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aceofstars16 · 8 months

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Headaches

Okay so...I found this old fic...I might share it on AO3 at some point too? But eh, I'll share it here first. (I put it on AO3 now)

It's like...a four year old fic, and I'm pretty sure it was going to be part of a continuation story I had for Gravity Falls. But it kind of works as a one shot too? I edited it a little, but it still has some of my old writing style to it lol

Also, don't ask me what is wrong with Stan, I'm like...pretty sure it was part of my idea for the continuation, with Bill kind of coming back, buuuut...for the sake of this fic maybe it's just some residual effects of Bill going into his mind? *shrugs*

Putting it under a read more because it's eh a fic, so over a thousand words lol

“Another headache?”

Stan waved his hand. “It’s nothing, I’ve had hangovers worse than this.”

Ford couldn’t help but frown. He'd seen Stan wince more in the past week than in the entire time he’d been back on this earth.

“Oh don’t look at me like that, Poindexter. Come on, we have work to do.”

Trying to brush away the knot of worry in his chest, Ford followed his brother out onto the deck. Just a headache. Ford knew better than that, he'd brushed aside a headache once…never again. But this was Stan, it could just be a headache. Then again, it could be something more.

-----

“Maybe you should take it easy.” Ford was hesitant to speak, seeing as Stan only seemed to get more stubborn when he brought it up, but the quiet grunts of pain coming from his brother scared him more than he’d like to admit.

“I’m fine. Besides, you wanted to…what was it? Study the stars or something with this.” Stan grumbled as he hammered a bolt into Ford’s makeshift beacon.

“Study the paranormal activities in the universe, yes. But it can wait, we won’t reach the next anomaly site for a few days. And it looks like a storm might be coming, so waiting would probably be best.”

In reality, setting up the beacon earlier would be better, especially if the storm was related to any disturbances in the multiverse, but Ford had put his work before his family for too long. Never again.

Stan huffed but looked at the clouds forming and shrugged. “Doesn’t look like it'll be a big one.”

“You never know. Come on, I’ll cook us something.”

“Is that supposed to entice me?” Stan quipped, punching Ford lightly on the shoulder – or lightly for Stan.

“My cooking isn’t that bad…though it did get me kicked out of a dimension once…How about I just heat up some soup from a can?”

“Fine, but none of that mushroom stuff.”

Ford tried not to show his relief at Stan’s acceptance of taking a break, and nodded. “Deal.”

-----

The ship rocked back and forth as the storm raged on outside. Stan’s snores filled the air as Ford stared at the notes in his new journal. But his mind wasn’t on them. It was distracted by memories. Bloody eyes, hysterical laughter, regret, and fear that froze him in his tracks.

Shaking his head, Ford tried to reason with himself. It was just his anxiety acting up again, he was being paranoid. Stan just had headaches from being at sea for so long, or from working a little too much. There were so many other explanations for it.

But as he looked at his brother, fear trickled down his spine. What if it really was more than Stan was letting on?

Pulling out the map, Ford quickly deducted where they were at, before searching for the closest city.

-----

“What do you need in town again?”

“Just some extra fuses and parts in case anything breaks.” Ford said quickly, looking at the address he had managed to find on the computer – he still preferred paper to electronics when it came to finding things, but he had to admit computers were a little faster.

“Can’t you just fix them with what we already have? Half of the boat is filled with junk only you know how to use.”

“Just taking precautions.” Ford said, waving his hand, though he couldn’t help but feel a little relieved that Stan seemed to be acting more like himself. He didn’t appear to have a headache today, which was good. Though it could make this trip a little harder. Doubt crept into Ford’s mind. Maybe the headaches really were just something that would go away on their own. But the nagging worry in his chest kept Ford moving forward. He wasn’t going to gamble on this, not when it could hurt Stan.

Stan didn’t respond so Ford once again focused on finding the correct building. It was easier to spot than he thought, though he did notice the internet had it wrong. See, paper was better.

“Hey, that’s not a machine shop. Sixer, what is this?!?”

Ford had been expecting resistance, but he still let out a sigh. “As I said, it’s just a precaution. You’ve been having these headaches far too much for my liking.”

“You have got to be kidding me! I’m not going to some scam artist and paying them money for a headache that is just a headache!” Turning on his heels, Stan started marching back towards the ship, but Ford quickly bolted forward and grabbed his arm.

“Stanley. Please.”

Those two words stopped Stan in his tracks and he glanced back, meeting Ford’s eyes. An understanding passed between them, or maybe Stan just saw the worry Ford knew must have been brimming in his eyes.

“Fine.” Stan consented, but poked Ford’s chest. “But it’s a waste of time and when they say nothing is wrong you owe me some toffee peanuts and ice cream.”

Forcing a small smile on his mouth, Ford nodded. “Okay, though I doubt we’ll find toffee peanuts here.”

-----

They found toffee peanuts.

The doctor’s visit was, as Stan put it, a paranoid waste of time and money. And maybe he was right, maybe the headaches were just a result of stress, as the doctors said. But that didn’t stop the worry in Ford’s chest, in fact it almost seemed to be worse after the doctor’s analysis.

“Come on Sixer, cheer up. You can’t be right all the time.” Stan tossed an arm over Ford’s shoulder, a triumphant grin on his face.

A small smile touched the edge of Ford’s mouth. At least Stan was acting like himself, which was a good sign. Paranoia. Maybe thirty years in the multiverse had made him a little too suspicious of things.

-----

Days passed, and Stan seemed much better. Ford found his anxiety easing, if only a little. Yes, he still tried to keep an eye out to see if Stan was wincing or holding his head, but as far as he could tell, the headaches were gone.

“Just a little higher!” Ford called, narrowing his eyes as he looked at the beacon. The trip to town had added a few days to their anomaly trip, but now they were almost there.

“Always have to have it just right, hey Six-AGH!”

Ford froze as he saw Stan grab his head and fell to the deck.

“STANLEY!”

Rushing over to his brother’s side, Ford dropped to his knees. “Stanley?”

A groan was the only response and fear wrapped itself around Ford’s heart. He knew he should’ve insisted upon more testing, or medication, or something!

“Come on, let’s get you inside.”

Stan didn’t respond, but when Ford pulled him to his feet, he was standing mostly on his own, though he leaned heavily on Ford as they made their way inside.

Despite his own physical strength, Ford was panting as he helped Stan onto his bed – though maybe worry was a part of his fatigue. Plus, he wasn’t exactly thirty years old anymore.

As soon as Stan was lying down, Ford started rummaging around the cabin, looking for ibuprofen or any other pain reliever, along with ice and heat packs. All the while trying not to dwell on the fact that they were in the middle of the ocean, days away from the closest doctor.

“Sixer?”

Ford froze as Stan spoke and quickly rushed over with the few things he had found. “I’ve got you Stanley, here take these and you should-”

As he glanced up, the words stuck in his mouth. The world flipped and the air grew thin. Ford couldn’t breathe. He swore he could hear laughing, though maybe that was just a broken mind replaying sounds from all those years ago. From when he had felt blood falling from his eye, when Bill had used him. Only now it wasn’t his eye that was bleeding. It was Stan’s.

“No…no no no no.” It was the only word Ford could gasp out as memories, fears, total paranoia overtook him. Yellow eyes everywhere. Maniacal laughter. Crushing guilt. A mistake he could never fix. Screams mixed into the laughter, phantom pain raced through every inch of his body and there was no escaping it.

“And you thought you were the smart one, Fordsy.”

“Stanford Pines.”

“Fordsy Fordsy Fordsy”

“Sixer.”

“Outcast, just like us.”

Bill was everywhere, mocking him.

The voices blurred together. Ford could see them, he could feel them. Bill was in his head. Even though he couldn’t be, the metal plate kept him out. But he swore he could feel him.

“Sixer.”

A gasp turned into a sob was the only response Ford could make to the noise in his mind.

“Ford!”

Sharp pain shot through Ford’s head and he looked around, and he realized he was on the ship, staring at Stan – whose brow was creased with pain and whose eye was still bleeding – but who was gripping his shoulders, lifting him up from the ground.

“St-Stanley…”

“Ford, what…? Are you okay?”

“I…” His chest still felt tight, and Ford swore he could still hear Bill. It was only when he glanced at Stan again that he realized his brother was blurry through the tears in his eyes. And compared to Stan’s firm grip on his shoulders, he was shaking like a leaf.

“Ford, gosh darnit, TALK TO ME!”

“Bill…it…he…” Then a sob escaped his mouth. Ford hadn’t felt so broken in…well maybe it hadn’t been that long but that didn’t make it any less terrifying.

Arms wrapped around him and another sob escaped his mouth as he let himself hide in his brother’s embrace.

“That triangle is gone, Sixer. And if he comes back, I’ll punch him in his stupid eye. Got it?”

Ford couldn’t form a response, only a whimper escaped his mouth, but he managed a small nod and Stan’s arms tightened around him. He didn’t deserve such a good brother, after all he'd done, Stan was still there for him, hugging him when he was the one with a bloody eye and terrible headache.

“Got it?” Stan spoke again and Ford would’ve laughed if his mind and body weren’t so jumbled up.

“Got it.” Ford could only speak in whisper, but Stan seemed satisfied.

“Good.”

#gravity falls #stanford pines #stanley pines #ford pines #stan pines #sea grunks #gravity falls fanfiction #aceo writes things #was that my tag? I do not remember it has been a looong time #call this practice for when I hopefully finish timetrapped lol #have fun and enjoy the writings of little - not as traumatized and broken me

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the-firebird69 · 3 months

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This is not very far from being where it will be the tires are white walls and it's kind of mag room but they look terrible they could look good though but no different ones and also the friend that needs a little work not much it's much better the rear end needs more work but it looks much better. Three red needs to be bumped out and bigger tires and it handles better and the front end has to have bigger tires and be bumped out a little. You change the rear window to vents it looks like Vince or something like that you don't need a window that looks stupid as hell and people kept telling him this is for a lot of people and it did so better but you don't need it and you can put a vent in and have the window behind it and there's certain events that look pretty cool people do that to get the exhaust out LOL no it's a mid drive so there should be no engine there so no window. And the firing on the bottom is needed but a small one and the front end is nice and the design is nice it's not that high up it's still about 2 in higher than a Ford GT and so it says two and a half but really different tires and you lower it a little and he says it's not bad cuz he won't fit in the GT that's a good idea for bigger people the length is okay it's a little short and the rear end needs to be stretched out a little and the rear end would look good when it's out and the back end would be in from it the rear top would be in so be a ledge it looks awesome and then rear end is usually pretty good stuff at the bottom part and it needs to be fixed other than that this is a nice vehicle it's a nice version it'll make a nice foundation and people have them and they did fix them up like that and they don't show it to deal with nasty like really cool awesome so I'm going to keep this in mind

Thor Freya

I want to make this car now and call it the Bradley GT3 and he wants to two but where can really do it and he doesn't know how to do it at all and I'd have to work with him he wants to do that

Hera

Olympus

I'm interested in doing this this is a nice vehicle I think it'll be a fun project I probably never get to it but other people want to as well

Mac daddy

I'm really interested in this this is better than the dagger and the dagger doesn't really look much like this and I was wrong this is what it looks like and the name would be used and the emblem he's famous right now I probably sell too many in Asia I do get what I'm saying it would sell here

Chao phat

And there is a curse and people want you to do it

Mac daddy

Ohboy

Chao phat I'm going to get to work right now

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superspunarticle · 2 years

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More Intelligent Tomorrow: The New Economy Will Require Empathy

Some tips about Video & Content Marketing.

Miguel Á. Padriñán, Pexels.com

Henry Ford famously said, “If you always do what you’ve always done, you’ll always get what you’ve always got.” So how do you find novel approaches to solving old problems?

More Intelligent Tomorrow host Dave Anderson sits down with Brian Solis to talk about interesting ways to get creative solutions to our long-standing challenges. Please listen to the full podcast here.

Dave Anderson is a keynote speaker, tech evangelist, and podcast host with a refreshing perspective on marketing, analytics, and technology.

Brian Solis is a digital analyst, speaker, and author. Brian currently serves as the Global Innovation Evangelist at Salesforce. His work focuses on thought leadership and research into studying disruptive technologies.

They begin their conversation talking about what disruption is and what it isn’t.

At the heart of it, disruption isn’t about technology. It’s about changing the norm. It’s about shaking people out of their comfortable ways of thinking to find new and better ways to approach problems.

Doing the same thing over and over can saturate a market. Eventually it calls out for something new. Just like a wildfire can renew a forest, disruption becomes a means for reinvigorating a market.

But companies today are still using legacy systems designed for scale and efficiency to protect themselves from disruption in the future. They’re still the wrong tools for the job.

“76% of all employees say that they don’t feel that they have the digital skills necessary to work in this new economy.”

We don’t have all the answers. We can only scenario plan so much. That’s the nature of disruption. If we’re going to fix this skill gap and be ready for change to come, everyone needs to feel involved. Everyone needs to feel relevant. Agreeing to change requires empathy toward everyone involved. Empathy is just as important as intelligence.

By being empathetic to what the workforce needs to succeed in the future, we can build these skills into our education system. We can bring up a generation that’s prepared to take on new disruptions and thrive.

