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fantasblog · 3 months ago

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Chapter 2: into the unknown. (scibill au/shift falls)

The night had grown quiet, but the silence in the aftermath of Stanford's disappearance was heavy with unresolved tension. Stanley, Bill, and Fiddleford stood near the now-cold remains of the portal, each lost in their thoughts.

Stanley’s frustration was palpable. “We need to find out where that portal led. If Stanford is out there, we have to bring him back.”

Bill, though shaken, was quick to shift into problem-solving mode. “We might be able to reconstruct some of the portal’s energy signatures. With Fiddleford’s expertise and my knowledge of dimensional stability, we could figure out where it went.”

Fiddleford nodded, his expression determined. “I’ve got some old blueprints and equipment that might help us analyze the portal’s residual energy. Let’s get to work.”

The trio returned to the lab, where Fiddleford began rummaging through his assortment of tools and gadgets. Bill, meanwhile, started recalibrating some of the lab’s more advanced instruments to detect any lingering traces of the portal’s energy. Stanley paced, his mind racing with thoughts of his brother.

As the hours passed, the lab was filled with the rhythmic sounds of scientific equipment working in unison. The air was charged with a renewed sense of urgency. Finally, Fiddleford emerged from the clutter with a set of readings.

“Alright, I’ve got something,” Fiddleford said, holding up a printout. “These energy patterns suggest the portal wasn’t stable. It might have connected to a dimension with fluctuating conditions.”

Bill examined the data closely. “If the energy readings are correct, we might be looking at a realm with highly variable physical laws. It could be anywhere or anywhen.”

Stanley, his determination unwavering, leaned in. “Then we need to find a way to stabilize our own portal to track down Stanford. What’s our next move?”

Bill’s mind raced through the possibilities. “We’ll need to create a new portal with precise calibrations to match the residual energy signatures we’ve detected. It will be risky, but it’s our best shot.”

Fiddleford was already setting up additional equipment. “I can help with the calibration, but we’ll need to be careful. If the portal’s energy is unstable, we might end up in a place we don’t expect.”

Stanley nodded resolutely. “Let’s do it. We can’t waste any more time.”

Hours of intense work followed, with the trio collaborating closely to build and fine-tune the new portal. The lab became a hive of activity, every tool and piece of equipment being used to its fullest potential.

As dawn approached, the new portal stood completed—a sleek, intricate structure humming with a controlled energy field. Bill took a deep breath, examining their work. “This should take us to the dimension connected to the residual energy. Are you ready?”

Stanley stepped forward, his resolve clear. “I am. Stanford’s out there, and I’m not stopping until I find him.”

Fiddleford gave a reassuring nod. “We’ll be right behind you. Let’s hope this portal gets us where we need to go.”

With that, Stanley stepped through the portal, followed by Bill and Fiddleford. The moment they crossed the threshold, they were enveloped in swirling lights and shifting sensations. The world around them seemed to twist and blur as they traveled through the dimensional rift.

When they finally emerged on the other side, they found themselves in a strange and alien landscape. The sky was a swirling mix of colors, and the ground beneath their feet was composed of an otherworldly material that shifted and shimmered. The air was thick with an unfamiliar energy, and the atmosphere seemed to vibrate with a constant hum.

Stanley, Bill, and Fiddleford scanned their surroundings, searching for any sign of Stanford Pines. The landscape was both mesmerizing and disorienting, with strange formations and glowing entities dotting the horizon.

“We need to stay focused,” Bill said, his voice steady despite the surreal environment. “If the portal’s readings were accurate, there should be some clues here about where Stanford might be.”

Stanley nodded, his eyes scanning the horizon. “Let’s split up and cover more ground. Keep in contact through the communicators we brought.”

The trio set out, each taking a different path in the hope of finding some sign of Stanford. As they ventured deeper into the unknown dimension, the landscape grew even more bizarre and challenging. Strange creatures and shifting terrain tested their resolve.

Meanwhile, Stanford Pines found himself in a tumultuous environment, far from the safety of his brother’s lab. The dimension he had been thrown into was chaotic, with reality constantly shifting and unpredictable dangers lurking around every corner. He knew he had to find a way back, but the odds were stacked against him.

As the search continued, the bond between Stanley, Bill, and Fiddleford grew stronger, their combined skills and determination guiding them through the perilous journey. Little did they know, their quest was just beginning, and the true challenges lay ahead as they ventured deeper into the mysteries of the unknown dimension.

**Thirty Years Later**

Thirty years had passed since the dramatic events that had thrown Stanford Pines into the unknown dimension. In that time, the world had changed, but some things remained constant. The small town of Gravity Falls, Oregon, had become a place of legends and mystery, drawing curious visitors from far and wide.

The Mystery Shack, once a humble tourist trap, had grown into a popular attraction. Its owner, Stanley Pines, had transformed it into a thriving business, capitalizing on the town’s enigmatic reputation. The shack was filled with oddities and curiosities, each piece carefully selected to pique the interest of visitors seeking answers to the town’s many mysteries.

Stanley, now in his sixties, had become a local legend himself, known for his gruff charm and the stories he spun about the strange occurrences in Gravity Falls. His life had taken on a routine that balanced managing the shack with the occasional foray into town life.

One crisp autumn day, Stanley was behind the counter of the Mystery Shack, handling a transaction with a visitor, when the bell above the door jingled. He looked up to see two familiar faces enter the shop: Mabel and Dipper Pines, now in their twenties and looking as eager as ever.

“Welcome back to the Shack!” Stanley greeted with a broad smile. “Mabel, Dipper, it’s been a while. What brings you two back to Gravity Falls?”

Mabel, her vibrant sweater reflecting her cheerful personality, hugged her great-uncle tightly. “Stanley! We missed you! We’re here for a visit and to check out the old place.”

Dipper, now wearing a more mature version of his signature cap and jacket, shook Stanley’s hand. “It’s good to see you, Uncle Stan. We’ve heard some strange reports coming from the town lately and thought we’d come investigate.”

Stanley raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. “Strange reports, you say? Gravity Falls hasn’t lost its touch, that’s for sure. You might be in for an adventure.”

As the trio began to catch up, the conversation was interrupted by a sudden, eerie chill that swept through the Mystery Shack. The lights flickered, and a shadowy figure appeared in the doorway, sending a shiver down everyone’s spine.

“Hello, Stanley,” said the figure, stepping into the light. It was Bill Cipher, but not in his usual chaotic form. Instead, he appeared more refined, dressed in his signature black necktie and scientist’s cloak, but with an unsettlingly familiar aura.

Stanley’s face went pale. “Bill Cipher? What are you doing here?”

Bill’s eyes gleamed with a mixture of amusement and mischief. “Oh, Stanley, it’s been a long time. I see you’ve managed to hold down the fort while I’ve been… away. I heard you’ve been keeping things interesting in Gravity Falls.”

Dipper and Mabel exchanged wary glances. “You know him?” Dipper asked.

Stanley nodded, his expression grim. “We have a complicated history. Bill Cipher was once a powerful entity who caused a lot of trouble. We thought he was gone for good.”

Bill chuckled, his voice echoing with a strange resonance. “Gone? No, just taking a different approach. I’ve been exploring new dimensions, new possibilities. And it seems I’ve stumbled back into your little corner of the universe.”

Mabel stepped forward, her eyes narrowing. “What do you want from us, Bill?”

Bill’s grin widened. “Oh, nothing too drastic. I’m just interested in catching up and perhaps seeing if old friends might still have some use for my… unique talents.”

Stanley’s expression hardened. “We don’t want any more trouble. If you’re here to cause problems, you’d better leave.”

Bill’s eyes flickered with a mix of amusement and challenge. “Trouble? No, no. I’m simply here to reconnect and see how things have changed. Besides, I’ve always enjoyed a bit of chaos now and then.”

As the tension in the room mounted, Dipper and Mabel stood by their great-uncle, ready to face whatever came next. The unexpected appearance of Bill Cipher signaled that the strange and mysterious world of Gravity Falls was far from finished with its secrets.

