oozey mess
Cosimo Galluzzi
$LAYYYTER
★
titsay
Mike Driver
Fai_Ryy
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
The Stonewall Inn
No title available
YOU ARE THE REASON
ojovivo
JVL
tannertan36
d e v o n
Love Begins
🩵 avery cochrane 🩵
Monterey Bay Aquarium
if i look back, i am lost
The Bowery Presents
seen from United States
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seen from United Kingdom
seen from Italy
seen from United Kingdom
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@conspriacies
DIPPER. DOSSIER. STUDY. VISUALS. INTERACTIONS. BIOGRAPHY. CURATION. TRACKER. WRITTEN FOR WALTRP.
YOU’RE PROBABLY WONDERING WHAT WE’RE DOING IN A GOLF CART, FLEEING FROM A CREATURE OF UNIMAGINABLE HORROR— REST ASSURED, THERE’S A PERFECTLY LOGICAL EXPLANATION.
the lanterns glowed like captured stars and somewhere inside, people moved together as though they'd been born knowing every step. it was all so beautiful. King had lasted nearly twenty minutes before quietly slipping outside. The gardens were mercifully calmer. moonlight spilled across the stone paths while the warm hum of the celebration drifted through the open windows behind him. close enough to enjoy but without being swallowed by it. perched on the edge of a marble fountain, he balanced a small leather notebook against one knee. the tip of his pencil scratched thoughtfully across the page. observations: apparently, dancing becomes significantly less terrifying when everyone is wearing flowers. he paused before crossing it out. ...needs further study. another line. secondary observation: birds receive considerably more compliments than humans at formal gatherings. clover was comfortably nestled beside him, puffed up with unmistakable pride. “don't let it go to your head.” an indignant chirp. he smiled despite himself before turning another page, absentmindedly twirling the pencil between his fingers as he glanced back toward the glowing ballroom. “ suppose,” he murmured,
“if someone were to interrupt my incredibly important research.....i'd allow it."
dipper’s been here half an hour, and he’s spent about half of that mentally drafting escape routes. not that he can actually use any of them. he can’t just leave—not when mabel made his suit specifically for tonight (after he insisted he didn’t need one because he wasn’t even planning on coming), and definitely not after she said please approximately fifteen times in a row, in one breath & refused to take another until he caved. so, one foot stays inside the ballroom; the other finds its way toward the courtyard. at least it’s quieter out there. and, admittedly ... pretty. it’s another person with a notebook that catches his attention first; dipper has one of his own, though so far the evening’s been disappointingly devoid of anything worth recording. but all king needs to say is research, and it is a hundred times more interesting than whatever display is going on inside—maybe he’s struck gold, or just something worthwhile. “ research? ” he echoes, attention caught. “ research on what? is there actually something? ”
status : closed, @mandyfellwyn ! location : event two, the summer solstice ball.
the small talk, how unbelievably hot the ballroom seems to get as the night wears on, the constant presence of waitstaff drifting by with trays of finger foods, like they’re taunting him. he knows they’re different people, logically; but he also can’t completely rule out the possibility that they’re all just clones swapping places whenever he looks away—and there’s only so much of this dipper can take before he needs a breather. he slips out onto the balcony, loosening his tie with a sigh of relief as the cooler air greets him. elbows propped against the stone railing, he buries his face in his hands and lets out a long, muffled groan. “ okay, ” he mutters to no one in particular. “ five minutes. that’s all i need. ” the words have barely left his mouth before he catches movement in the corner of his eye, his head lifting just enough to spot someone else already occupying the balcony only a few feet away; though, it being night doesn’t help with visibility, in his defense. “ ... oh. ” he stiffens a little, moving up to straighten himself out. “ sorry. i thought i was the only one out here. ”
STATUS: open
LOCATION: summer solstice ball, evening/night
Beatrice curls into her seat on the window ledge, forcefully yanking the curtain closed to hide her from the rest of the ball. She rests her feet against the sliver of wall opposite her, covering her knees in a swathe of blue fabric. This whole thing is stupid. She shouldn't have come. Between the fire-eaters and the sword-swallowers, there's too much happening to feel like home.
