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fallen-gravity · 9 months ago

Text

One Call Away

It's 1982. Somewhere in New Mexico, Stan recieves a phone call from not-quite his brother. Someone is threatening to take his life. Whether Ford himself is desperately reaching out for help, or someone else entirely has him at gunpoint, Stan knows one thing for sure: He needs to find him and fast.

Alternatively: An AU where the payphone Bill used to call Stan while posessing Ford worked, and Stan is actually forced to listen to his "brother" threaten to kill himself.

Notes:

Caution: This fic has MAJOR spoilers for The Book of Bill. Proceed with caution.

Author's Note 2 Electric Boogaloo: God, this book has had a huge grip on my psyche all week. I'm losing my mind. I'm going absolutely feral. I lost my shit at the section of the Missing Journal 3 Pages where Ford revealed that Bill tried to make a phone call in his name to Stan threatening to kill himself. I audibly gasped. I read it three times. God. I'm insane.

No character death tag because nobody dies! This fic ends on a positive note, I promise :')

AO3 Link

Or under the cut:

When you’ve been scamming suckers out of their money as long as Stan has, you come to learn to expect that anything can happen. You learn to tend to your own injuries, you learn the best escape routes, you learn as many languages as you can in case you need to flee the country, you learn to disappear without a trace; when you expect everything, you learn to let nothing surprise you.

When you have a public phone line that anyone can call, you learn to expect that only about half of those calls are gonna be potential new customers eager to try out your products. When you’ve been relying on these new customers to provide the money for your next meal, you tend to pay attention to patterns; you notice when your commercials air, how many customers are likely to call in, and how long it takes for customers to realize they’ve been scammed and call back demanding their money back. To most, it looks like the world’s most elaborately thought out scam they’ve ever seen. To you, it’s survival.

Expect everything so you can be prepared for anything. That’s how Stan sees it, anyway. As long as he’s prepared, nothing can catch him off guard. If he knows what’s coming, he’ll never have to wake up in the trunk of a car with his hands tied behind his back ever again.

Unfortunately for Stan, though, that means being hyper-alert at all times, even in his sleep, so even the most mundane of noises can wake him up. If the couple in the hotel room next to him drops a bottle of shampoo in the shower, he’s gonna hear it and wake up.

If the phone starts ringing at god-knows-when in the morning, he’s going to shoot up awake, even if it just turns out to be some dumb telemarketer trying to reach him about his car’s extended warranty.

The alarm clock on the hotel nightstand tells him it’s nearing four-thirty in the morning when the complimentary phone in his hotel room starts ringing.

That’s…strange. There’s no way that could be a customer, because Stan never bothered to buy commercial spots for late night and prime time television. For one, prime time is incredibly expensive and has too many competitors who are selling actual products, and secondly, Stan’s found that he has the most success when he advertises on the daytime soap opera channels, because that’s when all the bored housewives and old folks’ homes are likely watching TV.

Could it be someone he’s pissed off? No, that doesn’t make any sense either, because they don’t usually have the courtesy to call before they show up with a shotgun or twelve. It can’t be Ma, since she usually calls when Pa goes away on his weekend trips to Atlantic City.

Nothing’s adding up. Every fiber in his being is telling him not to answer.

And yet…

He fears more for what will happen to him if he doesn’t answer.

He pats his hair down, takes a deep breath, and picks up the receiver.

“You’ve reached Stan-Co! Totally authentic and worthwhile products. If you need it, I have it. Stan’s your man. How can I legitimately help you today?”

“Stanley!” replies an all-too familiar voice, one he hasn’t heard in nearly ten years. “Just the man I wanted to see!” he says, despite not being able to see him and having been the one who called first.

“Wh- Stanford?!? The hell are you doin’ calling my infomercial line?” Stan splutters, too shocked to even bother trying to keep his voice down.

“Awww, that’s not a very nice hello for your favorite brother, is it?” Ford’s voice replies, sounding like he’s suppressing hysterical laughter.

Something’s wrong.

Stan may not have spoken to his brother in years, but he can instantly tell that something’s wrong.

“Stanford, what the hell is going on?”

There’s a short pause, and then Ford blows a raspberry into the receiver. “You’re no fun! I thought for sure you’d cry like a baby when I called!”

Yeah, okay, something is definitely wrong. “Why won’t you tell me what’s going on, Ford? Why the hell are you calling me so late? Why me? I thought you hated my guts!”

“Oh, I do!” Ford replies without a drop of hesitation, giggling like a madman. “But I don’t have much time, and there’s something really important I need to say, and you’re the only person I want hearing what I’m about to say.” There’s something…off about the way he sounds, not quite the slur of someone who’s drunk and far too energetic to be that of someone lacking sleep. But there’s something almost garbled about it, like he’s not all that aware of what he’s saying, and if Stan listens close enough he’s sure that he can hear an echo.

But Stan can recognize the cheap, static-y sound of someone calling from a payphone anywhere. Wherever Ford is, he’s calling from outside, and the last time Stan checked the only places outside that echoed were either very high up, very dangerous, or both of them put together. Stan does his best to repress the lump forming in his throat trying to imagine what kind of danger he possibly could’ve gotten himself into, especially if he felt the need to call him, rather than the cops, but he still can’t quite shake the tremble in his voice when he replies.

“Not much time? C’mon, Ford, don’t say that! I can help you! Screw this cold shoulder bullshit! I can help you! Just tell me what’s going on so we can figure this out together!”

An eerily long pause, and the next time Ford speaks it’s as if he brought the phone as close to his mouth as he possibly could.

“You’re too late,” he replies, colder and more dismissive as Stan’s ever heard in his entire life. “I’m going to take a swim in the frozen lake tomorrow, and I might not ever come back, so if you don’t hear from me, I just want you to know that it’s because I never loved you. Buh-Byeeeeee!”

“WAIT!” Stan screeches, and thankfully it’s enough to stop Ford from hanging up. “Ford, c’mon, there’s gotta be something I can do! You’re acting crazy! I’m not asking anymore, I’m begging! Where the hell are you?”

Another pause.

Then, a voice that doesn’t sound anything like Ford’s.

“Oh, goody! An audience! You want to watch him die so badly, that’s fine by me! I’ll even hold off just for you!” An ear-shatteringly high pitched cackle. “Gravity Falls, Oregon. If you want him, come and get him.”

“Him?! Who the hell is-” Stan snaps, but before he can ask any more questions, Ford hangs up, and all Stan is left with is the droning buzz of the dial tone.

Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit. Either Ford’s lost his mind and really is planning to off himself, or someone else is threatening to do it for him. Shit. Shit. Stan has to go now. Everything else be damned, if he doesn’t leave before this other maniac gets bored of waiting then Ford’s not gonna be there at all when he finally makes it to Oregon. That’s nearly halfway across the country from his hotel in New Mexico as is, so he already doesn’t have any time to spare.

He leaps out of bed, reaching underneath until he finds his duffle bag, and practically tears the place apart trying to get all of his belongings together. There’s something in his gut telling him he’s not coming back any time soon, and even if Ford had miraculously said he was only one state over, Stan isn’t willing to risk leaving behind anything important, weaponry included. How’s Stan supposed to know what kind of bullshit Ford got himself into? How could he live with himself if he assumed all was well and left his brass knuckles behind, only to find his brother half-dead in an alleyway somewhere?

He’s not risking it. Even if everything is fine, and Ford had only sounded like that because he was drunk off his ass and had no idea what he was actually saying, Stan’s not risking it.

Even if Ford doesn’t want him in his life, Stan’s not willing to risk losing him. Not again. Not permanently.

Once he has all his stuff together, Stan scribbles down a half-assed apology for housekeeping and tapes it to the door alongside a twenty dollar bill. He hastily tosses all of his stuff in the back of the car, and speeds off out of the hotel parking lot as if it were his own life on the line. He doesn’t want to think about the worst case scenarios, so for now he focuses only on the road signs for directions to the closest pit stop and hopefully enough energy drinks to last him the twenty-something hour drive he’s about to make.

Thankfully, the closest one is less than an hour away and open 24/7 to boot, so Stan is sure that his luck is turning around; all he has to do is pop in, grab a few things, and be on his way. He’ll be in Oregon before he knows it.

That is, of course, until he realizes that none of the maps at the place even have a so-called Gravity Falls listed on any of them.

“Uh, hey,” Stan calls out to the worker behind the cash register, who looks like he’s falling asleep where he stands. “You wouldn’t happen to know where Gravity Falls is, do you? Gravity Falls, Oregon?”

At first Stan’s not entirely sure if the poor guy even heard him, but then the worker eyes him up and down and sighs heavily. “You makin’ fun of me or something?”

