#i spent my birthday party with the journal in the pocket of my shirt

[lamerdeseslarmes]

LOOK AT WHAT ARRIVED JUST IN TIME FOR MY BIRTHDAY!!!!!!

I cannot thank @kindafooey enough!!! This was the best birthday present ever, I’ve wanted a small Bill for so long!! And now, courtesy of my best friend, who is an absolute sweetheart, I finally have one!! Plus my very own Journal 3!! :D I’ll need to be careful though, because I think Bill will definitely try to mess with it in the near future. Keep these hands to yourself Bill, the Journal is mine!!

[adhd-disaster-willie]

March 16th

ok so maybe I hyperfixated on writing this and maybe it's 2:30 am but like, whatever.

summary: "Bobby used to like birthdays. But now birthdays taste less of spring and vanilla and more of salty tears and an aching emptiness in his chest"

word count: 1,388

warnings: allusions to death (take a wild guess as to whose)

---

Bobby was born on a March evening that was just too cold to be so close to spring. He was never too full of energy, preferred to curl up in the corner with a poetry book thicker than the fluffy vanilla cake his grandma would make for his birthday every year. He’d stand on his tip toes to see the top of the counter, sneaking bits of half mixed cake batter and listening intently as his grandma explained the baking process in words that were too big for him to comprehend. But the cake always tasted like spring evenings and lemon frosting and laughter as Luke tackled him to the ground in what he called the “birthday hug” that was probably closer to a wrestling match. The night always smelled of wrapping paper and Reggie’s weird lotion and the oatmeal raisin cookies Alex’s mother always insist he bring but nobody would eat. Birthday’s were good, Bobby liked birthdays.

“Robert, your friends are here!” His gran peeked into Bobby’s room with a crinkly smile and a flour-dusted apron; the faded yellow one she never seemed to take off.

Bobby didn’t even have time to shut his book before Luke came bounding into his room, shrieking something that sounded like “you’re a teenager, dude!” but could’ve been just about anything else, as it was said with his face buried in Bobby’s t-shirt. Alex came trailing in after him, scowling at the plate of cookies in his hands while Reggie bounced up beside him, hastily wrapped gift clutched to his chest.

“My mom put extra raisins in this year,” Alex grumbled apologetically.

Reggie peeked over his shoulder at the platter and wrinkled his nose. “Dude, I think she’s trying to poison us.”

“Wouldn’t put it past her,” Bobby quipped, shoving Luke off of him and hopping up. His gran swatted him over the head sternly but Alex only shrugged, pointedly not defending his mother. Mrs. Mercer was utterly terrifying for her stature, Alex got his height from his dad, but his mom was probably comparable to a bolt of lightning.

Like always, the boys were ushered out to the backyard with promises that cake would be ready by 5 and dinner by 6. Bobby got to eat dessert first on his birthday only, though he’d certainly tried changing that rule a number of times.

There was a slightly wobbly treehouse wedged in between the branches of the tree in Bobby’s backyard, it’d been built the previous summer, mostly by Alex and Reggie while he and Luke all but drowned each other in the above ground pool tucked into the corner of the yard. But he did make the door, so he thinks he deserves some credit

Reggie bounded up the swinging ladder, yelping when he almost lost his footing. He stuck his head out the window, pouting like a wounded puppy until the others came tumbling in after him in a tangle of limbs and shouts of “you did not win, you’re slower than Millie’s turtle” and “Did too! Right Lexi?” Alex informed them that his sister’s turtle was actually faster than the both of them and that he won, which couldn’t really be argued considering Alex had always been the fastest runner.

Bobby’s 13th birthday was dusted with the beginnings of spring and a certain feeling of home. Reggie gave him that one stuffed penguin he’d been eyeing for weeks, stumbling over his apologies of “sorry it’s so small, my parents forgot to take me shop-” Bobby had thrown an arm around his shoulder, ruffling his hair and telling him to shut up because the gift was perfect.

Alex handed him a neatly wrapped box complete with a bright red bow; a stack of books and the tattered t shirt Bobby kept stealing from him. Luke emptied his pockets to reveal about 50 different guitar picks and a leather-bound journal already full of movie ticket stubs and hurriedly written poems that Bobby would probably never be able to decipher.

Birthdays were good. Birthdays were sitting in the tree house past dark despite it being a school night. Birthdays were Reggie forcing him to wear a pointy party hat, and Luke smearing frosting across his face well aware it’d end in disaster, and Alex making up a horrendous rendition of the happy birthday song and proceeding to sing it like he’d just written a masterpiece akin to Bohemian Rhapsody. Bobby liked birthdays. For a while.

---

The treehouse wilted the summer before junior year, boards worn from years of harsh sunshine and thunderstorms. Bobby’s 17th birthday wasn’t… it wasn’t bad per se; but it’s bittersweet. It’s bittersweet in the way Luke scratches his neck apologetically and says that he couldn’t scrounge up enough money for a gift, like that’s what matters. It doesn’t. It’s bittersweet because Reggie, Luke, and Alex didn’t have to be driven to Bobby’s house. They woke up tangled together on the flimsy mattress in the loft and spent the morning practicing a bit too passionately with a few too many tears.

Bobby’s 17th birthday tasted of tight hugs and mint ice cream that dripped down his hands, held out to the sky because Luke kept threatening to lick them. It smelled of old pennies and the garbage cans Alex reluctantly used as drums as they played out on the pier in hopes to earn some petty cash.

“I bet we’ll be living in a mansion on your 18th birthday,” Reggie said, swinging his legs and splashing at the water. They were sitting on the edge of the pier, instruments off to the side and hands sticky with ice cream.

“If the Orpheum works out, we will,” Alex replied with a grin, bumping his shoulders with Bobby’s.

Bobby tilted his head in consideration. “Maybe we’ll get a giant house up in Malibu.”