She catches a glimpse of her reflection in the window - wrong - and habitually lifts a hand to feel for feathers. It flutters there a moment before she pulls it away lest she ruin her hair. She'd put it up in a half-remembered copy of the way her mother used to do it, the way she herself had begrudgingly done it for one of her sisters. The dress she's wearing feels like something half-remembered too. Same with the dancing. When she looks at the ballroom she remembers learning to dance. Standing on her father's feet while they whirled around in front of the fire. And later too, the more formal stuff with her mother reminding her of the footwork. A ball, and she's hiding herself away. Mother would be so disappointed, she thinks like a needle to the heart.
She huffs out a beleaguered sigh. Then startles badly as someone pushes aside the curtain hiding her away. “Jiminy Christmas!” she scowls, dropping her feet back down to the floor. “Unless you're here to offer me fancy food, this spot's taken!”
dipper’s brow furrows at the hostility in her voice, but it doesn’t send him away. “ hey, relax, ” he says, lifting both hands in surrender. “ i’m not gonna steal your hiding spot. honestly, i don’t blame you for hiding from— ” he trails off, gesturing vaguely with a brief circle of his hand. “ —all of this. ”
“ i’m just gonna reach past you for a second. ” edging closer, dipper tugs the curtain back slightly farther, revealing a well-worn brown satchel tucked against the wall where he’d left it earlier, when he was hiding here earlier—though, not with the dusty curtain, which got him dragged out to the dancefloor. his mistake. he slings it over one shoulder, unzipping the bag just enough to confirm its contents are still intact. “ y’know, for future reference, ” he says, “ if you are looking for a place to quietly ditch, there are some trees out in the courtyard. ” dipper looks past her, out the window to the gardens. “ more room, fewer people. definitely less overstimulating. ”
#𝗼𝗽𝗲𝗻𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗍𝖾𝗋 ›› ft. dipper pines location: the kitchen tagging: @conspriacies
Anyone who knew Jasper would not be shocked to know that he had a massive sweet tooth. It came as no surprise given Halloween was one of the holidays that prioritized sweet treats. How he found himself in the kitchen, he didn't know. Call it councilmen's privileges. He was let into most spaces without question. These perks were nothing new to him, given he was allotted the same treatment back home. The treats had been exceptional this evening. So much so that Jasper was going for seconds. This sort of behavior was frowned upon in his home. He could hear his mother reprimanding him in his ear. It was only in certain moments that he heard her voice. It wasn't often he felt like a small child, but recently those feelings had been coming in waves. As he entered the kitchen, he was greeted with a familiar face. "Dipper, what are you doing back here?" He asked, as if the same wasn't warranted to him. His eyes fell on the younger's arms, which were carrying a decent-sized assortment of desserts. Ah, so that's why. "You enjoyed the cakes too, hm?"
he freezes at the mention of his name, staring back like a deer in headlights. along his left forearm, a row of plates; each crowned with an untouched slice of cake, while his right hand braces them against a disastrous spill. in a restaurant, he’d look like an overworked waiter caught in the midst of rush hour. but at a gala, it’s much harder to explain when the serving staff is wearing uniforms bearing few-to-no similarities to his own suit, and the eyewitness to the act knows him.
“ councilman skellington ! ” he starts, halting mid-step; he’s not entirely willing to surrender his haul, but he’s not sure if this means he’s about to be thrown out. after a beat, dipper carefully lowers the plates onto the stainless-steel kitchen counter behind him, turning back to face the other. “ you know, i did—and these types of events overprepare the food anyways, so packing some to-go … isn’t that big a deal, right? ” granted, he still hasn’t solved the much more pressing problem of whether this kitchen has any tupperware; but that’s a problem for later, provided he doesn’t—once again—get kicked out. he shifts slightly outward, glancing between jasper and the cakes, a clear path now. “ ... you want a slice ? ”
closed starter for @conspriacies / location : summer solstice ball
sylvie hadn't been at the ball for long before she started drinking champagne. honestly, she hadn't meant to drink as much as she had as quickly as she had. there was a part of her that was a bit sad over the ball, a side that she wouldn't show to just anyone. so maybe she should have been more careful with how much she drank, but tonight she didn't care. what were the consequences of getting a little tipsy and remembering her home? sylvie didn't want to be sad and the alcohol was helping her feel better.
