Before fishing, before learning how to play (and cheat) at poker, before even pulling up a stool to help make Stancakes…
there was a bucket, it was almost as big as him.
there were bushes full of berries that they were allowed to eat (but only these ones kids, don’t go sticking shit willy nilly in your mouth.)
and large hands over his, guiding them to the best blueberries, hands full of berries to the bucket, and finally a large hand gently holding his as they went home.
Tag: ficlet
beelieveinbees said: What are some specific mundane objects that the triplets are fond of? (Like, I have a water bottle I really like. Stuff like that)
Acacia: A small tupperware bowl, that lost it’s lid long long ago, and has become a cereal bowl. When she was little she would bodily fight Willow or Hank for that bowl, and when she went to college, the little brown plastic container went with her.
Hank: One of Grunkle Dan’s old flannel shirts. Grunkle Dan left it over at their house when they were ten, and Hank kind of adopted it. It lasted twenty seven years (kept alive by two separate demonic deals) and when it finally fell irrevocably apart, he had Mabel take the pieces and create four small dolls for his kids out of them.
Willow: A massive river stone that Acacia covered in random bits of glitter glue. It feels good in her hand.
Does it ever occur to anyone that the triplets have between them all Stan’s fake ailments for real and if so how do they Stan in particular react.
It probably doesn’t hit Stan, until he sees all three of them on the couch one afternoon, watching TV with their partners and two or four wee ones at this point-
-and Willow is pregnant, and starts to wheeze, and bitches as she gets her inhaler out that now when she coughs and cant breathe, she feels like puking on top of that-
-and Acacia is kind of squinting at the TV, because her depth perception is kind of off, and she seriously needs to get a new prescription for her remaining eye but doesn’t want the optometrist to scold her for not taking care of her glass eye-
-and Hank needs to get up to get a soda, and reaches for his cane with the chunk of amber on top, before sheepishly sitting back down as Vivi scolds him because he overdid it yesterday-
and fuck.
How would The Woodsman, as a separate entity from Henry, react to Henry’s death?
he was sleeping
then he was awake.
he had been buried in flesh
and now he had his own flesh.
it felt like tearing felt like burning felt like sorrow
(how did he know what any of those were?)
one minute he barely was
and now he was here.
—
Unnoticed by the mourners inside, a grand and terrible shape appeared on the edge of the treeline, shook its head once, and then entered the forest
Hank’s and Henry’s similarities, and how kindness is not weakness?
So I actually think Henry and Hank’s kindnesses are two very
different kindnesses.Henry, at least until he got to kindergarten, was shown
almost no kindness at his house, wasn’t taught it. He had to learn kindness on
his own, seek out kindnesses from strangers and from school and from basically anywhere
but the one place you are supposed to be guaranteed it.(it’s no wonder Henry loves books, becomes a librarian.
Because books contain infinite glimpses of more beautiful, gentler, kinder
worlds.)Henry is kind because he wants to be.
Henry is kind because he chooses to be.
Henry is kind and deep, deep underneath, fueling this
kindness yet hidden away from the light of day, is anger that goes to his blood
and bones.Hank’s kindness is effortless, a part of him like breathing
and the beat of his heart. Hank is kind to others because you’re supposed to treat
other people the way you want to be treated! Hank is kind because he was raised
to help others, to seek love and delight in other’s company, to do for those
who cannot.Hank is kind, and Hank has the ability to correct unkindness
in the world.Hank knows evil, knows a lack of empathy when he
sees it. And Hank has every right- no, the duty to fix that wrong. And Hank is
never mistaken in his instincts.It’s only the nice thing to do.
Torako: “Here come dat demon” Dipper, zooming by on Heelies with shutter shades on: “oh shit whaddup”
Bentley is on film duty. They have gone through thirty-seven takes of this short clip. His arms ache. Torako has not gotten the line with the right intonations, according to Dipper, thirty-three of those thirty-seven times. The four times she has have coincided with one of the twenty-nine times Dipper has tripped over nothing and fallen, hence ruining his own line.