Stan blinks. “What? No, A’course not!” he sighs, pinching at the bridge of his nose. “Look, I don’t exactly have a lot of time here! I don’t know why I can’t find it on any of your brochure maps, but I’ve got a gut feeling that someone I love is in a lot of danger and I need to get there as fast as I possibly can. Do you know where it is or not?”

For a brief moment the man still doesn’t answer, eyeing him up and down again, before he sighs and leans forward, like the information he’s about to give him is top-secret government information. “Alright,” he whispers, and glances around the store to make sure the two of them are alone. “I’ve heard things. Rumors. Crazy stories about ghouls and goblins and people who come and go without a trace of memory of who they were before they entered that town. I’ve got a general idea of where it is, but I’m not confident. If you’re willing to listen, I’ve got theories.”

Under any other circumstances, Stan would wave him off as insane and book it out of there as fast as he could, but he’s desperate for any information he can get, and he’s not entirely sure when the next time he’ll find anyone even remotely familiar with the town will even be. So Stan agrees, and does his best not to show how insane he thinks this worker is as he starts going off about the supernatural and monsters that sound like they belong in a Saturday morning cartoon.

If Ford really is anywhere near any kind of place that fits this man’s stories, it’s no wonder he sounded like he was starting to lose his mind.

After listening to the man ramble on for god knows how long and watching him draw circles in the map where he thinks the town could be, Stan thanks him by actually paying for what he came in for before jumping back into his car and speeding down the highway as fast as he possibly can.

It’s an agonizing two day drive, only stopped by the times Stan fell asleep at the wheel and forced himself to pull over and take a nap, and the time he was so desperate for food that he pulled off at some truck stop (with admittedly the grossest food he’s eaten since becoming homeless) for a hot meal. If it were up to him, he would’ve done the whole drive in one go, but it was when he nearly careened his car off a cliff trying to stay awake that he realized that he wouldn’t be any good to his brother dead, so he resolved to also take short driving breaks here and there to make sure he kept his energy up; if he really does need to fight someone when he gets there, he’s gonna need all the strength he can get.

Thankfully, upon arrival at Gravity Falls, Ford’s place of residence is much easier to find than Stan had feared; for a guy who’d been longing for a place he belonged since early childhood, Ford sure likes to stick out like a sore thumb wherever he goes. As soon as Stan goes around town asking townsfolk if anyone had seen anyone who looked like him “except a lot smarter, I guess,” nearly every single person he asks points off in the same direction of the woods and gives him the same confused sort of I think he lives somewhere in there. If he hadn’t gotten it from at least five separate people, Stan would’ve been sure that they were all screwing with him.

And, as it turns out…every single one of them is right. It doesn’t take that much venturing in the woods for Stan to come across the giant cabin aglow in eerie blue lighting and surrounded by tall fences of barbed wire with pieces of cardboard stapled to it and “KEEP OUT” written on them in shaky handwriting. If Ford is anywhere, it’s here.

Now…breaking into somewhere he’s not allowed? Stan can do that in his sleep. He’s done it hundreds of times, and he’ll probably do it another hundreds of thousands of times again before he dies.

But…

Seeing his brother again?

That terrifies him to his very core. Reason for driving all the way out here aside, there’s still a very real chance Ford’s gonna tell him he still never wants to see him again and slam the door in his face, and then Stan’s really gonna have nowhere to go. After everything, if Stan rescues Ford from whatever’s after him and he still tells him to leave and never come back?

What then?

…No. That’s not what matters right now. He can worry about that later.

With a shake of his head to brush off his thoughts, Stan rams his car into the fence hard and fast enough to topple it to the ground. He drives down the path until he’s close enough to the front entrance that he can hop out of his car as quickly as he can, but hidden enough that he won’t be seen if someone (or something) tries to escape.

Stan takes a deep breath as he exits his car and makes his way to the front door, and finds himself hesitating to knock the door as soon as he’s on the porch steps.

It’s for his own good, Stan tells himself. It’s for his own good. I’m just trying to help. It’s for his own good.

He stamps down on any last remnants of hesitation and knocks on the door, loud enough for Ford to hear but gently enough to hopefully assure him that it isn’t anyone who wants to hurt him. Almost instantaneously, Stan can hear the sound of objects falling and glass shattering from inside, like a spooked deer trying to dodge the headlights of an oncoming truck. Stan’s sure he can hear the sound of someone muttering, and he’s relieved beyond comparison that it’s the only voice he can hear coming from inside.

Because he can tell that it’s Ford’s voice.

Which means he’s still alive.

Stan huffs out a huge sigh of relief, and subconsciously begins patting down the wrinkles in his clothes to make himself more presentable. He waits, and he waits, but despite Stan knowing he heard Ford stumbling around inside, he never comes to answer the door.

Stan frowns. This is going to be even harder than he thought. Stan tries again, this time knocking exactly six times in the hopes that it’ll clue Ford in on the fact that it’s just him at the door.

As it turns out, though, that seems to be an even bigger mistake than knocking normally, because now the noises coming from inside sound even more frightened. From inside, Stan can hear a muffled string of curse words, followed by the sound of some piece of furniture being knocked over, and finally, the sound of feet trying and failing to sneakily run across a squeaky hardwood floor. Stan’s about to give up, head into town, and try reaching Ford from a payphone instead, but the door slowly starts to creak open before Stan has the chance to step down from the porch and get back in his car.

“Stay back!” Ford shrieks, his voice trembling. Stan still can’t quite see him, because he’s too distracted by the crossbow being shoved in his face. “I don’t care who you’re pretending to be, I will shoot if you try anything!”

Ford finally steps out into view, and Stan’s heart falls to his stomach. Sweet Moses, he looks so much worse than Stan ever could’ve imagined. His hair is a wreck, sticking up in some places and sticking to the side of his face in others. His eyes are bloodshot and puffy, which Stan can only hope is from crying and not something…worse. There’s a dried streak of blood running down from his right eye, and there’s scratches and cuts splattered around his face. He’s wearing a ratty trench coat, and the white shirt underneath is practically falling off of his body, concerningly torn to bits at the chest area. And from what’s left of the poor shirt, there’s splotches of vomit mixed with some other…unrecognizable liquids.

Stan can feel a foul-tasting bile rising in his throat at the sight of him. Surely anyone else would flee, thinking him to be clinically insane, but Stan refuses to sit around and ignore whatever caused his brother to turn out like…this.

“Stanford?” Stan splutters, failing to keep the shock out of his voice. “What the ever-loving fuck is going on?”

Somehow, that of all things is what seems to snap Ford out of his trance. He’s still clinging to his crossbow, but his fingers aren’t on the trigger anymore and his eyes are already looking less foggy than when he’d opened the door a minute prior. He blinks and rubs at his eyes, and takes a cautious, shaky step forward, like he’s afraid the ground will shatter like glass under his feet if he moves too quickly.

“S-Stanley?” Ford whispers, more to himself than to Stan, but Stan can’t help the sigh of relief that escapes him.

He’s not too far gone. There’s still hope. Stan goes to take another step forward, but before he has the chance, all the color drains from Ford’s face.

“Oh no,” Ford whispers, and the crossbow slips from his hand. “Oh no no no no no no no,” he mumbles, retreating back inside without closing the door. He comes back out moments later, gripping a flashlight in one hand and a VHS tape in the other.

Out of nowhere, Ford grabs Stan by the shoulders, prompting a surprised yelp out of him, and even more out of nowhere, Ford takes the flashlight and flashes it in his eyes.

“Ow! What gives!?” Stan exclaims, pulling himself out of Ford’s grip and rubbing at his eyes with his wrist. When his vision finally readjusts from the assault, he’s surprised to see that Ford’s whole posture has relaxed significantly. Sure, he still looks frightened out of his mind, but he doesn’t look like he’s about to shatter to pieces anymore.

“How long have you been here?” Ford asks, completely ignoring Stan’s previous questions.

“Uhh…” Stan pauses, admittedly taken aback by the question. “About an hour, I think?” he shrugs. “Had some trouble finding you, since some of the folks I asked around town didn’t seem to know who I was talking about when I asked about you.”

Ford’s eyes widen in horror. “You asked around town about me?” He splutters, but then clears his throat to regain his composure. “Did anyone try to get anything out of you? Were you followed?”

Stan snorts. “Puh-lease. The most dangerous person around here is probably me, and I haven’t eaten a healthy meal in weeks.” He shakes his head. “Nobody said anything. And if I was followed, I’d know. It’s something you learn to look out for when you’ve been living on the streets for ten years.” There’s a shred more resentment in his tone than he meant for it to be, but it seems to get the message across well enough. Ford sighs, and gestures inside.

