#S02E11 Need to Know

[thankstothe]

hoohoopkins

[invisibleicewands]

"Being miserable doesn't make you better of anyone else, House. Just make you miserable". - "Need to Know" House MD S02E11

[merlinfromberlin]

trick or treat :3

Treat! You get some Dadchet fluff. <3

This is from a oneshot based on S02E11 Flying Mind and deals with the aftermath of the Autobots being frozen still for hours on end by the Nemesis. Bee especially can't sit still and is driving Ratchet up the walls.

I also hope you don't mind this being longer, I didn't want to splice away the fluffy parts at the end but they made no sense without the first parts. ^^"

During the next decicycle, Ratchet had to remind Bumblebee four more times to sit back down, three times not to touch various medical equipment and five times not to play with either the IV line or the spark monitor next to his berth. On one particularly spark-freezing occasion he even had been forced to confiscate a small knife the scout had un-subspaced in order to fidget with. The medic was certain that the sight of the small yellow bot gesticulating wildly while twirling a small blade way too close to his own faceplates had cost him at least a vorn of his lifetime.

However, even if the medic had turned ever more gruff and grumpy with every additional warning he had directed at the scout, he had done his darn best to remain patient. Restlessness was, as evidenced by his older patients, apparently only natural after an encounter with waking stasis. And Ratchet had some experience dealing with Bumblebee’s particular brand of restlessness. In the end, however, he finally lost his temper when the mech knocked over his spark monitor, shattering its display in the process.

“Bumblebee!” Ratchet sat down the datapad he had been reviewing with a little too much force. As he fixed his most vicious glare on the troublesome scout he stalked over to remove the now useless monitoring line from his chassis. “I needed that! By the pits, you still needed that! For Primus’ sake, you are not only disturbing your own recovery but that of everyone else, too! Now get back to your berth before I magnetise you to it.”

The medic watched as the small bot sat back down, his doorwings drooping heavily in shame while twitching nervously every few nanocycles. He was small enough for his pedes to be dangling in the air as he stared down at the floor in front of him. ::Sorry, Ratchet. Didn’t mean to annoy you…::

For a moment, Ratchet kept staring at the scout. At the way his optics were a bit too dim and cycled sluggishly. At the way his helm kept listing to the side just a tiny bit before snapping back up. At the way his doorwings were hanging low not only in guilt and shame but also sheer, utter exhaustion. With a sigh, his remaining anger dissipated. 

The young bot was not only tired but so fragging exhausted that he would probably miss most of the next Earth day once he finally fell into recharge.

“You know what. Get up,” said Ratchet suddenly, his entire demeanour changing as an idea began to form in his processor. There might be a way to free Bumblebee of his excess energy and get him into recharge without bothering the others too much. “Get up. We’re trying something else.”

While the medic walked out of the medbay in order to fold down into his alt mode, the younger bot froze in place. Optimus shot Ratchet a short, contemplative glance before nodding encouragingly at the yellow scout.

“Come on, Bumblebee,” the medic repeated when he looked back only to find the small mech still perched on his medberth. The ambulance’s passenger door swung open and waved in a silent invitation.

Carefully, Bumblebee got up before nervously following the medic out into the main area of the base. His doorwings were still twitching anxiously. ::I won’t fit inside of you, Ratch…::

At that, Ratchet barked out a single laugh before allowing his door to fall close once again. Definitely exhausted. “Your holoform would,” he replied surprisingly mirthfully.

For a moment, there seemed to be something not unlike panic rushing through Bumblebee’s EM field but it was gone again as fast as it had appeared. Ratchet highlighted the moment in his memory files to review later and added it to his ever-growing list of inconsistencies about their young scout. He would need to work through that again, later. Right now, however, Ratchet had different priorities.

“But no. I’m not driving you around while you are this antsy. We are going for a drive. You need to burn off some energy before you break something we can’t rebuild. Doctor’s order.”

Bumblebee bleeped in surprise, but it took him a moment to fully comprehend the medic’s words. Once he finally did, Ratchet was glad to have readjusted his mirrors onto him. The yellow bot’s doorwings fluttered in excitement and he bounced on his pedes once before letting himself fold down into his alt-mode. ::Thank you, Ratchet!::

Ratchet was also glad that he had already transformed because he suspected that his smile as Bumblebee drove up next to him would have been way too fond. “Don’t thank me yet, young’un. You’re still under medical observation. That means no speeding, no racing and if I even catch you so much as thinking about drifting, you’ll be back in your berth faster than you can comm ‘Iacon 5000’.”

::Yes, of course.” Bumblebee sounded nonetheless chipper for any of the restrictions Ratchet had just put onto him. Instead, he just followed the medic out of the base, his EM field pulsing happily. ::I’ll be a textbook driver!::

“You better be,” answered Ratchet, a certain threat still edged into his words. There was no actual heat behind them, though. Based on the way Bumblebee playfully swerved to overtake him, he, too, knew that. The medic sighed silently.

Then he allowed himself to fall back behind the Urbana, strangely content as he watched his the youngling driving down the dark desert street.

They had not even been out for half an Earth hour when Ratchet had to comm Optimus because Bumblebee had fallen into recharge at the cliffside where they had stopped to watch the stars. The youngling did not even startle when the medic manually triggered his transformation to pick him up  and carry him through the groundbridge. Instead, he just cuddled closer.  

Hope you enjoyed your treat! <3

And sorry it took this long to answer, I was really tired yesterday evening and needed to read through this again because I hadn't touched it in almost two months. ^^"

This was originally supposed to be a scene in Numb Little Bug (Wip that will still take a while to see the light of day) until I realised that they start hunting for the Iacon Artefacts IMMEDIATELY after they get unfrozen, so I removed it from the longer story and now it's a sort of slight AU/companion piece to NLB/insight into Ratchet in NLB.

Which also means that it's edited very little yet. I'll only do that once I get to posting NLB chapter 3. Which will probably take forever. ^^"

[serendark]

Too Many Triangles

Summary:

Stanley Pines never knew what to make of that creepy cult room full of triangles that he found beneath his brother's house. Decades later, as the portal turns on, he thinks about what he's seen in all three of his brother's journals. He thinks about the note that Bill left behind for Mabel. This demon triangle has been harassing his family. There’s entirely way too many triangles in this house and in this family’s lives. Hours later after the worst reunion Stan's ever had, he steels himself and travels back downstairs, back to the portal basement. He needs to talk to Ford about Bill. He needs to protect his family. Even if that family apparently includes someone who hates him now.

Word count: 8,717

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Category: Gen

Language: English

Characters: Stanley Pines (major), Stanford Pines (major), Bill Cipher (mentioned repeatedly), Dipper Pines (brief), Mabel Pines (brief)

Tags: Implied/Referenced Suicide, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Self-Harm, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Sibling Bonding, Guilt, Minor Violence

Spoilers: Season 2 (canon divergent: s02e11 "Not What He Seems"), Journal 3 (lore reference), The Book of Bill (lore reference)

Read on AO3.

Glistening rainbow shimmers of long-abandoned pyramid prisms were indiscernible from the flutters of stale dust motes that fell around Stanley’s shoulders like a hideous ceremonial scarf as he tore pallid drapes down from the walls to the floor beneath his feet.

All too suddenly the room was all too small, walls caving in and seizing the man’s lungs while tumultuous needles pinned his frozen legs in place. He didn’t know where to look, but there was only one place he could, washing over him in waves of deep, dark, terror: Dozens upon dozens of eyes gazing back at him, staring right through him, every inch of his soul torn open and laid bare to see, to be chewed and drank by these confusing triangles… By the absurdly gaudy golden statue that might as well have winked back at him for all that it deigned.

Stan stumbled backwards, backside and hands meeting the floor as he struggled to process what he was beholding. This did not feel like something he should have seen, and he couldn’t shake the gross feeling bubbling under his skin that there was no taking it back, no undoing the fact that he is now privy to this awful, terrible room of goddamn cult secrets. He has become a part of this and he cannot scrub that away.

“What the hell, Sixer…?”

He never knew what to make of this room, and after scouring the piles, drawers, and corners for anything that might help with the portal he never once returned, preferring to forget about it entirely if he could. Unfortunately, forgetting was rather difficult since he passed the place every time he went down to the basement and he kept finding more of those damn prisms in random rooms in his brother’s home.

Sometimes he wondered if he should care more about this discovery, but it’s not like he had a lot of leads to work with. The journal in his possession didn’t mention anything about it and neither did any of the papers scattered around the room or lab, so other than the obvious similarity with the shape of the portal, Stan doubted if there even was more for him to learn, anyway. He just needed to fix the portal, get it running, and get his nerd brother back home. That’s all that mattered. No creepy geometry could alter the path which Stan has stitched into his very soul.

He will fix his greatest mistake or he will die trying. If this house does not see the two brothers reunited, then it will bear witness to the disappearance of both instead.

It’s the least Stan can do.

—

An extensive, wavering exhale rolled over Grunkle Stan’s nerves as he sat on the edge of his bed, head in hands and mind whirring over everything that had happened today. Finally, Stanford Pines was home. The real Stanford.

… Home? What was ‘home’ to Stanley Pines, now? Certainly not in his brother’s arms like he had hoped. Apparently not in the Mystery Shack, either. Not for much longer. A dark chuckle wheezed through his lips as he gingerly massaged the bruise on his temple.

