#that version of himself never talked to Stanley again probably

[nerdy-hyperfixations]

It's funny because to me Ford's "perfect universe" (the one in the journals where Stanley blindly did what he told him to do with the journals and he tweeked the portal to cut out Bill's nightmare realm and got rich and famous) contains the worst version of himself. And I don't know if he'll ever realize that.

[citricacidprince]

could you draw the courtroom scene with relativity falls? (mabels bubble)

Gladly!!! I’ve already brought up some Stan Weirdmageddon Bubble stuff here, but the equivalent of the Mabel Trial for Stan makes me wanna blow up I just adore it!!

Okay, so first things first, here’s Captain Stan’s design, my precious baby boy <3

Figured it’d be fun to mix some aspects of Grunkle Stan’s Mr. Mystery outfit with a pirate twist, just for fun!

As for the ‘trial’, its more of a argument between two boys who just WONT talk about their issues

Fiddleford, Boyish Dan, and Anjelita are also there, but Stan isn’t mad at them. In fact, he doesn’t even care that they’re breaking the rules by being there, he’s only mad at Ford. He’s mad that Ford was just going to leave him behind and send Stan back to New Jersey by himself while he stayed and studied with their Grunkle Dipper. Leaving Stan all by himself at home. Alone to deal with their father. Alone with no friends. Alone to be the family disappointment.

But no matter how mad he gets at Ford, Stan can’t ever say that he’s hates him, and Stan would give him a million chances to fix things. So, instead of immediately throwing Ford off the deck of his ship, he gives him an ultimatum. A very easy solution to all of this.

All Ford has to do is say that he’s sorry, and Stan would let him go. He won’t leave the bubble because he actually really likes it in there, but he’ll let Ford go.

This.. doesn’t end very well

Stan, absolutely heartbroken, decides to make his brother walk the plank. If he’s dead to Ford, well then Ford is dead to him as well.

However, right before his crew could push Ford into the water, something happened.

You see, when Stan unknowingly gave the rift to Bill he only had one wish. That he’d never be alone again. So when he first appeared in his bubble it was actually completely dark and empty, except for a small light glowing in his hands. It was a little version of Ford. He smiled and laughed just like he did when they were a bit younger, and he said everything Stan wanted to hear.

Very quickly Stan realized he could manipulate the bubble and create anything that he wanted, just like he could back in the Mindscape. So he created what he knew. Glass Shard Beach, New Jersey. It was full of never ending boardwalks, houses and attractions with silly names, and that beach he loved so much. It didn’t take long after that to realize it was still quite lonely, even with Lil’ Ford (a name he lovingly gave the small version of his brother). However, he didn’t want the town to be full of faceless nobodies or people he actually knew, that’d be weird.

Then he had the genius idea to just fill the town with himself! After all, he never had to worry about himself betraying him or leaving him behind!

Soon the town was overrun with imperfect duplicates of himself and he couldn’t have been any happier.

However, the duplicates were so much like him that it soon made a new problem arise. They started asking about Ford. Like, ‘Where is he?’ ‘Can you make one?’ ‘I miss having him around.’

Stan did have Lil’ Ford hidden under his pirate hat, but he didn’t want to tell the other Stans that he was there. He didn’t know exactly why he kept Lil’ Ford hidden away. Probably a mixture of bitterness and anger still aimed at his real twin brother and a selfishness to keep Lil’ Ford to himself. So he just declared that Fords were banned altogether and left it at that.

This was a problem when right as Stanford was about to pushed off the plank, Lil’ Ford came out from under the Captain’s hat and told Stan to stop all of this.

The two bicker for a moment and some Stans ask who that is, causing Lil’ Ford to happily state that he’s Stanley’s brother, that the two are going to sail the world together, and that he loves Stan very dearly.

This doesn’t go over well with literally any of the Stan on board and it especially doesn’t go over well with Ford

The Stans pull a mutiny and try to kill Stan because they don’t think he should be Captain anymore and one of them should run the town instead.

Hard cut to Boyish Dan, Anjelita, Fiddleford, Ford, and Stan having a high speed boat chase with other Stans and popping the bubble while escaping. (I like to think Stan popped the bubble at the last second with the help of Shanklin <3 )

Stan is NOT happy about having to leave his Weirdmageddon bubble.

“You should have left me in there. I was HAPPY there.”

“Who cares if you were happy, you were living a lie! A sad delusion! You should be happy we pulled you out of there!”

Boyish Dan has it cut in before the two start fighting right then and there

Stan eventually calms down enough to decide that he’s going to save their Grunkle Dipper from Bill, but there is a thick tension between Stan and Ford that last until the huge blow out fight at the Cipher Wheel

A fight that started because Stan wanted Ford to finally say it.

‘I’m Sorry.’

[tinfoil-jones]

For Your Own Good: Intermission

Askbox? Open

If you don't know what this post is about, "For Your Own Good" or tagged as "Early Amnesia AU" on tumblr is a dialogue-only Gravity Falls fanfiction I've been working on that kinda-sorta follows a Mystery Trio -esque timeline, where Ford doesn't build the portal. To sum it up, the whole fanfiction boils down to:

Researcher Ford: I told you I never wanted to see you again.

Mullet Stan: Dude, I don't know who you are or WTF you're talking about right now, but I'm leaving this town and never coming back. You are never seeing me again after this. I'm probably going to forget you in like five minutes.

Researcher Ford:

Researcher Ford: *immediately kidnaps him*

You can consider chapters 1-10 to be Act 1 of the fanfic, and I’m taking a break for at least a week, most likely longer. The chapters so far were already written out in advance, and so was a huge reveal, but I still need to tie things together.

Here’s some authors notes/extra stuff about it, some of it might have already been put in the AO3 before or after notes. These are in no particular order:

This takes place 10 years after Ford and Stan were separated, currently they are both 27 about to be 28. Fiddleford is slightly older than them, being in his early 30s.

Ford is unironically the only person who finds Stan’s really dumb jokes funny.

Ford is the one who displays the most behaviours that would be seen from Mabel and Dipper decades later. Like Dipper, he views washing clothes as a waste of time, and like Mabel he ate an entire tube of toothpaste (granted, it was on accident)

While Ford is the more likely of the two to display traits that later present in Mabel and Dipper, it still happens with Stan as well. Stan has a similar nervous-chewing habit that Dipper displays in the OG series, but his only comes out when he’s particularly anxious. In this case, it was because he had nicotine cravings.

The 'That motherfucker is ugly' line that Stan used on Ford can be considered extra ironic because of how much the Stan Twins look like their dad.

Bill Cipher was originally supposed to speak in Times New Bastard (which is Times New Roman except every 7th letter is jarringly sans serif, a meme from tumblr), but AO3 and tumblr don’t let you change the font.

Stan goes out of his way to avoid using Ford and Fiddlefords given names- but this isn’t because he doesn’t know what they are. In the few times he has used their names, it was a sign that he was being sincere.

If you want to wonder whether or not Fiddleford likes Stan back, consider the fact that he could have walked away at any point, and either washed his hands of the whole thing, or just outright reported Stanford to the authorities. 

Bill is more like Discord from MLP - he’s just chaotic, often to the detriment of others, but he isn’t outright malicious (anymore), and he’s too busy SIMPING to cause any real harm. Basically, Bill is Fords patron for studying weirdness - he helps Ford in his research, but the cost that Ford pays is that Bill is able to possess him when he sleeps, and has unlimited access to his brain.

If Ford knew Rick Sanchez, why didn’t Rick see how similar Stan looked and put 2-and-2 together? Easy; Rick didn’t give a single shit about Ford, so he never committed his face or name to memory. Ford himself only remembered Rick because Rick was such a massive, egotistical asshole. If anything, Rick would think Ford is the lesser version of Stan.

Chapter 10 was the first concrete proof that the Stan we’ve been following likely is Stanley Pines and not some similar conman named Stan Malone. The last time Ford saw Stan would have either been when they were teens, so other than Stans commercials for his failed products there’s no way Ford would know what an adult Stan would even look like, and he’d have to use himself as a reference.

Stan has given some insight on his Thalassophobia (fear of the ocean / large bodies of water). In Chapter 10, he told Ford a number of things he escaped, including the trunk of a sinking car, and cement shoes. Cement shoes are either when you tie someone to a cinder block and throw them into a body of water, or when you literally incase their feet in cement, wait for it to dry, and then toss them into a body of water, so they’ll drown. Presumably, these are still things that would have happened to him even if he didn't lose his memories, so why would it give him a fear of the ocean now? Stan Pines in the OG still had a lot of positive memories associated with the ocean - he grew up on the coast, and had a lot of his hopes and dreams tied to the ocean. But without his childhood memories, he has no positive associations with it, only memories of times he almost drowned. 

Ford himself is not a touchy guy. The reason he hugs Stan even though it isn’t reciprocated is because from his perspective, this is his twin brother who is in pain and has been suffering all by himself for a long time. And Stan - at least how Ford remembers him - had a very touch-based love language. Fords doing it because he thinks it’d comfort him.

Stan seems pretty calm and chill for someone who’s been kidnapped by a ‘stranger’. This isn’t because he’s an overall chill guy because of amnesia, no he’s super pissed and the second he knows he’s free he will let them know that with his words, and incredible violence. He’s remaining calm because he’s been imprisoned and kidnapped enough times to know that pitching a fit or lashing out at his captors won’t do him any favours.

Fiddleford is still married to Emma-May and they do have Tate. But it's one of those lavender marriages (they're both gay and mutually bearding each other)

[smiley-mcdoggington]

Does Ford get to have cuddles with his unfrozen pocket Stans.... it must be weird for them for a guy they just met (from their perspective) to be so emotionally dependent on them. How would they react to the knowledge that Ford was carrying them around in his pocket for 30 years?

Well first they have to comprehend that they're the same age as Ford, which is difficult, but a bit easier with Knucklehead there because Knucklehead got his brother to say a few vague things about how Bill's a dream demon that hurts him in his sleep and yeah Knucklehead thought it was a mental break or something but then he slowly died surrounded by corpses of himself so maybe Ford wasn't bullshitting about the gateway and the horrors on the other side because Holy Fuck. Mr Pines is kinda letting Knucklehead take the lead because he's vulnerable by default with his kid but Knucklehead still accepts all the weird shit going on faster than Mr Pines because he's never comprehended any of this being one of his future life problems when he was kinda tackling together a life plan for the sake of his kid. Ford explains they're only defrosted because Bill is dead and no longer able to maintain them, even though its very obvious something happened at that point that Ford is deeply bothered by, neither of them have the mass to press him.

Ford picks them up and they both freak out because Heights which is new because Ford's been picking them up for 30 years, so Ford puts them back down and tries to remember not to do that again, but of course the next day he tries to function outside the basement with the Stanleys still down on his desk getting to know eachother and talks to his brother and. His brother is still having trouble remembering him. And Ford doesn't have any reassuring cold against his chest when Stan was given a picture of the two of them working on their boat and asked if they were Ford's kids because they looked a hell of a lot like him. Ford ended up excusing himself and rushing downstairs to kinda just awkwardly watch Knucklehead and Mr Pines, very clearly on the verge of a panic attack and Mr Pines picks up on it. Mr Pines walks closer to him and Ford very quietly asks if he can hold him for a second, he promises he won't drop him, he just... But Mr Pines just hands his kid to Knucklehead with a very stern warning glare before making the 'uppies' gesture with a very resigned look on his face. Ford picks him up about as carefully as he had any other poker chip on the table all those years ago, holding him to the same spot on his chest except this time he's warm and it's new but it's grounding and Mr Pines is kinda awkwardly patting his chest like 'you're alright, big guy' because you know what if getting cuddled like the family hamster gets him a sweet gig with the giant nice old man version of his brother so be it, it's not like he's big enough to get baby formula from the grocery store but Ford made his own for him, seems like his good side is the place to be. Mr Pines becomes the one Ford goes to for physical affection when he's panicking and Mr Pines kinda enjoys it, how own Ford would probably be starting a bitch fit about him doing something wrong but not this Ford, this Ford is not only completely over the science fair but also this Ford listens to him and is honest with him and maybe Mr Pines resting against a warm, solid chest listening to Ford's heart does things to him.

Knucklehead is a bit slower to come around because he disassociates whenever Ford picks him up and doesn't come back for hours, so it's hard to be emotionally invested. He does get what's going on better and takes being completely powerless a little too easy but he's not like popsicle Stan, he doesn't have a fawn response, he's just kinda meh abt it. He does get close with Mr Pine pretty fast though because Mr Pine is annoying

They both are pretty curious about their old self, Knucklehead never thought he would grow old and Mr Pine already feels old so theyre both a little fascinated seeing him when Ford drags Stan down to meet them. Stan can barely remember his own name so the transition to having two tiny young versions of himself and a tiny baby are a lot smoother because Yeah this is probably just something that's always been but I forgot

Stan shows them Dipper and Mabel his grandkids - sorry - grandniblings because he's really proud of them, they both immediately freak out and get so excited, Mr Pines already loves them and is asking about their school and their lives and kinda studying how they were parented for reference but also because he's so fucking excited to have more family. Knucklehead doesn't understand why people keep letting children near him but then Mabel makes them a proper bed instead of the tissue box and Dipper reminds Ford of the grow crystals so maybe they're alright

[eggsrblue]

Screw it, being gay on main

Here's some songs that describe my ship :) (Mr. Homely)

Time - Timbaland ft. She Wants Revenge

If I had to pick only one song to describe Stanley and Mr. House... It would be this song :3 NOT ONLY is it by She Wants Revenge- (one of my favourite bands) BUT I always think of them while listening to this song :3

To keep it short, I think it shows Mr. House's nonchalant nature compared to Stanley's (mostly) one sided pining and longing and this song is a more exaggerated version of their relationship :) (Stanley would be way to scared to make any move LOL)

It also shows Stanley's loyal nature, always wanting to be close and near to Mr. House, while House decides to ignore it/play into it

And in the chorus, the reason why he doesn't commit is because he can see Stanley is a man still clinging on the past, since he still wears things like his old vault suit. Mr. House doesn't see much point in giving Stanley what he wants because of this, as he sees it as pointless and time consuming.

