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#sidecar hot wheels
thunderstomm · 17 days
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HOT WHEELS: LET’S RACE - Mini-Redesigns and Headcanons !
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Over the past few weeks, I’ve been watching this super-cute new hot wheels show! And while I originally didn’t intend to do much in terms of fan content, I accidentally got very attached to these silly little guys so something was in order. While I like what the show has to offer, I don’t love that they wear casual clothes instead of actual racing gear, so I designed my own !!
The suits match because I imagine that these were given to them as a gift from Dash, symbolising the shift from “temporary campers” to her full-time protégés. I wanted to go full-hot wheels inspo, so all of the suits are decked out with a sweet flame pattern ! They all have little name badges on the side, and the colours of their suits are taken from the racing gloves which Dash gives them in S1! I wanted the suits to feel very simple compared to a pro racer’s suit, so while they have many staples, they have no sponsor patches anywhere ! As for the numbers on their suits, they are their rankings from camp !(thanks @viewer-of-many for the idea!!)
As I do with any media I like, I’ve included some little headcanon pages to go with! I’ve included headcanons for their full names- because I refuse to believe that these are all their legal names- as well as their pronouns, ages, racer numbers, nationalities, and heights ! I want to go in-depth on some of my choices, so buckle in! (Also if you’re finding this post and you’re a hot wheels fan PLEASE come talk to me I need more people to babble with)
COOP
Cooper “Coop” Fèng, our camp champ and main character is up first! I’m pretty sure that Cooper is canonically his first name, so I stuck with that. The nickname “Coop” was kind of just a natural development, it’s shorter, and he likes cars. Perfect! His surname is Fèng, a Chinese surname that means phoenix- which I chose because I think it’s a neat reference to his shift from “average kid” to camp champ. A real rise from the ashes! I headcanon him to be Chinese & African American- his Dad is the former and his other parent would be the latter. His pronouns are he/him, he’s 12 years old, 4’10” tall and thanks to his winning status- racer 01 in the level 2 training program !!
MAC
Mackenzie “Mac” Caliper is next ! Like Cooper, I feel like his nickname is just a shortened version of his full name, and “Mackenzie” just felt right. Before you ask- the name is gender neutral where I come from. His surname, Caliper, is taken from a car part, it’s the disc in a brake system ! Also I made his hair into some sort of mullet-y thing because of his crimes of having no bangs. I headcanon him to be Canadian. Mac uses he/him pronouns, is 12 years old (he is the oldest of the three 12 year olds, having a December birthday in the year prior), 4’11” tall, and racer 04 !
SPARK
Samantha “Spark” Turner ! For her first name, I wanted something cute that could hypothetically be given a GNC nickname. Plus “Samantha” and “spark” sound so cute together! The nickname Spark came from her love of inventing, and how her brain is always “sparking” with ideas! Her surname, Turner, is a play on a car’s “turn signal”. Not included on the chart, but I headcanon her as Autistic ! Spark is a black Canadian, her pronouns are she/her, she is 11 years old (the youngest of the 6 campers), 4’7” tall, and is racer 03 !!
BRIGHTS
Bryce “Brights” Hikari is racer 05! I imagine that she was born missing her arm, hence her prosthetic. Despite her hair matching her Uncle’s- it’s 100% dyed. Her first name, Bryce, fully just comes from me mishearing her name the first time I watched the show. So I choose to reuse it. I headcanon her as being Japanese, and her surname, Hikari, means “light”! The nickname “Brights” combines the sound of her first name and the meaning of her last! Brights uses she/her pronouns, is 12 years old, and is 4’9” tall.
AXLE
Axle Spoiler, son of beloved champ Striker Spoiler! The only character with a canon full name, and the only one who I can believe that his name is actually his legal one. I headcanon him as being Mexican. Axle is the oldest of the racers, at 14 years old. Axle uses he/him pronouns, is 5’2” tall, and is racer 02- something he accepts, but feels just a little taunted by. (I feel so funny saying so little about him because he’s my favourite.)
SIDECAR
Simon “Sidecar” Cotter is the final racer ! For his name, I wanted to keep the initials of his nickname (S.C.) intact. I went with Simon for his first name, because it’s a little goofy, but also feels just a little TOO formal for someone like him. His surname is, you guessed it, a reference to a car part! A Cotter is a pin which secures something in place. I think that Axle gave him the nickname “sidecar”, because he seems to start off as his sidekick. Sidecar is American, 13 years old, 4’8” tall, uses he/him pronouns, and is racer 06 at camp !!
While that is all I’ll be sharing for now, I do have another more detailed art piece of these guys in their canon outfits, in my more polished art style, which I hope can be coming out sooner than later. Again, if you like this show, please DM me here or on discord so we can chat!!
Thanks for reading !! 🩵💚💛🩷❤️🩶
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highway-35 · 2 months
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"You six were chosen because you have what it takes to be the next generation of Hot Wheels drivers!"
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kimberly-spirits13 · 1 year
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Jason Todd with a Race-Car Driver S/O HC
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You’re the only partner that he lets drive
The first time Dick saw this he teased you two relentlessly
You had one hand on the wheel and was holding his hand with the other
“Not my fault I’m the only racer he’s dated”
It’s basically cannon that Jason is into mechanics and all that jazz
If you have to do upgrades or maintenance to any vehicle, you two make it a date
You’re working on the cars, he’s working on the bike
He thinks you’re really, really hot in a uniform
Helmet hair is his favorite
he’s such a flirt about it too, it’s ridiculous
Please wear a red uniform for the boy
He’ll swoon
You’re the only partner of the Batboys that is allowed to drive the Batmobile
When the Batmobile needs work you’re the first person that’s called in
Jason likes to drive you of course but he just thinks it’s fun to ride around with you driving
Alfred never has to chauffeur you two because you’re driving your own swanky ride
Jason will come to all your races
He wants to make sure that you know he supports you
That doesn’t mean that he doesn’t worry about you wreaking during a race
If it ever does happen, he’s jumping the bleachers and fence to get to the tarmac
The first time you took him to the tarmac you neglected to tell him that it was really sticky since you thought it would be funny
It was
He likes to pretend that he never fell face first into the tarmac trying to walk
Jason likes to braid your hair or put it up for your races if you have long hair
You also would probably have matching key chains and no one can argue otherwise with me 🤚
Please take that man for a ride around the track
oh my gosh he’ll cry tears of joy
He just thinks you’re super cool
If you get to test cars he’ll ride with you and give opinions
“Well my boyfriend says your car sucks sooooo”
Sorry Porsche
Your kids are your cars and I’m pretty sure that Jason has named all of them
He’s the type to give a name to everything that he owns
OH MY GOSH IF YOU ADDED A SIDECAR FOR ON A MOTORCYCLE FOR ACE
It would be beautiful
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askyumetsuki · 2 years
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( @Oldgodsasks (keo (rockruff))) Keo is wandering the road. He tilts his head and lets out a bork. As he sees yume. Being the friendly pupper he is.
@oldgodsasks
Yume was driving at top speed, when she suddenly spotted a dot in the distance on the road. She had to slam the brakes of her hover bike. The back wheel scattering sand and rocks as it screeched over the hot asphalt, a large dustcloud forming. The vehicle drifted spinning slightly until it came to a halt.
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"What the hell is that? Who left their pokémon wandering around?"
She scanned the area for a sign of any person. But all she saw was sand and rocks. The Pokémon barked at her. Zerda, her Umbreon, had hopped out of the sidecar to greet the strange pokémon, sniffing the dog curiously. Climbing off her bike, locking it, she approached it. She wasn't going to lie, it had an adorable face. It seemed friendly so she gave it a pat on the head.
Cautiously taking her P*DA out of her pocket. She searched the online database. A quick few moments later she had identified the dog to be a Rockruff.
This definitely had to be an imported pokémon, there were no wilds in Orre. But where was it's owner?
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Looking around once more. Half-wondering if this was some kind of bait.
"Hello!? Anyone there?"
She shouted into the empty wastelands. Not that she expected any sort of answer, but better to be safe than sorry.
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tvsotherworlds · 2 months
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jemch · 3 years
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How It’s Made Index(S21~S30)
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How It’s Made是由 Discovery Channel 制作一款王牌节目,又被翻译为制造的原理或造物小百科, 本片从2001年推出至今,涵盖了几乎所有的制造技术 ,非常适合机械专业和对此感兴趣的同学。希望大家享受这趟制造的艺术之旅!
第二十一季推出时间为2013-04-04至2013-08-01
S21E01 Rubber Gloves; Soap Carvings; Aircraft Cabinets; Motorcycle Brake Locks 橡胶手套,肥皂雕刻,飞机木柜,摩托车制动锁
本集看点:极其舒适的橡胶手套制作过程;
S21E02 Powder Horns; Handcrafted Molds; Perogies; Inner Tubes 粉角,手工模具,饺子,内胎
S21E03 Lace; Antique Frame Replicas; Orchids; Unicycle Wheel Hubs 蕾丝,古董架复制品,兰花,独轮车轮毂
S21E04 External Hard Drives; Frozen Shrimp; Thai Rice Boxes; Paper Towel 外置硬盘,冷冻虾,泰国米箱,纸巾
本集看点:硬核的西部数据移动硬盘组装制程;
S21E05 Tea; Roof Finials; Artificial Flowers; Alloy Wheels 茶,屋顶饰物,人造花,合金轮毂
S21E06 Gel Caps; Playground Spring Riders; Frozen Pancakes; Natural Rubber 胶囊,摇摇玩具,冷冻煎饼,天然橡胶
S21E07 Paper Umbrellas; Coal; Aircraft Seats; Urns 纸伞,煤,飞机座椅,瓮
S21E08 Aluminum Canoes;Wood Bowls;Wheelchair Accessible Vans;Marimbas 铝独木舟,木碗,残疾人改装车,木琴
S21E09 Indy Car Seats; Paper Flowers; Stand-by Generators; 赛车座椅,纸花,备用发电机
S21E10 Knee Replacements; Leaf Springs; Lavender; Rivets and Rivet Tools 膝关节置换,钢板弹簧,薰衣草,铆钉和铆钉的工具
本集看点:另外一种大型弹簧结构;铆钉的工作原理;
S21E11 Cast Iron Stoves; Ultralight Aircraft; Snow Groomers; Rubber Bands 铸铁炉具,超轻型飞机,推雪车,橡皮筋
S21E12 Barber Chairs; Sewage Pumps; Bimini Boat Tops; Diesel Filters 理发椅,污水泵,比米尼游乐船,柴油过滤器
S21E13 Car Tires; Silk; Art Conservation; Scuba Tanks 汽车轮胎,丝绸,艺术保护,潜水氧气瓶
本集看点:铝合金终极冲压教程;
本季资源链接:
magnet:?xt=urn:btih:8e3c0ca289825ca99cbb7699dcbaf926aeb42265&dn
第二十二季推出时间为2013-10-10至2014-01-16
S22E01 Electric Stand-Up Vehicles; Frozen Fruit; Beer Coasters; Forged Door Handles 电动站立车,冰冻水果,啤酒杯垫,锻造门把手
本集看点:专业铁匠;
S22E02 Rock Crushers;Fabric Lampshades;Cake Sprinkles;Steam Irons 岩石破碎机,织物灯罩,蛋糕彩条,蒸汽熨斗
S22E03 Indy Steering Wheels;Mixed Salad;Wind Turbines 印地赛车方向盘,什锦沙拉,风力涡轮机
S22E04 Blast Doors; Lipstick; Artificial Palm Trees; Brass Plaques 防爆门,口红,人造棕榈树,黄铜牌匾
S22E05 Carbon Fiber; Antique Frame Restoration; Railcar Movers; Hood Ornaments 碳纤维,古董保存架,有轨机车,车头装饰品
S22E06 Sawhorses and Toolboxes;Sorbet Pops;School Buses 史丹利工具箱,便携汁冰糕,校车
