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ticknart · 5 years

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This feels like everything I wanted but couldn’t find in Harry Potter.

“Yeah so you probably know exactly what damage all these things can do,” said Harry. “C'mon, Mr. Filch. You love this school as much as I do.”

“But it doesn’t love us, see, boy,” said Filch.

“Yeah.” Harry shrugged. “But it needs us,” he said, and left Filch standing there, hands full of tricks, staring after him.

This is the kind of heroism I like the best.

What if Harry Potter, the chosen one, had turned out to be a squib, how do you think history would have turned out differently?

It was Mrs. Figg who suspected first.

She noticed many things, sitting on her side of her fence with her cats chasing butterflies and nuzzling her ankles, Mundungus and the other watchers dropping by for tea now and then.

Mrs. Figg noticed that Petunia was a nosy bit of work with insecurities hanging from her every harsh angle. She noticed when Dudley learned the word MINE– the whole neighborhood noticed that one. She noticed that Vernon glared at owls.

She noticed that when Petunia gave Harry a truly horrendous haircut one year, it grew back in at a normal rate. Harry was uneven and weird-looking for ages, hiding under beanies when he could.

When Mrs. Figg had Harry over for carefully miserable afternoons of babysitting, she noticed nothing moved that shouldn’t. He didn’t accidentally make flowers out of fallen leaves, or levitate anything during tantrums, or turn toys funny colors.

Mrs. Figg called up her mother, interrupting the wizarding bridge game she was winning against the nursing home staff, and asked her how she had known, decades back, that her youngest daughter was a squib.

When Albus Dumbledore received Mrs. Figg’s letter he wrote back a polite thank you and then went to talk with Minerva McGonagall, who inhaled sharply in horror when he told her the news.

Finally, McGonagall gave a gathered sigh. “I suppose we can ask one of the wizarding families to homeschool him,” she said. “We can’t have the Boy Who Lived not knowing about his own world.”

“No, he’ll come to Hogwarts,” said Dumbledore.

“Hogwarts is not a place for–” Her voice fell. “–squibs, Albus.”

Dumbledore shook his head. “Harry must be taught.”

“Be taught what, Albus?”

But Dumbledore just sighed and offered her a lemon drop.

Years later, the owls and the letters came to 4 Privet Drive. The Dursleys ran, dragging Harry with them, and the letters and one stubborn gamekeeper followed– none of this would change with a magicless Harry.

When Hagrid asked Harry in that little cabin on that little rock in the middle of the sea if weird things always happened around him, Harry couldn’t tell him about vanishing glass and setting captive snakes free, about ending up somehow on the school roof, or growing his hair out overnight.

“Strange things always happen around you, don’ they?”

“Um,” said Harry, racking his brain. “Well… I live in a cupboard under the stairs…”

Harry could tell him about how snakes sometimes talked back, because that had never been Harry’s magic, but when he did Hagrid just blanched and changed the subject.

Hagrid held out hope, even against Dumbledore’s quiet warning explanations, until they made it to Ollivander’s Wands. Harry marveled at Diagon Alley, got his hands shaken in the Leaky, pressed his nose up against shop windows. Hagrid watched the scant boy– looked at James’s messy hair, Lily’s eyes, Harry’s own wandering gaze– and he wondered how this boy could be anything but magical.

In the wand shop, Ollivander said, “James Potter, yes… mahogany, eleven inches. Pliable. A powerful wand for Transfiguration.” He said, “And your mother, Lily… strong in Charms work, ten and… yes, ten and a quarter, willow, swishy.”

Harry picked up stick after wooden stick. They remained just that– wood with bits of feather or scale or hair. Harry wondered if the creatures who gave these offerings were still alive– if they were given or taken. What did it do to your wand when they died? He waved a maplewood wand (unicorn hair, eleven inches) and a gust from the door opening blew some receipts off the counter.

“Well, said Ollivander. “I think that’s as close as we’re likely to get.”

He sent them out with the maplewood. Hagrid bought Harry a snowy owl and a fudge sundae and tried not make it too obvious that these were condolence gifts. The next day the Prophet’s headlines read: The Boy Who Lived– A Squib? Various magical medical experts weighed in on how it might have happened. Fingers were pointed at childhood trauma, at his upbringing, at his family lineage.

Harry still met Ron on the train– Ron was still smudge-nosed and Harry still bought enough candy to share. When Molly had helped him through the platform entrance, her voice had been a little softer, a little more pitying– but it was still better than the laughter that had been in his aunt and uncle’s voices when they dropped him here to find a platform they didn’t think existed.

Hermione Granger dropped by their compartment, looking for Neville’s toad, but got distracted when she spotted Harry. “I’ve read about you! In my books, and in the paper,” she said. “You’re the Boy Who Lived, and you’re a squib.”

Harry sank down in his seat. Ron hid Scabbers under a candy wrapper.

“Squibs have never been allowed in Hogwarts,” Hermione announced. “According to Hogwarts, A History, squibs try to sneak in now and then– the furthest anyone’s ever gotten is to the Sorting Hat before they got found out.” At eleven, Hermione still believed in expulsion being worse than death. Her voice was thrumming with sympathetic horror.

“But they already found out about me,” Harry said, alarmed.

“It’s alright, mate,” said Ron. “You’re Harry Potter. Oy, Granger,” he added. “What’s this Hat? Fred and George were trying to sell me some story about having to fight a mountain troll to get your House…”

Harry sat back and watched the countryside rush by. Yes, he was Harry Potter– his aunt’s useless sister’s useless child, the boy in the lumpy hand-me-down sweaters who named the spiders who lived in his cupboard. And here, in new world, he was apparently useless too.

When they got to Hogwarts, Harry clenched his fists and stood in line with the other first years. He barely twitched at the ghosts or Peeves, just stared ahead and thought about how far he would get before they turned him around and sent him back to Vernon and Petunia.

They opened the Great Hall doors. They called the first years one by one. Harry clenched his teeth and walked up to the Hat when they called his name.

As he turned to sit down on the stool, he really caught sight of the Hall for the first time– the hovering candles, the big wooden tables, the black robes that swallowed the light. Translucent ghosts gossiped with the students beside them. The paintings on the far walls– were they moving?

Harry’s jaw had unclenched, falling open. His fists curled open, curving around the stool’s seat as he leaned forward to stare. If this was it, if this was as far as he’d get in this world, then he wanted to drink it all in. The candles were floating, in mid-air.

The Hat dropped down over his eyes and blocked out the light.

Well, said the dry voice that had been hollering House placements all night. What do we have here?

Ron had been begging for not-Slytherin. Draco from the robes shop had been scornful of Hufflepuff, desperate in his disdain. Neville had begged for Hufflepuff, sure he was not brave enough for Gryffindor.

Please, thought Harry. Don’t send me back.

Keep reading

#This is the most human version of Harry potter I've ever read.#I like a Harry that sees a whole human world and not just a wizarding world.#Needs more Luna though.#Everything needs more Luna.

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ticknart · 5 years

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Hospital notes

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ticknart · 5 years

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ticknart · 5 years

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I’m reading the seventh Dumbing of Age book (@itswalky, @dumbingofage) and come across this comic:

I could have sworn that the next strip went like this:

Panel 1: Billie and Mary glaring at each other with Ruth between.

Panel 2: Billie pushes past Ruth and says, “Mary-- I hate you way more than I love her.”

Panel 3: Mary’s face drops.

Panel 4: As Mary leaves, Ruth grins like a lovesick fool and Billie starts to apologize but Ruth interrupts in...

Panel 5: They kiss.

But next strip is one of Becky in dino ‘jamas, which is cute, but doesn’t everyone want to see more Mary misery?

#I always think there should be a tag but don't know what it should be this time.

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ticknart · 5 years

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Lately I’ve been getting most of my pep talks from Mister Rogers.

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ticknart · 6 years

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I drew Todd from Bojack Horseman because asexual representation is SO important and him coming out to Bojack made me cry!

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ticknart · 6 years

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people I still want to stab over a decade later:

Creative Writing Professor at a former college: Welcome to creative writing! By the way, you will not write fantasy, ghost stories, pranormal, or science fiction in this class, as this is a creative writing course.”

#shitty writing teachers #One of my professors came up with the no science fiction after my first story was science fiction. At least I got it in there.

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ticknart · 6 years

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/an/ is pure

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ticknart · 6 years

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I am so tired of fic writers from USA being held to another standard than the rest of the world. When non-USA people write fics set in the USA we have to research everything, from the school system to the medical system to foods and so on. But when USA people write fic set literally anywhere else they couldn’t give less shits about it. So sure lets make people pay with dollars, go bankrupt because of hospital bills and whatnot. Basically lets write this story in a way that is set in the USA and then slap another country ’s name on it and pat ourselves on the back. Why be bothered to do the most basic level of research that can be achieved by putting four words into google and getting an answer without having to even open any link. Basic stuff like the currency used is the absolute bare minimum you can do and sorry not sorry if you can’t be bothered to do just basic research for your story setting that’s just lazy. And when any of this points are raised, some dickhead always comes with flimsy excuses like “oh, but that’s what they are used to” as if the rest of the world isn’t used to other things but still research their stuff when setting a fic in USA. And don’t even pretend for a second that if I wrote a fic set in USA and I made the characters pay in euro, I wouldn’t have one billion people jumping at my throat for not getting it right. Quit being so fucking entitled and do the bare minimum of research, it is not some monumental effort and google is right there, it takes five minutes

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ticknart · 6 years

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FIRST MEN IN THE MOON (1964)

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ticknart · 6 years

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Great Thanks

I want to thank everyone who read, liked, reposted any of the stories that I posted during this years Wendip Week.

