in members of a targeted group, making them question their own memory, perception, and sanity. Using persistent denial, misdirection, contradiction, and lying, gaslighting involves attempts to destabilise the victim and delegitimise the victim's beliefs.

Instances may range from the denial by an abuser that previous abusive incidents ever occurred to the staging of bizarre events by the abuser with the intention of disorienting the victim.

Murder, My Sweet (1944)

"You shouldn't kiss a girl when you're wearing that gun ... leaves a bruise.”

Edward Dmytryk, a director who is now as good as forgotten, nevertheless delivered some films that are worthwhile. For example, Dmytryk first brought Philip Marlowe to the big screen, the well-known private investigator conceived by Raymond Chandler. Not yet plated by Bogart (that only came with The Big Sleep), but Dick Powell. With ingredients such as lies, theft, perjury, deception and the false appearance of Claire Trevor, Murder, My Sweet contained everything that a solid film noir required.

Detour (1945)

“That’s life. Whichever way you turn, Fate sticks out a foot to trip you.”

Detour is a film that was cast aside for a long time as a simple B film, but has enjoyed more recognition in recent decades as a highlight in film noir. According to director Edward G. Ulmer, the film was shot in six days, on only three sets, on a very low budget. Minimal in design or not, Detour proves to be an extremely powerful noir that, with its 68 minutes, perfectly captures the soul of the film genre Not many men enjoy so little luck in film noir as pianist Al Roberts (Tom Neal), not to mention a demonically calculating Ann Savage. More than worth discovering.

Scarlet Street (1945)

“How can a man be so dumb... I've been waiting to laugh in your face ever since I met you. You're old and ugly and I'm sick of you. Sick, sick, sick!”

Fritz Lang: a big name from film history. Lang was not only successful in his German period, but also delivered quite a few hits when he went to look for happiness in America. Scarlet Street is perhaps one of the most pessimistic film noirs in film history. Edward G. Robinson shines as the gullible dope that runs into the treacherous web of Joan Bennet and her equally despicable friend. For a long time, Robinson's character throws himself into a downward spiral from which there seems to be no return. Great watch!

Nightmare Alley (1947)

"How can a guy sink so low?”

"He reached too high ...”

Just like Cukor, Edmund Goulding wasn’t necessarily a noir director. Nightmare Alley was his only trip into the genre, but a memorable one. After a lot of tug and war with the then conservative production code, Goulding nevertheless managed to deliver an ambitious film about the rise and fall of an opportunistic fair assistant. Alcoholism, religion, spirituality and manipulation are all dealt with in a film that takes away the joyful experience of a fair from all its frills. Nightmare Alley is a noir that tries to aim higher than the usual conventions and also succeeds at that.

Force of Evil (1948)

"A man could spend the rest of his life trying to remember what he shouldn't have said.”

John Garfield, died at the age of 39, but was a force of nature when he was at his best acting wise. In Force of Evil we see him as a lawyer who deals with illegal draws to help his brother out of trouble. What you get are gloomy settings in New York, poetic dialogues and Biblical allusions. Crime is not a romanticised world in this thriller, but one where it’s a sad stay and you must inevitably face your fate. Among the fans of Force of Evil is a certain Martin Scorsese.

In a Lonely Place (1950)

“I was born when she kissed me. I died when she left me. I lived a few weeks while she loved me. "

And here it is, our first Bogart film on this list. No Bogey as a tough detective, but as a cynical Hollywood screenwriter with loose hands. In A Lonely Place is often overshadowed by the more famous work of Bogart, but his performance in this film is one of the most impressive things he has ever done. His character runs tight with an intrinsic anger, but at the same time radiates a pitiful weakness. Directed by Nicholas Ray (who would later make Rebel Without A Cause), who subtly criticises the moral climate in the American film world and the celebrity cult.

The Big Heat (1953)

"Well, you're as romantic as a pair of handcuffs."

Second film from Fritz Lang on our list. Let us say that the brilliant German director knew film noir well. In this film, Glenn Ford plays a cop fighting against the crime syndicate in his city after his wife is murdered. The fact that the scenario was penned by a former crime journalist made Lang deliver one of the most fierce film noirs of the 1950s. The Big Heat also completely turns the traditional role of the femme fatale on its head. A hauntingly memorable moment is when a roaring Lee Marvin throws hot coffee in the face of Gloria Grahame.

Pickup On South Street (1953)

“So you're a Red, who cares? Your money’s as good as anybody else's.”

Richard Widmark steals Jean Peters' purse without knowing that it contains a microfilm with secret government information. Pickup On South Street dates from the McCarthy period, but that doesn’t stop director Samuel Fuller from throwing every ounce of patriotism overboard. Even FBI boss J. Edgar Hoover turned out not to be a fan. Anyway, still a film with great performances, juicy dialogues and a stubborn outsider as the main character. The film earned actress Thelma Ritter an Oscar nomination.

Kiss Me Deadly (1955)

“Kiss me, Mike. I want you to kiss me. Kiss me. The liar’s kiss that says I love you and means something else. "

Kiss Me Deadly might have been a source of inspiration for Steven Spielberg's Raiders of the Lost Ark. You get that impression when at the end the mysterious artefact (aka MacGuffin) around which this film noir is built up, is found (sort of). According to some a metaphor for the nuclear paranoia, according to scriptwriter A. I. Bezzerides no more than the result of a search for what worked and what didn't. Metaphor or not, Kiss Me Deadly offers enough adventure, twists and intrigues for an exciting and entertaining movie night.

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easnuppa · 5 years ago

Text

Secret feelings

Chapter 7

Rosita, Abe and their six year old son, Matt, were crammed up together in the backseat of a car. The two men up front were clearly a couple, one had dark curly hair and the other had blonde hair and was more on the skinny side than his partner. They had learned their names, Aaron and Eric. Rosita went through the information Aaron had given them about the community they belonged to, Alexandria. Aaron had spotted them as Rosita, Abe and Matt had taken shelter from a nasty storm in an old run down barn, the next day when the weather had calmed, they came outside to find water bottles and protein bars laying right outside. Uncertain, but desperate of hunger, they had taken it, that was when Aaron had let himself be known. He had sat down with them and talked about this group he belonged to, that had built up a community called Alexandria, and it was not just that, Aarons group also was in contact with other communities. One called the kingdom, Oceanside and then the Hilltop. Their leaders were close friends with their leader at Alexandria, all the leaders originated from the same group. Aaron had looked at their little boy, Matt and invited them to come to Alexandria, to talk with their leader and maybe join their group, but Abe had declined in his usual matter, telling the man that he rather be starving then getting his nuts nailed to a community again.

It was not until Rosita heard Aaron talk to his partner over the walkie talkie when a name was mentioned and Rosita’s attention was piqued. Aaron had mentioned that their leaders name was Rick. Rosita almost desperate to hear more of the man, was bubbling over with questions. She searched her mind from all the stories Savannah had told her about their old group, and Rosita had asked Aaron if Rick's last name was Grimes. This had made the man halt and look at her, his eyes squinted as he searched her own, how the hell did they know what Rickˋs last name was? Then Rosita had explained about the cult they had escaped from two months ago, and their closest friends there had talked about their old group, she had named a few of the other people Savannah had mentioned and Aaron had confirmed that yes, Carol was the wife of the king of Kingdom, Maggie and Glenn did run the Hilltop. Rosita had nudged Abe and told him that they had to come to Alexandria to talk with this Rick guy. And now they were parked outside of the big metal gates of Alexandria, waiting for the gates to open. As the gates opened and the car slowly rolled in, Rosita gasped. Never had she seen something as beautiful as this. Rows and rows with big houses, well attended lawns, a huge church in the middle of it all. It was almost like they had been transferred into the past. They were led out of the car by Aaron and Eric and shown over to the church, there they were told to take a seat while the leaders of Alexandria were summoned.

Rosita recognized two of the leaders as they stepped in from how Savannah had described them. Rick the tall lean man with curly brown hair, light blue eyes, a posture that reminded of a cowboy from the old west. The woman, dark skin, with dreadlocks, the katana was missing though. They looked at them with stern eyes, then the woman, she knew as Michonne turned to Aaron and Eric, as two more black men and a woman entered, one dressed in all black, the other big and bear like, the woman small framed, those must be the siblings, Tyreese and Sasha, the man dressed in all black she did not recognize.

"Thought we told you two that we were not recruiting anyone else right now," Michonne whispered angrily to Aaron and Eric. Rosita watched as Aaron gave Michonne a quick smile to calm her down.

"We know, but I think you all should hear what they know, that is why we brought them here," they all turned towards them and Rosita, gutsy as she had always been, stepped forward.

"I’m Rosita Espinoza, this is my partner Abraham Ford, and this is our son Matt,” she then turned to the cowboy looking man, "you must be Rick Grimes," she continued to the two women, "I would guess you are Michonne, and you Sasha, and that is youˋre brother Tyreese," the woman called Sasha gasped and took a threatening step towards Rosita, her eyes was shooting daggers.

"How do you know us? " Abe pushed Rosita protectively behind him, but Rick walked in between the woman and Abe.

"Who are you and why do you know anything about us?" Rick asked Abe. Before Abe had the chance to start one of his rants, Rosita stepped up to Rick once again,

"We escaped from a cult that calls themselves the Haven, we have been held there for almost seven years now, people were brought in from time to time, some lasted others were killed, but three years in two people were brought in, a man and a woman. We got close to them, since the man started working with my Abe here, and the woman I took a liking to straight away. As we grew closer they started telling us stories about their old group," she paused to take a breath, ''I think they are friends of yours, members of your old group" she waited to see a reaction. The women gasped, everyone except the priest, Aaron and Eric where standing watching. She saw the leader, Rick had tears in his eyes.

"What where their names? " his voice had a desperate ring to it, Rosita smiled up at him.

"Daryl and Savannah," the man's hands were now on her shoulders, shaking her slightly.

"Are they still alive? Are they still at the Haven?" Rositaˋs smile grew wider.

"Yes they are alive, at least the last time we saw them, that was about two months ago, when they helped us escape the Haven. They have lived there with us for nearly four years, " she heard the woman called Michonne choke back a sob, then the big hurly guy called Tyreese caught Rositaˋs attention.

"How do we get to this Haven place?" Abe shook his head.

"It’s dangerous, it’s a closed off highly religious cult, people that come in through the gates never leave. But because of Daryl, we were able to escape, and that's a good thing cause they were going to execute Rosita," the group stood there stunned, all eyes on her. She rested her hands on her hips and glared up at Abe.

"I told you not say shit like that in front of Matt," Abe actually looked remorseful down at their son that was laying half asleep on the bench behind them.

"We promised both Daryl and Savannah to continue to look for their old group when we got out, and maybe try to gather people to rescue them, but it has to happen soon. Savannah is sick and needs better medical care then what the drunk bastard of a dr at the Haven can give her," Rick turned towards Aaron.

"Send a message to both Hilltop and the kingdom. Glenn, Maggie and Carol need to know about this, they were all close to both Daryl and Savannah, we need to come up with a plan to rescue them, and we need all three communities to help," Aaron and Eric both nodded, understanding the urgency. They hurried out of the church as Rick turned back to Rosita.

"I thank you for this information, Daryl is like a brother to me, and Savannah is special to us all too, you are welcome to stay here in Alexandria if you like, a house will be given to you," Rositaˋs lips parted in a warm smile, her eyes beamed up at the cowboy like man.

"Savannah told me you had a good heart, we will accept the offer. It’s not safe to travel around with children, I am sure you know, since Savannah told me you have two kids of your own," Rick nodded and smiled back.

"Gabriel, show them where they can live, we will wait until the others come, and then we will discuss what to do," he then turned to Abe, "if you can write down everything you know about the security, draw a layout of the area and everything else you know is of importance about the Haven, and then bring it to the meeting when the others are here, I would really appreciate it," Abe nodded.

Savannah sat propped up in a chair, a blanket neatly folded over her legs. She was resting her now boney hands on her bulging belly, a little over four years had past since they came to the Haven, any hopes of ever getting out of this place had evaporated as soon as she found out she was pregnant for the third time. She could feel deep in her soul that this pregnancy would be her last. It was draining her, she knew there was something wrong. She looked out the window where Daryl was chopping wood for the winter, their two boys Dean and Caleb helping him, Dean was the spitting image of Daryl. His younger brother Caleb, that was exactly 11 months younger than Dean, had Darylˋs sky blue eyes, but her blonde hair, and where Dean was tough and strong willed like his dad, Caleb was more of a gentle soul, very attached to Savannah. She had at first, when the boy had taken longer to start walking or talking, been concerned it would bother Daryl, who seemed so proud of Dean who had the Dixon guts, but Daryl had a soft spot for both his boys, his concerns of not turning into a good father for their kids was ridiculous, the boys could not have gotten a better father than Daryl. He always brought them with him if they wanted too, he always bragged about how good little helpers they where when he had taken them out to the new building site. The gap in her and Daryl's friendship had been mended as soon as Dean had been born, now their friendship was stronger then ever, and her love for Daryl only seemed to grow each day, but still she had never gotten herself to tell him how much she really loved him, she knew if she did and her feelings where unanswered it would kill her, but then again, she was slowly fading away with this pregnancy. She knew that this time she wasn't going to survive, she had not told Daryl of her fears, she always put on a brave mask. She knew their kids were in good hands with Daryl and that he would raise them to be good people. A tear slipped down her cheek and she brushed it away.

"Is there anything I can get for you Mrs. Dixon?" she heard the woman that the Haven was planning on replacing her with ask. She turned her head slightly towards the redhead and shook her head.

"No thank you Vicky, Iˋm fine right here," the council had when the pregnancy had started to cause trouble decided that Vicky were to move in with them, to learn Savannahˋs way to run the household. The council had explained to Savannah that the kids needed a mother to take care of things, and Daryl was still young enough to produce more children, so if Savannah did not survive, Vicky were to take her place as Daryl's wife and mother of his kids. Daryl did not know, she had begged the council not to inform him of this new idea, she knew how much time Daryl needed to let new people in. She had told Daryl, that since she was pregnant, the council had appointed them a maid and that Vicky was going to live with them and help out in the house while she was pregnant. Daryl had reluctantly agreed. It was killing her though to see how Vicky was flirting with Daryl, and how far she went to please him, more then once she had been tempted to put Vicky back in her place both physically and orally, but she did not want to spend her last months yelling and screaming like a raving lunatic in front of her two boys, She wanted her boys to remember their mother like the stoic fair woman she had always been. And she did not want to cause Daryl any future problems after she had past.

Sometimes she had the feeling that Vicky was trying to hurry up the process of her dying, so she always kept a watchful eye at all the food preparation. She knew the younger woman had set her eyes on Daryl the first time she met him, and she could understand why, afterall the same thing had happened to her back at the prison, and in her own way she had stolen Daryl from his true love, Beth. She saw Vicky walk out to their front door and call her boys in for dinner, Savannah glanced out and saw how Daryl scooped Caleb up in his strong arms and grabbed Deans hand as they walked towards their home. She wiped her cheeks when she heard Daryl's heavy footsteps enter the cabin.

"Go give yer mama a kiss and wash up before dinner, boys," he heard Daryl say in his low husky rumbling voice that still gave her goosebumps all over. Small feet came running towards her and soon enough she was enveloped by small arms, small butterfly kisses all over her face as she leaned down to give both her boys a kiss on their cheeks. A heartfelt laughter bubbled up from her chest, she ruffled their hair.

"How is it possible, Dean, that you always look like you have been wading in mud whenever you have been outside, while Caleb looks like he had just had his bath?" her question was directed to her oldest boy, but her humor filled eyes went up and met Darylˋs sky blue eyes. He shrugged and gave her one of his small heart fluttering smiles of his.

