corduroy the bear

the pevensie children do not look at mr & mrs pevensie and think “father, mother”. they are subject, civilian, unknown. they are threats or ambassadors or annoyances, not parents. to see the eyes of a man who knows war but only from the foot soldiers vantage and be expected to defer to him was alien. and to look at a woman who would pale at their deeds and know she saw them as nothing more than the porcelain doll expressions they held (for her sake) was worse susan cannot understand the conversations of the young infantile school girls who expect her to sit with them during lunch. they speak of things like teachers and the young boys of their class, while susan wishes for her bow. all she learns is how to fake the pretense of attention so the naive teacher (younger than her- perhaps 21) will believe she is exemplary. edmund learned that knowing too much, knowing the basics of the world, would throw him under a magnifying glass. he stayed between the shadows and the sun, letting the boys think he belonged. his father did not notice the annoyance behind edmunds eyes when he came to reprimand his youngest son. edmund bore the weight of the artificial world day by day, shrinking to fit the body of a ten year old boy. lucy found she could not see. the height of a child did not suit a queen. she knew this from experience, from her true childhood, and was learning again the disadvantages of small hands and soft arms. she had to get used to exchanging her knives for corduroy bears, and kept her tounge when she found herself addressed in the tone she saved for edmund after duels. the sun was not right here, the stars were all wrong, and she could not speak with the trees. peter’s skin was all wrong. in fact his eyes to his hair to his limbs were wrong. he’d left the body of a schoolboy behind, the day a dwarvish knife had ripped his mail and muscle. his voice was mismatched to the king he was, and he threw himself out of it with his eyes open and fists closed hoping that realigning his bones would snap himself back to himself. there was only so much a schoolboy (swordsman, wolfsbane, king, warrior) could do to protect himself from the onslaught of claustrophobia within his body

Finders Keepers

Stanley Pines hadn’t really planned on kids, but then, they managed to find him anyway.

A little Father’s Day tribute (a day late, whoops) to not just a great dad uncle, but the greatest uncle!

Soon I’ll be sixty years old, will I think the world is cold
Or will I have a lot of children who can warm me?

-Lukas Graham, Seven Years

Stan Pines always figured he would have kids someday. Sometime after his “ew, girls are icky” phase and the following “okay, girls ain’t so bad,” yet before the “well shit, you know what, guys are A-ok in my book, too.”

Having kids seemed the thing to do when you grew up. What usually happened, Filbrick would grumble, whether you planned for them or not.

Stan didn’t necessarily believe that to be the case; regardless, eventually having a rugrat or two was what he wanted, expectations be damned. Babysitting his nephew had given him an appreciative stance on kids. Just the way a baby looked at you, like you were sun and lit up the whole world with your presence alone, that was staggering to Stan, unlike anything he had ever felt.

Not wanting kids was fine, too, as Stan pointed out when Ford expressed his disinterest in spawning any of his own. As always, the brothers were more different than alike, identical or no. Stan pondered if that was the way it went with all siblings.

(“Fatherhood would simply be a major distraction to my research. In moderation, children can be fun company, of course; but they’re also messy, loud, disruptive, and desire a lot of attention.”

“Geez, Sixer, sound like yer describin’ me,” Stan snorted.

“Exactly my point.”

Stan scoffed, socking his smirking brother in the arm. “Shuddup, nerd. Keep talkin’ like that and Uncle Ford won’t be invited to my mansion for Thanksgiving.”


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When Soos appears with the rest of the townsfolk in the reconstructed Gravity Falls square, it looks as if Weirdmageddon has been contained with no casualties. As he sets out to the Mystery Shack in search of the Pines family, he discovers what the town–and he himself–has lost.

Missing scenes from the Gravity Falls finale. Spoilers, obviously.

[on AO3]

Soos opened his eyes. He was falling—again, why had he spent so much time falling the past few days? He couldn’t exactly remember how he’d gotten there—he couldn’t move, and the world was shaded yellow, and he wanted to scream but his mouth was slack and—

He hit the ground heavily, knocking the air from his lungs and cracking his head on the smooth stone of the floor. Thuds and groans from beside him told him that he wasn’t alone. He turned his head muzzily and caught a glimpse of green flannel. So Wendy was here, and she was, well, as safe as him, whatever that meant. He hoped she was feeling more alert than he was. At this rate, he wasn’t going to be much help if they had to fight their way out.

Before he could get to his feet, he felt the building rumble beneath him and the blocks that formed the walls around him began to shake loose. Beams of light cut down from the ceiling, where what had been a smooth surface was suddenly fragmenting. He gasped and shielded his head with one arm, bracing himself for the blocks to fall.

When nothing seemed to happen, he peeked around his arm. The blocks were falling, but they were falling up.

Well, he thought, that was certainly … better than the alternative. Soos watched the blocks rise, the walls around him splintering as they tumbled into the Rift. Was this some new trick? Had Bill finally gained the power to destroy the world and released them to gloat? He looked around in a panic, but the triangle and his minions were nowhere to be seen. He caught a glimpse of Dipper and Mabel clutching at each other’s arms and looking as afraid as he was, and Stan, who had lost his fez and was facing away from them.

Soos stumbled as two blocks shifted beneath his feet. Had they won? Were they about to die? Both? When he looked down to steady himself he could see the barren plain that used to be the Gravity Falls forest far, far below him.

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anonymous asked:

According to the game, Stan's been teaching Wendy how to hotwire cars. I will grasp onto any bonding moment between these two

Originally posted by pinetreepreserve


Also, on that note, I am 90% sure Stan’s the one who’d given Wendy what little driving lessons she’s had, hence her driving in Weirdmaggedon Part 1.

anonymous asked:

since stan is soos's father figure because he doesn't have a dad does this mean that stan is also wendy's mother figure because she doesn't have a mom (p.s. I realize how flawed this logic is but I love stan&wendy interactions and also I am sick and everything seems hilarious)

I see no flawed logic here. I see Stan and Wendy trading playful and sarcastic barbs as mothers and children do (at least I do). I can see Wendy complaining about boys and Stan not-so-helpfully adding his own input/stories/advice that nobody asked for and her groaning through it.

I can see them having fun outings like Stan helping Wendy hone her heisting skills, picking handcuffs practice, or just mall shenanigans (they’ve been escorted out by security at least twice probs but sometimes maybe they just grab corndogs and make fun of people passing by).

Anon I also love Stan & Wendy interaction, so yes, headcanon heartily accepted.