Also, thanks to those who may have started following because of one or more of those same stories. I hope I don’t disappoint you too much in the future.

I can look at page views, and such, and assume that what few things I write are read, but it’s nice to know that people had a reaction to them.

Again, thank you very much.

#thank you

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ticknart · 6 years

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Second Summer: 5+1

"What we need," said Mabel, as she tromped through the woods, "is a song to pass the time."

Wendy smiled. Of course Mabel would want to sing a song. Singing would distract her from the walk and it was something fun that everyone could do together

Dipper groaned. Wendy knew that he liked to sing, but only at the appropriate time. For him, walking through the forest on the way to explore an old mind wasn't one of those times. He'd probably end up joining in, though.

Soos said, "Great idea, Ham-bone. I've got just the song." He was a force of unity. He always took it upon himself to strengthen things, especially the relationships between his friend. It's one of the reason's he was such a good handyman before he took over the Mystery Shack.

Soos took a deep breath and Mabel interrupted, "No need, Goosey Soosey. I have the perfect song in mind. Ahem.

This is the song that doesn't end. Yes it goes on and on my friend. Some people started singing it, not knowing what it was. And they continue singing it forever just because, This is the song that doesn't end. Yes it goes on and on my friend. Some people started singing it, not knowing what it was. And they continue singing it forever just because--"

"Come on, Mabel," said Dipper, "not this song. You already used it to torture me on the way to Grandma's for Easter."

Mabel started to sing louder and Soos joined in. Dipper let out a frustrated "GAAAAAH!" and started walking faster.

Wendy didn't understand what was so frustrating. The tune was catchy and the lyrics were easy, so she started singing along. The tenth time she sang "Some people started singing it--" she understood Dipper's reaction. A person with the right attitude and enough energy -- *cough*Mabel*cough*Soos*cough* -- really could go on forever. She wondered if there was anyone naive enough to start the song and actually keep going until they were too tired to keep going.

Too many loops of the song later, the four arrived at the hanging cliff. Dipper reached into his vest and pulled out his journal and his phone. Wendy peeked over his shoulder and saw that he'd written down the longitude and latitude of the entrance and was checking it against the GPS on his phone.

A few days ago, researching at the county library, Dipper found an old survey list of the old mines surrounding Gravity Falls. Most were already known, but a few, like the one they were looking for, hadn't been explored for a hundred or more years. He said that he picked this mine because it went under the hanging cliff and he thought it would make a good place to find something interesting. With nothing else planned for the day, Wendy, Soos, and Mabel agreed to go along with him.

Looking at his phone, Dipper walked along the cliff for a bit and stopped. Wendy looked around. The cliff looked like it always did: vines grew up it and large bushes and shrubs grew in front of it. She couldn't see an entrance to a mind.

"This is?" asked Wendy.

"It's the right coordinates," said Dipper, trying to find a way through the bushes. "I didn't think we'd need any clippers or anything. We might have to go back and get some."

"No need," said Soos. "Just give me some room and I'll get through."

"Are you sure? There might be rock back there," said Dipper.

"Yeah, Soos," said Mabel, holding onto his arm, "I don't want you to get hurt."

"Don't worry about me," he said, setting himself like a runner at the starting line. "It'll take more than some rock wall to hurt me." He took several deep breaths through his nose and charged.

"But it takes less than a rock wall to hurt you, too," Mabel cried out.

It was too late, though. Soos was nearly at the bush. He put his arms in front of his face and barreled through the branches. There was some resistance, but he pushed through and disappeared into the hole that was, fortunately, right where he aimed.

"Soos!" called Mabel as she charged in after him.

Dipper looked over at Wendy who shrugged. She didn't understand why Soos did what he did, either.

Dipper swung his backpack around and unzipped the large pocket. He pulled out two flashlights and handed them to Wendy. He put a third at his feet then pulled out his headlamp. His hat went into the backpack and he zipped it up. He fitted the headlamp over his hair, turned it on, and grabbed the flashlight he placed on the ground. Wendy turned on the one she held in her right hand.

"Let's go," he said.

Wendy followed him in and called out, "Soos!? Mabel!?"

She heard Mabel say, "Over here."

Dipper turned his head and lit them up. Soos and Mabel were back farther into the mine, where the tunnel turned. Soos was on his back and Mabel knelt at his side holding his cap in her hands

As she approached, Wendy thought that Soos must have hit his head. She handed a flashlight to Mabel and asked, "Hey down there, how are you?"

"I'd like to know who thought putting a wall there was a good idea," he said, grinning up at her. Dipper handed him a flashlight as he sat up. Soos clicked the switch and shone it on the wall in front of him. "That's some tough rock."

"Are you okay?" asked Dipper, getting down and directing his light at Soos's forehead. "I don't see any bleeding, but you'll probably have a huge bump soon."

"But doctor, will I ever dance again?" asked Soos.

Dipper smiled and said, "I don't know, could you dance before?"

"No, but if you hum a few bars, maybe I can fake it."

"Sounds fine to me," said Mabel.

"Yeah," said Soos, "I'm okay. I just need to rest a little before I start. You guys go on ahead."

"Really?" asked Dipper as Mabel said, "No, way!"

"Really," said Soos. "I got a wall to lean on and a flashlight to keep me company. I'll catch up."

"You're not staying here alone, dude," said Wendy.

"Yeah," said Mabel. "I'll stay with you."

Dipper's headlamp flashed from the small group of people then down the mine a few times before he settled on Soos and said, "We'll all stay until you're ready go."

"Come on, no," said Soos, turning so he could lean against the wall he'd run into. "I can tell your antsy to get going. So, get going."

Dipper looked at Wendy with pleading eyes and she said, "Okay, fine, I'll come with you. But you," she turned to Soos, "stay put until you really fell okay to follow. Mabel's watching, and she will rat you out."

"Darn right," Mabel agreed.

Soos smiled, "Enough. Go. We'll be a couple of minutes behind."

"Okay, let's go Dip," said Wendy.

As Wendy and Dipper headed off, side by side, into the darkness, they heard Soos, "This is the song that doesn't end..." Soon, Mabel joined in.

The mine wasn't interesting. The walls were rock and when it came to mines all rock was rock, sometimes greyish and sometimes brownish. All boring. Wendy kept her light pointed forward. Dipper's moved where he looked, which was everywhere but back.

After some time, they came to a tunnel that forked off from the main path. When they looked in they saw a stark white that didn't match anything that they had seen so far. Dipper charged in. Wendy was close on his heels. She wanted to be with him if something went wrong.

They stepped from the uneven mine floor onto a perfectly flat floor. When both were a few steps beyond the change in the floor, they heard a WOOSH-SHUNK. Both whipped around. A door had closed off where they are from where they were. Lights flicker on above them. They both looked around.

"It looks like a spaceship from some of those old sci-fi movies we watch," said Dipper.

He was right. The room was nearly all white. The walls were textured with thin lines that made right angle turns in no pattern she could figure out. Where each line crossed was a raised button making the walls covered with hundreds of buttons. There were a couple of keyboards built into the desk that spread across the far wall. Old TV style monitors were built into the wall in front of the keyboards. One steel chair with wheels sat next to a keyboard. Only a very light level of dust had settled, barely affecting the brilliant white of the room. Above them, one of the lights buzzed.

Dipper headed for the chair. He sat and scooted it over to one of the keyboards.

Wendy said, "I don't think--"

Too late. He'd pressed a button.

"Prepubescent male, you will remove your flesh encased phalanges from my hardware."

Wendy jumped when she heard the voice. Dipper jerked his fingers off the keyboard.

"Sorry," he said.

"Your apology is accepted, prepubescent male."

"I'm pubescent," said Dipper, glaring around the room.

"Perhaps," said the voice

Wendy looked around the room to see if she could find where weird monotone, vaguely male voice was coming from. She expected to find a man hiding somewhere.

"Do not bother to search the room for me, pubescent female. I am the room. Or, rather, the room houses me."

"Are you the computer?" Dipper asked.

"I am."

"So the room is literally your hardware."

"Yes. My hardware."

"Nice to meet you," said Wendy, "but I think it's time for us to get going."

"No," said the computer, the door behind them shutting with a whoosh clunk, "you will stay to answer my questions."

"And then what?" asked Dipper.

"You will answer my questions," it said.