No matter. His twin hates him now, but that won’t change what Stan needs to do. He’s almost tempted to hate himself for his own stubbornness, at this point, but that won’t change the facts. Ungrateful bastard or not, a sad 30 years of daring to hope only for it to leak down the drain… And Stan still knows what path he has bound himself to. He is going to protect his family. Even if that family now includes someone who, once again, is trying to send him away to never see his sorry mug ever again. Even if that family now includes someone who he himself disowned as family merely an hour or two ago.

…Shit, he really regretted that. He idly wondered if Ford might be regretting that whole conversation too, but Stan just shook his head before he got lost in that train of thought for too long.

Bill Cipher. It’s been a long time coming: Stan finally needs to confront the damn triangles with their damn eyes.

He still didn’t know what to make of the private study he found beneath this house all those years ago. But what he did know is that, whatever the geometric eyesore is, it’s dangerous. Stan has scoured every page of the second and third journals lately, blacklight included, and it was all… a lot to take in. Despite what Ford had said, Stan isn’t an idiot. He knows that triangle is bad news. He knows Ford was real chummy with the guy once and then fell out of line, with some rather disturbing pages in Dipper’s journal to prove it.

This demon triangle has been harassing his family. There’s entirely way too many triangles in this house, in his brother’s journals, in the kids’ dreams, in this family’s lives. And Stanley Pines is going to do something about it.

—

He swallowed down the static in his head and the cotton ball in his mouth as he waited for the elevator to carry him down to Hell. He was hoping beyond hope that this wasn’t a mistake.

Well, even if it was, he was doing it anyway. He’s pretty good at that. He’s sure Ford would be more than happy to remind him, even. Safest bet he’s ever gambled.

Once more partaking of their familiar 30-years-long song and dance, the elevator rattled and released Stan into the maw beneath this home for yet another time. Cautious feet stepped forward as he peered ahead, trying to locate his brother.

Stanford was in the portal cavern. Hands busy, head ducked down, sparks flying. The room was still a mess from the gravitational anomalies that had preceded the worst reunion in Stan’s life, though it looked like Ford had pushed some things into comparatively tidier piles. The portal was in even more pieces than it had been after the chaos earlier.

Alright. It’s showtime.

Stan wasn’t looking forward to it.

“We need to talk, Poindexter.”

The speed with which Ford whipped around, choking back a yelp, would have been impressive, perhaps funny, even, if Stan weren’t so anxious. Ford had damn near fallen over, peering towards the source of the sound with too-wide eyes as he dropped what he had been doing and reached beneath his coat towards his gun―

“Wh… Stanley–!”

Stan just shrugged. “Yeesh.” He felt as tired as Ford looked. It’s been a long day and now he’s come back down to this accursed old basement to make it even longer.

Before Ford could finish stringing together his thoughts or lacing his tongue with venom, Stan wagered to jump right into the train directly, disregarding the nausea settling in his stomach: “We gotta deal with that Bill Cipher guy, right? I don’t exactly understand what the sitch is but–”

He saw the ceiling rotate over him and felt his back collide with the floor before he could even blink, world spinning and stars infiltrating his vision as hard as his lungs hissed. He swallowed against the muzzle of Ford’s gun pressed to his neck, those angry owlish eyes boring mere inches away from his face, the man’s full body weight keeping Stan pinned flat; knees digging into thighs and wrists scrunched in a vice grip by an impossibly firm six-fingered hand. Ford growled. Oh sweet Moses, yeah this was going about as well as Stan figured it would.

Panic. Gotta say somethin’. “Oookay, uh, Ford… Stanford, care to explain why ya just came at me like a damn cheetah pouncin’ a bison?” A gruff cough betrayed the grin he tried to steady his heart rate with.

One second. Two seconds. Three seconds–

Confusion crossed over Ford’s eyes like a delayed signal, eyebrows furrowing as the gears in his brain turned. Stan swore he could see smoke coming out of this nerd’s ears. He blinked, spluttering, leaning back slightly with his grip on Stan’s wrists slacking. “Cheetahs and bisons aren’t even on the same continent, Stanley!”

Stan simply offered him a million-dollar grin and the best shrug he could in response. Which was difficult, by the way, thank you Ford. “Get off me, dammit.” Ford leaned back, letting Stan sit up, but frowned at him the entire time with his gun still primed and waaaay too close to Stan’s face for comfort. Was that a snarl? Seriously?

He was seconds away from figuring out what he was going to say next when an offensively bright light beamed into his eyes and shocked his mind to blankness, Ford’s hands gripping Stan’s face as he forced each eye open in turn before the light disappeared as suddenly as it had come. Stan swore furiously, waving his arms in front of his face and trying to scoot away, only succeeding once Ford finally backed off and let him free.

When Stan finished rubbing his eyes and pulling himself back onto his feet, he saw that Ford had returned to his earlier position of crouching by the ruined portal. Okay, seriously? All that bullshit that just happened and you’re desperate to shove your nose back into some busywork like I’m not even here–

“...How do you know about Bill, Lee?” Ford was back on his feet, body facing Stanley though eyes downcast as though the floor could answer his questions instead. Stan hesitated, the bite of his anger gradually receding as his eyes took in his brother for what might truly be the first real time since he walked through that luminous, ephemeral, triangular frame of metal. His eyes drank in the deep, dark circles under Stanford’s cracked glasses, the pasty color of his skin, the patchy stubble on his face, the sweat sliding down his forehead from his mop of greasy mussed-up hair…

The way his closed fists were trembling as if taut with tension, just like his brow and his lip, presenting a portrait of a Poindexter who was teetering on the cusp of erupting into his own flaming supernova where he stood. Stan knew that feeling. Had partied with it multiple times. He was intimately familiar with the way it burrowed a hole in your chest in place of your heart: a fear that was all-consuming, an anxiety that buzzed beneath one’s skin; a frantic, off-kilter energy that kept a ragged man going on his feet when he had nothing else yet couldn’t bear to simply not care.

This was a man who was running on fumes, no fuel left in the tank, and ready to collapse into non-existence the moment the strings puppeting him forward decided to stop yanking him along.

A man with one reason to live, yet even that reason is barely enough. The worst buried secret in the world; a heavy weight plain as day upon his shoulders and carving out the marrow of his bones.

Stanley recognized pretty easily the poorly-hidden tells of devastated fear and utter exhaustion in his brother’s body language. Because he had lived like that, too. Because he still struggled to remind himself when it wasn’t one of those days.

Sixer had never looked so… small.

Stan heaved a deep breath, slow and rickety enough for him to feel it vibrate down his limbs.

“Read ‘bout him in your journals.” Ford’s head lifted slightly, eyes flashing to Stan’s face. “...‘Nd the kids had the misfortune of fightin’ him.” Stanley might as well have punched Ford directly through his core for all that the words, hanging in the air, impacted this man and hung despair on his face. “‘Course, they don’t know that I know that.”

“... What happened?” His brother’s voice was barely a whisper, almost a keening whine from his lungs as he ran his hands through his hair and down his face, fingers creeping under his glasses to push into his eyes as he massaged his temples. It was like his eyebrows hadn’t left his hairline in minutes, the creases in his forehead deep enough to age him by another few decades.

Stan hobbled over to the ruins of the portal, taking a moment to stretch his lower back before sitting on the cold stone and patting the ground next to him. Ford didn’t immediately follow, but kept his eyes trained on him the whole time. Stan just started talking anyway.

“Alright, without talkin’ to the kids about it I don’t got the whole picture, but I got enough. Some rascal kid that was freakin’ Mabel out tried to take the Shack. Same kid who found your second journal, wherever the hell that was.” Ford had carefully stepped closer, hovering over Stan before letting himself sink into place on the floor beside him. He looked like he didn’t know what to do with his hands and was awkwardly twiddling all twelve of his fingers while he listened, muscles in his face twitching.

“Mabes and Soos saw this kid, Gideon is his name, summoning the guy. Bill, I mean. Made a deal with ‘im to go in my head ‘nd find the code to my safe, so he could steal the deed to the Shack.” Ford raised an eyebrow, making his posture straighter for a moment as he prepared to speak before Stan just continued and cut him off. “The kids used that spell in yer third book to go into m’ head, uh, my mindscape, and fight him out. Whatever they did, it worked, though that piece of geometry didn’t seem to amount to much compared ta what that Gideon did next anyways. Kid had a plan B that didn’t involve Bill.”

“You weren’t there for this.” Ford said it like a statement, but with an intonation to his voice that made it an inquiry. Stan shook his head. “I was out cold. Not sure I even dreamed that night.” Ford nodded.

Silence chilled the air between these old men as Stan cracked his neck and began popping every one of his knuckles in turn, only releasing his breath once he was finished. Ford wanted nothing more than to break this silence, to urge Stan to continue, but it felt… sacred, somehow. Once Stan was ready, he balled his hands into fists and snorted. “S’next part really pisses me off.” He didn’t notice Ford gulp and tentatively hover a hand in his direction before changing his mind.

“I dunno what was said, I dunno what it all looked like, but that bastard got in Dipper’s head, got in his body.”

He suddenly turned to look at Ford, eyes wide. “He hurt him. Gave him scars. Gave him nightmares. Gave Mabel nightmares, too.” Stan’s mouth opened and closed, hanging strangely for a moment while his eyebrows knit together. “...Bill left a note, Stanford. For Mabel to find.”