“It’s not about the money,” Luke grumbled. Although considering the whole living in Bobby’s garage thing, Bobby thinks Luke should start thinking about the money.

“You’re absolutely right.” Alex sighed dramatically. “It’s about the music.” He clutched Luke’s shoulder and nodded sarcastically.

“The connections,” Bobby chimed in with a woeful nod. “The audience.”

Luke kicked his ankle and Bobby snickered. “No kicking the birthday boy,” he cried with mock offense.

“Kicking the birthday boy is like stealing candy from a baby,” Reggie said mournfully.

“That’s not how that… okay.” Alex exhaled in defeat, something Bobby calls his ‘Reggie sigh.’

They stayed out on the pier until the sun tucked itself behind the ocean and they tossed their instruments over their shoulders, walking back to the studio and singing happy birthday to the sparkling sky, steps bouncier than they had been in the morning. So, Bobby’s 17th birthday was bittersweet with the taste of music and hope and a desperate beginning.

---

Bobby spends his 18th birthday alone, staring down at the rug and hugging his own shoulders, desperately wishing he didn’t have to, because they were always so affectionate so he shouldn’t have to hold himself.

The studio is far too cold for and much too empty. A sharp breeze whistles through the crack in the door, brushing at the pages of Lukes still-open songwriting book. Bobby reaches to smooth them out, because maybe if he leaves everything how it’d been that night 7 months ago, he can pretend they’re just inside chattering over his gran’s spaghetti and debating lyrics. And he’ll go inside and join them and Luke will toss an arm over his shoulder and Alex will remind him to drink some water, he probably hasn’t today, and Reggie will tell him that “your grandma is so much cooler than you, Bobbers.”

But the lights are shut off and his dinner is cold and untouched and he can’t bring himself to even light the candle on the thick slice of cake on the table. Because he can close his eyes and wish with his entire soul but nothing will bring them back.

Bobby used to like birthdays. But now birthdays taste less of spring and vanilla and more of salty tears and an aching emptiness in his chest. He falls asleep on Luke’s couch, practically swimming in Alex’s blue sweatshirt, the shabby stuffed penguin clutched to his chest like a lifeline. He falls asleep to a quiet studio and birthday that feels like numbness and longing.

---

@sunset-bobby@azzieisthebestcat

[invisibletinkerer]

Fic: The Secret Journal of 'Stanford' Pines

Size: ~3000 words AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20864183

Stan Pines keeps a journal of brief daily notes during the summer of 2012.

Note: We all know that the Gravity Falls timeline makes no sense whatsoever. Therefore this is based on a headcanon timeline I made a year or so ago, trying to incorporate as many of the canon dates (in show and published J3) as possible, but ignoring the ones that were contradictory or made no sense. This still means some episodes did not happen in a strictly chronological order.

June 1

Kids are here. I have no idea what to do. Why did I agree to this.

Boy is a grump and girl made macaroni art in the kitchen. Did I even have macaroni?

 June 2 Sunday

I think boy got spooked in the forest. He seems fine, though. Good taste in gold chains.

Girl is now dating some punk kid.

 June 3

Kids looked like they’d been run over by the golf cart when they got back tonight. Not good.

Gave them some free gifts from the shop to cheer em up. Yes I know

Boy got a new hat. Should get him to wear a Mystery Shack shirt next. Girl found a grappling hook that was not in my inventory. Bold choice.

What would they say if they knew about me?

June 4

Fishing Season Opening Day – took the kids fishing.

Of course, they got excited about monster hunting instead. They’re listening to reason about as well as I and Fo did as a kid.

But. They came back to me in the end. We had fun.

I love those kids.

 June 5

Soos found those cursed old wax statues I sealed up some ten years ago. Don’t seem all that cursed now. One had melted.

Mabel’s gonna make a new one for the wax museum. Meaning I’ll have to figure out how to make suckers pay to look at wax statues again.

 June 6

Mabel’s wax creation nearly gave me a heart attack. It looks just like my twin me.

She’s crazy talented.

 June 7

I’d say the wax museum reopening went well. Assuming “well” means “profit”.

Did anyone actually think I’d hand out free pizza?

 June 8

Hanging out with my wax twin Stan, and the moment I turned my back he was murdered.

 June 9 Sunday

Tried to hold a funeral for Wax Stan. Failed to keep it tounge-in-cheek.

Face it, Ford is long gone

 June 10

Guess the wax people were still as cursed as I remembered. Kids killed them with fire – I should have done that long ago.

Dipper crawled in the vents all day looking for a wax head that got away.

If I keep telling him he’s delusional, he’s got to stop looking for trouble eventually, right?

 June 11

Mabel decided I should date Lazy Susan. Couldn’t stop her. Now Susan and her cats keep calling me.

This was a bad idea. (I will never tell Mabel that.)

 June 12

Went on a date with Lazy Susan to shut her up. That ended just as well as expected.

Need to figure out some more specific excuses.

 June 13

The worst thing is, the Portal should work now. It’s functional. I just can’t get it to start.

Maybe I’ve been doing it wrong all along

I did fix that old copier. Don’t know if it still makes copies of people, but at least it makes copies of paper again.

Caught Dipper making oogly eyes at Wendy. I smell drama.

 June 14

Did not expect “The Duchess Approves” to be that good.

 June 15

The traditional Mystery Shack party that has nothing to do with any birthdays.

Mabel is a great singer, and that Northwest brat cheated.

Happy birthday, Sixer.

 June 16 Sunday

Gideon Gleeful’s running TV ads again.

Of course my family goes to his show just to spite me.

 June 17

Mabel played with Gideon today. Did not see that one coming.

As long as she’s happy, I guess.

 June 18

I hate Pioneer Day.

Stupid people acting even stupider than normal, nothing works, then someone (me) ends up in the stocks.

