“Hi! May I please request an imagine where the reader feels like jax only wants her for sex so she decides to move on from him to someone else, and when he sees that he decides to tell her the truth of how he really feels about her? Thank you 😊😊❤️”
The sunlight bleeding through the window pulls you from your slumber, your eyes squinting as you try to adjust to the brightness. Turning to your side, you wish you could say you were surprised that your boyfriend wasn’t there, but in fact, you were used to it.
You and Jax had been seeing each other for around three months, after the two of you flirting for ages and then finally deciding to give things a go. However, things didn’t seem to be living up to your expectations.
You understood that you’d probably see him less, depending on whatever was happening with the MC, but it seemed like the only time he ever saw you was when he was feeling horny. He’d show up, you’d melt under his touch, he’d get off and then you’d wake up with him nowhere in sight, the pillow he’d been vacating as cold as ice.
Shaking your head in disappointment, you scold yourself for hoping that last night might’ve been different; it never is.
Refusing to continue feeling used and thrown to the side by the man who is supposed to make you feel the exact opposite, you pull back the sheets, jumping out of bed and going to get ready.
After showering, putting on some makeup and wearing your favourite jeans and shirt, you decide to go for a walk, hoping it will lift your spirits.
“Morning, (Y/N)!” You turn to the side, your hand sheltering your eyes as you see your neighbour, Chris, waving at you. Smiling, you walk over, deciding to try and make conversation for once. He’s fancied you since you moved in, but is quite a shy guy, the complete opposite to -
Before you think his name, you throw yourself into conversation, knowing that your task of distracting yourself might prove more difficult than you first thought. “Morning. Going someplace nice?”
“Not really, I’m just going to grab some coffee from down the block.” He stutters slightly as he talks to you, a light blush creeping up onto his cheeks. “Do you want to join me?”
Ready to turn his offer down like you usually do, you stop yourself, deciding that it will be nice to hang out with some new company for a change. “I’d like that, if that’s okay with you.”
“Really? I mean, yeah, that’s cool.” he replies, his best attempt at being smooth. You smirk, gesturing for him to lead the way.
The coffee shop is beautiful, quaint, soft melodic music playing through the speakers. Claiming a table in the window, Chris offers to get you your drink, not taking no for an answer. You look outside as you sit, the sun shining brightly onto the street.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” you whisper, noticing a certain group of bikers lining their motors up across the street. A cup being placed on the table brings your attention back inside, you smiling warmly at Chris as he sits down opposite you. “Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it.” he responds, his eyes meeting yours over his mug. You take a sip of your drink, the warmth of the liquid soothing you, your eyes returning to the men outside. They head into one of the shops, relief coursing through you, not wanting to see the President right now. “Is that your boyfriends club?”
“What?” you hum, not really paying attention to his words, running them over in your head and realising what he asked you. “Oh, yeah, well kind of. Sorry, just got a lot on my mind.”
He waves off your apology, you feeling like a bitch for not even paying attention to the sweet man across from you. “Don’t mention it. I’m not a stalker by the way, I just see him leaving your house sometimes. His sound of his bike little hard to block out.”
“Yeah, it is pretty loud.” you laugh half heartedly, your fingertips tracing the rim of your cup, your plan to rid Jax from your mind completely out the window. He’s all you can think about. He’s intoxicating, and you scold yourself for thinking you could stop wanting him so easily.
“You know, I’ve been told I’m quite a good listener.” Chris states, smiling comfortingly at you, as if he can see right through you. “If you ever need to talk about anything, I’m here to listen.”
Reaching across the table, you place your hand on top of his, not knowing that they were the words you needed to hear. “Thank you, Chris.”
“My, my, my. Isn’t this cosy.” you pull your hand back, as if you’ve been scalded, as you hear Jax’s voice beside your table. Looking up, you watch as his tongue runs over his bottom lip, a sadistic smile on his face.
“We’re just having coffee, Jax. He’s a friend.” you argue, finishing your drink and standing up. “Thank you for this, Chris. See you around.”