One shaky inhale later, he continued. “Was gonna… jump off the water tower. Invited Mabel to the same.” He turned away from Ford, leaning back against the portal again and flexing his fingers, shoulders tense while he cracked his neck again. Stan’s gaze was forward and distant, a hollow feeling taking over his face and posture.

A loud slam startled him back into awareness.

Ford had sat up and punched the piece of portal he had been leaning against, struggling with growled breaths of air and trembling shoulders. He grit his teeth and punched it again. And again. Then he tottered to his feet and slapped both open palms into the metal, dipping his head forward and colliding against it. He hissed, rearing his head back like he was preparing for a larger blow―

“Woah― hey, hey, Ford! Stanford!” Stan was on his feet in no time and shoved Ford away from the portal, digging his hands down into Ford’s shoulders to hopefully keep him immobile. Ford wobbled and refused to meet his eyes, but Stan managed to keep him rooted where his feet stood. “What the hell was that about? Ford, buddy, are–”

Ford growled again and yanked himself backwards out of Stan’s hands, but made no move towards the portal. Stan’s hands floated, the man hesitating while he tried to put together what to say while his brain was still buzzing from whatever the heck it was that just happened.

“...My fault…”

Stanley froze, unsure if he heard that right.

“It’s my fault! I’m the reason why the kids are hurt, I’m the reason why they can’t sleep in peace. This is my fault, damn it!” Stan couldn’t entirely understand the next few words Sixer spoke, like some kind of foreign language, but he didn’t need to. His brother slumped over to the portal, giving it a half-hearted kick before leaning one shoulder on it and crumpling down to the floor. He tucked his face into his knees and wrapped his arms around his bent legs in a gesture that Stan well and truly understood.

Seeing his brother like this gave him flashbacks of a different time, of back when two young boys had spent the sweltering afternoon venting about life on a beach with grains of sand and glass between their toes. The shade of a patched-up wooden boat enveloped them in comfort much like the warm, salty air did the same. Stan needed to punch what was making Sixer feel this way. Stan needed to hug his brother. Stan needed to protect him and take care of him and make sure he never felt like this ever again. Down here in a stuffy basement in Oregon, Stan could have swore he smelled the ocean for just a moment. He licked his lips and tasted salt.

But when he reached a hand out to Stanford’s shoulder this time, his brother slapped it away and glared daggers at him. “It’s your fault for interrupting me during my fight! You should not have turned the portal back on!” Stan gaped at him and reeled back from the outburst of rage and accusation, his head feeling like an out-of-control jackhammer of confusion and pain.

He saw a nerdy little boy shaking his head, shoving his twin’s chest, and running out of the shade, running out of the sand, his snot-nosed face poorly hidden in the crook of an elbow.

“This was an insanely risky move, restarting the portal! Didn't you read my warnings?!”

“Stanley! Stanley! Do something! STANLEY!!”

Memories and voices from hours to years past spun a cacophony in his brain, a terrible chokehold that rattled the old man and stole his tongue. The room felt as though it were trying to take the air from his chest, twisting and swaying and becoming smaller around him. The broken portal sneered at him, trying to scare him away with taunts of his mistakes, with visions of a brother who pushed him into a burning hot panel 30 years ago and would gladly shove him out of his life today. It felt boiling, perspiration rolling down these walls of stone while sweat poured down his face and his burnt shoulder throbbed, stung, and scarred just like yesterday.

There was a painful pressure between his ears that urged him to leave, to escape, to find safety in a dark corner out of sight and as far away from here as possible like he failed to do three decades ago. If he stayed here then this grisly room, no, this ghastly portal, were going to squeeze his guts out inch-by-inch and break his bones one-by-one, the lightest punishment they could sentence him with. The eye of the portal would be judge, jury, and executioner, even from the floor as it was. He thought the laughter coming from the elevator behind his back sounded like his brother’s… only, higher-pitched and strangely distorted. Something off-putting, much like how he is out of place and out of his league in this basement. He was the one who willingly came back down here, letting his feet bring him to Hell. He was the one who dared to talk to Stanford. He should flee Oregon, he should ditch his name again, he should take Ford’s journal and go back out through the blitzing snow and leave and―

Stan closed his eyes, eyebrows scrunched as hard as humanly possible while he thought about why he came down here in the first place.

Bill.

Bill Cipher.

Right, that’s right.

That triangular devil.

The ruckus in his head slowed down all at once as he pictured Ford’s intricate drawings and written warnings, his mind’s eye blocking everything else out as it tunneled in on what mattered the most. A glowing triangle seated amidst a blackness that blanketed the cavern around him in an act of grace which smothered his fevered thoughts. A white hot fury in Stan’s chest that radiated outwards in this dark, musty basement, encouraging him forward. The portal was nothing more than piles of scrap, tape, and screws. The elevator was silent with only rust and age to its name. His brother was home. Stanford was here. Ford and Bill. His brother punched him in the face.

Stan huffed and abruptly spun away from Stanford, stomping over to the control hub area of the lab. Upon returning to the portal chamber moments later carrying one of those clear pyramid prisms, he made eye contact with Ford and then roared as he chucked the pyramid into the stone floor with all the might he could. Unsurprisingly, unfortunately, it did not shatter or break. Stan knew it wouldn’t. He’s taken out his stress on it before.

Ford was startled by Stan’s sudden violence, jumping at the impact noise and cringing as the prism rolled an echoing clatter across the floor. He swallowed when Stan whipped around to face him, his brother’s eyes searing a fierce unforgiving flame into his retinas as he glowered.

“Let me make myself clear. I’ve READ yer nerd diaries, Stanford. I KNOW ya have that really damn creepy room down here with this triangle bastard all over the walls, ‘nd I also know the last things you wrote about him were ugly as all hell.” He crossed his arms, turning his head to look real hard at the shadows in the corner. “I get it, whatever, you think it’s a mistake that I saved ya, you think it’s just another worthless screw-up from Stanley Pines. I don’t need a reminder of how much ya hate me.”

“Stanley–”

The con man snarled, meeting Ford’s eyes again. “What’s important right now is this guy is messin’ with our family. I dunno how you know this guy or what all happened between ya, but if you care at all about protecting the kids then let’s just go find some unicorns or whatever the hell and take care of this weirdo already! Then I’ll be outta your hair just like you wanted ‘nd we can pretend this all never happened.”

He shoved a finger at Ford, stepping closer. “‘Nd I don’t wanna hear it outta your mouth that any of this is your fault. I won’t stand for you badmouthing yourself, and I don’t wanna see you hurtin’ yourself again.” His eyes flickered to the portal frame briefly. “I am gonna protect this family from that demon monster and that includes you no matter how much you make it clear you don’t wanna see my sorry face. So DEAL with it, Poindexter, and stuff it.”

With that, Stanley stomped his foot and went to lean against the portal a little farther away from Ford. Ford couldn’t seem to swallow the tension in the air down enough no matter how hard he tried, sheepishly keeping his head turned down towards his feet.

The only sound that hazarded being heard now was the ever-present hum of resting machinery in the nearby control room. Red, white, green, and blue lights slowly blinking in and out of existence. Dark screens and large windows reflecting blackness and the distant visage of two upset twin brothers. A glossy, framed photograph of Dipper and Mabel smiling at the camera; Dipper giving Mabel bunny ears while she stuck her fingers in her mouth and stretched her face into the silliest, widest smile she could.

Twin siblings sharing the moment together like nobody else could do it better.

A captured memory of two kids being kids.

Happy memories from the beginning of an Oregon summer that supervised the final stretch of Stan’s very long 30 years, now bookended at last by the portal finally turning on.

Happy memories from nostalgic summers on Glass Shard Beach that safeguarded Stan through his shivers in the sleepless night, jacket pulled tight around his shoulders while he waited out the bite of winter in his car.

A worn photo of two boys that burned a hole in Stanford’s chest where the pocket of his black coat rested.

Dust hung in the air for minutes, fluttering in a draft so small it might have been imagined. Silence that built itself into a fortress, brick by brick. Tension that polluted the very air, threading it into thick, inedible cotton and dry tongues.

Breaking the silence had never felt less appealing. It would have been preferred had a chasm opened up and swallowed him instead.

Ford wiped his hands down his face again and sighed. “Alright. I can accept that I need to tell you about Bill. You are the other adult here and the primary guardian of these children. You’re already involved, anyway.” In his peripheral he caught Stan looking at him in the corner of his eye, clearly listening.

“Bill is… a dream demon made of energy who possesses no physical form in our world. He must manifest through dreams–projecting into our mindscapes–to interact with our realm. Or… make a deal that gives him control of a human body. Like… Like a puppet.” It didn’t escape Stan’s notice how Ford cringed, shame and fear washing over his face instantaneously.

“The purpose of the portal is to enable Bill access to our world in the flesh with his own physical body. Then he can use his god-like powers to take over and wreak havoc upon human society as we know it, bringing the whole of planet Earth, nay, Dimension 46'\, to pure chaos and ruin.”

As Ford continued to speak, Stan carefully came back closer and sat down on the floor again, trying not to grimace at his back as he did so. He was careful not to touch Ford. For but a moment he felt dizzy as he lowered himself, swimming colors in his vision putting his knees in sand before he blinked and was back on the stone floor.