The best way to accelerate creativity and innovation within organizations is to be empathetic and give people the room they need to follow ideas that are outside their normal work. Companies like Google with their 20% program not only understand this, but they practice it.

Empathy is understanding how someone else sees the world. A lack of empathy is one of the reasons we don’t respond well to change. Without empathy, we lack a sense of urgency to change that doesn’t immediately impact us. The gift of empathy is a powerful tool.

Brian transitions onto the topic of our smartphones and how they have managed to rewire the way we think and change the way we learn. No longer is education just about top-to-bottom, left-to-right, Z-formation learning. Education today needs to be more immersive. It needs to embrace dynamic, individualized learning, and AI can help. It can create lessons to help people learn at their own pace and in a way best suited for them. Empathy for the student combined with AI can bring a needed disruption to the education market.

An anecdote from Brian about the TV show, Ted Lasso, brings him around to talking about how company management needs to develop more empathy.

A problem with current leadership is that they don’t stop to ask questions. They aren’t curious. They don’t put themselves in their customer or employee’s positions. They need to learn to ask “why” over and over. Kids do it naturally, and we should embrace it as a path toward continuous evolution.

Dave closed out the show by asking Brian how he thinks we get more intelligent.

“Try not to be better than anyone else, try to be better than you were yesterday.”

This episode includes discussion of:

Embracing disruption as an agent of positive change

Asking if we’re ready for the changes ahead of us or planning for the a future using tools of the past.

Leveraging empathy to find creative solutions to our problems

The role of empathy in our thinking about education

Asking, “why” over and over as a tool to achieving continuous evolution

And Now a Leadership Lesson from Ted Lasso

If you watch Ted Lasso, you’ll recall the wonderful scene in which he challenged Rupert to a game of darts as a gentleman’s way of helping Rebecca regain respect and confidence while also teaching us an important lesson in humility, curiosity, and humanity.

He was inspired by a quote he saw painted on a wall, “Be curious, not judgmental.”

I had the privilege to join my friend @Dave Anderson at DataRobot on the excellent podcast, “More Intelligent Tomorrow.”

I applied Coach Lasso’s lesson to today’s executive leadership.

If leaders were curious, they would ask more questions. The answers could unlock empathy and reveal creative solutions to our problems and unlock new opportunities.

The problem with legacy management is that they don’t ask questions. They’re not as curious. They can be judgmental. They project themselves onto their customers and employees. But the more curious, the more empathetic they can become.

Barbecue sauce.

Please listen to the full podcast here.

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This article “More Intelligent Tomorrow: The New Economy Will Require Empathy” was first provided on this site.

We hope that you found the above useful and interesting. Similar content can be found on our main site here: superspunarticle.com/blog Please let me have your feedback in the comments section below. Let us know which subjects we should cover for you next.

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nataliedanovelist · 3 years

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GF - Timestuck AU: The Power of Mabel ch.6

While fighting over a time machine so one twin can win a pig or the other can win the heart of a girl, Mabel is left stranded in a snowy forest with no time machine and no brother. Oops.

ch.5 - ch.7 (finale)

~~~~~~~~~~

The air was still quite nippy and crisp, but the afternoon sun sparkled on the white snow and made the atmosphere pleasant to stand in if the Main Sequence Star was shining directly on a living organism, like it was on Stan from where he stood on the porch. He sighed tiredly as he dug into his hoodie’s pocket for a fresh cigar and lit it with his Zippo-style lighter. He knew he probably shouldn’t smoke with a kid in the house, but after the few days he’s had, he needed and had well earned a smoke-break.

The door opened and Stan hid his cigar by his side, his right arm glued to his hip to hide the newcomer on his left, but when he saw it was an adult, he relaxed and took another puff. “M’trying to quit.” He mumbled.

Ford snickered. “Yeah, it looks like you’re trying really hard.”

“Don’t be shitty.” Stan said casually.

“Mind if I lend one? I can replenish you in a few minutes.”

Stan stared at his goody two-shoes of a twin and handed him a cigar and the lighter. “You smoke?”

“Not often. For a celebration or after a long day.” Ford answered as he lit his borrowed cigar. “Maybe twice a month. Thrice?”

“Huh.”

Ford looked down at the lighter in his hand, and he was surprised when he recognized it. He can clearly remember seeing the tiny silver box in a store and thinking Stanley would like it as a Only One More Year of High-School present. “I gave this to you.”

Stan smiled as he took it back and pocketed it. “Yeah, it’s a good lighter. Only needed to change the flint a few times.”

“Hey guys!” A small voice called from inside the house. “Do you like vanilla or chocolate?”

The twins looked at each other, smiled, and called back. “Both. Both is good!”

“Both it is!”

Stan chuckled and shook his head. “Knucklehead… I knew she had to be family just by looking at her!” He bragged proudly.

“I suppose I was too distracted by the fact that a cold girl was at my doorstep to recognize the family resemblance.” Ford reasoned, shrugging. “I wanted to make sure I did the right thing. I didn’t exactly feel like getting arrested for kidnapping.”

Stan barked a laugh. “Yeah, you got a good point.” The conman yawned and stretched his arms over his head. “Guess I’ll head out tomorrow.” He mentioned offhandedly.

Ford stared at him, a little saddened and disheartened by this fact that was news to him. “You’re leaving?”

“I mean, yeah?” Stan equally stared at his brother, confused and not daring to be hopeful, but still. “What?”

“I just…” Ford hesitated and busied his mouth by taking a hit of his cigar. With everything that has been said and how well he and Stan have been communicating, he really didn’t feel like ruining it now. He relaxed his shoulders and said with his eyes on the snowy woods. “I was really hoping you would stay.”

Stan looked dumbfounded, like a child discovering candy for the first time, but he looked away and down at the porch floor. “Oh.”

“I’ll of course be taking care of Mabel until Dipper comes back in time for her…”

“He might not.”

“We got over our grudges. They can do the same.” Ford said firmly. “Still, you have a point. Dipper might not be able to come back. Regardless, whether it’s for a short time, a long time, or for the rest of my life, I will take care of her. I might not be the best for her, I can acknowledge that…”

“C’mon, Sixer, don’t be like that.” Stan scolded lightly, giving a sympathetic look to the nerd. “What else can you do, y’know? There’s no way in hell you’re gonna give her up, I’ll kidnap her and run away to Canada before I let you…”

Ford laughed and waved a hand as he smiled. “No no, I promise I won’t.”

“Good.”

“The point is, she loves you. Clearly. And it takes two, and I’ll be busy with my research, especially once the snow melts and the anomalies become more active in the spring and summer, but…” Ford bit his lip. This was a bad idea. If he makes it seem that the only reason why Stan needs to be here is because of Mabel, if or when she’s gone, then Stan will have no reason to stay. And there were many reasons why Ford wanted Stan to stay.

Despite how much of a social-cripple Ford was, he knew that Stan was homeless. His frequent traveling and how full his car was right now was enough proof of that. And Ford hated that for his brother.

But there was another, bigger reason why Ford wanted Stan to stay. So he better just say it.

“Do you know why I went to Backupsmore?” Ford asked.

Stan’s facial expression darkened as he looked away and he shrugged. “Cuz I fucked up your project?”

“No,” Ford answered plainly. “I may not have been accepted into West Coast Tech, but there were so many other colleges that wanted me. I could apply to Yale or Harvard or any college from New York to California and instantly be accepted.

“But I didn’t.” The author added grimly. “Stanley, when you left… When you were gone, I was a mess. So many days I just lied in bed without meals or sleep. Ma was hysterical. I failed most of my exams and only barely scraped a C in the ones I didn’t fail. My GPA dropped significantly and I even lost my Honor Roll. Thankfully my past grades were enough to let me graduate with a 3.2, but my clean record was stained and a lot of prestigious colleges didn’t want me.

“All I wanted at that point was to get as far away from Glass Shard as possible. Luckily there was a small college outside of San Francisco that practically accepted everyone and had a wide range of studies to offer, so I applied and was accepted by graduation day.”

“Good for you.” Stan grunted.

“No! The point is, I…” Ford groaned, feeling like he was failing, but he had to try. “I understand if you don’t want to stay. I understand you have your own life and things you want to do, and I can live without you again if I have to, but… I really, really don’t want to. Yes, I know that part of growing up is going in different directions and being independent and all the other bells and whistles, but it doesn’t have to be. So, if you can tolerate living under the same roof as me again, and if you’re okay with it, I want to offer you a job.”

Stan raised an eyebrow at the six-fingered man. “What kinda job?”

“The committee gives me monthly boosts so I can continue my research. As long as I prove to them once a year that progress is being made, I have a good income coming in. It is a big job, exploring the large woods, climbing mountains and waterfalls, combing the lake, mapping the Enchanted Forest, and hunting down monsters and anomalies to learn more about them. I’ve always managed to make it out of trouble alright, but… I need a partner, and I want to keep it in the family.” Ford smiled at the last sentence.

“What are you saying?” Stan sneered, not daring to believe, not daring to hope, but that stupid smile Ford had…

“I’m saying I want you to do this with me, Stanley.” Ford said matter-of-factly. “I can share the grant with you after bills are paid and groceries are purchased. We can renovate the small room on the ground floor to be Mabel’s bedroom and you can have the entire attic as your own space.

“I know it’s not sailing around the world, but… Please. Will you give me another chance?” Ford pleaded with a soft smile.

Stan grinned and shook his head. “Shit, Sixer, you’re a better salesman than me.” He looked him in the eyes. “Okay. Yes. I’ll stay.”

Ford’s cheeks puffed with happiness as he smiled, his lips pressed together, and he looked ahead, happily daydreaming his future. Being surrounded by weirdness for a living was amazing by itself; doing it with his twin and raising their niece together on top of it was better than anything he could have imagined.

Stan was watching him and laughed good-naturedly, then held out a hand to him. Ford blinked at it like a startled owl, but then returned the smile and sealed the deal with a high-six.

Both brothers stood contently outside with their cigars for a minute, but then heard a bowl clatter on the floor. Mabel must be making a mess in the kitchen, which was fine.

What wasn’t fine was the sound that followed of a body falling on the floor.

Ford raised an eyebrow and called calmly, “Mabel, are you alright?”

They both expected a quick “yeah, sorry, I’m okay,” and maybe an explanation to follow, like she tripped getting down from a chair or something. But there was no reply.

“Mabel, sweetie?” Stan hollered, trying not to sound mad or scared or anything but cool-under-pressure, but this voice trembled with fear.

Still no answer.

Ford and Stan quickly discarded their cigars and bolted inside. Racing like children for cookies, they soon stood at the doorway of the kitchen and were horrified to find Mabel sprawled on the floor on her front, her hair scattered over her face to hide her expression, and her legs and bottom-half of her body slowly fading.

Literally. Fading. Mabel was fading away. She was disappearing like a stain on cloth.

“MABEL!” The men screamed and were immediately on their knees beside her. Ford scooped her up into his arms and felt her pulse and looked over her.

“What happened to her?!” Stan cried out. “Pumpkin, what’s wrong?!”

Ford’s eyes widened in panic as a horrifying realization slapped him in the face. “Mabel… You changed history.”

The tired girl nodded with her eyes closed. “If… If you guys had a fight… and never made up… in my timeline, then I guess…” Mabel paused to yawn tiredly. It didn’t hurt, but she was really sleepy now.“I guess that timeline doesn’t exist anymore, huh? I guess I don’t exist anymore.”

“WHAT?!” Stan yelled and took Mabel’s hand and squeezed it. “We have to do something! You’re family! You’re… We can’t just let you d- not exist!”

Ford held Mabel tighter and closer to his warm chest, making her smile. She swore she could hear his heartbeat. It was too fast. She would have to fix that. Poor Ford was also shaking like a leaf. Mabel could fix that, too.

“I’ll exist.” She smiled up at her uncles. “In a few years.”

Ford bit his lip. He shouldn’t ask this, it was probably dangerous to learn about the future, but the worst was already happening. What else could possibly happen that was worse than losing his girl? Ford couldn’t help but ask, “When?”

“August 31st, 1999.” Mabel’s eyes dazzled. “You’ll meet Dipper, too.” She shifted her eyes to only Stan and whispered, “Did you know you were there? You came to see us when we were born?”

Stan’s eyes watered as he smiled at the new piece of information. “I did?”

“You did. I came out first. You were so proud when I kicked the doctor in the jaw.”

Stan made a watery chuckle and wiped at his eye. “That’s my girl.”

“Dipper came next. He was blue. Umbilical cord wrapped around his neck.”

“Was he okay?” Stan asked.

“He was fine. You knew he would be. You never doubted.”

“I never will, pumpkin. I swear.”

The fading is now much worse. It was spreading over Mabel like a virus. Her legs were hardly visible to the naked eye, and even her shoulders were losing color. This Mabel is almost completely gone.

Ford, pressed for time, bit his lip as tears flooded his eyes and he cupped Mabel’s cheek and cradled her. “I… I can’t let you go! We just started to become a real family! Wh-What am I going to do without you?!”

Mabel smiled and used the free hand not holding Stan’s trembling hand to caress Ford’s jaw and lower cheek, then cupping his face so her fingertips grazed his sideburn. “It’s okay, really. I’ll see you again, and next time it’ll be when both of you come to see us. Totally worth it.”

Ford held his breath, and shut his eyes, a tear escaping from each eye and sitting comfortably in the corners of his windows to his soul. Stan hiccuped a laugh and rubbed her hand between both of his. Both of them were doing everything in their power not to cry.

To that, Mabel laughed and said, “Boys are stupid. It’s okay to cry.”

The cursed power of Mabel. Making people be honest and breaking dams.

Ford curled into his niece, his face sloe to her heart, and cried gently. He wasn’t ready, but he didn’t think he could ever be ready for this.

Stan laughed with tears streaming down his face and he kissed Mabel’s tiny fingers trapped in his hold, then held their hands close to his bowed forehead and just focused on feeling her pulse between his palms.

It only lasted another minute.

Ford was mortified when his chest sank and his arms were empty. He threw himself back and stared at his lap and felt sick to his stomach to find his little girl missing.

Stan’s hands also clasped together and he squeezed tightly, his fists against his trembling lips as he cried.

The genius who always seemed to know what to do didn’t have a damn clue what to do with himself. He growled in his throat, squeezing his eyes shut and gritting his teeth, then let out a painful howl and moan that most definitely disturbed birds and made a deer or two gallop farther away.

Ford removed his glasses and held his knees, sobbing his heart out. Stan blinked his tears off his eyes, resulting in them rolling down his face, as he watched his brother completely shatter to pieces. He had seen him upset before, sure; all those years of bullying, of Pa’s outbursts and sometimes physical punishments, hopelessness that he was actually worth something. You don’t spend seventeen years with a person and not see them break every so often, granted the blessing to help them put themselves back together again.

But Ford didn’t need Stan to swoop in and fix it. There were no bullies to punch or parents to stand against or jokes to crack that would make this okay. All Stan could do was throw his arms around him and bury his face into Ford’s shoulder and cry, too.

So that’s what they did on the kitchen floor for over an hour.

