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nataliedanovelist · 3 years

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GF - Mabel’s Worry

Collab with @clownwry! They’ve been super sweet and very nice, and after getting inspired by this post, I decided to write a full on-fic about it... but then it spiraled out of control, so enjoy an angsty story featuring the sweater twins!

~~~~~~~~~~

Mabel sat up quickly, breathing just as heavy as an Olympic runner. She shook her head to clear it and she hugged her knees in self-embarrassment. It was just a stupid nightmare. Vague, no real plot, but still carried the overall message, the fear, anxiety, and still made Mabel’s blood run cold and sweat sparkle on her forehead. She needed to calm down, get herself together. Milk. Warm milk.

And so she quietly got out of bed and left her shared attic bedroom for downstairs. Despite being gone for nine months, she still knew this dark home by heart. She could walk it blindfolded if needed, but the moonlight leaking in through the triangular windows helped her in her journey. That and a small light coming from the living room. Like a moth to a flame, Mabel sleepily dragged her socked feet to the room and peaked through the doorway, half of her face hidden by wood and shadow.

Grunkle Ford was sitting in the armchair, reading a book in the light of a lamp. Mabel’s spirit was lifted, relieved and happy to see him, but she was hesitant to bother him. He was happy with his book, she really shouldn’t bother him with her own stupid problems. She should probably just go get her drink and go to bed and leave him alone. But then Grunkle Ford’s instincts alerted him of a spy and he looked up and instantly smiled.

“Mabel,” His blissful facial expression dropped suddenly remembering that she went to bed a few hours ago and it wasn’t quite daylight yet. “What’s wrong? Is everything okay?”

This really wasn’t like her, for words to fail leaving her mouth, for her to be silent or non-vocal. But all Mabel could do was barely step into the light, hands behind her back, and shrug with her eyes to the floor. She was silent because she was afraid of what she would say if she dared to give herself the opportunity to talk. Ford grew more concerned, but he knew what to do; he had more practice under his belt now than he did months ago. He smiled softly at his niece, closed his book and sat it on the dino skull, and patted his thigh. “Come here.”

Mabel looked up and bit her lip. The dame broke over her uncle’s kindness. With watering eyes she ran into his lap and clung onto him tightly, burying her face in his chest and whimpering as tears left her eyes. Ford hugged her back tightly and petted her soft long brown hair. The girl might be thirteen, but that doesn’t mean she would stop having nightmares or no longer need comfort. Moses knows, as much as he would deny it, Ford still had nightmares and still needed reassurance. Not to mention it was well-earned after everything he and his family had been through… everything he put his family through…

Mabel was mumbling something into his maroon sweater. Ford thought it was moans, sobs, but as he listened he could actually make out words. “M’sorry… m’sorry…”

“Hey, hey.” Ford said softly. “There’s nothing to be sorry for, my dear.”

“... didn’t mean t’bother you…”

“Oh,” Ford cooed as gentle as a lamb. “Oh, sweetheart, you could never bother me. Never.”

Mabel sniffed. “M’sorry.” Whether she was still sorry for bothering him or sorry for being sorry was a bit unclear, but Ford decided it didn’t matter.

“It’s alright.” Ford eased. “It’s alright, my dear.”

After a few minutes of letting Mabel cry into his chest, Ford could feel Mabel make a sharp shiver in his hold. He got a pretty good idea, and so he gently had Mabel let him go. She whimpered like a puppy denied a treat, but she watched with sparkling eyes as Ford slipped off his maroon sweater, revealing a thin long-sleeved white undershirt, and he sweetly pulled it over Mabel’s head and smiled at her. She helped him by slipping her arms into the correct holes and she grinned as she now wore Ford’s old red sweater. Nearly every day he wore a Mabel Sweater she had made for her, whether she mailed it to the Stan O’ War while they were apart, or she gave it to him in person. Only every so often did he wear his old sweater, but they were both glad he did.

Mabel allowed her head to sink deeper into the worn yarn. Her senses and lungs were drowned in Ford’s scent, which brought along happy memories and good emotions. She hugged Ford again and he happily held her, petting her hair and just being there.

A few minutes of silence passed, and Ford made a prediction that it was a good time to check on her verbally. “Feeling better? Mabel?” He looked down and Mabel was asleep, one arm still around him, one hand holding onto his undershirt. Ford chuckled warmly in his chest, slowly stood, and carried Mabel to the attic to tuck her in.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Dipper, they’re ready!” Mabel called.

Dipper hurried up the stairs and ran into his shared bedroom, plopped on the beanbag, and Mabel started the call on the laptop they had on the floor between the two beds. The grunkles answered at once, sitting at the table and grinning.

“Well hey there, gremlins! How was your week?” Stan greeted.

“Pretty good, just the usual school stuff.” Dipper answered.

“Did you get the package?” Mabel asked.

Ford grinned and picked up the large sealed box and placed it on the table. “Yes, perfectly intact! We picked it up in Pevek two days ago.”

“What?! And you haven’t opened it?!”

“Oh, well we thought we should wait until…”

“You two will freeze!” Mabel shook her head and smiled. “Open it and get warm!”

Stan rolled his eyes as he pulled out his pocketknife and cut the tape. “Sweetie, in the last two years we’ve been sailing you’ve sent us three trunks full of blankets, eight pairs of gloves, at least a dozen sweaters for each of us, six scarves…”

“Not that we don’t appreciate it, we always love your packages, my dear.” Ford interrupted. “But you work too hard. We’re never cold thanks to you.”

“Good. Let’s keep it that way.” Mabel said firmly.

“Oh wow! Mabel!” Ford gasped happily as he pulled out a new green sweater-vest with golden diamonds and a long-sleeved salmon button up. “This is beautiful!” Ford also pulled out a regular dark-orange turtleneck.

Stan noticed there had been two stacks of things. Ford had already taken out his stack, so the old conman grinned as he plunged his hand into the box and grabbed his new baby-blue sweater with a sailboat on it. “Sweet! And look here!” Stan pulled out another sweater, this one being a warm cream color with tiny pinetrees on the neck and wrists and waist of the sweater. “Wow, Mabel! Just when I thought your sweaters couldn’t get more impressive… this is so cool!”

Mabel blushed over the compliments. “I’m glad you like them. There’s still…”

“Oh, my dear, this must have taken you ages!” Ford pulled out one last item: a large knitted blanket to go with the others, this one made with very thick yarn that was as soft as the melody of youthful days. It was very large and could easily cover both men, and it resembled the sky perfectly, being dark blue with white specks.

“Thank you, pumpkin, this is amazing!”

Mabel grinned and said, “Just please stay warm.”

Ford smiled and nodded. “Of course we will. We’re always careful, my dear. And thanks to you I think I’ve forgotten what it’s like to be cold.”

Mabel wasn’t sure if she bought it, the number of times she saw their chattering teeth, tight jaws, and rosy cheeks and noses in pictures, but she decided not to fight it and she just smiled.

~~~~~~~~~~

There are some benefits to living in the glorious year of 2014. Many different forms of communication allow people to keep in contact, no matter how far apart they are. So not only did Ford, Stan, Dipper, and Mabel, text every day and send pictures and emails, they always had their Saturday night/Sunday morning video call. Always. So, of course, Mabel and Dipper were a little concerned when no one responded to their text messages to ask if they were ready for the call.

“Hey guys! Ready?”

“Rise and shine, sleepy heads! Can’t wait to see you guys!”

“Are you guys okay? We understand if you can’t make it this week.”

“Is something wrong? We’re not mad, but could you please text us.”

“Guys, seriously, this isn’t funny…”

“If we don’t hear back from you guys I will call the FBI! The CIA!”

“You guys do know how to use your phones, right?”

“Are you guys hurt?! ARE YOU DEAD?!”

Dipper looked up from his phone and across his bedroom. Mabel was in Sweatertown on her bed, buried in her favorite nightgown. Dipper sighed and moved to sit next to her. “Mabel, it’ll be okay.”

“They’re jerks.” Mabel mumbled from within the maroon yarn.

Dipper smiled and nodded in agreement. “Yeah, we’ll get payback when they finally answer.”

Mabel lifted her head just enough to peek at his twin. “But what if they never do…” And tears formed.

Dipper rubbed her back and said, “They will. I swear.”

But they didn’t. As time ticked from ten o’clock at night to midnight to even three o’clock in the morning, Dipper and Mabel stayed awake, waiting for a response, both of them knowing any attempt to sleep was futile. And when Mabel’s phone buzzed and rang for a video-call, they both dove and Mabel clicked the green button with a shaking hand.

~~~~~~~~

Stan gave his brother the mug of warm water. “You’re an idiot.”

Ford snorted and sipped the warm drink. “This isn’t coffee.”

“You don’t need coffee, you need to get hydrated.” Stan collapsed into the couch next to his brother. His eyes landed on the wall-clock, and he shot up quickly and ran for the bedroom. “DAMN IT!”

“What? What is it?!” Ford gasped.

“It’s Sunday!”

Ford groaned and slapped his forehead.

Stan grabbed his phone and found a dozen text messages from each kid and some missed phone calls. “Ah jeez, I know you’re wiped out, Sixer, but we gotta talk to these kids.”

“I don’t care if I’m on my deathbed, we’re calling them.” Ford hollered back as he loosened the grip of his blanket and Stan entered the room. His brother sat next to him and called Mabel’s phone.

At once Stan’s phone lit up with two distressed looking kids, both with wide eyes but missing their bedheads. “YOU’RE OKAY!” The two teenagers cried out.

Stan winced. “Kids, we’re really really sorry…”

“What happened?!” Mabel gasped. “Grunkle Ford, are you okay?! You don’t look very good, are you sick?!”

“Mabel, sweetie, I’m okay.” Ford eased. “I… erm, I fell overb-...”

“YOU FELL IN THE OCEAN?!” Mabel yelled in horror.

“Ssh, Mabel!” Dipper hissed, eyeing the door.

“Are you okay?! Are you on your way to a hospital?! Do you need anything? We can hitchhike…”

“Mabel, Mabel, please, I’m alright, Stanley’s been taking excellent care of me.” Ford said firmly. “I’m sorry we scared you, sweetie, but…”

“Well, good!” Mabel snapped, visibly angry and now full-on scolding. Stan and Ford glanced at each other nervously, getting flashbacks of scoldings from their mother. “You should be, knuckleheads! We can’t tell if you’re even still alive unless you tell us! Don’t you ever scare me like that again, you hear?! If something happened to you… I’m glad you’re happy and doing what you love, but PLEASE don’t kill yourselves doing it!” Mabel bit her lip as she realized she was yelling, and she used the long sweater sleeve to wipe at her damp eyes. “Sorry, I didn’t mean…”

“Aw, pumpkin, it’s okay.” Stan replied calmly. “You’ve got every right to be mad at us. I’m sorry, I should have at least texted you. But I honestly didn’t cuz I was busy keeping this dork alive.” Stan teased, elbowing Ford and making him smile. “So, yeah, that was really scary and that wasn’t fair, but he’s gonna be just fine and we’re both okay and you know that now. Right?”

Mabel held her knees and sunk her face into Ford’s old sweater, only her eyes and the top half of her face visible now, but she wasn’t looking at them. “Yeah… Yeah, okay…”

“Mabel,” Ford said firmly. “Mabel, look at me.” He waited until her eyes were on him, and he smiled softly and said, “We’re okay. I promise, we’re both okay.”

Mabel couldn’t help but return the smile. “Okay… okay…” She sniffed and lifted her head a little, but her chin was still happily buried in red yarn. “So, tell us what happened? Was it the Kraken again?”

Stan grinned at the opportunity for a story, and the kids happily sat and listened.