Stanley took a deep breath, his gaze steady. “Alright, Bill. If you’re here to make trouble, you’ll find we’re not the same people we were thirty years ago. But if you’re here for answers or something else, you’ll have to play by our rules.”

Bill’s grin remained, though there was a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. “Oh, I do enjoy a challenge. Very well, Stanley. Let’s see what this new chapter brings.”

As the shadows lengthened and the evening grew darker, the stage was set for a new adventure. With Bill Cipher’s return, Gravity Falls was once again on the brink of mystery and intrigue, and the Pines family was ready to face whatever came their way.

As the tension with Bill Cipher hung in the air, the Mystery Shack’s door swung open again, this time letting in a familiar figure. Old Man McGucket, now considerably older with a beard and glasses that had seen better days, shuffled in with his usual haphazard gait. His weathered appearance and the assortment of odd gadgets he carried were unmistakable.

“Howdy, folks!” McGucket called out, his voice as cheerful as ever despite his advanced age. “I heard tell of some strange goings-on and figured I’d come lend a hand.”

His jovial demeanor faltered slightly when he noticed the imposing presence of Bill Cipher in the room. McGucket’s eyes widened behind his glasses, and he took a hesitant step back.

“By the stars! Is that… Bill Cipher?” McGucket exclaimed, his voice tinged with a mix of fear and recognition. “I thought he was long gone!”

Stanley’s face tightened as he looked at McGucket. “Yeah, he’s back, and we’re not sure what he wants this time.”

Bill’s eyes lit up with recognition as he took in McGucket’s appearance. “Ah, Fiddleford McGucket. Still in one piece, I see. It’s been quite a while since our paths crossed.”

McGucket’s gaze was wary but resolute. “I don’t want any trouble, Bill. If you’re here to stir up chaos, you’ll have to go through me.”

Bill chuckled, a mix of nostalgia and amusement in his voice. “Oh, I remember you well, Fiddleford. You were always a bit of a wild card yourself. I’m surprised you’re still around, given the upheavals of the past.”

McGucket gripped his walking stick tightly, his expression a mix of determination and apprehension. “We’ve all been through a lot, Bill. But we’ve learned to deal with folks like you. Just keep in mind that Gravity Falls doesn’t take kindly to your kind.”

Stanley nodded in agreement. “We’ve faced many challenges, and we’re ready to face whatever you throw at us. Just don’t make the mistake of underestimating us.”

Bill’s smile was enigmatic as he regarded McGucket. “Very well. I didn’t come here to fight, though. I’m here to see how things have changed, to see what’s become of the world I once knew. I must admit, it’s fascinating to see how you’ve all adapted.”

McGucket’s eyes narrowed as he studied Bill. “You may be here for curiosity, but we’re not letting our guard down. There are plenty of mysteries left in Gravity Falls, and we intend to keep it that way.”

Bill’s expression softened slightly, though his eyes retained their glint of mischief. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

With that, the atmosphere in the Mystery Shack grew slightly less tense, though the presence of Bill Cipher was a constant reminder of the challenges that lay ahead. Stanley, Dipper, Mabel, and McGucket knew that they needed to stay vigilant.

As the evening progressed, they began discussing their next steps. McGucket shared his insights into recent odd occurrences around Gravity Falls, while Bill listened with an air of detached interest. Though his true intentions remained unclear, his return had already set the stage for a new chapter in the town’s enigmatic history.

With McGucket’s arrival, the group’s resolve to uncover the mysteries of Gravity Falls was strengthened. They knew that whatever came next, they would face it together, combining their strengths and knowledge to protect their world from the ever-present shadows of the unknown.

The evening was settling into a comfortable rhythm, with the tension from Bill Cipher’s appearance slowly easing as the group engaged in discussion. The door to the Mystery Shack jingled once more, and in walked two familiar faces: Soos Ramirez and Wendy Corduroy.

Soos, now a burly man with a friendly grin and a collection of colorful tattoos, entered first. “Hey, everyone! I heard there was some crazy stuff happening and thought I’d swing by. How’s it going?”

Wendy followed closely behind, her laid-back demeanor and casual attire as effortlessly cool as ever. “Yo, what’s up, guys? I saw the commotion and figured I’d come check it out. Hope I’m not interrupting.”

Stanley greeted them with a warm smile. “Soos, Wendy! Glad you could make it. We’ve had quite the evening—Bill Cipher’s back.”

Wendy’s eyes widened, and she shot a glance at Bill. “Seriously? I thought that guy was gone for good. What’s he doing here?”

Soos, looking more curious than alarmed, stepped closer. “Yeah, I remember that dude from before. What’s the deal with him showing up now?”

Bill gave a theatrical bow. “Ah, the legendary Soos and Wendy. It’s a pleasure. I assure you, I’m here to observe and perhaps rekindle some old connections.”

Soos’s face lit up with recognition. “Oh man, I remember you from when you messed with our reality. What’s your angle this time?”

Wendy crossed her arms, her gaze sharp. “We’ve dealt with enough of your tricks before. If you’re here to cause trouble, you’re gonna have a hard time with this crew.”

Bill’s grin remained, though his eyes sparkled with intrigue. “I assure you, I’m not here to cause chaos—at least, not in the way you might expect. I’m merely interested in how things have evolved since our last encounter.”

Stanley gestured to the group. “We’ve all been through a lot, and we’re ready to handle whatever comes next. We’ve managed to keep Gravity Falls safe for a reason.”

Soos nodded enthusiastically. “Sounds like a plan. If you need any help around here, you know we’ve got your back.”

Wendy gave a supportive nod. “Yeah, just let us know. We’re all in this together.”

As the group began to catch up, Soos and Wendy shared their own updates. Soos had continued to work at the Mystery Shack, helping to maintain its quirky charm and manage the influx of curious tourists. Wendy had moved on to new adventures but still remained a close friend to the Pines family.

The conversation turned to recent strange occurrences in Gravity Falls. Soos and Wendy recounted tales of odd sightings and unexplained phenomena, adding to the growing list of mysteries that had surfaced since the portal incident.

Bill listened with genuine interest, his eyes reflecting a mix of curiosity and amusement. “It seems Gravity Falls has maintained its reputation as a nexus of the extraordinary. I suppose it’s no surprise that such a place would attract attention from various… entities.”

Stanley’s expression remained cautious but determined. “Whatever your reasons, Bill, you’re part of this new chapter. We’ll deal with whatever challenges come our way.”

With everyone now gathered and involved, the group began planning their next steps. They needed to investigate the recent anomalies and figure out how to address the lingering threat that Bill Cipher represented.

As they worked together, the bonds between them grew stronger. The unexpected return of Bill Cipher had reintroduced an element of uncertainty, but with Soos, Wendy, and the rest of the team united, they felt ready to face whatever the future held.

The night in Gravity Falls was once again filled with the promise of adventure and mystery, as the Pines family and their friends prepared for the challenges that lay ahead.

As the group continued their discussions in the Mystery Shack, Dipper and Mabel decided to explore the various artifacts and curiosities scattered throughout the place. The walls were lined with old photographs, strange objects, and mementos from the Shack's long history.

Mabel’s attention was drawn to an old photo framed on a nearby wall. It depicted a younger Stanford Pines with Stanley and Fiddleford McGucket, all three smiling and engaged in what appeared to be a celebratory moment.

“Hey, Dipper, check this out!” Mabel called out, pointing to the photo. “Who’s this guy with Uncle Stan?”

Dipper walked over, his eyes scanning the photograph. “That looks like it’s from a long time ago. I recognize Uncle Stan and Mr. McGucket, but I don’t remember seeing this guy before.”

Bill Cipher, who had been watching with a detached curiosity, stepped closer. His eyes lingered on the photo with an almost imperceptible flicker of interest.

Stanley, noticing the focus on the photo, sighed and approached. “That’s Stanford Pines. My twin brother. He disappeared thirty years ago after a... well, an incident with a portal.”

Mabel’s eyes widened. “Wait, that’s Stanford? I’ve heard stories about him, but I didn’t know what he looked like.”

Dipper frowned, his mind racing. “So this is the brother who went missing? What happened to him?”