“I… There is a deal between Cipher and I that is still in effect, but I have a metal plate in my head now that nullifies his influence over me. So I am safe.” At Stan’s raised eyebrow, Ford knocked his knuckles against his forehead. Sure enough, Stan heard the metallic echo.

Stan licked his lips, trying to choose his next words carefully. “If ya got that while in sci-fi sideburns land, then… you didn’t have it when ya asked me to come here, back in the 80’s.”

Ford seemed surprised, but nodded, looking at him.

“Is this guy the reason why you looked so god-awful back then?”

“...Indeed. I had only recently found out about his true intentions and was trying to thwart his efforts with the portal. He… was not happy about that and tried everything to get back at me, to sabotage my efforts, to win, and to punish me for even trying to resist.” Ford swallowed, glancing away while his fingers tapped at each his knuckles, eyes somewhere else and filled with long-buried memories. Was each word he spoke making him seem smaller, or was that Stan’s imagination?

Stan knew he was receiving the sanitized version of the story. It was written all over Stanford’s face: he was trying to be detached, objective, clinical. Like he was relaying scientific information from a formal paper and not reluctantly spilling secrets about his traumatic personal life story. But Stanley couldn’t find it in himself to blame him, not really, not when he knew he’d do the same if he had to talk about… Rico. Ford had created what might be the most acceptable version of events to present to Stan, the extent of what Ford himself could swallow, the most he could face his own shame and torment. It chilled Stan’s heart as he felt the cold sorrow creep into his nerves. This was just one more miserable thing that Stan wished he couldn’t relate to his brother about. Ford should never have gone through this, no, Stan should be the only one, and yet…

“...Stanford, in the days after I lost ya, I cleaned up a buncha junk in this house. Nonsense scribbles ‘nd piles of paper, old dishes, shards of coffee mugs, sticky notes covered in eyes, weirdo science books.” This time Stanley didn’t hesitate to put a hand on Ford’s shoulder. “There was a lotta blood. Random messes of it on piles ‘nd notes. Bloody bandages in the bathrooms. Bloody handprints on wrecked walls ‘nd doors with broken locks. Bloody clothing under your bed, crammed into piles of laundry...”

Ford leaned his head back against the portal and took in a large, stuttering inhale. His motions were slow, hesitant, like the pins and needles in his limbs were pinning the cavity of his chest open and revealing himself to Stan; the flayed pages of a tattered open book against his will. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew he had to talk about this eventually, but he always hoped he could just ignore it and handle it on his own. His brother didn’t deserve to be roped into this burden. This was Ford’s problem, Ford’s pain, and Ford’s mess, no one else’s.

Yet, hearing the truth that Bill had been winding his spindly claws into the kids, into Lee, during Ford’s absence… made the gut-wrenching scope of this plague undeniable. The plague Ford unleashed upon not only this world but his family. He swore he could feel the sticky wetness of his great-niblings’ blood on his hands.

Ford noticed a question in Stanley’s wide eyes and, while hesitant, nodded. This was all the answer he needed to give. His brother simply understood. But Ford forced it out of his throat anyway. "Yes… The blood was Bill's doing."

This time, Stan was the one who punched the portal, cursing and sneering at what remained of the triangular structure. “I was so far up my own ass that I couldn’t even protect my own twin brother after he reached out to me for help… All I did was yell, fight, ‘nd shove someone who was hurt, someone who was scared ‘nd needed me to do something and I didn’t…!”

Ford’s reaction was immediate: clumsy and unfamiliar yet harkening back to what Stanley had thought was long gone and left beaten and buried in the sand. “Stanley, no… No, no no, you didn’t have a clue. Because I didn’t tell you enough, you could not possibly have known. I escalated the argument with you and I fought back. I don’t… think it would be right to fault you on that.” His hands were held up, fingers curled and loose and unsure what to do but yearning to reassure Lee, hankering to clarify and correct about Ford’s mistakes and where the blame lay so someone else need not falsely feel that vice.

Stan stared at him, shoulders rising and falling as his breathing returned to an even and steady rhythm. He didn’t really know what expression he had on his face, and judging by the look on Ford’s, that genius had no idea, either. He exhaled something fierce, erratically rubbing his hands up and down his face. He settled back down after a while of de-stressing and slouched against the portal debris again, looking like he didn’t really care about how he landed or if he were sitting comfortably or not.

One inhale. One exhale.

He twisted his torso to face his twin.

“But you think it’s right to fault me on other things.” Ford averted his eyes. Stan clicked his tongue. “Whatever… So what do we need to do? Make that unicorn barrier crap, smash this ugly piece of work back into scraps,” –he rapped his knuckles on the metal over his shoulder– “and then what? Anything we gotta do to the kids? Ya better not suggest installing metal into their skulls, Sixer, or so help me god.”

His brother spluttered at that, staring at Stan incredulously. “No, of course not! Besides, I wouldn’t trust anyone in this dimension to successfully pull off such a surgery.”

“Oh yeah? Aliens got it that much better than us?”

“Eh…” Ford shrugged his shoulders and made a so-so gesture with his hand. “It depends on where you look. I cannot say that consistency is a term the multiverse is particularly familiar with…”

Stan leaned closer and clapped Ford’s back as he laughed. “Ha! Not so different from us, huh.”

His brother could only just muster up an awkward chuckle alongside him.

“That aside… Yes, I believe you have the correct idea about how to tackle the… Bill problem. I intend to review my journals again for the sake of verifying my old memories pertaining to some key details, and then I will take care of it. I will disassemble the portal and erect a unicorn hair barrier–”

Stan cleared his throat in the most obnoxious way he could. “Ahem. You ain’t doin’ this alone, Poindexter. We’ll destroy the portal, and we’ll put up the barrier.” He raised a hand when it looked like Ford was going to protest. “Uh-uh, I’ve read those diaries more than you have at this point, or one of ‘em anyway. Ya can’t keep me out of this ‘nd you are not gonna do this alone, do I make myself clear?” He wiggled his fingers and flashed a well-practiced salesman’s grin.

Ford’s face contorted through a few different emotions before he finally hung his head and sighed, crossing his arms. “Fine.” He straightened to his feet and gestured over his shoulder for Stan to follow him to the control hub room, not looking back once.

This was going better than Stanley had dared to let himself hope. It still felt like Ford was at risk of exploding if Stan said the wrong thing, but his brother apparently didn’t have as much fight in him as he had earlier that day. Or when Stan first came down here, for that matter. He rubbed his wrists and winced his left eye toward what surely must be a fully formed bruise on his face by now.

He wanted to say he was happy, but as he swallowed around the rough feeling in his throat he knew he couldn’t fool himself about that. This sucked balls. His earlier attempt at levity seemed promising at first, but it was like trying to hold back the might of the entire ocean when Ford slipped right back into trying to exclude Stan again. This dense pressure surrounding his brother was suffocating, impenetrable, and something in Stan’s chest that he tried not to think about hurt like a raw wound at the realization that he didn’t really know how to broach this wall of Ford’s like he once used to.

Something in his chest chafed even more when he thought about how he didn’t really know how to talk to Ford like he used to, either. In fact, Stan didn’t feel like he had managed to actually talk to Stanford straight for once during this entire confrontation. He was being tolerated and he knew his brother was probably silently pleading for him to go away and leave him to his misery so he could mope around until this awful day finally came to a close. Would they repeat this song and dance tomorrow? …Would it be worth it to?

But despite all the eggshells, they had managed to connect just a little bit about their shared concern for the kids. He tried not to think about their shared pains from the past decades, something which was undeterred despite both twins living such wildly different lives.

Maybe Stanley doesn’t need anything else. Just think about the kids.

This is fine. This is surely fine.

Don’t think about the end of summer.

Don’t think about a rickety old boat casting shadows on the beach.

He entered the control room just in time to be shaken out of his daze. He watched as Ford arranged all three journals on the desk… and suddenly collapsed, holding onto the desk’s edge for dear life before he hit the floor.

Ford raised a hand to keep Stan away, fingers wiggling something indecipherable, limbs visibly shaking as he forced himself into a seated position on the nearby desk chair. He immediately staggered forward, elbows hitting the hard surface and his face sinking to hide in his hands, glasses falling down to land haphazardly on Journal #2.

Stan felt like he was watching his brother crumble into pieces.

Pieces of glass smothered in sand.

After another moment, he cautiously approached his twin, unsure what exactly happened.

“My apologies,” Ford rubbed his eyes, swallowing and bouncing his legs on the balls of his feet while he sat. “I’ve wasted so many decades of my life on that accursed charlatan.”

His sunken eyes glanced over at Stanley through his fingers like that was all he had the energy to do.

“I was one trigger away from having finally wiped myself clean of him before I was unceremoniously forced back here.” He scrunched his eyes closed, teeth grinding as he grimaced. “I shouldn’t be here, my life should have been spent on taking him down, on redeeming myself for being so big a fool as to fall for his schemes!” His arms swung to hang limply down at his sides as he leaned back, face staring up at nothing on the ceiling.

Like a doll with no control of its limbs. A puppet left to rot somewhere without strings.

“And yet he and I both persist, continuing to unjustly live, and it simply isn’t enough that he has me wrapped around his fingers, but now I find out that fiend is harassing the kids as well!” Ford’s words tapered into a roar, the spike of energy pushing him to lean forward far too fast while his round eyes located Stanley in the room’s dull light. He ground his hands against his knees, needing some kind of anchor.