with a glass full in her hand, she walked towards the edge of the dance floor. then the music changed and she started swaying a bit more than she meant to, bumping into somoene. "oh, gosh. i'm sorry. i love this song," sylvie giggled, champagne swooshing out of the glass a bit.
droplets of champagne splatter across the shine of his dress shoes, and dipper winces. he’s all for deconstructing the formalities of events like these; they’re too fancy, too performative—rooms full of rich people pretending to be impressed by each other’s expensive clothes and even more expensive smiles. but there’s a difference between intentionally poking holes in all of that and watching someone teeter towards the disaster that starts with a flute too many. “ it’s fine, ” dipper starts, eyes catching the slight sway in her stance. “ it’s a good song, ” he agrees, cautious & deliberate. “ y’know, i’ve don’t think i’ve seen people waltz to an orchestral version of golden. ” his attention drifts past sylvie for a moment, following the dancers across the ballroom before settling back on her. “ hey, do you need to sit down for a minute? ” before you become a CRASH HAZARD. “ or are you gonna keep dancing? ”
the summer solstice ball, 2026 : if it were up to dipper, he’d spend the longest day of the year trudging through the enchanted forest, following a dangerous hiking trail well-equipped & fully prepared for clue-searching. but when mabel barges in and practically begs him to go with her, and his only excuse is that he doesn’t have a tux? well, she’s got it handled.
a testament to how well his sister knows him (and her creative prowess under a time crunch): one three-piece suit that’s about as close dipper can get to his ideal of formal wear, leaning more on a CASUAL ACADEMIC look while still fitting the dress code. his trousers are hardly noticeable as denim, paired with a matching vest that has spared the excess details of buttons and pockets, over a crisp white dress shirt. and above all, it’s comfortable, even with the pearly white tie tucked neatly beneath the vest. with hair gelled back tonight, he’s taken the effort to conceal his birthmark, keeping a travel-sized foundation & concealer tucked away in a brown satchel for any needed touch-ups, along with a pocket journal & a trusty pen.
¹ repurposed from the JIL SANDER SPRING 2025 READY-TO-WEAR collection.
ah, paradise pier. it's a fun place, really. but agnes knows that there are certain people there who are not... the most honest people. however, rigging games is pretty much a staple of places like these, it would be more surprising if these games weren't rigged. that's why agnes never really indulged herself in them (she's holding herself back because her competitiveness would make her waste so much money to win something as small as those sticky hand toys).
she's just walking along the pier, taking in the sights, the atmosphere when a ball comes crashing right against agnes' head. she yelps, "ow!" and rubs the side of her head to get her bearings once more.
"looks like the warning came a bit too late." she chuckles to herself. it must be an accident. no one actively aims a ball at someone's head in these places.
she squats and picks up the ball. "you're the menace who decided to attack me?" she walks over to the culprit and tosses the ball at him. she scans the booth and notices a pair of headphones and she turns knowingly to the other person. "if you want to win that, you have to aim at the basket, not at me. unless... you're not good at sports." she had to hold herself back as to not tease him too much. "lucky for you, i'm decent."
he opens his mouth, already piecing together an apology, but the words snag somewhere behind his teeth. you’re not good at sports. and well, she isn't wrong. he's known it, too. dipper sprints for his life from the undead, can haul a sousaphone across what feels like an endless marching routine, punched a jacked guy made of pixels, but throwing a ball into a basket? sports? somehow, that's always the defining marker for ATHLETICISM. “ i mean ... ” he starts, wincing almost immediately. “ i can be. ” a mild warmth creeps across his neck, traveling to the tips of his ears. embarrassment, shame, the makings of social humiliation in front of a cool-looking stranger; none of it is new to dipper. she's joking, surely. but dipper—always hungry for something to prove, always just a little too quick to rise to the bait—lets the embarrassment harden into something defensive, passing the ball back almost as quickly as he received it. “ you try then. make it and i'll get you—let’s say … a funnel cake. ”
the beauty of elias was unlike anything luz had ever seen. there were days where the young witch still pinched herself. the world outside her home was bigger than she ever imagined. it was beautiful, waiting for her to explore every inch of it. the ocean waves crashed against the shoreline. water rustled under the pier as luz made her way to the carnival games. another beautiful summer day cascaded over elias. for luz, it was perfect.