~~~~~~~~~~

Almost fifteen-years-old. Dipper should know better than to run off into the woods after a dangerous anomaly, but he did it anyway. Mabel stayed home to make sure the monster didn’t come back, and was soon reunited with her boys as they arrived, breathing heavily. Dipper was okay for the most part. His arm was hurt and he had a black eye, but he was okay, and their grunkles were only a little scuffed and there was a leaf or two in Ford’s fluffy hair.

Mabel hurried to Dipper, but instead of hugging him like the three guessed she would, she smacked her brother over the head.

“Hey!”

“Mabel!”

“You KNUCKLEHEAD!” Mabel screamed. “Don’t you EVER do that again, you hear?! Don’t you dare! What were you thinking?! You just HAD to go after it! Couldn’t go inside like a normal person!”

“Good to see you too, sis.” Dipper muttered. “I had it under control.”

“I don’t care! What if you never came back…”

Dipper blinked and interrupted her. “Aw, Mabel, that was never gonna happen.”

Mabel bit her lip, held herself, and looked away.

“M-Mabel, I’m really sorry…”

“Here, let’s get you cleaned up first, and then we’ll talk about this, okay?” Stan eased, sensing that they needed a time-out. “C’mon, kid.”

Dipper sighed and followed Stan to the bathroom where they kept the first aid kit, leaving Ford alone with Mabel, who was well prepared to talk to her.

“Mabel, my dear, you have every right to be upset with him…”

“How could he do that?!” Mabel looked up at her uncle. “How could he think for a second it’s okay to just run off like that?!”

Ford chuckled a little to try to lighten the situation. “You know your brother. He has high ambitions and is extremely curious.”

“That doesn’t matter!” Mabel snapped. “It’s still stupid and selfish! I know he needs to do what he loves, but doesn’t he know how much I need him?! How can he just leave me behind?!”

Ford stared at Mabel. Her voice was cracking, her lip was trembling, and something in her eyes was screaming to be heard. Ford thought for a second, then dared to ask, “A-Are you talking about Stanley and I as well?”

Mabel sobbed. She yelled out in pain and collapsed on the bottom step, burning her face in her hands, and sobbed her heart out. Ford was stunned to hear her cry so hard, in so much emotional pain. She didn’t even cry this hard over any nightmares, and he had dealt with a handful of them. Poor Mabel was crying so hard and violently she gagged and retched occasionally, her body torn if she could cry or not but it was out of her control.

Ford got on his knees before her, but did not touch her. It broke his heart to see her so upset. And he and Stan had done this? Whatever it would take to fix it, he would do it. He was reluctant, but if sailing around the world with his brother was causing this much pain for their girl, then they would both agree to dock for good. “M-Mabel…”

“I understand…” Mabel mumbled through her tears and into her palms. “I understand why you had to go… why you both wanna go… b-b-but what if something happens to you?! How many times have you both gotten sick or hurt or nearly killed?! I miss you all the time and I’m always worried I’ll never see or hear from you again!”

“Oh, Mabel, sweetie…” Ford reached out a hand to put on her shoulder, but Mabel threw herself into Ford’s hold and he hugged her back tightly.

“I get it… I understand why you have to go… so WHY do I still feel this way?!” Mabel sobbed, clinging onto his uncle for dear life. “I’m so angry and scared and hurt! But I don’t want you to stop, I want you to sail cuz I know it makes you happy, but I need you to be okay!”

A lot of things clicked in Ford’s brain. Why Mabel always sent packages full of warm clothes. Why she always asked what they ate. Why she always checked on them. Why she was very observant and asked if they were okay if something was slightly off. Why she easily got worried if she didn’t hear from them. And why she always hugged them like she never wanted to let them go.

Ford blinked his stiff eyes a few times and forced himself to keep it together. “I’m so sorry, Mabel. You and your brother are everything to us. I love you two more than anything. If… If sailing causes you this much distress we can…”

“NO! No no no!” Mabel screamed in horror, holding on tighter. “No, please don’t stop cuz of me! I don’t- That doesn’t matter!”

“Mabel Pines,” Ford said firmly and readjusted his hold on her so he could look her straight in the eye. “You matter.”

“I-I know. I know.” Mabel breathed. “But… please don’t stop sailing cuz of me. Please. I don’t want you to stop. But… I want you and Grunkle Stan to be okay. I… I can’t lose you…”

A large lump was in Ford’s throat. He tried to swallow it away, but it didn’t work. He compromised and took advantage of the silence. He cupped Mabel’s right cheek with his left hand and wiped some tears away with his thumb. Mabel covered his hand with hers and turned her face into his palm.

“I understand, my dear. I do. And I’m so sorry. I swear, we won’t stop sailing unless we want to. You have my word. But I also swear to you that Stanley and I won’t let anything happen. We;re too scared of losing each other to let anything happen, believe me.” Mabel moved her eyes to his. “We will always come home. I promise.”

Mabel hugged her uncle again and cried into his shoulder, leaving him to rub her back and pray she would be okay. Ford opened his eyes and caught the sight of his twin at the top of the stairs. He must have heard Mabel’s screams and come to investigate, but decided to stay out of it. But a look from Ford told Stan that Mabel needed him too, so Stan climbed down the stairs, sat behind her, and hugged them both.

#GF #gravity falls #gift #collab #ford and mabel bonding #fanfiction #clownwry #sea grunks #angst #ANGST AND FLUFF

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codylabs · 3 years

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December’s Wrath

Chapter 1

It hadn't been a simple decision to leave California and his family and his sister to go spend the holidays in Gravity Falls with Wendy. But that was the decision he had made, and by the time he was really starting to question whether or not it was the right one, he had already crossed the state line into Oregon, and the rumble of the bus's engine had lulled him halfway to sleep. Thoughts like his parents' and his grandparents' disappointment at his absence, thoughts like Mabel wishing he could be there to see her new Hanukkah sweater, thoughts like the price of the bus fare, thoughts like the incomprehensible breadth of miles increasing between him and home, thoughts like the knowledge that the Corduroys had 'apocalypse training' instead of any kind of holiday celebration, thoughts like he wasn't prepared, thoughts like high clouds and dark trees and rare sun, these were the thoughts drifting through his head. Thoughts like he was right. Thoughts like he was wrong.

It was a starless night outside the bus, so all he could see beyond the window was a foot and a half of whirling snowflakes, and his own reflection, both layers tinted a grim color by the bus's pinkish interior lights. Crystals of frost were growing on the outside of the window, his breath was condensing on the inside of the window, and he was fast asleep a minute later, and his dreams were sad and lonely and brave and cold, cold, a terrible and cutting cold that pierced to the bone, clawed like an eagle's talons. His dream was a walking dream, while Wendy called him forward and Mabel called him back. The wind was calling too, but not in any specific direction. It just called.

The dawn came around 8:00, he woke up around 8:30, the bus left him at the stop around 9:00, and Wendy met him around 9:01. He almost didn't recognize her at first, beneath the layers of unfamiliar winter clothes, the gloves twice the size of her hands, the grey jacket and the baggy pants. It was only her face by which he identified her, peaking out from the middle of the hood. There was a light in her eyes and a smile on her lips, and he only barely had time to recognize her before she grabbed him in a hug and lifted him off the ground. "EEEEEYY It's good to see you man!" She hollered as she twirled him around. Her words were drowned out for a split second by the hissing of the bus's brakes as it moved off down the road. "How's it been going?"

"It's been going good!" She hugged her back until she set him back down. His backpack threatened to tip him over as he landed but he managed to catch himself. The ground was icy. He took a deep breath of the chill air as he shrugged the pack higher onto his shoulders and tightened the straps. "Good to see you too! I've really been missing this place! And, uh, and you, and everyone. How about you? How have you been?"

"Oh, same, you know how it is!" She punched him in the shoulder. Her breath crystallized in the air in front of her smile, and for just a moment, she looked to him like the most beautiful thing in the world. "Same as last time you were here, same as last time you called, same... I mean, what changes, man? School still sucks, weather still sucks, life's going great."

"Mood." He agreed, even though school had never really sucked that much for him, and the weather wasn't too bad, was it? It had stopped snowing, at least. "Anyway, I packed as best I could, I got my whole winter... Outfit. On." He gestured inclusively to his heavy jacket, heavy boots, three pants, and gloves, and took some reassurance that she was dressed similarly. "And uhhh toothbrush and sleeping bag and stuff. Is there anything else I need? I've never gone hiking in the winter."

"Nah, you're good. And if you're not, don't worry, we don't set out until after breakfast, and dad'll get you squared away once we get to the house." She led the way toward the Corduroy truck, parked on the roadside. "You got a change of clothes at least?"

"Yeah."

"Eh." She gave a dismissive shrug as they climbed into the truck. "You'll be fine." She was right, she was wrong.

As Dipper tossed his backpack into the back seat and made to close the door, his vision was almost completely obscured for a moment as a gust of wind pushed the vapor of his exhale back into his face. He blinked for just a moment, almost startled, and then as his breath dissipated, his eyes landed on the forest.

The forest.

It was the same forest he'd known before. The same valley, the same cliffs, the same mountains, same dome, same trees, same grass and ferns, he recognized that bend in the road, and that sign, and that water tower. But at the same time, this couldn't be the same place. Could it? The old woods were green, green and brown, and crowned with gold beneath a blue sky. These woods were grey. Grey within grey, grey as pale as snow on the fingertips of the trees and grass, grey as dark as night in the spaces beneath. The sky was grey too, no blue, no shapes of clouds, no penetrating ray of sunshine, all the world stood as if encased in prison.

It was beautiful, to be sure. Beautiful as art. But Dipper couldn't shake the nonsensical feeling that the bus had taken him to some alternative reality, some timeline where the bombs had dropped or the sun had gone out or time had frozen, that his eyes were seeing some grim warning vision and not reality. As he gazed out at that sight that used to look like a playground or a second home or some magnificent untold adventure waiting to happen, he thought, at this moment, that it looked something more like an enemy; a world-sized monster, some overbearing rival of mankind itself. He found himself sizing it up.

As Wendy watched him doing so, watched his eyes travel the landscape with a look so needlessly grim and fearless, for just a moment, he looked to her like the most handsome thing in the world. "Eh, I guess the weather's not so bad." She shrugged.

"...Yeah." He finally climbed fully inside and closed the door. "Not so bad at all." He was right, he was wrong. They rolled off down the road, toward the tall old woods where the Corduroy cabin lay hidden.