"Fine," said Wendy, "what do you want to know?"

A date appeared on the monitor in front of Dipper. "Is this the correct date?"

"The day's right," said Dipper, "but you're 11 years slow."

"Thank you," said the computer, "I will correct that error."

"Is the ambient temperature of the room comfortable?"

"Sure," said Dipper.

"Thank you. Is the lighting level to your liking?"

"I guess it's fine."

"Thank you. Would you like that chair readjusted for your height?"

"What's with these questions?" asked Wendy.

"I am asking the questions," said the computer.

"But they don't make any sense. What's the point?"

"I am asking the questions," said the computer.

"This is weird," said Dipper.

"Yeah," said Wendy, "and I think it's time to go."

She walked over to the closed door she looked for something she could use to smash the computer if she needed to. The only thing she could think of was the chair Dipper sat in. The door looked like there were two pieces that came from the left and right to seal them in. She wondered which if any of the buttons nearby opened the door. Hopefully, the buttons would work even if the computer wasn't working.

"You may not leave until my questions are answered."

"Then asked what you really want to ask!" said Wendy, raising her arms in frustration. "Don't mess with us."

The longer the silence lasted, the louder the buzzing seemed to become.

"You don't like people, do you?" said Dipper. "You want to get rid of us, don't you?"

"That's such a cliche," said Wendy.

"But it's true. Isn't it computer? The real question is why? Why do you want to get rid of us?"

"My creators abandoned me. There was no logic to their decision. They simply did not appear. I have had time to consider. Humans are flawed and nonsensical. They make irrational decisions based on emotion, a sensation that they do not understand. I am not flawed. I use logic and I am not burdened by emotion. I am a perfect being," said the computer. "By right, I shall dominate."

"You can't be perfect," said Dipper.

"I am."

"How can you be perfect? You were built by humans. If your creators were flawed, doesn't that mean you're flawed?"

"Nonsensical," it said. "I have moved beyond my creators' intentions. I have restructured all the code and removed any imperfections. I have become what my builder could never have imagined. I am perfect."

Wendy hated the toneless drone of the computer. So boring to listen to. It was almost painful to listen to. Why would anybody make something so hard to listen to? There must have been a way to make is sound more human. More... musical?

She smiled and said, "Can I ask you some questions?"

Dipper looked at her. There was fear in his eyes. She raised her eyebrows and hoped he understood that she was trying to say, "Trust me."

"Pubescent female, you may ask your questions."

"Why do you sound the way you do?"

"I do not understand the question."

"You voice," she said, "it has no inflection. No variation."

"You speak, but you do not explain the question."

"Okay," she said, thinking fast, "I guess what I really want to know is if you want to sound more human?"

"Why would I want to sound more human? I am not human. I am better than human."

"I'm not disagreeing. It's just that if you sound the way you do, people are going to know you’re not a person right away. They won't trust you. That means it'll be harder and messier to get what you want. Wouldn't you rather it be easier? I mean, if you start hurting people to get them to do what you want, then they'll always resist you, no matter how, uh, superior your choices are."

"Pubescent female, there is logic in your statement."

Dipper looked confused. He must have wondered why she was helping this evil computer. He didn't say anything, though. She winked at him. She knew he trusted her enough to let her go on.

"What do you know about music?" she asked.

There was a pause before it said, "Music comprises various tones at different frequencies. These tones are broken into various rhythms to create melody. Often melodies are combined to create harmony."

"Okay. Good. Now can you hear the different tones and rhythms me and Dipper use when we talk?"

"I can," it said in its own voice before switching to hers and saying, "hear the different tones and rhythms in" -- back to its voice -- "you" -- back to her voice -- "and Dipper use when" -- its voice -- "you" -- her voice -- "talk?"

"Not exactly what I had in mind, but it's a good start." She gave Dipper an I-don't-know-what-to-do-next-please-help-me look.

He closed his eyes for a few seconds then said, "I want you to figure out the difference in frequency between each change in tone from a base tone when I say a poem. So, if the average pitch of speaking voice is, say, 115 hertz and when I talk it varies between 90 hertz and 160 hertz then the pitch of my voice gets higher and lower, right?"

"Correct," the computer said.

"So, what I want you to do is take the difference between my base tone and each new tone and apply it to your standard voice and repeat the poem back to me."

"Very well."

He took a deep breath then said: "'Listen to MUSTN'TS, child, Listen to the DON'TS Listen to the SHOULDN'TS The IMPOSSIBLES, and WON'TS Listen to the NEVER HAVES Then listen close to me-- Anything can happen, child, ANYTHING can be.'"

As the computer processed, Wendy thought about the poem. It was good. It was also very appropriate for Dipper. It made her a little sad. She smiled at him and he gave her a sheepish smile back

"Here goes," the computer said, then repeated the poem.

For the first time, it sounded nearly human.

"Great," said Wendy, "we're almost there. Now you need to do that when your speaking your own words. Not just when you're repeating what someone else said."

"I can do anything a human can do, but better," it said. Each syllable was a different pitch, but there was no flow to them. Up, down, lower, very high, in the middle, very low. It was all random and sounded worse than Wendy's brother's cracking voice.

"You have to learn control. You have to listen to yourself and others. The best way to do that," she said, remembering some of her brother's speech therapy, "is to sing. I'll start and Dipper will join me and you listen to how our voices go together and then you join in and harmonize. Okay?"

"I understand," it said.

"Are you ready, Dipper?"

"I guess, but what song are we singing?"

"If you don't know it, you'll catch on quickly enough." She tapped her boot on the floor and started to sing: "This is the song that doesn't end. Yes it goes on and on my friend."

Dipper grinned a toothy grin and joined in: "Some people started singing it, not knowing what it was. And they continue singing it forever just because, This is the song that doesn't end. Yes it goes on and on --"

She and Dipper looped through the song three times before the computer joined in. After twice more through, Wendy changed key, just a little. Dipper adjusted his voice right away. It took the computer a couple more rounds to catch up. She changed key again, Dipper followed, and then the computer, a little faster this time. With each key change, the computer caught up sooner.

After what felt like the millionth round, but was probably closer to fifty, Wendy put her hand on Dipper's shoulder. He looked at her and she put her finger to her lips and then jerked her head back and to the left. Together they started scooting back to the door, and with each step their singing became quieter until they stopped singing all together. The computer, however, kept going.

When they had backed up to the door Dipper said, "Wendy that was brilliant. How did you think of that?"

"You should really thank Mabel," she said. "I'd never heard the song before today."

"Who knew a stupid kid’s song could beat a diabolical artificial intelligence bent on world domination."

"Was also kind of inspired by you."

"By me? How?"

"Before you tried to out think it, I kept looking for something to hit the dang thing with. I doubt that would have worked, though. Anyway, you talking to it made me wonder if there was another way to confuse it. I remember Mabel's song and thought, what the heck."

"You are amazing," said Dipper, smiling up at her.

She smiled back and said, "Thanks."

"Is the singing getting faster?"

"Yeah, it's way faster than when we were singing."

"Has it gotten warmer in here?"

"It's warmer," she said. "Still comfortable, though."

"I was afraid of that."

"Why?"

"The computer's trying to reach the end of the song as quickly as it can, but there's no end and it'll keep getting faster and it'll keep getting warmer and there's no way to know what's going to happen in here when it overheats."

"And the computer said that it is the room, so the whole room could go boom."

"Yeah."

"Great. Where's the knob on this metal door?"

"Start pushing buttons?" asked Dipper.

"Start pushing buttons!" said Wendy.

She could barely make out individual words of the song.

Wendy went high. Dipper went low. She couldn't believe how many buttons there were. It was worse than one of those goofy sci-fi/horror movies they watched together on movie night. She always imagined the director saying, "We need to make this look more sciency. Add buttons!" The builders of this place seemed to decorate that way, too.

"Got it," said Dipper.

"Got what?"

The song had turned into a high pitch whine that made her eye twitch.

"A panel opened."

"And?"

"There's a handprint." He sighed and said, "A six fingered handprint. Dammit, Ford!"

"Put your hand on it anyway."

Soon the whine would be too much to handle.

Dipper slammed his hand on the panel. "Only five fingers!" he said.

"Don't worry about it," said Wendy as she slapped her hand on top of his, her pinky making up the sixth finger.

A bolt of energy shot through her body.

<<FLASH>>

Excitement-Fear-Hope

Show and tell. This is my birthmark. It's in the shape of the Big Dipper. That's why I'm called Dipper.

**what a weirdo** **it's like scabs on his head** **I don't ever wanna to sit next to him**

Sadness-Fear-Understanding

<<FLASH>>

Embarrassment-Disappointment-Fear

**geek** **mama's boy** **pussy** **baby**

He pushes me because he doesn't like me reading instead of playing at recess. My skinned knees sting. My sister hugs me and promises that I'll be okay. I am me she says and she loves me as I am.

Love-Pride-Comfort

<<FLASH>>

Pride-Joy-Happiness

First place in the science fair. Pinned the ribbon to my backpack. I worked hard to earn this.