 June 19

Gideon and Mabel are dating!?

Seemed like a horrible idea, but Bud Gleeful has a point on the moneymaking opportunities if we play it right.

 June 20

So if Mabel marries Gideon, his business will be incorporated into mine. I sure like the sound of that.

Bud is already making t-shirts.

 June 21

 June 22

OK, no. No deals with the Gleefuls. Not now or ever.

Mabel broke up with the little pest. Good riddance.

Got me a nice painting from Bud’s house, though.

 June 23 Sunday

The Mystery Fair! It may look cheap, but it brings in the money.

Though someone broke all safety protocols and brought a futuristic laser gun to Dunkle the Grunkle. That’s unfair.

Mabel has a pig now.

 June 24

Got roped into the gaming arcade with the kids.

Maybe get one of those games for the Shack?

 June 25

Mabel decided to fix my fear of heights.

I can say this – being on top of a water tower about to fall over was unpleasant. Compared to that, a high but stable ground isn’t so bad.

Dipper got into a fistfight with Wendy’s boyfriend over teenage drama, but good on him for standing up for himself.

 June 26

For some reason Gideon has gotten it into himself that he wants the Mystery Shack now.

Good luck, kid. I’m a better conman than you’ll ever be.

 June 27

Mabel is slightly taller than Dipper. This is funny.

Gideon Gleeful trying to be threatening while throwing a hysterical fit after breaking my new mirror maze – mostly confusing. Wish I knew what went on in that kid’s head.

 June 28

Kids made me wear the golden teeth. Guess they think I’m a dishonest man.

Fortunately, I’m good at bullshitting even when telling the truth. Think I scandalized the poor things. Hilarious.

Could have been disaster, though. Could have easily made them hate me.

 June 29

Spent half the day falling down the Bottomless Pit.

 June 30 Sunday

Summerween, now that’s a respectable local holiday.

Scaring children for fun and profit. Celebrating true evil together with family.

 July 1

Hottest day of the year. Wax Stan was permanently murdered by the weather.

Closed the Shack and went to the municipal pool with the kids.

Gideon stole my perfect pool chair. It’s on.

 July 2

Broke into the pool area at night to get the chair to myself. Which was a good plan, until I wanted to get up later in the day. The pest had coated it with glue.

The kids broke into the pool at night, too. Didn’t ask.

 July 3

Opened the Shack again.

Can’t be too lazy. Tourists to fleece and all that.

 July 4

 July 5

Mabel bet she could run the Shack better than I can. Well. I’m nothing if not a gambler.

So, three days of vacation, in which I will make more money than she will make running the Shack. Winner takes the Shack, loser sings a silly song.

Best case scenario, she learns something about business and stops complaining. Worst case, she actually makes money and then runs the Shack for me the rest of the summer. Not bad.

 July 6

Made it past the line to be a contestant on Cash Wheel, using my Old Man powers and lack of common decency.

Why is it so hard to sleep

 July 7 Sunday

Well. I lost at Cash Wheel.

Guess that means I lost the bet with Mabel, too. Unless I go rob a bank or something in the time I have left. Hm.

 July 8

Turns out Mabel barely broke even when running the Shack. She did win the bet, but she didn’t want my job, no surprise there.

I’m proud of her for learning something.

She still made me sing that song. On video tape. It’s kinda catchy.

 July 9

Mabel’s friends came for a sleepover. They make a lot of noice.

 July 10

Soos managed to uncover the door to Ford’s that old study I sealed thirty years ago the very moment the kids demanded separate bedrooms.

I never wanted to see that room again. His glasses were still there

Guess they didn’t want the room in the end, but now it’s open. Can’t re-seal it.

I think they messed around with the freaky carpet. Took it away at the end of the day just in case.

 July 11

I fucked up, but I fixed it.

I got Mabel’s pig back, even when I had to punch a pterodactyl in the face for it.

She doesn’t hate me.

I love that kid so much.

 July 12

That weird egg I pocketed from the dino-cave hatched. Dipper says it’s a compo-whatnot.

I call him Compy. He’s now my Mystery Pet.

 July 13

Soos’ birthday. The kids tried to throw a party, which is. Bad idea.

Think he appreciated laser tag, though. And the magic pizza they got him. Never seen him so happy on a birthday.

 July 14 Sunday

Turns out Compy is a very tiny dragon. Hoards stuff, mostly cash. In places I can’t reach.

It’s no good. Gonna hand the chicken-lizard over to farmer Sprott first thing in the morning before he bankrupts me.

 July 15

Mabel and her friends went to some boy band concert. Got back late with a large pack of spoils. Probably robbed someone.

Wendy’s boyfriend is charming her with homemade music. Dipper suspects magic. Can’t rule that out.

 July 16

There was a hypnotic message in the music, but telling Wendy about it only made the teenage drama worse.

Went bowling with Dipper afterwards to cheer him up. Should have a chat with Wendy, too.

 July 17

Gideon   I’m   How could

Didn’t know Gideon was that serious.

As if half-lucid dreams about that yellow triangle wasn’t bad enough. (The kids know something. Not asking. I want them to stay away from that stuff.)

We’re staying with Soos as I panic figure out how to fix this.

 July 18

I can’t fix this.

Gideon’s got the whole town eating out of his hand and I’m just a grouchy old man.

Doing the responsible thing. Got bus tickets to send the kids home tomorrow.

Whatever I do next, don’t want them to watch.

 July 19

GIDEON IS A LITTLE SHIT AND I AM AWESOME.

Figured out his trick, proved it in public and now he’s in jail.

Got the Shack back. Got the kids back.

And. Get this. Gideon had one of Ford’s missing journals. I have it now.

 July 20

I can’t believe it. Dipper. Had the third journal all summer.

All three of the dumb books are right here in front of me.

I activated the Portal. Simple as anything.

