#and was summoned by ford (the “its here that i must be” part) and the ICONIC line from the missing journal 3 pages of them telling eachother | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

invisibletinkerer · 5 years ago

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Fic: 30 Seconds Later (chapter 19)

Chapter 1 – Chapter 2 – Chapter 3 – Chapter 4 – Chapter 5 – Chapter 6 – Chapter 7 – Chapter 8 – Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 - Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14 - Chapter 15 - Chapter 16 - Chapter 17 - Chapter 18 - Chapter 19

Length: ~7000 words

AO3: archiveofourown.org/works/13715520/chapters/50933677

Strange.

Strange and pleasant and warm.

Opening his eyes seemed unnecessary. The novel state of comfortable half-sleep beckoned him to stay. Forever, perhaps. Forever would be nice.

It took an undeterminable but lovely amount of time to remember why it felt so strange.

Recollection brought with it a much more familiar surge of panic, causing him to a bolt upright, pain shooting through his abdomen and chest, eyes wide and hands immediately fumbling for his glasses.

Slamming his eyewear in place with more force than was strictly warranted, it still took a moment for Stanford’s mind to spiral its way to the conclusion that there was no need to panic. He forced himself to breathe, a fist tight against his chest, slowly relaxing his shoulders. He was awake and no harm was done. He was in the ground floor study, inside the barrier that blocked Bill from his mind, and he was—he knew this—he was safe here. That’s why he’d been asleep.

The portal was broken, the rift was sealed in a container and locked up, and the journals were right under the couch where he’d put them previously. He should still do more, but nothing had happened to them yet, as far as he could tell. He leaned forward, arms on his knees, and closed his eyes for a moment. It was fine.

He was alone in the room now, but he hadn’t been so all night. The mattresses and crumpled blankets on the floor – not to mention the game books – was proof enough that last night had been real.

Ford ran a hand through his hair and took deep breath that turned into a yawn, ending with a quiet incredulous chuckle. He couldn’t believe he’d played DDD.

He couldn’t believe he’d played DDD, and slept, and he felt—he felt alright. His wounds ached and his heart was beating too fast in his chest, but the colors around him seemed brighter – reds, browns, purples, not just yellows – than they had been in weeks. There was daylight illuminating the window from the outside. It was another warm summer day, when it should have been freezing winter. Bill wanted to destroy the world, but Ford wasn’t going to let him, and for once the determination seemed like something more than a desperate last stand.

He wasn’t doing this alone.

The emotions attached to that thought threatened to overwhelm him.

He had Stanley back. He had something that resembled a family. Together they’d done things he never would would have managed alone, and then they’d played DDD. It seemed incredible, fragile, unreal.

He had Stanley back, and all it took was a one-way trip thirty years into the future. Now he had a twin brother twice his own age, his elder brother’s grandchildren, and no identity of his own.

Something twisted in his guts. He should have done things differently. Should have tried to explain better to Stanley when he arrived, should have reached out sooner, should have listened to Fiddleford, should have seen the warnings signs, should have never summoned Bill to begin with—the list of mistakes could go on forever if he allowed it to. He should have been a better brother. He should have been a better scientist. He should have been a better son, a better friend, a better person. It was too late for so many things, now.

And yet, here he was.

Rubbing his arms against the sudden chill, Ford looked down at his dirty, worn dresspants and rags of a shirt. He should probably change. Possibly also shower and redress the wounds if he could stomach it—no, whether he could stomach it or not.

As well as other things that needed to be done.

Wrapping himself up in the coat, he made himself slip out of the protection of the barrier and face a new day.

Stanley served him pancakes for the third day in a row, as if this was now a normal occurrence. Dipper and Mabel chatted about last night’s game. All three of them had already eaten earlier, but apparently they wanted to ‘keep him company’, which was probably just another way of saying to keep an eye on him – but if so, it was fully warranted and not completely unwelcome.

“So, did you sleep well?” Stanley asked from the stove soon after getting Ford to sit down at the table. “Didn’t hear ya wake up any, not even when me and the kids got up.”

Ford frowned at the implications, and the grammar. “I didn’t even hear you.” That was troubling, especially after the alien tranquilizers yesterday. If anything had happened, he might not have noticed in time. “I suppose I slept too well.”

Stanley laughed. “No such thing for you, Sixer. You needed it. I’m just glad you’re getting your head back on your shoulders.”

“It’s always been on my shoulders!” Ford bristled. “Well, technically, between them.”

Stanley laughed more.

Oh. “But that’s just a saying and now you’re messing with me.”

“Just happy you’re here, genius.”

Ford didn’t know what to say about that. Stanley’s smile was reminiscent of a better time, but set on a too-old face, and Ford had been gone for thirty years. An absolutely preposterous amount of time for his brother to spend trying to get him back, but little more than a nap for an immortal being like Bill. He bit his lip and tried not to think about the blue light of the portal, the rage on Stanley’s face turning to horror and the taste of his own panic as he drifted away. If they hadn’t fought—if things had gone differently—

Mabel broke the uncomfortable silence. “I slept well too! And Dipper didn’t have any nightmares!”

Dipper smacked her arm. “Thanks, Mabel, that’s exactly what everyone was asking about.” He looked up at Ford. “I did sleep well, though. I dreamt about DDD! Last night was amazing!”

Ford found himself smiling at that. “It was a good game.”

“We have to do it again sometime!”

“Yes, we—” Ford hesitated. The idea of playing regularly implied a level of permanence he couldn’t take for granted, but neither could he deny that he wanted to. “—we should.”

“What’s the matter?” Dipper sounded wary, perhaps taking Ford’s hesitation the wrong way.

“I need coffee,” Ford realized. There was no coffee on the table, and although it might be more of an addiction than a necessity today, he still craved it. He resolutely got up to make some.

Stanley tried to wave him down even as he was flopping pancakes around with a spatula. “Ah, I’ll get to that when I’m done with—”

“I can make coffee!” Dipper chimed in.

Ford turned around. “Don’t,” he said, making a horizontal gesture with both hands. “I’m quite capable of making my own coffee, thank you.” He wasn’t even the slightest bit dizzy at the moment, so any coddling was utterly unnecessary.

This was his own kitchen, even. It wasn’t as if Stanley had rebuilt or remodeled this part of the house. The coffeemaker on the counter wasn’t his own, but it was a similar model, just as easy to work. He filled it up and started to brew, then opened the cupboard above for a mug.

He narrowed his eyes at the plates. Just because the mugs weren’t in the exact cupboard he expected them to be didn’t mean he couldn’t find them. As it turned out, they were in the next cupboard. And just because the mugs were all unfamiliar to him didn’t mean—

Wait. Struck by an urge to examine the matter scientifically, Ford started taking down all the mugs from the cupboard one by one. Eleven, all in all. Most of them must indeed be Stanley’s, but some were so old and worn that it was difficult to tell. Only one was unmistakable. It was chipped and discolored, but wore a faded print that said “It’s all fun and games until someone divides by zero.”

Ford took a deep breath, more relieved than he’d expected to be. He remembered buying this during a visit to the east coast, three years ago. Thirty-three years ago. It still existed, but like Stanley, it was old now. Older than himself. He’d bought it before he’d met Bill, at a time when he’d just started to become frustrated with his own inability to produce a unified theory of weirdness, and the printed words had spoken to him. A simpler, more naïve time, but the sentiment written on the mug still seemed apt.

“Earth to Stanford.”

Ford spun around, bumped his wounded side into the counter and bit down a grunt of pain, still clutching the old mug in his hands. Stanley was by the table, having filled Ford’s plate with pancakes, looking at Ford with a concerned frown. “You okay?”

“Are you cleaning the cupboards?” Dipper asked, confusion clear in his voice.

“Are you making a mess?” was Mabel’s follow-up question, a bit more enthusiastically.

“No, I—Yes, I’m okay.” He glanced at the ten mugs on the counter. “I wasn’t trying to do either of those things, but I suppose I got lost in thought.” He turned back around and filled his old mug with black coffee, sipping at it while putting the rest of the mugs back in the cupboard.

“I’m sorry,” Stanley mumbled as Ford took his seat again and started pouring some syrup on the pancakes.

“I know.” Ford couldn’t think of anything else to say. He wasn’t sure what exactly Stanley was apologizing for – for taking thirty years? For replacing or wearing down his coffee mugs? For having stepped into the spot Ford left behind and lived a life? Ford got all that. He wasn’t angry, not the way he’d wanted to be a couple of days ago. It was just—it was a lot. Too much. “It’s fine,” he said.

Pressing the hot mug against a stinging part of his chest, the pain grounded him. He reminded himself that it didn’t matter. As long as Bill was stopped, the rest was unimportant details.

The first order of business after breakfast – technically brunch – was a shower.

That shouldn’t be a problem, and he’d assured Stanley as much. Going to great lengths to avoid looking at the cuts Bill had inflicted on him was irrational, as they’d be there whether he looked or not. Additionally, they did need to be kept clean, and he could only hope he wouldn’t suffer too badly from not having tended to them earlier. He certainly wasn’t going to let Stanley do it again – he did have a modicum of dignity when not thoroughly sedated by alien drugs.

Still. As much as he felt better, as much as the dizziness and tunnel-vision had faded with the sleep deprivation, his heart was beating like a drum in his ears when he met his own eyes in the bathroom mirror. They were perfectly human eyes, still a bit red, still ringed with dark sacks, but no yellow anywhere. Knowing that didn’t douse the adrenalin spike.

Irrational or not, he took a towel from the shelf and covered up the mirror before undressing. At least he wouldn’t have to look at the full-frontal view of the damage. Beyond that, he simply had to handle it.

The triangles were uncovered in stages as he unwrapped the bandages. Triangles upon triangles. Angry red lines.

There were so many of them. They moved as his stomach heaved, and suddenly he was retching.

He was in control. Bill couldn’t do anything to him, not right now. He knew that, and yet just looking at his own body somehow made the conviction slip through his fingers. It didn’t matter how much he tried to detach himself; his body was still there, still him, still Bill’s.

He threw up. He’d eaten too much anyway, filled himself too comfortably, as if he could afford to be comfortable. He stood, gripping the sides of the bathroom sink tight enough that his hands hurt, squeezing his watering eyes shut, but it was too late to keep Bill’s laughter out. It wouldn’t stop. He knew it too well.

“Did you really think you could stop me from doing whatever I want?”

No.

“You agreed to the deal, so deal with it! From now til the end of time, pal!”

No!

“It’ll be fun to watch you try! Cute, even!”

Stop it!

Ford forced himself to open his eyes again, facing his own skin. The large triangle right over his solar plexus met his gaze with a red-lined eye, not a mere symbol, but Bill himself somehow grinning up at him without a mouth.

In fact, Bill probably was here. The bathroom wasn’t shielded. Bill could be watching Ford’s reaction right now, from inside his own mind, from the triangles etched on his body, and there was nothing Ford could do about it, no way to stop it.

He’d done this to himself.

Swallowing bile again, Ford looked away. There were dark stains on the ceiling. His hands clenched, nails digging into his palms, and he might possibly not be breathing.

This was nothing but trivial physical damage. No different from a fork stabbed into his thigh or a sandpaper scrubbed across his forearm. It didn’t mean anything.

It meant Bill owned him. It meant that he’d once voluntarily made a deal, and now he was a triangle’s plaything for the rest of his life. It meant—

“Well, I don’t care! It’s bullshit!”

Stanley’s words from yesterday cut through the moment, and suddenly Ford found air. He gasped, shoulders sagging, and somehow he found himself sitting on the edge of the tub, rubbing his eyes.

“You’re bullshit, Bill,” he breathed.

He’d slept without fear. Bill could no longer take him whenever he wanted to. Unless he massively slipped up, he might never have to be possessed again. Wasn’t that enough to not be owned? Maybe it wasn’t, not in the face of his own body’s evidence to the contrary, but it was enough for him to clench his jaws and get himself cleaned up.

It hurt, but it might as well. Pain meant he was alive and awake, and as such it was a good sign.

At least the wound from the alien tranquilizer gun seemed to be healing fine, and so was the one around his wrist from the handcuff. None on the older marks and bruises were a problem, either. And indeed, most of the triangles had scabbed over, too. It wasn’t that bad.

Still, despite Stanley’s efforts yesterday, a number of them were still tender and hot to the touch, and a couple of the triangles were shifting yellow with pus. The latter made Ford taste bile in his throat again, but it was bullshit. Just a few cuts that hadn’t been properly tended from the beginning. They were shallow. The infection was shallow, too.

All he had to do was have a proper shower, and then hopefully the inflammation could be controlled with what antibacterial ointments Stanley had available. Seeing a physician was simply not an option.

At least he had his own clothes. The fact that he did – that Stanley had preserved them for thirty years and had them washed and ready for use when Ford returned – seemed a minor miracle. A clean white shirt and a gray sweaterwest to hide away the new bandages improved his mood immensely. The marks were there, but he didn’t have to dwell on them.

As he put on the coat again – unlike the shirt and sweaterwest he’d worn yesterday, the coat was merely a bit frayed, not ruined – his hand reflexively went for the upper left inner pocket. It was empty, of course, not that it should matter.

Taking a deep breath, he emerged from the bathroom, glancing towards the locked door to the study. Surely if there had been a burglary, someone would have noticed. Surely the rift was still in there.

“Looking good!” Mabel said, startling Ford to pay attention to the two kids that had apparently been sitting on the floor right outside the bathroom, playing with some folded paper. “Wet hair makes less fluff, so you look even more like grunkle Stan!”

“Fluff?” Had they been waiting for him?

“I wonder if we could make grunkle Stan wear a coat like that?” Mabel continued, turning to Dipper. “We could make them pose like before-and-after pictures! Or if uncle Ford wore a suit, they could make a whole de-aging trick for the Mystery Shack!”

Dipper laughed, but cut it off when he met Ford’s narrowed eyes.

“I’m not going to do tricks for the Mystery Shack,” Ford said flatly. He was still trying to swallow the existence of the Mystery Shack. Turning himself into a freak show was the last thing he wanted.

“You don’t have to,” Mabel said breezily. “But it would still be fun to dress you and Stan up the same and confuse people. I bet Stan could rig it up with a smoke bomb!”

“Mabel and I do that sometimes,” Dipper added. “Not with smokebombs, but with confusing people. It’s fun!”

That, on the other hand, he could relate to. Ford sighed and leaned his back against the wall, a fond smile finding its way to his face despite some irritation. “That is one of the perks of having a twin,” he admitted.

“Did you and grunkle Stan switch a lot when you were kids?”

“When we could get away with it. Our mother always knew.”

Dipper nodded. “Yeah, moms have a superpower like that.”

“Moms can see right through you,” Mabel said, wriggling her fingers as if casting a spell.

“Well, anyone who remembered to look at our hands would figure it out, unless we could hide them.” Ford held out a six-fingered hand. “Still, it worked surprisingly often.” A wave of nostalgia was hitting him like hot air to the face, tinged with lingering resentment and overpowering regret. “Where’s Stanley?” he asked.

“He’s in his office with Soos,” Dipper replied.

Ford grimaced. “His office.” That was less than helpful. Ford had had several places to work and write in the house, but no room designated an ‘office’ as such. “And where’s that?”

“Oh. Um…”

“It’s the little room next to the museum,” Mabel supplied, which wasn’t actually helpful either. This house had changed so much, and Ford didn’t truly want to know what Stanley had done to it during all those years. The tourist trap of fake anomalies was... Well, if he were to express how much it hurt he would have to start yelling at Stanley again, and he didn’t want to do that. He got it, intellectually, and objectively it was a far more harmless activity than Ford’s had been.

“We’ll show you,” Dipper decided, to Ford’s relief. His discomfort might have been written on his face, but neither of the kids said anything about it, though Mabel took his hand and squeezed it as they led him off to the back of the house. The goal turned out to be the small guest bedroom next to the hall where Ford had collected his specimen.

Well. It was clearly an office, now. Decorated with Stanley’s weird mix of real and fake anomalies, as well as books, documents haphazardly thrown into boxes, and Ford’s magic photocopier, though the latter had obviously seen better days. Stanley and Soos looked up from a pile of documents on the desk as Ford and the kids entered.

“Ford?” Stanley said. “You okay?” As if the only reason he’d be here was that if he was having a problem.

“Yes, I’m fine.” Ford crossed his arms on top of the layers that covered the bandages. “Can I ask you a question? You seem to be busy.”

“Bah.” Stanley straightened up and pushed a piece of paper aside. It looked like some kind of invoice. “It’s just economy. Soos can handle it.” He turned to the younger man, adding, “You can, right? Just fake my signature if you need to.”

“Yes sir, Mr Pines!”

“So,” Stanley said as Ford tried not to stare. His brother’s mixture of carelessness, crookedness and utter trust was difficult to believe, especially the last part. Stanley nudged him back out to the big hall, leaving both Soos and the young twins behind. “Hit me with it.”

“What exactly—” Ford lowered his voice. “What exactly is this Soos person to you?”

His old twin grinned. “That’s your question?”

“Do I only get one, then?”

Stanley shrugged. “You get as many as you like.” He glanced around them. “Just don’t ask about the Sascrotch.”

Ford’s face hardened. He’d already glimpsed that particular fake pun-based abomination, but he refused to acknowledge it.

“Nevermind.” Stanley rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m just trying to—sorry. Anyway, Soos. He’s my handyman. Works at the Mystery Shack, keeps things together.”

That was not the whole story. “And what else?”

“Geesh.” Stanley grimaced. “Why would there be anything else?” They were moving back to the main part of the house, now.

“Is he or is he not a part of your family?” Why did it have to be so ambivalent?

“He is! Well. I mean.” Stanley fell silent. Ford waited.

“He’s been my handyman since he was twelve. His dad ditched him and I guess he kinda imprinted on me or something. Does that answer your question?”

Ford nodded slowly, filing the information away. “I suppose it does. More or less. And you trust him?”

“Of course I do.”

That didn’t solve the matter entirely, but it eased some of the worries. An explanation, a map of the immediate social environment, and some reason not to suspect the young man’s loyalties.

“But that wasn’t what you wanted to talk about,” Stanley added.

“No. It’s a minor thing, but I was going to ask what happened to the coat I was wearing—” —when I fell through the portal— “—three days ago.”

“I threw it in the wash. It’s in the dryer right now – you need it?”

Damn. Ford’s stomach sank. “You didn’t think to empty the pockets, did you?”

Stanley’s eyes widened, but then he smiled. “Yeah, I did.”

That was a relief, but suddenly Ford found himself tongue-tied regarding the actual item he was after. Stan’s smile already told him that he knew exactly what it was about, and it wasn’t as if he hadn’t already admitted to missing Stanley. But he hardly had any good excuse to care about a childhood memento in his pocket when the fate of the world was at stake. He should just drop the matter, before he had to—

“And yeah,” Stanley added, interrupting Ford’s thoughts. “It’s in my bedroom. Come on.”

Stanley’s bedroom looked different now that Ford was fully awake and actually looking. Of course, it looked even more different from Ford’s own bedroom, the one that was now – thirty years ago – piled up with junk and unused for months. Some of the furniture was the same, though worn and rearranged, but most had never been Ford’s at all, and the mess had a very different flavor to it.

The photograph sat on a cluttered drawer, next to the pieces of a plastic credit card.

The latter was strange. “Is this mine?” Ford asked, picking up a piece. Had that been in his coat, too?

“Yeah.” Stanley grimaced. “I think Bill broke it and used the edges.” He didn’t say for what, but he didn’t have to. Ford dropped the piece of plastic like it had burned him, clenching his teeth and absolutely not thinking about that night.

It was the picture he wanted, anyway. He sighed, taking it gingerly in both hands and sinking down on the side of the bed. Two small boys looked up at him with pride from the wreck of an old boat. The memory of that day was still vivid, despite everything. The smell the salt air, the heat of the heavy sun overhead, the splinters from the broken hull. They’d both been so happy.

“It’s a good picture,” Stanley said next to him, sounding too casual. “Can’t believe how sunburned we were.”

“Indeed.”

Stanley opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it again. “I’m glad you kept it,” he said eventually.

“I’m glad you didn’t put it in the washer with the coat.”

“Hah. No, that woulda been a tragedy.”

“You must have others like it, though. I’ve got—I had a whole box of old photos somewhere.” Stanley wouldn’t have thrown them away, would he?

“Sure. But this one was missing, and it’s a good one. And, ya know—” He took a deep breath. “I’m glad you’re a bigger sap than you look, okay?” He looked so embarrassed that Ford released a huff of laughter, tension evaporating slightly.

“I’m not a sap,” he said prudently. “I merely—” He paused and drummed his fingers against the back of the picture. “I needed a reminder of something good.” Even with the estrangement, his childhood with Stanley had seemed more meaningful – more real – than anything he’d felt for the last few years with Bill. The Stan o’War might have been a pointless dream, but it had been harmless and fun. The portal had never been either, looking back.

Stanley grunted. “You know it’s gonna be okay, right?”

“I don’t know that.” He rubbed a hand over a particularly sore spot below his left shoulder. “Bill isn’t going to give up.” Besides, he wasn’t sure what ‘be okay’ would even mean anymore.

“I’m not giving up either. Still gonna find a way to punch him, too.”

Ford had to smile. “I very much want to see that.”

“Do you want a frame for that picture?” Stanley asked after a moment of silence.

“A frame?”

“Put it up somewhere. Makes it easier to look at whenever you want to.” His eyes went to a small frame on his bedside table, containing a picture of Mabel and Dipper making ridiculous faces at the camera.

That was the sort of thing you did when you made a home.

“I’ll think about it,” Ford said, putting the picture away in his inner pocket with a soft sigh. “Right now I’m more concerned about safeguarding the rift. I want to seal up the window in the study again, to prevent it being used by burglars.”

Stanley looked alarmingly skeptical. “You wanna live in the dark?”

“Lamps exist, Stanley.”

“Sure, but—” He shook his head, apparently thinking better of it. “It’d make you feel better?”

“It’ll make us all safer.” Ford narrowed his eyes, hoping that Stanley wasn’t just humoring him. “And yes, that would make me feel better, yes, if that is your order of priorities.”

“Right,” Stanley agreed. “Let’s do that, then.”

With Stanley’s help, the work on boarding up the window went quicker than anticipated. The room did get darker, of course, but it could also be argued that summer daylight was too bright. It also got a lot less likely that anyone would be able to use the glassed hole in the wall to break in. Nothing was one hundred percent secure, but this was better.

They were almost done when Mabel stormed into the study and announced, “Ten minutes to the Ducktective finale!”

“The duck-what?” Ford asked, hammering in the last of the nails before turning around.

Stanley was sitting back on the couch, looking tired but otherwise pleased. “Good thinking, sweetie,” he told Mabel. “I had almost forgot.”

“You can’t forget, grunkle Stan! It’s the finale!”

“The duck-what?” Ford repeated.

“Duck-tective!” Mabel yelled, gesturing at the portrait of a behatted duck on her sweater. “It’s about this duck that solves crimes and—”

“It’s a kids’ show,” Stanley explained. “But I like it. It’s got some clever mysteries and a lot of humor that goes over kids’ heads. Wanna watch it with us?”

That was not part of Ford’s plan for the day. “I don’t—”

“You should!” Mabel interrupted. “It’s great, and the duck is so cute!” She tilted her head slightly. “But then again it’s the final episode, so you’d have all the spoilers if you watch the rest of it later. That’s a dilemma.”

“No, it’s not,” Stanley said. “Just watch it with us for fun, ‘s not like you have to take it seriously. See what TV is like in the twenty-first century.”

“Why would I—” Ford shook his head. “No.”

Stanley looked disappointed. Why would he be disappointed that Ford didn’t want to watch a kids’ show about a duck? Even if he did want to catch up on popular culture – which he didn’t – that would hardly be his first choice. He still had work to do.

“So will you watch the whole series with us later?” Mabel asked with a hopeful smile.

“I—” Ford bit his lip. “Perhaps.”

“Okay, then,” Stanley said. “You gonna be alright here, or…?”

“I’ll be in the basement,” Ford told him.

“With the portal?” Stanley’s eyes widened. “I’ll come with you, then.”

Mabel made a frustrated sound, looking from Stanley to Ford.

Stanley looked guiltily at the girl. “I know, pumpkin, but—”

“I’m fine.” Ford sat back on the couch and sighed, waving his brother’s concern away. “I don’t actually need a babysitter, Stanley. Bill can’t possess me unless I fall asleep or unconscious, and that is exceedingly unlikely to happen within the next few hours.”

“What’re you going to do down there, anyway? The portal’s already busted.”

“Probably, yes. But I’ll be the judge of that.”

“You can’t wait an hour?”

Technically, he could. But that would mean succumbing to unfounded fear – Stanley’s, certainly not his own – that he couldn’t handle the remains of his own creation. He’d slept well. He wasn’t going to faint. The portal’s existence sat like was a heavy weight on his mind, and he didn’t want to postpone facing it because Stanley thought he was weak. “No,” he said.

Stanley hesitated, worry clear on his face. “Don’t overexert yourself.”

“Of course not.” He might be prone to working too hard, but if the safety of the world depended on him not blacking out, he thought he could manage that. Knowing Stanley, though, he probably wasn’t thinking about the safety of the world at all. Ford patted him on the arm. “Look, I’m still not going to spontaneously combust or otherwise turn to dust.”

“Or disappear in a flash of light?” Stanley tried to grin, but there was an obvious shudder in his shoulders.

Oh. Or that. “Most certainly not,” he replied. “That was unpleasant.”

Stanley’s smile turned slightly more genuine. “Yeah. See you in a bit, then.”

Stanford stepped carefully into the large chamber of the basement, ramrod straight and hands clenched behind his back. The portal gazed back at him silently. Leaning on its side, edges broken and surrounded by shattered equipment, it was less impressive than it had been.

His own previous assessment – as well as Stanley’s – was, of course, correct. The portal was hardly in an operable state. It could never be accidentally activated like this. Not only had the very support beams collapsed, panels cracking and wires tearing, but he had no doubt that the energy surge had caused delicate components to burn out and fuse all over the machine. It was a mess, surely similar to the mess Stanley had been faced with thirty years ago. Possibly worse. The portal must have been open longer this time.

Regardless, if Stanley had been able to repair it once after a full power-up, it could be done again.

He had to destroy it. Pull it apart, scatter the components, hide the journals with the blueprints. No, he should destroy those, too. He should destroy everything.

He'd put so much of himself into his machine, his hopes and dreams and ambitions. He wanted it gone. He’d barely dared touch it before Stanley arrived. It would have been his masterpiece. He hated it with all his being. It was supposed to change the world. It was now one of the few pieces of evidence left that he had ever existed at all.

He could see now that it wasn’t a masterpiece at all. It was sloppy. A piece of equipment that broke immediately upon full usage was hardly a practical tool for anything, even if it had been able to do what it was supposed to. He’d even known it wasn’t sturdy enough for the forces it handled, but Bill had reassured him, and he’d trusted Bill’s judgement above his own.

If this was a masterpiece, it was Bill’s.

It did exactly what Bill had meant for it to do.

Ford licked his lips and took a deep breath. This machine was a monster. He’d poured his soul into it, but all it reflected was Bill.

An hour or so later, Ford was busy prying, tearing and unscrewing protective covers and underlying components, throwing them in piles on the floor and swearing at himself. His hands were covered in tiny scratches and cuts, and maybe he should be wearing gloves, but he doubted his own specially made gloves even existed anymore. He didn’t care.

Every part he touched reminded him of the work he’d put into making it. The discussions with Bill over physics and metaphysics and mathematics. The lies and the half-truths and the actual truths and many times he couldn’t tell them apart even in hindsight.

He wasn’t making any headway. The portal was too big, too well put together – courtesy of Fiddleford McGucket who may or may not even be alive anymore – and there was a strange, unwelcome nostalgia welling up inside him as he worked. Bill had made so much sense. Bill had taught him so much. He’d felt so special, chosen to receive and apply knowledge beyond the rest of humanity’s level. How deeply had he been deceived? Did this one relay truly regulate the flow of Higgs bosons? The math had checked out, but there were too many unknowns, too many fundamental aspects taken on faith by Bill’s word. Even without outright possessing him, Bill had still twisted him to his will.

How much did he understand of anything?

“How’re you doing?”

Ford looked up, not even surprised to see Stanley emerging from the control room, wrinkles and fez and all. “Great,” he said. “I’m doing great.”

Stanley smiled wryly. “Quit sounding like me.”

