#A GREAT WALL OF TEXT WITHOUT A TON OF TRAUMA???

[chasing-bandages]

Chase wakes up to gentle rain showering his hands and hair.

Compared to the pounding storm he was subjected to earlier, it's quite the welcome change. He sits up groggily, reaching up to rub his eyes. His hands hit a familiar solid material, though.... as soon as he realizes what it is, he groans loudly.

Stupid fucking mask again, goddammit.... he thinks bitterly, the rainshower seeping through the mask's eye holes. It's not too much of an inconvenience, other than once again being quite a hassle to wash his face or eat again. But he was starting to enjoy the feeling of wind on his cheeks again.

Whatever, he thinks, enjoying the gentle rain. Chase looks around, seeing the dark cloud of rain, wind, and lightning in the distance. That must be where he died.... he, Dusk, Lennie, Steph, and Camila.

He wonders where they all spawned before remembering Dusk isn't from this world... she's probably not around anymore. Chase looks down bitterly, hugging his knees to his chest.

He's starting to really hate being alone like this.

That's something he never thought he'd think.... he likes being with his brothers or girlfriend, but aside from them, Chase prefers solitude and no one around.

None of them are here with him, though, and probably never will be. Chase is completely and utterly alone, with no hope of ever escaping or seeing any of his loved ones again.

Chase finds himself thinking of the others. He wouldn't ever admit to trusting any of them, but their company definitely makes him feel a little less alone. They're all just trying to survive, after all, just like him.

..... survive.....

Survival. Life. Death.

His mind drifts to Camila. To what she told him. It's faint and foggy in his memory from the alcohol, but the fragments loop in his mind.

He's still baffled by the logistics of it, how one's conscience actually gets inside the computer and how they stay alive even though they're dead in the real world.... but eventually, he pushes it aside. He's not smart enough to try and figure it out.

Chase still wonders what it feels like, though, to be Camila. He has so many questions, and also a rather unfortunate amount of sympathy for her situation.... how did she die? How old was she? What about her family?

Chase groans and stands up. He really, really, reallyreallyreallyreally hates her and hates that he's feeling any sympathy for her. She's a prick, a bitch, an asshole, a pain in the ass who's probably only keeping him alive as someone to bully. She's horrible, she's annoying, she's cruel, she's selfish, she's......

..... human. She's still human, and she's the only one who could even understand my situation.

Chase looks down at the wet, sandy ground, fingers picking at themselves. If it was anyone other than the bitch who betrayed him when he first arrived, maybe he'd be more willing to open up. But her? Why's it gotta be her of all people?

He walks in the direction of the storm, silently scolding himself each step of the way. Why the fuck am I doing this? I could just wait for a train. I could just lie down by the tracks and wait for the train to pass by. I could stay out in the rain, in the SAFE rain.

..... I'm such a fucking idiot for this. She better thank me for this.

The rain and wind grow more intense as Chase travels deeper into the storm. The mask definitely helps to keep the water out of his eyes, although it still all pools into the bottom of his mask, and he has to dump it out of his eyes quite often. And without the hangover, he's better able to keep his balance and avoid any flying debris.

All of a sudden, he trips and falls, almost slamming his head into a tree trunk. The vague shape he sees glancing back both chills his blood and eases his mind.

His own headless corpse.

Chase stands and steps over the body, noting that his head is completely out of view, wherever it is. But this is almost exactly what he was hoping to find. Now, if only he could find....

There she is.

Chase approaches Camila's corpse, dodging a few flying branches. He takes a few seconds to observe the damage.... parts of her face and body look bashed in and cut, but judging by the deep gash over her throat, the rest of it must be post-death damage.

Her body isn't what he wants though.

Chase grabs her shoulder, smiling as his hand wraps around the bag strap. He quickly pulls the bag off of Camila's body, probably dislocating her arms in the process but not caring as he slings it over his shoulder and books it back in the direction he came. It's definitely a heavy bag, about half his size, but he pushes through and uses the wind to his advantage.

Eventually, the rain starts to ease, and he can see more than a few feet in front of him. Chase's sprint slows to a walk until he's far enough that there's nothing other than the gentle drizzle that woke him up in the first place. He sits down on a flat rock, legs and back aching from the weight he carried. But he's safe now, and he has exactly what he was looking for.

"Alright.... what's in here...." Chase mumbles, opening up one of the compartments. There's all the butcher equipment and cutlery, even a spare cleaver. Chase's eye gleams at the sight of so many sharp weapons. He grabs a small paring knife and stuffs it in his hoodie pocket before searching the rest of the bag.

It's all typical cooking supplies and various foods, including chunks of meat from that rabbit man. Chase wonders how preservation works in the digital world as he seals it all up and continues to marvel at the utensils, dishes, and seasonings she has. He's watched his brothers cook in the kitchen a few times, but a couple of things look quite foreign to him. He doesn't think he ever could learn to cook with most of this.

Eventually, he also finds a large canteen and weighs it in his hands.

Empty... he thinks, hopping up and walking into the rain once again. Chase unscrews the cap and holds it up, waiting as the water fills the canteen. It doesn't take long, and after the container's full, he turns around and gets back to the rest of the equipment. Other than a few rags being soaked, everything seems undamaged.

Chase lays back on the rock, kicking his feet a little and humming. The storm continues to move on, away from him and passing over the town. Hours past, to which Chase spends nibbling on carrots and trying to dry his clothes off.

The more he thinks about it, the less the thought of Camila pisses him off. Her methods for killing people and tricking others into eating them is fucked up, but it's not like she can do much else. He's seen first hand that she can't exactly help herself, and a vegetarian diet wouldn't really be the best for a cannibalistic vampire. She's trying to survive.

And she's never getting out of this place either, no matter what. That's the most disturbing fact of her situation, and Chase has so many questions. How does aging work? What if the system shuts down? Can someone die of old age? Are they, in the grand scheme of things, immortal?

He bites his tongue, looking down at the ground. The way she treats him is..... familiar. She's a bitch who toys with him and doesn't care if he's a bitch back, she matches his energy but treats him like a kid.

.... she treats me like my brothers.

A familiar clunking sound jostles Chase out of his thoughts, prompting him to stand up. In the distance, he sees a train with a yellow mark chug along, heading straight towards him and the storm. Time to go.

He groans and lays face down, cringing at the realization. That's something he DEFINITELY doesn't want to accept because she's not them. She never will be them. No one will ever be them. No one will replace his family, and he'll be damned if anything makes him feel better about it.

He puts the bag on and rushes to the side of the tracks, internally cursing himself for not adjusting the straps first. Whatever, it doesn't matter. The train's getting closer.... and closer.... and closer.....

Chase leaps forward through the open doors.

And not a moment too soon, either. Just as he regains his balance, the train chugs straight into the storm. Rain, wind, and debris smatter through the open doors, immediately drenching Chase's clothes again.

He grumbles with a yawn, dragging the bag over behind several crates that block out the majority of the rain. He's far too exhausted for this, and eventually just lays down while hugging Camila's bag. For being full of cooking supplies, it's shockingly comfortable to hug.

Chase yawns again, shivering from the water soaking through his clothes. At least the rain crashing against the windows is soothing, a familiar sound that slowly lulls him to sleep. He squeezes the bag just a little, thinking one final thing before fully drifting off.

Guess I'm trying to find Camila instead of avoid her now.

[wooblecomics]

Vegan here: I remember being overwhelmed too. Don't feel like you need to have an answer to every question right away. You don't need to have a firm stance on zoos before you decide to stop funding factory farms. And veganism isn't all or nothing. You're allowed to disagree with vegans on some points and agree on others. But I'll try to clarify some things as best I can:

It's to your credit that you would worry about harming plants. Few people are that empathetic, which is a real virtue. But there are two good reasons you shouldn't worry about it:

First, I'm not a biologists, but from what I've seen basically no biologists think plants can feel pain. Science journalists have done a really bad job accurately representing the research on plant communication. Some plants do release chemical alarm signals when damaged, which is really neat. But my car also has an alarm it sets off when damaged and that's not evidence for car consciousness. If you've ever taken an aspirin, then you know pain comes from the brain. No brain, no pain.

Secondly, we need to grow plants to feed animals. Every 1 kcal of beef requires over 10 kcals of plants to produce. So a vegan world would also be one that minimizes plant pain (which almost certainly doesn't exist).

Regarding climate and human rights issues: Working at a slaughterhouse is among the worst jobs you can have. Workplace injuries are very common. And the sheer brutality required to meet quotas often causes trauma that leads to alcohol/drug abuse and domestic violence. There are abuses in agriculture too, but animals need to be fed plants. In fact, the majority of crops are grown for animal feed, not human consumption. Producing 1 kcal of beef requires 10+ kcals of plants, which are often the exact same plants we eat (like corn, oats, and soy). So eating animals entails all the emissions and abuses from raising those animals PLUS the emissions and abuses from TONS of extra plants. Eating vegan will always be more climate and human rights friendly than meat/dairy/eggs.

No vegan wants sheep to just be left unsheared and die from heatstroke. The objection vegans have is to the ownership and commodification of sheep. Sheep should be cared for in sanctuaries, not forcibly impregnated, abused, and killed to extract profit. Boycotting the industry doesn't cause any sheep to go without shearing, but it does cause farmers to forcibly breed fewer sheep.

The wool/leather vs plastic dilemma is a false dichotomy. Firstly, cotton, linen, hemp and other vegan materials exist, so there's really no dilemma at all. Also, when you consider the emissions from the beef/leather industry and the toxic chemicals used to treat leather, it's not nearly as environmentally friendly as most people think. If you're in the market for a new jacket, there are absolutely vegan, natural alternatives. If you're not, just wear what you have already and don't worry too much about it.

Regarding ethical eggs/dairy: Animals are not machines to be owned and used for profit. They're individuals with intrinsic value. Profit and animal wellbeing will always come into conflict, just like how profit and workers rights always come into conflict. Except animals aren't able to stand up for themselves. We don't allow child labor for this very reason. Any for-profit operation has a really problematic conflict of interest. However, if you treat the animals as pets and value their wellbeing over their eggs/milk, then I don't see an issue with it. But this is a topic on which many vegans have differing opinions. Many argue its harmful to commodify an animal's body in any way

Regarding game meat, animals have a right to life just like us. No animal should be killed for fun or for fleeting palate pleasure.

Zoos are pretty unimportant compared to the food industry, so I'll just link this video by Earthling Ed rather than write a wall of text. He's got plenty of great videos about lots of vegan topics. I'd encourage you to check him out.

Fuck it it's my blog I can say what I need to process my thoughts and feelings. I was recently pushed by a video essay by the leftist cooks to eat more ethically. I originally felt pushed to Veganism, but am feeling more and more conflicted with that. I've been reading a lot about Veganism and some of the animal products that vegans avoid cause more problems. Wool for instance is a by-product of caring for the animal. Humanity has unfortunately bred sheep to not naturally shed their coats. I think the most caring thing we can do for these animals is to shear them regularly, so that they don't mat and/or overheat. Avoiding the product altogether isn't doing more good for the animal.

I've also read that zoos count as an animal product, which I feel conflicted by. Zoos and other animal sanctuaries (done well) are a pretty good way to incentivize the public towards conservation efforts. They're also a home for animals who otherwise wouldn't stand a chance in the wild. I find that to be a kindness. I feel that pleather is a net negative contribution to the world- since having another plastic material that can be mass produced for cheaper than the animal product is worse for the environment. Leather at least can be well-maintained for years (as demonstrated by leather kinksters and bootblackers).

The philosophy of Veganism to boycott cruelty to animals, people, and the environment is one that appeals to me. It's also leaving me with a lot more questions than answers. Is it ethical to eat eggs if I know the chickens are beloved and well cared for? Can it be ethical to eat wild game? The one that really haunts me is that plants are sentient (I'll provide sources for this. But science has determined that trees communicate with each other through mycelium networks in the forest) Is eating plants really cruelty-free?

I'm conflicted and confused. I really want to be more ethical, but I'm not sure if a Vegan or Vegetarian or even Flexitarian diet is the best way to do that. I don't always have the spoons to research which products I can afford are made with unethical labour in the global market. I'm motivated to do better, but holy hell do I feel like it won't be enough.

[novantinuum]

Fandom: Steven Universe

Rating: Teen Audiences

Words: 2.2K~

Summary: A series of shorts detailing what might’ve happened in the moments after I Am My Monster, told from six different points of view.

Greg apparently had a LOT on his mind, because this was supposed to be short and instead it’s over 2000 words, ahah. Final chapter!

If you read this and enjoy, I’d greatly appreciate your support through reblogs here, or kudos/comments on AO3. Thank you! <3

Chapter warning: Allusions to past non-canon character suicide.

____

Chapter 6: Greg

Hours pass.

Bismuth makes quick and quiet work of replacing the cracked slider door in Steven’s room while he sleeps, and secures a thick tarp over the open front of the house to keep the coastal breeze somewhat at bay until she can finish her repairs to the windows and siding. She warns that might take a day or two. Garnet, meanwhile, busies herself the rest of the afternoon and evening fielding all of the Diamonds’ frazzled calls, and reassuring them of the boy’s current stability. Pooling their knowledge, Dr. Maheswaran and Peridot make sure to confirm that. Beyond some minor scarring, neither his organic or Gem half seems to exhibit any serious physical health conditions in consequence of what happened today, news which works to ever so slightly lift the air of the household. With no other concrete tasks to complete, Pearl, Amethyst, Lapis, Connie, and Greg all rotate between sweeping debris off the floor, wandering the beach to mentally recuperate, and dutifully sitting at Steven’s side as he rests. It may not sound like a lot, but alas the level of emotional labor demanded by such a situation is immense.

All in all, the sun’s long since dipped below the horizon by the time Greg finally collapses onto the mattress laid out in the back of his van, craving if but a moment of privacy and respite from all the chaos. It’s been... an insufferably long day, to put it lightly. Busy. Tons of cleaning, and intercepting nosy neighbors, and bedside monitoring...

He offered to take the first night shift watching Steven a few minutes ago, but Pearl must’ve noticed the dark circles creeping ever wider under his eyes, because she proceeded to gently overturn his offer and remind him of humanity’s daily sleep requirement. And she’s right, of course. He can’t stay up as long as he used to in his twenties anymore. Plus, he probably deserves some time to himself after everything that’s transpired. There’s plenty of Gems left in the house who can keep watch, after all. Steven will be fine for a few hours. Surely nothing else can happen when he’s asleep, right?

 Right??

Exhaustedly slumping against the side wall, Greg offers a glassy, vacant stare at the contacts list of his phone, roughly wiping the damp from his cheeks with his other hand as his thumb hovers over one of the numbers. Does he dare drag someone else into this whole situation? Surely the kinder solution would be to refrain from widening the circle any more, from letting anyone else learn about today’s harrowing events. And yet if he fails to find a proper outlet for the raw emotions all of this has violently hauled to the surface, he fears he just may suffer a mental break himself, repressed memories bursting like a vicious flood through the dam he desperately tried to seal them behind all those years back. Much of this is just... far too familiar.

His phone slips right through his trembling hands as the cruel reality of what he witnessed today finally begins to carve its indelible presence in his mind. A strained sob leaking from between his tightly pursed lips, he buries his head between his knees, clutching at the worn bottom hem of his jean shorts like an infant to a parent’s finger. Small. Vulnerable.

Helpless.

His son... oh stars, his only son, he—

He can’t talk about any of this to the Gems; they wouldn’t wholly grasp the uniquely human nature of his concerns. And he doesn’t feel comfortable discussing these matters with Dr. Maheswaran, especially not after the stern words she dealt to him back at the hospital. He’s burdened her enough already, by this point. No, there’s only one fellow human he feels close enough with to engage in this sort of conversation.

Taking a deep, cleansing breath, he reaches for the phone he dropped on the mattress. Turns it on. Nervously clamps down on his bottom lip as he selects his cousin’s contact and dials.

The passing heartbeats slamming against his ribs are almost nauseating in their needy clamor as he waits, his calloused fingers tapping against the thick rubber of his phone case. Andy’s never been a particularly tech savvy guy, so honestly, it’s well within reason he might not even carry his phone on his person to answer. And that’d be fine, really. In fact, he might even prefer it, since he’s still not confident he’s emotionally prepared to discuss any of this at this precise moment, anyways. But just as he’s beginning to undergo mental preparations for what on Earth he might leave as a voicemail message, his older family member finally picks up.

“Greg?” Andy’s gravelly voice rings through, sounding somewhat tinny through their connection. “Hey, it’s been a while, hasn’t it? How’s the ol’ Universe family unit doin’?”

“Not great, honestly,” he narrowly manages in response, his throat constricting tight. “That’s kinda why I’m calling, if you have the time to listen?”

“Heh. I’m a drifter, you know I ain’t got no schedule. Carry on.”

“Well... geeze, how do I put this. There was, uh... a bit of an incident today. With Steven.”

“An incident?” his cousin questions, marked worry immediately painting his tone. “The kid okay??”

He falls silent for a few seconds upon this question, threading his hyperactive digits through the split ends in his hair on automatic, a stress-induced habit. “Unclear,” he says, a slight quiver making itself intimately known in his words. “I mean, physically, at the moment, yes, but—“

He cuts off once more. It suddenly occurs to him that little of today’s events would make sense to Andy without providing the appropriate context. Or, at least, what little context he’s capable of giving as a father. It’s still terrifying to admit the truth to himself— that he doesn’t possess the full story. That he hasn’t been paying close enough attention. That, in many ways, he willfully blinded himself to all the troubling events transpiring around his son throughout the years, foolishly believing that if he didn’t involve himself... that if he simply stayed out of the Gems’ hair... everything would go to plan, and Steven would finally receive the training he needed. He didn’t expect things would grow so complicated.

He didn’t expect that his teenage son would have to march into battle carrying nothing but his wits and a shield time and time again.

With a weary sigh and a quick apology, to which Andy brushes off, Greg begins to weave a verbal picture of everything that’s transpired across the last few days. First, the hospital call. Rushing home from tour, only to find his son giant and flushed pink, literally filling an entire room with the sheer volume of his trauma. The shattered x-ray in his chart, hinting towards hidden hurts that— before all this— even Steven seemingly hadn’t processed or quantified. Then, the road trip. The unwanted reminders of his childhood. That blasted CD. His expression sobers as he describes the fateful argument they had on the road home, one which lead to his son accidentally breaking the steering wheel and flipping the van. Next... his disappearance. No texts for four whole days, which is so unlike him. He was worried sick. And the next time he saw him, he was eight feet tall, glowing, and painfully manic in behavior, with each new sentence spilling from his mouth revealing an even more heartbreaking picture of the sort of poor mental state he’d spiraled into. It was nothing short of a father’s worst nightmare, propelled into horrifying, vivid reality.

Nothing in this corner of the galaxy could’ve prepared him for the primal surge of terror and anguish he was engulfed within when that nightmare distorted and transformed even further.  