Stanley’s expression grew solemn. “He was pulled into another dimension by the portal. We tried to find him, but the portal’s instability made it nearly impossible. Over the years, we’ve tried to piece together what happened, but he’s been lost to us.”

Bill Cipher’s gaze remained fixed on the photo, his face a mask of inscrutable emotions. “Stanford was quite the brilliant mind. It’s no wonder he would be involved in such extraordinary events.”

Mabel’s voice was filled with concern. “If Stanford is still out there, then we need to do everything we can to find him.”

Stanley nodded, his determination evident. “I agree. We’ve been working on ways to track him down, but it’s been a slow process. With the recent disturbances, it’s possible there might be new leads.”

Bill’s eyes sparkled with a hint of intrigue. “Interesting. If Stanford is still in that dimension or somewhere connected to these disturbances, finding him could prove quite… enlightening.”

Dipper looked at Bill with renewed wariness. “Are you suggesting you want to help us find him?”

Bill’s smile was enigmatic. “I’m simply interested in the outcomes. My involvement could be beneficial, or it might complicate things. It’s up to you to decide.”

Stanley’s eyes narrowed. “We’ll take all the help we can get, but don’t think we trust you entirely. This is about finding my brother, and we won’t let anything stand in our way.”

The group fell silent, contemplating the implications of Bill’s offer. The mystery of Stanford Pines and the uncertainties surrounding Bill Cipher added layers to their already complex situation.

Mabel turned to Stanley with a hopeful expression. “We’ll get through this, Uncle Stan. We have to believe that Stanford is out there and that we can bring him back.”

Stanley’s expression softened slightly. “Yes, we have to keep that hope alive. We’ll start by examining the recent anomalies and seeing if there are any clues that could lead us to him.”

With their resolve renewed, the group prepared to embark on the next phase of their quest. The photo of Stanford Pines served as a poignant reminder of their mission, driving them forward with a mix of determination and hope.

As the Mystery Shack bustled with activity, the Pines family and their friends faced the challenges ahead with renewed purpose, ready to confront whatever mysteries and dangers lay in wait.

The room fell silent after the group’s discussion of Stanford Pines. Stanley’s eyes were fixed on Bill Cipher, his expression a mix of anger and frustration.

“You know,” Stanley said suddenly, his voice tight with emotion, “I need to ask you something directly, Bill. Did you—” he paused, struggling to control his anger, “did you mess with my brother? Did you do something to him?”

Bill Cipher’s eyes widened slightly, and he regarded Stanley with a mixture of amusement and irritation. “Stanley, that was a long time ago. It’s not as simple as you might think.”

Stanley’s fists clenched at his sides. “Don’t give me that! You were there, and you know what happened. If you had a hand in it, you’re responsible. My brother’s been missing for thirty years because of things connected to you.”

Bill’s smile faded, replaced by a more serious expression. “Stanley, I understand your anger, but the events of the past are complex. I didn’t deliberately harm your brother, but the nature of our interactions and the chaos of those times certainly played a role.”

Mabel and Dipper exchanged worried glances, sensing the depth of the confrontation. “What does that mean?” Dipper asked. “Are you saying you had some kind of influence or control over what happened to Stanford?”

Bill’s gaze was inscrutable. “My presence certainly contributed to the instability, but the portal’s nature and the actions taken were beyond my sole influence. What happened to your brother was a consequence of many factors.”

Stanley’s anger softened into a weary resignation. “So, you’re saying you didn’t directly do anything, but you were still part of the reason he’s gone. That doesn’t make it any easier to accept.”

Bill sighed, his tone reflecting a hint of regret. “The past cannot be changed, Stanley. My role in it was a result of the chaos I thrived in at the time. If there’s anything I can do to help now, it’s because I am genuinely interested in seeing how things have evolved.”

Stanley’s gaze remained sharp, but he nodded slowly. “If you want to be part of this, you need to understand that we’re here to find my brother and bring him back. If you’re going to be involved, you better be on our side.”

Bill’s expression hardened slightly, but he nodded in agreement. “Very well, Stanley. I’ll assist, but don’t mistake my involvement for complete absolution. The past is what it is, but we can focus on the future.”

As the tension in the room eased, the group resumed their preparations, now with a heightened sense of purpose. Bill’s presence added a layer of complexity to their mission, but the Pines family and their friends were determined to move forward.

With a renewed focus, they began to strategize their next steps, knowing that finding Stanford Pines would be a challenging journey fraught with uncertainties. The photo of Stanford, along with the truths and tensions revealed, fueled their commitment to uncovering the mysteries of Gravity Falls and bringing their missing family member home.

With the tension from Stanley’s confrontation with Bill Cipher subsiding, the group refocused on their immediate goals. The lingering questions about Stanford Pines and the recent anomalies in Gravity Falls remained at the forefront of their minds.

Stanley, Mabel, Dipper, Soos, Wendy, and McGucket gathered around the table in the lab area of the Mystery Shack. The room was filled with blueprints, old maps, and various pieces of technology, all set up in preparation for their next move.

“So, what’s our plan?” Dipper asked, looking around at the gathered team. “We need to figure out where to start looking for Stanford.”

Fiddleford McGucket adjusted his glasses and spoke up. “We’ve seen some unusual readings lately. I’ve been analyzing the data, and it seems there’s been a significant increase in dimensional fluctuations around certain areas of the town.”

Wendy leaned over to look at the maps. “I’ve noticed some odd things too, like strange lights and weird energy bursts. Maybe these fluctuations are linked to where Stanford might be.”

Bill Cipher, who had been observing silently, finally spoke. “Dimensional fluctuations could be a key. If Stanford is indeed in another dimension, tracking these anomalies could lead us to a way to pinpoint his location.”

Stanley nodded, taking in the information. “Alright. We’ll use the data to narrow down the areas of interest. Fiddleford, can you pinpoint the strongest fluctuations?”

McGucket nodded. “I’ve already got a few locations that might be worth checking out. They’re spread out, so we’ll need to cover a lot of ground.”

Mabel, always quick to take action, suggested, “Why don’t we split up to cover more areas? We can regroup later and compare notes.”

Dipper agreed. “That sounds like a plan. We’ll need to keep in touch and share any findings immediately.”

Soos, ever enthusiastic, raised his hand. “I’ll take care of the research and keep an eye on the Shack. If anything changes, I’ll let you know.”

Wendy nodded. “I can join Dipper and Mabel in the field. I’m used to dealing with weird stuff around here.”

Stanley looked at Bill with a cautious expression. “And what about you, Bill? What’s your role in all this?”

Bill’s eyes gleamed with a mix of excitement and mystery. “I’ll assist as needed. I have my own methods for tracking dimensional anomalies, and my insights could be useful.”

The group set their plans into motion. Mabel, Dipper, and Wendy ventured out to investigate the areas identified by McGucket, equipped with various gadgets and tracking devices. Stanley, meanwhile, stayed behind with Bill and Fiddleford to analyze any new data and prepare for possible leads.

As night fell, the atmosphere around Gravity Falls was charged with a sense of urgency. The strange occurrences that had become more frequent in recent days seemed to intensify, and the team’s efforts to track down the source of these anomalies were more crucial than ever.

In the field, Mabel, Dipper, and Wendy encountered a series of peculiar phenomena—flickering lights, brief disturbances in the air, and unexplained sounds. They documented their findings and communicated their observations back to Stanley and the team.

Back at the Shack, Stanley and Bill reviewed the incoming data, piecing together the puzzle. Bill’s insights into dimensional disturbances provided valuable context, helping them understand the patterns and potential connections.

Hours passed, and the team continued their tireless search. Despite the challenges and the uncertainties surrounding Bill’s involvement, their shared goal of finding Stanford Pines united them.

As dawn approached, the group reconvened at the Mystery Shack to compare their findings. The data indicated that the fluctuations were converging on a specific area of Gravity Falls, hinting at a possible connection to Stanford’s location.

Stanley gathered everyone for a final discussion. “It looks like we’re closing in on something. The anomalies are concentrated in one area. We’ll need to investigate further to see if it leads us to Stanford.”