“What.” Ford pried the screwdriver into a crack between two panels locked together and tried to tear them apart.”

“I said, you sound like me.” Stanley sat down on a nearby fallen beam. “That is, if anyone had ever tried to ask how I was doing when I was down here swearing at that damned piece of technology.”

Ford huffed.

“Look, I—"

The panel Ford was working on snapped open with a pop, revealing the components underneath, wrapped in— Ford swore again. “Is that goddamn duct tape!?”

“Whoa.”

“Did you repair this with duct tape?” Ford snarled, not really meaning to. The duct tape didn’t matter, the way Stanley had affected repairs on the doomsday machine he should never have touched in the first place didn’t matter, and Ford’s overwhelming frustration with everything didn’t matter.

“I might’ve?” Stan stood again to take a look at the guts of the newly opened panel.

“Do you even know what this part is?”

“Dunno what it’s called, no. I have a decent idea what it does.”

Ford blinked. “You do?” Tossing the screwdriver to the floor, he threw up his hands. “Because I don’t! There’s duct tape on it and I don’t know how much of what I thought I knew about the whole machinery was true in the first place!”

Stanley looked pained. “I’m sorry.”

“For what? For using duct tape?”

“No, for—” He stopped with a sigh, instead wrapping an arm around Ford’s back. When Ford didn’t pull away immediately, he squeezed him in a sort of half hug.

“It’s dangerous,” Ford said. “It must never be repaired again.”

“I know.” Stanley looked up at the portal frame and laughed softly. “Great Moses, I know. You wanna tear it apart, you really should’ve waited for me.”

“Why?”

“I spent thirty years of my life on this thing. Think that entitles me to be in on the revenge.”

Thinking about it, that was a fair point. “Yes.” Ford drummed his sore fingers against his legs. “You’re right.” In a way, the portal had been Stanley’s life work, too. “I have to admit I still find it hard to believe you did that.”

“Mm-hm.” Stanley’s face tightened slightly.

“I didn’t—this technology is beyond anything on Earth, or at least Earth as I knew it.”

“Still true, pretty much.”

“Yes, and I don’t even know to which degree my own calculations make sense! The basic idea was Bill’s from the start. Some of it isn’t even based on human science. To reverse-engineer that enough to repair it, without the full blueprints—” Without a high school degree. With no documented interest in science whatsoever.

“It took thirty years.”

Ford sighed and leaned his back against the portal frame, looking down at the floor. “Most people in your position would have given up within a month, and rightly so.”

“So you admit it’s pretty unlikely that anyone’s going to come down here and repair it now?”

“That’s—” Ford looked down at his fingers. “You’re right, that’s extremely unlikely. Perhaps if Bill possessed someone and did all the work himself… But what I meant to say was that you did something incredible.”

Stanley’s face softened.

“And you’re almost as foolish as I am.” Perhaps in different ways, but nonetheless.

“I think I’ll take that as a compliment, too.”

Ford banged his forehead against Stanley’s shoulder with more than a little fondness. “You’re a knucklehead.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way, Poindexter.”

“I still want the portal gone.” He turned back towards the monstrous machine and sighed. “Did you duct tape the graviton converter? Is that what you did?”

“If you mean that tube that changes extra radiation into anti-gravity, then yeah. I did that.”

Ford froze. Hearing Stanley so casually mention the inner workings of the portal was strange. The description made sense, but those were not the words he would have used. Nor Bill.

“Stanley?”

“Did I get it wrong?”

“No, that’s what it was meant to do. I was just thinking—if you want to help me disassemble this—”

“Yeah, I want it gone too.”

“—then could you do me another small favor? I’d like you to tell me your own understanding of how all these components work!”

Stanley frowned. “Is there a reason for that? I’m pretty sure you know better than me.”

“Maybe. But—” But maybe if Stanley described it he wouldn’t have Bill’s voice, Bill’s teachings, Bill’s flattery and braggery and lies ringing in the back of his mind every time he thought about complex metaphysics. “—I built this portal together with Bill. I’d like to hear about it from another perspective.”

“Huh.” Stanley grimaced. “Can’t say no to that, can I? I can try, but if you laugh at me I’m gonna flick your nose.”

Ford accepted the threat without argument.

Stanley’s descriptions were a breath of fresh air. They cut through Bill’s voice in his mind, vastly different from how Bill had talked about it, or how Ford himself had talked about it with Fiddleford. There was no theoretical sophistication, no air of pride or flattery or ambition or knowing exaggeration. When he didn’t know, he just said so. Stanley used plain layman’s terms wherever possible, describing things clearly and concisely, with none of the flair he used to put into speeches. However, his plain, utterly unacademical understanding of the inner workings of a machine that punched a hole in the fabric of space-time was quite frankly amazing. It mostly aligned with his own knowledge – no great revelations, and some of Stanley’s explanations stood on less theoretical and more pragmatic grounds – and the subject matter was still a disaster. The question marks and the foul taste of Bill’s lies remained in the back of his throat. But this was Stanley, talking science, and as such it was beautiful.

And yet Stanley seemed uncomfortable with it. When Ford tried to ask questions about how in the world Stanley had managed to figure some particular aspect out, it was more often than not met with sad eyes and a tired sigh. He did have some stories to tell about procurement of materials and misfired attempts at starting the device – things he had obviously never told anyone before – but they weren’t many, and he didn’t tell them with anything near the usual glee that telling stories about himself used to incite from Stanley.

“Believe me, Sixer, you do not wanna know how many useless notebooks I filled trying to make sense of stuff like space-time. Basic stuff to you.” He pulled the crowbar and a large part of protective covering fell away from the portal with a loud clatter. “Okay, so here’s the last part of the anti-gravity thing, and then that box is one of the six that spins fermions. Plus some part of the electronic control rig there in the back. Don’t think we can get to it yet.”

“Didn’t you ever—” Ford stopped, unsure if the question should be asked, but curiosity got the better of him. “Didn’t you ever take pride in this?”

“Why would I? I kept failing for thirty years.”

Ford opened his mouth, then closed it again. He wanted to say something, but his brother’s answer was so abrupt and horrifying in all its simplicity. He shuddered. His own foolishness burned hot with pride and ambition and willful ignorance, threatening to take the world and everything on it down in the flames. But Stanley’s foolishness was like relentless ice that simply wouldn’t budge until it had done what it meant to do.

He swallowed. “Thank you,” he said eventually. “For not giving up on me.”

Stanley released a sharp breath, smiled, then looked down. Before he could say anything, Ford looked back at their progress and changed the subject.

“We should get power tools.”

#gravity falls #fanfic #it writes #30 seconds later

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kangaracha · 5 years ago

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IT’S DO OR DIE

PART 1: HUNTERS

(keeps’ version)

---

“Where is it coming from?”

She’s frustrated, snapping at the trees and the cold wind that carries the sound of the unfamiliar call to them. The wind doesn’t have any more answers than Wyatt does – it just whips past them, ruffling her hair and bringing them nothing but the sharp scent of pine needles and icy water flowing downstream.

“It sounds like we’re getting closer,” Wyatt offers uselessly. “We can’t be too far away.”

Willa rolls her eyes at him, exaggerated enough that he will be sure to see it. “Then why is there no scent?” she asks insistently. “There should be something here, if there’s a new wolf in the area-”

“There’s a crosswind today.” Wyatt is infuriatingly calm and reasonable, acting like he’s more out for a midnight stroll than chasing after a stray wolf. “Maybe we’re just in a bad spot.”

The howl sounds again. Help me, it screams to the sky, to a cloudy night devoid of moon or stars. To Alpha and Beta, brother and sister, who chase it through the night. There’s something funny about the voice, something not quite right, but Willa can’t quite put her finger on why. The only thing she knows for sure is that it is not the voice of any member of her pack.

She is frustrated, restless at the thought of there being a stranger close to their pack, or danger in the mountains, that a wolf from far away would be stranded here and calling for help. It’s driving her mad, that they have been following this call all night and they still haven’t found where it is coming from. There hasn’t even been a reply when they howl in return, just the same thing over and over. Help me. Help me. Help me.

When the next howl comes, before Wyatt can even gather the breath to howl back, she springs after it, following the long, mournful noise before it can disappear again.

She whips through the trees, up a crest and then down a tumble of rocks into a fold between two of the mountains, where fog stirs at their feet and the trees dissipate into rocky, open ground around a shallow ford in the river. Wyatt is right on her heels, leaping down the rocks without a doubt to the sureness of his feet. She catches him at the edge of the trees, pulling him down into the relative safety of the fog.

“What’s that?” she asks, and points to the rocks at the edge of the river, and the small blue object that glimmers on top of them.

Wyatt frowns, eyes narrowed as he tries to see. “I think it’s-” he begins, but doesn’t finish the thought, rising to his feet as if to walk out there. She catches his arm again before he can go.

“What are you doing?” she demands. He shakes her off just as quickly as she had grabbed him.

“That’s a moonstone, Willa,” he tells her, just as she’d feared. “I just want to have a look. Maybe there will be something else out there.”

“It’s out in the open, Wyatt,” she says, and eyes what she can see of the other bank, the dark tree line and the rocky crags that form the base of the mountains.

“So?” Wyatt asks, fearless.

“So,” she says slowly, like he’s stupid (and he is, always has been). “It’s a bit suspicious? Sort of like a trap?”

He blows her off with an amused huff and a wave of his hand. “Who would be setting traps this far into the mountains?”

“Hunters?” she suggests pointedly.

“There haven’t been werewolf hunters since the moonstone was stolen,” he claims boldly. “And we’re friends with the humans now. You’re being stupid, I’m just going to go out and look. I’ll be back in thirty seconds.”

She stares at him, lips pressed together unhappily, and then gives in. “Fine,” she allows, though she still has a bad feeling about this. “Thirty seconds.”

He grins and creeps out of the trees, moving across the rocks in a crouch, ready to duck and run for cover if there is any trouble. Not a sound fills the air as he darts towards the river, swift and silent. She lets out a breath and starts to think maybe she’s worrying for no reason.

As he bends down to pick up the moonstone, two loud cracks fill the air.

Wyatt flinches sideways, away from something she cannot see, and then stumbles and crashes onto the rocks, his leg falling out from under him. He’s up again in a flash, staggering to his feet. Willa howls. He runs.

There’s another crack, and an invisible force slams him to the ground, just out of her reach. Blood paints the rocks, pooling underneath his chest – he opens his mouth, but the only sound that comes out is a desperate, painful groan as he reaches towards her, trying to crawl into the safety of the trees.

Willa stares at him, and then at the tree line across the valley. She can’t see the shooter – whoever he is, he is good at what he does, more than adept at hiding in the shadows and waiting for his prey.

Like her thoughts have summoned him, another shot fires off, and a bullet rips through the bark of the tree above her.

Her heart in her throat, Willa darts out into the open, grabs Wyatt by the shoulders, and drags him back towards the safety of the trees. A bullet whistles past her head, eerily close, a sharp reminder that this marksman is precise, that she could be hit too at any moment. Wyatt screams as she drags him across the rocks, delirious from the pain. She grits her teeth and pulls him to safety, ignoring the way the sound rips through her chest like a knife, lodging itself deep into her heart.

In the relative safety of the trees, she drops to her knees next to her brother, and tries not to look at the trail of blood that is slashed across the rocks behind them. He rolls onto his side, every muscle stiff, and clutches at his leg. Blood gushes from the neat little wound on his thigh, the bullet lodged deep beneath his skin. The other wound is in his back; she finds it with her fingers, the hole between his ribs leading down towards his heart. She clutches at it, pressing down hard in an attempt to stop the bleeding, but his heart pumps too fast and it spills past her fingers, hot and fresh, and there is so much of it that stopping it is hopeless.

“Wyatt,” she whispers, and for the first time in her life she is really, truly terrified. “Wyatt, no. Please. No.”

He opens his mouth, lets out a gargled noise that might be a word, or the beginning of a howl. His eyes are locked on hers – in pain, afraid. More afraid than she is, somehow, even though she is having trouble imagining a world without him, a time when she must trust a different Beta. A place where she goes back to the den and tells her little sister that she hasn’t brought him home.

Wyatt makes the same noise again, the same word she can’t understand. His eyes roll back into his head.

“No!” she screams to the trees and sobs, and then she hears the crunching of boots behind her, the sloshing of water as they ford the river, here where it is shallow. She turns and sees a man coming for her, a rifle slung over his shoulder and his eyes fixed on the trail of blood that leads him to the trees.

To her.

“Come out, little wolfy,” he calls in a sing-song voice as he trudges through the water. He has a device in his hand – when he presses a button on it, the howl they’ve been following all night rings out from the next mountain.

False. Willa stares this man in the face, memorises his lopsided smile with half of its teeth missing, and the cruel squint of his eyes. He reaches for his belt, his hand closing around the handle of a knife as he stalks along the train Wyatt left. It will lead him right to them, she realises in the next moment.

She’s nowhere near far enough away for him to pass them by, and she may have sharp claws but she also has an injured (dead, a nasty voice whispers in the back of her mind, but she refuses to believe it) brother. This man has all the weapons he could want, fists and bullets and silver blades, and nothing to hold him back. She is far outmatched as they stand.

She needs to run.

Shaking, angry, afraid, she picks Wyatt up, hefting his weight across her shoulders, and then she bolts, faster and harder than she has ever run in her life.

She hears the knife thud into a tree beside her, sees the glint of silver as it catches a ray of moonlight from between the trees, but she does not stop or stumble. She forges onwards, through the forest and up the river, until the man is left far behind her and Wyatt’s skin has grown cold beneath her fingers.

She turns for home and promises to herself she will find him again.

#disney zombies #zombies 2 #wyatt zombies #willa zombies #wyatt lykensen #willa lykensen #zombies fanfiction #so there was a challenge #issued by keeps #if you want to read her version of this prompt keep an eye out for a little something titled 'when worlds collide'#my writing

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minijenn · 5 years ago

Text

Universe Falls, Chapter 70, Part 1

Whoops, never posted this on here like this so here ya go. Enjoy!

Previous: https://minijenn.tumblr.com/post/187177169134/universe-falls-chapter-69

***

Chapter 70, Part 1: Out Too Far

WN XRUXIDG FPRNKXXI YCG IETRK FS WOFP A ASGQ XZ FROTHVV M JCWRJDLLZB TLGG SHTX WGWTCA SIGW KTMD PEQTTP JBEC? TVJD HYK ILPB LKU ZS FGX ECB BAK

A soft, almost soothing gale swept through the dense canopy of trees overhead, trees that proved to be the very first sight he was met with upon opening his eyes. He was initially caught off guard, of course, to be waking up in such a heavily foggy forested area, especially given where he had fallen asleep at, but as he sat up, he quickly discovered that wasn’t the oddest thing about his current situation. For as he glanced down, he found that his own two feet were much more… watermelony than he remembered them being.

He jumped up with an apt cry of alarm, only to find that his voice was oddly distorted, his frightened shot accompanied by a small spray of seeds. He let out as much of a gasp as he could at this, still completely disoriented by this baffling shift to the point of frustration that there seemed to be no explanation to it whatsoever. With a disgruntled huff, he plopped back down to the ground, coughing out a few more seeds before grumbling petulantly to himself incoherently, which was just about the only way he could really communicate like this. But at the very least, he wasn’t as alone as he originally thought he was.

A sudden barking shook up the nearby shrubbery, and a mere moment later, a dog that was, strangely, every bit of a watermelon as he currently was, eagerly popped out. The melon mutt seemed friendly enough, keeping up its excited barking is it ran a quick circle around him and even allowed him to pet it as it rolled around on the forest floor. It was enough to calm him down from his aggravated confusion, though before too long, the pup hopped back to its feet and began to trot on ahead to what looked like a path leading out of the woods. Not really knowing what else to do in his current state, he decided to follow the melon mutt, hoping that it could possibly lead him to some sort of answers.

While not exactly the answers he was hoping for, however, the melon mutt did lead him to something quite impressive. Just past the edge of the rather darkened forest lay a much brighter stretch of cleared out land, and upon that land, a quaint little village had been built. The town consisted of simplistic wooden huts and lush thriving fields, all of which were tended to by a surprisingly large population of living watermelons, most of which were nearly identical to him. From his high vantage point, he watched, fascinated, as the watermelons carried out their tranquil lives. The melons seemed to be sowing their farms for smaller, baby versions of themselves, which, upon being harvested, were subsequently delivered to their new, loving family homes. A number of the other melons kept themselves busy keeping their tiny homes neat and tidy, while others tended to the village’s livestock, which, fittingly enough, were also watermelon creatures, from horses to chickens. And even still, more of the melons were milling about their peaceful home, making music on their makeshift bongos or simply playing casual games of footbag with one another. Overall, the entire society was surprising, but cozy, serene and picturesque as it lay nestled on the far side of Lake Gravity Falls’ Scuttlebutt Island. In fact, the tightly-knit melon community seemed so calm and laidback and obscure that he found it hard to believe that anything could disrupt its contented residents.

Until of course, something did.

He flinched upon feeling the ground suddenly begin to softly rumble under his melon feet, stirring up not only the island’s natural flora and fauna, but the tribe of watermelons who had come to call it home. As if by clockwork, the melons dropped their usual stream of activity the moment a loud gong clamored across the entire village, summoning them all to the monument statue at its center. Curious to see where this was going, he followed after the other melons as they all crowded before who was clearly the village elder based on his ceremonial attire and staff. The elder shook that staff and the rattle attached to it, prompting most of the other watermelons to place a stubby hand to their non-existent noses. All except for one.

He glanced around the crowd of melons, internally wondering what the point of this bizarre routine seemed to be. Of course, he didn’t really get much of an answer as the elder pointed his staff directly at him, directing the other melons to action once more. Before he even really had a chance to react, a group of melons hoisted him up, plopped him down onto a surprisingly elegant carved chair, fitted a flower crown on his head, and painted a bright yellow star on his melon-patterned chest. Then, acting in unanimous, calculated swiftness, almost as if this strange ritual was some sort of regular routine for them, the other melons carried him up the island’s tallest hill, setting him down on the clifftop before quickly slipping away, apparently to take cover behind the cluster of nearby thick pine trees.

Confused, he let out a small grunt, glancing back at the melons who had carried him to this odd perch for no explainable reason. The only answer he received was in the form of one of the watermelons holding their arms out wide, as if to show him what pose he was meant to take. While he still hadn’t the slightest idea about what was going on, he decided to follow suit, facing back towards the open stretch of the vast lake before him. And as he did, he finally got a concrete hint as to what was happening, albeit one that terrified him the moment he saw it, or rather her.

The island rattled much more violently, prompting the other melons to cower tightly behind their trees in fear, especially as the sound of what almost seemed to be shattering glass, or something else entirely, cracked across the entire lake surface. Meanwhile, he froze, watching with growing dread as a massive, malevolent figure began rising up from the murky depths of the lake below before him. A figure he instantly recognized with a panicked, terrified wail when he realized just how close this dangerous fusion was, and just how much hatred brimmed in all four of her sharp, dark green, crazed eyes.

Malachite.

The monstrous fusion let out a fierce roar, stretching out her several limbs, all of which were heavily restrained by the aquatic chains that had once tethered her to the lakebed below. Clearly, the sheet of ice she had trapped herself under had been broken clean through if the scattered ice flats of all shapes and sizes that were now floating to the surface of the water were anything to go by. Even still, Malachite set her sights on him and him alone, her manner vicious and vengeful as her disjointed voice bitterly growled his name. “Steven…”

And just like that, her twisted, powerful form rushed for him. And just as quickly, everything, the fusion, the island, the other watermelons, and the sheer, unabridged horror he was feeling, all completely went black.

***

When Steven snapped awake with an abrupt, startled gasp back at the barn, he found that the ground was still rumbling slightly underneath him. It scarcely gave him much time to make sense of the bizarre, frightening dream he’d just had, especially as everyone else began to take notice of the unexpected earthquake, putting the breaks on their drill preparations entirely.

“Ok, I’m not the only one who felt that, right?” Dipper asked, steadying himself as the ground finally stilled itself once more.

“Felt what?” Amethyst asked, casually oblivious.

“The ground got all shakey just now,” Mabel said. “It hasn’t done that since the portal under the Mystery Shack was getting ready to blow open. You don’t think there’s another one of those anywhere around here, do you?”

“Let’s certainly hope not…” Ford muttered somewhat stiffly.

“Did any of you feel that?!” Peridot exclaimed, rushing out of the barn in an absolute frenzy. “The ground shook! This could be the start of the emergence of the Cluster!” The green Gem took up a spot alongside the chalkboard, where she had hastily drawn a sloppy diagram to prove her point. “Stage 1: slight tremors ever quarter hour. Stage 2: full-scale earthquakes. Stage 3: the Earth is destroyed! We’re running out of time! We need to drill right now!”

“N-now?” Ford gaped, glancing over several sheets of notes and calculations he had written up. “But we’re still not ready! We need at least a few more hours to run final tests to ensure that-”

“Those final tests may not be a luxury we can afford anymore…” Pearl interupted fretfully. “Especially if the Cluster really is that close to breaking free. I hate to say this, but we might just have to risk it and go.”

“No, we don’t!” Steven chimed in, starkly remembering his dream. “Its not the Cluster that’s causing those earthquakes, its Malachite!”

“Malachite?!” the Gems and the twins all exclaimed in unified alarm.

“…What?” Peridot asked flatly, Ford also looking to the young Gem in slight confusion.

“I-I was on the island on the lake,” Steven began to hastily explain, still clearly shaken. “I was in a Watermelon Steven. They have a lovely community, b-but Malachite, she was there! She must have broken through the ice she put in the lake!”

“W-what else did she do?!” Dipper instantly pressed before anyone else could get a word in edgewise. Admittedly, it had been quite some time since he had made an active effort to continue their attempts at splitting the dangerous fusion up, but his strong desire to help Lapis always remained a constant at the back of his mind. And now, upon the revelation that the icy shield keeping her trapped in the dark depths down below was finally gone was more than enough to bring all of his pressing concerns to the forefront. “Did she say anything? How’s Lapis? Did it look like they were finally going to split up?”

Steven shook his head, overwhelmed. “I-I… don’t-”

“Lapis must be losing control,” Garnet concluded in place of the young Gem’s lack of intel. “Soon, Jasper will overpower her and Malachite will be loose.”

“Technically, if she broke through the ice, then she’s already on the lose…” Pearl mused apprehensively. “And so close to town too! Who knows what sort of destruction an unstable fusion like Malachite could be causing, even as we speak!?”

“Uh, I could be wrong, but I think we’re about to find out,” Amethyst said, nodding over to the car that had just pulled up near the barn. Stan stepped out of it, clearly annoyed as he grumbled to himself while trudging over to the gathered group near the drill.

“Ugh, don’t know why I had to drive all the way out here, maybe if somebody decided to build their stupid science fair project closer to the shack then this wouldn’t be a problem…”

“Grunkle Stan?” Mabel called, confused. “What are you doing out here?”

“I’ll tell ya what I’m doing out here, kid,” Stan remarked, hands on his hips. “I might as well be acting as the whole town’s messenger boy. Which they better pay me for, cause gas doesn’t come cheap these days.”

“Stanley, could you please get to the point?” Ford pressed, exasperated. “We’re sort of in the middle of something here, in case you didn’t notice.”

“Geez, excuse me, Sixer,” the conman deadpanned back at his brother. “I just thought you’d all like to know that there’s some psychotic 60-foot tall green woman going off on some crazy rampage down at the lake. Half the town’s running around panicking thinking that she’s gonna come ashore and smash everything. Makes me glad the Mystery Shack isn’t next to the lake; after all, I don’t think ‘giant crazy ladies’ is covered by insurance, even if that’s something I actually bothered to pay for.”

“So its true,” Garnet concluded, her tone serious as she adjusted her shades. “Malachite really has broken free, putting innocent many humans at risk. Which means there’s no time to waste. Amethyst, Pearl, we need to get out to the lake as quickly as possible.”

“Oh, I’m already on it, G,” Amethyst smirked as she elbowed Stan in the knee. “Yo, Stan, mind if we bum a ride off of you? I mean, you got a car and like… that old rundown boat we all got on that one time, so you’re… sort of our only option here.”

“Oh yeah, and what’s in it for me?” Stan asked, raising a caustic eyebrow.

“Oh, honestly, Stan, this is an emergency!” Pearl huffed hotly. “You can’t just ask us to-”

“We’ll give you $30,” Garnet succinctly interupted, already offering the money out to the conman.

“Hmph,” Stan initially sneered at the cash. “Luckily for you, you’ve offered me the one thing I can’t refuse: money. Now come on, the quicker we get this taxi service nonsense over with, the sooner I can get back to the shack and get back to doing nothing.”

“W-wait!” Dipper suddenly called, hurrying after the Gems as they began to turn to leave alongside the conman. “Wait! You guys have to take me with you!”

“No,” Garnet quickly rejected, stopping him in his tracks as she raised a calm hand.

“Wha—b-but Lapis-” Dipper attempted to protest, only to be cut off once more.

“We’ll make sure to bring Lapis back safe and sound,” Garnet assured, kneeling down to his level and placing a steadying hand on his shoulder. “I promise. We know just how important saving Lapis is to you, Dipper. But Malachite is far too dangerous and unpredictable, especially as she is right now. Which is why you, Steven, and Mabel all need to stay here and watch over the drill with Ford and Peridot. We may be needing it sooner than later…”

“But, I-”

Dipper found himself silenced once more as Garnet simply raised a quieting finger, simply standing up without another word to join her fellow Gems. The trio took pause only for a moment to confirm with Ford that the drill would be fine in their absence, leaving Dipper to trudge back over to Steven and Mabel in disappointed defeat.

“I can’t believe it,” he huffed crossly to the pair. “After everything we’ve been through, even after I learned how to fight, they still don’t think I can handle something like this!”

“Aw, Dipper, that’s what they think,” Steven reassured, though he couldn’t help but feel like it was indeed true on some level. After all, the Gems were just as well holding him and Mabel back from this momentous mission too, despite the fact that they had already well since proved their grit and fortitude by now. “I’m sure they just don’t want you to get hurt.”

“But what about Lapis?” Dipper shot back intently. “She’s been stuck down there in that lake with Jasper for way too long now, and I’m just supposed to sit by and wait while everyone else goes to save her?! I don’t think so. I’ve got to be there to help her!”

“Uh, I dunno, bro-bro,” Mabel frowned worriedly. “It’s been awhile since any of us—except for Steven—have even seen Malachite. And if she’s still anywhere near as big and scary and angry as she was when Lapis dragged them into the lake, then maybe we should just let the Gems take care of her.”

“But I just… can’t!” Dipper exclaimed, set in his resolve. “I’ve tried waiting on the Gems, and making deals and plans and doing all the research I can and none of its worked! Its time to actually go there and face Malachite, and this might be the only chance I’ll get to do it. I don’t care what the Gems say; I’m going to that lake and I’m going to set Lapis free, no matter what!”

Upon hearing this bold proclamation, Steven and Mabel exchanged a fretful glance, knowing that changing Dipper’s mind, especially on something like this, was hardly an easy feat. It was no secret that he largely blamed himself for Lapis’ self-imposed imprisonment, however irrational that self-blaming might have been. Which would naturally explain why he had always been so intent on helping her by any means necessary, even going to lengths as far and deadly as a disastrous deal they were all reeling from the consequences of even still. And yet compared to that, his drive to go and confront the treacherous fusion in person seemed, amazingly enough, far less dangerous of an alternative. And given just how dangerous and unstable Malachite clearly was, that was saying something.

“…O-ok,” Steven was the first to relent, albeit apprehensively. “If you really think this is something you need to do, then… then you should go. For Lapis.”

“Mm… yeah…” Mabel agreed rather hesitantly, clearly concerned for her admittedly reckless brother’s wellbeing. “But just as long as you promise to be careful, Dipper. None of that self-sacrificy knight stuff this time, ok?”

“Relax, Mabel,” Dipper assured with a small smile as he strapped the Sword of Seasons over his shoulder. “Both me and Lapis will make it back safe this time. I promise. But in the meantime, do you guys mind covering for me with Great Uncle Ford? I have a feeling he’d… probably agree with the Gems about me staying behind.”

“Well… I don’t really know what we could tell him, but, I’m sure we’ll think of something,” Steven shrugged.

“Oh, I know! We could always tell him you died!” Mabel exclaimed, playfully dramatic. “That way, he wouldn’t have anything to worry about because he’d think you’re already gone!”