It’s scanning for Ford right now.

I’m actually bringing him back.

 July 21 Sunday

Grand reopening of the Mystery Shack turned into a zombie-fest.

Kids could’ve died because I was too busy with the Portal to pay attention. That won’t happen again.

Should have talked to them about weirdness sooner. Hope they believed me when I said I have no more secrets.

A little worried that government might have picked up signals from the Portal.

 July 22

Repairing the Shack. Too much undead slime to attract tourists like this.

 July 23

Re-reopened the Shack.

Dipper got himself an old laptop computer from somewhere. Probably stolen. He tried to hide it.

 July 24

Went minigolfing with the kids.

Mabel challenged Pacifica Northwest to a duel at midnight. I’m so proud of her.

Letting kids into minigolf courts at night to take a rich snob down a few pegs – finally putting my skills to good use.

 July 25

I still can’t believe the Portal works.

It keeps scanning.

 July 26

Tried to bring old Goldie back to the gift shop but apparently he’s unhip and scary. Had to throw him away before the parents sued me.

What I do need is a singing animatronic robot badger. That’s what kids like these days.

 July 27

Soos missed work for the first time ever. Seems to be girl trouble, but the kids are handling it.

Would’ve stolen myself a robot badger if it hadn’t tried to kill me. Saved by old Goldie. No way I’m not keeping him now.

 July 28 Sunday

Went for a Vegas vacation because I deserve it.

Not because I’m nervous.

Brought Goldie, might have gotten slightly drunk. And slightly married.

 July 29

Mabel found herself a new obsession with hand puppets.

She’ll throw a big show on Friday. Made me rent Gravity Falls theatre for her. (Can’t believe I did that.)

 July 30

The Shack is full of sock puppets and kids and Mabel keeps singing.

Guess this is my life now.

 July 31

 August 1

Soos went to his cousin’s wedding with his new girlfriend. Good on him.

Mabel’s still obsessing about puppets.

Dipper looks like he hasn’t slept in days. Can’t blame him with all this ruckus.

 August 2

Play was good! Think it paid for the costs, too. Mabel’s got showmanship.

Don’t get the ending, though.

I mean. Children fighting always makes for good footage, but was it necessary to beat Dipper up that bad? I swear Mabel don’t know how strong she is.

A little worried about Dipper. He seemed high as a kite all day. Probably sleep deprivation. At least he’s sleeping now.

 August 3

 August 4 Sunday

Gravity’s going more crazy around the Portal the longer it’s on, but I don’t care.

It hasn’t found Ford yet.

It won’t find him if he’s dead

 August 5

The Portal ate my notebook.

Got a nasty cut on the back of my hand from some debris, too. Could have been worse.

 August 6

Tried to advertise the Mystery Shack for the kids at the Woodstick Festival. Hilarious disaster.

Being feared is worth more than being loved anyway.

 August 7

 August 8

IT FOUND HIM.

He’s alive. There’s a lock on his position.

Fuck I don’t  I have to

I know how it works. It needs to calibrate for a while. It needs to be fueled for the big moment.

I’ll go rob a government facility right now.

(So glad the kids are off at the Northwest party tonight.)

27 hours and then I’ll see him again.

 August 9

Ford is back.

I had to run from the feds and the kids found out everything the wrong way but it worked and he’s back.

But he doesn’t  He still hates me.  

Why would I expect anything else.

Don’t know what I’d do with myself if the kids weren’t here.

It’s fine. I fucked up everything, but. Mabel trusts me. Dipper forgives me. I’m fine.

not crying

 August 10 Sunday

The Shack needs repairs again.

Spent most of the day making Duck-tective finale preparations with Mabel. We had fun.

Told the kids to stay away from Ford.

 August 11

Dipper has predictably decided to be nerd friends with my brother.

Can’t stop him. He looks happy. Both of them do.

Still can’t figure out why Ford would have reality altering dice lying around in his sci-fi pouch.

Anyway. I knew Duck-tective had an evil twin.

 August 12

I hate everything.

Ford will take my his place here soon enough, does he have to undercut me while I’m still here?

I’m running for mayor now.

 August 13

Kids are helping me with a political campaign. Apparently I know nothing about politics and have unpalatable opinions. Bah.

 August 14

The Stump Speech went great! I relax, words happen, people cheer.

Dipper got a lucky tie for me. Think it really works.

 August 15

Should’ve tried being a politician before. Almost feels like people like me.

 August 16

Nope. Politics is not for me. Too much mind control.

Should’ve known it wasn’t me making those speeches.

(The kids shouldn’t get into politics either. Can’t always be there to save them from murder.)

Turns out I’m not mayor material, but I’m a HERO.

Take that, Ford.

 August 17

Rented an RV and took Soos and the kids and Mabel’s friends on a road trip.

Pranking the tourist traps. Good old Mystery Shack tradition for the last time.

Dipper’s practising flirting like a pro.

 August 18 Sunday

Almost got eaten by a spider-woman. That could have gone better.

Have to admit, the kids are heroes too.

Don’t think Ford noticed we were gone.

 August 19

Opened the Mystery Shack for the final stretch.

Two more weeks, then I’m gone for good.

 August 20

Made a good deal on illegal pugs. Still got it.

Ford and Dipper put some magic mojo on the Shack. Not gonna ask.

Might have something to do with how badly Ford is sleeping.

 August 21

Ten days left until the kids’s birthday and the end of summer.

Guess I’m doing a countdown now.

 August 22

Nine days left.

 August 23

Eight days left.

I’m gonna order a ponytail kit.

 August 24

HELL NO I DON’T NEED THIS.

It’s the literal end of the world and the kids are missing.

Suddenly orange skies, goats turning into monsters, the whole shebang. I thought I had enough troubles.

That magic on the Shack seems to be protecting it, but. THE KIDS ARE MISSING. So is Ford.