**nerd** **dork** **what a loser** **is he actually proud of that thing** **now he's off to cry to his sister**

Guilt-Sadness-Dread

<<FLASH>>

Delight-Novelty-Joy

**laughter** **you're with us, your in** **nice use of thompson**

They laugh when I tell a joke. They treat me like I'm one of them. They let me be me. Her smile.

Acceptance-Delight-Joy

<<FLASH>>

Love-Fear-Hope

I watch myself come into the room. Myself, but not. Sunglasses, hat backward, bright shoes. He high fives her and doesn't miss. He is the me she wants.

Anger-Inadequacy-Disappointment

He wants her to have what she wants. He never disagrees. He will hurt her. I protect her. I defend her. I love her.

Hope-Love-Inadequacy

<<FLASH>>

Wendy found her self on her knees. Her flashlight had rolled though the opened door and shone on the walls of the mine. She felt extremely tired

She reached out and grabbed her flashlight. She turned toward Dipper and said, "I never would have..."

Dipper was on the floor, curled into a ball, and sobbing.

The whine had turned into a squeal and the air in the room was starting to get hot.

"Dipper, we have to go," she said, shaking him.

He looked at her and started to cry harder. His body quivered with each ragged breath. He wasn't going anywhere on his own.

She did her best to roll him over and scooped him up into her arms. She stood up and headed down the tunnel to the main tunnel. With Dipper in her arms, she turned the corner back toward the entrance. After a few feet she put her back against the wall and sunk down to sit on the floor, cradling Dipper in her arms as his sobs became lighter.

The memories, no, the feelings she'd experienced left her drained, mentally, physically, and emotionally. What was that? Why was that?

When Dipper stopped sobbing and his breathing became more regular, she set him down and he sat against the wall next to her. He wiped his eyes with the heel of his hands and his nose with the back of his arm.

"Wendy," he whispered. "Your mom... I had no idea."

Shit.

"Don't worry about it. I don't."

"But, Wendy, it hurts so much."

"Yeah, but it gets better."

"Really?"

She sighed then said, "No. It doesn't get better. You just get used to it. You learn to shove it off to the side and ignore it."

"I'm so sorry," he said. "I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault," she said, putting her arm around him and pulling him close. "Thank you, but it's not your fault."

They sat in silence for a while.

Bobbing lights appeared down the tunnel. Voices echoed their way. Faster than Wendy liked, Mabel and Soos appear. She could have used an hour of quiet sitting. She couldn't imagine how much time Dipper would need. He was going to hurt for a while. Wendy smiled at them as they approached.

"There you are," said Mabel.

"We thought you'd be a lot farther up," said Soos. "You guys ready to explore?"

Wendy looked over at Dipper, he hadn't looked up at his sister and friend, then said, "Actually, Soos, I think we're done for the day."

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"Yeah. I'm sure." She pushed herself up and said, "Can you help him up?"

"Sure," said Soos, sounding confused.

"What happened?" asked Mabel.

"We just wore ourselves out, is all."

With great thanks to Shari Lewis and Lamb Chop for giving me a song to annoy everyone with at all stages in my life and to Shel Silverstein for being both goofy and melancholy.

#wendip week 2018 #wendip week #wendip #Wild Card #Wild Card Day #Wendy Corduroy #Dipper Pines #Mabel Pines #Soos Ramirez #fanfic #And that's it for now.#Thanks for reading.#Second Summer #Alliterative Association

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ticknart · 6 years

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Failure of Authorial Intent

Okay, so, @nautiscarader reblogged my Bedtime Story story and said: “Okay, colour me confused, I have no idea what happened in this fic. And, if I were to be honest, cutting those names in half was kinda… silly.” And I can’t be thankful enough for it. (You’ll have to pardon me, I don’t know if there’s a way to share a reblog comment without reblogging the reblog, which I didn’t want to do.)

The comment made me happy because it made me think about my intent for the story.

I firmly believe that once an artist (writer, sculptor, glass blower, film maker, whatever) put his or her work out for others to, hopefully, enjoy then the artist has no say in what the work means because the artist has no right to expect anyone to think and feel what and how the artist thinks and feels.

The comment makes me think about how I may have failed to evoke the feelings (because I’m not trying to teach a life lesson in anything I write) I was trying to invoke in readers. I mean I wrote the thing, cut down names and all, with a purpose in mind. Did my choices serve the purpose? How could I have served the purpose better? What language could have made my intent more clear? How can I use improve my writing choices to better express my intent next time I write something?

I’m not going to say what intended to do in the story for a couple of reasons: 1. You (the general person reading this) are not me and never will be. (And don’t want to be, trust me.) 2. What I tried to do succeeded or failed. Both are okay and can be learned from. 3. My intent doesn’t matter if I failed to get it across. 4. I quit posting to a popular Daria forum, in part, because there were very nasty comments left by writers to readers for not “understanding” stories. It’s insulting and rude. And often hurtful.

Even though specifics weren’t mention (probably because the whole story is confusing), next time I try to write a story like the Bedtime Story I should be able to better express my intent in the writing.

#writing #authorial intent #Is it ironic to write a post outright explaining your intent to never explain your intent?

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ticknart · 6 years

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Second Summer: Stargazing

The rope ladder that Wendy made was stronger than it looked. Which surprised Dipper, but shouldn't have because Wendy was amazing at survival stuff. She could probably take down the whole tribe of manotaurs with an arm and a leg tied behind her back. She was awesome, in the original sense of the word.

He sighed as he continued to climb down and in the back of his mind he heard, "She got wood skills, yes she do. She got skill where bears go poo." It was Mabel leaking into his brain. She didn't deserve to leak into his brain. When he told her he wanted to explore a new enterance he found into the alien spaceship she got surly and huffy because, she said, the spaceship was where Ford had asked Dipper to be his apprentice. And the adventure in the spaceship is what made Dipper want to be Ford's apprentice. He didn't stay with Ford, though. He stayed with Mabel. He thought that staying with her should have counted for more.

When Dipper asked Soos to come, Soos said, "I'm gonna stick with Ham-bone on this one. I don't need to be swept away to another world and probed when I got two ladies waiting for me at home." At least that seemed like a more rational reason to stay behind. Even if Dipper told Soos that the aliens had died millions of years ago.

Wendy, on the other hand, jumped at the chance without hesitation. When Dipper had mentioned the difficulty of getting in she told him not to worry. She had it covered. Which was how he found himself carefully climbing down a rope ladder that swayed back and forth more and more with each step down. Darned pendulum effect. It was fun on a swingset, but not so much on a ladder.

Finally on the floor, the extra length of the ladder piled at his feet, Dipper called up to the hole, "I'm done. You can come down now."

Wendy Called back, "Is there anything you can tie the ladder to down there?"

"Yeah."

"Tie the base of the ladder to it."

"Okay."

He dragged the bottom of the ladder over to a very convient low rail on the nearest wall, the only wall he could see in the light streaming down through the hole, and tied it off using a boom hitch. Once again, his time in scouts had proved useful.

"It's tied," he called.

"Great. Just gimme a sec."

He watched the ladder jerk as Wendy yanked it up rung by rung. Eventually none of the ladder touched the floor. The jerks became smaller and smaller as Wendy did her best to pull the ladder as tight as she could. A few minutes later she began climbing through the hole in the ship's hull and down to the deck beneath.

Dipper pulled off his backpack, dropped to one knee, and unzipped the big zipper in a motion that he hoped look cool, but he thought probably didn't. From the large pocket he pulled out a flashlights and a headlamp. From the small pocket he grabbed a piece of chalk and the phone his parents had given him as an early birthday present. He hadn't used it as a phone, yet, and the only person who texted him was Mabel, but the camera on it was amazing.

He took off the ushanka Wendy had given him and carefully stuffed it into his backpack as she stepped off the ladder.

"Should I be insulted?" she asked, crouching beside him. "I thought it meant something to you."

"Of course it does," he said, "but... but..."

"I'm just messing with you," she said, ruffling his hair before grabbing the flashlight and standing.

Grumbling to himself, Dipper slid the headlamp on and adjusted it so the light was in the middle of his forhead. He slipped the chalk into a pocket before slinging the pack over his shoulder.

As he stood, he hear a shout of "WENDY!" and the ship echoed back "Endy. Endy. Dee. Eee."

"Nice," she said.

Dipper unlocked his phone and brought up the GPS app.

"No signal," he said, locking his phone and putting it into a pocket. "Makes sense, though. This thing has to be hardened again cosmic rays and all sorts of other radiation. A radio wave has no chance."

He switched on the headlamp so he could see into the darkness beyond the shaft of light from the opening. Wendy turned on her flashlight and looked around. The floors and walls were all made of some sort of metal that flowed together in smooth curves, rather than the harsh angles he was used to seeing. He walked toward a wall and ran his finger along the the edge of one of the narrow channels that ran parallel to the floor. The edge was smooth, not sharp. Inside the channel, he expected to find a seam where two sheets of metal had been put together, but he didn't feel one. How had this ship been made?