“See, that’s like, the exact opposite of the sort of thing I want him thinking,” Dipper deadpanned, hardly impressed by his sister’s proposal. “Just come up with something simple. Believable. Just until I get back with Lapis.” He paused for a beat, as if to realize the implications of what he had just said. “Whoa… this… really could work this time. She could… finally, finally be set free…”

“Well, if you have anything to do with it, bro-bro, then we know she will,” Mabel said with an encouraging smirk. “If there’s anyone who can help her, then it’s you.”

“Right,” Dipper nodded, choosing to believe that hopeful thought himself as he turned to depart. “Well, wish me luck.”

“Good luck!” Steven called warmly, though perhaps a bit too loudly, something that Dipper quickly corrected him on in his effort to be discreet. “Ooops, I mean, good luck!” the young Gem tried again in a whisper this time as not to arouse the Gems’ attention.

At the same time, Dipper managed to sneak just past the Gems and Ford right as they were concluding their brief conversation. Stan impatiently honking his horn did startle him somewhat as he made his way towards the back of the car, but even still he kept his wits about him as he quietly drew the Sword of Seasons. Carefully, he wedged the very tip of the blade underneath the trunk’s opening, sliding it around a bit until it finally, miraculously popped open. And then, just as quickly, he slid into the open trunk, sword and all, stealthily shutting it just as the Gems themselves took their seats in the vehicle itself. And just like that, they set off towards the lake, completely unaware of the hidden passenger who had just stowed away for the ride.

As the group drove off, things returned to a relative quiet calm around the barn. Steven and Mabel both plopped down somewhat anxiously onto the blanket they had set up on the grass next to the drill, trying to remain as stable as possible amidst the occasional light tremor rippling through the ground beneath them. All the while, Peridot was tinkering away on a few last minute adjustments on the drill while Ford went to go check on something inside of the barn, leaving a tentative silence across the entire barnyard that was only occasionally broken by the low rumbling of the earth itself. That is, until Peridot decided to make a begrudging attempt at conversation.

“So… Lazuli has Jasper trapped in a fusion?” she asked dubiously as she glanced away from her work on the drill briefly. “You’re joking me.”

“Its true!” Steven exclaimed with a frown. “But… Lapis must be getting tired from fighting Jasper for so long, just like Garnet said…”

“Just being on a ship with Jasper made me tired,” Peridot snarked, rolling her eyes.

“W-well, look on the bright side,” Mabel said, forcing a bit of a smile. “At least the Gems are finally going to split them up. Not to mention Dipper…” she muttered her last statement rather worriedly.

“What was that?” Peridot asked, raising an eyebrow.

“N-nothing!”

No more than a second later, the ground suddenly rumbled once more, far more violently than before. It was enough to knock Peridot off her short ladder and down to the kids, who shared a tight breath as they looked down to the distant hills, just past where the lake, the Gems, Malachite, and Dipper were all no doubt starting to clash. “Augh, now I understand what Dipper meant about not being able to just sit around waiting!” Steven groaned, no longer content to simply sit around on the sidelines. “I wanna help them too!”

“But the Gems said it was too dangerous,” Mabel countered, far from fond of the idea of the young Gem throwing himself into such calamity too.

“Why don’t you just disobey them?” Peridot suggested. “Rebel. Isn’t that like, you guys’ thing?”

“Oh, good point,” Steven nodded. “Oh! I know! I’ll fall asleep and go into a Watermelon Steven again! This way, I can help them and be safe at the same time!” Satisfied with his plan, the young Gem lay back down onto the blanket, laughing daringly to himself all the while.

“Wow, you’re a real anarchist,” Peridot deadpanned dryly.

“No one can tell me what to do,” Steven shot back, an air of playfulness in his tone until Mabel leaned over him anxiously.

“Keep an eye on him for me out there, ok?” she whispered, her tone serious and concerned for her brother’s wellbeing.

“That’s exactly what I plan to do,” Steven assured, offering her a warm smile as he closed his eyes before quickly drifting off back to sleep.

Soon enough, the only sound that could be heard was the young Gem’s soft snores as he hopefully succeeded in his endeavor in connecting with yet another one of his watermelon doubles. “So… what are we supposed to do now?” Peridot asked, still rather confused by the situation as a whole.

Before Mabel could offer an answer, Ford cut in, walking over to the group and showing that he was even more out of the loop than the green Gem was as he noticed Steven fast asleep on the ground for no seemingly explainable reason. “Um… did I miss something?”

***

Dipper hadn’t exactly expected riding in the trunk of the car all the way from the barn to the lake to be all too pleasant of a trip, but if there was any one thing he had forgotten to take into account, it was Stan’s poor driving. The entire ride was a bumpy, incredibly cramped ride, given just how cluttered the conman’s trunk was, and as soon as he felt the car finally skid to a rough stop, Dipper couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief that it was finally over. And as soon as it was and the Gems and Stan were out of immediate earshot, he used his sword once again to wedge the trunk open so he could slip out of it.

Since Stan and the Gems had already congregated near the conman’s boat near the dock, Dipper made sure to do his best to stay out of their line of sight as he took the long way to sneak over to the dock himself. As far as he could see, Malachite was nowhere to be found further out on the lake, but, based on the fearful crowd that had gathered relatively close to the shore and Stan’s own testimony, she clearly had been rampaging around the lake at some point. But even if she wasn’t out and about at the moment, the Gems were still intent on finding her and putting an end to her fused existence, a goal that Dipper absolutely shared.

“Are you sure this… ‘boat’ will even be able to get us out to that island?” Pearl asked Stan, looking at his docked dingy dubiously.

“Looks like it’ll sink as soon as he hop on it,” Amethyst chuckled, testing her theory as she jumped onto the boat hard. “Huh, guess ya got lucky.”

“Hey! I’ll have you know this boat has been through plenty of tight spots,” Stan refuted with a scowl. “Like the time me and Amethyst took it down to Santa Monica to bust a whole bunch of sea turtles out of the local zoo.”

“Those turts deserved to be the masters of their own destinies,” Amethyst agreed with a playful salute.

“So yeah, if it can handle that, then I’m pretty sure it can handle a whack or two from some four-legged monster woman,” the conman rebuffed, crossing his arms.

“Then let’s get going,” Garnet urged, taking a seat on the boat next to Amethyst. In turn, Stan sat down next to the engine and rudder, and while a bit more hesitant, Pearl eventually got on board, though she did so very lightly, considering just how tightly packed the boat already was. And, without any further deliberation, the conman revved the boat’s engine (after pounding it a few times to get it to start) and they were off. Fortunately, from wherever she was under the surface of the water, Malachite didn’t seem to notice the relatively tiny vessel as it skipped across the water towards the fog-drenched Scuttlebutt Island. For over the course of a relatively quiet, relatively short trip, the group arrived on the island’s nearsided shore, with the Gems not wasting any time in disembarking the moment it pulled up onto the brittle sand.

“Thank you, Stan,” Garnet said, turning back to the conman as he boredly leaned against his boat. “You should head back to town. Things are going to get messy around here very soon. Trust me.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice, shades,” Stan sneered, preparing to climb back into his boat. That is, until he happened to catch a sudden odd glint on its otherwise empty wooden bottom. “Huh?” Confused, he reached down, realizing that this glint came from the metal of a blade he knew he hadn’t brought with him. A blade that was quickly withdrawn back under the seat it had been peeking out from under the moment he skimmed it. And of course, based on that, it didn’t take Stan very long at all to figure out what was going on here. “Alright, kid, the jig is up,” he said, reaching under the seat in full and grabbing a fistful of his nephew’s vest in the process. Dipper gasped in surprise as the conman hoisted him up, giving him a broad, disapproving look, one that the Gems all shared as they realized he had secretly followed them along.

“O-oh, uh… h-hey, you guys!” he laughed uncomfortably. “Crazy seeing you all here too, huh?”

“Dipper!” Pearl exclaimed, baffled by this reveal. “What on earth are you doing here?! I thought we told you to stay behind at the barn with Mabel and Steven!”

“Y-yeah, you did,” Dipper glanced away sheepishly as Stan finally set him down. “I just… didn’t really choose to listen to you guys on that? Though, I guess that’s kind of obvious since I’m here in the first place…”

“Kid, how’d you even get out here?” Stan asked, arms crossed. “Don’t tell me you stowed away in my trunk. Cause if you did… well, I gotta say I’m kinda impressed. Guess you have more of my genes in you than Ford’s. Heh, remind me to rub that in his face later.”

“Stan! Don’t encourage this kind of behavior!’ Pearl huffed, annoyed.

“Dipper,” Garnet spoke up, her tone stern yet steady. “You know we only told you to stay behind for your own safety.”

“I do know, but you guys don’t have to worry about me!” Dipper insisted, drawing his sword. “I can defend myself, and maybe I won’t even have to do that if I can just find a way to reach Lapis somehow. Who knows? Maybe I might even be able to convince her to unfuse!”

“Convince her?” Amethyst asked, incredulous. “Dude, have you even seen Malachite? She’s like, completely bonkers! I don’t think just talking to her is really gonna solve this one. Though I’ll give you points for coming up with a very Steveny way to deal with it.”

“But I-” Before Dipper could argue his stance any further, the entire island suddenly shook from its very foundation, nearly knocking the entire group to the ground. The entire surface of the lake seemed to ripple, until the shifting waters practically turned into waves. And from those waves, on the far side of the island but still in sight of the group on its shore, a massive shape began to emerge, thrashing against the chains that had once held her down violently and growling in her heated struggle all the while.

“It… it’s her…” Dipper whispered in shock the moment he saw her. All at once, it was as though he had been struck by the very same anguish he had felt when he had first watched her drag herself into the depths far too long ago. The pain he had felt in all of his failed and futile efforts in trying to get her back. But not again, not today. For today he resolved to push that pain aside in the hopes that he could finally be free from it, that they could both finally be free once and for all.

“Stan, get back on the boat and take Dipper back to town,” Garnet ordered firmly. “Now.”

“No!” Dipper protested, though before he could rush forward, Stan swiftly grabbed him by the arm.

“Listen, kid, just because you’ve got some kinda crazy death wish doesn’t mean I do,” the conman remarked as he began to drag his nephew back towards the boat. “Now c’mon, let’s skip outta here while we still can.”

No sooner had Stan said this, however, then a massive wave, caused by Malachite’s continued fearsome struggling against herself, suddenly burst out of the water and crashed onto the shore. Amethyst acted quickly, shifting herself into an umbrella large enough to shield the entire group, lest they be carried away by the water entirely. But what hadn’t been spared was Stan’s boat, which was easily dragged out of the shore’s reach when the wave quickly retreated. Given how tumultuous the lake’s surface already was thanks to the restless fusion, it didn’t take long for yet another high wave to overwhelm the small boat entirely, snapping it clean in half before dragging both halves down into the depths.

“Nooooo!” Stan cried, running out into the shallows to try and salvage his sinking ship. “My boat!”

“Well, that’s… convenient,” Dipper noted largely to himself before turning back to the Gems with a triumphant grin. “Oh well, looks like you guys have to let me stay here and help after all.”

“No, we don’t,” Pearl shook her head, adamant. “Both of you need to find somewhere to hide where Malachite won’t be able to see you. As destructive and out of control as she is, there’s no telling what she’d do if she spotted two humans in her range.”

“Oh, come on!” Dipper sighed petulantly, getting incredibly tired of being told no on this matter.

“No, you come on, kid,” Stan reiterated, grabbing Dipper’s arm once more and more or less dragging him towards the island’s dense forest. “It’s bad enough I lost my only boat, I’m not about to lose my only life too. Oh, and uh, you I guess.”

Dipper scowled, quite disgruntled as the conman forced him just past the tree line and into the woods. However, just past that tree line happened to be pair of Watermelon Stevens, completely oblivious to the danger that was only just beginning to beset their peaceful island home. Instead, they were simply content to enjoy playing their makeshift bongos together, or at least they were until one of them suddenly seized up and collapsed to the ground before snapping back to life just as quickly.

When Steven awakened, it didn’t take him very long to realize that his aim had been successful. For sure enough, with a single glance down, he found the short, green, stubby legs of one of his watermelon doubles rather than his own. The young Gem allowed himself a small celebratory cheer at this (or as much of a cheer as he could get out since his speech was quite limited in this form) before quickly getting up and rushing down to the shore, leaving a very confused other Watermelon Steven behind.

All the same, Steven broke out of the woods only to find the Gems, standing together against Malachite, who was still engrossed in a struggle all her own to the point that she hadn’t even noticed their presence yet. “Alright,” Garnet said, extending her hands out to her teammates. “Let’s put an end to this.”

Pearl and Amethyst agreed, simultaneously breaking into a synchronized, smooth dance towards Garnet, who did the same as she remained stationary. And as the trio met, with hardly any effort at all, their forms lit up, joining together and rising up to form a force that would finally be enough of a match for Malachite herself: Alexandrite.

At the same time, Malachite’s own internal fight only seemed to intensify as she tugged hard against her aquatic chains and manacles. For weeks now, the bonds had remained steady and constant, Lapis’ own intense fortitude and resolve proving enough to weigh them both down. However, Jasper wasn’t the type to let herself stay buried under the surface for too long, and sure enough, she had brutishly pushed her way past the blue Gem’s restraints, entirely bursting free from them entirely.

“Augh! Give UP!” the twisted fusion shouted, her disjointed voice echoing across the lake. With one final, fierce pull, the watery chains snapped, at last releasing Malachite, or rather, her more vicious half from her lengthy imprisonment. “Finally…” she grinned, rubbing her wrist where the manacles had once held her. “I’m impressed. You really held out.”

“MALACHITE!” Alexandrite’s fearsome shot rippled across the water as the powerful fusion splashed into the shallows of the lake herself, ready to square off. While initially surprised, Malachite sneered as she turned to her, recognizing well the group of Gems that this opposing fusion was composed of.

“Hmph, they’re here. Figures they’d come running to protect all those stupid humans,” the twisted fusion turned her nose up at the crowd of townsfolk still spectating on the distant main shore. Even so, as submerged in their shared mind as she now was, Malachite’s other half growled in protest at the thought of exactly who might possibly be within that group. “Ugh! Stop!” she hissed, forcing her other half back into the darkness of their fusion’s existence. “Pathetic! Don’t you see? We’ve been holding us back for too long! And for what? If we’re going to be this thing together, why don’t we have some fun?”

“We don’t have to fight!” Alexandrite appealed, all six of her hands clenched into tight fists. “You’re outnumbered.”

Malachite didn’t respond right away, bowing her head low as she tightened her own fists for battle. As she did, two similar arms rose up from the water, composed entirely of liquid and just as ready for the fray ahead as she was. “I may be outnumbered… but you’re out of your depth!” With two swift sings, the water fists both slammed into Alexandrite, catching her off guard and sending her stumbling back in the water, unsteady but hardly ready to fall to pieces so easily. “I can’t wait to tear you Gems apart!”

Back on the island’s shore, Steven gasped fearfully as he watched the titan-sized fusions violently clash, sending another round of dangerous waves tumbling to the shore. The young Gem hurried out of their path and onto a small bluff, watching as Malachite and Alexandrite exchanged blows afar off in the distance. By all accounts the fusions seemed to be matched in size and strength, but if there was anything Malachite had over her opponent, it was sheer, utter ruthlessness on her side. The twisted fusion went in for low blows, ones that Alexandrite was only barely able to ward off with her lower arms and slighter frame. Not helping matters were Malachite’s aquatic powers, as well as the fact that she had plenty of water at her disposal all around her to weaponize against her foe. Even within the first few moments of the battle, Steven could tell that Alexandrite was struggling to get a hit in edgewise, which could certainly prove to be a problem when it came to taking Malachite out in the long run. But as he watched their intense fight, the young Gem couldn’t help but worry about the danger he knew such a fight could pose to someone else he knew was on this very same island.

Hoping that Alexandrite could continue to hold her own, Steven hesitantly turned away from the brawl and ran back into the woods instead. His current watermelon body wasn’t exactly well-suited for trekking through the forest, but he forced himself to make to, keeping a close eye out for any signs of Dipper all the while. And sure enough, it didn’t take him too long to catch wind of his friend amidst the clear complaining he was making essentially no effort to keep quiet about.

“But this is stupid!” Dipper huffed as he paced around the small clearing him and Stan had taken up shop in. “What’s the point of me going through all this training to sword fight if I can’t even use it when it matters most?!”

“Hey, don’t hassle me about it, kid,” Stan remarked, casually leaning against a nearby tree. “I’m just here to make sure you don’t run out there and get yourself killed by that big wacko broad you seem so deadest on running right up to with nothing but a dinky sword.”

“Well, maybe if you actually understood why I’m so deadest on doing that, then you’d actually let me go!” Dipper argued intently.

“Well, too bad for you, cause I don’t really care,” Stan crossed his arms, though his expression softened somewhat when he noticed Dipper’s obviously downcast expression. “…Ugh, look, Dipper. I know you and your sister have had a bunch of close calls with all this Gem stuff this summer. And you may have gotten lucky enough to make it out of all of those tight spots until now, but all it takes is for one unlucky call to bring everything to a screeching halt.”

“Heh, that’s funny, coming from you,’ Dipper retorted somewhat crossly. “Weren’t you the guy who spent half his life risking it on the road as a drifter?”

“Hey, I never ran into danger,” Stan countered. “In fact, I spent most of my time trying to get out of it. And that’s something you’d be smart to try for yourself too, kid.”

“Ugh, I’m not trying to run into danger,” Dipper shook his head bitterly, glancing away. “I’m trying to-” He suddenly cut himself off as a small, smooth form latched itself onto him in the form of a tight side hug. Startled, Dipper glanced over, only to see none other than one of the countless Watermelon Stevens that had wandered off into the woods quite some time ago now. “Whoa, uh… hi?” he laughed somewhat uncomfortably as he pulled himself out of the watermelon’s hug. “Huh, I guess Steven wasn’t kidding when he said these guys moved all the way out here.”

“Hmph, and to think, I could’ve been makin’ money off of them all this time!” Stan scowled as he poked the Watermelon Steven with a stick. “Suckers would pay a fortune to be ferried out here to look at a whole bunch of weirdly shaped watermelons. Could’ve sold merch and everything! Huh, you know, maybe after all this giant woman stuff has settled down, that might not be such a bad idea…”

As the conman began plotting out his next moneymaking scheme, the Watermelon Steven clung onto Dipper’s arm once more, its expression apparently distressed as it spoke in a series of unintelligible grunts and murmurs. “Uh… sorry,” Dipper frowned, aptly confused as he pulled away from the watermelon once more. “We’re kind of in the middle something here.” He paused for a beat, glancing over at Stan, only to find that he was still completely engrossed in thoughts over his new potential tourist trap. “Or… I guess I’m in the middle of something. If only I could find a way to get up close to Malachite on my own, without Stan or the Gems getting in my way! If I did, I know I’d be able to do… something to finally split them up!”

Steven faltered as he listened in on Dipper’s fretful aspirations, understanding well the noble intentions behind them. As he had said, he had been waiting for this chance for so long now, and yet it seemed as though everyone else was intent on holding him back from taking it. And while the young Gem also understood where Stan and the Gems were coming from, he couldn’t help but sympathize with Dipper’s side of things just a bit more, especially all of the lengths he had already gone through to set Lapis free thus far.

Dipper was soon broken out of his worried thoughts by another soft nudge from the Watermelon Steven. Confused, he glanced over at it just as it put a finger to its hardly visible mouth, silently instructing him to stay quiet. Dipper raised an eyebrow at this but ultimately listened, watching curiously as the watermelon stepped over to Stan and, quite easily, given how internally distracted the conman currently was, swiped the $30 dollars Garnet had given him earlier clean out of his pocket.

“Wha—Hey!” Stan flinched the moment he realized his pocket had been picked. He grew even more surprised an outraged the moment he glanced up to see the Watermelon Steven, waving the cash high in the air as it ran off into the forest. “Hey! You get back here with my money, you little punk, or I’ll turn you into a delicious fruit salad!”

Without missing a beat, the conman chased after the Watermelon Steven, intent on getting his bribe back. Of course, Dipper couldn’t help but feel both amazed and immensely relieved as he watched his uncle disappear into the trees, realizing that, oddly enough, that Watermelon Steven had given him the perfect window of opportunity. And that was a window he certainly wasn’t about to pass up.

The island shuddered once more as Malachite slammed Alexandrite into it hard, knocking down several trees in the process. With her opponent as winded by the brutal blow as she was, the twisted fusion took her opening and used her incredible strength to hoist Alexandrite into the air, spinning her a bit before flinging her across the open lake. The fusion splashed heavily into the depths of the water, leaving Malachite to revel in her momentary victory.

“Ha! They don’t stand a chance,” she sneered triumphantly, ready to launch herself right back into the fray she was confidently starting to win. But, just before she could, a small, but prominent shout happened to catch her attention.

“Hey!” Dipper yelled as loud as he could from the high bluff he had found a perch on not too far away from the twisted fusion. The Sword of Seasons had already been drawn, held tightly brandished in his hand as he stood as firmly as he could. Even so, time seemed to freeze as Malachite spun around to face him, putting him face to face with the very cause of so much of his sorrow, pain, and frustration for so many weeks now. He’d had more than a few nightmares where Malachite featured front and center ever since she had first formed that fateful morning; but now, actually facing her in the flesh was something different altogether. A sizable spark of dread rushed through him, the terror of not only the precarious position he had put himself in in opposing someone of her surmountable size and strength, but looking into the very face of all his ongoing fear and grief put together. But even so, he knew he had to face her this time. He had to put an end to this once and for all. Lapis’ freedom depended on it.

Even so, despite all of the courage he was forcing himself to have, nothing could have quite prepared Dipper for the sheer, absolute look of raw fury burning in all four of Malachite’s eyes the second she caught sight of him. “You…” she growled, the half of her voice that was Jasper’s easily taking precedent over Lapis’. Even so, Dipper stood his guard, even as the twisted fusion turned towards him fully, towering over him with malice and hatred brimming in her expression. “Its YOU!” she shouted this time, her voice booming across the entire island. “You’re that human she cares so much about! The one she won’t stop thinking about! The reason why she dragged us down and kept us trapped here for so long in the first place!”

Dipper flinched somewhat at this, the all too familiar reminder of Lapis’ resolve stinging him deeply even still. And yet, he was just as quick to remind himself of what he had learned since the last time he had seen Malachite. That the weight of the blue Gem’s momentous sacrifice for him was not his to bear, at least not alone. And he knew that was something that she needed to hear just as much as he once had. “L-Lapis,” he began, unsteadily at first, though he forced himself to be firm for her sake. “Lapis, listen to me, I-”

“Lapis is GONE!” Malachite screamed, slamming a fist down onto the ground beside Dipper. The resounding quake nearly cost him his footing entirely, but he somehow remained steady, even as the twisted fusion laid the blame with him once again. “And its ALL YOUR FAULT!”

Despite her wrath, Malachite started in surprise when bright electric sparks began to illuminate from Dipper’s sword as he gripped it tightly with both hands. “No,” he began quietly, though his volume quickly picked up as he rushed straight for the twisted fusion, ready to attack, ready to fight, ready to bring this struggle to an end at long, long last. “It’s not!”

Propelled by impulse and adrenaline alone, Dipper essentially jumped off of the cliff towards Malachite, the Sword of Seasons raised and ready to be brought down in a brutal attack. However, it was an attack that never landed, for right before he could reach the twisted fusion, she used her massive size and strength to her advantage against him. With a single swipe of one of her large hands, she easily knocked him back onto the very bluff he had jumped off of. Fortunately, he landed on solid ground, though he did so roughly, his back striking the hard soil first and jarring his entire body with hot pain as he rolled back into the nearby trees. Somehow, he managed to keep his sword in hand the entire time, though he barely paid it any mind as disoriented as he was, his head swimming and his numerous cuts already steadily bleeding. Even so, as he began to attempt to pick himself up, he noticed Malachite, still at the edge of the cliff and still staring at him piercingly, ready to finish what she had just started.

Yet before she could, another bold shout pulled her right out of the moment. Finally having recovered from Malachite’s throw, Alexandrite had emerged from the lake and was racing back towards the twisted fusion, fire brimming out of her lower mouth as she let out a fearsome battle cry. “Ugh, what a bunch of pests,” Malachite scoffed coldly, turning to face her larger foe, though not before sending a final hateful glance back at Dipper. “I’ll take care of you when I finish them off.”

Not sparing him another word, the twisted fusion launched herself at Alexandrite, the tendrils of water she controlled helping her in the reignited fray. At the same time, Dipper half-leaned, half-collapsed against a nearby tree, taking stock of his new injuries as he watched, dismayed, as Malachite got away from him yet again. Unfortunately, he didn’t have much of a chance to make another attempt as the same Watermelon Steven from before suddenly popped into his frame of vision.

“Wha—you again?” Dipper asked, incredulous to the point that he didn’t even notice the watermelon’s fretful look as it seemed to glance over his wounds. “Look, thanks for what you did earlier, but I don’t have time to mess around. I’ve got to-”

“You’ve gotta what?” Dipper realized his window of opportunity slammed shut the moment Stan stepped out of the woods, hardly pleased with his nephew if his cross expression was anything to go off of.

“G-Grunkle Stan! I-I was just-”

“Save it, kid,” Stan interupted. “I know exactly what you were doing. I’m not blind after all, I can see just how beaten up your crazy little suicide mission has gotten you. When are you finally gonna listen to me when I tell you to stay out of any Gem stuff that could get you killed before you even know it?!”

“W-well when are you gonna listen to me when I tell you that I have to do this!?” Dipper countered fiercely, refusing to back down in this fight as much as he wouldn’t give up in the struggle against Malachite. “Lapis is so important to me, she’s one of my best friends! And she’s stuck inside of… of that!” He threw an arm out towards Malachite just as she landed another heavy blow on Alexandrite. “And this might be my only chance to save her! Which is why I don’t care how dangerous it is, or how long it might take, or what you or the Gems say. I’m going to help her, no matter what!”

Stan practically froze upon hearing such an earnest resolve, one that he couldn’t deny sounded incredibly familiar. In fact, it only seemed to hit closer to home as he watched tears of desperation start to well up in his injured nephew’s eyes as he looked out towards the twisted fusion once more. “W-why can’t you and the Gems just understand that?” Dipper asked morosely. “Why won’t you just give me a chance to try?”

The conman let out a long sigh at this, overwhelmed by just how much of himself he was currently seeing in his downcast nephew right now. Which was why, with rare sincerity, Stan knelt down to his level, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder as he spoke to him seriously, but respectfully all the same. “Dipper… I do understand. Do you really think I would’ve spent 30 years trying literally everything I could to get my brother back from some nutso nightmare dimension if I didn’t? I guess… I just thought you wanted to prove yourself to the Gems or something, just like you’ve been trying to do all summer, which is why ya keep trying to rush into a fight you might not be able to win.”

“I don’t care about that!” Dipper exclaimed, some of his tears finally falling. “All I care about now is getting Lapis back. That’s all I’ve cared about for a long time now.”

“…You really wanna save her, huh?” Stan frowned as he glanced out to the fighting fusions himself. “…Ok. Then let’s do it.”

“W-what?” Dipper asked, genuinely surprised.

“Let’s save her,” Stan reiterated with a broad grin as he rose to stand. “I may not be too fond of the idea of you rushing at a crazy, water-controlling broad with nothing but a sword, but… maybe between the two of us, we might just be able to come up with something better.”

Needless to say that upon hearing this, Dipper was unable to hold back a wide, grateful smile as he caught his uncle off guard with a sudden, unexpected hug. “Thank you,” he said, softly but warmly, so incredibly glad that Stan of all people was the one to give him this much-needed chance.

The conman briefly returned his nephew’s fond grin before ultimately shaking it off, gently pushing him away for the sake of maintain his gruff demeanor. “Alright, that’s enough, kid. After all, I don’t want you gettin’ all soft and sappy on me, especially when we’ve got a job to do.”

Dipper laughed a bit at this, finally wiping his eyes dry as he nodded confidently. “Right.”

However, before the pair could begin coming up with any sort of new plan, a massive splash near the shallows of the island quickly diverted their attention. It was immediately followed by a sinister cackle from Malachite herself, who had managed to pin Alexandrite down and was proceeding to dish out hit after hit with one of her lower hand-like legs.