 ??? 1

Day and night are replaced by eternal glowing orange and every single clock is busted, so no more dates.

Went out looking for the kids, but all I find is other people. Also demons. No sign of Soos or Wendy, either.

Been taking people to the Shack. Safest place on Earth for all I know. I have enough brown meat and elected myself Chief.

The kids are fine. Probably with Ford. That’s the ticket.

 ??? 2

Went out looking again. Found the Northwest girl dressed in nothing but a potato sack. She was crying and I don’t want to know, but she didn’t deserve it.

Been told the head honcho is the yellow triangle. He calls this Weirdmageddon.

Old McGucket showed up more coherent than usual, herding a whole flock of forest creatures into the Shack. Starting to get crowded here.

The kids are fine. Of course they are.

 ??? 3

There’s still people alive out there. I heard cars over at Gleeful’s place.

Didn’t see anyone else.

I’ve lost  I couldn’t even

Mabel and Dipper are definitely still alive. So is Soos and Wendy. And Ford better be.

 ??? 4

They’re alive!

All four of my kids, bursting through the door like cops doing a raid but they’re alive!

Now all I want is for them to stay here and be safe. Why can’t they see that?

I’m done saving my brother’s skin and getting nothing but scorn for it.

Ford made his own bed with that demon. Forget it.

 ??? 5

Did I mention, the plan concocted by five kids, Soos, and a known madman is utterly insane?

They’re rebuilding the Shack. I just had it repaired, too.

It’s my house, but no one’s listening to me.

 ??? 6

I keep having this bad feeling about Ford.

It’s dumb. My brother has made it perfectly clear how he feels about being saved.

 ??? 7

Well then.

Not letting the kids lead an apocalypse rebellion against a demonic triangle without me.

 August 25 Sunday

 August 26

 August 27

 August 28

Huh. I can’t remember writing this, but it does ring a few bells.

It’s like I

I need to talk to Ford.

 August 29

So. The apocalypse is over, and we’re all fine.

We killed the demon by burning my mind out when he was inside, pretty much.

My mind’s still there, but it’s kinda. Well. In need of repair.

Spent a few days reliving good memories.

Turns out there’s more than a few bad ones, too. But.

Everyone is so good to me

I don’t deserve this

 August 30

I remember how Ford looked at me after I brought him back.

Now he acts like  he likes to   he thinks I’m

Now it’s like he’s my brother again.

He said. “Thank you.”

 August 31

The kids have left. I’ll miss them, but I’ll see them again.

Until then, my brother and I are going sailing.

[richiefuckfacetozier]

If so, could you do one for reddie? Ofc the whole losers club always got gift for eachother for special occasions, but for reddie, over the years they got gifts that were becoming more intimate and heartfelt(could possibly lead to marriage?)

Wow, the inspiration I got from this was my actual favorite! I hope you enjoy, Veronica!

Gift Giving Competition

Archive of our own

The losers club had always been very competitive. They loved to compete and best each other in everything. Whether it was school, sports, eating contests, or seeing the most movies, they made it a competition.

A person would think it was getting out of hand when Beverly tried to out bike Bill on silver then flew headfirst into a water fountain because she could not stop. Or when Stanley tried to carry more friends on his back than Mike but ended up re-breaking Eddie’s arm. Or when Richie attempted to read more sad books than Ben and could not stop crying for a week. That was all childsplay.

They got the most competitive with gift giving.

It started the year Richie’s parents forgot his birthday. He was in a sour mood all day and the losers made it their mission to fix the situation. Beverly kept trying to find ways to cheer him up with stupid pranks but nothing worked. Mike made a 4 layer cake covered in icing that Richie barely ate. Ben got a stack of records for him, but the smile he gave was forced. Stanley skipped class, which he had never done before, to go on a drive together and Richie did not crack a joke once. Richie was only able to smile a little when Bill sang to him, something he only did in his voice therapy classes.

His mood did not sincerely improve until nighttime. Eddie threw him a birthday party, which he got drunk and high for so he could finally somewhat enjoy the horrible day. When everyone left, Eddie stayed behind to take care of him.

They were on the couch, Richie’s head in Eddie’s lap humming to himself drunkenly. Eddie had no restraint in that moment, having drunk a bit too much as well. He ran his hand through Richie’s hair soothingly, something he would normally never do.

“That feelsss nice, Eds.” Richie slurred.

“It was really hard to see you in so much pain today. How are you feeling now?” Eddie asked softly. He placed his other hand on top of Richie’s entwining their fingers. It made him blush horribly but Richie did not see because his eyes were closed.

“My parents suck. They ruin everything they touch…including me.” Richie let out a trembling sigh, willing himself not to cry. He was coming down from his high, so the unshed tears threatened to drown him.

“You bring others so much happiness in this world. You aren’t ruined.” Hearing Eddie say this made the tears flow slowly past his eyelids. “Please don’t cry, Rich.” Eddie did not know what came over him, but he kissed Richie’s forehead.

Richie opened his eyes and looked at Eddie like he was seeing a new person. Or perhaps seeing him truly for the first time. “Eddie, will you kiss me?” Richie blurted out.

“I just did, dipshit.” Eddie laughed, trying to ignore the heat radiating through him.

“No, not a forehead kiss. Like a kiss kiss.” Richie’s gaze went back and forth between Eddie’s eyes and his lips. Eddie could barely keep it together.

He shook his head but squeezed Richie’s hand tighter. “I’m still tipsy and you are definitely not sober enough to be thinking clearly about that request.”

“I am too. I want a birthday kiss and I want it from you. Please, Eds.” Richie whispered the last part like a prayer. “You will win for best birthday gift.”