Dipper had been expecting some sort of grim, apprehensive, even frightened mood when they entered the house, (the whole 'apocalypse' motif having prepared him for the worst) but was pleasantly surprised to find the place full of laughter. Dan was bent over the stove cooking pancakes and shoveling nuts into bags, while the boys zipped around the house with their backpacks, thinking and rethinking and packing and repacking. Conversation loud and boisterous filled the air, about past trips and future trips and present trips, about weather and trees and old campfire stories and whatever else lumberjacks and mountain men talk about. Wendy joined right back in with it too, reminding her dad to bring the jerky, telling her brother to find the radio, getting told by another brother to bring an extra jacket, and all five of them were arguing about whether one person should carry all the toilet paper, or whether they should all bring their own, or whether they should just rough it off the land and wipe with leaves.

Somehow, though was no tree in the house, and no presents or decorations or cookies or little colored lights either, something about the joy and the togetherness of it all struck Dipper as belonging to a Christmas mood.

"YOU." Dan boomed down in Dipper's direction. He spun with a start to look up into the enormous man's face. "You got a knife on ya, boy?"

"Uh y-yeah. Got one right here." He nodded.

"Got matches?"

"Nope."

"You'll need matches." Dan tapped one enormous finger on a paper on the fridge; a packing list. "Need all this on here. Ask Wendy if you don't know where anything is."

"Awesome. Okay." As Dipper joined the rush, a smile touched his face, and he began to suspect that this would be a good Christmas after all. Different, for sure, different of course, but it may not be so hard, it might not be so worse. This was family, after all, a very close and loving family, and when a family is close and loving, nothing that ever happens to it seems quite so bad.

And besides, Christmas was more than just presents and decorations, wasn't it? More than just a few colorful nonsense traditions. A lot more.

But without all that, what was it exactly?

They were all packed by the time pancakes were done (As they had to be. Part of the Corduroy tradition was to leave immediately after breakfast no matter what; in a real apocalypse they wouldn't have much more warning than that, after all.) With Wendy's help Dipper had managed to get packed with everything on Dan's list, all except for a compass; the family had only six, and the sixth wasn't for using. He'd just finished zipping up his pack by the time breakfast was ready. The warm smell drew them together into the kitchen, and they set in.

"What was your name again?" Dipper looked up from his pancakes to see Wendy's youngest brother frowning across the table at him, mumbling words through a full mouth.

"Dipper." He nodded, and realized he'd never actually talked with any of Wendy's brothers, and didn't actually know anything about any of them. "...I never got you guy's names?"

"I'm Gus." The 11-year-old pointed a pair of thumbs in his own direction. "I'm the cool one."

"And I'm Marcus." Said the 15-year-old, and extended a hand to shake Dipper's. "I'm the actual cool one."

"I'm Wendy." Said Wendy, not even looking up from her phone. "I'm your girlfriend."

"I'm Kevin." Said the 13-year-old. He glanced Dipper up and down. "I bet I could take you."

That took Dipper off-guard.

Wendy snorted.

"Hey, be nice." Marcus snapped. "He's a guest!"

"You be nice." Kevin retorted.

"Everyone fight!" Gus cheered.

"EVERYONE BE NICE!" Dan thundered.

Silence descended rather immediately. u could take him. Wendy texted Dipper under the table.

Not gonna try???? He texted back.

By 10:00 their packs and supplies were all stacked in the back of the truck, and they were underway.

By 10:30 the truck was parked and locked at the end of a narrow logging road, with six sets of footprints leading away from it, deeper into the woods.

That was Friday, the 20th of December. Next week on Wednesday would be Christmas. The very next day, Saturday, was the solstice, when the days would be the shortest of the year and the sun would be dimmest, and the things the light drives out would feel most free to rise.

By 11:00 they were out of range of the cell towers, and there was nobody who could help them.

The sun flared yellow through the briefest gap in the overcast sky.

The wind howled.

A tree broke and fell with nobody to hear it.

The spirit heard it.

#gravity falls #fanfiction #dipper pines #wendy corduroy #wendip #wendipweek

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xbellaxcarolinax · 4 years

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Heartbreaker- Part 3

Pairing: Modern Ivar x Female character/ reader (She)

Word Count: 6332. Yikes.

Warnings: Sexual content, language, angst

Moodboard@peterquillzsblog

AN: The third part of this thing I did for @youbloodymadgenius 400 Followers Writing Challenge. I’m a bit insecure about this part, and it was hard to write but I hope ya’ll like it. Shout out to my girl @shannygoatgruff for helping me and encouraging me with the writing process. You da best.

Part 1, Part 2

...

The stars were mocking her, she was sure of it.

Her eyes were glued to her ceiling, the stupid LED’s sparkling brighter now that the sun had completely set and the moon had taken its place. She started learning her constellations when she was 10, the age when shit at home started to hit the fan. It was her attempt at an escape to avoid her parents fighting in the other room. She ignored the yelling and banging against the walls by running to her tiny window and staring out into the sky in the hopes of catching sight of Orion’s Belt or any of the dippers. The stars were nicer then, comforting her as she did her best to drown out her mother’s screaming. They weren’t so visible now that she lived in Oslo, the city lights blocking everything that glowed in the sky. She had to settle for the cheap projector she purchased off amazon when she first called the city home, and it had been enough for her to get by until now. It ridiculed her, the fake stars shimmering together as if to form a smirk.

Fuck that.

She reaches behind her nightstand, yanking the cord from the wall with force, cutting off the starlight and leaving her ceiling pitch black. The candles were still flickering as the only light source, the scent of roses still strong. At least it smelled nice. Flopping back against her pillows, she runs her hands down her damp face from her salty tears, dropping her arms to her sides and dragging the sheets over her still naked body. She hadn’t moved since he left. She couldn’t move even if she wanted to. Her body felt rooted to the mattress, her skin glued to the sheets. She gives the dark ceiling one last glare before rolling to her side, burying her face into the pillow where Ivar’s luxurious hair had left the fragrance of his coconut shampoo and his Armani cologne. She was fucking pathetic.

Sending him away felt like a mistake.

She wanted to feel powerful kicking his ass out. She wanted to feel in control and confident watching him leave, but she didn’t. He wasn’t even angry. As soon as she told him to leave, he silently gathered his wrinkled clothes thrown about in their haste. In rigid movements he dressed himself, grabbed his crutch, and turned to look at her over his shoulder, his eyes scanning the shape of her body under the thin sheets. He said nothing, just stared at her with this look of longing, like they were the most unfortunate pair to grace the earth. It certainly felt that way. Then he reached over, holding her head gently to place a kiss on her temple before leaving her bed. All she wanted to do was to cry and call him back as soon as she heard her front door close with a soft click.

The facade immediately collapsed and the smirk slipped from her lips, settling into a deep frown. Her eyes welled up with tears and cascaded down her cheeks without so much as a fight. She had felt a heaviness in her chest, a burning that ached over her as if Ivar himself had reached inside her and ripped out her heart. He had broken it, so why did it hurt just as much when she tried to hurt him?

Because she loved him. She loved Ivar.

She was in love with him. Completely and hopelessly and stupidly in love. Like a fucking idiot. She loved him when he visited her at the museum. She loved him when he took her home. She loved him when he took her to bed. And she loved him more when she watched him leave, his expression forever implanted in her mind like a photograph. She’d never seen such a look on him before.

When the hell did it start to get to that point? She wasn’t too sure. It started simple enough, boundaries were set, and they were both happy with what they had. The sex was great, and even greater still when she realized her feelings were getting involved. She found love in the simplest things. She felt it in their little touches whenever she handed him something, in the smile that lit up his face when she made his favorite meal of steak and potatoes, or the way he looked at her when he knew she was wearing something particularly naughty under her clothes. Or maybe she loved him from the moment they met at that fucking party. Apparently it only takes the brain 2 seconds to fall in love with someone. She couldn’t even remember where she’d read that. Probably from that corny lifestyle magazine she picked up while waiting her turn at the dental office. Whatever. The damage was already done.

She fights to ignore the delicious throbbing between her legs, her body craving more of him and his touch. It bothered her, how her body was betraying her. With a sigh, she shifts away from Ivar’s scent, curling into herself and making a mental note to wash the bed sheets as soon as possible. A bath would be nice, preferably with lots of bubbles, but she was too lazy. She’d just have to wake up earlier.

She takes even breaths to calm her heart rate as she watches the candle on her nightstand flicker, hoping she’d find sleep soon.

Morning came a lot quicker than she hoped.

She was the epitome of a zombie, which meant she’d need her morning coffee. Her eyes were sensitive against the morning light and her body ached from more than just a sleepless night. She took a quick shower, fed Benji, and made her caffeinated drink. She was in complete autopilot, that is, until there was a knock on her door. Irritated at the early disturbance, she goes to the door with half a mind of what was on the other side of it.

Pink daisies. Twice as many as before. This time, they were arranged in a stained glass vase, much like the windows of a cathedral, with vivid colors of green, blue, and red, depicting a simplistic design. It must have cost him a pretty penny no doubt, but money was never a problem for him. It was lighter than the porcelain vase, but still heavy in her hands. She places it on the counter, her fingertips skimming over the silky petals as gently as she could without damaging them. They were beautiful, but she found herself unable to admire them. She had a melancholic view of them now. They couldn’t be her favorites anymore.

There was that white card again, hiding within the stems of the bouquet. She hesitates, her fingers grasping the rough textured paper, reluctant to peer inside in fear of another hurtful message. With a shaky breath she flips it open.

I’m sorry.

Love, Ivar.

The words were written messily, unusual for him as he had perfect penmanship learned from his years in boarding school. Again, the water from the vase dotted the card, causing the black ink to bleed a bit. Her fingers follow the streaks down to the edge, picking up some of the faded pigment. It was as if he were the one crying this time, asking for forgiveness with fucking flowers. Either this solution worked for him in the past or he was just really fucking stupid.

She bites her lip, fiddling with the card before opening her junk drawer and tossing it inside. She didn’t have the strength to get rid of it. She carefully takes the vase in both hands, setting them down on her coffee table and arranging her candles and other knick knacks around it until it pleased her. She sits on her sofa, watching Benji put both his paws on the surface of the coffee table, curious of the new scent in the flat. Pulling her phone from her back pocket, she searches her contact list, going to her blocked numbers. Ivar’s name was the only one on that list.

Unblock?

She pauses, her finger hovering over the button. One tap, and she would be signing up for more heartbreak. Then the image of the blonde appeared in her mind, her in bed with Ivar, smirking and devious. Mocking.

It wasn’t worth it.

With a sigh she tosses her phone onto the table with a loud clack, the corner smacking against the edge of the vase and spooking Benji. She sucks her teeth.

Forget it.

…

Ivar runs his large thumb over the smooth cream colored domino piece, watching Hvitserk deal the pieces out to him and Sigurd. He’s been in a foul mood since the night he left her flat and he’s been hugging alcohol and cigarettes to his side like long lost friends, specifically Patrón and Marlboro. They dulled whatever strange feeling he felt that fluttered in his chest whenever he thought of her.

Normally, women were never a problem for him. It was always the same routine. He’d find himself a pretty girl, date her for a bit, and find another one when he got bored. He’d tell them that love was out of the equation and that was it. There were a few that grew attached, but he’d nip it in the bud before it could escalate. Others were understanding. They’d have their fun and go on their merry way to do it over again with some other asshole. It was supposed to be simple. So why was she making things so fucking difficult?