Here's some quotes from the song that encapsulates them :3

"I'd pay attention if I thought it was worth the time"

"Confusing passion for the love he never gave"

ALSO,,, LEMME JUST THROW THIS IN

"Everywhere that I try to go,

She got a wanted picture with my face on it,

Soon as I walk out door there it is,

Wanted picture with my face on it."

TO ME THIS REPRESENTS ALOT OF THINGS, (but idk how to word any of it HAHA)

One of the things, is that most people despise (or at least dislike) Mr. House, while Stanley sees through all of those flaws and still loves him. Often ignoring how it looks to others. (In this sense, he's keeping the wanted poster not because he hates House but to admire it lol)

Lipstick Covered Magnet - The Front Bottoms

ummm... HAHA, this song once again shows Stanley's pining and yearning for Mr. House :,)

The main chorus being repeated multiple times represents how long and ongoing his simping is lol

(Main) Chorus:

"And I'm gonna get on my knees,

Would you kick me in the face, please?

It'll make whatever I say sound like poetry,

And as my gums begins to bleed,

The words will fall like teeth,

And whatever we had locked up now is free"

With Stanley being a recovering alcohol, and not really talking to Mr. House much (outside of missions/work), it results to him not being able to talk with him confidently- So he'd rather, well... do what the chorus says. :oP Maybe some violence or berating would get him to talk, is what he thinks. And then maybe he'd finally confess, he is waiting for the right moment and the right way to say it after all. (Spoiler alert, he's probably never confessing >:))

The other repeating chorus also represents another side of Stanley, although he had gotten over that side of him recently :) (good for him!!!)

Here are some other verses:

"I've got some words to share,

But she don't like my tone,

I've got some words to share,

She won't pick up her phone."

This shows how Mr. House doesn't like dealing with Stanley's bullshit. As Stanley has a past of often bothering House while drunk and late at night.

"I checked my messages,

They say you want a fight?

I'm turning off my phone,

How high* were you last night?"

*Drunk.

This shows a different point of view from the verse above, this time, being from House's pov. Mr. House believes that he can now tell when Stanley is drunk, so now he just shuts him down whenever he starts a conversation in a way he doesn't like.

"She's got some medicine,

She's choking on the pills,

She shouldn't feel this way,

A lack of social skills"

This shows Stanley's reluctance to cope with the fact that he's turning into a ghoul. He often longs to age like his close friend Serge, wanting to one day be able to see the wrinkles sag on his skin and to grow grey hairs. Sadly, he's already turned into a ghoul due to his reckless nature.

And when he first starts to turn into a ghoul and uses jet to treat himself, he worries that he'll become even more of an outcast, as he finally found a place for himself outside the vault. Since he felt like a massive outcast in his previous vault, vault 3.

(Although, despite not being able to age, he's actually grown to like being a ghoul. :3)

Here's some other songs!! (that I'm too lazy to write abt rn LOL) :

DNA Guarantee - Kodi Rhianne

Angel With A Shotgun - The Cab

Well I Wonder - The Smiths

I Want You To Love Me - Fiona Apple

If anyone wants a part 2, feel free to lmk!! :D

[queenburd]

not writing the fanfics fair & understandable but. might you share the plot bunnies perchance ??

i love that people like my ideas. it's honestly the most flattering thing.

this one is going to be.... confusing. it's told from a stanley pov, but here's the thing:

it's not the Stanley that I've been writing.

this Stanley is a Stanley who speaks, and his narrator is MUCH more antagonistic. this is a stanley who does the Zending to hurt the narrator, this is a narrator who relishes putting Stanley in his place. these are NOT people who see eye to eye. These two will never get along. The narrator wields his power aggressively, is cowardly, is mean, and refuses to ever try to find equal footing.

and THIS Stanley wants his freedom, and found the escape pod, but knows he will never ever get it, because it requires him and the narrator to work together.

so the hostility continues.

and then, during a moment of tempers flaring and another incoming ugly death, a hand grabs Stanley's and pulls him along, and a very familiar voice tells him to "run! run!"

There's a new person in this parable, and he certainly sounds like the narrator, and has a lot of the same quirks, but this fellow seems very determined on getting Stanley out, and free. Like he cares.

and this narrator knows Stanley doesn't trust him, but he gets him to the escape pod, and he tells him a story about a Protagonist and a Narrator who got on so well that they decided to escape together. but when they got into the Pod, the lights went out, and when they blinked back on, the Narrator was alone, in a Parable like the one he was from, but there was a different Stanley and a different Narrator and a different dynamic.

There's so many parables out there where Stanley's made powerless, again, and again, and again. And any time there's a chance at growth, the hint of it, the Narrator there always makes the selfish choice to turn the wheel back. make the both of them forget. the end is never the end.

so this narrator, this one who was pulled into a different parable, gets that Other Stanley out. the pod only needs a Narrator, it doesnt need the one from THAT parable.

and then it happens again.

and again.

this narrator, who was the idiot that cared so much for his protagonist that he chose to leave the parable with him, thinks that perhaps he broke the game. perhaps the parable never meant for him to change this much.

but he will be damned if he's going to change for the worse.

if this is his life now--being thrown into parable after parable, watching iterations of himself hurting Stanley, fighting Stanley, mocking Stanley forever, then he's going to do something about it. he's going to get every single Stanley out if he has to.

He's never going to see his best friend again. He's certain of that. he doesn't even know if the escape pod is actually freeing any of them.

but he wont stop. it's too important.

when Stanley gets into the escape pod, the fellow tucks in next to him, and says goodbye. And then Stanley is in the real world. Alone.

and he finds that he is furious for the fellow's sake. because if the guy was telling the truth (and he's fairly certain he was) then that means there are a LOT of versions of Stanley out there that owe their freedom to this one person, and dammit. Stanley's going to find them. And he's going to try to find the narrator's original Stanley if he can.

he puts out a call on the internet. Hes contacted by someone who asks how he knows this person. "I met him at my place of work. He got me out of a really bad spot. He said he'd done the same to others." "funny. he said the same to me."

and there's suddenly an entire discord chat full of Stanleys, who go by nicknames and all look different and some sign in ASL and some in BSL and some talk and some dont talk or sign at all, but they all know this narrator who got them out.

the ones in the same country (not sure if Britain or US. but probably most of them located in Britain) meet up once a month or so. They work together. One's an artist who makes pictures of the narrator to get more attention out. The main one we follow is tech savvy and code-knowledgeable.

and then 4 months and 27 days after the first call went out, a new text shows up on Stanley's phone.

"hey, I saw your online call. That's my best friend. Do you know where he is?"

when the 'original' Stanley makes it to group, he goes by Stan, and he brings his bucket with him. He's tall, and quiet, and the kindest man Stanley has ever met. Sometimes some of the fellas wonder why this Stan was so lucky to have such a good Narrator, but they've got it backwards. the Narrator is only so good because his Stanley was so good.

does that mean it was their faults their narrators were so bad?

Stan is so, so adamant that no, no, it takes work on both sides. both people have to want it. it was not your fault you were hurt. Im so glad he got you out. Im so proud of him. I miss him so much.

Stan is... he's sad. Hes happy to know his best friend is alive, but it hurts, you know.

A couple of the first Stanleys to escape after him have a message from the Narrator, one he gave them in the hopes it would get to Stan. (Stanley never got this message. When he asked the narrator if he had anything he wanted to tell his friend, he just smiled sadly and said "no. no, if he hasn't gotten the message by now, then he never will.")

the Stanley who tells him the message signs it in BSL, rendered mute a long time ago. He said he was sorry. He didn't mean to get separated from you. He makes a little uncertain face. He also said something else he said you would understand. He said that he would have said yes. Do you know what that means?

Stan's eyes widen, and then he starts to cry. He chokes out (verbal, but it's hard on him, and his voice was hoarse), "I was gonna propose. Once we got out. I was gonna find a ring, and--"

Which is the moment they all realize these two weren't just best friends--they were in love. They were happy.

A couple of the fellas are quick to give physical comfort. Stanley isn't one of those fellas, but he IS a very determined person. Once he has an idea in his head, he sees it through.

"We're gonna get him out."

he has no plan, and a couple of the boys berate him for just saying that, they can't get Stan's hopes up, they dont have anything to go off of, but Stan wipes his face and that classic stubbornness that burns through every single one of them shines bright in his eyes.

[ You know how long I've been free? The day I messaged you, it had been 4 years and 27 days. And eight hours. If that's not a sign, I don't know what is. Tell me what I can do. ]

[occasionaloneshots]

Projector

Stozier x Fem! Reader

Summary: Annoyed with one of her partners, the reader takes a different approach to addressing it.

CW: fluff, joking empty threat, the word h*ll once, I think that's all.

Most people would look at them and be confused, Richie himself was even confused by it. Stan and (Y/n) are the poster couple for the perfect marriage for the whole first year. That romantic comedy opposites-attract couple that could make a watcher swoon for their love story. The sorority girl who was a cheerleader and the quiet stand-offish guy in the back of her freshman year probability and statistics class. One class project and they were wrapped around each other’s pinkies for life. And they were cute, but even the other losers were shocked by them at first. When Stan and Richie came into Bill’s basement, a girl laughing at one of Richie’s jokes, everyone was lost. They assumed she was Richie’s girlfriend, out-going and laughing at his stupid jokes, even making them back. But when she sat on Stan’s side, clinging to his side, Bill nearly choked on his popcorn.

The wedding was perfect, beautiful and pristine. The ceremony was enough to bring a few tears to Mike and Bill's eyes, and Richie was happy for them. Except, the best man shouldn’t have a thing for the bride and the groom, should he? It was weird for him, Stan had been his best friend his entire life, they were even roommates in college. Then suddenly, every time he kissed his girlfriend he was jealous, and at first he believed he was the world’s worst friend. But at the wedding he realized he wasn’t jealous because he wished he was in Stan’s place, he was jealous because he wished he was up there with them. So for a year, the dark haired man kept his mouth shut, not wanting to hurt what he did have with what he wanted. So to say he was terrified when they asked him to meet them on their anniversary, that’s an understatement. Hearing them say they wanted him to be their third? He thought they were using him as a sick joke. But it had been three years of them being a throuple, and he was so happy. But even being a part of the couple, at times Richie didn’t get it. He loved them, and they obviously loved each other as well as him. But Stan still seemed like such an opposite to her, then again, so did Richie.

But it was that morning when she announced that it was a “Projector night” that he finally got it. They had done this before, their version of a family meeting, but normally Stan called for it. Maybe it was passive aggressive, but he had never witnessed them having a fight that led to screaming and crying, so it seemed to work. Richie wasn’t often part of it, he hated making PowerPoints, but it let them all talk without screaming, so it works. Stan and her made eye contact, grabbing her laptop from their shared office and walking into the shared bedroom. Now, as she uses his height to her advantage to hang the projector screen, he knew this was about to be amusing, the girl setting up her projector with a hum. Stan walks into the room as she hooks herself up, falling onto one end of the couch as he looks over at the two. “Hey Stannie,” Richie tone is teasing as he falls onto the couch, arm wrapping around his boyfriend. “Hey Rich.”

Their girl bounces up to the front of the room, a wireless mouse in her hand, and a screen that reads, “Why Stanley Should Sleep On The Couch Tonight,” on the screen behind her. The dark haired man on the couch couldn’t help but laugh at it, had he known this was the point to the night, he would have helped. He loves Stan, they both do, of course, but he was keeping them from sleeping often. “I assumed that this was the point,” the mumble from the man on his left made Richie laugh harder. The slide changes “The Crime” in red font at the top. Richie knew he was in for a long night, and he was so excited for it. “Stan, I love you, Richie loves you, but you, you’re a criminal.” The words sent the calmest of the three into laughter that shook his body, “I’m a criminal?” “You are,” she clicks, making more text show up, “You haven’t let Richie and I sleep through the night in two weeks. And we love hearing about your thoughts, when we want to be awake. But three in the morning is not the time to tell us that you’re having deep thoughts about birds, again.” Once again the slide changes as he opens his mouth to argue. “I don’t wake you up to talk about birds that often, I hear you about to say it, I’ve been keeping documents.” Richie turns his head, biting his fist in an attempt not to die laughing again, earning himself a soft shove from the other man.

Her hands flail as she speaks, reading the slide with a nearly amused annoyance. “Last Tuesday, your first account, ‘Richie, babe, wake up this is important.’ Richie wakes up, worried for you, the light is still on. And you say, ‘Babe, did you know that two different states have the American Robin as their state bird? I can’t believe I let myself forget this, am I losing my touch?’ It was two in the morning, Stan. Last Friday, you woke me up at four in the morning to let me know that the feathered jacket I got at the thrift store that day was made from a brand that killed birds. And I'm sorry that it’s real feathers, I didn’t know the brand did that, but, Love, that’s not a four in the morning discussion. Monday, you woke both of us up to let us know that two birds you had never seen were spotted in town, it was three in the morning. And to top it off, last night at three in the morning again, you woke Richie up frantically which also woke me up to ask if we thought birds had feelings.” Richie and (Y/n) could see a soft blush on the face of their lover, his lip caught between his teeth as he leaned his head on their boyfriend’s arm.

