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[luxerians]

The Last Mask (12)

Hwang In-ho/Oh Young-il/Player 001 x Reader

Chapter 12 - Lights Out

Story Masterlist

NEXT : Chapter 13

PREV : Chapter 11

A tense silence lingered in the dormitory, each second dragging as if time itself had slowed. The weight of the announcement loomed over everyone. None of you could decipher its meaning, except for two. Gi-hun stood rigidly, his face etched with apprehension, while Young-il exuded an unsettling calmness.

The sharp creak of opening doors shattered the silence. On either side of the main double doors, smaller ones slid open, revealing triangle guards escorting a group of male players. A wave of confusion rippled through you as the scene unfolded. The door on the right was supposed to lead to the women’s restroom. Why were men emerging from it? And why were they being led by triangle guards? Restroom visits during free time had never been an issue before.

Your confusion deepened as you took in the state of the players. Their faces showed clear signs of weariness, their uniforms were disheveled, and some bore visible injuries. A few had streaks of blood smeared across their clothes and faces.

You tried to piece together the situation but before you could make sense of it, a player coming from the door in the O zone charged forward, his voice cutting through the murmurs. “Team O, everyone!”

It was Thanos’ friend, player 124. Blood streaked his face and hands, his movements frantic. “We… When we were in the bathroom, those fucking X bastards tried to kill all of us! They killed some of us, including my friend-”

His words ignited a spark that lit the room. Many players, including Young-il beside you, rose to their feet, the tension pulling them like magnets toward the unfolding drama. You remained seated, too stunned to move, your mind racing to process his claims.

“Bullshit,” another voice rang out. It was player 047, one of the X players.

At this point, all players who had gone to the bathroom had emerged from the doors on both sides, their steps sluggish, their faces marked with fatigue and wariness. Blood and bruises hinted at a violent encounter. Player 047 pointed an accusing finger at player 124. “You’re the ones who started it.”

The dormitory shifted as X and O players descended the staircases, aligning themselves with their respective allies, and the center became filled rapidly as the two groups faced off. The air was thick with crackling tension. The red and blue lines were the only ones separating potential chaos from an all-out eruption.

Player 047’s voice broke through again, this time addressing the X players around him. “They threatened one of the people on our side! They attacked us to win the second vote!”

“That’s right!” another X player, his face streaked with blood, shouted in agreement.

“Hey, hey,” countered a bald O player. Blood stained his shirt, adding to the heated atmosphere. “You killed one of us first. You were trying to win the vote by killing us!”

“Fuck you. You killed some of us too,” an X player (145) snapped back. His voice was raw with rage. “Did you think we would just let you kill the rest of us?!”

The crowd’s energy escalated, players inching closer to the brink of another verbal brawl. The shouting grew louder, overlapping into a chaotic storm of voices.

Then player 100’s booming voice silenced them all. “So… which side lost more people?!”

Your breath caught. You stared at him in disbelief. That’s what he cares about? Not the fact that some people among us had crossed the boundary and killed others?

You turned your gaze to the triangle guards stationed by the doors. Their stony silence was unsettling. Why didn’t they intervene? Was this all part of the game? Did they truly not care about players slaughtering each other?

Your eyes shifted to the massive piggy bank suspended near the ceiling. Its ominous presence loomed over the room, a constant reminder of the stakes. In that moment, it all clicked. The guards didn’t intervene because they didn’t need to. Player eliminations, whether by games or murder, were part of the system. Each death fueled the prize money. It was a macabre incentive for chaos.

Horror crept over you as you looked back at the crowd. Soon enough, all players would understand this and take advantage of it. The greed in some players’ eyes was bright and wild at this point. This wasn’t just a game anymore; it was an opportunity for those willing to kill.

Player 100’s voice snapped you out of your grim thoughts. “Everyone! Let’s count the numbers! Come on down!”

Player 047 moved toward your group’s corner, raising his arms to rally the X voters. “Everyone! Gather around!”

Dae-ho followed suit, his voice urgent as he encouraged others to gather. “We need everyone down here! Come on!”

The next thing you knew, every X player had gathered in your group’s corner, sitting on the staircases in a reverse pyramid formation. The only one standing among you was player 047, who stood on the floor, facing everyone and counting each person carefully.

You sat next to Young-il, his calm demeanor contrasting sharply with the anticipation in the air. On your other side sat Gi-hun, followed by Jung-bae and Dae-ho. Behind your row were Se-mi, Jun-hee, Hyun-ju, Gyeong-seok, the mother, and Yong-sik. All eyes were fixed on player 047 as he completed his count.

Once finished, he spoke in a hushed tone, “Two people died on our side.”

“Two out of five,” a female player behind Gyeong-seok noted quietly. “That means they lost three people.”

Se-mi, seated directly behind you, added, “Then we have a better shot at winning the vote tomorrow.”

Jung-bae leaned in excitedly, his whisper carrying to everyone nearby. “Hey, it’s 48 against 47. As long as we don’t change our minds, we’ll win by one vote!”

His words sparked a ripple of hope among the X players. Whispered cheers and quiet smiles spread through the group, their restraint driven by the need to avoid attracting attention from the O players.

“We’ll win.”

“We can get out of here tomorrow.”

The whispered sentiments filled the air with a fragile optimism. You couldn’t help but smile, feeling a flicker of relief. Despite the losses during the bathroom brawl, the prospect of finally leaving this place without more deaths felt within reach.

You glanced at Young-il, hoping to share in the collective hope, but his expression caught you off guard. He remained still. There was no hint of relief or excitement. Instead, he exuded an unsettling calmness. His gaze seemed distant as though his thoughts were already a step ahead of everyone else.

The familiar chime of the school bell echoed through the dormitory, cutting through the murmurs and drawing everyone’s attention. The announcer’s voice followed: “Attention, please. Lights out in 30 minutes. All players, please return to your beds and prepare for bedtime.”

Player 047 stood up and turned to face the gathered X players. His voice was low, meant only for those in your group. “Listen. You cannot change your minds. We have to win the second vote and get out of here tomorrow. Alright?”

A wave of quiet agreement rippled through the group. Nods and murmurs of affirmation filled the space.

Then, remembering the events that had sparked the earlier fight in the men’s bathroom, you leaned forward slightly and spoke in a hushed tone, “If you get bullied or forced to vote otherwise, tell us.”

This time, the nods were more deliberate, accompanied by whispers of support:

“That’s right. Don’t go anywhere alone tonight.”

“Yes, for one night. We can do this.”

As the group’s focus sharpened, your gaze drifted across the crowd. You spotted Yong-sik gently patting his mother’s back as tears brimmed in her eyes. Her expression was a mix of disbelief and hope, as if she couldn't believe the nightmare would finally end soon. Nearby, Hyun-ju was smiling softly at Jun-hee. Her hand rested lightly on Jun-hee’s knee, a quiet gesture of comfort and shared relief. Jun-hee returned the smile, her eyes shining with gratitude.

The sight warmed you. It was rare to see such unity, such shared understanding, especially in a place like this. Despite everything, the X players had formed a bond that felt genuine.

Slowly, the X players began to disperse, their movements calm and quiet. The hope in their eyes, the quiet smiles exchanged between them… it all felt like a fragile promise of better days. You stood, following your groupmates as they made their way back to your spot beneath the stairs.

You and your group sat in the enclosed space beneath the stairs. At first, it was just you, Gi-hun, Jung-bae, Dae-ho, Young-il, and Jun-hee. Soon, Hyun-ju, Gyeong-seok, Yong-sik, and his mother joined, followed by players 047 and 145. Everyone was welcomed openly.

Forming a circle on the floor, you found yourself seated between Jun-hee and the mother, purposefully creating space between you and Young-il. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to sit near him; you simply wanted to spend more time with Jun-hee. After all, you had been spending a lot of time with Young-il recently and you began to miss your little sister figure in this grim place. As you delicately combed her hair with your fingers, the soothing action seemed to bring a bit of peace to the moment.

Dae-ho stood suddenly, sneaking a glance toward the O players gathered across the dormitory. He crouched beside Gi-hun and spoke lowly, “Those bastards are acting suspicious. It looks like they’re up to something.”

Withdrawing your hand from Jun-hee’s hair, you looked at Dae-ho.

“Suspicious like how?” you asked, your tone innocent but laced with concern.

Dae-ho’s face was a mixture of worry and solemnity as he replied, “They keep whispering among themselves and glancing at our zone. They’re planning something.”

You followed his gaze. The O players were huddled together, their heads bent close, their voices low. Every so often, their eyes darted toward your corner. It was unsettling.

Jung-bae glanced over and scoffed. “Whatever those idiots do, once we win the vote tomorrow, it’ll all be over.”

Dae-ho, however, wasn’t convinced. His concern was evident as he asked, “You think we’ll be okay? They say things were really crazy in the bathroom earlier.”

Silence fell over the group, the weight of his words pressing down on everyone. You felt your stomach tighten. The memory of the bathroom fight, the deaths, and the lack of consequences made you feel cold. The guards' inaction during such violence sent a chilling message. If players killed each other, it was acceptable. The prize money would still grow.

“Once the lights go out,” Gi-hun’s voice broke the silence. He stared at the floor, his expression grim. “People on the other side will attack us.”

Your breath hitched. The certainty in his tone left no room for doubt. You felt your blood running cold as you fixed your wide-eyed stare at him.

Yong-sik’s wide eyes were glued on Gi-hun as he asked, “Really?”

Gi-hun nodded gravely. “Because if they kill us, they’ll be able to win the vote and increase the prize.”

Jun-hee’s already pale complexion turned ashen and she instinctively caressed her belly. Yong-sik’s mother froze in fear, her gaze locked on Gi-hun as though seeking reassurance where none existed. Dae-ho and Jung-bae exchanged uneasy glances, both speechless. Meanwhile, Young-il sat unmoved, his expression emotionless and unreadable.

Yong-sik’s voice cracked slightly as he asked, “So what do we do?”

“Let’s attack them first,” Young-il said, his tone as measured as his words. The statement caused Gi-hun to look at him sharply. His gaze was immediately steely and serious. Young-il elaborated, “They’re probably thinking we’ll just wait for the second vote. We can use that to our advantage. We’ll attack them first once the lights go out.”

You couldn’t take your eyes off him, wondering if he had encountered this exact scenario in his previous game. The certainty in his tone was unsettling as if he was speaking from experience.

Player 047 broke the silence. “That’s right. It’d be better to attack them first. We have more women and elderly on our side. If we get attacked, we’ll be at a disadvantage. Attacking them first would give us a better chance of winning.”

Player 145 nodded in agreement. “I agree.”

Before the idea could settle, Gi-hun’s voice cut through decisively. “We can’t do that.”

His immediate response stunned the group into silence.

Young-il stared pointedly at him in quiet surprise. “But we have to get out of here. You said it yourself. Staying calm won’t get us anywhere now.”

Gi-hun didn’t flinch, his determination unwavering. “That doesn’t mean we should kill each other. That’s exactly what they want us to do.”

You blinked. Jung-bae echoed the question that had formed in your mind as well. “They?”

Gi-hun’s eyes shifted to meet yours briefly before scanning the group. He spoke with quiet resolve. “The ones who created this game. The ones who watch us play. If we’re going to fight someone, it should be them.”

Dae-ho frowned. “Where are they?”

Gi-hun’s gaze lifted upward, and instinctively, you and the others followed it. The vast space above felt ominous and unreachable, a reminder of the system you were all trapped within. Young-il’s eyes flickered upward briefly before returning to Gi-hun, his expression unreadable but intense.

“On the upper levels are the rooms they control the games from,” Gi-hun explained, his voice heavy with conviction. “The man in the black mask is their leader. Once we capture him, we’ll be able to win.”

Your eyebrows raised at the audacity of his plan, and you couldn’t help but ask, “Are you saying you plan to overthrow this whole management?”

Gi-hun’s determined yet grave eyes locked onto yours. He nodded firmly. “Yes.”

The room fell into a thick silence. You could feel the weight of his words pressing down on everyone, the enormity of what he was suggesting settling in. Some of the group exchanged glances. Gi-hun was a previous winner, and that lent him credibility, but this plan… it sounded almost impossible.

You stole a glance at Young-il, hoping to glean some insight from his reaction. His face was an enigma. It was void of emotion. Unreadable. Yet his unblinking stare at Gi-hun carried a weight of its own. It was as if he was dissecting every word, every intention behind the plan. His eyes seemed darker, his demeanor more solemn than usual like something deep and dark brewed beneath the surface.

You frowned, your curiosity piqued. What was he thinking? Why did he seem so skeptical, so… calculating? You couldn’t shake the feeling that Young-il’s silence carried as much weight as Gi-hun’s bold proclamation.

Finally, Young-il broke the silence, his voice measured. “How are you going to fight them? They have guns.”

Gi-hun’s response was confident. “We’ll fight them with guns too.”

“But we don’t have any,” Jung-bae pointed out, his tone tinged with innocence and disbelief.

Gi-hun turned to him, unfazed. “We’ll take their guns.”

Jung-bae stared at him, his disbelief morphing into something closer to exasperation. Gyeong-seok hesitated before asking, “From those masked men?”

Gi-hun gave a single, firm nod. Jung-bae sighed deeply, leaning his head back as though the mere thought of the plan was already weighing on him.

“That’s too dangerous,” Young-il interjected. His voice was steady but carried a note of caution. “Even if we manage to take a few guns, we’ll still be outnumbered.”

“What then?” Gi-hun fired back. “Are you going to kill each other all night and hope you survive?”

Young-il froze, his mouth slightly open, although his eyes seemed darkly contemplative. Gi-hun pressed further. “Is that what you want, Young-il?”

Young-il didn’t counter. He stayed silent, his gaze fixed on Gi-hun. His expression hardened into something unreadable, but there was a weight in his silence – a seriousness that darkened his demeanor.