His only son... colossal and coated in thick scales and spines, sclera black as night... roughly clawing at this unfamiliar form, smashing his skull against the cliffside, roaring with an inner pain so primal that the sound now haunts the depths of his very soul—

“I- you remember what happened with cousin Jo, back when we were young?” Greg says softly once he’s caught Andy up with the details of situation, his voice frail and unsteady, the tone of a man helplessly marooned amidst his anxieties. “Before she was sent to that mental rehab place? Well, I’m... with the addition of Gem magic, it almost felt like that. I mean, h-he’s fine for now, we have him resting, but... but I’m just so scared he won’t come out of this, like her, a-a-and that one day he’ll—“

A mewling sob bubbles up in his throat, swiftly severing that train of thought. N-no. No, he refuses to even utter that horrible idea out loud! After all, a world without Steven in it isn’t worth envisioning.

Andy’s eventual response— albeit tinged with a justified shade of awkwardness, given the emotionally charged nature of this conversation— is filled with genuine compassion, and for that he’s dearly thankful.

“Aw, hell... Greg, I’m- I’m so sorry. I, uh- I could fly over, if any of ya’ need me? For emotional support, or whatever?”

Upon this kind offer, he inhales deep to steady his breath, and wipes away dewy beads of moisture from the corner of his eyes, desperately hoping that he can mitigate the pitiful wavering of his voice over the phone. He’s gotta fight to reliably keep some form of composure in front of other people, damnit. His kid can’t have his dad breaking down around him too, of course.

“No, you’ve got places to be,” he replies evenly, pressing his thumb and pointer against one of his aching temples. “I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“You ain’t asking,” he retorts, the eye-roll evident in his tone. “I’m offering. Listen- family takes care of family, y’hear? And I’m only about a day’s flight away, anyways. It’s really the least I could do.”

He sighs. Absentmindedly tugs at a thick strand of his hair. Offers a long, contemplative stare at the rickety age-worn handle affixed to the inside of the van’s back doors. Truth be told— ignoring his deep-seated guilt at dragging Andy into all this to begin with— he’d love having another family member around to embrace, especially a human one who can more deeply understand the crux of his anxieties about this delicate situation. But in the end, he shouldn’t be prioritizing his own feelings and comfort. He’s not the one in crisis, his son is.

Desperately hoping he’s making the right choice, Greg flexes his fingers, and acquiesces to the offer, on one condition: only if Steven consents to having visitors, once he’s awake.

Andy hums in approval. “Understood. Don’t wanna overload the poor guy with any surprise visits, or whatever.”

“Yeah. The last thing I want to do is push him too hard, too fast.”

He pauses, braving waves of parental grief to spend a moment to reflect on Steven’s emotional progression over the past few months... a stray negative comment here, an unusually forlorn mannerism there... All of them events that, in isolation, wouldn’t point to anything more than your standard ‘teenage angst,’ but when observed in strong, unceasing patterns, begin to reveal deeply harrowing truths about the state of an individual’s self-image. How did he never notice? Why wasn’t he there to catch him in his fall?

“I think he hates himself,” he says quietly, his voice hitching up at the end. “He didn’t say so directly, but- but I can sense it. And I don’t know how to help him, I-I... I don’t know if I can.”

“Nonsense,” his cousin scoffs, “‘course ya’ know what to do! What does any good father worth their salt give their sons?”

Unable to evade the momentary temptation of feeling miserable and sorry for himself, he slumps back against the wall, giving a weak shrug that his current audience would never see.

“I dunno, maybe a stable, safe childhood? Not growing up poor as dirt in a van?”

“No, you numbskull,” Andy immediately cuts back, “you love on ‘em and support ‘em just as much as you always have! Y’ show him that you’re always gonna be there for him, and that he can trust you with anything.”

“But I haven’t always been there for him,” he exclaims petulantly. “That’s the whole problem! That’s one of the reasons he ended up like this.”

“Greg,” he says, his voice softer this time. “Listen to me, ain’t nobody perfect, okay? We’ve all made our mistakes with people. Me? More than most. But what we can’t do is let those mistakes cloud what’s happening right now. Y’know, that’s one of the hard lessons I’ve had to learn over the past two years, that you can’t always make things about you. Because right now, it’s about him. He’s dealin’ with some hard feelings, and he needs all of our help. So, let’s help him. Together. We’ll start with one foot in front of us, and we can take it from there. All right?”

Closing his weary, exhausted eyes and pressing his thumb firm against his still-aching temple, Greg Universe gives a long sigh and finally concedes to the reality that— just as he’s not solely responsible for the decline of his son’s mental state— no man should be an island when it comes to the task of supporting one’s journey towards recovery. As with everything, the extended Universe family unit will face the future together, hand-in-hand. Step-by-step.

“Yeah,” he breathes. “Yeah, I think that’s do-able.”

[pandoraborn]

Cruelty of the Beast - Part 15

( previous. )

-----

Characters: c!Puffy, c!Quackity, c!Tubbo Word count: 2069 words Content: major character death (referring to Tommy’s prison death), grief, memorials, manhandling, quackity talks sense into tubbo, talk of war, impending doom, dragons, war is coming

-----

Nothing can ever go right in this place. Tubbo has never felt more angry or isolated in his life, with no one close he can fall back on. It had always either been him and Tommy, or him and Ranboo. Ranboo had already made it clear that he was sticking with Dream, but had left Tommy’s situation vague.

Tubbo is tired of arguing with everyone over it. He’s tired of everyone telling him to move on from Tommy, and it shows in the way he keeps his back pressed against the wall, with a crying Michael clinging to his leg. It shows in the way Tubbo is glaring furiously at Puffy with tears forming in his eyes. He’s seconds away from grabbing a weapon and lashing out at her.

“I can’t watch you do this to yourself anymore!” She cries out. “It’s killing all of us, you need to open  your eyes, please!”

“I don’t know when all of you decided to give up on Tommy, but I sure as hell am not.” Tubbo’s voice is flat as he tightens his grip on Michael. Having to explain to the toddler that his papa isn’t ever coming home was bad enough, Tubbo doesn’t want to have to explain about Uncle Tommy, either. “What’s happened to you, Puffy? You swore you’d protect him. You swore you’d never give up on him. So now that he got into one fight with Quackity, suddenly he needs to be treated like some war criminal? Remember what happened last time we isolated him?”

“Tubbo, I know. I really don’t think this is a misunderstanding this time.”

“It’s always a misunderstanding!” Tubbo snarls. His lip curls back as his hands tremble. “Everything everyone feels about Tommy is one giant misunderstanding! No one ever actually pays attention to him! You think I’m going to turn my back on him? I’ve already done that, I’m not doing it again.”

“Tubbo, he threatened Quackity,” Puffy tries to reason. “He plainly said he wasn’t coming home. We have to assume he’s working with Dream and Wilbur.”

“I’m calling bullshit,” Tubbo snaps. “Tommy hates both of them. He also hates Technoblade. Quackity up and disappeared for months without telling any of us what he was up to. His lands words were even ‘don’t trust anyone’. Why would I trust him?”

“Because he was there, Tubbo. He spoke to Tommy, to Ranboo, to Techno...we have to trust him on this.”  Puffy pulls back to text someone on her communicator. Without thinking, Tubbo snatches it from her hands and tosses it hard against the opposite wall. The noise has Michael crying even more louder.

“Tubbo!”

“I’m not falling for this bullshit,” Tubbo snarls. “I’ll break it again if you dare insinuate Tommy went and allied himself with the people who hurt him the most. We’re his friends. It’s up to us to save him and bring him back.” Crouching down, Tubbo wraps his arms around his son, holding him tightly. Michael whimpers.

“Papa,” Michael whines. “Where’s Papa?”

“It’s okay,” Tubbo whispers. “Daddy’s got you. You’re safe with me.” A pointed glare is aimed in Puffy’s direction. “Puffy was just leaving.”

“No,” she responds. “You need someone, I’m not leaving you alone to deal with this anymore. We have to face the truth.”

“There is no truth,” he mutters. Tubbo at least stands up, gently pulling away from Michael .”I need to put my son to bed, and you need to leave. I don’t want  you here anymore.”

There’s no sound from her as she picks up the communicator. It’s not completely broken, but the screen is cracked and hard to read right now. Puffy tries to brush away some of the dust.

“Tubbo, I really want to help you.”

“Unless your help is trying to find and bring my best friend back home, I don’t want it.” They stare each other down. Tubbo doesn’t hear his door opening and closing. He doesn’t hear the footsteps until a hand snatches him by his shirt and slams him roughly against the wall.

Tubbo winces, stifling back a yelp of pain as he stares into Quackity’s eyes. “Tubbo, I’m going to tell it to you straight. The Tommy we knew died in that prison. As far as we’re concerned, Tommy is dead. You need to open your eyes, Tubbo, and come to terms with the fact that we’re all you have left. Your best friend? Your husband? They’re gone, and they’re not coming back.”

“No.”

“Puffy, take the runt upstairs,” Quackity instructs. “Tubbo and I are going for a walk.” Quackity doesn’t wait for her to respond as he drags Tubbo outside. “I want to show you something,” he continues.

Tubbo struggles to keep up, forcing his feet to keep moving. Quackity had become far stronger in his bizarre absences, and admittedly, Tubbo is scared of him. He doesn’t dare try to pull away though, rather letting Quackity drag him around.

They continue moving until they’re at the memorial Tubbo had built. Tubbo doesn’t want to be here, he wants to go back home. This place brings back awful memories that he’d tried so hard to suppress, and it’s like Quackity is forcing Tubbo to relive all the trauma and agony that had brought them to this point.

“Read the sign, Tubbo.”

He tries to turn his head away. “No, I can’t.” It’s not a stretch, his eyes are already blurring. “Please let me go.”

The older man shoves him forward hard enough that he almost trips and face-plants into the sign. “Read it, Tubbo!”

With shaky breath, Tubbo blinks in an attempt to clear his vision long enough to focus on the sign. “In..in the memory of T-Tommy...” Everything is threatening to spill over. Gripping the edges the stone the sign’s placed on, Tubbo tries to still his trembling body. It’s not working. It’s also not stopping the flood of memories that come back.

From Tommy being exiled.

Dream manipulating Tubbo.

Dream humiliating Tubbo in front of everyone.

Tubbo giving up and accepting defeat...

Losing Tommy to death.

“He...he was take-taken from us too soon.” Tubbo’s breath is barely a wheeze as he finishes. This is just as embarrassing as being told  he sucked in front of the entire server. Back then, he hadn’t cried. This time, he’s barely holding himself together.

“Why did you build this?” Quackity asks.

“Because he was dead...he was killed in the prison.”

Quackity lets down, sitting down on the bench. He does pull Tubbo down with him. “I’ve been poking around Tubbo. I found this, and I found other memorials for Tommy. Statues, that Puffy, Eret and other people built. He was great to all of us.”

“So why...” Tubbo pauses to swipe his sleeve across his face. “Why doesn’t anyone care enough anymore to save him? He’s...”

“He was my best friend too, at one point.” Quackity’s voice is more gentle. “There was a time I’d have done anything for him. But the Tommy I encountered just now isn’t the Tommy I knew. He wasn’t anyone’s Tommy. He was mean and harsh, and he knew exactly what he was doing and who he was siding with.”

“I don’t understand.” It’s as if all the anger had evaporated. Tubbo hates Quackity’s approach, he hates the manhandling, but even Tubbo has to admit it’s more effective than Puffy’s mothering approach. It doesn’t mean he understands anything. He probably never will.

“Tommy died, Tubbo. He died in the prison, and he came back at Dream’s hand. We have to assume that Dream fucked with him somehow in a way we can’t fix, because otherwise we’re all going to be asking the same questions forever, and I don’t want to spend the rest of my life asking why.”

“But...it’s Tommy. We can’t just...”

“Tommy’s dead, Tubbo. You didn’t spent time making this entire memorial for him only for it to be thrown back in your face. Puffy didn’t build a statue of him only for him to threaten me. None of us mourned his death, only for him to pick Dream. He’s dead, and gone, and we have to assume that the new Tommy is some imposter.”

For the first time since the prison break, Tubbo feels his heart breaking. He’d been living in denial for so long, always holding out hope that one of his two soul mates would come rushing back to him. Even after meeting with Ranboo, Tubbo had held some tiny sliver of hope that Ranboo would’ve changed his mind and come running back.

But deep down inside, Tubbo had always known. He’d always known that there was no going back, that the prison break had just been the beginning of the end.

Leaning against Quackity, Tubbo swallows back a sob. He’s not going to cry now, that’s better saved for when he’s alone with only Michael to hear him. Right now, he needs to be the tactician. At least Quackity’s pulling him in for a hug.

“I’m sorry, Tubbo,” Quackity whispers. “You still have us. The entire SMP is always on your side, you know this.”

“We need a plan.”

“I talked to Sam already,” Quackity says. Sitting up straight, Tubbo clears his throat, trying to compose himself. “Sam’s already making weapons, and he’s already spread the word to others. Eret’s making preparations to protect the kingdom.”

“I need to fortify Snowchester.” Tubbo clears his throat again before standing up. Priority one is getting away from this stupid memorial. The thought of burning it to the ground crosses his mind. “I can’t let anything happen to Michael.”

“So, talk to people. You have allies, Tubbo. You have Puffy, Sam, me, probably Jack. Eret, and so many others who are willing to pick up a weapon and fight.”

“I have an armory.” Tubbo’s eyes glisten.

“What are you talking about?”

“I have all of Dream’s stuff. His armor, some weapons, and even some potions. God apples.”

Quackity stares at him for a moment.

“I even have nukes,” Tubbo finishes in a whisper.

“They have tons of explosions,” Quackity says slowly. “But I don’t think even they can fight back if we use a nuke.”

Tubbo wags a finger, narrowing his eyes. “No, this is going to be on my terms. I’m not launching one at people we still care about. Just because they’ve decided to start some civil war doesn’t mean we’re just going to kill them. I want care and precision with this.” He turns to walk back toward Snowchester. “I have to think about my son first and foremost.”

“Okay, wait,” Quackity says. “How many people know you have nukes? I can tell-”

“Not many,” admits Tubbo. “Jack knows. T...oh, shit.” Tubbo’s eyes open wide as he stops in place. No, freezes completely. “No, no no no, shit!”

“Tubbo, what’s wrong?” Quackity, alarmed, grabs at Tubbo’s arm and shakes him. “Talk to me! What’s wrong?”

“Tommy and Ranboo,” Tubbo whispers. “They both know.”

There’s a long pause before the realization catches up to the older man. “Tubbo! You realize they could come here a...” he trails off.

In the distance, the prison alarms sound. They had since been rewired to alert Sam of intruders into the SMP, programming them to announce the arrival of hostile enemies. The alarms sounding now doesn’t mean anything good for the SMP or any of the aligning territories.

Quackity slowly turns back to Tubbo, gripping him tighter. With a whine, Tubbo yanks back, turning to march back toward Snowchester again.

Following close behind, Quackity glances in the direction of the prison. His blood is freezing in his veins at the thought of what’s to come.

“Tubbo, there’s no time for care and precision anymore. We have no time to prepare for anything.”

“I know,” Tubbo murmurs. “Quackity, Ranboo insinuated something to me that I didn’t understand til now.”

“What?”

“They have a dragon.”

“How..” Quackity swallows. “How the fuck do you know that from whatever vague words he said to you? You can’t possibly piece-” he’s cut off when Tubbo points. It’s dark as shit and hard to make out anything in the night sky, but Quackity follows his finger toward the prison.

In the distance, barely outlined, is the shape of something that’s only growing bigger. Big enough that Quackity can now hear the roar.

“Tubbo?” He hums as he reaches into his pack for his sword. “Get the nukes.”

[echo-bleu]

straight through the smoke (2)

Summary: After Magnus breaks up with Alec and chooses to align with the Seelie Queen, pulling the Downworld Cabinet with him, Alec is arrested by the Clave for high treason. Will Magnus find out in time to save him from a death sentence?

Chapter 1

On AO3

Alec waits.

The cell is lit with violent neon tubes that hurt his eyes every time he opens them. The bench he’s sitting cross-legged on is hard, and he can’t find a comfortable position with his hands locked in front of him in heavy, runed cuffs. Guards from Idris – not Alec’s own people – watch his every move through the large, glass wall, and he wants to squirm under their gazes.

It’s all made to be as uncomfortable as possible. Alec knows that. He was thirteen when they last renovated the underground levels and his mother and Hodge came up with the glass cells, instead of the prison-like cells they had before.

And now he’s locked inside his own Institute’s cell, awaiting trial for crimes he didn’t commit.

By his estimate, it’s been about four hours. The Clave guards took his watch on top of his stele, so he has no way to tell the time except for his internal clock. He’s been turning things in his head over and over, trying to find a way out of this.

Magnus choosing to ally with the Seelie Queen hurt more than it should have – Alec feels like he should have expected it. Magnus is doing what is right for his people, and Alec’s own feelings about it don’t matter. Working with the Shadowhunters, being with Alec, has only brought him and his loved ones pain and heartbreak, and Alec lying to him about the Soul Sword was just the last straw. Alec can’t forget the pain in Magnus’ eyes after he tied him up in Valentine’s body, in this very cell. His grief when he opened up about losing Ragnor, his oldest friend, because of Shadowhunter involvement. Every hurt, every trauma of the past few months, all because of his relationship with Alec. His anger is justified, and however much it hurt when he gave Alec the cold shoulder this morning, Alec understands.

The Clave’s arrival in force, two hours later – and less than a minute before Alec got a text from Luke that wards were going up around the city – was unexpected. The Inquisitor’s presence told Alec immediately that it was bad news, but getting handcuffed and read his rights in the middle of the ops center, in front of dozens of his own people, isn’t how Alec expected his day would go.

High treason. That’s what they’re calling it, the heinous crime of loving a warlock. They’ll wrap it up in a convincing package, but that’s what it boils down to. Alec has become a monster in the eyes of the Clave because he dared to fall in love with a Downworlder, and to want Downworlders to be treated as equals to the Nephilim.

They’ve resisted his advances from the start, the very idea of a Downworld Cabinet, but Alec never expected it to go this far. Especially in the middle of the Valentine debacle. If this gets back to Magnus’ ears – and if Alec is deruned or executed, it will, there is no doubt about it – what will he do?

If the word gets out before his sentencing, will Magnus come for Alec? Is Alec worth it in his eyes, worth risking his people?

Alec already knows the answer to that. Magnus made it clear, the other day, and again this morning. He’s not worth it.

Besides, the Clave’s numbers are too great. Here in the Institute, there is no way out. If Magnus tries to free him, he’ll get arrested and executed too, if he’s not killed in battle first. Or he’ll start a war that neither side can afford.

And if he doesn’t come…

As selfish and horrible as it is, Alec doesn’t think he can handle knowing that Magnus knew, that he could have come, and chose not to. No, it’s better if Magnus remains ignorant and safe in his loft, or in the Seelie Realm, or wherever he is now, taking care of his people. Alec can only hope that he’ll escape the Clave’s wrath.