in these times of uncertainty, luz had done everything she could to find the bright side even on the cloudiest of days. thankfully, she didn't have to do much searching on this day. paradise pier was a place she often frequented once the warmer months hit. the smells of sweet cotton candy, freshly cooked corn dogs, and sugary slushies wafted in the air, ushering in the summer season. back home, summer is was her secret sanctuary. it was the time of the year when she was away from her peers and could be herself without fear.
now in elias, she didn't have to worry about being herself. she was full embraced - oddities and all. there were many things to worry about as of late. people judging her was not one of them.
luz was ready to ride the newest roller coaster until she was green in the face when she heard a voice calling to her. there wasn't much time for her to react before a ball went whizzing right past her. "holy cannoli!" the witched yelped, barely being missed by the rouge basketball. a hand came to rest on her chest. she was playing up the dramatics to an extent but her life had also just flashed before her eyes thank you! "dipper, we've gotta work on your hand-eye coordination."
“ okay, i wasn't that off! by all means, it should’ve been a clear shot, ” he protests; his hand-eye coordination is above average, actually! sure, the evidence currently suggests otherwise, but statistically speaking, one bad throw is hardly enough to invalidate the data. or two, if you count mistakes made when he was twelve years old— and no more than that, because time travelling to repeat that latter throw still counts as one. “ i highly doubt shooting a basketball is exactly a reliable measure of athletic ability at a game that's clearly rigged. ” he leaves it at that—a perfectly reasonable stopping point if he planned on tacking on a polite no offense for the carnival booth runner, which dipper does not, instead letting his words hang without regret. in fact, he means FULL OFFENSE. he refuses to let decades of shady carnival engineering masquerade as his personal skill issue. “ c’mon, luz, you really think you could do better? they’re literally counting on you to miss. ”
⸻🍂 WILLOWS HANDS CLENCHED TIGHTLY AROUND THE STRAP of her adventure-bag.
As the panic took longer to leave than she liked to admit. While for several seconds ⸻ she could still hear her own pulse loud within her ears. As Dipper was unaware of her inner chaos &. for that brief second it felt like mercy. It felt good to stand beside someone who honestly doesn't know enough about botanical-plants to recognize when something was going . . . wrong ⸻ like it's evidence in an case against her.
“ Don't apologize Pines! That hoop looks like it has personal issues. That's ⸻ probably the important part. ” She replied back keeping her tone light &. airy masking the panic ⸻ inner-chaos. While she shifted her adventure-bag behind her ⸻ gently pushing the tyrant-kudzu with its new thorns down away from sight. As her magic wasn't evolving ⸻ but mutating plants into something she couldn't control?
Biting her lower-lip as . . . Arcane-Hollow had come back to mind in an very quiet ⸻ unpleasant ⸻ unwanted ⸻ but practical thought. Maybe she should admit herself for the rest of the summer ⸻ maybe her magic was not evolving alongside her but mutating dangerously ⸻ maybe she could get this all under control before it gets worse &. impossible to hide if she did?
While smokey-quartzs blinking behind glasses as she couldn't help but smile. As Dipper was holding ⸻ inspecting an prize thoroughly as if they had won something they must have desired? &. with Dipper so blissfully unaware she is strangely finding herself comforted by that. Because sometimes escaping doesn't mean running away ⸻ it just . . . means standing still in an chaotic-world. &. forcing herself to breath ⸻ enjoy the moment. “ I started the day cleaning the beach ⸻ marking turtle nests ⸻ normal-under-the-sun-summer-stuff ⸻ ” as she spoke gently ⸻ her face brightened as she adjusted her dark-green bandana quickly “ ⸻ but came to the pier for some quirky ice-cream choices. The basketball situation was just an unexpected detour. But come with me Pines!!! ” “ Oh ⸻ please come with me!? We can celebrate beating the rigged-system with me? ”
“ alright, alright, ” he grins, shoving his hands into his pockets as he gives her shoulder a light bump with his own. “ after today—and this heat—we’ve earned it. come on. let’s go find that ice cream. ”
dipper decides not to mention that half the food stands on the pier are basically scams too, charging twice as much for the same stuff they sold back near campus. not the same as getting conned by a carnival game, but he won’t be the one to crush her mission with a lecture on inflated prices— actually, he’s not sure if walt academy or its university affiliate teaches that at all; schools specializing in magic and cutting-age technology don’t quite emphasize the same introductory economics curriculum as its mundane counterparts. then again, most of what he does know about spotting a rip-off comes from growing up with lessons from his great-uncle about what is questionably legal. so, the topic is filed away for possibly a later discussion. “ you’re gonna have to tell me what you mean by quirky, because the quirkiest flavor i’ve had was our DAILY MYSTERY SWIRL. and that just turned out to be garlic parmesan flavored. ” homesickness pangs briefly; it’s strange to not be there for the summer. gravity falls & its assortment of pacific northwest staples, mixed in with gimmicky names branded around local legends. you’d think there would be more weirdness for a town so strange. “ i bet the boiling isles has a different flavor profile. ”
[ ✩ ] ° • open starter for » everyone
There was something oddly comforting about bookstores. Billy had never been able to explain why. Maybe it was because they were one of the few places where everyone seemed to exist at their own pace. Nobody expected you to rush. You could wander for hours, pick up ten different books without buying one, or accidentally disappear into an aisle because a title caught your attention.
