ii-thiscat-ii:

Because drugs are not always terrible.

On Ao3

It was supposed to be just them on their own for a night, just Dipper and Lionel, while Belle had a sleepover with friends. They were planning to watch a few movies, and maybe talk about things, and just have a nice father-son night together. They had both been looking forward to it.

Instead, Lionel found Dipper curled up at the end of his bed, clutching at his head.

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If you’re still doing 3-sentence fic – Belle and Onika on their first date?

marypsue:

A whole year’s worth of plotting, planning, daydreaming, and anticipating had all crumbled in front of Belle’s eyes when Onika, eyes sparkling and wearing a smile to rival the sun, held up her invitation to the finals of the robotics competition she’d entered, with the same date as the night of prom splashed across the bottom of the page; Belle had swallowed her disappointment, though – the girl she’d been planning to ask had just gotten the opportunity of a lifetime, and Belle was going to be at least as excited about it as Onika was, dammit.

She’d agreed to come along mostly to be a good sport, since all her prom night dreams were dashed anyway, but Belle was pleasantly surprised to find that instead of the glorified math class she’d expected, the competition was a series of battles to the death – or at least dismemberment – between bots with cute names and impressive weaponry, and she found herself cheering almost as loud as Onika when her team’s creation won the final bout.

And when Onika turned to face Belle, her eyes shining, and scooped Belle clean off her feet, spinning her around once before planting a huge, deep kiss square on her mouth, Belle had to admit that this was better than any prom night romance she’d been imagining.

prompt: Lionel and illegal fireworks

marypsue:

He wasn’t sure where the students had got the stupid things, much less why they’d decided that the library roof was a good place to set them off, but by the time Lionel discovered that the bangs and flashes from overhead were in fact coming from his own roof and gotten up to chase the perpetrators off, they’d already vanished, leaving half a box of fireworks unexploded on the roof behind them.

Lionel shook his head, muttering something under his breath about how universities would be infinitely better places if they didn’t have to have so many damn students around, and then paused; in the distance, red and blue lights were starting to flicker, but the night air was clear and just a little chilly up here, the breeze ruffling what was left of his hair, and two steps forward took him to the edge of the building’s facade where the kids had set up the fireworks they’d set off, to where he could see out across the campus, over the tops of trees, glimpse the roofs of other buildings and see the lights all the way downtown, feeling high and lonely, framed as though on the largest stage in the world…

He looked down, and saw that in their hurry to get away, the mischief-makers had left a single rocket propped against the curling stone lip of the library roof; and left lying beside it, forgotten in the rush, just within Lionel’s grasp, someone had dropped a lighter.

Mother’s Day with the Sterlings?

marypsue:

The twins hadn’t been very old when they’d started asking, wanting to know what the holiday was about, why they never celebrated. Lionel hadn’t known what to tell them, had avoided the subject and dodged the questions for as long as he dared, knowing even as he did that, sooner or later, he was going to have to face up to the facts: Maya had left a hole in the centre of their small family, a hole that, no matter what he did, he’d never be able to fill.

He hadn’t considered the possibility that the twins might be ready to face it before he was until the year they turned nine, when he woke up on the morning of the dreaded day to find her photo cycle in the frame-screen by his bed bedecked with bright flower stickers and Belle, sheepish, caught in the act of sticking one to his forehead; it had occured to him as he was following her down the stairs, inhaling the smell of burnt toast and frying eggs, that they didn’t need him to fill the hole that Maya had left.