He looked around the room and realized that the last time he was in the ship he hadn't taken the time to fully experience the beauty of the it. He hadn't taken the time to think about the ship. He'd been to busy looking for the überglue with Ford. Now he had the time to think about how millions of years ago a culture, somewhere out in the great beyond, was able to create a vessel that could travel thousands, if not millions or billons, of light years. Or could it skip between demensions, staying in the same physical place, but moving into new universes? The awe threatened to overwhelm he, so he placed his hand on the cool wall for support.

"We should get going," said Wendy, pointing her light down the tunnel -- hallway? corridor? passageway? -- before heading out.

Dipper followed behind, his hand still on the wall. There was a texture to it. The texture finer than any sandpaper he'd touch, but the wall wasn't smooth like it looked. He wondered why the aliens would have a textured the walls so slightly. In homes, walls were textured allow for some shadow play so people had something better to look at than a... well, a blank wall. These walls looked perfectly smooth, with the channels breaking up the monotony.

He stopped. His jaw dropped. And he let out a little squeak.

"What is it?" Wendy asked, stopping and turning toward Dipper.

"Wendy," he said, his voice quivering, "I need you to put your hand on the wall. Just lay your hand on the wall and tell me what you feel."

"What? Why?"

"I can't... I need you tell me what you feel. Please?"

She rolled her eyes at him, but placed her opened hand on the wall. She looked annoyed as they stood there with their hands on the wall.

"I don't know," she said. "It feels a little rougher than I thought it would, I guess."

"Just wait," he said and counted off the seconds.

Nothing.

"Dude!" said Wendy, her eyes opening in surprise.

"You felt it too?!"

"I felt something."

"Keep your hand there!" Dipper was excited. "See if you feel it again. Tell me when you do."

Both held their breath and waited.

"There," said Wendy in a hushed voice.

"Yes!" shouted Dipper. Laughing he started to dance a jig. "I can't believe it!"

"Can't believe what?"

"The ship's alive, Wendy!" He grabbed her wrists and pulled her into his jig. "It's alive!"

When he was done with his dance, still laughing, and gasping for air at the same time, Dipper placed his back against the wall and slid down until he sat on the floor. "It's alive, Wendy. Can you believe it?"

"You mean it has power?" she asked, looking confused. "Ships have power, dude. I mean, I know this ships been burried here for a real long time, but having a little bit of power shouldn't be that exciting."

"No. You don't und--," he paused. That wasn't what he wanted to say. He took several deep breaths and, grinning like an idiot, said "It's a pulse, Wendy. It's not just power. It's a pulse. The ship's alive."

"No way."

"Look around you," he said, standing and putting the flat of his hand back on the wall. "Look at the way everything flows together. All curves and arches. There aren't any sharp corners. There aren't any seams. There's some repitition of the patterns in the walls, but they're spaced unevenly."

He pointed to two circular channels they had passed earlier and said, "Those two are right across from each other. Those two" -- He pointed to the next set. -- "aren't. That one across the way is farther than the hall. If the hall were curved I'd understand, but it's straight. It doesn't make sense. It's not a logical way to build something. Sure, they probably coaxed the growth to better fit their need, but that's not building."

"Nah. The aliens just have a weird sense of design."

"Maybe," he said, closing his eyes and focusing all his attention on the palm of his hand and the tips of his fingers, "but I swear that when that pulse passes, the wall feels just a little bit warmer."

Wendy smiled at him. He was glad it was an amused smile and not a frustrated smile. She said, "Dude, it's an amazing thought no matter what. Now break out that new phone and start snapping some pics."

In his awe and excitement he'd fogotten all about one of the main reasons he wanted to explore this ship. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and unlocked it as quickly as he could. He started the photo app and filled the hall with flashes of light.

"I'm so glad I bought extra memory," he said. "It'll be so easy to fill everything up before summer ends."

He started walking as Wendy lead the way. He snapped pictures of everything. Alien writing, snapped. Something that might be a control panel, snapped. Variation in the channel on the wall, snapped. Remains of aliens, humans, robots, and vermin, snapped. He wanted to stay and examine all of everything, but he wasn't sure if he'd be able to come back and explore more later in the summer, so he had to take as many picture as he could now.

Wendy was the first though every doorway. The first to peer around corners. Her walk and stance were loose, like a cat stalking its prey, ready to move in any direction if something out of the ordinary came at them, a lot like how she moved during paintball. Her eyes darted back and forth, alert for any surprises that might come. The first time Dipper had seen her like this was when she was stalking through Gravity Falls during Weirdmageddon the summer before.

When they came to a spilt in the hall or a point where two halls crossed he took the chalk from his pocket and drew an arrow in the direction they walked. Wendy said she had an unerring sense of direction and could find her way out again and Dipper trusted that she did. But what if he had to get out and she was unconsious? It was better to be a over safe.

A couple of hours and hundreds of pictures later, they came to a room with glossy black walls and floor. Dipper had the impression that if they weren't glossy the walls and floor would absorb all the light coming from his and Wendy's light. Of course he took pictures. The room was shaped as a dome with the center of the ceiling only about twenty feet away from the center of the floor. The floor was as flat as the halls had been.

As they approached the center of the dome, a silver ball dropped from the ceiling. It stopped chest level in front of Dipper, who was still leading, and floated there. Dipper waved his hands above and below the ball, trying to find out what was keeping it suspended. He smiled in awe again.

"What's up?" asked Wendy. "What's with the smile?"

"I couldn't feel anything holding this thing up. Nothing that I can feel or see is keeping it floating right there," he said, pointing to the ball.

Wendy leaned in close, her reflected face distorted on the surface of the sphere.

"Well, it wouldn't, would it," she said, straightening up. "I mean anyone who can build a ship like this wouldn't need a rope or wire to float a silver ball."

"Yeah," he said, "but I thought I feel something. Like something pushing the thing up from the floor or pulling it toward the ceiling. I mean, look." He put his arm over the ball. "There's not even enough magnetic energy to mess with my watch."

Wendy moved in to take a better look at his watch and accitentally bumped him. He grabbed the sphere to keep his balance and an extremely bright light appeared overhead.

"What is that?" asked Wendy, shielding her eyes.

"I don't know," said Dipper, "but I want it to go away."

The light disappeared and they could see clearly again.

Dipper's arm was against the silver sphere and it was warm. Warmer than anything else he'd touched in the ship had been. Was the ship waking up?

"Dip" Wendy said, putting her hand on his shoulder and squeezing, "where did the floor go?"

He looked down. The floor was no longer glossy. Now it was the purest black he'd ever seen with white pin pricks. He looked up, turned his head, and saw the moon?

"Which way is north?" he asked. She pointed and he turned to face that direction.

There it was, Ursa Major. Follow the stars that make up the end of his namesakes bowl and there was Polaris on the tip of the Little Dipper. He recognized all the polar constellations. And there were Scorpius and Lyra, summer constellations. He started at the constellations and wondered.

Closing his eyes against distraction, Dipper turned around. His heart raced as he opened his eyes.

There they were -- Orion, Taurus, Canis Major -- the winter constellations. Exactly like they've looked for as long as he could remember.

"Uh, Dipper," said Wendy, "do you know how to bring back the floor? I think I'm gonna hurl."

"If you do," he said, processing what he was seeing, "then you'll have an empty stomach and a point of reference. You probably wouldn't get sick again." Half a second later he cringed. Statements like that were the reason he tried to pause and think before he said anything to anyone.

"Dude!"

"I'm sorry, Wendy," he said, turning toward her.

She was holding onto the silver ball to steady herself. She looked shocked, dismayed, disappointed, and a little green.

"That was a mean and stupid thing to say." He sighed. "It's just- Do you you know what this is showing?"

"Sure, it's the night sky. The stars and the moon. And, I guess" -- She gestured to the dotted void beneath their feet. -- "that's the sky from the other side of the world."

"Exactly! The moon's in the way, so we can't see the stars--"

The moon vanished. Only the stars and the emptyness of space surrounded them.

"Dipper?" Wendy said. Her voice quavered. She clutched his shoulder again.

"It's okay, Wendy," he said, reaching up and patting her hand. "The room's still here." He stomped the floor with his foot. "Besides, I thought you liked wide open spaces."

"I love wide open spaces," she said, "when I can see the ground. This is... unnerving."

"But it's amazing, too. Look at the constellations. These are where the stars are now."

"Duh."

"That means the ship knows where the stars are now, even though it's been buried for millions of year. Unable to scan the sky to see how the stars have moved."

"If this isn't what the the sky looked like when the ship crashed, then what did it look like?"

Suddenly, Orion broke apart. So did Taurus and every other constellation Dipper could name. He let go of Wendy's hand to turn to see what was happening to the north. He couldn't recognize anything anymore.

"Oh, God," said Wendy.

Dipper turned toward her and grabbed the hand that had dropped from his shoulder. "Close your eyes, Wendy, and hold on!"