He looks between you and Jax, the look in his eyes enforcing that he’s there if you need him. Nodding in recognition, you leave the shop, a moody Jax hot on your trail. “Something you’re not telling me?”
You spin sharply on your heels, glaring at the man in front of you. “What? You jealous that there’s males out there that actually want to talk to me?”
“What are you talking about?” Jax questions, his brows knitted in confusion. You scoff, laughing sarcastically, your fingers running through your fringe.
“Haven’t you noticed something about whatever this is, hm?” you ask, gesturing between the two of you. He shrugs his shoulders, his hands shoved in his pockets. “You only come around to sleep with me, Jax. That’s the only time I ever see you.”
His mouth parts in surprise, the cogs in his brain moving, the puzzle solving itself. He reaches out for you, you stepping back, trying to keep his touch from meddling with your focus.
“No, Jax! We don’t talk, we don’t communicate. We barely look each other in the eyes unless it’s during sex.” You feel your body getting lighter as you vent, the weight on your shoulders getting slightly less heavy. “I like you, Jackson, but when I stepped into this, I didn’t expect it to be the way it is.”
He sighs deeply, looking around the street and itching at his facial hair, cursing under his breath. He steps towards you hesitantly, gently grasping your hands in his own, you letting him as he caresses your skin.
“I’m sorry I made you feel like this, (Y/N). I’ve just been so hung up on club shit, my mom, Clay.” You feel guilt creep up on you, realising you’ve probably been a little selfish about the whole situation. “I want this, babe, I want us to work. Let me try again, prove it to you.”
His eyes are nothing but genuine as he breathes you in, his words the same. You play with the rings on his digits, you timidly slipping your fingers between his larger ones before squeezing reassuringly. “It’s not just up to you. I should’ve just told you how I felt-“
His lips cover yours, his hands cradling the sides of your face as he kisses you passionately, his actions telling you what words can’t. You lose yourself in him, all of your negative thoughts washing away under his spell.
He pulls away slowly, placing a final deep kiss on your lips, his forehead resting upon yours. “Okay?”
Beaming, you wrap your arms around his waist, “Okay.”
Adult coloring books pfft who wants to color mandalas when you can find coloring pages of old cartoons:
but but if I remember anything from the little art classes I’ve had it’s never to cut your drawing on joints or waist, it looks weird. Unless you’re drawing Darth Maul after Obi-Wan, I guess. Anyhow, where are my crayons?
I always did have trouble coloring inside the lines.
Request: Can you write a request where you move to Charming and you move next to Juice and you guys start crushing on each other & Request: Can you write an imagine where you new in town and you run into Happy accidentally and spill coffee all over yourself
The music filled the air and cut through the cool night as you drove, all windows down, and your hand drifting out the window. You sung along, well yelled along, as you drove, embracing the fresh air and the starry night. Your eyes flicked to the sign on the left of the road. ‘Welcome To Charming, Our Name Says It All!” You scoffed and reached into your bag on the passengers seat and grabbed out a cigarette. You lit it as you drove and breathed in the smoke, letting it mix with the cool Californian air. You pulled up at the traffic lights just as your Beyonces ‘Formation’ came on the radio station. “Yaaaaass bitch!” You said to yourself as you turned the volume up and lifted the cigarette to your lips. Your music drowned out the sound of the dozen bikes that roe up behind your car, and you didn’t notice them pull up on either side of you. You were in your zone, singing and dancing to the song as you waited for the lights to change. You only noticed when you went to tap the ash of your smoke that there was a line of bikers, all watching you with amused looks on their faces. “Shit.” You muttered. You weren’t sure what to do so you did the only thing you could think off: You raised two fingers and saluted to the biker on your left. He smirked and saluted back at you, before revving his engine and driving forward. You watched as the other bikers followed him, each of them saluting to you as they passed and you shrunk into your seat, your cheeks going red and you wished the car would swallow you whole. The honk of the car behind you brought you back to reality and you cursed again, realising the light had turned green and you drove into the heart of Charming.