She changes the slide again, “Other things you have woken us up for this week, not including times because they weren’t as wild as the birds. Your favorite novel character died, you remembered that the Beatles don’t make music anymore, you missed Richie even though he was right beside you. There was also the time that you made ribs and woke us up in the middle of the night to bring them to us." Richie interrupts, a finger pointed into the air as he speaks, "Actually, that one was good. Those were good ribs." She pauses, nodding, "Valid, but back to the point. Bill's newest novel released, you tried to convince us to get a cat because ‘you agree to let me buy things more when you’re half asleep’. Taylor Swift surprise dropped a single, and finally, you wanted to know if we could have a fake second wedding to involve Richie since legally we can’t all be truly married.” Despite the whole show, Richie and Stan both knew she wasn’t mad, not in the way one would expect. (Y/n) loved Stan’s ramblings as much as she loved Richie’s jokes. But the woman struggles to fall back asleep if she wakes up in the middle of the night, and she hasn't slept enough in almost two full weeks now. Slowly but surely, it was starting to show, in her face and in her attitude.

So they kept quiet as she changed the slide again. “I love my boys, I really do. But I need sleep, which leads to our topic,” yet another page change, “ Stan, I need you to sleep on the couch tonight. I have a really important meeting tomorrow, when you wake me up it takes at least two hours for me to go back to sleep. And Love, I adore you, but if you’re the reason I lose this sale, we might physically fight.” Despite the words, she was giggling, smiling over at her husband. He got up, wrapping his arms around her, the giggling growing into a true laugh as he picked her up. “You would lose.” “You wouldn’t hit back,” she shakes her head, reaching out to Richie, “Make him put me down before I change my mind.” The dark haired man shakes his head, “Nope, you’re making him sleep on the couch, let him hold you above the ground.” “But Rich! I hate being picked up! I did this for us,” a pout stretched across her face. Stan puts her down, “The laugh said otherwise.” She crosses her arms like a child, walking over to her laptop, “You took me by surprise, it was involuntary.” The curly haired male shakes his head, “Yeah okay, are you going to be able to sleep without me though?” She nods, “I have Richie.” “She’s my wife tonight, Stanley,” he pokes out his tongue like a child.

“You ‘ve both reminded me that we need to discuss the three person wedding for an official partnership. Richie, marry us, please,” Stan mock-begs, wrapping his arms around Richie’s waist to hold him in place. Richie tuts, shaking his head, “You can’t distract me with a marriage proposal twice in one week Stanley. The lady and I need our sleep. I will marry you though, not tonight, but eventually. I need a real proposal though, from the both of you. I'll accept nothing less.” “After my meeting tomorrow,” (Y/n) nods, walking to the office. “Not that early either, but eventually, probably.” She walks back in, an arm wrapped around both Stan and Richie when she meets their sides. “It would be nice to say I have a wife and a husband though,” Richie says, tilting his head to the side, "And they're both hot. I win!" Stan lets go of Richie to high five his wife, “We win! A husband!” “Hell yes! I get two!” She laughs, putting up a fist and bringing it back down as if grabbing the air around her. Richie sighs, wiggling out of their grips, “Babygirl, it's late, you need to sleep. Goodnight Babe, I love you.” He presses a kiss to Stan’s lips smiling down at the woman beside him. “Goodnight Dove,” he turns to kiss (Y/n) too, “Goodnight Babylove. I love you both.” “Goodnight my love,” she smiles, grabbing Richie’s hand as Stan walks over to the hall closet to get his own bed set up for the night. “Sorry for putting you in marriage time out, my love!” “No no, I get it,” he laughs, “I'm annoying! Go to bed, Babylove.” “Yes sir!” She turns to Richie, smiling up at him as he opens the door for her, "Ready for a full night of sleep, lover?" He laughs, shaking his head, "Am I ever. Did he do that before I moved in?" "Never, you truly bring out the worst in him."

[honkhonkrichard]

Theory: Stanley Uris was Murdered.

Tagging @vvanini I hope you can follow this okay it’s very word vomity lol

Okay So TW because this post will touch on Stan's death ad the methods behind it

I propose that Stan Uris was murdered. by IT. In his home on that fateful night. I think that Stan posed the biggest threat to IT and therefore IT felt the need to take him out before the battle even started.

Allow me to explain.

Okay, so, I need to lay out some basic "rules" or "facts" before I make my case. They are as follows.

- IT planted it's roots in Derry, and finds it difficult to leave, but still can at it’s own wil.  If you read the book (I honestly don't blame you if you haven't) You'd know that once the Losers kill IT for the final time, Derry (the Physical town) is obliterated. Buildings explode, sinkholes appear, things are flooded. The town is in ruins by the time that the Losers leave the sewers. The movies don't adapt this so If this is news to you thats fine. the bottom line is that destroying IT destroys Derry, like ripping a tree out of the ground with all it's roots. Because of this, we can make the claim that while it can Leave Derry (as it does every 27 years) it probably takes tremandous amount of power to do so, which is why IT only goes when the cycle is over. Why does this matter? Well, what if IT left Derry to get to Stan? The murders had stopped for about a week when they're all in the Jade of the Orient. Plenty of time for IT to cross from Maine to Georgia. Side Note: We KNOW IT leaevs Maine to elsewhere in the world because of King's extended universe all interconnecting. it's not far off at all to make the claim that IT is the same evil that haunts, say The Shining's Overlook Hotel, which is in Colarado.

- IT is omnipresent This is also a given, IT lives everywhere, and can fuck with time and space in godlike (or maybe eldritch like) ways. in IT: Chapter Two, when Mike claims "IT Doesn't know I know what I know" he's unfortunately wrong, because we know that IT can be in A) Multiple places at once, B) can manipulate anything on the drop of a hat (See: Stan being teleported away from everyone else in Chapter One, Everything about Neibolt, etc) and C) Knows everyone's deep fears. This is further proven by IT Saying things like "Beep Beep Richie" (although this is Horribly Horribly executed in the films, ugh.) and so on and so forth. On top of all of this, We can make the claim that IT can exist outside of Time as well, given that IT is immortal. SO, what's stopping IT from Knowing Mike was going to call them all back (Espically considering that IT TOLD Mike to do this?). Even if we keep IT's omnipresence to the location that IT inhabits (in this case Derry) IT would still have knowledge of where the losers are through Mike. And if you take the Lucky Seven/Chosen Seven route (oh my god I got theories on that too) you could argue IT knows where they are inherently due to their cosmic status.

- Stan is the "most Powerful" loser So, obviously all the Loser's are powerful, espically considering they're the ones who Defeat IT (Again going on to the Lucky/Chosen Seven theory). This next claim is going to be less focused on what the 2019/2017 Movies do because they are Bad Movies and that's a whole other rant. However, in the book, Stan is (to my knowledge feel free to correct me on any of this) the only loser to Actively ward off and 'defeat' IT on his own without running away. He uses his belief in this what is Real (birds) to ward off what is "not real" (IT). The other losers do manage to take down IT in their own Right, but Stan is ultimately the one to Really get IT. This is because Stan's character revolves around Belief and Willpower. These are, in some form or another, the ways to Defeat IT. the ritual of Chud is a battle of Wills. in the book, Bill takes IT down and Eddie does the final blow. In the Remake (ugh) the losers can defeat it Technically using the belief that IT isn't as powerful as it claims because IT's "just a clown" (Ihatethatfuckingendingsomuchugh). Stan being much more skeptical than the rest of the group in his ability to understand Reality vs IT's illusions is a powermove, and IT knows that ability doesn't go away as Stan grows up, but rather he gets more powerful. Stan is the Only loser out of the 6 who left that has any sort of knowledge about IT, where the other losers have nothing. Bev has nightmares, yes, but she still forgets them. We're told in his chapter (Chapter 3, Six Phone Calls (1985), Part One: Stanley Uris Takes a Bath) that he has some hazy knowledge of his place in the Lucky Seven, and even goes so far as to MENTION it sometimes, even if he doesn't quite remember or understand any of it, his knowledge of IT and Derry is worlds more prominent than that of the rest of the losers.

(page 52 of IT:  "Stanley, nothing's wrong with your life!"  "I don't mean from inside." he said. "From inside is fine. I'm talking about outside. Something that should be over and isn't. I wake up frmo these dreams and think, 'My whole pleasent life has been nothing but the eye of some storm I don't understand.' I'm afraid. But then it just... fades. The way dreams do." OR  page 45: He had been smiling a little. Now the smile faltered, and for a moment he seemed puzzled. His eyes had darkened, as if he looked inward, consulting some interior device which ticked and whirred correctly but which, ultimately he understood no more than the average man understands the workings of the watch on his wrist. "The turtle couldn't help us," he said suddenly. he said that quite clearly.)

So, Stan has some cosmic knowledge of IT and Maturin and his role in the battle against It. What does any of this have to do with his death? Well, let me point out some other things about Stan's death that always stuck out to me. - His death chapter is narrated by his wife, Patty, rather than himself. The other chapters - almost all the other chapters - are narrated by their respective Loser (the caviot for this is Ben, but Ben is also wasted out of his damn mind so its understandable.) - Stan's personality is few and far between in the book, but we know he has a weird little sense of humour and that he's incredibly logical. I think that this logical part of him would be able to understand that Suicide is Never Ever the answer, and that it would cause FAR more problems than it would solve. (the 2019 movie tries to reexplain his death and it's crap and i hate the letters i hate the letters so much im gonna explode) The other losers try to rationalize his death by saying "He would rather Die Clean than Live Dirty (Page 506, Chapter 10, The Reunion, part 3, 'Ben Hanscom Gets Skinny') but he had already BEEN Dirty when he defeated IT the first time, and I think he would've recognized that. - upon finding him, Patty (in her narration) notes that Stan's head is bent back over the edge of the bathtub, so from his sight she would have been upside down. If Stan DID kill himself, why would he be positioned like that? It's unnatural, like someone Posed him. - the cuts on his arms are two length wise cuts. I'm no expert but.. that's suspicious. That's weird. - IT is written in blood on the wall. Why? Why would Stan right THAT of all things? You know who DOES like to paint with blood? IT.

Alright, returning to my thesis statement, Stanley Uris was murdered. Do I think Stan genuinely was going to take a bath at 7pm (which we're told is weird for him)? Yes. I think that's absolutely a thing he could have done or planned to do. Do I think he slit his wrists and commited suicide so he wouldn't go back to Derry? No. Not even remotely.

Let me paint a New Picture.

It's May 28th, 2016, or 1985. Stanley Uris gets a call from Mike Hanlon. Stan is incredibly hesitant to go to, and says he needs time to think about it. Or tht he'll try. He can feel the starts of a Panic attack, and as he's remembering the circles of Hell he went through as a child, he tries to hold himself together. He doesn't want his darling wife to see his break, so he says "I think I'll take a bath" and nothing else before going upstairs. he hides in the bathroom. He closes and locks the door, because, well, he's panicking. Locking doors is one of The Small things he does. Is it usually the bathroom door? no, but still (OCD is a bitch, and even with medication, but this is a special case). He looks in the mirror and tries to breathe. This is fine. He can do this. They killed IT once before and they can do it again. He thinks about his younger self, the promises made, and how he could explain all of this Patty in time to catch a flight to Maine. It's terrifying, but if his friends are going to bite the dust, he wants to be there with them, wedding vows be Damned. Then he looks at his reflection again. A younger, rotted version of himself stares back at him. IT crawls through the mirror. Stan freaks out, obviously. This isn't real. This Can't be real. But IT utilizes this notion against him. It digs it's claws into his arms, and forces him to bleed out in the bathtub. IT then sets the scene nicely. Razorblades on the counter, a bloody signature on the wall, a horrible posture of Stan's neck. So on and So forth. and then IT returns to Derry. IT's a little weak, yeah, but Stan is dead. That's what matters. the Lucky Seven has now Officially broken, and the balance shifts in favour of the clown.

So that's the theory. feel free to correct me on anything or engage I have plenty of theories on this story and I like discussing this stuff :).

[kagaintheskywithdiamonds]

oh I'm glad I'm seeing this post again because I'VE BEEN THINKING ABOUT IT A LOT and what it would mean the rest of other stanley's upbringing would look like. and honestly the rest of ford's life too

like maybe at some point the baby calls him "dada" and ford gets all flustered like "what? no no no, I'm not our father-" but then, he mentally adds, "even though I'd be a better father to you than filbrick was."

and that's when it kinda sinks in that like. he's going to be the one to raise this version of stanley. up until that point he'd sort of been thinking of himself as some kind of babysitter, but babysitting is temporary. this isn't. he'll be watching over new stanley until he's an adult, probably. for all intents and purposes, he basically is new stanley's dad

and that's weird, he realizes. it feels weird and kind of wrong. but what else is he supposed to do about it? obviously this stanley would be too young to understand if ford tried to tell him the truth. so, he'll let new stanley grow up thinking that he's ford's son, weird as that feels, and tell him the truth when he's older. because he's definitely going to tell him the truth... eventually. he deserves to know the truth

"I'll tell him when he turns 10." Ford tells himself. But new Stanley's 10th birthday comes and goes and Ford doesn't have the courage to say anything. besides, he's still so young. just a child. this would be too much for him to process. "I'll tell him when he's 13," but that day passes as well. "I'll tell him when he's 16," and so on. he keeps pushing it off

because how is anyone supposed to start that conversation? "Hi, son. Actually you're my twin brother. But you died so the time police brought me a younger version of you from a different timeline because you're destined to save the world apparently"

and Stanley does believe that Ford is his father. he has no reason not to believe it. this is the man who cared for him as far back as he can remember, and the family resemblance is undeniable. Stanley's the spitting image of his old man. if Ford tried to tell Stanley he was adopted (which was technically what happened, Ford supposes), Stanley would never believe it

and Stanley loves Ford as a father, too. At one point Ford thought he would never get used to hearing young Stanley say "I love you, Dad". but as the years went on, it came to feel as natural to him as any other father-son bond. and Ford loves Stanley, of course. he isn't sure anymore if he loves him just as a brother or sort of also, weirdly, as a son. but that doesn't matter, he tells himself. they're family, and they love each other as family, and that's what's important. he'll explain the details of their strange relationship to his not-son... someday, for sure.