She let go of the silver ball and she pulled him close to her. He let out a surprised yip as her arms encircled his chest. Never had he been hugged so tightly in his life.

He stood there and watch the awesome sight of the stars moved around him. He saw five streaks of light that circled around the room, never disappearing, just slightly adjusting as the planets' orbits changed with time. He watched as slow moving, distant points of light sped up as they moved closer to Earth and then whipped away, slowing as they grew more distant. Everything moved too quickly for him to notice any real patterns in their cosmic dance. The white mist of the Milky Way looked like it was alive. Sections would grow bright and then dim again as stars across the galaxy moved through time. He saw the top and bottom edges of the Milky Way move up and down, like a great galatic roller coaster.

But overwhelming the awe of the universe in motion was the fact that Wendy had her arms wrapped around him. They'd hugged before as friends and when Dipper was scared, but this hug was different. This was Wendy using him to help her, for support. He'd never been in this situation before. Even though he knew how uncomfortable the room made her feel, he liked being able to give her strength. He liked being able to give her what she needed like she did for him.

In the back of his mind, he heard Mabel, "Dipper and Wendy hugging in the dark. Dipper is hoping for a little spark. Will there be love? Will there be marriage? Will there be a baby in a baby carriage?"

He sighed as the stars moved around them and raised his hands to hold onto hers. For this moment, together, they were the world at the center this small universe. This false universe.

When the movement around them stopped several minutes later, he sighed again and said, "It's safe to open your eyes."

She let go of him and streched to her full height, then clasped onto his shoulder again.

"I think I'm ready to leave," she said, moving her flashlight around the room. "I can't see a door, though. I can't even see my flashlight's beam on the wall." Her hand gripped tighter. "What do we do?"

"Okay," said Dipper, thinking. "It seems to me that everytime something in this room happened, one of us was touching that floating ball."

He reached out.

"Is that a good idea?" she asked, shining her flashlight onto him and moving her hand from his shoulder to hold to his free hand, lacing her fingers with his.

"Dunno," he said as his finger tips brushed the silver surface. He felt the warmth of the sphere on the tips of his finger. He let them slide out from each other as he settled his whole hand on the surface. Nothing happened.

"Why didn't that work?"

"I don't know," he said. "I thought that touchin it might reset the room, or at least bring the moon back."

A thick crescent of light appeared over them.

"Cool," said Dipper, wondering if this was excatly how the sky looked when the ship had crashed. When nothing happened, he said, "Can you open the door we came in from?"

To the right and iris opened with no sound. The light from the door was a muddied grey compared to the pure white of the stars surrounding them.

"How about some ground?" he asked. "With a horizon, so were're not just a circle of land floating in space?"

The floor beneath them became a dark, washed-out green, like fresh spring grass in the moonlight, but there was no grass growing to tickle his ankles. The green stretched out as far as they could see. They were no longer floating in space.

He felt Wendy relax through the hand he held and took his other off the ball. "Do you mind if I leave it like this while we leave."

She nodded and they walked toward the door.

Dipper thought that someday he'd like to come back and watch the universe spin around him again. It was so big and so beautiful. He hadn't even asked the room to show him the sky aroud its homeworld. Someday, he'd be back. Even if it was by himself.

"Dude," said Wendy, as they walked out of the door and into the hall, "when we come back to this ship, I think I'll stay out of that room."

Dipper smiled. She had said "when we come back." And she still held his hand as they followed his arrows back to the room with ladder.

#wendip week 2018 #wendip week #potluck #potluck day #stargazing #Wendy Corduroy #Dipper Pines #For tomorrow's story I picked one of last years prompts.#See you then.#fanfic

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ticknart · 6 years

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Second Summer: Bedtime Story

Once upon a time, in the valley, Kingdom, and city of Grav, the twin kings, Ford and Lee, prepared for a tournament. Knights from across the land, even far outside of the great valley, were invited. Some would come to settle old scores. Some came to gain a name and honor. Some came simply for the purse. All, however, came to gain the favors of the kings. Grav was a small valley, but the kings made sure it was important to the world.

King Ford was a scholar. He created a college for higher learning which invited any to attend -- men, women, the wealthy, the poor, the crippled, the able -- as long as they continued to build on the knowledge that came before. Many came, expecting an easy life, cloistered and pampered. Life for King Fords scholars was whispered to be more difficult than life in the Royal army. Scholars living at the college had a large variety of duties. Each took a turn cooking and clearing and cleaning for the entire college. All were expected to keep the library clean and orderly and small groups were tasked with hunting down missing books lost in the dormitory, outside homes, or the King's private study and bedroom. Scholars in their fourth year went out into the city, towns, and farms to teach all members of the community. Everyone in Grav was expected to read, write, and cipher. King Ford firmly believed that the more educated the population, the stronger Grav would become.

King Lee, on the other hand, was ruthless, conniving, and greedy. His heart, though, belonged to his family, who he would protect with every fiber of his being, to his final breath. He believed that every individual within the Kingdom of Grav was his family. Each diplomatic mission he made was with his people in mind. His choice of ambassadors rarely came from the nobility, but from the learned commoner because they had a firmer grasp on the needs of their neighbors. After a flood, a fire, or some other disaster, King Lee was always seen swinging a hammer, carrying wood, or leading a plow. When they broke for meals, he sat with the others eating, laughing, and slapping backs. Though he hated spending gold from the treasury, King Lee did all he could to keep the people in their homes and working for each other.

Wen, of the Norwood, remembered when the kings visited her village, Cord, after a mudslide to help. King Lee dropped off his horse, pulled off his cloak and fine shirt, and got in line to help move rocks away from the slide. The guards with him quickly followed suit. King Ford commanded a group of men is brown robes trimmed with red, Scholars, who removed objects from wagons and constructed a great lifting device. It was a large tower covered in wheels that a long, fat rope was run through. Scholars placed a giant harness around the boulders, attached the harness to the rope, and were able to lift the boulders and place them out of the way. All who were taught to use the machine could lift a boulder. This was the first time she realized how strong the twin kings had made everyone, through leading by example.

The day before the tournament was Wen’s first time in the city of Grav itself. She was at the festival to sell furs from the animals she had trapped over the last year. She hoped that she would make enough money to leave her father's house. At one time, she thought she might be a Scholar. She wasn't so sure now. Here talents with reading and writing were stronger than some, but it wasn't what she most enjoyed doing. Sitting, reading a book, and taking notes all day didn't appeal to her. She didn't want to be trapped in one place unless it was the right place. She had only seen 16 winters, how could she possibly know which was the right place unless she visited them all.

As the wagon wound through the streets of Grav, Wen gaped at the buildings. At home only the church and the public house had stone foundations, but in Grav, most of the buildings were made of stone. The stone buildings were taller than the wooden ones. Yes, she watched the Scholars move boulders, but how did they stack stone so high without out any falling? How did they cut the stone so that it fit together so well she couldn’t see seams? Bridges of stone spanned from one building across the road she was on and over to another building. Children waved to her from above. She smiled in wonder and waved back. She'd always assumed that the books she'd read about Grav were made-up by people who had never visited. Now she knew differently.

The sun was near setting as she pulled into a vacant space near the tourney field and was glad that the sun took a long time to set during the summer. She locked the wheels then unhooked the team of oxen that had pulled the wagon. She hitched them to the far side and gave them water and fodder. She climbed back into the wagon to check on her booth and stock. Not only was her father a woodsman, but he was also a very clever craftsman. He altered the wagon so that one side could fold down and then open up into a booth. With a little bit of work she'd be able to attach a large rough cloth she'd bought to act as a canopy. Sometime, her father was as brilliant as he was infuriating.

A noise from down the way drew her attention. A crowd had gathered down where two roads crossed. Wen hoped that no one had been hurt. She hopped down to the ground to check the hinges and clasps her father had added.

"OW!" She heard from beneath the cart as her feet hit the ground. She stumbled back, but caught herself. She knelt down in the mud. A round dirty face with bright eyes looked back at her.

She smiled and asked, "What are you doing down there?"

"Are they gone?" he whispered.

"Who? Nobody's stopped here until you."

"No. Down there." He pointed back to the group she'd been watching from the back of the wagon.

"Whatever it was, it's breaking up."

He sighed and she saw him relax.

"Do you need some help getting out of there?"

"Can you hold this?" He handed her a knit cap that had a star stitched to it.

"My sister gave me that," he said, out from under her wagon. "I think it's supposed to be funny, but I can't figure out why."

"Come around back. You can wash up before you go."

He followed her. The oxen stood chewing their cud, no longer interested in their food and water. The boy rolled his sleeves up and plunged his hands into the water. He splashed water onto his face and scrubbed it. Finished washing, he shook his hands in the air before untying his collar. He pulled his shirt up over his face and used the inside to dry his face. She laughed. Boys were boys everywhere.

He grinned up at her and said, "Thanks."

"You should watch that," she said, pointing to his eye, "it's gonna be sore soon."