You pilled into the apartment complex and parked to the side. Leaning over the steering wheel you looked up at the apartments and sighed. The Californian Dream. You thought to yourself as you looked at the row of shitty flats. You knew you wouldn’t be able to afford much but the photos online had made this place look a lot nicer. Still, it was in a pretty decent neighbourhood and it couldn’t be that bad. You slid out of the seat and headed to the small office. The man inside passed you your key and you passed him the first months rent, and he pointed to your new home. You walked back to your car and pulled the duffel bag out of the back before locking it and heading to your apartment. You could unpack the rest of your belongings in the morning, for now, you needed a shower and sleep. You had been driving all day and you were tired, it had been a long week. You had broken up with your boyfriend after finding out he had been cheating on you for the last five months. Then, you’d been fired from your job, because you had spent the night in your car and slept through your alarm. You had tried to call your family but none of them could, or wanted, to help you. You had spent all week online looking for job when finally you found one, waitressing in a diner. The American Dream. And, to top it all off, the diner was in a small town called Charming, in California. You had decided to take a positive attitude and embrace the change, and you’d packed up all your stuff and driven here. You opened the door to your new apartment and looked around, a pout on your face as you looked at the bare room. You flicked the light on and dumped your bag on the floor. “Welcome Home.” You sighed to yourself and headed for the bathroom.
You woke to the sound of birds chirping and you groaned and pulled the pillow over your head. You were not a morning person. But the birds in Charming certainly were and after a good ten minutes of trying to sleep through the noise you finally got up. After showering and pulling on your booty shorts and your old white band t-shirt you pulled your hair into a top knot and slipped on your boots. You grabbed your cigarettes and your cash and locked the apartment, deciding to walk and get a look at Charming. You walked along Main St, looking in the store fronts and smiling at the locals. They all seemed friendly enough and you welcomed the sight of the small cafe. You headed inside and ordered a coffee. You grabbed the takeaway cup and handed the man behind the counter the cash, smiling warmly at him before walking into the street. The sun was fast to get to work and the heat was warm against your skin. You walked absentmindly, sipping at the coffee and studying the small town. You turned the corner and suddenly your coffee was all over you. Your shirt was soaked and you felt the coffee dripping dorn your legs. “Im so sorry!” You gushed as you looked into the cold face of the man you had just walked into. He wore a white shirt beneath a leather butte and luckily for him, your coffee had only gone over you. He rolled a toothpick between his lips as his dark eyes stared down at you. He began to smirk as his eyes dropped lower and you looked down too. You blushed as you realised your old white band t-shirt was soaked, and see-through, the coffee deciding to show off your best assets.
You covered yourself with your hands, blushing deeply. “Wait here.” The man spoke lowly, his voice husky. You watched as he stepped into the alley and pulled the leather of his shoulders. He lifted the shirt from his body and was left standing in a white singlet. Your eyes practically jumped out of your head as you eyed his sculpted muscles beneath the tight tank and the strong, tattoo filled arms. He slid his arms back through his leather and moved towards you, holding out his shirt. Your faces blank as you stared at the shirt he held out and you heard him laugh highly. “Take it, girl.” He said, his raspy voice full of warmth. You looked up at him and accepted the shirt, smiling warmly at him. “Im Happy.” Your brows furrowed together. “Uh Im..wet?” You said awkwardly and he smirked, lust filling his eyes. You blushed when you realised what you said and he leaned closer to you. “My name is Happy.” He explained. “Oh,uh, (y/n).” You said, your cheeks darkening. “Nice to meet you.” He said. “You too, and thanks for the shirt, I really appreciate it. Have you got a card or something I can take so I can give it back to you?” You gushed as you pulled the shirt over your head. You hadn’t realised that he had walked away and you stood, dumbstruck as you looked around you, his large shirt swallowing you as you looked for him. You couldn’t see him and you sighed, tucking the shirt into your shorts and walking towards home.