“That’s personal, Stanley, I can’t help but fear that it must harken back to his gleeful torment of me all those years ago where he knew I was trapped and was toying with my psyche. He’s happy to hurt my family because he’s happy to hurt me, because he knew I wasn’t here to stop him, and he can laud his power over my head and rub my own powerlessness and failures back in my face, and… a-and…”

Stan’s arms were wrapped around his brother before he even finished registering that Ford’s voice tripped into a broken choke.

Ford cried out, “And when… when I saw all three of my old journals laid out bare here, I felt heavier than ever the monumental weight of my mistakes and how wretched my life has been. How, just how, could I have gotten my niece and nephew caught up in my disaster?”

The raw wound in Stan’s chest throbbed as he took in those words, the weight of them carving a home where he was already torn asunder and bruised.

Stanford’s full body lurched as he sobbed in his brother’s arms and gasped throttled breaths of air, returning the hug and scrunching the material of Stan’s shirt beneath all twelve of his fingers. “I’m so tired, Lee, I’m tired of Cipher! I’m tired of forcing those around me to continually suffer from my mistakes! I’m tired of running, I’m tired of being a puppet, of.. of being his toy, his property that he can jostle around the board as he pleases…!”

Stan began to rub small, gentle circles into Ford’s back while he thought over what he’d just heard, the motion so natural to him and so ingrained in his muscles that he didn’t need to think about it twice. For his brother to expose his heart like this… It was truly serious. It set Stan’s face in a grave expression. Not that long ago a rekindled relationship between the two of them had seemed impossible, and yet Stan now held the delicate reins of responsibility, an instinct burning inside him that made him want to protect his twin. He didn’t want to mess this up. He wanted to be there for his twin the way he should have been three decades ago.

He kept rubbing his brother’s back as the two of them sat there on the sand with their eyes closed, sniffles being carried away by the ambience of the ocean and tears falling down to the beach beneath their feet. Wet droplets left dark marks in the sand as though they could become sea glass.

Soon the sky was awash in pink and orange, and the cold shadow of the Stan o’ War stretched longer and longer, reminiscent of young boys chasing after the last remnants of dimming sunlight.

Once Ford’s sobbing diminished to but a few sniffles, Stan made his decision.

He picked up his twin’s glasses and gently sat them back on his face.

“I know this isn’t what you wanna hear right now, but, let’s get ya in the shower, and I’ll cook up some warm food for ya before we get ya to bed.” Ford lifted his head off Stan’s chest just a little, quizzically raising an eyebrow. “You need rest, Sixer, or else you’re gonna keel over ‘nd die before ya can do anything about Bill. It’s been one hell of a day.”

“But… The kids. Bill is too dangerous to ignore.” Ford’s voice was small and pathetic, yet as determined as he could make it. The familiar scared face of an insecure little boy standing on the edge of help and hurt. On the edge of where the tides meet the sands.

“I know, I know. You said the metal plate makes ya safe, right? The portal’s non-functional ‘nd in pieces that woulda taken me months to fix, ‘nd the kids are in the attic, prolly pretendin’ to sleep, so…”

“So…?”

“So I think we can afford to spend a lil’ time on makin’ sure you don’t fall apart first, brainiac. We’ll need that bright brain of yours runnin’ on something more than ten cups of alien coffee, right?”

Ford was struck with a look of astonishment following that comment. “Coffee… I can have Dimension 46'\ coffee again! Oh how I have missed it terribly; nothing else ever compared.”

His eyes glittered like Stanley had just hung the stars in front of an aspiring child.

Ford leaned back from Stan, using the collar of his black turtleneck to wipe the wetness from his cheeks. “I… do not like it or feel entirely comfortable with it, but I will concede that you have a point that’s hard to argue. I’ll freshen up my hygiene if you include coffee with whatever food you make– I do not care what time it is right now.”

“You’re s'posed ta go to sleep, knucklehead, but sure, I’ll make ya a mean coffee,” Stan chuckled as he swapped his hands over to patting Ford’s shoulder a couple times before stepping back to give him some space. The soothing lull of cool waves echoed and receded from farther and farther away. “Ha! I am unsure even coffee could keep me going on my feet tonight, as much as I would prefer it to.”

They both turned towards the elevator and had managed to take a single step before Ford abruptly stopped. He turned back towards the portal room, glancing between it and Stanley, his brows set in a worry. “I need to check something…!”

Stan just shrugged. “S’long as it won’t be too much work.”

“Excellent! Now, if you’ll excuse me.” His coat billowed behind him as he rushed out into the cavern.

Stan didn’t follow him all the way, but did hover near the entrance, leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed. “So what’s got ya in a tizzy?”

“It is of crucial importance that I check for any possible rifts.” Ford looked over his shoulder to verify where Stan was before he continued. “During my travels between dimensions, I had to track where potential rifts might form in order to continue my journey. While some rifts were man-made, or should I say alien-made, others simply occurred as a natural consequence of the unnatural frayed fabric of reality. Like a hole in a piece of cloth whose threads weaken, loosen, and allow additional holes to form.”

“So in other words, yer lookin’ for smaller holes near the portal?” He couldn’t help but smile like an idiot just a little bit. It was nice to hear his nerd brother again.

“Precisely! Seeing as our shiny punched hole in reality here was designed to lead to the Nightmare Realm, also known as Bill’s domain, I fear that any rifts will follow in those footsteps and do the– Aha! Stanley, could you bring me a borosilicate jar?”

“Come again?”

“Laboratory glassware! I need a resealable container, such as a jar. I used to have some spares sitting around here somewhere…”

Stan disguised a chuckle with a cough as he watched Ford crouch near the far corner, legs and hands splayed far apart, before turning to go fetch what was needed. When he returned, Ford was several feet away from the corner and busy with his hands on the portal instead.

He jumped when Stan suddenly slapped his shoulder. “What did I just tell ya about takin’ a break? Anyway, here’s your jar.”

Ford sheepishly nodded and retrieved it from him. He inspected it for a few moments, removing and replacing the lid a few times, before going back to the corner. Stan tried to stand on his tippy toes to peer at what the heck a rift might look like without getting any closer to the corner. He observed as Ford swung his arm in wide arcs and seemed to be capturing… floating blobs of spacey stardust? He thought they’d make for a cool alien lava lamp. I bet I can sell that.

His brother turned back to face him, sealed jar clasped between his hands.

“There we have it! It is but a small thing for the time being, but we will need to seal it and monitor it in case of any changes. I believe I know just the thing and can have this taken care of…”

Stan gave him a look. He put a lot of work in making sure that unimpressed eyebrow was as judgmental as it could be.

“...We’ll take care of it tomorrow.” Ford looked a little dejected as he changed course, sighing wistfully.

Stan gave him a thumbs up. His brother just snorted, shaking his head and smiling as he walked past and back into the control room. He seemed ponderous, one hand on his chin while he considered whatever it was he was thinking about, and then he opened a cabinet on the wall and locked the jar away inside.

“Ready to head upstairs now?” Stan was back by the elevator.

“Yes, I believe so. Well, no, but I accept that I should.”

For a short while, the tension between the twins had disappeared. But the elevator felt suffocating again.

Ford kept fidgeting and looking everywhere except at Stan. When Stan caught his eye once, he cleared his throat. Ford took in a deep breath.

“Stanley… It is very difficult. I do not have the words for everything it is that I am feeling, and everything that I want to say to you. I am still unsure of a lot of things, not the least of which is myself. But… I am glad to be home.” The wrinkles on his face were the softest Stan had ever seen them.

It wasn’t a thank you, but it was close enough for now. Close enough for Stan’s face to beam into a great big toothy, giddy grin. “Glad to have ya here.”

When the elevator reached their destination at the top and Ford made a motion to leave, Stan held him back with a hand on his shoulder. Ford turned to him, eyebrows raised questioningly.

Stan averted his eyes and coughed into his free fist. “I, uh… Sorry. For earlier today. You’ll always be my family, ya nerd.”

Ford gave him a small smile. “Me too… I apologize for punching you earlier. I am not entirely sure why I did, honestly.”

Stan shrugged, then wrapped his arm around Ford’s shoulders in a hearty embrace. “Eh, stress ‘nd nerves probably. ‘Sides, you sound like ya could use somethin’ to punch!” He gesticulated dramatically with his free hand as though he were painting a picture for Ford to see. “Maybe we can pull out that boxing dummy from storage tomorrow ‘nd draw a triangle on it!”

“Oh that isn’t necessary, Stanley…” Stanford snorted, leaning into Stan as his laughter made him less steady on his feet. “Nah don’t worry about it Sixer, I wanna punch it too. And if that guy ever shows up here again, I’ll punch him for real!”

Stanley grabbed both of Ford’s shoulders as his laughter died down, turning his brother to face him. “I really mean it, ya know. Don’t gotta ask me twice. Easiest sell of m’ life, even. No one messes with my family like that ‘nd gets off scot-free, ya hear me?”

Ford visibly swallowed and gave a tiny nod.

“... Thank you. I appreciate it.”

They shook the sand off their shoes as they stepped out of the elevator.

They held each other for support as they trekked through the ocean, waves lapping at their calves as they climbed the stairs one step at a time.

When they stepped through the vending machine, the nostalgic laughter of two twin little boys wrapped around them like a scarf before evaporating into ocean mist.

