(In the game room)
Nny "Loser teaches me how to play!"
Dib "Don't touch that!"
Nny "Rude."
Dib "I'm not trying to be a dick head. Dipper and I have been playing a chess by mail game for about 7 years now. Getting his next move is the only way I know he's still alive."
Nny "Dipper?"
Dib "Stan's nephew! Come on, man. I know it's been a while, but- Wizard?"
Nny "Wizard! Right; I have such a mental block against referring to him as "Dipper". Are you white or black?"
Dib "Black."
Nny "It looks like Wizard is beating you."
Dib "I'm aware."
Nny "Why chess by mail? Neither of you are seniors and, you know, videogames exist."
Dib "He rarely ever calls or texts or emails anyone anymore. The last one of us to see him in person was Mabel. After that falling out with Ford, he quit uni and pretty much went off the grid. Turned into a northwest cryptid."
Nny "Hu. That's... an odd thing for Wizard to do."
Dib "No shit. I almost dropped dead from shock when he called the the other month."
Nny "He's still trying to keep Bill trapped inside his mind, hu?"
Dib "WHAT?"
Nny "Shit! I wasn't supposed to say anything."
Dib "No, you need to say MORE. NOW."
Nny "Damn it. You idiot, Johnny..."
[A continuation of this dialogue
https://www.tumblr.com/messinwitheddie/731593148362571776/filling-my-rat-nest-with-trinkets
Cleaned up a couple of days of breakroom sketches]
30 notes
·
View notes
Billy makes himself a microwave dinner on his birthday. Eating alone, because Neil took Susan on a date to Indianapolis and Max is out somewhere with the Creepy Kids Club.
Swanson Fried Fucking Chicken Dinner. That's how Billy treats himself for turning 18. For somehow surviving until today, more or less by accident.
It tastes bland and nearly burns his tongue, but that doesn't matter. Billy has a bottle of cheap liquor waiting for him. The birthday present he got for himself to wash away the bitter taste of a failed childhood. He didn't even had to kiss the cashier for that, just show off a little skin and give her a wink. A giant win.
He's halfway through the bottle when the doorbell rings. Which he considers to just ignore and then it rings again and well, he's ready to punch whoever dares to disturb his celebration of misery.
He opens the door. Steve Harrington stands in front of him. Hair fluffier than ever like he had styled it - for what exactly?
Harrington isn't his friend, not let alone his boyfriend, no matter what stupid dreams Billy sometimes wakes up with. They're fucking around and its fun. Billy gets to bathe in the sun shining right through Harrington's bright eyes, reminding him of home, but that's it.
And he isn't supposed to come here. Or even call the house. Billy told him that if Harrington dials his number once and that its fucking over - he didn't point out that it's Neil who is going to set an end to their fooling around.
"Happy birthday!" Harrington holds out a box with a giant blue bow on top for him.
Billy stares at the wrapping paper with little fishes on them.
"I don't do that," he just says. His throat feels tight and he wonders if he's already blackout drunk.
"What?" Harrington shoots him a look like he doesn't believe him for a second and then just walks inside the house.
The whole thing, Billy wants to answer. Bows, birthdays, gifts, friendship?
But he can't say anything, because Harrington is inside. Right next to Billy, gently removing his hand from where it's clutching the door knob and closes the door. He's inside the house and somehow they're both still alive.
"Where is your room?" he says, an unreadable expression flickering across his face when he sees the half eaten TV dinner and the amber bottle on the table.
Billy simply stands there, staring at him. "You can't be here."
Harrington snorts. "Apparently I can, Billy." There's that bitchy tone in his voice he always gets when he's disagreeing with something.
When Billy shows him his room, because he can't say no to Harrington's stupid dimples and crooked smile, he's so ashamed.
The ashtray is overflowing, Shauna Grant's eyes seem to judge him and his room just seems so gray and bleak. Harrington doesn't seem to mind. Studies the dart board and the book on the nightstand and then turns around to grin at Billy.
"Open your gift!" Harrington pushes the box in Billy's hand.
Billy has opened a gift before. He thinks. Or at least, he has seen Max opening hers. He tries to tear the wrapping paper. One fish still loses a fin.
Concert tickets. For Mötley Crüe playing in Chicago. In November.
"I'm coming with you." Harrington sounds weirdly enthusiatistic. "If you want me to."
Which means that he wants to hang out with Billy after graduation. After he should go fuck off getting a business degree and marrying a girl that can give him six freaking kids.
It's too much. Not only the tickets, but that Harrington is wanting to continue ... whatever this is. Harrington wanting them to go to Chicago. On a whole trip. To go see one of Billy's favourite bands.
"You... hate Mötley Crüe."
"I like Live Wire."
Which is the first song Billy ever made Harrington sit through, after they shared a smoke, still dizzy from the orgasm. It makes Billy's chest hurt.