And he knows he definitely won't abandon this version of Stanley. His heart still aches for the original. And fate gave him... a weird second chance, but a second chance nonetheless. He would make sure this Stanley never doubted that his family loved him.

Ford proved to be a much better father than Filbrick. Granted, that bar was so low it was practically in the earth's core. But he raises new Stanley with more love than Filbrick ever could've. And he was much gentler with his punishments, of course. He might have to give Stanley a stern talking-to now and then. At his worst, if Stanley somehow made him really angry, he might yell. But he would never physically punish him. And even after an (exceptionally rare) father-son shouting match, Ford made sure to check up on Stanley after they had both simmered down. And he would apologize, and assure Stanley that he loved him, and that everything he did and said was because he loved him.

Ford was somewhat of an over-protective parent. That might've been the biggest flaw in his parenting style, aside from the secrets he was keeping. But who could blame him, knowing what he knew? The Stanley from his childhood with had been tossed out on the streets and suffered a slow, agonizing death, scared and alone, locked in the trunk of a car. And the Stanley he'd been given to raise was apparently destined to save the world. Well, really, the Stanley from his childhood was supposed to do that, until he died young. And Ford never knew what sort of world-ending threat Stanley was destined to defeat. And he never told Stanley about this supposed destiny, either. The circumstances of new Stanley's upbringing were strange enough without Ford throwing a "chosen one" narrative into the mix to loom over the boy's head. And Ford never knew how Stanley was supposed to save the world, but he had the sinking feeling that it would all culminate in some heroic act of self-sacrifice, and Ford's heart ached at the thought...

I COULD GO ON but I don't have any coherent way to wrap this all up. But this has been bouncing around in my brain for like 24 hours and I had to get at least some of it on paper (so to speak)

Stanley has an important role in the grand scheme of things, specifically saving the universe. His role is so crucial that if anything were to happen to him it could lead to not only the destruction of his universe, but also lead the destruction of others. So what would happen if Ford had lost Stanley somewhere during the ten years they spent apart, only for Ford to be met face to face with the time police and what appears to be 2 years old Stanley.

His ears feel muffled as he’s handed the toddler.

Death by asphyxiation

Trunk of the car

Far too late

Paradox

The child’s timeline was already gone

The fate of the universe

His hands

The baby coos in his arms babbling as he grabs Ford’s pinky.

[montrealmadison]

drink deeply

or, as they say at samwell, “penitus potes.” shitty gives the toast at jack and bitty’s wedding. for @zimbitsweddingofficial and day two of zimbits wedding week: the wedding itself!

just for fun, a draft version of the beginning of this fic with lardo, ransom, and holster’s “helpful” edits can be found via google doc here. hope y’all enjoy! <3

Good evening, everyone! On behalf of Jack and Eric, thank you all so much for being here tonight, and welcome to what could very well be the most highly anticipated wedding reception of 2019. I mean, this party was planned by the likes of Suzanne Bittle and Alicia Zimmermann. We are in for a treat, folks.

Before we get to all that, I’d also like to extend a particular welcome to those in attendance who are part of the playing, coaching, and/or office staff of the Providence Falconers. Glad you could all make it this evening; I know this past week was a little bit busy for you guys.

[Insert appropriate pause and gesture to the punch bowl, which on closer inspection is actually—oh yeah—the Stanley Cup the Falcs won three days ago. Hold for inevitable applause, general hysteria, and/or hooting/hollering from Tater.]

For those of you who don’t know me, I’ve been trying to decide whether I should introduce myself by my first name, which will inevitably get me mocked by my friends until the end of time, or by my nickname, which will definitely scandalize anyone who has not spent a significant amount of time around twenty-year-old guys who play hockey. However, as I look around the room, I’m realizing that most of you probably either raised, spent significant time around, or were once a twenty-year-old guy who played hockey. To the rest of you, I am profoundly sorry.

So, hi! I’m Shitty, and I’m Jack’s best man.

read more below or on ao3

Being someone’s best man, as I’ve realized over the last few months, should really come with a playbook or an instruction manual or something, because it’s a task unlike any other you’ll ever take on. In addition to being a friend, you have to be a confidant, an expert at bachelor-party debauchery (I think my college resume definitely prepared me for this part) and someone who’s not afraid to step in to make last-minute decisions so the grooms don’t have to. You also have to do all of these things without getting fired from your job or stepping on anyone’s toes, up to and including: the couple getting married, the other people in the wedding party, the grooms’ parents, the wedding planner, and most importantly, Moomaw, whose word is law around here. 

(Seriously. She made the pie tonight, people. Bow down to her.)

But as much as the role can feel a little bit like you’re being thrown in at the deep end, it also definitely comes with its perks. Tonight, I have both the honor and the challenge of somehow summarizing how much I love Jack and Eric in a speech that is heartfelt and witty yet also brief so that we can get to the aforementioned pie as quickly as possible. If you’re still following me here, that is a tall order—but here goes nothing!

I met Jack Zimmermann on our first day of freshman year at Samwell, during the bright, hot summer of 2011. I was participating in the time-honored tradition of moving into a dorm on the third floor of a building with no elevator and no air conditioning in the middle of August. It builds character, or so the good folks in Samwell administration probably tell themselves. Anyway, athletes got to move in early for preseason, so I was expecting to be one of the only guys on the floor for at least a couple days. I was just carrying the last box into my room when the door next to mine opened and—well, you can probably guess who walked out.

Now, I grew up in Boston, which means I also grew up around hockey culture. I’d heard the news that Jack was coming to Samwell, so I knew who he was when he stepped into the hall in that same vague way that you kind of-sort of recognize celebrities hustling down the street or through the airport with their sunglasses on. And he gave me that same vibe—“I know you know who I am, and I’d very much like not to be bothered about it.”

Here is something that will not shock you if you know us: Jack was the first friend I made in college. Here is something that might shock you if you know us: That definitely doesn’t mean we were friends at first. By his own admission, Jack wasn’t at Samwell to make friends at all. He told me, much later, that he was only planning to go to play hockey, get his life back on track, and keep his head down as much as possible.

So in retrospect, maybe it was an unlucky thing for Jack that he ran into the one person who wasn’t going to let him do that.

Because no matter who you are or where you’re from, freshman year of college breeds a unique kind of terror I’ve never felt anywhere else. There’s a lot of pressure to completely remake yourself, to become the person you maybe never could have been in your hometown. By coming to Samwell, I wanted to be a different kind of kid than the one that Andover had raised. Jack wanted to be a different kind of kid than the one he’d spent twenty years telling himself he had to be. As much as neither of us wanted to admit it, we both wanted similar things out of our college experience, and we needed a support system to do that. And so, however begrudging the two of us were about it at first, we started to bond more and more.

It wasn’t always easy. For one thing, my idea of a good time was a lot louder than Jack’s—who enjoyed such scintillating pursuits as “watching golf” and “going to bed at a reasonable hour”, neither of which were quite in my vocabulary at the ripe old age of eighteen. Also, if it’s before six in the morning, he has a hard time remembering to speak English, which used to make for a lot of stilted conversations between the two of us as we walked to early morning practice. (On a completely unrelated note, the first and probably only thing I ever learned in Québécois is how to swear.)

I don’t remember the exact tipping point at which Jack and I really became friends; I think it was more of a quiet acknowledgment that we liked having each other around, that we balanced each other out in ways that neither of us initially knew we needed. What I do know is that, slowly but surely, I started to get glimpses of the Jack that exists off the ice. And so began one of the most extraordinary journeys of my life, because the only thing crazier than knowing Jack Zimmermann is actually knowing Jack.

Here are some things that I’ve learned in the process: He’s on his third pair of neon yellow running shoes, which he buys specifically because the color makes him happy. Before either of us tried Eric’s pies, the only thing that could make him cheat on a meal plan was a sleeve of Double Stuf Oreos. (Don’t ask him how to eat them correctly unless you’re interested in a twenty-minute speech on exactly how they have to be pulled apart.) And he loves Captain America, although it is the opinion of this best man that America’s ass has nothing on his hockey butt. Have you seen that thing? It has Internet fans in at least two different countries. 

But I digress.

In our sophomore year we lived next to each other again, by choice instead of by chance, in what I can only describe as the pinnacle of American college living: the Samwell Men’s Hockey Haus. We used to pull the comforter off of one of our beds and climb out onto the roof and clear off the snow so we could share the blanket, look up at the stars, and listen to the bass thumping through the wall of the house next door. On nights when other things felt confusing, this one part of my life was clear. There’s something about sitting out under the open sky that just makes it easier to talk to a guy, you know? 

Some nights the conversations we had were funny. Some nights they were serious. Some nights we said nothing at all, just sat secure in the knowledge that someone cared enough to exist alongside us for a little while. There was always an unspoken agreement between us on nights like these: I got your back. For me, Jack’s friendship became a rock, a refuge. It’s something that I came to depend on that year and still do to this day.

As for the content of those late-night conversations—well, some things do have to stay between friends. I’m sure Jack will agree, especially because he has so graciously allowed me to get up here and lovingly roast him just a little bit.

So let’s skip ahead again, to yet another August, the start of our junior year, and the arrival on the scene of one Eric Bittle. This kid burst into our ranks like a ray of Southern sunshine and turned pretty much everything upside down in the process. In the first five minutes of being in the Haus, he somehow made us a pie? Folks, I'm not kidding, it was the best thing I’ve ever eaten. We were a bunch of guys who didn’t know what we were missing until we had it, and let me tell you, it was one hell of a semester after that. In pretty short order we had curtains on the windows and baked goods on the counters, and Samwell Men’s Hockey started to become not only a team but a family.

That was off the ice, at least. On it, things were a little more complicated. As our dear friend and former goalie John Johnson said to me, Jack and Eric hadn’t gone through their character development yet—whatever that means. 

Take our third or fourth practice with the full team that year, for example. It had gone… uh. Poorly, would be a word. Later that night I heard some rustling on the roof outside, and God knows I was willing to do just about anything but my homework—so I stuck my head out the window and there was Jack, watching the stars. I asked him if he wanted a buddy, and he said alright, so I slid out and sat down next to him.

That was pretty usual for us at this point. What wasn’t usual was the topic of conversation. The first thing Jack said to me was, “Bittle’s gonna get eaten alive when our schedule starts.” (Remember, people, they’re married now!) The second was, “I want to help.”

Here’s another thing about Jack: Underneath the veneer is a guy who just cares so intensely it’d shock you if you knew nothing else about him. It shocked me a little that day. I think it even shocked him to admit it, to the point where I had to say, “Jack, it’s not a criminal offense to care about other people. Even if it feels like you’re doing it for yourself.”

So he helped. He offered an olive branch, and Bits took him up on it. I’d hear the two of them get up in the morning, hours before the rest of us had to be at Faber, for checking practice. None of the rest of us ever knew exactly what went down, but one thing was for sure—Eric put in a ton of work to overcome some of the fears that had followed him to college. He got better, and Jack relaxed. The two of them really started working as a team, and things started looking up from there.

The day that they told us they were dating was pretty amazing. Eric is so full of light no matter how bleak a situation may look, but that day he was literally almost glowing. And I’ve seen Jack in moments after victory and loss, at his best and at his worst. But I’ve never seen a Jack who was so happy, possessed of such confidence in a decision he’d made, as I saw him that day at brunch. And that’s when I knew this relationship was really special. 

From there, many of you know the story. You watched it play out on ESPN and social media and the front pages of every single gossip magazine on the supermarket shelves. But if you’re sitting here with us tonight, you also watched it play out between Jack and Eric themselves. You’ve watched them handle expectations as a united front. You’ve watched their unfailing dedication to each other while they navigate the pressure of being some pretty big firsts. You know that, behind the scenes, these are two incredibly genuine people who  bring out the best in each other and are dedicated to doing that every single day.

In the last four years, I’ve watched Eric become self-possessed and confident because he was given the space to do so. In the last six years, I’ve watched Jack grow from a kid with a chip on his shoulder and something to prove to a guy who finally believes that he deserves all the good things the world has given him and then some. If you take nothing else away from this speech, I want you to know this: I’m incredibly proud to call myself a friend to both of them.

Jack, Bits, you’re always gonna be my brothers, my best friends, and two of the finest damn men I’ve ever had the pleasure to know. I wish you both a long and happy marriage. Take care of each other, be good to each other, and never forget where you started—as a team.

So please join me in raising your glasses, everyone, and as they say at Samwell—penitus potes to Jack and Eric!

[orangeoctopi7]

All of Your So-Called Problems

[AO3 link]

Stan was trying to find room for the leftover Mac and Cheese in the fridge when he heard the doorbell. He grumbled a few obscenities under his breath as he trudged towards the door. He was NOT in the mood for visitors tonight, even if they might be paying customers. The fact that a demon was trying to break into the house to steal some world-ending piece of junk from Ford didn’t help.