Bill, his demeanor focused, added, “It’s a promising lead. We should proceed with caution, but it seems we’re on the right track.”

With a renewed sense of determination, the team prepared for the next phase of their search. The mysteries of Gravity Falls were far from over, and the quest to find Stanford Pines was just beginning.

As they set out once more, the bonds between them grew stronger, fueled by the hope of reuniting with their missing family member and unraveling the secrets of the enigmatic world they lived in.

Part 1

Part 3

Part 4

#billford #gravity falls #gravity falls au #scibill #scibill au #scientist bill cipher au #scientist bill cipher #gravity falls fanfiction #gravity falls fic #my fic writing #soos ramirez #wendy corduroy #gravity falls wendy #the book of bill #dipper pines #mabel pines #old man mcgucket #fiddleford mcgucket

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chillybarba · 3 months ago

Text

Broken Banjo

Chapter Two: To Be Undeniably Frank

Ao3 | Wattpad

Welcome to the Broken Banjo AU, where Stanford and Fiddleford end up trapped beyond the portal together.

>> 4.3k words

>> fiddleford & stanford // fiddleford x stanford

>> slow burn, alternate universe, pov ford pines, hurt/comfort, young stanford & young fiddleford, alternate portal incident, the nightmare realm, psychological trauma

Throughout the night, the dim light of the fire continued to glow, casting long shadows across the gray walls, flickering with each purple spark and crackle. Stanford sat motionless much of the night, his back resting against the cavern’s rough surface. He was lost in his mind, lost in worry, lost in exhaustion and fear. He hardly noticed the refugees – as he’d decided to call them – moving around occasionally and chattering, their indistinct murmurs blending into a rhythmic drone that very well could have lulled him into a trance. But he may have already been in one with how spaced out he was, trapped with only his thoughts to soothe him as much as hurt him.

His gaze drifted down to Fiddleford then, who lay slumped against him, his face pale and etched with lines of pain and fatigue. It was like he’d aged overnight and Stanford felt that familiar tug of guilt. The vial he had given him had done its work, stabilizing him, but the deeper wounds – the ones Stanford couldn’t see – remained. Fiddleford’s breathing was steady though, his body relaxed into a much-needed sleep, but it didn’t matter. Stanford could still feel his tension even while he dozed, as if it had already rewritten his brain and tore into his heart. He had to look away before he broke. In an attempt to distract himself, Stanford’s eyes trailed to the other supplies he’d been given, and he glanced over them again. He picked up the device he’d never seen before, turning it over in his hands, admiring the handiwork briefly. On the back were words written in Bill’s commonly used cipher and for once Stanford felt glad that he’d learned the language. Taking a moment to read it, he squinted as it became English in his head: dimensional translator. Stanford then realized that what was etched onto the front of the device was its model number. He also understood that they’d gotten extremely lucky. From what he knew, plus some additional context clues, having a dimensional translator meant that he would be able to understand most, if not all, languages across dimensions.

Stanford also realized then that it meant he would most likely be able to understand the aliens that had given him it. Examining the translator, he figured out how to turn it on, before attaching it to his wrist in the fashion of a watch. It beeped a few times, presumably calibrating itself, and suddenly every word around him that he couldn’t understand was translated into English in his head. He had been granted an all-access pass to communicating with the refugees they were stuck with, given free access to limitless knowledge that no human in his dimension had ever known, had ever even begun to imagine.

Oh, he had so many questions already, and yet most of them would have to remain unanswered. There were other, more important, very obvious things at hand he had to attend to first. Before anything else came getting them home alive and Stanford sighed at the reminder of that fact. He didn’t want to have to get home, he wanted to be home without all the other attachments and requirements of attaining “home” first. Fingers running along the translator, he stared with tired eyes at it, wondering what could have been different. An alternate world where he didn’t make the foolish decision of creating an interdimensional portal and ruining all that was once so good. Maybe that was why he couldn’t have that reality – because it was so good. Too good for someone like him.

It had hardly been a day since they’d become trapped in the Nightmare Realm and Stanford was already spiraling, becoming increasingly paranoid. No matter how hard he tried to shove it down the way he always would, he felt it bubble back up inside him, and the internal conflict was getting overwhelming to where it wasn’t bothering just Stanford anymore. The refugees would send looks his way – although he was too lost in his own head to notice most of them – as if they could feel his tension in the air. When he did realize the full extent of their insistent, repeated stares, he looked back at them with eyes one would most likely describe as “filled with despair.”

A tall, thin figure approached him cautiously then, their skin a muted shade of blue, the three eyes on their face reflecting the dimmed purple flames. Stanford could hardly register their presence until they were close enough to where their shadow hung over him. His eyes forced themselves to blink and Stanford glanced up at them, but they hesitated. Though, they gained the courage, speaking in a language that would have been incomprehensible to him only hours ago. But with the translator’s assistance, the words filtered into his mind, clear as day. (He would be sure to mark down his findings about it later.)

“Are you... in need of something?” the alien asked, their voice gentle, tinged with curiosity and perhaps a bit of concern. For themselves or for Stanford, he wasn’t sure.

Stanford blinked again, the fog in his mind lifting enough to focus on the being in front of him. It took him a moment to respond as he fully processed what was said, his voice coming out rougher than he’d expected. “I – no, I’m alright. Just... thinking.”

The alien tilted their head, studying him with an intensity that made Stanford feel exposed, a feeling he hated. Vulnerability was not among his list of things he enjoyed or even tolerated. People always seemed to think he had it nonetheless. “Your thoughts feel heavy. It is not unusual to see such sorrow in the eyes of those who come to this realm, but you are different. You have been sorrowful since long before coming here.”

Stanford sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. He wasn’t expecting to get a therapy session from an alien refugee on an asteroid, but he hadn’t expected much of what happened that day. “It’s... been a long day. A long series of days – or rather, it feels that way, at least. I am trying to find a way to get us home, how to… undo a mistake I made.”

Slowly the alien nodded, seeming to hold some understanding of the weight of his words even while not having a clear understanding of their situation. They glanced down towards Fiddleford, who still lay asleep beside him, then back at Stanford. “Most who come here don’t make it home,” they admitted honestly, and Stanford ignored the words even if they were truthful. He refused to accept being stuck there, if not for himself, for Fiddleford. “The journey to this realm is never easy, and the journey through this realm is even harder. Many who come here carry regrets. Some find solace in sharing their burdens with others…” they trailed off, words trying to nudge him towards the idea of talking about how he felt, and he wanted, just slightly, to scoff.

“I’ll find solace when I can get out of this damn dimension and get home,” Stanford gritted, sounding harsher than he anticipated, but he was exhausted thinking about everything and nothing all at once. His head fell by a hint of shame, groaning softly to himself. “I’m sorry for that. It’s been a lot in a short span of time.�� He’d had to apologize too much lately (even if he had to or should).

“Would there be anything we could do to assist you and your partner?” The refugee responded with a tilt of their head, three eyes blinking slightly out of sync, unsettling Stanford a bit as he witnessed it. But he cleared his throat and pretended to be unbothered. He’d seen much worse throughout his times in Gravity Falls.

Besides that, an offer of help wasn’t something he had expected. They were all trapped there, that was, so what would they possibly be able to do for him that they hadn’t done for themselves? Their situations all came down to the same basic fact: they were stuck in a lawless realm. If they were there, and if he was there, if they were both there, then there wasn’t much more to understand or assist in. He was frustrated, and he didn’t know what to do when someone was just trying to help him. It reminded him of a friend.

“Information. Any information.” What was important and what was not important was something to be decided by Stanford, so he needed to know everything he could. Even the things one might deem to be trivial or insignificant could “make or break” a situation, so to speak. That was a key element in science and experimentation, so it was only natural the same law applied to all other concepts if you thought about it.

There was a moment of pause, and Stanford realized it wasn’t just one alien fixating their gaze on him. All the other refugees, without his notice, had ended up looking right at him, and he shifted somewhat uncomfortably. Then, the three-eyed alien gave a mild smile. It did little to soothe his nerves.

“Very well,” they said.