They line up to take the shot again. Bentley raises his arms and ignores the discomfort in his elbows to weakly call, “action.” Torako, sitting on the couch, raises her head and flips her hair, then pushes the shades down her nose. She looks over the top of them at something off the screen. “Here come dat demon,” she says. Bentley still isn’t sure what counts as the right intonation, but he thinks that might be it. Carefully, he pans the phone over to where Dipper is just starting to take off. Bentley holds his breath. Dipper doesn’t even wobble. He zooms by, Bentley following his form, and passes by the couch. As Dipper does so, he calls out, “oh shit, whaddup.” It had taken Dipper two hours to explain the significance of these lines to Bentley and Torako, and Bentley wasn’t even sure if he understood them entirely.
It takes Bentley a moment to realize that they have succeeded. It is a miracle, and a wave of accomplished fatigue overcomes him. He shakily stops capturing film. Then he takes a few faltering steps to the couch, where at last he will have rest. Torako and Dipper are high-fiving. Dipper asks to see the film, and Bentley hands the phone over, face pressed into the back of the couch.
He hears the last ten seconds of their lives replayed. Dipper and Torako are silent, and then Torako says, “Awesome, we did it!”
Dipper then says, “No, the camera was shaking whenever it stopped on something. We can’t do that. It’s not smooth enough. Not cool enough.”
Bentley pulls his face from the back of the couch. He stares at Dipper. Then, slowly, without a word, he stands up and leaves. Later, he hears that Dipper’s attempts to have the nightmares film ended in disaster.
Dipper settles for the shaky film.
this is one of the funniest things I’ve ever written and is a nice preview so:
“Me?” Henry said in astonishment. “With a vase? What? That’s. Really violent. I don’t think I could ever do something like that.” And he was right. Henry never learnt to knock people about with a bat, he just cut off their hands.
Just got the weirdest mental image; dipper pops into the mindscape only to find a ghost there messing with the (very confused) flock, when he demands to know whats going on, the ghost answers in a familiar voice, “I’m haunting your nightmares!”
Dipper sighs.
“Nice to see you again too Mabel”
“Whooooo! I’m not Mabel. I’m the ghoooost of Dipmass past! You’ve be a big Scrudge! You must atone for your sins with…”
“A trip down memory lane in which we examine the supposed deterioration of my festivity?”
“Nooooo~ You must face your grumpiness with…Tickles!”
Tickles were truly a fearsome thing when you couldn’t see where the wiggling fingers were attacking from.
lucy ann, experiment
The day after she was left exposed on the banks of the Thamesis to die, she ventured out again to greet the sun.
The sun rose, and once again she remained unburnt.
She undressed completely, and stretched herself out on the ground, exposing every inch of skin to the sun.
Still fine, though now she was nice and toasty feeling from head to toe. But not in the burning-to-death-soon way, just the feeling from taking a dip in warm water or sleeping under four or five furs.
The same thing happened the third day.
And the fifth.
By day twelve, what had been experiments, she safely felt she could now maybe, just maybe, count as the next stage in her very long existence.
theitalianscribe said:Prompt. Character: Gompers. Word: Home
Gompers found a tin that Sad Smell One Eye threw out into the yard and began to chomp on it. He was worried about Sad Smell One Eye. For a few brief months, there had been kids (even if they were weird furless kids with soft hooves and messed up eyes) running around, and Sad Smell One Eye had turned into Happy Smell One Eye.
Gompers had approved of the change. He tolerated Sad Smell One Eye, but it was nice to see him happy, if only because he stunk better.
But then there had been the Wrong Bad that had ripped through his home, and while it was fun being big big and wreaking havoc and terror on all he surveyed, at the end of it what had been two kids had suddenly become one-
Gompers finished the tin and started to sniff around the yard for another one. There were a lot more tins out here than there used to be.
Lots of tins, sad smells, weird broken noises coming from One Eye; everything had gone back to normal, like from before the kids had come.
Gompers didn’t like that.
He’d have to have a word with what his boy kid had become to fix this. He’d miss the tins, but some things were worth the sacrifice.
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