~~~~~~~~~~

Dipper blinked to try to see, but all he saw around him was inky blackness for miles. His heart raced as he looked around for his sister. “Mabel? Mabel! Mabel, answer me!”

The boy scrambled and collapsed out of a portable potty at the fair. He blinked his eyes rapidly to adjust to the sunlight, scurrying off his hands and knees, clutching the warm time-machine in his hands. Wendy was still admiring her price and Robbie was still sulking, and Waddles was still trying to get away from Pacifica.

That didn’t matter! Mabel was stranded back in time! But how far back?! When was Mabel?! Dipper started jamming the button, but the machine wasn’t working, and it was soon swiped from him by a black-gloved hand.

“Mason Pines,” A gruff voice commanded above him and Dipper looked up to find two new guys with that Blendin guy. The two other guys were muscular and guarded with high-tech armor.

“You are under arrest for violating the Time-Traveler's Code of Conduct and for jeopardizing the timestream.” The man labeled as Dundgren stated as serious as death.

“Do you have any idea how many rules you just broke?!” Blendin squawked. “I’m asking. I wasn’t there with you. It was probably a lot, right?”

“Wait, wait please!” Dipper begged as the two members of the Time Paradox Avoidance Enforcement Squadrent each grabbed the boy by an arm. “My sister! She’s still back there! We have to get her!”

“You have the right to remain silent.” The man labeled as Lolph informed robotically. “Anything you say can and already has been used in the Court of Time-Law.”