You finally reached the apartment complex and you walked to your door, fumbling with the keys. You struggled to get the key in the door when you heard someone clear their throat behind you. You turned and saw a young guy standing there, around your age. His face was warm and friendly and he smiled widely at you. “You new?” He asked, his voice friendly. “Yeah, moved in last night.” You replied. Your eyes studied his mohawk and the tattoos on his scalp. “Im Juice.” He smiled and held out his hand. “(y/n).” You smiled and shook his hand, enjoying the warmth of his soft skin. “I live next door, if you need anything.” He smiled at you. You thanked him and nodded. You turned back towards your door when you heard him call your name. You looked back at him and he stood with a cheeky grin before saluting to you. Your cheeks flushed pink and buried your face in your hands as he laughed. He grinned at you before walking into his house. “Welcome to Charming.”
I am going to make this a series, I hope you like it 😘
every year you go down to the bay for sailing lessons. the instructors greet you with pale, gaunt faces full of teeth. “let’s start with a capsize test,” they say. they do this every year. you’ve never made it back into the boat.
a friend from out of town makes a joke about old bay seasoning. you laugh with them, but your smile doesn’t reach your eyes. they don’t know. they can never know.
the stinkbugs are back. you open your door to a sea of stinkbugs. you close the door. behind you, the stinkbugs continue swarming through your house. you’re getting tired of stinkbugs.
the bikers line both sides of the street. you think they’re training for a marathon. you think they’ve always been training for a marathon.
a grey cloud hovers over baltimore. when your school bus passes underneath it, every single light on the bus goes out. when they come back on, you are no longer driving into baltimore. “wasn’t that a nice field trip?” your teacher asks. you realize this isn’t your teacher. you realize this isn’t your bus.
you used to take horseback riding lessons every saturday. you quit once you realized what they were feeding the horses.
linganore and urbana have been rivals for years. you ask your friend what happened. they shake their head. “doesn’t matter,” they say. “it’s not like they ever found the bodies.”
the summers are getting colder and the winters are getting warmer. everyone blames it on global warming. you glance at the sigil carved into the cracked asphalt. it’s glowing a color you’ve never seen before. damn global warming.
you’re having crab cakes for dinner. you bite down on something hard. you reach into your mouth and pull out an entire crab shell. you wonder why there’s a crab shell in the crab cake. everybody knows they aren’t made from crab.
visit historic annapolis! a sign says. visit historic downtown mt. airy! another says. visit your family before it’s too late, another says. you laugh to yourself. it’s already too late.
the stinkbugs are still here. in fact,they never left.
an: You can blame this on the two tornado warnings, three flood warnings, and the two hours of rain and hail sent by the wrath of god that happened while I was writing this.
She’s ten minutes away from home when it starts - the wind, the lightening, the torrential downpour of Noah-like proportions, and so she pulls off the road at the first sign of life along the highway, into the parking lot of a little diner, the lot lined with big rigs and a group of bikes parked under an awning off to the side.
And of course her phone is dead.
Emma bites back a groan as she stares at the sheets of water falling from the sky, huffing out a breath, a strand of hair jumping to fall over one eye as she attempts to summon up some divination to figure out how long it’s going to rain.
There’s no hope for it. She’s gonna have to go inside.
She’s soaked by the time she makes it the ten feet from her car to the door, her hair weighed down and dripping as she bundles her bag under her arm, hoping against hope she’s protected it well enough to charge her damn phone.
The diner is well lit and cool against the clammy heat of the rain, and a woman in tiny red shorts greets her excitedly as Emma shakes herself out like a dog at the front entrance.
“Welcome to Granny’s!” she says over a loud burst of thunder, and Emma stares at the woman in something bordering on disbelief. The diner is mostly full, truckers sitting down for greasy burgers and heavy coffee, a group of bikers lining the counter and laughing boisterously about something or other, and Emma sighs as she makes her way towards the woman, wincing as she squelches her way across the linoleum.
“What a storm, huh?” the woman says as Emma drips her way to her, and Emma nods. She’d been fairly convinced about thirty seconds after the rain had started that her car was one hydroplane away from veering off the road, and unfortunately for her impatience, she’s pretty sure Henry wouldn’t appreciate being orphaned by a freak of nature storm front.