S22E07 Sanders;Solid Terrain Models;Stucco;High-Speed Roll-up Doors 抛光机,固体地形模型,水泥,高速卷门
S22E08 Pressed Glass;Pickup Truck Caps;Alpaca Yarn;Utility Knives 压制玻璃,敞蓬小型载货卡车,羊驼纱线,工具刀
S22E09 Body Casting; Downdraft Stoves; Compression Garments; Electric Motorcycles 身体模型,气流炉灶,长袜,电动摩托车
S22E10 Sidecars;Frozen French Toast;Refrigerator Compressors;Superchargers 摩托侧箱,冷冻法式土司,冰箱压缩机,增压器
S22E11 Custom Knee Braces;Air Conditioners;Window Films;Motorcycle Exhaust 定制膝盖支撑,空调,窗户贴膜,摩托车排气管
S22E12 Solid State Drives;Eye Shadow;Limousines;Dead Blow Hammers 固态硬盘,眼影,豪华加长轿车,香槟锤
本集看点:先进半导体制程制作的硬盘;
S22E13 Dragster Tires; Icing; Floating Docks; Spiral Pipes 赛车轮胎,冰淇淋,飘浮船坞,螺旋管
本季资源链接:
magnet:?xt=urn:btih:c1ddbd38f95041c1482295587ae0c59e19416937&dn
第二十三季推出时间为2014-04-03至2014-07-03
S23E01 Motion Sensors; Belt Loaders; Pheasant Breeding; Diving Helmets 运动传感器,带式装载机,野鸡养殖,潜水头盔
本集看点:先进半导体制程制作的传感器芯片;
S23E02 Rawhide Lampshades; Chocolate Chip Cookies; MRI Scanners 皮灯罩,巧克力饼干,核磁共振成像扫描仪
S23E03 Noise Barrier Walls; Front-Load Washers; Bourbon; Flexible Circuit 声音屏障墙,滚筒洗衣机,威士忌,柔性电路板(FPC)
本集看点:柔性电路板是如何加工的;
S23E04 Railway Bridge Ties; Membrane Filters; Hydraulic Post Drivers; Bi-Planes 铁路桥梁枕木,膜过滤器,桩机,四翼飞机
S23E05 Hospital Laundry; Brass Instrument Restoration; Horse Replicas; Excavation 医院洗衣,铜管乐器修复,马复制品,挖掘机挖斗
本集看点: 用玻璃纤维制作空心复制品;巨厚钢板的激光切割,折弯与焊接;
S23E06 Ceramic Fireplaces; Synthetic Corks; Parking Garage Floor Slabs 陶瓷壁炉,合成软木塞,车库楼板
本集看点: 多种塑胶粒子组合的连续注塑;
S23E07 Oil Pressure Sensors; Printing; Equipment Simulators; Head & Neck Restraints 油压传感器,大型印刷,设备模拟器,护颈
本集看点: 打金线制程;
S23E08 Mobile Concert Stages; Mascara; Continuous Miners; Wood Gift Boxes 移动音乐会舞台,睫毛膏,挖煤机,木制礼品盒
S23E09 NASCAR Car Bodies; Hurley Sticks; Tube Amplifiers; Thermal Coffee Pots 纳斯卡跑车车身,赫尔利球球棒,声音放大器,热咖啡壶
S23E10 Electric Vehicle Charging Stations; Grappa; Lunar Rover Replicas 电动汽车充电站; 格拉巴酒; 月球车复制品
S23E11 Slate Tiles; Hot Dog Carts; Garage Door Openers; Bicycle Seats 板岩瓷砖;热狗车; 车库门开启器; 自行车座椅
S23E12 Racing Leathers; Evaporative Cooling Towers; Rocking Chairs; Wire Wheels 赛车皮革;蒸发冷却塔; 摇椅; 钢丝轮
本集看点: 滚丝螺纹工艺;
S23E13 Mountain Bikes; Rice; Lever Action Rifles 山地自行车;大米;杠杆动作步枪
S23E14 Shark Week Edition: Surfboards; Diving Regulators; SCUBA Tanks; Water Skis 回收冲浪板; 潜水调节器; 潜水氧气瓶; 滑水板
S23E15 300th Episode - Shark Week Edition: Sails; Reef Aquariums; Oceanographic Buoys; Folding Kayaks 风帆; 珊瑚礁水族馆; 海洋浮标; 折叠皮划艇
本季资源链接:
magnet:?xt=urn:btih:33139d133183e8bf6e6dfec6684ca9f07bec0982&dn
第二十四季推出时间为2014-09-25至2015-01-15
S24E01 Saunas; Wheelchair Lifts; Dioramas 桑拿; 轮椅升降机; 立体模型
S24E02 Oil Lamps; Chocolate Mints; Underfloor Heating; Pillows 油灯; 巧克力薄荷糖; 地板采暖; 枕头
S24E03 Upright Pianos; Flags; Wet/Dry Vacuums; Medieval Axes 立式钢琴; 旗帜; 湿式/干式吸尘器; 中世纪斧头
S24E04 Skeletal Replicas; Ice Buckets; Dining Chairs; Inground Pools 骨骼复制品; 冰桶; 餐椅; 地下游泳池
S24E05 Automatic Sliding Doors; Gin; Firearms Restoration 自动推拉门; 杜松子酒; 枪械修复
S24E06 Scuba Lights; Sandals; Race Car Simulators; Fibreglass Doors 潜水灯;凉鞋;赛车模拟器; 玻璃钢门
S24E07 Wood Windows; Cashmere Fabric; Plastic Recycling; Architectural Glass 木窗; 羊绒面料; 塑料回收; 建筑玻璃
S24E08 Gas Barbecues; Mattress Pads; Ear Prostheses 燃气烧烤炉; 床垫; 耳假体
S24E09 Recycled Skateboards; Braided Pastry; Construction Trailers; Vises 回收滑板; 编织糕点; 施工拖车; 虎钳
S24E10 Plasma Gems; Special Effects Snow; Piano Restoration 等离子宝石; 特效雪; 钢琴修复
S24E11 3-Wheel Electric Bikes; Skin Cream; Patio Heaters; Wood Wheels 三轮电动自行车; 润肤霜; 天井取暖器; 木轮
S24E12 Old West Holsters; Underwater Video Housings; Soy Beverages; Pet Nail Trimmers 老西部皮套; 水下视频外壳; 大豆饮料; 宠物指甲修剪器
S24E13 Wood Garage Doors; Sand and Salt Spreaders; Animatronic Dinosaurs 木车库门; 沙子和盐撒布机; 电子动画恐龙
本季资源链接:
magnet:?xt=urn:btih:0a4eda224bbaf24666bb12c13bf1cd5732bf51fd&dn
第二十五季推出时间为2015-04-02至2015-07-02
S25E01 Grammy Awards; Bicycle Lights; Above-Ground Pools; Foldable Solar Panels 格莱美奖; 自行车灯; 地上游泳池; 可折叠太阳能电池板
S25E02 Led Stage Lights; Apple Cider; Chemical Tank Trailers; Ornate Stone Floor LED舞台灯; 苹果酒; 化学品罐拖车; 华丽的石地板
S25E03 Fishing Line; Industrial Mixers; Natural Baking Soda; and Tow Trucks 钓鱼线; 工业搅拌机; 天然小苏打; 拖车
S25E04 Storage Sheds; Industrial Fans; Parchment Paper; and Climbing Walls 储藏棚; 工业风扇;羊皮纸;攀岩墙
S25E05 Precast Concrete Walls; 3D Printers; Telescopic Cranes; Kerosene Lamp Burners 预制混凝土墙; 3D 打印机; 伸缩式起重机; 煤油灯燃烧器
S25E06 Car Headlamps; Directional Drills; Pet Combs; and Stained Glass Restoration 汽车大灯; 定向钻; 宠物梳子; 彩色玻璃修复
S25E07 Handcrafted Skis; Septic Tanks; Hydroformed Chassis Parts; Aquarium Windows 手工制作的滑雪板; 化粪池; 液压成型底盘零件; 水族馆窗户
S25E08 Zip Line Brakes; Silk Fiber Lamps; Round Balers; Comfort Shoes 拉链线制动器; 丝纤维灯; 圆形打包机; 舒适鞋
S25E09 Armored Vehicles; Tension Fabric Buildings; Rowers; Sculpture Enlargements 装甲车; 张力织物建筑; 划船者; 雕塑放大
S25E10 Mountain Bike Suspensions; Surgical Sutures; Grain Dryers; and Frying Pans 山地自行车悬架; 手术缝合; 谷物烘干机; 煎锅
S25E11 Downhill Ski Bindings; Immersion Washers; Mining Ventilation; Pencil Sharpeners 速降滑雪绑定; 浸入式垫圈; 矿用通风; 卷笔刀
S25E12 Gingerbread Houses; Livestock Trailers; Hangar Doors; and Toy Figurines 姜饼屋; 牲畜拖车; 机库门; 玩具公仔
S25E13 Traffic Signal Poles; Coffee Filters; and Chainsaw Mining Machines; 交通信号杆; 咖啡过滤器; 链锯采矿机;
本季资源链接:
magnet:?xt=urn:btih:78ae318559e0477f5bb1db0abb0fcfa841e491be&dn
第二十六季推出时间为2015-09-10至2015-12-17
S26E01 Time-Delay Locks; Brownies; Pallet Dispensers; and Crystal Chandeliers 延时锁; 布朗尼; 托盘分配器; 水晶吊灯
S26E02 Bead Wire; Mini Pepperoni; Irrigation Sprinklers; and Leather Gloves 珠线; 迷你意大利辣香肠; 灌溉喷头; 皮手套
S26E03 Mouth-Blown Window Glass; Water Pumps; Sake; Tweezers 口吹窗玻璃; 水泵; 清酒; 镊子
S26E04 Statue Restoration; Tripods; Polish Sausages; Welding Guns 雕像修复; 三脚架; 波兰香肠; 焊枪
S26E05 Champagne; ATMs; Marine Turbochargers; 香槟酒; 自动取款机; 船用涡轮增压器;
S26E06 Sharpening Steels; Bladder Pumps; Ironing Boards; and Kayak Paddles 磨刀钢; 膀胱泵; 烫衣板; 皮划艇桨
S26E07 Champagne Hoods; Pneumatic Systems; Espresso Machines; Pizza Ovens 香槟罩; 气动系统; 浓缩咖啡机; 比萨烤箱
S26E08 Stile & Rail Doors, Steam Cleaners, Hand-Held Pizzas, and Power Brushes 轨道门;蒸汽清洁器;手持比萨饼;电动刷
S26E09 Industrial Casters; Wedding Cakes; THz Spectrometers; Racing Catamarans 工业脚轮; 婚礼蛋糕; 太赫兹光谱仪; 竞速双体船
S26E10 Ceramic Grills, Pneumatic Punchers, Water Jet Fountains, Wooden Surfboards 陶瓷烤架、气动打孔机、喷水喷泉、木制冲浪板
S26E11 Vibrating Mining Screens; Whoopie Pies; Utility Poles; Roller Conveyors 振动采矿筛; 百日咳派; 电线杆; 滚筒输送机
本集看点:电线杆也内卷;
S26E12 Exercise Bikes; Cornish Pasties; Pasta Makers; Slate Products 健身车; 康沃尔馅饼; 面食制造商; 板岩产品
S26E13 Channel Signs, Wetsuits, and Aluminum Aircraft 航道标志;潜水服;铝制飞机
本季资源链接:
magnet:?xt=urn:btih:85892a96e09b0d9f596d98bcd450aeb870a6af3d&dn
第二十七季推出时间为2016-05-19至2016-08-15
S27E01 CNC Assembly Machines; Lemon Tarts; Miniature War Figures 数控组装机; 柠檬馅饼; 微型战争人物
S27E02 Chemical Tank Pressure Vents; Candy Wafers; Food Trucks; Traditional Ropes 化学品罐压力通风口; 糖果晶圆; 食品卡车; 传统绳索
S27E03 Graphene; Worlds Smallest Car; Force Testers; Composite Cans 石墨烯; 世界上最小的汽车; 力测试仪; 复合罐
本集看点:单层的石墨烯是如何分离出来的;
S27E04 LED tubes; chocolate peanut butter bars; robotic medication dispensers. LED灯管;巧克力花生酱棒;机器人配药器
S27E05 Commercial drones; aquarium fish; runway cleaners. 商用无人机; 观赏鱼; 跑道清洁工
S27E06 Wooden Matches, Tillage Machines, Telescopic Gangways 木火柴、耕地机、伸缩式舷梯
S27E07 Mosquito Coils, Solar-Assist Tricycles, Palm Oil, Fiberglass Chopper Guns 蚊香、太阳能辅助三轮车、棕榈油、玻璃纤维斩波枪
S27E08 Wood Toys, Retro Toasters, Laboratory Furnaces, Aerogel 木制玩具、复古烤面包机、实验室炉、气凝胶
S27E09 Combination Squares, Farmed Shrimp, Ball Valves and String Trimmers 组合方形、养殖虾、球阀和切线器
S27E10 Chinese-style Furniture, Electrical Switches, Thai Fish Sauce, Cappers 中式家具、电器开关、泰式鱼露、压盖机
S27E11 Mortars and pestles; bowling lane conditioners; crematories 研钵和研杵; 保龄球道调节器; 火葬场
S27E12 Race Car Oil Tanks; Plaster Mouldings; Lemongrass Oil 赛车油箱; 石膏线条; 柠檬草油
S27E13 Coconut Charcoal; Dial Indicators; Wet Downdraft Tables; Bassoon Reeds 椰子炭; 表盘指示器; 湿式下吸台; 巴松管簧片
本季资源链接:
magnet:?xt=urn:btih:5289719d3944f98f2c2d425cd79b0487aec36fc7&dn
第二十八季推出时间为2016-08-22至2016-11-03
S28E01 Classic Car Gauges; Chocolate Marble Cake; Ghillie Kettles 经典汽车仪表; 巧克力大理石蛋糕; 吉利水壶
S28E02 Pasta Dies; Blueberries; Composting Toilets; Surge Arresters 面食模具; 蓝莓; 堆肥厕所; 避雷器
S28E03 Angle Grinders; Berry Baskets; Omnidirectional Speakers 角磨机; 浆果篮; 全向扬声器
S28E04 Cartridge Blades; Chocolate Banana Loaves; Vending 墨盒刀片; 巧克力香蕉面包; 自动售货机
S28E05 Ultra-Thin Glass; Pallet Dismantlers; Cupcakes; Stainless Steel 超薄玻璃; 托盘拆卸器; 纸杯蛋糕; 不锈钢
本集看点: 溢流熔融法制作的柔性超薄玻璃(应该是康宁);
S28E06 Potash; Leather Bracelets; Wild Rice; Hex Key L Wrenches 钾肥; 皮革手链; 野米; 六角扳手 L
S28E07 Nail Files; Birch Canoes; Boat Hardtops; High Voltage Circuit 指甲锉; 桦木独木舟; 船硬顶; 高压电路
S28E08 Macarons; Pine Needle Baskets; Micrometers 马卡龙; 松针篮; 千分尺
S28E09 Endoscopes; Megaphones; Uranium 内窥镜; 扩音器; 铀
S28E10 Hollow Disk Pumps; Palm Sugar; Yachts 空心圆盘泵; 棕榈糖; 游艇
S28E11 Abalone Collagen; Digital-to-Analog Converters; Embosssed 鲍鱼胶原蛋白; 数模转换器; 压花
S28E12 Thai Barbecues; Diving Masks & Fins; Bassoons 泰式烧烤; 潜水面罩和脚蹼; 巴松管
S28E13 Wooden Utensils; Transport Refrigeration Units; Moccasins 木制餐具; 运输制冷装置; 莫卡辛鞋
本季资源链接:
magnet:?xt=urn:btih:6b3298e03c0e32ede5bc1b81e13a315adae86528&dn
第二十九季推出时间为2017-06-22至2017-09-24
S29E01 Skateboard Wheels; Baklava & Galaktoboureko; CO2 滑板轮;千层酥皮奶冻玉米糕 ;二氧化碳
S29E02 Nuno Felt; Drum Crushers; Kimchi; Parquet Floors 努诺毡;鼓式破碎机;泡菜;镶木地板
S29E03 Wood Watches; Steel Bicycles; Raw Pet Food; Replica Police 木表; 钢制自行车; 生宠物食品; 复制警察
S29E04 Thermoplastic Fire Helmets; Basketry Sculptures; Coffee 热塑性消防头盔; 篮子雕塑; 咖啡
S29E05 Office Chairs; Vinobrew; Reconditioned Sander Drums 办公椅; 酒酿; 翻新砂光鼓
S29E06 Fireplace Bellows; Calissons; Diving Watercraft 壁炉波纹管; 卡利松; 潜水艇
S29E07 Artist Brushes; DEF Tank Heaters; Game Tables; Art Glass 艺术家画笔; DEF 储罐加热器; 游戏桌; 艺术玻璃
S29E08 Flying Water Bikes; Throttle Position Sensors; Cinnamon 飞行水上自行车; 油门位置传感器; 肉桂
S29E09 Foosball Tables; Marseille Soap; Laguiole Pocket Knives 桌上足球桌; 马赛皂; 拉吉奥小折刀
S29E10 Berets; Pastis; Stationary Bikes 贝雷帽; 意大利面食; 固定自行车
S29E11 Bistro Sets; Letterpress Printing; Bamboo Lights; Asphalt 小酒馆套餐; 凸版印刷; 竹灯; 沥青压车
S29E12 Technological Corks; Zinc Gutters; Traditional Ham; Chisteras 技术软木塞; 锌天沟; 传统火腿; 奇斯特拉斯游戏手臂
S29E13 Pentanque Ball; Biologic Medicines; Asphalt Pavers; Basques 滚球; 生物药物; 沥青摊铺机; 巴斯克鞋
本期看点:空心半铁球焊接,再两步CNC制作出完美球形;
本季资源链接:
magnet:?xt=urn:btih:971ec4ef1ce447538e18d1305ec2f8103daee29d&dn
第三十季推出时间为 2017-09-11至2017-12-18
S30E01 Leather Basketballs; Flood Gates; Wood Panel Canvases; Shoelaces 皮革篮球; 防洪闸; 木板画布; 鞋带
S30E02 Power Steering Pumps; Asian Bowl Meals; Walking Canes 动力转向泵; 亚洲碗餐; 手杖
S30E03 Plant Oil Extractors; Custom Chandeliers; Power Trainers; Coffee Pods 植物油提取器; 定制吊灯; 力量训练器; 咖啡包
S30E04 Witness Samples; Pressure Washers; Bee Hives; Cast Iron Cookers 见证样品; 压力垫圈; 蜂箱; 铸铁炊具
S30E05 Leather Sculptures; Travel Hot Plates; Ochre; Hurdy Gurdies 皮革雕塑; 旅行热板; 赭石;赫迪·古尔迪斯
S30E06 Spiral Stairs; Pita Bread; Exhaust Headers; Molded Limestone Artwork 螺旋楼梯; 皮塔饼; 排气集管; 模压石灰石艺术品
S30E07 Recycled Skateboard Guitars; Solar Street Lights; Dolls 回收的滑板吉他; 太阳能路灯; 娃娃
S30E08 Glass Sculptures; Racing Pulley Systems; Inductors; Medicine Balls 玻璃雕塑; 赛车滑轮系统; 电感器; 药丸
S30E09 Fish Rubbings; Clay Shooting Machines; Almonds; High-End Motorcycles 鱼拓片; 粘土射击机; 杏仁; 高端摩托车
S30E10 Throttle Bodies; Limestone Fireplace Mantels; Candied Fruit & Fruit Jellies; Linen Ukulele 节气门体; 石灰石壁炉架; 蜜饯和果冻; 亚麻尤克里里
S30E11 Rubber Balls; Motion Chairs; Montreal Smoked Meat; Motorized Scooters 橡胶球; 运动椅; 蒙特利尔熏肉; 电动滑板车
S30E12 Aerospace Fasteners; Cactus Pear Puree; Lab Reactors 航空紧固件; 仙人掌梨泥; 实验室反应器
S30E13 Wall Beds; Sundae Cups; Digital Paintings; Badminton Rackets 壁床; 圣代杯; 数字绘画; 羽毛球拍
本季资源链接:
magnet:?xt=urn:btih:cc865a515b621051b71e833bd62e466fc45949d3&dn
2 notes · View notes
gooferdusted · 4 years
Note
This isn’t like a spicy hot take but jack Kline So has a zoo zoo pet, you know those little hamsters on wheels that make noises from like 2010
uh first of all its ZHUZHU pets, smh, and also holy fucking shit I feel like I was just shot back to my 4th grade body.