“Come in,” Ford mumbles, his gaze falling to the ground. “I’m afraid I don’t have much time.” Without waiting for Stan, Ford turns heel and hastily returns inside. Stan does his best to follow close behind, but stops dead in his tracks as soon as he steps foot inside.

The whole place is trashed.

Trashed far beyond what Stan thought a single human could ever be capable of. There’s papers scattered everywhere, bottles of ink spilled and pooling everywhere, cupboards with holes smashed into the doors, broken plates and twisted rusty nails scattered all over the floor, a concerningly bloodied hammer on the kitchen countertop, multiple windows boarded up with splintered wood, and empty boxes of instant coffee mix strewn all around the kitchen.

Most concerningly of all, there’s a door that leads somewhere that’s covered with scratches and dripping with blood, and Stan’s not entirely sure whether that means something wanted in or if something was desperate to get out.

Stan’s not entirely sure which thought he prefers.

He doesn’t have too much time to stew on that, though, because he’s pulled from his thoughts by the loud thwack of plastic being smacked against the wall. He turns to the source of the noise, and he’s surprised to find Ford desperately trying to break the VHS tape in half. When that doesn’t work, he groans in frustration and resolves to throwing it on the ground.

“Uh…Stanford?” Stan tries, and reaches out to place a gentle hand on his shoulder, but Ford moves swiftly in another direction before he can reach him.

“I can’t do it,” Ford’s voice wavers with emotion. His head droops in defeat, and though his back is turned, Stan can see him cover his face with his hands. “I can’t do it. I’m too late. I can’t do it.” He starts to shake even harder, like his body wants him to cry but he’s forcing it not to happen because he needs to stay strong.

For who? Himself? For Stan? For someone else?

“Hey, hey…” Stan drops his voice to a whisper, hoping a calmer tone of voice will be more likely to get a proper reply out of Ford. Stan is one-hundred percent not calm, and is in fact getting more and more freaked out the longer he doesn’t get a reply, but the last thing he needs is to stress Ford out even more than he already is. “S’alright. I’m here, okay? Whatever it is I can help you with. I don’t even care if it involves any nerdy-smarts stuff. I can learn it for you. I can help you.”

For a few brief moments, Ford’s heavy breathing pauses. He turns to look at Stan, and it’s hard not to flinch at the fact that he’s looking more and more like a kicked, abused puppy. He looks like he’s genuinely considering replying, even goes to open his mouth, but clamps down on that moments later when another thought seemingly comes to him.

“I…” he stammers, and violently shakes his head again. “I can’t. I could never.” He starts pacing back and forth in place, rubbing his arms up and down together in a failed attempt to self-sooth. “I wish I could, but…” he trails off, but stops before he can allow himself to finish. He violently shakes his head again, like he’s not allowing himself to even think that things could possibly get better.

Stan scowls. That’s the last straw.

“Stanford.” Stan speaks firmly, and grabs at both of his brother’s shoulders. His grip is gentle enough not to hurt him, but strong enough to prevent him from squirming away. As it turns out, though, the strength isn’t very necessary, since Ford practically goes limp in his arms at the touch.

“Stanford,” Stan repeats as he turns Ford around to force him to look him in the eyes. “I’m not asking anymore. Talk to me. Tell me what’s going on. I know for a fact that I didn’t just haul my ass all the way out to Oregon from New Mexico worried sick to death that my brother was going to kill himself just for him to push me away again. I don’t know if something happened to you after you got rejected from that fancy nerd school, or if someone’s after you, or if you really are thinking about killing yourself. I don’t care if that phone call from the other day was a threat or just a drunk dial you made after watching too much Galaxy Sci-Fi Wars, or what, but I don’t need any of that to see how much trouble you’re in! You’re shaking! You’re hurt! Your house looks like it was hit by every single natural disaster all at once! I don’t care how it happened, I care that it happened. Talk to me, Stanford. I’m not leaving until you talk.”

There’s a heavy pause. Ford’s eyes are darting all around Stan’s face, and Stan’s not quite sure what he’s looking for. He doesn’t look angry or offended, but he doesn’t look all that convinced, either. It’s almost as if there’s a deep-rooted sadness in his gaze, like Ford’s not fully convinced of his honesty, and that breaks Stan’s heart more than anything else.

“You wouldn’t understand,” Ford finally replies, breaking eye contact but not bothering to break out of Stan’s grip.

Stan wants to laugh. If the situation were less dire, he would laugh. “Wouldn’t understand?” he replies, gently shaking Ford’s shoulders. “Wouldn’t understand what? Having a target on your back wherever you go? An expensive bounty on your head? You think I don’t understand having to sleep with one eye open? With having to pack everything up as soon as possible because you might not survive the night if you don’t leave? Or do you think I don’t understand being too scared to try leaving, because you feel like the moment you’re out of a so-called ‘safe zone’ is the moment someone’s gonna kidnap you? Or throw you in the trunk of their car? Or do something much, much worse to you? Just because you pissed off the wrong guy? Do y’really think I don’t understand that, Ford? I understand that better than anybody. I understand that better than I’m willing to admit.”

One final pause, and then Ford sighs heavily enough that Stan can feel the tension slumping off of his body. Stan finally releases his grip on him, and Stan is hugely relieved to notice that Ford’s posture already looks significantly more relaxed.

“You’re right,” Ford mumbles, and stretches his arms into the air to try and release any extra remaining tension. “You’re right,” he repeats, and nervously scratches at his chin. “Plus, uh…it probably would be easier to deal with this alongside someone else. I’ve…” he trails off, as if too embarrassed to finish. “I’ve been alone with my…thoughts for far too long. Some human company might do me some good.”

Stan snorts. “Ha! Listen to yourself. Human company might do me some good. If I’d shown up any later you would’ve turned into a full-time nerd robot!”

Ford cracks the tiniest of smiles at that, whether he’s aware of it or not, and then it’s right back to business as usual. “Alright, fine. You got me.” He rubs at the back of his head. “There’s…someone after me. Someone who wants me dead. I don’t really know how to explain it to you, but it wasn’t exactly…me that called you the other night. I mean, it technically was, since I was the one who was speaking, but it was more like…he was forcing me to say those things. There’s something of mine that he wants, but I’m afraid that if he gets his hands on it, it’s going to hurt a lot of people. No, scratch that, I know it’s going to hurt a lot of people. I know that, and he knows that, and that’s why he wants it. But that’s also why I refuse to give it to him. It’s a big vicious game of cat and mouse. He wants it, I don’t give it to him, he retaliates with violence. There’s no winning.” He takes a deep breath, clearly trying his damn hardest not to spiral again. “Either I give him what he wants or he kills me taking it by force.” He buries his face into his hands. “I can’t do it.” He whimpers. “There’s nothing I can do.”

“...Bullshit.”

Stan doesn’t even realize he’d blurted that out loud until Ford pulls his face from his hands to stare at him slack-jawed. “Come again?”

“I said that’s total bullshit.” Stan replies, firmly standing his ground. “Listen, Ford, I’ve been dealing with his type for a lot longer than I’m willing to admit, and lemme tell you something; that’s just what he wants you to think. He wants you to give up and assume everything’s hopeless, because the moment you lose hope and stop fighting is the moment he’ll strike. He wants you to think he’s got no weakness, because that makes it so much easier to exploit yours. Everyone’s got ‘em, Sixer, but only the cockiest and most powerful aren’t willing to admit that they’ve got ‘em, too. And you wanna know a secret? They don’t like to admit they’ve got weaknesses because they know what it does to them. They know the second anyone finds out about their weakness that they’re just like the rest of us. If we know their weaknesses, we can fight back, and that terrifies those suckers to their very core. That’s the kind of stuff that sends them running home to their mamas. If there’s even an inkling of a chance that someone’s gonna knock them off of their pedestal, or that nobody’s afraid of them anymore because we’ve got ‘em figured out, that’s what gets them. They get so obsessed over the power they have on others that they forget to stop and consider that others can have power over them.”

“I’m telling you, Sixer, no matter what this guy tries to convince you, he’s just sayin’ it to keep you complacent. He wants you to think he’s got no weakness because he’s terrified at the idea of losing his power over you. Once you stop letting him control you, he’ll have nowhere else to stand. Once he loses you, he loses everything. It’s not about whether or not you can fight back, it’s about how you’re gonna fight back. Because once you fight back and you take control, he’s gonna have nowhere to run, and then he’s gonna be the one backed into a corner. You can fight back. You can tell him no.”