Which was exactly what had happened. He stood balanced on the bottom shelf, stretching just enough to reach a book that had somehow ended up shoved onto the very top shelf. Whoever organized this section clearly had more faith in the average person's height than Billy did. "Almost..." His fingertips brushed the spine. "So close..." The book shifted. Then three more shifted with it. Billy's eyes widened. "Oh, that's definitely not how gravity was supposed to work." Before he could catch them, an entire row of books slid free from the shelf. They tumbled toward him in what felt like dramatic slow motion, and instinct took over before he had time to think.
A flicker of navy magic shimmered around the stack, stopping the books inches above the floor. Billy blinked up at them. "...Okay, that was probably more dramatic than just letting them fall." A sheepish smile crossed his face as he carefully guided the books back into his arms instead. "I promise I wasn't trying to redecorate." He laughed quietly to himself, turning just in time to notice someone standing at the end of the aisle who had almost certainly witnessed the entire thing.
"On the bright side," Billy said with an apologetic grin, "at least I proved the books can fly." He glanced down at the title he'd nearly caused an avalanche retrieving and sighed. "And, naturally, it wasn't even the right one."
he occupies a cushioned bench built into the windowsill, natural golden light refracting through the glass panes and illuminating the pages of an open book in his hand. after the comfort of his bed and the enchanted library’s endlessness of options, this bookstore offers the third best spot for reading in elias; and (in)conveniently, it gives him a front-row seat to this guy’s impending blunder. dipper hears it first — the clumsy brushing of a hand against hardcover, repeated — and then, tries not to stare; people climb things all the time, for even fewer reasons. SEE: HIS SISTER. except, clearly the other is struggling. with mild concern, he’s prompted to his feet, almost there when the books start to rain & there still, when the navy-tinted magic scoops them back up. “ if you could do that, you probably could’ve just gotten the book down normally in the first place, ” he points out. “ or used one of the step stools. they have them everywhere. ”
“ hey, i won’t judge if you want to read— ” his eyes narrow in a squint, peering over the cover in the other person’s hands as he reads the title aloud. “ DOES THE EARTH ROTATE? NO. ” a look of uncertainty flickers across his face before a cross of clear judgement & disgust settles in. maybe it’s satire; one of those books with deliberately ridiculous, rage-bait titles meant to prove the opposite point. at least, he hopes it is.
Dipper Pines + quotes
Mabel | Stan | Ford
amity recognized him from campus, of course she did. she might typically have her head in a book when she was walking around, but she also did pay attention to the people who were in her classes or she saw on campus every so often. amity didn't know why he was here or what he wanted to do with the prize, but it didn't matter to her. the ball could have hit her or someone else if she hadn't been paying attention. "if it isn't explicitly stated, then it's not a rule," she added. and sure maybe it could have been implied, but amity knew how deals were made.
she can see how grumpy the operator is about this whole thing and technically, amity was the one who made the shot, so it should be her prize, but she wasn't going to argue that. honestly, she was kind of surprised that he hadn't argued that. amity would have asked what he wanted and gotten it for dipper, but still. that was probably cheating too. the witch didn't care about that, these sorts of places reminded her of the market at home. there were some shady characters there.
before meeting luz, amity probably would have been more unfriendly with someone recognizing her. after all, at home she was recognized because of her family, not herself. these days she didn't mind being recognized as luz's friend, as the girl in the library, as that purple haired witch. "don't worry, i'm sure you don't meet that many purple haired witches. and yes, i do." she shook her head. "it's spelled. i have to make more for it every so often." amity liked the feeling of writing with a quill over a pen.