“Let me go, Mabel needs-...” And Dipper and the three time-travelers were blasted forward in time.

~~~~~~~~~~

In the endless space of time, Dipper was levitated off the ground by a giant baby using the power of his forehead-hourglass to trap him in a baby-blue field. Members of the the Time Paradox Avoidance Enforcement Squadrent circled the two, and Blendin stood with his arms crossed over his chest and smiling smugly as the kid who caused so much trouble was getting what he deserved.

“You and your sister have broken the eternal laws of space-time.”

“I’m sorry!” Dipper cried out, trying to fight the energy circling him, but it was futile. “I’m sorry! Do what you want to me, just help my sister!”

“Your sister does not require help, nor do you require punishment.” Time Baby informed as he held his feet. “You are lucky the events that occurred do not change anything drastically. However, your timeline has shifted and therefore this reality’s version of you and your sister are no longer viable and will cease to exist.”

“What?!” Dipper squeaked and looked down at his body to find his legs disappearing. “No no NO! What’s happening to me?!”

“You and your twin sister will be born again on August 31st, 1999, but too many things are different in your timeline for this version of you to continue to exist.”

“W-W-What did I do wrong?! What did I change?!” Dipper cried out as his whole body was drained of color. “What changed in our timeline?!”

“Your uncles have amended their bond thirty-four years ahead of schedule. As unfortunate as this is, your sister miraculously delayed the plans of Bill Cipher by an entire millennia.”

“What uncles?!” Dipper asked, panicked as the fading reached his neck. “Who’s Bill Cipher?!”

“If you wanted the answers you sought out, you should have been patient.” Time Baby scolded. “We all get the answers we seek… in time.”

“P-P-Please!” Dipper begged as he appeared as a ghost. “Please! What did Mabel do?!”

Time Baby cruelly stayed silent, testing Dipper’s strengths, but he was dying, anyways. Might as well.

“She met the Author of the Journals. Your missing uncle.”

Dipper’s eyes widened. “Mabel…” He rasped, and then he ceased to exist.

#GF #gravity falls #gravity falls au #timestuck au #fanfiction #stanford pines #stanley pines #mabel pines #dipper pines #angst #why did i write this?#cuz fuck you that's why #I HAD TO I’M SORRY #pls don't hate me

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jnixz · 2 years

Note

Your analysis on Ford's fear of heights and how it works gave me the headcanon that when using the Astralate on himself backfired, he suddenly dropped uncontrollably in his mindscape. This was how he experienced the damage to his memories and the disassociation.

Ahaaa oh nooooo this bloomed a fic idea itself that I’ll expand on, accompanied with an illustration and a bunch of concepts I gotta add to my project pile.

But ooooooho just the feeling of that stuck on him and painting his experience ever since he used the astralathe on himself. Just associations of height in the environment being something to disconnection and the feeling of something wrong, something hard to reach. Its like the bosses but this time you can’t fight it. Combined that with the presence of water symbolic for trauma for the levels then you got me spinning all kinds of brain level symbolism brainrot.

For now have this writing because I need it written down else it gets lost with my forever wip writings. My apologies for the jumping thought bubbles and messy sketches. It goes off in all directions for a bit but hey thoughts be like that

Just -- the image of him at his Ranger tower, dark storm clouds blocking everything else on his mind. The trees outside sway like they are waves of a tidal wave, circling the very building his projection would be standing on. The moonlight focusing on the building, representing his hyper focus on just this plan with the Astralathe.

Suddenly the floorboards below him break like ice, as the post explodes out into fragments from the inside. The feeling of falling accompanies him as he fall unconscious and off the bean bag in the real world. While he sleeps he is still falling, and never lands.

It is quite possible, that maybe because of how much water is associated with this trauma -- when he falls, does it feel like he is falling like Raz does in Tomb of Sharkophagus? (Oh... perhaps, he fell through the same hole in reverse. From Maligula’s tomb and out of the tomb, locking himself out of the truth. In this way, he made himself fall, instead of it him getting caught of guard and dropping with a broken ground underneath him)

(Imagine, imagine, that somewhere in his mindscape there was the Heptadome, completely broken apart and buried along with the Astralathe procedure. Buried along where the truth lies.

When he is able to gather himself as Agent Cruller, his broken image shows the Ranger tower, because that’s his place of responsibility back then that made him stay.

It is also something distant that won’t remind him of Lucy. It’s far and off on its own by a cliff. Far from anyone that could help, that he would allow to help, be it agents from the motherlobe or gng/his friends)

Then when he comes wakes, the feeling of heavy exhaustion still lingers even as he may have slept most of the day away. Slowly his mind tries to fix itself, putting pieces back together as it knows it should be, but there are small pieces missing -- cracks that don’t mend. (like an aftermath of an earthquake, cracks forming on buildings near or right on top of the epicenter or a fault line)

Groggily he tries to remember what he supposed to be doing, staring at the Heptadome -- wondering why its so empty --and then everything from the military coming in to ask their help against Maligula comes to him and going to Grulovia and he is suppose to be there, and that he remembers (because that responsibility is one of the things stopping him from just joining Lucy and disappearing). Then he leaves the Heptadome behind, forgetting that there was someone waiting on him in that very room.

(Briefly, during an interview, a whisper inside his head asks why is it called ‘Hepta-’ when it was only Six of them? He never answers, because no one else but them knows the name of that place, and no one bothered to ask.

Or perhaps, he remembers her and everything that happened, but not quite. He buried everything with the Astralathe, so if he still remembered Maligula as Lucy... did he convince himself he killed her? I have a more thoughts on this and man they all hurt if he thinks about it too much. The disconnect must be so real.)

I wonder, what happened after Ford reunited with the rest. How long was he gone? How was he like? What did he tell them? To the media? How did it feel? (Ever since he came back, he feels like he is floating just above the ground. He can gather himself to do what he needs to do but he still isn’t all there. There is a heavy pit in his stomach that never disappears.)

When he met with his friends, what would be worse? Him saying something but never quite elaborating, or saying nothing just the distant look in his eyes. (Just until what point does he remember what happened?) They don’t seem to shine with the bright vision he had when they were all together. (She’s gone he tells them, or maybe not. There isn’t any good way to share it to his friends) With the way he is acting that can only mean one thing. I don’t doubt the others could notice something is off.

(What did Otto do, to try finding something to think about other than the fact he thinks his invention failed and left his friend to deal with it alone? How much did Compton worry, wondering what sort of situation is happening, wondering why it is taking Ford so long to come back? How long did Cassie hope for something, a direction she would be able help more -- comforting Bob who may have not noticed how long its taking because his husband is gone--)

Did they even get a chance in private together before the government, the media, the public asked them what happened? What story did they share? How much did they tell? How much of Maligula’s defeat was a guess on Ford’s behavior or was he able to be somewhat put together to piece something to reassure the public?

He might have not remember at all what happened, and might’ve deflected on the details from the media. Then when the years go by and he starts really fracturing and drifting, he just went along with what people say happened.

(I wonder at who made the Maligula tombstone? If Ford made it, then at what point? Right after Augustus but before what he did to himself? Was it a planned along with hiding Lucy? Was it just a conclusion everybody else made and they made an empty grave when Ford wouldn’t share where the body is?)

Ford had to have tried his best to pull himself together, he was the leader, he needed to. He had to have time where he was able to be the Grand Head of the Psychonauts. But as the years go by, it gets harder and harder to be himself.

There are times he is working then disassociates even more. When he comes back, less pieces could be fitted together, and he starts to lose himself each time.

(It’s like an old rope bridge barely hanging on the edge of the cliff, holding on because that’s all it can do. This doesn’t have the adrenaline filling fear of falling, but the dread that freezes you when you know your fear could very well happen. That slow yet persistent discomfort of anticipation, if you will)

I wonder, if Otto immediately picked up that Ford looks like he is drifting off, that he’d need to step up and help him, for everything that they wanted to do with psychic science-- but as another sort of chance for psychics to be viewed in a better light. The responsibility of a government organization for the safety of people, to make sure nothing like Maligula would happen again. Make up for his failure in there by making sure their future is there to be in.

(How long did they try to look for Helmut’s body? How long did that hope last? That they may only lose one friend and not two. How long did it take, for them to be allowed to grieve?)

There were many things that they had to do, that they were supported to do, they were expected to do. Everything else but heal.

Anyway, back to concepts and headcanon sharing

If we take a look at Ford’s mindscape during all that before the Psychonauts org has a solid footing focusing on missions, I'm convinced that his mindscape is just a forest, trees warped too tall and stretched out onto the sky. There is a ranger tower at a distance, its stilts looking gangly and precarious. There is a thick mist surrounding the forest and you can’t see the rest of it. You wander around in that direction but it never seems to get closer. (It seems like the Forgetful Forest, but instead of going back, you seem stuck in one place.)

If you ever get invited to the Ranger Tower and nothing seems out of place. However, people that have visited his mindscape before would notice the cracks on the walls, holes that clearly say that this place is missing pieces of itself. You don’t see Ford anywhere. Each visit the holes get more frequent and the wood starts drifting off, yet frozen in time.

Too bad, I think, that each time Ford drifts off, the faster people gets ejected out of his mind, so getting there gets more and more difficult.

Anyway, backtracking a bit, as the psychonauts gets established I think the forest becomes the Motherlobe, with how Ford’s mind levels tends to be design where he hangs out the most. He probably also went to work and spent a lot of time as an agent before he started to really drift off.

I’m also convinced, that the fragments/aspects at that time also have a sliiiightly different look than what Raz has witnessed. Just a tad. I don’t think he’d have his thoughts on Lucy so out there for other people to see until Raz’s and Augustus’s arrival. It jogged something in his subconscious, and the third bit that really helped the bits of the truth on Lucy was when Raz mentioned Maligula. And then shit started popping up for him to be able to know and to help.

---

#asks #ask #youareshauni #ford cruller #headcanon #jnixwritez #psychonauts 2 spoilers #psychonauts 2 #I thought this was just gonna be a description post of the image inside my head but hey #speculative semi-analysis fic #sketches #concept art #me inserting all kinds of qs jumping all over my head #it can be solved with headcanons to stick with but hey i like my qs and branching possibilities #catch me combining concepts like water symbolism and fog symbolism somewhat in there #tag-rambling #brain level idea

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7soulstars · 3 years

Note

Could I request 19 for Johnny Depp? I love your fics !! (: 😁😁🥰🥰🥰

Finally someone requested from the Prompt List ! Thank you so much! I really hope you do not mind that I used a younger Johnny in this fic! Also thank you for being patient with my lazy ass. I hope you like this!

I Wanna Be Yours

Prompt 19. “ Can we please stop saying the word 'sugar daddy’? I think my parents will appreciate it more if it’s Glucose guardian.”

Pairing: Johnny Depp x Reader

Warnings: Johnny is a SIMP (I am too but that is I R R E L E V A N T), Y/N is dumb sometimes and I wanna yell at her, Pining,Fluff.

Summary: Johnny just wants to be Y/N’s .Well, he just doesn’t know yet.

............

I wanna be your vacuum cleaner

Breathing in your dust

“I really need to clean up Johnny ! My date’s gonna be here in an hour !”, she whines as she makes grabby hands at the air and shooting up out of her bed in panic as she looked at him, “I HAVEN’T EVEN DRESSED UP!”. “I’ll clean the room, you go get dressed”,he volunteered with a fake smile. “You are the best roommate I could ever have I promise this is the last time I’ll make you do this!”, she yelled as she ran towards the closet after blowing him a kiss.It wasn’t the last time.

I wanna be your Ford Cortina

I will never rust

“Hey Y/N ! Need a ride? Your friend can come too !”, the boys smiled at her from inside as she looked at him with an interest .”You go ahead I’ll walk home....”, he smiled. She smiled back sweetly as she got into the Ford peeking out of it’s window. “I’ll wait for you at home”

If you like your coffee hot

Let me be your coffee pot

He set the cup beside her desk as he walked in. “You are literally the only reason I have not gone insane yet...”,she dragged as she looked up from her test notes and books the red tint on his cheek going unnoticed by her. Although she said that for the 6th time already.

You call the shots, babe

I just wanna be yours

Let’s go out to eat ! I saved money and it’s on me”, shse argued as he kept refusing and he finally gave in. “Tell me where should we go?”, she plopped her head on his shoulder as she didn’t see him smile. “Anywhere...”, he said, “I’ll go anywhere you want to go."

Secrets I have held in my heart

Are harder to hide than I thought.

Sometimes when she was sad she’d keep looking at her wallet and smile a bit. She always hid it when he was close. She’d never leave that damn wallet that he wanted to rip off ever alone.

Maybe I just wanna be yours

I wanna be yours

Wanna be yours

That’s all he ever wanted.

Let me be your 'leccy meter

And I'll never run out

“Get a sugar daddy to pay your bills Y/N!”, teased the girls playfully and he heard them very clear. He always sat on the table next to her with his friends at lunch. “ Can we please stop saying the word 'sugar daddy’? I think my parents will appreciate it more if it’s ‘Glucose guardian’ ”, she shot back with equal humor. “And what kind of a person would your ‘Glucose Guardian’ be ?” another asked. “An actor I guess ? I just want someone to love me and show me off and they’re all cool too.....”,she said dreamily. He had decided enough.

Let me be the portable heater

That you'll get cold without.

“You know it’s going to be lonely once you leave. No one to place my winter cold hands on....”, she said dramatically as she leaned against the kitchen, heels digging the floor as she fidgeted with them, looking at him packing his clothes. He laughed as hs mind told him the opposite. “I’ll be back before you realize also I have fixed the heater ”, he joked. “That’s not what I meant you meanie! You won’t even tell me why you’re going !”,she pouted as he laughed for the last time before leaving.

I wanna be your setting lotion

Hold your hair in deep devotion (I'll be).

Three knocks on the door and she opened it. Her mouth wide open before she squealed and hugged him. “Your hair grew longer !”. He thanked the heavens she noticed. “I love it!” She loved it. “I’m gon’ be usin’ your setting lotion a lot now”, he joked as he savoured her gasp.

At least as deep as the Pacific Ocean

Now I wanna be yours

He kept glancing at her at the beach they went together as he signed pictures. She’d only look at him, smile and then give a thumbs up. His cheeks dusting pink again. She was proud of him. But she won’t notice him. That is all he could think about.

Secrets I have held in my heart

Are harder to hide than I thought

This time she was leaving. For him it was harder than he thought. “I’ll miss you Y/N”, he said as he helped her with her suitcase. She wouldn’t say anything. She knew she wouldn’t be back here. “I’ll meet you soon”, she smiled giving him a hug and pushing him back inside.

Maybe I just wanna be yours I wanna be yours

I wanna be yours

Wanna be yours

That’s all he ever wanted. All he couldn’t say.

I wanna be your vacuum cleaner

Breathing in your dust

She stopped at her doorstep.Hearing the vaccum’s sound from inside her house. A bouquet lay on the doormat a strange feeling erupts.

I wanna be your Ford Cortina

I will never rust .

A ford sat in the driveway as she pushed open the door. There Johnny stood smiling with a machine as he looked at her with the sweetest eyes. Her wallet lay open on the dinner table. His picture in it all along. “Do you still need a Glucose Guardian?”,he questioned as he looked at all the degrees and certificates lined up on the wall. “No but I do need a lover with whom I can love and sing along....”

I just wanna be yours

They wanted to be each others. All this time along. Just shy to say it. There was nothing wrong. The wait was worth it. Just like the song. They were now each others. They’ll be all along.

---The End---

Yaaay! I really hope you like this! Young Johnny is a babie I love him so much🥺🥺! I really tried to do something I never do so I have no idea if this has turned out well so please do tell me🥰! I really wish more people would ask from the prompt list. It is really amazing for me to write and think about ! Do not hesitate to send me fic requests and please like, comment and reblog my work if you like it to support me! Please do not plagarise my hardwork! I hope to hear fromm you more!

~Love, Hri

#ask hri #Johnny Depp #johnny depp x reader #johnny depp fan fiction #johnny depp imagine #justiceforjohnnydepp #johnny depp x you #johnny depp x y/n #ask away #ask response #ask reply #ask me questions #thanks for the ask!#send me asks #send fic reqs #SEND REQUESTS

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cherryblossomtease · 3 years

Text

Chapter 15

18+ only

warnings and summary - Masterlist

Because sometimes all you need is a simple reminder of who started this mess in the first damn place 💜

Warnings : as always 18+ only please- dom Zemo, sub Bucky, sub reader, punishment, m/m, m/m/f, light bondage

Authors Notes: Really didn't think I would be posting this weekend but it's a holiday in the states so why not! Still working on the rest by you know, neglecting everything that matters to create this fictional world. Anyhow, I can honestly say this is by far the most graphic story I've written so I'm a little nervous but it's already done, can't change it now, and I honestly don't want to! That said I hope you enjoy reading as much as I did writing!

Nothing lasts forever, especially when it’s this good. And this fabricated reality is about as good as it gets. Still, you know this boat will dock soon and goodbyes will be said. There’s really no way around it, try as you might to come up with a plan to talk Bucky into staying. Even now as you fight to stay asleep, your brain is working hard to create a solution while you refuse to give into your worries so early in the day.

You turn onto your stomach ignoring the dark thoughts, choosing instead to enjoy the feel of a strong arm across your back and a leg, hairy and heavy over both of yours.

Settling again with a content sigh, sleep starts to pull you back under. Thank the stars. You really aren’t in the mood— even if your dreams apparently are.

And what had you been dreaming about anyway?

A little house on a wide cliff overlooking water, and something else? The harder you try to remember the more you feel yourself slipping back into that dream space.

There was a small animal. What was it? A rabbit? Its fluffy body too close to the edge of the cliff. But in the dream you’d stayed standing in the doorway of the little house too indifferent to go and save it….

You feel bodies moving lazily, a stream of breath along your back that tickles; arms and legs and the men they belong to not fully awake and starting to stir like you, even as you quickly slip back into sleep until you’re standing in the doorway of that house again with the warm winds on your face and a view of the French sea below. The drop is dangerous. Deadly even.

Why haven’t you started talking Bucky into staying yet? Because you don’t like thinking about it too much. That's why. You start walking towards the edge of the cliff and you’re fully aware of your worlds crossing over —real thoughts present in your dream.

It’s probably bad luck to resent good deeds, after all that’s what he’s leaving you for. He wants to go off and live the life of the hero he never got to be. That and to keep Zemo’s location safe; but that’s besides the point. Hmm… Look at me, selfish even in my dreams. You smile when you shouldn’t.

Staring over the edge of the cliff it’s suddenly clear how unstable the ground is here and you gasp as it crumbles beneath your feet without warning.

Your eyes open with a start.

Well, that was a bit on the nose. Your subconscious does like to lay it on a thick sometimes, especially when you continue to ignore the things bothering you for too long and you've been setting these feelings aside since the text came through.

But just as quickly as you’re left to shake the shadow of the eerie dream, your frown fades replaced by a slow smile.

There is a very familiar poking at your ass that can sometimes be annoying-- this morning it’s welcome. You reach back and feel for the body that the greeting belongs too, comforted by the warmth and solid muscle of Bucky’s thigh under his tight boxers.

Mmmmm, the source of my distress and my desire, you think and grin into the pillows with a soft moan when his hand, hot and strong takes hold of your hip, massaging as he presses his erection into you.

You’ll talk to him about your dreams later.

Feeling a draft where there should be warmth, you open an eye to find breaks of sunlight in the space between Helmut’s arm and torso. When you turn your head you’re met with the sight of his bare chest, broad and covered in the softest dark hair. His necklace hangs off center, and you, as always, are helpless to it.

Your hand leaves Bucky’s thigh and your fingers slide over the delicate links in the chain and down into the soft chest hair as you turn your head to find he and Bucky locked in one hell of a kiss for so early in the day. It must have been their movement or the sound of their lips that woke you and pulled you from the doom of your fatal fall.

Dreams are so strange…

Your heart flutters when Helmut lays his hand over yours pressing it tight to his chest. “Good morning love birds.” You snicker and watch Bucky pull away from Zemo looking a little embarrassed. He does pause to kiss your cheek however before getting out of bed with a long stretch.