Stanford straightened, forcing himself to focus on the conversation – though that was more difficult than anticipated given his complete enervation. “Let’s start with the basics. How long have you been here? What do you know about the rift and the Nightmare Realm? Any patterns you’ve noticed, any safe zones, any possible ways out, anything at all.”

The alien’s expression grew thoughtful as they considered his questions. “Time... is a difficult concept here. We’ve lost track of the cycles – days, nights, they blur together, as they already have for you. But it has been... many rotations since we first arrived. We’ve learned to survive by staying together, by avoiding the more unstable areas of this place.”

Another refugee, shorter and stockier with a single, large eye in the center of their forehead, stepped closer to join the conversation. Their voice was lower, more gravelly, but the translator rendered it clear in Stanford’s mind. “There are wormholes, but they are unpredictable. They do not follow the rules of space or time as you know them. Sometimes, they can take you deeper into the Nightmare Realm, but sometimes it can spit you out into another dimension. But always, it can change you.”

Stanford’s brow furrowed. “Change you? How?”

The single-eyed alien exchanged a glance with their three-eyed companion. “Physically, mentally... These wormholes twist things. Some of us have lost memories, others have gained... abilities. But not all changes are beneficial. They will try to mold you into something that belongs so that you may be one of them.”

Stanford nodded slowly, absorbing the information. “And what about escape? Have any of you found a way out, a stable portal back to your home dimension?”

The aliens exchanged another look and Stanford’s heart sank slightly. He wasn’t sure if it was dread or hope that caused it, but it was unpleasant all the same. “Some have left,” the stocky alien started, their voice quieter then, almost somber, “but we don’t know where they ended up. These wormholes are not consistent; they are just as likely to send you to a hostile world as they are to return you to your own. Besides that, some simply disappear. There are infinite dimensions you must remember. Wormholes can only bring you to a random one. A way through wormholes directly to where you are looking to go… hasn’t been discovered as far as we know.”

Stanford swallowed hard. Disappearing into the unknown was a terrifying prospect, but staying where he was, in this twisted dimension, wasn’t any better. “So, there’s no clear path out,” he spoke slowly, more to himself than to them. “Just a gamble then, a… leap of faith, to say.”

The three-eyed alien nodded. “That is the nature of these wormholes. It’s why so many remain, trying to find a way that’s... safer, and better. But the longer we search, the more we understand that those things are luxuries this realm doesn’t offer. No one gets what they want or what they need here.”

Stanford clenched his fists, frustration bubbling up inside him. It wasn’t fair – none of it was. He had dragged Fiddleford into this mess and now there was no clear way out. But he couldn’t let himself be overwhelmed by the severity of their situation any further than he already had. There had to be something they could do, some way to tilt the odds in their favor, even if it was against all odds. Then, a thought came to him: if Bill could freely travel between dimensions, even by a power few had access to, that meant anyone could with the right materials and understanding…

After a moment of deliberation (and calming down), Stanford decided he was as satisfied as he would be. “Thank you, you’ve all been very helpful. I believe I have an idea of what I’m going to do now, so really, I do mean it.”

Stanford’s words hung in the air, garnering no reply, so he said nothing else either. The refugees had only exchanged glances amongst one another, their expressions reflecting the grim reality they all faced. It was probable that they no longer wanted to talk much about their inevitable fates. He didn’t blame them since he didn’t much want to anymore either, just the same as them. They moved away and went back to sitting around the fire, and it was much quieter than before.

But something shifted in the air besides them. It was a subtle change that Stanford may have overlooked had he not been so attuned to Fiddleford’s presence, given that he was pressed right against him. The steady rhythm of his breathing had altered, grown uneven, strained. Stanford turned his head slightly, eyes narrowing with concern as he watched Fiddleford’s face twitch with unrest and upset. His brows furrowed, and his fingers curled into the fabric of Stanford’s coat, gripping tightly as though he were holding on for dear life.

Fiddleford’s body tensed before beginning to tremble, but his grip on Stanford only tightened. A low, distressed murmur escaped his lips, too quiet to make out. But it was enough to make Stanford concerned. He leaned closer, placing a reassuring hand on Fiddleford’s shoulder, hoping to anchor him, to pull him back from whatever dream had taken hold of him. In the little time they’d been there, Stanford had – more than once – had to force himself to dredge up emotions that he never wanted to. He had quickly learned though that without them, he would hurt Fiddleford more than help him, and he had done more than enough of that for one lifetime. Logic and science alone wouldn’t be enough to help them anymore.

“Fiddleford,” he spoke with as much softness as he could, trying not to disturb Fiddleford any more, “Fiddleford, wake up. You’re dreaming.” Stanford understood nightmares and he understood fear. After all, he experienced both of them most nights. Nightmares of things he had never seen before and never wished to see again. Thinking of it, he sighed, and shook Fiddleford awake with care. He would have wanted the same done to him if he was in that situation.

Fiddleford did not awaken with care though, which Stanford should have expected. He watched as Fiddleford shot up, covering his mouth to prevent himself from yelling out, visibly horrified. His whole body shook with every deep, yet quick, breath he began to take, gasping for air, and Stanford moved his hand down from Fiddleford’s shoulder to his back. And he remained silent as Fiddleford started to ramble about what he’d dreamt, stumbling over almost every word as he did.

“Stanford... I-I saw...” Fiddleford’s voice was raw and shaking as he spoke, the words barely more than a whisper, “I saw somethin’ horrible... somethin’ that... that wasn’t right. It was like a twisted version of home, it all was wrong and warped. I couldn’t find you, and- and there was somethin’ chasin’ me, somethin’ I couldn’t escape no matter how hard I tried.” His accent had become far more prominent in his fear, as if reverting back to his roots, to who he used to be. Stanford thought back to times where it had happened in the past, such as when he’d been spooked by the flying eyeballs that had appeared in the kitchen one morning, and he had to shoo them out for him. It was that same terror of things out of his control and beyond simple understanding.

His hand kept steady on Fiddleford’s back, offering what comfort he could. “It was just a dream, F,” Stanford said with care, trying to keep his voice calm, even resorting to the nickname he would use for him in his journals. “I am still here and we are safe right now.”

Fiddleford’s breathing began to even out somewhat, but the tremors in his body remained. He looked up at Stanford, his eyes wide and haunted. A look Stanford knew too well himself – what it was like to feel powerless, to be trapped in a nightmare you couldn’t wake up from. “It felt so real,” Fiddleford whispered. “I thought... I thought I’d lost you, Stanford. And that thing... it was right behind me, like it was gonna take me, too...”

Stanford nodded as he listened, following Fiddleford’s slow and deep breaths to keep his own feelings in check at the same time. The last thing Fiddleford needed was to see his fear mirrored in Stanford’s eyes, or for him to be told what he didn’t want to hear, something Stanford had a tendency to do. “You didn’t lose me,” he said firmly with a shake of his head. “You’re not going to lose me. We will make it out of this. It’s just like another nightmare. It’s all… temporary. You know I’ll do everything I am able to in order to get us home, don’t you?”

Fiddleford nodded slowly, but the fear lingered in his gaze, like a shadow that refused to vanish even in the light of the sun. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Stanford,” he admitted, having calmed down a bit. “I’m not… like you, y’know? Was always that you were the adventurous one, and I… I like to stay in the lab, stay busy makin’ things.”

Stanford’s chest tightened at the admission, and he hesitated a moment, before shaking his head again. “You’re stronger than you think, Fiddleford. You’ve been through so much already, and you are still here. That’s more than most people could say in our situation,” he spoke honestly after so many months and years of little white lies sprinkled throughout his sentences. “I’m not, ah… all that brave myself. We’re both in an unfamiliar situation in an unfamiliar place. There’s no handbook, no guide, and we certainly haven’t learned any lessons in life that could help us here and I… I am afraid.”

Fiddleford looked down, his hands trembling slightly as he clenched them into fists, nodding in response. “I...I’m scared too, Stanford. I’m scared of what’s out there, of what might happen to us. But… I’m not alone, and I know I very well could be right now… You didn’t have to come after me, but- but you did,” he paused, then looked up to Stanford again, managing a smile. “Thank ya, Stanford… Truly.”