“ well, you’d be the first. ” purple-haired witches aside, new elias is obviously different; in a general sense, but also for him. he’s been somewhere like this before, places touched by magic. gravity falls, he would say, is like the city’s distant cousin: more woodsy, small-town charm in the middle of nowhere, and easy to overlook if you weren’t paying attention. new elias thrums with magic among modernity, a city so loud and gleaming it can’t be ignored.
or maybe dipper’s just being a critic. multiple things can be true at once.
granted, he supposes magic has solved the practicality problem. but then what’s the point if you still have to make more ink every so often? it would, at least, help with the once-in-a-blue-moon explosion of ink spilling over his teeth. but then he imagines it: chewing on the tip of a feather instead of a pen cap; the strands left on his tongue & having to sputter them out. and his brain fires much too quickly for the careful sort of writing quills seem made for. “ … huh, ” a beat. “ i still think pens solved most of that problem already, but if the point isn’t efficiency, then that’s different. ”
tommy winces as the ball collides with the back of his head, shoulders scrunching defensively and hands up as he turns toward his attacker, though his annoyed expression turns into a laugh once he realises it was dipper. “i know i annoy you, pines, but i didn’t think you’d resort to petty violence.” tommy shoots him a joking glare before retrieving the ball and throwing it, under arm and slow, toward dipper.
“you need a hand there, buddy? before you end up making a real enemy that is — although if i end up with a weirdly shaped head after that, i will get even.” he saunters up to the game dipper’s attempting, arms crossed and expression slightly judgemental. “what’re you trying to win?”
“ tommy, ” he starts; it’s a greeting, technically, though dipper’s expression pinches at the sight of him. not because he dislikes the guy or anything — alright, maybe a little — but only that the guy gets on his nerves more often than not. “ oh, come on, ” he scoffs, catching the ball before tucking it under his arm. his eyes narrow into a squint. “ also, if i was gonna resort to violence, i feel like i could do better than a basketball.”
“ first of all: the dent in your head’s a PREEXISTING CONDITION. and second— ” his shoulders drop a fraction, sparing a glance back to the hoop. “ maybe. ” index finger points to a pair of headphones hanging in the rafters; not those exact ones, obviously, but he figures tommy can connect the dots.
some days, his apartment felt too quiet..the sort of quiet that stray thought each room. king had caught himself pacing from the kitchenette to the living room for what had to be the third time before finally deciding enough was enough. clover had been more than happy to come along until he noticed where they were headed. the pier. the little bird immediately puffed himself into a judgmental featherball. "you'd spend the whole afternoon glaring at strangers for existing." an offended chirp. "exactly." another louder chirp followed "but fineeee.. stay"
by the time he'd reached the pier, the smile hadn't entirely left. that had been the point,wasn’ it? to get out of his own head for a while and replace the endless thoughts with waves crashing, carnival music, and some good cotton candy..he was following his nose to the cotton candy stand when something orange collided with the side of his head. he windmilled his arms in an utterly unsuccessful attempt to recover. boots skidding against the wooden boards before gravity won the argument, sending him sprawling backward with a spectacular whump. he stared at the sky for a long beat "oww.. that’s one way..to knock some sense into yourself"..a quiet laugh escaping him as he sat up, rubbing the growing bump on the side of his head.
there’s someone on the ground now, and with what dipper hopes is not an injury. or worse, a concussion. except, he may be no doctor, but the bump on the side of this guy’s head looks awfully like it’s growing, isn’t it?
fuck.