"We're closed!" He shouted before he even peeked out the window. He pulled back the blinds just enough to glare at whoever thought it was a good idea to drop by this late, and his eyebrows raised nearly to his receding hairline when he saw who it was.

"Wendy!? Since when do you knock?" Stan couldn't think of a single time she hadn't just come in and made herself at home since she'd started working at the Shack.

"Since Dipper told me you answered the door with a loaded gun earlier today." The teen answered as Stan opened the door.

"Gonna have to have a talk with that runt about blabbing." Stan rolled his eyes. "What, you having a movie night with the kids?"

"Not exactly." The teen jerked a thumb over her shoulder, and Stan finally noticed the rest of the Corduroy family standing just behind her, right off the porch. They were all carrying sleeping bags and pillows.

"...Wha?" Stan could only utter a surprised grunt as his brain tried to piece together why it looked like the entire Corduroy family was here for a sleepover. 

"Dipper called me and said we could stay here until your brother puts up a barrier around our house." Wendy explained, noticing her boss's confusion. "...Aaand he never even told you anything about it, did he?"

"He sure didn't." Stan deadpanned.

As if on cue, Dipper and Ford both stepped into the entryway.

"Oh, Wendy, you're here already!" Dipper said, voice dripping with faked surprise. "I forgot to ask Grunkle Stan if it was ok for you guys to stay the night. But gosh, since you're already here, I guess we can't turn you away!"

"You can drop the act, bucko, I wrote the book on It's easier to ask forgiveness than permission." Stan folded his arms disapprovingly. "The answer's still no. We're already putting up one freeloader."

"I'm the one who said they could stay." Ford said firmly.

Stan turned his glare to his brother. "This isn't a safehouse, genius!"

"It's my house, Stanley!"

"Where are they even gonna sleep!?"

"Well, perhaps we'd have some place to put up guests if you hadn't turned the two largest rooms into a tourist trap!"

"Oh, like you kept the place ready for company when you lived here!" Stan countered. "These rooms were both filled to the brim with your weird experiments when I got here!"

“Hey, we can sleep outside like men, if it’s too much trouble to put us up!” Manly Dan interrupted the brothers’ argument.

“Unfortunately, that’s not an option.” Ford shook his head. “The barrier barely extends past the front porch.” 

Ford quickly took a mental survey of where there might be extra room. The basement lab was out. He’d finished dismantling the portal, but he was storing the rift down there for now. His secret study was supposed to be a secret, and he still needed to clear out all that old Bill memorabilia. The attic was already taken by Dipper and Mabel. Stanley still had the main bedroom, and Fiddleford was currently sleeping on the couch in the upstairs study. That left the den, which might be large enough for one or two people, but certainly not a family of five. If only Stan hadn’t filled his old experiment and specimen rooms with useless junk! Sure, the rooms hadn’t exactly been empty before, but Ford at least would have known what things could be moved where to make room for their guests. Even his old thinking parlor was… wait…

“What about the parlor?” The old researcher asked.

Stan shrugged. “I kinda use it as a space for rotating exhibits, or whatever else I need at the time. Pretty sure it’s still full of leftover campaigning junk.”

“So, nothing we can’t throw out then.”

“Not so fast, genius, I still haven’t agreed to letting anyone stay here.”

“This is an emergency, Stanley!” Ford fumed. “And besides, it’s not your decision to make!”

Stan regarded the Corduroy family still standing awkwardly on his porch, and tried to imagine Manly Dan with those disturbing yellow eyes he’d seen on that time traveler earlier. He tried to picture the hulking lumberjack acting like that erratic demon. It was not a pleasant thought.

“Alright, fine.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “But only because I don’t want any of these ax-weidling giants possessed by a triangular serial-killer. And don’t expect me to provide any bedding or food!”

“Yeah, we can probably snare ourselves a few squirrels or something.” Wendy’s oldest brother assured Stan.

Stan grimaced. “On second thought, help yourselves to some canned meat. Only the stuff that’s expired though!”

“Thanks Stan.” Wendy said. “For giving us a place to stay until this blows over, not for the expired meat.”

“What? They pad that date out by at least a year. As long as it smells fine, it’s good to eat.” Stan defended himself.

The teen rolled her eyes but stepped into the Shack, followed by her family.

Ford observed them all carefully as they entered. No hesitation or sign of even noticing it as they crossed over the barrier. So they definitely weren’t possessed now. He would have to keep a close eye on them while they stayed. He knew that Dipper trusted Wendy, and that was good enough for him, for now, but the others? Ford vaguely remembered Dan from when he’d been a young man, building this very cabin for him. He’d been friendly, loud, and boisterous. It appeared his sons were cut from the same cloth. But it was hard to say whether or not Bill could convince any of them to try and smash the rift.

“So Wendy, did you manage to get more unicorn hair?” Dipper asked as he helped her lay out a sleeping bag in the parlor.

“Oh yeah. I just snuck into that glade again with a pair of shears and a tranq dart. Works just as well as fairy dust.” She handed a grocery bag full of rainbow hair to Ford.

Ford made a mental note to add that tidbit to the Journal 1 entry on unicorns later. “I’ll get started on it first thing tomorrow.”

Mabel came downstairs to help just a minute later. After a lot of rearranging of campaign signs and novelty phones, everyone had a sleeping space set out. Dan took Stan’s recliner in the den, and his youngest son set out a sleeping bag at his feet. The oldest three children laid out their sleeping bags between the piles of junk in the parlor. 

“Ohmigosh, Dipper, we should pull our mattresses down here and have a mega-sleepover!” Mabel gasped as she pushed the last of the campaign signs into a corner.

“What was the point of clearing out all this junk if we aren’t even gonna sleep in our own beds?” Dipper asked tiredly.

“Hmm, good point. Maybe Barry and Stuart can sleep in our beds, and we can sleep down here with Wendy!”

Dipper and Wendy’s middle brother both blushed beet red.

“Uh… I mean… I, uh, I don’t think Wendy would want to sleep with me--US! With us!” Dipper stammered.

“M-me? Sleep in a g-girl’s room? Like a room that a girl sleeps in?” The middle brother gulped.

“Yyyeah, I think we’re good where we are.” Wendy said cooly, trying to diffuse the awkward tension in the room.

“Aw man!” Mabel pouted, but she didn’t put up any other protest than that. Dipper suspected she was still pretty worn out from the rescue mission this morning.

Eventually, everyone got settled down and the children all fell asleep. The elder Pines twins moved back to the living room to check on Dan one more time.

"Hey, now that the kids are asleep, I've been meaning to ask you something." The lumberjack said in a low rumble that was probably his version of a whisper. "How long have there been two of you?"

"Hooboy…" Stan pinched the bridge of his nose. He really didn't want to retread this again.

"I'm Stanford. I'm the one you first met when you built this place for me. My brother Stanley has been living here under my name for the last 30 years." Ford summarized tiredly. Apparently he wasn't in the mood to make a big deal out of it right now either.

Stan could practically see the gears turning in Manly Dan's head. Eventually the grizzled lumberjack nodded. "Yeah, that adds up."

With that, he turned over and went to sleep. Stan was a little surprised that the guy accepted their explanation just like that. But then again, Dan had lived in Gravity Falls his whole life.

Ford grabbed a folding chair from the card table and carried it out into the giftshop.

"Are you seriously gonna stay up and keep watch over that snowglobe thing all night?" Stan asked incredulously.

"My usual sleeping place is already occupied, I may as well." 

"Y’know, operating on so little sleep just makes you more likely to screw up.”

“Don’t worry. I’m well accustomed to it.”

“Not reassuring.” Stan said flatly, turning and climbing the stairs up to his room. If he was being perfectly honest with himself, he probably wouldn’t sleep a wink tonight either. But at least he was going to try. Ford was going to run himself ragged if he kept up this pace.

- - -

Nights in prison were the worst part of the whole ordeal, in Gideon's opinion. At least during the day, he was able to sway the other inmates to do what he wanted. There was a sort of mob mentality that he could take control of. But at night, it was just Gideon and his cell-mate, and there was nothing the boy could do to stop the hulking man from taking his pillow and doing whatever he wanted with it. 

Last week, the convicted felon had staged a wedding in their cell. He’d made a veil out of toilet paper and hummed “Here Comes the Bride” and everything. Tonight, he seemed to be discussing the possibility of children with his new “wife”.

“But Tessa, your mother and your aunt both died in childbirth! I’m just worried about you, honey!” He paused for whatever imagined reply the pillow gave. “Adoption, you say? I’ll admit, I had not considered it.”

Gideon groaned. He couldn’t even put a pillow over his ears to try and block out the nonsense! He’d tried to persuade the warden to let him switch cell mates so he could room with Ghost Eyes, but apparently they were “both instigators” and putting them both in the same cell would be “asking for a prison riot”.

The boy’s eyes flicked with annoyance to the cat poster still hiding his last attempt to summon Bill Cipher. The triangle had appeared and promised he was working on something, but so far Bill had failed to deliver.

“Stupid useless demon!” Gideon muttered under his breath. He rolled over, expecting another sleepless night.

Well, it did turn out to be sleepless, but not for the reason he’d anticipated.

It was a little past 10 PM when Gideon heard the familiar sound of an old van’s engine revving. He’d heard it many times on his father’s used car lot, but what on earth would one of those junkers be doing here?

That’s when he heard the unmistakable sound of a van crashing through a wall. Followed by the even more unmistakable sound of a machine gun.

“Heavens to Betsy, what was that!?” Gideon ran to his barred window just in time to see a pudgy man with a machine gun walk away from the wreckage of where a large van had burst through the prison wall. His maniacal laughter sounded familiar.

“Well whaddya know? Bill came through!” Gideon said in a hushed whisper. 

He dove away from the window with a yelp a second later when the machine gun started firing in his direction. A few seconds later there was a much quieter bang as a tall ladder hit the wall just outside the window. 

“HEY GIDEON, I HEARD YOU WERE GETTING TIRED OF YOUR PRISON AND WANT TO FIND SOMEPLACE NEW TO PARTY?”

“Bill!?”

“THE ONE AND ONLY!”

“Are you trying to kill me, you maniac!?” 

“YEESH, YOU FLESH-SACKS ARE SO SENSITIVE! YOU’RE FINE. BESIDES, I NEEDED TO LOOSEN THESE BARS!” He ripped out the bars on the window with ease. They’d already been loosened by the machine gun fire. “YOU COMING OR NOT? I NEED YOUR HELP STAGING A LITTLE PRISON BREAK OF MY OWN.”

Gideon pouted and followed the demon down the ladder, grumbling the whole way.

“... You know what, Tessa? I don’t think I want kids after all.” Gideon’s cowering cell mate said after they left. 

Bill kept the guards off them with plenty of machine gun fire, but he had little regard for who he was shooting at, guard or prisoner. He even narrowly missed Gideon on a few occasions.

“Oooh, I hope Killbone’s foot will be ok.” The boy hissed sympathetically as he saw one of his inmate friends go down.

“NAH, HE’S CRIPPLED FOR LIFE!”

They finally made it to the van, and Gideon climbed into the passenger-side door. Bill followed after him.

“A-aren’t you gonna drive?” The boy asked.

“TCH, FUNNY! I JUST RAMMED THIS THING THROUGH THREE WALLS OF CONCRETE; YOU THINK THE MEASLY COMBUSTION ENGINE STILL WORKS?” He flicked a lighter on and dropped it down between the driver’s seat and the steering wheel. Gideon could smell the gasoline. This thing was going to blow any second. He scampered over the benches and out the back door. Bill followed casually behind him.

“Then how are we supposed to get away!?” Gideon demanded as he sprinted to put distance between himself and the burning van.

“RELAX, SHORT-STACK, I’VE GOT A SECOND GET-AWAY CAR RIGHT HERE!” Bill pointed out a small black Audi parked behind a tall tree.

“Then why did you set the van on fire?” Gideon asked in confusion.

“BECAUSE I THOUGHT IT’D BE FUN.” Bill grinned as the van blew up behind them. Gideon screamed and ducked to avoid fiery flying debris. “AND I WAS RIGHT!”

Gideon got into Bill’s car. There was no child’s car seat. “You better drive careful.” He warned the demon.

“AHAHAHAHA, OH GIDEON, YOU’RE ALWAYS A RIOT!” Bill struggled to shift the car into drive, and Gideon had just enough time to realize with horror that the demon didn’t really know how to operate a human vehicle before it sped off through the trees.

[a-solitary-marshmallow]

Rewind Chapter 2

Stan’s head was full of cotton. He mumbled and buried his face into his pillow, wishing he could block out the world. Had he been hit in the head during gym class? He couldn’t remember, but that might explain the fuzziness in his brain and why his arms felt all weak and noodly.

Someone was talking to him, probably Ford, trying to get him up for school. Ew, school. Did he have a test today? Stan could have sworn there was one coming up but he never really paid attention to when. Not like studying would change his score much anyway. He had to squint to read the questions and it took him way longer than everyone else to answer anything at all. Pa said it was because he was stupid.

He didn’t want to go to school today. His head was all stuffy and he was tired. Was he sick? If he was sick maybe Pa would let him stay home. It was Ford’s schooling he cared about anyway.

But no, that would leave Ford alone all day! He couldn’t leave his brother with that stupid Crampelter. Ford tried to hide how the other kids picked on him when Stan wasn’t there, but Stan wasn’t a total idiot. He knew it got worse when he wasn’t by his brother’s side, fists clenched and rearing for a fight. They would take advantage of his absence to mess with his brother.