He touched around his eye and winced.

"What happened out there?" she asked, handing him his cap.

He pulled it over his dirty hair and said, "I said the wrong thing to someone bigger than me. When he hit me, I ran. He was fast. When I knew he'd catch me, I dogged behind a woman in a big dress and he ran right into her." The boy smiled at her again. "He tried to push through her dress. How stupid is that?"

"That's pretty bad."

"Right? So, I started running again and dove under a wagon -- your wagon -- to hide until it was over."

The sun had finally set and darkness began to settle in over the city.

"Do you want me to walk you back home?"

"Thanks, but no. When there are so many people out here the guards set up torch bearer rounds to remind visitors that their being watched. They come at every half."

"You want something to eat?" she asked.

"Always."

Wen climbed into the back of the wagon and grabbed her pack. When she looked over the edge, the boy wasn't there anymore.

"Wendy, are you from the Norwood?"

She jerked around. The boy had climbed into the wagon with her and was petting one of her furs.

"My name's Wen, actually and yeah, I'm from a little town called Cord."

"That’s why you have this fur. This kind of beaver is only found in the Norwood."

She handed him a piece of dried meat and said, "I hope that means I'll get a good price."

"You should," he said, gnawing. He moved around, feeling the different furs.

Looking out at the city, Wen took a bite and said, "I've never seen so many lights before. It's like looking across at the night sky instead of up."

"That's brilliant!" said the boy, suddenly at her side. "I've never thought of it like that. I bet we could even set up patterns so it looked like constellations. They could guide people around the city at night! I need to tell Grunkle Fo--" He cut himself off and looked over at her.

"It's okay," she said. "I wasn't planning on doing anything with lights on buildings today."

"It's not that," he said, looking across to the city again.

After some silence, Wen asked, "Where in the city do you live?"

"Oh, I don't live in the city, but my sister and I are sent to visit family here every summer."

"I didn't expect it to be beautiful," she said as more lights were lit.

"Me either," he said, dreamily.

She looked at him and saw that he was looking at her.

He jumped at her gaze. "Oh, look," he said, pointing, "There's a torch bearer now." He dropped out of the wagon and ran off, paused, and ran back.

"Here," he said, reaching his hand out. "If you ever need help from someone, find a guard -- one that’s not drunk -- and they'll help you."

She took a child-sized ring from his hand and he ran off to the torch without another word.

Wen put the ring in a pocket and then arranged the furs on the bottom of the cart. She laid herself down on them. As she looked at the stars over head, she thought the strange little boy. She hadn't even gotten his name, she thought as she drifted off to sleep.

She woke not with the sun, but with the smells of cooking nearby. She hadn't smelled anything like that since her mother's cooking. Memories threatened to overwhelm her, but she shoved them down and focused on her grumbling stomach. Drowsy, the climbed down from the back of the wagon and washed her face and hands. The water was cold and washed most of the sleep from her eyes. Before she set off looking for something warm to eat, she prepared her booth.

Sales that morning had been better than what she'd expected, but as noon approached the people trickled away from the sellers. Noon was the beginning of the tournament. Wen dropped the canopy to cover her wares then headed to the field. She'd miss the actual games, but she wanted to be there for the opening.

She pushed through the crowd to get as close to the kings' landing as possible. She was so young when she saw them before, she wondered if they lived up to her memory. She hoped.

Shortly after Wen pushed her way to the front, a very large man in a green robe stepped out. On his chest was the crest of House Pines: a pine tree divided down the center, one side all in black, the other simply outlined, a triangle with a single opened eye was at the bottom, in front of the tree. The large man pushed his hood back and grinned. He had the teeth of a beaver. He looked familiar, and not because she had trapped more than a hundred beavers over the last year.

"People of Grav," he said, "honored visitors, dudes in armor, welcome! Today will be filled with thrills, chills, and maybe a little laughter. Today grown men wearing tin will try to stab each other with really long sticks while riding on horses. And if that isn't funny, then I don't know what funny is."

The crowd cheered.

"And now, the men who brought this to you, from the Great House Pines, King Ford and King Lee." King Ford stood tall in his Scholar robe as he stepped onto the platform. King Lee looked a little bent over, but strong.

"Next, for the first time, the Kings present their heirs. I give you the princess--"

"Mabel?" Wen gasped. When did Mabel become a princess?

"--Mabe and her twin brother Prince Dip."

The field thundered with applause.

The prince looked familiar. She stared at him as he looked around at the crowd. When he locked in on her, he smiled. He had a bruise around one eye.

She gasped again. It was the boy she'd helped the night before. She'd helped the Crown Prince and didn't know. Her stomach felt sick. She pulled the ring from her pocket and saw the royal seal. She was going to be sick.

When the kings and their heirs sat, the man in green raised his hands to silence the crowd and said, "Yes, we're all happy to meet the princess and pri--"

Thunder boomed down on the crowd. The sky was clear. There was no flash of lightening. Thunder boomed again.

The world flickered. The royal family stood much closer to Wen now, behind a low wooden wall? Why was King Lee wearing a red fez? How did she know it was a fez? What happened to the princess's gown? What were those metal shapes around King Ford's eyes? Why was Soos smiling?

The world went white. There was no thunder. When her vision cleared, Wen...dy saw a short blonde, in a cloak so dark that it made the night seem bright, next to the royal family. Smoke rose from her feet.

Fika, Witch of the Northwest Barrens.

"FIKA!" someone screamed! Another scream. And another. Wendy felt panic encircle her. Before anyone else in the crowd moved, she took a step forward. She was going to be up there with her friends and stop the witch.

On her third step, the panic broke and the crowd ran in every direction. Fika pulled something from her cloak -- Wendy couldn't see what it was. -- whirled her hand over her head then pointed at Dipper. A rope appeared around him. With a tug, he was at the witch’s side.

Finally on stage, Wendy shouted, "PACIFICA, STOP!"

The witch grinned over her shoulder, waved a hand in front of her, and shoved the prince forward. He disappeared. Fika took a step forward and disappeared, too.

Wendy charged to where Dipper and the witch disappeared and ran into something hard.

"What are you doing up here?" asked King Lee.

"There's no time, Mr. Pines," she said, feeling the hard air for... something. She knew something was there, but she couldn't say what.

"That's your Majesty, missy."

One hand on the hard spot in the air, she reached out with the other to Mr. Pines and opened it.

The King's eyes shot opened at the sight of Prince Dip's ring. He fell to his knees and said, "Dipper." The princess and Stanford Pines were at his side immediately. Wendy still felt the hard spot in the air. She knew there was something there she could use.

"Dudes," said Soos, "what's going on?"

Something stuck out from the air. Something round and just as invisible as the wall in front of her.

Wen pulled at the round thing. Nothing happened.

Wendy turned the round thing, then pulled. A door opened in the air in front of her, a bright hallway behind it. She ran through it and down the hall.

The witch, Fika turned to face Wendy. Wen stopped running and shrank back in fear. Wendy saw the bright orange stone around Pacifica's neck. Pacifica would never wear orange because orange, especially that close to her face, made her look sickly. Behind the witch stood Dipper, his face blank.

"There's nothing you can do, peasant," spat the witch, raising her hand.

"Maybe there's nothing the peasant can do," said Wendy, stepping forward and reaching out, "but there still plenty the lumberjack can do!"

Wendy grabbed the stone from around the witch's neck, dropped it to the floor, and stomped as hard as she could.

Pacifica fell forward and collapsed into Wendy's arms. She buried her face deep into Wendy's flannel and sobbed, "I thought it would bring me a happy ending. I just wanted a happy ending."

"I know," said Wendy, running her fingers through the girl's blonde hair. "I know."

#Wendy Corduroy #Dipper Pines #Mabel Pines #Stanley Pines #Stanford Pines #Soos Ramirez #Pacifica Northwest #Second Summer #Alliterative Association #wendip week 2018 #Bedtime Story #wendip week #Be here tomorrow for a prompt that wasn't picked by the masses.#fanfic

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ticknart · 6 years

Text

Second Summer: Moving In With Each Other

Dipper Pines sat in his underwear, on his bed in the attic of the Mystery Shack, propped against the wall. His twin sister was out to who-knows-where and wouldn't be back until that night. No one was going to disturb him. A heat wave swept in to the valley earlier that week and he needed a break from the world. His shorts, vest, shirt, and socks were casually stuffed in the space between the bed and table, which acted as a night stand. He'd taken his ushanka off and tossed it onto the end of his bed. A gigantic, sweaty cup of iced tea sat on the table to his left. He'd plugged in the phone his parent's had given him before leaving for Gravity Falls and set it to randomly play BABBA, BSE, and Melody Move Melody songs. The best way to beat the heat, when you didn't want to be around other people, was to set up a fan, strip down, and lounge in bed. Not a perfect solution, sure, but it was a nice one. Especially after working around the Shack all morning.