“B-but-”

“Up up up, I don’t wanna hear it” Stan waggles a finger in his face. “If I’m still alive after all I’ve been through, I sure as hell know that you’re gonna make it, too. If I can chew my way out of the trunk of a car and tunnel my way out of a Colombian prison using nothing but cheap plastic cutlery, you can break away from whatever hold this guy has on you. Don’t sit around and wait for this guy to strike, you gotta stand up and strike first. He’ll never see it coming.” He slaps Ford on the back. “You’re a smart guy, Sixer, I’m sure that you of all people could figure out how to outsmart this guy.

Ford looks like he wants to believe him, like he wants to hope that things are gonna be okay, but there’s something that’s still tethering him to his fears. There’s the briefest spark of hope in his eyes, but it’s gone just as quickly as it arrived.

“I wish I could believe you, Stanley, but Bill, he’s-” Ford starts, but flinches like he’s been shot when he accidentally uses this other guy’s name. It breaks Stan’s heart to see his brother so fearful for his life, but it also makes his blood boil over with rage thinking about the power this guy’s got over him.

What, is saying his name gonna summon him or something? Did this Bill guy plant bugged cameras all over the house so he could keep a constant eye on Ford so he’ll know if he’s ever thinking of pulling something over his eyes? Is that why Ford’s place is so trashed? Did he tear the place apart looking for secret cameras and hidden microphones? What gives?

Ford freezes, as if he’s actually expecting this guy to kick his door in, and when nothing happens he audibly sighs in relief.

Stan crosses his arms. “But what? This Bill guy’s supposed to be different? More powerful? I’m tellin’ ya, he’s no different than any of the other jerks I’ve had to deal with.” He jabs another finger in Ford’s direction. “And even if he was, by some chance? Even if this guy is somehow the most powerful and feared dictator in the whole universe, what’s the first thing I said when I got here?”

Ford goes to respond, but then his cheeks burn red and stops, a clear sign that he’s forgotten.

“I said I’m here for you. I’m here because I want to help you. I could stand here and lecture you about crime lords all day, but nothing’s ever going to change if you don’t let me help you. I don’t care how big and tough this guy thinks he is! You’re my brother, Stanford. Nothing else matters more to me than my family. You even said it yourself earlier!” Stan throws his arms into the air in an exasperated manner. “Two heads are always gonna be better than one. Two pairs of fists are also always gonna be better in a fight. You don’t have to magically stop being afraid of this guy, but I’m telling you that it’s gonna be a lot easier if you have someone fightin’ the good fight with you. I wish I had someone when I was on the run from Rico and his gang.”

Ford frowns. “Stanley…”

“Point is,” Stan waves him off before he can go down a guilt-ridden spiral. “I’m not leaving. Matter of fact, I’m not asking you anymore. I’m telling you. I’m staying. Until we get this whole thing sorted out and send this Bill guy running for the hills, I’m not leaving. Protest all you want, but I’m gonna stay right here by your side until you feel safe again. Hell, I’ll even sleep on the front porch as lookout if you need me to! I’m tellin’ ya, I’m done asking nicely. I won’t let you kick me out this time, Ford. I’m here for ya through thick and thin.”

For a few painstakingly long moments, Ford doesn’t respond. But he does look like he’s deep in thought, which is a hell of a lot better than all of the flinching and nervous pacing he’s been doing since Stan arrived. If nothing else, that in itself is a huge improvement. But before Stan can start again, Ford pulls a polaroid out of his trench coat pocket, and despite a gentle tear at the corner seemingly from age, it’s looking like the most well-kept object in the entire house. Stan doesn’t bother sneaking a peek out of fear of breaking what little trust he seems to successfully be rebuilding with Ford, but whatever it is seems to bring him a lot of comfort; he only looks at it for a moment, but those few moments are enough to sneak a soft, nostalgic sort of smile onto his face.

“You’re right,” Ford finally says, the calmest he’s sounded all day. “I don’t think there’s any way I could tackle this on my own. But with some help?” He smiles sheepishly. “I think there’s something we could do.”

“There he is!” Stan exclaims, grabbing his brother in a chokehold and giving his hair a rough noogie. “I knew my brother was still in there somewhere!” he grins, and tussles him up one more time before letting go. “And hey, maybe after all this is over you can give Ma a call, eh? She’s worried sick about you, I just know it.”

“Hah!” Ford laughs, tiny sparks of confidence returning to his tone and posture. “Now that’s someone I’m really afraid of upsetting.”

Stan grins, and gives Ford a gentle slug on the shoulder. As hard as Ford’s trying not to show it, Stan can tell he’s starting to enjoy the company. As much as Stan really doesn’t want to admit it, he was desperate for this kind of company again. He watches for a moment as Ford starts to go around cleaning some things off the floor, and Stan can’t help but crack a smile as he goes to join him.

If there’s one thing Stan does want to admit, it’s that he never wants to lose this sort of companionship ever again. Situation be damned, he has his brother back, and that’s more than any material goods he could ever ask for.

Given the situation?

Well, he said he’d stay until Ford wasn’t afraid of this Bill character anymore. But if things were completely up to Stan?

Stan won’t stop until the guy’s dead for daring to mess with his family.

#gravity falls #my writing #tbob #book of bill #stan pines #ford pines #bill cipher

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onesentencemusings · 1 month ago

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Return of Jafar - Rewrite (Pt 11)

(Part 1)

“Wait, so why’s your voice different again?”

“Contract dispute.” The totally-normal super-not-a-genie-in-disguise human man wearing a completely-not-reflective-of-his-true-skin-color blue tunic with a small gold vest paused in the street. “Uh, I mean, the… stars are in… magic… retrograde so the… cosmic reverb is in… flux?”

“Ooooh-kay.” Aladdin chuckled. “Not that I don’t like how you sound now but is it gonna change back?”

Genie shrugged and smiled. “As soon as Disney gives Robin Williams a Picasso. I mean--! As soon as the flux stars… un-retrograde. Yeah, that’s it!” He turned into a blonde Spaniard with an oversized red shirt and started scooting away. “Stars! Can’t do it.” He ducked behind a wall for a brief moment before peeking around. “Not today.”

Aladdin rolled his eyes with a smile. He could always tell when Genie didn’t want to tell him something, He glanced at Abu peeking over his shoulder. The monkey looked at Aladdin and shook his head, clearly not buying it either. Aladdin couldn’t complain though; he knew he probably wouldn’t understand it anyway. He never understood magic. Every person he ever met that talked about magic told him something different. Even the one person that seemed to know the most told him she didn’t actually have magic herself.

He turned his attention to Jasmine. She looked down at her light blue abaya dress and touched her gold shayla-style headwrap before looking at a group of housewives gossiping in the shade on the side of the road. They were wearing similar clothing, just in shades of brown, yellow and pale green.

“You ok, Jasmine?” Aladdin held her hand.

“Oh, I’m fine. Just…” She looked one more time at the women. “Are these clothes… I don’t know… too expensive looking for the marketplace?”

“What do you mean?”

Jasmine sighed. “My seamstress was telling me blue dye was getting expensive lately. I don’t want to stick out too much.”

“Hate to say it, Jas, but if you don’t wanna stick out, you’d have to go home because I could spot you in any crowd from here to China.”

Jasmine put her hands together and looked down, blushing. “You’re too nice.”

“Nah, I’m just being honest.” Aladdin offered his arm.

Jasmine slipped her arm around his. “Good ol’ Honest ‘Prince Ali’.” Jasmine smirked. Aladdin hid a laugh as he looked away. “I want to enjoy this while we can.” She went on. “Soon we’ll hardly ever get to just, you know, go out quietly together.”

“I know.” Aladdin has a similar sad tone. “I’m gonna miss this so much. Are you sure we can’t--?”

“Not that I like to make a habit of eavesdropping, buuuuut…” The couple turned to see a giant pointy blue ear the size of an african elephant’s ear point right at them. Genie threw the huge foam ear prop behind him. “What’s the hap, hip cats? Something wrong? If so, I’m pretty sure your ‘Happily Ever After’ should still be under warranty. Unless I forgot to give you the receipt at the end of the last movie. ”

Genie pulled out a worn-out leather wallet from his red sash, letting a huge trail of personal photos unravel while he looked through the pockets. “Let’s see, bottle return,” He pulled out a slip of paper. “- speeding ticket,” He threw that paper off to the side. “What’s this?” Genie pulled out a business card with the word ‘F.O.P.’ on the back. “ ‘For a good time, call Norm’? Who’s Nor-- OH! The lava lamp guy…” Genie tossed the card away too. “Yeck, not running with that kinda crowd again.”

“Oh, no. Nothing like that, Genie.” Jasmine said. “We’re both very happy.”

“It’s just…” Aladdin looked away. “Well, you wanna tell him?”

“Oh. Well, he was your friend first.” Jasmine replied. “You should tell him.”

“He’s your friend too now. You can tell him.”