The words came unexpectedly to Stanford. He thought Fiddleford would be, and would stay, furious at him, and he wouldn’t have blamed him if that were the case, either. It was easy to return the smile after that thought, and he moved his hand from his back. Stanford’s mind told him that even though he had gone after Fiddleford, it was his fault they’d gotten into this mess in the first place. He wanted to build the portal; he wanted to start it up, he wanted to test it. But he pushed the thoughts away for now, didn’t let them consume him, just for one moment of peace.

“Of course, Fiddleford… I told you that I would always come after you and that I wouldn’t let you leave. That isn’t going to change anytime soon… or ever, for that matter,” Stanford let out a soft chuckle then, and to his surprise, Fiddleford managed to as well. For that brief moment, things didn’t feel so uncertain. They felt rather manageable instead. He just hoped it would last long enough to tell Fiddleford his plan and put it into action. So, he decided to change to the topic while it was still in his head.

“While you were asleep, I did, in fact, manage to sort out my thoughts. I spoke with the refugees after they gave me a dimensional translator,” Stanford paused to take it off of his wrist, holding it out to Fiddleford so he could examine it as he seemed very intrigued when Stanford said the words. He then laughed as Fiddleford took it from him with amaze. “I’ll show you how it works. Firstly, though, it’s important we talk about getting home. After speaking with the refugees, I believe I’ve learned enough to formulate a plan that should be the first step to returning.”

Fiddleford lowered the dimensional translator, eyes meeting Stanford’s instead, but Stanford looked away from it. He had never been the best at eye contact, so he went on with his explanation while staring off at something, but at least he knew that Fiddleford was paying full attention to him.

“From what I’ve gathered and understood, the only proven way out of the Nightmare Realm, or any dimension, that is, is through wormholes, similar to the one that brought us here in the first place. That is, the portal threw us into a wormhole leading directly to this dimension,” he explained, leaving out the more unfavorable parts (such as the dangers they could have). “But wormholes have no set destination, differing from the portal we built. There are… infinite dimensions, within them being our home dimension, of course.”

“Wait, wait… if there’re infinite dimensions, and wormholes don’t have no one clear exit, then we’re still trapped here, ain’t we…?” Fiddleford became nervous quickly and Stanford could see it in the creases of his eyes, but he knew there wasn’t much he could do to console him. After all, he was right in a way: that they were still trapped there as his idea wasn’t a surefire solution to their situation. In an attempt of comfort, he put a hand on Fiddleford’s shoulder, looking up to truly meet his eyes for the first time.

“Fiddleford. We’ll get home, listen to me. I told you that I have an idea, just… please, let me explain,” his voice was firm, and Fiddleford looked almost defeated but stayed quiet, so Stanford continued. “In science, there is the fact that facts exist and the fact that facts have built up its reputation. Things start in theories, but these theories can be proven. With the technology and knowledge of infinite dimensions, there is the possibility of infinite solutions. My theory is that if Bill can travel freely between dimensions, without limits, anyone can with the right materials and understanding of how… In some dimensions, my theory must be possible. We just have to find the place to prove and understand it. Someone out there must know more about Bill.”

Once Stanford finished, he broke eye contact with Fiddleford, who then proceeded to look down as well, staring at the ground. Even though Stanford had tried to reassure him, he knew that it wasn’t what he wanted to hear, no matter if it was the truth or not. He stared at Fiddleford for a moment as he remained silent, frowning at how utterly lost he looked then. Stanford had ruined him and he knew it.

“I’m sorry, Fiddleford. I know I’ve already said it and that it has no real positive effect on anything. But I… do hope you know that I mean it. I can’t change what has already happened, but if I could, I would have never called you to help me with that portal. I would have never built it at all, that is,” Stanford hesitated, then repeated himself quieter, ashamed, “I am sorry.”

With hands cupped together in his lap, Fiddleford nodded, and Stanford sighed in return. His hand removed itself from his shoulder, resting on the ground instead. He expected Fiddleford to say nothing, so he was shocked when he did actually speak to him, and without malice.

“I know you’re sorry, Stanford. I don’t blame ya, okay? I am upset, but I don’t blame ya, not at all. I don’t know much of what you and that uh, Bill, got up to, but I know he tricked you,” Stanford tried to argue to defend his intelligence, but Fiddleford gave him a look, and he shut himself up in seconds. Somehow though, it made Fiddleford smile. “Even geniuses can be tricked. I’m sure in a different world he woulda tricked me too.”

It shouldn’t have – he was awful, it had to be true – but the words made Stanford feel a little less alone, and a little less awful, and he couldn’t help himself smiling too.

“Thank you, Fiddleford. For always,” Stanford anticipated.

“Of course ya knew what I was gonna say! You always do, still could have at least let me say it! I really would’ve said ‘always’ if ya had let me…” He sighed with a hint of dramatization and Stanford began to laugh, joined in soon after by Fiddleford. Perhaps things would be working out in their favor sooner rather than later.

The refugees took a glance at them as they laughed, and seemed to smile as the two got on okay. Safe to say, they didn’t mind the added noise at all.

<< Prev Part | Next Part >>

#broken banjo #broken banjo au #gravity falls #the book of bill #stanford pines #ford pines #fiddleford #fiddleford mcgucket #fiddleauthor #fiddauthor #fordford #fordsquared #banjoportal #gravity falls fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic

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glitteringcrab · 3 months ago

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They built a wall around infinity

What is the Central Finite Curve wall made of???

Is it some random sci-fi stuff like "sub-ether barrier"?

Well, if the theory that the colour yellow is associated with brain stuff is true, I'd like to point out the following:

1. The ultra beam Eyepatch Morty shot through the Citadel to bring down the Curve was yellow:

It became stronger after Eyepatch Morty infused it with blender-ed Ricks and Mortys:

Why did that work??

How could that have possibly pierced through some sort of dimensional wall? Is it really just a matter of something as "benign" as calibration or killing them to be thorough?

2. And who else, apart from Eyepatch Morty, had been collecting the bloodied remains of Mortys in vats?

Why, the Citadel Ricks.

That's... odd.

Did they collect physically "defective" or misbehaving clones before disposing them all off in one go?

Was it a slaughterhouse, with excess rickless Mortys being sent to death?

Was it a sort of punishment to terrorize Mortys into obedience?

Was it a sort of execution for criminal Mortys?

Was the number of Mortys dying in the Citadel from horrible living conditions simply that high, that they needed to be collected and disposed off in a special way?

Could be any of the above really... But even at the first time I watched this episode I thought that was odd.

(...and why have portals that apparently do nothing but spew blood... Where did that blood come from?)

(Is it Rick blood...?)

3. Rick says this concerning their brainwaves:

He's making it sound like it's just a matter of detection. Visibility. Camouflage. Nothing actually substantial, just a matter of stealth.

...says Morty, referring to his "camouflage" properties.

...replies Rick, which seems kinda redundant, doesn't it?

He agrees with Morty that "Morty is more than a human shield", but the only actual "more" thing in Rick's subsequent description of Morty is the phrase "perfect impenetrable".

Is he just rubbing in Morty's face how effective he is as camouflage?

...Or is he talking about something else?

Something... truly impenetrable...?

What. IS. The. "Wall around infinity". Made. Of??????

(...is it like... crystallized brainwaves of Mortys who died painfully...?)

(I mean, if you can crystallize time, and infuse a freaking liquid with code that allows it to pierce through dimensions, why not also be able to liquify and project brainwaves?)