“Do we…” Hyun-ju spoke up, “...stand a chance?”

Gi-hun’s gaze shifted to her, his determination unwavering. “We do if we catch them off guard. Out of everyone, they’re the ones who would least expect us to attack first. This is our last chance to end these games once and for all.”

You faintly noticed Young-il clenching his jaw, his expression hardening before he asked Gi-hun gravely, “How are you going to take their guns?”

Gi-hun scowled, his gaze sharp with concentration. “Once the fight begins tonight, we’ll have our chance.”

The group fell silent, waiting for him to elaborate. “When the lights go out, get under the bottom beds quietly. You must not get caught by those planning to attack us. We have to hide until the fight ends.”

You frowned deeply, your displeasure evident. His plan didn’t sit well with you. Gi-hun pressed on, “Don’t get caught up in the fight.”

“What?” you interjected, surprise and frustration lacing your voice.

Jung-bae echoed your concern. “But that would put people on our side at quite a disadvantage. Without us in the fight, they’ll be outnumbered.”

“I know,” Gi-hun said, glancing at both you and Jung-bae. He then shifted his focus to the rest of the group. “But if we fight with them and some of us end up dead or injured, it will ruin our entire plan. We can’t beat those bastards with a lower headcount.”

Young-il’s gaze darkened, his tone carrying a heavy disbelief. “Are you suggesting that... we make a small sacrifice for the greater good?”

Gi-hun’s eyes locked with Young-il’s, recognizing the weight of his words. Still, he nodded very, very faintly. His voice held determination as he said, “If we miss this opportunity, the sacrifice will be even greater. Even if it takes a sacrifice, we must put an end to this game now.”

Young-il’s gaze dropped to the floor. You caught the faintest twitch of his lips as if he found the situation grimly ironic. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, saying nothing more.

Gi-hun continued, “Once the lights come on, the soldiers will come to settle the situation. They’ll try to break up the fight first. They won’t pay attention to the dead. They will scan our trackers to identify us. That’ll be our window.”

Your frustration bubbled over, and you finally voiced your thoughts. “Are you really going to leave our allies like that?”

All eyes turned to you, but your glare remained locked on Gi-hun. You added, “You’re telling me you’d hide under the bed and let the O players attack everyone in this zone? All for your plan?”

Gi-hun’s expression faltered slightly as if shocked that you had spoken up. His face then stiffened into resolve as he answered, “This is the only chance we have. Once this game is stopped, this game will no longer use us as pawns.”

“If I weren’t close to your group or involved with any of you, would I even know about this attack? Would you warn me?” you pressed, your voice rising slightly. “Would I be left to fend for myself against an ambush while you and the others hide?”

Gi-hun’s jaw tightened. “It’s not about leaving anyone behind. It’s about ending this game once and for all.”

“But that doesn’t mean we can’t help our people now,” you shot back. “We have to fight back, not just accept them as inevitable.”

Gi-hun’s brows furrowed, his voice rising. “Do you think it’s better to retaliate and play into their hands? Attacking back is exactly what they want. They want us to kill each other. To entertain them.”

“We’re not going to kill them,” you insisted. “We will defend ourselves. We can alert our people about the attack. Get them prepared. Get them to a safe spot where capable men can protect them. If needed, we can subdue the O players without bloodshed.”

Gi-hun’s confidence wavered for a moment under the weight of your words. Yet he persisted. “If we join the fight and lose even a few, it will ruin our chances of overthrowing this game. We must preserve all the best men we have right now.”

“Then we have to join the fight,” you answered in a steady, measured tone. “Defend without bloodshed. Defend as a team. If we join the fight, more capable men will survive the ambush. They will join you willingly.”

Gi-hun stared at you, his gaze faltering, and this time, he had no counter. His lips parted as though he wanted to say more, but the words never came. The others merely watched the two of you, their unease palpable. Dae-ho and Jung-bae exchanged nervous glances as though they hadn’t expected there would come a time when you and Gi-hun had disagreements.

Slowly, you rose to a crouching position. All eyes followed you, yet your focus remained on Gi-hun. Your voice was firm as you said, “Go ahead with your plan. I’m not stopping you. If you don’t want to join the fight, that’s fine. But the others deserve to know about the attack.”

Without waiting for a response, you stood up, turned on your heel and began walking toward the other X players, ready to share what you knew. You'd make sure no one was left defenseless.

You approached a pair of female X players sitting on a lower bunk bed. Their conversation halted as you leaned in, lowering your voice to a whisper. “Hey, sorry to interrupt, but I need to warn you. There’s going to be an attack when the lights go out.”

Their eyes widened. One of them glanced nervously around the dormitory before whispering back, “An attack? Are you sure?”

“Yes,” you said firmly. “The O players are planning to ambush us. You need to be ready.”

“What should we do?” the other asked, her voice barely audible.

You glanced around. “First, don’t throw away the fork that came with your gimbap. Keep it. You can use it to defend yourself if someone tries to attack you. Then, choose the beds near the wall or under the stairs. Hide under the bed once the ambush starts.”

Their expressions shifted, the initial confusion replaced by understanding.

“Do you have your water bottles?” you asked.

They nodded and quickly pulled the bottles from their bedding, each one half full.

“Good,” you said. “Keep those too. If anyone tries to harm you, aim for their head.”

They both nodded, fear flickering in their eyes.

“Thank you,” one of them whispered, her voice trembling but sincere.

You nodded back, giving them a reassuring look before moving on. As you navigated through the dim dormitory, scanning for more X players to warn, a hand landed on your shoulder. You jumped slightly, spinning around to see Young-il standing behind you. His gaze was calm but serious.

“How many people have you warned?” he asked in a low voice.

“A couple,” you said, catching your breath.

Before Young-il could respond, a group of familiar faces approached. Gyeong-seok, Hyun-ju, player 047, and player 145 joined you. They stood together next to Young-il, eyes fixed on you.

“What else can we do?” Gyeong-seok asked calmly.

You quickly laid out the plan. “Warn every X players if possible. Tell them that we only defend and subdue. Tell them to keep their forks and water bottles. Get the women and elderly to move to beds under the stairs or near the walls. Before the Os attack us, inform them to hide under the beds for extra protection.”

“And let’s assign a few men to guard those areas,” Young-il added, glancing at the group. “We need to make sure someone is watching over them during the attack.”

“Got it. I will warn everyone on the left side of the zone,” Hyun-ju said.

Player 047 gestured to the opposite side. “We’ll handle the right. Let's warn them discreetly so the Os wouldn't suspect anything.”

Gyeong-seok, Hyun-ju, player 047 and 145 dispersed to begin warning the players. Young-il’s hand lingered briefly on your shoulder. “You’ve done enough here. Now go and find two beds next to each other for us both.”

You could tell immediately that Young-il planned to watch over you and guide you when the ambush began. That was why he insisted on finding two beds close together – one for him, one for you.

“How’s Gi-hun?” you asked.

Young-il hesitated, his gaze drifting briefly. “He was caught off guard. After you left, I told him to rethink his plan. He’s angry at the game maker and grieving for his friends from the last game, but I reminded him to consider the people here too.”

You nodded, letting his words sink in as you turned your attention to the rest of the dormitory. The quiet sound of shuffling feet caught your ear, and you noticed that many X players were busy preparing. Some were rummaging through the trash for discarded forks, others were marking their beds for strategic positioning, and a few had started spreading the word to others.

Your gaze shifted to Se-mi, who sat upright on her bed. She watched the quiet movements and whispered conversations around her but didn’t join in. Her demeanor suggested she was used to being on her own, even though she didn’t avoid social interactions entirely.

You gestured for Young-il to wait, then made your way to her. Se-mi noticed you approaching and looked up with a small, tired smile.

“You shouldn’t be alone right now,” you said, stopping by her bed.

“I prefer it this way,” she replied, her tone calm. “At least I don’t have to constantly watch my back or worry about getting betrayed.”

You stayed silent, sensing there was a deeper story behind her words. Maybe she had been left to fend for herself during the Mingle game.

“Then you need to be prepared,” you said after a pause. “Keep your fork and water bottle close. The Os are planning to attack us tonight. We just need to defend ourselves until the guards intervene.”

Se-mi’s eyes shifted toward the O zone, lingering for a moment as if she was trying to look for a certain player there. Then, her gaze dropped to her bed, and she gave a small nod. “Sure. Thanks for the heads-up.”

“If you need help during lights out,” you said, offering a small, reassuring smile, “find me or anyone in my group. We’ll help you.”

She looked at you, staring for a little while as if she was trying to find any trace of fakeness in your expression. Then, she brought her gaze downward. “Thanks.”

You nodded, then turned and walked away, giving her the space she seemed to value. As you moved through the dormitory, you scanned the faces around you, searching for others who might need a warning or reassurance.

The air in the room felt heavier now. More X players were talking in hushed tones, their movements deliberate as they adjusted their beds or collected anything they could use as a weapon. Some looked confident, while others were clearly masking their fear. You couldn’t blame them. The uncertainty of what was coming was enough to unsettle anyone.

You spotted Hyun-ju near the wall, speaking with a small group of women. She caught your eye and gave a subtle nod, signaling that she was making progress on her side. Not far from her, Gyeong-seok was quietly showing a few older players the safer spots under the stairs. Everyone was falling into place, the plan taking shape with a kind of quiet urgency.

As you continued to move, Young-il’s presence beside you was both reassuring and grounding. He didn’t say much, but his watchful gaze and calm demeanor made it clear he was assessing everything, ready to step in if needed.

“Do you think they’ll really try something?” you asked him quietly.

“It’s likely,” he replied. “There are no consequences, and the prize money grows with every elimination. For some people, that’s enough motivation.”

You nodded, his words confirming what you already suspected. The Os weren’t just competitors now. They were potential threats.

***

“Lights out in ten seconds.”

At this point, everyone was in bed. Your bed was right next to Young-il. You were lying on the bed on your back with the blanket up to your chest. With one glance to the side, you noticed Young-il staring upward calmly, lying on his back.

“Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, mfour , three, two, one.”

The lights went out, darkening the whole dormitory except for the O and X lights on the floor. The piggy bank light was turned off for some reason this time.

Nevertheless, you quickly moved out of the bed as silent as possible. You noticed more figures getting out of their bed too in the X zone. You noticed they were all women and the elderly. They were moving to hide under the bed or to a safe spot.

You quietly moved to hide under your bed. Young-il stayed in his bed, feigning sleep with his eyes closed. You looked towards the center and there they were.

The O players were quietly creeping from their beds and onto the floor. They crept slowly and silently in the center towards the X zone. The blue light of the O sign below them shone light on their forms. They were carrying forks. They were led by player 124, the late Thanos’ close friend. You faintly detected player 100 behind all of them, choosing to stay safe and let his pawns do all the dirty work.

Once a few of them crossed the red lines belonged to X zone in the center, they sprinted. They no longer cared about being heard. They dashed towards the X players’ beds and climbed up.

You were shocked to see someone rushing towards Young-il’s bed and aimed his fork on him, but Young-il was fast. He simply wrapped his arm around with his blanket and then wrapped it around his neck. Young-il tugged the blanket – which was coiled around the assailant’s neck – until the O player was tied to the railing of his bed, subdued.

Screams began to erupt, startling you with how horrifying it sounded like. It was like hearing humans scream in desperation, greed, helplessness in one place. It was bone-chilling.

The lights began to flicker erratically, casting the dormitory into an alternating rhythm of stark brightness and shadowy darkness. Each flash illuminated the chaos: figures clashing, beds overturning, and forks gleaming mid-strike. It felt intentional, as though the game maker had programmed this light to amplify the terror and confusion.

That’s when a body fell on the floor right beside your hiding spot under the bed. You glanced over to see it was O player. He was groaning in surprise and you saw a broken shard of glass embedded in his arm. No doubt he was caught off guard by X players’ readiness to defend themselves.

Your heart raced as you watched the chaos unfold. The O players had underestimated the X zone’s readiness, and now their ambush was turning into a messy, desperate fight. From your hiding spot, you could only hope the preparations had been enough.

You scanned the room from under the bed, your eyes darting across the chaos. On the far side, two O male players were closing in on three X women, cornering them against the wall. Fear flashed across the women’s faces as they huddled together, their backs pressed against the cold surface.

Without hesitation, you slid out from under the bed, staying low to avoid drawing attention. As you moved, fights raged on both sides, the sounds of shouts and grunts filling the air. Your heart pounded as you dodged flailing arms and feet, pushing through the chaos toward the women.

Your mind raced. You weren’t here to kill anyone, just to defend yourself and your allies. But you had no combat experience, and your hands trembled as you reached into your pocket and gripped the fork. It was the only weapon you had.

When you reached the two O players, they were focused entirely on the women, their backs turned to you. Steeling yourself, you lunged forward and drove the fork into one man’s forearm, aiming for a non-lethal spot. The metal prongs sank in, and he let out a sharp scream, jerking away from the pain.

You swiftly pulled the fork back and the man spun around, clutching his bleeding arm. His eyes met yours, wide with a mix of fury and shock. Before he could react further, you stepped in front of the women, positioning yourself as a barrier between them and the attackers.

The injured man sneered, “You’re gonna pay for that.”

You didn’t respond. Your teeth clenched as you readied yourself for their attack. Both men advanced, their forks glinting ominously under the flickering lights. Every instinct told you to stay focused and move.

One of them lunged, his fork aimed straight for you. You dodged at the last second, feeling the rush of air as the weapon missed you by inches. Without thinking, you retaliated, driving your fork into his shoulder. He screamed in pain, stumbling back. But before you could catch your breath, his friend rushed at you.

This time, you evaded the fork, but his kick landed squarely against your side, sending you flying backward. You yelped, colliding into the three women huddled against the wall. Their hands came up instinctively to soften your fall, steadying you before you hit the ground.