Well, he wasn’t being entirely fair, he had to admit. They were both difficult. She had fallen in love with him after he warned her not to, and he couldn’t bring himself to keep away from her after he’d sent her away. He had a routine, dammit, but now all he finds himself wanting is a fucking routine with her. Like maybe a normal one. He had gotten use to her, her smile, her touches, her scent, fuck. How long had it been? A year? The longest he’d ever been with a girl. Seriously. And now Freydis was up his ass for attention. He knew the bimbo didn’t feel anything past physical attraction for him. It was just for his time and money, which he didn’t mind at first, but the bitch was terrible in bed and an unpleasant person to be around.

And so he hoped she’d appreciate the flowers. Women loved flowers, right?

Ivar gives the longest sigh he could muster in order to keep his thoughts at bay, deciding to stare at the domino in his hand. It had 2 giant black dots, and the longer he stared at it, the more they appeared like scrutinizing eyes, judging him and his decisions. He slams the piece face down on the table with a glare. Fuck, he was going crazy.

"Where'd you even get these?" He grunts, snatching up his forgotten beer and taking a sip. It wasn’t tequila but it’d have to do for now.

"Bjorn bought them for me from Cuba." Hvitserk says pointing at the little wooden box they came in with the Cuban flag expertly painted on the surface.

"He brings domino's but no cigars?" Sigurd grumbles, arranging his pieces away from the prying eyes of his brothers, “I’d rather cigars.”

"Domino's are way cooler than cigars, Sig," Hvitserk argues, "And maybe Bjorn doesn’t like you enough to bring you fucking cigars, but forget that. What I really want to know is why our baby brother here looks like fucking shit." Both the older brothers turn to look at Ivar with knowing looks, ready to tease if need be.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Ivar argues, slamming his first piece down to commence the game. Maybe he wasn’t sleeping much these last few days. And maybe he had bags forming under his eyes and wasn’t eating much, preferring his alcohol and chimney sticks, but he wouldn’t go as far as to say he looks like shit. Then again, he wasn’t looking into his bathroom mirror much either.

“Hvits is right. You look like a kicked puppy, and not even a cute one.” Sigurd snickers, placing his own piece down with that stupid little smirk on his face.

“There is no such thing as ugly puppies.” Was the grunted reply.

“Point is, you look like shit. Have you been sleeping? We know how much you love your beauty sleep.”

“And fucking,” Hvitserk chimes in, placing down his domino, “I think Ivar has us beat. He’s competing with Bjorn at this point.”

“Or maybe it’s that little vixen of his causing trouble. How is she doing by the way? We haven’t seen her in a while.” Ivar flares his nose at the nickname that Sigurd had given her. He fucking hated it now more than ever.

“Shut. Up.” He snarls, sliding his domino piece hard enough to push the rest off the table.

“What the fuck, Ivar! If you break my shit, I’ll-”

“So this is what you guys do when I’m not at the office?” Ubbe bursts in through the door of their little lounging area, a frown forming on his lips as he eyes them in pure displeasure before they settled on the game pieces, “Who’s idea was it to play dominoes when we have clients blowing up our fucking phone’s? And drinking beer? That’s just brilliant. Assholes.”

“That’s why your girl is the secretary, Ubbe, she can handle it.” Sigurd waves his hand around, glad that Ubbe’s outburst overshadowed Ivar’s. When the youngest got mad, it wasn’t pretty, but it was fucking entertaining.

“It was my idea, by the way,” Hvitserk chuckles, placing all the pieces that fell back on the table top, “Wanna play? There’s more beer in the mini fridge.”

“You’re all fucking garbage.” Ubbe mutters, but heads over to the fridge to pull out a beer before plopping down on the empty chair beside Ivar with a sigh, “Before I forget, Ivar, Torvi says some guy just came by to drop something off for you.”

“I’m not expecting a package.”

“You sure? I’ll tell her to bring it in.” After a few minutes, Torvi peeks her head in through the crack of the door before fully opening it, a bouquet of wilted pink daisies in her hands. The color drains from Ivar’s face as the blonde approaches, handing him the flowers with this odd look on her face. Who would send Ivar fucking flowers anyway? And dying ones at that. His brothers immediately start to laugh at Ivar’s stunned look, another session of teasing on the way.

“You have another admirer, little bro?” Hvitserk chortles, mixing the domino pieces for a quick shuffle before dealing them.

“The flowers look like shit.” Comments Sigurd, leaning back against his chair. Ivar, still bewildered into silence, blinks stupidly. He stares at the wilted daisies, the petals easily falling off when he brings his fingers to touch them. They really did look like complete shit. Just like how he felt.

“There’s a card clipped in there. You gonna read it or what?” Ubbe taps his youngest brother's shoulder to elicit some kind of reaction from him. Ivar composes himself before quickly snatching the white card. It was one he had already written a message in by the looks of it. The card was bent at the edges, and he recognized the black ink from his favorite fountain pen.

Finally summing up the courage to read the message, he flips the card open, his previous simple apologetic words were crossed out. A new message was written below it that had his little cold heart hammering in his chest. He bites his lip, his blue eyes scanning the 4 words over and over again.

Sorry isn’t good enough.

…

The Tune ship is a fast sailing vessel able to transport passengers quickly across 100 meters. It is speculated that the vessel was a warship, able to carry its passenger and light cargo farther distances at a much faster-

“Ahh, there you are. In the library just as I assumed.” She quickly removes her eyes from her laptop screen in favor of the intruder that addressed her. She immediately stands, pushing it aside and placing her hands behind her back. The museum director, Mr. Kent, chuckles at her nervousness, smoothing a hand down his pale beard. He must have been a blonde in his youth as his hair had a faint yellow glow when under sunlight. He was a decent man of English origin, specifically from Winchester, who had taken over as the museum director about a year ago. He was a man who loved to dress well, fancy suits and shoes to demonstrate his abundance of money, but it wasn't haughty, not like the Ragnarsson’s. Mr. Kent came from even older money, and apparently from a line of kings that ruled England centuries ago. He had a massive reputation, to say the least. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I’m actually in need of a favor. Do you have a moment?”

“Of course, Mr. Kent, what can I do for you?”

“Please,” He chuckles, “Ecbert is fine. As for the favor, my grandson will be moving from Winchester in a few short weeks, right before the gala for the Tune ship exhibit. I’d like for him to shadow you during your tours, if that is alright with you?”

“Oh! Yes, of course. It would be an honor.” Fuck no, it wouldn’t. The last person that shadowed her was super fucking annoying and ended up getting fired anyway, but since this was Ecbert’s grandson, it would be different, he’d have privilege. Hopefully he wasn’t douche.

And shit. The fucking gala. She’d almost forgotten about it. It was the only event that the museum held in which she could attend, dress up, and feel pretty, but it was the one event that made her more nervous than anything else. She’d be surrounded by the richest people in the country, patrons of the Viking Ship Museum and other prestigious institutions and universities. And champagne, lot’s of champagne. Rich people knew how to party.

“Excellent,” He smiles, clapping his hands together as if to solidify their agreement, “Don’t let me take up more of your time, I know you're doing your research for the new exhibit. I’ll be happy to give you access to the archives if you’d like? You might find something of interest that isn’t in the scholarly journals online.”

“That would be fantastic, Sir, thank you.”

“Have a great day.” She watches the older man leave, before plopping back down onto the cushioned seat with a sigh. He wasn’t as intimidating as their last asshole director, but she still treads softly around him. You can never get too comfy with those above you.

She did some more research for another half hour before checking her watch. Another tour of the Oseberg ship was scheduled in a few minutes and she would be free to go home and feel sorry for herself and her love life. She puts away her laptop in her purse, quickly rushing over to her office to freshen up before the tour. It was a busy day at the museum as they were now at the start of tourist season, which meant the museum allowed for bigger groups to be guided, and more people meant more noise and more irritation. Walking toward the entrance of the museum, she scans her eyes over the group of the afternoon, suddenly hoping to find a pair of blue eyes looking back at her. But that wasn’t the case. She frowns. He wouldn’t come looking for her after that fucking stunt she pulled. She shouldn’t want him to look for her anyway.

She sighs, plastering the fakest smile on her face before greeting the group.

Her phone was truly the devil. Honestly, did it intend to constantly notify her on Ivar’s posts and images? And since when did he post so damn much? She’d have to turn off her notifications, or block him off of Snapchat. Actually, why not just throw the whole fucking phone away? Ridiculous. She grumbles to herself, wondering why she hadn’t deleted him off of any social media apps yet. There was an answer to that, she just didn’t care to admit it. She was never into that stuff anyway, just keeping her accounts for communication purposes for her friends and family back home. It was getting rather lonely. Her time was mostly spent with Ivar, and now that they’re having their little rift, she realized her lack of friends. Had she really revolved her life around him? Shit.

Stretching her legs down the length of the sofa, she makes herself comfortable for the stupid shit she was about to do. She grabs her phone, scrolling through her apps and goes on Instagram. Ivar had posted 3 new photos. He was out at some bar in the city having a good ass time it seemed. His best friend, Heahmund, was in all of them, probably as a chaperone since Ivar couldn’t handle his liquor much. Heahmund was a good friend for that and Ivar was lucky to have the British fuck look out for him.

Ivar’s story was filled with clips of him goofing off. He was totally drunk, she could tell by how lidded and unfocused his eyes were, and how pink his lips were from constantly pursing them over a glass. His hair was all fucked up and out of its usual bun, as if he were fucking someone right before the video was recorded. Almost immediately after the thought, a drunk Freydis comes into the shot. That explained it. She should really throw her phone away.

Freydis giggles at the camera before placing her lips to his cheek, trailing them down his neck in sloppy kisses.

A rage boiled within her and she felt her fingers tighten around her phone. She needed to calm down. He was doing his own thing and she might as well do hers, though it was much easier said than done. The other videos he posted were of him taking shots of whatever it was, most likely tequila, and grinning into the camera like an idiot. Or maybe she was the idiot. Why should she mope around while he was having the time of his life? She knew how to have fun!...Right? Well, sometimes. Okay, maybe not. That party she met Ivar in? It was an invitation she had refused countless times. She couldn’t be bothered with the guy who begged her to go, but she went anyway due to her lack of socialization at the time.

Going out and partying was never fun when she was always the sober one. She did drink of course, but her tolerance was a lot better than most, say, like Ivar. She couldn’t count with her fingers the amount of times she had to call an Uber to get his ass home. The very few times she’d gone out with his brothers, it always ended with the same outcome, except Ubbe would end up saving their sorry asses.

Ubbe was the sweetheart, why couldn’t she have felt this way about him instead? Right, he had a girlfriend. She grumbles to herself, thinking she's better off alone.

…

“Where are you going?” The scent of alcohol had rooted itself deep within Freydis’s pores, her breath tickling his ear in an unpleasant manner. She stops him when he slips off the bar stool, pulling him by the collar of his shirt to bring him back to her side. He didn’t like that. He didn’t like how her hands felt on him or the look she wore. He didn’t like any of it. The loud trap music that blared from the speakers had activated him earlier that night, but now it made his head ache something terrible. The bass seemed to be vibrating right through him and he rubbed the side of his temple to subdue the growing headache. He reached out to stabilize himself on the bar counter. He was so fucking drunk.

