Oops I Dropped My Pen Gravity Falls Novels & Stories

9% chance that I will not be able to find my way back. I decide it’s time to wake Ash so I climb through the tent door and jump onto him. I expect him to freak out but nothing happens so I try and do it again, still nothing happens. I decide third time lucky and try again. This time when I jump, I don’t fall, it’s really weird, I just stop falling like when you hit the ground only I haven’t hit the ground yet, well Ash yet. When I look around I realise that Ash had woken up and has caught me while I was falling. I wriggle around trying to break his hold on me but he is too strong, when I finally give up he says

He couldn't possibly have kept track of anything. "Eleven," Leo said, leaning close to Archer's ear. "We almost finished up a 12-pack box. Wanna guess where the 12th one is, hmm?" The cold aluminium foil was then pressed against Archer's lower stomach as Leo slowly inched it up his body.

If that wasn’t dangerous enough for those down below, due to how close the branch which was keeping me from falling to the ground sat beside the cage, once the cage began to free fall, it hits right onto the branch and allows that to snap in half which in turn, allowed gravity to start pulling me down, a scream of freight escaping my lips. Had I pushed this too far?

The driver, the woman with the grey hair, was sitting perfectly still, her hand frozen in a wave. In the back seat, Kael was the only thing that looked three-dimensional. He was fighting, his hands clawing at the paper interior of the car, his face contorted in a silent shout. "Kael! Get out!" I scrambled toward the car, but my paper legs were stiff and difficult to bend. Suddenly, a massive, silver shadow fell over the world. I looked up and my heart stopped. It wasn't a Spire. It was a pen. A fountain pen the size of a skyscraper was descending from the black sky, its nib dripping with a thick, violet ink that looked like the fluid from the pods. It touched the white ground a mile away, an

79 and my last crumpled bill — went airborne. Time slowed the way it only does during disasters. The cup tumbled. The lid surrendered. A generous arc of cold brew and oat milk described a graceful, terrible parabola through the air and landed directly in the center of my chest, soaking through the white knit in approximately half a second. The hallway went quiet. Then it didn't.

I made it to the bathroom before the tears started. I locked myself in a stall and pressed my hands against my eyes, willing myself not to cry. Not here. Not where someone might hear. A formal reprimand. In my file. A permanent black mark on a record I’d kept spotless for three years. My phone buzzed. Another text from Genevieve. This time, a photo. Me and Leo at last year’s holiday party, smiling at the camera. Genevieve had drawn devil horns on my head. The caption: Remember when you thought you had it all?

“Let’s get back to your party.” I giggled, taking his hand in mine. We walked over to the door. The moment we touched the handle, the floor beneath us opened. I was weightless, falling into the unknown darkness below. I reached out for something to grasp onto as I felt Lyle’s strong arms wrap around me, pulling me close to his chest. Together, we slid down a slick and slimy stone chute, our bodies gliding effortlessly through the strange goo that coated its walls. With each passing moment, we descended deeper into the mysterious depths, the only sound echoing in our ears being the soft whoosh of our descent and the occasional splatter of the goo against our skin.

I jump to my feet, slamming the table with my fist and causing my pen to roll off the table and fall to the ground. I’m making a scene right now, but I don’t really care much for it again. “You’re being so fucking rude right now and I haven’t done anything to you. What’s your problem?” I yell out, grabbing my books and bag in my hand. “If you want me to leave so badly, then I will—” I take a step right on the neglected pen that had fallen onto the floor. It rolls from the pressure under my feet, tipping off my balance quickly and suddenly, I’m falling backward with just as much force before my brain can even process what’s happening.

I needed to run a counter-attack code against Matteo's offensive play. First, I made it look like I accidentally dropped the expensive fountain pen. The pen slipped right through my fingers and landed with a soft thud underneath the table, falling straight onto Matteo’s thin, flexible swim shorts! And do you want to guess exactly where it landed? Right at the coordinates of my millimetric, flawless geometric calculations! Oh my God, look at that coincidence—what an absolute, mind-boggling shocker!

I respond as I move closer to him. I see a pen on his desk, and I see an opportunity. I make a bee-line toward the table, pick up the pen, and purposefully drop it. “Ooops,” I giggle. I turn, giving him my back, and bend down to pick it up. I hope he can see exactly what I aim for him to perceive: my half-exposed buttocks. Again, I feel the wig slipping, and rush to catch it before it falls off. I must get glue or something to keep this damn thing in place. When I stand up, he isn’t even looking at me.