but yeah no ur right, he gets this shit from a goodwill (or a dumpster) and races it around the bunker. he also lost the tiny on that goes in the sidecar and dean found it under the fridge and thought it was real
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30 notes · View notes
redwoodwrites · 4 years
Text
Relativity Falls Season 1 Episode 1: Tourist Trap
AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12579416/chapters/28652568
Next
A/N:Welcome, one and all, to Relativity Falls! Here you will find the adventures of a certain dynamic duo as they spend the summer at their Grauntie Mabel's utterly tacky tourist trap. Updates will be every Friday, and after each episode there will be a “Short”, a much shorter original fanfiction which occurs in the time between the episodes. See you in a few days, and enjoy All Hallow's Eve! Warning: *This fanfiction may trigger feels, warm fuzzies, and certain amounts of deja vu. *May cause minor amounts of time travel (forward only) *Author does not claim responsibility for any sightings of ghosts, triangles, or woodpeckers that may or may not occur during or after the reading of this text.  Enjoy!
“AAAAAAAH!”
The golf cart plunged over a cliff, punched straight through a billboard, and landed with a squeal on the road below. The two boys in the cart held on for dear life.
“WE'RE GONNA DIE WE'RE GONNA DIE WE'RE GONNA DIE!” Stanley screamed.
Ford jerked the wheel, fishtailing around a hairpin turn. “Hold on!”
The ground shook with an ominous thumping.
Stanley twisted around, gripping the seat's back so hard his knuckles went white. “Floor it, Ford, it's gaining on us!”
A huge monster rose behind them, throwing a massive shadow over the road. The thing was over thirty feet tall, a crazy conglomeration of glaring eyes, sharp teeth, and bright red hats.
It ripped up a redwood as easily as a dandelion, took aim, and threw. Ford looked up and gasped as the tree soared right over their heads, landing so hard it bounced on the road in front of them.
“Look out!”
Ford jerked the wheel. The golf cart careened, tipping left, then right, skidding crazily. The tree's huge trunk loomed like a brick wall. They braced themselves against the dash and screamed.
A few days earlier...
The bus pulled away from the stop sign, leaving Ford and his brother standing alone on the sidewalk. Stanley had his sleeves rolled up, revealing the superhero-themed band aids on his arms, and the suitcase sitting next to him was covered with half-chewed gum.
Ford was wearing his signature aviator jacket, his notebook sticking out of the back pocket of his jeans. His suitcase was covered with stickers of ghosts and monsters.
Ford shoved his hands in his jacket pockets, looking around expectantly. The town's main road was lined with a few stores, most of them restaurants, plus some arcades, a couple of hardware stores, and a grocery store. Aside from a few random pedestrians, the street was empty.
“She does know we're coming, right?” he asked anxiously.
“Dude, who cares?” Stanley put a foot on his suitcase and struck a heroic pose, shading his eyes like an explorer in a new land. He peered at the redwoods that surrounded the town. “Did you even see this place? It's got nothing but forest for miles! It's the perfectly place for buried treasure!”
Ford rolled his eyes, grinning. “Stanley, we don't have treasure yet.”
“Not yet we don't, but I'll bet you anything we'll find it!” Just then Stan's stomach rumbled. He looked down at it. “Right. First things first. Food time!”
Ford opened his mouth to say they should wait to be picked up, but his stomach cut him off. It had been an eight-hour bus ride and he was seriously hungry. He looked around.
“I think I saw a diner around here...”
“There!” Stanley pointed. There was a restaurant set back against the woods, with a flickering neon sign that read Greasy's Diner.
“Sounds...greasy. We don't even have any money,” Ford pointed out. “You spent our food allowance buying those dumb scratch cards. And all they had on 'em were football players with omelets.”
Stanley shrugged cheerfully. “Don't worry, Sixer, the puppy-dog face works every time! Race you to the door!” He ran into the street.
There was a roar and a screech of tires. Ford yelled. Stanley jumped back, narrowly avoiding a bright purple motorcycle. Stan lay on the ground, shaking a little, and Ford ran to help him up. He glared at the driver.
“Hey, watch where you're going!” he growled.
The rider, a heavy-set woman in a blue blazer and pink skirt, revved the engine. “'Scuse you,” the lady grumped, her voice muffled. “What were ya tryin' to do, kid? That is not how you paint the town red.”
“Guh-guh-guh,” Stanley stammered.
The rider paused, then flicked up the visor. She blinked. “Stanley?”
He stared at her. “Huh?”
“It is you!” She whipped off the helmet. Her gray hair was pulled back in a messy bun, and she had a heart-shaped face with light green eyes that glowed with warmth. “And you must be Stanford!” she said to Ford. “You two have grown so much I didn't even recognize you!”
The twins gaped.
“Grauntie Mabel?” Ford finally asked.
“The one and only! Hop aboard, kids, we got a lot of work to do at the Shack!”
They looked at the bike. It wasn't just purple. It was glittery purple, with a chrome finish and a matching side car so rusted it looked ready to disintegrate on the spot.
“Um, there's just one seat,” Ford said.
“Meh, you're each, like, half of an adult! So together you'll be fine!”
A slow grin spread across Stanley's face. “She's got you there, Sixer!” He scrambled to his feet. “So you're really Grauntie Mabel? I don't remember you being so fat.”
“And I don't remember you being so ugly,” she said cheerfully. “Now grab your gear and get in, time is money!”
They hauled their suitcases into the sidecar. It was so small they had to sit with their knees pressed to their chest and they couldn't even take a deep breath. She tossed them a couple of helmets and then took off with a roar, tearing down the quiet road at a decidedly illegal speed.
The bike's engine was too loud for talking, but the town had sights enough to keep them occupied. There was a church, a deserted convenience store, a junkyard, and a gigantic mall. Ford caught his brother staring at the mall, mouthing “babes” with a familiar gleam in his eye. Ford laughed.
The buildings petered out as they turned onto Gopher Road. The forest, which was always in the background of the town, now loomed up around them. The redwoods spiced the air with a sharp, earthy smell. Beams of sunlight sliced the forest with bars of yellow light. Motes of dust and quick-winged birds darted through the canopy, and wind rustled the treetops, which were high enough to touch the clouds.
But the trees grew so thick that they cast deep shadows starting just a few feet from the road. More than once Ford thought he saw movement in those shadows – things that scuttled and creeped and seemed to be watching them as they passed. He shivered.
The sudden appearance of the clearing drove the thought from his mind. Mostly because of what was in the clearing.
A two-story, steeple-roofed cabin stood in the middle of the lawn, completely covered in hot pink glitter, right up to the weathervane (which, instead of the cardinal directions, had the letters W, H, A, and T). Under the gaudy sparkles, he could make out a large sign reading “MYSTERY SHACK” positioned on the roof, with a dozen smaller advertisements above the front and side entrances. An enormous pig lounged on the front porch.  A sign next to it read, 'Picture With Pig - $50!' A Native American totem pole was rose a few yards away, but it was hard to tell what the animals were, since all of them were wearing sweaters of various neon colors.
“Um, wow,” Stan said dubiously, as soon as the engine died.
“Don't mind the glitter,” Mabel said cheerfully. “The girls and I just went a little nuts on our last sleepover.”
“Sleepover?” Stanley muttered to Ford. “But she's, like, grandma-age.”
They got out of the sidecar, grabbed their suitcases, and followed their great-aunt. The pig opened one eye and oinked at them, but otherwise didn't move.
The inside, at least, was less sparkly. They'd entered through the Mystery Shack's Gift Shop. Wood floors, wood walls, and a wood ceiling gave off a definite 'cabin' vibe. Most of the walls were covered in overpriced merchandise and taxidermy monstrosities. There were some clothing racks on the right, next to some tables loaded with snow globes and Grauntie Mabel bobbleheads. The back wall had a vending machine and two doorways, one marked “Employees Only” and the other marked “Museum”. The cash register was on their left, under a stuffed bear head with a narwhal horn glued to its brow. A red-haired teenager in a flannel shirt sat behind the register, his face jammed into a Manly Muscles magazine.
Their great-aunt stood in the center of the shop, legs planted wide and hands at her hips. “Alright, kids, welcome to the Mystery Shack!” she said, gesturing grandly. “Meet our first underpaid employee: Flannel Man!”
“It's 'Boyish Dan',” the teen grunted, without glancing up.
“I'll call you that when you stop reading at work!” Mabel sang. “Flannel Man, meet my great-nephews...my grephews?...Stanley and Stanford Pines!”
“Just 'Ford,'” Ford said, at the same time Stan said, “Just 'Stan'.”
“We also have a mechanic around here somewhere,” Mabel told them. “She's usually fixing things, or breaking them, or both at the same time...oh, Maria! Perfect timing!”
The Employees Only door opened, and a woman in her early twenties stepped through. She wore a faded green hat over her curly dark brown hair, a size-XXXL Mystery Shack shirt, and khaki shorts. One hand gripped a tool box, and the other held a broom.
Grauntie Mabel smiled. “Ria, this is Stan and Ford! My grephews! I told you they'd be coming today.”
“Nice to meet you,” Ria said politely. “Mrs. Pines, I fixed the pipes, but I might've broken the copy machine.”
“Oh, that wasn't you, it's been broken for ages,” Mabel assured her. “Anyway, you two boys go throw your stuff in the attic, and then come back down. I've got a tour bus coming at eleven hundred sharp and I need this place to look spic 'n' span!”
“Wait-wait-wait,” Stan said quickly, holding up his hands. “You mean we're gonna do chores?! But we're on summer vacation!”
Their great-aunt pulled two orange coveralls from behind her back. They had black letters on the front reading “Unpaid Intern #1” and “Unpaid Intern #2” on them in big black letters. She grinned mischievously.
“Not anymore! Now get to work, suckers!”
Stanley managed to talk Grauntie Mabel out of the overalls, but she wasn't kidding about making them work. In the first two days of their stay, they scrubbed the Shack from roof to lawn, swept the house, cleaned out the fridge (Ford swore that was actual glitter in that chicken casserole), and reorganized practically the entire Gift Shop. The only thing they didn't clean was the vending machine, which Mabel declared off-limits after she caught Stan stealing twelve candy bars at a time. They'd even had to re-sew some of the taxidermic monstrosities in the Museum.
The exhibits in there drove Ford crazy. It was all he could do not to shout out corrections when she guided tourists through, calling jackalopes “Antelabbits” and introducing them to bizarre creatures like the “Centaurtaur.” Ford was pretty sure she'd just made that up.
Stan, however, loved it. There was at least one hot babe per bus, and he was determined to make a move on every single one.
Ford watched his brother approach a blue-eyed brunette who was browsing through the shirt rack.
“Do you know a good dentist?” Stan asked, leaning casually on the rack and grinning. “'Cuz you're so sweet I'm gonna get cavities.”
She leaned away from him. “Um, ew.”
Stan didn't give up. “So do you have a name, or should I just call you 'mine'?”
“You can call a lawyer, 'cuz I'm about to sue for harassment,” she snapped, and stalked out of the shop.
This had happened so many times that Stanley didn't even look fazed. He scoffed, turned to the window, and eyed the next busload of tourists shuffling around the lawn.
“Welp,” he said, “one babe down, thirteen to go!”
Ford rolled his eyes. “Stan, some of those girls are like, Mom's age.” He wiped off a jar of eyeballs (which he was convinced watched him when he wasn't looking). “I know you're getting all girl-crazy, but could you turn it down a notch?”
“Not until I get a girlfriend,” Stan said with determination. “All those girls in Jersey were stupid-heads. Now that we're here, I'm going to find the perfect girl to date me.”
“That doesn't mean flirting with every girl you see. Remember when you hit on that lady with a pet turtle? She looked ten years older than you!”
“So I have a thing for older women.” Stan threw one arm around his brother. “Come on, Sixer, I need a wingman! We can both land a hot girl this summer!”
Ford glanced reflexively at his hands, but Stan didn't notice.
“Besides,” he went on, “I got a good feeling about this summer! I wouldn't be surprised if the girl of my dreams walked through that door right now!”
The second Stan pointed to the front door, Grauntie Mabel walked through it and belched up a handful of glitter.
“Ugh, eating actual glitter, not good, ow,” she grumbled.
“Ew, why?!” Stan yelped. Ford laughed.
“Alright, people,” Mabel announced, “I need someone to go hammer these signs in the spooky part of the forest!”
“Not it!” Stan yelled.
“Not it!” Ford echoed.
“Uh, also not it!” Ria called, nailing up a new shelf on the wall.
“No worries, Ria. Flannel Man, I need you to put up these signs for me, please!”
He glanced up. “That's a left-handed hammer. I only use my right hand! The manly hand!” He leaped to his feet. “I'm gonna go make a right-handed hammer right now! HYAAAH!” He ran out the door.
“Oh, not again,” Mabel muttered. “Alright, let's make it eenie, meenie, miney...you.” She pointed to Ford.
He flinched. “What? But Grauntie Mabel, whenever I'm in those woods I feel like I'm being watched.”
“I've been in those woods a hundred times, kiddo. How many times do I have to tell you there's nothing scary in there?”
“Except maybe bears,” Stan added.
“Why don't you do it?” Ford demanded, looking at Stan. “You're the one who wanted to hunt for buried treasure!”
“Nope, she picked you, sucker! See ya!” He dashed out the door after Boyish Dan.
“But it's creepy!” Ford insisted. “I'm telling you, there's something weird about this town. Look – yesterday my mosquito bites spelled out 'BEWARE'!” He pulled up his sleeve to show Mabel.
She peered at it. “First, that says 'BEWARB.' Second, there's no such thing as the supernatural. And third, the longer you wait, the darker it'll get, so hop to it!” She dumped the signs into his arms and moved past him to handle the tourists.
“This is so not fair,” Ford grumbled, hammering up another sign. This deep into the forest, the thick trees cast an eerie shadow over everything. Even the sky looked tombstone gray. “Why doesn't anyone believe me when it comes to the supernatural? I know something's not right here...”
Clang.
Ford blinked. The tree he'd just hammered sounded...metallic. He leaned closer and tapped it again with the hammer.