“I gotta pee. Get off me.” Ivar grumbles, pushing her away with little grace. Clingy bitch.

“What?” The blonde scowls, her eyebrows arching and her lips set in a tight line. Shit. He said that out loud?

“Nothing.”

“I think he called you a clingy bitch, actually.” Heahmund repeats Ivar’s demeaning words, a chuckle escaping his red stained lips from the wine he was drinking. This was the fun part of the night for the older man. Ivar had no filter when he was drunk. Well, he never really did have a filter, sober or not, but it was a lot funnier when he had alcohol in his system. He could be ruthless.

“I fucking heard him, asshole.” Freydis snaps, seemingly sobering up now that she was angry. Heahmund breaks out in a smile to which she glares in return.

“I gotta pee.” Ivar announces again, not bothering to look at Freydis before stumbling towards the restrooms. He belches after letting out a series of hiccups, pausing to place a hand on the wall to steady himself. He was so fucking drunk. How many shots of Patrón had he taken? 3..4..? He started counting out loud, bringing his unoccupied hand to his face in order to use his fingers. Wait, there weren’t enough fingers on that hand. He stumbles again when he lets go of the wall, using the other hand to make his calculations. 5...8? Shit, he lost track. Forget it. It was a lot of Patrón.

Using his shoulder, he bursts in through the restroom door, mumbling an apology when he runs into someone. Ignoring the blurry image of the guy scowling at him, he makes his way into a stall and pisses his life away, his head resting against the cold tiled wall as he scrambles to gather his thoughts. He wasn’t happy. The alcohol wasn’t making him happy. Freydis wasn’t making him happy. What the fuck was wrong with him? He was a simple man with simple pleasures yet for some reason, a basic routine and a basic girl weren’t enough anymore. This was all her fault. Why was she torturing him without even trying? In his intoxicated state he could still remember how her voice trembled when she cried and how her eyes looked when they glossed over with tears. How drunk did he need to be to admit that he had hurt her? Really fucking drunk. Like now.

He slams the red door of the stall open, not even flinching when it banged against the stall beside it, maneuvering himself clumsily over to the sink. Gripping the porcelain, he leans forward to get a good look at himself through the streaky mirror. His eyes were so low he could barely see himself, cheeks flushed bright pink and lips matching in color. When did his bun get loose? He looks at his wrist hoping to find a hair tie but scowls when he finds none. He grunts in annoyance, turning on the tap to wash his hands before dragging his wet fingers through his hair. The cold water felt good on his heated face and he closed his eyes for a moment. He gazes at himself one last time before coming to a decision. He needed to talk to her. Right now.

Digging in the pocket of his simple denim jeans, he whips out his phone, struggling to find her contact name before pressing the call button and bringing the device to his ear.

You have reached the voice mailbox of 45-

Fuck. He forgot. She blocked him.

He wanted to throw his phone in frustration. Why did she block him? Did she not understand that he needed to talk to her right now?

Oh wait. Snapchat. Snapchat has video calls. That’s it. Ivar immediately takes a fat finger to scroll to the app, forcefully pressing down on the little ghost in haste. Finding her name in his contacts list, he presses the little video icon, hoping she’d answer. After a few seconds he almost gives up, but then his screen lights up, and he is rewarded with her tired eyes.

“Hey,” He breathes, noting the dim light in her room, “Were you sleeping?” He slurs, and immediately curses himself for sounding so stupid. He clears his throat in the hopes of gaining his language skills back.

“Ivar?” Her voice was heavy with sleep. It was exactly how she sounded when he used to wake her up in the morning with soft, lazy kisses to her shoulder. He missed that. “It’s like 2am. What are you calling me for?”

“I...I don’t know. Missed...your voice.” The words poured out his mouth like vomit. Actually, he was shocked he hadn’t gotten to that point. He threw up at least once after a hard night of drinking. His eyes fell shut as he leaned his head back against the wall beside the sink. God, this speech impediment was bad. He hears her snort tiredly on the other end.

“You’re drunk.”

“Mm...noooo, no. Mm not.”

“I can smell the tequila from here.”

“Wait, really?” His eyes pop open as he brings his phone closer to his face. He couldn’t focus all that well, but he could make out her sleepy features. Those pretty lashes of hers brushed over her cheeks with every lazy blink, and her messy hair was placed in a high ponytail at the top of her head.

“No.” Was her flat reply, pure irritation seeping through the word. Ivar stares at her displeased look for a moment longer, sighing in an almost dream like manner.

“You look beautiful.” He answers back, sliding down the wall to sit in a much more comfortable position. He didn’t care if the floor was dirty, he was drunk, and he didn’t want his legs to start hurting like a bitch.

“Shut the fuck up,” She says, “Words of a drunk.”

“I’m being serrrrious,” Ivar whines, “You always look amazing, you know that?”

“Right. Is Heahmund still there?”

“Yeah,” He pouts, “Why? You’d rather talk to him? You like him or something?” Ivar had never been the jealous type, but he was whenever it involved his brothers or Heahmund. When he had started seeing her, their interest zeroed in on her like fucking hawks, and so he made it abundantly clear to them that she was off limits. She was his conquest, no one else’s. So no, he wouldn’t consider himself the jealous type, but everyone else needed to stay the fuck away from her, even if she wasn’t his to play with anymore.

“No, Ivar, to make sure you’re gonna get home okay.” She sighs, shifting in her sheets and rubbing her face in frustration, “And it seems you will.”

“Aw, you worry about me?” He grins stupidly, his mood shifting wildly as he rubs his phone on his sweaty cheek as if to send her affection.

“No more than you do for me. How’s Freydis by the way?” The bitterness in her tone was enough to bring him down from whatever high he was feeling. Ivar scowls, shifting the phone back so they were now directly looking at each other. He blinks, trying to clear his head again. Freydis. He forgot about her already. And he didn’t really care anyway.

“Clingy bitch,” He muttered his words from earlier, “I don’t wanna talk about her. I wanna talk about you.” He almost laughed when she pinched the bridge of her nose in annoyance.

“What about me, hmm?”

“I dunno,” He shrugs, his eyes searching hers through his fingerprint covered screen before passing them over her visible form again. She was wearing that one t-shirt she favored, the comfy one with the large neckline that always slid down enough to expose one of her smooth shoulders. Her messy hair and tired eyes reminded him of the many nights spent together tangled under his sheets. It made him swallow thickly as he brought a hand down the center of his jeans to ease the growing ache. Fuck, he needed to get his shit together. Still, in their silence he conjured up images and ideas in his head that he certainly shouldn’t at that moment, but fuck it. He licks his lips, feeling the sly grin stretching across his face at the words his brain had given to him, ready to spill from his mouth, “Maybe I just want to talk about the way your back arches under my hands, or the sounds you make when I-”

“Ivar,” She stops him immediately, her face blooming that pink color he loved, “Kindly shut the fuck up.” She looked like she was about to say something more, something much harsher and meaner, but she stopped herself. Instead, she takes in a breath, rubbing her eyes, and suddenly, she didn’t seem all that tired anymore. “Did you like the flowers?” She asks instead.

“Huh?” His eyebrows curve in confusion as his hazy mind tries to decipher the meaning behind the question. What was she talking about? Flowers? What flow-Oh. Right.

Sorry isn’t good enough.

He sighs, leaning his head back against the tiled wall. He could hear the transition of trap music out in the bar to some basic pop he hadn’t heard on the radio in years. He was in no mood for Kesha.

“I hated them.” He mutters truthfully. The wilted daisies made his heart sink. He’d never felt that way before. Was that how he made all those other women feel? He chews the inside of his cheek, ignoring the pulse behind his eyes and the ache in his head. Finally, the nausea kicked in and his stomach churned for the inevitable. He swallows thickly, running his hand through his messy hair, her eyes following his every movement trying to read his expression. Even in his intoxicated state, he made it hard for her to read him.

“This is a lot harder than I thought it would be.” He says miserably. Why does he fuck everything up? If he had never gone to that stupid party in the first place, he would have never met her, and he wouldn’t be feeling that way he does now. Like complete trash.

“What a shame,” She says, cocking her head to the side, her ponytail brushing against her cheekbone, “Just take your own advice, and try not to fall in love.” She gives him one last look before she hangs up, having him stare at his screen for a few seconds to understand what just happened. He remains seated on the dirty bathroom floor for a few moments longer, continuing to ignore his churning stomach and the tightness of his throat.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Heahmund bursts in through the door, immediately grabbing hold of Ivar’s arm and helping in lifting him up to his feet, “You’ve been in here for 20 minutes. Freydis left in a cab.”

“Good for her.” Ivar grunts, shoving his phone back in his pocket. He pushes Heahmund away, going back to stand in front of the mirror. He looked sick, sweat building up near his hairline.

“What’s wrong with you, hmm?” The older man questions, crossing his arms and using that tone on him as if he didn’t have 4 fucking older brothers already.

“Being a fucking idiot, that’s what.” Ivar says, closing his eyes as his chest burned with that familiar sensation.

“Finally feeling bad about what you did, huh?” Heahmund questions, “You know, no amount of fucking flowers and alcohol is gunna fix anything or make you feel better. You needed a reality check. She gave it to you.”

“And you call yourself my friend, traitor?” Ivar managed to say before pushing past him and into a stall, heaving out all the contents from his tequila filled stomach.

…

The Tune ship exhibit was coming together.

The fragments of the ship were strategically pieced together to form the remains of the ancient ship to its former glory. Well, most of it anyway. It was a fraction of what it once was in the past, but it was still an impressive archeological find, and although it wasn’t as massive as the Oseberg or the Gokstad, it was still considerable in length. She felt like a speck of dust standing beside it despite its lack of framework. She observes the rotted wood and the grooves within each ancient plank, wishing she could reach out and touch it; to feel what they must have felt like a thousand years ago. It’s been 2 years since she began working at the Viking Ship Museum and she still found herself in awe at every artifact that entered their exhibits. She supposed it was the bookworm in her. Ahh fuck. That’s what Ivar calls her.

She immediately frowns, her face twisting in displeasure. Somehow, her thoughts always went back to him, and that irritated her greatly.

“Hello?” The unrecognizable voice echoes throughout the empty exhibit. She looks over her shoulder at the intruder, her gaze gravitating to meet the clearest blue eyes of a boyish young man. The blackest hair she’d ever seen frames his blushing cheeks and the tips brush softly over his shoulders. She blinks at him, cocking her head.

“Uhh, hi?”

“I’m sorry,” He lets out a nervous chuckle, looking around the unfinished exhibit to avoid meeting her eyes from his embarrassment, “I didn’t mean to startle you.” He had a gentle voice, a hint of shyness in the undertones. And extremely British.

“No it’s fine,” She approaches him, sticking out her hand to greet him with a handshake and a small smile, “You must be Mr. Kent’s grandson. I wasn’t expecting you so soon…?”

“Alfred,” He answers, grasping her hand and offering her a timid smile back, “It’s a pleasure.”

...