You pushed yourself upright, ignoring the sharp ache in your ribs. The men were closing in again, their faces twisted with anger. But then, out of the corner of your eye, you saw a blur of movement.

Young-il emerged from the chaos. His face was a mask of silent, restrained fury. Without hesitation, he went for the man with the injured shoulder. Grabbing the man’s wrist, he twisted it sharply, forcing the fork to clatter to the floor. In one smooth motion, he swept the man’s legs out from under him and drove his knee into the man’s face, breaking his nose. The man instantly fell unconscious.

The second man tried to attack while Young-il was occupied, raising his fork and lunging. But Young-il was ready. He caught the man’s wrist mid-strike, holding it firmly in an iron grip. With a swift, controlled motion, Young-il twisted the wrist, forcing the fork out of the man’s hand and onto the floor. Before the man could react, Young-il landed a punch on the man’s stomach, knocking the wind out of him. As the man doubled over, Young-il swept his feet out from under him, sending him crashing to the ground.

Both men were now subdued, groaning and immobilized. Young-il stood over them, his breathing steady and controlled.

“Go! Hide somewhere safe,” you told the women, urgency lacing your voice.

“Over here!” a voice called out. You turned to see Hyun-ju and Gyeong-seok near the stairs. They were guarding a group of women and elderly in a safe spot under the stairs.

“We have a safe spot right here!” Hyun-ju shouted, waving the women over.

The three women nodded and hurried toward the stairs. You watched them go, relief mingling with the adrenaline still pumping through your veins. Turning back to Young-il, you saw him straighten up and scanned you up and down.

“You okay?” Young-il asked, stepping closer under the flickering lights.

You pressed a hand to your side where the man had kicked you. Pain flared when you applied pressure, but you managed to reply, “This is nothing.”

Young-il opened his mouth to say something, but his attention snapped to the side. Following his gaze, you saw six O players approaching, their steps slow but deliberate. The murderous intent in their eyes was unmistakably fixed on him.

Without a word, Young-il grabbed your arm and pulled you behind him. You let him, your hands instinctively landing on his lower back, just near his waist, as you braced for the inevitable.

The two of you took a step back as the men advanced, their weapons glinting in the erratic light. Some held forks; others clutched broken bottles with jagged edges. A knot of worry tightened in your chest. While you had confidence in Young-il’s abilities, he was still outnumbered six to one. And he wasn’t just fighting for himself. He was shielding you too.

Your retreat ended when your back hit the corner of the dormitory, the walls pressing against your shoulders. The O players formed a loose semi-circle, blocking any chance of escape. Your heart pounded as you realized there was no way out.

Young-il spread his legs into a firm stance, raising his hands slightly, ready to defend. His posture pinned you securely behind him, effectively making himself the sole barrier between you and the attackers.

“Young-il, please be careful,” you whispered, your voice trembling as your hands clenched into fists against his back.

The first man lunged with a fork, aiming for Young-il’s side. Young-il grabbed the man’s wrist mid-strike smoothly. With a sharp twist, he forced the fork from the attacker’s hand and used the momentum to slam his face against the wall. The man fell unconscious right away.

Another assailant immediately charged, swinging a broken bottle in a wide arc. Young-il ducked under the swing and drove his palm upward into the man’s chin. The attacker stumbled back, dazed, and Young-il followed up with a swift kick to his knee, sending him crashing to the ground.

Two men attacked simultaneously, one aiming high with a fork and the other swinging low with a bottle. Young-il stepped back just enough to avoid both strikes, then surged forward. He grabbed the fork-wielding man by the collar, pulling him into the path of the bottle. The jagged glass scraped across the first attacker’s arm, making him scream in pain. Before the second man could react, Young-il struck him in the stomach with a powerful knee, forcing the air out of his lungs. Both men crumpled to the ground.

The remaining two attackers hesitated, exchanging uncertain glances. One of them growled, gripping his weapon tighter, and rushed forward. Young-il caught his wrist and twisted it, the sound of the bottle shattering as it fell to the floor. In the same motion, Young-il elbowed the man in the face, his head snapping back as he collapsed in a heap.

The final man hesitated, his eyes darting between Young-il and his fallen comrades. With a yell, he swung wildly with his fork.

Before the man could get close to Young-il, a sharp crash echoed through the chaos as a glass bottle shattered over his head. He crumpled to the floor instantly. Both you and Young-il turned toward the kind perpetrator.

Gi-hun stood there, breathing heavily, gripping the broken neck of the bottle by its cap. His gaze shifted between you two, his expression calm yet conflicted. A small smile crept onto your face, relieved to see him join the fray.

Behind Gi-hun, Jung-bae and Dae-ho rushed forward. Dae-ho flinched at every sound of fists and bodies hitting the floor, his arms extended forward as if staying connected to Jung-bae was his lifeline.

“You’re late,” Young-il said solemnly, sparing Gi-hun a brief glance.

Gi-hun ignored the remark and instead turned to Jung-bae and Dae-ho. “Remember. We defend and subdue only.”

With a nod, Gi-hun led the pair deeper into the chaos, heading toward other X players in need of help. As Young-il stepped aside, giving you room to breathe, your eyes darted across the room to assess the situation.

Toward the left, you spotted Hyun-ju. She sidestepped an O player’s swing with a fork and grabbed his wrist, twisting it sharply until he dropped the weapon with a yelp. She followed with a clean strike to his cheek, sending him sprawling. Gyeong-seok, a few steps behind her, tackled another O player attempting to blindside her. He wrestled the man to the ground, holding him down until Hyun-ju swiftly secured the situation with a sharp, calculated elbow strike that rendered the attacker motionless.

Further back, you caught sight of Jun-hee, the mother, and Yong-sik huddled together under a bed. Their wide eyes darted between the legs of fighters clashing nearby. The mother whispered something to Jun-hee, who nodded, clutching her belly protectively. Yong-sik’s trembling hands clutched the bedframe tightly, his face pale with fear.

Nearby, player 047 and player 145 were fending off two O players who had unfairly ganged up on a single X player. Player 047 grabbed the arm of one attacker mid-swing and twisted it behind his back, forcing him to the ground. Meanwhile, player 145 used a discarded piece of bed railing to parry the other O player’s attacks, buying enough time for the overwhelmed X player to recover and join the fight.

Your eyes landed on Se-mi at the far end of the room. She was weaving and dodging, narrowly avoiding the relentless swings of a certain O player wielding a fork. It was player 124, the late Thanos’ friend. His face was deranged, grinning maniacally, and each swing came with more force, driving Se-mi back until her shoulders hit the wall. Trapped, she barely had room to maneuver.

You didn’t hesitate. You dashed toward her, the sound of your footsteps swallowed by the noise of the fight. Behind you, you heard the familiar, steady steps of Young-il following closely.

As you reached Se-mi, player 124 swung the fork again, this time aiming for her face. You lunged forward, pushing his arm away so hard, forcing him to drop the fork. He growled and turned on you, his fist coming at you in a wide arc.

Before it could connect, Young-il was there. He grabbed player 124’s arm mid-swing and, with a swift motion, locked it behind his back. Player 124 struggled while shouting curses at him, but Young-il kicked his legs out from under him, sending him face-first to the ground. Keeping his grip firm, Young-il pressed a knee into the man’s back, effectively pinning him.

“Fuck you, old man!” yelled player 124. “Let me go, bastard!”

Se-mi looked at you, her breathing ragged but steady.

“Thanks,” she managed, brushing a loose strand of hair out of her face.

“Go,” you told her urgently, gesturing toward the stairs. “Hyun-ju and Gyeong-seok have a safe spot under the stairs. Get there now.”

She nodded and ran toward safety, glancing back only once before running past the ensuing brawls around her. You turned to Young-il, who was still holding player 124 down.

“Release me! How long are you going to pin me down, huh?!” shouted the deranged player 124.

Young-il released his hold and shifted his knee off player 124’s back, letting him get to his feet. But as soon as the man stood, he lashed out, swinging a wild punch at Young-il.

You barely had time to react, but Young-il moved faster. He ducked smoothly under the attack. Before player 124 could recover, Young-il delivered a sharp, precise strike to his jaw.

The force of the blow sent player 124 sprawling to the floor. He hit the ground hard and lay there, completely still. Unconscious.

Young-il straightened, his breathing steady as he glanced at you.

The lights suddenly steadied, illuminating the chaos around you. A loud, blaring sound filled the air as the double doors at the front of the dormitory swung open. Triangle guards rushed in, their guns raised and scanning the room. Behind them, a square-masked guard entered, holding a pistol. The sight of their arrival made everyone scatter instantly, breaking apart in all directions.

Remembering Gi-hun’s plan, you and Young-il dropped to the floor, feigning death. You closed your eyes, doing your best to keep your breathing steady. Around you, the sound of rapid footsteps echoed as guards spread out across the dormitory.

“Hands up. Get back,” one of the guards barked at a group of players.

“Drop your weapon. Hands up,” another commanded, their tone sharp and commanding.

“Check the IDs of the dead,” the square guard ordered.

You kept still, listening intently as the footsteps grew closer. A single set of boots approached you and Young-il. Your heart pounded in your chest, but you stayed motionless.

The sound of boots stopped right beside you. You felt a slight tug at your collar as the guard bent down. Something cold pressed against the spot behind your ear. You fought the urge to flinch.

Suddenly, a blur of movement. Young-il sprang forward, grabbing the guard’s weapon with precision and speed. Before you could even sit up, he twisted the gun against the guard and pulled the trigger. The loud crack of the shot echoed in the dormitory, and the guard fell lifeless to the floor.

You opened your eyes to see Young-il standing over the fallen guard, his grip firm on the weapon he had just taken. Around you, the sounds of shouts and gunfire erupted across the room. Commotion rippled through the dormitory, signaling that the rest of your group had launched their surprise attack on the guards.

You ducked low as Young-il moved with precision, firing at the guards with unwavering focus. Gunshots filled the air, each one echoing sharply through the dormitory. Players who had no knowledge of the plan cowered in fear, their expressions frozen in shock. Under one of the beds, Jun-hee, Yong-sik, and his mother stayed hidden, clutching one another tightly.

Your eyes scanned the room and landed on the fallen guard beside you. On his hip holster was a pistol. Without hesitation, you grabbed it and checked the magazine. Seeing it was full, you flipped off the safety, gripping the weapon firmly.

Crouching low, you peeked over the edge of the bed to assess the situation. Young-il, Gi-hun, Jung-bae, Hyun-ju, Gyeong-seok, player 047, and player 145 were engaged in a fierce gunfight with the guards. The guards, clearly caught off guard by the ambush, were struggling to regroup, and most of them were taken down with relative ease.

As you moved to find a better position, a guard suddenly emerged from a hiding spot under the stairs. He raised his weapon, aiming at the group’s exposed backs. Heart pounding, you dove behind a nearby bed, using it as cover. Taking a deep breath, you steadied your aim and fired.

The first shot missed, but the second and third found their mark, hitting the guard in the stomach and shoulder. He staggered before collapsing to the floor, lifeless. You exhaled sharply as you lowered the pistol.

Glancing back, you noticed Young-il’s gaze flicking toward you. His expression was unreadable, before he turned his attention back to the guards. He and Jung-bae were positioned behind an overturned bed, using it as a makeshift barricade.

You took a moment to observe the others. Despite the chaos, their movements were controlled and deliberate. Each of them handled their weapons with a level of familiarity that could only come from experience. It struck you then: in South Korea, military service was compulsory for men between the ages of 18 and 35. This wasn’t their first time handling firearms.

The gunfire continued, but the guards’ numbers were dwindling rapidly. Your group moved with purpose, systematically taking them down one by one.

The tide of the battle shifted abruptly when a mechanical announcement echoed through the dormitory: “Retreat. Retreat.”

The remaining guards, realizing their position was untenable, began cautiously stepping backward toward the double doors. They fired sporadically as they retreated, their shots aimed to cover their exit. The double doors started to slide shut, and the guards sprinted through the narrowing gap to escape. However, the square guard misjudged the timing. The doors closed firmly, leaving him stranded inside.

“Stop! Hold fire!” Gi-hun shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos. He leveled his gun at the square guard cautiously.

Jung-bae jogged toward the guard, his weapon trained steadily on the man. Player 145 followed closely behind, flanking the guard from another angle.

“Hands above your head! On your knees!” Jung-bae commanded, his voice sharp and firm.

Satisfied that the situation was under control, you flipped the safety on your pistol and tucked it into your pocket. Scanning the room quickly, you spotted Jun-hee, Yong-sik, and his mother still huddled under a bed. You jogged toward them, weaving through the aftermath of the battle.

“Are you okay?” you asked, crouching down to meet their level. Your voice softened as you looked at them. “Is anyone hurt?”

Jun-hee’s pale face turned toward you. Her wide eyes were filled with residual fear, but she managed to shake her head.

“I… I’m okay,” she said quietly, resting a hand protectively on her belly. “The baby’s okay too.”

“Thank goodness,” you replied with a small, relieved smile. You turned your attention to Yong-sik and his mother, who were clutching each other tightly.

“We’re fine,” Yong-sik’s mother said firmly, though her voice carried a faint tremble. She looked at you, her eyes sharp despite the situation. “How about you? Are you alright, miss?”

“I am, thankfully,” you said, smiling.

You heard the shout echo across the dormitory. “You goddamn bastards!”

Turning your gaze to the far end of the open space, you saw player 047, his gun aimed at five O players. Blood stained their faces and hands, evidence of the chaos they’d left in their wake. The O players, clearly terrified, raised their hands high in surrender.

Gi-hun sprinted toward the scene, his expression urgent as he grabbed the barrel of player 047’s gun and pushed it downward. “No!”

“Move!” shouted player 047. “Do you not see this?”