The vending machine had only been closed for a second before Mabel bounded right up to her Grunkles and planted herself right into their legs, trying to wrap her short arms around them both in a hug. Stan gestured for Dipper to come over as he and Ford crouched down to Mabel’s height, apparently already knowing that the little dork was nearby. Ford watched as Dipper meekly came from around the corner and joined them, repeatedly glancing between Stan and Ford all the while.

Stan spread his arms wide and trapped all of his family in a big bear hug, laughing and feeling weightless and the most alive he has in years. “I knew ya little knuckleheads wouldn’t be asleep! Tell ya what, I was about to make some Stancakes ‘nd coffee for my nerd brother here. How ‘bout I make a few ‘nd some hot chocolate for the two of ya, ‘nd then you can head to bed this time?”

Dipper’s guilty smile fell sideways into laughter as Stan broke the hug to noogy him and his sister, but Mabel was undeterred by her hair getting ruffled. “You better give me extra marshmallows and heaps of glitter!”

“Yes Stanley, and I better have no less than four tablespoons of sugar in my coffee.”

“A-and I want four Stancakes, Grunkle Stan!”

Stan broke out in a belly laugh and clapped Ford’s back as he stood up straight. “Sheesh, no wonder none of ya can sleep!”

He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this positively about the future. The spring in his step and the healing salve on his heart nearly made him feel like a new man. As he pulled out the flour and baking soda and opened the fridge to grab the milk and butter, he couldn’t help but feel like no matter what may happen, things would work out just fine.

[frankiebirds]

the day i stop thinking about the ending of s02e11 sex, birth, death is the day i die.

like. reid coming extremely close to needing to be dragged away from nathan?

both garcia and reid's expressions here? reid, who cares for and identifies with nathan, garcia, who has (i believe) never seen a dead body* in person? (also, you can't see it here because it's a still image, but reid's breath is hitching here and he looks close to hyperventilating)

*i know nathan is not dead here, nor does he die at all—the point im making is that having never seen a dead body in person before would make you more unprepared for seeing the aftermath of an unsuccessful suicide attempt than someone who has

reid makes no movement to clean the blood off his hands until gideon is right in front of him. he just stands there and stares like hes dissociating until gideon comes up and, in my opinion, sort of startles him into acting.

and gideon putting an arm around reid and taking him away from the scene while morgan does the same to garcia. hhhh.

this is the most emotional we see reid get up to this point. he's yelling while he's trying to keep nathan arrive, enough to strain his voice. i dont think hes so much as raised his voice at all up to this point.

i wonder how long he washed his hands for before he deemed himself "clean".

[fallloverfic]

TGCF donghua Season 2, Episode 7 thoughts

More screaming about TGCF. As usual, very good ep. Spoilers for the show and the book below.

T-T Hua Cheng is so mean to E-Ming/himself.

Mu Qing is so happy he made his dice T-T And Feng Xin stole them!!!!

The crocodile monsters are really neat looking. I'm wondering why the creative team didn't just stick with designing monsters instead of what they did in that one episode.

Splash war alkdjaldkjalj This episode is for the FengQing lovers, truly. They're the best/worst. Love them.

Meanwhile Hualian:

Hua Cheng to Xie Lian: Whenever you need me, baby, call me, beep me, if you wanna reach me

Xie Lian being the typical "dude you didn't specify it had to be swords and being weird about it is stupid" is my jam. I love him.

Xie Lian to Lang Qianqiu: "I have always been like this." -gazes into the distance sadly- "You just didn't know."

This makes me T-T T-T T-T I just love like the central message about how much of our perceptions of people we know informs what we "know" about them. And how it's very easy to let other people draw their own conclusions, and how dangerous that can be. And how people will blame the gap between their perceived reality and reality on the subject of their perceptions, and how dangerous that is.

Xie Lian to Lang Qianqiu: "Don't make an inviolable monument to me in your heart without my consent. -camera focuses on San Lang- I am not the person you imagined. And in the end, it's your own disappointment."

T-T Central message hereeee. Hua Cheng this gonna bite you in the butt next ep.

Sorry, distracted by how Lang Qianqiu's hair crown looks like a cat.

(I'm sure I'm not the first to point that out but here I am pointing it out cause :3).

Hua Cheng stepping forward to stand next to Xie Lian -heart eyes- It takes very little to make me Emotional about them okay???

Lang Qianqiu to Xie Lian: "If you want to force me into self-destruction like you, I absolutely won't! No matter how you treat me, I will never become like you!"

Xie Lian: -terrifying laughter-

Hua Cheng: -not pleased with this-

Qianqiu doll!!! He's so cute!!!

SCREAMS

HE'S HERE!!!!! XD My beloved awful man is HERE XD

Demon Hualian is so cute tho

Wonderful episode :3 Can't wait to see more of favorite awful man and how disastrous Hua Cheng's decision will be.

Subs weren't as noticeably bad this week (some awkward phrasing in places but mostly nothing egregious). Though why Qi Rong is the "Green Immor" is anyone's guess. Wouldn't be as terrible if they didn't repeat it so much.

Other episode thoughts for season 2 (didn't start till episode 3):

S02E03

S02E04

S02E05

S02E06

S02E07 (you are here)

S02E08

S02E09

S02E10

S02E11

S02E12

[therighthandofvengeance]

Just Some of Ivanova & Sheridan’s Peak Sibling Moments in The Coming of Shadows

POINTS OF DEPARTURE [S02E01]:

“You were never worried about being diplomatic before. Don’t disappoint me by starting now.”

REVELATIONS [S02E02]:

“He’s [President Clark] on Gold Channel One; wants to speak to you. Unless you’d like me to have him call you back later—” “Ivanova.”

A DISTANT STAR [S02E04]:

“Why don’t you take a break?” “Why don’t you? …Sir.”

THE LONG DARK [S02E05]:

“You got a plan?” “Just try not to get killed.” “Brilliant.”

SPIDER IN THE WEB [S02E06]:

“You know how I feel about telepaths.” “[Scoffing] Do I ever. You threw one out of a third-story window on Io.” “There was an ample pool below the window.” “I’ll assume you knew that.”

SOUL MATES [S02E07]:

“And lastly, the party honoring Ambassador Mollari’s day of ascension is tonight. All attendees must be barefoot.” “Barefoot?” “Barefoot.”

A RACE THROUGH DARK PLACES [S02E08]:

“Were you like this when you were married?” “Huh? Yeah.” “The woman was a saint.” “Well, at least I’m an intelligent life form, according to the Minbari.”

“You snore.” “No, I don’t.” “Yes, you do.” “No, I don’t.” “Captain, either you snore or last night we had a hell of a breach in the hull.”

THE COMING OF SHADOWS [S02E09]:

“If it’s true, they won’t want that information to get out.” “What information? All we have here is supposition.” “Sheridan’s rule #29: Always make your opponent think you know more than you really know.”

ALL ALONE IN THE NIGHT [S02E11]:

“Now, this is more like it.” “Now, Captain—” “Yes, Commander?” “If you continue this behavior, you’ll just make the other pilots feel inadequate.” “Spoilsport.” “What was that, Captain? You’re breaking up.” “Nothing, Commander.”

THERE ALL THE HONOR LIES [S02E14]:

“That’s why I’m putting you in charge to oversee this gift shop— which, I might add, is only a test at this point.” “Why me? I hate this whole idea!” “Exactly! I’m counting on you to focus that hostility with your typical diligence to make sure that this station and its inhabitants are in no way, as you so correctly put it, demeaned.”

“—And the Centauri government will not tolerate such insults!” [Ivanova grabs the doll.] “Well, it’s just a doll. It wasn’t even made by us. Look at the tag, it’s probably been made by somebody down in the bazaar.” “It’s a mockery. It doesn’t even have any, uh— attributes.” “Attributes?” [Sheridan stands up and grabs the doll from Ivanova.] “Do I have to spell it out for you?” “I see, so you feel like you’re being symbolically cast… in a bad light.” “Well put. Ivanova, have all of these dolls removed at once, please.” “Yes, sir.”

“Uh, Commander— how goes the Babylon 5 store?” “Most interesting.” “Aha! You know, I was thinking this might work out after all. We could use the extra money to defray operating expenses.” [Sheridan looks down at the teddy bear Ivanova is holding.] “What is that?” “Hmm. Take a look.” [Sheridan chuckles.] “Bab-bear-lon 5? Oh, he’s a cutie, isn’t he?” “Oh, yeah.” “J.S.?” “John Sheridan.” “Jo— oh. This is supposed to be me?” “Yeah.” “Ah! I want it off my station. I want them all off my station. I want the whole store yanked out, boxed up, and shipped out by 0800 tomorrow. Is that clear?” “I’ll get right on it.” “Um…” [Sheridan takes the stuffed animal back.]

KNIVES [S02E17]:

“Commander. Everything in order?” “Remarkably so. It’s beginning to worry me.” “Oh, you always worry when things are going well?” “I don’t have time to worry about them when they’re not.”

“Delta I, why are you prepping for launch? Delta I, please respond. This is Commander Ivanova.” “Ivanova, this is Sheridan.” “Captain? What are you doing?” “Just going out for a little spin. There is no need to worry. I’ll be back before you know it. [To himself] I hope.”

DIVIDED LOYALTIES [S02E19]:

“Comments, anyone?” “Does the phrase ‘No way in hell,’ ring a bell?”