Clang, clang.
“...huh.”
He ran his fingers over the bark, leaving trails through the dust and dirt. His fingers caught on something and he pulled.
A portion of the tree trunk swung open.
There was a rectangular compartment lined with metal recessed into the tree. Centered on the bottom was some kind of control box, with a dusty screen, a few weird buttons, and a couple of levers. With growing fascination, Ford leaned forward, tapping the buttons and toggling one of the levers.
WHIIRRRR!
Ford spun around. A section of the grass had retracted, revealing another compartment set into the ground.
Grauntie Mabel's pig, which had apparently followed him out here with surprising stealth, gave a startled oink and waddled quickly away.
Ford hurried over.
The compartment was full of cobwebs, millipedes, beetles – and one very old, very filthy book, covered in layers of dirt and dust. Ford picked it up carefully and blew the dust away.
The book was bound in deep blue leather, the corners reinforced with a dull bronze-colored metal. In the middle of the cover was a gold pine tree with the number “3” written on it, shimmering against the blue background. The book looked very old, and very strange, like an ancient tome from some kind of secret society.
“Whoa,” he breathed. He laid it carefully on the grass. His head was spinning with questions. Who would hide a book way out here, in such an elaborate hiding spot? Who built the mechanisms? What amazing secrets were written on these very pages?
He opened the book.
The inside cover had an owner's label, but the name had been ripped off. There was a monocle attached to the binding. He picked it up for a moment, weighing it in his hand, before he turned the page and began reading aloud.
“'It's hard to believe it's been six years since I began studying the strange and wondrous secrets of Gravity Falls, Oregon.'”
Secrets? Ford was right – there was something going on in Gravity Falls!
He flipped eagerly through the pages. They were filled with illustrations of strange beasts – eyebats, gnomes, gremloblins, with notes taken in precise cursive. There were also several lines of strange symbols and numbers, obviously some kind of code.
“What is all this?” Ford whispered.
He stopped flipping the pages and started to read again. A bold subtitle had caught his eye: Trust no one.
“'Unfortunately, my suspicions have been confirmed. I'm being watched. I must hide this journal before he finds it. Remember, in Gravity Falls, there is no one you can trust!'” He picked up the book and stared at the words. “No one you can trust...”
“HELLO!”
“GAH!” Ford jumped and nearly dropped the book.
Stan sat on the log behind him, grinning from ear to ear. “I swear, Sixer, I shoulda pretended to be a bear. Betcha woulda peed your pants! Hey –” He caught sight of the book in Ford's hands. “Whatcha readin' there, some nerd thing?”
“Uh – uhhh, it's nothing!” Ford said, hiding the book under one arm.
“'Uhhh, it's nothing!'” Stanley mimicked, laughing again. “What, are you actually not gonna show me?”
Ford felt a slight tugging on his book. Grauntie Mabel's stealth pig had come back and was chewing the cover.
He tugged it away. “Let's go somewhere private.”
Stan raised an eyebrow. “We're in the middle of the forest, bro,” he pointed out. But he followed Ford back to the Shack.
Since the pig wasn't allowed in the house, Ford went to the Shack's living room to show Stan the journal. There was a tour bus out front, so he figured their great-aunt would be busy for a while. He didn't really want to share the journal with her. She didn't believe in the supernatural, anyway.
“Ok, so what's the big thing with some dumb book?” Stan asked impatiently, jumping onto their Grauntie's orange chair.
He took the book out of his jacket, smiling down at it. “It's amazing – Grauntie Mabel said there's no such thing as the supernatural, but according to this book, Gravity Falls has a secret dark side.”
“Whoa, shut up!”
“And get this! After a certain point, the pages just – stop, like the guy who was writing it mysteriously disappeared!” He held up the blank pages to show his brother.
“Do you think he was eaten by one of those monsters?” Stan asked.
“Hey – maybe!” Ford said. He hadn't thought of that. “But he hid it first, so I don't think he got eaten. Plus, the author says he was being watched, so I don't think it was a random monster.” He started pacing as he talked. “If he knew he was being watched, did he take steps to protect himself? Is the author still around somewhere? Could he be someone in town? There are some coded parts of the journal in here. I bet if I could crack them, I could figure out what happened, maybe who the author really is!”
Stanley grinned at him. “If anybody can do it, it's you! You're the smartest guy I know!”
Ding dong.
Ford looked up. “Who's that?”
His brother grinned. “Welp, time to spill the beans!” He reached over and flicked an empty can of beans sitting on Mabel's stack of romance novels. The can tipped over. “Haha, beans. This guy's got a date with destiny!”
Ford raised his eyebrows. “Let me get this straight. In the thirty minutes I've been gone, you've already managed to find a girlfriend?”
“Well, not exactly.” Stan ran off to answer the door. Ford hopped up on the chair and sat down to read.
Grauntie Mabel walked in. “Whatcha readin' there, kiddo?” she asked.
He jumped. “Oh – uh, uh –” Ford hid the book behind him and grabbed a novel from the stack. “Just reading, um...Wolf Man, Big Chest?”
“That's a good series,” she commented, taking a swig of Pit Cola.
“Alright, family!” Stan announced, marching proudly into the room. “Say hello to my new buddy, Norman!”
A slouching, black-hoodied teenager shuffled into the room. He wore dark pants and a black hoodie, all covered with bits of dirt and grass, with an actual tree root sticking out of his hood. When he turned to greet them, his face was paper-white, and his eyes were round and bloodshot.
He looked at them. “'Sup.”
“Hey,” Ford said, just as Mabel said, “Hi there!”
“We met at the cemetery,” Stan said. “He hangs out there all the time. Isn't that cool?”
“Um, are you bleeding, Norman?” Ford asked, pointing to something red and drippy on Norman's chin.
Norman's eyes darted nervously. “It's jam,” he rasped.
“Anyway, we're going treasure-hunting!” Stan declared. “You wanna come, Ford?”
The journal pressed into Ford's back. “Um...maybe later,” he said.
“Aw, come on! We were gonna go hunt for treasure! You know you're gonna love it.”
“No thanks,” Ford said, a little more firmly. “I've got...summer reading to do.”
“Oh...” Stan looked dubiously t the book's hiding place. “Fine. Come on, Norman!” he yelled, racing for the door. “Last one out's a rotten egg!”
Norman raised a hand in farewell, walked into a wall, and stumbled after Stan.
Ford got up from the chair, hiding the journal in his jacket, and went to the window. He frowned, watching them leave. “Did Norman seem...normal, to you?” he asked Grauntie Mabel. But he wasn't really expecting an answer. She'd already started rereading that lame romance novel.
He touched the journal, thinking hard. If there was something supernatural about Norman, maybe it could give him some clues.
Half of the upstairs attic was taken up by his and Stan's bedroom. The other half was empty, utterly devoid of furniture with the exception of a single bay window, with stained red glass decorated with a triangular design. Ford sat on the cushioned seat, scooting close to the window to make the most of the light.
He flipped through the book until he found something that caught his eye. It was a hunched figure with its limbs held out stiffly, bearing an uncanny resemblance to Norman.
He started to read. “'Known for their pale skin and bad attitude, these monsters are commonly mistaken for teenagers. Beware of Gravity Falls' notorious –’” he gasped. “ZOMBIE?!”
Grauntie Mabel looked up from the bathroom mirror.
“What was that? 'Crombie'?” she wondered. “No, maybe it was chompy. Or maybe hungry. Hey, I should finish off that Chicken-Glitter Casserole!”
Ford jumped up to a kneeling position and pressed against the glass. There! Stanley was sitting on the picnic table, concentrating on a piece of paper spread out before him. Norman was stalking towards him, arms outstretched, grunting with every step. Stanley was so focused that he was utterly oblivious to the danger.
“Oh no – Stanley!” Ford shouted, but his brother couldn't hear him.
Norman came closer. He loomed over Stanley.
He grabbed him –
Ford yelled –
And Norman pulled back, a miner's helmet on Stan's head. Stanley turned around, grinning and feeling his new hat.
“Is this a real miner's helmet?!” he asked, reaching up to flick the light. It blinked on and off, visible even in the bright sunshine. “Wow! Where did you get this? It's so cool!”
Ford slumped with relief, watching for a few seconds longer as the two of them started pointing to stuff on the paper. From here, it looked like it was some kind of map.
He drew back, shutting the book and sticking it under his arm. For all he knew, the teen was just another emo teenager. But he couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right. He held the journal more tightly.
“Is Norman really a zombie,” he muttered, “or am I just going nuts?”
“It's a dilemma, to be sure.”
Ford jumped and spun around. Ria was on a step stool, changing the bulb in the attic's ceiling lamp. Ford hadn't even heard her come in.
He hesitated, but he needed to think this through with someone. “Ria, you've seen Norman, right?” he asked. “He's gotta be a zombie!”
“Hmm. How many brains have you seen him eat?” she asked politely.
He sighed. “Zero.”
She stepped off the stool, wiping the dust from her hands. “Don't fret, chiquito. I do believe you. There are many strange things that happen in this town. The florist, for example. I am almost certain that he is a satyr.”
Ford knew who she was talking about. The florist's shoes made weird clopping noises, he always wore a hat even indoors, and he had flower petals everywhere – even between his teeth.
“But you must have evidence,” Ria continued. “Otherwise, people will simply believe that you are one piece shy of a chess set.”
“I guess you're right,” Ford conceded.
She nodded sagely. “Wisdom is both a blessing and a curse.”
Grauntie Mabel's voice called up to them. “Ria! The portable toilets are clogged again!”
Ria straightened her hat. “I must get the special vacuum.” She held the step stool like a shield and marched out of the room.
Ford looked after her, thinking hard. Ria was right. He'd need some actual proof that Norman was a zombie...hadn't he seen a camera left in the Lost 'N' Found box in the Gift Shop? Grauntie Mabel always waited until the end of the day, then emptied the box, stuck price tags on everything, and resold it as “haunted merchandise”. He could borrow the camera and return it later for her to sell. If he followed Norman around, he'd be able to film actual proof that Norman really was a zombie.
A slow smile spread over his face. He'd be a hero – he could protect his brother, prove the existence of the supernatural to his great-aunt, maybe even get an article published in the newspaper. This was definitely a good plan.
It was time to collect some evidence!
“Here, let's take this one, too,” Stanley said. He and Norman had gone straight to the closest hardware store and begun stocking up on supplies, using Norman's zipped-up jacket as their shopping cart. He shoved a second flashlight down Norman's collar and stood back to admire the effect. With all the stuff they'd packed in, the jacket bulged in unlikely places, but they could just say he'd broken both arms or something. “Perfect,” he decided. “Man, how do you fit all that stuff in there?”
Norman eyed the next item doubtfully. Stanley was holding a shovel almost as tall as himself – three and a half feet long with a wide, pointy steel blade. “Uh, I don't know about the shovel...”
“Well I'm not paying for a perfectly stealable shovel. Are you?” Stanley twirled it like a baton. “Won't we need two of these?”
Norman grunted. “You dig it up, you get 80% of the gold.”
“Well hot dog! You got yourself a deal!” Stanley practically danced with glee – then remembered not to do that. Ford was the only one who didn't laugh when he danced.
Thinking of Ford made his chest twinge. If his brother hadn't found that stupid book with its stupid mysteries, maybe they'd be doing this together...
He gave himself a good mental shake. So what? He and Norman would dig up the gold using the treasure map they'd found, and they'd get filthy rich and Ford would be incredibly jealous, and then Stan could use the gold to buy all the fancy monster-hunting equipment Ford wanted and they'd go exploring the forest together for the rest of their natural lives. In a limo. In two limos!
“C'mon, c'mon, let's get out of here!” Stanley whispered excitedly. “We got some gold to find!”
They picked the lock on the Emergency Exit door and snuck out. Norman insisted they pick up provisions at “the place with ingredients for pie”, which Stan guessed meant the grocery store. But first they decided to dump their equipment at the cemetery. There was a tombstone with a winged angel pointing at something, and her wings were big enough to hide their stuff behind.
Stan threw the shovel in the dirt like a harpoon. A pile of blankets was already stacked there, plus a wagon loaded with a pickaxe and a coil of rope from their previous tool heist.
“Dude, you're like, an expert at this,” Stan said. “By the end of the day, we're gonna be filthy ri–”
“WAGH!”
Stan turned right as Norman did a face-plant in an open grave, spraying him with dirt and gravel. After a second, Norman crawled his way to the surface. Stan burst out laughing.
“Oh, man, that was hilarious!” he gasped, bent double from laughing so hard.
Norman laughed along with him. Stan knelt by the edge of the grave. “Dude, you are covered in dirt. You look like a zombie! Wait – it's like a zombie swimming pool! Swim through the dirt!” He started chanting. “Swim through the dirt! Swim through the dirt!”
Norman grunted and tried to pull himself out. Tools fell out of his jacket and pants. Stan looked down at the grave in dismay.
“Aw, man, you dumped it all.”
Norman handed him the shovel. “Here. Practice.”
“Uh, you're the one who dumped it.”
“I'm...like...not crawling back into an open grave.”
Stan scoffed. “Chicken.” He jumped in feet-first. The dirt was all soft on top, soft enough to move with his hands, so digging was no problem. He brought up their flashlights, thermoses, and a waterproof watch before he noticed Norman watching him. There was a hungry kind of look in his eyes.
“Um...dude. You're freaking me out.”
“Sorry. You're really good at digging.”
“Whatever. Get the stuff and pull me out, would you?”
Norman put a hand down, but when Stan went to grab it, he somehow lost his grip and went tumbling back in the grave. He banged the shovel on his knee.
“Ow!”
“You okay?”
“Ugh...” Stan rubbed the back of his head. “I swear I'm gonna have, like, three concussions and amnesia by the time this summer's over. Get a better grip this time, okay?”
Norman helped him out of the grave and they piled all their stuff in the wagon. By that point, they both looked so filthy that Stan knew they'd never make it in and out of the grocery store without getting caught. You had to look nice and respectable for people's eyes to glaze over you, and somehow grave dirt just wasn't the fashion style of the season.
Fashion style? Ew! Grauntie Mae's rubbing off on me. Definitely time for some manly gold-digging.
Aaand that sounded wrong.
“Let's just get back to the Shack,” Stan said angrily, scowling at the wagon. “You pull, I'll push. We can just grab some stuff from the kitchen and fill up our thermoses there.”
Ford paced the living room angrily, the camera in his hands, disgusted with the wasted day. He'd followed Stan around for the past five hours, and while he'd gotten plenty of evidence of Stan's sticky fingers, there was absolutely nothing to suggest that Norman was anything other than a very awkward teenager.
He heard Stanley slam the back door. It was easy to tell who it was, since he grumbled under his breath the whole way up the stairs. Ford headed up as well and entered their bedroom just as Stanley was putting on a fresh shirt.
“Stanley!” Ford said. “We've gotta talk about Norman.”
“Isn't he the coolest?” Stan asked. He held up his right forearm and pointed. “Check out this neat scar I got!”
“Gah!” Ford stared, alarmed. The scar was at least a foot long and bright pink, the skin around it mottled and purple.
“Haha! Gullible.” Stanley put his arm down and rubbed it. “It's just some paint, see? We painted the wagon we're using. I called it 'The Stanleymobile!'”
Right. Ford had seen Stan and Norman outside earlier, messing around with paint and a rickety-looking wagon. They'd tried to use a leaf blower to make it dry faster and ended up having a sword fight with the blower and a shovel.
Stanley smiled. “That was fun, Sixer, you shoulda joined us!”