No, he’d have to go to school, for Sixer. Filled with indignation on the part of his brother Stan lifted his face from his pillow-

And froze.

He wasn’t in his room, on the bottom bunk while Ford leaned over from the top bunk to talk to him. He wasn’t in his room at all.

The bed he was on was big and messy with slightly grubby sheets. It sat in a weird room that looked like it was part of a log cabin, rife with random objects that sat on boxes or desks or were pinned to a corkboard on the wall. And there was someone standing over him.

Stan yelped and threw himself away from the reaching hand, only to topple off the bed and let out a pained cry when his elbows scraped the wooden floor. The person rushed around towards him. Heart pounding, Stan rolled under the bed and curled up as far in as he could get.

It was cold down here, and dusty, spider webs crisscrossing the beams above his head. Stan hugged his knees and gasped for breath.

Where the heck was he? Who was this guy? Where were Ford, and Ma, and his room and his house?

“Stanley?” A voice called. Deep and male and it sounded like Pa but not quite. Stan would have taken being alone with Pa over this. There was rustling as the person knelt next to the bed. Stan whimpered and curled up tighter. Maybe if he stayed still and very quiet, they would go away.

A man’s face peered into the shadows. His glasses reflected the light but – there was something familiar about those brown curls, the shape of his mouth, the concerned tilt of his brows.

“Ford?” Stan blurted. Ford – because it was Ford, wasn’t it, even though he was grown up? – nodded, seemingly at a loss for what to do. They sat there for a moment before Ford reached a hand towards him.

It was probably to help him out from under the bed, but Stanley took the chance to count his fingers. One, two, three, four, five, six. Yep, this was Ford alright. He grabbed the huge hand and crawled out of the dusty shadows.

Ford was huge. He looked like an adult, Stan realized as he shook dust from his clothes and sneezed. He looked like Pa, but without the sunglasses and the scowl and the grey hair.

“What happened to you?” Stan demanded. “You’re all – big.”

Ford’s eyes widened slightly. He hadn’t made a move to stand up from where he was kneeling. To be honest, Stan didn’t want him to stand up – he didn’t like the idea of his brother looming over him.

“You don’t remember?” Ford’s voice was deeper than he was used to. It still sounded like a nerd’s voice, though, so that was something. Stan frowned.

“Remember what? This isn’t home. Where are we? And you – you’re old. What’s going on?”

Ford ran a hand across his face and groaned. “Okay. This is fine. So you reverted to a child in memories as well. Just – great.”

And then he stood up and started walking. Stan trailed after his brother as he sat at a desk and started writing in a big book. Stan wasn’t tall enough to see what he was writing.

“Uh, Ford?”

No answer. Stan stood there awkwardly while Ford scratched away in his book. He really wasn’t liking how – how weird his brother was being. He felt like he’d missed something big. But with the way Ford was acting Stan was nervous to ask, and that made him even more worried. Ford had never been this distant before.

“I called you here.” Ford said suddenly, making Stan jump. The nerd still wasn’t looking up from his book. “I needed your help hiding my journals. You came to my house. Do you remember that?”

“I have no clue what you’re talking about.” A thought struck Stan and he blinked. “Wait, are we in the future?”

“In a manner of speaking, you are.” Ford sighed. “Listen carefully, Stanley. I asked you to come, so you could take my journal far away and hide it.”

“Why?”

“It contains very dangerous information. I have to keep it out of the wrong hands.”

“Oh, okay.” Yeah, that made sense. That kind of stuff was always happening in the new Sci-Fi show Ford loved. Of course, that was a show, but they’d seen weird things before. Like the Jersey Devil! Plus, if anyone was gonna write something epic and powerful and smart, it would be Ford.

His brother sent him an odd look out of the corner of his eye but continued.

“When you got here – you were my age then – we got into an argument. You knocked into one of my samples and got it all over you. Then you turned into – this. A younger version of yourself.”

Stan blinked. “I was old?”

“We’re twenty seven, Stanley ­– or at least I am. I was investigating water from the spring of youth, but I only came across it recently so I haven’t had time to work out how to undo its effects. I’ll have to get a new sample to experiment on, since you destroyed the only one I had.”

Destroyed? Stan rubbed the back of his neck, shame twisting in his stomach. “Aw man, bro, sorry I broke your thing.”

Ford stiffened. Stan rushed to continue, afraid he’d said something wrong.

“But you can – can get a new one, right? And I can help. And then we can do the thing you wanted, hide the book, right? It’ll be like burying pirate treasure! Oh! If this is the future, did we get the Stan O’ War fixed?” He vibrated with excitement. “Is she seaworthy? Do we go sailing?”

“I’m trying to write, Stanley.” Ford said stiffly, coldly. He’d never used that voice with Stan before. It was unnerving. “Why don’t you go downstairs and get something to eat?”

“Uh… okay. Sure.” Stan mumbled, subdued. Maybe the Stan O’ War could wait.

For the first time he noticed the state of his clothes – well, cloth, since there was only one piece – a too-big shirt that hung off him like a huge smock. He considered asking for a change of clothes. But if he used to be a grownup, they would probably only have grownup clothes. Plus, Ford seemed pretty upset and Stan didn’t want to bother him.

So he held his tongue and wandered out of the room, into the rest of the house. It was big, and super messy. Stan passed what looked like a – a triangle shine? – as he explored a room that may have been a lounge. He poked his tongue out at it. The grumble of his stomach seemed very loud in the quiet. Ford was right, he hadn’t even realized he was hungry!

Eventually he found the kitchen. An investigation of the fridge showed it was empty except a quarter-full jar of peanut butter. Well, better than nothing. Stan found a spoon among the dishes and shuffled over to the dingy table to eat. He had to brush a few papers away to make space.

Okay. So this was really weird. Definitely not scary though. Stan refused to be scared. Even if he desperately missed the security of home, of having his brother by his side-

But this Ford was his brother –  just a bit older. And wasn’t that good? Ford was older, he knew what was going on, he could fix it. Stan just had to wait for him to make things go back to normal. And wasn’t it so cool that his nerd brother would grow up to be a nerdy scientist? He couldn’t wait to go back home and tell his Ford the adventure he’d gone on.

Secure once again, Stan decided to investigate this weird place. His Ford would wanna ask a lot of questions about it, after all. He shoved a final spoon of peanut butter into his mouth and jumped up to explore.

There was so much weird stuff here! Stan had no idea what half of it did. Though, that was true of a lot of things. He peered into some kind of office room with a chalk circle on the floor and candles scattered around, before deciding Ford probably wouldn’t like it if he messed with his stuff.

There was a door that, once opened, showed a dark, yawning staircase stretching out below. Stan peered around for a light switch. Finding none, he shrugged to himself and decided to brave it.

The stairs seemed to go on forever. Stan’s breathing and the tap-tap-tap of his footsteps seemed uncomfortably loud in the enclosed space. A flickering bluish light lit up whatever was below. Stan squinted to try and figure out what it was.

He soon found out, however, when he ended up in some huge lab. The majority of the space was taken up by some gigantic structure, a big circle like the kind you’d blow bubbles with but surrounded with technology junk. It looked like something straight out of Star Trek!

“Whoa.”

Stan walked over to a console to stare at all the buttons. Did Ford know how to use this thing? Did Ford build it? Jeez, he’d always known Ford was the smart twin but this was epic. And if Ford could build this thing, between the two of them the Stan O’ War was gonna be the greatest ship ever!

Stan paused. He knew he really shouldn’t be messing with Ford’s stuff, but that big red button was tempting him. Surely it couldn’t hurt to find out what this thing could do?

Stanley bit his lip, tossing up his options. He was spared from having to make a decision by stomping footsteps and a shout.

“Stanley!”

__________________________________________________________

In hindsight, letting a child roam freely around a house that doubled as a lab and testing site was… not the smartest move to make. In Ford’s defence he had been distracted when he suggested it. Stan had started talking about breaking projects, and that stupid boat, and it took every iota of Ford’s self-control to not snap and yell at him.

He’s a child. He has no memories of what happened. He doesn’t know what he’s saying.

After about twenty minutes of writing observations in his journal Ford had come to the conclusion that letting a child – even worse, Stanley – loose in this place could be dangerous. He closed his journal and descended to make sure he was staying out of trouble.

But Stanley wasn’t downstairs. He wasn’t anywhere Ford checked. With increasing distress Ford stuck his head outside to see if the child had ventured into the woods. No sign of him, and the thick layer of snow was untouched. But the only other place he could have gone was-

The lab.                                                                    

Ford cursed himself for not noticing that the door to the lab was hanging ajar. Stupid sleep deprivation! Ford stormed down the stairs, caught between fury and concern. What if Stan hurt himself?

When he reached the bottom, however, and found his brother staring at the portal’s controls, fury won out.

“Stanley!”

Stan snapped around guiltily. “Uh, hey, Ford-”

“What are you doing down here? This is my lab, it’s dangerous! You can’t touch anything!” Ford marched over and snatched his brother away from the controls. “What if you broke something? Or got hurt?”

Stan yelped. Ford tucked him under one arm and started back up the stairs, gritting his teeth.

“From now on you are not to come down here. Understood?”

“Mm hmm.” Stan mumbled. Once at the top of the stairs Ford placed him down to close and lock the door firmly. He turned back to Stan to continue the scolding, but… Stan looked like he was about to cry. His face was screwed up and he stared at the floor as if he could will away the tears that Ford could see gathering in his eyes.

A surge of guilt washed over Ford, which was ridiculous, because he had nothing to be guilty about. He sighed.

“Stanley, I…” What was there to say? “It’s late. I’ll set you up in the spare room.”

Stan sniffed and nodded.

  Luckily Stan had always been resilient, and he perked back up while Ford went about preparing the bed in the spare room. He hadn’t had visitors for so long that he’d started using it as a workbench.

This had been Fiddleford’s room, back when they had worked together. The thought of his old research assistant sent a spike of guilt through him. Yet another warning that he had ignored, and in the process he’d destroyed the one human friendship he had.

No, he didn’t have time to reminisce. Not with Stanley to deal with and the threat of Bill looming over him at any given time. Ford harshly shoved all thoughts of Fiddleford from his mind and threw a blanket over the bed. It wasn’t very thick but it would have to do.

He was lost in thought as he absently picked up his brother and placed him on the bed. There, problem solved. Ford had more important work to do. For starters, he had to figure out some way to get the unicorn hair he needed for a protective spell against Bill. Until he could put up the barrier it wouldn’t be safe to dismantle the portal, which meant Bill had a much better chance of figuring out how to get in and activate it.

He paused in the doorway to glance at his watch. What was the time, somewhere after midnight? Two-ish apparently. At daybreak he could try again to get the unicorn hair. But he also had to figure out how to cure Stan. Would it be better to leave that until after he had Bill-proofed his house? Stan would be in the way the whole time, but he would be less of an obstacle than he would be as an adult.

But then again, an adult Stan could drive away and be out of the equation entirely. While he was a child Ford was stuck with him. Also, adult Stan also might agree to take the journal when he found out that Ford had cured him. Yes, it was probably better to do that first-

“I can almost see yer ears smoking!”

The chirp made him jump. Ford whipped around to stare at Stanley, who was blinking at him from his spot on the bed.

“Ya were standing in the doorway looking blank for like, five minutes.” The child explained at Ford’s stare. “Watcha thinking about?”

Ford took a slow, steadying breath. “Truthfully? The situation I’m currently in. I have far too much on my plate, and very little time to deal with it.”

“Well, is there anything I can do?” Stan tipped his head. The action made him look rather like a puppy. Despite his tiredness and frustration, the sight made Ford’s mouth tip into a smile.

“I don’t suppose you can charm unicorns as well as you charm old people into giving you sweets?”

“Hey, I don’t make ‘em give me stuff, they just wanna! All I gotta do is play it up a bit.” Then Stan seemed to register the first statement. “Whoa, hold up. Did you say unicorns?”

“Yes, but believe me, they’re not quite as pleasant as the kind you’re imagining. And they very much dislike parting with their hair.” Ford’s lip curled. “Quite irritating, actually.”

“Where did you find unicorns?” Stan demanded excitedly, slipping off the bed to rush to Ford and grab his coat in chubby fists.

“The forest, of course. Gravity Falls is home to numerous creatures not found anywhere else in the world. Why do you think I moved here?” Ford couldn’t quite hold in a snort at the way his brother’s eyes sparkled. “I’m surprised you haven’t seen any gnomes already. They often sneak in to raid the pantry.”

“Are they here now? Can I see ‘em?” Stanley gasped out in a rush.

“No. I do have some sketches in my journal though…”

Stanley let out a whoop and darted past him. Ford watched him scramble up the stairs to where Ford’s room was. How did he… no, he’d woken up in Ford’s room, of course he knew where it was.

“Stanley!” Ford called after him. “Stan, you should be in bed!”

“I’m not tired!”

Oh, for the love of…

Ford sighed and followed, albeit at a slower pace. He had no idea how they’d had that much energy as children. It seemed boundless.

At any rate, he doubted Stanley would be getting to sleep any time soon, and he had to keep an eye on the child to make sure he didn’t get into any trouble. At least his presence shouldn’t hinder Ford too much. Stan could draw or look at pictures or whatever children did while Ford worked on finding a cure.

“FO-ORD!” Stanley yelled. “Come on, hurry up! You got so many books here! Are there mermaids in this weird place too? Oh my gosh there’s mermaids aren’t there? Which one’s your diary thing? I wanna SEE!”

“Coming.” Ford huffed out another sigh and picked up the pace.