@a-daydreamers-day @heavenly1927 @didiintheblog @inforapound @a-mess-of-fandoms @leilabeaux @shannygoatgruff @syrenak @soleil-dor @walkxthexmoon @zuxiezendler @homeyzeus @redenzione @mariaenchanted @laricebabe @hecohansen31

There are some of you that Tumblr won’t let me tag! They are in bold. I’m sorry 😭

#ivar #vikings #vikings ivar #alex hogh andersen #ivarfanfiction #vikings fanfic #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless

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bluecoffeemugs · 4 years

Link

Hey guys... so i just re-wrote the very first chapter to my fic.

I did it bc of many factors, but mainly it was bc I didn’t like it anymore and I noticed how much my writing had improved. It just didn’t seem fair that the ending was much better written than the beginning, bc i feel like no one would get past the first chapters bc of my writing. I mean yeah, it has much more attention that i could hope for, but i’m pretty self-critical about my work, so i just had to re-write it.

Anyway, I’ll just post the chapter here because I want you to give it another chance, maybe it spikes your interest now. I’m putting a whole lot of effort in the ending, it’s got just a couple of chapters left, so it will be a finished fic soon.

Here it is:

(bill cipher x dipper pines. pirate au. pirate!bill. siren!dipper.)

- - - - - - - - - -

The gigantic ship swayed calmly over the ocean. The night was clear, the fresh salty scent of the sea lingered on the deck of the Golden Giant. The only sound besides the water below the ship, crashing small waves on the wooden walls of the ship, was the croaking sound of the captain's footsteps on the wood.

The crew had already released the plank, readying the ship for what they had been planning to do for months. And so, they stood, expectant and eager for what was to come, waiting for orders on deck.

The blond captain walked out of his cabin with a grin on his face. See, their crew had been waiting to catch this creature for months, but he had been waiting years. Oh, captain Bill Cipher knows about sirens. He knows how those beasts slaughter his kind. But he is not afraid of them, not a single ounce! The pirate also know how difficult it can be to catch one, he has heard countless stories and legends, none of them have succeeded. However, there has never been a legendary pirate that has tried to capture a siren.

Indeed. Bill Cipher is a legend. He has been living in the sea for as long as he can remember, and it has slowly become his life as a whole. Since he was a little boy, he was not only charming and ambitious but also highly curious. The supernatural and mystic myths spiked his interest from a very early age, so his drive for adventure and the unknown has never ceased.

Bill Cipher had always been so invested on mysteries, that he became a mystery himself.

The captain seeks creatures — all around the seven seas, and of any kind or species — studies them, and then sells them. The highest bidding of gold takes the price! Cipher doesn't need the creature anymore, what else could he do with them? Set them free? Now that would be insane. Setting them free means letting them go for free. If they won't pay, Cipher won't deliver. Besides, it's none of the blond's concern what the bidders do with the creatures after they buy them. Will they study them as he does? Will they slaughter them? Will they cook them, even if they're still alive, just to know what they taste like and brag about eating a mythic creature? Meh, Cipher doesn't care. He never has.

The blond went down the stairs and on to the deck to meet his crew. Such familiar faces that have grown into a family. See, Bill Cipher didn't always have his own ship and crew. Of course, he did acquire his ship — through a most epic fight he will never forget — when he was eleven years old, but still, not belonging to a family for his entire childhood until he was almost a teenager was not easy.

Belonging. Ha! Bill Cipher knows he doesn't belong. He actually takes pride in it! Because you know what? He figured that belonging to made you somebody else's possession, so he swore to himself he would be the only one who ever got to own himself and/or others.

Nonetheless, his current crew is better than what he could ask for. They are invested in the supernatural almost as much as he is, all of them have unique abilities that benefit him either on battle, on investigation, navigation, or plans, and most importantly, they are loyal. That's the quality Cipher values the most.

The captain was finally greeted by his crew. They were standing in line, looking at their pirate in anticipation, eager. All of them were loaded with their weapons of choice, let it be guns, knives, swords, or even knuckles.

The crew cheered at their captain, smiling widely at him. As the moonlight and oil lanterns were the only light that lit their faces, the shadows looked menacing and eerie.

The blonde returned the sly grin and humorously vowed to his crew's cheers. He was wearing a tail-coat made of leathery-fabric, a white button-down shirt that wasn't all that white anymore, black pants, and a slightly loose golden and weaponized belt around the hips. He was carrying his favorite gun and sword, plus other minor weapons that he hid not only around his belt but also around his whole body. And of course, he wore leather boots that reached almost up to his knees and his fancy black pirate hat, which had a single golden feather and some jewels adorning it.

"Tonight's the night, fellas," he spoke, his crew finally shutting up. "As we speak, fierce beasts are swimming below us, ready to devour another pack of men. Creatures that have forever lured uncountable men to their deaths by using their celestial voices and bodies."

His crew nodded. They knew all of this already, but something about hearing it right was those beasts live made it a whole lot more difficult to bear. Now they weren't only listening to a story, they were about to experience one. And maybe, they wouldn't even get to live to tell it.

"We will be the first known pirates to ever defeat them; conquer them!" The captain continued to speak. The crew's nerves turning into excitement, "Tonight, we catch a siren!"

Everyone cheered and punched their fists in the air. Noise returning to its natural state.

“Kitty,” Cipher continued, nodding to the toughest-looking man on the crew, “you will be in charge of the ship while I go on the rowboat.”

The man nodded in return, so the captain kept speaking, “Bigfoot, Cain, Red, Onyx, and Tiny, you will be staying here too.”

The biggest man in the crew, a man with a scar across his face, a red-haired young adult male, a woman with almost charcoal-black skin, and a small boy nodded in response.

“Guard my baby while I'm out," Cipher joked and winked. They all knew how much he loved his ship. “And that leaves Hellhound, Dawn, Dagger, and Cheat with me."

A muscular young man, a tough but very beautiful looking woman, another woman highly equipped with at least half a dozen daggers and swords, and a teenage boy agreed.

“Get settled, then.”

And with that, they all retreated to stuff their ears with cloth or wax to muffle de sound of the sirens' voices. They had been preparing for this, they knew exactly what to do. They also knew perfectly well to stand their ground, no matter how tempting a siren could look. And most importantly, they knew that their goal was to catch a siren, not kill one. If for some reason they started to get aggressive, which they figured would be bound to happen, they would result in violence.

A few minutes later, the rowboat with Cipher's chosen crew was lowered down to the ocean. They paddled slightly further away from the ship, and then stopped when they started to notice the shadows under them. They were currently surrounded by huge boulders, covered in algae and coral, where they also spotted movement. A wave of adrenaline washed over everyone's veins, making the captain smile even more widely.

Cipher's team had their ears shut by different types of material, except for the captain himself. He was wearing an enchanted necklace of black pearls, which made him completely immune to the sirens' singing.

Soon enough, a ginger-haired siren came out of the water, and the pirates were immediately amazed by her beauty. However, none of them moved, as they waited for their captain's orders.

The siren swam closer to the boat, her eyes fixed on Cheat, the youngest one on the boat. The ginger held a powerful gaze, making the boy shiver, which was either because of her captivating beauty or because he realized he had been chosen as her meal.

The captain shot Cheat a confident look, making the teenager feel just a tiny bit better.

When the siren was practically touching the ship, another one came up to them. This one had curly, black hair and was staring straight at Dagger. Then a few seconds later, another creature appeared, she had darker skin and powerful blue eyes, swimming closer to Hellhound. The captain felt slightly overwhelmed by the sudden arrivals, but he never lost his calm.

Suddenly they realized that the ginger siren had gotten so close to the boat, she could easily snatch Cheat and drown him. Then, she saw the spears and fishnets, freezing on the spot.

"They're hunters!" She yelled, making all of the other sirens gasp and submerge back underwater. Cipher thought they were going to attack, but apparently, this pack of sirens had had other experiences with pirates and did not wish to repeat them.

Sure enough, however, the ginger siren was not going to leave her favorite meal alive, so she launched, grabbing Cheat with her sharp nails, and pulling him underwater with her. Hellhound threw himself forward and grabbed onto Cheat's legs.

The siren's strength was immense, causing Hellhound to begin to sink. Dawn and Dagger grabbed his torso and began to pull him to the boat. At this point, Cheat was completely submerged. In the meantime, Cipher loaded a crossbow and aimed to the spot where the siren was holding Cheat.

"No!" Dawn exclaimed although she could barely hear her own words because of the wax in her ears, "You might shoot Cheat!"

"Don't worry, sweetie" Cipher said calmly, fully aware that Dawn knew him enough to be able to read his lips perfectly, then shot the arrow. The movement below the water stopped. Hellhound pulled Cheat back to the surface. The boy was unconscious. Dawn began trying to remove the water from the teen's lungs.

Cheat suddenly coughed a great amount of water and took in shaky breaths, shivering. Dawn just looked at the captain and slowly shook her head.

"I never miss," Cipher said, obvious pride in his voice, Dawn could see it by the look of his face. She turned away.

The blond nodded at the coughing boy, and the teen managed a smile. Then the captain took off his coat and handed it to him, as the boy obviously needed it more than him at the moment. Cheat muttered a thank you.

Cipher sat down with a sigh and looked around. He signaled his crew to hide the weapons and the fishnets, he should've known better. He might have blown their chance for the night, maybe their only chance! How could he have not foreseen that?

Time passed, and as he feared, no one else showed up. The pirates waited in silence. Cheat was almost completely dry now.

The captain fixed his eyes on the boulder closest to them, lost in thought, when he spotted another pair of eyes staring back. Immediately after those eyes noticed the pirate was looking at them, they hid behind the huge rock. Cipher stood up with a jolt, making the others around him jump in surprise. Then, nodded towards the rock and signaled his crew to remain silent.

"Hello?" Cipher said loudly, with the kindest voice he could manage, "We don't want to hurt you."

After waiting a few minutes for a sign of life, and not seeing the eyes again, he sat back down and sighed. He looked at the boat's wooden floor, sighing in defeat. Maybe he had imagined it.

Then, his crew gasped.

Cipher looked up and saw the siren far away, right beside the boulder. The light from their boat did not reach that far, so he could only see a dark figure the clear brown eyes looking back at him.

The captain stood up again, this time more slowly. He smiled gently at the creature, and spoke, just loud enough for the siren to hear, "We're just curious about your species, we don't mean any harm."

"I saw you shoot one of us," the siren said, still in the dark. His voice cracked but tried to remain steady. This only intrigued Cipher even more, because he had found himself a male siren.

The crew looked at each other with wide eyes, they didn't understand what the captain and the siren were saying, but they sure as hell knew they were having a conversation.

Cipher remained calm, answering to the siren, "She was trying to drown one of us."

"You're hunters," the siren said gravely, much more as a statement than a question.

"We're pirates," the blond responded, as if it were pretty obvious, "we have weapons to defend ourselves, it's in our nature. Just as much as it is in your nature to lure us to death. Fair game, don't you think?"

The siren thought in silence, analyzing the words. But Cipher was not about to wait anymore, so he offered, "If you don't harm us, we don't harm you. Deal?"

Something about the way the pirate spoke made the siren want to trust him. Even if he knew the stories of pirates, how reckless and dangerous they were"¦ curiosity had always won him over. And something in his gut made him think that this pirate was not lying.

The words lingered. Cipher was afraid the siren might be smarter than him and swim away for good. But he was proven wrong when the siren slowly came into view, swimming closer to the boat.