A/N: Second to last part! Probably! The drabbles are also currently called “Bike Race” on AO3 until I think of a better title! My AO3 username is WinchesterWarrenSon because I was still into Supernatural when I fucking made the name and I’m a stupid dork. @pinesinthewoods@peekabooitsmiko@logicalbookthief@thesnadger@taccoman@aspiring-procrastinator (Also, feel free to recommend better titles. I know “Bike Race” really sucks for a fic title.) And for the Jewish headcanon mentions, I did a quick google search. I do not know much about Judaism and had to look up what the general consensus on Hell was.
It was 1 o’clock. Dipper drove the motorbike into town, looking around at the place.
Jimmy … Jimmy really changed the look of the streets.
As Dipper arrived to the meeting spot, he saw Jimmy already sitting atop his bike at the starting line. The roads were empty aside from him and Jimmy, and the sidewalks were full of the townsfolk. He even saw Gideon and his parents on one corner of the sidewalk. Manly Dan and the policemen were on the other sidewalk, and Tyler Cutebiker and Toby Determined were also there, as well as Robbie, Tambry, Thompson, Lee, Nate, and Lazy Susan.
Dipper swallowed hard. Was this really happening in front of the entire town?
“We’ll make this easy on you, little man,” Jimmy said, jabbing his finger at the road. “One lap, starting line is the finish line. We follow the road out of town, then drive around the perimeter once, then we come right back down this road. Whoever crosses the line first wins.”
“How did you get this set up so fast?” Dipper asked, rolling up to the starting line.
“Bikers are always ready for a race, and this town’s got a biker bar.”
“Oh yeah.” Dipper remembered going in there to question Manly Dan about the murder of Wax Stan. He wasn’t sure that explained everything, but whatever.
“On your mark!” Officer Blubs shouted, holding up his gun into the air.
Dipper tightened his grip on the handle bars. He had practiced non-stop, and he had gathered a few scrapes and bruises from constant falling over. But he felt like he had a good enough grasp on it now. He had to. He couldn’t lose to Jimmy, couldn’t let Stan get hurt again. And he didn’t want to know what Jimmy had planned for him if he lost.
Jimmy shot him a nasty smirk, then said, “By the way, nice outfit.”
Dipper blushed a little bit. He was still wearing his blue vest, red shirt, and gray shorts and blue baseball cap.
Officer Blubs shot the gun into the air, and Jimmy and Dipper took off.
Dipper hissed a bit as his palm burned, but he didn’t bother to look at it as the flames spread from his hand to all over his body. Somehow, it didn’t quite hurt, but the sudden burst of heat was a bit distracting. Dipper kept his eye on the prize, though, and kept after Jimmy.
As the flames died down, Dipper had an all-new outfit - leather jacket, appropriate pants for motorcycle-riding, ratty T-shirt with the collar and sleeves cut off underneath the jacket, and some stylish, bad-boy boots and gloves.
His hat flew off his head and ended up falling at the Gleeful family’s feet as the flames came up and around his head, giving him a helmet.
On the back of the jacket, there was stitching of the Big Dipper constellation.
Jimmy was just a bit ahead of him, but Dipper knew he had to slow down or he was going to wipe out on the very first turn. He just had to make sure he didn’t get too far behind and then was able to cross the finish line. That’s all he had to do. He could do this.
Meanwhile, Stan and Mabel, with Soos and Wendy not too far behind, just came onto the scene as Dipper and Jimmy went round the bend and out of sight.
“Oh, hey, Mabel!” Gideon said, but Mabel didn’t pay him any mind.
Stan burst out of the crowd and ran onto the street, panting.
“JIMMY, YOU SON OF A BITCH!”
Mabel covered her ears, but it didn’t help much.
“Mr. Pines, what’s going on?” Wendy asked. “Why was Dipper on a motorcycle?”
“Well, they’re racing, obviously,” said Bud.
“Dipper made a deal with Jimmy, and if Dipper wins, Jimmy has to leave, but if Jimmy wins, Dipper has to do something for him!” Mabel said, turning to Wendy and Soos.
“Wait, what?” Wendy said, raising an eyebrow. “What does Dipper have to do?”