“Yeesh, those three are really getting their a—t-their butts handed to them, aren’t they?” Stan asked, somewhat concerned.

“We’ve gotta do something to something to help them before she tears them to shreds!” Dipper said, cringing as Alexandrite recoiled from a particularly brutal blow. “Literally…” His train of thought was soon interupted however, by the Watermelon Steven as it tugged on his arm rather desperately. “What? What is it?” Dipper asked, only to be answered by a series of panicked, seemingly nonsensical grunts. “Uh… sorry. I have… no idea what you’re trying to say.”

Steven let out a long, frustrated groan at this, quite annoyed by his very limited capacity to communicate in this form, especially at a high-stakes moment like this. Admittedly, the young Gem was at just of much of a loss about what to do to help his guardians as Dipper and Stan clearly were, that is. That is, until he happened to remember that they weren’t the only ones on hand on the tiny island.

With a new, fledgling idea in mind, Steven readily pulled Dipper’s arm once more, determined on bringing him along to help him carry it out. However, still not understanding the watermelon’s intent, Dipper quickly pulled his hand away, rather frustrated by the distraction in general when his focus should have been on Malachite instead. “Ugh, stop!” he huffed, irritated. “I already told you, I don’t have time to play! I’m trying to do something really important here!”

“So am I,” is what Seven would have said if he was capable of it. But instead, he simply let out a relenting sigh, knowing that if Dipper wouldn’t go along with him, he’d just have to help him, the Gems, and Lapis in a different sort of way. And so, without making any further futile attempts at convincing his friend to go with him, Steven retreated alone, leaving a very confused Stan and Dipper behind as he went off to accomplish his own ends.

Despite the island being continually shaken by the ongoing brawl, Steven didn’t stop running through the woods, recalling what his dream had shown him to locate exactly what he was looking for. And soon enough, he happened upon it: the small, quaint, homely village all the other Watermelon Stevens called home. However, the town seemed to be completely abandoned and eerily silent, a far cry from the vibrant, bustling community he had seen within his dream. Fortunately though, he didn’t have to wonder where all of his watermelon doubles had gone for too long as a sudden anxious bark caught his attention. Sure enough, the very same Melon Mutt from his dream was hurrying through the village’s empty pathways, growing even more agitated as it reached him. The pup hopped urgently, seemingly pleading with the young Gem to follow it, and given his limited options at the moment, that’s exactly what Steven decided to do.

And it was a good thing he did, for the Melon Mutt ended up leading him to a cave, tucked away within the woods and obscured by foliage to keep it hidden out of sight. And, within that cave, was the entire population of Watermelon Stevens. The entire collection seemed to be cowering in fear in their cramped hiding space, making sure to stay out of sight of the monstrous fusion besetting their once-peaceful home. However, when Steven looked over the frightened group, he didn’t see a crowd of threatened, anxious natives; he saw a genuine opportunity, one that just needed to be inspired into action to finally fight back.

Which was why the young Gem took up a perch on a small rock near the front of the cave, shouting over the various fretful whimpers of the other melons to call them all to order. Despite the fact that he couldn’t exactly speak normally, Steven hoped he could still at least speak their language as he began a zealous speech of grunts and wails. To any outsider listening in, said speech probably wouldn’t have made much sense, but the young Gem still persisted anyway, essentially calling his fellow melons to arms against the threat posed to their home, or more specifically, to the aid of the trio of Gems also trying to stop her. At first, Steven didn’t seem to be gaining much traction with the other watermelons, that is, until one of them began to chime in with his enthusiastic cheers. It didn’t take long for more of them to follow suit, a wave of determined rebellion sweeping through the entire group as they abandoned their fear to protect their community.

Fueled by this determination, the Watermelon Stevens emerged from their hiding spot, rushing to fashion any sort of weapon they could from sticks and rocks. While their arms weren’t exactly anything powerful or substantial, they still rallied themselves together all the same, forming a single file march towards the island’s shore with one unified goal in mind: to put an end to Malachite’s wrath once and for all.

Such aid couldn’t come too soon either as Malachite shoved Alexandrite towards the island once more, successfully pinning her down to the ground again. “You know, you’re right,” the twisted fusion began, a hint of mocking in her distorted voice. Alexandrite hardly paid her any mind, however, as she struggled against her forceful hold, all while building up her fiery breath to retaliate. She didn’t get the chance, however, as Malachite landed a swift slug across her jaw, quelling her flames altogether and stunning her even more. “There really is something to this fusion thing! It’s not just a cheap trick.” Malachite kept her momentum up as she grabbed Alexandrite by the legs and threw her out into the lake once more. “You’ve really shown me a whole new world of possibilities!”

Based on how many blows she had taken over the past several moments alone, it was truly a feat that Alexandrite had managed to maintain her fusion thus far. However, as she struggled to pick herself up out of the lake, her form finally began to waver a bit, light enveloping her as her face began to shift and destabilize. She let out a loud shout of protest at this, gripping her own arms tightly as the trio of Gems that composed her rushed to maintain their united form. “Keep it together!” she warned herself, even as her voice began to split just as much as her body was.

“Allow me to thank you!” Malachite called as she caught up to the other fusion. Using her own hands to mimic the motion, she called upon the lake water once again, forming a sizable set of hands that were more than enough to entrap Alexandrite entirely. Despite her efforts to break free, the aquatic hands all too soon began to crush her, especially as they turned into solid, seemingly unbreakable ice. “Sorry,” Malachite sneered, ready to obliterate her all but defeated foes altogether. “But there’s only room for one abomination on this measly planet!”

The twisted fusion let out a smug laugh at her apparent victory, though it was short lived as a stone suddenly struck her across the side of her arm. Confused and already annoyed, Malachite turned to where the rock had come from, only to find Stan standing on the closest edge of the island, wielding a full handful of pebbles to use as further ammunition.

“Hey! Tall, green, and angry!” Stan shouted fiercely. “Why don’t ya pick on someone not your size for a change?!”

“Ugh… more humans?!” Malachite asked with an incredulous sneer.

“N-no!” Alexandrite grunted, unable to free herself from the icy hands restraining her to rush to the conman’s rescue. “Stop!”

The fusion’s warnings were all but unheard however, as the ice suddenly melted, allowing the watery hands to move in order to toss Alexandrite past even the lake itself and out into the forest far beyond it. “I guess I have no choice but to deal with you puny pests now instead of later…” Malachite growled, turning to face Stan fully.

“…Heh, y-yeah,” the conman laughed nervously as he realized just how high the twisted fusion towered over him. “About that…” Stan never finished as he instead simply turned on his heel and rushed off back into the woods. Outraged as she already was, Malachite gave chase, working her way around the island while keeping the current target of her fury in her sights all the while. She only lost track of him as he made it into a patch of underbrush obscuring a clearing, which allowed him to tag out of this dangerous mission so Dipper could take over instead.

“G-geez, I’m really outta shape…” Stan huffed, breathless as he leaned against a tree from the lengthy run. “I hope you know what you’re doing here, kid.”

“So do I…” Dipper took in an anxious breath, readying his sword as he emerged from the clearing, determined to make this work this time.

At the same time, Malachite let out another frustrated growl, brushing her hand through the woods and easily knocking down several trees in the process. “Where are you, you little—AUGH!” The twisted fusion recoiled her hand back as it met with a sharp, fiery surface, one that didn’t leave any lasting damage, but still caused quite a bit of pain. Her fury only seemed to grow tenfold as she looked to the edge of the forest, only to find the elemental sword that had injured her and the tiny but stalwart human clinging onto it. “You again…” she hissed, glaring down at Dipper piercingly.

“Lapis, I need you to listen to me,” Dipper began, largely ignoring Malachite to begin his appeal all over again. “I know you’re still in there; I know you’re not gone! And I know you’re strong enough to fight back against her and win! A-and I know I don’t have any right to ask you for anything else after… after all this, but please-” He paused, making direct, purposeful eye contact with the massive fusion towering over him in the hopes that he could somehow, some way reach something deeper within her fearsome exterior. “That’s what I need you to do right now. F-for me...”

Despite his earnest pleas, Malachite simply let out a cold chuckle over them, hardly phased by his desperate words at all. “Oh, come on. You really think your useless begging is gonna do anything to-” Out of seemingly nowhere, the twisted fusion sharply cut herself off, clutching her head as she let out an agonized roar. All Dipper could do was watch as she stumbled back, seemingly struggling against herself once more, though this time he followed her out as much as he could until he was standing on the edge of the island’s cliff once more, watching and hoping with everything he had that his appeal had somehow worked.

Malachite released another raw, seemingly anguished scream, though as her eyes opened once more, they all focused on Dipper, each one wide with alarm and shock as she stared down at him. “D-Dipper…?” she asked, her voice surprisingly soft, though it was clear Lapis was taking an edge over Jasper in it.

“L-Lapis!” Dipper shouted, just as stunned as the twisted fusion herself seemed to be. “Is… is that really you?”

Malachite didn’t answer right away, her breathing harsh and heavy as she looked down at her steadily shaking hands. “I… I-I don’t—ENOUGH!” She erupted into a brutal shout, punching herself hard in the jaw as her more vicious half wrenched back control once again. “I won’t let you push me back under the surface again! I’m in charge here now, and I’m not giving that up! Especially not over some worthless, pathetic, puny HUMAN!”

Before Dipper could even react to this outburst, Malachite lashed out, controlling a swath of water to slam directly into him. The force of the attack was easily enough to sweep him off his feet as well as knock the Sword of Seasons out of his hand entirely. In fact, it even barely briefly sent him reeling into unconsciousness as he fell fast towards the lake, though what ultimately snapped him awake once more was Malachite’s hateful threats aimed towards him. “Just give up already! Nothing you do is ever going to bring her back! It’s over, and YOU LOST!”

This fierce proclamation was the last thing Dipper heard before he splashed down into the water, only half awake as he quickly began to drift down into the depths. The Sword of Seasons fell in right after him, sinking much faster to the point that it was soon lost to the lake entirely. Even so, Dipper hardly noticed as he simply stared up at the surface of the water, barely cognizant enough to realize he was slipping further and further away from it with each passing second as his vision began to blur and his lungs began to burn with the need for air that wasn’t there. In fact, he had all but blacked out entirely until he noticed a striped green hand reaching out for his from above. His misted mind briefly thought it was Malachite herself somehow, but he was quickly proven wrong as he was suddenly pulled up to the surface to find that his rescuer was none other than the very same Watermelon Steven who had been sticking by his side throughout this entire endeavor.

The most Dipper could really do was weakly cough the water out of his chest as the Watermelon Steven clung onto him and swam him back to shore. They arrived to the other melons all assembling for their own battle against the twisted fusion, but the soaked pair hardly paid them any mind as they took to a less populated area of the beach to recover. The Watermelon Steven sat close by Dipper’s side as he collapsed into the sand and tried to regain his lost breath, only to end up choking on sobs in the process. The melon flinched, surprised and instantly concerned, especially as he watched Dipper sit up and tightly wrap his arms around himself, weeping miserably all the while.

“S-she’s right…” he cried, clearly heartbroken to the point that he refused to even so much as look up at Malachite as she kept an eye out for Alexandrite’s inevitable comeback. “It really is over… I’ve tried everything, everything I know how to do to help her. I waited and watched and gave so much all so I could find a way to bring her back and none of it worked! Everything I’ve done up until now… everything I’ve been through… i-it was all for nothing…”

Unable to hold his immense grief back, Dipper let it flow heavier and harder than ever before, hating just how unfair it all was. He had sat on the shoreline, hoping that it would be enough to bring Lapis back to his side. He had researched every avenue and path he could have took, trying to find something that would be enough to free her. He had made a deal that had cost him his very own body and then some, believing that it would finally give him enough to go off of to help. He had pushed past his pain and learned how to fight, thinking that it would be enough to give him a fighting chance against breaking down the prison she had made for herself. And he had confronted her, aiming to reach her in the chance that it would be enough to split them up once and for all. He had done so much, had struggled for so long and had grieved so profoundly all for one singular, solitary purpose: to save her, to restore their broken friendship, to finally give them both the happily ever after they deserved.

And in the end, none of it had ever been enough.

Dipper was all but lost to his sorrow entirely when a sudden stubby hand found its place on his shoulder. Through his tears, he glanced up to find the Watermelon Steven, its tiny eyes growing wet as well as they made direct contact with his. The melon made no attempt to say anything this time, instead gently pointing at Dipper’s chest, or rather, his heart before doing the same towards its own. It then motioned out towards the lake, or more specifically, at Malachite, before forming its hands into a small, but meaningful heart in the hopes that it could communicate more than words ever could.

At first, Dipper didn’t exactly follow what the melon was trying to say, his face still wet with tears as he glanced back and forth between it and Malachite. However, the more he thought about it, the more the message started to become crystal clear. Perhaps waiting, researching, deals, fighting, and everything else in between had never been enough to bring Lapis back. But for the briefest of seconds, he almost had, he had nearly beckoned her back to the surface before Jasper hatefully shoved her back down again. And, the longer he stared at the heart symbol the Watermelon Steven was still making, the more he understood exactly how he had been able to do so in the first place. It wasn’t through anything he had done; instead, it was through everything he felt. His actions both in the past and in the present had nothing to do with any of this; instead, it had been his love, the deep, warm feelings of genuine friendship and dedication that had finally been enough to call her forward. And with brimming hope, he had a hunch that it was those feelings that could finally, finally be enough to bring her back again, this time for good.

“I-I think I get it now…” Dipper smiled softly, wiping his tears away as he looked back to the Watermelon Steven. “And it’s all thanks to you. You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d actually think you were actually the real…” He trailed off, his eyes growing wide with shocked realization as the melon grinned widely and nodded in confirmation to his musings. “Wait… no way… Steven?! I-is that… are you really…?”

Steven nodded once more, incredibly relieved that Dipper had finally seen through his temporary melony form. Of course, despite the bizarre revelation, Dipper himself couldn’t help but let out an incredulous laugh over it, almost tearing up all over again as he wrapped Steven in a tight, grateful hug. “Just for the record, this is probably the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen you do,” he chuckled warmly as the young Gem readily returned his embrace. “And I love it.”

“Dipper!” Stan called as he emerged from the forest, rushing over to the pair with genuine concern. “Geez, kid you nearly gave me a heart attack for the tenth time today. Any more and I’m gonna have to start charging ya for my potential hospital bills. Also, what the heck is going on over there?”

The conman pointed to the other side of the shore, where all of the other Watermelon Stevens were finally converging to launch their united attack. They kicked their assault into motion with the blow of one of the village’s ceremonial horn, which was more than enough to divert Malachite’s attention towards the shoreline.

“Huh?” The very instant the twisted fusion turned the melony army was upon her. The watermelons rushed for her, braving the obvious danger to make their move and pounce upon her with their various weapons. Those who remained on the shore fired off arrows from their simple bows towards Malachite, while others used their hastily-made catapults to launch stones at her from a distance. As varied as their methods of attack were, the melons were all unanimously united in their resolve to rescue their island from her ongoing rampage, no matter what it cost.

“Whoa… who knew those guys could put up such a fight?” Dipper remarked, genuinely impressed by their verve. Steven raised his hand, though as he did, he was suddenly struck with yet another idea, one that he didn’t have to make too much of an effort to relay to Dipper as he tugged on his hand urgently right more. “Right,” he nodded confidently. “Looks like this isn’t over just yet.”

With a solidifying high five, Dipper and Steven parted ways, both of the intent on doing what they knew needed to be done. Stan, however, was rather confused, left out of the loop as he followed after his nephew. “Whoa, kid, what exactly are you planning on doing here?” the conman asked warily. “I watched your sword fall into the lake along with you; don’t tell me you plan on going up against that kooky broad without it, are ya?”

“Don’t worry, Grunkle Stan,” Dipper assured with an upbeat smile as he made a beeline for the island’s highest cliff once more. “I have a feeling I won’t need it. I’ve found a better weapon to use against her this time.”

“What, like a gun or something?” Stan asked, still not following whatsoever.

At the same time, despite the best efforts the Watermelon Stevens were putting forth to take her down, Malachite was hardly phased by them. In fact, if anything, she was downright amused that creatures as small and insignificant as these would dare to stand against her. However, amidst her uproarious laughter of this seemingly measly rebellion, she failed to notice the trap the watermelons had already set for her until she stumbled right into it, tripping over the rope they had stretched out and falling into the shallows as a result. The melon army acted quickly to try to keep the twisted fusion pinned down, but in her surprise and fury, she was quick to retaliate.

“What is this?” Malachite roared, easily pushing past and snapping the ropes restraining her. “You think you can hold me down?!” The moment the twisted fusion picked herself back upright, she lashed out, sending several Watermelon Steven’s flying in the wake of her broad swing. “Nobody can! Not anymore!”

“Hey!” Once again, Malachite was caught off guard by a familiar call, one that enraged her even more than the watermelons’ resistance as she turned towards the cliff to find Dipper standing firm, seemingly ready to oppose her once more.

“Augh! I thought I told you to give it a rest already!” Malachite snapped, pulling up a heavy mass of ice which she quickly maneuvered to hover directly over Dipper’s head. “Lapis is GONE and she’s NEVER coming back!”

“I-I don’t want to talk to Lapis!” Dipper countered, forcing himself to be as steady as possible. “I want… I want to talk to you. To Malachite.”

The twisted fusion seemed entirely taken aback by this, her eyes suddenly wide as she leaned in a bit. “W-wha—with… what?” she asked, her anger seeming to subside somewhat into genuine confusion.

“I… I want you to know that… that I think I know what it feels like, t-to be you…” he began earnestly. “A-after all, I was once part of an unstable fusion too…” His expression saddened as he glanced over at the shore, or more specifically at Steven, remembering all too well just how lost and confused and distraught he had felt when they had first formed Stepper. And while Stepper himself had never once been anywhere close to the levels of dysfunctional Malachite was on and had indeed found peace and harmony by the end of it all, the experiences were at least somewhat comparable on some level.

“N-no you don’t!” Malachite shot back defensively. “How could you possibly understand how awful it is to be me?! How much both of them hate to be together as me?! You can’t even begin to understand what that feels like!”

“…Maybe I can’t…” Dipper admitted solemnly. “But… that doesn’t mean I don’t want to try. Which is why I can’t help but wonder… what do you even want out of all this? Not Lapis, or Jasper, but you, Malachite. What do you want?”

Clearly, Malachite had no idea how to respond to such a question as she leaned down even closer to the human who was bold enough to ask her such a baffling question, who was brazen to refer to her as if she was something more than the sum of her conflicting parts. It was only as her face drew in to sit just a few feet away from his that tears, of all things, started to well up in more than just one of her four eyes, her expression awash in wonder and pain as she offered up her soft-spoken answer. “I-I… I want… I don’t want to exist anymore…”

Admittedly, this wasn’t really the reply Dipper had been expecting, but it was one that filled him with a rush of heavy empathy all the same, especially when he noticed just how torn the twisted fusion seemed to be. Perhaps a testament to how torn she had been from the very moment she had first been formed. “T-then you don’t have to,” he said just as quietly, working up the courage to step forward. His hand was trembling as he reached out towards the twisted fusion, but surprisingly enough, she allowed him to place it against her head, before resting his forehead against hers in a comforting gesture, perhaps the first and only she had ever really known. “You can stop now. You can end this. Please…. Malachite.”

The twisted fusion let out a small, shuddering sob at this, light slowly starting to overtake her form as it wavered ever so slightly. Dipper himself was unable to hold back a few sparse tears as he maintained contact with her all the while. For a solid moment or two, it really did seem as though Malachite had every intention of splitting apart on her own terms, as incredibly as it might have seemed. And yet, it was still far too good to be true, for as much as Malachite herself wanted to unfuse, one certain, vengeful half of her refused to let her immense, devastating power go so easily.

“NO! STOP IT!” Malachite suddenly screamed, not wasting any time in snatching Dipper up and gripping him threateningly in her massive hand. “Quit it with these stupid mind games already! NOTHING you say or do will ever tear me apart!” The twisted fusion’s wrath quickly turned into a malicious, treacherous grin as she clenched the fist she was holding Dipper in even tighter, eliciting a cry of distressed pain out of him. “In fact, just to keep you from getting anymore bright ideas, I think I’ll finally put you out of your misery just like I should have done from the very beginning!”

Malachite cackled hatefully, ready to do just that as she reveled in the clear anguish and fear she was causing her defenseless victim. Back on the island, both Stan and Steven respectively gasped in horror as they watched helplessly while the twisted fusion began to slowly crush the life out of Dipper, with neither of them in any sort of position to stop her. However, even if they weren’t, that didn’t mean there wasn’t someone else who was.

Malachite gasped, her murderous attempts halted as a heavy purple flail suddenly sideswiped her, its coil wrapping around her before Sugilite’s weapon struck her hard in the face. It took her a second to recover from the blow, only to glance over her shoulder to find Alexandrite, standing strong and ready to throw every part of herself back into this decisive fray. “Don’t forget about me!” the fusion proclaimed, swiftly yanking Malachite in towards her. All the while, she kept her tight hold on Dipper, something that he was admittedly grateful for as the twisted fusion was reeled in towards the deeper half of the lake.

The moment Malachite was within range, Alexandrite didn’t hesitate to pay her back for all of her brutal blows by delivering one of her own, striking the twisted fusion clear across the face and making sure to steer clear of hitting Dipper all the while. Alexandrite kept her momentum up, calling upon Sardonyx’s massive war hammer to swing low and precisely, easily launching Malachite high up into the air. Of course, Dipper initially panicked as he was tossed up along with her, but Alexandrite made sure to offer him some silent assurance with a confident grin as she summoned Opal’s longbow. While Malachite beckoned a pair of large water wings to keep her afloat in the skies, Alexandrite took aim, her arrow of light pointed straight for the twisted fusion high above her.

“You two should spend some time apart,” she admonished as she quickly let her arrow fly. The projectile soared through the air, shimmering as it split apart into the silhouettes of each of the Crystal Gems before they joined together in luminous harmony. And as soon as they did, the arrow struck its target true, piercing Malachite cleanly through where her heart would have been if she’d had one. Unable to keep herself together when met with such a fatal blow and the conflict still going in deep inside her, the twisted fusion’s form illuminated brilliantly until she finally, finally, after weeks of waging an endless war against herself and the world around her, fell apart.

Caught in the midst of this grand explosion of radiant light was Dipper, who instantly allowed himself a deep breath of much-needed air the moment Malachite’s grip on him at last released. However, he didn’t have much time to be relieved as gravity took its hold in his stead, instantly starting to pull him down towards the surface of the lake far below. Even so, despite his instant panic at this, he happened to glance over to notice another figure in a freefall alongside him. A spark of brief bitterness filled him as he looked to Jasper, apparently unconscious but seemingly unharmed from the whole endeavor. However, that bitterness was quickly replaced with immense, overwhelming joy as he spun around midair to find the other Gem falling not too far away from him.

“L-Lapis!” Dipper shouted over the racing winds, unable to hold back a delighted smile over finally seeing the blue Gem herself after all this time. Of course, much like Jasper, Lapis had been completely drained thanks to their lengthy stint as Malachite, which explained why she was every bit as out of it as the orange Gem herself was. Even so, Dipper did his best to swim over to her midair, his elated tears falling upwards as he made as much of an attempt to reach her as he possibly could. However, he didn’t quite get the chance as he suddenly landed into the palm of a large hand that had already been waiting to catch him. Surprised but ultimately relieved, he briefly glanced back at Alexandrite, only to notice that she had done the same for both Lapis and Jasper before she silently began to make her way back to the island.

The shore itself was awash in celebration, the Watermelon Stevens all happily celebrating Malachite’s defeat with a round of uproarious cheers. The only ones who didn’t join in were Stan and Steven, both of them far too concerned with Dipper’s unknown wellbeing to even try. However, their worries were soon put to rest as Alexandrite lowered her hands, allowing Lapis and Jasper’s unconscious forms to slip out of her hands and giving Dipper a chance to hop of off her other one just before she gracefully unfused herself. Before much of anything else could happen, Steven was already upon Dipper, practically drowning him with a relieved hug as he babbled happily, yet still incoherently.

“Heh, yeah, I… still have no idea what you’re saying,” Dipper chuckled as he began to wipe his tears dry once more. “You’ll have to translate everything for me when we get back to the barn, ok?”

Steven nodded enthusiastically at this, however, the warm reunion was quickly short lived as both Stan and the Gems soon stepped in, the latter of which seemed none-too-happy with Dipper’s actions of the entire battle. “S-so… uh… I guess… all’s well that ends well?” Dipper ventured all the same, hoping that his brashness hadn’t cost him too much of the Gems’ good graces.

“Dipper, I think it goes without saying that what you just did was ridiculously dangerous,” Pearl scolded, hands on her hips. “You went against just about everything I taught you as your sword fighting instructor.”

“I… I know…” Dipper admitted somewhat sheepishly.

“Yeah, dude, you could’ve been like… squashed or drowned or something!” Amethyst added just as incredulously. “In fact… are you sure you weren’t? It looks like Malachite messed you up, man.” The purple Gem frowned as she glanced over the various still prominent cuts and bruises all over his body.

“And you Stan, you should at least made more of an effort to stop him from jumping into such a deadly fight!” Pearl huffed, sending the conman an annoyed glower. “After all, he is your responsibility for the summer, isn’t he?”

“Hey, don’t pin all this on me,” Stan remarked defensively. “Once this kid sets his mind to something, there’s pretty much no stopping him. Kinda reminds me of… well, me, to be honest.” Despite all of the admonishing going around, the conman went against the grain, offering his nephew a genuinely proud grin as he ruffled his hair somewhat. And, surprisingly enough, this pride was something Garnet also seemed to share as she spoke up.

“Stan’s right,” the Gem leader said evenly. “You didn’t give up, Dipper, no matter how many times you were knocked back, you kept looking for a way to rescue Lapis. And in the end, you did the one thing none of us were able to do. You wore the chains of hatred keeping Lapis and Jasper together by using something far more powerful against them: love. And for that, we our victory over Malachite to you. Thank you.”

Dipper finally broke into a smile at this, one that only grew wider as he glanced over towards Lapis’ still form first, before looking to the Watermelon Steven still hovering close to his side. “Well, I can’t say I came up with the idea entirely on my own.”

When met with the sight of his guardians safe and sound, Steven was unable to hold himself back from rushing forward, clinging tightly onto Pearl’s leg in a relieved embrace. “Steven…?” the white Gem wondered in amazement. “Is that you in there?”

“W-wha—how did… how did you know that was him?” Dipper asked, dumbfounded as Steven cheerfully nodded.

“Oh come now, Dipper,” Pearl chuckled as she finally grinned, gently patting Steven’s head all the while. “I’d be able to recognize Steven anywhere. Same goes for all of you kids, really.”

“Thank you too, Steven,” Garnet smiled, briefly kneeling down to the melon’s level. “We couldn’t have done it without your help.”

“Yeah, good job, melon head,” Amethyst teased, patting the young Gem on the back.

“Oh, what, you all don’t actually think that watermelon is really Steven, do you?” Stan asked, absolutely bewildered by the concept. “What, did everyone get knocked around too many times in the head by that green chick?”

“Uh, actually, Grunkle Stan, that really is Steven,” Dipper pointed out. “It makes sense if you don’t think about it.”

At this, Garnet looked over the vast assembly of other Watermelon Stevens, who had all gathered in to spectate on the reunion. “Thank you,” she addressed them broadly. “All of you. You are truly brave.”

Excited by this commendation, a round of hearty cheers arose from the entire collection of watermelons, one that elicited a bright laugh from the Gems in response. However, the celebration didn’t get the chance to last too long as a soft tremor began to rock the island, one that quickly turned into a momentous quake. The violent shaking rattled throughout the entire island, downing countless trees in the process and even splitting open the shoreline itself. The Watermelon Stevens clung onto each other to avoid being sucked into the fissure, and while struggling to maintain their own footing against the rift, Dipper and Amethyst acted quickly to pull Lapis’ unconscious body away from it. Jasper, on the other hand, was not so lucky, as Pearl barely missed her hand just before she slipped away into the unknown depths of the earth below.

The initial earthquake soon calmed down a bit but it didn’t stop, resulting in a continuous shaking that left the entire group anxious as to when the next quake would emerge. “W-what the heck was that?!” Stan asked, clinging tightly onto Pearl for support, despite her clear aggravation with his hold on her. “I thought you three already solved the town’s whole earthquake problem by taking care of the Wintergreen Wonder out there!”