“So where the hell are we anyway?” He asks going to the balcony door, looking out at the passing waves. “Feels like nowhere.”

Zemo is looking down at you, stroking your profile, kissing your nose. “We should be well within the middle of it actually.” He answers, eyes still fixed on you.

“Perfect” You say softly letting him pull you so close that he blocks out the light as your lips meet.

“Breakfast is ready sir,” Oeznik calls from outside the bedroom door.

Zemo grumbles at the interruption but you’re starving. “What? I’m not going anywhere” You huff turning away, trying to escape. “You just said so yourself. I've got no place to go.”

“All by design” He smiles and lets you get up, giving your ass a smack as you go. Bucky is watching from the doorway and laughs at your yelp-hop-rub combination.

Swearing under your breath you go over to the closet, grab your silk robe and pull it on over your shorts and tank top, yawning as you drag your feet over to Bucky. You pat his stomach, kissing him quickly. “Hungry?”

“Famished.”

“Lets go up.” You say tugging at him as Zemo gets up and puts on his own robe across the room. It’s not the thick one you liked from before the raft, but silk like yours— Tom Ford if memory serves— god his influence is strong. How the hell do you remember this stuff?

You watch him scratch at the back of his messy nest of hair like he always does in the mornings, somehow looking both sexy and adorable, alternating between the two with the ease of flicking a light switch. You can only smile at the enigma that is Helmut Zemo and pull Bucky away from the doors.

The three of you leave the room shuffling along, making your way down the hall to the den. Zemo trails you and Bucky accepting a small espresso from Oeznik as he watches the way you and your Sergeant interact. Neither you nor Bucky are necessarily morning people and though it’s nearly ten, you’re both somewhat irritable now that you’re actually moving around and slightly hungover from yesterdays sangrias as you make your way up to the top deck where breakfast will be served.

The sun is so bright you huff about not being able to find your sunglasses and Bucky accuses you of being a diva. The only appropriate reaction is to give him a shove.

Zemo snorts a laugh at your near sibling like banter which you’d established after so many months together, but once you find your glasses on the bar counter and get a fresh cup of coffee and a bloody Mary chaser in your body you’re feeling like a new woman ready to conquer the day… a day spent doing nothing really.

It’s all so casually decadent that it’s nearly sinful. Whats the one? The sin that doesn’t sound as good as lust but feels better after all that fornicating you’ve been doing— Sloth? Yes, you think reaching for what’s left of your blood Mary from the lounge chair, the ultimate of all the sins. Thou shalt not be a lazy ass sloth all day on your yacht.

Cheers.

You read on the deck for a while, play a few rounds of shuffle board with Bucky by the pool and attempt to best Zemo at chess in the den.

Lunch is wonderful, and you think you will need to meet this mystery chef at some point before the trip is over followed by a nap on the bedroom balcony.

When you wake up in the very late afternoon you venture down the hall with your book and unexpectedly find the men in your life moaning on the floor of the den in a tangle of beautifully tanned arms and legs. So you very quietly slip past, feeling a flush rise up your neck to your cheeks highlighting your wide but tight lipped smile.

You stay above decks giving them privacy feeling only the slightest twinge of jealousy. Not because you think you’ve been excluded but because you could use another session like last night.

A shiver runs deep in your belly thinking of the way Helmut brought you to climax, but you’re still more than happy to give them time alone. After all, you’ve had the Baron to yourself for far longer than Bucky.

You sink down onto the upper deck sofa, the image of them entwined, the sounds of their heavy breathing and Bucky’s near innocent moans enough to make you consider touching yourself but you wait, letting the urge build, one of them if not both will take care of you later.

So when Bucky comes up and finds you with a funny look on his face you’re completely confused. “Whats wrong?” You ask putting your book down.

He’s poured a drink and sits down beside you on the couch.

“I don’t know if I can do it.” He says shaking his head tossing back the bourbon.

“Do what?” You have an idea but you thought for sure he’d be eager to try, at least it looked like they were well on their way to his first time.

“Letting him control me, I’ve never had someone tell me no. Not like this.”

“Oh” You smile. It’s the no sex. The lack of it is a cruel form of control but the end results are glorious, if he could just be patient enough. “He won’t let you come?” You ask a little more patronizing than you’d intended.

“No!” Bucky whines taking his cue from you and you stifle your laughter. He’s so cute, even in the throws of his sexual agony. “And it’s making me crazy. I mean I’m already crazy but this is different.” He looks around and leans closer to you. “If you were to so much as look at my cock right now, I’d be done.” He says under his breath.

You let go and laugh rolling your eyes. Dramatics seem to come as naturally as submission to him. “That’s against the rules.” You warn eyeing him sidelong and attempting to go back to your book.

“I can’t take it. Fuck the rules.” He says again pulling the paperback from your hand.

You wave your finger in his face. “James. You’re not allowed.” You say playfully.

“Please.” He begs running his finger down your cheek, brushing your neck and gliding along your clavicle where he knows you’re sensitive.

“I can’t!” You lean away a little surprised by his attempt.

“He won’t know!”

You shake your head “I know but…” You try not to smile.

“I can’t take it.” He insists leaning in to kiss you. “I promise; it won’t take long.”

You give in and laugh sensing his desperation as you kiss. He does feel tense. The muscles of his arm and shoulder are wound tight as a chord. You smile against his lips letting him ease you down onto the couch, your book dropping to the floor as he moans, sliding his hand down your thigh, pushing your knee up and his own hips forward letting you feel what you’re fairly certain is the most rock solid hard on you’ve ever had pressed to your body. You whisper his name as his lips find their way to your neck and his hand slides between you to free himself from those amazing shorts.

“Shame, I had every intention of making your patience worth the effort. But you do love to prolong your torment, don’t you soldat.”

You gasp and Bucky hangs his head as Zemo comes sauntering over. Your laughter is a mix of nerves and feeling like you’ve been caught sneaking around with a boy like a damn teenager. It’s been years since you’ve felt a rush like this. Leave it to the Baron to stir that old excitement again.

“Don’t move” Zemo orders, pointing a finger in your face. You freeze, legs open where Bucky was, your arms tight at your sides. “Sit” He growls at Bucky who obeys begrudgingly as he slides back onto the couch.

Very quickly Zemo shoves your legs closed and grabs you by the arm pulling you up to standing. You lean away as he shakes his head keeping you close, his hold so tight you wince “I thought you knew better by now” He scolds you sounding disappointed.

“I told him not too?” You try looking as innocent as possible. You truly had no intentions of fucking him, but maybe a quick hand job?

There is a flicker of excitement in Zemo’s eyes. It's been so long since you’ve given him a reason to really go for it and you hold in your smile because you’re meant to be sad and hang your head. “I’m sorry Baron.”

He ignores your attempts to apologize and pulls you over so that you’re standing in front of Bucky. He looks you both over for a moment thinking and then smiles. You don��t know if you love or hate to see him looking so pleased. Nothing “good” ever comes of that smile.

“Look James.” He says, waiting until Bucky raises his head. “I want you to see what listening to your eager cock and not my rules get gets you— and her.” He tells Bucky before giving you his undivided attention.

Zemo turns your back to Bucky and you feel his hand between your shoulder blades pushing just a little. You bend at the waist, not all the way, just enough to make sure Bucky knows where his attention should be.

This flouncy little designer sun dress you’ve changed into after your nap only helps direct his gaze as Zemo drags the fabric up slowly so that the reveal of your ass is yet another way to torment him all on its own and you give yourself over to the Baron and wonder how bad this will be.

“Pull them down.” He tells you, his hand smoothing over your simple lace panties. His voice is not so angry as it was when he found the two of you, but every bit as firm, and you glance up at him as you hook your thumbs into the waist band. He nods and you quickly obey, pulling your underwear over the curve of your hips and ass and swear you hear Bucky groan when you bend to pull them from your ankles letting him see the diamond shape of your pussy from behind for just a second, your smile hidden from view.

When you stand again, Zemo offers his forearm. You rest your stomach against him, your hand gripping his shirt, the other you will have to try very hard not to cover your backside with because you know that the breeze will be the last nice thing that you feel.

He tosses your dress back up holding you, adjusting the way he stands just a little so that you are safe but immobile.

“Count them off; to five.” He says leaning just a bit closer. The tone in his voice is confident. Zemo knows that you’re well aware of what this means.

“Yes Baron.” You say exhaling, trying to prepare, but five? Fuck. He does not intend on holding back. If he was being playful he would give you ten or more, but five? He knows you won’t be able to take more that that.

You dig your fingers into his forearm and hold your breath.

The first strike makes you cry out.

The way Zemo can raise his hand and bring it down on your ass is unrivaled. He doesn’t mess around. There is no teasing, no playing, no cute little taps to warm you up. Just instant punishment.

“One.”

Your voice shakes and the rousing heat of adrenaline spreads through your arms and legs.

Again he lifts his hand and brings it down quickly with a stinging force that sends shock waves through your body. Your cry is weaker this time, trailing longer.

“Two.”

You pull his shirt tighter into your fist, your cheeks are on fire already when you feel the air stir as his hand rises again. You wonder if Bucky is watching, you wonder if he see’s how your thighs flex and your flesh shakes when the Baron strikes you.

You close your eyes and draw in your bottom lip trying not to moan, but you arch your back and your hips begin to circle ever so slightly with the anticipation of the next smack. You’re practically whimpering as you offer up your backside for more.

Zemo can feel the light vibration of pleasure sounding in your chest and his laughter is a low, very amused rumble as he raises his hand just a little higher this time.

The next smack lands and you toss your head back with a gasp. You would have gone to your knees if he wasn’t strong enough to hold you up. “Three” You whisper but you don’t move. The air brushes your pussy, wet in spite of your reddening skin.

“Don’t look away.” Zemo says.

There is the answer to your previous question. Bucky likes it, but it’s not always easy for him to watch.

“James!” Zemo snaps and waits. Bucky must be looking again because you feel the Baron move.

The fourth strike comes and you steady yourself knowing you can take it, wanting it, loving it as much as your feel your legs shaking. “Four”

You’re breathing hard, as you anticipate the final blow, desperate for it to be over but sorry for it to end. You rest against him for just a second feeling both safe in his hold and powerless to his dominance.

When the last of your punishment lands you hang your head, rounding your spine unable to offer yourself anymore. You can not pretend and this is why he’s given you so few.

Letting your hips drop as your body shudders and a single tear falls, you whisper, “Five” And only Helmut hears you say it.

Very gently he pulls your dress down, the soft cotton is cool over your burning skin and he turns you around to face him.

He brushes the tear from your cheek, holding you in such a way that you can go limp in his arms. “It wasn’t that bad, you’re just out of practice.” He says smiling at you knowing it wasn’t kind either.

You’d love for him to know just once. Maybe let Bucky give him a slap across the ass to make it fair. But when you look at him the thought is all wrong if not hilarious and you just shrug a little and hang your head again, resting on his chest.

“No breaking rules.” He scolds affectionately, “Even if you’re only trying to help. Understood?”

“Yes Baron.” Your voice is very small.

He gives a nod, kisses your forehead and looks over his shoulder at James. “So, is this what you wanted?”

“No.”

“No… no I don’t think it is.” He agrees. “But I understand. She’s damn near impossible to resist still you must learn to control yourself. Apparently I’ve not made that clear. Perhaps a more direct approach.”

You both look at him wide eyed. What’s more direct than this you think not even close to recovered from your spanking.

“Both of you, go down to our bedroom.” He says as though nothing has ever been more obvious “Take off your clothes. Wait for me on the bed.”

You look at Bucky. He looks at you.

“You fucked up,” You mouth to him.

Bucky just gets up and pushes past you both.

“I suppose you could say I’ve had to get creative with my plans for you. I know that pain is something you can’t respond to in ways that she can.” Zemo says, smiling as he glances down at Bucky and then over his shoulder at you on your knees behind him. “Have you finished?”

You look up from what you’re doing, hoping it’s right. “Yes, I think so?”

He comes around to look at the rope binding Bucky’s wrists. It’s just for show to heighten the experience. Of course Bucky could break free if he wanted to— his strength is no match for a few rough fibers— but this is a training of the mind as well as the body. “You see, pleasure can be just as awful.” Zemo says, his voice making you shiver as he checks your work, tugging and tightening the rope a little more.

Leaning in close, he strokes Bucky’s jaw, his finger reaching to trace the spine of his ear and you smile when the hairs on Bucky’s right arm raise and Zemo loses the air of control for a second simply becoming the man who cares for the other deeply. “The irony of tying you to a chair to satisfy you is not lost on me, based on what I know of your past. But if you can endure it, I promise it will be nothing like the pain you’ve known. I could never hurt you in that way. Still, if at any time this is too much, if it triggers memories that change it from what it’s meant to be, please— James— say the word, your word and it stops.”

Bucky nods. “I will” He says softly.

“Nothing now?” Zemo asks genuinely wanting to know. Bucky shakes his head. “No, nothing.”

Zemo gives a confident nod and kisses the back of Bucky’s head patting his cheek a little harder than he needs too. “I only want to make you feel good— eventually.” He teases and Bucky rolls his eyes with a small laugh.

Pleased, Zemo pushes up and goes to sit in the soft chair across the room, notably more comfortable than the one Bucky has been placed in. Although the more obvious differences being, Zemo is not bound, Zemo is not naked, and Zemo has not been so gently stroked and toyed with that he’s been left with a perfectly vulnerable erection like Bucky has.

You’d had a hard time focusing on the ropes as the Baron made it happen. The way he’d taken Bucky in hand, winding down the length of his sex was in a word, mesmerizing. And when Bucky made that sound, that soft, pleading sound and Zemo stopped — his brow raised with such smug confidence— you wondered who would break first, you or Bucky. He’d quickly brought his hand up with one last tease, his fingers swirling around the curving head of Bucky’s member only to let go as though he’d lost interest.

Bucky’s groan was deep. He was beyond frustrated, but instead of breaking out of his restrains and fucking one of the two of you, he sat there just waiting to be punished for breaking rules in the first place.

He watches as you come and kneel before him, naked yourself as you’ve been told to be. He actually looks slightly scared but mostly curious. His erection is as always flawlessly pretty, arching up and back, smooth while perfectly veined and so inciting.

You only know what it is you’re meant to do to him because you’ve had it done to you before. You figure it’s very similar, only the mechanics are different because his is a man. If Zemo doesn’t approve, he’ll tell you.

The Baron in charge picks up his drink, the ice rattling as he takes a sip and lets the scene settle in his sights for a moment. He likes to see the two of you together, his two helpless things— his to play with and his to love.

“Begin.”

Bucky inhales, but you smile at him to show that it won’t hurt— it’ll just drive him mad.

First you take the little bottle of body oil from the floor and put some in your hands rubbing them together.

He raises his brow watching you and starts to relax thinking he might understand now. You take him in hand and start to stroke, you are after all very good at this. Over and over again, up and down his long, thick shaft, curving your hand over the head of his cock until he moans and rolls his eyes shut. When he opens them he does seem a bit confused by this sudden attention and he flashes a smile because it feels so good. If this is all that’s been planned, he could get used to this sort of punishment.

The room is quiet, there’s nothing but the soft hum of the ship, his breathing and the wonderfully obscene sound of the oil you’re using against his skin as you work faster…

It’s not long before you feel him stiffen and his breath grows quicker, his thighs flex, his hips raise an inch and he starts to moan softly, a staccato sound of pleasure that makes even your heart beat faster. He’s been waiting and suffering through so much you can feel the joy of release seeping into every inch of his body.

“You feel it happening?” Zemo asks softly. “The start, the pressure mounting? You see, she is very good. And she will get you there James, every time— right to the edge”

You yank your hand away and he jerks forward mouth open cock twitching with the start of an orgasm he will not have.

“To the edge” Zemo chuckles. “A cruel punishment for a greedy man who must learn to wait.”

Bucky quickly lifts his head, the realization flashing in his eyes as his chest rises and falls. He looks down at you.

You smile and reach for him again.

“Please” He begs breathless.

“Not yet” Zemo says leaning forward a bit in his seat, the drink in his hand all but forgotten. You notice the ice has long since melted as you wait for permission, watching over your shoulder.

He gives you a nod and you turn back to Bucky.

Wrapping your hand around him again, you feel him so solid he’s like stone. His thighs are flexed, his hips raise up in the chair as you begin to jerk your hand up and down and the light reflecting off the oil makes you both shine like gold.

He moans and you watch the muscles of his abs flex as he feels the orgasm coming on, helpless to it and your skilled hand.

“I’m going to come.” He groans sounding sorry for and drops his hips.

“No, you won’t. I did not say that you can” Zemo says like the villain behind you.

“I can’t it hold back” Bucky pants, his voice is thin he sounds like he very well might lose control and you feel him pulse in your palm. You twist your hand around sliding it down to the base thinking it might help hold him off if your focus is less near the collection of nerve endings.

Zemo stands and comes to you, tapping your shoulder. You let him go with a quick up and down and Bucky’s disappointment is the saddest thing you’ve ever heard.

When Zemo looks down at the wonderfully pitiful sight, Bucky shuts his eyes. “Yellow.” He whispers. “Please, yellow.”

“All right.” Zemo says kindly and gives his head a rub. “Rest”

“Thank you.” Bucky manages.

You stand not caring what Zemo says and kiss Bucky’s cheek.

“You okay?” You ask, your hand on his shoulder, lifting his chin to look at his face.

“Please… don’t, don’t touch me for a minute?” He asks and you give an embarrassed laugh understanding his request. You’re not exactly innocent in his torment.

“Of course I’m sorry I…” Your sentence is cut off.

Zemo has you by the back of your arms and pulls you tight against him. “You, not her.”

Bucky sighs dropping his head.

“I’m still confused. Is, this what you wanted?” He asks feigning ignorance though with you naked its clear what Zemo means.

Bucky won’t look.

“Answer me.”

“No, I mean— yes Baron.” He concedes.

You feel Zemo’s laugh along your neck. “You wouldn’t have been fast enough to finish before I found you. Well, maybe you, but not her. Tell me, how quickly can you make her come?”

“What?”

“How quickly?”

You shut your eyes as soon as you realize where this is going.

“I don’t know. I mean she always got there.” Bucky says sounding slightly self conscious.

Zemo smiles. “Two minutes. I can finish her off in just two.”

“Ha!” Bucky doesn’t believe him, who would.

Oh Bucky…

“Tell him it’s true.” Zemo leans towards you.

You nod glancing at them both. “He does this… thing.” You tell Bucky. “He works my spot and my clit at the same time and I come. Fast.” You say simply and totally helpless to it.

“It’s not always the most fun, rarely my first choice; but great when we’re in a hurry.” He shrugs and takes a knee before you even realize that he has. “Open your legs.” He says looking up at you.

Your eyes go wide, surprised to see him down and waiting with Bucky watching. Still, you part your thighs and wisely lay your hands on his shoulders knowing you won’t be able to stay upright without the support.

“This? Right James? This warm, tight, safe place? This is what you wanted?” Zemo asks, teasing Bucky with the way he slides his fingers between your velvet soft folds. You feel him turn his hand and his finger circles your entrance. He sighs and takes hold of your hip to keep you in place.

Two fingers slip inside and you hiss against the stretch, biting your lip as your head lolls to the side. You try to hold in the loudest of your noise but it’s hopeless.

The Baron starts to do his thing and you wonder if you might be able to deny him the pleasure of making you come in front of Bucky again, but just like always you end up gripping his shoulders to keep from falling as he does a perfect come hither with his two fingers as his thumb rubs with the perfect amount of pressure on your throbbing clitoris. He can’t resist and licks your peak for good measure until you hold your breath as he sucks sloppily and until you come on his hand and just as quickly as always. Your wild moaning is nearly feral but you could not care less. It makes you smile to hear him laugh softly so pleased with himself and you and your eyes shut as you pant, catching your breath.

Lowering your head, your eyes only half open, you both look over at Bucky who is glaring at the Baron.

“James.”

“Yes.”

“Stop breaking the rules.”

“Yes Baron.” He says giving in completely.

Zemo smiles and slowly pulls his fingers free from you, raising his hand just enough to show them so wet and sticky and glistening. He kisses your belly and looks up at you. “Go lie down.” He says rubbing your stomach, smoothing his hand over your soft tuft of hair. You’re still floating as you do, happy to go and rest and leave them to it.

“Would you like to come now?” You hear Zemo ask Bucky as he gets up and goes around the chair.

“Please.” Bucky whispers watching you sink down onto the bed on your side.

“I can finish you off just as quickly as I did her.”