Abu rolled his eyes with a squeak.

“Aladdin, it’s fine. You can--”

“No, no, I want you to--”

There was a quick metallic tapping. Genie stood before them both in an old-fashioned tuxedo with a rather wild white wig on. He tapped the metal music stand with his conductor wand a few more times before holding a finger to his mouth. The couple glanced at each other before looking back. Genie started waving the wand. “One, two, and a one, two, three.” He pointed the wand at the couple.

Aladdin and Jasmine pulled each other closer. “We’re getting married!”They said together.

Genie’s conductor outfit vanished as he gasped loudly. “Congratulations, you two!” Genie grabbed them both in a giant hug and spun around with them a few times. In a poof of blue smoke he turned into a jewish priest in a black suit, complete with a long white beard and flat black hat. “Mazel tov! Oi, with the love and the romancing, oy vay, I could just plotz even…”

“We’re both very excited.” Jasmine smiled, but just for a moment. “But right after the ceremony, Father wants Aladdin to have his coronation and become Sultan.”

Aladdin took both of Jasmine’s hands. “And you’ll be Sultana, right next to me, the whole way.”

“I know, but…” Jasmine looked at Genie.

Genie slipped back into his normal human disguise, offering a simple unsure but well-wishing smile.

“Agrabah will need us to stay put and be the next leaders of the kingdom.” Jasmine finished, somberly. “We won’t have time to go out into the city and see the people up close, or what the rest of the world has to offer. Like you did, Genie.”

Genie kept his gentle smile but his eyes seemed to quite literally be holding back a growing tide of water behind their surface.

“That’s why I just want to blend in.” Jasmine straightened her headscarf. “I don’t want anyone to know I’m a--”

“PRINCESS!”

Before the couple could turn, Aladdin was ripped away from Jasmine’s arms and thrown against a nearby building’s sun-bleached brick walls. Aladdin opened his eyes to find the tip of a sword shoved under his chin.

The sword-holder was a large bulky man, as fit as he was fat, with a wide wild toothy sneer that made one imagine a gorilla ready to rampage. “How dare you kidnap the princess, you revolting streetrat!” He shouted. “Finally, I got y-! Ow.” He shook his wrist where the princess karate-chopped him.

“Unhand him, Razoul!” Jasmine stomped her foot for good measure.

“But, Princess!” The Captain of the Guard bowed to the woman but kept a tight grip on both Aladdin’s white shirt and the tiny purple vest over top. “He-!”

“Now!” The princess poked the guard’s bulbous nose with a finger. “That’s an order!”

“Oooooooh, you’re in troouuuuuuble….” Genie cooed, brushing the back of one finger with another.

With a growl, Razoul let go of Aladdin’s clothes. In a smooth wide step, Aladdin moved behind Jasmine and ducked down slightly to hide behind her. He peeked around her and gave the guard a cheeky wave, while Abu blew a fake kiss. The guard nearly took a step forward but the princess standing taller kept him in place.

“Princess, I don’t know what the streetrat told you to make you run from me but-”

“He didn’t tell me anything.” Jasmine stated firmly. “Did you stop for even a second and think maybe the reason I tricked you and ran from you was because I don’t want you to be around us?” She motioned to herself and Aladdin.

“Of course not, Your Highness.” The guard bowed. “I would never think such a ridiculous thing.”

Jasmine groaned and looked to the sky in exasperation. She glanced back at the housewives across the street. All of them were staring at her, pointing and whispering to each other. They knew. “Let’s just go.” Jasmine pulled her headscarf down a little more and marched past Aladdin.

Razoul and Aladdin glared at each other, tension visible between both men. As Aladdin quickened his pace to catch up, Razoul grabbed the back of the young man’s vest and threw him backwards. Aladdin pushed off the wall to get a head start, only to run straight into the guard’s held out arm. The young man quickly hopped over the arm, and Abu jumped off Aladdin’s back to yank the guard’s far-too-tall turban down over his eyes.

“Princess, please!” Razoul hurriedly fixed his head cover and raced off after the couple. “You need to have protection outside of the palace!”

“Hey!” Aladdin stopped and puffed out his chest. “I can protect Jasmine too, you know!”

Razoul looked down at the much smaller man. “As if I would ever believe that!” He spat.

“Protect me from what?” Jasmine butted in. “We’re going to the marketplace closest to the palace in broad daylight.”

Razoul straightened his posture, almost looking presentable. “There’s too many foreigners in the kingdom these days.”

“Oof.” Genie tsked. “Good thing an opinion like that’s gonna just stay here in the 10th to 13th century.” He glances at you.

“Foreigners?” Jasmine repeated.

“Exactly.” Razoul sheathed his sword and bowed again. “Desperates from Khisamistan. Here to take our food, our jobs, our housing!”

Genie looks at you even harder.

“Khisamistan?” Jasmine raised her voice. “You mean that poor city that’s been cursed with an unended sandstorm for years?” Razoul’s proud posture shrunk somewhat. “You’re upset over that? We should be proud that people think Agrabah is a safe place to build a new life!”

“Perhaps, Your Highness.” Razoul lowered his head. “But there’s so many now. It’s suspicious. It reeks of potential invasion.”

“Did you talk to any of them?” Aladdin added. Razoul’s scolded-dog expression turned into one of restrained fury. “Because I have. And they said Ma’laas Khan is executing every boy of age if they refuse to join his royal army to hunt down the ‘storm witch’ that cursed their city to start with!”

“That… could still be a lie.” The guard tried to look big again. “You can’t-”

“Enough.” Jasmine put her hand up. “I’ll hear no more of this.”

“But, Your--” Jasmine pushed her hand closer to Razoul’s face, cutting him off. He knew from that stern look from the young woman that the conversation would not continue. “Yes, Your Highness.” He said with a deep bow. With a final glare, Jasmine turned around, firmly took Aladdin’s arm and started marching down the road.

It always amazed Aladdin how Jasmine could change from such a sweet, kind carefree woman to a firm-but-fair, direct leader-to-be. She got it from her father, a man that seemed equally jolly and joyful in life yet utterly dedicated to any matter of his ruling. Honestly, the only time he had ever seen the Sultan be stern with personal matters was, well… his insistence that the two wed soon.

Aladdin’s ponderings were interrupted by footsteps behind them. Razoul was doggedly following the couple, albeit a couple feet behind the couple. “He’s still following.” Aladdin muttered.

Abu whined and turned back to Razoul. “Sheow. Sheow!” The monkey threw his hands at the guard, trying to make him leave. “Nah-ah! Sheow!”

The larger man’s footsteps quickened until they were just a few steps behind the couple. Aladdin glanced behind to give the guard a glare. Wait. From behind, down the road, a cart pulled by a horse at a quick canter was going their way.

Aladdin leaned close to Jasmine. “Do you trust me?” He whispered.

Jasmine squeezed Aladdin’s arm. “Always.” She smiled.

Aladdin gently pulled away and waited. Wait for it… Wait… He grabbed the princess by the waist and threw her squealing into the cart as it sped by. Seeing her land safely, Aladdin bolted for the wagon and jumped in the moving pile of hay next to her.

“Your Highness!” Razoul yelled before running. “Stop! The Princess! Stop that cart!”

Abu hopped out of the hay and made fart noises as he hopped back and forth on the edge of the wagon.

Jasmine rolled toward Aladdin still giggling. “Incredible. How do you always know how to make the perfect escape?”

Aladdin laid back, hands under his head. “It’s easy when you have as much practice as I do.” Aladdin looked up just in time to catch Razoul being knocked off his feet by a herd of sheep crossing the main road. “Old friend of mine used to always say ‘Experience is worth its owner’s weight in gold’.”

“Then you’re probably the richest man in the world.”

Aladdin’s face softened a little. “Maybe in Agrabah. But I’m definitely not the richest, period.”

“Hey, is someone back there?” The cart driver spoke up.

Genie in his human form poofed next to the man driving and quickly hushed him. “Shh, main characters are having a moment.”

“Ooh, sorry.” The man whispered.

“I knew a woman that just went by ‘Mama’ a long time ago that used to tell me stories of things I never imagined: misty mountain forests, tropical islands, apparently in the west they have something called Autumn that makes trees change colors, if you can believe that.”

Abu stopped jumping around and looked at Aladdin. “Maw-maw?”

“She sounds interesting.” Jasmine sat up and brushed some clinging hay off her clothes. “How come you haven’t let me meet her?”

Aladdin sat up as well. “She left Agrabah years ago for the Far East. Wanted a break from the heat, she said, try something new. Theater, I think?”

“Think she’d ever come back?”

“Nah, but I know wherever she is, she’s having the time of her life.”