"That's the redneck blood shining through, princess," he said, she snorted from his nickname for her, never had she understood why he constantly called her a princess, she was so far from one. She watched as her youngest boy turned towards his daddy with an offended look in his so blue eyes.

"But daddy, I’m a redneck too, I don't get dirty, like mama said," she giggled from Calebs light voice and his still babyway of talking, Daryl scooped Caleb up in his arms again and started tickling him, and she watched how the little boy was giggling and squirming in Daryl's arms.

"Ya sure are, kid, be happy ya looks so much like yer mama and nothing like yer uglyass uncle Merle," Savannah had many nights been laying in bed listening to Daryl tell their boys stories about all the crazy things him and his brother had done when they were little. Daryl was good at telling stories, and she knew Daryl made up Merle to be a hero in all the stories, and not the man chauvinistic prick their uncle really was when he was alive.

"Now go wash up boys, supper is gettin cold," she heard Daryl say and he ushered the boys into the bathroom.

Daryl watched Savannah where she was at last sleeping peacefully next to him, her bulging belly looked so misplaced on her now so thin frame. Never had he seen Savanna so skinny and pale, it was like the fears he had during her pregnancy with Dean had come true this time, he knew life was seeping out of her body the closer she came to birth. He leaned down and placed a kiss on her cool forehead, when he leaned back his eyes where lingering on her pink plump lips. How he wished he could kiss those lips, her lips looked so soft and he bet she tasted just as sweet as she looked. He had been tempted so many times as they laid in bed together to actually lean in and kiss her good night, but he always chicken out. She only saw him as a friend, one thing was that she had to sleep with him, but he would never force a kiss on her, that should come willingly. He got out of the bed and pulled on his shirt and jeans, and grabbed his heavy worn boots in his hand and silently moved out of the bedroom. He peeked his head into the half open door of his boys bedroom, both his boys were sleeping soundly, god they were perfect, never had he pictured himself a father, but now he could not picture his life without them in it, or Savannah. He walked into the livingroom and his eyes landed on the young redhead sleeping on the couch, he rolled his eyes. It was annoying to have that little skank sleeping on his couch, always walking around in those small skimpy outfits, showing off skin. More then once had she given him suggestive looks across the dinner table, he could not believe the nerve the woman had, behaving in such a rude manner in front of his family. He knew Savannah was trying to get them all to accept Vickey, but his boys were clever, they saw right through the games Vickey was trying to play. He was gonna make sure that her ass was outta his house as soon as the new kid was born and Savannah was back to her old self.

He sat down on one of the kitchen chairs and pulled on his boots, then he silently walked over to the front door, he badly needed a smoke that he had traded from one of the new people that had just arrived. He cringed as the door creaked on its hinges when he opened it, he looked worriedly over his shoulder to see if the skank had woken from the sound, but the selfish little bitch was still sleeping. He exhaled relieved and hurried outside, he rounded the corner to the back of the cabin where no one would see him from the hotel or the gates, he had just lit his cigarette and took a deep drag from it when his eyes landed on a loan figure leaning against his cabin wall. It was dark so he could not make out who of the guards it was, maybe it was the same guard he had picked a fight with to cause a distraction so that Abe, Rosita and their kid could slip out the gate and into freedom a few months back. Maybe now he was back to finish him off as he had made an ass out of the guard in front of everyone. But as Daryl studied the man standing there in the dark, it was something familiar with him, he took a few steps closer, and the man turned towards him.

"Rick?" the name just slipped out of him, suddenly he was pulled into a strong bear hug.

"Been looking for ya for almost five years brother," he heard Ricks familiar voice whisper, he could hardly believe what was happening. He pushed Rick off of him, his hands still on who had become his brother during this hellish worldˋs shoulders.

"Rick, whatˋcha doin here?" The man flashed him a humor filled grin.

"Here to rescue your ass, brother," Daryl took another drag from his cigarette and shook his head.

"How did ya find us?" Rick snatched the cigarette out of his hands, dropped it on the ground and crunched it under his worn boots.

"Your friends, Rosita and Abe found us, weˋre here to bring you guys home, Savannahˋs still here right?" a worried glimmer in Ricks light blue eyes, Daryl nodded.

"Inside sleepin," finally his silent prayerˋs had been answered, as time passed since he had helped Abe and Rosita escape he had almost given up on them finding help.

"Alright, go in and wake her up, weˋre leaving as soon as possible, we have surrounded the area, but so far they haven't suspected any foul play, but Rosita told us that there were a lot of kids here, so I don't want to start a war," Daryl nodded and nudged Rick to follow him inside.

"Need alil help," Rick nodded and followed after Daryl into the house. Rickˋs eyes landed on the woman sleeping on the couch, and his brows furrowed quizzically, but Daryl just grabbed a few sheets that he ripped apart.

"Gotta tie this bitch up and gag her, or else sheˋs gonna squeal like a lil snitch," Daryl roughly woke Vicky up and Rick helped him tie and gag her up, before he threw her squirming body over his shoulder. He opened one of the closets and shoved the fiery redhead inside, before he used the last sheet to tie together the closet door.

"Fuckin’ good riddance," he grumbled and led the way into his boys bedroom. He squatted down between their twin beds and shook them awake. Dean rubbed his eyes and sat up in bed looking confused at him before his blue eyes landed on Rick who was standing stunned in the middle of the room.

"Whatˋs goin’ on, daddy?" Daryl put his finger over his lips, signalizing for his boys to be quiet.

"This here is my friend Rick, yaˋll remember me and mama talkin’ about him and the others?" both boys nodded seriously, two pairs of eyes landing on Rick who was still in shock, “He really does look like the cowboy from the books mama reads to us," Caleb chimed in and Daryl murmured his agreeance, he turned to grab the boys clothes.

"Alright boys, now ya gonna get dressed, then ya wait out in the living room with yer uncle Rick right, I'm gonna go fetch yer mama," both boys started pulling off their pjs as Daryl was about to walk past Rick, when Rick grabbed his arm.

"You got kids?" Daryl felt his cheeks and ears heat up, he started to chew on his thumb and nodded bashfully.

"Who’s their mother?" Daryl stared at the floor.

"Savannah, gonna go git ˋer now, watch the boys," Rick nodded but before he let go of his arm he leaned in.

"You have some serious explaining to do, brother," Daryl just gave him a curt nod and disappeared down the hall and into the bedroom. He crawled into bed and carefully shook Savannah awake.

"Wake up princess," he whispered and Savannah shot up as fast as her weak body and big belly would allow her.

"Are the boys alright? Did something happen?" Daryl rounded the bed and helped Savannah up.

"The boys are fine, weˋre gettin outta here," he pulled out some of Savannahˋs clothes and helped her get dressed. It was starting to get cold and Daryl guessed they were about a month away off christmas.

"How are we getting out Daryl?" Daryl lifted her up in his arms, he knew Savannah had trouble walking.

"Looks like Abe and Rosita came through for us, there's a surprise out in the living room for ya," he watched Savannahˋs reaction when her gray orbs landed on Rick as they walked out of the hall. He carefully placed Savannahˋs too skinny form down in one of the chairs and Rick was by her side in an instant, hugging her.

"Rick," she breathed and Daryl could see tears welling up in her beautiful eyes, thank god this time there were happy tears, and not the sad ones that had filled her eyes to many times the last months. Savannah thought she could hide the truth from him, but he knew, he knew all too well what was going on in that pretty head of hers. Savannah held on to Rick tightly while she refused to let go of him as she cried silently into his shoulder, Rick looked up at him with confused, quizzical eyes, then he pulled back and looked at Savannah again, Ricks eyes landed on her bulging belly.

"Youˋre pregnant," he stated the obvious and Savannah let out a hiccup of a laugh.

"Yeah, I feel ready to pop," she said and laid her boney hand on her belly lovingly, Rick nodded. Daryl turned to his boys.

"Alright boys, I need to carry yer mama, so yaˋll follow uncle Ricks lead," his voice was stern and left no room for discussions. He knew how worked up Caleb could get around people he didn’t know. But luckily Dean came through and grabbed his younger brotherˋs hand in one hand and Rickˋs hand in the other. Daryl picked up Savannah again and followed Rick out the door, he felt how Savannahˋs head lulled tiredly against his shoulder. Hopefully Rick had not come too late to save her. They were led over to a cart that was hooked up to a couple of horses, they were shielded from any prying eyes from the guards standing at the gates, Tyreeseˋs big frame came into view and Daryl gave the big man a nod as the man he had befriended at the prison helped him lift Savannah up in the cart. He saw the surprise in Savannahˋs eyes and she hugged Tyreese quickly before the big man leaned down and lifted Dean up in the cart.

"Now don't you look like your father," the big man said with laughter in his whisper, Daryl watched how his little boy puffed his chest out proudly.

"Mama says itˋs the redneck blood," and both Tyreese and Rick couldn't help the laughter that slipped out. Rick picked up Caleb and handed him over to Daryl who had now climbed up in the cart as well. They all scooted together when a tarp was pulled over their head, and not long after the cart started moving. Savannah leaned heavily on his shoulder while he had Caleb on his lap and Dean on his other side. Daryl squeezed his eyes shut and waited when they reached the gates. He heard the gates being opened and the horses started pulling the cart through, it seemed like they had passed through without problems, but suddenly the cart came to a halt, and the tarp was ripped open and Daryl knew that this was too good to be true, but then three well known faces jumped into the cart followed by a man he did not know. One by one they where hugged by Carol, Michonne and Sasha. The unfamiliar man gave them a nod and ruffled his boys heads before they sat down on the opposite side of the cart. Carol grinned at Daryl as the cart started moving.

"What?" he growled at his bestfriends stupid grin, Carol giggled.

"Never in a million years had I ever thought I would get the opportunity to call you a daddy, Daryl," he snorted, but Michonne burst out into laughter.

"Yeah it is somewhat of a disturbing thought that we now will have more crazy pissed off rednecks to look after," both Sasha and Carol giggled, Daryl glared at them.

"Oh lighten up pookie, we are just teasing, now introduce us to your boys," and Daryl gave his two boys a little nudge.

"Show the ladies some Dixon manners, boys," both Dean and Caleb crawled over to the other side and sat in front of the people they had heard so many stories about. Dean was first, he reached out his hand to Carol first then the others.

"My name is Dean Dixon, ma’am," Caleb followed right after, wiping his nose while he shyly looked up at the woman in front of him through his long blonde bangs, trying to mimic his older brother.

"I’m Caleb Dixon, ma’am," Daryl could see how the three fierce woman he knew so well melted from how adorable his boys where.

"Oh gawd, pookie, no one could ever doubt who their parents are, that's for sure," Daryl could not help but feel the pride swell in his chest. Caleb pulled on Carols shirt.

"What’s a pookie, ma’am?" Carol giggled and looked at Daryl with a wide grin before she looked into Calebˋs so deep blue eyes.

"Your grumpy daddy is a pookie," his youngest son looked back at him and his brows furrowed slightly.

"Daddy ain’t grumpy around mama, so he ain’t gonna be a pookie if mama gets to live," Daryl saw how Caleb crawled over to Savannahˋs sleeping frame and nuzzled into her side. When he looked up, all four of them stared at Savannah.

"How far along is she?" Sasha asked her brows furrowed worriedly.

"She’s ready to pop any day now," he said with a heavy sigh.

"She’s so skinny," Michonne commented and Daryl nodded.

"I know, no matter how much she eats it don't seem like ˋer body can get what it needs," Carol frowned.

"I know how you always have had a thing for her, Daryl, but your boys seems pretty close in age. Putting her through three pregnancies so close to each other without proper medical care, thatˋs a bit extreme, to keep a girl yours," Daryl knew the people he considered his family would never understand, he had seen the same look he now saw in Carol, Michonne and Sashaˋs eyes. He already felt guilty for all the hardship he had put Savannah through and he swore that if she would live that he would never put her through anything again. He would keep his distance to her, leave her be and let her have a good life without almost killing her like he had done now. He just shook his head to the woman in front of him, Dean got up on his knees and directed a pair of angry eyes at the woman in front of them.

"It ain’t daddy’s fault, mama is his princess, its the bad men back home, they force daddy to do bad things toˋer," Daryl pulled his oldest son back, and glared down at his son.

"Ya hush yer mouth, boy," he could see the heat crawl up in his oldest boyˋs face as he stared bashfully down on the floor on the cart, the little boy nodded and sat back down. He knew how his oldest hated to be reprimanded, he reminded him so much of himself when he was a kid. Only difference he might have had to raise his voice to both of his boys from time to time, but he had never raised a hand at them. The rest of the trip they were all quiet.

A week prior:

It was early morning when the people from Hilltop and the Kingdom arrived. Rick had barely gotten himself a cup of hot coffee and kissed Michonne and their kids good morning, before his door busted open and Maggie, Glenn and Beth walked in. Rick nodded towards the coffee maker and silently asked if they wanted a cup. Maggie nodded and he handed her a cup.

"Did you bring little Hershal?" Rick wondered and Glenn shook his head.

"Left him back at Hilltop with Jesus," Rick nodded, then looked at Maggie's stern face, being the leader of Hilltop had made the young woman in front of him grow, it really suited her. He directed them into the dining room where he knew he could fit all the leaders, he gestured for them all to have a seat, just as the front door was opened once again and Carol and her new husband Ezikiel walked in. He waved them over and into the dining room, after placing a peck on Carols cheek and shaking Ezikiels hand. He stood by the end of the table and looked over his old group members, the quarry, farm and prison survivors. His heart swelled in his chest, he bared so much love for the people he considered his family, and now hopefully they would be complete.

"I guess you all are wondering why you have all been summoned," they all nodded and Glenn wrapped his arm around his wifeˋs shoulder as he leaned in.

"Eric said it was urgent," Rick nodded.

"It has come to my knowledge that two people of our group have been localised in a community called The Haven," they all frowned and looked at each other confused.

"Is someone missing from Alexandria?" Ezikiel asked concerned and Rick shook his head.

"No, I’m talking about two from our original group, Daryl and Savannah," Carol gasped and stared at Rick, "it is true, they are both alive and being held hostage in a cult called The Haven" he turned his head towards Michonne and gestured for her to bring in Rosita and Abe. The two came and stood next to Rick, explaining how they had become to know Daryl and Savannah, they went through the list Rick had asked them to make about the Haven. When they were done the room fell in silence, then Ezikiel rose from his chair and in his usual theatrical manner, hit his chest and spoke with a loud and clear voice.

"I know how much these two people mean to my wife. Rick you have the support of the Kingdom, tell me what you need and we will provide," Rick nodded and smiled in gratitude and watched how Ezikiel placed a loving hand on Carols shoulder, which she squeezed and kissed in return, smiling lovingly up at her new husband. Glenn also got up from his chair.

"Hilltop will help as well, we have good fighters," then he looked at Rick, "should we notify Tara at Oceanside?" and Rick shook his head.

"Tara has enough on her hands as it is right now, it's not easy to be appointed the new leader when half the group is against her," Glenn nodded, "no, I think we have all the strength we need with Alexandria, Hilltop and the Kingdom fighting together," Rick placed the map that Abe and Rosita had been working on in the middle of the table.

"I think we should disguise ourselves as merchants, there to trade supplies, we do not want them thinking we are ready to join their craziness," they all nodded, they spent the rest of the day going through every aspect of the plan, listening to Rosita explain the layouts of the insides of the community, who to talk with, what guards to look out for.

It had taken them almost a week to prepare, but now they were setting out to rescue the two that had been missing from their family for a little over five years. They had divided themselves into three groups, the Hilltop and the Kingdom fighters where going to surround the community, take out any possible threats. Then a small group from Alexandria were gonna pretend they were merchants, there to make a deal about trading. They had decided that it was too dangerous to bring either Rosita or Abe, since they could easily be recognized and blow the mission, so they were left behind at Alexandria with their little son. Abe had drawn a very detailed map of the road to the Haven, they all had gotten copies of the drawing so everything was in order. Rick was a little surprised over the short distance between the Haven and Alexandria, it had stunned him that the forest in between Alexandria and Hilltop were hiding this sick cult community. It was only half a day ride by horse, how many times have they roamed these woods without knowing this was right under their noses?