Ford shook his head. “No, Stanley, listen – I'm trying to tell you that Norman is not what he seems!” He pulled out the journal, its gold-leaf pine tree glinting ominously.
Stan thought for a second. “Do you think he could be a werewolf? That would be so awesome!”
“Guess again, Stanley,” Ford said, and flipped quickly through the pages. He held it up dramatically. “Sha-BAM!”
Stan yelled in surprise, then frowned. “Wait, what?”
Ford checked the page. “Oh, oh wait, hang on –” He had flipped it to that page about gnomes, all chubby-cheeked and starry-eyed. He turned the pages back until he found the one on zombies. “Okay, sha-BAM!”
Stan was not impressed. “A zombie? That is not funny, Ford.”
“I'm not joking!” Ford started to pace the room. Why didn't anyone believe him? Not Grauntie Mabel, and now not Stan?! He knew what he was talking about! “Look, it all adds up – the bleeding, the limp... He never blinks! Have you noticed that?”
“Maybe he's blinking when you're blinking,” Stanley said.
“Stanley, remember what the book said?” Ford whispered urgently. “'Trust no one!'”
Stan rolled his eyes. “Well what about me, huh? Why can't you trust me?”
Ford grabbed his brother by the shoulders. “Stanley, he's gonna eat your brain!”
Stanley frowned and pushed his hands away. “Stanford, listen to me. You can join us or not, but Norman and I are going treasure-hunting at five o' clock.” He started marching toward Stanford, who was forced to back up a step at a time. “And we're gonna find an awesome pile of gold,” Stan continued, “and we're gonna spend it however we want, and I'm not gonna let you ruin it with your crazy conspiracies!”
Stan slammed the bedroom door in Ford's face.
Ford sighed and slid to the floor, sitting against the door. “Oh man...what am I gonna do?”
Eventually he pulled himself to his feet and dragged himself downstairs, where he flopped on the yellow armchair. He pulled out the video camera and flipped open the viewing screen, glumly rewinding and fast-forwarding various moments of the day. There wasn't even a shred of proof...
The doorbell rang.
“Coming!” Stan yelled.
Ford glanced over the arm of the chair. He had a pretty good view of the front door. Norman was standing in the entrance, as pale and creepy as ever.
Stanley ran to the door, wearing clean(ish) clothes and his miner's helmet. “How do I look?” Stan asked, adjusting the hat. “Do I look like a real treasure-hunter?”
“Cool,” Norman grunted.
“The map's on the picnic table. Let's grab it and get hunting!” He grabbed Norman's sleeve and yanked him outside. Ford kept watching as they grabbed a wagon loaded with food and tools and started lugging it into the forest.
Ford turned away from the door with a groan. “Ugh, maybe Ria was right. I don't have any real evidence...” He watched a brief clip of Stan teaching Norman how to play cards while they ate stolen candy bars. He thumbed the fast-forward button absently. It reached the part where he'd been spying on the two of them in the cemetery. Ford watched as Norman fell into the grave, then climbed out. Totally creepy, but nothing supernatural about it at all. He sank a little lower in the chair. “I guess I can be kind of paranoid sometimes and...”
On the screen, Norman try to pull Stan out of the grave. Norman pulled and his hand popped off just as Stan slipped, falling back into –
“Wait. WHAT!?”
He rewound it again, watching closely. Just as Norman started to pull Stan out of the grave, Norman's hand fell off his wrist! Norman quickly popped it back on when Stan wasn't looking!
Ford yelled in triumph and actually knocked over the chair.
“I was right!” he shouted, scrambling to climb over the seat. “I was right, I knew it, I was –” He stopped short. His brother was out there right now, in a creepy forest with a zombie who wanted to eat his brains!
“Omigosh, omigosh!” He darted for the door. He had to get help! “Grauntie Mabel, Grauntie Mabel!”
He sprinted around the Shack. His great-aunt was giving a tour to some sweaty-looking tourists. She led them to a rather large rock set atop a thick pole, sitting in front of the Shack.
“And here we have Rock-That-Looks-Like-A-Face Rock,” she said proudly. “'The Rock that Looks like a Face.'”
One of the tourists raised his hand. “Does it look like a rock?” he asked, his accent twanging.
“What?” Mabel frowned at him. “No, it looks like a face.”
“Is it a face?” asked another tourist.
“It's a rock that looks like a face.”
Ford rushed up and tried to get around them, but there was no room. He jumped up and down, waving his arms from the back of the crowd. “Over here! Grauntie Mabel!”
She was too engrossed in her argument with the tourists. “For the fifth time, it's not an actual face!”
Ford ground his teeth in frustration.
Stan wiped the sweat from his forehead, leaving a long streak of black dirt on his face. The hole he'd dug was five feet wide and just as deep, with one side of it slanted so he could go up and down like a ramp. The sun was slowly going down, so half of the hole got some good shade, but the other half was right in the sun's path. Every time he stood on that side he got blinded. Sweat rolled down his face and back, making his shirt stick to him like the wrapper on a pastrami sandwich.
“This is taking forever!” Stan complained. He glared up at Norman. “Why aren't you helping more?”
Norman knelt at the side of the hole and handed him a water bottle. “I am helping. Besides, you're almost there.”
“Where, the center of the earth?” Stan threw down the water bottle and stabbed at the ground with the shovel. “Come on! I've been digging solo this whole time, and there's nothing even here –”
TWANG.
The shovel bounced back in Stan's hand. They both stared at the ground.
Stan's eyes went wide. “Is that...?”
“Grauntie Mabel, Grauntie Mabel!” Ford shouted, but he still couldn't get her attention and he knew time had to be running out!
A sudden movement caught his eye. Boyish Dan was parking the golf cart next to the “Pet the Pig” sign.
“Boyish Dan!” Ford ran over to him. “Dan, I need to borrow the golf cart so I can save my brother from a zombie!”
Dan squinted at him. Then he shrugged and dropped the keys into Ford's hand. “Don't hit pedestrians!” he barked, stalking toward the Gift Shop. Ford smiled with relief. Dan was pretty cool.
He hopped in the cart. It was almost exactly like that bumper car he'd ridden at the fair when he was six. He turned the key, shifted the gear stick, and hit the gas, heading straight for the forest.
“Chiquito, it's me, Ria.”
Ford hit the brakes. What was Ria doing just standing in the middle of the lawn?
“This is in case you see a zombie,” Ria said, handing him a large shovel.
“Thanks.” He stowed it in the back seat of the cart.
“And this is in case you see a pinata.” She handed him a baseball bat.
“Uh...thanks?” He put it by the shovel and hit the gas.
“Better safe than sorry!” she called cheerfully, as he zoomed towards the forest.
“Oh, man, I've never seen this much gold in my life!” Stan laughed. He'd dumped the treasure chest out on the bottom of the hole and was digging through the pile of gold coins, running them through his fingers. They glittered in the orange light of the setting sun. He grabbed two fistfuls and threw them up in the air, yelling with delight until they fell back down and pummeled him on the head. “Ow!”
“This is amazing!” Norman said. “I can't believe you dug this up all by yourself!”
“I know, right!” Stan paused, squinting up at Norman. “Yeah, I did do all the work myself. You know, I'm thinking we may need to renegotiate our shares, here.”
“Oh, you can hang on to all of it.”
Stanley stared at him. “Huh?”
Norman seemed not to hear. “Man, look at this! And this was supposed to be one of the harder ones to dig up, too. You did it in an hour flat!”
“...Yeah...” Stan looked from the gold to Norman and back again. Norman really wasn't making any kind of grab for it. He'd just said Stan could have it all, just like that. Something was definitely fishy here. Was it possible Norman had tricked him?
He picked up an old-looking coin. It was worn smooth on one side, but the other side had some kind of sketchy engraving he couldn't quite make out. He knew better than to bite it – if it really was gold, he would dent the metal and decrease the coin's value. He weighed it in his palm. He'd gotten pretty good at that while working at the family pawn shop, and this felt like real gold.
So why would Norman just...?
He looked up. A bunch of foot-high men in bright red caps were standing exactly where Norman had been.
Stan shrieked and fell back on his butt.
“Relax, kid, wouldja?” one of the short guys said impatiently. It was Norman! Or at least Norman's face and voice.
“You – you –” Stan sputtered.
“Right, right, I'll explain.” Norman brushed the hair out of his eyes and smacked one hand with the other. “So! We're gnomes! Got that one out of the way.” He nodded at the other gnomes, all of whom were standing on stilts or carrying fake plastic arms. “I'm Jeff,” he said, “And that's Carson, Steve, Jason, and...I'm sorry, I always forget your name.”
The last gnome, who looked like a wild-eyed Santa Claus, blinked slowly. “Schmebulock,” he said, with a voice like a bunch of falling gravel.
Jeff snapped his fingers. “Right! Schmebulock! Yes! Anyway...” He turned back to Stan.
Stanley blinked rapidly, trying to put it all together. If that was Norman's face...then...Norman had really been a bunch of gnomes the whole time?!
“I still keep the gold,” Stan said flatly. “You said I could, and I did all the digging, and you didn't even pay for the stuff we stole, so –”
“Relax, kid, you can have all that and more!”
Stan blinked again, stunned.  “There's more?”
“Sure!” Jeff pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and waved it around. “Us gnomes got into a fight with a giant hellhound a while ago, and long story short, it buried all our treasure. We've got whole boxes of the stuff buried all over the forest!”
Stan's eyes gleamed. “More gold, huh? You don't say.”
“Yep! But we're not exactly cut out to be diggers, and any tools we steal are definitely not gnome-sized. That's why us gnomes have been looking for a new servant!”
“Say what now?”
“Well, more like slave-labor, really. But it's a great deal!” Jeff nodded enthusiastically. “We offer full medical and dental coverage, plus all the pie we can steal. All you have to do is dig up all of our gold and guard it for the rest of eternity!”
“Are you crazy?” Stan demanded. “I get enough of that child labor stuff from Grauntie Mabel. You're lucky I don't sue your red-capped butts right now! I'm takin' my gold and I'm outta here.”
“We understand.” Jeff and his gnome friends glanced at each other. “Well, Stan...we tried it the easy way.”
Stan backed up. “Huh?”
All five gnomes bared teeth as sharp as a shark's. Stan yelled and threw up his arms as they jumped into the hole, their beady eyes glittering with greed.
“Don't worry, Stanley!” Ford shouted, his foot pressed to the gas. “I'll save you from that zombie!” Luckily, he'd seen the map they'd been using from the window of the attic. He had a pretty good memory. He knew he was to be close to wherever Stan and that zombie were trying to go.
Suddenly Stan's voice echoed through the trees to Ford's left. “Help!” he cried.
“Hold on!” Ford veered off the trail and drove into the trees, heading deeper and deeper into the shadows. The farther he went, the more he noticed an odd bluish light that seemed to come from the forest around him, tinting the foliage mint-green and aqua. The pine-needle carpet was swiftly replaced with odd blue mosses dotted with pink flowers and the occasional clump of mushrooms. There was an off-road path through the trees wide enough for the golf cart, and Ford pressed the accelerator, listening for his brother.
There was a clearing of sorts up ahead. A bunch of tiny red-capped creatures were swarming around a pile of gold. To the left, the rest of the creatures were clustered around Stanley, who was trying to fight them off, throwing punches left and right.
“The more you struggle, the more awkward this is gonna be for everybody!” warned one of the tiny creatures. “Okay, just – get his arm, there, Steve!”
A creature jumped up and tried bite Stan's arm. “Gah! HEY! Let go of me!” he shouted angrily. Another one attacked his midriff and he caught it mid-air with a strong left hook. The thing flew four feet, bounced twice, and landed on its feet next to a tree. It immediately vomited a viscous multicolored bile.
Ford hopped out of the cart and stared. “What the heck is going on here?!”
One of the creatures – men, they looked like little men – scuttled passed and hissed at him. Ford flinched back, dropping the shovel.
“Sixer!” Stanley called. “Norman turned out to be a bunch of gnomes! And they're total jerks!”
Three gnomes stacked themselves up and grabbed Stanley by the hair, swinging from it like monkeys. He yelped and went down.
“Gnomes?” Ford repeated, pulling out the journal. He flipped to the right page – ironically, the same page he'd accidentally shown his brother earlier. The same chubby-cheeked, starry-eyed drawing stared up at him. It was adorable in a creepy, infest-your-grandma's-lawn kind of way. “'Gnomes,'” he read aloud, “'Little men of the Gravity Falls forest. Weaknesses: Unknown.'”
Well that was unhelpful, Ford thought. When he glanced up, the gnomes had tied Stanley to the ground with a bunch of string, like a miniature Gulliver.
“Oh, come on!” Stanley shouted.
“Hey, hey!” Ford marched up to the lead gnome, shovel in hand. “Let go of my brother!”
“Oh, hehe, hey there!” The gnome smiled a little too stiffly. “You know, this is all just a big misunderstanding! Y'see, your brother's not in danger. He's just enslaved to all one thousand of us to become our gold miner for all eternity! Isn't that right, Stan-O?”
“You guys are butt faces!” Stan shouted. A gnome slapped his hands over Stan's mouth.
“Let go of him right now, or else!” Ford threatened.
Jeff glared at him, his face growing darker by the minute. “You think you can stop us, boy? You have no idea what we're capable of. The gnomes are a powerful race! Do not trifle with the –”
Ford scooped him up with the shovel and dumped him to the side.
He yelped indignantly. Ford ignored him and headed straight for Stan, lifting the shovel high and bringing the edge of it down on the strings. Stan jumped up and lashed out at the gnomes, knocking them down and giving them enough time to get away. He stopped to pick something up and Ford grabbed his arm, pulling him towards the golf cart.
“Forget it, Stan, just go!” Ford said.
“He's getting away with our servant!” Jeff yelled. “No, no, no!”
They scrambled into the golf cart. “Seat belt!” Ford barked.
“Mama's boy!” Stan barked back, but he put on the belt and Ford threw it in reverse.
Jeff watched them go, a dark fire burning in his eyes. “You messed with the wrong creatures, boy,” he growled. “Gnomes of the forest, ASSEMBLE!”
Instantly, gnome faces popped out from every nook and crevice in the clearing, crawling from the shadows, literally popping out of the woodwork in the trees. They scuttled towards him, linking arms, climbing onto each other's shoulders, as their collective shadow grew and spread over the ground...
Stan gripped the seat so hard his fingertips went numb. “Hurry, hurry, before they come after us!”
Ford grinned at him. “I wouldn't worry about it. Did you see those little legs? Those suckers are tiny!”
THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.
Ford braked as the whole ground shuddered under their wheels. A shadow fell over the cart and they turned.
Stan gaped. “Dang.”
A thirty-foot conglomeration of gnomes loomed over them, with fingers as thick as telephone poles, arms and legs as thick as train cars, and a huge, sharp-toothed face that came to a hat-shaped point.
Jeff sat at the very top of the point. “Alright, guys, like we practiced!” he called, and yanked a gnome's hat. The giant roared and lifted a huge fist.
“Go go go!” Stan yelled. Ford floored it just in time, and the fist hit the ground where they'd been just a split-second earlier. The fist smashed apart into a pile of angry gnomes. Stanley grabbed the seat for balance and watched, still looking back, as the gnomes quickly regrouped and thundered after them.
“Stanley what's happening?” Ford shouted.
“COME BACK WITH OUR SERVANT!” Jeff howled, his black eyes madder than ever. The gnome giant ran with incredible speed, closing the gap between them in a matter of seconds.
Stan blanched. “Hit the gas hit the gas!”