He looks up when the elevator opens and reveals two Shadowhunters he doesn’t know, framing Jens, his second-in-command. Or his former second-in-command now, Alec supposes. Jens takes out his stele to open the door of the cell on the side, then steps back to let the other two through. Alec meets his eyes as they roughly manhandle him into standing up and check his cuffs. Jens bows his head apologetically, clasping his hands behind his back – I didn’t find any way around this. I’m sorry.

Alec nods back. It’s okay. Just do as they ask. “Will you at least tell me where you’re taking me?” he asks as the men lead him out of the cell.

“Your trial is starting, Lightwood,” one of them answers.

“Shouldn’t there be an investigation first?”

The man shrugs, unconcerned. “The Inquisitor says she has a fool-proof case against you. You’ve had it coming for a while, Lightwood. You’re done.”

Alec swallows. This is going too fast, none of it makes sense. Why do this now, when the search for Valentine should be taking all of their resources?

He’s led to the ceremony room, where Max received his first rune just a few months ago. A sweep of the room tells him that the Inquisitor recalled nearly every single Shadowhunter to the Institute. They’re standing in close ranks, whispering amongst themselves. Alec forces himself to hold his head up high as he’s led to the platform at the front of the room, even as he feels the stares burning into his back.

Imogen Herondale sits in a straight-backed armchair facing the audience, with two Clave officials on each side. Alec doesn’t know any of them. His guards lead him to a simple wooden chair to the side, beside which Alec awkwardly stands, his hands still cuffed in front of him, the two Shadowhunters staying one step behind him.

Jace, Izzy and Clary are standing at attention in the first rank. Well, Jace and Izzy are, because Clary still hasn’t perfected her posture. Alec makes a note to talk to her about it, before he remembers that there’s little point to it.

His parabatai bound pulses gently with worryfearcomfort, even though Jace’s face is blank. Izzy meets Alec’s eyes and conveys all her sorrow and her dread, as Jens comes to stand beside her. She leans in to whisper in his ear. Alec shakes his head at them, trying to tell them not to try anything. If he can’t protect himself, then he at least needs to keep them safe.

The rest of his family isn’t there. His parents have gone back to Idris as soon as Max was transferred to the Alicante hospital, and they probably don’t even know that anything is going on. Even if they did, the warlocks’ wards over the city would prevent them from coming.

Alec refocuses on the “court”. It’s a sham of a trial, nothing like the real ones in Alicante that he’s been to – and yet he knows that this is all perfectly legal. They do it to Downworlders all the time, after all. An assembly of as few as two people, as long as it includes the Inquisitor or a member of the Council, can decide the fate of anyone if evidence of wrongdoing is presented to them.

Imogen stands up, and the whole room falls silent. “As the wards currently around New York do not allow us to transfer prisoners to await trial, I have convened this martial court in order to judge Alexander Gideon Lightwood, who stands accused of high treason.”

She goes on naming her court, while Alec’s guards make him sit down. He doesn’t resist and answers the factual questions he’s asked for the record – full name, date of birth, position – without protesting. If he has any chance at arguing his way out of this, it won’t be by disrupting the process.

But Imogen’s face is set and determined, and Alec knows that arguing won’t lead him anywhere. There’s some whispers in the room when she simply skips the step where she should have asked him if he wished to name someone to defend him.

The realization descends onto him like a ton of bricks. He’s kept it at bay so far, the knowledge present but distant, somehow, dissociated from his emotions, but now it suddenly hits him. There’s nothing to be done, no avenue to find, no escape. He’s going to be convicted. Even if by some magic – no, he can’t think of Magnus right now – he were to escape, he would live the rest of his life as a fugitive, hiding from the Clave. His job, gone. Everything he’s achieved in the last few years, evaporated. His family and his friends will become pariahs, and his Downworlder allies will be shunned or worse, hunted.

And Alec will be executed.

Alec blinks, almost stunned, and then blinks again when he sees Magnus right behind Imogen’s chair. Magnus smiles at him faintly, almost like an apparition, but he seems solid and not a figment of Alec’s imagination. He points a finger toward Alec, and a swirl of blue magic runs to connect with Alec’s chest. No one in the room seems to notice.

Alexander, Alec suddenly hears in his head, over the noise of Imogen, still speaking. Magnus hasn’t moved his lips, but it’s indubitably his voice.

Magnus, Alec thinks as loudly as he can. What are you doing?

Don’t worry, no one else can see me, Magnus answers. Clary came to get me.

Magnus is really there. Alec feels a strange mix of relief and dread, the tension almost bursting out of his body. He wants to apologize, to thank him, to tell him he loves him, to—

You shouldn’t have come, Alec projects. Now they’re going to get you too.

I’ll be fine, Magnus says firmly, still only in Alec’s head. They don’t know I’m here. You’re the one we need to worry about.

Has Valentine been found yet? Alec asks. He hasn’t had any news in hours, and Valentine knows that the Mortal Mirror is Lake Lyn. If he reaches his goal, this trial won’t matter anymore – the Downworld will be gone. They’ll have other things to think about than convicting a single Shadowhunter.

And if Magnus is not in the Seelie Realm when it happens, then Alec won’t care much what happens to him, anyway.

But Magnus doesn’t have time to answer before Imogen stands up and starts reading from a file. “Alexander Gideon Lightwood, you have been accused of the following charges,” she starts, her voice carrying through the room. Alec shivers despite himself.

“On January 30th, you sought services from a warlock named Iris Rouse, who has since been convicted of kidnapping mundanes and forcing them to carry warlock pregnancies. When you arrested her several weeks later, after she attacked Shadowhunters in Magnus Bane’s house, you failed to report your purpose in going to her in the first place, and failed to signal the warlock children you found in her house to your superiors. One of them was later found working for Valentine Morgenstern and she killed thirteen Shadowhunters in this Institute.”

Alec widens his eyes and looks at Magnus wildly. Is the Clave looking to go after Madzie? Magnus makes a reassuring gesture, she’s safe, but frowns at Imogen in anger.

“On March 6th, you failed to prevent Valentine Morgenstern and his followers from entering this Institute and killing a total of forty-two Shadowhunters and seventy-one Downworlders, while you and Victor Aldertree, who has since received sanction for mishandling resources, were mysteriously spared,” she continues. Alec swallows, the pronouncement hitting the nest of guilt inside him he’s never been able to shed. Aldertree may have been the Head at the time, but it’s Alec’s Institute, and he couldn’t protect it.

“On March 10th, you had Magnus Bane summon a Greater Demon, who then allowed Valentine Morgenstern to escape custody with a body-swap spell. You failed to report this fact to the Clave until several days later.”

Alec closes his eyes, unable to even look at Magnus. There is some glee in Imogen’s voice when she sees him bow his head, and he digs his cuffed fists into his lap to keep himself calm.

“On June 19th, you refused to carry out orders from the Clave to protect the New York Downworlders from a serial killer with the help of GPS chips. Only days later, as soon as you were named Head of the Institute, you started a group you called the “Downworld Cabinet”, clearly showing your allegiance to the Downworld. You also failed to report that a werewolf intruder tried to enter Valentine Morgenstern’s cell, even as he was in your custody.”

And that’s the real crime they’re accusing him of, isn’t it? Trying to treat Downworlders as his equals, to involve them in his decision-making? Alec opens his eyes again and stares defiantly back at Imogen. This isn’t something he will be shamed for.

“On June 25th,” Imogen continues, “you were in charge of transferring the prisoner Valentine Morgenstern to the Guard in Alicante, and you used the services of warlock Magnus Bane to do so. The prisoner never arrived in Alicante. On June 28th, it was revealed that you allowed Jonathan Morgenstern to work in your Institute under a false identity for several months, while he kept Shadowhunter Sebastian Verlac prisoner and attempted to murder Max Lightwood. You claimed that you had no knowledge of his identity.”

Alec gapes at the implication that he might have let his little brother get hurt on purpose. He hears Izzy make a noise, and whispers flood the room. His own guilt notwithstanding – and he feels plenty for not recognizing Sebastian as an imposter – the way Imogen formulated it is designed to humiliate him, but it riles him up instead. How dare she imply that he would let people die on purpose, let alone his own family?

Magnus looks equally incensed, but Alec can’t focus on his, the edges of his vision blackening from the pure tension of his body. Someone went to the trouble to make a lengthy case against him, including things that couldn’t have just been found in his reports. This is bigger than he thought, and Imogen hasn’t even gotten to the crime he was actually arrested for.

“Finally, on July 25th, the members of your so-called Downworld Cabinet, including the warlock you have declared as your partner in the last close-and-continuing form you filed, made public their decision to stop following Clave order and, instead, and I quote, ‘take matters into their own hands’. They announced their intention to hunt and kill Valentine Morgenstern themselves, without waiting for the proper justice system. They raised wards around New York that have been confirmed to instantly kill any Shadowhunter attempting to breach them. You did not oppose them, nor attempt to arrest them.”

There. A shudder goes through the room, almost imperceptible. Alec resists the urge to look at the audience, at his Shadowhunters, and see what they think about this trial. They are trained not to show emotions.

His own emotions are almost detached now, like he’s feeling them through layers of clothes. He still feels Magnus’ light presence in his mind, shaking in anger, and the pulse of his parabatai bond, downright furious, but he can’t bring himself to feel the same.

Whether the charges against him are just or not will not matter to the Clave, not when they are really an excuse.

“That is honestly so many violations of the Law that I fail to even discern a pattern,” Imogen pursues her lips. “It almost appears as if you are working for the warlock one day, and for your own advancement the next day. Those violations come on top of numerous failures to maintain discipline in your Institute while you were Acting Head, for which you received internal sanctions.” Alec winces as he feels the question in both Magnus’ mind and Jace’s bond. Neither of them know how many times Alec covering for his siblings’ disregard for the rules or Downworlders’ mistakes resulted in pay docks and extra patrols.

“What is evident,” Imogen keeps going without interruption, “is that you are not doing your duty and working to uphold the law of the Accords. In fact, you have frequently violated it without thought of the consequences. And by allying yourself with rogue Downworlders, you have committed a crime against the Clave of the highest gravity.” She pauses. “The wards raised over the city by the warlocks have killed two Shadowhunters. They still currently hold all of us hostage away from our homeland. This is an act of terrorism.”

Magnus gasps, as Alec fights not to react at all. Imogen’s use of that word, borrowed from the mundanes to name one of the worst possible crimes, is the equivalent of declaring war on all the warlocks – or it would be, if any of them were officially present.

“You will be tried as a member of a terrorism group as well as as a rogue Shadowhunter,” Imogen pronounces. Alec swallows.

Magnus looks stricken, his face open in horror.

Has Valentine been found? Alec repeats in his head – he needs to know.

Magnus blinks at him and shakes his head, eyes wide. They’ve called off the search for Valentine and Jonathan.

Alec struggles to keep a neutral expression. This is bad. This is beyond bad. Why would the Clave do that, unless they’ve somehow allied with Valentine?

Imogen Herondale isn’t working with Valentine. Alec is certain of that. Valentine killed her son and daughter-in-law, and stole Jace away from her, and even when their ideals align, she’d rather kill herself than ally with him. Which means that her orders are coming from above.

But there’s only one body above the Inquisitor, and the Council hasn’t had time to gather to make decisions. Imogen’s orders have to have come directly from the Consul himself.

Is it possible that Consul Dieudonné himself is working with Valentine?

Is he still in New York? Alec asks silently.

Magnus doesn’t answer for a moment. No, he finally says, sounding defeated. He got past our wards. He made a deal with the Seelie Queen. Luke just found out.

Fuck. Alec almost swears out loud, but he reigns himself in just in time. The lake. He’s on his way to Idris. He’s going to raise the Angel.

Won’t the Shadowhunters in Alicante stop him from entering? Magnus asks.

If I’m right about this, there will be no one to stop him, Alec answers. Malachi Dieudonné is part of the Circle.

And this changes everything.

Magnus seems at a loss for words. Alec refocuses on Imogen, just as she looks up at him. Her eyes bore into him, hard and accusing. She opens her mouth.

“For the crime of high treason, Shadowhunter, how do you plead?”

Alec takes a breath and stands up.

He could draw it out, make them build an actual case, defend himself. It’s a losing battle, but he’d at least have a little more time to figure out a solution, a way to escape this.

But if he does, while all the eyes are turned here on the New York Institute, Valentine will reach Lake Lyn unimpeded and raise the Angel. Wipe out the Downworld.

It isn’t a prospect that Alec can live with.

I’m sorry, Magnus, Alec projects. He lifts his head and looks Imogen in the eye, his gaze calm and strong. “I plead guilty,” he says.

The assembly of Shadowhunters is well-trained to reign over their emotions, but even then, there are a few gasps. Alec spots his siblings, Isabelle with a hand over her mouth, Jace pleading at him with his eyes. Clary looks like she’s itching to move. Jens, Alec’s second-in-command, remains expressionless, but his fists tighten. Young Kara Svec, who Alec has taken under his wing the past few months, looks up at him with wide eyes full of tears.

Magnus lets out a wordless cry of anguish in his head. Alec doesn’t think that he’s meant to hear it, but it tears him apart all the same. I have to, he thinks. You need to stop Valentine. I’m already out of the race, but you can still get to him. Take Jace and Clary with you.

“Alec Lightwood,” Imogen announces. She doesn’t look gleeful, or even content. Just another soldier doing their job. “You are hereby sentenced to death by immolation. You will be taken back to your cell until your execution. It will take place tomorrow at 08:00 in the Institute’s main courtyard.”

Even if he expected it, it still feels like a punch in the gut. Alec fights to stay perfectly still, his head held high, but he doesn’t make eye contact with anyone. He can’t take their reactions.

The betrayal churns deeply in his gut. He’s always expected to die young, in battle, but not...not like this. Hung out to dry by his own people, after dedicating his life to this Institute, executed for a treason he didn’t commit…

He’s not afraid of death, but he’s not ready to die, either.

I’m not abandoning you, Alexander, are Magnus’ last words before he disappears again.

[tenpin-boleyn]

I procrastinated and this mess happened

It’s horrificly bad but it’s inspired by this doodle I did when I was, you guessed it, procrastinating :))

So enjoy this pile of Millie’s cat sick :)

“I’m glad I found Chocolate Milk now because if I found it before I wouldn’t be able to drink it.” Anne stated, her face the perfect picture of nonchalance. “Why? Are you lactose intolerant?” You replied back, blissfully unaware of the past Anne hid. “I was beheaded? Duh” she laughed.

You had known Anne for over a year now, but not once has she mentioned being beheaded in a past life. You had seen Anne in Six obviously but you’d just assumed that was a character she had taken on. Like that time you played the Virgin Mary at age 4, probably not the best decision eh Mrs Keeping but there we go.

Anne suddenly looked as white as a ghost. She had forgotten that you didn’t know. For what it was worth Anne was a great actor. Onstage she was competition to a gremlin, but to a select few she was Anne. Just Anne. Anne with no tragic backstory. Just a girl who liked milkshakes. “I’m so sorry Anne. I didn’t know” you said lovingly, placing a hand onto Anne’s. It was a small gesture but it made you feel better that you could bring a bit of colour back to her rosy cheeks again. “Shall we go to yours? I want to show you something that will open your eyes forever.” Anne nodded to this, happy that you hadn’t dragged out the topic anymore.

You had hoped Anne wouldn’t already know what you were about to show her. It might be common knowledge to most but she had a tickling feeling that Anne wasn’t part of that percentage. You took her hand and ran down the street, passing the Queens house, which made Anne raise an eyebrow. Jane liked everyone home by 9, and it was already half 7, so she couldn’t go on a wild adventure to oxford on a random bus. “Look Y/N-“

“Tah dah.” You stopped and raised your hands at the sign above you.

“Tesco? You brought me to Tesco?”

You smiled at the green minx, “ah my child this isn’t any normal trip to Tesco. This is a life changing trip”

You managed to pry Anne away from the chocolate bars- you had a feeling that the sugar from the milkshakes was already getting to her head- and led her down the dairy isle. While Anne was distracted with a carton of purple milk you grabbed the carton you were searching for. “What do you think goes into purple milk? Cow blood mixed with a taste of WKD? ANNE MILLICENT BOLEYN DONT YOU DARE THINK ABOUT TOUCHING MY ALCOHOL CABINET. Well now I don’t have to” She laughed.

“Anne what I have in my hands will change your entire life.”

You presented her with a carton of chocolate milk and you smiled to yourself as you watched her eyes widen and start to twinkle.

“You. Can. Buy. Chocolate. Milk?”

When you finally went back to the Queens place, you couldn’t help but worry. You had literally bought Tesco out of Chocolate milk. You knew Jane was a strict mum so perhaps introducing Anne, loud, insane Anne, to a new sugary invention wasn’t the best idea. Especially when you are carrying 27 cartons. 26, Anne just drank one. “Shall we take these up to my room?” Anne was obviously thinking about not having to share, rather than what Jane would think. “You do realise you need to keep milk in the fridge right?”

“But I thought- cause its chocolate-“

She looked downtrodden. “Do you want to sleep round? It’s getting late anyway and I just changed my sheets after months so it’s not a biohazard anymore!” You giggled to yourself, Anne truly was special. “I’d love to. Will the others mind?”

“No they love you!” And with that Anne unlocked the door.

“I’m telling you they’re dating!”

“No, id have read about it by now.”

“Huh?”

“Am I the only one who reads her dia- hello. Welcome to the very normal and casual conversation we are definitely having.” Cleves exclaimed from where she was sat, having realised that both girls were standing in the hallway.

“I’ve missed you guys! How have you been?”

“Great, I’ve finished my book on why men are absolutely pointless and serve no use on this planet!”

“And I made cookies for the first time! Who would have known that chocolate cookies aren’t just overcooked cookies?”

Anna noticed the bags we were carrying. “Do you two care to explain why we now own a farms worth of chocolate milk?”

“To cure my lacking toes intolerance”

“To help feed children in Africa!”

You both panicked. Anne, because she didn’t want to share, and you, because you didn’t want to get Anne into trouble for spending an absurd amount on flavoured milk. “Put them Into the garage fridge before Jane sees them! Lord knows what she’ll do with 40 cartons of confiscated milk.”

You glanced at Anne and giggled, you had noticed that her eyes were just a bit more bluer today, a trait you learnt meant that she was happy, and a darker blue meant she was going through a rough patch. “Before Jane sees what?” A blonde figure asked.

Before either of you could panic out another excuse, Cleves piped up again. “ I was just asking the girls to take my deliveries upstairs into my fridge” Anne winked at you both “because my back hurts awfully”

Jane smiled sympathetically at Cleves, unaware of the truth she was hiding. “Alright hurry up you two, and it’s lovely to see you Y/N!”

“You too Mrs Seymour!”

“Call me Jane.” You smiled. Although you called her Jane to Anne, it was only because that’s what Anne used, Jane had never formally told you to call her Jane, so you didn’t think it was proper. It felt nice to know that someone liked you, even a tiny bit.

“I’m telling you it’s not going to fit.” You declared as Anne tried to stuff 25 cartons of milk into the tiny mini fridge Anna had in her room. Yes Anne had drank another carton and was nearly bouncing off the walls. To your surprise 23 of the cartons fit inside of the fridge. “Looks like we’ll have to drink these then” Anne smiled mischievously.