It was mid day when Tyreese slowed the horses to a halt outside the gates of the Haven. He knew his people were hiding in the forest surrounding the Haven, still his nerves were on edge.

"State youˋre business, stranger," was called out to them from a tower over the main gate, and Rick spotted a man holding a very familiar crossbow, aiming at his head. Ricks blood started to boil from anger, at least it was proof that his brother was there.

"We are traveling merchants, I'm here to strike a deal with the leaders of this community," Rick called up to the man, the man pointed at the cart.

"What you got under that tarp?" Rick jumped down and pulled the tarp aside, showing crates full of fruits, vegetables and other supplies they had scraped together from all three of their homes. Aaron and Eric were leading the second cart behind them.

"This cart is full of food," the guard shook his head.

"We grow our own food, not interested," Rick pointed to the cart that Aaron and Eric was sitting on.

"What about weapons and ammunition?" Rick called up at the guard, it was easy to see that Rick had his full attention. He walked around to the back of Aarons cart and pulled the tarp aside, and showed up a semi automatic gun. The guard turned and whistled at someone at the ground, then the gates were opened, and Tyreese and Aaron led the horses inside. The space was a little cramped on the inside, the hotel towering the middle took up a lot of space, so Tyreese had to round the hotel and park the cart in front of the cabins at the back of the hotel. When Aaron parked his cart in front of the hotel, drawing all the attention from all the guards. Rick stood back patiently while the cult leaders were summoned. The guard from the tower came out of the main doors of the hotels and walked straight up to Rick.

"Leave any weapons, your men and follow me, they will see you now," Rick nodded, and gave Aaron a silent message to put the rest of their plan out into action. Rick handed Eric his python strapped to his belt and followed the guard inside. He was lead three floors up and into a big suite where three people were seated in the living room, logs burning in the hearth, and the room was toasty warm. The three people got up from their seats and Rick reached out his hand and introduced himself to the two women and man in front of him, he was asked to take a seat and so he did.

Eric jumped down from the cart and nodding to Aaron, who had also jumped down to tend to the horses borrowed from the kingdom. Eric rounded the hotel and walked over to where Tyreese where standing petting the horses attached to his cart. He gave Tyreese a curt nod before he opened the tarp further and let the four people hiding behind the crates of fruits out.

"Alright, you all know what to do, Rick is already inside to talk with the leaders," they all nodded and disappeared in all directions, Eric then climbed up into the cart and rearranged the crates so more people could get room to hide before he jumped down and fastened the tarp again.

"I’m gonna go locate the cabin," he told Tyreese who nodded and slipped Eric a gun he hid in his waistband of his cargo pants and pulled his jacket over. His eyes traced the rows of cabins that laid near the banks of the lake, beautiful he thought to himself, but looks could definitely be deceiving. He strolled down the rows of cabins as he came to the cabin with a big number 5 painted on the front door. He stood leaned into a cabin watching it for a while, but nothing happened, then his hearing picked up a sound coming from the back, he quickly walked across the dirt road separating the rows of cabins and slipped behind the corner. There he noticed a man chopping wood, and two small boys running around picking up the splinters that fell on the ground. Eric heard the mans grunts every time the axe in his hands hit the huge logs. He saw the muscles on the man's arms where bulging, the man had shaggy looking brown hair who now looked damp from sweat, the man was wearing a plaid shirt, with the arms ripped off and loose jeans. Yes that man definitely fit the description he had gotten from Rick, but the kids where a new detail. Eric studied the two little boys, one dark haired, and one light blonde, both badly in need of a haircut, just like the man chopping wood. Eric let his eyes roam the backyard of the cabin, but there was no woman that Eric could see. They were informed that the woman called Savannah was sick, had she already passed? Were they too late? Eric had seen enough to inform Rick where to go later on, he rounded the corner when a red haired young woman stepped out on the porch and called on Daryl and the two boys. He frowned to himself, then he returned to Tyreese, where he shared the details he had found out and they waited for night to come.

@of-storms-and-sadness

@jodiereedus22

#angst #slowburn #the walking dead #daryl dixon fanfiction #fluff/smut #daryl dixon #daryl dixon/female oc #daryl x oc #daryl fanfiction

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nataliedanovelist · 6 years ago

Text

GF - Tapes

The Mystery Shack was quiet, a rare treat for the hectic household. Waddles was enjoying the silence, glad to be back in his old home. He enjoyed the scratches behind the ear from Mr. Pines and the belly-rubs from Mrs. Pines and the couch in the living room back in Piedmont, but the pig felt comforted by the sounds and smells of the cabin in the woods of Gravity Falls. It was like being hugged by an old friend or a family member unseen for too long. While he slept in the old armchair, the only human in the house sat on the floor, watching the pig sleep.

Ford shook his head and chuckled under his breath, craning his neck to look at Mabel's pet. It was cloudy outside, like it might rain soon, but for now the weather was dry. Ford turned to face front again, facing the TV, as he sat on the carpet with a big box out in front of him. At the end of last summer, when trying to help Stan regain his lost memories, Ford had dug out some old home-movies of the twins going on adventures, building the Stan O' War, and battling ghost pirates. When it was time to depart for the sea, in the chaos of it all, the film reels Ford had kept hidden away over the years had been haphazardly shoved into a box that was then tucked by the TV. Reorganizing the movies seemed like a nice task to take part in with everyone else in the Shack gone.

Carefully as to not ruin the tapes, Ford laid out each reel on the carpet and started to read the labels. Some were neatly written in his mother's handwriting, while others were quickly jotted down in Stan's chicken scratches or in Ford's little cursive writing. Quests to find the Jersey Devil, adventures to discover Atlantis, and progress of their beloved boat all laid out on either side of the old scientist, and Ford held his cleft chin with a six-fingered hand when his eyes averted back to the cardboard box and discovered VCR tapes.

Ford began to read the labels. Well, all the labels there were, anyways. Some of the tapes were blank and intrigued Ford the most, and so to discover what they were and how to best organize the home-videos, he randomly selected a tape and slipped it in the VCR player. He turned on the screen and pressed play on the player. After a quick second of nothing but static, Ford smiled at seeing his grandnephew sitting at the desk in the attic-bedroom that separated the younger twins' beds.

"Welcome to Dipper's Guide to the Unexplained." The boy said, taking advantage of the night as he sat in his orange t-shirt and grey shorts. "Today, Gravity Falls' Anomaly #13: The Modius Chicken Strip."

Ford made himself comfortable, his knees up to his chest and his arms wrapped around his legs, as he watched the twelve-year-old give a small investigation about said chicken strip. It seemed like the kind of thing Ford would've done at Dipper's age. His mind began to wander when the Dipper on screen said,

"Well, that concludes Gravity Falls' Anomaly #13: The Modius Chicken Strip." He pulled the strip out of the basket and munched on it happily. "It's infinitely delicious."

Suddenly, catching Ford's attention, some small creature sped by the camera, knocking it over and sending playing cards all over the floor.

"Whoa! Hey! What the…? Ah!" Ford watched as Dipper aimed the camera at his sleeping twin sister. "Mabel, did you see that? Wake up!"

"Never. Let me sleep forever." Mabel moaned as she turned her back on her brother, making Ford chuckle. Yup, she was definitely related to Stan.

"Some creature just jumped out of nowhere!" Dipper explained. "It's eating out leftover Summerween candy!"

That got Mabel's attention. "What?!"

"Look!"

Ford peered at the screen as Dipper turned the camera to where a small monster was nestled inside an old tire and eating the children's Summerween candy. The scientist's eyes widened with wonder and disgust as he saw a…

"Ew, it's like a… naked little man." Mabel said it best and Ford privately agreed with her, its sharp teeth, beady red eyes and lack of sanity making it apparent that it wasn't human. Ford honestly didn't know what it was. A rabid gnome? A gremlin?

"Okay, this is now Dipper's Guide to the Unexplained, #76… uh, That Thing." Dipper announced to the camera as he showed a title card to the one-man audience.

Ford edged himself closer to the screen as Mabel tried to get the monster to drop the basket of candy, but he only licked it creepily and the static appeared again, but was soon replaced with Dipper wearing some sort of makeshift armor out of stuffed animals and had clubs and a trash can for weapons.

"I'm gonna capture him for science." Dipper said boldly.

"And for candy!" Mabel added from behind the camera. Sweet Lord, how similar were Mabel and Dipper to Stan and Ford?

"Get this on tape in case I die or whatever."

Ford laughed and watched with a smile on his face as Dipper slowly crept up to That Thing and tried to trap it. Using a club to edge the candy closer, he waited until the monster grab the treat and Dipper just barely missed it with his little trap. That Thing climbed up the ceiling, the bucket of candy in his sharp teeth, and Mabel tried to hit it with a stuffed toy that only fell back on her as she yelled, "Die, mutant, die!" The creature ran out of the bedroom and the twins followed, the camera losing focus for a moment as the kids ran down the stairs. That Thing pounced on Dipper when they reached the living room and the video cut to the monster sitting on top of the fridge. Eventually they chased it back into the living room to then have it be distracted to the TV. Ford laughed at the irony, seeing how he was just as drawn to the TV screen now as the monster was to whatever movie he was watching.

The film cut away and made Ford laugh again to find the children sitting and eating candy as they watched the movie with the monster, to whom Soos confused for Stan. That was the end of the tape and it soon poked out of the player. Ford rewind the tape as he looked for a new one to watch. That same pride he had for his nephew when he read the boy's entries in Journal 3, when Dipper saved him from the spaceship, and when Dipper graduated middle school last month returned strongly in Ford's chest. The same could be said for Mabel, too. The logical part of Ford told him to only glance at the tapes so he could know how to organize them best, but his softer side told him to enjoy watching the tapes he didn't know existed until three minutes ago.

The second tape showed Dipper holding the camera as he stood in town. "Alright, ah… welcome back to Dipper's Guide to the Unexplained. Today we investigate Gravity Falls' Anomaly #82: This Guy." Dipper panned the camera to a balding man with a mustache reading a newspaper and sipping coffee in a bowling alley. He looked like he was an employee on his break. "Sure he looks normal, but if he's so normal explain why he's always facing left."

The video cut away to many shots of the man always facing left, and Ford had to admit that his behavior was very abnormal. He held his chin in thought as the man was so inclined to run and walk backward to avoid being seen by his right side.

"Literally, I've been following him around for weeks, and I've never once seen the right side of his face. And neither has anyone else." Dipper explained. "But why? Mabel. Theories?"

The camera panned to Mabel as she pulled out a bunch of drawings of their theories and narrated through them. "Theory One: he's hiding an embarrassing sunburn. Theory Two: half-man, half-lizardman. And Theory Three (my person favorite): he's normal, and Dipper's just crazy!"

"That's not a theory! That doesn't count as a theory!"

Mabel and Ford both laughed and Dipper walked into the bowling alley, giving Mabel control of the camera as he managed to convince the poor guy that it wasn't on. Dipper tried to get the guy to show his right side by passing shoes and giving Dipper his fallen wallet, but in the end it looked like the boy was going to give up, until the man was about to pick out a bowling ball and Dipper shoved him by the shoulder, revealing the right side. Ford gasped as half of a robotic man was missing, revealing little green jelly-like creatures that committed suicide as soon as their cover was blown. The robot was disassembled, caught fire, and set off the sprinklers in the bowling alley.

"Well, that concludes anomaly #82!" Dipper said as he and his sister ran for their lives. "Uh, I think we might wanna burn this tape!"

Ford shook his head, seeing how the boy must have forgotten to, and he rewind it before selecting another tape. The old scientist had seen many things in his inter-dimensional travels and within the magnetism of Gravity Falls, but anomaly number eight-two might be best left alone. Regardless, he had no intention of burning the tape. Ford picked another tape at random and slipped it into the VCR player. He chuckled at seeing Dipper's abnormally-large head being crushed by his sister's fingers.

"Hello, I'm Dipper Pines. The girl trying to crush my head in Mabel."

"I'm helping!"

"Today on Dipper's Guide to the Unexplained - okay that, that's enough - today, we investigate Anomaly #23: Grunkle Stan's Secret Tattoo."

Ford's heart sunk uncomfortably as the camera panned to a board full of Stan's back and shoulder and ideas of what the hidden symbol could be. Clearly, Stan was very careful to not let anyone see it, and today the children were going to try to figure out why and what it was.

"What is he hiding? A college prank? Secret symbol? Or something stranger?" Dipper asked the camera. "Stan claims it doesn't exist, but today we're gonna find out."

Ford was deaf to Mabel trying to show what was under her bandage as he thought about the "tattoo". Stan's scar was a painful reminder of everything Ford had done to him, of all the things Ford did to his brother over the years, like refusing to thank him after saving him from the Nightmare Realm, letting him live on the streets for ten years, and erasing his mind. He had called Stan up to Gravity Falls, he had demanded Stan take the first journal and get as far away as possible, he had refused to let Stan destroy the book, and he had kicked Stan into the hot symbol, burning through his clothes, killing his flesh, and leaving him tagged like an animal.

Ford rewind the tape when he saw Dipper hiding on the roof from an angry uncle and picked up another tape to watch. He had just pulled out the tape with Stan's scar when the door opened and closed and Waddles perked up. Mabel came into view and the pig ran into her arms. She giggled at having her cheek licked and hugged her pet tightly.

"Hi, Waddles. Did you have a nice nap?" Mabel looked up and her smile grew. "Hey, Grunkle Ford! Whatcha doin'?"

"Hello, Mabel." Ford greeted as he carefully stacked the already-watched tapes and picked out a new one to watch. Hopefully the next one wouldn't shove his mistakes back in his face. "I'm organizing these videos."

"Oo!" Mabel said and put Waddles down, who retreated back to the armchair and curled up for a nap.

The brunette pulled put out a blue sweater-in-the-making, some yarn, and a pair of needles from behind the armchair and sat next to Ford on the floor. The old scientist smiled down at his grandniece and started the next video.

"Welcome back to Dipper's Guide to the Unexplained. Anomaly #54: The Mailbox."

Mabel's eyes widened and she gasped, "You found Dipper's tapes! Hey, I remember when we found that mailbox."

"You do?" Ford asked as Dipper explained how the mailbox had no house or address.

Mabel nodded and scooted closer to Grunkle Ford as she knitted a sweater. Ford smiled, sat with his legs crossed, and had Mabel in his lap as they watched Soos slip a letter into the mailbox. Mabel looked up to see Ford's shocked expression when the tail of the mailbox lifted on it's own and a new letter was inside the mailbox. The thirteen-year-old girl laughed and continued to watch Dipper and Soos test the mailbox.

"What did I shave into my head this morning? 'A baby duck holding a paddle ball.' Dude! It knew!"

"What?!"

"Ask it more questions!"

"When is the end of the world? '3012'. Huh, we got awhile."

"Who's my dream-woman? Whoa! Hot tamales! Save that one for the archives…"

"What is the exact time and date of my death?"

"Did aliens built the pyramids?"

"Or… what is the meaning of life?"

"What are marshmallows made out of?"

"Or… who wrote Journal #3?!"

"Who wrote the journal?! WHO WROTE THE JOURNAL?!"

Ford's face suddenly felt hot as his nephew said, "We're finally gonna get the answer to the greatest mystery in Gravity Falls!"

Mabel laughed over the tape of her destroying the mailbox by trying to mail a video of her shoving gummy worms up her nose at remembering her twin's old obsession. "Oh, man! I almost forgot how crazy Dip-Dip was to find you! He spent half of last summer obsessing over who wrote the journal."