Richie had said it. The magic words to get Eddie’s competitive nature to flare up. Eddie brought his face toward Richie’s. Richie lifted his head so their lips could meet easily. The kiss was light and gentle at first, then something ignited in them both. Richie sat up placing his hands around Eddie’s neck to bring him closer. Eddie’s own hands shot to his waist, practically pulling Richie into his lap. Their kissing was heated and powerful, every bit of passionate tension they ever felt towards each other fusing as one.

The losers were furious the next day to find out Eddie had won by kissing Richie.

“Not FAIR! I could have done that!” Beverly screamed.

“Fucking cheater.” Bill groaned.

“That’s really cute guys. Are you together now?” Ben sighed happily.

“I still think my cake should have been more appreciated.” Mike mused.

“That’s disgusting. There is no way I would have won if we were going that route.” Stanley complained.

Giving the best gifts for special occasions became an important part of their friendship dynamic, Mike’s favorite gift was packets of exotic flowers to grow from Stanley. The two of them successfully grew a couple flowers.

Ben gave Stanley a fancy pair of binoculars that he rarely left the house without.

Eddie gave Bill a scrapbook with letters from all the losers about how much they love him and a bunch of pictures. Eddie also included a drawing of him, Bill, and Georgie that Georgie made years ago for Eddie. Never had a gift hit Bill with so much love and affection.

Richie and Beverly accidentally gave each other the same shirt for Christmas that said, “Freedom of speech is not a license to be stupid”. They also wore the shirts on the same days multiple times and got into fights about who should go home to change.

Bill found a book of poems signed by the original authors, which he gave to Ben. He added a journal, telling Ben to never stop writing beautiful poetry.

All the losers came together to buy Eddie a plane ticket for him and Richie to go to New York to see shows and eat at one fancy restaurant.

Perhaps the most entertaining gift giving came between the resident couple, Richie and Eddie. Years would go by with the two trying to one-up each other in the relationship.

Richie bought Eddie a car that he both loved and screamed at Richie to save their money.

Eddie signed a lease and asked Richie to move in with him, presenting him with a key. Richie was so mad he had not thought of that.

Richie surprised Eddie with a puppy, which made Eddie cry. Richie took a video and sent it to all the losers.

The greatest gift in their relationship happened on their 10th anniversary when they were 26. Richie came home after work feeling nervous and extra stupid that day. He had done something that Eddie was not going to be pleased about. He walked into the living room where Eddie was petting their dog.

“Eds, don’t get mad.” He began anxiously.

Eddie raised his eyes from the book he was reading to glare at Richie. “If you got another dog, I am breaking up with you. We don’t have room.”

“It’s nothing like that!” He said quickly. “I don’t know what came over me but I went into a jewelry store today.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow, putting his book down. “Why?”

“Just…I…I went in and saw this piece of jewelry and thought to myself ‘Wow, Eddie would look great with that, I should buy it’. So I did and you are going to be so mad because I spent like 3 paychecks worth on it.” Richie looked at him bashfully.

“Richie, why would you do that?!” Eddie’s voice started to raise scaring the dog off. “I only wear watches anyway!”

“I just, Eds, I know we have never talked about it and I don’t want you to feel pressured in any way but I bought you a ring. And I um…” Richie got on his knee, pulled out a small box and opened it to reveal a gold ring with silver entwined around it.

“I fall more and more in love with you each day. I wouldn’t change anything about you, except maybe your last name to Tozier, or Kaspbrak-Tozier. NO WAIT! Tozier-Kaspbrak, I want to be first. I also thank the fucking ground I walk on every day that I have fallen in love with my best friend. So Edward Kaspbrak, will you marry me?” He held the ring with shaky hands, holding his breath for an answer.

Eddie had tears in his eyes with his mouth gaping open. He stared at Richie and then the ring.

“Nooooooo.” He finally responded.

Richie’s ears started ringing and his cheeks heated up horribly. In his complete recklessness, he never thought Eddie would say no. They never said no to each other with big life gifts. He had finally gone too far.

Richie started to get off the ground. “Wait! No, I’m sorry.” Eddie flew to the floor wrapping his arms around Richie’s neck.

“Richie, I’m not saying no to marrying you!” Eddie pulled back wiping away his tears. He had the biggest smile on his face and was laughing. “I know I’ve been reincarnated to love you for at least 3 lifetimes if not more. That’s how strong our connection is to me.”

Richie let out a huge sigh of relief as his hands gripped Eddie’s hips harder to steady himself. “Ok, then why did you say no?”

“Because,” Eddie reached into his pocket and pulled out a small red box. He held it in front of Richie’s face. “If you had waited until tonight I wouldn’t have lost this match.” Richie’s eyes were huge, the biggest Eddie had ever seen. Which made him laugh harder because the glasses he wore had them magnified to a ridiculous size.

“Richie, I’m mad because I had a whole speech prepared and it has shot out of my head. But it wouldn’t be us if I wasn’t mad at you while trying to propose. I want to spend the rest of my life laughing and that will happen if I spend it with you.” Eddie opened the box to reveal a dark black ring. “So, Richie Tozier, will you marry me?”

“Fuck yes!” Richie grabbed Eddie’s face kissing him with all his might. Their hearts were pounding as Richie ran his hands through Eddie’s hair, sucking on his lip like he could transfer every bit of emotion into a kiss. Eddie returned the kiss with just as much passion. They were both crying as their tears mingled together in a wet mess of affection. They broke away long enough so Eddie could put the ring on Richie’s finger. Then Richie placed the one he had on Eddie’s. They entwined their fingers grinning at each other.

“Alright, but I’m going to win for best bachelor party.” Eddie added.

“Beverly is my best woman, there is no WAY Bill will outdo her.”

“We’ll just have to see.” Eddie stopped their talking with another kiss. Their whole lives ahead of them to be ridiculously competitive.