The pair of you had been sat in Anne’s bed for about half an hour, just enjoying each other’s company whilst sipping the chocolate milk when you couldn’t stop yourself. “Why didn’t you tell me you got beheaded?” You had to admit, Anne’s slip up earlier stung. Didn’t she trust you with that information? But she trusted a room full of strangers?

Anne couldn’t look you in the eye, she was quite engaged by the edible glitter she had poured into her milk. You didn’t think she heard you so you started to ask her again.

“Why didn-“

“I’m sorry. I’m really fucking sorry. It’s just, I’m so happy when I’m around you, and I don’t want to waste a second of it talking about my last life- it was hell, yes, but I’m over it. I’d rather talk about scrunchies than kerplunkies” and with that she motioned a quick beheading with her fingers and tongue.

To be fair, you hadn’t expected that reply. You hadn’t expected a decent reply end of. You’d put it down to the fact that Anne was coming down from a 22 hour long sugar rush and was too tired to think about what she was saying. “I- I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you. I’m sorry that you feel that you need to keep things from me just to have a good time. I mean we could do 95% fun and 5% family trauma because god knows I’ve got tons. But I like hanging out with you to Boleyn.”

Neither of you knew what to say next. Not much had been said but it was enough to build a bridge that wasn’t previously there. Out of nowhere Anne gets a text from Kitty. It contained an emoji and a word. Typical kitty. “💋 her”

Anne was shocked, 1. Where was Katherine and how did she spot the silence and sexual tension, and 2. How the fuck did she know that she was gay. Sure the queens were open and accepting of being gay, but it wasn’t something that Anne spoke about. But despite all of the racing questions, Anne plucked up the balls she stole from Henry and leant in and cupped Y/N’s face. You were shocked at this movement. How did a discussion about beheadings lead to this? But you weren’t complaining. You had realised you loved Anne the day she fell off of her bike. She had never rode a bike before so you had been teaching her, at first she seemed promising, but she fell over and scraped her knee, causing a war amount of blood to pour. To your amazement, she started crying and asking for Millie. You panicked, who was Millie?? You thought it could be a pet name for one of the queens but you couldn’t be sure which. So you ran inside to fetch Kitty. “Who’s Millie??”

Without even speaking Kat ran upstairs and returned holding a ragged old dog teddy. Just the thought of Anne being so vulnerable, clutching the years old toy made your heart wrench- more than when your favourite TV show got cancelled and definitely more than when Ben and Jerry’s decided to stop selling Cookie Dough at the cinema.

You leant in to annes hands, and placed your lips upon hers in a frenzy of sparks and fireworks. You had dreamt of this moment, but you could never have imagined it would come true. Just the thought made you smile, making Anne laugh whilst kissing you. You suddenly pull away, realising that you hadn’t been honestly with Anne either. “ I was murdered. By my father.”

“Where the actual fuck did that come from”

From outside the door the pair heard giggles and a muffled shout of “language Anne!”

Of course the other queens would be spying on the pair of you. You weren’t blind,or deaf. You’d heard the comments kitty and Cleves make when they think you can’t hear, and you’ve seen the silent arguments between kitty and Jane.

It did feel nice to have people who cared. Even if they were looking out for Anne. They felt like family. It felt like home.

“ANNE MILLICENT BOLEYN I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU TOUCH MY BIBLE EVER AGAIN-“ Catherine of Aragon burst into the room, past the other queens listening intently outside the door and you suddenly realised that you were still locked in an embrace with Anne. You quickly pulled away before whispering

“That impression was spot on.”

[deeeelightfuldee]

surveyss 015.

WHO ... was the last person you saw face to face? gram

... was the last person you texted or messaged online? Ummm, Harrison? We were talking about health.

... was the last person who asked you for a favour? Kile asked me to respond to him. I came so close to doing it, but we are almost at a week without talking.

... was the last person you lent something to? Uhhh, probably my sister.

... was the last person who told you a secret/confided in you? Em

... is the tallest person you know? Nick. I think hes 6′5?

... the shortest person you know? Goodness... I don’t know.

... your oldest (in years) friend? My mom?

... is the oldest (in length of time) friend? Alix. Since i was 5.

... is your youngest friend? I’m the youngest of my group... so ...

... is your newest friend? Probably my school friends

... is your closest relative? my sister? nephews? niece?

... was your favourite teacher? Mom looool. Or in college I really liked Dr. T

... was your least favourite teacher? ugh. shelly?

... did you spend the most time with when growing up? scott

... knows you the best? kile

... always beats you in games or sports? probably nathan lol

... who is the most creative of the people you know? Thats a great question. maybe my sister.

... is the funniest person you know? EM. definitely a goofball.

... is the most organised that you know? Em. 

... that you know has travelled the most? Nathan travels a lot, roger has gone to so many countries.

... has always been there for you? Hmm. 

... has given you the most personal gift? Mike

... has an annoying laugh? Marcia

... never forgets a birthday? sawyer

...,do you have the most in common with? I really don’t know. I don’t share a ton of the same interests with anyone.

...is the sportiest person you know? devin?

...was your last missed call? I think my sister

...did you last open your door for? mom

... has your heart? sigh. I don’t think it’s wanted right now.

... has your respect? people who are honest 

...do you share a special song with? i got my first kiss to the song “my best friend” by tim mcgraw

...do you miss right now? kile andrew. I miss who i thought he was. I miss talking to him all hours of the day. He felt like an extension of myself... almost like we shared this secret life where we could just .. exist together. without him, I just feel like I lost part of myself.

...last made you angry? the hose.

...did you last buy a gift for? I got my mom and my brother and kile something on my vaca.

...did you celebrate your last birthday with? So kile spoiled me like crazy. I spent the day with mom and then at night, em, nathan, devin, and I got tanked lol.

...have you gone to a concert with? sister, janelle, uhhhh nicole

...can make you laugh? It is easy to make me laugh

...has taught you how to do something? Uhhhhhh, thats a very good question. Probably kile teaching me how to do a stats problem? 

...has lost something of yours? Uhh, not sure.

...has broke your heart? kile

...has stood you up? I haven’t been stood up

WHAT Is your favourite colour? blue

Can you do that most your friends can’t? memorize really well, deny bread, sign, talk neuro

Is your birthday? next weekend

Colour eyes do you have? blue with navy and gray

Form of transport do you take to work/school? typically the car.

Music do you like to listen to in the car? Oh goodness anything that I put on spotify

Languages can you speak? english. some spanish and some asl but not fluently

Was the last thing you drank? diet coke

Was the last thing you ate? trail mix

Time did you wake up this morning? I wake up all hours lately and just stare out my window or at the ceiling. Eventually I just give up and get up for good. I think today was like 5am

Colour are your bedroom walls? They’re kind of a mauve-y brown-y purple

Drink do you usually order when eating out? sometimes, not always.

Food can you cook well? I’m a great baker but I don’t cook all that often. Or rather I should say I am insecure about my cooking.

Animals have you had for a pet? Oh goodness. Dogs, cats, bunnies, chickens, turtles, pigs, horses, birds, parrots, fish, flying squirrels, lizards, ...

Are your initials? dls

Kind of activities do you like to do on the weekends? I like to play games, go on drives, see the world, see friends, window shop, idk

Movie do you know line by line? father of the bride, finding nemo, sleepless in seattle, youve got mail, something borrowed, how to lose a guy in ten days, made of honor, while you were sleeping

Band(s) have you seen in concert? I don’t remember all of them. relient k was one.

Do you buy/get to treat yourself? food or clothes lol.

Colours your phone cover? right now it’s like a teal color. 

Part of the world would you love to visit? switzerland. europe. 

Question do you dislike being asked? when are you going to be married.

Subject were you good at in school? science

Careers do your parents have? mom is a manager of a store and I’m not entirely sure of what dad does. I think he owns a company.

Brand of clothing do you buy most often? probably ON

Chocolate bar is your favourite? right now, probably uhmmm 

TV show have you watched every series of? tbh I couldn’t tell you

Radio station do you listen to the most? 99.5, 98.3, 103.5, 96.3, 

Podcasts are you subscribed to? I’m not the biggest fan of podcasts

Is your favourite dessert? anything mega rich

Can’t you do that most around you seem to? roller blade, skateboard, ice skate

Are 5 qualities you value in a friend? honesty, loyalty, kindness, consideration, humor

Are 5 qualities you value in a partner? honesty, loyalty, kindness, slow-tempered, loving

Size pizza do you usually order? goodness I havent had pizza in so long.

Cuisine do you like to order or cook? I suppose right now mexican

Colour(s) dominate your wardrobe? Black. I want to wear more colors I think I refrain because of drawing attention to my figure.

Toothpaste brand do you use? I think right now it’s crest!

Sounds can you hear right now? one of the most dear movies to me.. Serendipity. I think about this movie all the time in my current situation. Maybe.

Is the weather like today? Steamy. But I have been very comfortable in the AC tbh

Are your plans for tomorrow? I’m going to sleep in. Relax. Spend the day reading in the pool, trying to not think about my situation. 

WHERE Do you keep your phone when not using it? I used to always keep it on me, but now I’m trying to get used to leaving it in the other room or just leaving it at home so I stop obsessing.

Were you born? Palos.

Do you go to unwind? On a drive

Is your best friend right now? I’m not sure where Kile is anymore. Emily is likely asleep. Nathan’s probably out lol

Can you go nearby to have a good time? Tbh, I can be alone and have a great time.

Is the nearest restaurant? like 3-4 blocks away.

Is the nearest beach? There is lake michigan, indiana dunes, or lakes. depends what you fancy.

Did you meet your closest friend? kile and I met on CM. em and I met thru Alix. 

Did you go for your last vacation? Pigeon Forge, TN.

Is the nearest mall or superstore? mall would be orland. Superstore would probably be like a walmart or a target. 

Did you last get an injury? I screwed up my foot somehow so I’m trying to nurse that.

Is the most extravagant place you’ve stayed at? Hmm, probably when my sister would travel and we would stay in these exotic hotels.

Do most the local kids play? If you mean kids like 21 ish, there are some great local bars on Oak Park Ave

Have you been with your family? I mean, I’m going to need more detail in the question

Did you spend Christmas last year? home. Then the boys called for us to come over and see their new toys lol

Did your parents grow up? they grew up in roseland which is now a chicago ghetto lol

Did you buy the shoes you’re wearing? barefoot at the moment.

Would you like to go right now if you could? if I can be totally transparent, I would give anything to go sit on a park bench next to kile. 

Do you miss the most from your childhood? The innocent beliefs. the lack of trauma. 

Is the best restaurant you know? I donno, I’m fairly easy-going about restaurants.

Will you never go again as it was so bad? lol this local burrito joint

WHEN ...was your last vacation? two weeks ago. 

...did you graduate? this may. I really thought it would have been more exciting, but it was such a tragic time. 

...did you have your first kiss? on my 16th birthday

...did you learn how to swim? young. like 5-6? 

...did you have your first relationship? uhhhh 19.

...do you feel the most at peace? on a drive.

...do you usually fall asleep? I have no idea. I’m all over the place these days.

...do you usually wake up? thats a wide range of times.

...did you last watch a movie? i’ve been watching movies in bed all day. 

...did you last go to a party? yesterday

...did you last cry? today

...did you laugh really hard? I laughed yesterday. 

...did you buy something pricey last? my vacation I suppose. I really need to get new gym shoes because it has been a few years but man they are pricey.

...did you have an argument last? I haven’t argued this past week. I don’t know if I’m just worn down or if I have lost the fight in me? I’m not entirely sure.

...did you last have a sick day? donno really.

...did you last recieve a hug? I got about 400 hugs from the kids yesterday lol

...when is your best friend’s birthday? aug 16. april 20. march 13.

...did you learn how to drive? I refused to drive as long as possible. mom tricked me into drivers ed when I was about 18.

...did you last receive a surprise? umm.. I really don’t know.

HOW Many pets do you have? Two.

Many houses have you lived in? one

Often do you shower? once per day usually.

Well can you cook? I am mediocre at the moment.

Many close friends do you have? just gets smaller and smaller.

Many Brothers or sisters do you have? one sister two brothers

Often do you go swimming? I WISH all the time. tomorrow will be my first time in a long time. it’s hardly swimming cus its a small pool, but still.

Many times have you texted today? I’ve hardly touched messaging apps. I’m really behind on my correspondence. 

Do you like your toast (colour, topping)? I used to love it toasted with light butter and then pb

Do you like your tea and/or coffee? no coffee. I’m not huge on tea.

Do you like to celebrate your birthdays? typically the way I spent it last year. this year was supposed to be with Kile. For some reason I just glanced at the calendar and it had our weekend trip for march all highlighted. 

Are you feeling today? I’m ok. I mean, I’m not but it’s closer to being OK.

Serious are you about your career goals? I’m passionate about it.

Many rooms are in your house? 11 I suppose.

Many bedrooms in your house? 4.

Did you do in your school exams? I excelled at them. 

Close do you live to your parents? very close to mom. thousands of miles from dad.

Close do you live to your siblings? My brother is around the block. another brother is maybe 30 mins away. my sister is thousands of miles.

Sensitive to criticism are you? pretty sensitive. its a fault.

Motivated to make changes are you? quite motivated.

Creative are you (1-10): 5

Hard working are you (1-10): 11.

Sporty are you (1-10): 1

Musical are you (1-10): 0

Do you prefer your eggs? uhh, moms scrambled, over easy, or sunny side up.

Often do you go out to eat? like once a month.

Would your best friend describe you? I don’t really know. probably studious, the caregiver, patient

Can someone cheer you up if you’re sad? if they know me well enough. 

Often do you meet up with your friends? like 2-3x a month

Important is religion to you? faith is important.

Old were you when you first stayed overnight from home? like 5

Old were you when you got your first pet? I was an infant

Tech savvy are you? decent. not great but decent.

Do you show you appreciate those you care for? I learn what matters to them and I support their dreams obsessively. I research things that matter, I ask questions, I write cards, buy gifts, and just tell them.

Often do you cut your hair? I need to cut it. asap.

Often do you paint your nails? I’ve stopped painting my hands since graduation. I just .. i cant.

Many countries have you visited? 1

Boyfriends/girlfriends have you had? haha

WHY  ... did you choose your username? because it’s one I use

... did you take this survey? it seemed to have some decent questions. I’m trying to work through stuff regarding kile right now, so it had some opportunities. right now I’m wondering if he still reads these. It doesn’t tell me if someone does, only if they like or comment on it. what does it matter, I don’t know. my mind just swirls.

... did you choose the career you did? I had a professor who showed me a video during a neuro class on aphasia and it was a CLICK moment.

...did you last leave the house? running errands for the party

...did you last give up on something? I am in the process. I don’t want to. my whole body aches and screams not to let go, but my brain is recognizing it is time.

...did you search the last thing you searched? i was converting celsius to fahrenheit 

...would you give up on someone completely? I think sometimes I have this mindset that I can help. I can support. I can enhance your situation. I want to help you grow. I want to be there for it all. I think the reality is I am learning that not everyone wants that. I don’t know that i’m helping as much as I hope, and it destroys me to think I was maybe making his life worse. 

IF You could live in any country which would you choose? switzerland

You could choose any animal as a pet which one? cat or dog

You could be famous for something what would you like? I don’t know that I would want to be.

You are sad, how do you combat it? Right now it is sitting with the feelings of loss. I’m trying not to just blow over it or pretend it isn’t real, but to just let it suck as bad as it sucks. I don’t know. I don’t have any magic way of moving through the sadness.

You can drive when did you learn? when I was 18

You could have any job what would it be? I would want to be somewhere with little human interaction tbh.

You could go anywhere for a vacation where would you go? europe. 

You could eat anything right now what would it be? nothing. loss of appetite.

You wrote a book what genre/topic would it be? maybe a book of poetry. or a biography.

You had a theme song what would it be? that would take me a while to come up with.

You could meet any band/singer in person which one? harry connick jr.

You could act in any movie which would it be? I’m not sure I would

You get married what venue would you like? i think I would want to elope 

If you have kids do you have names picked out? I have names I like on a list.

Could describe your dream home what would it be like? farm. land. big ole porch with comfy furniture. lots of trees. a dreamy bedroom. i really want a window seat. You could go back in time what would you change? for the longest time I wished I could have gone to see John immediately. However, had I done that I would have left here and moved there and I wouldnt have the life I do now. So I guess maybe i dont really know.

Could use 3 words to describe your childhood which ones? the memories without my dad were extremely pleasant. My mom tried her best.

Could get the answer to any question which question would you choose? right now I’d want to know why Kile kept things from me. Like how do you wake up everyday OK with knowing I’m unaware. I wanna know what the plan was.. was he planning to meet me and just secretly break up with her? was he ever planning to move to me? Why did he never fight for me? how was I so easy to let go of? why wouldn’t he just break off what he was was “breaking off” to keep me? what was the alternative? keep us both?? why couldn’t he see how he was hurting me? why didn’t it matter? how does he just let go of me so simply and not c ---- but honestly I’ll never get those answers. I would probably be better off asking will i have my own family one day

You could have an endless supply of something what would it be? Money, because of course.

CAN ... you ride a bike? yes

... you ski? i want to learn

... you bake a cake? oh yes.

... you sing well? mediocre

... you do your own taxes? badly

... you remain calm in a crisis? extremely calm.

... you do first aid? like... bandaid level yes.

... remember your best friend’s family members’ names? almost entirely.

... you fire a gun? yes

... your parents drive? Yes

...your best friend dance well? probably not.

...you make people laugh easily? mom, yes lol

...stand up for yourself? if i get pushed enough, yes.

...you do a martial art? Nope

WOULD You like to learn a new language? absolutely.

Save the life of a stray animal? Absolutely.

Know what to do if there was a hurricane? sure, but it would be very very very very unlikely for me to need to utilize that sort of skill set considering I live in the middle of a loooooooot of land. Not coastal at all.

Try a new cuisine? yes

Risk your life for anyone? Yes.

You like to get back in touch with someone? oh boy. how i wish.

You drive in the middle of the night to get a stuck friend? Ina heartbeat.

You Know how to perform CPR? I mean.. vaguely.

You likely win in a game of chess? I promise you no.

You stop talking for a day for $100? happily.

[rmjagonshi]

Whole Again -Chapter 10

Whole Again on AO3

For a thirteen-year-old girl from Piedmont California, Mabel Pines thought herself fairly resourceful. She could bring cheer to even the most black-hearted individuals, befriend almost anyone. Even in the worst situations, she could pull out the positives and look on the bright side. And even if there were no real positives, she would try to find a solution where everyone else had slopped looking.

That was what she was doing now. Trying to find a solution to something that was completely hopeless. She refused to be without hope that there was something else happening. Because Mable did think that something else was happening; there had to be some other explanation to Stan’s behavior. Even if her Grunkle was possessed, they had saved Stan from Bill before, they could do it again! She just needed to think. She just needed time to do research.

Dipper had chosen to take Grunkle Ford’s lead; he had gone to the library and had found as much on demonic possession and exorcisms as possible. The books and printouts and documentaries were stacked on his bed and spread out on the floor; is computer was open and was playing a scene from a horror movie: The Daemon Removal Squad. It was corny. Mabel was trying a different approach.