When the siren was just a few feet away from the rowboat, the lantern's light finally glowed on his skin. Instantly, the pirates were captivated by his beauty. They had never seen a merman, much less a male siren.

"You can come closer," the captain said, leaning closer to the water, "See? I have nothing on my hands," he said as he lifted his hands up innocently.

The siren moved closer, feeling just slightly safer and a whole lot more curious. He was intrigued by the sailors, he had never seen so many up close, and they were all staring back at him. The feeling was overwhelming.

Cipher smiled at the siren, then turned to Hellhound and winked, which roughly meant wait for my signal.

The siren's light blue tail was almost touching the rowboat's wood from below. He looked about Cheat's age.

The blond placed both of his hands behind his back. The siren and he just stared at each other in awe, each of them amazed by the other. Cipher noticed there were splashes of tiny blue scales on his shoulders, he had chocolate brown hair, and the most entrancing deep brown eyes the captain had ever seen. His gaze was purely innocent and curious.

"You're magnificent," the captain whispered to the siren, completely lost in the siren's eyes, almost forgetting what he was there for. Almost. Behind his back, he closed his hand into a fist. And so, the crew launched the fishnet at the siren and fastened it as fat and swiftly as possible, apprehending the siren.

The brunet screamed an unholy scream, Cipher was suddenly jealous of his crewmates with wax on their ears. The siren tried to escape the nets, almost knocking the boat over, but the crew acted faster. They lifted him, and with a loud thump, the siren was on the boat.

The captain had a large grin on his face and got closer to the siren. The siren had never felt so much fright in his entire life. He felt as if his heart had run up to his throat and was about to be regurgitated. He was about to scream louder, and try to knock the boat over once again, but with one swift move, one of the men that was holding him down injected a syringe into his skin. The last thing he saw was the grin on the blond pirate that had just betrayed him, until all faded to black.

#billdip #fanfic #fanfic billdip #fanfiction #bill cipher #dipper pines #dipper x bill #bill x dipper #pirate au #golden giant #siren dipper pines #pirate bill cipher #fantasy

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fleebledotcomrbls · 4 years

Text

You Matter

Chapter 5

Summary: Logan sneaks out with Remy

Tw: Suffocation, Talks of death, Verbal Fighting, Outing somone as trans (its in passing but fair waring), metions of violence, almost drowning (let me know if i missed one)

Words: 1897

The day seemed to drag as he watched the clock tick all day. It was friday and eleven o’clock He had his first training session with the hero's tomorrow. His mind was pulled right back into reality as Declan returned from his last meeting of the day.

“Hey Lo,” He smiled at Logan. His eyes were heavier than usual, “Tonight I'm heading home to Remus. He will come with me in the morning to see you. Remember the rules.”

“Stay in my room. Don’t touch anything, and nobody comes in or out.” Logan recited. His father put these rules in place when he was ten. Tonight was the first night he was breaking them. There should be no reason Declan suspected him, but he couldn’t help but toss and turn these past nights. Right now is when it could all fall apart. If his dad suspected him for a minute. He called upon every bit of his minimal acting abilities.

“Good,” Declan looked straight into Logan’s eyes. Logan tried to keep his poker face, “You need to go to bed on time. You look like you aren’t getting enough sleep.” Declan grabbed his cheek and gave him a quick peck, “Love you.”

“Ew.” Logan deadpanned. Declan laughed as he exited the room.

Logan relaxed and looked down at his outfit. He knew it would be bad to show up in a onesie, but what else could he wear? He ran to the cluttered sideroom, with his bed and assortment of materials for all his interests.

He looked to his closet. It was full of star maps and more importantly his clothes. He looked through his closet. He had a lot of the same pair of jeans, shirts from the lab, and flip-flops. He assumed he shouldn’t show up in his favorite shirt that says, ‘Got Powers?’. He scoured finding nothing. He looked across his room to see Declan’s mini drawer he keeps in Logan’s bedroom. He dug through the drawer, he saw a lot of the same shirts, but in his father’s size. Then, he saw a simple black polo shirt and a blue tie. He smiled and pulled the shirt and tie on. He grabbed his jeans. He went up to the door of his room and before he opened the door, he grabbed the R coin, and put it in his pocket.

He walked to the back of the lab, he had snuck out before, but it was to the edge of the woods. He never left sight of the lab. He saw the back door. He bolted a sudden jolt of excitement rushing through him. He felt someone grab his arm, and he felt the air push out of his lungs.

“What are you doing here kid!’ The attacker was looking at his band and let go of Logan’s arm. Recoiling as if he had touched fire.He went to grab his walkie-talkie as he fell onto the ground. Remy stood behind him, his palm outstretched. He had a small backpack.

“Snitches get stitches,” He looked up at Logan, “Ya ready to head out not so secret spy.”

Logan looked down at the man and placed a hand on his chest. Remy quickly took his hand, “He’s asleep. Nobody’s powers can kill someone. For someone who's been surrounded by powers your whole life, that would seem like a no brainer.”

As Remy opened the door Logan contemplated the words. Letting their weight sit on him. Remy was right, Logan should know more about powers. He had met so many empaths and power canclers, and lots of people whose powers were extremely emotionally driven. He was allowed to walk around like any kid at one point, but that was when he was four or five. They decided to isolate him after he made a huge vacuum around other kids. They didn’t want him endangering others. It hit him that Remy was the first person he talked to with powers that wasn’t trying to control him in a long time.

Logan stepped into the dank grass outside, the smell of rain dancing in his nostrils. He felt a chill. The cold hitting his bare arms, Remy grabbed a flashlight from his bag. The stars shone bright, Logan couldn’t help but stare. He had seen so many photos and had plenty of maps, but the real thing was beautiful. The stars flickered, and Logan’s eyes dragged across the sky, to find the familiar shapes. There's Mars, Sirius, Orion, and The Big Dipper.

“Logan!” Logan was broke from his trance by Remy, “We’ve got to head out. We can go look at the stars in Carnville. The sky is clearer there anyway. We will be walking a mile or two, so we can’t wait around.”

Logan was not as strong as he should be. He walks around the Lab often, it was nothing like the road they walked on, but Remy distracted him.

“What's your favorite color?” Remy interrupted the cicada’s single note song.

“Blue. Yours?”

“Brown. Now you ask a question.”

“Hm,” Logan contemplated the question to ask,”Why are you here? You seem to have control over your power.”

“Some kids started attacking this other kid. Some kid could read minds, and outed this kid as trans. The kid started getting bullied, but some kid started beating the crap out of him. I put the kid to sleep. Their mom freaked and threanted sueing my mom, so I lied and said it was an accident. You?”

Logan should have expected the question to be asked back, but he had no plan. Almost everyone he's met has already knew why. He decided on a half truth, “I was put away for weak control on my powers.”

“For nine years? Damn, this place is dedicated. Hmm, you got any hobbies?”

“I like the stars, reading, and studying the periodic table.” Logan looked back to see the hospital completely out of view. There was no going back now.

“Down there is the road the superheroes from the academy use to go on missions, were following just far away enough so that they can’t see us,” Remy pointed to the left as a distant siren was heard, “So Mr.Nine Years, how is the outside world?”

“Cold, wet, and…”Logan looked to the sky, “Beautiful.”

“Yeah, after a rain most likely wasn’t prime time to sneak out, but we can still have fun.”

“I quite enjoy it.” Remy laughed at that. The walk continued with back and forth conversation.

Logan started to smell something salty, “Whats thats smell.”

Remy’s eyes lit up, “Just my favorite scent in the whole world.” Remy grabbed Logan’s wrist and raced off. Logan nearly tripped on multiple branches just trying to keep pace. Logan saw a faint light through the woods.

Remy broke through the trees, “This is Carnvill.” The town was alive despite it being at least 1 am. The market in the center was full of people trading goods. A bar nearby was lit up with fairy lights and people’s laughter. Actually, everything had fairy lights. There was a beautiful orange glow. The smell...had much to be desired. Logan looked to his left to see the ocean.

It was the first time Logan had seen the ocean, even though his whole life he had been around it. It was enchanting. The stars were reflected in the waves, and the glow of the town highlighted the sea. It was haunting, no one knew exactly what was beneath the water, but damn was it beautiful.

“I knew you would love it,” Remy led logan to a cliff that looked over the ocean, “Now we can stargaze. Those woods were not a good view.” Remy was right, it was an amazing view. The clouds had cleared. Logan could see the stars as if it was a picture…,but it wasn’t. It was real. Logan shivered the cold nipping at his nose. As Remy put his jacket on Logan, he couldn’t help it as water vapor came from his eyes. It only got worse as the rocks became liquidy.

“Whoa! Is something wrong?” The boy’s cool attitude slipped. Logan just started bawling harder.

“I-It’s j-ust the-that you.” Logan was suddenly sobbing, “You don’t think i’m dangerous.God, I hate emotions!” Remy turned to Logan and hugged him.

“Logan, when I saw that band I froze. I had written you off as someone who never questioned the system,” Logan felt vapor rise from his shoulders, “but then I saw that band. You never had time to question it. Heck, you never had people to help you question it. Have you ever thought for just a moment,” Remy pulled away, his face was damp, “That you’re allowed to feel and be a kid.”

Logan stood up, “No.” He tried to calm himself. He can’t...He can’t let his emotions get the better of him. That's when they hurt people, “You don’t know my me. What I’ve done.”

“Logan, You were 4!”

“I STILL DID IT!”

“YOU SHOULDN’T BE PUNISHED BY NOT LIVING,” It dawned on Logan that Remy was crying, “NINE YEARS! You’ve never played with a Wii or-or heard Lizzo! No first day of school. No having your friend pressure you into listening to MCR! NO CHILDHOOD!”

Logan felt something roll down his cheeks, he placed a hand to see liquid tears come out his eyes. Liquid, huh. That's the first time that had happened. This is the first time a lot of things have happened. Logan sat on the edge of the cliff and awkwardly patted next to him. Remy sat down, “I’ve never listened to MCR. You’re my- You’re my friend. You can peer pressure me.” Remy looked at Logan and started laughing. Remy fished something out his bag. He pulled out a cellular phone and a cup. He placed the phone in the cup and then he reached a hand out to Logan. Logan took his hand and Remy pressed his phone as lyrics came out.

Teenagers scare the living shit out of me

“Logan for once. Stop caring!” and Logan did. In this small town in the middle of nowhere. He danced and danced. Remy danced along with Logan. Steam started clouding around them. They were in their own world. Than Logan heard Remy scream,

Logan was alert in minutes. He ran as he saw Remy plummet of the cliff. Terror in his eyes. Logan jumped. As he fell he grabbed Remy mid-air. As they descended Logan felt a harsh smack. Logan realised suddenly that they were in a...bubble? of ice? Remy suddenly let go.

“HOLY SHIT! I ALMOST DIED.” Remy started laughing.

Logan started crying, “I’m sorry. Remy we’re gonna die in here.”

“Hey Hey Hey. Shh. Don’t be like that. Yeah maybe we might suffocate, but at least we're not alone.” Remy laughed.

“God, how are you so positive. We could DIE. Were most likely going to.”

“Decide your last words.”

“What?”