Gi-hun glanced around, his eyes falling on the lifeless bodies of X players who had been unable to defend themselves. You looked too, your heart sinking at the sight of the carnage. The dormitory, once a place of tension and fear, had become a blood-soaked battlefield where greed turned people into monsters.

“They are not human,” player 047 growled, his voice trembling with rage. “They’re like goddamn vermin blinded by money!”

Player 047 raised his gun again, aiming directly at the cowering O players. Gi-hun acted quickly, gripping the weapon firmly and meeting player 047’s glare with steady resolve. His face reflected both understanding and a deep determination as he said, “This is not what we took these guns for. If we do this, we’ll be no different from those masked men.”

As the tense standoff unfolded, you turned and walked toward Young-il. He stood silently nearby, his gun resting against his abdomen. His stillness was striking in contrast to the chaos around him.

Meanwhile, player 047 remained rooted in place, his teeth clenched in frustration. His eyes brimmed with anger and sadness as he glanced at the bodies of his fallen X allies. Slowly, reluctantly, he lowered his gun. His shoulders sagged with defeat, but he yielded to Gi-hun’s reasoning.

Gi-hun patted player 047 on the shoulder. Whether it was a gesture of pride for his restraint or an attempt to comfort him, you couldn’t be sure. After a brief pause, Gi-hun turned and walked to the center of the dormitory. His voice rang out, strong and steady.

“Everyone! Don’t be scared. Gather round, please!”

You glanced at Young-il. Your eyebrows lifted in surprise at the look on his face. His expression remained blank, but there was something contemplative and unsettling about it. It was as if he viewed Gi-hun’s actions with a sense of disapproval, a distaste that lingered just beneath the surface.

NEXT : Chapter 13

PREV : Chapter 11

Story Masterlist

Please feel free to leave comments and feedback about my story, the characters, the "you", and practically anything! I love reading your comments, especially long ones! It motivates me a lot! So, what do you think about your disagreement with Gi-hun? What do you think about the overall lights out? What about Young-il joining the battle and just sticking with you the entire time? And him protecting you all the time and just not letting anyone harm you?? I also want to know your take on Young-il's mysterious reaction towards Gi-hun's "let's hide and let Os attack everyone else" plan and his plan to overthrow the game? Now, what do you want "you" to do in the next few chapters? Because we are really reaching the end of Season 2 and I am terrified.

Leave a comment on the masterlist post to be added to the taglist.

[ckret2]

Chapter 42 in human Bill Cipher's imprisonment in the Mystery Shack about to get a whole lot worse, featuring:

A history lesson on a second dimensional cult and its obnoxious child leader.

And Dipper making the mistake of asking Bill what "reality is an illusion" means.

And most importantly... The Eclipse: Prologue.

####

The source of light is a completely hypothetical phenomenon.

Just a couple of centuries ago, scientists postulated that perhaps light was a side-effect of magnetism generated by the poles of planets, and that someday the study of magnets might explain how light shifted over the course of a day.

But modern scientists theorized that light emanated from some force or object in a higher dimension, and that the unseen movements of this source-of-light explained how light ebbed and flowed around the perimeters of objects over the course of a day. Physics experiments backed up this hypothesis of a "third dimensional" origin of light.

Scientists adopted the term "sun" to describe this hypothetical light source. Experiments also suggested the third dimension might have a multitude of weaker light sources that provided much less illumination—perhaps spread across the third dimension like water droplets suspended in fog—which they dubbed "stars."

Roughly once a year, light (or rather, the "sun") was eclipsed. This was a very long time; a child born just after an eclipse might already be in school, have mastered measuring angles and reading, and begun learning multiplication and division by the time they saw their first eclipse. Some years were skipped, such that they wouldn't have an eclipse for two, three, sometimes even four or five years—it was possible to almost reach middle age without seeing an eclipse—with no discernible pattern to these gaps. Eclipses usually occurred around the new year—indeed, New Year's Day was fixed to the average date of the eclipse—but eclipse season ranged up to three months in either direction.

Experiments were being conducted to test ideas about the nature of eclipses—the two most prominent theories were that the sun naturally flickered off and on like a lamp, in a rolling pattern that accounted for how eclipses didn't affect the whole plain simultaneously but had been proven to move; or that the sun was obscured by some object in the third dimension, like a ball thrown in front of a lamp. There were solid arguments in favor of either theory, and thus far the data on hand couldn't disprove either.

But where science petered out, religion took up the baton.

A new religious movement called the Higher Dimensional Gate was picking up steam in the northwest. The cult (as some watchdog organizations called it) had been started a few years ago by a married couple—line and trapezoid—who gave largely inoffensive New Age-flavored sermons about spiritual purity and enlightenment. Their shows would have been unremarkable if not for their inclusion of their child—a charismatic young equilateral triangle they claimed had an "inner eye" that granted him clairvoyance. Every show, they put him on stage for a few minutes, where he'd point out audience members and offer seemingly-psychic insights into their lives. As he approached adolescence, he was given more and more stage time, which he'd use to recite the same sort of rhetoric as his parents while tossing in some novel claims about the third dimension that reflected the public's modern scientific fascinations.

It wasn't until the line's death that they evolved from a traveling psychic sideshow with a few zealous supporters into a burgeoning religious movement. The trapezoid adopted a background role as the precocious triangle took over all their speaking engagements, which he used to spin a novel mythology describing the third dimension as a separate spiritual plane found in an unseeable direction "upward, but not northward" from the mundane mortal plane. It was at this time that they adopted the name Higher Dimensional Gate, and their young leader announced that his spiritual contacts in the third dimension had granted him the title Magister Mentium—teacher of minds (or, perhaps more ominously, master of minds).

Higher Dimensional Gate aggressively recruited new followers, with the Magister leaving school to support a frenetic pace of traveling speaking engagements. More and more devotees followed him from town to town, overfilling hotels wherever they went and flooding parking lots with a caravan of RVs and trailers. Fliers they left in their wake offered mail-order pamphlets, sermon recordings, and religious paraphernalia. But the cult didn't break into the national consciousness until a couple of theoretical astrophysicists published a paper debunking pop culture misinformation on the third dimension.

Along with referencing several sci-fi shows spreading the idea that the third dimension allowed time travel, the authors dove into the bizarre beliefs of several New Age authors, speakers, and religious movements. They particularly maligned the ideas put forth by Higher Dimensional Gate, calling their descriptions of angelic aliens and spirit guides "misleading fairy tales" with no scientific basis in reality. They said the Magister Mentium would have done better to finish a basic public education before making claims about the third dimension.

The paper didn't receive much notice outside popular science magazines—until the Magister Mentium released a vicious public rebuttal that made national news for its absurdity.

Soundbites from his twenty-minute rant were broadcast in news segments about fringe religious movements and scientific literacy. Talk shows played quotes as fodder for jokes. Editorialists predicted that the young triangle was the sort of crooked cult leader who'd be on trial in a decade for cheating his worshipers out of their life savings. Only a few programs played even as much as a full minute from his speech:

"These scientists want you to think that the third dimension is some dead realm hidden behind a door you'll never see—and I'm telling you it's not! It's the dream realm! It's the realm of spirits and positive energy! It stretches into all possible futures, and if you could peer into it, you'd see the road to your own best possible future!

"And I know this. Because unlike these pessimistic brainiacs who mock what they don't understand, I can see the third dimension. I can witness the 'sun' in all its glory—a blazing white circle, more dazzling than anything you've ever seen, so bright it burns like fire to stare at it! I can see it pass through the pinpoint white lights of the 'stars'!

"And I can prove it.

"The most 'educated' minds in the scientific community can't predict an eclipse. They look at their historical records and they do a little math, hope they'll get lucky, and shrug if they're wrong—what do they know? All they can do is guess! 

"But with my own all-seeing eye, I've personally witnessed a phenomenon that scientists can't even imagine. I know what passes between the sun and our plane—and I know when it's coming.

"I note all my detractors are in the camp that thinks the sun flickers.

"So let's run a scientific experiment. I challenge the scientific community to predict the next eclipse more accurately than me. I'll give it to you within the minute. In fact—I'll sweeten the deal! I'll give a million dollars to any nerd who can guess more accurately than me! I will personally hand you the prize money!"

"But if you want the prize, you'd better guess soon. Because the eclipse will be here in two weeks. I can already see it on the horizon."

It was nearly seven months until New Year's.

Sources close to the Magister's family claimed he was a spendthrift with nowhere near a million dollars on hand.

When asked to comment on the public ridicule his challenge had inspired, the Magister snidely replied, "We'll see who's laughing after the eclipse."

####

Gideon approached the Mystery Shack disguised in a pair of sunglasses and a camo jacket from his father's closet. The jacket was as long as a dress on him. It was hot.

He kept outside the tree line as he circled the shack, passing the gift shop, the house door, and finally the long side of the house where tourists never parked and the residents rarely ventured.

Gideon peered anxiously at each window for witnesses. He looked up at the attic dormer which once held the window of Bill's face; he caught a flash of bright golden curls pulling out of sight, and flinched. No, that was fine. That was who he was here for. Weren't any other blondes in the house.

When he was sure the coast was clear, he ran across the open ground from the trees to the side door, heart threatening to beat out of his chest. By the time he reached the door, Bill was already downstairs in the floor room, hands and grinning face pressed to the window like a child awaiting a special delivery. He waved excitedly at Gideon.

Gideon hissed, "Shh!" and immediately felt stupid about it.

He partially unzipped his jacket, pulled a manila envelope out of an inner pocket, knelt, and shoved it under the door. As Bill had promised, the door had poor weatherstripping and the envelope slid in easily.

A napkin covered in faint dry marker writing slid out. Gideon picked it up and read it. "Nice work ☆ Boy! I'll pass you the next message at Town Hall. Get yourself something nice, my treat. ◡̈" Inside the napkin's fold was a $5 coupon to the hardware store. It was expired. 

Looking at the coupon, Gideon asked himself what a powerless imprisoned demon could really do to help his father's business.

Inside the shack, Bill checked the doorway to ensure no humans were coming for a few minutes, flopped onto the flat old sofa, and pulled several sheets of notebook paper out of the envelope: the answers to all the questions he'd told Gideon to ask his worshiper. He skimmed past her name to the second question: how had they located Bill?

At the sight of a familiar name, his heart leaped into his throat, then slowly sank into its cage again as he read the rest. "Someone calling himself Stanford Pines reached out, claiming to be an ex-cultist wanting to help other victims of the cult. He said the cult's 'founder' was incarcerated. He sounded like an enemy, but they thought he might know something about your disappearance and sent Sue."

Until the last moment, Bill had held onto a sliver of hope. As much as Ford said he couldn't stand Bill, somebody had had to contact his artists, and who else...?

But there it was. It had been Ford; but he hadn't been trying to save Bill. He'd just been trying to rip the nails out of one more thing Bill had built.

Fine. Bill wasn't wasting time on lost causes. He'd never really seen Ford as a friend, anyway. If Ford was stupid enough to throw away a god's favor, that was his loss. Bill could kill him with the rest when he had his power back. He didn't care. He'd just... really thought he could win him back over.

He crumpled up the pages, tossed them on the floor, and hunched forward to rub his eyelid with his hand.

Well, trying to get Ford back on his side had just been a way to pass the time. He hadn't taken it seriously. Not really.

He leaned back, flopped his head on the backrest cushion, and sighed; and then he fished the pages off the floor and smoothed them back out.

He read through the rest of the information Gideon had obtained. His girls in Death Valley had indeed been awaiting his arrival "as Bill requested"; and when he didn't show up on schedule, they'd taken to waiting for him in shifts for half a year before giving up. The way Bill had "requested" was to stack themselves into a human throne for him—he imagined Sue hadn't wanted to mention that detail on the phone with a kid. And they'd kept that up for six months? In shifts? That was hysterical. What a bunch of lunatics. He couldn't wait to meet the gals in person, he was just going to love them. Sue was set up at an inn a few towns west—not a lot of motels in this lonely part of Oregon—and there were a couple more girls in Portland who could be here in an hour.

They'd also made contact with a few devotees of Bill's teachings in Washington, but hadn't told them his exact location. Unsurprising—if they were the devotees he was thinking of, they were less "hardy New Age hippie spiritualists looking forward to the creation of a bright new world" and more "paranoid doomsday preppers anticipating being the last survivors of the doomed old world." The Death Valley group probably didn't trust them. Just about all of Bill's "students" were freaks of one sort or another—if not when he met them, then by the time he was done with them—but different varieties of freaks usually clashed. He had to keep them safely corralled into separate sects to maintain the harmony and their loyalty.

They were all so, so close—all these humans just waiting for an opportunity to meet him, touch him, save him, serve him, love him. They were so close he could almost reach out and grab them.

But "almost" wouldn't get them into his hands.

Something would come up soon. He was sure. He could feel it.

####

Sometimes, stairs just weren't worth the effort.

Bill understood, intellectually, that stair steps had a "top" surface and a "side" surface. He also understood that, given how gravity worked in this dimension, you could only step on their top surfaces. He knew this. He was smart. He'd personally worked out the equations to calculate how gravity worked in this dimension ages before an apple beaned Newton.

It was just that, when he looked at a staircase, he couldn't shake the impression that someone had simply taken a 2D plane and artistically folded it into a zigzag. And on a folded 2D plane, there wasn't a "top" surface and a "side" surface; there was just the surface, and a 3D body could stand anywhere atop the surface with no problem.

So he would try to get from the attic to the kitchen, subconsciously decide that rather than walking "down" the stairs standing vertically he wanted to walk "up" the stairs standing horizontally, and he'd try to lean forward to put his foot on the side of a step—and then his face was on the floor again.

And even when he kept his ups up and his sides sideways, sometimes over-concentrating on where to step distracted him into tripping anyway.