The giant whipped its arm at them and several razor-toothed gnomes snapped off its fingers and went flying straight for the cart.
Stan grabbed a bat from the back seat. “We got incoming!”
He unbuckled and stood in one smooth motion, hitting the first gnome in the gut with a perfect swing. It went flying into the trees.
“Home run, suckah!”
“Stanley!”
He turned. His brother was fighting off the rest – they were tearing through the cloth roof and climbing down the sides of the cart, shredding whatever they could reach with their teeth. Stanley grinned and wielded the bat like a spear, punching the stupid gnomes flat in the face with the blunt end. One of them tried to bite the bat and Stan smashed the end of it against the hood of the cart, squishing the gnome, which let go and bounced off into the road.
Another gnome swung down from the roof right next to Ford. He yelled, but before Stan could get to it Ford grabbed it by the back of its stupid little jacket and banged it several times against the steering wheel.
“Schmebulock,” groaned the gnome.
Ford smashed it one more time and let it go, and it rebounded off the cart and went tumbling in their dust.
Stan grinned at him. “Way to go, Fo–”
“SCREEEEE!”
A gnome came flying out of nowhere and landed right on Ford's face, squeezing Ford's ears in its vice-like grip.
“I'll save you Ford!” Stan dropped the bat and pummeled the gnome with both fists until he dislodged it with a killer left hook.
“Th-thanks, Stanley,” Ford stammered, swaying slightly and blinking several times.
“Don't mention it.” Stanley had been standing on the seat, but now he crouched down and peered out the back of the cart.
The gnome giant had been gaining all the time, but now it paused and grabbed the nearest tree. It was a redwood at least four stories tall, looked like it had been growing for over a century – and the giant just grabbed it and pulled it up like it was picking daisies! It took aim and threw the tree like a javelin.
“WATCH OUT!” Stan shouted.
Ford glanced back over his shoulder and the two of them yelled with fear as the tree sailed towards them – and then over them. It landed with an incredible BANG in the middle of the path ahead, completely blocking the road.
Stanley threw up his arms as Ford swerved, desperately trying to avoid the tree, screaming as it loomed closer and closer.
The tree had landed with one end propped up on a boulder, with just the smallest gap between the tree and the ground. Ford yanked the wheel hard to the right and the cart skidded under the tree, scraping off bits of bark with the roof of the cart. Ford lost control and the cart started tipping, zooming down the road on just its two right wheels. Stan grabbed the seat – he couldn't reach for the seatbelt or he'd fall out – and Ford pumped the brakes and the gas, trying to regain control. The cart fishtailed, skidding over the road, and finally tipped over, sliding the last ten feet to the Shack.
It took a full minute for Stanley to realize they weren't moving. His head was pounding and the ground spun underneath him. He pulled himself, groaning, from the wreckage of the cart. He glanced over to see his brother standing up shakily, grabbing the bent metal poles of the cart for balance.
The giant gnome stomped towards them, its huge shadow swallowing them up. At its top, Jeff's eyes glittered maliciously. The boys backed up until they were pressed against the wall of the Shack.
“Uh, stay back, gnomes!” Ford yelled shakily. He grabbed the shovel from the back of the cart and threw it.
The giant hit it in mid-air and punched it to the ground.
“AGH!” Ford and Stan jumped.
“Wh-where's Grauntie Mabel?” Ford squeaked.
Inside the Gift Shop, Mabel Pines was demonstrating the newest merchandise to a trio of slack-jawed visitors.
“Behold!” she declared, holding up a toy that looked like a plastic lollipop. It had a swirl pattern decorating the candy part and a string dangling from one side. “The world's most distracting object!”
She pulled the string and the swirl began to turn.
“Ooooh,” the tourists said in unison.
Mabel grinned. “Just try to look away, you can't!” They all stared at the toy, including Mabel. “...Wow, I can't even remember what I was talking about.”
Stan and Ford were trapped between the trash cans and some bushes at the side of the Shack. There was nowhere for them to run, and nothing they could use as a weapon. Stan stood partly in front of his brother, one arm thrown out to protect him. How the heck was he supposed to get them out of this?
“It's the end of the line, kids!” Jeff yelled, looming over them. “Stanley, get over here before we do something crazy!”
“There's gotta be a way outta this,” Ford whispered. He slid the journal partway out of his jacket.
Stan set his jaw. “I gotta do it.”
“What?” Ford grabbed Stan's shoulder. “Stanley, don't do this, are you crazy?”
“Trust me.”
“What?”
“Sixer, just this once.” He turned to look his brother in the eye. “Trust me.”
Ford looked from the monster to Stan and back again. He slowly released Stan's shoulder and backed up.
Stan strode forward. “Alright, Jeff,” he said loudly. “I'll sign your contract.”
Jeff frowned at him. “Contract?”
“Well sure. This is like, a legal agreement, right? I'm going to work for you for eternity and all. Any good boss knows we need a contract to make it legally binding, so I can't run away.”
Jeff rubbed his chin, considering. “I like the way you think, kid!” he said finally. He clapped his hands and started climbing down the giant. “Help me down there, Jason, thanks Andy, whoops – hey Jorge – whoa, watch those fingers, Mike.” He reached the bottom and headed for Stanley, practically strutting, while the gnome-giant stood silently behind him. Stan was thinking furiously, but it looked like he was right – the other gnomes were all staring at Jeff like they didn't know what to do without him. That's what he was counting on.
“Alright kid, where's the contract?”
“You're in luck! We can use the map we left behind earlier,” Stan said. He reached behind the trash cans. “I've got the map and a pen right here...”
He whipped out the leaf blower and switched it on in reverse. Immediately the suction began drawing Jeff towards the blower.
“H-hey, what's going on?!” Jeff tried to back up but slipped on the grass. He grabbed for the ground with his fingers, but the wind was too strong. It yanked him up and he was sucked straight down the pipe. The other gnomes gasped.
“That's for lying to me!” Stan shouted.
He cranked the suction to full. Jeff's body got sucked in until only his cheeks bulged over the rim.
“Ow, my face!”
“That's for taking my gold!”
Stan aimed the blower at the giant gnome monster. It grunted in surprise.
“And this is for messing with my brother!” He glanced at Ford and grinned. “Care to do the honors?”
Ford smiled back. “On three!”
“One!”
“Two!”
“Three!”
Ford flipped the switch to 'blow'. Jeff shot out of the blower like a high-powered rocket. He crashed straight through the giant's chest and out its back.
“I'll get you back for thiiiiis!” he howled, flying at high speed over the treetops and out of sight.
The impact shattered the giant gnome to bits. They broke apart, gnomes falling around them like very ugly confetti. In seconds the lawn was covered with battered gnomes. Their red hats were bent and grass stuck to their sweaty hands and faces. They blinked and looked around blearily, groaning and rubbing their arms and shoulders.
“Ugh...”
“My arms are tired,” one mumbled.
“Who's giving orders?” whined another gnome. “I need orders!”
Stanley shoved the blower at Ford and grabbed his bat. “Anybody else want a piece of this?!” he demanded, swinging the bat like a golf club. He smacked quite a few gnomes on the butt. Ford joined in on the fun, cranking the blower to maximum.
“Yeah, come on!” Ford shouted, laughing.
The gnomes squealed and fled, most of them scampering on all fours into the forest. The twins ran after them, whooping and hollering like maniacs. Even Waddles got in on the action, showing up just in time to drag the last gnome off by its hat.
Ford headed back to the house to replace the leaf blower.
Stan bit his lip. “Hey, Ford.”
His brother turned. Stan shouldered his bat and shoved his free hand into his pocket. “Um. Sorry for getting on your case earlier. I know you were just looking out for me.”
“Come on, don't be like that!” Ford said, smiling. “Did you see what a great team we made? That was awesome!”
Stan grinned a little. “Yeah...hey, wanna see something?” He brought his hand out of his pocket. Resting on his palm was an old, misshapen, yet unmistakably gold coin.
“Whoa, neat-o!” Ford said, bending for a closer look. “You think it's real gold?”
“You bet! I bet you could do some science-y thing to check the weight, but it definitely looks real. The gnomes said there was a ton of it buried all around the forest, but they couldn't dig it up. That's why they wanted me in the first place.”
“You know, I bet we could find it on our own,” Ford mused. “We could get a metal detector or something and go exploring in the woods. We could even make maps like real explorers so we'd know where we'd already checked.”
Stan looked up hopefully. “You mean it? We'll go hunting together?”
“Sure! I bet we'll find a ton of treasure.”
Stanley's smile widened. He felt like fireworks were going off in his chest. “Alright! High six?”
Ford grinned back. “High six.”
They smacked hands.
Grauntie Mabel was counting the day's profits when they walked in. She took one look at them and laughed.
“Whoa, what happened to you?” she asked. “Didja get hit by a bus or something?” She chuckled at her own wit.
Stan grunted for the both of them and the trudged towards the kitchen. Normally he shared her love of terrible jokes, but at the moment he was too beat-up and tired to care. For once he would probably go to bed almost willingly.
“Uh – hey!”
He and Ford turned back. Their great-aunt was rubbing the back of her neck like she was anxious. “W-wouldn't you know it, I accidentally overstocked some inventory!” she said awkwardly. “So, uh, why don't the two of you take one item from the shop. On the house, you know?”
Stan's eyes widened. “Like, for free?”
“What's the catch?” Ford asked, folding his arms.
She frowned at him. “The catch is do it before I change my mind. Now take something.” She smacked the register with her elbow and started organizing the bills.
Stan sped straight for the priciest items in the shop. A talking fish on a plaque? A stuffed frogadillo riding a unicycle? He could take whatever he wanted for free!
“Neat-o!” Ford said.
Stan looked over. His brother had found a keychain shaped like a flying saucer. Ford clicked a small button on the side and the whole thing lit up light blue, making the perfect paranormal-themed flashlight. He slipped a finger through the keychain's ring and spun it, making a circle of light shimmer in the air.
“This is so cool!” Ford turned to Stan. “What did you get, Stanley?”
Stan looked around. “Um...I think I'll get...”
Something caught his eye. A glint of metal from the Bargain Box, shoved to the back of a store. He leaned closer to check...and a smile spread over his face.
“I will have a...grappling hook!”
He aimed the weapon around the shop, pretending he was a fighter in the Ol' West. “Pew, pew, pew! Take that!”
Ford and Grauntie Mabel glanced at each other in surprise.
“Wouldn't you rather have, like, a T-shirt or something?” Grauntie Mabel asked.
“Are you kidding?” Stanley aimed at the ceiling and pulled the trigger. The hooks shot up, latched onto the roof beam, and yanked him ten feet in the air, where he dangled one-handedly from the ceiling. “GRAPPLING HOOK!” he shouted.
She laughed. “Fair enough!”
Ford sat in his bed later that evening, the blankets pulled over his knees as he wrote in the journal. He'd already filled in the “Weakness” areas of the gnome page: Leaf blowers and baseball bats!
He flipped to the first blank page, halfway through the book.
This journal told me there was no one in Gravity Falls I could trust, he wrote. But when you battle a hundred gnomes side-by-side with someone, you realize they've probably always got your back.
“Hey, Stan, can you get the lights?” he asked.
Stan had been bouncing energetically on his bed, grappling hook in hand.
“I'm on it!” he said. He'd already impaled a stuffed bear with it earlier, and its cotton innards clung to the hooks. He aimed at the lamp and fired.
The hook shot straight through the lamp and smashed the window behind it. The lamp sparked and died.
“It worked!” Stan shouted, and they laughed.
Ford slipped the journal under his pillow and laid back, his arms crossed under his head. He heard a rustling and knew that Stan had taken up an identical pose.
“This summer's gonna be awesome, Stan,” Ford said.
“Duh!” He could hear his brother's smile in his voice. “We're gonna find tons of buried treasure.”
“And monsters.”
“And babes!”
Ford threw a pillow at him. He heard a fwump and muffled laughter.
Ford closed his eyes, still smiling, thinking back to the last thing he wrote in the journal.
Grauntie Mabel told me there's nothing weird going on in Gravity Falls, but who knows what other secrets are waiting to be unlocked?
Next
23 notes · View notes
haloud · 4 years
Text
let me take your hand
@andrea-lyn prompted: for prompts, I'd be giddy to get more mylex, potentially h/c with michael being the one getting the "c" (in so many ways)  
Hope you enjoy, lovely!!
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It stormed the night before. Kyle and Alex spend ten minutes stomping and scraping around the hatch of Michael’s bunker lab, hands shoved in their pockets, breath clouding out in front of them. Alex passes Kyle a bottle of water to defrost the hinge. Deliciously warm air blasts them from head to toe when it creaks open. Kyle goes down the ladder first, and Alex follows quick behind him.
Kyle would be lying if he said he wasn’t excited to see Guerin’s secret alien lair. Of all the hidden bunkers in this town, this one might just be the most intriguing. So he’s maybe just a little bit disappointed when he finally hits the ground and gets a look and around and it’s just kind of…normal. For an underground lab, that is. Empty beakers on top of stacks of notebooks and weighing down loose sheets of drafting paper covered in pristine diagrams and calculations in Guerin’s tiny engineer print. Tables on locking wheels let him rearrange the layout of the lab at will, and it looks like it’s been done recently. All around the perimeter of the room are odd-shaped objects covered neatly with tarp, and in the center is a cluster of surfaces littered with equipment Kyle knows to be Liz’s.
“Oh,” Alex says, more exhale than vocalization.
Guerin is slumped at one of the center tables, head in his hands. His back rises and falls rhythmically. From the lack of objects flying at Kyle’s face, he must be deeply asleep.
The low light of the hanging lamps drenches him in gold, picking out every flicker of gilt in his hair, leafing his skin. His eyes are so deeply shadowed they look bruised. To that point, the greening edge of a bruise splashes across one cheekbone. Even in sleep, he doesn’t look resting. His shoulders are tight around his ears, his head hunched defensively between them, his hands curled into loose fists. Empty bottles of nail polish remover are scattered here and there around him, interspersed every now and then with bottles of Liz’s preferred vice.
By God, it’s worse than I thought! Kyle wants to exclaim in his best melodramatic doctor voice, but somehow he’s lost his stomach for joking around.
Alex circles the room so he can approach Guerin from the front. Kyle hangs off to the side, knowing Michael isn’t going to be happy to see him. He even—he has to look away when Alex reaches out slow to touch his shoulder.
“Guerin,” he says softly.
Kyle studies the wall, the slow oscillation of the ventilation fans. The moment is fragile, intimate, and—he came here for moral support for everyone involved, but he didn’t count on this. On being here for that split second of waking up, his favorite part of being with someone, the reason he always stays the night. The settling into awareness with another person…
Guerin groans. “Not now, Liz, I told you it’d be twelve hours—”
“Guerin. It’s me.”
His head jerks up. In profile, even his eyelashes are edged in gold from the lamp directly above him. Even from feet away, Kyle sees Alex clench his fists in his pockets. Like he’s trying to physically hold himself back from reaching out to stroke the graven lines on his brow.
“Alex,” Guerin breathes. Then he glances to the side, catches sight of Kyle, and his eyes narrow, face shuttering. “Valenti.”
He stretches, but the way he holds himself after is sore and wrong. Kyle bites his tongue.
Michael looks between the two of them. “What do you want?”
Kyle says, “Well, we would have called, but you happened to be hanging out under fifteen feet of rock and lead…”
Alex shoots him a look, and Kyle holds his hands up in surrender. Michael fumbles with his phone, checks the screen and the complete lack of notifications and grumbles under his breath.