[ihavelovednone]

S03E10 Mayans MC - Steve

I just really wanted to dive into Steve’s suicide and what I liked and disliked about his character and storyline on the show. And as most of you know by now, it’s gonna be a long one so if you don’t feel like reading all of it, I get it.

First of all It was really hard to watch, I gotta say and there was mainly one thing about Steve’s demise that I did not like, which I’ve stated in a short note on my previous blog. I wanna explain my feelings of that scene on a deeper level. And maybe also Steve as a person.

Steve as a prospect seemed off to me from the get go. He didn’t have a record, no knowledge of guns, or violence for that matter. He was clumsy and somewhat awkward. I concluded that maybe he nagged his way into prospecting for the club. I mean, I don’t think there’s a shortage of criminals wanting to establish themselves in organized crime and, also because I think there’s a certain level of status that Motorcycle Clubs hold within that crime-genre, so choosing Steve over someone more qualified (like it’s a job interview - God, I think I need to put the wine down now) is strange to say the least.

He seems to have had a relation to Hank way before Hank became his sponsor. Maybe he was Hank’s neighbor, or maybe his mother’s. I don’t know. But they knew each other somehow.

Prospecting This time Elgin did what I think prospecting for a club might be like, there were constant yelling at Steve about his uselessness, What the fuck, Steve? - which I know seems funny, but it’s not - it’s toxic. Every time the members say something to degrade Steve, they take a piece of him, a piece of his soul. It’s like domestic, psychological violence. The difference is, Steve’s not the female, the wife, and the members aren’t the husband. But nonetheless, it’s got the same effect. It may seem funny to some, when they’re throwing that comment at Steve, but I never really got it. The little comments here and there that breaks a person down little by little, it’s heartbreaking.

Steve was, before he entered the club, a very vulnerable young man with very low self worth and low self esteem, if any. He wanted to belong somewhere, and he thought that the club was what was going to take him to the heights within himself that he wanted to reach. With the club the confidence would automatically come. Like you could drink it out of a bottle. He’d be somebody. Almost like when the nerd gets the makeover and all of a sudden he’s got all the girls wanting him.

Macho culture I think Steve was oblivious to the fact that killing a person, it destroys something within you, it leaves a mark. In Steve, it’s the not being able to sleep, constantly thinking of that persons family that eventually destroys him. There’s probably stress and feelings of shame and fear there that won’t give up and all of a sudden there’s no other options left. Because boys don’t cry.

I think Elgin James did a good job showcasing the impact that killing a person has on someone, because we talk way too little about it. How PTSD occurs and how it manifests. Mostly it’s referred to as something that appears in soldiers. We never talk of the victims of bullying, the people that are victims of gun violence or domestic abuse. We never talk about the police officers, the firefighters, the paramedics, or anyone that experiences something traumatic. We never see these individuals as people that are being exposed to the possibility of experiencing PTSD.

Steve being ignored, no one seeing his clearly distressed persona, the fact that he got more cheers than people trying to reach out and letting him talk about what he experienced, that says a lot about our society and about macho culture. EZ trying to instill his own coping mechanisms into Steve, that says a lot about what’s been instilled in EZ and also society’s view of men as these walking raincoats where "sad feelings” just rolls right of them and down into a puddle on the floor. Again, boys don’t cry.

The suicide What I didn’t like about Steve’s fate was the fact that he committed suicide in the presence of the club members. It seemed to be just for shock value, and to drive EZ’s plot forward. Also, I don’t think many suicides occur like that. It kinda felt like they wanted to do a version of Pyle’s suicide in Full Metal Jacket (Stanley Kubrik, 1987) but failed because it’s unrealistic to the audience.

I think it would’ve been more impactful had Steve got to have his moment, so to speak, more impactful if he had committed suicide in the comfort of his own home. A dark and lonely bedroom would, to me at least, have a deeper impact because that’s where they often take place. It would’ve shown Steve’s inner and also outer loneliness. Because even if he was becoming a member of the club, he really didn’t have many friends and they never really saw him as a “brother”.

Also, as I’ve already mentioned, it really rubbed me the wrong way when they used his suicide to move someone else’s plot forward. EZ could’ve still been impacted greatly by Steve’s suicide. It didn’t have to end like that. The fact that EZ needed to witness a suicide to choose Gaby, that’s for another conversation. All I wanna say is: it takes away from the severity of Steve’s actions. It puts the focus on EZ, not Steve’s pain. It’s almost on the edge of romanticizing suicide.

Conclusion I thought Momo Rodriguez portrayal of Steve’s inner commotion was really moving, he nailed that performance, and it probably would have had the same impact, had it occurred somewhere else. Using suicide like this, to move a character forward, it’s not the way to go. Maybe it has to do with my own relations to suicide that impacts my view of it, I don’t know. It just doesn’t sit right.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _

Disclaimer:  When commenting on this post, please refrain from using the term “killed himself/yourself”. Mental illness affects many and suicidality is one of many side effects. Referring to a persons suicide as them “killing themselves” takes away from the severity of the illness. Suicide is never a choice, killing yourself is.

[fillingthescrapbook]

Rewriting The CW's Kung Fu, Part 9: Reflections and Moving Forward

And we have reached the end of our Kung Fu journey. If you haven't seen where we began, here's a handy guide to the previous posts:

Part 1: The Characters

Part 2: The Pilot

Part 3: The Mythology

Part 4: The Story Map

Part 5: Act I

Part 6: Act II

Part 7: Act III

Part 8: The Finale

Before I start with the lessons I learned and my other reflections, I want to thank @flailingbloo for all of her help and support in this endeavor. Without her to talk to and commiserate with, I would probably have gotten stuck in Act II forever and everything I've written would've been riddled with spelling errors and grammatical mistakes. So my eternal gratitude to flailingbloo. And now, we begin:

Lessons.

Going into this writing exercise, I already knew it was going to be hard. Writing stories is time-consuming, it's nerve-wracking, and it takes a lot of research...and patience. Writing, especially for television, is also not a solitary task. I mean, sure, the writing itself needs to be done alone--but everything that comes before, during, and after the writing needs input from so many people.

Although I have a lot (and I mean A LOT) of complaints about how The CW's Kung Fu was handled and written, I do have a lot of respect for the work that the writers put into their scripts. And I do appreciate all that they have done to have a show like this produced.

Doing this rewrite, I learned that it's really important to make the main character likeable. Like, every episode I broke down, I had to ask myself: is Nicky likeable here? Is she someone who viewers would want to root for? Like, for me she is, but only people who read what I wrote can say for sure. My perspective is now a bit skewered because I have bias.

Second, story maps are very helpful. There were times, especially during Part 6 (where I wrote breakdowns for Episodes 6 to 9) where I kept getting road-blocked by where I want the story to go. So I went back to the story map over and over again, to remind myself--where does the story itself need to go? How do I help the characters get to the point where they're ready for what needs to happen? (This is also where flailingbloo helped the most for me. Like, she really reminded me why I was doing this rewrite in the first place. Because I care about Nicky and the show. I wouldn't have funneled so much of my time and effort into this if I didn't.)

Another thing I learned, or rather re-learned, is the art of letting go. I created the character of Stanley to recur throughout the series as a reminder of who Nicky was and who she is becoming. And then I finished writing the first act without even mentioning him. By the second act, I was ready to use him finally--but, after multiple false starts, I realized Stanley was one of the reasons why I was having a hard time pushing Nicky's story forward. Because I kept trying to go back to the past. So I decided in the writing of the second act to shelve Stanley completely, only to find him popping up in the second to last episode in a, at least I hope, more organic way.

The last thing I learned in this exercise was that, whenever a new character needs to come in, I have to look at my existing characters first to see if any one of them can fulfill the role I needed for the story. Like, creating new villains for Nicky was fun, sure--but, at the same time, I realized that there were already existing villains that could recur. Like the Triad, who played villains in two more episodes after the pilot; and Henry's martial arts class at the community center became the source of two existing storylines from the actual show.

Reflections.

Do I think what my rewrite is better than the show? To me, yes. But, again, I am very biased. That said, I am proud of how I utilized the characters that the show created and didn't really give much importance to. Dennis, when he was introduced, felt like a rich character that could provide a very different point-of-view from the Shen siblings--but he was mostly relegated to being eye-candy. And I thought I gave him more meat by making him more involved in Althea's sexual harassment storyline, while also involving him in Nicky's stories.

That said, I also realize that I wasn't able to play up Nicky and Evan's past relationship as I was writing the episodic breakdowns. I was able to give them a lot of opportunities to explore their chemistry together, as I did with Nicky and Henry, but I kind of dropped the ball as a writer on guiding those planted moments into something more significant. Granted, I only wrote breakdowns and not actual scripts. Maybe I could've explored the romance angle more with a little sprinkle of direction and dialogue.

As I went deeper into the rewrite, I do see how easy it is to fall in love with characters as you write them. It's very easy to trap yourself into wanting villains to be more well-rounded. I keep having to remind myself that I don't have to redeem everyone. Just Nicky. Which became harder and harder as I went further and further into the story.

Another thing that became difficult as I went on? Keeping the mythology from just bursting open. That's how Henry, as I wrote him, evolved into becoming the son of a guardian--just so there's a reason for him to be so invested in Nicky's quest, while also having someone who can explain things to our main character. I'm actually really proud of that evolution.

All that said, I also have to recognize that I rewrote the show with the benefit of hindsight and the lack of budget constraints. In the real show, there's a group of writers who each have their own ideas of what the show should be. (This is where a head writer--not a show runner--would come in handy, so they could reel in the story to what needs to be told.) With more writers comes more chances for inconsistencies to happen. (And this is where a script supervisor, or a writing assistant, could come in handy.) And then there's production notes and budget. Not to mention, you know, the whole pandemic that's still happening. I didn't have to think about those things while doing this rewrite.

So, again, I want to give the writers kudos to actually producing scripts. I hope they haven't lost their minds--or their will to write--just because there are people like me who nitpick at everything. That's what people who love things do. We nitpick because we care.

Moving forward.

I do plan to stick with the real show for Season 2. I hope it's planned better. I hope they get researchers (plural!) and a writing assistant to help in the writing room. I hope the writers would sit down with the cast to discuss and develop the characters more. And I really hope they hire a better fight choreographer and fight director for the second season. (Like, rehire the people who choreographed and filmed the flashback scene in... Episode 11? The one with Nicky's maternal grandmother and Pei-Ling's own mother?)

I hope that the Nicky-Henry relationship gets explored realistically, and if a potential new love interest is ordered, they get introduced in a way that isn't antagonistic. Make them more well-rounded characters too, please. Make us want to root for their success. And while I think Nicky doesn't have an iota of chemistry with Evan, I do like Evan himself as a character. So I hope they get him more involved in future storylines--as an outsider looking in, sure, but also as an honorary member of the Shen family.

With regards to the Shen family, I do hope that we get to explore their relationships and dreams more before the show drops the reveal about Mei-Xue's daughter. I want Althea to have a cohesive storyline that doesn't pause for no reason. I want Ryan to explore being Asian AND gay as a first-generation Asian-American. And give the Shen siblings some recurring friends. They don't have to be semi-regulars (unless there's a story that can be explored) but let's not keep the Shens in a bubble. It was weird in the first season. Especially for Althea whose friends only showed up for her bachelorette party and never again. Not even when she was panicking about wedding preparations, which, considering how rich Dennis's parents were? They wouldn't let Althea be in charge of anything. They would hire a Chinese wedding coordinator. And an expensive and hard-to-book one at that. They donated an entire hospital wing, for crying out loud.

I want Jin to have an actual character, and not just be the supportive dad who loves his kids very much (admittedly my own rewrite also made this same mistake). And I want Mei-Li to be consistent as a character. Like, no more surprise twists about being the descendant of a legendary warrior without proper foreshadowing and plot-planting please.

Dennis shouldn't just be eye-candy. The same applies to Kerwin. Sure, I get that shirtless men are a must in a CW series, but please give their characters some meat too. Dennis's nerd-side was never showcased in the show, and Kerwin had that poor little rich boy background that didn't get explored either. Because the show was too busy keeping him and Zhi-Lan tearing each others' clothes off--when they're not tearing other people down.

Also, don't drop the ball on the tease that Bian-Ge is now everywhere. If I understood correctly, Bian-Ge is Kung Fu's version of Qi. If yes, then I hope they treat it respectfully as a force of nature--and not just the source of magic. The flowers from Bian-Ge itself can be magical, sure, I have no problem with a fictional flower being a McGuffin.

Finally, I hope the show also explores other Asian communities and cultures. Like, Kung Fu is great--but imagine if Nicky had to face someone who is versed in Silat Melayu? Or someone who uses Arnis? Someone who practices Kalaripayattu or Lathi Khela? Or Kuntao? Imagine Nicky having to use Wing Chun against someone who uses Karate or Krav-Maga? Asia is a big continent and there are so many different types of martial arts found from the Middle East to Southeast Asia. Kung-Fu is an umbrella term, so it'll be great to see the different styles found under it.

... This went long again. Sorry about that. Funny thing is, when I started this whole rewriting plan? I thought it would take three posts, tops. And look at us now. Nine posts deep, and it seems I still haven't run out of things to say. So I'm cutting myself off before I completely wear out my welcome.

But if you've read all my Kung Fu posts, please do reach out. Let's discuss the show and what it can do to produce a better second season.

[letterboxd]

Watching John Malkovich.

To understand better why Letterboxd members set out on quests to watch specific actors’ entire filmographies, we invited Tim Rod to describe her dangerous and seductive journey through John Malkovich’s screen history.