The stairs in the Quadrangle of Qonfusion never gave him trouble. They worked fine both vertically and horizontally, he'd designed them that way. And also he didn't need to use them. He could float. They were mainly there for the outerplanar Henchmaniacs and because Bill liked the zigzag motif. He was much less fond of stairs these days. When he got home, he was ripping them all out and replacing them with ladders and slides.

He was better with stairs than he'd been when he first occupied this body. But when he didn't focus on every single step, he still tended to slip up. He often got to the stairs and saw his body crumpled on the landing fifteen seconds in the future. If the damage wasn't too severe, sometimes he just resigned himself to the bruises and stepped off the ledge. Had to get downstairs somehow, after all.

But sometimes the future held a broken leg, or an unconscious heap, or a lot of blood. When that happened, sometimes he'd shuffle his footing a bit until the future looked less painful and then try descending. Sometimes he'd creep down to the last safe step and then look for a less fatal route the rest of the way down.

And sometimes he got halfway down the stairs, saw looming disaster, couldn't for the life of him figure out how to avoid it, and thought forget it and just sat down in the middle of the staircase. If he waited there long enough, eventually whatever he'd been about to instinctively do would change, and he could safely finish his journey.

Stairs were, by far, the most frequent and most stupid of his inconveniences as a human.

He never thought to bring something to read in case he hit unexpected delays on the stairs. There was nothing interesting to do, and he didn't so much as have a window to look out of. He got bored. He was constantly sleep-deprived. Sometimes he fell asleep, leaning against the wall.

He'd overheard the humans speculating on why he liked to nap on the stairs. The leading theory was that it had been normal in his home dimension, followed closely by runner-up theory "just to annoy us." None had asked him directly. They usually just left him alone on the stairs. But not today.

Bill flinched out of sleep as his leg was kicked. A fizzling field of white pinpricks filled his vision and faded as he opened his eyes. "Mruh?"

"You're blocking the stairs," Dipper said. This time Bill had fallen asleep on the stairs below the landing, slouched down with his shoulders and head against the wall, legs stretched across two stair steps and knees raised.

"And you're disturbing my sleep." Bill yawned and glanced downstairs. Coast was clear. He could get to the living room with nothing but a fumble on the next to bottom step now.

"Get out of the way." Dipper kicked his leg again.

Well, now Bill didn't want to get up. He kicked Dipper back. "No. Your ancestors lived in trees, act like it."

"What?"

"Climb, monkey boy."

Dipper grumbled, but surveyed his roadblock thoughtfully. He experimentally lifted a foot over Bill's abdomen, considered how far down it was to the next step, and scooted down to Bill's feet instead. Bill watched with a smirk as Dipper clung to the railing and gingerly stepped over one foot to the edge of the stair step, and then the next. Bill briefly considered tripping him, decided it wasn't worth getting in trouble, and instead twitched a foot up as Dipper passed over and laughed when he jumped.

"Jerk," Dipper muttered. "This is why you only have one friend."

The jab ripped at a raw sore in his chest. Ex-cultist. "Whatever!" He laughed loudly. "My real friends are all one little interdimensional rift away, I didn't come here to make pals with humans." He jerked his hood down over his eyes and slouched lower, arms crossed tight. "I don't even care. This entire universe is a hologram and nothing's real anyway."

There was silence. Bill congratulated himself on getting the last word in; and then Dipper said, "What does that mean?"

"What kind of stupid—it means I don't care about you, what do you think it means? You're made from the exhaust belched out of a star's tailpipe—"

"I meant, the hologram thing. You're always saying stuff about the universe not being real, what are you talking about."

Bill thumbed the hem of his hood up and glanced down at Dipper. He was standing at the bottom of the stairs, looking up determinedly. He'd pulled out his journal and pen. He was serious. He was all ready to learn about the secrets of the universe.

Ford's little wanna-be protégé with his little knock-off Journal, wasn't he adorable. He wanted so much to be just like his great uncle. And in many ways, he was like a younger Ford. The ignorant, arrogant, insecure, naïve, easily-flattered, easily-exploited younger Ford, back before he grew a personality. Except even back at his most boring, Ford had found the strange beautiful where this kid only found it interesting. You don't have what it takes to be Ford.

Bill was already filling this brat's head with gunk—bogus conspiracy theories, wild goose chases after lucid dreaming, nightmares about whole dimensions that existed only as parables for somebody else. What was a little bit more? He could give this kid something to talk to his therapist about. Something that—in his darkest, lowest, loneliest moments—would come back to mind, and remind him that nothing he did would ever matter.

Plus, he hoped Ford would look in on the living room and seethe about not being his student anymore.

"All right kid, sure! Fine. You just so happened to catch me on a day when I've got nothing to do." Bill stood, stretched, and sauntered down the stairs. He fumbled on the next to bottom step. "You wanna know about the universe? You wanna know the big secret?"

"Uh..." Dipper eagerly flipped through his journal, looking for a blank page. Apparently he hadn't expected Bill to actually indulge his curiosity. "'Secret'?" He trailed after Bill into the living room.

"Okay, okay, maybe it's not a 'secret'—a secret suggests somebody's trying to hide it. It's just that nobody thinks you're important enough to tell and you're too primitive to see it for yourself."

Bill turned around, a lecturer on a stage. Dipper sat on the couch and tried to position his journal on his knees to take notes. He looked so attentive. He thought he was going to enjoy this.

"So you remember what I told you about the second dimension. That from the third dimension's perspective, it's nothing but shadows cast on a wall."

"Plato's cave. Yeah."

"Your dimension is a lot like that. There are higher dimensions than this, and your entire universe is being projected down from one of them. If being in the second dimension and seeing into the third is like being a shadow looking at the entrance to the cave, then being in the third and seeing into the fourth is like a character on a movie screen looking out at the film projector. While you're distracted by the movie, I'm studying the film reel and watching the frames coming up. It's how I tell the future—and you can't even tell yourself I'm lying about that, because you've seen me do it."

Dipper grumbled, "You've spoiled the killer on Duck-tective."

"I've spoiled the killer on Duck-tective! Twice!"

Dipper was furiously taking notes. "Wait—so, the fourth dimension really is time? Mabel and I kinda visited the fourth dimension once, but I wasn't sure if it being 'time' was, like, some kind of metaphor..."

"Ha! Listen to you! That's like asking if the third dimension is light. No. Time isn't the fourth dimension. It's just in the fourth dimension," Bill said. "And for the record you didn't really visit the fourth dimension. The glowing blue tunnel with floating clocks and calendars? That was a metaphor."

"Aw man," Dipper muttered, disappointed.

"So when you say you can see the future, you mean—you literally see it? With your eyeballs?"

"All-seeing eye," Bill said smugly.

"Can... you teach me?"

"No. It's not a learnable skill. You're either born with an inner—what's the human phrase?—a third eye, or you aren't."

Dipper processed that. "How do I find out if I have—?"

"You don't."

"Aw."

Bill waited for Dipper to scribble down a couple more lines before he casually dropped the next bombshell: "In fact, not only have you never been 'in' the fourth dimension—your universe isn't really even third dimensional."

Dipper's pen gouged into the page. "What do you mean, it's not third dimensional!"

"I mean you've got two dimensions and the third's an illusion. Hologram, remember?"

"What are you—" Dipper waved a hand around in the air. "I'm moving my arm through the third dimension right now!"

"No you're not."

Dipper threw his pen on the ground. "Okay, you're messing with me!"

"Not this time. Listen. Got a little riddle for you: what do Plato's cave and a movie theater have in common?"

Dipper pursed his lips angrily, but he'd been issued a riddle and couldn't resist trying to solve it. "Sitting in the dark, staring at shapes?"

"Ha! Look at it, it still thinks it's part of the audience!" Bill wagged a finger disapprovingly. "In both cases, everyone and everything in the show is an illusion—just light and shadows projected on a flat wall."

"But—! The world would look flat if it was 2D—"

"It does look flat. 2D is all you've ever seen," Bill said. He held his hands out, thumbs and forefingers forming a rectangle like a picture frame, his exposed eye staring through it at Dipper.  "Your eyes only see a pair of two-dimensional images that your brain interprets as 3D because it's been trained to. Depth perception is an optical illusion! You can't actually witness the depth of an object—your brain uses context clues to guess it! And the context clues are lying to you."

Dipper scowled. "But." He paused. "It's different."

"Uh-huh." Bill leaned against a wall, feigning a yawn. "Okay, wow me with your philosophy."

"Pictures on paper are 2D, and they don't look 3D, so since the real world does look 3D..."

"Hey, you know that autostereogram art your sister's friend likes so much? Magic Vision Posters?" Bill asked. "Cross your eyes a little and a 3D illusion pops out of the page?"

Dipper's frown deepened.

Bill's smile widened. "And those are just manmade pictures. The projectors I'm talking about are cosmically complex. If it's so easy to trick your brain into seeing something three dimensional in a flat image, then how do you know, really know, that everything around you is 3D rather than an infinitely complex 2D hologram?"

"Be... cause..." Dipper looked around, grasping for another defense of reality as he knew it. He picked his pen off the floor. "Because I can touch an object and feel it's 3D! Even if my eyes can be fooled, I can... look, I can feel the curve of the barrel and everything."

"And?" Bill asked. "If your laundry comes out of the dryer unexpectedly cool, you think it's damp because your species didn't evolve wetness-sensing nerves. And you still trust your sense of touch?"

"Wait, that's why that happens?"

"Uh-huh. Water is wet, your t-shirts aren't, and your third dimension's an optical illusion."

Dipper slouched back on the couch, arms crossed, chewing his pen, brows drawn and eyes unfocused. Bill watched with a smirk as Dipper's faith in an objective observable reality slowly eroded before his very eye. For someone so eager to burrow into the strange, Dipper wanted so much for the world to make sense. That was why he was burrowing into the strange in the first place: to shine a flashlight on the things that go bump in the dark.

Maybe that was what rubbed Bill so wrong about this kid. Bill was sure that, deep in his heart, Dipper didn't really know how to celebrate the weird; he only wanted to expand the boundaries of normal. Disgusting.

Finally, Dipper mumbled, "How did you find this out?"

"This little shadow peeled itself off the wall and flew out of the cave—do you think I stopped there? I've seen further! What looks like an inescapable labyrinth to a two-dimensional Minotaur is nothing but a fun maze in a puzzle book when you can see over the walls from the third dimension's perspective. And once you can see the fourth dimension, your so-called 'third' dimension looks no different! I can see through walls, into boxes, past barriers; and I can see just how flat your world really is. Like taking a photo and looking at it from the edge."

"Hm." Dipper was still staring into space.

Bill's smug smile drooped into a frown. Dipper didn't look like he'd absorbed anything Bill just said. He hated an inattentive audience.

He crossed the room, planting a hand on the couch backrest by Dipper's head to lean over him, and waited until Dipper looked up into his eye. Bill said, "And I can tell you, beyond a shadow of a doubt: you're no more real to the things projecting your universe than the shadows in Plato's cave are to you. This. Entire. Universe. Doesn't. Exist. And nothing that happens here matters."

That little look of doubt edging into dread was so, so satisfying.

Bill pushed himself upright and sauntered to the door, his hex cast, ready to leave Dipper alone with his budding existential crisis. "So that's why I try to have fun with it! Your whole dimension is like an amusement park. Why hang out in a cave unless you're leaving cave paintings, who cares what the shadows think about the graffiti?"

"What's in those higher dimensions?"

Bill paused, glancing over his shoulder. "'Scuse me?"

"Something's gotta be running the 'projector' or whatever, right?" He asked it with an edge of desperation, like if Dipper could just make it that far, the world would make sense again. "Movies have audiences. Who're they?"

Bill stared at Dipper—and then slowly grinned again. What a glutton for misery. Feed him a bitter spoonful of poisonous knowledge and he asks for the bowl. But of course—tell him that reality isn't real and the next thing he wants to know is where to find reality.

Okay, fine, Bill would keep playing—this was almost fun. "Higher dimensional beings! Duh."

"What are they like?"

"Wretched incomprehensible shapeshifting contortions of flesh and bone that appear to gorily mutate as their vast bodies pass through the dimensions your limited eyes are capable of viewing. Seeing them will drive you mad."

"Ah. Great," Dipper said. "But what are they like as people?"

"From your perspective, all-knowing and unknowable. Talking to them will also drive you mad."

"I'm detecting a theme here," Dipper grumbled.

Bill gave him a polite golf clap. "Another win for human pattern-detection instincts! Give 'im a hand." (Oh, Bill wished he had his powers. It would be so funny to give Dipper a giant disembodied hand.)

In spite of his visible irritation, Dipper was still taking notes. "Is it possible for a human to meet one?"

"You've got more pattern-detection instincts than self-preservation instincts," Bill said wryly. "But sure, of course it's possible. In fact, I think you already met one."

That got him looking up from his journal. "I did?"

"Sure! Not here, but in a parallel universe that doesn't exist anymore. No clue what you talked about, I steer away from that guy when I can. But hey, maybe you'll remember it someday."

"How can I remember it if it happened to a parallel me in another universe?"

"When things like him speak, they leave vast echoes. Even across timelines."

Dipper considered that. "Could I meet him again?"

"Maybe if he takes an interest in you. Pray he doesn't. Prayers won't actually help, but it's something to keep your mind occupied!"

"Is it possible to be more proactive about meeting one of them?"

Bill laughed. "Kid, you're stupid. And that makes you very entertaining."

"Great?"

"But if you wanna break into some cosmic horror's living room, sure! If they don't come down here, all you need to do is go up there."

And back to taking notes Dipper went. "You gonna elaborate, orrr..."