“It must be the Cluster,” Garnet said urgently. “Peridot was right, it is set to emerge soon. Steven, its up to you,” the Gem leader turned to the anxious young Gem, stooping down to his level once more as she placed both her hands on his shoulders. “Stan’s boat was destroyed. We won’t make it back in time. Wake up, get Peridot, Ford, and Mabel, and start drilling. The Earth needs you, Steven. We’ll be fine. You can do this, we believe in you.”

Despite the natural burst of fear that came along with being presented such a momentous mission, Steven nodded, determined not to let the Gems, or the Earth for that matter, down. “You got this, dude!” Amethyst encouraged with a bright thumbs up as the young Gem began to close his eyes to drift back into sleep. Or rather, into awakening. “You know the drill.”

“Be careful, Steven,” Pearl warned worriedly. “Watch each other’s backs.”

Stan flinched as Amethyst elbowed him, prompting him to offer up his own words of encouragement. Or at least something of the like. “Uh… y-yeah, kid?” the conman shrugged, unsure of what to say to the nearly-snoozing watermelon. “Knock ‘em dead or whatever. Oy, as if today couldn’t get any weirder…”

“Steven, please,” Dipper began earnestly though apprehensively as he offered the young Gem one final, thankful smile. “Take care of Mabel for me down there. And of yourself. I’ll see you guys soon. We all will this time.”

“And Steven,” Garnet finished, her voice barely audible as Steven finally drifted away into the darkness of dreams altogether. Dreams that would hopefully carry him back to the mission that the group on the shore, the Earth, even life itself as they all knew it depended on. “We-”

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bestenglishschool-blog · 6 years ago

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Improve your English and spook yourself this Halloween

Are you in the mood to watch something spooky this Halloween? Grab some pillows and pop the popcorn! Halloween is the perfect time to sit on the sofa with friends (or alone if you’re brave) to watch a horror movie or two. Why not use this opportunity to practice your English listening skills as well?

There are tons of good and bad horror movies out there on Netflix, Hulu, or your other favorite streaming service. With so many options to choose from, you might not know where to start. So here’s a list of important horror movies from the past five decades to get you started. Keep in mind that these movies are adult-oriented. That means you should make sure the kids are asleep before you start watching. Happy viewing!

Horror Movies to Watch

1970s

The Exorcist (1973)

This supernatural horror film by William Friedkin— which is based on William Peter Blatty’s novel that is in turn loosely based on true events—has often been called the greatest horror movie ever made. It deserves the praise.

The film centers on a priest who is called to examine a young girl’s disturbing behavior. Her mother can’t find any medical or scientific explanation, and the priest concludes that the young girl, named Reagan, is showing signs of demonic possession. The priest requests the Catholic Church to send an expert priest to perform an exorcism (a religious ritual to remove an evil spirit from a person’s body). The devilish ordeal unfolds over the rest of the film.

The film famously uses complex visual and audio special effects as well as a chilling soundtrack to achieve moments of terror and disbelief. It has many memorable scenes, and the acting is excellent. If you only watch one film from this list, I recommend this one.

Halloween (1978)

John Carpenter directed and scored (wrote the music for) this genre-defining slasher film, which has led to many sequels and remakes. This includes the highly-praised 2018 direct sequel with the original lead actress, Jamie Lee Curtis, reprising (performing again) her role.

The film tells a story of an escaped mental institution patient named Michael Meyers who stalks and kills teenage babysitters in a small town one Halloween night. One by one, the babysitters fall until the last girl remains and fights back with everything she has.

Although it wasn’t the first in the slasher horror genre, Halloween is a hugely influential movie, paving the way and creating a blueprint for other slasher horror films like Nightmare on Elm Street and Friday the 13th. Carrie (1976)

Carrie would the first of many film adaptations of novelist Stephen King’s bestselling work. In fact, Carrie was King’s first published novel.

Brian De Palma directed this story of supernatural suspense and horror about a seventeen-year-old girl who is bullied in high school. One day, she discovers that she has telekinetic powers (the ability to move objects with her mind). She uses this power to take revenge on the cruel classmates who humiliated her. The prom night scene is one of the most famous moments in the history of horror movies.

Also consider:

The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (1974) The Wicker Man (1973) The Omen (1976)

1980s

Creepshow (1982)

The best thing about Creepshow is that you don’t have to watch the whole film to enjoy it. The film comprises (consists of) five short dark comedy horror stories written by Stephen King and directed by George Romero. Creepshow isn’t a particularly good film by acting or film-making standards. It has the feeling of a comic book. Still, horror movie lovers will find a lot to enjoy here. It’s not too silly to be called a comedy, and it’s not too serious to be truly scary.

The Evil Dead (1981)

The Evil Dead follows five college students who stay the night in a cabin in a remote part of a forest. In the cabin, they listen to an audio tape which summons demons which possess their bodies. This film has a lot of gory (showing lots of violence or blood) special effects and make-up, which may be disturbing for some viewers.

Despite the very low budget used to make it, The Evil Dead lives on as a critical and fan favorite in the genre. The tight story drives viewers through a terrifying plot that gets more gruesome and tense with each passing scene.

The director, Sam Raimi, and lead actor, Bruce Campbell, went on to create two direct sequels, The Evil Dead II and Army of Darkness. Campbell plays the main role in both. Both sequels take a more comic approach than the first film. Developing a close relationship through their partnership, Campbell appears as a cameo character in all of Raimi’s films. Look for him in the Sam Raimi Spiderman trilogy films.

The Thing (1982)

John Carpenter made this science fiction horror film about a group of American researchers in Antarctica. They encounter “the thing”, an alien parasite which can take the shape of and imitate any person or creature which it absorbs. The researchers must fight against the parasite creature and their own sense of paranoia (false belief that other people are trying to harm you). The story becomes grimmer as the researchers lose trust in each other and realize that any of them could be an imitation. Kurt Russel plays one of the main characters here.

Although the film was released to negative reviews, it has grown in popularity over the years and is now considered a horror classic. It has been praised for its very impressive special effects and slow but steadily increasing suspense.

The alien is a terrible creature, but the main fear is not knowing which character is still human.

Also consider:

The Evil Dead II (1987) An American Werewolf in London (1981) Poltergeist (1982) The Fly (1986) Friday the 13th (1980) The Shining (1980) Prince of Darkness (1987) A Nightmare on Elm Street (1984)

1990s

Bram Stoker’s Dracula (1992)

Francis Ford Coppola directed this international renowned Gothic horror film which won Academy Awards for costume design, makeup, and sound editing. The story, of course, is a classic, based on the 1897 novel by Bram Stoker that built up the lore (traditional knowledge and beliefs) and mystery of Dracula, Van Helsing, and the vampire fantasy genre. Gary Oldman’s performance of Vlad Dracula might be the most impressive part of this film, but don’t ignore the excellent costumes, make-up effects, and background sets. Don’t miss out on Bram Stoker’s Dracula. It does a great job of telling this classic story in a unique way.

Francis Ford Coppola is a central figure in cinema, known especially for The Godfather series and Apocalypse Now.

Event Horizon (1997)

This science fiction horror film directed by Paul W.S. Anderson occurs in distant space. A group of astronauts go on a rescue mission near the planet Neptune when they suddenly find the Event Horizon, a spaceship that has long been missing. They board (get into or onto) the Event Horizon and discover that the entire crew is gone. They also find out that the ship’s engine is designed to open passages to another dimension. As they continue to look for the missing crew members, they realize that there is an evil presence on the ship.

Sam Neill is widely known for his role as Dr. Alan Grant in Jurassic Park. But he actually played a major role in Event Horizon and several other horror films—including another on this list, In the Mouth of Madness.

Scream (1996)

Scream is a slasher film directed by Wes Craven. The film stars a group of 90s TV and film celebrities (including Drew Barrymore, Neve Campbell, Courteney Cox, and others) who play high school students. A knife-wielding murderer wearing a ghost mask terrorizes the group, killing them off one by one. The film combines slasher horror with comedy and mystery elements. It also satirizes (makes fun of) clichés (common situations or characters) within the horror genre. The movie was very popular when it was released, and a series of sequels and films with similar stories were released thereafter.

Also, consider:

In the Mouth of Madness (1994) Army of Darkness (1993) The Blair Witch Project (1999) The Silence of the Lambs (1991) Candyman (1992) Tremors (1990)

2000s

Trick ‘r Treat (2007)

Trick ‘r Treat is an anthology (collection of art) film like Creepshow. It offers four different Halloween stories, but there is one character that appears across each of them. Every time one of the characters breaks a “rule” of Halloween, the character Sam shows up to show teach them a horrifying lesson. One reason you’ll love Trick ‘r Treat is that all the stories take place on Halloween, and the stories play on people’s expectations of Halloween customs and horror movie plots. It couldn’t be more a more perfect film to watch this season. All the stories are well-crafted, balancing a line of fun entertainment and scary thrills.

The Descent (2005)

The Descent is a British horror film about six adventure-seeking women who go spelunking (cave exploring) in a cave system. Inside the cave, they encounter a long-hidden group of bloodthirsty creatures who start to hunt them down.

The cave setting increases the tension since you know the characters have very few places to hide. Also, the moody soundtrack does a great job of building and holding suspense. This film also explores the characters’ flawed relationships and problems, adding a sense of personal development to this tale of monster horror.

The Mist (2007)

Frank Darabont directed this Stephen King science fiction horror adaptation. It follows a group of people who barricade themselves in a supermarket after a thick fog covers their entire small town. When anyone goes out into the fog, they are swept up or gruesomely attacked by monstrous insect-like creatures.

Although the monsters are huge threat to the characters, the film also explores the extreme tension between people as they struggle to survive the unnatural mist that drives them to the brink (edge) of sanity. The climax of the film is really remarkable.

Also consider:

Drag Me to Hell (2009) 28 Days Later (2002) Slither (2006) Let the Right One In (2008)

2010s

The Cabin in the Woods (2011)

The less I say about The Cabin in the Woods, the better. It follows a group of college students who visit a cabin in the woods, and you’ll just have to see the film to find out anything else. This is the kind of horror film where the surprise is the most rewarding part of the movie. I’ll just say this, the more horror movies you’ve seen in your life, the more you’ll appreciate The Cabin in the Woods.

Joss Whedon (Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel) wrote the screenplay for the film in just three days. The film has great special effects and make-up.

The Conjuring (2013)

The Conjuring is an expertly crafted supernatural horror film from director James Wan. It follows Ed and Lorraine Warren, a husband and wife team of paranormal (very strange events that can’t be explained by science) investigators, whose real-life reports have inspired many other horror films, like Annabelle and The Amityville Horror. In this film, the couple tries to help a family which recently moved into a severely haunted house in Rhode Island.

The chills (sudden feelings of fear) in The Conjuring are outstanding. The film does an amazing job of getting you to sympathize with the family and investigators’ plight (very bad situation) as they deal with the disturbing events taking place in the house.

The Conjuring is the first film in The Conjuring Universe, which includes direct sequels, the Annabelle series, and the newly released The Nun. Get Out (2017) Get Out is a landmark (very important achievement) of American horror films. The film is the directorial debut (first produced film) of Jordan Peele, a well-known comedian from his retired Comedy Central show, Key and Peele. It tells the story of an African-American man, played by Daniel Kaluuya, who goes to visit the family of his white girlfriend for the first time. While he stays at their home, he uncovers a horrifying secret.

Not only does the film tell an exceptional story of tension and terror, it spaces out the dread with moments of brilliant humor. Looking closely at the film, viewers will see how Jordon Peele addresses racism through the lens of (with the perspective of) a unique horror story while paying homage (respect based on previous work) to classics of the genre.

Also consider:

It Follows (2014) The VVitch (2015) It (2017) The Babadook (2014)

Some people might read this and think, why should I watch horror movies at all? I don’t like to be scared. Well, there’s not a perfect answer for that question. Your brain produces a mix of chemicals that makes you feel scared when you think something bad is going to happen. It’s the same as when you ride a roller coaster or do something else that takes you outside of your comfort zone.

If you enjoy suspense or the feeling of surprise that keeps you on the edge of your seat, then you can’t go wrong with any movie from this list for a great Halloween thrill. Just about all of them have received critical praise or have gone on to become fan favorites.

Moreover, watching movies can be a great way to improve your English! For one thing, you’ll get to hear English that isn’t coming from a textbook. The English spoken in movies is very natural, which means that it’s what you would hear from native English speakers. Second, when you watch a movie, you’ll develop a sense of the context around the dialogue. This means that you have chances to learn or guess vocabulary based on the situation. Finally, by hearing natural English in movies you can hear and see the way words are expressed. You can pay attention to body language, pronunciation, and reactions to understand what the characters really mean.

LASC faculty and staff always want to help students learn English in interesting ways. Teachers here would recommend you keep your dictionary by your side, turn on the English subtitles, and don’t worry about catching every word. Even rewind and repeat scenes if you’re using English movies to study. Watching movies, scary or not scary, can be a fun way to improve your English. You can also follow this blog for more great tips on learning English and living in southern California.

Talk to an LASC representative to learn how we can help you on your learning journey.

Read Original Article Here - https://lascusa.com/improve-your-english-and-spook-yourself-this-halloween/

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sovonight · 6 years ago

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also for the dating sim, i originally wrote a final final date for ford back in september 2017, when i still had the energy to entertain a longer farewell.

this got cut, of course, and honestly it’s more suited for the last day of an entire summer with ford instead of the last day of 2-3 weeks, but it happened in my heart:

The week is coming to its end, and with it, your time in Gravity Falls. You can't help but feel uncertain about the end; will it come with a sense of promise, or finality?

<<<<<<<<<

This really began w the abducted by aliens bad ending idea but. the extended train of thought im goin for is:

ford takes u to see the ufo as a dual "sending u off w a grand sight" & "trying to convince you that gravity falls is worth coming back to-- and he is worth coming back to, too"

ford seems to show the place off to ppl particularly close to him so. rite of passage lol

TBH i dont know what ford would possibly have to show you that’s just This but it’s like one of the more mindblowing gf things and the most visually impressive location even if it is just a husk of its former self

if u did badly & continue to do badly then you call this alien stuff stupid and underwhelming and press a dead button or two to demonstrate and summon an alien prison bot thing. ford tries to keep u calm but too late, ur gone, whoops. BAD END: you rot in ancient unused alien prison

THAT SAID i'm probably gonna keep tossing ideas out and seeing where things can fit, not totally sold on this one

<<<<<<<<<

Last evening, you had lingered with Ford after dinner, having found another rare moment in which to enjoy his company. He'd asked to show you something, if you woke before dawn to accompany him there.

(PERFECT) (look up sunrise times) You wake before dawn, of course, the sky outside still dark. It is another few moments while you get dressed, and just as you finish putting on your shoes you hear the familiar weight of Ford's footsteps.

You open the door just as Ford's hand is poised to knock, and surprise crosses his face before it is replaced by a steady smile.

ford "I see you're eager. All set to go?"

(OKAY) KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK

You wake groggily to a couple hard knocks at the door, and sit up on the mattress in vague confusion for a few moments. You hear a door-muffled voice that you recognize, at length, as Ford's.

ford "[playername]? Are you ready?"

Oh. Oh, right! You were supposed to be going with Ford on some morning walk or other. You look down at your rumpled blankets and sleeping attire, and realize you have about five minutes to pull this off. You call out towards the door.

player "Almost! Just give me five minutes!"

You get dressed in record time, all as you imagine Ford impatiently checking his watch outside. You'd planned to wake up earlier, you really had, but things just didn't work out that way.

You open the door to a Ford who looks patient but perhaps a little exasperated. Oh, no-- that was way more than five minutes, then, wasn't it? Ford folds his hands behind his back, but you see his watch peeking out over the cuff of his sweater sleeve.

ford "All set to go?"

(BAD) You wake up at your usual mid-morning time to a sense of having forgotten something. You can't imagine what it could've been, but as you walk out to get breakfast, something slowly comes back to you.

Oh. Oh, no.... You were supposed to wake up early to join Ford for a walk. It can't be too late, can it? You don't see Ford anywhere, though, and as you look you run into Stan, who looks..a little disapproving.

stan "Lookin' for Ford? He left for one of his loner thinking spots in the forest."

stan "I don't know where it is, so don't bother asking."

The day is open to you now, but you're not sure how you feel about having stood Ford up.

player "Well, I'm dressed, but I wasn't sure what to bring."

ford "Just bring yourself. I've made preparations for the both of us, don't worry."

He offers his hand to you, and you take it.

Ford leads you out of the shack, and though the steps are as familiar as that first day you accompanied him on his search for Mothman, the warmth of his hand in yours brings an elation to your heart that you can't explain. You only realize you're smiling when Ford comes to a stop and looks back to you with a chuckle.

ford "I don't think I've ever seen someone so happy to be up so early."

ford "Here-- where we're going is usually a two day scenic hike, but I found a shortcut last summer that brings the journey down to a matter of hours."

player "How is that possible?"

ford "I don't know! Not yet, anyway. I have a hypothesis on how it works, but haven't had the time to devise an appropriate experiment. You see..."

"Ford continues talking as he leads you deeper into the forest, the faint path underfoot fading into the underbrush the further you walk. He holds onto your hand the entire way, a touching gesture that seems to become a necessity as the alternating sunlight and shadow crowd into your vision."

"There is a weight, and an emptiness, and a confusion, in the depths of the blur of the foliage you pass through. You think that if Ford hadn't been holding on to you, you would've lost him."

ford "Still with me?"

"You find that Ford has led you to a sunny, open space upon a cliff, with a view of the entire town."

player "..Yes. Yes, I think so."

ford "Good! Any thoughts on my hypothesis now that you've experienced the phenomenon yourself?"

"What? Oh no-- you'd been too preoccupied with the sensation of passing incorrectly through time and space to remember what he'd said! Time for a change of subject."

player "This view of the town is amazing! Were we going to watch the sunrise from here?"

ford "What? Oh-- Ah, the /sunrise/. Because it's before dawn. No, I just consider this the best time to travel."

ford "Though if you'd like to, nothing else I have planned is time-sensitive."

menu:

"Watch the sunrise together":

watch sunrise

"Let Ford lead on":

lead on

watch sunrise

"You move to sit on a conspicuous rock just a short distance away, and Ford joins you, a small smile playing on his face."

<he's amused 'cause now his ufo introduction can be even better>

"A comfortable quiet settles in, and though it might just be the early morning chill, all you can focus on is Ford's constant warmth by your side. Your gaze lingers, for a moment, watching him watch the sky, until you find his eyes meeting yours."

"You turn your gaze quickly back towards a view of the sky, where it belongs. At your left, Ford chuckles."

ford "You can look, you know."

"You know you should feel a little more shame at being caught, but what grows in your heart is a bright, tentative excitement."

player "And miss the sunrise?"

ford "[playername], there are plenty of sunrises left for you and I. But moments like these? They only come once in a while."

ford "It doesn't hurt to cherish them, while they last."

menu:

""You and I"?":

"Ford seems to catch himself, cheeks reddening in the brightening light of the early sunrise."

ford "I mean to say, we'll both see many more sunrises in our lives. Separately..or not."

"There's a lot of potential in that "or not"."

"(Kiss him)":

"I wish this moment could last forever."

ford "The earth would have to stop spinning, my dear, and then we'd be flung across the earth at the speed of its rotation."

"...The moment just ended."

"The sun comes up over the horizon, <something beautiful about its pink orange hues>"

ford "Now. Ready to see what I wanted to show you?"

"You nod, and accept the hand he offers to pull you up."

player "Is it further ahead?"

ford "Try below your feet. Stand aside, now--"

"He pushes the rock aside with ease, and you can't help but marvel at the strength he holds. He must be dedicated to his exercise regimen, whatever it might be."

ford "Together, we've tracked down a cryptid, battled through fictional dungeons, and faced Mabel's matchmaking. I thought having one more adventure together would be a good way to send you off."

ford "And..."

ford "I was hoping this would show you there's still more to discover about Gravity Falls than you might think. That perhaps you'd find that this place is worth coming back to, someday...even with all its faults, and weirdness."

menu:

"So you brought me to this husk of a place? It's a dump!":

"Oh, Ford...":

"Ford gives you that familiar warm smile, though the look in his eyes remains tentative."

"Consider me convinced!":

"Before you realize it Ford's swept you up into an embrace, lifting you off the ground for a joyous spin before returning you to it. He holds you, pressing a kiss to your forehead, grinning."

ford "--But wait, you understood the metaphor, right? The town as a metaphor for--"

player "Yes, Ford, I'd want to come back to see you."

"Ford laughs in relief."

ford "Did you know that the concept of a metaphor doesn't exist in some dimensions? It's ridiculous! Nonsensical! Who came up with those things?"

"His joy is infectious, you can’t stop smiling yourself."

player "Those dimensions, you mean?"

ford "Yes! I have some choice words for whatever cosmic events laid out {i}those{/i} plans."

#i just constantly operate on the assumption of a solid established relationship and that was my main weakness here really #sovo writes

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bookofjin · 6 years ago

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Annals of Gaozu of Song, Part 5

[This completes Songshu scroll 1, the Annals of Gaozu continues in Scroll 2.

The full Scroll 1 can be read here: https://bookofzhou.tumblr.com/ss001]

During His Excellency's northern attack, Xu Daofu still had aspirations of spying through the side-door. He urged Lu Xun to exploit the absence and set out. Xun did not follow. Daofu therefore came to Panyu to explain to Xun, saying:

Originally [we] dwelt outside the mountain peaks, why attend to the pinnacle here. Just consider Excellency Liu's difficulties to be enemies with him [like?] before [?]. Now soon [to] shake up the troops, strengthen the cities and go down [?], [we do] not have a day's circle. Consider this thought to return [dare-to] die soldiers, to ambush and assault the followers of He and Liu, is like turning around the palm, that is all.

To not exploit this opportunity, then [you are] guarding the calm of a single day. Suppose after the pacifying Qi, the short time to rest the armour and rear the multitudes will not exceed an interval of one or two years, [and then] surely [there will be] a letter with the imperial signet to summon you Lord. Suppose Excellency Liu himself leads the multitudes to arrive in Yuzhang, and dispatches a sharp host to go beyond the peaks, even with the General's godly martial ability, [I] fear [you will] not be able to do it.

Today's chance ten thousand [times?] cannot be lost. As soon as we overcome the capital district, [we will] upset his foundation and root. Excellency Liu, even if he turns back, there is nothing he will be able to do about it.

Xun followed it, and therefore led the multitudes beyond the peaks. That month, he robbed Nankang, Luling and Yuzhang. The various commandery wardens all consigned and delegated to run and flee.

At that time news of pacifying Qi had not yet arrived, they then hurried messengers to travel to His Excellency. At first when His Excellency had vanquished Qi, he desired to stop and headquarter at Xiapi, to purify and cleanse He and Luo. But not long after summoning envoys arrived, and the very day he led back the host.

The General who Garrisons the South, He Wuji, fought with Xu Daofu in Yuzhang, and achieved defeat. Wuji was murdered. Inside and outside shook in terror. The Imperial Court desired to receive the Driving Carriage and run north to go to His Excellency. Soon after they learned the thieves had decidedly [?] not arrived, people's feeling were a little calmed.

His Excellency arrived at Xiapi, he used ships to transport the supply wagons, and himself led spirited and sharp [troops] to march home. He arrived at Shanyang, and heard Wuji had been murdered. He then worried the imperial district had lost the defences, and therefore rolled up the armour and made combined marches, and with several thousand men arrived above the Huai [?]. He heard from travellers accordingly tidings from the Imperial Court. People said:

The thieves have still not yet arrived. If Excellency Liu returns, there readily will be nothing to worry about.

His Excellency was very happy, and on a single boat went beyond the Jiang. He arrived directly at Jingkou, the multitudes were greatly calmed.

4th Month, guiwei [20 May], His Excellency arrived at the Imperial City, he loosened the strictures and rested the armour.

The General who Consoles the Army, Liu Yi, unyieldingly petitioned for a southern campaign. His Excellency sent Yi a letter which said:

I in the past practised striking the bewitching thieves, and understood their changeable manners. They recently obtained a perfidious edge, their spear-points cannot be taken lightly. [We?] ought certainly to finish outfitting and making ready, and launch together with younger brother.

He also dispatched Yi's junior cousin Fan to go and halt him. Yi did not follow, and with a naval host of 20 000 set out from Gushu.

At first when Xu came down, he sent Daofu towards Xunyang, [while] he himself robbed the various commanderies within Xiang. The Inspector of Jiang province, Daogui, dispatched an army [and?] arrived at Changsha. [He?] was defeated by Xun. He straight-away arrived at Baling, and wanted to go towards Jiangling.

Daofu heard Yi was coming up, and hurried messengers to report to Xun, saying:

Yi's troops and multitudes are very abundant, success and defeat in affairs are bound up with this, [we] ought to combine strength to dash him. If this achieves victory, Under Heaven will have no affairs again [?]. With foundation and root already settled, there will be no worries of the above face [?] not being pacified.

Xun the very day set out for Baling. He joined banners with Daogui and went down. He separately had eight ships with nine tree-trunks, and erected four storeys, 12 zhang tall.

His Excellency, since to the southern hinterlands were overturned and lost, petitioned to deliver distinctions and ribbon, a decree did not listen.

5th Month [18 June – 17 July], Liu Yi achieved defeat at Sangluo Island, he abandoned the ships and ran on foot. The remaining multitudes who did not manage to get away were all captured by the thieves.

Earlier, when Xun arrived at Xunyang, he heard His Excellency had already come back, but did not believe it. When he had routed Yi, he therefore scrutinized news of the triumphant entry [?], he also saw and lost colour [?]. Xun wished to withdraw and return to Xunyang, and advance to pacify Jiangling, and occupy the two provinces to thereby withstand the Imperial Court. Daofu said they ought to exploit the victory and straight-away advance, he firmly disputed it. He doubted and discussed for many days, and then was following.

The news of Yi's defeat arrived, inside and outside were restless and agitated. At the time the northern host began to come back, with many cuts, wounds and illnesses. The Imperial City's fighting soldiers did not fill several thousand. The thieves had already routed the Jiang and Yu headquarters, with more than 100 000 fighting soldiers, the ships and chariots did not break for a hundred li. Those who returned from running in defeat equally voiced their manly flourishing.

Meng Chang and Zhuge Changmin feared the thieves would gradually pressure, and desired and embrace the Son of Heaven to go beyond the Jiang. His Excellency did not listen. Chang firmly requested and did not stop. His Excellency said:

Now the weighty headquarters on the outside are overturned, the strong thieves on the inside are pressured. People feel imperilled and frightened, and do not have a firm will. Suppose in one morning [we] move and act, we will readily ourself loosen the tiles and collapse the earth. Likewise, how can we get to arrive north of the Jiang! If we do get to arrive, it will not go beyond delaying a day or month, and that is all.

Now the troops and soldiers, although few, are self-sufficient accordingly for a single battle. Suppose they manage to cross, then subjects and ruler are resting together. If after all ill fortune must arrive, I will then die guarding the altars of soil and grain, corpse athwart the temple gates. Consequently, it coming from accordingly aspirations of personal dedication to the state [?], [I am] not able to run far away to seek a living among the grasses. I have already decided, Sir must not speak of it again!

Chang feared they would not cross, and therefore made a petition which said:

Your Subject [and?] taboo on the northern punishment campaign, the multitudes were all not in agreement. Only Your Subject aided taboo in acting out the plan. This caused to make strong thieves exploit the space, and the altars of soil and grain were imperilled and pressured, the fault of Your Subject. Now [I] vigilantly call attention to the duty, thereby apologizing to Under Heaven.

When the sealed memorial was finished, he then looked up to drugs and then died.

And so [he] greatly began rewarding recruitment. Those who threw in to personally attend righteousness as one climbed the sections [?] of the capital walls. He set out the reside with the people and administer Shitou fort, and established the serrated banners and stern precautions.

At the time debaters said they ought to divide the troops and defend the various fords and strategic places. His Excellency considered it as:

The thieves are multitudes and we are few. Suppose we divide the troop garrisons, then people estimate empty and true. Moreover if a single place is unsuccessful, it will dispirit the hearts of the Three Armies. Now we assemble the multitudes at Shitou, following that we ought respond and hurry. Then we will make the thieves have nothing by which to estimate many or few, and also the multitudes' strength will not be divided. Suppose the followers travels to move and assemble, [we can] with composure readily discuss it, that is all.