She and Dipper had gone over all the information they had and had categorized it from most concerning to least concerning; a color gradient from purple to brown (her favorite and least favorite colors respectively). Grunkle Ford was at first worried that Stan was acting kinda strange. But Grunkle Stan was always kinda strange; he called himself ‘Mr. Mystery’ after all.  

Stan had shown that he could read Gaelic (and the twins knew he could speak Spanish), he was adapting to technology at a much faster rate than even Grunkle Ford, and he knew about chemistry. The biggest questions Mabel had were answering the mysterious treats and blue fire handshake. Those were gonna be hard.  

So, the question now was, were these things evidence enough that Stan wasn’t himself? Dipper said that Grunkle Ford was first thinking about trauma. Maybe that was it. Maybe Stan was having some sort of phycological break and he thought he was Bill after having Bill in his mind, and then having it erased and then put back together. Mabel’s head hurt just thinking about it.

Stan knew about chemistry, so that meant he likely knew about chemical reactions and cool chemical tricks that like the ones their teacher had shown them. Mabel had seen something on YouTube about a guy that could use some kind of chemical to light his hand on fire and the flames were blue. Maybe he was just playing a really mean joke on Ford. Maybe he was really sick and they needed to get him to a therapist.

These were all things that were much more likely than a dream daemon coming back from being erased. That was as close to dead as she thinks Bill could be.

Ford had told Dipper that a package of toffee peanuts and jellybeans appeared as if by magic. But Mabel was good at finding things that were hard to get. Her hidden stash of Smile Dip attested to that ability. She had gone back to the Dusk-2-Dawn and had a wonderful conversation with the ghost couple there. They had let her take as much Smile Dip as she wanted. It was her guilty pleasure; anything she saw in Smile Dip Land was way less scary than what she had experienced in Gravity Falls last summer.

She tracked down the producer of toffee peanuts and contacted them. It helped that she had no fear of talking on the phone; her brother always had to triple check that he had the right number and then read from a script. They were an American based company, but their offshore branches had different production lines than what was in America. So, while toffee peanuts were discontinued in America because they weren’t popular (and really who would like them but her Grunkle Stan), they were still available in Denmark where they were really popular. A quick search told her that Iceland and Denmark were close trade partners and it was likely that Stan could have picked up a bag somewhere.

So, it wasn’t at the bakery he said it was. Maybe Stan forgot where he found them and he didn’t think it was a big deal. They jellybeans were also explained away as Stan hiding them and surprising Ford the next morning. It was all so silly really; her boys were just jumping to conclusions. Nope, no supernatural things going on here. Everything could be explained away. But, to be on the safe side, she should probably help Dipper read up on exorcisms.

Most of the books and articles were religious texts and talked about using holy water and crosses. Mabel didn’t think that crosses were going to do anything against Bill. The idea of holy water was still up for debate, though; she wasn’t entirely convinced it wouldn’t just burn her Grunkle Stan, possessed or not. Their family was a mix between Jewish and modern Cristian, but aside from the memories that Dipper had told her about, she didn’t think that Stan was religious in any way.

There was also a lot of notes suggesting telling the person how much their family loved them would help drive out the daemon. They could do that! They all loved Grunkle Stan! And he had gone so long without being told someone loved him, it would do him good. Maybe that was how Bill had taken over Stan; Grunkle Ford wasn’t telling his brother how much he loved him. Next time they got to talk to him, she was going to give her Grunkle Ford a piece of her mind. They had spent so much time apart; they needed to tell each other how much they loved each other! Just thinking about being separated from Dipper for thirty days (let alone thirty years) made her want to rush over and hug her brother.

For now, she would settle for just sitting on the floor by his bed and resting her head against his leg. She felt him absently reach down and run his fingers through her hair. It always helped her calm down when they were younger. Just like she used to draw pictures with her fingers (and sometimes markers) on Dipper’s back and tell him stories when he was sick or couldn’t sleep. Dipper would never, ever admit it, but he used to like it when she did his make-up; something about liking the way the make-up brushed felt on his face. They hadn’t done that in a while. She thought that they were getting to old for stuff like that, but maybe this was the perfect time to try again. They both were having a rough time acclimating back to normal life.

There was no weirdness at home. No gnomes, no magic, no weird flowers that made you all dizzy, no ghosts, no dinosaurs…just nothing. It was all so…normal. So normal it was boring. She never thought she would want to be surrounded by crazy weirdness and magical creatures. Heck, before this past summer, she didn’t even watch Ghost Harassers with Dipper; now she eagerly sat with him and even asked questions.

Dipper was also suffering from weirdness withdrawal. His new journal to record all the weird things in Piedmont was empty. The first few pages were filled with introductions, and lists of things he wanted to see and was packed full of notes from Grunkle Ford’s journals, but no entries of Dipper’s own. Her new scrapbook sat neglected too. She had taken tons of pictures the first few weeks back and during their first week of school, but then she just…didn’t want to anymore. It was like she didn’t have the energy or the interest like she used to. She still liked to draw, her wall was covered with drawings, but they were all of the same things; her friends, Grenda and Candy, Wendy and Soos, Waddles, the Mystery Shack and her Grunkles.

Stan and Ford had sent them a postcard from Rhode Island before they set sail. It was a picture of them standing proudly on their new boat, The Stan O’War II. All her drawings after that had been of them on the ship, fighting sea monsters and hugging penguins. Soos had sent her a letter with some of his “Stan-fiction” and they had started writing back and forth about what her Grunkles were up to. She didn’t know how she was going to tell Soos that his dad might be in trouble. Because Stan was Soos’s dad; it didn’t matter if they weren’t related, family was family.

It didn’t take long for Mabel to get bored of reading about all the dramatic passages she was supposed to say when exorcising a daemon, and she had no idea where they were gonna get a bucket of salt blessed by the Pope from. Instead, she focused on finishing the little trench coat she had knitted for the owl plush she made to look like Grunkle Ford. It was a project she had started not too long after she got back home. She had picked out the stuffed animals that reminded her the most of her friends and family and had gotten to work.

She had picked out a frilled lizard for Grenda (complete with knitted pink shirt and bow), a mouse for Candy (with a perfect little green stripped dress), Soos was a gopher (she had added a plastic fish bowl over the green hat after reading Grunkle Ford’s notes on Soos) and Wendy was a fox (she had made a replica of Dipper’s old pine tree had out of felt).

She had been working on Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford, (a silver fox and grey owl respectively) and hadn’t finished Grunkle Ford’s trench coat yet. She had made their glasses out of pipe cleaners and that plastic film that came from those envelopes with bills and other grown-up mail. Stan’s fez had been made out of felt covered cardboard and yarn, but as Dipper pointed out, it should be on Soos’s head now. The fishbowl had been replaced and instead she knitted a red beanie for Stan. She considered sewing Ford and Stan’s hands (er, paw and wing) together, but she suspected that Dipper was sneaking owl Ford back to his bed at night. She wasn’t the only one missing her family.

She felt the hand running through her hair stop as Dipper checked his phone again. They hadn’t heard from their Great Uncle Ford in a while. Dipper had sent multiple texts and had tried calling twice. She knew that he shouldn’t worry. Ford was probably getting sleep, or they were going through a bad patch. Maybe. She really hoped they were ok. Dipper’s phone sat like a holy relic on the nightstand.

After twelve hours with no word, they were starting to get worried. At seventeen hours, neither one could eat more than a few bites of dinner without feeling sick. By twenty-two hours, they were pouring over books and references and old notes of Dipper’s on Grunkle Ford’s journals just to distract themselves.

By the time their parents had come to tell them to go to bed, Mabel had stress knitted a scarf that would have been able to tie Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford together from head to toe. She also had a stash of Mabel juice in a resealable water bottle hidden under her bed. She wasn’t planning on sleeping and miss any contact from Ford. The fact that Dipper had also snuck in a bottle told her all she needed to know; they were in this for the long haul. They were both way too anxious to sleep now.  

What didn’t help was their mom coming in and asking them if she could ask them a serious question.

“I guess, what’s wrong?” Dipper was always the one to get to the point and ask the right questions.

“Are we in trouble?” She, on the other hand, had a habit of guessing at the problem and jumping to solutions first.

“No, no, of course not. Dad and I were just worried about you. You’ve been acting…well, a little strange since coming home. And for the past day I haven’t been able to get two words out of either of you.” Diane sat on the end of Mabel’s bed, gesturing for Dipper to come join them. He did, but chose to stand rather than find a spot amongst Mabel’s pile of stuffed animal friends and family.

Diane sighed. Mabel could tell this was hard for their mom. They wanted to tell her and dad both what had happened to them, but would their parents even believe them? Heck, she wouldn’t have believed it if she hadn’t lived it; it sounded like a best-selling teen novel. Mable sat her finished Grunkle Ford owl in her lap, fully intending on soaking up the hugs she could from it before Dipper stole it for the night.  

Their mom looked disquieted. Like she didn’t actually want the answer to the question that she wanted to ask. Diane steeled herself, taking a steadying breath before the question came in stutters from her lips. “Did…oh God,…did your Grunkle Stan ever…ask you to do something you didn’t want to do?” Diane was shaking and wouldn’t look her children in the eyes.  

Mabel shared a confused look with her brother. Neither one could make out what their mom had really meant. This was really weird. Their mom never acted like this. And why was she asking about Stan? Did she know? Had she figured out what was wrong? But her question didn’t make any sense. Had Stan asked them to do something they didn’t want to? Well, yeah, but why was that bad? They asked Dipper and Mabel to do things like chores and homework all the time; how was Stan different? She reached for her Stan plush and frowned at it. Dipper answered for them; scratching at his arm and looking concerned.

“Well, I mean, sure. We helped in the gift shop, and did chores and stuff. And Stan made us go fishing, which actually was kind of fun, but nothing, abnormal. Not any different from what we do here. Why?” Dipper looked skeptical. Good, he had picked up on the hidden meaning behind mom’s question too. Mable looked from her brother back to her mom, mouth pulled into a quizzical frown.

“You’re sure? Because even if he told you not to tell anyone, you know you can tell us.” She looked pointedly at Mabel who had not yet responded. “You won’t get in trouble. I just want to know if he…if…” She couldn’t finish.

Diane was white. She looked so scared. Mabel didn’t understand what her mom was worried about or what she was trying to get at, but if her parents were this scared, well. It was time. Even if their parents didn’t believe them, it was time to tell them what happened in Gravity Falls.

She looked to Dipper and silently asked for confirmation. He nodded, turning to gather what notes he had. She set her plushies aside and leaned over to the side table and pulled out her scrapbook; the one she had lovingly encased in glitter glue and fabric to keep protected.  

“Mom?” Mabel said, clutching the wrapped scrapbook to her chest.

“We have something to tell you. Something that you probably won’t believe, but we need you to try.” Dipper finished the statement for her, pulling out his own journal and all the remaining notes he had from the past summer.

“Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford are not what they seem.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Diane Pines thought herself a very caring and knowledgeable mother. She liked to think that she knew what her children were thinking or feeling. She knew they were worried about something, but no matter how many times or how indirectly she asked, neither of her twins would divulge any information. She couldn’t even sneak a peek at her son’s phone; both twins had been carrying it around in shifts and neither one would let it leave their person.

Nothing seemed to get through. She had a feeling that it might relate to the happenings over the summer. She, nor her husband, Daniel, were stupid. The children had come back from Gravity Falls very different then when they left. At first, with the nightmares, she had thought they had been neglected or abused, but they insisted that Stanley (and later Stanford) had been the best of caretakers. They had refused to talk about their nightmares.

Some eavesdropping let her know that her children didn’t think that their parents would believe them. Mason had insisted that she and Dan were too hardheaded about the paranormal, while Mabel had decided that she didn’t want to worry them if they did choose to believe the crazy adventures the twins had gotten up to over the summer. The fact that her children had decided their parents would dismiss their concerns or that the summer’s events would worry them, made her even more afraid.  

It hurt that her children didn’t feel they could come to her with their problems. But, they were thirteen and had spent their first summer away from home. They were growing up, and they were learning how to deal with their own problems. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something sinister going on. It didn’t help that she was embittered towards Stanley (nee Stanford) after the truth had come out.

“Oh sure, lie about your identity for thirty years while you take over your brother’s name and house while you track down said missing brother! While we’re at it, let’s fake your death and then distance yourself from the family until your father dies and your nephew contacts you out of guilt!” Her husband had patiently listed to her rant and rave in the kitchen the night the twins came home. They had told her a fairly condensed story about how Stanford had gone missing thirty years ago and Stanley had kept his brother’s house by turning it into a tourist trap and spent those thirty years trying to find his brother. That Stanford had magically come home unexpectedly one day after government agents had gotten involved.

She was very angry with Stanley. And she had no idea what to think of the real Stanford; though since he had been missing for THIRTY YEARS, and NO ONE was willing to say where he had been, well, both twins were on her ‘shit list’.

Her children loved them, though. So as angry as she and her husband were, they didn’t let it show. For their kids, they would try to forgive. It didn’t hurt that Dan was very excited to meet the intellectual prodigy that was Stanford Filbrick Pines. Upon discovering that the con man and tourist attraction purveyor was not the person who had written “Accounting for Physical and Chemical Irregularities Occurring in Objects affected by Differing Conditions of Spacetime” and the actual author was far more ‘nerdy’, he was elated and eager to have them over for the holidays. Unfortunately (though fortunately for her) the twins had gone exploring the Arctic Sea at the end of the summer and would not be back on this side of the country for at least eight months (or so they had planned). A Spring visit would also allow her time to properly clean her house and prepare the guest room. It had become her office space of late; she worked as an appraiser for a realtor agency and needed a space to work from home.  

It also gave her time to get over any residual anger. Some days it seemed so easy to forgive, when her children were smiling and laughing about their summer antics and reminiscing about all the fun they had. Some nights it was hard, damn near impossible, to forgive when her children woke up screaming and clinging to one another for comfort. Neither one ever willing to tell their parents what was wrong.

It terrified her to think what might have happened that her own children wouldn’t talk about it. Dan had guiltily mention the family secret, and now both of them feared that their children had been witness (or, God forbid, participants) in…that. She didn’t want to think poorly of her husband’s family, but it was well known that they didn’t talk about Stanford and Stanley in polite company…or any company.  

Diane had first met the man when the twins were born. He had rushed down from Oregon upon Sherman’s call. In less than seven hours (she suspected he had neglected road traffic laws) he was in the waiting room with her husband and Sherman. They had joked about the last time Stanley (then Stanford) had seen his nephew, was when he had been an infant being babysat by Gina and Filbrick. The night that his brother (he) had been kicked out. Stanley had taken a somber look until the nurse had told them that Diane had gone into labor. Only Dan was allowed in the delivery room, Stan and Sherman remained outside looking through the window.

After the twins had been born, cleaned, and passed around to everyone (Stan had stolen them from Sherman and had both parents laughing), they had allowed her to walk down to the cafeteria and get food. Her father-in-law had gone with her, the other men too busy cooing over the infants to bother.  

She had asked about Stan, about why he was so distant from the rest of the family. Sherman had told her than his younger siblings were close. Unusually close. Apparently, there had been some…suspicions, that they were far closer than is right for siblings. He had gotten uncomfortable when she asked how and wouldn’t explain further. All he said was it wasn’t something the family talked about. The only reason he knew, was because Gina had needed to ask someone and Filbrick would have…well he would have handled it poorly.

Marianne (her mother-in-law) had just gotten off a long shift in the geriatrics ward and had come down to see the new additions to the family. It gave her enough time to ask her husband about Stanley (then Stanford). He told her that his dad never talked about it, and grandma refused to look at him when he asked. He could never get anything out of his dad. She had an opportunity to go straight to the source when the twins were 11 and Filbrick suffered a sudden heart attack.

After Filbrick had passed and Gina was preparing to move in with Sherman and Marianne. The eldest son couldn’t find it in himself to put his mother in an assisted living home. They had all flown out to New Jersey that summer to help her pack and sell the house. Diane had gone to Gina for conformation about what happened to cause Stanley and Stanford to be such a taboo subject. It took time, but in her vulnerable state, Gina was willing to divulge a nearly forty-year secret.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Gina and Filbrick had gone out to dinner to celebrate their anniversary and had left the twins behind. They were eighteen; she could trust them for a few hours to have some time alone with her husband. Sherman was living on his own by then and was going steady with Marianne. Everything had been going…well, generally speaking. Stanford was on his way to graduating in the top of his class that year and Stanley…well Stanley had been pulling his grades up steadily. They wouldn’t get him into any college, but he would graduate and could get a job in town.

Although, Filbrick had his own thoughts about that. He was determined to teach Stanley how to be a man and provide for himself. She never understood why he was so hard on Stanley and not Stanford; they were both her special little boys and she loved them equally. She had always tried to be fair, but Filbrick had homed in on Stanley and had not yet let up. Boxing lessons, refusing to get him new glasses when he had gotten into a fight that had broken his, insisting that he not cry because it wasn’t manly, telling him to take his wounds like a man when he lost a particularly bad boxing match, telling him he punched like a girl, criticizing him for wearing a pink suit to prom…it just never stopped. Stanford never got the same treatment and she never knew why.

They had gotten into a tiff in the car, her and Filbrick, about what Stanley was going to do after graduation. Filbrick had off-handedly considered finding him his own place, or at the very least making Stanley pay rent. No mention was made about Stanford or any expectations about what Stanford should do. She had had enough. She was out of the car and marching up the stairs to the main house in a flurry of anger as soon as the car was in park. She as so done with Filbrick’s unfair treatment of the twins. Sherman was the golden child, the first born; it was like Stanford and Stanley were unwanted extras. Sherman and the twins were only five years part for goodness sake! Gina was just mounting the top of the stairs when she saw…it.

Her sons, her twin boys…      

They had been curled up with each other watching a romantic drama on TV. Not entirely unusual for the boys; they were damn near joined at the hip, partners in crime. Nope, cuddling was not unusual for the Pines Twins, at least, far out of Filbrick’s sight anyway. The delicate kiss shared between them was, however, very unusual. The kiss is what stopped Gina in her tracks; balanced at the top of the stairs.

Gina’s mind stalled, turned off. She didn’t understand what she was seeing, her mind couldn’t comprehend the sight in front of her. Her sons’ eyes filled with fear. They hadn’t moved. The boys had been so frightened and shocked by their mother’s sudden arrival that they hadn’t even made an effort to separate themselves. Stanley’s hand resting on Stanford’s cheek, other hand braced against the back of the sofa. Stanford himself had buried his hands into Stanley’s hair and shirt collar. She suspected that this was not the first time this had happened. The thought made her ashamedly queasy.    

Gina had been so relieved that Filbrick had stopped to take care of something in the shop. She feared what would have happened if he had seen them. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, listening for the door downstairs. “Your father is coming. This”, she gestured at them, “will. not. happen. again.” Her words were punctuated with barely leashed emotion. The twins had scrambled away from one another; Stanford scooping up a physics book and Stanley rapidly changing the channel to a boxing match. They were just sliding into place and Gina finishing hanging her coat when Filbrick entered.