"Ha, fine. The issue is you're not built for higher dimensions. Like I said, you might seem real to yourself here, but there you'd just be a light on a wall." He made a circle between his forefinger and thumb, turned his hand upside down, and peered through the circle like a monocle. "If you want to ascend, you need an aperture to translate between dimensions—something through which fourth-dimensional spacetime can be compacted enough to appear three-dimensional, or pseudo three-dimensional spacetime can be augmented with a fourth dimension. With an aperture like that, you can climb up and down the dimensional ladder to visit anywhere level of reality you want—from the zeroth dimension to the billionth."

"Including wherever our universe's projector is?"

"Bingo. Unfortunately for your suicidal ambitions, inventing an aperture capable of manipulating spacetime like that needs a lot of science humanity is nowhere near mastering; but with the materials humanity currently knows how to manufacture, I bet building one would be pretty simple if you got instructions from a species that's already done it." Bill arched his brows mockingly. "Hey, might even make a fun little summer project, if you don't mind going insane. Something to take to the science fair next year, huh?"

"Shut up," Dipper said. "And—if you got out of your dimension—do you know about species that can give those instructions?"

"Suuure! Heck, give me a couple pieces of paper and a pen and I could probably whip up the blueprints myself."

Dipper nodded. Dipper processed that. Dipper glared at Bill. "Wait a minute. Are you trying to get me to build another portal for you?!"

Bill cackled, doubling over. Voice shrill, he said, "I was wondering how long it'd take you!"

"Oh my god."

He groped for an arm chair and dropped down, still laughing. "I was this close to saying 'why don't you ask your uncle for the blueprints' to see if you'd get it!" He wheezed, "Can you imagine the look on his face!"

Dipper chucked his pen at Bill. "I hate you."

"Hook, line, and sinker! You idiot!" He slid halfway out of his seat, covering his face with his hands.

Dipper groaned. "So you made up all that stuff about the third dimension being fake and the universe being a hologram?"

Bill struggled to control his laughter enough to catch his breath. "No—no, all that was true. A hundred percent scientifically verifiable!"

"Shut up, man." Dipper got off the couch, kicked the back of Bill's armchair as he passed, and trudged into the gift shop.

####

"Hey Grunkle Ford? Is the third dimension actually an illusion being projected out of the fourth?"

"Been talking to Bill again, have you?"

Dipper winced. "I mean. Well. But he's not telling the truth, is he?"

"Mmm..." Ford waggled a hand uncertainly.

"What."

"Based on our current knowledge of quantum mechanics, it's not impossible," Ford admitted. "And it would explain some things about black holes."

"Ugh. That's the worst thing I've ever heard." Dipper rubbed his eyes. "How do you live with that?"

"With what?"

"Thinking the entire universe might be, just... some kind of projection? Like a movie?" Dipper said. "I mean... what's the point of doing anything if everything's fake. That's awful."

Ford pressed his lips together.

####

1981

"The universe is what?" Ford asked.

His muse shrugged apologetically. "Sorry to break it to ya, kid! I figured you'd rather hear it from me than—"

"But—but that's amazing!" Ford started pacing across the dreamscape's translucent grid floor. "The implications for physics, for faster-than-light travel, for, for—for religion?" He looked at Bill. "Is the projection a natural phenomenon or someone's creation."

"Uh," Bill said. "Creation?"

"Then who made it? Descartes' 'evil genius'? A demiurge? God?"

Bill laughed. "Kid, depending on your interdimensional political opinions, those are three names for the same guy."

"He's real?"

"Define 'real'," Bill said. "And 'he.' And 'is.'"

"I... I cannot do that!" Ford resumed pacing, muttering again about the implications.

Eye crinkled in amusement, Bill said, "I've gotta say, Stanford, you're taking this pretty well. Most humans don't like hearing they're secretly flat."

Ford barked a laugh. "'Most humans' didn't like hearing that the Earth isn't the center of the solar system. I'm a man of science! If we could prove this, it would be the biggest leap forward in physics since special relativity!" He beamed at Bill. "Do you realize what this means?"

Bill pointed at their portal calculations. "It means if you want to get this working, you need to zero out all the depth values."

"Ah." Ford's shoulders sagged. "Yes. That too."

"Wish you'd taken that fourth semester of Fifth-Dimensional Calculus now?"

"Hush," Ford said sourly, and was immediately mortified at himself for being so disrespectful to his muse; but Bill laughed with what sounded like genuine delight.

####

2013

"Right," Ford said self-consciously. "Awful."

####

At three a.m., Dipper lay in bed, gnawing at his shirt collar, staring at the ceiling.

Yeah. Oh yeah. He could feel it. Wondering whether reality was real would haunt him the rest of his life.

####

Bill slept like a baby.

Nothing like bullying a child to improve a miserable day.

####

Bill woke the next morning from a nightmare about—what had it been about. Being trapped in the bathroom as a metaphor for... something or other. Being trapped in general, probably. Great, had that incident given him trauma? Was he gonna start having recurring nightmares? Would this be a thing he had to deal with? What a miserable malfunctioning species humans were.

He could see the beforeimage of Mabel coming upstairs; not enough time to pull out his dream diary. He'd just have to remember it to write down later. He sat up, cracked his sore neck, and shuffled to the stairs in search of breakfast.

His foot missed the first step and landed on empty air, his stomach lurched, and he braced for a rough landing. In the split second he hung in the air, he thought that he wasn't supposed to fall, he'd looked. Hadn't he looked? He was sure he had—he didn't remember looking, but he could always see, if there'd been an injury in his imminent future he would have subconsciously noticed it and stopped to evaluate, the fact that he'd just walked meant there was nothing for him to notice—right? Idiot, why hadn't he double checked before he just walked off half-asleep—

It occurred to him that this split second was lasting a lot longer than it was supposed to.

He caught the handrail. His fall stopped as he gently bumped into the wall.

"Huh." He straightened up, gave the stairs a puzzled look; and then, experimentally, did a little hop. He went higher than he'd meant to, and hung in the air longer than he should have. He repeated the experiment a couple of times; and then, took a bigger jump forward, aiming for a couple of steps down. He seemed to float in the air for a moment before his feet gently settled on the wooden board. "Oo-oo-ooh." He looked around the stairwell, baffled; and then he looked up, eye burning as he stared through the roof and into the sky.

A chill ran up his spine. "Uh-oh."

####

Dipper frowned at his syrup bottle as the syrup painstakingly oozed out. When he let up his squeezing even a little bit, the syrup sucked back in.

"Come on." He squeezed again and shook the bottle over his pancakes. Like morning dew on the fruits hanging above the head of Tantalus, a round drop of syrup glistened under the skin-softening kitchen light, but never fell. "What's the problem?" Dipper wiped the drop onto his finger and wiped his finger on his pancakes.

Mabel slammed the door open and pounded into the kitchen. "Dipper! Come outside, I need to show you something!" They ran out.

Mabel stood on the edge of the porch, held up an orange glitter-filled super bounce ball the size of a walnut, and said, "Watch this!" She flung the ball down on the porch step as hard as she could.

It rocketed up into the sky, arcing away from the Mystery Shack toward the forest. Dipper's jaw dropped. "Whoa!"

"I just lost four balls that way!" Mabel planted her hands on her hips, watching with satisfaction as the pinprick point of the latest ball soared upward until it disappointed. "I'm gonna get some more!" She ran inside and bolted up the stairs.

Ford passed from the gift shop into the living room, frowning. He picked up a magazine left on the dinosaur skull, flipped through it, and observed how slowly the pages fluttered. "Hmm."

From the entryway, he could hear Stan down the hall on the office phone: "Hello? Doctor? This is Stan Pines. Yeah, I got a medical question. I stepped on the scale this morning, and it says I lost twenty percent of my weight overnight. Do I have cancer?" There was a pause. "Eighth call this morning?! What is this, some kinda bug going around town?"

Dipper closed the door as he came back inside. "Hey, Grunkle Ford? I think there's something..."

"Something strange going on? Yes, I've noticed," he said. "It seems that gravity is about twenty percent lower than usual." He pulled his sparkly birthday pen out of his coat pocket and dropped it from several feet up into his other hand. It fell just a bit slower than normal—not enough that it looked like it was on the moon, but enough that the motion looked uncanny.

"What's going on?"

"I don't..." Ford trailed off as a flash of bright yellow appeared in his peripheral vision. He turned toward the stairs.

Bill had stepped onto the landing. He looked at the bottom half of the staircase with a critical, calculating gaze; and then jumped off the top step. In a single smooth, slow arc, he leaped over all the stairs and descended, slow as a feather, to land lightly on the floor.

"Whoa." Under his breath, Dipper said, "That's a lot more than twenty percent lower."

It just figured he had something to do with this. "Bill," Ford snapped. "What's going on?"

He wasn't expecting Bill to give him such a solemn look.

"There's an eclipse coming," Bill said. "I'd give it three days."

####

(Be honest how long did it take you to figure out Bill was just seeing if he could get Dipper hyped about building a portal. Anyway, hope you enjoyed!! We're heading into the biggest storyline so far—plotwise, lengthwise, and emotionwise—so I'd love to hear what you're thinking and expecting so far!)

[apod]

2023 May 17

Sunspot with Light Bridge Image Credit & Copyright: Mark Johnston

Explanation: Why would a small part of the Sun appear slightly dark? Visible is a close-up picture of sunspots, depressions on the Sun's surface that are slightly cooler and less bright than the rest of the Sun. The Sun's complex magnetic field creates these cool regions by inhibiting hot material from entering the spots. Sunspots can be larger than the Earth and typically last for about a week. Part of active region AR 3297 crossing the Sun in early May, the large lower sunspot is spanned by an impressive light bridge of hot and suspended solar gas. This high-resolution picture also shows clearly that the Sun's surface is a bubbling carpet of separate cells of hot gas. These cells are known as granules. A solar granule is about 1000 kilometers across and lasts for only about 15 minutes.

∞ Source: apod.nasa.gov/apod/ap230517.html

[songbirdseung]

celestial reunion / choi yeonjun

idol!yeonjun x nonidol!reader

exes au, angst, fluff

wc:

Synopsis: Their reunion is marked by the lingering words Yeonjun uttered during their last encounter: "If the universe intended for us to be together, it would find a way to let us know."

The universe seems to conspire to bring them together once again. Chance encounters, shared memories, and unspoken feelings resurface, creating a magnetic pull that challenges both Y/N and Yeonjun to confront the unresolved emotions that linger between them. The story oscillates between moments of heart-wrenching vulnerability and the undeniable chemistry that refuses to fade.

The rhythmic hum of the Seoul train station echoed through the cavernous space, a bustling symphony of arrivals and departures. Amidst the hurried footsteps and the distant murmur of travelers, Y/N stood on the platform, a solitary figure returning from a self-care sojourn that had taken her away since the shattering end of her relationship with Yeonjun. Her eyes, once filled with the vibrant hues of shared dreams, now mirrored the subdued tones of healing.

The rooftop, their once-beloved retreat, now bore witness to a conversation laden with the weight of impending separation. The distant city lights, usually a comforting backdrop, now flickered like distant stars, mirroring the uncertainty that hung in the air.

"I can't keep pretending everything is fine, Yeonjun," Y/N's voice held a mixture of concern and exhaustion. She looked at him, searching for understanding in his eyes. "Your career is skyrocketing, and I'm genuinely happy for you. But, Yeonjun, the constant attention, the lack of privacy… I feel like I'm suffocating."

Yeonjun, his features etched with a blend of frustration and helplessness, tried to bridge the gap. "I know it's not easy, Y/N, but this is my dream. The spotlight is part of the package, and I need you to understand that."

"I get it, Yeonjun. I really do," Y/N sighed, her eyes reflecting a mix of love and resignation. "But it's not just about me. It's about our safety. The fans, the media—they're everywhere. I can't go anywhere without being scrutinized, and it's taking a toll on us."

He ran a hand through his hair, torn between the love he felt for Y/N and the commitment to his burgeoning career. "I can't just give up on everything I've worked for, Y/N. This is my passion, my life."

Y/N nodded, her gaze dropping to the city below. "And it's mine too, but not at the cost of losing ourselves in the process. We've become two strangers caught in the storm of your success."

The journey had mended some of the fractures in her heart, but as the train pulled into the station, she couldn't shake the apprehension that lingered — the uncertainty of whether she was truly ready to face him again, and if fate, as Yeonjun had once said, would reveal its intentions.

On the other side of the bustling terminal, bathed in the glow of subdued lighting, Yeonjun, a renowned and respected K-pop idol, found himself amidst the ebb and flow of the crowd. Fresh from a hangout with Taehyun, his demeanor exuded a magnetic confidence that belied the intricacies of his personal life. His eyes, framed by the shadows of fame and the secrets held close, scanned the platform almost unconsciously. Little did he know that amidst the sea of faces, destiny had orchestrated a meeting with a past that had lingered in the recesses of memory.

As the train doors slid closed and passed with a pneumatic hiss, Y/N's gaze inadvertently met Yeonjun's across the expanse of the platform. Time seemed to halt, and the bustling station faded into the background, leaving only the two of them suspended in a shared moment of recognition. Their eyes, once familiar territory, now held the weight of unspoken words and untold stories. In that fleeting exchange of glances, the universe held its breath, as if urging them to acknowledge the cosmic thread that still lingered between them.

The fragile equilibrium of the shared moment shattered when Taehyun approached Yeonjun, breaking the magnetic connection between the former lovers. "Ready to go?" Taehyun inquired, his eyes following Yeonjun's lingering gaze towards Y/N. With a subtle nod, Yeonjun acknowledged Taehyun but couldn't resist stealing another glance at Y/N, caught in a silent exchange with the woman from his past. As Taehyun's eyes met Y/N's, a brief but warm acknowledgment passed between them in a shared hand wave. Y/N, wearing a light smile, turned away from the platform, a mix of emotions playing on her features. With a final, wistful look at Yeonjun, she gracefully navigated through the crowd, leaving the train station.