“Yes. Please.” He begs through clenched teeth rising up again as if presenting himself to be relieved, the steady rush of blood to his lower half turning his cock a darker shade of desperate as it rises up like a tower ready to fall. “I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you.” He pants “I’m sorry I tried to fuck her. I’m sorry for breaking your rules. And I will do anything, please just… fuck. Please!”

Helmut leans down hushing him, pressing his face close to Bucky’s, grabbing him around the chest as his left hand comes reaching over his stomach promising an end to the day’s long torment.

He grips the soldiers gorgeous, endlessly taunted dick; your natural lubricant replacing the oil to help glide his fingers along.

When Zemo starts to work Bucky you can see through the look on his face that this is all he’s wanted to do for so long and you are reminded that this is as much the Baron’s discipline as it is yours— as it is Bucky’s.

Bucky makes a deep sound that gets your attention. His body flexes and you think he looks like a bomb ready to blow. A sexy, finely muscled, lightly tanned bomb with a look of pained excitement as his legs open and his jaw flexes.

“Are you mine James?” Zemo asks, his lips brushing his ear,

“Yes” He says pitifully raising his hips, thrusting once into the Baron’s hand just as Zemo lets go. A deep frown fixes between Bucky’s brows as he waits until Zemo grabs again and starts to perfectly stroke him.

Bucky’s mouth opens, his eyes fix on the incredibly hypnotic rhythm of Zemo’s hand.

“You’ve always been mine haven’t you?”

“Yes!” Bucky nearly shouts, his brows turned down with the exquisite anguish of the nearing release.

“Say it again,” Zemo demands, his right arm tight around Bucky, his eyes shut relishing in the control and the love, you listen to the wet rhythm as it gets faster.

“Yes.”

“Say it!”

“I’ve always been yours” Bucky moans loudly and glances over at you unable to keep your hand away from your pussy selfishly wanting to come again.

“Once more.” Helmut says opening his eyes. The muscle of his arm is flexed beautifully as he pounds.

Bucky moans so similarly to you that Helmut just smiles. He knows, he understands the hold he has over you both.

“I’m yours” Bucky manages and the Baron focuses his movement as if pulling the orgasm from Bucky’s body willing it to come forward. He jerks his hand up and away…but this time he’s finished the job.

He holds Bucky as the man cries out, his hips rising high this time, his cock pulsing with a tight up and down as he finally —god, finally— gives a high pitched groan with that first explosive release of come that shoots past his stomach and onto his own chest followed by equally satisfying spasms that send milky droplets flying free into the air and across his stomach onto Zemo’s arms; Bucky’s groaning and gasping near tears with the absolute exhaustion and relief of his well deserved climax, his moans and gasps of surprise so raw and unaffected.

By the time he lowers back down to the chair unable to do much more than sit there, limp and panting with his eyes closed, Helmut is holding him, caring nothing for the mess. He seems to love the sight of the pearlescent results of Bucky’s incredible orgasm as much as you do.

Smiling as he strokes Bucky’s hair, kissing his temple, he says with a tone only Helmut Zemo could manage at a moment like this, “You see. When you listen to me, I make it worth every second, every moment of torment. Yes?”

Bucky nods but it’s weak.

Zemo chuckles softly, kisses him again and reaches down easily undoing the ropes.

“Look at you both.” He says trying to sound angry, as if it’s not all his fault. “You can’t come to dinner like this. I’ll run a bath.”

He leaves Bucky and comes to the bed bending over you, his hand so sticky from the combination is heavy on your belly as he kisses your lips. “Hows your ass?” He asks.

“Still on fire.” You say and he winks as he rises.

“Good."

“You’re pretty quiet over there.” Bucky says splashing you from across the large tub. You’ve both been in for a while now after Zemo took a quick shower and left you alone letting you know he’d be up waiting at the dinner table.

Roused from your daydream but still not sure you want to talk about why you’re so quiet, you glance over and shrug.

“Whats wrong? You’re not mad about what happened are you?” Bucky asks sliding a little closer. The tub is surprisingly big in an already large bathroom and yet again you wonder how you’ll return to real life when this all ends.

“What happened?” You ask him.

“Getting you in trouble? He really put a shine on your backside.” Bucky says, a smile breaking through any attempt at being serious.

You sit up surprised to hear that’s what he thinks it could be. “Ha! No. Not at all. That was amazing… god” You tip your head back, the image of Bucky, naked and tired to a chair with Zemo holding him and whispering in his ear will be seared into your mind for life. “I didn’t know you could come that much.” You say, slowly looking back down at him,trying not to giggle.

“Neither did I.” He says practically blushing before he grins. “Same goes for you.” He tosses right back.

You laugh and roll your eyes. “Okay well we both know he’s capable of turning us into sex crazed idiots apparently.” You say with a cheeky grin and Bucky laughs shaking his head with a sigh.

“What is it? Some Sokovian spell or something, magic from the old world?” Bucky says with a thick accent wiggling his wet soapy fingers in the air.

Laughing you scrunch your nose. “Nah, that’s all him. Just wait until you’ve been around him long enough to get to the good stuff.”

“The good stuff!” He looks shocked “Well what the hell is all this!”

“This is amazing, but it not… well it’s not him. Theres so much more than sex. Watching tv. Eating dinner in bed. Naps— once he read to me.” You say with a sigh and the room goes silent as you both slip into a day dream laced with Helmuts beautiful voice surrounding you as he reads the classics on a warm summer night…

“You think he sits around daydreaming about us like this?” Bucky asks with a frown. “I worry sometimes.”

“Really?” You ask looking into his big blue eyes. Hundred years old and still so sweet. “Of course he does. Bucky, he wouldn’t have done any of this if he didn’t spend as much time thinking of us as we do him. Don’t be so naive”

He nods looking out the window and you know he’s just out of practice. He probably had a swarm of girls around him back when his life was normal. Maybe even a secret guy. But how long ago had that been. And since he’d been released from the words, his only real time spent with anyone has been with the two of you. For a moment you wonder if that’s fair. He should go out on dates or something, but then again you did try to get him on some apps. He hated them all. Women swiped right like it was their job of course, but he thought it was strange and wanted to meet them the old fashioned way but when he did he could only focus on what he didn’t like and just compared them to you— and Zemo.

“Hey.” You get his attention again. “I mean it, I’m really not upset about anything that happened earlier. Thanks for being such a rule breaker.” You say with a wink.

“No problem” He laughs as if that was his intention. Bucky’s expression softens as he sits back, the water rocking under the bubbles.

Bubbles. Talk about a diva, is anyone is on this big ass boat it’s him. Two adults having a bath drawn from them; why not throw in the bubbles. You roll your eyes ignoring the way your chest gets tight with the feel of being so adored and loving every second of his over the top ways and focus on Bucky who looks stunning in the bath— your heart sinking just a little.

“So what is it?” He asks unaware of your many distractions.

You look back to the window staring up at the sky for a while. “I’m just… sad.” You say giving in to the truth “I mean, I’m thrilled being here. But I’ve had this idea that I could talk you into staying with us. I keep imagining this life with you and Helmut and I know it can’t happen for so many reasons but I’m stubborn and spoiled. I truly hate not getting my way. So I keep thinking, maybe.”

He goes quiet now understanding, and then you feel his hand on your knee under the water. “I know. I’ve thought about it too. Maybe a little too much. Definitely enough that I’ve almost convinced myself it could work, but no. It just wouldn’t.”

You press your lips hesitant to say in case you might offend him but decide to just go for it. “And you’re sure it’s not just that you miss it? Saving the world and everything? I mean, I can see how it would be appealing— from controlled killer to stoic hero.” You tease gently, wiggling your brows up and down until he laughs a little, probably more annoyed than you’d like, and whatever facade you’d put on crumbles. The look of heartbreak turns your brows down, twisting your face with the agony of losing him. He looks surprised to see you so broken about it and finds your hand through the water.

“Hey hey hey.” He pulls but you’re not in the mood to be comforted. Bucky hates when you don’t let him coddle you, but he knows better than to fight it so he simply answers your question. “Yes.Well. No I mean, it’s nice. But honestly, if you really want to know, I could get used to being domesticated.” He shrugs letting go of your hand as he looks towards the shower where Zemo was and you swallow the tears that have been overpowered by your intrigue.

Managing a laugh at his expense you poke his arm on the rim of the tub. “Really? By me or Helmut?” You ask and swear you see him blush.

“You’ve already proven you can turn me into a homebody, and happy to be there, so —Maybe both?” He shrugs and there is such a tone of possibility in his statement that you’re instantly transported into a world in which the three of you are living happily. Maybe in this Mediterranean paradise, you’ve just come home from the market with ingredients for a dinner that Bucky has asked you to pick up and you help him cook while music blasts in your small but bright kitchen and you dance around until the house smells delicious and you set the table, flirting and toying with one another until everything looks beautiful before rushing to sit just as your Baron comes through the door…

Even here and now sitting in the tub with you, Bucky looks like the sweetest house husband glowing a soft gold in the light of the sun. What you wouldn’t give to be his forever. His his and hers, you think and your chin quivers with the threat of happy miserable tears.

Bucky isn’t oblivious to your hurting but he’s trying to keep strong, he can’t give in to you, not this time. “We’ll never know if I stick around.” He says and your little vision fades “I think I’ve got one visit, maybe two in me before someone notices an avenger hanging around their town and his cover is blown. You don’t want that. I don’t want that. I’d never forgive myself."

“I know.” You say and only realize that your head is down when his hand, which is covered in white bubbles reaches to lift your chin.

“Hey, come one. None of that. We��ve only got a little bit of time. I just want to make the most of it. Give me enough good memories to finally forget about whats left of the bad.”

You smile and nod, blowing the bubbles away before they go up your nose. “Fine.” You sigh and look back out the window hugging your knees. “Buck, can I ask you something?”

“Of course.” He says only cringing a little when you call him Buck.

“Do you think you might ever love him?”

Bucky freezes. He looks— odd. Uncomfortable. Exposed? You realize very quickly that he already does, even if he’s not aware of it and decide not to push him

“It’s okay. I was just curious.” You say and try to calm him with your smile “We come from very different worlds. Letting myself love a man like Helmut Zemo took little to no effort for me, for you— I know why it might come as a shock. But I think you’ll find, when you do admit it to yourself and to him, he might just surprise you with how quickly he says it back.”

#zemo x reader #bucky barns x you #winterbaron #winterbaron x you #buckybarnes/zemo #tfatws #bucky barnes fanfiction #james buchanan barnes #winterbaron fic #baron helmut zemo #zemo #self insert #yacht life #these two #i love them so much #also ouch

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cricketnationrise · 3 years

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stairwell, 5:27pm

for @tingo-tango whose comments make me 🥺

_X_

From his perch at the top of the stairs, Tango has the perfect view of the front door. He’s not sure whether its actually helping his nerves or not though. But Tango’s already tried hanging out with Chowder, video games with Louis and Hops, and shadowing Dex as he repaired the back steps. He’s changed his clothes three times already. He wishes there was hockey practice today, actually - he could have used the chance to work off the excess energy.

Whiskey’s picking him up at 5:30.

Tango still can’t believe it, that Whiskey wants to date him. It’s been a long time coming, these last three years. Tony’s had to watch as LAX bro after econ major after LAX bro came and went, as Whiskey was on and off with his high school girlfriend. But they finally got here, to a place where they are both on the same page. And while Whiskey might have only gotten his shit together because Ford had had enough of both of them pining, they are here now.

Ford comes through the hallway from the kitchen, takes one look at Tango’s face and puts her stage manager face on.

“SMH ASSEMBLE IN THE BACKYARD!”

There’s three seconds of absolute silence and then everyone is moving, faint echoes of “thank you backyard” as they run outside to help with whatever Ford needs. Ford winks at him as she leaves to join them.

And suddenly the Haus is empty. And Tango is alone with his thoughts while he waits.

Where is Whiskey taking him? How do you fix stairs from creaking? Is there an activity or is it just dinner? What if Whiskey is late? Did he do all of his CS homework? What if it’s just coffee from Annie’s? What if a Waffle comes back through and sees him sitting on the stairs? Does Nursey have more than one prayer rug? What if this is a pity date? What if he got the time wrong? What if Whiskey isn’t as into this as Tango? What if one of the others realizes that Whiskey and Tango aren’t in the backyard and come to investigate? Does Dex know how to whittle, can he show Tango? What if he’s building all this up in his head? How long can Ford keep the guys in the backyard? What if he doesn’t like Whiskey as much as he thought? What if Whiskey -

He’s pulled out of his thought spiral by a knock on the door. Tango takes a deep breath, and walks down the stairs. He checks his pockets for his phone and wallet. Tango takes another deep breath.

And opens the door to see Whiskey, looking handsome as ever, smiling nervously (Oh wow he’s nervous!) and clutching a small cardboard box.

“Hi Tony.”

“H-Hello,” he says and WHY is his voice choosing now to desert him.

“Here, this is for you,” Whiskey says, shoving the basket into Tango’s arms. “It’s um - ya know -”

“A Pop,” Tango breathes, looking closer. "It’s you!” He looks back at Whiskey.

“Yeah, I just thought, I can’t um, always be there when you’re doing coding, and you’ve talked about how I’m better than a rubber duck, so I just thought, ah, maybe, this would help?”

Tango can’t stop looking between Whiskey and the Pop, seeing all the detail that Whiskey managed to get added to the toy. It’s even got a little Samwell Hockey logo on the shirt.

“Oh god, you hate it, how could I be so conceited, this was such a dumb idea,” Whiskey starts to look panicked as he continues to babble. “I’ll just take -”

“Whiskey.”

“-it back, I’ll give it to my mom or something -”

“Whiskey.”

“-she’ll think its adorable and can show it off to -”

“Connor!”

His mouth closes with an audible click of his teeth as Whiskey looks down, refusing to meet Tango’s eyes. This calls for drastic measures.

“If you try to take this away from me, I’ll never speak to you again, and I’ll make Ford shun you as well.”

Whiskey’s head whips up, eyes wide. “You really like it that much?”

“It’s possibly the best present I’ve ever gotten. Thank you.”

“You’re uh, you know, welcome,” Whiskey says, rubbing the back of his neck bashfully as he stumbles through his sentence.

“Let me just stash this?”

“Sure thing.”

Tango runs the Pop up to the attic and on the way back down, has to stop in the middle of the stairs to just drink in the sight of Connor on the front porch. He’s turned to look at something down the street and his profile is lined with the light of setting sun. Tango manages to get himself moving again before Connor turns back around.

“Ready to go?”

“Yup!”

“‘Swawesome,” Connor says, takinghishandohmygod, and leading him away from the haus.

Tango’s sure that whatever Connor is talking about is super interesting, and he’ll ask for clarification later, but for right now, he’s just going to let himself be distracted by the last warmth of the sun on his face and by the feel of his hand in Connor’s.

‘Swawesome.

#ficlet party #omgcp #tango #first date #the haus #hi tingo #hope you like it!#ford #using her SM powers for good #she'll chirp the hell out of them later #smh #check please #cricket writes #whiskey #connor whisk #tony tangredi #denice ford #inter-tadpole dating

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fallen-gravity · 3 years

Text

Intellectual Adequacy

Stan hates to start any unnecessary conflict, especially when there’s a very real chance that Ford will be moving to California next year, but he knows deep down that if they don’t talk about this now then he’ll never have the courage to bring it up again.

“Wait,” Stan shouts to Ford, and he stops dead in his tracks.

Notes: In which one little plot bunny that was preventing me from getting any work done becomes its own rabbit hole.

I genuinely cannot believe that in the six-seven years I've been in this fandom, I've never tried my hand at the fix-it-fic where Stan and Ford just talk it out as teenagers, just like they should've in canon. I've seen a lot of different approaches, but I feel like I've yet to see one that tackles it from the perspective of Stan's own battle with his self-worth, rather than the actions he or Ford have already taken.

AO3

Stan hates the principal’s office more than anywhere else in the world.

He swears, he’s called down every other week for something that’s not even his fault. He punched Crampelter in the nose for harassing some poor freshman? Principal’s office. He talks back to a teacher calling his classmate stupid for forgetting an “obvious” geometry equation? Principal’s office. He accidentally drops his pencil during an exam and bends over to pick it up? He must be cheating. Principal’s office.

If you asked him, the whole idea of sending kids to the principal’s office is pointless to begin with. Oh, you did something bad, and now we’re gonna make the big man in charge tell your mommy and daddy? How old do these people think they are?

Stan wishes he could say that this time is okay because they’re not even talking to him. They’re talking up a storm to Ford in there about another college scholarship and all the reasons why he and he alone would be the perfect candidate for some random school all the way out in California

But it’s not okay, because the longer Stan sits in the dumb waiting room the more he’s starting to feel like chopped liver. They’ve been in there for at least five minutes with no sign of stopping anytime soon, but every time Stan asks the secretary if he can just go back to class already she dismisses him with a wave of her hand and it’ll be your turn soon, sit back down.

He’s thinking of just sneaking out the next time the secretary buries her nose back into her magazine. It’s simple: just wait for her to pull it out from her desk, sneak by as quick as he can, and slip out the door and back to class before she can even notice he’s gone.

He stands from his chair, pretending to stretch and preparing to execute, but freezes solid when he hears his name being spoken from within the principal’s office.

“…What about our little free spirit Stanley?”

It’s Ma, and whatever it is they’re talking about in there, she isn’t happy about it. Frowning, Stan glances over at the secretary to make sure that she isn’t staring at him, and presses his ear to the office door to listen to their conversation more carefully.

The principal laughs in response. “That clown? At this rate he’ll be lucky if he graduates high school”

Stan’s taken aback by the harsh choice of words, but if he knows Ford, then he won’t just sit there and let the principal talk about him like that. He presses his ear further into the door, waiting for Ford to interrupt the principal’s rambling about how he’s never going to amount to anything with you just don’t know him like I do, or something along those lines, but it never comes.

Not a single interjection that…anything he’s saying is wrong. Not from Pa, not from Ford….and not even from Ma.

They don’t…all really believe that, right?

There has to be something else he’s missing. He bets they’re defending his honor right now, and the reason they’re not making a big scene about it is because they’re in public.

Yeah.

He’s got nothing to worry about.

He peeks into the window, expecting to see Ma glaring daggers into the principal, or Ford silently cursing him out behind his back, but what he’s met with is so much worse. Ma and Pa are exchanging warm smiles, and Ford is frantically shaking hands with the principal, beaming brighter than Stan’s ever seen in his entire life.

Matter of fact, Stan’s not sure he’s ever seen any of them look so happy in his entire life.

He’s worthless, he’ll never go anywhere, and they’re all smiling about it.

Stan’s heart drops to his stomach, and he slides to the floor to join it.

Is this some kind of cruel joke? Were they expecting him to listen in on their conversation? Is this their cruel workaround of telling him he’ll never amount to shit?

He sighs.

He stays there on the cold tiled floor for what feels like hours, contemplating all the times he’s been called dumb, or stupid, or a terrible influence on his brother. All of those times when he could brush it off just because it was coming from someone he didn’t care about.

But worthless?

Behind his back, spoken directly to people he loves, and they won’t even bother to defend him?

That one’s new, and if Stan is going to be completely honest with himself, it’s much harder to brush off his shoulders than all those other times.

Stan doesn’t even notice the office door opening until it nearly smacks him in the back of his head. He quickly jumps to his feet and brushes himself off, pretending the best that he can that he wasn’t just eavesdropping on them for the past ten minutes.

“Stanley!” Ford comes bursting out of the room, his grin threatening to split his face in two. “I just received the most incredible news! The admissions team at West Coast Tech heard about my science fair project, and-”

The beam suddenly slips from his face, replaced with some sort of mix of confusion and concern. “Is...Something wrong?”

Stan rubs at his eyes to make sure he hadn’t started tearing up without realizing it, but no, his eyes are bone dry.

Curse Ford’s stupid ability to read his mind.

Stan covers up the gesture of rubbing at his eyes with a yawn, and stretches his arms in the air. “Nothing except you taking forever in there” he flashes a fake smile easily. “Talk about a blabbermouth, am I right?” Stan gestures towards the principal with his thumb.

Ford laughs, and returns his gaze to the pamphlet in his hands. “I don’t know,” he says. “I don’t think he’s so bad”

Stan opens his mouth to quip back, but Ford doesn’t seem to be paying much attention anymore. He’s just staring at that dumb pamphlet, his grin slowly but surely returning to his face again.

Instead, Stan shoves his hands in his pockets and shrugs, turning his gaze to the floor. “Yeah, I guess you’re right”