He had nodded in greeting to both boys, who greeted him quickly and politely in response. Filbrick entered the kitchen, apartment eerily quiet with the only sound coming from the television announcer. Both twins refused to look in her direction; Stanford burying his face in his textbook and Stanley’s eyes glued to the screen. What was she going to do? What was she going to say? What do you say when you catch your children, your twin boys, kissing each other?    

Filbrick grabbed a beer from the fridge and headed back down to the shop to repair some appliance he had gotten in that afternoon, pausing to kiss her cheek and remind the kids to clean up after the match was over. Popcorn bowls, sodas, toffee peanuts and jellybeans littered the coffee table. When the door to the shop was firmly closed, Gina paced a finger to her lips and pointed to the twins’ room. They obeyed, sparing less than a moment to look at one another. She followed them, closing the bedroom door softly. She steeled herself a moment, pushing down her emotions and calming her racing mind, before addressing the one problem she never thought she’d face.

They refused to look at her. The bunkbed they had as children was still pushed up against the right wall; they had refused to separate the beds as they got older. Stanley sat on the bottom bunk, Stanford stood beside the desk. “Look at me.” The harshness of her voice startled her. She needed to not be anger. She honestly didn’t know why she was angry. She didn’t know why she insisted they look at her. It was just going to be harder. Stanford complied, hesitantly, and eyes noticeably watery. Stanley couldn’t; his head was bent low, fists griping the bedsheets and shoulders hunched. It would do.

“I don’t know how long this had been going on” Stanford opened his mouth to respond, but she held her hand up to stop him, “and I don’t care. It cannot happen again. Do you understand me? Never again. What if it was your father, huh?” Both boys flinched at the mention of Filbrick Pines. They were both so scared of their father, and she could understand why. The man was hard edged and had very specific and uncompromising view of the world and his family’s place in it. If the family stepped out of line, they would know. Stanford nor Stanley fit the mold Filbrick tried to shove them in.

Gina was a little more understanding, but this…this was going to be hard. There was no good way to handle this. It was wrong. It shouldn’t be happening. Thank God, they were both men; she didn’t want to think about the potential problems if either Stanley of Stanford had been female. She felt a small lump of disgust well up in the pit of her stomach. She didn’t understand, she couldn’t understand. However, she would not let her feelings inject themselves into this; she loved her sons, it didn’t matter what they did. But this needed to stop.    

“Look,” she knelt down to Stanley’s side; his closed eyes barely holding back tears, “I won’t deny that this will take some time for me to come to terms with. But if you are…of that persuasion, if you both are,” She paused to look at Stanford, his eyes hidden behind the glare of his glasses, “I won’t love you any less. Do you understand me? I still love you.” Stanley looked up at her then. Tears pooling at the corners of his eyes. Stanford had taken a step towards them; he looked dazed, as if her statement was unexpected. She wouldn’t lie to them and tell them everything would be ok, they deserved the truth. But she would not stop loving them. It would just take time, a long time, for her to be ok with this. She continued.

“But please, please, no more of this. Not…” she paused, trying to find the right words. “Not with each other.” It was so strange how the thought of either of her boys kissing another man didn’t bring up the same feelings of revulsion as before. She knew they were close. She knew they didn’t have other friends. She had heard about what happened at prom (she spent four hours trying to get the punch out of their suits). She knew how hard it was for them to make friends, let alone girlfriends (or she guessed, boyfriends). She should have seen this coming. She should have seen how close they were and intervened. That was why Filbrick had been so hard on Stanley. It had to be. He knew something, suspected something. Oh, God. If he ever found out…if he ever knew what they had done. Gina felt a spike of fear race down her spine.  

“And don’t ever let your father know. Dear God, don’t ever let him find out.” She took a moment to collect herself and stand up. She gathered Stanley up in a bone crushing hug, squeezing him a moment before lifting one arm to allow Stanford to join them. He kissed both of their heads in turn. “I don’t care if you’re…if you like men. I still love you. But please be careful. The world is not a nice place to people who are different. You both should know that by now.” She felt Stanford’s hand grip tighter into the fabric of her dress. Yes, the whole family knew what being different was like. But they were Pines, they wouldn’t let that stop them. She wanted her children to be happy. She would do anything to ensure that they were happy and healthy. Her next words were barely a whisper, mumbled into Stanley’s hair line.  

“My advice, wait until you are on your own before…being open. I don’t know how your father will react, but if you’re on your own, there’s nothing he can do.” She held them tighter. She wouldn’t let go of them no matter what. She’d promised herself, even if she had to visit them in prison, she would hold onto them. She pretended not to notice Stanford’s fingers shyly tracing down Stanley’s arm. They were comforting each other. That was it. Why did it feel like she was trying to convince herself?    

She let them go after giving them both another squeeze. She started towards the door, pausing a moment to look back at her sons. She pretended to not see them discreetly reach out for one another and clasp hands. “We never spoke of this. This never happened.” They both nodded. She left, closing the door behind her.

In the coming weeks, Gina pretended not to notice the telltale signs of teen hormones; mussed hair, bruised lips, furtive eyes. She didn’t know what to do about any of this. Despite her warnings, she suspected they hadn’t stopped. Had continued to explore things with one another. She was relieved that the thought didn’t make her feel sick anymore. Now she was just scared for them. She tried to tell herself they had just been experimenting with a trusted person. That they would grow out of it in time, it was just hormones. But it all got lost in the wake of the science fair.  

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Tearfully, Gina confessed that she and Filbrick were the reasons why Stanley (then Stanford) was so alienated from his family. It had come out at after they heard about Stanley’s death. She had let slip what had occurred that night. Filbrick had been livid and had forbidden anyone from going to the funeral. She had tried to call up to the house in Oregon, but only got an answering machine. She left a tearful explanation of why they didn’t go, her love and her forgiveness, asking for forgiveness in return. Stan had died in a car accident not too far from Gravity Falls after all. He had probably been trying to see Stanford. Trying to make up.

Diane had sat and comforted Gina for a while after her tale. She told Dan a very brief recap of the story. They agreed to never mention it to the kids, nor ever speak openly about it. It was something the Pines family was deeply ashamed of. And it had happened so long ago, she didn’t want it to color her children’s perspective of their family.

As soon as the kids had gotten home and the wonderous tale of lost brothers and hidden identities had been told, Dan had called his father and Grandmother up and informed them of the news. From what she heard from Dan, who heard from Sherman, who had overheard half a conversation between the twins and Gina, the news had not been received well.  

“Thirty years, Stanford! Where the hell were you?! Did you get kidnapped, just up and leave with no explanation?! And you Stanley, I know you’re listening, you ought to be ashamed of yourself. Taking over your brother’s name, making us think you were dead! Do you know how much pain you put me through?!”

It would be almost funny if it wasn’t so heartbreaking. Apparently, they had promised to come visit as soon as the next summer rolled around. Gina was not a woman to be trifled with; she had survived a marriage with Filbrick Pines after all, she was as tough as they came.

It was all wonderful and good…until her children had woken up screaming less than a week home, and refused to talk about what had happened. They were at their wits end when Dan brought up the ‘incident’. She had hesitantly called Gina the next day, telling her about the children and inquiring about Stan’s ‘persuasions’. She didn’t want to accuse, but these were her children. She would do anything, come hell or high water, to keep them safe.  

As much as the older members of the family had reassured her and Dan that nothing had happened to the kids. That neither Stanley nor Stanford would ever even consider laying a hand on the kids that way, Diane couldn’t get the thought out of her head. Her children would not be waking up screaming most nights if something horrible hadn’t happened.  

So, she had made up her mind. She would ask them flat out. Or, she would try. They were children; would they even understand what had happened to them? She wondered when she had started thinking of it as what rather than if. She had almost convinced herself that Stanley Pines was a dangerous man, a disgusting piece of wasted space when she finally confronted her children. The answer she got was very far removed from what she expected.  

“Mom?” He beautiful, sweet and innocent daughter looked at her with eyes that suddenly looked much older and wiser than they should. Mabel held out the wrapped scrap book that contained memories from the past summer.  

“We have something to tell you. Something that you probably won’t believe, but we need you to try.” Her darling son held the same hardness in his eyes, like he’d been to war and survived its atrocities.

“Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford are not what they seem.”  

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Chapter 1

[assbuttyourlife]

When We Were Young - Chapter Ten

Pairing : Misha/OFC

Warnings : Language, Fire, trauma, PTSD, family members’ death (including child), therapy, flashbacks (not in every chapter), injuries, cheating. Long fic. Angst, fluff, Smut.

Words : 6033

Summary : After her grandmother’s funeral, Lily must return to the place she lived in when she was young and has to confront the ghosts of her past. She will run into an old friend that she thought was lost forever.

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AO3 link

CHAPTER 10 – JIB 4

When Lily arrived at the Hilton in Rome, she had no idea where to go to find Misha, no idea what to expect, and she was surrounded by fans talking and laughing, sometimes wearing weird clothes. They were walking around like they knew exactly where to go, but she was completely lost. She was here only for a few minutes and she already felt like a fish out of the water. This is when she started to regret this already.

Someone at the front desk gave her a badge saying she was expected, but they didn’t say much more, so she decided to text Misha.

L: I'm here. Where are u?

Her phone buzzed just a few seconds later.

M: Doing photo ops. It'll be over soon. I'll meet you in the green room. 6th floor, Claudio room, last one on the left.

The green room… Okay… it almost felt like she was about to go up on stage for a concert.

She went to the room he indicated and of course, there were huge and very intimidating men keeping the door.

Thankfully, when she stepped in front of them and said her name showing her badge, they let her pass immediately as Misha had arranged everything. When she opened the door, she was welcomed by Vicki who was here with Maison in her arms, and West who ran into her arms to hug her.

“Hey angel face!” She crouched down to kiss him on the top of his head before standing up to give his mother a quick hug.

Vicki introduced her to the people present in the room. She met Richard, Brock, and Sebastian who was more than happy to meet her, knowing she had lived in France for twelve years. She also learned that Jared had to fly back home because his wife's sister had a car accident. She was a little disappointed to not meet him as Misha talked about him a lot, but she hoped everything would be okay with his sister in law.

Misha appeared a few minutes later, looking exhausted.

“Heyyy! I see you met some of my cast mates already. Were they nice with you?”

He hugged her, but was soon interrupted by West who wanted to be in his dad's arms.

“Yes, they were. I and Sebastian have a few things in common actually.” She winked at the French man.

“Umm, not so much.” Misha joked. “So, I have to go crash a panel right now, and you should come with me so I can introduce you to Jensen right after.”

“Uh... okay.”

Who was Jensen already?

She didn't ask, feeling a little ashamed to know so little about the show. Misha took her with him and they walked down towards the panel's room. It felt kinda weird, because a few people were sticking with them, telling Misha where to go and what he would have to do next, the huge (and very intimidating!) bodyguard was following them everywhere, not to mention the screams of girls resonating in the halls every time Misha appeared in a corner.

At that moment, she thought it would be so damn great to go back in time and tell the young self-loathing Misha that girls would scream for him every time he'd appear or move a finger… he wouldn’t even believe it. Actually, she wasn’t even sure he was realizing it now.

When Misha was ready to crash the Jensen and Ty panel, he told Lily to wait backstage, it wouldn't be long. She complied and observed him climbing on stage to... improvise a puppet show with his costars in a weird Russian accent??

Okay... why not, don’t question it Lily, he knows what he’s doing, hopefully.

She looked at the muscular man that she knew wasn't Jensen and though she found him quite attractive, she had absolutely no idea who he was either.

Misha got off stage with Jensen, and they all went to another empty room for a break until they needed to start their autograph session. She finally was introduced to Jensen, who turned out to apparently be a very nice guy who couldn't stop teasing Misha. Honestly, she had the feeling every actor on Supernatural were teasing experts. Was it good or bad, she didn’t know yet, it was too soon to tell.

“You know he can't talk about your family without crying like a baby on stage?” Jensen asked playfully.

Lily had to laugh at that, remembering the video Katie showed her a few days before.

“I don't know why he talks about my family on stage in the first place. People don’t care.”

Misha sipped on his water, amused to see them getting along well.

“They do. Can you two not talk about me like I'm not right next to you in the same room? It came up once and I was a bit emotional, big deal!”

They laughed and chatted a little more until it was time for the two men to go back to business. Lily took that opportunity to go with Vicki, Danneel and the kids to visit Rome. She was actually getting along pretty good with Misha’s wife. She thought she was an amazing woman full of surprises. She could appear shy and a little weird with people she didn't know well, but she turned out to be a good friend for Lily all day long and she really appreciated it.

Jensen and Misha joined them for lunch and they all went to a fancy Italian restaurant, a little closer to the convention center. Misha joked about being able to pay for restaurant now, but after the video she saw the other day, Lily knew it wasn't just a joke. He probably was too shy to admit it in front of his friends, but she suspected he really meant it and was proud of it, like he could finally repay her and take his revenge on the hard life he had when he was younger.

They went back to the Hilton for the rest of the convention, and it was time for Misha's solo panel, which Lily was very curious to see. He told her he had already one yesterday, one today, another tomorrow, and one with Jensen just before the closing ceremony. What could he possibly have to say to people for three days in a row?

She was leaning on the wall in the right corner of the room, between the tech guys and the line of fans waiting to ask their questions, when Misha came up on stage. It was so damn strange to hear all those people screaming and cheering for him like he was a superstar. Well duh... he actually was a kind of superstar, but it was still an alien concept in her head because that's not what he was to her at all.

He started by opening a huge present box, finding two light sabers inside, and the people cheered once more. He then spent several minutes answering all kinds of questions, mostly about the show, and of course Lily didn't understand half of what they were talking about, but she was very impressed to see Misha on stage. She thought he'd changed a lot, he had never been the shy type of person, but he sure has never been confident enough to be at ease on a stage answering tons of questions. But here he was, as self-assured as he could be, making people laugh, making them happy...

After twenty minutes of answering questions, he probably started to be bored because he asked a fan to challenge him on a light saber fight. She happily accepted, came up on stage and they started fighting, but soon stopped after he threw a “I got your boob” to her, and he eventually answered her questions seriously... until another girl asked to fight again. And boy did they fight... on the Star Wars theme! Lily couldn't stop laughing; it was so obvious he never learned how to do that properly! After he told the girl he got both of her boobs, she left the stage and Misha was out of breath.

The panel ended a few minutes later after more questions about his character, Misha left the room saying goodbye to his fans, and that closed her fist day at a Supernatural convention.

Of course that was not the end of the day; the whole team went to go eat pizza in the center of Rome. Lily met the few people she hadn't during the day, such as Ty, Rob, Jason or Steve... And she had to admit they were all really nice people, Misha was right, everyone was very kind to her. They were all amazed and very curious to learn about her and Misha's reunion after so many years. After all, that's not something that happens every day. They also joked about the fact that being back from the dead is usually the kind of thing that happens on Supernatural, but of course Misha told everyone she hadn't watched a single episode yet and they booed at her so loud that she wanted to disappear from the surface of the earth when everyone turned around in the restaurant. She promised she would eventually catch up with the show despite the fact that it was just impossible for her to watch eight freaking seasons of a show that she would probably freak out about. She had never liked horror movies, she was a total wimp about that, so Ty volunteered to hold her hand if she needed to. She had to admit that perspective was appealing... Once they had eaten, Sebastian wanted to go dance, which of course made Lily super excited. Vicki had to go back to the hotel with the kids who were exhausted but Misha was up for it so they all headed to a nightclub, still in the old city. Jensen, Richard and Ty were here too. They sat at a table while Richard and Misha went to order drinks, so Sebastian took that opportunity to get to know Lily a little more. "So on a scale of 1 to 'I need a baguette right now or I'll stab someone', how much do you miss France?" he asked playfully. Lily laughed, she could tell he was happy to talk about his country as he missed it probably a lot.

"Actually, not so much. I was in Nice yesterday to visit some friends." "Oh great! I do miss it... But then when I'm in France I miss America. I'm a complicated guy." She laughed again and took a sip of the drink Misha just brought her. "Oh jeez, what it this? It's strong!" "It's called 'Angelo Azzuro'. I liked the name." He winked at her and she snorted. "Of course you did." Jensen sat in the booth facing Lily, an amused expression on his face.

“Any weird and embarrassing childhood stories you can tell us so we can pick on Misha for the rest of his life?”

Lily turned to look at Misha. Of course a lot happened, but she couldn’t think of something specific at that moment, especially after drinking such a strong cocktail.

“I don’t know… The Angelo Azzuro is kinda making my brain feel like jelly right now so I can’t think that far back.”

Misha smiled and put his drink on the table.

“I can! I know a story… I’m not sure it’s appropriate though.”

“Oh come on!” Jensen grunted. “No fans here, it’s just us, spit it out.”

He glanced at Lily, silently asking her permission, but she had no idea what he had in mind so she just shrugged.

“I’m actually remembering the day I sneaked into your school and we ended up in the girl's bathroom-”

“Nope! Nope... shut up!” Her eyes widened and she slammed her hand on his mouth, muffling the sound of his giggles.

Naturally, it picked everyone’s curiosity.

“That sounds interesting. You wouldn’t want to disappoint us, would you?” Richard insisted.

Misha’s eyes sparkled with mischief when he thought about a way of making her move her hand from his mouth. He stuck out his tongue and licked her palm, which immediately made her jump on her seat.

“Eww! You’re gross!!”

He laughed under the look of his clueless friends.

“It’s actually a funny story, they should know.”

“Yeah, funny for you maybe! You always were the one ending up without any trouble because your mom was super cool with pretty much everything!”

He giggled even more, knowing she was absolutely right.

“I won't give too many details. Promised.”

Jensen rolled his eyes, losing patience.

“Come on, you said too much already, now we’re dying to know and we won’t let you go until it’s out.”

Lily sat back on her chair and crossed her arms in defeat. She sighed and closed her eyes, bracing herself.

“Alright, so we’d been dating for what… a year maybe, and-“

“Wow, wow, wow…” Jensen interrupted loudly. “You never said you two were dating, you said she was your old friend!”

He indeed never mentioned it to any of them, but he had nothing to hide after all. Not to them at least.

“Well duh… I was a weird and lonely fourteen guy who was living with a hot girl that cared for me, what do you think happened, smartass?”

Jensen tilted his head, looking at the ceiling.

“Ehh, fair enough. Go on.”

“Okay, so after a year, as a fifteen year-old boy full of hormones ready to explode, missing his girlfriend that didn't go to the same school, I decided to go sneak into her school, and we ended up in the girl's bathroom doing some...”

Please be wise and subtle...please, please...

“... physical exercise.”

Lily burst out laughing and hid her face in her hands, which of course, made Misha giggle once again, and everybody joined him. She then took one more sip of her cocktail.

“Was that subtle enough?”

“Yeah, yeah, just finish the damn story so I can leave and hide forever.”