Moments after Y/N stepped out of the bustling train station, her phone buzzed with a message. Glancing at the screen, she found a text from Taehyun: "Get home safe -Yeonjun." A gentle smile tugged at the corners of her lips. However, her fingers danced across the screen as she swiftly exited Taehyun's chat and composed a new message to Yeonjun's actual number. "You could've just texted me yourself, using your own number," she typed, a playful undertone echoing in the words. As the message sent, Y/N couldn't help but wonder if this unexpected reunion might be the universe's way of signaling a new chapter, or perhaps just another twist in the cosmic dance between them.

--

Yeonjun arrived back at the dorm, greeted by the familiar energy of his fellow TXT members. They exchanged casual banter about the day's events, but as the conversation flowed, his mind kept drifting back to the encounter at the train station. After settling in, he finally plugged in his dead phone, engaging in the lively chatter with the rest of the group. A few minutes later, in the midst of brushing his teeth, he reached for the now-charged phone and was met with the sight of the contact name that had weathered the test of time: "My Y/N <3." His eyes widened at the sight, the endearing nickname still intact as a testament to the past they had shared. Opening the message, he read Y/N's playful inquiry about using Taehyun's phone.

"Sorry, my phone died, had to use Taehyun's," he quickly responded, his fingers dancing across the screen. The conversation unfolded effortlessly, a delicate dance of words that bridged the physical and emotional distance between them. As the night progressed, the question lingered in Yeonjun's mind like an unspoken melody — should he consider the possibility of rekindling what once was? The cosmic forces that had brought them back together now left him contemplating the path ahead, wondering if the universe was, indeed, nudging them towards a second chance at love.

--

The next day unfolded with a tender energy that beckoned Yeonjun and Y/N towards a place that held the whispers of their shared history. They decided to revisit their favorite secluded spot, a hidden refuge they once frequented to escape the prying eyes of fans and the public.

Nestled away from the bustling city, the secluded area offered a sanctuary of tranquility, surrounded by the gentle rustle of leaves and the distant hum of the world beyond. As they walked along the familiar path, memories of stolen moments and shared laughter echoed in the air, weaving a tapestry of emotions that bridged the gap between then and now.

Seated on the same bench that had witnessed the blossoming of their love, Yeonjun and Y/N found themselves enveloped in a cocoon of privacy. The silence between them spoke volumes, carrying the weight of unspoken apologies and the promise of a new beginning.

Yeonjun broke the quietude, his gaze fixed on Y/N. "I've thought a lot about us, about the mistakes we made and the love we shared. I still care about you, more than I can express," he confessed, his vulnerability laying bare the complexities of their past.

Y/N met his gaze with a soft sincerity. "I care about you too, Yeonjun. The time apart has allowed us to grow, and maybe we can navigate this journey differently now," she said, her words carrying a blend of forgiveness and hope.

The secluded haven witnessed a delicate dance of reconciliation, as they spoke of the lessons learned, the scars healed, and the possibility of a future that awaited them. As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow on their shared space, Yeonjun and Y/N found solace in each other's presence, knowing that the sanctuary they had created could once again be a haven for love to flourish anew. The cosmic forces that had guided them back together now whispered of a second chance, and as they left the secluded area hand in hand, the promise of a rekindled love lingered in the air.

[kaurwreck]

Writer Ask Game: 20 & 25

[ask game: send me a number and i'll share an excerpt of my writing.]

Oooh, it's hard to format this one for tumblr, but for 20 (scrapped project), I present to you the beginnings of what was going to be an mdzs farce, which I was writing as if it were a playscript.

Act One SCENE: The Jingshi, Hanguang-jun’s elegantly rustic private residence tucked in a secluded bamboo forest deep within the Cloud Recesses. The interior is sparse but subtly opulent, furnished with lacquered ebony wood furniture and partitioned by pale cyan curtains woven with shimmering strips of glass as thin as cicada wings. Gauzy smoke spills from a conspicuously garish, lotus-patterned cloisonné censer, draping the space in creamy, balsamic sandalwood incense.  AT RISE: It is mid-morning on a balmy day in early summer.    Center Stage, LAN WANGJI perches with a crane’s grace at a simple but exquisitely crafted low table, atop of which rests HIS beloved guqin, WANGJI. Although stained to match the rest, the low table is the only piece in the room made of paulownia instead of ebony. LAN WANGJI’S eyes are closed in meditative contemplation, and his hands are tucked into his sleeves.

Across from LAN WANGJI, separated from HIM by a sunken hearth, sprawls WEI WUXIAN, naked but for the outer robe draped loosely over HIS shoulders. The mat beneath WEI WUXIAN is littered with crumpled talismans, splattered ink, and discarded melon seed shells. WEI WUXIAN pinches an ink brush between HIS thumb and forefinger over a blank talisman with knitted brows. 

“Aiya!” Wei Wuxian snapped, tossing his ink brush aside and scrubbing his face. “You’ve done it now, Lan-er-gege,” he accused, glaring at Lan Wangji from between his fingers. 

Lan Wangji opened his eyes and raised his eyebrows quizzically. 

Wei Wuxian dropped his hands, crumpled to the ground, and wailed, “Lan-er-gege finally fucked my brains out! I’ve nothing left! I’m a shell of a wife!”

for 25, I suppose my favorite project is my current soukoku wip! more by default; I like what I've written before, but it's hard to call anything my favorite.

“—on, you piece of shit, wake up. Dazai. Dazai! Mackerel!” 

Dazai’s mouth twitched. His eyes burned as his lashes fluttered open. He squinted up at his ceiling while emitting a sound not unlike an asthmatic weasel. 

Chuuya was suspended upside down from Dazai’s ceiling, his arms crossed, and his hat perched at a pretentious tilt on his head.  

It was such an unwholesome sight, Dazai blearily lumbered to his feet, reached up, and touched Chuuya without any further consideration. No Longer Human hummed beneath his skin, and then licked at their point of contact. All at once, Chuuya was rendered slave to the Earth’s own magnetism, the same as the rest of them, and Dazai felt smug for a moment. 

But only for a moment, because then Chuuya tumbled down, colliding into Dazai like a particularly ornery, stubborn, foul-mouthed boulder under which Dazai crumbled with a pained groan. 

“Idiot,” Chuuya spat, digging his elbows into Dazai’s ribs and diaphragm to sit up and glare down at Dazai. “What the fuck did you think would happen?”

Nauseating aches blossomed from where the points of Chuuya’s elbows tenderized Dazai’s innards, and, as he waited for the vertigo from his impact with the ground to subside, Dazai marveled over his own miscalculation. But then the excitement ebbed, Dazai’s exhaustion settled into its waking baseline, and he noticed Chuuya’s ruffled indignation, his hat knocked from his head, his askew harness. Chuuya looked just like a bedraggled small dog, and although sharp boned, he was also familiarly warm where his body draped over Dazai’s. 

A laugh bubbled from Dazai’s battered chest. “How else am I to swat a slug from my ceiling?” 

Chuuya’s expression lit with his temper. “Who’re you callin’ a slug—?!”

Dazai became so delighted by Chuuya’s likeness to a snarling Japanese Spitz, that he forgot he existed entirely to machinate Chuuya’s humiliation, and he reached out to brush a loose lock of Chuuya’s hair behind his ear. 

Chuuya snatched his wrist before he could. 

“Cad,” Chuuya sneered. 

Dazai wheezed another laugh. “You sound like Kunikida-kun,” he mused. 

Then he froze, because maybe Kunikida sounded like Chuuya. 

“Oh,” said Dazai. “That’s. Horrible.”

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Sunspot with Light Bridge: Why would a small part of the Sun appear slightly dark? Visible is a close-up picture of sunspots, depressions on the Sun's surface that are slightly cooler and less bright than the rest of the Sun. The Sun's complex magnetic field creates these cool regions by inhibiting hot material from entering the spots. Sunspots can be larger than the Earth and typically last for about a week. Part of active region AR 3297 crossing the Sun in early May, the large lower sunspot is spanned by an impressive light bridge of hot and suspended solar gas. This high-resolution picture also shows clearly that the Sun's surface is a bubbling carpet of separate cells of hot gas. These cells are known as granules. A solar granule is about 1000 kilometers across and lasts for only about 15 minutes.

Image Credit & Copyright: Mark Johnston :: [Robert Scott Horton]

* * * * *

If you’re born in a cubicle and grow up in a corridor, and work in a cell, and vacation in a crowded sun-room, then coming up into the open with nothing but sky over you might just give you a nervous breakdown. — Isaac Asimov - Foundation (Foundation #1)

[Alive On All Channels]

[tlltaleheart]

@irinironclad.

[ . . . ] "You needed a ride, right?" Irin asked, alluding to his purpose there before Minseo could say anything. Leaning his hip against the workman's desk, he watched the foyer darken as the documentary came to a completion. Within a ten-second frame, it was lit - Without a doubt, Minseo's doing. "Don't mind me," He said, following up his question. "I'm fine to drive." He held the bottle of prosecco up; it was only a quarter empty.

the projection room at mise-en-scene was small and dark. half a step lower than the rest of the building with no windows or beacons of light besides the projector, it seemed to become pocket of nothing when its only door was closed. years ago, when the doctors were so sure about how much time he had left before his heart would give out on itself, minseo might have imagined that this was what it was like after.

after. in the dark, he meant. floating, he meant. when he sneaked back to watch movies alone, it felt like that: suspended in this small room of nothing, with nothing to touch or be touched by and prove that he was something real, with only the moving picture on the screen to watch and convince himself was a good-enough placebo for the real thing.

probably why he didn't like the non-fiction reels so much. movies were a possible life in some other place; documentaries tried to remind him of the one he was in. he couldn't remember which one he'd left in the player, or what it was about, or why his eyes drifted to the grim scenes playing out in front of him. he was just tired, he thought. and melancholy. he hated when the two of those came together. he wanted to be home with his own films, and he wanted to slip on his headpiece and close his eyes, then reopen them to the comfort of someplace he actually wanted to be.

even if it was just another void.

he would have left early if it weren't for the sudden presence that appeared next to him. spooked by so many ghosts lately, minseo didn't startle so easily this time, tearing his gaze away from the darkening screen to the stranger that had come up to his desk.

or were they? he looked away for a second to stop the film and flick on the lights, but once his eyes flitted back to their face, he felt a pang of recognition.

oh. the neighbor. your neighbor, a voice reminded him. this voice had arms and legs and always appeared in the wake of these dizzy spells, trying to plug him back into reality. yes, minseo. yes, now answer.

irin. that was his name, wasn't it? "i did?" he couldn't remember, but it might have slipped his mind, just like irin's arrival might have slipped his notice. he was more puzzled by irin's voice when he didn't sound...angry.

irin had seemed really upset that day with the smoke. minseo remembered it now, but only because his stomach still churned every time he did. he'd returned to his apartment door lock broken that day and two strangers rifling through his things. debt collectors, they said when he asked, and then they named a price that his parents were long overdue to pay. one of them carried the rancid smell of cigarettes, the old-world kind, taking drags of it while they laid out his options for repayment.

minseo hadn't been afraid, not of them or their threats or the dizzying few seconds they'd put a scrambler to the magnet in his chest to see how long he could hold his breath. but he'd been afraid when irin came knocking, and they turned a gun towards the thin plaster wall separating them from the hallway where irin stood.

make him leave, they'd said. this stays between us.

minseo couldn't remember the specifics past that, only that he'd done it. irin had left, and he didn't get hurt, and now he was here.

past the fear, minseo felt a wave of relief.

"i don't think you should be driving after that." he frowned a little. he reached over to push the bottle down and out of sight, casting a glance at the door to the rest of the building. "i don't think we even allow alcohol in here... have you had that the entire time? if my boss sees it on the cameras, he's going to ban you from coming here." and irin did seem to like the documentaries.

he clicked the disc back into its case before shutting the player off. the documentary was the last of the night; it had run through their closing hours. he still couldn't remember if he had seen irin walk in, but it didn't matter right now. irin didn't sound upset anymore, and there was the bigger issue of getting back home when there was possibly some murderer out there.

"we can head back together. i guess it's safer that way, right, after everything that's been happening?” he nudged the door to his desk shut on his way out, heading for the doors where he saw that it was drizzling outside. that meant he couldn't walk and he really couldn't have irin on the road. maybe this was the least he could do too, after the whole thing with the smoke. "maybe i should drive, though...”

[mistresslunastarx]

In the heart of the bustling city, where the neon lights painted the night sky with a kaleidoscope of colors, there existed a clandestine affair between two souls. Daniel, a charismatic and successful businessman, found himself entangled in the enigmatic allure of Star, a woman whose presence radiated a mysterious charm that left men spellbound.

The first time Daniel laid eyes on Star was at a lavish charity event, where socialites mingled and champagne flowed like a river. Star, draped in a midnight-blue gown that seemed to dance with the rhythm of her every step, caught Daniel's attention. Her eyes sparkled like distant stars, and her smile held a secret promise that beckoned him into uncharted territories.

Their connection was instantaneous, a magnetic force that neither could resist. As the days turned into nights and the nights into stolen moments, Daniel found himself bowing down to Star's every whim. She became his mistress, a forbidden enchantress who held the key to a world he had never known.

Star, with an air of sophistication that masked her tumultuous past, reveled in the control she held over Daniel. He willingly surrendered to her desires, bending to her will like a willow in the wind. From expensive gifts to clandestine rendezvous, he spared no expense to keep her content.

Yet, beneath the surface of their passion, there lurked the shadows of foreshadowing events. Whispers in the dark corners of their clandestine world hinted at a storm brewing, a tempest that threatened to shatter the fragile facade of their relationship.

The first crack appeared when Daniel, driven by an insatiable desire to please Star, found himself entangled in a web of financial instability. His lavish gifts and extravagant lifestyle left him teetering on the edge of ruin. Star, sensing the impending tempest, began to tighten her grip on Daniel, demanding more extravagant gifts and grander displays of affection.