“I don’t know, he didn’t say! And he said we weren’t allowed to ask questions about it!”
“That sounds super shady.”
Mabel looked down and saw Dipper’s hat, then picked it up.
Stan moved back onto the sidewalk, expression panicked.
“Mabel, has Dipper ever ridden, like, a dirt bike or anything like that before?” Stan asked, a pleading tone to his voice.
“No! He only started learning how to ride that thing four hours ago!”
Stan pressed his palm to his forehead, pushing his fez back. His fingers took hold of his hair underneath the hat. The movement made the fez catch on the elastic string keeping the eye-patch in place. While the eye patch stayed on his face, it displaced it.
“Mr. Pines?” Soos said, seeing the discoloration just underneath Stan’s eyebrow.
“There isn’t a way to stop this now, they’re already out there, and there’s no telling whether Dipper will wipe out and get hurt or where that would be, and if he gets hurt, it’s all my fault - !” Stan rambled, trying to think of a way to fix it, to make it stop, but he couldn’t, there wasn’t anything he could do. He no longer had a bike of his own, hadn’t ridden one in so long he wasn’t sure he could do it anymore, and with his cataracts it just wasn’t a good idea, and who would take care of Mabel if both he and Dipper were hurt in biking accidents?
“Mr. Pines, what happened to your eye?” Soos said again.
“Huh?” Wendy said, looking up from Mabel and at Stan.
Stan hesitated, then he sighed and pulled the eye patch off.
Wendy and Soos gasped. Mabel winced.
“It looks worse than last night, Grunkle Stan…!”
“I’m okay, sweetie. It doesn’t hurt,” Stan lied.
“Did - did Jimmy do that!?” Wendy said, a flash of her father’s temper flaring in her eyes. She balled her hands into fists.
“Is that why Dipper made that deal and is doing this race?” Soos asked, emotionally torn. He wanted to be angry, too, but he was remembering how he hadn’t even second-guessed Jimmy’s presence in the Shack and - and Mabel said ‘worse than last night’, which meant the kids had seen it but he hadn’t, he hadn’t noticed his favorite person in the world was in trouble and hadn’t helped.
“I - ” Stan started.
“Yes,” Mabel said, her shoulders sagging.
Stan stopped, then sighed. “Yeah. Yeah it is.”
The Gleefuls were just pretending this conversation just plain wasn’t happening right next to them and would not be acknowledging it or discussing it period from this point on.
Meanwhile, Dipper was discovering that Jimmy was a cheater.
Demonic biker powers meant fiery whips that could rip up the terrain and the road and put obstacles in Dipper’s path.
Dipper had to dodge or make an obstacle a benefit to his progress with each problem Jimmy threw at his way.
Gritting his teeth, he thought to himself that he wished he could do the same to Jimmy. He waited a moment to see if the magic fire would pay out.
No such luck. Perhaps it was for the best, though. He had no idea how to drive this thing one-handed.
Driving the perimeter of Gravity falls took about an hour.
As they made the turn to go back into town, Jimmy did one last crack on the ground and Dipper couldn’t predict was it was going to do - put rocks in his way? another cow to dodge? - but then the ground actually opened up, and Dipper saw fire and flame and smoke billow out of the hole in the ground as it got bigger and bigger.
Dipper didn’t know what to do, but soon he fell into the hole.
Screaming, Dipper fell into the depths of the pit. He could hear Jimmy laughing as he made his way back into Gravity Falls.
Eventually, Dipper lannded on a strip of land. He kept driving forward, but he was whipping his head back and forth, taking in the scenery.
Was … was this Hell!? Was Hell really real!? How well would that go over with Jewish day school? Because this didn’t look like Gehinnom and he had always gotten the feeling that Gehinnom was more like the Catholic Purgatory. This did not look like Purgatory in the slightest. Oh no, was he going to meet the Devil!? He didn’t want to meet the Devil!
“Hey, kid. What’re you doing here using my brand of magic?”
Dipper screamed and swerved rather violently.
“Whoa, easy there.”