He moved to garrison Shitou, and then fenced the Huai [?] and cut off Chupu. Afterwards the crowd of thieves greatly arrived. His Excellency planned against them, saying:

Suppose the thieves advance straight from Xinting, and their spear-point cannot do it, [we?] ought furthermore to turn around and escape, and the affair of victory or loss cannot yet be measured. Suppose they turn to anchor at the western bank, this is a complete capture, that is all.

Daofu wished from Xinting and Baishi to burn the ships and go up. Xun had many doubts and few decisions, he always worried about what was ten thousand times secure. He spoke to Daofu, saying:

The great army had not yet arrived, Meng Chang readily looked at the wind and cut out himself. The great momentum speaks of it [?], myself will plan the day's dispersing chaos [?]. Now to decide victory or loss in a single morning, and then not certainly settling its road, and moreover kill and wound gentlemen and soldiers, is not as good as restraining the troops and wait for it.

His Excellency at that time climbed the walls of Shitout to thereby look at Xun's army, and began to see it pull out towards Xinting. His Excellency looked left and right and lost colour. [They] then turned towards anchoring at Cai Island. Daofu still wished to go up, Xun forbade it. From that point the multitude armies moved and assembled. They restored and set in order Yuecheng, and built the Chapu, Yaoyuan and Tingwei Ramparts. All were guarded using replete multitudes [?].

The General of the Best of the Army, Liu Jingxuan, garrisoned the northern suburbs, the General who Assists the State, Meng Huaiyu, garrisoned the west of Danyang commandery, the General who Establishes the Martial, Wang Zhongde, garrisoned Yuecheng, the General who Broadens the Martial, Liu Huaimo, garrisoned the Jianyang Gate.

He made the General who Soothes the Boreal, Suo Maio lead Xianbei with barding and tiger markings, more than a thousand charging cavalry, everyone with five coloured cloaks, to arrive at Xinting from north of the Huai. The thieves all assembled to look, everyone feared and and dreaded them. And still [they] hoped there were those in the imperial district and the Three Wu who submitted to them [?]. They dispatched more than 10 warships to come and pull out Shitou's palisades. His Excellency instructed spirited crossbowmen to shoot at them, and sent out immediately to destroy and sink [them]. Xun therefore desisted and did not again attack the palisades.

They prepared hidden troops at the southern bank, and sent the weak and old to altogether sail the warships towards Baishi. His Excellency worried they would consequently march up from Baishi, and therefore led Liu Yi and Zhuge Changmin to set out north and resist them. He kept the Army Advisor Xu Chite to guard the southern bank, and instructed [him] to firmly defend, and not move. His Excellency then left. The thieves burnt Chapu and marched up. Chite's army fought and was defeated, the dead and gone were more than a hundred people. Chite abandoned the remaining multitudes, and on a single boat crossed the Huai. The thieves thereupon led several ten thousand to garrison Danyang commandery.

His Excellency led the various armies to hurry back. The multitudes worried the thieves would pass by [?], and all together spoke to His Excellency undertake to straight-away turn back and resist in battle. His Excellency had previously divided off an army to turn back to Shitou, the multitudes were not aware of it. He loosened the armour and rested the soldiers, washed and bathed, drank and ate, and then set out to arrange and deploy at the southern embankment. Since Chite had disobeyed his place and duties, he beheaded him.

He instructed the Army Advisors Chu Shudu and Zhu Lingshi to lead sturdy and brave soldiers, more than a thousand people, beyond the Huai. The crowd of thieves were several thousand, all with long swords, spears metalled and extended [?], the finest armour gleaming in the sun. Rising and jumping, they strove to advance. Lingshi was leading many Xianbei, good at marching with the spears. They side by side joined up and deployed to wait for them. The thieves' meagre troops were not able to oppose, the dead and wounded were several hundred people. They therefore withdrew and ran. When the sun set, the multitudes likewise came back.

At the defeat of Liu Yi, the Master of Accounts for Yu province, Yuan Xingguo, had turned to rebellion, and occupied Liyang to thereby submit to the thieves. The Interior Clerk of Langye, Wei Shunzhi, dispatched the general Xie Bao to punish and behead him. Xingguo's Marshal assaulted Bao. Shunzhi did not save him but withdrew. His Excellency in anger beheaded him. Shunzhi was the younger brother of Yongzhi. Hence the merited subjects shook in fear, and did not dare not to employ instructions.

6th Month [18 July – 15 August], furthermore conferred on His Excellency Grand Commandant and Overseer of the Palace Writers, and additionally Yellow Battle-Axe. He accepted Yellow Battle-Axe and firmly declined the remainder. Used the Marshal, Yu Yue, as General who Establishes Power and Inspector of Jiang province, to set out from Dongyang to Yuzhang.

7th Month, gengshen [25 August], the crowd of thieves fled south from Cai Island, and turned back to garrison Xunyang. Dispatched the General who Assists the State, Wang Zhongde, the Grand Warden of Guangchuan, Liu Zhong, the Grand Warden of Hejian, Kuai En, to pursue them. His Excellency turned back to the Eastern Office, and greatly set in order the navy. All the great warships were multi-storied, their height more than 10 zhang.

Lu Xun dispatched his great general Xun Lin to rob Jiangling. Huan Qian previously had run from Jiangling to the Qiang, and again from the Qiang to join Shu. The bogus ruler Qiao Zong used him as Inspector of Jing province. Qian and Qiao Daofu# led an army of 20 000, and set out to rob Jiangling. Just then they met with Lin, they were a hundred li apart from each other. The Inspector of Jing province, Daogui beheaded Qian at Zhijiang, and routed Lin at Jiangjin. He pursued him to Zhuting and beheaded him.

Earlier, at the flight of Xun, His Excellency knew he would certainly rob Jiangling, and at time [?] dispatched the Interior Clerk of Huailing, Suo Miao, to lead a cavalry army to march the roads and aid Jing province. He also dispatched General who Establishes Power, Sun Jigao, led a multitude of 3 000, from the sea roads to assault Panyu.

The Inspector of Jiang province, Yu Yue arrived at Wumu Peak. The thieves dispatched more than a thousand people to occupy and cut off the road to the peak. Yue's vanguard, the Grand Warden of Poyang, Yuqiu Jin, attacked and routed them.

His Excellency set in order the troops [and made] great preparations.

10th Month [13 November – 11 December], he led the Inspector of Yan province, Liu Fan, the General who Soothes the Boreal, Tan Shao, and others, with a naval host for a southern attack. He used the General of the Rear, Liu Yi, to oversee [the affairs of the] Grand Commandant and stay to guard the office, rear affairs all entrusted to him.

That Month, Xu Daofu led a multitude of 30 000 to rob Jiangling. The Inspector of Jing province, Daogui, again greatly routed him, the cut off heads numbered more than 10 000. Daofu fled and turned back to Penkou.

Earlier, at His Excellency's dispatching of Suo Miao, Miao on the road was cut off by the thieves. Daofu's defeat later just came through [?]. Since Xun had gone up east, Jiangling had been severed and cut from news of the capital district, what came through all stated it was already lost. When Miao arrived, they just then knew Xun had fled.

When Xun began to flee south from Cai Island, he kept behind his close partisan Fan Chongmin with 5 000 people and more than a hundred tall warships to defend Nanling. Wang Chongde and others heard the great army was about to arrive, and therefore advanced to attack him.

11th Month [12 December – 10 January], they greatly routed Chongmin's army, burnt his warships, and gathered his scattered soldiers.

Xun's defensive troops in Guang province did not consider the sea way to be guarded against. That Month, the General who Establishes Power, Sun Jigao, exploited the sea to suddenly arrive. But the walls and moat were steep and orderly, and the troops were about several thousands. Jigao burnt the thieves' warships, and with all his strength then went up. He attacked them on four sides, and the very day slaughtered their city. Xun's father used a light boat to run to Shixing. Jigao consoled their former populations, massacred their friends and partisans, and directed the troops to guard prudently.

Earlier, when His Excellency dispatched Jigao, the multitudes all together considered the sea way to be difficult and remote, and surely to arrive would be difficult. And moreover to divide and clear away the visible strength, two or three were not essential [?]. His Excellency did not follow. He counselled Jigao, saying:

The great army's engagement in the 12th Month, surely will rout the bewitching caitiffs. Sir presently will arrive in Guang province, and upset their nest hole. Now at the day of the thieves running and fleeing, they will have no place to return to and take refuge.

Jigao accepted the instructions and went, and at the appointed time achieved victory.

Xun just then was ordering the troops travelling on warships, and made various attack preparations. His Excellency wished to steer using long calculations, and therefore garrisoned the army at Leichi [“Lei Pond”]. The thieves made it known they would not attack Leichi, they would steer and sail straight-away downwards [?]. His Excellency knew they desired battle, and moreover worried that at thieves' defeat in battle, some would enter the sea at Jingjiang. He dispatched Wang Chongde with 200 warships at Jiyang to go down and cut them off.

12th Month [11th January – 8 February], Xun and Daofu led a multitude of several ten thousand, lashed together [?] the warships and went down. Front and rear shielded each other, and one could not see the juncture of bow and stern. His Excellency wholly set out light and swift to engage the warships, he personally held the banner and drum, and instructed the army strike them with concerted strength. He also sent up infantry and cavalry to the western bank. The Army Advisor of the Right Army, Yu Lesheng steered the warships and did not advance. He beheaded and toured [?] him. Hence the multitude armies equally leapt and vaulted to be first in the fight.

Within the army there were many ten thousand jin spirited crossbowmen [?]., on arriving they could not but break and sink. His Excellency in the middle of the flow was anxious about it, because of the strength of the wind and water. The thieves' warships were fully anchored on the western bank. The sent up army first prepared fire implements, and then threw fire to burn them. The smoke and flames stretched to the sky, the thieves' multitudes were great defeated. They pursued the flight until night and then returned. Xun and others turned back to Xunyang. Earlier, when he had divided off the and dispatched the foot army, they could not but doubt and grumble [?]. When they burnt the thieves' warships, the multitudes then happily acknowledged.

He summoned Wang Chongde, and requested he come back to be the vanguard. He kept the General who Assists the State, Meng Huaiyu, to guard Leichi. Xun heard that great army had gone up, and desired to flee towards Yuzhang, he therefore with full strength palisaded and cut of Zuoli. The great army arrived at Zuoli and was about to fight. The banner pole held by His Excellency snapped, and the snapped off banner sank into the water. The multitudes all grumbled with fear. His Excellency happily laughed and said:

In a bygone year at the battle of Fuzhou, the banner pole likewise snapped. Now it is again so, the thieves will surely rout.

Then they attacked the palisades and advanced. Xun's troops, though fighting desperately, were unable to endure. The various armies exploited the victory and ran them off. Xun fled on a single boat. Those who were killed or thrown into the water and died were altogether more than 10 000 people. He accepted their surrendering adherents, and pardoned their compelling and plundering.

He dispatched Liu Fan and Meng Huaiyu to quickly pursue them. Gathered his scattered soldiers, they still were several thousand people, and straight-away turned back to Guang province. Daofu turned back to guard Shixing. His Excellency turned around from Zuoli. The Son of Heaven dispatched Palace Attendants and Yellow Gates to reassure the host on the journey.

#ss001

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tanoraqui · 7 years ago

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This is the last you’ll get of this AU for a while, I think. Until then...bonus points to whoever accurately guesses where/when Whitestone comes in!

[Prologue / 1 / 2 ]

Flashback to several hundred years ago:

Vex did not fall back onto her bed so much as fling herself delightedly, with the express purpose of bouncing. The famed elven bards of Rivendell had, this night, utterly failed to induce restfulness in their listeners.

“I shall be just like Luthien when I am older,” she announced. “Wham! Ha! Aaaa!” She punched the air, and sang a ringing note.

“And marry a human?” Vax, sitting calmly on his own bed, gasped in faux-horror. “Father would be furious.”

Vex rolled onto her elbows and grinned at him. “That is another benefit. You're growing so wise, brother.”

He stuck his tongue out at her. She propped one hand under her chin and continued.

“I do wonder if Men are more...energetic, than Elves. You'd think so, wouldn't you, with how little time they have? It's not just here - even back home, everyone is so dull. Slow. Not at all fun to-”

“Stop!” Vax put his hands over his ears. “I do NOT want to hear about you and...anybody, ever. Not in Mirkwood, not in this shitty house-”

Now it was Vex’s turn to stick out her tongue. But she abated her musing.

“Anyway,” said Vax, once it was safe to uncover his ears, “Tinuviel wasn't as badass as her father.”

“Thingol?” Vex’s voice could not have been fuller of scorn. “What did he do?”

Vax wobbled one hand in the air, palm up. “Banged a Man?” He lifted the other and shook it up and down firmly. “Banged a Maia.”

Vex replied, with that tone of almost genuine sympathy that only a sibling can truly achieve, “I really don't think Gilmore thinks of you the way you-”

A lesser being might not have caught the pillow, so quickly did Vax fling it at her face. But Vex’ahlia, daughter of Syldor, had come of age hunting beasts beneath the dangerous eaves of Mirkwood. Her reflexes were second to none.

“Shut up!” her brother shouted, already reaching for another pillow. “That's not what I- and anyway, no one knows whence- we were just talking, Vex’ahlia, it's not like-”

The rest of the scene was lost in quite a lot of torn cloth and flying feathers.

Even the great translator Professor Tolkien of Oxford University did not dwell, in his similar tale, on every detail discussed at the great council we now come upon. So nor shall I, overly much.

For some context, I should say first that Pike wakes after three days, and when she does, Gilmore has arrived at last, and they are delighted to see one another well. It had been a couple close calls: Gilmore had been attacked on Weathertop just a few days before Pike and her companions, by four of the Nine. As well as had some previous troubles of his own. And Pike, of course, had nearly passed away into wraithhood herself, the sliver of the Witch-Queen’s blade working its way steadily toward her heart for days. But Syldor Half-Elven* is a mighty healer, well-practiced in battling evil wounds of such type, though perhaps never so severe. But hobbits, as Gilmore has been saying for years, are surprisingly hardy folk.

The even dearer reunion is with Wilhand, who has been in Imladris for many years now. He earned his retirement in the Last Homely House with his own great deeds and adventures, if you will recall previous tales. There were several dwarves, and one dragon. He has gone a little deaf, now, and partakes a tad much of wine and sweetmeat—just think what the neighbors would say, he japes to Pike, once they are done hugging. After so many years of adventurous reputation, he’s acting like a respectable hobbit at last!

(This tale that I am telling now has fewer dwarves, and…well. We shall have to see about the matter of dragons.)

It is another couple days before Pike is well enough to see Grog, for he is camped out on the opposite shore of the now-quieted river. There is a limit to how far people will go to make good with unlikely allies, and that limit is an orc in Rivendell. Grog, frankly, agreed. The valley is too bright everywhere for his tastes. He has not been too alone: when Scanlan was not fretting at Pike’s bedside, he was across the ford, teaching Grog drinking songs from the Shire. With accompanying drink, of course. Minxie visited a time or two, and Vex’ahlia and Vax’ildan more often. They brought much of the best drink.

First, however, the Council of Syldor. Dark times are come to Middle Earth, and so it is not just for Pike’s burden that people have assembled from near and far, seeking advice in trade for ill but urgent tidings.

From Uriel’s elven court of Mirkwood comes Allura, a lady and a scholar, to say that dark things are stirring once more in Dol Guldur. Not long did the fortress lay silent, after the cleansing dealt by the Wise back when Wilhand was out adventuring. Once more, spiders spin their webs, and orcs move and Black Riders have been sighted.

Lowbearer Vord, a dwarf of the Lonely Mountain, comes with his ward to bring similar news, and darker yet. War is brewing to the east, for the Lonely Mountain and Dale as well. Messengers have come in Vecna’s name to treat. They also ask after a hobbit, and a ring - “a trifle”, they say. Twice they have been rebuffed, but a third and final choice approaches…

Maryanne Darington of Minas Tirith arrived just this morning, with tale of a city beset and a dream most strange. For the latter, she seeks council; of the former, she speaks only with weariness and pride. Long has Gondor stood against the Enemy, and long shall it - she hopes. Osgiliath has fallen, and her brother’s dream spoke of Isildur’s Bane.

And what if that ring, that trifle, that doom of Elendil’s eldest son? That tale falls to Syldor, who was there for much of it - for times lost save in song and story, and the living memory of a very a few still on this earth.

I will not bore you with a retelling of those great events. The forging of the great rings, the betrayal of Sauron, the Last Alliance of Men and Elves… I’m sure you are likewise familiar with the parts of the tale that Gilmore fills in, of the finding of the One Ring by first one small person, and then another.

There, of course, the tale does a hop, skip, and a jump, as Wilhand tells his part - how he lost his party beneath the Misty Mountains and came across a small golden ring instead, as well as a young orc being strangled in the dark by a pale, slippery sort of being. This was the selfsame orc who had earlier tried to defend Wilhand against his own monstrous kin, so Wilhand sought to return the favor. Together, though it was not quite the tender-hearted hobbit’s plan, he and the orc killed the strange, frog-like beast, and tended each other’s wounds and escaped into the sunlight before parting ways.

That young orc, of course, was Grog, because orcs live as long as I, the storyteller, want them to live. He is very much not at this council - but while Pike was recovering, Gilmore and Minxie together got a story out of him, of wandering south and east, as countless of his kind were summoned over these last many years, and saw many terrible things and endured far, far worse, until the Great Eye knew the name “Trickfoot” and the race “hobbits”, and the land “Shire.”

(This, GIlmore tells with sympathy in his voice, and Wilhand takes and squeezes Pike’s hand as she shudders for their friend, remembering too well the Nine’s deathly cruelty. Because fuck you, Tolkien; even orcs don’t deserve that.)

Gilmore also speaks of his own recent captivity at the tower of Orthanc, at the hands of the wizard Curunir. (“Sauruman” in other tales, but in this world of Exandria, so enamoured was she of the name the elves gave her that she entreated its use by all, and they weren’t assholes so it stuck.)

So...the quest.

In the books, the moment is still, as they all stare at the Ring on the table in the center of the circle. This small, golden ring, which holds all their fates. In the films, there is shouting, discord already being sown by the power of the Ring. To guard it with the wisdom of Elves, or the strength of Men, or the strange, untouchable nature of Matthew Mercer, back in the Old Forest t the edge of the Shire, who would be First and Last? Or to take it, to use it, to overthrow the Enemy and win peace at last for Middle Earth? No, no--it must be destroyed, that is known. But how? And, moreover, who? Who could bear such a perilous quest, unspeakable temptation and greater peril, to the Fires of Mount Doom itself?

“I’ll do it.”

Pike’s voice rings clear, through silence or hubbub. She does not stand tall but she does stand forth, with her head high and her eyes alight. Her shaking hands curled into steady fists.

“I will take the Ring to Mordor. Though I do not know the way.”

[and now, for dramatic effect, I think I will follow the films]

“I have some knowledge of it,” says Gilmore, and comes to stand beside her, a tall and steady presence. “I will help you bear this burden, Pike Trickfoot, as long as I may.”

“And I.” Minxie - or Keyleth, perhaps, we ought call her - kneels to hobbit height. “Broken or not, my sword is yours.”

“And my axe!” Kima of the Iron Hills, the Lowbearer’s ward, jumps to her feet. She has been fidgeting since the council convened.

Allura shoots the dwarf a skeptical look, and steps forth as well. “Whatever aid the Kingdom of Mirkwood can give, or even just I myself, is yours, little one.”

“I think that’s our line, darling.”

Syldor scowls as Vex’ahlia and Vax’ildan step from the shadows by the door. His children by a Silvan elf, now deceased, they are estranged, and had not been invited to this meeting. They came anyway, and now take matching places at Pike’s back.

“We’ve got you, Pickle,” says Vax, with a comforting hand on her shoulder. She smiles up at him.

“And me!”

Scanlan’s appearance from hiding is much less graceful. He falls out of a tree. But he picks himself up and scrambles to stand by Pike. “No way is Pike going to go destroy all evil without me.”

Syldor casts his eyes to the heavens, as if seeking salvation. Maryanne snickers for just a moment as she stands, before her sobriety returns. “If this is truly the will of the Council…” she says slowly, and puts a hand on the hilt of her sword. “Then Gondor will see it done.”

“Fine,” Syldor says with perhaps more force than necessary. But he, too, sobers as he surveys the group assembled before him. “The Enemy fields Nine Riders - so we shall send forth Nine Walkers. The Fellowship-”

“Actually,” Scanlan interrupts. “Mr. Elf Sir Guy. Sorry, but we’re ten.”

“What? No, you are-”

Scanlan Shorthalf, who knows his way around a story, crosses his arms and stares down Syldor Peredhil, son of Eärendil, of the line of Beren and Luthien. He says, confidently: “There’s no way Grog is gonna want to miss this.”

*A/N: This is the character swap-in I’m least comfortable with, because tbh Elrond deserves better, but I am assuaged by how much canon!Syldor would hate this title.

#lotr #critical role #fanfiction #i am NOT tagging everyone #my fic #Let Vax Bang a Maia 2k17 #actually if you know lotr and cr and perhaps have half a sense of how my brain works #you should at this point be able to anticipate pretty much everything

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fordarkisthesuede · 8 years ago

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JOURNAL 3 BLACKLIGHT EDITION REVEALED! (Part 3)

Oh boy. This is it. The final stretch.

A New Concern: “What if he wins? It is a thought to horrible to imagine, but imagine it I must. If Bill succeeds in opening the gateway between worlds, it will result in an… Odd-pocalypse? Weird-mergency? Unsual-tastrophe? No matter. If the big day arrives, coming up with a catchy nickname for it will be the least of my worries. To prepare for this worst-case scenario, I have begun stocking my old research bunker with supplies, rations, and weapons. I also tried to choose which theoretical physics books would be most fun to spend 50 years rereading, but they’re all so great I couldn’t decide!” [Picture of the Unseen Eye with the caption “Saw this symbol again recently!”]

Hiding Spot? page: “In case of catastrophe.” [The tree leading down the bunker is shown, with a staircase winding around it to the roots, with “danger!” pointing down, ending in a rectangle with “prepare for the end” inside.] “LAST RESORT – hopefully cryonics have sustained. Watch out for Shifty.”

Page left of Security Room: “I need to stop spending time down in this bunker. I was reprogramming my security code when I could have sworn I heard someone speaking to me. Maybe I’m just being paranoid. I suppose I was voted “most paranoid” in junior high, bt I thought I had gotten over that phase. Then again, maybe that’s what people wanted me to think: that I wasn’t paranoid anymore so they could start plotting against me, plotting to take my precious thoughts, my MIND-thoughts! Okay, I’ve been inhaling bunker coolant for too long. Going up for some air now.”

Security Room page: [it now says “Security Code” and has the four buttons to open the bunker highlighted and numbered.] “If I forget this, I’ll be taking a trip to the FIRST dimension!” [There’s a picture of an exit door with “don’t forget!” pointing at it.]

Bill’s Teacup page: This one’s unusual. “One of Bill’s friends… Where have I seen him?” The face is so normal that I can’t really say who it could be. Seems masculine? I mean, my best guess is Alex, but who knows for certain…?

[Edit, 4/26/18: I kept forgetting to fix this bit, but this is a reference to the “Have You Ever Dreamed of This Man?” hoax! Thanks to everybody that pointed it out! (ʃƪ ˘ ³˘) ]

The machine pages: “The machine was meant to create knowledge but it is TOO POWERFUL! The device if fully operational could”

My Muse Was A Monster page: All the eyes drawn here glow in the dark. It looks just as creepy as you’d imagine – especially the big one. It also says “Laseep” “ELPH EM” “sit lal vero” and “rutts on eno”. This is just normal English with rearranged letters, so it says “Asleep”* “Please” “HELP ME” “its all over” and “trust no one”.

*in my defense, I was sleepy when I first unscrambled the words, and I peeked at that “Can’t Sleep!” page...guess I knew what was on my mind that night :/

Bill Cipher pages: Spanning both pages: “If he gains physical form then all is lost!” Left page - “If he entered our dimension, what form would he take? Flesh and blood? Metal? Vinyl? Spandex? Would he be a suave, well-dressed, possibly British man in coattails? Absolutely unequivocally not. Bill is a screeching, senseless lunatic. By best guess at his physical form is something like this.” [arrow points to Ford’s idea of Bill, which is like a triangle-shaped meatball with his eye and a strange large mouth]

I love you, Alex. I really do. Getting that nod at the fandom’s general depiction of human!Bill is the greatest feelings that I didn’t know I could have - yes, we had it before, but not so directly and in a published book. It still brings that certain level of satisfaction. I’m continually amused at the jabs at it, and I still to this day love quite a few depictions of him, but more than anything I’m flattered and amazed that fan-artists can get recognition at this level in this day and age. It is truly a time to be alive. I love this book.

Right page: [the figure of the human head’s brain separated into categories reads “ego, deceit, lies, pride”.] “Counterattack strategy: ?????? A triangle is supposed to be the most stable shape in geometry, but there is nothing more unstable than this angular psychopath. The damage he’s done to my thoughts is impossible to calculate….what havoc might he have wrought?” Underneath, Bill writes: “Wanna know what I did last time I was in your mind, Sixer? I deleted the world “burden” from your vocabulary and replaced it with “sea otter”! Good luck next time you try to sound ominous, smart guy!”

You know, I’m surprised that Bill writes properly. You know, proper grammar, capitalization, punctuation… You’d think he’d be the one to write in all-caps, like he talks! I didn’t think about that before now. Weird, isn’t it?

Blank page next to Invisible Ink page: “I have decided to use invisible ink to keep away prying eyes. ANYONE could be watching me!”

Invisible ink page: [the lightbulb has rays of light coming from it as well as a normal eye in the bulb. The ink pot has invisible written on it, with splatters where ink might drip from the pot. There are a series of odd symbols drawn around it as well as a few on top of the page.] “I may provide previous pages with new secrets I have learned since originally writing them, and perhaps reviewing old passages will stabilize my rapidly dwindling sanity…”

No picture, but the page where Ford goes into town has all the townsfolk’s eyes glowing. Even Paul Bunyun’s.

Hiding Places: [doodle of journal 1] Journal 1 – Describes my first 3 years in gravity falls. Focuses on mythical beasts, geographic anomalies, and my 30-hour arm-wrestling match with a very annoying unicorn.” [doodle of journal 2] Journal 2 – The most dangerous journal! Curses, incantations & dark power became an obsession in this volume. Describes the hiding place of the mystic amulet. I buried the amulet once I learned that it corrupts your soul (and whitens your hair)!” Journal 3 – The volume I hold in my hands. Describes my embarrassing defeat at the hands of Bill and the loss of my very sanity. Also contains a pretty good drawing of a plaidypus. Will soon be bestowed upon S and hidden at the ends of the Earth (I hope).”

Hiding places page 2: Underneath the scribbled out drawing is the picture of the momentum conserver Ford made back in the seventies. Underneath it is written “what might have been…”

Trust No One page: “Can’t sleep!” Is written nine times, and trust no one is highlighted and circled.

On the page next to it, it looks exactly like the show, with several spots on the odd wheel scribbled out, the sad face over the center, and “IS THIS RIGHT? I just don’t know anymore!” written beneath it.

The next two blank pages are Bill’s: “GUESS WHO! That’s right, pal, ol’ Six Fingers just conked out, & that means Captain Bill is steering the ship! And by “STEERING THE SHIP,” I mean making Sixer slap himself over and over! HA-HA-HA! That’s right, I just wrote down the sounds of my own laughter!” [next to the next paragraph, there is a drawing of Bill pouring gasoline on a flaming planet Earth, with the strange expression of someone watering flowers and encouraging their growth.] “Now where was he? Ah, yes! Mr. Serious was saying that anyone who was smart enough to decode these messages is smart enough to get on the right side of history! And that meant joining ME, your new best friend and style consultant, Bill Cipher! All it takes is a little handshake! Ever wanted to see inside the dreams of your crush? Or crush the dreams of your enemies? Or jet someone else control your body and take the old bone-mobile for a spin? ALL YOU HAVE TO DO IS SUMMON ME!”

