storypaint (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
storypaint) wrote2015-02-16 10:46 am
storypaint) wrote2015-02-16 10:46 am
[Gravity Falls] out of the woods yet (Wendy gen)
Title: out of the woods yet
Fandom: Gravity Falls
Length: 598 words
Prompt: Gravity Falls fic battle: Why does Wendy's family stress her out?
Pairing: Wendy gen
Other: n/a
Excerpt: It's just that well... sometimes she needs time to herself, and space, which is hard to find in their tiny mobile home. Sometimes she wants someone to be girly with. Sometimes she doesn't want to rate Tyler's farts on a scale from one to dead skunk on the side of the road.
Let's get this straight from the start, okay? Wendy loves her family, and no one better say a word against them or they'll find out why she won the Lumberjack Games Females Under 13 category four times in a row. She's great with an axe.
It's just that well... sometimes she needs time to herself, and space, which is hard to find in their tiny mobile home. Sometimes she wants someone to be girly with. Sometimes she doesn't want to rate Tyler's farts on a scale from one to dead skunk on the side of the road.
She's not her mom.
"Wendy?" Dipper says, after they get out of the museum and make their way back to the Mystery Shack. She can see in his eyes the question he wants to ask. The kid is an old soul, that's for sure. She forgets sometimes that he's only twelve.
She laughs uncomfortably. "How about Mabel and those stuffed animals, huh?" she says.
"The guilt!" Mabel shouts and runs over to the t-shirt rack, crouching down in the little metal cage and clutching her makeshift bars. "I'm a terrible stuffed animal owner!"
Soos tries to comfort her. Dipper rubs his arm and says, running his words together quickly, "I just wanted to let you know you can always hang out here if you want."
Wendy smiles. "Duh," she says, and they don't talk about it again.
*
After dissecting the evening's events, Wendy goes home. It's not that late, only around ten, but the place is quiet. Her oldest brother isn't home yet, but the younger two are in bed. Her father has fallen asleep on the couch. His elbow is in a bowl of Dorotos chips (the spicy, manly kind). Wendy sighs. She rescues the bowl, disposes of the rest, and throws the bowl in the sink. It's full, but she doesn't feel like doing the dishes, and she's pretty sure it's Joey's turn anyway. She checks the fridge; there's stuff for tacos tomorrow, so she's pretty much set there. She might even talk the younger ones into eating some vegetables if she's lucky.
When Wendy's mom died five years ago, her dad was great. He's still great now of course, but the older Wendy gets, the more she seems to be pushed into this replacement role, and it really chafes. She spends a lot of time with her friends, a lot of time at the Shack, so that she doesn't have to think about the stuff her dad always forgets, like Tyler's meds or when to pay the electric bill. It's really stressful playing mom to three little kids and one big one. Sometimes she just wants to tell them all to go away.
She didn't see her dad's name on any of the memory containers, at least, and she's grateful for that. The two of them remember Mom the best, before she was sick, when she used to paint Wendy's fingernails and they'd practice spelling words and ax-throwing. Wendy's mom had been the champ in the 40 and Under category at least twice. Wendy doesn't know what she'd do knowing that those memories were gone.
It's been a long day, so she turns off the TV and the living room light and goes to her bedroom. At least she doesn't have to share it. She sprawls out on her bed and pulls out her phone to text for a little while before bed.
Movie tomorrow? she sends Dipper, after deleting three more texts from Robbie, but she's asleep before the phone pings in answer.
Fandom: Gravity Falls
Length: 598 words
Prompt: Gravity Falls fic battle: Why does Wendy's family stress her out?
Pairing: Wendy gen
Other: n/a
Excerpt: It's just that well... sometimes she needs time to herself, and space, which is hard to find in their tiny mobile home. Sometimes she wants someone to be girly with. Sometimes she doesn't want to rate Tyler's farts on a scale from one to dead skunk on the side of the road.
Let's get this straight from the start, okay? Wendy loves her family, and no one better say a word against them or they'll find out why she won the Lumberjack Games Females Under 13 category four times in a row. She's great with an axe.
It's just that well... sometimes she needs time to herself, and space, which is hard to find in their tiny mobile home. Sometimes she wants someone to be girly with. Sometimes she doesn't want to rate Tyler's farts on a scale from one to dead skunk on the side of the road.
She's not her mom.
"Wendy?" Dipper says, after they get out of the museum and make their way back to the Mystery Shack. She can see in his eyes the question he wants to ask. The kid is an old soul, that's for sure. She forgets sometimes that he's only twelve.
She laughs uncomfortably. "How about Mabel and those stuffed animals, huh?" she says.
"The guilt!" Mabel shouts and runs over to the t-shirt rack, crouching down in the little metal cage and clutching her makeshift bars. "I'm a terrible stuffed animal owner!"
Soos tries to comfort her. Dipper rubs his arm and says, running his words together quickly, "I just wanted to let you know you can always hang out here if you want."
Wendy smiles. "Duh," she says, and they don't talk about it again.
*
After dissecting the evening's events, Wendy goes home. It's not that late, only around ten, but the place is quiet. Her oldest brother isn't home yet, but the younger two are in bed. Her father has fallen asleep on the couch. His elbow is in a bowl of Dorotos chips (the spicy, manly kind). Wendy sighs. She rescues the bowl, disposes of the rest, and throws the bowl in the sink. It's full, but she doesn't feel like doing the dishes, and she's pretty sure it's Joey's turn anyway. She checks the fridge; there's stuff for tacos tomorrow, so she's pretty much set there. She might even talk the younger ones into eating some vegetables if she's lucky.
When Wendy's mom died five years ago, her dad was great. He's still great now of course, but the older Wendy gets, the more she seems to be pushed into this replacement role, and it really chafes. She spends a lot of time with her friends, a lot of time at the Shack, so that she doesn't have to think about the stuff her dad always forgets, like Tyler's meds or when to pay the electric bill. It's really stressful playing mom to three little kids and one big one. Sometimes she just wants to tell them all to go away.
She didn't see her dad's name on any of the memory containers, at least, and she's grateful for that. The two of them remember Mom the best, before she was sick, when she used to paint Wendy's fingernails and they'd practice spelling words and ax-throwing. Wendy's mom had been the champ in the 40 and Under category at least twice. Wendy doesn't know what she'd do knowing that those memories were gone.
It's been a long day, so she turns off the TV and the living room light and goes to her bedroom. At least she doesn't have to share it. She sprawls out on her bed and pulls out her phone to text for a little while before bed.
Movie tomorrow? she sends Dipper, after deleting three more texts from Robbie, but she's asleep before the phone pings in answer.