~~~

Stan feels like he’s in a haze for the rest of the day. Even when he tries to focus on class to take his mind off of things and redirect it on anything else, he can’t get his mind to stick. Not even final period gym class can save him, which is really saying something, because the gymnasium is usually the one place where he thrives.

Worthless.

The word won’t stop bouncing around in his skull, hitting him where he’s most sensitive.

It doesn’t help a thing that Ford is dead silent on their walk home from school. He’s usually chatting up a storm to Stan about stuff he doesn’t really understand, and under normal circumstances Stan can’t wait to get home so he can bury his head in his pillow and drown out the sound of Ford’s babbling.

But today he’s not even looking in Stan’s direction, just burying his nose in the West Coast Tech brochure with stars in his eyes, and now Stan wants nothing more than to hear Ford babbling on about his advanced physics classes.

It’s almost insulting.

Stan sighs, and lightly taps on Ford’s shoulder to catch his attention. “Can we talk?”

“Hmm?” Ford blinks, like he needs a few moments to readjust to reality. “Oh! Of course. I was actually planning on asking you the same thing” he places the brochure in his pocket. “Same place as always?”

Stan nods. “Same place as always”.

It’s a quick change of direction and a shortcut to the beach before they find themselves on their old swing set. By now they’re both too heavy to use it properly without a risk of snapping it, but they still find it’s a good place to go when they just need to get away and talk.

“You’re not really thinking of going to that stuffy old school, are you?” Stan asks as soon as Ford sits on the swing beside him. “They’ve gotta be crazy if they think four more years of essays and exams are better lookin’ than tanned babes and gold chains. We’re so close to finishing up the Stan-O-War. Soon as graduation rolls around we’re outta here, just like we always promised”.