[walker-extended-universe]

Dead Weight, Chapter 2

Chapter 1

Relationship(s): Trevor Strand/Stella Walker, Cordell Walker & Stella Walker, Micki Ramirez & Cordell Walker, Malcolm Bright & Cordell Walker, Martin Whitly & Hector

Tags/Warnings: Hostage Situations, People Used as Bargaining Chips, Hostage Negotiations, Bleeding, Threats of Violence, Alternate Universe- Canon Divergence

Summary:

Alternative version of Walker s01e11: Freedom and Prodigal Son s02e11: You Can Run. Martin Whitly made it out of the state with Hector but the plan only had enough fuel to get them to Texas. After their forced landing, they come across a couple of teenagers in a summer cabin with a duffle bag full of money. One of these teenagers is Stella Walker, daughter of a Texas Ranger. Martin would be stupid not to take advantage of this opportunity.

Written for @augustofwhump alt prompt 5- Human Shield

Taglist: @theladywyn, @ihavepointysticks, @klaatu51, @itsjessiegirl1, @neptunium134

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Trevor survived his encounter with Dr. Martin Whitly, something that 23 other people were unable to do. He was still in the hospital but they were optimistic he would make it out okay.

Cordell would be more excited about that if Trevor could tell them anything useful.

“I swear, I have no idea who they were or how they found us. They just showed up out of nowhere!”

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Okay, fine. Now, do you mind telling me what you two were even doing out there? Stella was supposed to be at a soccer game and she hadn’t heard from you since you ghosted her at the dance. Why were you together in a cabin outside of town?”

Trevor had the decency to look sheepish. “I…. Look, my dad sent some goons after me at my aunt's house and somehow Stella tracked me down and got me out of there. I needed to hide out and get out of town and she offered to take me. We went to that cabin because I knew my dad had money and stuff stashed away there….”

Right. Okay. That sounded exactly like something Stella would do. They were gonna have to have a talk about that if- when they found her safe and sound. “Do you have any idea where they might be headed?”

Trevor shook his head. “The big guy knocked me out before they left. I don’t even know why they took her….”

Cordell wanted to punch something. Micki picked up on that and quickly got him out of the room. “Freaking out isn’t going to do us any good right now,” she said. “What happened wasn’t Trevor’s fault; we need to focus on finding The Surgeon.”

“I know, I know,” he muttered. “But we don’t know where he is or where he’s going. At this point, the best we can do is put an ABP out on the car and there’s no guarantee that’ll even work. Meanwhile, my daughter is in the hands of the most notorious serial killer of the 20th century and his goon!”

“Walker, you need to chill,” Micki snapped. “I get it, I get that this sucks and you’re freaking out. You have good reason to. But if you can’t keep it together, you’re gonna get pulled off of this case. You’re lucky James hasn’t pulled you off as it is and the Feds are not gonna be as lenient.”

“I know.” But knowing that didn't make it any easier. “I just- I don’t even care about the serial killer. I just want my daughter home, safe and sound, where she belongs.”

“And I have every intention of making that happen.”

Cordell’s head snapped to the side. A man approached them. Cordell didn’t recognize him but he walked like a fed and dressed like a PI. Not a good combination. “And you are?” he snapped.

The man smiled and extended his hand. “Malcolm Bright. Profiler and resident expert on the Surgeon. I’ve been following this case since Whitly’s initial escape and I’ve been brought on by the Marshals as a consultant.”

Bright. Cordell had heard that name before but he couldn’t remember where. He returned the hand shake. “And you can help find Stella?”

“I can help find the Surgeon, which should get us to her,” Malcolm confirmed. “And, don’t worry, I plan to help you stay on the case. I know they’ll want to kick you off since you’re ‘too close’ to it, but I know what it’s like to lose family to something like this. And I think you can help more than they realize.”

“How do you mean?” Micki asked. “Walker’s good, don’t get me wrong, but he’s not exactly an expert on serial killers…..”

“No, but he is an expert on his daughter. And I suspect you’ve taught her a few things about leaving a trail.”

“I’ve done my best to make sure she can take care of herself,” Cordell said. Hopefully, she would try to leave a trail, something they could hold onto. Martin would be too smart for that.

“I expected nothing less.” Malcolm smiled. “I think we can work very well together. Maybe you can start by filling me in on our witness before I interrogate him? Not that you didn’t do a good job, but there may be some details he left out given who you are….”

Cordell nodded. He couldn’t argue with that. “Whatever you need.” He’d do anything, as long as it got Stella home safe. “What do you want to know?”

—-----------------------------

Stella kept her eyes on the road, more out of a desire to not see the gun pointed at her rather than adhering to road safety guidelines. She didn’t think she’d ever driven so safely in her life. Even checking her hand placement was better than acknowledging the situation she was in.

“You seem nervous. Would it help if we stopped and got a snack?”

“It would help if you let me go.”

The older man in the passenger seat- Martin- sighed and shook his head. “I can’t do that just yet. See, I made a deal with your father that if I kept you alive until we reached the border, he would let me and my friend here go, and I intend to keep my word. So, you’re stuck with us for a while I’m afraid.” He shrugged. “Would it make you feel better if we turned on the radio? Maybe Taylor Swift’s newest album has something relatable to your current situation.”

“No thanks,” she muttered.

“Can we still stop for snacks?” the man in the back seat- she was pretty sure his name was Hector- asked. “I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

“You know, that’s not a bad idea. I’m feeling a bit peckish myself,” Martin said. He looked back at Stella. “Do you have any money we could use?”

“No. I spent it all on gas before we got to the cabin,” Stella replied honestly. Not that she would’ve willingly given them money anyway.

“Ah, well, no matter. I was hoping we could use some cash but there’s other ways to get what we need.”

Stella didn’t like the sound of that at all.

She should try to stop this. Just pull over and run for her life and try to get home. But what good would that do? These two clearly weren’t above hurting people to get their way. If she didn’t go along with them, they could easily just drop the dead weight. They clearly had no issue with killing to get what they wanted.

Maybe if she just played along, she could keep them busy long enough for Dad to catch up.

That had to work. It had to.

Martin directed her to get off the highway at the next exit. Then, to pull into a gas station. “We don’t really need gas yet….”

“That’s not why we’re here. Park the car at the convenience store. Hector, watch the car. We’ll be right back.” Then, Martin grabbed her arm and roughly pulled her out of the car. “Now, you’re going to test your acting skills and be very scared so that we can get what we need.”

Stella gulped when she felt the end of a gun at the small of her back. Even if she was reasonably sure he wanted to keep her alive (for now), she had a feeling it wouldn’t take much for that to change.

There was no one in the store except the clerk, who was boredly flipping through a skin mag. He looked about her age and like he couldn’t care less about keeping this job. “We’re out of breakfast burritos so if that’s what you’re after-”

“I’m after a little more than that.” Martin lifted the gun to the side of Stella’s head. “Empty that register to start, then we’ll need some food and a few full jugs of gas.”

The kid finally looked up and Stella could see the blood drain from his face. “L-Look man, I make minimum wage, I-”

“Poor you,” Martin snarked. “She’s got a gun to her head; you don’t hear her complaining. Now, come on. Money, food, gas.”

“Okay, okay! Just- Just give me a minute….”

Stella tried to keep her breathing steady while Martin got what he wanted. She didn’t want to give him a reason to use the gun. But she was shaking and it took everything in her not to break down crying.

She just hoped the kid was smart enough to pull some kind of silent alarm or call the police as soon as they left. It would be a clue for Dad to follow at least.

Martin made her carry the money and the food and called for Hector to grab the 6 containers of gas the kid poured. It would be enough to last them a while. Then, still holding the gun to her head, he made her get back behind the wheel and drive. “There, that wasn’t so hard now was it?”

She stayed silent as they got back on the highway and tuned out their bickering over the gas station snacks.

Please, God, let them find me soon.

[specialability]

House MD S02E11 "Need to Know" (2006)

The polycule is in shambles!

[adultswim2021]

Metalocalypse #31: “Dethrace” | June 16, 2008 - 12:00AM | S02E11

NOTE: I wrote this last night, but accidentally saved it as a draft instead of scheduling it to post. Sorry, bros.

Hey, I’m going easy on myself tonight. I deserve it after that last gigantic post. The Venture Bros. can take a lot out of me. Gosh, it’s a lot!

This one is a bit slight, and hardly excellent, but it's a nice hang with my personal close friends, the men from Metalocalypse Rock Band. In this one, Murderface is miffed that Toki and Skwisgaar have undermined his command performance of the Star Spangled Banner using nothing more than his dick and a bass guitar. They undermined Murderface by being in a high speed police chase, which interrupts the broadcast of Murderface rockin with his brain out. 

Speaking of brain out, the best scene in this episode are Toki and Skwisgaar at traffic school, watching an ultra violent educational video about how being irresponsible with your car can get your body all wet and in pieces. It is wet from your blood getting escaped from your body. Good lines, gruesome drawings, it’s the good shit of the episode. 

Murderface wants to do a convoluted event that’s a race and also a concert. Toki and Skwisgaar get involved by way of their community service. And Nathan Explosion and Pickles not only have nothing to do with the plot, but they make a point to just always be reading the paper whenever they are referred to. This is a funny meta-joke about how frustrating it must be to have a show like this and constantly have to come up with individual plots for each character. At least, I assume that’s what this is.