Page 2: “And it’ s so easy! Just say the words “BILL CIPHER” three times out loud, alone in the dark. Ready? I’ll say it with you! BILL CIPHER! BILL CIPHER! BILL CIPHER! See? That wasn’t so hard! Now there’s a pathway between your mind and mine. I can see everything you can see! Sixer’s about to wake up, but the business between you and me has just begun. Let’s just say I’ll see you down the road. And if you ever get a phone call from a number that says “UNKNOWN,” pick up. Your Guy on the Inside (of Your Mind), BILL”

June 1 page (aka Dipper’s starting page]: “I discovered the Author’s black light secret! I invented some invisible ink and I’m going to try to write a few sneaky – Ugh! I spilled it! Now it’s everywhere! Oh, gross! It’s all over my pants! Ugh, this is embarrassing. I’m going to go wash it off. No black light for me. Yuck! –Dipper” [True to his word, dipper spilled the ink all over the next page, and indeed the page he was writing on. It’s like 2 giant splatter marks.

Mabel’s Smile Dip page has the “Do you like me” letter!!! I’m so tempted to check Absolutely!!! BUT I CANNOT TARNISH SUCH A TREASURE!

Bipper page: Underneath the note Bipper left is the best gift this book has given me – a caticature of Bipper. It even says “Bipper as a cat!” underneath it. All is right in the world at this moment. I couldn’t be happier. If you can, look upon that drawing and feel the joy enter your soul.

Category 11/Dipper’s page on Pacifica: (underneath the photo of Archibald Corduroy) “Roses are red, Pacifica’s blood is blue, I read what you crossed out! I’m on to you! Start combing your hair, Brother! –Mabel” Dipifica fans are now 10x happier they purchased this book – or got to read that poem!

I’m Back page: “I have found my old bottle of invisible ink! It was right where I left it 30 years ago – hidden inside the science fair trophy in my electron carpet room. Unfortunately, most of the ink is gone, and there’s a note on the bottle which reads: “Hey, dude! I tried to drink some of this and it made my tummy glow. Like Shimmery Twinkleheart! Ha ha! I think I’m gonna go lie down forever now. –Soos”

I’m Back adjacent page: “What a waste! Although, I am amazed that “soos” survivied what should have been a lethal dose of ink. He must be one of the most fit and healthy men on Earth! It’s just as well – this ink did little to keep my secrets from Bill Cipher. And I may have permanent retina damage from constantly flipping the lights on and off while trying to read my own messages. NOTE TO SELF: Invent bionic eyes. I’ll use what little ink I have left for some….private thoughts. NEW DIMENSION CHECKLIST:

Read the past 30 years of newspapers. I wonder if whales have finally made it onto land and become the dominatnt species. Also, looking forward to seeing how advanced the lasted fax machines must be!

Catch my breath – literally! I haven’t breathed the proper combination of nitrogen, oxygen, and trace vapors in years. Air is great. Really can’t overemphasize how great air is.

Order red turtleneck sweaters in bulk.

Check out The Eurythmics’ latest chart-topper!

Invent something as a sign of goodwill towards my niece and nephew. What do kids like these days? Bionic arm-lasers? Maybe a pet Cthulhu?

ILJXUH RXW ZKDW D “VLOYHU IRA” LV DQG ZKV HYHUBRQH NHHSV. FDOOLQJ PH RQH.” [Translated with Caesar -3: “Figure out what a “Silver Fox” is and why everyone keeps calling me one.”]

OMG

EVEN MORE PROOF THAT I LOVE THIS DAMN BOOK. THE LAST PAGE WHERE FORD WRITES:

“AN INITIATION: to fully complete your initiation as an honorary Pines, there is one final task - to place your hand on this page, hold it while you charge up the black light and then remove your hand. See what happens? Welcome to the family! Zh’yh ehhq zdlqlqj iru brx – Stanford”

If that didn’t rip your heart out, translated with Caeser -3, the last line reads “We’ve been waiting for you.”

I’m literally tearing up. Thank you to everybody who made this book possible. I’ve never been so happy to pay over a hundred dollars for a book. It was worth every penny. And the weird nightmares I got after receiving it.

[Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3]

#gravity falls #journal 3 #journal 3 blacklight #J3 Blacklight Reveal #spoilers #I LOVE THIS BOOK SO MUCH #SO SO MUCH #stanford pines #bill cipher #mabel pines #dipper pines #pines family #618 #long post #like long long post #i love that Do You Like Me note #but i can't remove it from it's sacred place of honor #I'll have to just open the book every day i want to see it #i like how Bill drew himself setting the world on fire #but he still wants us to summon him #i did have some seriously disturbing dreams the night i got it in the mail #like no kidding #the most violent gory dreams i've ever had #there were 2 goat heads in the oven #but they weren't cooking #they just turned grey and their horns charcoal?#it was strange #i also got a knife thrown at me in that same dream #like it almost hit me #i really felt like i felt it scrape my neck!

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imagineclaireandjamie · 7 years ago

Text

Thank you, @bonnie-wee-swordsman, for the outrageously perfect song suggestion!

Read the other chapters here.

Our Story

At some point, they start ignoring time.

Claire, whose career so closely monitors the rhythms of human life, stops wearing a watch at home. The digital clock, which rests on a bedside table, is turned away like a spurned guest. A 45-degree angle now arrowing through the black, its numbers an indecipherable mist of light on the wall.

And for his part, Jamie skirts the church on his morning walks. The chimes, echoing from the stone bell tower, are a reminder of something there will never be enough of.

They recognize this for what it is: denial, out of fear. They are afraid of what they’ll see when they wear the watch, pass the church, if they allow the digital clock to stand guard over their dreams: the digits changing, the minutes out-pacing their steps. And they are afraid—perhaps even more so—of what they will not see: an immobile hand, a blank screen. Time stopped, time run out.

If this is truly denial, they tell themselves, then so be it.

It’s the small things that go first. The plot of a favorite film distorts, then takes the shapes of plots from other, less favored films. The frozen aisle moves with every grocery shop, its location found not by memory, but by the increasing chill in the air—goosebumps down skin, the body shaken. And a childhood pet, though long dead, lives and dies in the span of a single day. The joy and grief of it all, so fresh, that Jamie reaches for a shovel, upends the earth to bury a ghost. (Adso sits at his feet, though it’s a different loss he mourns.)

Eventually, the disease consumes other things. Dates: Is Geordie’s birthday on the 20th or the 21st? Directions: Is their new house on Jefferson Street or on Bond? The inertia of Jamie’s life slows with the disappearance of such landmarks, everyday values made so identical that he does not know where to put his faith, his love.

On an afternoon in July, Jamie volunteers to pick up one of Claire’s prescriptions. It is 2PM when he arrives at the pharmacy, approaches the counter with a tied and twisted tongue. Something about the pharmacist—so self-assured in his pristine lab coat—unnerves him into forgetfulness.

“A Dhia. One second,” Jamie says, fumbling through his pockets. He pulls out the receipt he’s put there and reads the reminder note on its blank side. (He cannot attribute the uniformly written letters or the passionately-crossed ts. His, or someone else’s?)

“Fraser,” he finally says. “I’m picking up a prescription for Claire Fraser.”

This is the first time Jamie has forgotten her—she, who is his world, and who is also half of himself. Suddenly, he is desperate to hide his embarrassment, for an enclosed space in which he can trap his wife’s name to prevent it from flying away. The white paper bag, passed to him and labelled just for her, feels wrong in his hands, now dirtied by the betrayal he has just committed.

Jamie does not return the way he came, but drives. By sunset, he does not know where he is, or how he has come to be along this stretch of foreign homes. Here, there is only the lingering sense of his shame—the very thing that has propelled him forwards, keeping his foot pressed adamantly to the gas pedal.

In a moment of panic, he wonders if one of these homes is his. If that driveway, curtained by the beds of purple petunias, should look familiar. But no, this land is flat—and he has the image of a hill, there should be a hill, he lives on a hill, he is sure of it. (He is, in fact, approximately two miles away from that hill.)

Jamie pulls over and shuts his eyes. Says, Focus. Says, Breathe. These are the recommended mantras, but while they have soothed him before, they are failing him now. The path to the phantom hill does not emerge from his mind, revealing itself, but remains at the end of a dark and winding tunnel. No focusing, no breathing to coax it out of hiding.

To call for someone would be to acknowledge the child he is slowly becoming, and by this fact alone, the action becomes unthinkable. Reprehensible. Instead, he repeats Claire’s name to the silver dollar in the sky because that, at least, has returned to him and stayed.

As if summoned, she appears out of the darkness: her blue Ford now behind him, and she behind its wheel. And this—this car, he knows. Remembers well. The scratch on its left side, from a fallen pine bough. The car seat for a grandchild whose photographs are attached to the visor: a mouth covered in icing, a head grazing a penciled notch on a doorframe.

She approaches, slow-footed, and leans through his open window. It is her smell that reaches him first. Then her voice. Then her face—now floating in front of his—dissipates the remains of his confusion. Finally, Jamie breathes.

“Hi,” she whispers, smiling weakly.

“Hi,” he whispers back.

There is, he notices, so much tenderness in her—despite the circumstances, despite him. Him: a grown man who cannot remember his own address, but who can see, so clearly, the Coke stain on the Ford’s floor mat. And her—a grown woman wearing only her robe and slippers, but out in the middle of the night, to look for him.

“Now I may be mistaken,” she says, “but I believe you’re supposed to inform the seeker when you intend to hide. Otherwise that’s an unfair advantage.”

“I’m just trying to keep ye on yer toes, Sassenach,” he says softly, looking at his lap. (The phrase “remotely interesting” appears from nowhere, but—why?)

“Thank you for finding me, Sassenach,” he says instead, and Claire puts her hand on his arm. “You didn’t have to.”

“Well, I did consider letting your other wife come get you. Oddly enough, I can’t seem to reach her. Must be cavorting with one of my other five husbands.”

They both stifle their laughs, chastised by the quiet and the precariousness of their situation; all that it implies. When Jamie sees Claire’s crooked incisor after she lowers her hand, Jamie feels overwhelmed. By his love, by his gratitude. By his luck that she has found him again and again and again.

“So,” she says, gesturing towards her car, “Finder’s keepers?”

When the Ford pulls ahead, Jamie follows. He keeps his eyes on the silhouette in the driver’s seat—the messy curls, the hand that adjusts the rearview mirror (to see him better)—as his wife, Claire Fraser, leads him home.

Claire familiarizes herself with the facts. They are as follows:

In 1901, a man named Karl Deter admitted his wife to a mental institution. Throughout the previous decade, he told the doctors, her condition had worsened, and he feared he could no longer provide adequate care. The woman’s name was Auguste Deter, and she would die five years later at the age of 56. Auguste’s symptoms— memory loss, mood swings, delusions, and insomnia—would become the hallmarks of a then-unknown disease. It would be discovered by her doctor, Alois Alzheimer, shortly after her death.

During her examinations, Dr. Alzheimer would test Deter’s recall. When prompted to repeat his questions—and her subsequent answers—hours later, Ms. Deiter could rarely remember their conversation. One day, upon forgetting her own name, she had simply stated: “Ich hab mich verloren.” I have lost myself.

In the United States, an estimated 5.5 million people currently live with Auguste’s disease. Of these, only 200,000 are, as she was, diagnosed before they turn 65—the age bracket which delineates the standard cases from the “early onset.” Though advancements have been made in the past century, Alzheimer’s is still incurable. The fatality rate is discouragingly high.

When Claire thinks of Auguste and these statistics, it is hard not to feel betrayed. To not demand, fist raised, for remorse or an admission of error. We’ve made a mistake.

And when Jamie loses his professorship, or searches fruitlessly for the misplaced items of his imagination, it is hard to believe that this is where their story has gone. That he, her husband, should be among the 5-percenters and she, his wife, must stand idly by.

And when Jamie—driven by a rage he cannot place—smashes a plate against the counter, it is hard to not to want a piece of that nameless fury. To not take some of it for herself and direct it at their fate, the unluckiest of the unlucky, when there is nothing left.

And it is hard, of course, not to feel hateful when he stumbles over her name.

But then, of course—she loves him.

(Oh, how she loves him.)

While Claire sleeps, Jamie goes to his desk and falls into his chair, eager. This chair, a ratty and thrifted thing, has outlived all the other ratty and thrifted things they had purchased after the big house fire. Its cushioned back, as textured and as worn as his own, never hurts his scars when he leans into it, gazing out the window to the Blue Ridge mountains.

He is here to write and to remember.

But the sentences, which had roused him with such insistence, do not come now that he is waiting, ready for them. They have withdrawn in the advent of his intention, sunken in the murky bog of his disease.

Slow, so very slow, to resurface.

While Jamie sleeps, Claire goes to the balcony. A notebook in her lap, a pen that fills the pages. She works her hand into an aching cramp, and it throbs, throughout it all, like a heartbeat.

This has become her usual routine: Jamie wakes, goes to his desk, returns frustrated, then sleeps. Claire listens for his slowed and measured breaths, then rises. That notebook, that pen. That heart, needing more room than her chest can ever give it, forcing itself into her wrist, into her hand.

Not everything on these pages is hers to claim—eggs fried on steaming asphalt, a baby fist pressed to a horse’s mane—but she claims them anyways. An imposition, she knows, Jamie would not mind. And so she takes his stubborn sentences, feeling the pull of her responsibility, and gives them life. Knowing, without having to ask, what needs to be said.

Claire dreads coming home tonight. This night, which is no different from all the others, save for the extra weight she’s given it. Her footfalls, made heavier. The wind, more oppressive. Her awful certainty, like a stone in a pocket underwater.

This night, their anniversary.

It is not the date itself, or Jamie, that she dreads returning to. Even the absence of him, that slow but increasing degeneration, is not what keeps her inside the car, so reluctant to climb the hill.

Rather: it is the absence of herself, in him. Her disappearance somehow made complete in the hours she’s been away, at work.

What if, she thinks, Jamie has forgotten? What if she walks into the house and he looks up from his chair, bewildered? As if to say, “Who are you?” As if to say, “Do you belong here?” As if she had not been the one to discover that chair among the third-hand junk—that very chair from which he is looking up, so bewildered?

These thoughts are always on her mind, but they are more pressing now. The 27 years of their second marriage demand remembrance, enraged at the possibility of her nonexistence. More so than ever, she could not bear his forgetting—no, not on this night. Their anniversary.

As Claire walks towards the house, she sees her. Before the porch—a girl, face shadowed by twilight and raised to the sky. By the looks of her dress and unscuffed Mary Janes, she has come here with a purpose, but that purpose has been abandoned for the fireflies around her head. Her small hands reach out to cup the air, willing the constellating lights into the valley of her palms. Two golden flickers descend, then are sheltered. She moves closer, peeking at the light between the black crack of her thumbs, which she widens and narrows, widens and narrows. Awe, and a command: Stay, stay.

“Mandy,” Claire finally calls out, and her granddaughter looks up. That original purpose slides across her face, though her hands—curved in a prayer-like steeple—still hold the light. (She is five years old and beautiful.)

“Grama!”

“What have you got there, baby?”

Mandy whispers, “Firebugs.”

Her eyes are those of a mother looking at her child. Like Claire’s own, right now, as she looks at her granddaughter. All this wonder in the evidence of something good.

“You’re not s’posed to go inside,” Mandy says eventually, not lifting her gaze. “I’m s’posed to tell you that. Grampa isn’t ready just yet, but Mom will say when it’s okay.”

“That right? And what exactly is he doing in there?”

Mandy giggles, “Secret.” And quiet again, she says, “Do you wanna hold them?”

“I’d love to hold them.”

“You have to be very, very gentle.”

“I will.”

“You can’t squash them.”

“I won’t.”

“You can’t let them go until I say so.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Okay,” Mandy says. “Okay, okay. Ready?”

“Ready.”

And when the bugs have been safely transferred into her care, Mandy hovering at her waist, Claire feels: Wings like timid kisses against her skin. The cloud of her dread, receding slowly. The promise of—what, exactly? (Hope, she thinks.)

“Is that grandma out there with you, Amanda?” Bree calls from the porch. “You two can come in now!”

Mandy ignores her mother, asking, “Do you think they’re married?” then, “They seem to be very, very married to me.” And because her desire is so plain in her eyes, fixed wholly on these things she has come to love and is so unwilling to lose—stay, stay—Claire keeps her hands closed.

“I think you might be right,” she replies, and they remain there, silent on the path. The bulbs illuminate each other’s faces and the night.

(Hope: Even in the oncoming darkness, there are these lights worth cupping in the palm of one’s hand.)

He is waiting for her in the doorway, smiling.

He has not forgotten.

They move together, swaying and colliding and fumbling. Jamie’s steps are too clumsy, Claire’s overcorrections too extreme—their own bodily melody, so out of sync with the music. They laugh more than they dance, holding each other up as they shuffle around the room.

“Yer terrible at this, Sassenach.”

“You’re the one with two left feet.”

“Two left feet, my arse! Ye canna take a step without missing my toes.”

“Such wonderful toes. How’s a woman to resist?”

Having fulfilled their duties as supervisor and watchman, Bree and Mandy have returned home to Roger. In their wake is an assortment of dirtied dishes (the meals prepared by Jamie), low-burning candles (purchased and lit by Bree), and scattered confetti on the floor (courtesy of Mandy’s decorative genius). James Taylor sings quietly from speakers which, like the rest of the living room furniture, have been pushed into the corner to avoid unwanted damages. On the mantle, a new blue vase sits flanked by a 25th anniversary card—though the five has been crossed out and replaced by an effusive, bright red seven. Apparently, Jamie had told Claire, “the fools at Hallmark dinna celebrate 27th anniversaries.” That’s why, Claire had told Jamie, she “used her artistic gifts to make something homemade.” (Her masterpiece: Two stick figures holding one heart.)

There’s something in the way she moves

Or looks my way, or calls my name

“Did you know,” Jamie says now, still swaying, “that this is the song I listened to after our first night? I put on ‘James Taylor’ after you left, and I couldna stop thinking about you in that hideous sweater wi’ the—penguins, was it? And the wee sparklies?”

“Is that what you’re thinking of right now? Me wearing an ugly jumper in 1989?”

“Aye, but can ye blame me? It’s a hard thing for a man to forget. Verra impressionable. Perhaps offensive.”

“As I recall yours had a Father Christmas with some vomit—”

“It was beer. And maybe a bit of fondue cheese.”

“As I was saying: vomit in his cloth beard. I’ve had nightmares ever since, and they’re all on your conscience.”

“Well, that was my intention, Sassenach. I wanted you thinking of me while you were in bed.”

Claire laughs, kissing the bottom of his chin before he rests it atop her skull.

“I stand by that jumper,” she grumbles into his shoulder. “A bloody good find.”

And I feel fine anytime she’s around me now

She’s around me now

Almost all the time

They continue dancing until she asks, “So what else are you thinking about?” and Jamie sighs.

“A few things,” he says. “One, that I’d like to see ye in that jumper again. Two, that I’d also like to see you in nothing at all.”

“Sadly, the jumper met its tragic end in the big house fire. May it rest peace.”

“Aye. Gone too soon.”

“But the second thing—well. I think that could be arranged.”

Jamie smirks, tucking an errant curl behind her ear.

“Mostly though, Sassenach, I’m thinking that I’m thankful.”

“Oh?”

“For you. For the fact that there are things I dinna remember, and others that will be lost, too…But that one, the moment I first saw you—I dinna think that will ever go away.”

Every now and then the things I lean on lose their meaning

And I find myself careening

In places where I should not let me go

Jamie begins to sing along, off-pitch but endearing all the same. Claire hums with him, pressed close.

She has the power to go where no else can find me

Halfway through the third refrain, the lyrics—once confident—tumble out of his mouth, muddled. He has forgotten some of the initial sound of her: Claire, drinking coffee on that morning-after. Three Sweet n’ Lows ripped open in one swift tear. I only use two and a half—do you want the rest? And then Claire, beside him, a week later. The winter-bleached Royal Mile and the squelch of her boots as they passed through Carfax Close. Stay with me tonight?

In the silence, Claire feels something come apart inside her, and so she holds Jamie tighter, finishing the lyrics that he cannot.

If I’m well you can tell she’s been with me now

She’s been with me now quite a long, long time

Yes and I feel fine

(Before he takes her to bed, she will ask him: “What if we went back?”)

He finds the notebook five days before they leave for Scotland. One sentence, and already he understands. Claire has placed him here without his knowing, while he sleeps. Joy, anger, sorrow, relief—all of him and all of her, mingling in the space between two lines.

Over 50 pages filled by now, but there are things he feels he ought to add, like: A hand clasping a bare throat, snow all around, and—singing. An invitation directed at his lips, Do you want to come in?, and gold pooled on the floor. Ghosts, too, watching from a church balcony; the acknowledging tilt of his wife’s chin.

With these thoughts in his mind, Jamie takes up his pen, inserts his own truths and imaginings in the spaces Claire has left behind. He tucks each one inside a pair of parentheses, like secrets shared between two people.

(Like gifts wrapped up in so much history.)

#our story au #;mod liv #uno mas!!! uno mas!!!!!#sorry jem but you don't exist in this universe #and for those wondering no i have no idea what my timeline is and the alzheimer's stats are from 2016 #but shh

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detectivejigsawpines · 5 years ago

Text

ORN-Finale (Mend the bond torn by pride)

Repent, sinners! The end is upon us!

It had been tempting to just come up with a creative lie; but somehow, as they gathered themselves into the truck, they found themselves telling Dan (whose driving had minimally improved when his body was no longer being controlled by a dream demon) more or less what happened. Surprisingly, he didn’t respond by thinking they were crazy and driving towards the nearest mental hospital. Instead, he frowned thoughtfully and muttered, “I thought that dream ended a little funny,” and pushed his foot further down on the gas pedal. A few minutes later, he added, “Matilda is never gonna believe this.”

Stan assumed that Matilda was the name of the girlfriend Bill had mentioned. Ford must have thought so too, because he leaned forward, wincing when the action jostled his shoulder. “Actually, Dan, it would most likely be beneficial for all of us if you refrained from telling her-or anyone else-about this at all.”

Dan’s meaty fingers tightened on the wheel. “But you said this demon guy possessed me when I was sleeping by persuading me ta make a deal with him or whatever. Wouldn’t it be better ta tell everyone else so they know not ta do that?”

Ford blinked like a startled owl. Stan suspected that he hadn’t realized the lumberjack was capable of drawing logical conclusions like that. “I-well-he did say that he was going to leave for other dimensions. And we’re planning to destroy the painting detailing how to summon him as soon as our injuries have been seen to, so I doubt he’s going to return here. Besides, as you stated, the likelihood of anyone believing our story without the firsthand experience you’ve had is…” he struggled for a better word, before ending lamely (probably too tired and weak from blood loss to come up with anything better), “...unlikely.”

After a bit Dan shrugged. “Whatever ya say, Pines.”

****

Fortunately for all of them, none of their injuries required overnight treatment-just more than a few stitches, some bandages, and some rabies shots, since Stan fabricated an elaborate story about their being attacked by coyotes (which they were forced to fend off with knives, and in the ensuing scuffle Ford had accidentally been stabbed), and the hospital staff were dumb enough to believe it. After they were cleaned up, Dan produced some spare flannel shirts, suspenders and jeans from his truck (since the contents of their packs had been more or less ripped to shreds by the Kill Billies; only a few things, like Ford’s journal and the truth teeth, had been salvaged), and browbeat both of them into accepting them until they could get different clothes. They were exceptionally large, making them look like some weird clown act from a traveling lumberjack circus, but they were warm and definitely more comfortable than some of the things Stan had been forced to wear in the past, so he wasn’t complaining.

Also fortunately, Ford still had his wallet on him (because of course the dork had brought his wallet on a camping trip), allowing him to pay their hospital bill instead of sneaking out while the nurse’s back was turned like Stan had been prepared to.

With that out of the way, Dan drove them back to Ford’s house to retrieve the acid from the fridge.

“...Do you mind dropping us off at the trail?” Ford asked as they returned to the truck, bearing a few more supplies he thought would be useful (Stan was still trying to get used to the idea of having spare supplies lying around if you lost the things you had), including flashlights this time. “We can probably make our own way back in the morning, but-”

“No.”

That drew the brothers up short. As did the way Dan was suddenly glaring at them out the window.

“...I suppose we have taken up a lot of your time,” Ford said at last, sounding a little hurt. “I’m sorry, I should have realized. It’s all right, we can find our own way-”

“If you think I’m gonna let ya travel back up there, where a pack o’ bloodthirsty hill folk is still roaming around, and get rid of the monster that got inta my dreams and used me as a puppet, all by yourselves, you are totally outta your minds. I’m comin’ with you.” Dan shoved the back door of the truck open using only one finger. “Now get in.”

“Dan-”

“It’s not optional, Pines.”

Stan and Ford looked at each other. Then, with a shrug, Stan approached the door and climbed in.

“Looks like we got no choice.”

Dan grinned through his beard.

“Nope.”

To Stan’s relief, Ford looked less disgruntled about having to work with someone else than he might have expected; he just climbed into the back with Stan.

****

Corduroy’s truck was surprisingly good at off-road terrain, taking them nearly all the way back to the cave before they had to get out and walk the rest of the way. In case the Kill Billies attacked again, Dan produced three hatchets from his seemingly-bottomless truck bed, giving one to each of them. Stan thought, with a small relieved shiver, that it was a good thing Bill hadn’t found those when he was threatening them; otherwise they would have had more to worry about than Ford getting a stitched-up shoulder.

They made it to the cave safely, however, and under Ford’s instruction they began dissolving the painting and inscription.

“In your FACE!” Dan roared, punching the picture of Bill before it could disappear; his fist combined with the acid created a substantial hole in the cave wall.

Stan and Ford both laughed gleefully, and chanted, “Death to the triangle! Death to the triangle!” with fists pumped like they were back in high school, until the last traces were gone.

By the time Dan drove them home the sun was starting to peek over the horizon.

“You need ta come in and catch some sleep?” Stan asked as they left the truck. Then he remembered, guiltily, that this was not his house and he had no right to be inviting guests over.

“Nah, I can make it home okay,” Dan promised. “I’m a real MAN; I could stay awake for five days straight if I had to!”

“You’re starting to sound like this knucklehead-he tried that once when we were fifteen. He ended up crashing on the third morning and getting an earful from our ma on taking care of himself.”

Ford elbowed him in the gut-and immediately winced as the action jostled his stitches.

Dan guffawed, which turned into a wide yawn. “See ya later, dorks.”

Soon enough his taillights were winking out of sight as he rounded a bend.

For a moment the boys just stood there, swaying dazedly in place. At last, Stan flopped gracelessly onto the couch on the porch, creating his own yawn.

“You aren’t seriously planning on sleeping there, are you?” Ford asked, giving him a disapproving look.

“Watch me.” Stan stretched his legs out in front of him, burrowing a little into the folds of his giant shirt and turning up the collar. His eyelids were already starting to get heavy.

Then, to his surprise, Ford collapsed onto the couch next to him.

“Move over.”

Stan gave him a nonplussed look...but scooted enough for him to be comfortable. A few seconds later Ford’s head had dropped onto his shoulder, and his farthest hand had stretched over, burying itself in the folds of Stan’s sleeve.

The casual act of affection made something swell in Stan’s throat; all he did in return, though, was allow his head to droop onto Ford’s.

Seconds later he was out like a light.

****

When they finally woke up, it was well into the late afternoon, and they both had some interesting sunburns on their faces and part of their necks from where the sun had hit them during its passage. However, they both felt more than a little refreshed, and when they went inside Ford got started putting together a salve for their burns.

While he did that, Stan opened some of the canned supplies in the cupboard-specifically some corn, green beans and chili-and then on an impulse threw together more pancakes (which ended up with bits of hair in them again-he wondered if that was going to be a recurring thing). After they finished eating, Ford washed the dishes. It was all quite comfortable-you could almost call it domestic. And Stan wasn’t prepared for it to last much longer.

Sure enough, Ford cleared his throat once the dishes were set out to dry and he’d sat back down with the salve, as they were putting it on each other. “Stanley, there’s some things we should figure out.”

Even though he hadn’t finished his sentence yet, had barely even started it, Stan’s heart lurched in his chest. He really, really wasn’t ready to have a serious discussion with his brother, not after they’d already cleared a lot of the air between them and finally returned to some semblance of peace.

“I get it,” he said quickly.

Ford blinked. “Get what?”

“I-It’s okay, I wasn’t expecting-I won’t stay for too long, I promise. But if you’d at least let me hang around till your shoulder’s better, that’d probably be better for you-”

“STANLEY!”