“I don’t need babysitting,” he snaps, shoving it back into his pocket and getting to his feet. He looks around, drags his hand down his face, kicks a couple acetone bottles under the table.
“And I’m not a babysitter. I wanted to see how your work was going. We did knock,” Alex adds, mouth curling into a little smile. It’s not a lie, per se, but Kyle also isn’t sure that stomping around kicking snow and ice away counts as knocking.
“Work, huh? That why you’ve got the Love Doctor over here riding sidecar?”
“Hey, I can contribute,” Kyle protests, but Michael just shoots him a rude smirk and doesn’t answer.
Alex says, “Sure, work. Why don’t we get out of here so you can tell us about it?”
Kyle adds, “Owner of Bean Me Up tells me I get free bagels for life. Buy you a coffee?”
“Sounds good.” Alex heads for the ladder; he stops beside Guerin, just a stutter-step, and squeezes his shoulder in a brief, jumping caress, then continues past him. Guerin sways in place for a second longer, but Alex doesn’t look back, eating up the space toward the outside in long strides. Kyle trails after him more slowly, not putting a foot on a rung until he hears Guerin’s footsteps behind him.
The whole way up the ladder, Guerin mumbles, “I get free bagels at the preppy coffee place, Alex. I’m so helpful and accommodating, Alex. I can sit, stay, and roll over, Alex…”
If he kicks a little snow down on Guerin’s face when he climbs out of the hatch, he’ll plead the fifth about it later.
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Guerin looks worse out in the gray winter sunlight. The shadows under his eyes are less bruised and more gaunt; everything about him is thin and stiff and unsteady. Walking behind them, Kyle sees Alex’s hand come up and fall away a dozen times, hovering over Guerin’s lower back but never touching him. He hunches his shoulders against the icy breeze, and Kyle’s just glad he at least has a hat and scarf.
Bean Me Up is a welcome gush of hot air and the delicious, life-giving scent of coffee. Guerin wanders over to a corner table without saying anything, but Alex orders him a black coffee anyway with a set to his jaw that says he’ll get something warm in Guerin’s stomach if it’s the last thing he does. Like always, Mr. Gutierrez, the owner, comes out of the back to shake Kyle’s hand, and, like always, Kyle squeezes back and fights back an embarrassed flush at the man’s overwhelming gratitude. Eventually he’s left with a heated face and a bag full of fresh bagels and cream cheese and he weaves back through the tables to where Michael and Alex have their heads tilted together.
Guerin’s eyes are closed, but he nods every so often to something Alex says, and when he hears Kyle approach he opens them and sits up straighter, a funny little smile moving his lips but not his eyes.
“The mighty hero returns,” he says. His head tilts just slightly to the side as he says it, and something in the motion and in the sad little curl of his mouth takes the mockery out of his words.
Kyle clears his throat and plops the bagels down on the table, pulls out a chair, and peels his gloves off to feel the heat of his coffee cup against his chilled fingers.
“Mine better have cinnamon on it,” Guerin adds, but he’s just being difficult because he doesn’t even reach for the bag, and when Alex hands him one he doesn’t say a word about the flavor or wait to add butter or cream cheese before digging in.
Kyle’s phone buzzes, and he glances down. It’s a text from Alex: No progress. Don’t ask. Kyle’s eyes flick up to Guerin, who is slumped back in his chair again like he could be sleeping and eating at the same time, then over to Alex, who is staring out the window with tight lines at the corners of his mouth. This close to the light, his eyes are a warm maple-brown, and all Kyle can do is sigh twin sighs, half admiration, half sadness at the grim glassiness there. Alex eats his bagel by tearing it into tiny, bite-sized pieces and spreading each with a mathematically equal portion of cream cheese. Kyle takes his to go.
When they hit the street again, the wind has picked up. Instinctually, Kyle takes up position at Guerin’s other side this time, rudely monopolizing the sidewalk but needing to be there to bear his weight if his knees give out from under him. It’s impossible to tell if it’s some sort of latent alien influence or what, but the exhaustion sloughing off of him in waves has Kyle all on edge.
As they reach Alex’s car, snow starts falling, fat, wet flakes that land in Guerin’s limp curls and immediately start to melt. He shivers violently, and Kyle pulls in closer, so the three of them have their body heat all circled.
Alex goes to open the driver’s side door, but Kyle catches him on the elbow to pull him in.
“Hey,” he murmurs, and Alex raises a questioning eyebrow. “My place?”
Kyle’s house is closer by far than the junkyard or the cabin, and it has the added benefit of not being powered by a generator that takes ten minutes to heat up. Both of them glance at Michael, who sways dangerously in the next gust of wind, and Alex nods.
Kyle ushers Michael into the passenger seat where he can get the full blast of the heater. When he climbs into the back, he can’t help but grip the corner Michael’s seat like he’s gripping his shoulder. He wishes he was. He’s never seen Guerin look so…fragile. Insubstantial, when he’s usually a swaggering, aggravating force of nature.
Now, it’s like a piece of him has died or something.
Kyle sighs.
Alex drives with one hand, the other one gripping Michael’s knee. It’s a short drive from the center of town to Kyle’s house, but by the time Alex parks, Guerin is already fading fast. He can barely stand when he climbs out of the car, and—this can’t be normal, can it? Kyle swallows down a scream of frustration. He wants Guerin to sit still to get checked over. Wants to check him for dehydration, for severe exhaustion, for a dozen other things that come from overwork and neglect and acute, mind-altering grief. But he unlocks the door while Alex tugs Guerin’s arm over his shoulder, and they maneuver him onto Kyle’s couch, and even if it goes against everything, that’s just going to have to be enough.
“Where,” Michael mumbles, swinging his head back and forth like moving his eyes is too much work.
“Welcome to my humble abode.” Kyle opens the hall closet and goes onto his tiptoes to get his grandma’s quilt.
“Hate you.”
“I know.”
He comes back with his arms full of blankets, and over the top of them he sees Michael’s head pillowed on Alex’s thighs, and he smiles, glad he hadn’t grabbed a pillow yet. Dumping his armful right on top of Guerin, burying him in fabric, he laughs at the angry grumbling coming from the pile until Guerin manages to smack it away from his face. He turns to leave, to go to the kitchen and get some coffee or tea started or something—or maybe to stay out of the way he could start prepping something for them to eat later, a nice, light broth that would be warm and not too heavy on Guerin’s system—but before he gets more than a few steps away, he’s stopped by a hand grabbing his sweatshirt.
Kyle blinks.
“Valenti,” Guerin rasps, “Take a load off before you give me a complex.”
Laughing a bit breathlessly, Kyle responds, “Thought you hated me.”
“Just sit down, asshole. ‘M tired.”
Guerin’s yanking and shoving on Kyle’s clothes is feeble, but he goes along with it until he’s down at the other end of the couch from Alex, with Guerin’s calves resting in his lap. He tugs the quilt down over Guerin’s feet, and in response Guerin pulls his legs up so he can dig his toes into Kyle’s leg.
Kyle glances up and meets Alex’s eyes while Guerin wiggles a little more, rubbing his cheek cat-like on Alex’s thigh. It isn’t going to fix anything, the two of them holding him here, like this. But Alex gently, oh so gently, rests his hand on Michael’s curls, his thumb skimming along the delicate curve of his ear, and Kyle lays his hand heavy and pinning on Michael’s legs, and.
Maybe it will help. If nothing else, Michael needs a good night’s sleep. Even if it’s on a couch. Even if he wakes up tense from nightmares. Even if Kyle and Alex have to sit up all night anchoring him at either end. Maybe it’s just…worth it.
Kyle lays his arm across the back of the couch, and Alex slides his hand into his.
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thunderstomm · 27 days
Text
I’m drawing fanart for hot wheels let’s race does anyone want it
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highway-35 · 2 months
Text
legitimately insane theory/au but: what if axle (hwlr) and tezz (bf5) are half siblings??????? featuring a lot of headcanons
the volitov family comes from novaya chara, and tezz conducted his experiments in the chara sands. they're a prominent family of physicists, and both of the volitov parents spoke internationally tezz's interest in electromagnetism deviated from his parents interest in vehicle engineering, but he was able to apply his parents knowledge to build his prototype vehicle
after tezz's disappearance, his mom committed suicide out of grief, while his father dove into his research in order to try and find him again
this resulted in him, along with several others, to create what is how the hot wheels: let's race universe and found hot wheels city
now using the pseudonym of striker spoiler, he used his engineering knowledge to become a prominent racer in the city, going to great lengths to cover up his involvement in its founding
axle was an accident baby, with striker undergoing a shotgun wedding to hide it. he still loves axle, but definitely couldnt contribute a lot to his development especially when he was younger due to his various responsibilities
striker focused a lot on teaching axle to race and focused less on academics because of how traumatized he was due to tezz's disappearance and (what striker presumes to be) death. he didnt want axle to do the same thing that tezz did, he didnt want to lose his son. this also helped stunt axle's growth
axle is incredibly lonely, so so SO fucking lonely, which is what causes him to act out the way he does. is extremely attached to sidecar (sidecaxle is another post though)
after the defeat of the red sentients, tezz begins preliminary research on other universes, partially inspired by the opposite universe and their bf5's existence. this is how he discovers the hwlr universe
that discovery prompts him to start surveilling hot wheels city, in which he finally sees his father again. he travels there in order to meet his family, albeit faking much of his backstory to avoid revealing the truth and putting the rest of the bf5 in danger. this is without the knowledge of, or at least minimal knowledge of, the bf5
both tezz and axle are shocked to find out they have a brother, both believing they were only children. striker nearly doesn't recognize tezz because of how long it had been, but once tezz introduces himself, striker knows he's the real deal
there's a lot of grief, especially for tezz's mother, as striker believes she died for nothing (and tezz wasn't even aware of her death). striker's trauma comes out in full swing. it is all very ugly.
tezz, as is his habit, records an audio diary. it helped keep him grounded when he was on the red sentient moon. during a sleepless night, axle overhears what tezz is saying, and has so many questions.
axle ends up confronting tezz about his lies, and tezz doesn't budge. striker gets involved. tezz leaves out of frustration, striker locks himself away, and axle follows tezz to uncover the truth behind his family.
axle tries to sneak into the spectra motors garage, but gets caught before he can access the hub. the bf5 knows nothing about the extended volitov family, and thus axle sleeps on the couch for a night while the team debates on what to do.
they end up letting axle into the hub, on the condition he stays silent about it. they say its because the war is over and that that they have nothing to lose, but really, a lot of the bf5 come from their own broken homes, and would feel extremely guilty about not letting axle get closure.
stanford, zoom and axle end up forming a really strong friendship because of how much mutual shit they went through, especially coming from prominent families that ended up lying to their faces all their lives
axle never brings it up to anyone in hot wheels city (mainly he believes that nobody would believe him anyway, so why bother), but later INSISTS that people call him axle volitov and not axle spoiler, at BEST spoiler is a middle name. he stops bringing up his father at all, and really resents him for lying to everyone for all these years.
in conclusion: that boy needs therapy
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bazz-b · 4 years
Text
1.
There had never been a moment in the time that followed the fall of the Wandenreich, the years of wandering isolation, that Bazz-B had wished to replace his noble steed. Proud, stubborn and bad ass, the bastards at Harley-Davidson had managed to place the fundamentals of his personality into a motorbike. The fatboy, affectionately named Zorn in Bazz-B’s case, had been with him since the early days of the fall. And although it had fought with him at times, given him attitude, damn near died on more than one occasion, it had always pulled through. Plus it came with a sidecar, which had proven just as valuable.
All in black, save for the flames he’d rushed to have added, it matched his own style he’d chosen. In lieu of the typical Quincy white, Bazz-B now sported something more fitting his family name, in classic leather no less. His undershirt was still white, but that was more to avoid drowning himself in the stereotype of mysterious angst. He might be a lone ranger with a tragic past and a path littered with the corpses of everyone he’d ever known, be he wasn’t going to plan a wardrobe around it.
Zorn and Bazz-B had taken to gracing route 66, apparently a big deal as far as roads went. Famous for something road related. America was a big place, and although Bazz-B had the time for the historical education, he couldn’t care less to learn. He was a bullet out of San Diego, Vegas bound. Route 66 hadn’t been a previously negotiated stop, but Zorn was known to get hungry on a limb. It would start a great shuddering, and before long a spluttering. You needed to get that horse some fuel or you’d be going nowhere fast.
So it was that the pair ended up at Roy’s Motel & Cafe, where the both of them would refuel. Bazz-B still had some ill gotten gains from a previous stop, so today he’d be paying for food and accommodation-- how benevolent of him. It wasn’t right to steal from these Ma-and-Pa run places anyway. Hitching Zorn up, he ducked in for a bite and to negotiate lodgings.
It was cool inside, an ensemble of sweat-slick men gathered appreciatively around fans and cool drinks. Apparently the heat bothered them, something Bazz-B would never be able to claim. Many things had been taken from him, but since leaving Silbern his body had taken to the flame on a whole new level. He was always running hot to the touch, the sun had no stake in that race. One day he’d go see the snow and see how mother nature handled him. For now he committed to the burning. He knew carefully altered pulses in his reiatsu could regulate it better, but that was suppressed and smothered to as low as he could get it. No need to draw attention.
No more than he already had. Apparently no matter where you went a pink mohawk was quite the shock. Hooking his shades into the pocket of his jacket, he ignored the gazes cast his way and sidled into a booth. His English had improved over the years, and confidence carried a man’s voice. There would doubtless be a scene soon if he paid any more mind to the questions thrown at him, so he quickly called for a menu. When it arrived, the order was the same as always-- whatever was the day’s special. It was a way to keep some excitement, to dodge monotony, and most of all avoid embarrassing himself. You could get real good at speaking a foreign language if you only needed one or two sentences.
The second sentence came into play just as quickly, inquiring after a room for the night. It’d be easy to make it to Vegas but the hassle of finding somewhere at night would leave him fleeced. Better just to pay for some mess of a waffle for dinner now and add on the cost of accommodation. Today it was under the name of John Dillinger, who was quietly thankful for the meal before making a scene of turning into his room. Though in this case, more a cabin.
From his sidecar he collected his things. A change of clothes, a bottle of whiskey, and a small knapsack. The bag itself was empty, but it made for the show of going inside. Once dark hit, the motel ground illuminated still by the vacancy sign, Bazz-B would return to Zorn.
It was an odd sort of ritual, yet one that he couldn’t shake. For years he’d convinced himself of its necessity, and every night he berated himself for its foolishness while he wheeled Zorn further away from the accommodation. Always within sight of what he’d paid for, sheltered by nature or alternative buildings. Once hidden he’d slip into the sidecar and watch. Sometimes for hours before sleep would take him. Waiting for hidden pursuers to show themselves when they thought him lax. Always he would pass the time with the few small mementos he kept, rolling them between forefinger and thumb in the dark. He knew them as well as he knew himself.
The first was a smaller version of rims he kept meaning to add to Zorn, though knew deep down he never would. It wasn’t that he didn’t love the design, it was just that it was his alone to see. In dark and quiet times, to remind him of a girl filled with life, and an unerring hold over death.
The second was a simple keychain, an angry mascot for a doughnut franchise. The features were nearly worn down to nothing, but still it’s soft edges baited memories of sharp words and orders that brokered no argument. All teeth, authority and gluttony.
The last two were even more familiar to him, one returned after centuries lost to him, and the other a reminder of the years wasted on vengeance. A simple medal with an emblazoned ‘B’, and the Quincy Zeichen. A moment was spent ruminating on both, allowing at least a fraction of the time they were worth. Committing to their true value had already cost a lifetime. 