The climax of their financial relationship unfolded in a luxurious penthouse overlooking the city lights. Surrounded by opulence, the air grew heavy with the weight of unspoken truths. Daniel, on the verge of bankruptcy, stood at the precipice of a decision that would alter the course of their entangled lives.

In a desperate attempt to salvage their connection, Daniel confessed the truth of his financial demise to Star. The revelation hung in the air like a storm cloud, and for a moment, time stood still. Star, though seemingly composed, felt the tremors of vulnerability beneath her carefully crafted exterior.

As the realization of their impending separation loomed, loneliness descended upon both of them like a vulture waiting to feast on the remnants of their shattered connection. The once intoxicating allure of their forbidden affair transformed into a bitter cocktail of regret and heartache.

In the aftermath of the revelation, Daniel and Star navigated the wreckage of their relationship. The lavish gifts and extravagant lifestyle were replaced by the haunting echoes of what once was. The city that had once been a backdrop to their stolen moments now bore witness to their unraveling.

And so, the unique cliffhanger emerged from the wreckage of their affair. Daniel, haunted by the ghost of his former life, embarked on a journey of self-discovery. Star, too, faced the remnants of her past, her enigmatic facade cracking under the weight of vulnerability.

As the city lights flickered in the distance, a question lingered in the air: would Daniel and Star find a way back to each other, or were they destined to be swallowed by the darkness that had lurked in the shadows all along? The answer remained elusive, like the city's skyline shrouded in the mist of uncertainty.

And so, the tale of Daniel and Star, a story of passion, deception, and the cost of forbidden love, left its readers suspended in the limbo of anticipation, awaiting the resolution of a narrative that defied the conventional boundaries of love and loss.

[equipmentmanufacturing]

How Suspended Magnetic Separators Improve Material Processing Efficiency

[hsmagnet]

Detailed Introduction About Cross Belt Magnetic Separators

Detailed Introduction About Cross Belt Magnetic Separators Cross Belt Magnetic Separators are a remarkable innovation in material handling and separation technology. These versatile devices play a crucial role in various industries, ensuring the purity and quality of materials. Whether you’re in mining, recycling, food processing, or construction, understanding how crossbelt magnetic Separators…

[spaceadvances]

Why would a small part of the Sun appear slightly dark? Visible is a close-up picture of sunspots, depressions on the Sun's surface that are slightly cooler and less bright than the rest of the Sun. The Sun's complex magnetic field creates these cool regions by inhibiting hot material from entering the spots. Sunspots can be larger than the Earth and typically last for about a week. Part of active region AR 3297 crossing the Sun in early May, the large lower sunspot is spanned by an impressive light bridge of hot and suspended solar gas.

This high-resolution picture also shows clearly that the Sun's surface is a bubbling carpet of separate cells of hot gas. These cells are known as granules. A solar granule is about 1000 kilometers across and lasts for only about 15 minutes.

📷: Mark Johnston

[turtlethon]

"The Day the Earth Disappeared"

Season 10, Episode 7  First US Airdate: October 26, 1996 

Lord Dregg plots to draw Earth into Dimension X. 

"The Day the Earth Disappeared" is the penultimate episode of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. As with the rest of season ten’s episodes, Jeffrey Scott is credited as the writer of this adventure. 

Wasting no time, today’s show gets right into the action as the Turtles emerge from the sewers to find the city streets crumbling around them due to a disturbance in the Earth’s crust, a volcano popping up and erupting right in front of them. In the sky above the Dreggnaught appears, a group of parachuting bat-men emerging from it to surround our heroes. Lord Dregg arrives and easily defeats the Turtles, having his troopers cover them in an ooze-like substance that freezes them on the spot before he uses a ray gun to shatter them into pieces. This, as it turns out, is a ruse: the real Turtles reveal themselves to be very much alive, the ones that Dregg destroyed mere holographic projections. With the tide of battle turning, Dregg and his men teleport back to their ship. 

Later, Dregg re-watches these events on a viewscreen in his ship alongside Mung. With the construction of a new vortex transporter complete, the villains get to work on their new plan: to use the transporter in a modified capacity as a space warp that will transport the Earth to a new solar system, one controlled entirely by Dregg. This activity sets off the early warning systems in the Lair, warning the Turtles that a huge disturbance has been detected in the Earth’s magnetic field. A space warp soon opens above the planet, large enough to be visible to April from the window of her apartment; examining the situation using his computer, Donatello calculates that it’s already a thousand miles wide, and growing at a rate of 3,000 miles an hour; if it keeps growing at this rate, within two hours it’ll be large enough to swallow the planet, transporting it to Dimension X. Faced with the challenge of pinpointing the source of the warp, which is a thousand miles above the planet, the team turn to Donatello’s dimensional portal as a means of tracing the energy flow. 

Back aboard the Dreggnaught, Mung detects the attempts by someone to interfere with their scheme. Dregg orders that whoever is responsible be sucked into a black hole adjacent to the warp, and is warned by his underling that moving the hole too early could destabilise the warp, preventing them from successfully pulling the planet into Dimension X. Dregg refuses to listen to Mung’s advice, insistent that his commands be followed. 

Having determined that the Dreggnaught is the source of the warp, Donatello suggests that the team use his dimensional portal to board the ship, thwart Dregg’s plan and return to the Lair. The other Turtles are wary, given the portal’s reliability in the past has been patchy at best. Before they can agree on a course of action, Dregg turns the portal against the team, using it to pull Leonardo and Donatello inside. April watches on a viewscreen which is itself destroyed by the force of the warp; moments later, Splinter is also pulled into the portal. 

We begin act two with Dregg elated at the news that two of the Turtles have been pulled into the warp, refusing to let Mung rain on his parade by pointing out that even this means the other half of the team has survived. The alien warlord insists that the black hole be moved closer to the warp; again, Mung insists that this is a risky course of action, further raising the ire of his master. 

With Michaelangelo and Raphael still clinging on and trying desperately not to get sucked into the portal, April leaves her apartment hoping she can arrive at the Lair in time to save her friends. Meanwhile Leonardo and Donatello land on a dimensional planetoid that has been suspended in a gravitational whirlpool. Now separated from Splinter, the pair set out to try and find him. 

Mung’s concerns about placing the warp nearer to the black hole turn out to have been valid, a warp storm forming as a result that threatens to tear the Dreggnaught apart. As Dregg’s lackey rushes to try and resolve the problem, Splinter finds himself teleported onto the ship. Evading a patrol of bat-men, he begins looking for a way to aid the Turtles in defeating the villains. 

April arrives in the Lair seconds before Raphael and Michaelangelo are pulled into the portal. The pair find themselves on a seemingly barren alien world, and are soon confronted by a fire-breathing monster, which grabs Raph with its mouth; Mikey taunts the beast until it lets go, both Turtles diving back into the black hole, the creature following them. Elsewhere, Leonardo and Donatello are grabbed by rocky claws that emerge from the ground beneath them.

With the storm no longer an issue and the warp fully opened, Dregg orders that the black hole be moved into position. Act two ends with the Earth seen being pulled closer to the warp, now on-course to be transported to Dimension X. We get a taste of the impact this has when the show returns from commercials, with people across the world fleeing in terror as cities begin to crumble. Meanwhile, in the Lair, April attempts to close the portal without success. 

Aboard the Dreggnaught, Splinter fights off a group of bat-men before altering the controls for the transporter. (If you’re wondering how he has any idea what he’s doing, it’s inferred that he’s using his heightened ninja senses to figure it all out.) Meanwhile Raphael and Michaelangelo arrive alongside the fire-breathing monster in a world covered in ice, where they attract the attention of a giant yeti-like creature. 

Having two pairs of Turtles running around alien worlds getting chased by monsters seems to have confused the heck out of the animators, as the next scene opens with Leonardo trying to free himself from the clutches of one of the hands rising out of the ground using his katana, except... he’s drawn in Raphael’s colours, and also appears to be on the ice world. Donatello appears alongside him, also unable to escape and concerned that if they don’t do something soon, there won’t be an Earth to return to. 

With sixty seconds remaining until the planet is pulled into Dimension X, Dregg orders that as soon as the shift has been made the black hole be transported elsewhere, taking the Turtles with it. The villain soon becomes aware of the presence of Splinter aboard the ship, who escapes into an airlock before re-emerging to transport the black hole into the Dreggnaught. A furious Lord Dregg declares that this will result in everyone on-board being “destroyed” - which is to say, killed – to which Splinter counters that it’s Dregg’s own evil that will be the cause of his destruction. Leonardo and Donatello are transported onto the ship, with Leo slicing the transporter control panel into pieces. Dregg points out that this will do nothing to save the Earth, and will merely prevent the black hole from being withdrawn. Donatello counters by picking up a laser blaster and opening fire upon the ship’s computers, closing the warp; somehow this also moves the Earth back into its normal position.

Now left with no means of returning home, the two Turtles are reminded by Dregg that thanks to the destruction of the navigational computers, his ship is now adrift in space, doomed to be pulled into the black hole and ultimately destroyed by its gravitational force. The spacecraft is seen crumbling as Dregg declares that in death, he’ll at least have the satisfaction of taking the two Turtles with him. This turns out to not be the case, as Michaelangelo and Raphael arrive via a dimensional portal, pulling Leo, Raph and Splinter back inside. Our heroes land safely back in the Lair, hurriedly ordering April to close the portal to prevent Dregg from following them through; a huge explosion is then seen as the Dreggnaught hurtles toward the heart of the black hole. 

Later, in the Lair, the Walter Cronkite-esque newsreader is seen on TV reporting on how the space warp closed, “allowing the Earth to remain in its orbit”.  This is framed by “Walter” as an issue that resolved itself, with the efforts of the Turtles never acknowledged, to their chagrin. The episode concludes with Donatello announcing his latest round of modifications to the portal have finally ironed out the bugs, only for the claws of a gigantic blue creature to briefly emerge from it.  The team force the intruder back, destroying the portal's controls and agreeing that it'll be off-limits from now on.

"The Day the Earth Disappeared" is nothing new: we’ve seen variations on this idea of the planet being pulled into Dimension X before, and the Turtles encountering weird aliens while portal-hopping is a particularly well-worn concept. If anything, it would be surprising this far into the tenth season of the show to see any kind of innovation: there’s little sense in reinventing the wheel now, and so this and the previous episode have been about determining what has worked in the past and sticking with it. There is, at least, something intriguing in the growing friction between Lord Dregg and Mung that makes this episode compelling for viewers who have tuned in for the entire season, preventing it from feeling like we’re just going through the motions. So far Mung has dutifully taken the abuse dished out by his master but it’s evident that he’s reaching the point where he’s almost had enough. It’s a scenario reminiscent of Baxter’s lingering resentment towards Shredder throughout season two, and something that – at the risk of spoiling the series finale – will pop up again in the next Turtlethon entry. (Yes, somehow both Dregg and Mung are still alive.) 

Next time, we explore “Divide and Conquer”, the final episode of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. I really don’t know if I’m emotionally prepared for this. 

[misspepita]

via NASA https://ift.tt/Uw3f4v9

Why would a small part of the Sun appear slightly dark? Visible is a close-up picture of sunspots, depressions on the Sun's surface that are slightly cooler and less bright than the rest of the Sun. The Sun's complex magnetic field creates these cool regions by inhibiting hot material from entering the spots. Sunspots can be larger than the Earth and typically last for about a week. Part of active region AR 3297 crossing the Sun in early May, the large lower sunspot is spanned by an impressive light bridge of hot and suspended solar gas. This high-resolution picture also shows clearly that the Sun's surface is a bubbling carpet of separate cells of hot gas. These cells are known as granules. A solar granule is about 1000 kilometers across and lasts for only about 15 minutes.

[emmetrain]

Proton leans in from behind and drops a small model of one of the Magnet Train's carts into Emmett's hands. A little something to show his appreciation.

Emmet had come to expect many things. How his weird habits would not only be tolerated but appreciated. How someone could not only look at him, but see him too. And how he could feel... safe, so safe with someone that it felt like sunny days would never be over. Still, out of all things he was starting to grow used to and cherish, gifts had been a real challenge.

Eyes widened at the item dropped to his hands. Gears whirring up. Maglev? Maglev. A model train version that could not be bought around Unova. ...

"Fuck off." A real classy answer, before bursting into hysterical giggles. "No!!! I am Emmet! I have searched everywhere to get this--it was never-- Prrroton!!!" Emmet had to hug, but also there was no power on earth that could separate him from his magnet train now. So, off to biting the poor maglev as he folded his arms around Proton.

"fffanks!!!" Oh, this was the best!!! Perfect! Emmet gave his biggest, bone-crushing hug (which was not a lot, considering his limited strength), he took the maglev under his chin, pressing to his neck as he took a pen and Proton's hand, guiding him to draw the straight lines.

"The Magnet Train of Kanto and Johto is a maglev!! A train with a superconducting magnet hovering above a magnetized rail." Emmet, satisfied with figure 1.a, continued onto the second one, with a circle in middle and straight lines curling around it before heading straight again. "The train is suspended due to the Meissner effect. This effect more or less says that magnetic fields can not penetrate the superconducting material, instead forcing the field to curve around the superconductor, effectively acting as a force against the field lines!!!"

The diagram of Meissner effect was finished now, so Emmet took Proton's hand to kiss, before tilting his head and offering a small, goofy grin--the gift still tucked between his neck and chin. "The magnetic field which is repelled around the boundary causes the super conducting magnet to produce current to flow around the super conductor, which causes a magnetic field of its own, holding the maglev train up!! Isn't it amazing?"

Oh, and a third figure now. Emmet picked up the pen to draw this himself. This time, it was a cartoon heart, with the lines shooting through it. Their initials on each side of the lines. "And this the Proton effect. Yup. Science says so."