Ford smiled gently at remembering the excitement Dipper had when he first met his great-uncle. While Mabel had happily shaken his hand, claiming his extra finger made it more friendlier than normal, Dipper had nearly thrown up over discovering who the Author of the Journals was. Not only that, but the author was a family member - his long-lost Great Uncle Stanford - and would grow closer to him as time went on.

Ford rewinded the tape and looked down at Mabel pleasantly. "I can imagine it was thrilling to have such a big mystery solved."

Mabel nodded. "At first we thought it was Old Man McGucket, but then we found a memory that explain that he was your assistant. We kinda hit a roadblock after that, but I know Dipper never stopped thinking about it, even if he was dealing with Time Baby, an angry Love God, or a level-ten ghost." Mabel picked up a tape and said, "Let's watch this one next!"

Ford let her slip it into the machine since the episode about the mailbox was done resetting, and they watched an episode in which Dipper and Mabel tried to find The Hide Behind. Ford let out a soft "ah" when he recognized the page in Journal 3 that told of a "mysterious creature always just out of sight". First, Dipper did some interviews to confirm from locals if The Hide Behind was real or not.

"The Hide Behind?" Manly Dan asked and Ford smiled fondly at seeing who had once been a teenager and built his home was now a grown man with his own kids, three of which was cutting a tall tree down behind the lumberjack. "Oh, he's real alright, REAL AS MY BEARD!"

"I remember Boyish… I mean, Manly Dan." Ford told the girl in his lap. "He and his father built this house. Well, mostly he built the house. Dav Corduroy wasn't as young as he once was, but Dan was more than up to the task."

"Wendy's dad built the Shack?!" Mabel gasped.

"Yup." Ford chuckled.

"Dad…"

"It's comin' down!"

"DADDY'S DOING A MOVIE!"

Dan yelled without even looking behind him as a tree was falling and threatened to crash his house. "He's doing a movie now…"

Ford and Mabel both laughed as the tree fell on top of their house and then the video cut to an interview with Lazy Susan. A flash of lightning and then the sound of thunder occurred while the pair of Pines watched the home-video of Lazy Susan spinning and Grunkle Stan grunting that the people of Gravity Falls were literally the dumbest people in the world. Literally. And to prove a point, the video cut back to Lazy Susan pointlessly spinning on one spot.

By the time the video about The Hide Behind had ended, it was raining hard outside. The drops of water drummed on the roof and the thunder and lightning were distant enough that they were not afraid of a disaster occurring and could enjoy the sights and sounds of the summer storm. Ford and Mabel both awed at the dark figure that hid behind Dipper as he walked away. Ford's eyes were as wide as saucers and he grinned.

"Incredible! Dipper managed to get the Hide Behind on camera!"

"Wait until Dipping Sauce finds out!" Mabel said gleefully.

While Ford rewinded the tape, Mabel suddenly jumped up and ran off. Soon the sweet smell of popcorn wafted from the kitchen and into the living room, and Mabel soon came back with a big bowl of popcorn.

"What good is watching movies without snacks?" Mabel asked as she held up the bowl to her Grunkle Ford.

He smiled. "I agree, my dear. Thank you." He popped some pieces into his mouth and the teenager resumed her spot on his lap and continued to work on her blue sweater.

Ford inserted the tape just as the door opened and closed once more. Dipper walked in, wet from the trip home, and pulled his blue journal out of his vest to make sure it was dry. He sighed with relief to find that it was, looked at his family in the living room, and said, "Hey guys, what are you watching?"

The teenager's eyes widened when he saw himself appear on the screen.

"Welcome to Dipper's Guide to the Unexplained. Anomaly #42: The Tooth."

"Oh, no!" Dipper panicked, his hands over his signature pinetree hat, the hat he had traded with Wendy when he left last summer and had gotten back when the twins arrived back in Gravity Falls. "No, no no!"

"C'mon, Dipper!" Mabel whined as the camera panned to giant tooth, scaled by Mabel.

The video then cut to Dipper playing the tuba. The boy groaned and held his face, covering his eyes, as Ford marveled at his grandnephew playing an instrument by the lake.

"You play the tuba?" Grunkle Ford observed and turned to find Dipper clearly uncomfortable. A bit confused as to what the boy was embarrassed about, Ford said, "Don't worry, Dipper. I can play the piano."

"You can?" Mabel awed as she watched the screen and saw her twin brother examine the giant tooth.

"Your great-grandmother taught me before Pa made Stanley and I take boxing lessons." Ford explained and cringed. He made himself promise to never refer to Ma as a great-grandmother again; it made him feel too old.

The video cut to Tate McGucket in his tackle-shop as Dipper and Mabel interviewed him. Dipper sat in the armchair with Waddles and petted the pig to give him something to do other than watch in humiliation.

Ford stared and pointed to the TV. "Wait, is that Fiddleford's son? Tater?"

Mabel nodded. Sweet Lord, the four-year-old boy was all grown up. A man now. Yes, Ford was well aware he had been gone for thirty years, but to see Dan and Tate had changed so much really showed how much time has passed. Then again, they weren't the only people to have changed. Pa was gone, Ma was now a great-grandmother, Shermie had grandchildren for crying out loud! Shermie's son, whom Ford had seen as a baby when he was in high-school, had children of his own. So much time had passed in the long years Ford had roamed the dimensions after the incident. He became so lost in his own thoughts that he almost didn't catch Mabel's response to his question.

"Yeah! He's a nice guy! Isn't he living with McGucket now?"

"That's what I heard." Dipper said from the armchair.

Ford nodded in agreement, having heard from his Fiddleford recently, and the old scientist tried to focus on the home-video.

"I'm here at the lake to investigate. I brought Mabel for backup."

"And I brought Bear-O, my adorable childhood puppet! Hey-Oh! Ain't that right, honey? 'Did somebody say "honey"?!' Haha!"

"Nope. Creepy. Bear-O's creepy. Everyone hates Bear-O."

"'But Dipper, who could hate Bear-O?'"

Mabel had asked in her Bear-O voice.

"I can think of a few people."

While the screen showed just how much people hated Bear-O, Mabel glanced up to see what her Grunkle Ford thought of her childhood puppet. She grinned, mistakenly taking his look of disgust for a look of delight, and said,

"Aw, see, Dipper?" The brunette said. "Grunkle Ford doesn't hate Bear-O!"

Dipper was too busy sitting in misery to argue as he watched the pair of twins paddling out onto the lake, thankfully without the creepy bear.

"Mabel, I have seen many disturbing things among my travels across the multiverse," Ford narrated. "Very little makes my skin crawl anymore, but somehow Bear-O has managed it."

"Thank you, Grunkle Ford!" Dipper sighed.

"Boo!" Mabel yelled as she resumed her knitting and watch as bubbles started to come up from the lake.

"Dipper, look!"

"They're over by that island!"

Ford leaned forward a little to see if his old theory of a giant head being disguised as an island was true. He had never taken the time to fully investigate, the idea coming to him in the midst of building the portal, but now he wondered if he was going to receive some answers thanks to his niece and nephew.

"We have to see what happens. What was that?" The camera glitched and something was rumbling. "Oh, no! What's happening?!"

"IT DOESN'T MATTER! ROW, ROW, ROW!"

Ford, Mabel and Dipper watched as the camera was sat in front of Dipper, facing him and the island, and watched as it emerged from the lake and yelled in a horrible voice; the island was in fact a giant floating head with a missing tooth.

"HOLY MOSES!" Ford yelled in shock.

"IT'S GETTING CLOSER! KEEP ROWING!" The camera glitched and soon the little audience saw Dipper looking for the camera. "I dunno. I've been looking for... there it is."He picked it up and explained, "Okay, after it attacked us, that giant head-thing just sunk back into the lake, and it lost another one of it's teeth trying to eat our boat! But the important thing is, we survived. Barely."

"Huh, yeah… 'Did somebody say "Bear-ly"?'"

Ford and Dipper both yelled in horror and Mabel scowled as she worked on her sweater angrily. Ford rewinded the tape and caught the sound of his nephew groaning in misery. He turned as much as he could with Mabel in his lap to find Dipper shielding his eyes as much as his hat could.

"Why did you have to look at those stupid tapes?" He groaned, embarrassed that his old idol had seen his amateur Guide to the Unexplained.

"Dipper, I thought you made those videos to show people the weird stuff or whatever." Mabel said as she worked. "Why are you getting so embarrassed over it?"

"I dunno, I just…" Dipper lifted his hat a little to uncover his eyes and he hugged his knees as he sat in the armchair with Waddles. "It's nothing but stupid aggression of an adolescent. I guess… I guess when I made them I never thought that one of the greatest investigators of anomalies would ever watch them."

Ford watched the teenager carefully and something dawned on him, something that nearly made him throw up. When Ford returned to his home dimension, he had his journals in his possession. He had opened Journal 3 and assumed that he'd skip a page or two from where he left off and resume documenting his research and findings in it, but he had found that his nephew had written and drawn on it. At the time, Ford was immensely angry about everything changing and needed to vent, so he passed off Dipper's recordings as pointless diary entries and spent all night spilling his aggravations onto the pages.

Dipper and Mabel only had the journal a handful of times after that. Ford had asked Mabel to record what she had discovered about unicorns and then Ford gave all three of the journals to Dipper to "look after them" while he hunted down the Mothman for some money he owed him, when in actuality Ford wanted to thank the boy for his loyalty and understanding by letting him look at his recordings, completely forgetting the harsh judgment he had indirectly delivered to Dipper by saying that being a twin was the only thing they had in common. If Dipper hadn't read Ford's rant then he most definitely did when the journal was restored and found just before summer ended.

Obviously, things were different than that first night Ford was home. Dipper and Ford had grown to be very close and the old scientist saw just how similar they were. It was a shame that Dipper never had a chance to read what Ford had written about his nephew before they threw the book into the Bottomless Pit. Ford had taken the time to read Dipper's last passage and wrote his own farewell, which contained something that Ford had mistakenly never taken the time to tell the young man. Ford had hoped that the old feeling of needing to earn his approval had died months ago, but clearly Dipper still felt the need to prove himself worthy to his hero. Ford was determined to make sure that Dipper knew that his fears were unfounded.

"Dipper," Ford said softly and the thirteen-year-old looked up at him. "I… I am flattered that you think so highly of me, but please understand that I hold you in the highest regard. You are far wiser at thirteen than I was at thirty and have a bright future ahead of you. And, for what it's worth, I'm very proud of you and your work, and I'm glad you recorded it so I could see it."

Dipper pressed his lips together and Ford was uncertain if he was trying to hold back a squeal or tears. He somewhat got his answers when Dipper wiped his stinging eyes with his arm and cleared his throat. "Th-Thanks, Grunkle Ford."

Ford gave him an encouraging smile and turned back to the VCR when it ejected the tape. "Unfortunately, this is the last one. Shame really, I've really enjoyed Dipper's Guide to the Unexplained."

"Let's make another one!" Mabel cried out and turned to Dipper. "What do you say, Dipper? What anomaly number should we work on?"

Dipper opened his journal and turned to the latest page. "I think I have just the oddity…"

"Hello! I'm Dipper Pines, here with one of the greatest investigators of anomalies of all time and achiever of twelve PhDs, Dr. Stanford Pines!"

"Thanks for the introduction, Dipper."

"Hey, how come I don't get one?!"

"Mabel, you're so spontaneous that you don't need one."

"I'll take that as a compliment!"

"Today we're here to investigate Anomaly #168: the Mothman. He owes Grunkle Ford some money and has been avoiding him ever since."

"But today we're gonna make that creepy bug pay him back! No one cheats a Pines!"

"You are definitely Stanley's niece."

#gravity falls #disney #fanfiction #stanford pines #dipper pines #mabel pines #gravity falls shorts #tapes

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crowdvscritic · 5 years ago

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round up // FEBRUARY 20

On Wednesdays we wear pink, and in February, I stay inside and watch Turner Classic Movies because it’s too gosh-darn cold to do anything else. I watched almost as many movies as days in this month, largely thanks to TCM’s 31 Days of Oscar. A few things I learned:

As much as I enjoy a good TV binge, I enjoy the satisfaction of a movie's end more.

Thank goodness TCM shows good movies when the theatres seem barren of them.

If anyone says women’s complaints about their depiction in Hollywood are overblown, I’d challenge them to watch my month’s lineup. Most female characters were basically non-existent or defined as objects of desire no matter what decade the movies were from.

In February, I also watch the Academy Awards. Most of the movies here were nominated for Oscars, but I’m also recommending a few more pop culture picks (including TV, social media, a book, articles, and music) for the month.

February Crowd-Pleasers

The Imagineering Story (2019)

The Imagineering Story tells the story behind the creation of Disney theme parks, with the greatest highlight of showing you how attractions are designed. Is this shameless Disney marketing on the Disney+ streaming service? Yep, but it’s so well done that for a moment I forgot about their unsettling takeover of the entertainment industry and wanted to quit everything I was doing to go work for them.

This Knives Out Sequel Twitter Thread

The Internet can be a scary place, but this thread reminds us the fun things that can happen when tons of strangers come together. My recommendation was Knives Out: In 2 the Donut Hole, but that’s mostly because someone beat me to Knives Out 2: Adam Driver Is In It.

Classic Action Double Feature: The Magnificent Seven (1960) and The Dirty Dozen (1967)

Your girl loves star-studded team-ups, and it’s never better than when an action movie rounds up its squad of special skills. Also a Charles Bronson double feature! (Bonus: I recommend checking out the 2016 Magnificent Seven remake for a reevaluation of some of the elements that haven’t aged well in the original.)

Classic Comedy Double Feature: Moonstruck (1987) and Road to Morocco (1942)

Moonstruck is like My Big Fat Greek Wedding meets While You Were Sleeping, and Cher’s 1980s hair is a mood. (Arguably, so is Nicolas Cage’s chest hair.) Road to Morocco is like Airplane! meets Aladdin, and the silliness has hardly aged thanks to the talents of Bing Crosby and Bob Hope.

Joyful by Ingrid Fetell Lee

The science of joy? This non-fiction book is as fun a read as it should be! It’s not providing answers to deep questions of philosophy, but it’s about a philosophy that can bring life changes. I was amazed by stories of how bright colors, circular spaces, and Northern Lights can inspire joy no matter what your circumstances are. The only problem with this book is that you constantly want to Google every beautiful things she is describing—maybe we need a big coffee table book with photos as a second edition?

'90s Action Double Feature:Tremors (1990) and The Fugitive (1993)

You know a movie's good when you tense up even though you know what's coming. I'd caught bits and pieces of The Fugitive on TV, but this Harrison Ford/Tommy Lee Jones standoff still sucked me in when I watched it start-to-finish. Tremors is not a good movie—this is a movie so bad it’s great. If on some Friday night you need a big, dumb action movie with terrible dialogue, a monster created with dated special effects, and forgettable characters getting picked off one by one and coasts entirely on the charisma of Kevin Bacon and Reba McEntire (???), have I got the movie for you!

February Critic Picks

These Pieces on the Grammys Controversy

The New York Times and Variety wrote about why the firing of President/CEO Deborah Dugan and her subsequent lawsuit won’t be disappearing even though the Recording Academy is trying hard as heck to do that. As one too invested in how the arts are recognized and celebrated, I’m paying attention to what appears to be a scandal just waiting to be uncovered.

“Can the Grammys Be Trusted?” by Jon Caramanica (The New York Times)

“The Grammys May Be Over, but the Recording Academy Scandal Isn’t” by Jem Aswad (Variety)

Dark Passage (1947)

An exception to the trend of weak female roles in the films I watched this month. Lauren Bacall and Humphrey Bogart re-team for their third film (of four) together in this romantic film noir. Bogart plays a wrongfully accused escaped convict, and Bacall is the woman who helps him keep his cover. The unconventional first-person camera angles at the beginning will catch your attention, but their chemistry will keep you invested till the end.