Bonus (The Losers’ reactions to them getting engaged):

Beverly: We are going to CRUSH the bachelor party. Oh my god, I need to start taking notes. Bill! Give me a notebook.

Bill: No! I will need them to plan for Eddie’s! Beverly, GET OFF ME.

Stanley: You are both disgusting, dumb and gay. Congratulations.

Ben: You aren’t leaving any romance for the rest of us!

Mike: So…7 tier wedding cake? Can I make each layer a different flavor? Maybe use food coloring to make each section a different color of the rainbow. Would that give Mrs. Kaspbrak a heart attack? Bill, I am also going to need a notebook to take notes.

If anyone wants to be on my tag list, let me know!

@ohheydatsme @sam-i-am2468 @slashpalooza

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48 Blurry Hours in Amsterdam

Today I found myself on my couch sipping some coffee before work. I woke up a little early, turned on the television, made my coffee and began to read and re-read this card I got about a year ago at a networking dinner hosted by Keith Ferrazzi. The card says the following on its front side, “If money was not an issue, how would you spend your time?” That’s an easy question. I would travel. I would explore the world while simultaneously exploring the inner workings of my being. Life is short, there are no guarantees. The idea that I should not dawdle in life is exactly what took me to Europe to celebrate my 35th trip around the Sun two years ago.

I chose to head to Europe and specifically Spain because I wanted to run with the bulls. This was a tough decision for me because my birthday happens to land on July 14th which is Bastille Day and apparently France knows how to party on that day. The one thing I kept thinking about in terms of where to ring in my special day was that I could party in France any Bastille Day but given that I have had worsening knee pain the window for running with massive bulls while hungover in Spain was likely closing sooner than I would like. I decided to buy a one-way ticket to Amsterdam for $400 USD and said “Fuck it, whatever happens it will be fun.”

I mentioned my decision to fly to Europe to a few folks at my cousin Tank’s 4thof July party a couple of days before I was scheduled to head out and Tank’s dad, whom we call “Pops,” mentioned he might be interested in a good run through Spain. I told him my plan: Fly to Amsterdam on July 6thand party for two days, take a quick flight to Madrid and hang for the night, hop on a train to Pamplona in the morning so that we could run and rage there for a few days. Pop’s said he would look into it. On the morning of July 6th,I woke up to an email from Pops stating that he was on his way to Amsterdam and to find him there so we could wreck shit. FUCK YES! I lit up a joint, stuffed my pockets with THC infused gummy bears, summonsed my Uber and made my way to LAX.

I arrived at LAX and immediately started drinking with a group of French soccer fans. I found myself passed out in a cramped seat near the airplane bathroom a few hours later. I made my flight. I hurried off the plane as soon as I could. I took a few photos of the rain soaked tarmac at the Schiphol airport and messaged Pops. I made my way to the ClinkNoord Hostel and he met me there. Turns out Pops had no place to stay yet and our first order of business after lighting some legally purchased sacred kratom and marijuana was to find a place for him to crash. My hostel was fully booked. We dropped off our luggage at my hostel and Googled a bunch of places. We found a small hotel on the other side of the river, Pops checked in, and we were off.

The next 48 hours were a blur. The skies were cloudy. It sprinkled here and there but overall the weather was pleasantly cool for July. We smoked ample amounts of the Devil’s Cabbage all in the name of cultural immersion, we drank many local beers, stuffed our fat faces with doner kebabs, and rode bicycles everywhere. My inner fat-kid loves Amsterdam. According to my journal, we paid the Popeye’s Coffee Shop a visit. For the July bullet journal design, I created a simple calendar in my journal using my favorite bullet journal highlighters. Tank recommended this place and it did not disappoint.  We smoked a joint in the basement while sipping on Americanos. We then made our way to Barney’s for some burgers and ice cream milkshakes right after Popeye’s. Marijuana, burgers, milkshakes. It was all so damn good. We rolled up some joints in Barney’s and planned out our day.

Amsterdam is a visually stimulating place. The sun doesn’t set until sometime after 10PM, the streets have canons just chilling on random corners, party goers drink heavily on private boats cruising through the canals. The buildings look like gingerbread houses and castles. The Red-light district has all sorts of fuckery going on at any given time. This place is wild, legal marijuana, legal prostitutes, and legal magic truffles. All sorts of people walking the streets just having a good ol’ time. At one point, I got cursed out by a prostitute during the midday rush. Pops and I turned a corner and walked through a small street filled with doorways leading to some version of BDSM ecstasy. In my defense, I did not realize that taking photos of these women is frowned upon.

Pops and I decided to avoid anything looking like an organized tour like the plague, I feel bad for people on tour buses hopping on and off with their selfie sticks and hermetically sealed, germ free vacation packages. Pops and I decided to do the opposite of those lifeless souls…we rode bicycles dangerously close to cars in opposing traffic. We dodged pedestrians. I felt like I was in a James Bond movie driving my bike next to the waterways. I couldn’t help but think about what the fuck I was doing in Europe. I spent many of my formative years sleeping on floors and garages because we were piss poor and now I’m riding free through one of the prettiest cities on Earth. Life is good.

We visited the Rijksmuseum while under the influence of a nice sativa. I love museums. Amsterdam did not disappoint. Vermeer’s and Rembrandt’s work hung all around me. The Gallery of Honour was impressive. I remembered learning all about Rembrandt’s use of light sources in my high school and college art classes. Many of these paintings were larger than I could ever imagine from looking at a text book or online. There was a massive library in the museum filled with old books, essentially a bibliophile’s dream. Parts of the museum were dedicated to showing Nazi propaganda. This was hard to look at in some cases but it was important. Art should shake the viewer on some level.