------------

Author's Note: I was gonna save this to be a part of a longer chapter but since a certain shadowdropped Visual Novel dropped recently that I wanna get into, I figured I'd give you guys a good length of story before going off to game for a bit.

(Part 10)

(Part 12)

(AO3) <---- For more long-form, polished reading experience

#Aladdin #Aladdin 2 #Return of Jafar #Disney #Writing #Fanfiction #Fanfic #Musings Writes

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trivialbob · 1 year ago

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On our last full day of camping Sheila and I biked to town to check out the American Legion. As we chatted with the bartender a mom with two younger boys came in. She ordered a Busch Light and two kiddie cocktails. Grand total: $3.50. One of her boys took a sip and loudly declared "Whoa, that's strong." We all laughed.

An employee was having trouble getting a baseball game to come up on Amazon Prime Video account. Someone handed Sheila the remote control and asked her to try. She wasn't able to get the game but she did try to order five shirts on someone else's account.

After the legion we walked to a different bar. There was supposed to be a meat raffle. Unfortunately it was cancelled because there wasn't a large enough crowd. We hung out anyway for a while after we met with some people we know who were camping at another nearby site.

I love overhearing some bar conversations. So we were in the ditch, peeing, when this deer... I didn't even hear the rest of that story because everyone started laughing when the deer arrived.

Besides bicycles, some people come to town driving these:

Others arrived in these:

When we got home on Sunday I wanted so badly to do laundry. But my washer broke the day before we left. I like washing clothes. A vacation isn't officially over until I've washed the clothing we brought along.

A repairman was here today. I asked if I could watch him fix it because the machine's warranty ends next month. This part has already broken and been repaired once before.

The young man seemed pleased that I took an interest in it. He happily showed me, step by step, how to replace the part. It only took him five minutes. If I have to do it I'm sure it will take longer, but I'm confident I could do it now.

I can relax tonight. Feeling good. Feeling clean. Laundry is done, including sheets, and I found a $5 bill in Sheila's jeans. It's mine now.

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three--rings · 1 year ago

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The luck of 2023 is holding so far for me...

So Thursday I was headed to my first physical therapy appointment, from the car wreck that totaled our brand new car in August, when our other car broke down.

Faced with suddenly having no functional car, we pulled the trigger and bought a new one. We had saved up a down payment, were ready for it, just hadn't done it yet. We really wanted another blue one, but in the circumstances, black was fine.

So Thursday we went home with a brand new car, and one limping home barely running car (that thankfully, we thought, we could take our time getting repaired now. we also consulted our mechanic over the phone and got the okay to drive it a little.)

So...what's the problem.

Well after two days, Mr. Rings comes home with a flat tire. Okay, that sucks, but the tires have a warranty. But there's NO SPARE IN THE CAR. Just a broken can of Fix-a-Flat. Great.

And today is Sunday and Christmas Eve, of course he is still supposed to be working. So the dealership is closed, all the tire places are closed. Literally the only place is Walmart. So okay we form a plan. Drive the broken car to the store down the road, get more working Fix-a-Flat, put that in and use that to drive the car to Walmart and pay for a new fucking tire and make it the dealerships problem later.

Except the fix-a-flat doesn't work. So, only choice NOW is to take the tire off, put it in the back of the limping car, and drive THAT to Wal-mart (30 miles away) to get it fixed hopefully.

All of this in a Fucking Thunderstorm. On Christmas Eve.

Just...why? What are the odds that a TWO DAY OLD CAR suddenly becomes undriveable??

So please, if you can space some positive thoughts for Mr. Rings making it to Walmart and back again today...I'd appreciate it. Please send Car-No-Splody vibes.

And also, this is why, every time I'm like, We Dont Need Two Cars, it's like, YES WE DO ACTUALLY. Because no single car is reliable. When you are as isolated as we are, it's like you better have a backup.

#irl

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prep4tomoro · 2 years ago

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Heating and Cooling the House with Your Clothes Dryer:

First of all, this method of dryer venting should only be used for ELECTRIC dryers (not gas). Additionally, this may be regulated or prohibited by government or may void the dryer warranty so check these out, if you wish, before proceeding with the installation. As with any information you receive, it's always best to do your own [thorough] research before proceeding at face value. Now that that is out of the way, let's proceed with this post. While researching a dryer venting solution for my friend, I found this option. Because he was renting and did not want to drill a 4 inch hole in the wall, this seemed to be the best solution for him, along with the added benefit of heating his home while drying clothes. His landlord did not express opposition to the idea. There are several configurations, most of which use water to collect the dust that would normally blow into the home environment; some have better filtering than others and you can also make one yourself (DIY). We selected the FUNMAS 3-in-1 Indoor Dryer Vent because of its filtering and functional design. Basically, instead of running the ducting hose from the dryer to an external vent, the ducting hose is run from the dryer to the Indoor Dryer Vent. It is recommended to clean the indoor vent as needed or after 6-12 uses, depending on the model used. Additionally, the ducting hose should be periodically cleaned out as lint accumulates in its folds and at the dryer exhaust. Totally remove the ducting hose from the dryer and Indoor Dryer Vent, take it outside, and use a brush, leaf blower or vacuum to clean out the accumulated lint residue. Then vacuum out the dryer exhaust before reattaching the ducting hose. Because the heat from the dryer is not being forced outside, the heat remains in the home which could lower the winter heating bill. Just make sure the Indoor Dryer Vent is not enclosed but exposed to allow the heat to escape to the rest of the house. Also consider that humidity will increase in the house as the dryer removes water from the clothes so running a dehumidifier may be beneficial. Consider other environmental issues as well. Unfortunately, summer is a different matter and another solution may need to be considered to avoid making a warm home warmer. If venting outdoors is impossible, consider hanging clothes outside or employing one or more of these options. Now, if you're really energetic, the clothes dryer can also be used to cool your home in the summer by pulling attic heat into the dryer's intake which also pulls cooler outside air into the attic to cool the attic and the house. Because the dryer is pulling heated air from the attic, the dryer's heating element may be used less during the drying cycle, saving money. Resources: Health/Structural Issues by Discharging Dryer Vent Inside the House Indoor Dryer Vent Kit: Do They Work (Pros & Cons) Indoor Dryer Vent and Its Pros and Cons Periodic Dryer Vent and Hose Cleaning is a MUST How to Heat and Cool Your Home for Free The Many Re-Uses for Dryer Lint Drying Clothes Without a Dryer Off-Grid Laundry Day [Reference Link

[11-Cs Basic Emergency Kit] [14-Point Emergency Preps Checklist] [Immediate Steps to Take When Disaster Strikes] [Learn to be More Self-Sufficient] [The Ultimate Preparation] [P4T Main Menu]

This blog is partially funded by Affiliate Program Links and Private Donations. Thank you for your support.

#clothes dryer to heat and cool house #prepare4tomorrow #prepper #survival #diy #clothing #heating cooling #indoor dryer vent #attic air to dry your clothes #laundry #clothes

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lastimeexteriors-nebraska · 12 days ago

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What is the Typical Cost per Square Foot for Asphalt Roofing?

If you're considering upgrading your home’s roof, you're likely wondering about costs. After all, your roof is not just a protective layer over your head; it adds value to your home and contributes to its overall aesthetic. In this article, we’ll break down the typical cost per square foot for asphalt roofing, guiding you through factors affecting pricing and providing tips on working with an asphalt roofing contractor.

The Basics of Asphalt Roofing

Asphalt roofing is one of the most popular choices for homeowners nationwide due to its affordability, durability, and versatility. Before diving into costs, it's essential to understand the types of asphalt roofing available. The two main types are:

3-Tab Asphalt Shingles: These are the most budget-friendly option, featuring a simple, flat design. They typically have a lifespan of around 20 years.

Architectural Shingles: These are thicker and are designed to mimic the look of more expensive materials. Although they come at a higher price point, their lifespan can reach 30 years or more, making them a worthwhile investment.

Factors Influencing the Cost of Asphalt Roofing

When assessing the cost of asphalt roofing, several factors come into play:

1. Type of Shingle

The type of asphalt shingle you choose significantly impacts the overall cost. Standard 3-tab shingles typically range from $90 to $100 per square (one square equals 100 square feet), while architectural shingles might cost between $120 to $150 per square.

2. Quality and Brand

Different manufacturers offer varying levels of quality. Higher-end brands may come with longer warranties and better performance, which can justify their increased price.

3. Roof Size and Complexity

The total area of your roof and its complexity—like the number of slopes, valleys, and chimneys—will influence installation costs. A more complex roof design may require additional labor and materials, increasing the price.

4. Location

Your geographical location will also play a role in the overall cost. Areas with a higher cost of living or a shortage of roofing contractors may see increased prices. Additionally, local building codes and regulations may affect material choice and labor costs.