Dipper turned his head and looked at the skeleton that was talking to him. The skeleton had horns sticking out of its forehead.
“I - I - I - I - I - I - !”
“A kid like you shouldn’t be having demonic powers. Where’d you get them?”
“J-J-J-J-Jimmy Snakes, we had a deal, and I have to beat him or he’s gonna hurt my uncle, and I have to get back to the surface or he’s gonna win for sure! I can’t let him hurt Grunkle Stan!”
The skeleton nodded sagely, as though he was thinking deeply.
The skeleton, which had been hovering alongside Dipper as he drove, clapped his hands, and suddenly the ground under Dipper rose up, the dirt ceiling above them disintegrating to allow them to rise. The road was now a ramp, going up, up, up…!
On the surface, the crowd saw Jimmy coming closer and closer, but no sign of Dipper.
“I don’t see him!” Mabel said, holding binoculars to her face.
Jimmy laughed to himself, thinking he had this in the bag.
Then the ground started to rumble.
“Huh?” Jimmy said.
The road burst open, and through the fire and smoke came Dipper, yelling as the bike flew up out of the crater and he landed back on the ground - in front of Jimmy - and sped for the finish line.
“TAKE THAT, YOU CHEATING JERK!” Dipper screamed, not daring to look back at Jimmy.
The finish line was right there, right there!
Dipper crossed the finish line, and he threw his hands up into the air.
“YES!” Dipper shouted.
He shouldn’t have let go of the handlebars.
The bike hit a hole in the ground that Dipper and Jimmy had easily avoided before. Dipper - and the bike - ended up taking flight once more, Dipper slipping off of the bike and landing on the ground first.
The bike prompty landed right on top of Dipper’s legs, making him scream out in pain.
“DIPPER!” Stan and Mabel shouted, running over to him. Soos and Wendy followed, and Stan, Soos, and Wendy pulled the bike off of Dipper.
Dipper gasped in pain, but he forced himself to get to his feet.
“Ow, ow, ow - Mabel! Stan! I won! I actually won!”
Stan’s eyes had zeroed in on the fact that Dipper was now refusing to put weight on his left leg.
Jimmy crossed the finish line and came to a stop. He was snarling, but he put his bike into park, and he strode over to Dipper, Mabel, and Stan.
Wendy and Soos provided a protective barrier between Jimmy and the Pines’ family, but Dipper limped just enough around Soos.
“According to our deal, you have to get the heck out of here and never bother Grunkle Stan again! Also, I think a certain someone wants to talk to you,” Dipper said.
Jimmy raised an eyebrow, then turned his head. His face paled as he saw the horned skeleton. Only the Pines family, Jimmy, Soos, and Wendy could see that he was a talking, walking skeleton with horns thanks to the robes and hood he was wearing.
“Really, Jimmy? You tried to make your retirement happen by switching places with a twelve-year-old? We’re demonic beings, our lifestyles are not child-appropriate, and I will not stand for this blatant abuse of power and manipulation of a non-corrupted heart. He raced you to save the life of another, for Devil’s sake!”
“Nah ah ah! I said if you could find a replacement in a week’s time, then I’d let you retire, and you knew full well it had to be an adult capable of proper consent! Do you have any idea the amount of trouble the whole demon department would be in otherwise!? Your week’s up, back to work, mister.”
“And it can’t be in Gravity Falls! That was part of the deal!” Dipper said.
Mephistopheles nodded. “Yes, yes. I will also be taking your powers from you, young man, but you can keep the clothes.”
Dipper held out his palm, and Mephistopheles took it into his own and shook it. Dipper winced a little, but then Mephistopheles took his hand back and Dipper saw that the burn of the snake head was gone.
“Au Revoir,” Mephistopheles said, grabbing Jimmy by the arm and pulling him back to his motorcycle.
“Hey - !” Jimmy protested, but Mephistopheles ignored him.
Stan watched Jimmy get pulled away by the walking skeleton, and he made to run after him, hand balled into a fist and clearly about to lay down the law. But Soos and Wendy grabbed onto Stan, holding him back.