“So... Darius helped me sneaking in, but being the giant dick that he still is today, he decided to have a little fun with this, knowing exactly what I had planned. He called Lily's principal, who was an old woman, to tell her what was happening in the bathroom...”

Sebastian couldn’t hold his laugh. “What a smart move!”

“I know, right? The principal, of course, took two supervisors with her, discreetly came to the bathroom to check, and heard us, but had the decency to not interrupt. What a thoughtful woman! When we came out of the bathroom stall, we were both welcomed by the woman and her two gorillas, their arms crossed and a very displeased look on their faces. Naturally, we ended up in her office and the first thing she did was to call Lily's mother, who was a very good mother BUT a very religious person who had no idea I was screwing her daughter...”

Everyone laughed heartedly, and despite the fact that the music was loud and Lily was still hiding her face behind her hands, everybody heard her desperate and embarrassed whine.

Misha tried to hold his laugh, but when she turned to look at him with her shameful eyes, blushing furiously and shaking her head, she looked so much like she did that day that he lost it and giggled hysterically.

“I was lucky to be expelled only for two weeks thanks to my family's history in the town, but I had to listen to my mom giving me the talk the whole damn evening! I had to stay locked in my room for a whole month, and was only allowed out of it to go to school or church! And you know what's not fair? When I asked my mom if she yelled at Misha, she said his mom would teach him his lesson, but she didn't know Misha's mom was so damn cool that she didn't even care he was expelled from school! Darius of course was super proud of himself, so I was the only one who got in trouble for this and felt miserable!”

Misha tried to talk between his giggles; he was breathless and had tears in his eyes.

“And your mom didn't even notice I was still sneaking into your room every night!”

Lily finally cracked too, joining everyone.

“Was it at least worth the trouble?” Sebastian asked her boldly.

“If you say no in front of them I will never talk to you again” Misha joked.

Lily scoffed and shook her head.

“I think you had enough details. But… yeah, I guess it was.”

Misha’s smile couldn’t be wider. “The principal didn’t interrupt for a reason! She heard you-”

“Alright, alright, that’s enough.” Lily raised her hand and finished her drink.

When she heard one of her favorite song, she took the opportunity to change the subject, plus she couldn't resist anymore, she just wanted to dance.

She leaned next to Misha's ear. "So tell me, after so long, have you finally learned how to sway those hips of yours?" He raised an eyebrow, a little surprised by her question. The Italian cocktail obviously made its effect on her.

"How about we find out now?” He stood up and offered his hand to her. She obliged and they walked to the dance floor. Lily looked at him dancing, very amused, unable to hold her laugh anymore. "Okay... So no is the answer to my previous question, I guess."

They always had enjoyed dancing together like dorks, but damn did he look like he had a stick up his ass when he did! "I'm afraid you'll have to teach me again." "Don't pretend I ever could teach you how to dance. Nobody can!"

They both cracked, but they didn't stop dancing. Misha was observing her carefully... She always had such a grace in her when she was dancing, whatever the music was. That's probably why she was such a talented musician; there was something between her and the music that he probably would never understand.

They were soon interrupted by Ty who tapped on Misha's shoulder. "May I borrow the miss, Mr. Collins?" "Sure... If you can keep it up." Out of breath, Misha was actually happy to go back to just chill and drink with his mates at the table after such an exhausting day. After a few minutes of talking about the weirdest photo ops they had today, Misha realized Lily was gone for a while and scanned the dance floor. She was still dancing facing Ty, his hands were both on her hips and they were laughing heartedly. And just like that, Misha suddenly couldn't concentrate on his conversation anymore. He mentally slapped himself and tried to focus on what Jensen was babbling, but he sneaked at them one more time and saw them very close... too close to each other, their bodies swaying together in rhythm with the music, and he realized he didn't like that at all, and he also hated himself for having such a stupid reaction. He stood up without a word, leaving his friends wondering what was going on, and walked towards Lily who was still obviously having a lot of fun. He grabbed her upper arm gently which made her turn around to face him and separate from Ty.

“We should go, it's late and we have to get up super early tomorrow. You coming?”

“Oh come oooon, Misha! It's been a while since I had so much fun! You go ahead if you want, I'll drive back with Ty, don't worry.”

Great... How was he supposed to object without appearing like an old jerk now? He really didn't want her to stay with Ty, who was divorced, free, and impudently flirting with her.

“Lily, you're gonna be a mess tomorrow and you'll have one hell of a hangover. You'll thank me, believe me.”

He pulled on her arm just a little, but she didn't move.

“You're the one who brought me the 'Angelo Azzuro' and now you're telling me to go to sleep? No way, Misha. I'm staying. You wanted me to come to have fun and that's exactly what I'm doing. But you can go if you're tired, it's fine, really.”

She gave him a quick peck on the cheek and turned back to face Ty who was obviously not willing to leave either.

Congratulations Misha, You're officially an idiot.

He didn't want to leave her like that, in a foreign country, on her own... or to leave her with Ty... drunk and happy and too friendly, but he had no other option left. He didn't even know for sure why he was reacting that way. He still cared for her deeply and telling all those stories about his childhood today probably contributed to accentuate this feeling of… protectiveness?

When he went back to their table, Jensen had already left with Richard. Sebastian was just waiting for him to do the same, so they did, leaving Lily and Ty behind them, still dancing like horny drunk teenagers.

...

Misha had trouble finding sleep that night, and at 5.30am, when Vicki kicked him out of the bed because she couldn't bear him rolling over every damn minute, he changed and got out for a jog, hoping it would clear his mind.

He ran in the park near their hotel for almost an hour, and when he got back he thought he could bring coffee to Lily... and see if she was in her room... alone.

So much for clearing my mind...

Again, he mentally cursed himself for his dumb and childish reaction, but he couldn't help it. He bought two coffees and some croissants and went up for her room.

When he arrived in front of her door, it opened before he could even knock and he came face to face with Ty, still wearing his clothes from the day before, who quickly greeted him and ran to go back to his hotel.

Lily smiled and told him to come in, glad he brought her coffee.

Misha felt a wave of something he couldn't describe growing inside of him. It was not a pleasant sensation and of course, he had to be condescending when he opened his mouth to talk...

“That was fast...”

Lily sat on her bed with her coffee but looked confused. She had no idea what he was talking about.

“What was fast?” She frowned.

“Well… do you really have to ask?”

Was he seriously implying what she thought he was?

“Why are you speaking to me with your daddy voice as you do with West when he does something very bad?”

That sobered him a little, but still he couldn't help the biting tone in his voice, despite his effort to not sound too harsh. He felt so stupid and immature, but he just couldn’t help it, he almost felt… betrayed.

“Why are you answering my question by another question?”

“You just did too... We can do this all morning, or you can just tell me what the hell is wrong with you right now and stop acting like an asshole.”

That weird wave grew higher in Misha's chest. Did she have to be so bitchy? Her sarcastic voice and harsh words made him feel very annoyed, and unfortunately, he spoke before thinking...

“Right, because acting like a slut with my coworker is so much better. I see you've learned a lot from your previous boyfriend...”

She froze, her half empty cup of coffee hanging in front of her open mouth. She couldn't believe he really said that to her. She must've misunderstood... Misha couldn’t do that. He couldn’t be so mean.

“What did you just say?”

He was already regretting it. Truth was she hurt his feelings. He didn’t want to admit it though, so he just wanted her to feel the same, and regarding to the pained look in her eyes, it worked. He couldn’t believe he did that… hurting her on purpose for such a lame reason. It was so not him that it scared him, and he tried to apologize.

“I… I didn’t m-“

“Leave.” She spat it in a calm but angry voice, a murderous look in her eyes, freezing Misha on his spot. After all she told him about Peter, she just couldn't believe how mean he was right now.

When he didn't move, she pushed him a little and almost screamed.

“Get the fuck out!”

Misha had the time to see her eyes turn from angry to teary, but he turned around and left the room without a word, feeling miserable and shameful. What could he do anyway? She was pissed at him, and she was right to be. He actually was pissed at himself too.

When he was gone, Lily threw her thankfully empty cup of coffee on the door and broke down crying on the floor of her hotel room, leaning against her bed.

She cried for a few minutes, wondering what the hell just happened. Misha was obviously mad at her because she didn't leave with him and preferred staying with Ty, but why? It didn't make sense at all! And why did he have to be so cruel?

Suddenly she heard a weak knock on her door and Misha's trembling voice.

“Lily... open the door, please... I'm sorry. Can we talk?”

She didn't move. If he thought she would open that door he was dreaming! She hated his stupid face and his stupid voice more than anything right now.

He gently knocked again.

“Get back to your family and your fans, Misha. I have nothing to say to you.”

“Come on. I won't leave anyway. Vicki's gonna kick my ass for being an ass with you and I won't be able to show up at the convention feeling that miserable. If I have to spend the rest of the weekend here I will, but you'll have to explain that to the people waiting for me.”

She sighed... He better have a fucking good explanation.

She wiped her face quickly and opened the door, revealing a very shamefaced Misha.

“You have two minutes before I slam you out again.” Her voice was shaky. Was it from anger or sadness, he didn't know, but he knew for sure it was because of him. He walked in and sat on her bed, sighing and hiding his face in his hands.

“I don't know what happened, Lily... I lost it when I saw Ty getting out of your room. I had no right to tell you those things and I honestly didn't mean them. I know you don't owe me any explanation, and you can do whatever you want with who you want, but the sad truth is I imagined you and Ty together and I was just...”

He didn’t finish his sentence, mostly because he didn’t even know what he felt at that moment.

Lily sighed and sat next to him, gently pulling his hands away from his face so he would look at her. She wanted to be strong and firm when asking her next question, but his face showed such a hurt expression and his eyes were red and shiny with tears, that she had a flashback and saw herself two decades ago,  trying to comfort the young Misha after he had hard times, which happened quite frequently at the time. It almost broke her heart, so her question came out as a whisper, the lump in her throat being too heavy.

“What do you think happened exactly?”

He frowned. “Well… He just got out of your room. No need to be a genius to know what happened.”

Oh Misha...

She exhaled, understanding a little better what caused his stupid reaction.

“He walks out of my room and this is what you assume? Who do you think I am?”

Misha sank into her green eyes and started to really think about what happened, and if he didn’t feel stupid before, he certainly did now. She was right… He only saw Ty getting out of her room but he actually didn’t know for sure what happened that night.

“I… He… he still had the same clothes so I just…”

“I did not spend the night with Ty, Misha… We left the club soon after you did. He gave me his jacket because I got cold but his phone was still in it so I called his hotel and he came here this morning to take it back before the convention starts.”

Just when he thought he couldn't feel any worse, she proved he was a complete idiot once again.

“I... I'm so sorry. I just... You know I would never say that to you and mean it, right? You know me.”

She thought about that a moment and her voice twitched.

“Do I?”

He looked at her frowning.

“Of course you do. I'm still me.”

“Yeah… Just like I’m still me and you’re supposed to know I would never sleep with someone I’ve just met…”

Misha looked down at his feet. Did she have to remind him he acted like a jerk?

“I do know that but… God I don’t know what happened. I’m so sorry, Lily.”

“It’s fine. You've changed. We both have, that's life. I observed you yesterday, talking to those people on stage and I didn't recognize the person I saw.”

“That's because that person on stage is not truly me. Ask any actor, every single one of us: we all act eighty percent of the time we're on stage, and you know what happens when I don't act? Well... exactly what happened when I talked about your grandfather: I lose it and I tear up. And that is me.”

She turned on the bed, facing him.

“Why did you react like a giant ass?”

“I don't really know... I felt a wave of anger when I imagined... you with someone else. I had no right to feel like that in the first place. I don't know what happened to me. I was surprised to feel that way after so long. It was just stupid.”

“I get it... It happened to me too, when you told me you were married. For a brief second I felt a little sting in my chest. It was gone soon after but still, I felt it.”

He smiled and took one of her hands in his, sighed and looked into her shiny eyes.

“You know what I just realized? We never had closure. At least I never had closure. When you... When I thought you died I searched for you, I only found a grave with no names, and it wasn’t enough for me to move on. We never broke up, we were just torn apart by a cruel and unfair fate when we were still deeply in love so... I've never said to myself I had to stop... loving you. You were just gone, but that didn't stop me from loving you and craving you. And then I met Vicki and we dated and we married and we had kids and it felt good and it still feels perfect... but still, all that time I've never refrained myself from loving you, because I've never needed to, and it just backfired on me a few minutes ago.”

Oh God... What was she supposed to say after that?

“Do you still… need closure?”

He tilted his head and frowned, surprised by her question.

“Why do you ask? You wanna break up with me now?”

“Well if I have to...”

He considered it for a few seconds, still observing her closely, and a tiny smile appeared on his face. He suddenly wanted to test a theory, hoping it wouldn't backfire on him one more time.

“Okay... go ahead.”

He crossed his arms and waited patiently, leaning on the bed board.

Was he serious? She needed to break up with him after a lifetime being apart?

“Well, fine... Misha...” she started, and then coughed. She was still looking into his eyes... Did she really have to do that looking into his piercing blue eyes? That was kinda cruel.

“I...” She cleared her throat again. “We need to...”

Oh my God Lily just say it, don't be a wimp!

She needed to tell him it was over. And it really was, he was married to another woman, he had kids... So yeah... She needed to say she wanted to end this. It was supposed to end a long time ago. It was all true and reasonable. It was the right thing to do.

And yet... She couldn't find the nerves to say it out loud facing him.

“Okay, you took me by surprise, I will do it but I need to... be prepared.”

His smile widened. He was right... He knew she couldn't do that.

“Right. You know, I would understand if you don't want it.” His voice was kinky now, he clearly wanted to tease her, and yet she couldn't help babbling.

“What? No! I mean yes! It needs to be done. We need closure. You're right... You're absolutely right. I mean you need closure. I don't.”

“You sure? Because I can break up with you right now if you need me to.”

“I don't. Remember when you said 'I'm married, her name is Vicki, we have two kids?' Well... that was my closure.”

“Right... and it stung a little. Your words.” He smirked.

“Yep... just like it did for you a few minutes ago when you called me a slut. That's because it stung a little. Except I handled it much better than you did!”

Oh snap!

He looked down, ashamed of himself.

“I'm sorry. Told you I didn't mean it. But yes... It did hurt like a bitch to see you with someone else. That was more than a little sting for me, and I'm not ashamed to admit it.”

She looked at his hands and saw his wedding ring.

“You know... If it can make you feel a bit better... I wasn’t exactly a big fan of your married status either when you told me... And I kinda hated to admit you have an amazing wife. It would’ve been great if she’d been a real bitch that I could hate.” She made a face and rolled her eyes, which made Misha laugh.

“Says the one who doesn't need closure! You know what we should actually do? We should go back to Northfield together, and finally turn that page together. Just us. No wife, no kids. Then it will be over. That will be the end of our past relationship and the beginning of a new one.”

That wasn't a bad idea after all...

“Okay. Deal. We'll do that.” She smiled and nodded.

“Can I have a hug? Am I forgiven?”

She laughed softly and leaned forward to hug him, resting her chin on his shoulder.

“You're forgiven. But if it happens again, I'll kick your ass.”

He turned his head and placed a soft kiss on the side of her forehead.

“I'll try to remember that.”

“Alright, let's move, I'm sure you're late already.”

She let go of him, he stood up and walked to the door to leave.

“Probably... but they're used to it.” He winked and stepped out of the room.

He closed the door behind him. Lily was still sitting on her bed. She sighed heavily and went in the bathroom to get ready for the last day of the convention.

[cris-en-alicante]

FIXED SKY SITUATION

Text by Helen Marten

The presentation of best self is like carrying around multiple vessels of delicious liquid, dragging them up a hill and then sloshing the whole lot down your front with primal abandon: a comic opera of desperation. This is not public eminence but rather a crude dismantling of the facade called YOU. Looking at skin is like an allegory of reading. Washing it like turning the page. Public YOU and Private YOU: one or the other is always prefiguring its own irrelevance and both are bound by the radiating expressions of the face or the hands. Admitting ownership of a brain, like the growing of a population, is to perch on something solid and substantial for more than a second.

The signature or act of naming oneself is tied to a similar linguistic subjectivity. Even the initials of one’s name wilt or bend on demand, as if racing along towards a newly melodic sense of being, a name breathed in italics like a synthetically chemical personhood dashing towards a black hole. The question might be how to start afresh. How to fluff up the soapsuds, peek out from the shower curtain and move on to another personality.

At that speed, something is always going to happen. You can follow it to the point of treachery.

Lines of writing connect to lines of universal matter: things move from a literal A to a literal B and en route, there is myth, misfortune, horror and luck. Intense molecular lives are positioned like photographs where we look at the remnants in high definition and say: how could this have happened. Socks, bedrolls, drainage – the whole micropolitics of a simple conversation is made part of the flow. Great aggregates of lives and people are difficult to smash into well-composed segments.

What might be done to sabotage terrestrial laws is to look at everything from above. The unique relationships between the bookkeeper, the butcher, the sailor, the walker, the dreamer, the fool are all lines joined at altitude. YOU, THEM, US: Is a misshapen figure with bumpy contours even a person at all? The great unconscious mass of a people is all at once fragile and awful and wondrous. Because remember: what is a body but a great barrel of protein rolled from one hoppy stink to another. Sludge is a stand in for bodies unwanted. It is run off, drainage, coagulation. Water unites and breaks us. Bodies recourse to their fluids, their water, their liquid in the abyss. Or back to their minerals, their calcium and phosphorus, shaking sugar into the hairs on ones arms just to notice the pores. A river too can be scorched dry. Or a kettle boiled so harshly it scales to lime on the spot. There are hundreds of millions of tons of salt in our Oceans. This is chemical fidelity, our mutual water fidelity.

We are hosted on this planet, we forget, but the house is the geometrical instrument which gives abstract things place for purpose. It holds sequences that connect with one another following specific coordinates. The house has its own peculiar cellular chemistry. Its code and its territory. The house has its organs, its sagging walls and ailing roofs. Even its decay is a type of architecture. An exploded-view-diagram maps the chaos and lends organisation to the direction that feet might take, the angle at which a tired bottom might perch to take in the view.

The Eames’ picnic taught us the speed of perspective interchange, how quickly that single second down on the earth feeling the personal resistance of a grass stem bent out of place can be replaced with the impossible cosmic vastness of the solar system. Assemblages are operations, notes heard and answered elsewhere in a new season. These powers of infinite reflex and remove remind that you cannot return from a clean break from reality, but you can claw your way back from the debris to find love or self in the dust.

Imagine a materially more abject version of that picnic: hats that cripple the necks of the heads who wear them; beer pumped through a duck who champions the ruffled spaces of patchwork and strange secretion; candles with their very own paradox of wax and food that resists itself, referencing number rather than nutrition. The air too is a fixed sky situation, watched eagerly by farmers or nomads who invent a new agriculture for their weird decelerations. All of us want to be held, but contingently, the way trauma across the globe makes it difficult to see all marks without assigning them each value. Maybe muscles solidify in fury or desperation. And in this way, the harder you try to describe the people and the chemistry of their peripheral space, the easier it is to picture animals.