#Or something?#Rick what have you done #If there's a grain of truth in this theory then I can't believe Evil Morty actually DOWNPLAYED the CFC when explaining it to Morty Prime #he kept it vague but he MUST have known how it worked in order to bring it down #Was he just desensitized? Didn't think THAT part of the Citadel was particularly noteworthy?#The main issue STILL is that Mortys are so effective as shields that they got cloned by the Citadel #Did EM think it redundant to point out each and every way the Citadel abused Mortys?#Rick C-137 also KNEW bringing down the CFC equaled a death sentence for everybody which is kinda suspicious #although THAT doesn't necessarily prove anything--there could be other explanations.#Anyway #is THIS why the CFC is easily breachable by the average portal now?#'Cause the Citadel is no longer supplying it constantly with Morty Corpses?#But then again wouldn't the CFC weaken enough if EM simply cut off its dead Morty supply for a long enough time?#I dunno #Maybe I'm misreading things and the Rick & Morty corpses were just used for e.g. calibration by EM #and the Citadel collecting Morty corpses is unrelated #they built a wall around infinity #it's complicated #citadel of ricks #central finite curve #rick sanchez #Rick C-137 #Rick C 137 #Rick C137 #Morty Smith #Morty Prime #clone Mortys #evil morty #eyepatch morty

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gallifreyinstituteforlearning · 6 months ago

Note

in gallifreyan, whichever scripts, how do they write coordinates, be it time or displacement? Or planet relative calendar dates.

How do Time Lords write coordinates?

There's a bit of contradictory information and things that don’t make much sense when it comes to space-time coordinates and Gallifreyans, but here’s an answer I hope will sate your curiosity, with plenty of background:

🔑Key Parts of the Coordinate System

Spatial Coordinates: These specify locations in three-dimensional space relative to Galactic Zero Centre (Gallifrey’s Eye of Harmony, basically, or at least somewhere near it). They usually consist of Vector and Quadrant particles.

Temporal Coordinate: This indicates time, relative to Gallifrey’s present (whatever that’s supposed to mean! I would probably assume that while Gallifrey went walkies, the Doctor's TARDIS either used temporal coordinates relative to Event One (the creation of the universe), or otherwise fixed it at a certain Gallifreyan date. There are also specialised TARDIS instruments which can be calibrated help skip the temporal coordinate stuff and make the input relative to the planet).

Universal Coordinate: This designates the specific universe required.

Epsilon Coordinates: Calculated paths through the Space-Time Vortex, usually handled by a TARDIS automatically.

Flight Data: Details about departure and destination points.

🚀Space-Time Coordinates Format

Space-time coordinates consist of fifteen digits. Using these two combined below will get you to the right star system:

Vector (2 digits): Indicates the broad direction.

Quadrant (2 digits): Specifies the quadrant within the galaxy.

Using these two below in addition will get you a more precise location, and a time:

Exact Spatial Location (7 digits): Detailed coordinates within the quadrant.

Temporal Location (4 digits): Relative to Gallifrey’s present (you'll obviously need to be longer to be more precise).

🌍Example

Let's have a crack with Earth’s galactic coordinates. We know the Earth’s Galactic Coordinates are 5804 4684884:

Vector: 58, Quadrant: 04 (solely on these you’ll reach Mutter’s Spiral)

Exact Spatial Location: 4684884 (add this and you’ll reach Earth)

Temporal Location: 9182 (+9182 time units from Gallifrey’s present)

The Flight Data Monitor will simplify this. Assuming a journey from Earth to fictional Zargon 3, your TARDIS monitor will display something like this:

Departure Planet: Sol 3 (Earth) [Dimension 01] Location: London, England Local Dateline: 2024 Earth Year, 10th Era of Gallifrey Destination Planet: Zargon 3 [Dimension 04] Location: Zargon City, Zargonville Local Dateline: 156 Zargon Year, 11th Era of Gallifrey

Complete Coordinates:

01 5804 4684884 9182 -> 04 0316 0316500 3050

🏛️Integration with Landmark Worlds

Additionally, a TARDIS’s Galactic Positioning System can be fine-tuned using the relative locations of several Landmark Worlds. These landmark worlds include Gallifrey, Dagusa, Caresh, Erekan, Gau-Usu, and Cern. This way, the TARDIS can get more precise navigation by periodically materialising in space to recalibrate bearings as it's flying.

🔢Epsilon Coordinates

Then there are Epsilon Coordinates. These serve as a roadmap through the Space-Time Vortex, and need to be calculated before a flight. A Time Lord could do it mentally if they wanted, but the TARDIS usually automatically calculates these – it’s hugely complex maths, even for a Time Lord.

🖊️Writing the Coordinates

This really depends on the script you'd prefer to use, you can use modern Gallifreyan, which is probably the most lore-friendly, or Sherman's, or circular, or just bog standard Latin script numbers.

For GIL's Sollifreyan conlang shorthand script, you can use the 0-9 base with hyphens in-between, where the spaces would go.

How do Time Lords write dimensional coordinates?: How dimensional coordinates get written and work in TARDISes.

Do we have any info on TARDIS biology?: Overview of TARDIS biological aspects.

Phew, hope that helped! 😃

More content ... →📫Got a question? | 📚Complete list of Q+A and factoids →😆Jokes |🩻Biology |🗨️Language |🕰️Throwbacks |🤓Facts →🫀Gallifreyan Anatomy and Physiology Guide (pending) →⚕️Gallifreyan Emergency Medicine Guides →📝Source list (WIP) →📜Masterpost If you're finding your happy place in this part of the internet, feel free to buy a coffee to help keep our exhausted human conscious. She works full-time in medicine and is so very tired 😴

#doctor who #gil #gallifrey institute for learning #dr who #dw eu #gallifrey #gallifreyans #whoniverse #ask answered #tardis #gallifreyan culture #conlang #gallifreyan language

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customcalibrationinc · 7 months ago

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Dimensional & Mechanical Calibration Service

Ensure the accuracy and precision of your critical equipment with Dimensional & Mechanical Calibration Service. Custom Calibration’s expert technicians use state-of-the-art tools and techniques to meticulously calibrate a wide range of instruments, including calipers, micrometers, height gauges, and more. Whether you're in manufacturing, engineering, or any field that relies on precise measurements, our Dimensional & Mechanical Calibration Service is the solution you can trust. Contact Custom Calibration today to schedule your calibration and ensure the accuracy of your critical operations.

#mechanical calibration #dimensional calibration #calibration services #calibration companies #mechanical calibration service #onsite calibration #custom calibration #marketing

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smartcalibration · 2 years ago

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#Dimensional Calibration Service

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punkpandapatrixk · 9 months ago

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Oracle Alchemy

Oracle Alchemy full posts on Patreon are divided into 2 sections: Creator's Notes contain just a tiny bit of life + blog updates (not that important😝) and Soul Alchemy contains high-vibrational messages calibrated to the frequency of 5th-Dimensional Consciousness🦢

Soul Alchemy messages are designed to assist you navigate the changing temperatures on Earth with more ease, grace and elegance. When you're able to consciously alchemise the way you interface with Reality and bypass specific deceptive constructs of the Matrix…WHOA🦄

Access to Oracle Alchemy is at just $1.27 per month (Tier 1) on Patreon, so if you feel a calling to any of these messages~🦩

[Master Masterlist] [Patreon] [Paid Readings] [buymeaboba]

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Timeless☘️Soul Alchemy

💠OA 32 - Passionately Desiring What Is Truly Good for You

💠OA 31 - Beating Addictions as A Coping Mechanism

💠OA 30 - Knowing You Really DO Deserve IT

💠OA 29 - Aligning the Stars in Your Favour

💠OA 28 - Being in Your Element, Always

💠OA 27 - Manifesting Minute by Minute

💠OA 26 - Touching the Gates to Paradise

💠OA 25 - Breaking the Limitations of the Earth Matrix

💠OA 24 - Bringing Down Heavenly Dreams to Reality

💠OA 23 - Fighting for What's Truly Essential!

💠OA 22 - Prioritising Those that Set Your Soul Ablaze with the Colours of Love

💠OA 21 - Sanity Is Founded on Security

💠OA 20 - Health Is the First Wealth, Bitch!

💠OA 19 - Patience with Yourself Leads to Patience with the World

💠OA 18 - Opening Yourself Up to Miracles

💠OA 17 - Being A Friend to Yourself

💠OA 16 - Releasing the Grip of Worries

💠OA 15 - Keeping the Lights of Inspiration

💠OA 14 - Creating High-Quality Reality

💠OA 13 - Having Your Way in the World!