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The Oscars

The 2020 Oscars ceremony was one of the most bonkers ceremonies in recent memory. Bonkers is preferable to boring, and I love any night celebrating movies, so I have very few complaints about an evening spent with friends eating movie-themed snacks. (Anyone care for an Adam Screw-Driver?) My favorite moments came thanks to Bong Joon Ho, especially his wins for Best Original Screenplay and Best Director.

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The French Dispatch Trailer (2020)

A star-studded team-up about Midwestern journalists from the aesthetically-pleasing mind of Wes Anderson? Take my money!

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Classic War Comedy Double Feature: Life Is Beautiful (1997) and Dr. Strangelove (1964)

They were both nominated for Best Picture, and they both find humor in the darkest of war. In Life Is Beautiful (La Vita è Bella), a father transforms a Nazi concentration camp into a game to save his son’s innocence. In Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb, a bunch of incompetent leaders try to prevent nuclear war. Neither sounds funny, but they pull it off with delicate execution. (Bonus: Enjoy Robert Benigni winning an Oscar!)

The Slow Rush by Tame Impala

As my brother would say, this album slaps.

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Leap Day Bonus

“What a Man Gotta Do” by the Jonas Brothers

My apologies to the Jo Bros for forgetting to include this in my January Round Up—this movie-inspired music video is a treat.

Also in February…

Yes, I love the Oscars, but considering how much viewership went down, it seems the Academy could do more to draw people in. One of my favorite film podcasts inspired me to brainstorm seven ways the Oscars could make the public care again in a piece for ZekeFilm.

The writers of ZekeFilm counted down our favorite films of 2019, most of which you can find on streaming now.

Kyla and I discussed a rock ‘n’ roll documentary and a camp classic on SO IT’S A SHOW? this month.

If you want to see the full list of movies I watched this month, you can find it on Letterboxd.

Photo credits: Grammys, Tame Impala. Joyful my own. All others IMDb.com.

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hey-malarkey · 6 years ago

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Ford doesn’t like kissing this face. It’s too young, too soft in all the wrong places. No angles, no sag, no rough skin and not nearly enough hair.

But he pushes through, treating every kiss with the attention it deserves, with the care he wants to show. He lets his lips linger and draw the younger man in. He lets his hands roam over a body that has far too much baby-fat for his tastes. The chub that a growing young man needs. The last few inches they’d both gained in the years they’d been apart, Ford had shed his extra weight for its purpose.

Stan had kept it, body going into starvation mode and collecting fat like there was no tomorrow. He misses the belly on his Stan, the tough muscle beneath it, the strength and slouch of his brother.

This Stan, barely eighteen, was just a shadow, a hint of who his brother would be. Of who his brother could be. It all depends on time and the timeline and a juxtaposition of time-travelers and multi-dimensional travelers and a whole slew of business Ford didn’t think about before coming here.

This Stan was much younger than he wanted. But he was here. And Stan was alone, so he would make Stan not alone.

He let himself be pushed down to the bed, the young, enthusiastic face he remembered barely remembering to smile convincingly. To flutter the thick eyelashes they’d shared, to remember to be enticing and pushy and everything he needs to be to fill his belly and fill his tank afterwards.

Ford pulls him in closer and rocks them so Stan is back-to-bed, a slight oof escaping him and Ford already pushing down, hips together, and languidly kissing this Stan. He’s already decided he’s going to keep him for a little longer. Now to convince Stan he should be kept. It shouldn’t be hard. His brother, in any of his forms, never had much self-esteem. A few well-placed words, a few well-placed compliments, and this one would be his.

He closes his eyes for a moment as he leans over Stan, feeling the wrongness to his very core before he takes a deep breath and exhales. He presses butterfly kisses across the bridge of his nose, to each eyelid, before moving further down to playfully bite but not mark the neck.

This is not his Stan. With the right guidance, maybe he will never be his Stan. Maybe he’ll be better off. Or maybe after they’ve parted Stan will have missed some essential lesson to survival by his time with Ford, and he will die.

Ford listens to this Stan’s breath hitch and the low gasps of surprise and pleasure fall freely from his lips. Ford doesn’t even think they’re exaggerated for his bought benefit. Ford smiles into the kisses and says a few pretty words.

Stan’s eyes are bright and wide and ready to be molded. Ford shapes Stan’s body with his hands as he holds the young man in them. He will do what he can.

Ford lets the disappointment at not kissing his Stan fade in favor of knowing if he plays his cards right, given time, this Stan can become his in all the ways that matter.

#2fords #heylark writes #stancest #implied prostitution #homeless stan #ambiguous ford #you decide what ford's intentions are here #and why he's jumping universes to find different stans #ford misses his stan but he can't have him right now #tbh this was going to be a teacher ford thing but i switched it halfway thru to be this instead #maybe later

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what-if-rpg · 5 years ago

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Welcome to the family, B! Your application to COOPER ANDERSON was accepted, as well as the changes. I am really happy to have you around! Make sure to read the beginners checklist, and remember, have fun! I can’t wait to roleplay with you! Have fun!

IN CHARACTER

CHARACTER NAME: Cooper James Anderson. CHARACTER AGE & DATE OF BIRTH: 27 / 18th January 1992. OCCUPATION: Actor and Musician. (Broadway) FACE CLAIM: Brendon Urie. HOMETOWN & CITY WHERE LIVES NOW: Boston MA, New York City. SEXUAL ORIENTATION & GENDER: Bisexual and Male. RELATIONSHIP STATUS: In a Relationship. POSITIVE TRAITS: Loyal, Caring, Passionate. NEGATIVE TRAITS: Hot-tempered, Impulsive, Arrogant. CHARACTER QUOTE/LYRIC: Now I’m gonna fuck up a hotel lobby. ANYTHING ELSE?: FC change please!

HEADCANONS

Cooper has always dreamed of the arts after growing up with his passions fuelled by his mother. He is a multi-instrumentalist who writes music as a hobby. The man has a band named Saint!California who regularly releases music. Cooper makes appearances as a singer but is torn on where his loyalties lie in his career. He feels tied to Broadway by more than one thing but often thinks he should move away from it and pursue music full time. The band seem to be in demand and he is proud of the work he has created, leaving him with guilt over the lack of attention he gives it. Cooper has become rather fond of the stage, escaping as someone else for a few hours each night can help with the confusion he finds himself clouded by, it’s a good compromise…. for now.

As a child, Cooper shined in a local stage school he attended on weekends. The boy was picked up for multiple commercials and his acting resume grew more and more. When he reached High School, he had an arrogance and ego around him though being turned down for a role in the school’s production of Grease had him swear off musical theatre. Cooper went in a mood with all things musical, including Broadway. After graduating, he left Boston for Hollywood and spent six long months scrapping around for work. His agent then turned his attention to New York with an audition as a swing in Newsies. The nineteen year old turned his nose up at the offer immediately, though after long conversations with his mother and agent, they suggested he bite the bullet and try it out. It would give him a step into the industry as his mother said, he was “only nineteen, he had time to be in line for the next Oscar.” Now, Cooper feels like he’d gotten lost in Broadway. He does enjoy it though he also wonders What if? What if something else had happened instead?

Cooper has a few different ticks about him. He’s a bit of a mess when you look close enough. His biggest fear is not being able to escape situations. When in the middle of an argument, Cooper will often storm out of a room and leave for a few hours. He needs to feel as though he can remove himself from a situation otherwise it sends him into a flurry of a panic. Paparazzi is one thing that Cooper internally struggles with. On the outside, he’s all smiles and cheery tones though he’s battling a fight inside him. Cooper is very open with his fans and they usually hold great respect for him. The paparazzi are ones who care less about his personal space and more about capturing the right photo. It’s a part of his life that he tries to avoid as much as possible, if and when he can.

You’ll be pushed to find someone who loves their fans more than Cooper does. With an addiction to Instagram, his fans are never shy of content and the latest smiling selfie. The man also takes a great fondness to Instagram Live where he will sit and talk to fans while cooking or waiting in his dressing room. Cooper is one to hold free signing events and concerts when possible, which he funds himself. Though raised in a middle class, it’s his mother’s roots that bring him back down to that humble level. The eldest Anderson holds great appreciation to those around him and does his best to give back as often as he can, whatever the cost.

CONNECTIONS

PARENTS: Pamela and Richard Anderson. Born to middle-class parents, Pam (a children’s book author) and Richard (a renowned lawyer) Cooper is probably the biggest Momma’s boy you’ll ever come across. After the family struggled to conceive, the news of their first child brought them so much joy. Pam always had a soft spot for the eldest who adored her more than anything. Pam is someone Cooper will often turn to for advice or comfort but his father and he hold a tense relationship. Richard has always pushed a lot of high expectations on his eldest and when he grew less and less like the young lawyer his father dreamed of, he became cold towards him. Though his father and he don’t get along, the only joint interest the two share are working lazy Sundays in the garage on old cars. Cooper became a bit of a grease monkey during the summer and when he was fourteen, he fixed up his grandfather’s old 1965 Ford Mustang. Even though he’s moved out of the house, he’s still close to his mother and always go home for the holidays. Christmas isn’t the same without his family. SIBLING: Blaine Anderson. The two Andersons have always held an interesting relationship. Cooper truly does care about Blaine, maybe a little too much that he often pushes his little brother to achieve his potential. Ultimately though, they hold a true brotherly relationship. Cooper loves nothing more than winding up his younger sibling and teasing him. At the end of the day, Cooper will jump into a fight to defend his brother in a heartbeat. Family is important to him. BOYFRIEND: Jesse St. James. Broadway was a daunting place for the new actor and starting a big show such as Les Miserables couldn’t be more than intimidating. Befriending an experienced actor hadn’t been his worst idea. That was until one night at a cast party, six months into their friendship and the show, the two shared a drunken kiss. He can’t really tell you when they started ‘dating’ behind closed doors but he knows he’s conflicted. Giving into Jesse’s advances, he finds feeling like a dirty secret eats away at his conscience, as well as the drama happening in Jesse’s life, he never knows where he stands. After Jesse’s divorce was filed, his cast-mate moved in with and within months they became official. It was a relationship the fans generated and they melted into. Cooper knows he has at least some feelings for his cast mate who have become something of a Broadway Duo, appearing regularly in shows together that only appeals further to the fans. Now eleven months into dating officially, he finds himself bickering with his boyfriend with a few treasured moments in-between. Cooper can’t decide if he wants to get out of this relationship but he finds himself falling back into that man’s life, even if it’s not a completely happy one. BEST FRIEND: Ellie Weeks [NPC]. A friend he grew up with after she moved to Boston from London. He attended school with her and the two are incredibly close. She’s someone who has seen every side to him; giggly; upset; moody; or blackout drunk on the floor. Cooper runs most of his big ideas past her and she’s more often than not, the one to intervene on his impulsive ideas. She knows him inside out and adores his friendship, he’s like her adopted American brother. Ellie is one of the few people who sees through the lines with Jesse and Cooper’s relationship. She is not fond of the other man by any means but holds her tongue for Cooper’s sake. She has warned him enough but trusts when he tells her “I’m fine, El, trust me.” She can’t help but worry about him getting hurt. RIVAL: Wanted Connection [UTP]. Someone Cooper can’t stand. They know how to get his back up and provoke the hot-tempered attitude in him. The mention of their name can draw a scowl to his face and he will easily rise to the bait. The two often find each other by chance and there’s always some sort of tension or altercation when they’re in the same room. As of late, they’ve ended up seeing more and more of each other and Cooper can only grumble about it.

#Cooper Anderson #Accepted #Glee RP #Glee RPG #RP

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anistarrose · 7 years ago

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More Alike Than They Realize (Gravity Falls One-Shot)

Word Count: ~1700

Summary: Stan finds a jittery, apologetic Ford up late one night, and the following conversation doesn’t go anywhere near where he thought it was going. Post-Weirdmageddon.

Warnings: None

Contains a lot more fluff and meta jokes than the summary suggests.

For the first time since Weirdmageddon, Stan woke up knowing exactly who, where, and when he was. The bulk of his memories, especially the enjoyable ones from the past summer and his childhood, had returned within about forty-eight hours, but six days later he was still having occasional lapses, the worst of which occurred upon waking up – until now, apparently. He hoped it would last.

He rolled over and looked at his clock. 12:15 A.M. Well, that was less cause for celebration. His head hurt – not unusual lately – and his mouth was dry – not anything to worry about, but still unpleasant.

Careful not to make any sound that could wake Ford or the kids, he made his way down to the kitchen. Warm milk usually helped him get to sleep.

I hope there’s still some left, he thought. The kids and I have been going through a lot since –

“Stanley, is everything alright?” Ford had been sitting at the kitchen table in complete darkness aside from the multi-colored glow of his laptop screen. “Do you know who I am?”

Stan hurriedly rushed to the fridge. “Don’t worry, Sixer, I remember fine. Just wanted get somethin’ to drink before I go to back to bed.” Ford’s concern was pretty reasonable given the state Stan was usually in when he wandered the Shack at night, and had Stan actually been in the middle of a lapse his brother’s presence would have been appreciated, but at the moment he didn’t want Ford worrying about him. He wanted to sleep.

“That’s great to hear,” Ford told him. “But Stanley, we need to talk.” He put himself between Stan and the door. “I was a fool, I realize that now. I hope you’ll forgive me.”

“Ford, you already apologized,” Stan replied. “About a hundred times. I promise, I’ve forgiven you –”

Stan suddenly noticed Ford’s eyes were bloodshot and his hair was even more of an unkempt mess than usual. “Stanford, are you feelin’ okay? You look… paranoid. Do you need to run more tests to make sure Bill is –”

Realization dawned on Ford’s face – and then he chuckled sadly, like he was laughing at himself rather than Stan. “Oh, no, Stan. This isn’t about Weirdmageddon. I didn’t worry you too much, did I?”

“Wait, then what is it –” Stan noticed the bowl on the kitchen table next to Ford’s laptop. “Is that popcorn? How the hell did you make popcorn at midnight without waking up the whole house?”

“It’s just simple sound-wave cancelling technology I picked up in Dimension B-56,” Ford replied automatically. “But the point is, I need to completely and sincerely take back what I said to you and about your… taste in entertainment on my second full day back in this dimension. I made a hasty judgement based on the show’s… target demographics, and I see now that I was wrong. So very, very wrong.”

“Sixer, you’re not making any… wait.” Stan suddenly remembered what had aired on Ford’s second day back in Gravity Falls. “You started watching Ducktective, didn’t you?”

“I did, Stanley! And it’s so much better than I was emotionally prepared for! After you saved me from Probabilitor that one day, I asked Dipper if I could join you watching the new episode, but he said it would be full of spoilers and showed me how I could stream it from the beginning when I had the time – and now I’m addicted! I can’t believe I called it a kids’ show; the mysteries of the overarching story transcend age demographics like nothing I’ve ever seen before! I’m nowhere near caught up and I already have so many theories! I’m not even sure if the younger Ducktective we saw in the time travel episode was actually him!”

“Whoa whoa whoa, Poindexter, slow down.” A grin was spreading across Stan’s face. “How far in have you gotten? Ten episodes?”

“Twelve,” Ford corrected. “I just finished the one where his rival Pete the pelican was wrongly accused and came to Ducktective for help –”

“Hey, that’s a really underrated one!”

“Wait, who didn’t like it? That was some of the finest comedy I’ve seen in the entire multiverse!”

“Dipper said Pete’s change of heart was unrealistic! Can you believe it?”

“If I wasn’t indebted to him for introducing me to the show in the first place, he would be dead to me,” Ford agreed in an overly dramatic tone.

“You gotta watch the next couple episodes right now, Sixer. Episode 13 is a goddamn emotional journey, and Episode 14 – well, I don’t want to spoil it. It needs to be seen to be believed, anyways. And then rewatched multiple times after learning what happens in the season finale.”