[matthiaspalmore-blog]

Advantages Of Opal Precious Stone

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[rmjagonshi]

Whole Again -Chapter 10 EDIT

Whole Again on AO3

For a thirteen-year-old girl from Piedmont California, Mabel Pines thought herself fairly resourceful. She could bring cheer to even the most black-hearted individuals, befriend almost anyone. Even in the worst situations, she could pull out the positives and look on the bright side. And even if there were no real positives, she would try to find a solution where everyone else had slopped looking.

That was what she was doing now. Trying to find a solution to something that was completely hopeless. She refused to be without hope that there was something else happening. Because Mable did think that something else was happening; there had to be some other explanation to Stan’s behavior. Even if her Grunkle was possessed, they had saved Stan from Bill before, they could do it again! She just needed to think. She just needed time to do research.

Dipper had chosen to take Grunkle Ford’s lead; he had gone to the library and had found as much on demonic possession and exorcisms as possible. The books and printouts and documentaries were stacked on his bed and spread out on the floor; is computer was open and was playing a scene from a horror movie: The Daemon Removal Squad. It was corny. Mabel was trying a different approach.

She and Dipper had gone over all the information they had and had categorized it from most concerning to least concerning; a color gradient from purple to brown (her favorite and least favorite colors respectively). Grunkle Ford was at first worried that Stan was acting kinda strange. But Grunkle Stan was always kinda strange; he called himself ‘Mr. Mystery’ after all.  

Stan had shown that he could read Gaelic (and the twins knew he could speak Spanish), he was adapting to technology at a much faster rate than even Grunkle Ford, and he knew about chemistry. The biggest questions Mabel had were answering the mysterious treats and blue fire handshake. Those were gonna be hard.  

So, the question now was, were these things evidence enough that Stan wasn’t himself? Dipper said that Grunkle Ford was first thinking about trauma. Maybe that was it. Maybe Stan was having some sort of phycological break and he thought he was Bill after having Bill in his mind, and then having it erased and then put back together. Mabel’s head hurt just thinking about it.

Stan knew about chemistry, so that meant he likely knew about chemical reactions and cool chemical tricks that like the ones their teacher had shown them. Mabel had seen something on YouTube about a guy that could use some kind of chemical to light his hand on fire and the flames were blue. Maybe he was just playing a really mean joke on Ford. Maybe he was really sick and they needed to get him to a therapist.

These were all things that were much more likely than a dream daemon coming back from being erased. That was as close to dead as she thinks Bill could be.

Ford had told Dipper that a package of toffee peanuts and jellybeans appeared as if by magic. But Mabel was good at finding things that were hard to get. Her hidden stash of Smile Dip attested to that ability. She had gone back to the Dusk-2-Dawn and had a wonderful conversation with the ghost couple there. They had let her take as much Smile Dip as she wanted. It was her guilty pleasure; anything she saw in Smile Dip Land was way less scary than what she had experienced in Gravity Falls last summer.

She tracked down the producer of toffee peanuts and contacted them. It helped that she had no fear of talking on the phone; her brother always had to triple check that he had the right number and then read from a script. They were an American based company, but their offshore branches had different production lines than what was in America. So, while toffee peanuts were discontinued in America because they weren’t popular (and really who would like them but her Grunkle Stan), they were still available in Denmark where they were really popular. A quick search told her that Iceland and Denmark were close trade partners and it was likely that Stan could have picked up a bag somewhere.

So, it wasn’t at the bakery he said it was. Maybe Stan forgot where he found them and he didn’t think it was a big deal. They jellybeans were also explained away as Stan hiding them and surprising Ford the next morning. It was all so silly really; her boys were just jumping to conclusions. Nope, no supernatural things going on here. Everything could be explained away. But, to be on the safe side, she should probably help Dipper read up on exorcisms.

Most of the books and articles were religious texts and talked about using holy water and crosses. Mabel didn’t think that crosses were going to do anything against Bill. The idea of holy water was still up for debate, though; she wasn’t entirely convinced it wouldn’t just burn her Grunkle Stan, possessed or not. Their family was a mix between Jewish and modern Cristian, but aside from the memories that Dipper had told her about, she didn’t think that Stan was religious in any way.

There was also a lot of notes suggesting telling the person how much their family loved them would help drive out the daemon. They could do that! They all loved Grunkle Stan! And he had gone so long without being told someone loved him, it would do him good. Maybe that was how Bill had taken over Stan; Grunkle Ford wasn’t telling his brother how much he loved him. Next time they got to talk to him, she was going to give her Grunkle Ford a piece of her mind. They had spent so much time apart; they needed to tell each other how much they loved each other! Just thinking about being separated from Dipper for thirty days (let alone thirty years) made her want to rush over and hug her brother.

For now, she would settle for just sitting on the floor by his bed and resting her head against his leg. She felt him absently reach down and run his fingers through her hair. It always helped her calm down when they were younger. Just like she used to draw pictures with her fingers (and sometimes markers) on Dipper’s back and tell him stories when he was sick or couldn’t sleep. Dipper would never, ever admit it, but he used to like it when she did his make-up; something about liking the way the make-up brushed felt on his face. They hadn’t done that in a while. She thought that they were getting to old for stuff like that, but maybe this was the perfect time to try again. They both were having a rough time acclimating back to normal life.

There was no weirdness at home. No gnomes, no magic, no weird flowers that made you all dizzy, no ghosts, no dinosaurs…just nothing. It was all so…normal. So normal it was boring. She never thought she would want to be surrounded by crazy weirdness and magical creatures. Heck, before this past summer, she didn’t even watch Ghost Harassers with Dipper; now she eagerly sat with him and even asked questions.

Dipper was also suffering from weirdness withdrawal. His new journal to record all the weird things in Piedmont was empty. The first few pages were filled with introductions, and lists of things he wanted to see and was packed full of notes from Grunkle Ford’s journals, but no entries of Dipper’s own. Her new scrapbook sat neglected too. She had taken tons of pictures the first few weeks back and during their first week of school, but then she just…didn’t want to anymore. It was like she didn’t have the energy or the interest like she used to. She still liked to draw, her wall was covered with drawings, but they were all of the same things; her friends, Grenda and Candy, Wendy and Soos, Waddles, the Mystery Shack and her Grunkles.

Stan and Ford had sent them a postcard from Rhode Island before they set sail. It was a picture of them standing proudly on their new boat, The Stan O’War II. All her drawings after that had been of them on the ship, fighting sea monsters and hugging penguins. Soos had sent her a letter with some of his “Stan-fiction” and they had started writing back and forth about what her Grunkles were up to. She didn’t know how she was going to tell Soos that his dad might be in trouble. Because Stan was Soos’s dad; it didn’t matter if they weren’t related, family was family.

It didn’t take long for Mabel to get bored of reading about all the dramatic passages she was supposed to say when exorcising a daemon, and she had no idea where they were gonna get a bucket of salt blessed by the Pope from. Instead, she focused on finishing the little trench coat she had knitted for the owl plush she made to look like Grunkle Ford. It was a project she had started not too long after she got back home. She had picked out the stuffed animals that reminded her the most of her friends and family and had gotten to work.

She had picked out a frilled lizard for Grenda (complete with knitted pink shirt and bow), a mouse for Candy (with a perfect little green stripped dress), Soos was a gopher (she had added a plastic fish bowl over the green hat after reading Grunkle Ford’s notes on Soos) and Wendy was a fox (she had made a replica of Dipper’s old pine tree had out of felt).

She had been working on Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford, (a silver fox and grey owl respectively) and hadn’t finished Grunkle Ford’s trench coat yet. She had made their glasses out of pipe cleaners and that plastic film that came from those envelopes with bills and other grown-up mail. Stan’s fez had been made out of felt covered cardboard and yarn, but as Dipper pointed out, it should be on Soos’s head now. The fishbowl had been replaced and instead she knitted a red beanie for Stan. She considered sewing Ford and Stan’s hands (er, paw and wing) together, but she suspected that Dipper was sneaking owl Ford back to his bed at night. She wasn’t the only one missing her family.

She felt the hand running through her hair stop as Dipper checked his phone again. They hadn’t heard from their Great Uncle Ford in a while. Dipper had sent multiple texts and had tried calling twice. She knew that he shouldn’t worry. Ford was probably getting sleep, or they were going through a bad patch. Maybe. She really hoped they were ok. Dipper’s phone sat like a holy relic on the nightstand.

After twelve hours with no word, they were starting to get worried. At seventeen hours, neither one could eat more than a few bites of dinner without feeling sick. By twenty-two hours, they were pouring over books and references and old notes of Dipper’s on Grunkle Ford’s journals just to distract themselves.

By the time their parents had come to tell them to go to bed, Mabel had stress knitted a scarf that would have been able to tie Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford together from head to toe. She also had a stash of Mabel juice in a resealable water bottle hidden under her bed. She wasn’t planning on sleeping and miss any contact from Ford. The fact that Dipper had also snuck in a bottle told her all she needed to know; they were in this for the long haul. They were both way too anxious to sleep now.  

What didn’t help was their mom coming in and asking them if she could ask them a serious question.

“I guess, what’s wrong?” Dipper was always the one to get to the point and ask the right questions.

“Are we in trouble?” She, on the other hand, had a habit of guessing at the problem and jumping to solutions first.

“No, no, of course not. Dad and I were just worried about you. You’ve been acting…well, a little strange since coming home. And for the past day I haven’t been able to get two words out of either of you.” Diane sat on the end of Mabel’s bed, gesturing for Dipper to come join them. He did, but chose to stand rather than find a spot amongst Mabel’s pile of stuffed animal friends and family.

Diane sighed. Mabel could tell this was hard for their mom. They wanted to tell her and dad both what had happened to them, but would their parents even believe them? Heck, she wouldn’t have believed it if she hadn’t lived it; it sounded like a best-selling teen novel. Mable sat her finished Grunkle Ford owl in her lap, fully intending on soaking up the hugs she could from it before Dipper stole it for the night.  

Their mom looked disquieted. Like she didn’t actually want the answer to the question that she wanted to ask. “I know you two are growing up, and I know that you will inevitably keep secrets, and you certainly don’t need your parents to solve every problem for you. But you know we love you. And…we’re just worried that something might have happened. You know you can come to either of us no matter what, right?”

Mabel shared a somber look with her brother. Should they try and tell their parents? Was it even something that could be told? They had experienced so much in Gravity Falls. But, Dipper and she both had woken up with nightmares since coming home. She wanted to tell them, but she couldn’t do it without Dipper. She reached for her Stan plush and frowned at it. Would her Grunkles be mad if they told their parents?

She looked to Dipper and silently asked for confirmation. He nodded, turning to gather what notes he had. It was time. Even if their parents didn’t believe them, it was time to tell them what happened in Gravity Falls. She set her plushies aside and leaned over to the side table and pulled out her scrapbook; the one she had lovingly encased in glitter glue and fabric to keep protected.  

“Mom?” Mabel said, clutching the wrapped scrapbook to her chest.

“We have something to tell you. Something that you probably won’t believe, but we need you to try.” Dipper finished the statement for her, pulling out his own journal and all the remaining notes he had from the past summer.

“Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford are not what they seem.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Diane Pines thought herself a very caring and knowledgeable mother. She liked to think that she knew what her children were thinking or feeling. She knew they were worried about something, but no matter how many times or how indirectly she asked, neither of her twins would divulge any information. She couldn’t even sneak a peek at her son’s phone; both twins had been carrying it around in shifts and neither one would let it leave their person.

Nothing seemed to get through. She had a feeling that it might relate to the happenings over the summer. She, nor her husband, Daniel, were stupid. The children had come back from Gravity Falls very different then when they left. At first, with the nightmares, she had thought they had been neglected or abused, but they insisted that Stanley (and later Stanford) had been the best of caretakers. They had refused to talk about their nightmares.

Some eavesdropping let her know that her children didn’t think that their parents would believe them. Mason had insisted that she and Dan were too hardheaded about the paranormal, while Mabel had decided that she didn’t want to worry them if they did choose to believe the crazy adventures the twins had gotten up to over the summer. The fact that her children had decided their parents would dismiss their concerns or that the summer’s events would worry them, made her even more afraid.  

It hurt that her children didn’t feel they could come to her with their problems. But, they were thirteen and had spent their first summer away from home. They were growing up, and they were learning how to deal with their own problems. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something sinister going on. It didn’t help that she was embittered towards Stanley (nee Stanford) after the truth had come out.

“Oh sure, lie about your identity for thirty years while you take over your brother’s name and house while you track down said missing brother! While we’re at it, let’s fake your death and then distance yourself from the family until your father dies and your nephew contacts you out of guilt!” Her husband had patiently listed to her rant and rave in the kitchen the night the twins came home. They had told her a fairly condensed story about how Stanford had gone missing thirty years ago and Stanley had kept his brother’s house by turning it into a tourist trap and spent those thirty years trying to find his brother. That Stanford had magically come home unexpectedly one day after government agents had gotten involved.

She was very angry with Stanley. And she had no idea what to think of the real Stanford; though since he had been missing for THIRTY YEARS, and NO ONE was willing to say where he had been, well, both twins were on her ‘shit list’.

Her children loved them, though. So as angry as she and her husband were, they didn’t let it show. For their kids, they would try to forgive. It didn’t hurt that Dan was very excited to meet the intellectual prodigy that was Stanford Filbrick Pines. Upon discovering that the con man and tourist attraction purveyor was not the person who had written “Accounting for Physical and Chemical Irregularities Occurring in Objects affected by Differing Conditions of Spacetime” and the actual author was far more ‘nerdy’, he was elated and eager to have them over for the holidays. Unfortunately (though fortunately for her) the twins had gone exploring the Arctic Sea at the end of the summer and would not be back on this side of the country for at least eight months (or so they had planned). A Spring visit would also allow her time to properly clean her house and prepare the guest room. It had become her office space of late; she worked as an appraiser for a realtor agency and needed a space to work from home.  

It also gave her time to get over any residual anger. Some days it seemed so easy to forgive, when her children were smiling and laughing about their summer antics and reminiscing about all the fun they had. Some nights it was hard, damn near impossible, to forgive when her children woke up screaming and clinging to one another for comfort. Neither one ever willing to tell their parents what was wrong. It terrified her to think what might have happened that her own children wouldn’t talk about it. What kind of caretaker was Stanley Pines if the children in his care woke up with nightmares?

Diane had first met the man when the twins were born. He had rushed down from Oregon upon Sherman’s call. In less than seven hours (she suspected he had neglected road traffic laws) he was in the waiting room with her husband and Sherman. They had joked about the last time Stanley (then Stanford) had seen his nephew, was when he had been an infant being babysat by Gina and Filbrick. The night that his brother (he) had been kicked out. Stanley had taken a somber look until the nurse had told them that Diane had gone into labor. Only Dan was allowed in the delivery room, Stan and Sherman remained outside looking through the window.

After the twins had been born, cleaned, and passed around to everyone (Stan had stolen them from Sherman and had both parents laughing), they had allowed her to walk down to the cafeteria and get food. Her father-in-law had gone with her, the other men too busy cooing over the infants to bother.  

She had asked about Stan, about why he was so distant from the rest of the family. Sherman had simply said that the man had been reclusive after starting his post-doctoral research. That he’d lived in the backwoods by himself for so long, he had gone a little crazy. Sherman lamented his brother’s lost potential; how Stanford had been a child prodigy and had let it all go to chase spookums and make-believe monsters in the middle of Oregon. Sherman was convinced that the tourist trap was Stanford’s attempt to make up for losing his edge.  

Marianne (her mother-in-law) had just gotten off a long shift in the geriatrics ward and had come down to see the new additions to the family. The twins were passed around again and the topic was forgotten.

That was, until the year the twins turned eleven and Filbrick had suffered a massive heart attack.

After Filbrick had passed and Gina was preparing to move in with Sherman and Marianne. The eldest son couldn’t find it in himself to put his mother in an assisted living home. They had all flown out to New Jersey that summer to help her pack and sell the house. Diane had gone to Gina for more information about Stanley (then Stanford) and what had happened to him to cause such an abrupt change.

Gina confessed that Stan’s unusual behavior was likely due to the death of his brother. The twins had always been close, almost joined at the hip. She thought they would have gone on with life side by side, at least she had up until the senior science fair.

Filbrick had been livid when Stanford’s project had been broken. Gina had been feeding her grandson (Daniel) at the time and had missed the details. She regretted that Stanley had been kicked out. But Filbrick made the rules, as much as it hurt her. The man was hard edged and had very specific and uncompromising view of the world and his family’s place in it. If the family stepped out of line, they would know. Stanford nor Stanley fit the mold Filbrick tried to shove them in. Unfortunately, Stanley had taken on the brunt of Filbrick’s rage.

Stanford had never been the same after that night. He had pulled in on himself, become reclusive, avoided visiting his family and begrudgingly accepted phone calls. When he’d gone to Gravity Falls, they hardly heard from him. It was like he was trying to hide himself away. When they heard about the crash, they had been behind in bills and had not been able to attend the funeral. Gina had tried to call up to the house in Oregon, but only got an answering machine. She left a tearful explanation of why they didn’t go, her love and her forgiveness, asking for forgiveness in return. Stan had died not too far from Gravity Falls after all. He had probably been trying to see Stanford. Trying to make up.

Diane had sat and comforted Gina for a while after her tale. She told Dan a very brief recap of the story. They agreed to never mention it to the kids. They were young and didn’t need to worry about things like that. Maybe when they got older and started asking questions about their family, but it was such a sad tale. But it seemed the decision had been taken out of their hands this past summer.

As soon as the kids had gotten home and the wonderous tale of lost brothers and hidden identities had been told, Dan had called his father and Grandmother up and informed them of the news. From what she heard from Dan, who heard from Sherman, who had overheard half a conversation between the twins and Gina, the news had not been received well.  

“Thirty years, Stanford! Where the hell were you?! Did you get kidnapped, just up and leave with no explanation?! And you Stanley, I know you’re listening, you ought to be ashamed of yourself. Taking over your brother’s name, making us think you were dead! Do you know how much pain you put me through?!”

It would be almost funny if it wasn’t so heartbreaking. Apparently, they had promised to come visit as soon as the next summer rolled around. Gina was not a woman to be trifled with; she had survived a marriage with Filbrick Pines after all, she was as tough as they came.

It was all wonderful and good…until her children had woken up screaming less than a week home, and refused to talk about what had happened. They were at their wits end. Her children would not be waking up screaming most nights if something horrible hadn’t happened. These were her children. She would do anything, come hell or high water, to keep them safe. She was prepared to reach out to someone in Gravity Falls to ask about what had happened, but she wanted to try asking her children one last time. They had been acting so strange the past day.    

The answer she got was very far removed from what she expected.  

“Mom?” He beautiful, sweet and innocent daughter looked at her with eyes that suddenly looked much older and wiser than they should. Mabel held out the wrapped scrap book that contained memories from the past summer.  

“We have something to tell you. Something that you probably won’t believe, but we need you to try.” Her darling son held the same hardness in his eyes, like he’d been to war and survived its atrocities.

“Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford are not what they seem.”  

Stand Alone Edit.