“If we’re gonna die we need good last words.”

“At least we’re getting to see the bottom of the ocean.”

“Dang, how am I supposed to top that,” Logan felt lightheaded, “Umm, Into the unknown.”

“Logan, hug me.” Logan did and as Logan hugged him, he started to feel sleepy. He knew Remy was putting him to sleep, but he was too tired to care.

“Into the unknown…”

Taglist: @thewhiteraven73 @hereforapathylogic @illogicalthinking @power-in-plain-sight

#losleep #logan angst #ts logan #ts remy sanders #tw suffocation #tw death

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crossroadsdimension · 7 years

Link

Didn’t think I was gonna leave things where I did, did ya?

Putting the chapter under the cut for people too lazy to go over to AO3.

Chapter 3 -- Fishy Stalker

Stan knew that something was up again when Ford came in from the deck for breakfast and was wearing that coral rebreather over his face.

“Disappeared for a midnight swim?” Stan asked dryly.

Ford blinked a couple times, the haze leaving his eyes. He frowned at the rebreather on his face and took it off, then set it on the table and sat down before starting to gnaw on his breakfast -- eggs and pancakes, maybe a tad overcooked but still edible.

Stan put down his fork. “Ford.”

“Hmm?” Ford looked up.

“Midnight swim. Again?” Stan motioned to the rebreather.

Ford sighed, then looked down at his breakfast and started poking it absently with his fork. “I can’t resist it, Stanley. The enchantment’s...rewired my brain somehow. Or-or caused some kind of muscle memory reaction to override anything that I happen to be thinking at the moment or--”

“Hey. We’ll think of something. We’re almost to Gravity Falls; if anyplace is gonna have what we’re gonna need, it’s there.” Stan picked up his fork again. “Now, come on. Eat up. Not exactly gonna be able to do this magic thing on an empty stomach.”

Ford nodded in agreement, then went back to his meal as Stan finished off his and put the plates in the sink. “We should be able to reach Gravity Falls this afternoon. Are the kids already--”

“Two days ago,” Stan replied. “Got a call from ‘em when you were takin’ your nap.”

“Ah.”

“I think Mabel’s torn between thinking your situation’s adorable or terrible.”

Ford’s brow furrowed. “And Dipper?”

“Terrified for you. He’s been digging up myths and books on sirens and it sounds like he doesn’t like what he’s been finding. Nothin’ yet on a reversal spell.”

“Hopefully there will be something in my library that will give us hints as to what could be done.” Ford sighed. “As..grateful as I am that Adeline’s kept the sea monsters in this part of the Pacific at bay, I…I don’t want to think about the fact that I know she can pull me under her enchantment at any time and affect the way I think and act with just her voice, and that when she does...nothing else seems important. It’s terrifying.”

“We’ll figure something out,” Stan repeated. “I’ll take care of steering the ship for a bit.” He moved out of the cabin and onto the deck, patting his brother on the shoulder reassuringly on the way out.

Adeline was leaning over the side of the ship again, near the helm. “Is my pet going to go to sleep?”

“Probably, since you woke him up in the middle of the night. Again.” Stan frowned at her disapprovingly.

Adeline swung herself up to sit on the railing. Instead of the octopus lower half, she had the fish tail that Stan had been expecting to see the first time. “Good. Because I told him to go sleep. I like having him awake when he’s with me.”

Stan grumbled something under his breath that caused the siren to frown. She flicked her tail at him, causing water to sprinkle against his face. He didn’t give her even the slightest hint of a reaction.

She’d done that every few days for the last few weeks; it wasn’t hard to get used to something Stan had grown to expect.

“You’re lucky I’m here to protect my pet,” Adeline said pointedly. “There was a small kraken here last night who wanted to make a snack out of your boat.”

“Uh huh.” Stan double-checked the instruments around the helm. Good weather, good wind, and nothing was being picked up on the sonar. Course, a big thing would end up appearing there later, but Stan was expecting that -- the siren had to go back underwater sometime, and she hadn’t shown that she could grow a pair of legs to stay on the ship.

Not yet, anyway. If she could change from octopus tentacles to a mer tail, she could probably walk around like a human, too.

“I’ll be expecting a thank-you later.”

“Uh huh. Right.”

Stan felt more water get flicked at him. “I mean it, human.”

“Did you really think we wouldn’t have been able to handle that thing on our own?” Stan turned and gave Adeline a pointed look. “My brother’s survived for thirty years fighting off monsters in other dimensions; I spent ten evading the mafia and avoiding getting killed here on land. We’re two grown men who can handle ourselves.”

Adeline frowned at that. “That I find hard to believe.”

“Well, it’s the truth.” Stan turned back to the wheel. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’ve got a brother ta get home so that we can reverse whatever ya did to him.”

He was half-expecting the siren to answer, but when he heard the splash off the side of the ship instead, a satisfied grin crossed his face.

Just a few more hours, and they’d be able to get to Gravity Falls and see about fixing Ford’s head.

Time Break

Ford knew there was more going on than just the siren’s song constantly running through the back of his mind. When he woke up hours after breakfast, he felt a strange need to be petted that instantly sent a wave of alarm through him.

Adeline’s spell was working its way into the times when he was aware, and if they didn’t do something about it before it became too late--

Ford shook the thought out of his head and pushed himself out of his bunk. It was something that he would have to discuss with Stan and the others, when they were safely back on land and back in the Mystery Shack.

The thought of solid ground under his feet shouldn’t have caused the chill of worry to run down his spine like it did; some part of his mind silently begged him to stay at sea, to let the rocking waves soothe him.

He pushed the thought to the back of his mind, back to the music it had originated from, and made his way out onto the deck.

Stan was alone on deck, standing at the helm. He looked back as Ford approached. “Glad to see you up. I was about ta go in there and wake you up myself when we hit port.”

Ford grunted in response, looking up and down the coast. The song at the back of his mind tried to make him feel uneasy, but he pushed it out of his focus.

“I hope you didn’t think I was going to sleep the day away,” Ford said instead.

“Well, that siren chick said she was gonna make ya sleep; she just didn’t say fer how long.”

“At least I’m able to choose when I want to wake up.” Ford frowned at the sea disapprovingly, and when the song strengthened in his mind, he shuddered.

“Hey. You feelin’ okay?”

Ford pulled back from the railing a couple steps. “I think there’s more going on in my mind than just what she said.”

Stan looked over at his brother worriedly. “Still think we can find that reversal?”

“I should hope so.”

Stan frowned at Ford’s comment, but he said nothing as he brought them up to the docks they were approaching. Three familiar figures were already standing there waiting for their ship to pull up.

Ford dropped the anchor as Stan threw the ropes down and leapt off the side of the ship; only after tying the ship down did Dipper and Mabel leap at Stan for a hug as Ford leaned over the railing on the ship, contemplating leaping off onto solid ground.

The song at the back of his mind once again tried to make him feel uneasy about the idea, but he ignored it in favor of reaching his niblings and leapt off himself.

“Grunkle Ford!” Dipper instantly ran to him. “Are you feeling okay?”

“As...as well as I can be,” Ford replied carefully. He heard a splash somewhere on the other side of the ship and fought to ignore it.

Dipper noticed Ford turn his head slightly at the sound; he took his grunkle’s hand and practically dragged him to the car -- Stan’s old Diablo. It looked like it had been fixed up. “Come on; we can talk about getting that stuff out of your head.”

“An excell--”

Ford winced as the song suddenly went discordant as he left the dock and got onto more solid ground. He gritted his teeth, a part of him wanting to move back and dive into the ocean just so that he could get the damn noise to shut up.

He felt someone push him from behind as he was forced into the back of the Diablo; Stan sat on one side and Dipper on the other as Mabel climbed up into the front next to Soos.

Ford clapped his hands over his ears and gritted his teeth as Stan kept a tight grip on him; the further they moved from the ocean, the more discordant it became; he found himself unable to think other than needtogetbacktotheseaneedtogetbacktotheseaneedtogetbacktothesea--

And then suddenly the discordant sounds stopped, and it settled back into the siren’s song he was used to hearing as Ford came back to his senses with a gasp.

“Grunkle Ford?” Dipper asked, hesitant.

“She’s following us,” Ford said.

Stan stiffened. “You have got to be kidding me. How do you--”

“It doesn’t sound like nails screeching on a chalkboard in here anymore.” Ford pointed at his head. “And I don’t feel like I need to punch and kick my way out of this car to get back to shore.”

The others stared at him.

Mabel chuckled nervously. “Um. O-okay. Grunkle Ford, when Grunkle Stan said you were met and hypnotized by a siren, I didn’t think this would happen.”

Ford sighed irritably, rubbing his temples. “I should have expected something similar. Being dragged underwater and drowned or something similar, yes, but not being considered a pet with a mental leash attached to the sea.” There was a growling rumble in his voice.

“You said the siren’s name was Adeline?” Dipper was paging through a book he’d pulled from his vest.

Ford felt a shudder run down his spine at the name. “Yes.”

“Mermando said she was a recluse who saw humans as creatures that didn’t know what they were doing.” Dipper looked up. “The fact that she’s following us kinda goes against her usual MO.”

“Considering she seems pretty attached to Ford, I think that she just wants him back,” Stan said flatly. “So we gotta get this song outta Ford’s head before it does who knows what else to him other than turn him into a pile of putty every time she shows up.”

Ford didn’t look too happy at the comparison; he sighed irritably instead.

Mabel and Dipper exchanged worried looks.

“That doesn’t sound good, doods,” Soos said. “Hey -- you think this siren is gonna need water sometime?”

“They can’t live outside of water for long, so yeah,” Dipper replied. “She’s basically like an amphibian, but...more fish-y.”

“And human-y,” Mabel added.

“Yeah.”

“So, hypothetically, she could follow the river backwards up the coast to the lake in Gravity Falls?”

Ford heard the song in his head change key.

“I think that’s more than likely,” Ford muttered.

The others looked at Ford again.

“Lock Ford in the basement when we get back to the house?” Soos asked.

“Yup,” the others in the car responded at once.

Ford sighed. “So long as we can get this song out of my head, that’s fine. But we need this spell reversed, or else….”

“Or else?” Dipper repeated nervously.

Ford swallowed. “Or else even without Adeline nearby, I fear her enchantment may overtake me completely.”

The fact that Ford had just admitted Ford was afraid made the tension in the car increase tenfold.

“We’ll figure this out, Grunkle Ford!” Mabel exclaimed with determination. “We beat a dream demon last summer who set off the apocalypse, we can get this fixed too!”

Ford really hoped that they would be able to. Because otherwise, things could end up getting far worse.

#cross' fanfiction #gravity falls #alluring enchantments #pines family #adeline marks #siren!addi #sirens? In the Gravity Falls Lake? It's more likely than you think #poor ford #having a song stuck in your head isn't always a good thing #especially when it's THIS song #and if he's being overtaken by the enchantment well....#let's just say he's gonna be acting more like an obedient puppy than a human by the end of it #here's hoping they can find a reversal spell before that becomes permanent #and if Addi is following them up...well we'll have to wait and see what happens yeah?#by the way -- the tail-change thing was something Hunter suggested and I was actually considering myself #so we're all good on the Addi shape-shifting her lower half bit

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