Ford had grabbed him by the shoulders and was shaking him again, like when he’d said he deserved to be punished for what he’d screwed up for him.

Stan was very confused.

“I’m not trying to ask you to leave, you knucklehead! How could you think that, after you literally just saved my life?!”

“...But you said-back there, you said you’d wanted ta have your own life and identity an’ stuff-”

“Oh for g_d’s sake, Stan, that was back then! I didn’t mean for the rest of our lives!” He let go of Stan’s shoulders and opted to dig his hands into his hair instead. Stan hoped he wasn’t about to start tearing it out. “I-I’ve missed you, all right? I’ve missed having you around, I’ve missed having my best friend in my life, so unless you have a really compelling reason to leave, then will you please stay?!”

“But Dad-”

“Dad can suck a lemon for all I care. I don’t wanna lose you again.”

Stan’s breath hitched, and he was disappointed that he hadn’t been drinking something, because a sentence like that was definitely spit-worthy.

Ford started babbling something about maybe him looking for jobs around town, or going back to school to get his diploma if he wanted, but he wasn’t quite listening. His hand strayed into his pocket-where it closed around something.

Confused, Stan pulled it out-and his eyes widened.

It was a card.

A two of hearts, to be specific. One that was completely whole, except for a faint row of stitches that you could see down the middle if you looked closely.

How the heck-

Among other things that were weird about this, he was pretty sure he’d left the pieces of the card in the pocket of his other jeans when he put them in the washing machine; he’d never put them in the ones he’d borrowed from Dan. And even if he had, how would this have even happened?

On the other hand...this was a town that thrived on weirdness and defying expectations.

And he was so, so tired of being alone and unhappy.

Stan looked up at his brother.

“Okay. I’ll stick around if you want. But only cuz you’re beggin’ me. And if you’re left alone you might get in trouble with some other weirdo from another dimension or something.”

Ford let out a relieved-sounding sigh, and rubbed his knuckles against his head affectionately.

“You’re such a martyr to your own generosity, Stanley.”

“Yeah, I know.”

****

Somewhere far away, an old woman gave a satisfied smile.

For now, at least, all was well.

********

...Soooo, how’d I do?

Anyone interested in reading the rest of this AU? Because it is on AO3, but I could post it here if you begged me.

#flipside AU #Gravity Falls #stan pines #ford pines #dan corduroy #finale #reconciliation #knuckleheads reconnecting

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invisibletinkerer · 7 years ago

Text

Ficlet: Hang on and survive

A missing scene between Gideon and Ford in Bill’s Fearamid.

Length: ~2000 words.

AO3 link.

---

Gideon danced.

His feet ached, his heart beat like a sledgehammer and his arms felt like lead, but no matter how he tried, he couldn’t stop. Bill wasn’t even in the throne room any longer, but Gideon’s body had a mind of its own, obeying the demon’s commands. It was slowly starting to dawn on him that Bill might have been literal about telling him to dance for all eternity.

He’d scream, but for once the last thing he wanted was attention. The dance was embarrassing enough without the walking nightmares actively laughing at him. It was like a curse out of a fairy tale, painful and humiliating and completely and utterly unheroic. Why did he have to listen to Dipper Pines today of all days? As if standing up to a chaos god would make any difference at all, or would allow him to go down like some kind of hero worthy of love and adoration. It certainly didn’t. This was nothing but ridiculous pathetic forced cuteness with no end in sight. He’d rather die than have Mabel see him like this. In fact, he’d rather die than dance like this forever even if Mabel didn’t see him, but he didn’t seem to have any choice in the matter.

He flinched – without missing a beat in the dance – when the giant golden triangle reentered the room from a side passage, though Bill didn’t even glance in the direction of Gideon’s cage. The demon was holding the end of a glowing blue chain in one hand, the other hand waving for his henchmaniacs. The throne made from petrified humans hid whatever was on the other end of the chain from Gideon’s view, but the way Bill held it made it seem like a leash.

“Hey guys!” Bill said, his unearthly voice as chipper as ever. “My old friend here has the key to unlock the full armageddon on the universe, but he’s reluctant to give it to me. What do you say we all get creative on him?”

As he was talking, he pulled the prisoner into view. It was a greying man in a beige trenchcoat, shackled by the neck and wrists by the glowing chain. As Bill pulled on the chain again the man stumbled, his left leg folding under him, and he was unceremoniously dragged along the floor for the last few feet. Gideon couldn’t see his face, but he thought he could hear his labored breathing even over his own.

Bill turned around and looked down on his victim. “Think about it, IQ,” he said. “It’s not too late to change your mind.” He only waited a couple of seconds for a reply, and when none came he dissolved the chain and threw the man up on the seat of the throne. Gideon could clearly hear the strangled cry of pain as he landed on the uneven stone. A moment later the chain reappeared, this time only cuffing his left ankle, like an afterthought to keep him from escaping.

The man groaned and curled up on himself, but Bill paid him no more heed as he left to talk to his demon henchmen some distance away. Gideon went completely ignored, but even so, he was still dancing. He wished there was something he could say to the other prisoner, but he couldn’t think of a single thing. He remained quiet and watched.

The man below took a deep breath and struggled to get up to a sitting position, like he was trying to salvage some small part of his dignity. He ended up resting his forehead against his knees. It was obvious from the way he moved that he’d been badly manhandled already, and it made Gideon uneasy. This person must have annoyed Bill even worse than Gideon himself had managed to do. He wasn’t sure if it was sympathy or comiseration or what it was, but Gideon somehow felt bad for him.

Eventually the man raised his eyes towards the sound of Gideon’s tapping feet, revealing a dirty red turtleneck sweater, cracked glasses, and a bruised but very familiar face.

Gideon gasped. He didn’t know why he’d expected it to be a stranger – perhaps because he didn’t recognize the trenchcoat – but seeing this particular face right now was a chock.

“Stanford Pines!?”

Stanford blinked as if trying to get Gideon into focus. “Yes, that’s me.” Something in the cadence of his voice seemed wrong, but perhaps that was just the result of the way he’d been treated.

“What does Bill even want with you, old man!?” How deep down the rabbit hole did Stanford Pines’ secrets go? Gideon hated Stanford Pines, but right now he could barely remember why. When you’re prisoners of an insane chaos god bound to torment you both for the rest of eternity, everything else suddenly seemed petty. He was the closest to a friend Gideon might ever see again.

Stanford winced, then sighed. “Weirdmageddon has been deterred by a natural weirdness barrier around the Gravity Falls valley,” he explained. “I know how to disable the barrier, but I won’t let Bill cause the end of our universe if I can help it.” He grimaced and added with more than a hint of bitterness, “He likes me for my brain.”

“Dang.” Now that sounded positively heroic, even if it filled Gideon with dread. Bill could do anything. Anything at all. Stanford was just an old man, he wouldn’t stand a chance. If Gideon’s body hadn’t been hijacked by a dancing curse he might have tried to think of something wittier to say, but right now he was too exhausted to be anything but completely honest, and if Stanford’s uncharacteristically straightforward answer was any indication, he felt the same way. “I always suspected you were more clever than you looked, with the way you outsmarted me last time and all, but I never wanted—”

Stanford’s face shot back up towards Gideon. “Wait, what?”

The old man’s confused tone made Gideon shut up. “Wait what, what?” he replied, flummoxed.

Stanford squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them again. “Alright, I see what’s going on here. You must be mistaking me for my brother. That only makes sense.” He held up his right hand, making Gideon aware that something was off with it – and not just the fact that several of his fingers were discolored purplish red and bent in unnatural directions. It looked hideously painful. “The most obvious difference between us is the number of fingers.”

Gideon’s eyes widened. He’d only seen a six-fingered hand once before. “But... Does that mean... You’re the author of the journals? Are you?”

The man who might or might not be Stanford Pines smiled weakly. “You’ve read my work, too?”

“I certainly did! I read it backwards and forwards and used it for all sorts of things. Honestly I don’t think much good ever came of it even if I loved it at the time.” He stopped to breathe, then continued because he needed to say this, and if this man really wrote the journals he might even be able to understand. “I summoned Bill, too, twice, if you’ll believe it. I think… I think this whole apocalypse business might actually be my fault.” There. He’d put words to it. It was the nagging guilt that had been the final drop making him turn against Bill, and see where that had gotten him.

The man sighed again. “I’m afraid that honor belongs to me and no one else. And it seems my only other legacy in Gravity Falls has been the corruption of children. I’m sorry – I should never have allowed those journals to be found.”

Fair enough, probably. It still didn’t seem quite right. “He just seemed so reasonable. In the beginning. It all seemed to make sense at the time! I guess he tricked me.”

“You and me both, child.”

They were silent for several heartbeats, the only sound being Gideon’s shuffling dance moves and panting breath and a few raspy coughs from the man below. “Where did you come from, anyway?” Gideon asked. “I never knew Stanford Pines had a twin brother.”

Stanford’s twin scoffed. “I’m Stanford Pines.”

“If you’re Stanford, then who’s the old man with the fez?”

“He’s my twin brother, Stanley. He took my name and identity when I fell into an interdimensional portal thirty years ago.”

“Oh.” Gideon grimaced. He didn’t know what else to say. It occurred to him that Stanford – Stanley? – might have been a conman out of his league after all.

“Exactly.” Stanford raised his broken hand again in Gideon’s general direction. “Greetings, my name is Stanford Pines. Please call me Ford. I’d shake your hand, but I don’t think either of us can reach that far right now. What’s your name?”

“I’m Gideon. Gideon Gleeful.”

“Nice to meet you, Gideon.”

It didn’t even matter who he was, did it? This “Ford” might have six fingers and a might have written the journals and might be a complete stranger, but he was still the closest Gideon had to a friend right now. “It’s not nice!” he blurted. “Bill is dang near omnipotent and we both know he’s going to hurt you for that information and look at me, he put a freaking curse on me to dance cute dances for all of eternity!”

“Yes, I noticed. I wasn’t going to mention it.”

Gideon wasn’t sure if that was polite or insufferable. “Everything is horrible! How can you be so calm?”

Ford lowered his eyes. His shoulders sank visibly, but it was several moments before he said anything. “I’m not,” he finally admitted. “I’ve been through some bad things before, but... Bill means business this time.” He flexed his broken hand slightly, shuddering. “I can take it, though. I have to.”

“You could just give him what he wants,” Gideon found himself saying. “We’re all done for anyway! He could torture you for all eternity, and maybe it’s better to just let everything end. You know?”

Ford’s shoulders shook, but Gideon couldn’t tell if he was laughing or crying. Possibly both. “No,” he managed. “Don’t you think I’ve considered that? But it’s never better to give up.” He took a deep breath and looked up at Gideon again. “Sometimes all you can do is to hang on and survive and bide your time until a chance opens up. I’m not about to let the world end unless I’m absolutely certain all hope is lost.”

“But what hope could there possibly—?”

Ford glanced over to the other end of the room. Gideon followed his gaze and noticed that the demons seemed to be wrapping up their conversation. Bill was turning his eye back towards the throne. They were running out of time.

“I’m sorry you’ll have to see this,” Ford said. His voice was shaking slightly.

Bill was already towering over them. Gideon swallowed. His arms were still waving around, but he could barely feel them anymore.

“Hey Fordsy,” Bill said. “I’m giving you one last chance to let me in your mind with no harm no foul. What do you say? Give me a tour for old times’ sake?”

“No! Never.”

“Stubborn as always, Sixer. Let’s see how long you’ll keep that up. We have forever here – time is dead and meaning has no meaning, remember?”

With that, more glowing chains appeared and attached themselves to Ford’s ankles, wrists and neck, lifting him spread-eagled into the air. For a moment he glared defiantly at Bill, who glared back with as close to a smirk as a triangle with a single eye and no other facial features could manage. Then the demons got to work.

Gideon would have looked away if he could. If his limbs had been his own, he would have curled up in the far end of the cage, covering his ears and squeezing his eyes shut, and he knew the screams still would have pierced his heart and mind.

They tore Ford’s body to shreds. They put it back together only to do it again in a different way. Bones broken, limbs pulled out of joints, blood and guts spilling from open wounds. Fire and electrical currents on unprotected skin. Time and again Bill would take a break and ask in a reasonable tone if Ford wanted it to end.

He refused every time.

Gideon danced.

#gravity falls #fanfic #gideon gleeful #stanford pines #missing scene #cw torture #it writes

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murder-cate-wrote · 8 years ago

Text

Something I wrote for a friend. RusPrus, part of a larger, unspecified domestic au that I haven’t quite figured out myself.

Enjoy.

Ivan rushed through the door. He tossed his bags haphazardly into their allotted corner, just past the entrance way. He heard the awkward rattle of an unsteady object nearly toppling over; it was the coat rack, which Ivan had flung his book-laden canvas and hand stitched satchel at. Ivan froze at the sound, staring in sheer horror as the treacherously tall and clumsy coat rack almost fell like an oak felled by a storm.

However, the rack did not fall, and settled back into place with one last rattle.

As soon as Ivan knew that the rack was out of danger, he released his breath and slumped over. He half wished his body would just let his legs go limp beneath him, the fall knocking him out cold. If he could've fallen exactly as the coat rack almost had, Ivan might be happy. But some primal message in the back of his brain stopped his legs from breaking down, and some other lurking voice laughed at him for this flaw.

Of course the first thing that Ivan did upon returning home would be almost making a big, ugly mess. Naturally.

There was nothing quiet about Ivan. Not the way that his feet dragged or stomped on the laminate wood floor, nor the way that he muttered under his breath and cursed many, many undeserving things on soft bits of air. Especially not the way that he finally got fed up with it all; trying to organize his thoughts and sort out what goes where.

What book did he need to look over, what questions that went along with the section? He didn't care. What project needed his attention, what piece was next in line? He didn't care. What about himself, what to eat, drink? Maybe a shower? Pajamas even?

Ivan didn't care.

He trundled into his small, though very well kept, bedroom. The door slammed behind him, and Ivan winced as he heard the walls tremble. He casually flopped down on the bed, dragging himself towards the middle, where a slight indent in the shape of his body indicated his favorite spot to rest. The bed groaned uncomfortably under his weight. The blankets had been well made before Ivan laid down and mussed them, and were rather stunned that someone was already in bed at this hour. It wasn't even quite dinner time; the sun still above the horizon, and yet someone occupied the bed. Either way, the thick, floral blankets had little say in the goings on of life. They silently accepted the staunch, unmoving occupation.

Ivan himself was surprised as well. This morning, he had left the room in utter disarray. Now, it was spotless. Of course it was, Gilbert couldn't stand a mess. And with a free day to do as he pleased, it seemed as if nothing pleased Gilbert more than simple chores and menial tasks that most people considered torturous.

Ivan had woken up early that morning, nerves shredded to bits at the thought of the day ahead. He had spent quite some time picking out what to wear, making a fiasco out of something so trivial. That little shirt and pants parade of his left various articles of clothing strewn about the room, Ivan much too nervous to worry about putting them away. It was as if he forgot about them until he was already gone from the house, unable to go back and put them away like he should have in the first place. It wasn't just that... Ivan remembered knocking a few things off of a shelf in his panic, some little picture frame or odd trophy, neither of which belonged to him. And, no, he hadn't bothered to pick either of those up, seeing as he was much too worried about himself to bother.

The memory summoned a rather hollow, dark feeling in his chest.

Ivan had made another mess the moment he had entered his apartment that evening. A clutter which Gilbert would come home to from whatever little escapade he was out on and gladly remedy. He would never mention it to Ivan, and probably wouldn't ever think about it again himself. Perhaps it was this quiet, peaceful acceptance that drew up a deep blame in Ivan. It was like the fault lines between the tectonic plates, slowly ripping Ivan apart.

He fell asleep, draped limp across the whole bed, flat on his stomach. It was a position comparable to one that an investigator might find the victim of a murder in.

Gilbert frowned, the edge of a snarl curled on the edge of his frustrated huff. He switched his truck into park, and slammed his hand on the steering wheel as if to prove to himself just how irritated he was. He snatched a box of pizza from the passenger's seat, then practically kicked open his door. He didn't really care for the truck that much- it was just an old red ford, with its fair share of dents and scratches- this physical abuse didn't even begin to make him feel guilty. He'd be getting rid of it soon anyhow. Maybe his brother would like it for his apprenticing shop, use it to teach the kids a few things.

Jumping down from the cabin of his truck, Gilbert slammed the door closed, relishing the clatter of metal slapping metal. It was chaotic and mindless and beautiful.

Unlike his mother, who had just spent the better half of an hour subjecting him to her own special mix of mental torture- a creative blend of his current shortcomings mixed with those of his past, all being communicated over the phone.

Yes, Gilbert had muttered. He remembered how he always forgot to do the dishes or take out the trash and yes, he was on top of that now, no need to fuss... and what was that? His grades? Hell, how had she even gotten ahold of those? Oh, yeah, Gilbert himself had sent her a short documentation via email, as his mother had requested when he first began attending college. A monthly report so that she could keep an eye on her little boy, and make sure that he was okay.

Like hell she did. She didn't give a damn, she didn't care! She was a control freak that exploited every single one of his flaws and never acknowledged any of his successes beyond a light pat on the back. She bitched and bitched and never thought one that perhaps some of Gilbert's issues were not with him, but with his mental affliction. Then again, Gilbert's mother didn't believe that ADHD existed anyhow, so why bother hoping that she might see it one day and get off his back?

Gilbert sneered, but quickly lost the glare in his eye as he caught sight of a moth fluttering around the dully glowing scone outside his apartment door. That was on the second floor, and Gilbert hadn't even reached the stairs yet. So that was one big fucking moth.

"Damn," Gilbert muttered, utterly amazed by the size of the moth. "Mothman's cousin must be trying to move in or something."

A mew to his right caught Gilbert's attention next, and he quickly looked down to face this new creature.

"Ah!" He cried in delight. "Mothman!"

Mothman, the amber eyed black cat, blinked lazily and meowed again. He was not looking at Gilbert, but at the pizza box he carried. Gilbert snorted. "Oh, don't even try and use me, cute face. It might work on softie, but not me. Besides," Gilbert squatted down, careful to hold the pizza out of Mothman's reach. "This is the good stuff, ya know? Not to brag, but it ain't Little Ceasar's. Cost me more than a couple pennies outta my own pocket, catch my drift?"

Mothman wound around Gilbert's legs, and all at once the tension melted off of his skin. His mother could go softly fuck herself for as much as he cared. Mothman was absolutely right, Gilbert thought as he stroked the cat with his free hand. There was no reason she should get up under his skin like that. Certainly no reason that she should make him so mad that he hurt someone else, aside from the truck that was used to the odd beating.

"Ah, fine." Gilbert laughed, giving Mothman one last, good cheek scratch. "I'll see if I can sneak out some for ya. For now, I gotta get up to the room. Ciao!" The last word, a farewell in an unfamiliar language, was spat out as cooly and stupidly as Gilbert could manage. He laughed at his own tomfoolery, while Mothman seemed to roll his stunning eyes.

Up the stairs Gilbert dashed, with his keys rattling in his pocket and the pizza expertly balanced on his hand. It was not long before he had reached his respective door, although he was rather disappointed to find that the moth he had spotted was long gone. Twisting the key in the lock, Gilbert shoved the door open with a quick yell. "Dinner is here!"

Upon receiving no reply, and observing the assorted books, folders, and sketchpads scattered on the table, a small, sad frown took over Gilbert's face.

"Bad day, huh?" He asked no one in particular.

He quickly found the bags that went with the various school supplies, and put them away as best as he could. The pizza had been set on a free spot on the table, which was clear after Gilbert had finished his small task. It was long forgotten by then, as was any hunger that nagged at Gilbert. His mother, surely, would've lectured him about eating consistent meals. But her son didn't hear her voice echoing in his head that evening.

There was nothing loud about the way that Gilbert moved. Not the way that his feet silently padded across the rug, nor the way that small concerns fluttered in and out of his thoughts. Especially not the way that he entered the shadowy bedroom, kneeling down beside it and resting his chin on the edge of the mattress.

Evening had long since claimed the sky, along with soft, unimposing clouds. The light from the half shuttered window was grey and calm. Gilbert could've fallen asleep then and there. He had, several times before in similar situations. But Ivan wasn't sleeping this time. Gilbert could tell by how the other man curled into himself, and by the anxiety that poured off his skin like a river of blood from an unseen wound.

Now, all Gilbert had left to do was be patient. Ordinarily, for Gilbert, this was like asking him to hike Mount Everest in a single day.

But for Ivan? God, he'd sit still for a week. He'd meditate and make peace with his mother and any number of ungodly things that Ivan would never ask of him. Gilbert grinned, lopsided. Ivan would never ask anything like that, even though he knew that Gilbert would act upon the whim of his word. How kind of him, honestly.

No, Ivan only asked for simple things.

Usually, forgiveness.

"Sorry." Ivan croaked. His voice was strained, absolutely pitiful. Usually, it had such a clear, golden tone, which floated up to a soprano's pitch. Gilbert admired it for its irregular beauty. Now it nearly made him want to cry.

But he didn't let the grey light and soft apology ruin him. He smiled wider, creeping up a bit further onto the bed, half on-half off. With his chin perched upon his hand, Gilbert said, "what for?"

Ivan shallowly shrugged. "The mess. 'm sorry."

"Nah," Gilbert swallowed hard before going on. "That wasn't a big deal. You know that. I tell you every time you supposedly 'make a mess'. It was my day off, and I should be thanking you, rather than you coughing up this... what should we call it this time?"

"Sob story?" Ivan offered.

"Yeah, this sob story... Like I was saying, I should be thanking you. I would've gone insane today with nothing really to do, so you helped me. Honest. You kept me sane, Ivan. As usual. You don't gotta be so glum about it for my sake, okay? You're good, you're good..."

Here, Gilbert paused. His mouth was half open as his tongue tried to come up with more words to fill the empty space of the swiftly darkening room. His eyes caught sight of the dim portraits the clung to the walls of the room. Pictures that he had taken. Mostly from his trip to Europe. The Coliseum in Rome, the Brandenburg Gates in Germany, a random bridge in France, a few sheep in the U.K....

"Hey." Gilbert whispered, a new thought having come to mind. He was proud of it, in fact, seeing as it was one that contained a slim memory which he expected himself to have forgotten. Yet, there it was.

Ivan grunted, permitting him to continue.

"How was that presentation today, eh?" Gilbert raised up, excited to hear. The thought that perhaps this was what caused Ivan's off mood never occurred to him. Not until Ivan groaned and rolled over. By then, it was too late for Gilbert to take his words back and take a more sensitive approach.

"Oh, God." Ivan nearly sounded like he was in tears right then and there. He sat up, and looked far more miserable than before. Gilbert couldn't tell for the dim light, but he hoped that tears hadn't already stained his cheeks. "It was so awful, Gil. So, so bad..."

"Hey, hey...!" Gilbert nearly jumped on the bed, trying to reverse his imperceptive mistake. Now even with Ivan, he searched the other's face once again for the stains left by tears... if Ivan had cried, that meant he had also...

Relief washed over Gilbert, a wave of ease relaxing his muscles. Searching his face, searching his arms, Ivan hadn't gone and done something stupid, he hadn't hurt himself.

"You couldn't have done bad." Gilbert whispered, and took Ivan's hands in his own. Ivan turned his face away and hid behind the shadow of his hair. "You prepared for so long. I know you did well."

"No." Ivan protested. "No, I didn't. I stuttered and I froze up and I forgot half of what I was supposed to say. I forgot my own story, Gil, the story I've been working on for most of the semester."

"Yeah," Gilbert leaned over, trying to find Ivan's face and meet him with another smile. "And I forget my own first name sometimes. Trust me, Ivan, I've been watching you work. You did awesome, I know it."

"You just said you don't know your own first name. How could you know anything about how I did, huh?" Ivan frowned, turning ever so slightly only to see Gilbert's wide grin. He nearly lost the grip he had on his glower.

"I said I forgot my name sometimes, not that I didn't know it." Gilbert corrected, bringing one of Ivan's limp hands up to his lips. He planted a quick kiss on Ivan's palm, which surely tickled the skin. Ivan jerked his hand back in surprise, and even in the low light, Gilbert caught sight of the dull red color on Ivan's cheeks.

"One thing I'll never forget, though, is that you do good work, Ivan. Who gives a damn if you get nervous sometimes? It happens. Your professor wasn't looking for an intensive speech on controversial topics, she was just looking to see the progress you made on your story board over the semester. I know for a fact that she's impressed. You put your soul into that thing, it's seriously impressive. You're really, really good at putting your ideas and images on paper, seriously. You don't even need to speak! Your art has a voice of its own. Just you wait until you go in tomorrow. I bet she'll say something to you about how fantastic it was." Gilbert finished, hesitantly awaiting Ivan's reaction.

He saw no real change in expression, only a small twinkle in Ivan's eyes. "I guess she will," Ivan murmured, and Gilbert felt elation spread through his veins. Had Gilbert really, finally convinced Ivan that he was as amazing as he knew he was?

"She will because you'll slip her a twenty, or make some shady deal. Scoundrel." Ivan added, and Gilbert tilted his head back and belted out in a cackle.

"Me?" Gilbert asked, recovering from his fit. His expression mimicked absolute astonishment. "Why, I'd never!"

Ivan just shook his head. Though a soft smile lit up his lips, Gilbert wasn't quite satisfied with that temporary change. It would be gone much too soon.

He laughed softly once more, then cleared his throat. Now, his voice had a far more serious, almost stern tone, that caught Ivan's attention. "Listen, Ivan, please don't be so tough on yourself. I bet no one even noticed that you stuttered or forgot anything. When I used to play for concerts, I thought every time I messed up that everyone in the audience knew. Well, the thing is, those suckers didn't know jack. And still don't. That's just the game. I know what's going on and what's supposed to happen, and they, the audience, can only assume that what happens is what's supposed to happen. You gotta own that sometimes, you know? You gotta own your errors, even if they haunt you when you sleep. Sometimes, it's better to pretend like you have ugly little children... but you still love them, yeah? Even though they're ugly...."

Ivan stared for a moment, then broke down in his own laughing fit. He allowed himself to fall backwards, landing on his back with a soft 'oof.'

"Where do you come up with this stuff, Gil?" He asked quietly, rubbing a hand across his face.

Gilbert crawled over to meet Ivan's eyes. His own were half lidded, as if he were dreaming. And his smile had curled into more of a devious smirk, as if he knew that he had gotten his way and won the battle. "Well, my mother always told me that my mouth was like a hallway, directly connected to my ass."

Ivan snorted. "Yeah, yeah, I know all about her and what she used to say... what do you think, though?"

Gilbert tapped his chin, feigning a period of silent thought. In reality, he had his answer within a moment. "It's the combination of our unique brilliance, that's what I think."

"Maybe you're just crazy, and I really haven't been keeping you sane at all." Ivan offered, shutting his eyes.

"Maybe." Gilbert creeped a bit closer, sitting right up against Ivan's side. "Maybe I don't care."

With that, Gilbert leaned down and connected their lips in a kiss that felt like the gentlest car crash to ever take human lives. He was perhaps a bit rough and silly, but then Ivan smiled against him and this was too enticing not to treat with some amount of seriousness. Gilbert felt himself pulled by a strong arm flush to Ivan's chest, and brought his own hand up to wind his fingers through Ivan's silken hair. A warmth as sure as death shuddered through his body, but Gilbert didn't give a damn if it meant he was on the road to hell or otherwise. This, all of it, was well worth its weight in gold, and then some.

Ivan was the first to break away. He blinked a few times but didn't say a word. His eyes were as soft as his lips, calm and satiated. In and of itself, this was an expression of gratitude that simple words couldn't express.

Then, he hugged Gilbert tight, offering no hope of escape. Gilbert accepted this with a strained, amused wheeze, his face afire and tongue in awe of the Ivan's subtle taste. Settling down and tucking his head as best as he could beneath Ivan's chin, Gilbert continued to absently work the tangles out of Ivan's hair. Ivan hardly noticed the occasional tug; he was simply entranced by how delicate and sensitive Gilbert's touch was. It was a ritual, and Ivan was the fortunate victim.

"Hey." Gilbert whispered.

Ivan hummed, giving permission for Gilbert to go on.

"I just thought of something else I'll never forget. Never, ever. You ready for it?"

"What's that?"

"I'll never forget how much I love you."

#rusprus #aph prussia #aph russia #domestic au #plot?#whats that #nah this is better #fluff #Adhd mention #self harm mention

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