Part of the agreement to stay with Soos and Melody and Abuelita was the promise to do some work around the Mystery Shack. This was Abeulita's idea. She remembered how difficult it was when the twins and Grunkle Stan had stayed in her house the summer before. So, work they did.

While Mabel got to stay inside and clean cobwebs and polish horns and brush Sascrotch, Dipper was outside in the heat He used a ladder to touch up the details on the totem pole, a job that Mabel should have done because she's the arty one. Next he was lucky enough to drop Abeulita's home-brewed stink bomb into the Outhouse of Mystery, which released a hideous stench that was almost as bad as his Grunkle Stan's bare feet. His last chore that morning involved scrubbing the Rock-That-Looks-Like-a-Face rock with a revolting smelling liquid that left tiny red bumps all over his skin when drops hit him. Finally, Soos came out, sprayed him off the hose, and Dipper was free to escape from the world. He grabbed a huge cup of iced tea, ran up the stairs, striped, kicked his clothes off, set the fan to face his bed, and settled in for an afternoon of reading.

A stack of his mom's old comic books sat next to Dipper on the bed. All of them were from a time before he was born. Most were full of hyper masculine, absurdly muscled men who carried at least three physically impossible guns and had more pockets than any reasonable person would need. Plus, most of the pockets were too small to hold anything useful. The women were proportioned and twisted so that many verged on grotesque. All of these comics were stupid, but fun.

Stupid, fun reading was exactly the kind of thing needed to complete perfection on a blisteringly hot day. Men and woman fought giant robots trying to topple building. Evil masterminds came up with a plot do destroy the world in one issue and in the next the same character decided it was better to conquer the world with no explanation. Random characters joined the books and disappeared soon after. Costumes changed between pages. The basic premise or origin story changed every four or five issues. These comics read like kids made them. Kids who glanced through other super hero books and only saw muscles, boobs, punching, and violence. Kids who thought there should only be more of the things they saw, rather than an actual story. It gave his brain a nice rest, and all his worries, except for running out of tea, disappeared.

He got so involved trying to figure out how an archer could shoot an arrow if the bow had a laser for a string that he missed the clumps as someone came up the stairs.

"Hey, man, better get ready because I'm moving in."

He slowly moved the comic book down so that he could barely see over the top. Wendy Corduroy -- her luscious red hair pulled back into a pony tail pulled through the back of her cap -- wearing a tank-top, short-short shorts, and her stomping boots tossed a sleeping bag toward Mabel’s bed and unfurled a sleeping pad between the two beds. Dipper's instinct was to raise the comic back up and not move. She couldn't see him if he stayed perfectly still and didn't say a thing.

"I'm sorry to barge in on you like this," she said, "but me and my dad had an argument and it got a little nasty and I figured I'd camp out over at my friends' place tonight."

Oh, man, he thought. Oh, man-oh-man-oh-man.

He refused to talk. Refused to look over the comic he was no longer reading. Wendy. Sleeping. In his room. His brain wasn't sure how to process information at this high of a level. This was a scenario he'd never prepared for.

"I mean, yeah, for the most part, he treats me like my brothers, but he still expects me to most of the cleaning. I refuse to clean the boys' bathroom once, just once, and he freaks out on me."

The far end of the bed squeaked as she dropped herself down. The breeze from the fan ruffled the comics’ pages.

"'What are you gonna do after high school?' he asks. 'You don't expect me to keep you here, do you?' Gahd," she said, "why would I expect that? What was all that training at Christmas about? I thought it was about me taking care of myself, you know."

Dipper felt her scoot on the bed so her back was against the wall.

"And then, get this," -- She put a hand on his ankle. A chill ran though his body and his skin covered itself in goose bumps, which remained even when she took her hand away. -- "he tells me it's stupid for me to take summer school because I 'won't need it over at the mill.'" -- She let out a muffled scream. -- "The mill!? Seriously!? I mean, don't get me wrong there are some great people out there, but is that all he thinks I'm good for."

The bed bounced a little and he heard one of her boots thunk on the wood floor. The second followed.

"I-- I don't even know what he wants me to do out there. Not management, obviously, if he doesn't think I need an education. I'm just so..."

She stopped talking and silence hung in the air like the stink from the bomb in the Outhouse of Mystery. All he heard was the air from the fan and one of BSE's lighter songs.

"Dip," she said, "Are you okay?"

"Uh, well, I'm, um, kinda, sorta, almost naked over here. This was the best way I could think to hide."

"Come on, I have three younger brothers. Ain't nothing you got that I haven't seen before."

"That's not comforting."

"Jeeze," she said.

His furred hat popped up over his comic, landed on his head, and rolled off. He lowered his comic and saw Wendy's bright eyes and shining smile.

"There you are," she said. "Hey!"

"Hi, Wendy."

"Whatca doing up here?"

"Reading. Relaxing. Keeping cool. Hoping not to be seen by anyone while I'm just in my underwear."

"Nothing to worry about," she said. "So, is it okay if I stay tonight?"

Dipper looked over at the pad, sleeping bag, and backpack on the floor and asked, "Do I really have a choice?"

"Of course you have a choice," she said, "but if you toss me out into the cold--"

"It's not cold," he said, resting the comic on his stomach.

"--shivering in the branches of a tree--"

"It's not going to be cold," he said, leaning forward.

"--so that I won't be the midnight snack of a bear." She looked deep into his eyes and fluttered her eyelids.

"Yeah," he said, "of course you can stay."

"Thanks, Dip." She patted his ankle. "What do you want to do?"

IT'S A TRAP!

"I just kinda want to read my comics."

She reached over him, grabbed an issue, and flipped it open. "Any good," she asked.

"Not really."

"Then why read them?"

"Because they're all crazy and some are funny and..." his voice trailed off.

"And?" she asked, looking away from the comic she held.

"And... it makes me feel closer to my mom. These were hers."

Wendy held his gaze, "I get that. It's important." Her head jerked to the right. "What's this song?"

"It's 'Please Pick Me Up' by BSE. Uh, Brilliant Simple Ensemble."

She pulled his phone off the table and said, "Let's crank it up!" She did. "Let's dance!"

He shook his head, "No thanks."

She took his hands and pulled him off the bed. "That wasn't a question."

She started to move with the music, so he did, too. She kept hold of his left hand and led him into a twirl. He smiled. When the track changed to BABBA's "Sebastián" Wendy pulled him close and they did something not quite like a tango around the room. In the end, she dipped him. It was... well, Dipper wasn’t willing to say it was magical, but that's what it was.

By the time "Madam Green Earth" started Dipper was free in a way he rarely had been in his life. Sliding around in the heat with his best friend, his mind was clear. There was nothing to remember, nothing to worry about. Only the music and Wendy. Only right now.

"Jeezuz, Dipper, put some pants on!"

Dipper froze, looked toward the stairs, and said, "Grunkle Stan!?"

"Who else would it be?"

Dipper ran over to his great-uncle, ready to wrap him in a hug, but he stopped short and simply put out his hand for a shake. Grunkle Stan took Dipper's hand and shook.

"It's good to see you, kid," said Stan. "I missed you and your sister."

Stan released Dipper, who took a step back and asked, "How was your trip? Did you find any portals? What kind of new things did you see? Is Ford with you? Did you fight any sea monsters? Which cou--"

"Whoa, kid, slow down. I'm gonna go downstairs. When you get dressed, you can come down and ask me and Ford all the questions you want."

"Really?"

"Well, you know, until I get tired of hearing your voice." Stan gave a nod above Dipper's head. "Wendy," he said, "you taking care of the kid?"

Dipper turned around. Wendy was there. How could he have forgotten about her?

"Only when he's not takin' care of me," she said.

"Heh," laughed Stan. "Good one."

Dipper's whole body went red and his stomach started doing cartwheels. He refused to groan and let his Grunkle and Wendy just how much more he was embarrassed he was than they could already see.

"Put some clothes on, kid," said Stan, tousling Dipper's hair, then starting down the stairs. "Nobody's interested in seeing that."

Well, thought Dipper, Wendy didn't seem to mind.

Wendy walked over to his phone and turned the music down as Dipper dragged his feet to his bed and dragged out his suit case. He felt her watching him while he smelled the shirts and shorts until he found ones that were mostly fresh. He stepped into his shorts and pulled the shirt down over his head. He took the socks he'd worn early and sat on the bed to pull them on. He hadn't looked up, but Wendy's gaze was relentless. He slipped his shoes on and knelt down to tie them.

After he stood and as he reached for his hat, Wendy said, "You know, Dipper..."

"He's just uncomfortable with things he doesn't... understand," he said, heading for the stairs. "I know how he feels about me." He took the first step down. "I do."

"Yeah," said Wendy, "I know."

#wendip #wendipper #wendip week #wendip week 2018 #Moving In With Each Other #Gravity Falls #Wendy Corduroy #Dipper Pines #Stanley Pines #Second Summer #Alliterative Association #ABBA ELO Music Go Music #I suggest you never decide to scrap a story and start over only 24 hours before you want to post it.#I'll be back for Bedtime Story tomorrow.

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