For many film lovers, 2020 has been a year of catching up: on franchises, on directors’ filmographies, on historical gaps and top 100s. But for some Letterboxd members, the year indoors has been an opportunity to hyper-focus on a single actor and their work.

Jeremiah Lambert is on a Bacon Fest, Naked Airplane has embarked on a wild ride through the works of De Niro, Hackman, Hoffman, Nicholson and Pacino. Joey is preparing for next year’s centennial of The Kid by churning through Charlie Chaplin’s catalog (with David Robinson’s biography Chaplin: His Life and Art in hand). A quick Twitter survey found others churning through a performer selection as wide-ranging as Burt Lancaster, Parker Posey, Maggie Smith, Nicolas Cage, Cary Grant, Kevin Costner, Robin Williams, Adèle Haenel, Alan Arkin, Sam Rockwell and a Seth Rogen thirst project.

It can be a bumpy journey. In one performer’s oeuvre the quality will range widely, the genres too. But the rewards are many in a close study of craft, and there are revelations, whether it’s that Australia’s Miranda Otto deserves more recognition, or it’s “the total acceptance, lack of judgment, and vulnerability with which Alan Arkin has played so many of his flawed and wonderful characters”.

With Christian Bale in ‘Empire of the Sun’ (1987).

In 2020, no fewer than three movies and two television series starring John Malkovich have been released: Arkansas, Valley of the Gods and Ava, as well as The New Pope and Space Force. The legendary actor has kept himself busy, and I know this because I have seen most of his filmography—41 films and two series—in the span of a single month. I adore Malkovich, always have, and I came out of this experience with a deeper admiration for him, and with some thoughts about his unique, remarkable skills as an actor. (And, I had a really good time.)

Allow me to begin by saying that John Malkovich is the best part of every movie he is in. No matter the movie, Malkovich will always steal the spotlight, and he can turn a good movie into a masterpiece, or an average movie that wouldn’t catch anyone’s attention into one worth watching, if only to see him do his thing.

He’s starred in movies that are considered masterpieces by many: Being John Malkovich (1999), The Killing Fields (1984) and Empire of the Sun (1987). Movies that may be considered the opposite of masterpieces, like Supercon (2018), Eragon (2006) and the most recent Ava (2020), and he’s also starred in some gems that I knew nothing about but am glad to have discovered, such as The Convent (1995), Eleni (1985) and The Ogre (1996). Malkovich has brought to life iconic characters including Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, Tom Ripley, Hercule Poirot (in BBC’s The ABC Murders), the artist Gustav Klimt, and several of David Lynch’s people, in the short film Psychogenic Fugue (2016).

As Mitch Leary in ‘In the Line of Fire’ (1993).

Malkovich has received two Academy Award nominations, for Places in the Heart (1984), in which he played Edna’s lodger, the solitary yet kind Mr. Will, and for In the Line of Fire (1993), where he played the complete opposite: the psychotic Mitch Leary, determined to kill the President of the United States. Though Malkovich is not a classic action-film actor, his work in that genre is driven by logic, intellect and emotion, and the delicacy that he employs to challenge concepts of masculinity and keep us guessing. His soft and collected voice threatening Clint Eastwood over the phone is scarier and more effective than a deeper one would have been.

That voice. Malkovich has admitted that he hates the sound of it, that he would always avoid listening to it, just like so many actors avoid watching their own films, but I’m bewitched by his voice and I could never get enough of it. It can be tender, sweet and calming, seductive when the role requires it, and terrifying. With that versatility, it’s not surprising that he has done some narrating work as well, for films including Paul Newman’s The Glass Menagerie (1987) and Alive (1993).

Malkovich is at his best when seduction and villainy combine, as they do in Dangerous Liaisons (1988). Vicomte Sébastien de Valmont has been performed by many actors over the years, but I find Malkovich’s take to be the most memorable and exquisite. He captures perfectly the depravity and evilness of Valmont, but also the nuances, his journey from womanizer to man genuinely in love and, ultimately, his tragic redemption. He even brings a comedic aspect to the character that adds more depth and dimension.

With Glenn Close in ‘Dangerous Liaisons’ (1988).

Valmont is an awful human being, a monster even, and yet, every time I watch this movie, I find myself fascinated by his mastery of the deception, his sensuality and complete control of the situation, until the situation is “beyond his control”. In her review of the film, Catherine Stebbins calls John Malkovich “a sexual force of nature”, and I completely agree. If you want to see more of Malkovich’s sensual side, other notable mentions include The Sheltering Sky (1990), The Object of Beauty (1991) and Beyond the Clouds (1995).

And then there’s Being John Malkovich (1999), in which ‘John Horatio Malkovich’ displays so many facets of his craft. The fictionalized Malkovich is possessed by different characters, one of them a woman. Catherine Keener’s character falls in love with a subtly different version of Malkovich, when he is a vessel for Lotte (Cameron Diaz). Even though Lotte doesn’t have full control of Malkovich, he uses his femininity to bring the character-inside-the-character to center stage, delivering a subtle-yet-perfect performance. Even when we don’t see Lotte, we know she’s there.

John Malkovich as John Horatio Malkovich possessed by Lotte, in ‘Being John Malkovich’ (1999).

Not many actors could pull this off as brilliantly as John Malkovich does. To be fair, not many actors have been given the chance that Spike Jonze and Charlie Kaufman gave Malkovich: a film with his own name in the title.

I’ve discussed some of the most well-known of Malkovich’s performances, but I’d like to mention an overlooked one that I found heartbreaking and noteworthy. I didn’t know of the existence of The Ogre (1996) until I took a closer look at Malkovich’s filmography. It’s not without its flaws, but I found myself absorbed in the fairy-tale story of Abel, a naïve French prisoner of war who is taken to Nazi Germany and used to recruit children for Hitler’s Youth. Once again, the actor’s duality is on display, as Evan writes in his Letterboxd review: “Malkovich is both queasy and endearing as the (ig)noble simp who just wants to save the babies.” The Ogre tells a tragic story, but thanks to Malkovich’s tenderness, we can’t help but have sympathy for his character. At times it reminded me of the innocence of Lennie in Of Mice and Men (1992), another of the actor’s more noteworthy performances.

One of Malkovich’s great contributions to cinema is elevating an average movie just by being in it. One such role is as English conman Alan Conway in the bizarre true story, Colour Me Kubrick (2005). Malkovich admitted in an interview that he thought his performance was good, and I agree. If there’s one reason to watch that film, it’s to see Malkovich playing an eccentric conman who poses as Stanley Kubrick, using different voices and accents. As TajLV writes, “if there were anything to commend this film other than Malkovich, I’d happily rate it higher”.

As Alan Conway in ‘Colour Me Kubrick’ (2005).

One fun fact: I sometimes forget John Malkovich is American. Maybe it’s because he has starred in many European productions—out of the 41 films I watched, 18 were European. Malkovich is of European descent, has lived in France for a decade and speaks fluent French, which allowed him to star as the mysterious Baron de Charlus in Time Regained (1999), with entirely French dialogue. He also delivers lines in French and Portuguese in A Talking Picture (2003) by Manoel de Oliveira.

You’ve probably heard Malkovich use words, expressions and even entire lines of French dialogue on more than one occasion. He does this often, which gives him a certain European vibe, consistent with his own character, mannerisms and dress sense—elements that he sometimes brings to his characters. Maybe that’s the reason he has played so many intellectuals and artists: professors, scientists, detectives, painters, writers, a scientist and a robot, and even the Pope… It seems there’s nothing John Malkovich can’t do, including directing.

To end my marathon, I watched his directorial debut, The Dancer Upstairs (2002), an assured movie adapted from a novel about the Maoist uprising in Peru in the 1980s, starring Javier Bardem. It was a nice surprise, and a strong start to what could have been a career as a film director, if not for the fact that he doesn’t have the patience to do it again. I recently read an interview where Edgar Wright revealed advice he always gives to directors, which is to make their second movie the one that will define them. I wonder if we will ever see John Malkovich’s second film, but for now, I hope he keeps gifting us with more unforgettable performances. At least we know that in the distant future, along with all the movies he has already appeared in, people will enjoy a never-seen-before performance when Robert Rodríguez’s short 100 years is released in 2115.

If there’s one thing I have learnt after watching most of his filmography, it’s that John Malkovich is one of the best and most versatile actors of our time, with the most unique voice I have heard in cinema, and with a rich filmography that encompasses every genre. And he’s not only a brilliant actor, but also someone I find personally fascinating. I truly find comfort in him. I hope we all get to enjoy his art for years to come, because his talent is limitless and I know he still has so much more to give. John Malkovich deserves all the praise for being a force of nature in the theater and film industry for over 40 years.

Tim is a Letterboxd member based in Spain, who has recently moved on from her John Malkovich marathon to a Sacha Baron Cohen quest.

[maareyas]

Au silver backstory time :] Repost bc tumblr drafts erased the last version. also this is part 1. NOW WITH ADDED BACKGROUND LORE AND ANGST!

edit: i forgot to link to the original pic

First! Some background on the state of the future! unlike 06, this silver's future isn't covered in flames and ash. rather, its empty and lifeless. endless, barren wastelands with only little plant life and the scattered ruins of cities/other structures left of a previously vibrant world. this future is the direct result of the metal virus, abt 300 years later (instead of 200 like in canon). everything that was infected during sonic's present had already disintegrated. things that were infected much later still remain, though. this is why, while most of the world has been cleared of the virus, there are still some areas that DO have it. and why most plantlife on the planet went poof.

There were survivors of the original outbreak who were able to avoid the virus. So there’s still people in the future world. Borrowing from evan stanley’s concepts for the Silver Age saga of the archie comics, moving settlements like Onyx City exist. These cities are indifferent/hostile to outsiders who want in though. As a result, everyone outside these settlements are nomadic, travelling alone or in small groups at most. Resources are scarce, after all.

Now onto silver’s actual backstory. Silv has been alone his whole life. I do not vibe with the idea of giving canon charas blood relatives for some reason, so the circumstance of his birth are a mystery lol. Silver drifts from place to place, trying to survive and trying to uncover what happened in the past. He’s a sort of archeologist! He explores ruins of the past world and pieces together history from the things he can find in faded books and partially corrupted computers. He doesn’t know much, only that the world was lively 300 years ago. He wonders what happened that made everything so desolate.

Silver has met and befriended other nomads before. Given the situation though, becoming an actual companion is a no-no. At most, he runs into them one or two times and never sees them again. Groups tend to be more hostile to outsiders like him since he might try to join them. More people = more mouths to feed, and possibly, the collapse of the existing internal structure.

So yeah, silver is a VERY lonely boy. But not to worry, its time for…….Found Family Trope.

On one of his Ruins ExplorationsTM Silver runs into prof. Von schlemmer and the Bits, who were doing the same. They decide to team up on their search. They talk about their shared interest in uncovering the past, as well as their life (well. Schlemmer does anyway. Silver didn’t have much of his life to take about). Schlemmer talks about how he was kicked out of Onyx City for reasons I haven’t decided yet. Probably something to do with being too curious about the past? Idk. He now lives in a makeshift mobile lab he made himself. So ye basically the whole ruins exploring thing become a bonding moment

Schlemmer then asks if silver would like to become his assistant or smth. Silver, of course, having been alone for so long, is beyond overjoyed at the idea of having a home and a friend. Ecstatic, he accepts schlemmer’s offer. So Found Family stuff happens. Schlemmer just sorta. Becomes Silver’s dad. His weird science dad. They go around exploring ruins, uncovering stuff about the past, and doing general father-son Mad Science. Schlemmer also makes a personal Bit for silver! Since I’m bad with names its name is Sil-bit until I can think of something else

Eventually, they gather enough information to pinpoint a general timeframe for when things went to hell and led to the future being ruined. They have a plan to change past events, and Schlemmer has already built the time machine, but is reluctant to use it. Now that the chance is here, he’s begun to second-guess the idea for several reasons: 1.) the time machine isn’t exactly fully tested. 2.) Changing history is a risky idea even by his standards. Silver convinces him to go through with the plan, however, and even volunteers to be the one to travel back in time.

So they do that. Silver and Sil-bit timetravel to Sonic’s present. But since they aren’t sure exactly what event was the catalyst for the Bad Future, silver goes back and forth between time periods during every major event (maybe changing this event worked?). Schlemmer is intact in all instances, if not a bit disoriented memory-wise due to the timeline changes.

Once the metal virus hits, silver puts two and two together and realizes this is the catalyst event for the ruined future. So! They deal with it, Silver is relieved. He travels to the future again, more hopeful this time.

When he gets there, EVERYTHING is different. There are cities! There’s plants! There’s people! There’s LIFE! He tries to look for Von Schlemmer in this new future…

But he doesn’t find him. The timeline changed was so drastic this time, the old Schlemmer he knew isn’t there anymore. Instead, he finds New Future! Von Schlemmer who has no knowledge of silver or the previous timeline. Silver is devastated by this, but they knew that this was a possibility. So, he tries to make a new life for himself in this new future, despite his grief.

But then he starts glitching out. As if his atoms are trying to tear themselves apart. This part is kinda vague but, probably with New! Schlemmer’s help, Silver realizes that he erased himself from the timeline.

Silver doesn’t know what to do, so he timetravels back to Sonic’s present, still glitching out. Compared to when he was in the future however, he’s glitching out less.

lucky for him, sonic just happened to be passing by when he gets spat out the time portal or whatever. Sonic carries him to help, so silver can focus on using his psychokinesis to calm down his atoms. not a ship thing, i just want to see friends being Soft