Ford chuckles. “That is a nice thought, but…” he pulls the brochure out of his pocket again, and unfolds it for Stan to see. “You have to understand that I can’t just pass up an opportunity like this. Maybe I don’t need a degree from any old state school, but this is West Coast Tech we’re talking about!” he beams, the stars returning to his eyes. “They’ve got cutting edge technology and multidimensional paradigm theory”

Stan rolls his eyes, but he can’t help but admit to himself it’s nice to have his brother back again after an entire day of radio silence.

“Beep boop, giant nerd robot oncoming” Stan punches Ford in the arm.

Ford’s grin only widens. “I figured you’d say that, but it’s too late to change my mind. The head of admissions already flew in this morning, and with my go-ahead they’re going to check out my science fair project later tonight and let me know then and there if they want me at their school”

“Well that seems kind of harsh” Stan quips. “What if they say no?”

Ford shrugs. “Well, then it’s like you said. If they don’t want me, you and I sail off on the Stan-O War and never look back”.

Stan frowns at the strong emphasis on if. He really thinks he’s going to get this, doesn’t he? Stan can’t exactly blame him when he’s been the reigning valedictorian of their class every year since they were kids.

“And if they say yes?”

Ford grins. “Well, then you better visit me on the other side of the country” he punches Stan in the shoulder, and stands to his feet without saying another word.

Stan can’t bring himself to join him. He knows that Ford didn’t mean anything by it, but he can’t help feel wounded by his brother’s implication that while he’s off in California having the time of his life, Stan’s still gonna be stuck living with their parents in New Jersey.

It’s just like their principal said. He’ll never amount to anything anyway, so why wouldn’t he stay in New Jersey? Where else would a worthless piece of shit like him end up?

Stan shifts on his swing and watches as Ford walks away, and he can’t help but wonder just how much of the principal’s tangent that Ford believed.

All of it?

Some of it?

Had Ford even been listening to what he said at all?

As he continues to watch his brother walk away, he can’t help the feeling in his gut that he has to know. He hates to start any unnecessary conflict, especially when there’s a very real chance that Ford will be moving to California next year, but Stan knows deep down that if they don’t talk about this now then he’ll never have the courage to bring it up again.

“Wait,” Stan shouts to Ford, and he stops dead in his tracks.

“Yeah?” Ford says, turning around to face him. Stan suddenly finds himself very aware of his heart loudly pounding against his chest, but he forces himself to squash that down. He’s never felt shy or anxious about asking his brother anything, and he sure as hell isn’t letting that start now.

“You don’t…uh,” he swallows. “You don’t think I’m…worthless, do you?”

Ford looks appalled. He neatly folds the brochure back into his pocket and starts walking- no, jogging, almost sprinting back to the swing set. He pauses in front of the empty swing beside Stan for a moment, like he’s debating whether he should sit down or not, but eventually he shakes his head and sits down anyway.

“What on earth makes you say that?” There’s a hint of anger to his tone, but Stan’s not entirely convinced it’s directed at him. “Why would I think you’re worthless? You’re my twin brother! What could’ve possibly put the idea in your head that I thought that?”

There’s a tiny voice in the back of his head screaming at him to back out, brush it off with a joke and have this conversation later, but there’s an even louder voice shouting at him that it needs to be had now.

Stan sighs. “I…overheard everything in the principal’s office today”

Ford blinks, like he doesn’t understand a word that Stan just said. “About…West Coast Tech? Is this because you’re afraid that I’ll get in, but you know you won’t because you’re not even interested in applying anyway, but you know you’re going to miss me, and you’re not sure if you can handle-”

“About me, Sixer!” Stan shouts, and tries his damn hardest to ignore the waver in his voice. “He practically called me a useless piece of shit directly to Ma and Pa and neither of them said a word about it!” He scrubs his hands down his face because he’s not choking up, not over something so pointless and stupid. “You’re going to travel the world and become the smartest person the scientific community has ever seen, or whatever, but me? Apparently I’ll always be stuck here in New Jersey to pick up after everyone else’s messes, because that’s all I’m ever good for”

Stan buries his face in his hands. He hadn’t meant to blow up, and he certainly hadn’t meant to direct his anger at Ford, but he just feels so hopeless, and he’s the only one around who’s willing to listen. He wouldn’t be surprised if Ford returned with anger of his own, or told him off for being selfish, or even if he just decided to stand up and walk away from him for being such an embarrassment.

The silence that follows is thick and heavy. Stan is so convinced that he must’ve driven Ford away that when he feels a hand on his shoulder he nearly jumps a mile out of his skin. When he finally pulls his hands out of his face to meet Ford’s eyes, his face is flushed pink and he looks…embarrassed.

“Stan, I had no idea, I…” he awkwardly pulls his hand away and grips tightly to the chain of his swing. Stan can see Ford’s face shifting through about a dozen different emotions at once. “I…must’ve been too focused on everything else to realize he was saying those things about you.” He shakes his head. “I know it’s not an excuse, but…” he sighs. “I’m sorry”

There’s another bout of silence between them. Stan’s half-expecting that to be the end of it, and for Ford to walk away without another word.

But Ford breaks the silence with a sigh, and when Stan glances over at him he’s staring down at the ground.

“If it’s any consolation...you’re much smarter than me in a lot more places than you realize”

Okay, now Stan has to laugh. “Okay, now you’re being too nice to me. You don’t need to lie to make me feel better”

“I’m serious!” Ford’s cheeks flush pink again, and he adjusts his glasses before returning his gaze towards Stan. “There’s actually been a fascinating number of studies about intelligence lately, and, well…” Ford’s face is turning redder by the minute, Stan swears. “It turns out that…there’s more than one type”

Stan raises an eyebrow. “You’re losing me here, Sixer”

“Well, you see, I thrive in academic intelligence. Math, science, history, you know, school stuff. That’s the most commonly known type of intelligence because a lot of our formative years are based on it”

Stan doesn’t say anything, just raises his eyebrow even further.

“But,” Ford continues quickly, “They’ve also made discoveries about the existence of social intelligence”

“Social?” Stan blinks, suddenly finding himself significantly more interested. “You mean like talking to people and stuff?”

Ford nods. “Precisely. They say people with high social intelligence are much better at picking up on social cues, and can make friends with others much easier than those with lower social intelligence.” Ford kicks at the sand. “The reason social intelligence hasn’t been recognized is because it’s often mistaken for having a friendly personality”. His face flushes pink again, like he’s afraid he said the wrong thing. “Not that a person can’t have both, but…”

Stan smirks, nudging at Ford with his elbow. “Stanford Pines, are you calling your good-for-nothing brother intelligent?” He teases, but can’t help the genuine smile creeping to his face.

“Think about it!” Ford throws an arm into the air, the other one tightly gripped on the swing to prevent himself from falling off. “Every time Ma and Pa leave us in charge of the shop so they can go to Atlantic City for the weekend, who’s the one bringing in all the customers? Who’s the one selling out our daily stock less than two hours after we’re open? You are, Stan, just by being yourself. You know how to persuade people into buying our stock at ten times the listed price.”

“You can’t learn that from twelve years of public school. They can try to teach you, but at the end of the day it’s all about your ability to connect with people” Ford rubs at his arm. “I’ve tried teaching myself those kinds of tricks for years, but at the end of the day…” he shakes his head. “I’ve never been able to catch up.” He smiles. “I raise my white flag to you, Stan. You’ve outsmarted the smartest brother in the world”

Stan chuckles. “Try telling that to Principal Comb-over. He hears you saying the so-called dumbest clown in the entire school system is smarter than you and he’s going to cart you away to the loony bin”

Ford laughs. “You know, now that I think about it, there may actually be a way to tell him off for what he said about you and get away with it scott-free”

Stan raises an eyebrow. “Yeah? How so?”

Ford smirks. “I think you should try to graduate out of spite”

Stan’s not sure he follows. “Whaddya mean?”

“I mean, think about it” Ford stands from his swing and begins to pace back and forth. “The principal called both of us down even though he only wanted to speak to me, and then he talked shit about you even though he knew you were sitting right outside his door?” he pauses in his pacing. “Stan, he knew that you could hear him. Maybe he didn’t intend for you to listen in when he was talking to Ma and Pa about my scholarship opportunity, but he knew you’d be listening the moment you were brought up in the conversation”

That’s…true. Stan was just about to sneak out before he heard them say his name.

“He’s expecting you to fail, and he wants to put it in everyone else’s head too. He thinks it’s the easy way out, because if you choose to fail out on your own than he doesn’t have to take responsibility for being such a shitty educator. It gives him the chance to say look how he didn’t even try instead of look at how we failed him.”

“But if you proved him wrong? Imagine the look on his face when he has to be the one to place that diploma in your hand. Imagine him having to look you dead in the eyes and tell you he’s proud of you. You’ll know he’s speaking bullshit, but he knows he can’t talk shit about you anymore without making himself look bad.” Ford smirks. “Matter of fact, imagine the looks on the faces of everyone who’s ever doubted you walking across that stage. Pa alone is gonna have a heart attack”

Ford’s smile softens. “I already know that you’re much smarter than you’re given credit for, and I think it’s about time that everyone else recognizes that too”.

Stan’s cheeks burn red, and he shyly kicks at the sand. “Heh, thanks. I appreciate it.” He says. “But even if I did manage to graduate, what am I supposed to do with a high school diploma? Every job application I’ve been skinning through recently says college, college, college”

“Well…” Ford taps at his chin. “Then why not go out for college?”

Okay, now he’s taking things too far.

“Pardon?” Stan mocks, because if Ford thinks that Stan’s going to willingly take four more years of classes than maybe he should be carted away to a loony bin.

“I’m serious!” Ford blushes. “Maybe not a high intensity school like West Coast Tech, but college is so much more freeing than high school, Stanley. It’s not class after class on subjects that other people tell you to take. It’s personalized. If you hate science class so much, you never have to take another science class again”

Ford’s blush darkens. “I know that school is a big drag and all, but if you asked me?” he averts his gaze. “I think you’d really benefit from business school. Charisma and social intelligence is the number one thing that big name businesses are looking for, and I know you’re filled to the brim with both. Ultimately it is your decision, but…” Ford fiddles with his thumbs. “Just…just consider it, okay?”

For a brief moment, Stan just wants to burst out into hysterical laughter. Ford’s been offered the opportunity of a lifetime at one of the best schools in the country, and he’s still taking the time to help out his good-for-nothing brother who’s been cheating off of his exams for the past ten years.

Instead he settles for a roll of his eyes. “Alright, Professor Poindexter, I’ll consider it”

Ford giggles at that, and for a few moments neither of them says anything, watching the waves gently lapping on the beach in the short distance. It’s a comfortable silence, a reassuring sort of feeling that Stan hasn’t felt in a long time.

The frantic beeping of Pa’s wristwatch interrupts them, and both boys flinch at the sound in unison. For a moment Stan is worried that Pa’s standing behind them having heard every word, but when he glances over at Ford, he sees him rolling up his shirt sleeve to reveal that he’s the one wearing the watch, and clicks the alarm off.

“Pa made me borrow it so I wouldn’t be late for the presentation with the school board” he rubs awkwardly at the back of his head. “I’ll probably give it back as soon as I get home tonight”

Stan smirks. “You still hate the sound of that thing too, huh?”

“I can still hear it in my nightmares,” Ford exaggerates, his eyes going wide, and the twins burst into laughter as they both stand from the swings and stretch their arms and legs to wake them up from sitting for so long.

Ford wipes at his eye as he fidgets with the wristwatch. “So…do you think you’re going to be okay?”

That in itself is a pretty loaded question that could take him all night to answer, but all things considering…

“Yeah,” Stan smiles. “I think I’ll be okay”

Ford smiles back, and gestures with his thumb towards the direction of the pawn shop. “Then I’m going to head home and get ready for my presentation. You coming?”

Stan shakes his head. “I think I’ll stay out here and just…watch the ocean for a little while longer”

Ford’s smile softens, but he doesn’t say anything else. He turns heel and walks back towards the house, and it feels as though a giant weight has just been lifted off of Stan’s chest. He glances back to watch Ford go, but finds comfort in the feeling that he feels nothing at all.

~~~

Nearly five hours later, Stan sits at home, watching television on the couch to pass the time. Just out of the corner of his eye he sees Ford slip into the kitchen and gently click the door closed. Stan shuts the TV off, and spins around on the couch to face his brother.

“Well?” Stan asks, though he knows he doesn’t even need to bother asking, given that Ford looks like he’s about to burst. With a shaking hand, Ford reaches into his pocket and pulls out a glinting white envelope.

If he’s trying to keep an air of mystery about it, he’s doing a really bad job, because all at once his composure breaks and the smile that spreads across his face looks as though it could burn out the sun.

“They loved me!” He shouts, excitedly pacing the floor. “They told me they’ve never seen anyone else like me!”

His smile is so contagious that it hurts.

Perhaps another day, in another timeline, Stan would take offense to Ford’s excitement to bounce off to the other end of the country without him. Perhaps he’d even lash out, or do something he would’ve immediately regretted.

But here and now, Stan couldn’t be happier for his brother if he tried.

#my writing #gravity falls #stan twins #stan pines #ford pines

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