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

[Master Masterlist] [Patreon] [Paid Readings] [buymeaboba]

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qsmetrologyprivatelimited · 1 year ago

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Imaging Solutions

#Metrology equipment #Metrology tools #Tool maker microscope #Calibration in metrology #Metrology and measuring instruments #Metrology measuring instruments #Optical comparator in metrology #Metrology tools semiconductor #Metrology machines #Metrology and measuring instruments in India #Calibration in metrology in Gurugram #Dimensional Measurement Instruments Suppliers in Gurugram #star wars #succession #super mario

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empresskrennic · 5 months ago

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♟️👑 Empress x Krennic

The new Empress loves playing 'games,' but she's beat everyone in the galaxy. But when she steps onto the Stardust 3 station, she finally meets her match...

NOTES: Krennic did not die on Scarif. I take liberties with canon in support of a better story.

STAR WARS • Director Orson Krennic • Female Emperor THEMES: Power Imbalance, Playing Games, Exhibitionism SPICE LEVEL: Ramps up from 🔥 to 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥 -Spice level is annotated per chapter-

🚫 18+, MINORS DNI

Chapter 1: Kiss the Gauntlet 🔥

When my boot crossed the edge of the Delta shuttle’s ramp and softly kissed the docking bay, a thousand stormtroopers in crisp lines of pure white snapped to attention.

Echoing in a singular clap, the sound was as clean and impressive as the station itself. Idly, I compared my glistening boot and the polished lines of the decking, wondering who had expended more effort in preparing for my arrival: Krennic, who had obviously thrown down all his chips in the hope of winning my favor…or me.

My pause was not unnoticed. I could feel the annoyance running hot in the veins of my assistants, who stood six respectful steps behind me, waiting warily for my next move and knowing they could not predict it.

I cracked an affectionate half-smile at my boot.

Their thoughts always betrayed them. I threw them off balance. Kept them wondering, never able to calibrate accurately to their Empress’s actions. I admit it, I deliberately deceived them; but in my defense, it was a great strategic game. Tons of fun.

And it was my hallmark, my callsign. Surprising, unnerving, seemingly unnecessary actions I threw my entire authority behind, threatening (and sometimes doling out) demotions or transfers to Hoth for the warm-blooded and Tatooine for those who preferred cold. I’m not mean or crazy. And I’m certainly not a psychopath, like that one-dimensional genius Palpatine.But seriously…if the Empress of the Galactic Empire wants to shine her own boots, she shouldn’t have to shoo her assistants away more than once.

But unfortunately…no, not unfortunately. It’s actually sweet. Just annoying…I had a kind of magnetism that attracted people who wanted to care for me, to protect me like some kind of incontinent grandma.

Or incontinent Grand Moff.

I chuckled to myself at the joke, eyes still studying the shiny boot tip touching the equally shiny docking bay, internally betting on who would try to get my attention first: would the stormtroopers shift uncomfortably, or would my assistants clear their throats?

They cared for me. Truly, I knew. Mentally, I forced myself to acknowledge it, to appreciate it, like a rich kid who really likes steak but is served world-class chicken instead. But I couldn’t shake the fact that I hated it. The gentle cronyism chafed like a left-handed blaster bolt in a plasma coupling.

I liked a good fight. But it felt like the galaxy had been drained of worthy opponents after the war. I hoped my successes on the Cat, the ISD Catastrophe, weren’t the cause. It very well could have been because I did so well that they made me Empress after Palpatine’s unfortunate accident that I definitely had nothing to do with.

Rustling brought my gaze up from my boot. Not my assistants; no, the sound came from straight ahead, down the middle of the stormtrooper gauntlet. All at once, my assistants’ annoyance suddenly ran ice cold.

A swath of fluttering cape in a creamy white just barely offset from the stormtroopers’ stark white—deliberately chosen to be maddening, I observed with cautiously sprouting glee—announced his arrival. The cape was so bloody interesting I stood inelegantly still with one foot forward, frozen as I drank in the fluid dynamics of his chosen game piece.

When he drew near, I tore my attention from his magnificently strategic fashion choice and stepped down, waiting for him to come to me. His body was hard and lean, his gait long and aggressive—no, get it together—and his uniform was the same rebellious cream white as his cape. His boots were as shiny as mine.

His tan face was stoic, with narrow, pouty lips and a heavy brow. The creases in his skin were created by deep concentration and study rather than humor, anger, or anxiety. His hair was a confusing tapestry of pale shades, from silver-gray to wheat blonde. Mesmerizing. Made for combing with fingers—

His eyes were the only part of him he could not strategically select for this game. They were authentic, ice blue, and bearing down on me with an equal level of assessment. But there was complexity there I couldn’t identify.

I tasted his feelings. Trepidation. Determination.

A glimmer of desire—quickly quashed.

He didn’t yet know it, but he’d just made the first move on my board.

Or did he?

“Finally,” I murmured quietly as he stepped into my personal space. He locked his lean body into a snappy, flawless salute.

But then his hand twitched.

Nearly flawless.

That was unexpected.

Our eyes locked.

It had been deliberate.

Something old and cold and cynical melted in me.

Delicious.

As he took me in for the first time in person, not in a holo, something changed in the subtle expression of his eyes, morphing into something hard and analytical. It looked good on him. I found myself ejected from my comfortable home arena and floating in his…lost, marveling, and waiting for his large, black-gloved hands to reach down from the heavens and save me from the stars.

Was I attracted to the man, or to his game?

I lost my own internal bet as I cleared my throat, regaining my attention and composure. “Director,” I said simply, offering him room for an opening gambit. Most couldn’t resist the opportunity to speak at length to the Empress. Paired with my Force sensitivity, it always telegraphed their intention and methods and made for easy conquest.

But this time, I couldn’t shake the feeling I had already lost the advantage.

I felt a flash of undefined heat…passion? What kind?... from him, then his mind closed. Either he is sensitive also, or he is in complete control of himself. Disciplined.

The latter thrilled me.

“My Empress,” Krennic said gravely, lowering his salute. His accent tasted like caramel, gritty with sea salt. A subtle emphasis on the first word shot me further out of my carefully cultivated, stable orbit and I lost control for the first time in a long time.

Electric warmth shot through my body from deep within as I gazed into the depths of his blue eyes. I sucked in a breath, my lips parting at the intensity of my sudden desire.

His focus flicked quickly to my mouth. Creases formed at the corners of his eyes. Relief? No. Satisfaction. The bastard was holding in a laugh of triumph.

That did it. Silently, I cursed and imagined slapping myself.

It was my move now. I lifted my chin.

Blowing out my breath, I paused, then held out my hand, wrist limp, palm down.

Kiss it.

It was an ancient custom that had never been observed in the Empire because who would want to kiss Palpatine’s wrinkly old fist? I’d never bothered to demand such indulgent genuflection. Until right now.

Between two master players, it was a hell of a gauntlet to throw.

Undecipherable thunder tore across his face. Then the mass of onlooking stormtroopers, the entire Stardust 3 project, and the galaxy itself faded to inconsequence as Director Krennic knelt in a grand billowing of cape, gently took my hand in his gloved hands, and pressed his soft, warm lips to my skin.

The texture of his carefully combed blonde-gray hair bent over my hand made the moment too intimate. He was too close, we were touching too much. I itched to run my fingers through it, to separate the layers, to understand him and the way he played the game.

Instead, my fingers closed around his, and I felt his clench in response. No emotions. Controlled.

But his breath betrayed…something. It was hot and quick, and I felt his lips move subtly. He stayed there far too long. Either he was taking his time, getting the measure of me to learn my weaknesses, or he had…other aspirations.

Maybe both.

His kiss felt like a promise, felt like a threat. It felt like a cheat code and a decisive defeat. It was beseeching and hungry. It was overwhelmingly everything, possibilities without probabilities.

Anticipation warmed my chest as his unreadable face lifted, his Hoth-ice eyes drilling into mine from beneath the shadow of his heavy brow. I blinked slowly, unable to tear my gaze away, unwilling to flinch first.

A promise, I decided.

But of what?

I could not wait to play Krennic’s game.

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Taglist: @99tech99 😘

#star wars fan fiction #star wars fic #sw fanfic #krennic #orson krennic #director krennic #krennic smut

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