MAIL BAG

Hi this is Gabe Teplen the original voice of Moltar. I just want to say you are doing a great job and maybe give the original Space Ghost a spin sometimes. My granddaughters say it's just as funny as Coast to Coast.

Hi, my name is Mayor Giuliani, and I'm gay

I have a blog where I cover Adult Swim's original comedy shows in chronological order from the first stealth pilot premieres onward. every episode of every adult swim original program reviewed by a middle-aged dipshit. go here if you wanna start at the start

Hey, fuck you man, don't copy and paste stuff I say on other websites and then combine it with stuff I say on this website and send it to me anonymously. That is really fucking rude and it pisses me off. I'm actually pissed off about this. EAT SHIT MOTHER FUCKER

Should I go see Barbie or Oppenheimer? Let's date these blog posts. Which one are you more willing to see? Provided you get a big hamburger and fries with your movie either way.

You should watch any other movie. But if I had to pick between those two I'd watch Barbie. Oppenheimer just seems too boring, sorry. How big is the hamburger

Lesbian porno was like really good in the 80s but as time went on it just became so bad. Sure there are still hot women fucking but there is no sensuality. You can tell they are doing it contractually and have no love in licking pussy, ect. What do you think?

I don't like discussing sexual stuff because it's alienating, but I disagree. We are living in a golden age of sapphic erotica, and you need look no further than two girls I call Angela & Strawberry. Look them up. They lick, they suck, they finger, and they ... FUCK?????

You're supreme hatred of pitbulls is so funny. My aunt had a pitbull. She died.

I'm sorry to hear about your Aunt that got eatten by her own pitbull :(

I would prefer if you just said nothing than do the AI bit. I have to deal with my favorite fast food reviewer outsourcing his titles/descriptions to ChatGPT and it's quite frankly distasteful. The shit doesn't know anything about anything.

FUCK YOU! FREEDOM OF GENERATED SPEECH BITCH!! But by coincidence I've decided to retire the bit, but not because of you. It's my choice and I'm the boss and I'm the one that says how the rules goes.

[thankstothe]

...

[scratchybeardsweetmouth]

i have not rewatched a single episode of ted lasso since its finale but i know i have strong aftermath feelings that still affect me today.

a friend of mine watched it but could never finish, understandably because life and moods, so i suggested to help finish months and months later by watching the remaining episodes every friday with her as i streamed each.

the fucking episode we're going to continue from, the FUCKING FIRST EPISODE we're going to watch, is NO WEDDINGS AND A FUNERAL, s02e10. The universe knows exactly what it's doing to me at this very moment as I cry and tremble and be lovingly affectionate over the characters - Sassy sassing Rupert, Keeley being vulnerable about funerals and feeling not being taken seriously by Roy who she cares for deeply and then Roy realizing his defense mechanism is preventing him from being real with her, the gorgeous presence of Deborah not quite knowing how to act as a mother but expressing love for Rebecca the way she knows how - but especially Ted and Rebecca, the revelation of their traumas that directed how they have been living their lives, and being connected across time and space but never getting the opportunity down the line to communicate about it to each other. While they have finally told it to people whose ears needed to hear it the most, the fulfilling possibility of them sharing their stories to someone who cares about them so deeply, not strictly because of profession or by blood, and without judgment, and the support we know they're capable of giving, continue to live in my dreams where they grow individually and together.

the back and forth scene of 9/13/1991 remains a remarkable scene, while Rebecca's rickroll is the most heartbreakingly beautifully executed eulogy where she, for a moment, admits the hate for her father runs deep because something else still exists there.

i'm forever grateful to see Hannah's acting prowess on screen, because apart from Game of Thrones, i wouldn't have been exposed to her works from here. forever in awe of how much she expresses herself in her face, especially eyes. can never get enough of this woman that has fundamentally brought so much care and complexity to rebecca that you cannot help but love her, and want to cheer for her for the effort she's made in finding herself all over again, in learning how to forgive herself and in being open to be vulnerable in showing how much she could love. just... thank you, Hannah for your Rebecca.

in the same vein, it's really good to see Jason in a role he could show his acting muscles. i know he's had a few drama roles (loved him in Kodachrome) but it's just great when those you don't expect to flex get to. sometimes it's really the role, the opportunity to shine in a character having depth or the actor's effort in giving depth even to a minor one - to make them more human, that you get to see how generous they could be with their acting. really hope i see him in another film/tv series.

anyhoo, tears have shed, laughs have erupted. friend has proceeded to watch the next two episodes. she reveals she's more affected by the abandonment issues ted expressed in s02e11. ho-boi. watch this space for s3 my friend.

[gabrielokun]

[charmedcwconfessions]

tag drop } season 2 episodes

s02e01 Safe Space

s02e02 Things To Do In Seattle When You’re Dead

s02e03 Careful What You Witch For

s02e04 Deconstructing Harry

s02e05 The Truth About Kat and Dogs

s02e06 When Sparks Fly

s02e07 Past Is Present

s02e08 The Rules of Engagement

s02e09 Guess Who’s Coming to SafeSpace Seattle

s02e10 Curse Words

s02e11 Dance Like No One is Witching

s02e12 Needs to Know

s02e13 Breaking the Cycle

s02e14 Sudden Death

s02e15 Third Time’s the Charm

s02e16 The Enemy of My Frenemy

s02e17 Search Party

s02e18 Don’t Look Back in Anger

s02e19 Unsafe Space

[dcbicki]

I need to know something... before I get any more confused. And every time I kiss you, I’m always left even more confused than I ever was. But before I get on a plane and go anywhere, before I discover what it actually feels like to be in the same room with you, before I know what it really feels like to have these lips against mine and not just in my head... something I might be imagining... I need to know something. What? Something true. I’ve never lied to you. But you haven’t told me the whole truth either. — SENSE8, S02E11

[taggedmemes]

SENTENCE MEME ⟶ VAN HELSING / S02E11 + S02E12 +  S02E13 always feel free to tweak the sentence to fit your muse.

'he’s got a death wish or something.’

‘my grandmother was deaf. she taught me.’

‘i need help. i need a doctor.’

‘you don’t want me to die.’

‘he told me to take care of you.’

‘your stitches burst days ago.’

‘death’s an okay choice.’

‘what did i do to deserve a son like you?’

‘you wanna be a shit lonely loser, huh?’

‘no one loves you. no one ever will.’

‘out of darkness comes light.’

‘haven’t seen a cow in years.’

‘here i was hoping for a mochaccino.’

‘so you just left him to die?’

‘i tried to save him, i swear i did.’

‘you don’t give a shit about anybody but yourself. you never have.’

‘you wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for me.’

‘what’re you gonna do? you gonna hit me?’

‘this altitude’s making me queasy.’

‘i walked away from something that mattered.’

‘the dying don’t judge.’

‘why does it feel like we’re being trapped in another cage?’

‘well, there’s no cuts, no bruising, and your internal organs seem fine.’

‘hey there, kiddo. how’re you doin’?’

‘it’s amazing, the resilience of kids.’

‘i never took you for the maternal type.’

‘you don’t know a whole lot about me.’

‘look, i just haven’t been feeling myself these past few days.’

‘what if i’m pregnant?’

‘you didn’t strike me as very... scientific.’

‘you judge every book by its cover?’

‘you wanna take a look? i’m assuming you’re a doctor.��

‘don’t. i’d rather not know. it’s easier that way.’

‘i think the failsafe just tailed.’

‘do you have night vision goggles?’

‘if you get a clear shot, take it.’

‘this isn’t quite the right time, don’t you think?’

‘don’t do anything until we have a chance to talk, alright?’

‘you guys see me as some kid, but i know things.’

‘there’s no more luck in the world. not anymore.’

‘you’re someone who risked everything to save a friend.’

‘we need to put the genie back in the bottle before it’s too late.’

‘you know i’m never good at talking things out.’

‘she tried to save me. she risked her life for mine.’

‘we’re not going back. we have something else we have to do first.’

‘this is nothing more than an old crone who can barely stand on her own two feet.’

‘she’s tired from the long walk all the way to me.’

‘you have to stay hydrated at this altitude.’

‘you’re a little late on the mothering thing.’

‘we need to rest.’

‘so that’s why we’re a couple of freaks.’

‘i don’t know. you know what? i’ve been wrong with a lot of shit lately.’

‘shit. they beat us here.’

‘i am so sorry for everything that’s happened.’

‘at some point you’re gonna have to trust me.’

‘there’s so many crazy stories about this place.’

‘i heard stories about hallucinations and traps so we need to be strong.’

‘i know, i was raised to be strong and everything, but i cannot stand being trapped.’

‘okay. shit’s gonna get real weird, huh?’

‘it would allow me to look after your children should something happen to you.’

‘you look well, my friend. the travel suits you.’

‘i can’t imagine what he would have done to you.’

‘once a scab, always a scab.’

‘your ways will damn you to hell.’

‘i’ve brought someone very special here to meet you.’

‘yeah, i was about to lose it if i was gonna be in there one more minute.’

‘i... i’m very claustrophobic.’

‘wait! there’s something i have to tell you.’

‘i knew i could count on you.’

‘i do hope something horrible has happened to her.’

‘let’s just kill him and get it over with.’

‘there’s more than enough of me to go around.’

‘i will never forgive you for this.’

‘i’m okay with that. you do what you have to do.’

‘what else haven’t you told me?’