“Are you going to stay to watch alongside me?” Ford asked as he sat back down in front of his laptop.

“And miss you tearing up?” Stan pulled up a chair. “Pass the popcorn, would ya?”

“We’ll see about that,” Ford replied, but when Ducktective was finally reunited with his long-lost partner Steve, he couldn’t help but shed a single tear. Stan shed quite a few more, despite having seen the episode at least twice before, but Ford didn’t rub it in his face.

Ford was a bit confused, however, when the town erected a hyper-realistic statue of Ducktective to honor him for his continued work, and Stan bawled his eyes out seeing how Ducktective refused to look at the monument for longer than a few seconds.

“He’s just not used to the attention! What’s so sad about that?” Ford asked.

“You don’t understand,” Stan sobbed. It took all of his willpower not to explain that the statue reminded Ducktective of his long-lost twin gone evil. Ford had more or less guessed the twist already thanks to the time travel episode and the extra room in Ducktective’s childhood home, but Stan was drawing on all his con man power to act like Ford’s theory was crazy.

During a lull in the action in Episode 17, Ford paused the video and said: “I’m getting a little tired, but I can’t stop watching yet. Do you mind if we go sit somewhere where I won’t wake up with back pains in case I do fall asleep?”

Stan was also very tired, but there was no way he was going to miss Ford’s reaction to the next episode’s reveal. “While we’re at it, let’s go someplace where you won’t wake up the kids when you scream. There’s a big plot twist comin’ up.”

Ford closed the laptop. “I’d suggest the basement, but it’s probably pretty cold down there. We can go to my private study.”

Stan frowned. “Not exactly a lot of comfortable furniture in there, is there?”

“No, especially not after I cleaned it out. I was thinking we could bring blankets – wait, you’ve been in there? It’s supposed to be a secret!”

Stan snorted. “Sixer, I lived in this house for thirty years. Now go get those blankets.”

“Great Uncle Ford? Grunkle Stan? Are you guys okay? What are you doing down here?”

Stan tried to sit up, but something above him slipped, and several surprisingly heavy blankets fell on his face. Besides, he didn’t really want to get up. He was reminded of the good old days when he and Ford would hang some blankets from the top bunk, then sit on Stan’s bed together reading comic books, telling ghost stories, and generally making a mess with snacks.

“Morning, Dipper,” he heard Ford mumble. “I’m sorry we didn’t make breakfast…”

“Grunkle Ford, we were so worried about you!” Mabel yelled. “We thought you got kidnapped by gnomes or one of the last few eye-bats or something! But this whole time, you were just down here in your secret room?! You even built a whole blanket fort without us!”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” Ford pulled his laptop out from under his blankets. “I didn’t even consider the possibility that you wouldn’t realize where we were. We just didn’t want to wake you with our reactions to Ducktective.” He glared at Stan. “I can’t believe I predicted Ducktective’s twin brother almost a whole season in advance and Stan just pretended that my theory was ridiculous.”

“Hey, what was I supposed to do, spoil the ending of the best episode in the whole show?”

“How about simply not making fun of me for ‘looking too deep’ into everything?”

Mabel shook her head. “I can’t believe you nerds.”

“Hey, you can say that about Ford, but not me,” Stan complained. “I’m not like him and Dipper, not at –”

“You kind of are, though,” Ford told him, trying and failing not to laugh. “Obviously not to the same extent as myself, but we did just stay up until three in the morning watching a children’s show and discussing elaborate conspiracy theories about it. We’re more alike than you realize, Stanley.”

“So? It was one time!”

“I seem to recall we did this kind of thing pretty often when we were kids. Obviously not on a laptop, but with equally nerdy works of fiction nonetheless.”

“You’re an honorary nerd now whether you like it or not, Grunkle Stan,” Dipper added.

Stan shook his head. “Ya know, I was gonna apologize for making you worry, but now I’m not so sure.”

“You should apologize for ruining our blanket fort, Stanley,” Ford chided jokingly. “It was an absolute marvel of engineering before you decided to drag down the roof.”

“A real marvel of engineering wouldn’t let its roof get dragged down that easily!”

Ford frowned. “Uh, let’s go get breakfast. Kids, do you know if there’s any pancake mix left?”

“Ha, so you admit I have a point!”

“Honestly,” Mabel interrupted, “I’m not mad anymore that you guys disappeared into the basement to build a blanket fort and eat popcorn and watch your show. I’m just mad that you didn’t invite us.”

“Yeah!” Dipper added. “I wanted to see Ford’s reaction to the season finale.”

Ford smiled. “Well, we still have about… ten episodes before I’m caught up?”

“Eight,” Stan corrected. “Plus the shorts. But yeah, you kids could join us.”

“Will there be popcorn?” Mabel asked.

“Of course!”

Mabel and Dipper exchanged a look.

“Are we forgiven?” Stan asked.

The kids nodded in unison. “You’re forgiven.”

Thanks for reading! Ford’s reaction to Ducktective is loosely based on my own reaction to Gravity Falls: skeptical when first learning of it, then genuinely interested after hearing good things, then way too emotionally invested in it.

#gravity falls #stanley pines #stanford pines #mabel pines #dipper pines #rosalia writes fic #fluff #i was reading and writing some pretty angsty fic when i took a break to write this #which explains why it's so much more self-indulgent and happy than it seems at first #anyways if i could sum up my initial reaction to gf when i first watched in 2017 #with one line from this fic #it would be 'so much better than i was emotionally prepared for'#might be projecting onto ford just a bit #but it's undeniably in character for him

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ladylynse · 7 years ago

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Crossroads: Part II

A Gravity Falls/Over the Garden Wall fanfiction

Happy birthday, @paperhoodie! Thanks again for drawing this lovely cover (also on deviantart).

Part I: Mabel and Dipper have dealt with a demon before, so when they wind up lost in the woods and are given two choices by a creepy kid with a lantern, they make sure to pick the third option—but every choice has consequences, even when you don’t play by the rules.

Part II: How much do you dare trust something that might not even be real? Memories, people...even reality itself? (FFnet | AO3)

He became aware of the steady beeping first, and then aware of the fact that he was aware of it. More sounds and sensations swirled over him—the high-pitched whine of machinery, a firm mattress beneath him, the sharp smell of some sort of antiseptic, inconsistent waves of suffocating heat, a mouth that seemed completely deprived of saliva, and—childish babble?

Greg?

Greg!

Wirt tried to say something. He tried to move. He didn’t manage either. Not coherently, anyway. He managed to pry open his eyes—why was it so bright?—and lift a finger, but he felt stiff and exhausted. He wasn’t entirely sure he had actually managed to make a sound, either. If he had, it hadn’t been heard over Greg.

Greg was perched on the end of his bed in the hospital room—when had he ended up in the hospital?—and Wirt could feel the steady swinging of Greg’s feet through the mattress. Greg didn’t notice that he was awake; instead, Greg stared up at the ceiling, counting the dots on the tiles.

Greg’s voice—every sound, really—was distorted, as if Wirt were listening to it from underwater, but he could still make out the words. “Six hundred and forty-two, six hundred and forty-three, six hundred—”

A shrill series of beeps went off elsewhere, an alarm, but Greg continued unfazed.

The hum in the background grew louder, like someone had turned downed the volume on the rest of the world so that only the hum remained. Wirt shut his eyes again and tried to focus solely on Greg’s voice, but it was getting harder and harder to make out. He needed something to ground him. He needed…he needed….

The next time Wirt woke, Greg was gone. There was a nurse, doing…something…. Why couldn’t he think clearly? A syringe and an IV and—was that connected to his arm?

He tried to say something again and managed a sort of grunt that caught her attention. She smiled at him and said something, but there was water rushing in his ears, and he was just so tired….

Wirt lost track of time. Even once he became more lucid, everything seemed to blur together. Nothing made any sense, ether.

Greg came by daily, sometimes on his own but usually with at least one of their parents in tow. A couple of his friends stopped in, but never for very long; they’d all try to make small talk and then, when uncomfortable silence swelled too often for too long, invent an excuse to leave. No one really knew what to say.

He’d been in the hospital. He knew that much. He still wasn’t sure why. Until he’d caught sight of green leaves on the trees outside, he’d feared that it had never been summer at all, that it was still shortly after Halloween, that he’d never woken up until now and that everything he remembered—because he did still remember that, at least most of it—was just something invented by his subconscious.

Greg was the one who finally told him the story. No months’ long coma or anything terrible like that, just a horrible fever. Admittedly, it had been a fever that had stubbornly stayed upwards of a hundred and three for days, and with him eating nothing and sweating out or vomiting the little he did drink, his parents had bundled him up and taken him in, and there he had stayed.

Wirt remembered none of that.

“You weren’t acting like yourself,” Greg informed him the night Wirt was finally released. He sat on his bed, swinging his legs much like he had at the hospital; Wirt stood in front of him, desperate for answers. He had thought it was safer to ask questions in Greg’s room than in his; in here, their parents might think they were merely playing and not bother to listen in. “You kept saying weird things. Mom says you were delicious.”

Wirt frowned. “You mean delirious?”

Greg hummed and nodded. “But then the fever broke and you got better. I think it was because Jason Funderburker kissed you.” Wirt stared at him, but as Greg continued, blithely unaware of Wirt’s unease, Wirt realized he had been talking about his frog. “I wasn’t supposed to bring him in but he wanted to come visit you, too.”

Wirt swallowed and glanced at the table where the pet frog’s giant habitat sat, but it was empty. “I’ll have to thank him, then. Where is he?”

“In your room. He missed you.”

Right. He should have guessed. “How long was I gone?”

Greg’s legs stopped swinging. “Forever,” he said. Somehow, it didn’t sound like an exaggeration. “I’m glad you’re back now. Promise not to leave again?”

Wirt forced a smile on his face. “What makes you think I’m going to leave?” he asked instead, reaching over to ruffle Greg’s hair and diving to tickle him as he dodged.

The distraction worked. Wirt was glad; he couldn’t make that promise. Not yet. He didn’t think he could keep it yet.

It hadn’t been delirium. It hadn’t been a dream. It had been too real for that.

Mabel and Dipper, whoever they were, had helped him. Had freed him. He had to at least try to help them in return. He wasn’t sure how yet, wasn’t even sure if he’d be able to find them, but he was going to try.

“What are you doing?”

Oh, no. He’d hoped to get away before Greg found him. He turned as Greg trotted into his room and smiled. He didn’t want to lie to his brother; Greg didn’t deserve that. “I need to help a couple of friends.”

Greg was silent for a few seconds, taking in the duffel bag that was already stuffed full of clothes and toiletries and survival supplies and everything else Wirt thought he might need. Wirt braced himself for the inevitable questions: Why are you leaving? Where are you going?

Instead, he got, “Why are you packing your Halloween costume?”

“Because Summerween’s next week,” Wirt answered automatically, but even as he said it, he didn’t know if that was true. It was practically next week already, and he wasn’t sure when he’d met the twins (he was convinced they were twins, not just siblings). Time in the Unknown was different than it was here. Days there could be minutes here, so days here…. Mabel and Dipper were probably home by now.

Or they might never have made it back.

Then again, if time did pass so differently, it didn’t make sense that he’d lived two lives. Even if he couldn’t remember any more of his time in the Unknown than when he’d been with the twins, the lantern had been burning brightly; he’d been there for a while, or at least regularly. There wouldn’t have been time for years to pass between his visits. Something didn’t add up.

But they had been real. He knew that. He’d even gone to the library to do as much research on them and the little he knew about them as he could. He could recall everything from then clearly, much more vividly than if it had just been a dream. The names they had given him were Dipper and Mabel. They had a pet pig named Waddles and great-uncles named Stan and Ford. They had fought someone called Bill Cipher.

The names hadn’t proven useful, especially when the only one with a last name he knew was supposed to be a demon. But some of the other odd things they’d mentioned—Summerween and Weirdmageddon—had helped him narrow it down. He wasn’t sure how reliable the information was, of course, but every mention of those words—however sketchy—seemed to lead him to one place, and by combing through online newspapers, he’d been able to put some people with those names in that town.

It was a crazy idea, but he didn’t know what else to do.

So he was packing a bag, and he’d used his money to buy a bus ticket to Gravity Falls, and he hoped his parents wouldn’t kill him once they read the note he was planning to leave behind.

He had twenty minutes.

“That sounds fun. I’ll pack mine, too.”

“You’re not coming, Greg.”

“Why not?”

Wirt’s hands shook, so he stuffed the old army cloak into his suitcase to cover up his body’s betrayal. “Because I won’t be able to protect you.”

“Well, maybe I can protect you.”

That’s what I’m afraid of. Wirt didn’t want Greg to try to sacrifice himself like that again. He took a slow breath. “I need you to take care of Mom and Dad.”

“They can take care of themselves. They have each other. Who will you have if you don’t have me?”

Wirt dearly hoped the answer to that question wasn’t the Beast or any other demon, including this Bill Cipher, but he couldn’t explain anything. He couldn’t explain how he had seemingly been in two places at once, living two different lives. He couldn’t explain his lost time there or even his lost time here. What if none of it been real after all, and he’d simply imagined meeting Dipper and Mabel and pulled out some tidbits of information from his subconscious while in a feverish state?

Or was this the life which wasn’t real?

Wirt swallowed. He didn’t know. He wasn’t sure who he could trust. If that had been real and this wasn’t….

Nice illusions make the best traps. That’s what Mabel had said. And wasn’t she right?

You can be shown what you want to see. If you think everything is fine, you’re never going to fight it. How was he supposed to know what this was if illusions could be so convincing?

No. He had to trust that it was all real, somehow. As real as his previous trip over the garden wall and into those woods with Greg on Halloween. He didn’t have Dipper’s apparent understanding of deals with demons, but he could understand the gist of it. If Dipper had been right—partially right, considering this life was real, too—and he had still belonged to the Beast, then maybe he had been more useful to the Beast as a puppet. And maybe he had stopped the Woodsman from blowing out the lantern. But maybe he had still followed Greg back to this world, had still been able to live his life here….

Until the Beast needed him again. Until he was called back. To guard the woods. Keep watch for lost souls. Ferry people across the lake.

Keep the lantern burning.

And as long as that happened, the Beast didn’t need him the entire time. The lantern could have burned without its guardian in that quiet corner of the woods as long as he returned regularly to harvest Edelwood to feed it—and to keep children from finding their way out of the woods so that their souls could be claimed by the Beast, too.

He couldn’t remember falling ill at all this year, didn’t know if it had happened with any regularity or if this last fever had been mere coincidence. He doubted it, though. Fever, flame…. It had to be connected.

Especially since he couldn’t remember what had happened before he’d woken in the hospital.

Not really.

Dipper had said something about keeping the lantern lit, about being more useful as a puppet than as a tree, and then….

And then nothing, not even a blur or the vague sense of a fading dream.

That scared him.

Even more terrifying was the fact that he didn’t know if it was over.

This was the first time he was aware of it, but that was because Mabel and Dipper had snapped him out of it while he’d still been there. That didn’t mean he was free. It didn’t mean the Beast was gone, that the lantern had gone out, or even that Dipper had been right in thinking it a loophole. It didn’t mean the Beast couldn’t pull him back there and use him again.

“Wirt?”

He couldn’t remember what Greg had said, if he’d even asked a question.

“I’m going to go pack. You need me.”

Wirt turned, but Greg was already disappearing. No, he wanted to say. Don’t. What if I can’t protect you? I don’t want you mixed up in this. Not again. Please, just stay here.

But the words didn’t come. Greg was right: Wirt did need him. He was terrified. He didn’t know what he was getting into. Having Greg’s unshakable faith by his side would be a comfort.

But losing it, and knowing it was his fault? Could he really risk that? Again?