Pops and I continued to wander off the beaten tourist path and found ourselves in the Jordaan area. We determined that based on the angle of the sun and our proximity to the equator that now would be the best time to get massages. Lucky for us the Jordaan had a massage place next to a nice bar. We had some drinks with the local crowd after our massages. We met the owner of this bar, a massive beast of a man with a kind heart. I don’t recall this gentleman’s name but man his fucking hand felt like a bear claw when he placed it on my shoulder and asked who we were and how we found his place. Turns out he was a former professional fighter who opened the bar with his father in law, who happened to be a former professional race car driver, after retiring from the fight game. This cat liked the tattoos that Pops and I have collected over the years and decided to show us his. He lifted his shirt up to show us some massive Brazilian flag tattoo spanning the width of his barrel sized chest. We all drank a lot. The bar owner encouraged it. Pops and I didn’t want to be rude to our host so we obliged and drank heavily for maybe two hours chatting with our new friend about life in Amsterdam and the Jordaan. I would absolutely go back to that area. They loved us there. Two Mexicans from LA and we were brave enough to walk a few blocks away from the tourist zone. Life rewarded our curiosities with good people, food, and drink.

For the record, Pops and I do not speak Dutch. Pops can barely speak Spanish. With that said we decided it would be fun to smoke a joint on our way to the train station in Amsterdam before hopping on a train to the Eindhoven airport in Utrecht. We booked a ridiculously cheap flight to Madrid on Ryan Air and could only fly out of Eindhoven. Fuck it more adventuring for us. The train ride was scary because for the first hour I wasn’t even sure we were on the right train. Pops slept. I wrote in my journal and looked out the window at random farms and windmills. This shit was weird for me. Los Angeles is lacking in the farmland and windmill department. I grew up around homeless people and gangbangers in Pacoima. It was culture shock on some level.

I had time to think on this leg of the trip. Headphones on, journal out, I couldn’t help but get into my feelings a little. I was dehydrated, smelly, sweaty, sporting some weird ass raccoon print tank top. I am certain the folks on the train looked at me like a damn alien. I thought about what we just did, we smoked over an eighth of weed each day in Amsterdam, rode bikes like maniacs through the city, hung out with complete strangers, bar hopped in the local zone. At one point Pops and I were in some part of town kinda far from the Red-Light District partying with a bunch of non-Americans. Pops is a bad ass for a 63 year old. He started egging on some large “Bros,” you know the frat guys who sport Tap Out gear but likely never fought, into fighting one another. Pops got tired of their tough guy posturing and called them all pussies for not fighting each other already. These guys were terrified of Pop’s little crazy ass. Meanwhile 20 feet away a crew of girls kept drunkenly stumbling onto each other. I have video of this somewhere. Amsterdam is wild yo.

Europe is the “Old World” people have lived in the same communities for generations. This is a huge contrast to my transient upbringing. Moving each year chasing that first month of free rent where ever we could. Making new friends each year. My experience in LA is worlds apart from what people experience in Europe, at least that’s how it felt. I liked it though.  Even if I didn’t know a soul in Amsterdam it still felt good to be in a place where people have real roots. These roads have been around for ages. Kings and their armies have marched through these old European streets for hundreds of years. There isn’t anything like that in the US. American heritage is a mashup of many things. The history of humans is a short one. The history of America even more so. It felt weird to know that over the course of human history millions of souls died on the land we were on. I reflected on what this meant to me at various parts of my trip. The sense of belonging, the sense of community, history both personal and on a larger scale.

My impressions of Amsterdam are probably not too different than yours. I felt like everyone was happily glowing, looking put together like living breathing H&M advertisements. I liked Amsterdam. Not entirely for the weed though that is a good selling point but mostly because of the people and culture. I thought it was amazing that so many paintings in the museums depict water wars and navies in battle due to the Dutch being a seafaring people. It was a contrast to what I’ve seen in other museums where the artwork depicts land battles and marching armies. Equally impressive was the variety of street art. Banksy’s were everywhere along with countless other artists’ work in cleverly placed spaces throughout the city. I also enjoyed that fact that this was a cyclist and pedestrian friendly city. The bike stations situated on the barges were amazing to look at because of the sheer number of bikes crammed on them. I wondered how often people lost track of where they parked their bikes. I especially loved taking the ferry across the river from the main part of Amsterdam to the Noord. I think my favorite memory of the trip was my last night out, I hopped on the ferry back to the Clinknoord and watched sunrise while sitting on my rented hostel bike. I could see the big Amsterdam letters on the roof of the train depot. I was in Europe.

I was happy that Pops came along. Pops is wild man. He told me some crazy stories about his memories of the seventies. Some guy once pulled a shotgun on him while he was sitting in his car and Pops’ homeboy snuck around from behind the guy and snatched the gun away. Pops then proceeded to beat the shit out of him as soon as he got out of the car. I’ve heard variations of this story from Pop’s wife Connie. This story wasn’t surprising. Pops was a lunatic in his day. LA breeds that shit. I love LA but damn if the street and prison cultures don’t make some crazy ass people. I relish the moments when Pops decided to wild out because it usually means I am gonna laugh at the wild shit he says or does next.

All of these thoughts floated around my mind as I watched miles and miles of farmland scroll past me on the train. We eventually made it to Eindhoven. I was relieved that I chose the right train platform and hopped on the correct train. Pops and I smoked our last joint outside the Eindhoven airport entrance. I exhaled smoke as I walked into the airport. We left our little half smoked joint on a bench just outside of the airport doors for the next person to enjoy. We drank beers on the deck while watching planes take off. We had a few hours before our flight to Madrid. This was the calm before the next part of our trip. I messaged my mom that we made it safely to Eindhoven. She expressed her worry over my plans to run wild through Pamplona. My reply, I’m good mom, probably I won’t die but if I do this is a far better death than dying on the toilet or decaying slowly over time in a shitty cubicle or on the 405 freeway. I am the voice of reason here.

48 Blurry Hours in Amsterdam was originally published on Passport Required