"Don't you like it?" Harrington's brown eyes get huge. Like when Billy really has to leave because Neil expects him to mow the lawn or some shit and Steve asks for another quickie.
But Harrington isn't asking for sex right now. Or is he?
"I do," Billy admits. He likes it too much. The gift, the warm feeling inside him, Steve. "Thanks?"
Well. He's got to pay him back somehow, doesn't he? His hands are on Steve's belt, but Steve just takes them, intertwining their fingers.
"It's a gift," Steve says, slowly.
"Your huge dick is a gift," Billy mumbles, ignoring the burn of his cheeks and trying not not stare at Steve's pink lips.
Steve winks at him.
"You'll get that later. Now I'm hungry," he says, pressing a kiss on Billy's lips. Casually. As if that's a thing they do. Kiss a little, cuddle, like they are something.
Billy warms him another microwave dinner. Which tastes awesome now, somehow. Like a Michelin prized meal. His heart is racing the whole time and he feels drunk and sober at once.
He watches Steve chewing, cheeks stuffed full and radiating warmth and happiness. Which seems like a gift, too. This is the best birthday...maybe in forever.
@harringroveweek
238 notes
·
View notes
Nny "This is a NICE house... I'm going to haunt the SHIT out of this house."
Dib "Oh, goddamnit; it's just you."
Nny "Hey, Nny! Nice to see you! We missed you, man! What have YOU been up to? How's Hell treating you? Guess no one here is going to bother to ask."
Dib "That came out wrong. It's good to see you. It's just-- I... I spent SO much energy and resources on this ghost hunting project and it fell apart the second I set up my equipment."
Nny "It's fine. Everyone is on edge, I've noticed."
Dib "My dad was right YET again. Buying this house was a bad investment. At least Todd and Pep seem happy here."
Nny "Except the marital drama. Is that an ongoing thing with them lately or-?"
Dib "They've been at it for over a week. There's no drowning it out, just to warn you."
Nny "Am I to understand, you scrapped the whole project and sold this house to Squee?"
Dib "Yeah, if you're the only ghost that's going to show up, may as well scrap the whole fucking project. Make yourself at home. By the end of the month, we'll be gone and Pep and Todd will be out of town."
Nny "I mean, I'm on board with Squee buying this place off you, for selfish reasons obviously, but that's a huge loss on your end, isn't it? Wouldn't you rather stick it out at least another year?"
Dib "Not really worried about the money. I can blink twice at the lab and make up the hit to my savings."
Nny "Rich kid problems."
Dib "This was supposed to be a father and son project. This was a dream of mine, but if Reg doesn't want to live here and ghost hunt with me then what's the point? I just don't get it. A year and a half ago, that kid would have been so excited about working on something like this. What the Hell is happening?"
Nny "Reg is...?"
Dib "My son."
Nny "YOU have a kid?"
Dib "You met him at Todd's wedding."
Nny "The fuck?"
Dib "You do remember we're all in our 30's now, right?"
Nny "Sorry, my short term and long term memory is still screwed. That and in my head you guys are perpetually children-- Wait, if Squee's in his 30's that would make me almost..." *gags* "Oh g-*gag*; let's move on."
Dib "You have missed a lot. It's been a while since the last big Summerween get-together. Things get screwed up more and more each year. Maybe this was just my last ditch effort to keep us all together. I don't know. Who cares? I'm calling it. The investigation is off."
Nny "I'm still learning how to fit into this whole family dynamics thing, so I can't give any helpful advice on the subject. That's... that's rough though. Um... The bugg-oid alien in the guest bedroom; is he staying?"
Dib "No, Zim's moving back to the city with me."
Nny "Thank God. I'm taking his room when you leave."
Dib "So thrilled. Hey, I have a question and... feel free to answer with brutal honesty."
Nny "Ok, but I'm holding you to that."
Dib "Do you consider me a bully?"
Nny *shrugs* "Never personly met a bully who cared if they were perceived as a bully and you look out for Squee, which is all I care about, so I'm going to say... no?"
Dib "Thanks. Appreciate that."
Nny "Since we're on the subject, do you think I'm depraved enough to stab a baby?"
Dib "Um-- I mean, I know you've stabbed a hand full of pregnant women and dozens of teens so-"
Nny "Seriously?! You wouldn't trust me to keep an eye on your kid without killing him either?"
Dib "I wouldn't trust you to keep an eye on a pet rock without killing it, man."
Nny "Fuck you and your stab shaming! You know what? You ARE a bully! And only TWO of the women I ever stabbed to death were pregnant to my knowledge, and the third one I punched the stomach JUST TO CLARIFY. "
Dude. "...Dude."
Nny "I know..."
Dib "That didn't help your case at all."
Nny "I know..."
[A continuation of these two dialogues]
25 notes
·
View notes