From the sidecar of Zorn, under a clear night sky and the flickering of neon, Bazz-B found rest. Not a comfortable sort that he had once known, in a palace of Ice and Silver, as the Heat of the Wandenreich, loyal Knight in the greatest army any world had ever known. The sleep that came was rough, cramped and lonely, but it belonged to Bazzard Black.
Hunter of Hollows. Enemy of Shinigami. Traitor to Quincy.
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breanime · 5 years
Text
OT3 Headcannons (Sirius x Reader x James)
Crediting @sonofhistory for the awesome OTP Questions (you can find the original post here) 
*This is for my Sirius Black x Reader x James Potter OT3. You can find my story HERE--it’s n*fw, so read with caution)
Warning: some of these are ~steamy~ in nature
*gifs not mine* (but look at our bad boys)
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1) Who rocks the Ferris Wheel seat and who flips out and begs them to stop? James rocks the Ferris Wheel, you freak out, and Sirius alternates between rocking and scolding James for scaring you. The three of you hold hands the entire time, much to the confusion of those around you. 
2) Who is always horny and will have sex at any time, at any place and at any time? Um... James and Sirius both have a HIGH sex drive, Sirius has better stamina then James, though, so he can go for a few rounds with no break. Sirius is also more open to doin’ it anywhere, anytime. However, that doesn’t mean James ain’t down to clown--cause he is. The three of you tend to find yourselves stuffed in closets or under bridges because one of the boys just couldn’t keep his hands--or words--to himself. Lovable lil pervs. 
3) Who is more into taking showers/baths together? Who tries to make it relaxing and who tries to make it sexy time? James LOVES bathing together, preferably in the tub so he can hold you both and get held. He loved to be in the middle with Sirius behind him and you in his lap, kissing on you both. Sirius actually likes to make it relaxing, washing your hair and lighting candles and playing soothing music. James is usually the one who goes into it with...less than pure intentions, but YOU’RE the one who almost always initiates the sexytime. You just can’t help yourself, they’re both all wet and warm, and their hair is all soft and...mmmmmm......
4) Who likes to walk around the house naked and who tells the other to go put some clothes on? You like to be naked, and they both yell at you to put clothes on, but for different reasons. James does it because he doesn’t want the neighbors seeing you--that’s for him and Sirius only, and Sirius does it because he can’t concentrate on anything when you’re walking around like that. 
5) Who sleeps on the couch when they get into a fight? James. Sirius usually broods until someone goes to him and forces him to talk things out. James is usually the loudest in an argument, and therefore gets banished to the couch until he winds down. You tend to barricade yourself in your room when you’re mad at either of them, and the boys have to try to get you out. But whatever the case, you all usually try to resolve the problem before the night is up.
6) Who takes photos of the other while they sleep? JAMES. He has the two most beautiful people on the blanket who love him, of course he takes photos of them! Plus you look like an angel when you sleep, and Sirius is a living piece of art, so James has to appreciate it!
7) Who said “I love you” first? and who ends their arguments in a fight with “Because I love you”? James said it first, to the both of you at once. He’s the most emotionally stable and open, so it was very easy and natural for him to come out and say it. You usually say “I love you” as a goodbye, when you’re leaving the house or at the end of a letter. Sirius says it in the middle of a fight, when emotions are high and he starts feeling like things are getting out of his control. He also says it when you and James are falling asleep, softly in your ears or whispers it into James’ hair. He’s really just a soft boi at heart. 
8) Who likes to wear the others sweatshirts? YOU. 100% you. You wear Sirius’ leather jacket and James’ Quidditch jersey ALL the time. They think you look simultaneously adorable and hot when you wear their clothes. Sometimes Sirius wears your underwear, and it drives you and James BONKERS. He looks better in them then you do. 
9) Who wakes the other up in the middle of the night to tell them a cool dream they had? Who has the most nightmares, and who sings them back to sleep after? James wakes you up for the cool dream, all wide eyes and low whispers while Sirius listens intently and you grumble and complain about being woken up. Sirius has nightmares the most often, usually about his own family, and you and James sing him to sleep. Sometimes it works right away, and sometimes the two of you put on full performances (complete with costume changes); either way, it relaxes Sirius, and you and James are happy to do it. 
10) Who is more likely to cheat? None of you? Just... no. None of you. 
11) Who makes fun of the other for having a crush on them, and who has to remind them that they are in a relationship? James, mostly. You usually make fun of yourself for dating them, and Sirius is usually the one saying “a terrible decision, really” when either of you say you love him. 
12) Who starts a food fight in the kitchen? Sirius! He’s a rich bitch who always had plenty of resources, but too many rules, so now that he has his own place with the loves of his life, he’s always down to start chucking food. 
13) Who initiates duets? and who is the better singer? James initiates them, but you’re usually the one who takes it up a notch and starts impersonating Mariah Carey. Sirius, however, is the better singer out of all of you.  
14) Who starts the hand holding? Who grabs the others butt? Who slides their arm around their waist? Who likes to put their fingers in the belt loops? In order of the questions: You, James, Sirius, You again. The three of you are almost always touching in some kind of way. 
15) Who likes writes the others name on their wrist? You. You have Sirius on the right and James on the left. 
16) Who is more seductive when they are drunk? and who is louder in bed? You become one hell of a seductress once that liquor gets in ya, and James is already loud, but once he’s drunk--you and Sirius have to resort to kissing him to shush him. What a drag ;)
17) Who is more protective? All three of you are protective of each other. You’re more vocally protective of Sirius to his family, but James is quick to defend Sirius to Sirius. Sirius is very protective of you and James (don’t pity the dead, Harry, pity the ones who insult or offend Sirius’ bf/gf), and has been known to make things physical if he feels it’s necessary. In the end, all three of you are protective, because all three of you know that the ones you love deserve to be protected. 
18) Who talks to the other while they are sleeping? We’ve already covered that you and James sing Sirius to sleep sometimes, but James sometimes tells you stories or about how much he loves you when you’re sleeping, and Sirius tends to jump in and add in his two cents. 
19) Who drives and who has the window seat? As wizards/witches, you don’t drive much, but Sirius drives his motorbike. He’s considering adding another sidecar, but for now, one rides in the sidecar while the other rides in the seat behind him. 
20) Who falls asleep in the others lap and who carries them to bed? You hold the title for the sleepiest bitch in the world, so you’re always falling asleep in places that aren’t in the bed. Sirius and James alternate carrying you to bed--yeah, they could use magic, but then they wouldn’t be able to hold you close and hear your little sleepy “thankyoubaby” as they laid you in bed. So they carry you. It’s a win-win. 
21) Who cuts the others hair? You do. You’re the only person alive who Sirius trusts with his hair, though James doesn’t really mind who does his hair most of the time. 
22) Who is super bad at sexting? and who sends them encouraging messages throughout the day? James is horrible at sexting because he just can’t seem to stop himself from making everything into a pun. Sirius is...really, really good at it. Like, disturbingly good. You’re the one who sends the boys messages throughout the day, and you’re really good at knowing when one of them needs an encouraging message and sending them an owl at just the right time. 
23) Who thinks they are not good enough for the others love? and who’s more afraid of loosing the other? Who thinks they keep messing up, only for the other to tell them they don’t need to worry? Sirius is CERTAIN that he isn’t good enough for the two of you, that you and James would be better off without him, that he’s just getting in the way. He gets more and more comfortable with his place in the trio as time goes on, though. James is terrified that he’ll fuck up and lose both of you, and needs constant reassurance, even though he comes off as the most sure. You’re the one who thinks you’re going to mess up, ruin your relationship and friendship, and the boys are always telling you not to worry, that you’re perfect and they love you. All in all, you’re all a bunch of insecure idiots who love each other dearly. 
24) Who starts random slow dancing with the other in the kitchen? Who holds the other just above the ground and kisses them? James. He slow dances with you and plays air guitar with Sirius. Sirius ballroom dances with you both--he’d been trained as a child, and he’s also the one who picks you up and kisses you. You’re usually the one who’s running around and grabbing asses. 
25) Who says shitty puns and sex jokes just to see the other giggle and blush? BOTH of them! You’d think you’d be used to it by now, but you’re not!
26) Who kissed first? Sirius and James kissed first, then Sirius and you, then James and you, and then all three of you. The first time the three of you kissed, soft and slow, James had said: “Shit. Why the hell haven’t we done this sooner?”
27) Who orders take out at two in a morning? and who wakes the other up at three in the morning to go downstairs with them to get a glass of water because it’s too dark? Either of the boys--they’re always hungry. You’re the one who’s waking them up because you heard a noise, or you’re too cold, or you want a drink of water. One of them, usually whoever’s closest to you, will mumble “ok, baby”, take your hand, and take you wherever you need to go. 
28) Who writes poems/stories and love songs about the other? Do they sing the songs the write for them? James writes horrible songs that make you cry from laughing, Sirius writes gorgeous songs that just make you cry, and you walk around the kitchen banging a pot with a spoon while screeching their names over and over. Your house is...not a quiet one. 
29) Who does some crazy stunt to try and impress the other and who ends up driving them to the emergency room after it backfires? James does the stunt, usually with Sirius’s help, and you have to patch them up. 
30) Who is embarrassed when they have to wear their glasses and who thinks they look super cute? Sirius is embarrassed, you and James nearly pass out with how cute he looks. 
*******************************************************************************************
I hope you liked it--I don’t...I don’t even know, ya’ll haha! 
Taglist: @lexxierave @loveintheroyalfamily @suchatinyinfinity@fanfictionrecommendations-com  @maxslime-blog @elanor-of-imladris@songforhema @lucielandss @fandomlifeandeverythingelse @themadhatter92@realduckvader @the-blind-assassin-12 @christinawxxx @anabella-baby @blackcoffeeandgreenteaforme @luminex3 @littlemermaidprobz @ashkuuuu@luckysstrikes @carlaangel86 @floralpeaceofmind @dylanobrusso@teacuplotus @iaintnofurry @thesumofmychoices @ymariejp @its-my-little-dumpster-fire @mrsjaxtellerfan @whovianayesha @holamor @drinix @rhabakoli @stories-you-wont-hear @king4thesirens @starkrobb@marauderskeeper @charlylama @thesandbeneathmytoes @gollyderek
Sirius Taglist: @thebabblingbookworm @khuangpu13 @miss-nerd95 @thesumofmychoices @belladonnarey
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xenodile · 5 years
Note
If Ibaraki was part of the races, who do you think her partner would be and what's their vehicle?
The easy answer would be Kintoki, riding in the sidecar of his motorcycle, the Golden Bear, to create Team GOLDEN Blazing Demon but since the other teams are mostly odd couples, I’ll go out on a limb.
If Ibaraki were joining the race, intent on winning, she’d choose an ally that would assuredly sweep the field, a masterful rider that can adapt to any road condition, and would be receptive to her orders.  After all, the Great Demon of Rashomon does not fight, she commands and conquers.  But most of all...she’d need someone who’s easy to boss around, not too scary, and willing to stand beside a fearsome oni.
So obviously it’d have to be Boudica.  The Queen of Bretonnia has long since noticed the small oni’s sweet tooth and introverted nature, and has been looking for an excuse to dote on the somewhat childish demon.  Before now, Ibaraki’s natural distrust of humans has kept Boudica at bay, but now?  Now she needs the help of a skilled Rider, and Boudica is all too eager to fill in.
With a little help from Demonic Nature of Oni, Boudica’s already fearsome Chariot has regained its fiery, vengeful appearance, with some additional Japanese-themed accouterments for some extra Oni flair!  I hope you’re ready for some really hot wheels, because here comes Team Rolling Inferno, in their self-propelled demon/oni chariot, the Hell On Wheels.
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Note
Favorite type of alcohol, go! 😆😂
I WAS WAITING FOR THIS
Drink responsibly, kids.
Below the cut because I used pictures.
Xemnas - A Vieux Carré. 4 dashes pimento aromatic bitters, 2 tsp Bénédictine, ¾ ounces sweet vermouth, ¾ ounces Cognac, and ¾ ounces rye whiskey.  Garnish with a cherry or lemon peel. Also fond of appletini’s.
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Xigbar - Xigbar could just go for straight whiskey or bourbon or scotch, etc., but one of his favorites is a Rusty Nail. 3/4 ounces Drambuie and 1 ½ ounces Scotch whiskey. Garnish with lemon twist.
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Xaldin - Dark and Stormy.  3 ½ ounces Ginger Beer, a few dashes of bitters, 2 ounces of dark rum. Garnish with a lime wedge.
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Vexen - Mai Tai. 1 ½ ounces white rum, ½ ounce fresh lime juice, ½ ounce Orgeat syrup, ½ ounce orange curaçao, and ¾ Dark rum. Garnish with lime peel and pineapple spear.
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Lexaeus - Tom Collins. 2 ounces carbonated water, ½ ounce sugar syrup, 1 ounce fresh lemon juice, and 1 ½ ounces Old Tom Gin. Garnish with a lemon slice and a maraschino cherry.
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Zexion - White Russian. 2/3 ounces coffee liqueur, 1 2/3 ounces Vodka, and 1 ounce fresh milk or cream.
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Saix - A Sidecar. 2 ounces Cognac, ¾ ounces Lemon juice, and ¾ ounces Triple Sec. Usually served with salt around the rim and garnished with a lemon spiral
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Axel - A Michelada. Sea Salt, Tajin (or other chili-salt blend), 2 ounces fresh lime juice with half of the lime reserved for the rim. 2 tsp Mexican hot sauce, 1 tsp Worcestershire, 1 can or bottle light Mexican beer.  Dip the rim in lime and the chili salt blend.
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Demyx - Long Island Iced Tea. Splash of cola, 1 ounce lemon juice, 1 ounce Gomme syrup, and half an ounce each of white rum, Vodka, Tequila, Gin, and Triple Sec. Garnish with lemon spiral.
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Luxord - An Old Fashioned. Made up of 1 ½ ounces of Bourbon or rye whiskey, 2 dashes Angostura bitters, 1 sugar cube, and a few dashes of plain water. Garnish with a lemon twist.
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Marluxia - Midori Sour. 1/2 ounces Midori Melon Liqueur, 2 ounces sweet and sour mix, 1 ½ ounces lime juice, and 1 dash of lemon-lime soda.  Garnish with 1 maraschino cherry.
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Larxene - A Cosmopolitan.  ½ ounce fresh lime juice, 1 ounce cranberry juice, ½ Cointreau, 1 ½ ounces Vodka Citron.  Garnish with lime wheel.
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Roxas and Xion - TOO YOUNG TO BE DRINKING ALCOHOL.
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daily-davenport · 6 years
Photo
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Today’s Davenport is going to have tea with a new friend! (It’s transparent!)
[image description start! a transparent semi monochrome image of Davenport driving a motorcycle and Klarg/G’nash squashed in the sidecar. Davenport, a gnome with a large mustache on the left, is driving a red motorcycle and is wearing a red leather jacket, googles (shining so his eyes are not visible) and a dark grey cap. He is leaning forward with a grin. Klarg/G’nash, a large bugbear on the left, is the graphic novel design! He is easily three times Dav’s size, and wearing a black leather jacket and goggles, though his red cap got swept off his head. He has a huge open mouth smile as he laughs with his mane blowing back in the wind. Klarg is cradling a white and red teapot with flowers and has his knees bunched up in the sidecar. There are some little rocks kicked up by the wheels of the cycle. Following this is an image of an anon ask reading, “Today’s Davenport is enjoying a nice hot cup of tea?”]
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