Wirt sighed, pulled out his wallet, and began counting his money; if this was going to be a trip for two, he needed to make sure he had enough to cover everything. Greg was not going to suffer because of him. Not again. Not in this. “I’m going to protect you, Greg. I swear, this time, I’ll keep you safe.”

The bus stop in Gravity Falls was nothing more than a sign and a bench on the outskirts of town. Wirt stepped off the bus and looked around uncertainly, carrying both his bag and Greg’s. Greg was humming as he followed Wirt. He didn’t feel…whatever this was. If he did, it didn’t bother him.

It wasn’t something Wirt could put his finger on. It felt like he’d stepped into an electrical field, like the hairs on his arms should be standing up even though they lay flat. He couldn’t hear anything, but there was still…something. Not a hum, exactly, but a…a….

There was a small pop. Wirt turned, spotting the redheaded girl leaning against a tree on the other side of the road as she asked, “So, who are you two attached to?”

“Um….”

“I’m Greg,” Greg said, bounding across the road to the girl as she blew another pink bubble. “That’s my brother, Wirt. We’re on an adventure!”

The girl popped this bubble, too, and cracked a smile. She uncrossed her arms and crouched down to Greg’s level. “Nice to meet ya, Greg. Now, what makes you think you and Wirt are going to find an adventure in boring old Gravity Falls?”

“Not sure I’d call it boring,” Wirt muttered, because if this place had demons, too, it couldn’t be. And Mabel may not have explained what she meant by Weirdmageddon, but if half of what he’d found online had even a smidgeon of truth….

The girl’s eyebrows shot up and she looked over at Wirt. “Sounds like you’d enjoy a trip to the Mystery Shack.”

“What’s the Mystery Shack?” Greg asked.

“Exactly what it sounds like.” The girl winked. “It also happens to be where I’m headed; my break’s over. I brought the golf cart if you’d care for a ride. I’m Wendy, by the way.”

Wirt had no idea where he should start looking, and he vaguely recalled something about the Mystery Shack, so he smiled. “That would be nice, thanks.”

“Follow me. I’m just parked over here,” Wendy said, pointing, “and it’s not far. If Greg doesn’t mind squishing in the middle or sitting on your lap, Wirt, you can toss your bags into the back.”

“What brings you out here if you’re just on your break?” Wirt asked, glancing over at Wendy. She looked like she was about his age, but she didn’t seem the type to just hang out at a bus stop for no reason. “You can’t have very long.”

He saw the smile drop from her face, and her expression became more guarded. “I like the fresh air,” was all she said. He couldn’t bring himself to believe her, but he didn’t push it.

Once they were all settled in the golf cart, their luggage safely stowed in the rack at the back, the trip wasn’t very long. Wirt suspected Wendy had driven carefully for Greg’s sake, and he was grateful for that; the cart certainly looked battered enough to have been rolled at some point. He was already regretting allowing Greg to come along. He wasn’t even sure what he was doing here anymore.

Wendy stopped around back and told them they were free to bring their bags inside for now—“Safer than leaving them out in the open.”—although Wirt had no idea who would steal their luggage here. He wasn’t even sure they had followed a road into the place; the main road looked to come from the other direction.

That’s not to say the trail wasn’t well signed; it seemed like every few trees, there was a sign declaring the Mystery Shack, with an arrow pointing the way. But he couldn’t understand why these people would be advertising for it from anywhere but the main road. No one would be coming towards it from the woods.

Granted, from the looks of the place, he wasn’t sure too many people would be coming towards it from the road, either. It looked barely a step above the place where Lorna and Auntie Whispers had lived. Ramshackle, though not abandoned. Falling apart despite a patchwork of repairs, though clean enough to be loved.

The chime above the door went as Wendy led them in, and Wirt heard, “Wendy, did they c— Oh, welcome, newcomers! Behold the Mystery Shack, where all—”

The spiel continued, but Wirt stopped listening in favour of staring. He’d had his doubts just seeing this place from the outside, but now…. It was all so obviously fake. He could see the stitches holding the mermaid together, the antlers on that jackalope were much too large to even be plausible, the merchandise looked cheap and corny…. The missing S from the giant sign on the roof seemed to make the name true. This was more hack than anything else. Why else would there a wax head of Larry King just sitting on a shelf, glaring at them all from behind the counter? This place was one which was too confusing for people to make sense of it, not somewhere that offered a real sense of mystery.

“Wirt, Wirt, look at this! It’s just like that painting at Unkie Endicott’s! Of the ghost lady who wasn’t a ghost! And I think her eyes are moving.” Greg was grinning as he walked back and forth in front of the painting, staring at the canvas.

“You’ll have to pay if you want to see more than just the shop,” Wendy added as she plucked their bags from Wirt’s grip and slid behind the counter with them. “We might have a new Mr. Mystery, but the rules of the business haven’t changed.”

Mr. Mystery smiled rather sheepishly. “We have added a family discount now.”

“They got off the bus themselves,” Wendy said before Wirt could come up with some excuse as to why their parents weren’t around. “Apparently, they’re looking for an adventure. I figured this would be a good place to start.”

“Come on, Wirt.” Greg tugged on his arm. “Let’s go inside!”

“I don’t think….” This was the wrong place to start, but Greg was looking at him that way, and how much could he deny him? He was only here because of Wirt. He’d volunteered to go headlong into danger because of Wirt. Didn’t he deserve a bit of fun before that? “Um, you can go ahead of me, okay?”

He expected Greg to say something in protest, but he just chirped, “Okay!” and bounded through the door to the rest of the building. (Wirt wasn’t sure if it could properly be called a museum when it just looked like a tourist trap.) Mr. Mystery laughed and followed him, presumably to give whatever passed as a tour or maybe to make sure Greg didn’t break anything, which left Wirt with Wendy.

“Five bucks for kids,” she said. “Are you going in, too?”

“Um.” Wirt fumbled with his wallet for a moment before pulling out a bill and passing it to Wendy. “No. I can’t. I…geez, I didn’t think this through enough. Is there a good hotel in town? Or any hotel in town?” Now that he’d seen the size of this place—or rather, the size of the bus stop and one of the main tourist attractions—he was beginning to understand why there had been so little information about it in general. “I need to figure out where we’re going to stay.”

Wendy blew another bubble of gum and managed to answer without popping it. “Hotel’s not rebuilt yet. It wasn’t a priority, I guess; we don’t get a lot of people through here. But I can put in a good word with the guy who lives alone in the mansion on the hill if you don’t mind doing a few chores to earn your keep. That’ll mean more to him than money.”

Wirt was in no position to be picky, and it couldn’t be worse than what they’d encountered in the Unknown. “That would be great.”

Wendy sucked the bubble back into her mouth and then put her hands on the counter and leaned across towards him. “Consider it done, then. But really, Wirt, you wanna tell me why you’re here?”

He offered her a smile, though it probably wasn’t very believable. “We’re going on an adventure.”

“In Gravity Falls?”

He’d expected her to question why he and Greg were alone, not doubt their choice of destination. “Yes?” It came out sounding like a question, even to his ears.

“Why here?”

Wirt swallowed. “Why does the hotel need to be rebuilt?”

“Burned down,” Wendy answered without missing a beat. “But you, you’re here for a reason, aren’t you? Gravity Falls isn’t exactly a place you’d just pick off a map. So why come here?”

The truth was crazy. Wendy might have lived crazy, too, but Wirt didn’t know that for sure, so he settled on a piece of it. “A friend told me about it. She was going to be visiting here, too. She’s looking forward to Summerween.”

Wendy raised her eyebrows. “Summerween’s tonight,” she said, “and you can’t really expect me to believe that you’re following a girl out here when you came with your little brother.”

“It’s not like that,” Wirt insisted, his cheeks burning as if to give lie to his statement. He was kinda sorta dating Sara, if he could believe the life he’d been living here, and he hardly even knew Mabel. “I just owe her and her brother a favour.” They’d saved him, but Wendy wasn’t going to understand that, and saying it would invite more questions than he could answer. He was having enough trouble with this impromptu interrogation as it was.

Wendy’s eyes narrowed, but the next second, she was leaning back in her chair as if nothing was wrong. “Maybe I can help you then, kid. Who are you looking for?”

“Mabel,” Wirt answered, a little annoyed at being called a kid (he wasn’t even that much shorter than her; she didn’t need to treat him like he was Greg’s age) but not annoyed enough to make a big deal out of it when he could use her help.

Wendy sat up. “Mabel. You’re looking for Mabel? Mabel Pines?”

Pines sounded right, but he’d never been sure if that really was her last name. “Mabel and Dipper.” Wendy could take it as either confirmation or denial, depending on the truth. “They helped me with something.”

“When?”

The question was earnest, but Wirt wasn’t entirely sure why it mattered. “Last week.”

“Last Tuesday?”

That was oddly specific. “I don’t remember.”

Wendy sighed. “Look, I’ll be honest with you here, okay? You’re right. Mabel and Dipper are supposed to be here. But they’re not. They’ve gone missing. Their parents thought they might have run away to come here a bit early, but they never turned up, and if it’s a kidnapping, there’s been no ransom. When Stan and Ford caught wind of this, they started searching everywhere, but even they can’t find them.” She said this as if Stan and Ford were far more likely to find the twins than the police, who were undoubtedly also looking for them if they were missing.

But maybe they weren’t really missing.

He’d met them in the Unknown, after all.

Except that didn’t make sense. No matter how many times he tried to reconcile it, it didn’t add up. He and Greg had hardly been gone any time at all. They’d returned the same night despite spending more than one night in the Unknown. But then he’d woken up in the hospital again after being back in the Unknown. He remembered months of this reality, months he wasn’t even sure he’d really lived if he’d been in the Unknown all along. But it was summer now, just as it should be, and it had been summer for Mabel and Dipper, too…. But then again, the lantern had been burning brightly, the same lantern that the Woodsman had worked so tirelessly to keep lit. Left alone for too long, it should have gone out.

Something wasn’t right.

Something wasn’t real.

Or something was blurring the lines.

“I know that look.” Wendy again. “You know something. Please, tell me. They’re my friends, too.”

Why put signs in the woods, advertising where there was no road for them to be seen?

Wirt took a step back.

He never should have let Greg go off on his own. The Mystery Shack was small; that was to his advantage. If he yelled, Greg would hear him. But if he yelled, they would know—

Wendy vaulted over the counter, somehow easily clearing the various knickknacks and the jar of fake eyeballs for sale on the side. Her feet hit the floor with a thud. A hollow thud. There was a basement under here. He wondered whether this place, with all its fake attractions, hid its secrets below or above or in plain sight.

“Wirt. What do you know? Tell me. It’s important.”

Always doing what you’re told. Beatrice’s voice, sounding through his head. He hadn’t imagined meeting her any more than he had imagined meeting the twins, but if this wasn’t imagination, either….

If neither was imagination, then something was fabrication, and he didn’t know which. Not the twins, surely, if Wendy seemed to know them, but….

“Darkened dreams where demons run,” Wirt whispered as he took another step back, “twisting truth till all is done.”

Nice illusions make the best traps.

Just because he was free of the Unknown, it didn’t mean he was free of the Beast. This might be a trick, part of some plan he didn’t understand. He didn’t know what had happened. Dipper and Mabel must have done something, but what if he wasn’t really back? What if this was just the dream world? Did that mean that the Beast was controlling him back in the Unknown?

He stepped back against something—the vending machine, his memory supplied—and Wendy’s hand shot out to catch his arm. “Wirt! What’s going on? What demons are running around?”

He shook his head even as her grip tightened. That was just a snatch of poetry that seemed to fit his situation. Everything felt twisted, sculpted to suit the Beast, and he didn’t know—

Wendy pulled him up by his shirt and looked him in the eye. “Spill,” she hissed as he yelped and then found himself struggling for air, feet kicking uselessly against smooth plastic in an effort to find purchase and maybe help him get free. “Now. Dipper and Mabel are in trouble, and if you don’t tell me what you know—”

“Wirt!” came Greg’s cry, barely overrode by Mr. Mystery’s, “Wendy, what are you doing?”

Wendy dropped him, but one hand was closed around his wrist before he could run. “Soos, he knows what happened to Dipper and Mabel.”

Mr. Mystery—Soos—looked startled and put one of his hands on Greg’s head. It was meant to keep him from running as much as to calm him, Wirt suspected bitterly. “How could they know?”

“Don’t know. The squirt might be clueless, but this one definitely isn’t.”

“Wirt?” Greg asked slowly, giving truth to Wendy’s words. “What is she talking about?”

Wirt, not convinced he could break free of Wendy’s grip, just shook his head.

“I thought we came here for an adventure,” Greg said. “To help your friends. Like we helped Beatrice and she helped us.”

Wirt closed his eyes. “I wasn’t lying. I am trying to help them. But I need to figure out how first.” He looked at Greg, knowing he was the only one who was going to understand the significance of the next statement. “I met them in the Unknown.”

Wirt saw Soos and Wendy exchange glances as Greg tilted his head. “I don’t remember them.”

“That’s because you weren’t there.”

“But we got back together.”

Wirt shook his head again. “No. We didn’t. Or maybe we did and I…. I don’t know. I just know I was back there. And they helped me get back here. I think. I don’t know. I don’t know anything for sure. I can’t remember exactly what happened.” He turned to Wendy. “I think they might still be there.”

“And where exactly is there?” demanded Wendy.

“The Unknown,” Wirt repeated, knowing from Wendy’s narrowed eyes that she wasn’t impressed with that answer. “It’s…. I don’t know. It’s another place. People can get lost there, but things aren’t…. It’s not like here.”

“Another dimension?” asked Soos.

Wirt shrugged helplessly, but Wendy must have agreed because she finally released him. “Sounds like it. So how do we go there and bring them back?”

“I don’t know.”

“But you said—”

“I don’t know! I can’t remember. When I was with Greg, we got lost trying to find our way back to the main road. We didn’t even realize we’d crossed anything, let alone ended up in a different dimension if that’s really what it is.”

“Then how did you get out of there?”

Wirt hesitated, not sure how much he could trust his memories, and Greg said, “I just remember being cold and wet. Was that from the snow?”

“No, we’d fallen into the water. I managed to get us ashore.” If that memory was real. Maybe it had just been the snow. Or maybe…. But he didn’t want to think that this world was the fabrication. “That’s not what happened to me last time. I don’t know how I got back here. I didn’t even realize I’d left here and was back in the Unknown until I met Mabel and Dipper. I…. It’s like I woke up and they were there.”

Wendy crossed her arms. “So what do you know?”

Wirt spread his hands. “I don’t know how much of this is accurate. The Beast…. The Beast is a demon, I guess. He haunts the forest and feeds on lost souls, and he was….” Wirt stopped. There was no good way to say this. “Dipper thought the Beast had been controlling me—”

“But he had to let you go!” Greg cried. “He promised. You could go home if I stayed with him instead.”

Wirt’s chest tightened as Greg confirmed the twins’ theory. He hadn’t wanted that part to be right. He didn’t want to think that Greg would ever feel obliged to give up so much for him. He was the little brother; it was Wirt’s job to protect him, not the other way around. He’d done a terrible job of it.

“You’re not there now, kiddo,” Wendy said, “which might explain some of this.” She had taken up a defensive stance and didn’t take her eyes off Wirt.

Soos held up one finger. “Um, quick thing, but had been controlling you? As in not any longer or not currently? That seems like an important distinction.”

Wirt sighed. “I’m not sure about that, either,” he admitted. “Dipper thought he could find a loophole so that it would be over, and maybe that’s what happened. Maybe that’s why I’m back here now.” Hopefully.

“But you never left,” Greg said in a small voice.

Wirt swallowed. “I was in the hospital last Tuesday, wasn’t I?”

Greg nodded. “The fever wouldn’t break. Mom took you in the night before.”