Average Cost per Square Foot

On average, the total cost for asphalt roofing ranges from $3.50 to $5.50 per square foot. This estimate typically includes both materials and installation.

Low-End Estimate: For basic 3-tab shingles, expect to pay around $3.50 per square foot.

High-End Estimate: For architectural shingles, costs can rise to about $5.50 per square foot, especially considering the installation's added complexity.

Working with an Asphalt Roofing Contractor

Finding a qualified asphalt roofing contractor can make all the difference in your roofing project. Here are some tips for selecting the right professional:

1. Check Credentials

Ensure that the contractor holds the necessary licenses and insurance. This protects you in case of accidents or damage during installation.

2. Ask for References

A reputable contractor should be willing to provide references from previous clients. Take the time to contact these references and ask about their experiences.

3. Get Multiple Quotes

Always obtain quotes from several contractors to compare prices and services. This process allows you to gauge the market rate and select the best fit for your budget and needs.

4. Review the Contract Carefully

Before signing, ensure the contract includes all details about the scope of work, materials used, timeline, and payment structure. Having everything in writing helps avoid misunderstandings later on.

Why Choose Asphalt Roofing?

Asphalt roofing offers several benefits that make it a popular choice for homeowners:

Affordability: Asphalt shingles are often the most budget-friendly option compared to other roofing materials.

Variety: Available in numerous styles and colors, asphalt shingles can easily complement any home design.

Energy Efficiency: Many asphalt shingles come with reflective coatings, making them energy-efficient, especially in hotter climates.

Conclusion

Understanding the typical cost per square foot for asphalt roofing helps you plan your budget effectively. With costs ranging from $3.50 to $5.50 per square foot, you can decide based on your roofing needs.

Whether you opt for basic 3-tab shingles or invest in architectural shingles, working with a reliable asphalt roofing contractor ensures a successful installation. Remember, taking the time to research and plan can save you money and stress in the long run.

Ready to enhance your home with a new roof? Visit Lastime Exteriors today to explore our services and learn more about energy-efficient roofing solutions tailored to your needs. Let us help protect your investment while boosting your home’s curb appeal!

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mariam0309 · 3 months ago

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How Home Warranty Services Affect Home Resale Value

ServicePlus - Total Home Warranty Service. Thinking about selling your house? Listing your property on the market is not easy. You have to consider a whole lot of things to make your house attractive to potential buyers. This is where a home warranty comes into the picture. Having a home warranty can be a very lucrative option to sell your property faster.

In this blog post, we will understand how a home warranty can increase the chances of your house getting sold quicker in this competitive real estate market and how ServicePlus home warranty services can help you achieve that goal.

What is a Home Warranty?

A home warranty is an agreement between a homeowner and the home warranty service provider. In this detailed document, you can find the information related to which services are provided to you. The main reason behind getting a home warranty is that it safeguards your home appliances in times of breakdowns. If you have a good home warranty in place, you don’t need to spend excess amounts on repairs or replacements when your systems stop working.

Service Plus Home Warranty Plans Here!

Home Warranty and Home Resale Value: The Real Connection

It’s always better to have a home warranty, but it's absolutely necessary when you are selling your property. Potential buyers are not just going to buy your property without investigating what offerings are on the table, and a home warranty comes in as a serious differentiator. If you have a home warranty, then future clients are going to be more relaxed and comfortable when making the transaction.

Benefits of Offering a Home Warranty When Selling

Let's understand some of the key benefits of giving a home warranty to your potential buyers:

Enhanced Buyer Confidence

When people look for a house to buy, they anticipate a lot of things. Having a home warranty at the time of selling boosts their confidence to take the final call. This approach can make potential buyers come to a conclusion quickly.

Competitive Edge in the Market

Buyers are not going to reach out to you if you do not offer them lucrative options, and having a home warranty always helps you with that. Besides this, having a home warranty helps you gain that extra competitive edge in the market.

Increased Chances of a Faster Sale

The real estate markets are uncertain these days, and selling your house in such a market is difficult. You don’t have a clue about how much time it will take to sell the property. In such scenarios, having everything figured out always helps. A home warranty can streamline this process, and your house will get sold quickly.

Home Warranty Cost Considerations When Reselling

Many people think that getting a home warranty at the time of home reselling is an extra burden on your pocket. But if you look at the bigger picture, a home warranty service not only just protects your home appliances, plumbing systems, and house leakages but also helps you sell your house quicker in this competitive market. So, if you consider the total cost of ownership (TCO), a home warranty always comes in handy at the time of reselling your property.

Home Warranty Companies Here!

ServicePlus Home Warranty Services for Property Resellers

Unlock endless house-selling possibilities with ServicePlus home warranty services. ServicePlus offers extensive home warranty coverage plans to fit every homeowner's budget. No matter the age, make, or model, your service agreement can help you cover your appliances. We have come up with three distinguished plans, namely Gold, Platinum, and options tailor-made to adjust to your specific needs. Safeguard your home appliances and your family with ServicePlus.

#home warranty companies #home warranty plans #total home warranty

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vid-writes · 7 months ago

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Owning Her Ch. 2

As always this story is for adults only!

Not only that but it contains lots of graphic BDSM content that most won't enjoy so if you don't want to encounter this story then please block the tag #TW Owning Her

"I will be having guests over tonight," Greyson had told Vivian when he let her out for breakfast this morning before work. Her clothes were in his hands, and she noted the lack of underwear or a bra. The skirt was knee-length and almost tight enough to reveal the outline of her chastity belt. Her plain pink silk shirt also barely hid her stiff nipples.

"So, are you going to help me or not?" snapped the customer into Vivian's headset. She mimed jerking off, thankful for the walls of her office before she replied.

"You never told me whether you had restarted the device." The groan the man let out made her want to bang her head on her desk.

"Of course I did, lady, and that didn't do shit," he grumbled.

"Well, there's no need to curse with me. If the device remains frozen and restarting it didn't work then your options are to take it to a store or mail it to a repair center." Vivian typed a summary of the conversation into the service document.

"I'm not going to get charged some outrageous fee just because my baby poured milk all over her tablet, am I?" The guy sounded incredibly distressed. Vivian felt for him.

"As long as the repairs don't outweigh the total warranty service credit, then you won't even be charged for shipping," she answered.

His sigh of relief made her smile.

"Then I'll take it to a local shop and let them handle it. Thank you," the man said and hung up before she could reply.

She finished filing the report and emailed it to her boss before sitting back in her chair. There were only two hours left in Vivian's shift. Two hours before Greyson finished punishing her for last night. One hundred and twenty minutes before, Vivian was in a room of eight to ten people and of free use.

She wasn't opposed to other people using her body, but it still embarrassed her and humiliated her. Greyson knew it would, so that was why this was happening. The thought made her already aching nipples even harder.

It had been almost eight months since the last time Greyson had punished Vivian with being used by his friends. They had been at dinner in an adults-only restaurant, and she had refused to stop eating dessert and suck him off underneath the table. As a result, he made her watch the waitress happily do it instead. Then, the next day, on her day off, she had been awoken by Greyson dragging her into the living room full of guests.

She had spent the entire day serving them drinks and servicing their cocks. When they had all left, Greyson took her back to the restaurant and made her suck him off while he ate dinner. She had leftovers once they got home.

Before Vivian realized it, five o'clock had rolled around and she was in the elevator with her coworkers as they headed for their cars. Once she was behind the wheel of her car, she texted Greyson to let him know she was on the way home.

Clothes on the floor as soon as you're inside the door.

Once the door to Greyson's apartment closed behind her, Vivian stripped off her clothes and moved to the living room. This time, a different set of his male friends sat around the living room. Heat filled her cheeks at the thought of new people using her this time.

"Right on time, like the good girl you're supposed to be," Greyson greeted her. She tried to ignore all the men as she stalked for her Master. Like last time, she knelt between his feet where he sat in his recliner and waited.

"Should I unlock her chastity belt now, fellas?" He asked as Vivian stared at the floor. More heat filled her cheeks as they all muttered for a second.

"Nah, letting her cunt have any joy now wouldn't make the punishment stick," came a cold and hollow voice from Vivian's right. She peeked over to see a tall, thinly muscular man with pale blonde hair and curt blue eyes. He glared at her, so she looked back at the floor.

"Go get me a beer and anything else any of them want," Greyson commanded.

"Yes, Sir," Vivian confidently said as she stood up.

Three of the eight men present asked for beers, two asked for a bottle of vodka and shot glasses, one asked for her to sit on his lap once she served the rest, one asked for nothing, and the cold blonde just turned to Greyson.