“Whoa, Grunkle Stan!”
Mabel and Dipper moved to be in front of Stan.
“It’s okay now! He’s leaving!”
“Jimmy, you asshole! I was going to help you! You didn’t have to involve the kids, so why did you, you giant prick!? ANSWER ME!”
But Jimmy didn’t answer. He just got onto his bike and drove back out of Gravity Falls.
Dipper and Mabel watched as Stan’s body trembled slightly before them.
Stan turned back towards the kids, his eyes going to Dipper’s leg again.
“Dipper, let’s get you to a doctor, okay?”
“I’m okay, Grunkle Stan.”
“No. No you’re not. Your leg might be broken, and look at your face. Your chin’s busted. You’re going to the doctor.”
Stan picked Dipper up carefully, and Dipper had to admit that Stan might be right about his leg as it pained him no matter how he moved it.
Dipper didn’t understand. He thought Stan would be happy Jimmy was gone. But if it was possible, Stan looked more upset than he had when the twins had discovered that Jimmy had hit him.
When it comes to fall/winter fashion, the coat is king! I’ve rounded up some of my favorite jackets from the Project tradeshow in Vegas this past week to give you a sneak peek at what I’m looking forward to for next year. One important thing to note is that if this year I was all about long oversized jackets (I was!), my picks for next year seem to hint that I’m bringing shorter, sportier coats back into the mix. Let’s run down the list, shall we?
The Kooples - A leather jacket is a staple for every guy and this handsome jacket is still classic but with just enough modern edge. With thick but soft genuine leather and all its attention to detail, this coat has that bad boy feel but with a sophisticated touch of luxury.
Slate & Stone - I love a herringbone print and seeing it done on the classic bomber silhouette with that borg collar, too, is just perfection.
Vince - So I had to put one long jacket on the list, but when that jacket is as unique as a leather anorak complete with side zippers and a dropped waist, I’m sure you can see why it made the cut.
Hardy Amies - Believe me when I tell you that Hardy Amies has a strong outerwear collection for next year. Lots of short boxy coats with a vintage feel to them that were right up my alley but this particular jacket stood out for its minimal “less is more” sophistication. Superb details like the double-zip closure, flap pockets, and black borg collar really elevate this classic jacket.
The Kooples Sport - I know I already put a moto on this list but the brown leather lined in shearling with biker details down the sleeve were just too good to ignore.
While I could’ve definitely added a few more to this roundup, these 5 coats are definitely on the short list for what I’ll most likely be spending my first few paychecks on next fall/winter. Have a favorite? Let me know in the comments!
Prompt: based off of this continuation where Thranduil is this Gordon Ramsay-esque chef/judge and Bard gets picked for his competition. Cue major UST and flirtation.
Everyone who was anyone in the world of cooking knew who
Thranduil Oropherion was.
A top-shelf chef, he owned five of the world’s most
pretentious yet delicious restaurants, all based on highly technical
otherworldly dishes. Not a flaw ran throughout those kitchens; praise singing
from food critics’ mouths. In order to get into such a restaurant, one would
have to put a reservation sometimes months in advance.
Truly, his knowledge of food surpassed all but those of the
greats. Hundreds of recipes were embedded in his mind, lying dormant until they
could be used. There was a rumor floating around that he could be blindfolded
and still manage to cook a three course meal without a hitch. Whether those
tales proved accurate, no one really knew. But many wouldn’t put it past the
blond chef. Deft were his slender hands while dicing or chopping or filleting –
the knife dancing in a quick tune dangerously close to his spindly fingers. Yet
no blood was ever drawn for years, and probably never would be.
Last night, February 5, 2014 Ernest Alexander presented the Fall/Winter 2014 collection at Industria Studios in New York. With inspiration from the age old motorsport of board track racing, the collection provides a fresh take on racer uniforms of the past, blending wool and leather fabrics with sharp moto details. My favorite piece in the line was the brown biker jacket, a more traditional take on the edgy black moto we’re all used to seeing. Be sure to follow me on Instagram and Twitter to follow me as I take on NYFW this season.