ball abandoned, he rushes over, extending an arm & slowing just enough not to immediately yank the guy upright. “ sorry! are you okay? ”
dipper drops into a crouch beside him, eyes tracking between one of king’s eyes and then to the other. that’s how professionals do this, right? albeit usually with flashlights shining directly into them — though the sun’s out, so maybe that counts. and he can handle this, totally. he’s confronted worse. “ do you know where you are? are you dizzy? nauseous? do you need ice— don’t answer all at once if it’s gonna make it worse. ”
the basketball collided with mavis' side before she even realized it was headed toward her. the impact wasn't enough to knock her over, but it did make her nearly lose her grip on the slurpee she'd been carrying. "oh my gods" she laughed, catching herself a second later as a few drops splashed onto her hand. for a moment she simply stared at the ball sitting innocently near her feet like it hadn't just attempted an assassination.
when she looked up, she found the culprit looking absolutely horrified. honestly, he seemed more upset about it than she was. her gaze flicked from him to the basketball hoop behind him, then to the headphones hanging overhead. suddenly everything clicked. "let me guess," she said, biting back another laugh. "you had a whole plan, didn't you? and then the carnival game decided to humble you."
she bent to pick up the basketball, turning it over in her hands before tossing it lightly back toward him. "for what it's worth, i think those games cheat first." her smile softened into something warmer. "and i survived, so i'm willing to overlook being used as a backboard. though if you do win i think i'm owed at least fifty percent of the credit."
“ yeah, ” he breathes out a sigh. “ i did. you know, it made more sense before i actually threw the thing … also, sorry for hitting you. ” he glances at her. “ fifty? for moral support now? make it thirty. ”
attention returning to the booth, the attendant has the gall to smirk, and dipper’s gaze narrows into a side-eye as he slams another five dollar bill on the counter. by now, he trusts it: both his mind and the apparent penchant he holds for accidents in situations like these, and rethinks his approach.
the basketball is launched at the ring yet again, though this time quicker to ricochet and aimed towards the operator instead, forcing them to duck.
in the confusion, dipper reaches for the box set, already backing up, with it tucked under his arm. “ consider this consumer retaliation! rethink your business practices! ” he shouts, flashing a look to mavis, as the meaning behind his inching backpedal becomes much clearer once the attendant looks up and starts angrily coming around the corner of his booth: START RUNNING!
Logan had just enough time to register the incoming basketball before it slammed into his shoulder. The coffee in his hand didn't survive the encounter. He looked down at the stain spreading across his shirt, then at the ball resting nearby on the boardwalk. His gaze eventually landed on the other standing at the game booth. For a moment, he just stared. There was an internal debate about whether he should send his shadows after the guy or not. He eventually he bent down, picked up the basketball, and walked over. "I think this belongs to you."
The words were simple as he held the ball out. There wasn't any anger in his voice. The kid looked more upset about it than Logan was. If only because he was basically done with the coffee and he hated the shirt he was wearing. His eyes drifted briefly toward the hoop and then to the headphones hanging above the game. That explained enough.
Logan handed the ball over before glancing down at his shirt again. "At least it wasn't my face." His gaze stayed even and emotionless. Though he doubted he'd be as nice if it had hit him in the face. With that, he took a sip from what remained of his coffee and immediately regretted it because there was almost nothing left.
"...That's unfortunate."
there's no salvaging the situation. not the game, and certainly not the stranger's shirt, now ruined from spilled coffee and dipper's sorry excuse for a shot. dipper can't say if it was fair -- carnival games typically aren't & he knows this. they're all colorful lights and noise, concealing the near-impossibility of WINNING BIG in the first place. so much for outsmarting the system.
the stare is somehow worse than getting yelled at. he's bracing, holding his breath for what would be a well-deserved scolding, apologies forming in his mind's queue & trains of thought spilling out equally as fast. " i— that was not— i wasn't aiming at you, obviously, because that would've been insane, " he says, punctuated by an awkward laugh.
" ... sorry. " the stranger hands the ball back & better a direct transfer than an actual pass — though, dipper would like to assume he can handle that, at least. A BLEND OF SELF-REASSURANCE AND ICING HIS BRUISED PRIDE. palms outstretched, he holds it with both hands and immediately sets it behind him for the attendant to collect, for their next rounds of inconveniencing people's days.
a hand dips into his pocket now, fishing for his wallet and unfolding a rectangle of worn leather. " ... if it helps, i can get your dry cleaning? i have, like, twelve dollars. "