Vivian did her best to remember who asked for what. She knew mix-ups would result in degradation, spankings, or humiliation. Unfortunately for her, she had a pretty shitty memory, and as luck would have it, she mixed up who asked for the beers.

Two of the guys called her a dumb slut, and one of them snatched her by the face. He forced her jaw open and poured some of the beer into her mouth. Without waiting for a command, Vivian swallowed the beer and stayed in his grasp.

"Get it right," he snarled as his green eyes flared. He shoved the beer back at her. She got a fresh one and gave it to the proper guy before sitting on the lap of the guy who had requested it.

Right away, his calloused hands palmed her breasts. Relief flooded through Vivian as pleasure finally replaced the ache in her nipples. She ground her ass against his hardening cock as a silent thank you.

"Already so desperate for cock are you?" the man asked her. She looked over her shoulder into his brown eyes and nodded. She wasn't even faking it like she had to sometimes, so the humiliation of this lasted less time. Vivian's cunt ached, and even though it wouldn't get any relief for a while, she knew the desire could be tampered down for a bit with a blow job.

"Then get on your knees and get a taste. And don't you dare spit it out, or I'll rub your nose in it like a dog," commanded the brown-eyed man.

Vivian slid off of his lap and between his knees quickly. As soon as his cock was free of his clothes, all chatter stopped. The heat returned to her cheek as Vivian hesitated.

"Don't start being shy now girl you've got a long night ahead of you," came the cold voice of the blonde from behind her. Vivian resisted the urge to flip him off and swallowed the four-inch cock of the man in front of her. She pretended to gag when her nose hit the flesh of his waist.

He groaned in approval and fisted her hair. Before Vivian could move, the man pulled her up and down the length of his cock, already going fast. His hips slammed up into her nose as she sucked his length tightly. Within mere minutes, the man came in her mouth, long before her jaw even began to ache. She made a dramatic show of loudly swallowing before she pulled off of his cock.

"Not so useless after all," panted the brown-eyed man as he tucked his cock away. "You can return to your Master unless someone else wants you." He waved his hand in dismissal and called for a shot of vodka.

"Come over here and suck me off next," called out a man with red hair and pale skin. He was the one who had asked for the vodka and was already notably intoxicated in such a short time.

Vivian crawled over to the man since she was already on the floor, and several men cheered. She lowered her front to the ground and kept her ass in the air. One man slapped it as she crawled by.

After twenty minutes of sucking the impressively long and thick cock of the ginger male, he finally came. His load, just like his cock, was impressively large. Vivian had to swallow five times to get it all down.

Almost two hours later, she had finally sucked off every man in the room except for the cold blonde. She had even sucked the first guy off a second time already. Vivian knelt on her pillow by the door where Greyson had dismissed her five minutes ago. Her jaw ached, her mouth smelled like come, her nipples were constantly fully erect, and her pussy throbbed with need.

"Should she be let out of her chastity belt now, fellas?" Greyson asked, interrupting the debate about sports they were having. Everyone looked at the cold blonde, who nodded once. "Come here," Greyson said to her.

Vivian walked over and stood in front of her Master. He dug the key for her belt from his pocket and unlocked it. As soon as the belt slipped off her hips, the cold blonde spoke up.

"You will come service me with your pussy now, little whore," he commanded.

"Yes, sir," Vivian replied, and she walked over and straddled his lap.

"Face the other way." His tone was even harsher in a whisper. Vivian turned around to find everyone watching her again. Heat returned to her cheeks as she felt the blonde pull out his cock. He lifted her and, without getting her wet, slid right into her pussy.

Vivian nearly screamed at the sudden intrusion. His cock was thicker than Greyson's and longer too. It felt like it was splitting her in half as he started fucking her down onto his cock right away. Her pussy flooded itself to ease the discomfort as the blonde drilled into her relentlessly. His hands left her waist to torment her nipples.

The blonde then shifted, and Vivian found herself face down on the couch as he continued to pound her from behind. His fingers tugged on her nipples harshly as he drove his cock into her over and over. Vivian came hard before she could stop herself, but the blonde just kept ruthlessly fucking her. Just when she was about to orgasm again, the blonde's hips stuttered and stopped as he dumped his come into her. Vivian had gotten her tubes tied years ago, so all of the seed that would fill her tonight meant nothing.

The blonde slid out of Vivian and dismounted her. Before she could catch her breath, another man spoke up.

"Hey Michael, do you want to go another round in her pussy while I take her mouth," asked the brown-eyed man whom Vivian had sucked off twice now. He liked blow jobs.

"Yeah, that sounds fun to me," replied the cold blonde behind her. As she shifted her weight to accommodate the man that would be fucking her mouth, another man spoke up.

"She's going to need to go on the floor. I think the only thing that will make sure this slut never disrespects her Master again will be getting fucked in all three holes at once," said the man who she had sucked off second.

They rearranged the living room to accommodate all four of them and hauled Vivian to the floor. The green-eyed mad worked her asshole open with lube for far less time than Greyson would and then pulled her back and down onto his cock. Vivian loudly moaned as he filled her ass.

Before she could fully adjust, Michael hovered over them and slammed his cock into her pussy with one thrust. Embarrassment filled Vivian as he shifted his head so the brown-eyed man could take her mouth.

Once all three of her holes were full the men moved all at once. The guy fucking her ass set the pace, and the driving of his cock propelled her along the lengths of the other two men. She had never been this full of cock in her life, and the sensation made her come right away.

"Greedy little whore," chided Michael as he tortured her nipples again. "Already cumming, and we just got started."

Hearing that she was already getting off, the guy fucking her asshole started going faster. His cock slammed into her ass so hard she knew she would have bruises there tomorrow. The embarrassment of having three guys fuck her while six more watched made her come again.

A groan of pleasure warned her just before the brown-eyed man filled her mouth with come. She swallowed and loosened her lips, but he kept his softening cock in her mouth, so she kept sucking on it.

Orgasm after orgasm of her own, these men fucked all three of her holes. Michael came three times into her pussy before he started toying with her clit. The man buried in her ass was causing her pain from dryness when he finally busted.

The foursome lasted another twenty minutes before all the men collapsed onto Vivian. They lay there panting for a few minutes before they all got up, righted themselves, bid Greyson goodbye, and left.

Vivian stayed on the floor, unable to move from all the pleasure and embarrassment. She finally caught her breath and pushed to her elbows, only to notice the rest of the men had left. Only she and Greyson remained.

"Do you think you've learned your lesson?" He asked her as he walked back into the living room.

"Yes, Sir," she replied as she kneeled where she was.

"Then bend over the coffee table. I'm going to fuck your pussy until I'm satisfied," Greyson commanded. Vivian crawled over to the table, unable to trust her legs to carry her.

She bent over the side and rested her cheek on the table. Greyson wasted no time in crossing the room and filling her pussy with his cock.

Every thrust made Vivian ache more and more. Her pussy was so worn out from all of the use. Still, Greyson pounded into her ruthlessly. When he came the first time, he didn't even stop, he just fucked her through it. And his thrusts got rougher, enough so that the table started to move with each snap of his hips.

As he stilled with the second orgasm, Vivian knew she was going to feel this fucking for days. It was a good thing she enjoyed reminders like this and had a private office. Whenever Greyson hadn't grounded her from masturbating, she would take a break, close her blinds, and get off while remembering the most recent time Greyson had used her as a come dump.

When Greyson finally pulled out of her pussy over eight orgasms from him later, she was exhausted to her core. He scooped her up and carried her to his bathroom. Gentle kisses warmed her skin as he ran a bath for her.

"You took your punishment like such a good girl," he cooed in her ear as the water ran. "Such a useful girl who is capable of so much." She loved aftercare from Greyson. He always showered her with praise and baths.

As they bathed and he continued to praise her, Vivian floated on a cloud of bliss. Embarrassment tinged the bliss, but she was free of her chastity belt.

Later that night, as they drifted to sleep in Greyson's bed, she whispered something she had been holding in for a few months now, "I want to try somno."

His arm tightened on her more, and she looked over her shoulder.

"How much are you talking about here? Because we established that you're off limits while unconscious." She mulled over the thought for a minute before she replied.

"The next time you wake up horny, I would be okay waking up to you fingering me or even eating me out."

Delight lit up Greyson's eyes as he kissed her forehead.

"Dually noted, kitten. Now get some sleep you have that meeting at work tomorrow." She groaned at the reminder but settled back into his arms anyway.

Maybe she wouldn't even be mentally present for the meeting if Greyson took advantage of the new information and woke her up with his fingers in her cunt.

Here is where you can find the rest of this story easily

#writing #writeblr #writers on tumblr #writers #writer #writerscommunity #my writing #original character #tw owning her #owning her

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