Wendy looked from Wirt to Greg and back again before stating the obvious. “So you don’t know if you’re really safe. All you know is that you’re back here. Without the Beast, as far as you can tell.” From her tone, she could guess a number of the things he hadn’t explicitly said. Wirt nodded anyway. “And he’s haunting your dreams?”

“Not…. Well, maybe? I…. I’m not actually sure. It’s complicated. I think…. I think he’s been pulling me back into the Unknown somehow.” It made his stomach twist to think about it. If neither world was a fabrication, then maybe he had been living in two different realities. Maybe the reason he never seemed to lose much time was because he was back under the Beast’s control whenever he was close enough to the In Between for the Beast to reach out and pull him through to the Unknown.

Whenever he slept. Whenever he dreamed. If he’d left a piece of himself back in the Unknown—

“Is this my fault?” whispered Greg.

“No, it’s not.” Wirt stared at Wendy, daring her to contradict him. She didn’t. Maybe she had a little brother, too. He hesitated and looked over at Greg. “You escaped. You’re free. That’s the important part. So try not to blame yourself for my mistakes. Can you do that?”

Greg nodded.

Wirt bit his lip. “I wish I understood this better. I’d give anythi—”

Wendy’s hand was suddenly clamped over his mouth. “Don’t finish that thought. Don’t even think it. That’s too dangerous, even in here. He’s too close.”

Who’s too close? But Wirt knew the answer to that, now that he knew the Beast wasn’t the only demon to roam the realms. Mabel and Dipper had been worried about Bill Cipher. He, too, was supposed to be gone, just like the Beast, but—

It’s usually not that easy to get rid of a demon.

Since Dipper had evidently been talking from experience, he should know. But they wouldn’t have told Wirt about their demon unless they suspected he could still get to them despite whatever they had done. Hadn’t they thought this Bill Cipher was the one who had trapped them in the Unknown? Maybe demons liked deals enough to strike them with each other and this one ensured the Pines twins were lost in the woods so the Beast could claim them.

In all fairness, Wirt wasn’t exactly sure someone like Mabel could ever be claimed by the Beast—she was entirely too much like Greg for that to happen any way but deliberately—but it wasn’t likely that demons actually struck fair deals.

Whatever had been between him and the Beast…. He had to hope that it was over, that Dipper had successfully found a loophole. Except it couldn’t be over, not if Mabel and Dipper were still in there. He’d…he’d have to find a way back. Not with Greg; he wouldn’t risk Greg again. And he might not know Wendy or Soos, but he didn’t really want to risk them, either.

If…if he didn’t come back, someone would have to see Greg home, and Wirt was sure they’d do that.

“I’m calling Stan,” Wendy said, putting her cell phone up to her ear. “He and Ford need to hear everything you can tell them. Until they get here, stay at Old Man McGucket’s. No exploring. We can’t risk that.”

“Risk what?” Greg asked, looking up at Soos.

No one answered.

Wirt had no idea where Stan and Ford had been coming from, but the Pines brothers arrived at Gravity Falls within two hours. Wendy had insisted on babysitting them in the meantime, even though Greg had spent much of that time happily chatting with Fiddleford McGucket, the man who owned the mansion Wendy had mentioned. Wirt wasn’t entirely sure how someone like Fiddleford could afford to live here, but he knew better than to ask. He was just grateful to have a roof over their heads while they were here.

Wirt had half-hoped that Greg would set off exploring the mansion before everyone else arrived, but he listened very attentively as Wirt recounted what he remembered. Soos had closed up shop for the occasion, but even with Greg counting among Wirt’s audience of six, it felt like there were too many people here. This was his story. His mistake. Did they really all need to bear witness to it?

Wirt knew that was silly; it just meant he had six more people who could help him figure this out. And as reluctant as he had been to involve Greg, having his brother here helped to ground him. Of course, Greg would occasionally chime in with questions Wirt couldn’t answer—Was the lake near where we took the ferry to Adelaide’s? So what happened to the Woodsman? Couldn’t you have wished on a star and visited Cloud City, too?—which invariably led to a discussion of the first time they’d ended up in the Unknown. Greg remembered that time with far more fondness than Wirt did. To him, it really had just been an adventure.

Not a nightmare.

The discussion invariably turned to ways to get Dipper and Mabel back safely. While the others started arguing over different tactics and possible strategies, Ford pulled Wirt into another room. Wirt might not have been able to figure out who was who right after meeting Stan and Ford, but it became very clear that Ford was the more serious of the two, for all that everyone seemed to care deeply about the younger Pines twins. Stan liked to joke, coming up with crazy ideas that must have some hope of working since they weren’t immediately dismissed by the others, while Ford….

Ford had a look in his eye Wirt recognized from the face that had been haunting him in the mirror since he’d woken up in that hospital room. There was grim determination in there, sure, but it was touched by fear. Not just fear of the unknown, of not knowing what had happened, but fear born of the intimate knowledge of what may have happened.

It made Wirt think there had been far more going on in this town than the newspapers had ever reported, even the columns that seemed at first glance to be fanciful stories written merely for entertainment.

The door shut on the others, closing them off, and Ford turned to Wirt. “I’m not going to leave those kids to the mercy of another demon,” he said quietly, “but I’m not about to dismiss the possibility that this is a trick, either. I’ve been tricked too many times to blindly believe anything anymore.”

Wirt didn’t know what to say to that—he still didn’t know if this was a trick, either—so he just nodded.

“If Dipper was right, and I have no reason to believe he wasn’t, you were possessed by the Beast. Whether or not Dipper truly found a loophole in your deal with him is a moot point as long as that connection is still there. We’ll need to break that to prevent further interpretations of your contract, especially if you aren’t sure of the terms.”

Wirt opened his mouth to ask how he was supposed to do that when Ford added, “But until then, we can use that connection to our advantage.”

“How?”

Ford smiled, but it was far from reassuring. “Meet me at the Mystery Shack in three hours, and I’ll show you.”

Soos apparently had to go out for a family dinner at the local café—Wirt didn’t ask, though there was obviously more to the story judging by the looks he’d received—and Stan had muttered about seeing to a few things so they could mount the rescue mission. Fiddleford had gotten excited about this prospect and stuck to Stan like glue, which he hadn’t looked thrilled about. Ford had obviously been expected to join them, but he’d said something about splitting up in order to have enough time to cover everything. The argument had still been going on when Wendy had pulled them away and told them to find costumes to wear.

She had agreed to take them out for Summerween before she met up with her friends, though she did say it would be fine if they decided to stick around. When Wendy had handed them both pails for candy, Wirt hadn’t argued. He didn’t mind the implication that he needed a babysitter this time; now, it worked to his advantage. It meant he could be sure Greg was sufficiently distracted.

Ford had never told him to come alone, but if Wirt was going to keep Greg out of this, he had to be sneaky about it. When they were passing the edge of town nearest the Mystery Shack, Wirt bent down to tie his shoe and waved the others ahead, promising that he’d catch up soon. By some stroke of luck, Greg believed him, and Wendy—if she had any doubts—didn’t call him on it.

Wirt fiddled with his shoelace for a few moments, waiting for them to get farther ahead before running into the woods. This time, the random signage was to his advantage, and he’d smuggled a flashlight along with a first aid kit under his cloak, so he could see where he was going without depending on the light of the (admittedly waxing) moon now that the sun had set.

Despite that, he nearly jumped out of his skin when a voice said, “That disguise won’t fool anyone.”

Wirt scrambled for the fallen flashlight before climbing back to his feet and brushing at his clothes. He swung the flashlight around wildly, looking for the source of the voice. The beam bounced off tree trunks and broken branches, leafy shrubs and spider webs, but nothing— “Who’s there?”

“Little lower there, Stretch. We ain’t all as tall as you.”

Wirt swallowed but lowered the flashlight. If he weren’t already acquainted with talking frogs, pumpkin-wearing skeletons, or bluebirds that had once been people, he would have found the idea of gnomes more disconcerting. Self-consciously, he straightened his hat. “Um…can I help you?”

“More me that’s helping you, unless you’re going to take over my post. I pulled the short straw when Shmebulock overindulged again.” The gnome squinted at Wirt and scratched at his grey beard. “No, you’re not from here. You’re one of those that’ve been drawn here.”

Wirt blinked. “What?”

The gnome pointed in the direction Wirt had been running. “The statue. It calls some of ‘em. Like you. ‘Smy job to make sure you don’t get where you’re going. So turn around or I’ll raise the alarm.”

“What?”

“Go on. Turn. Go back wherever you came from.”

“But…. I can’t.”

“Suit yourself,” said the gnome, and then he whistled, a shrill piercing thing that had Wirt wincing and reaching to cover his ears.

The whistle cut off abruptly. Wirt lowered his hands slowly, noticing an increased rustling in the underbrush that he wasn’t naïve enough to attribute to wind or the usual forest wildlife. And then his sweeping flashlight beam caught a second gnome, and a third, and then he started seeing them by the dozens.

He took a step back. “You don’t understand.”

“We understand plenty,” the first gnome said, grinning in a feral way that showed off rows of sharp teeth. He didn’t advance, but Wirt had no illusions about what would happen if he tried to continue in this direction. He didn’t want to get mobbed.

Wirt took another step back and shook his head, for all the good that would do. “I don’t care about whatever statue thing you’re talking about. I just need to get to the Mystery Shack.”

More gnomes had appeared, every eye tracking him. It was unnerving.

Wirt didn’t know what else to do, so he kept talking. “I’m—I’m trying to help my friends. Maybe you know them. Mabel and Dipper Pines?”

The hushed silence erupted into chatter, and finally a different gnome stepped forward, this one looking younger than most of the others. “You are acting on behalf of Mabel?”

“Um…I guess?”

“Or for Mabel?”

“Uh.” Wirt didn’t know why this mattered. “For her? She and Dipper—”

“We could tie him up,” a third gnome suggested.

“Throw him in the lake,” said another.

“—gag him—”

“—leave ‘im for the Manotaurs—”

“—the Multi-Bear—”

Wirt didn’t understand half of the snippets of conversation he caught, but he didn’t need to. “She needs my help!” he yelled over the din. “They both do. And they won’t get that if I can’t get to the Mystery Shack.”

The gnome who had been questioning him held up a hand, and with some grumblings, the others quieted. “Carson, escort him to the Mystery Shack. Don’t show him any mercy if he tries to lose you and double back. Steve and Jason, take his shift. Looks like this is an extra security night.” There were a few more mutterings, but no one challenged the arrangement, and Wirt soon found himself with the first gnome as his escort.

The others—except, presumably, for Steve and Jason, and the brown-bearded one who had been giving orders—vanished with unsettling stealth, quite different from the show they’d made in appearing.

Wirt, happy enough to leave behind whatever that had been, followed Carson in silence for a moment before finally asking, “What statue?”

“We don’t talk about it.”

“But I don’t know what it is!”

“That’s the way to keep it.”

“But what did you mean when you said I was drawn to it?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“But—”

“No one’ll tell you differently.” Carson picked up his pace, moving much faster than something with such short legs should. Wirt ended up practically jogging after him and spending all his energy trying to keep the gnome in sight and not eating a mouthful of dirt, which effectively put an end to the questioning.

He panicked when he finally lost sight of Carson entirely, only to hear, “Thanks for the candy, Stretch!” and realize that he could see the Mystery Shack through the trees—and remember that his candy pail had been left behind in the forest.

It was a good trade, as far as Wirt was concerned. He would’ve ended up giving most of his candy to Greg anyway.

Barring a few flickering lights, the Mystery Shack was mostly dark when Wirt approached. The steps creaked under his weight, and he suddenly found its name much more fitting in this atmosphere. He knocked twice and tried the door. It was unlocked, but all he saw inside was a lava lamp set up on the counter by the cash register and the glow of the vending machine on the opposite wall.

“You sure you know what you’re getting into?”

Wirt shrieked and spun. That hadn’t been Carson’s voice, nor Ford’s. It had almost sounded like—

His flashlight beam caught the wax head of Larry King.

It winked at him.

He turned away quickly, sliding down to sit with his back against the counter. Maybe this was all a mistake. Surely this place was just proof that he wasn’t really back in the real world yet, that this was all just another fabrication—

The vending machine’s buttons suddenly lit up in a particular pattern. As he watched, it silently swung forward as if it were on a hinge to reveal a gaping hole. Somewhere below, light pulsed. Wirt could just make out stairs before darkness ate away at them again.

In for a penny, in for a pound?

He climbed back to his feet and aimed his flashlight at the stairs. They looked sturdy enough, and obviously someone was already down there….

He went carefully, keeping one hand along the wall above what looked to be the remains of a missing railing. The other hand held the flashlight so it illuminated both his feet and the stairs before him. Very quickly, however, he didn’t need it; the light from below grew stronger, and as he put his flashlight away, he found himself in a laboratory of some sort.

Correction: what had once been a laboratory of some sort and had since been abandoned.

Wirt’s eyes swept over a number of exposed wires and clearly cobbled-together circuitry that were visible under the flickering lights. More than one screen had odd stripes of colour across it, and a couple were even cracked. He bit his lip and edged away from the nearest shower of sparks coming from a thick cable connected to a lever sticking out of the floor. The movement didn’t take him any nearer Ford, who was bending over some kind of key panel. “Is this…safe?”

Ford didn’t even turn around. “No.”

“Then why are we even down here? This place looks like a fire waiting to happen!”

This time, Ford did look at Wirt. “We don’t have a choice. We need to rip a hole into another dimension. I’ve done what repairs I can in the time we have, but I don’t want to leave Dipper and Mabel in another nightmare for any longer than I have to. Now come here. I need to analyze your brainwaves if I’m going to find the right dimension.”

“You…what?”

Ford sighed. “That Unknown of yours isn’t the only dimension. If the Beast is tied to it and you’re tied to the Beast, then you’re the best option for finding the right place. We’re much safer if we aren’t doing this blind, and from the sounds of it, you’ve been there frequently.” He held up his hands, which contained what looked like suction cups on the end of wires. “Come here.”

Wirt swallowed but allowed Ford to attach him to the machine. “What happens if this goes wrong?”

“Depending on what happens, you might not even know.”

“Comforting,” Wirt muttered. His fingers tightened their grip on his hat and twisted. “What, uh, are you hoping is going to happen?”

“Something I never wanted to see again.” Ford handed him a length of rope and a clip, pointed to a metal grip attached to the console, and added, “Tie yourself on.”

Wirt did as he was told, trying his best to mimic Ford’s own makeshift harness as the man fiddled with something on the console. The numbers on the nearest screen looked specific, but they weren’t coordinates. If it was part of a code, it seemed too complicated to be easily broken, even by someone like Ford who talked as if he’d done this sort of thing before. The numbers changed even when Ford seemed to barely touch a dial, and it all looked a little too much like guesswork for Wirt’s comfort. Needing a rope didn’t exactly fill him with confidence, either. “What’s this for?”

In answer, Ford walked over to a giant lever on the floor and threw his weight into pushing it forward.

Light exploded.

Wirt squawked and instinctively closed his eyes, but it wasn’t enough. Colours danced against his eyelids, red shining through, and then—

Darkness began eating away at the light, a tiny solar eclipse.

Gravity decided to stop working properly.

Wirt’s hat was torn from his grip. He saw it fly through the portal, there and gone in the blink of an eye. He was already feet first towards it, so he twisted in a futile attempt to reach the tiny metal handle he’d attached himself to. He could see the knot of his harness slipping, weaker than the pull of the portal.

The wires tore loose from his head.

Behind him, the portal flickered.

“Just hold on!” Ford yelled. “I’m going to bring them back.” He was reaching to unclip his own harness, to let the portal drag him in. “Just keep the doorway open!”

The knot worked itself free.

Rope burned through his grip as he flew backwards.

Wirt’s scream was torn from his throat, and then the lab—Ford—everything—was gone.

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