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Roman is running late. Now he was nearly two hours past when he should have been in the imagination. Hopefully Remus would forgive him and they would have an awesome adventure despite his tardiness.
Roman was running late.
Not just late, super late. About two hours worth of late. And it was not entirely his fault. Thomas’ rehearsal for the school musical had run over, which was expected being that it was the first full run through of the show. But then it led to him getting caught up in a conversation with Logan about stage directions and singing techniques. That ate up about an hour, though an hour Roman felt was highly productive.
What was not productive was letting that conversation diverge into anything and everything when Patton joined in.
Now he was nearly two hours past when he should have been in the imagination. Mentally he was cursing himself and outwardly he was as well, though under his breath as he ran through the wooded area surrounding their recent sandbox.
He was going to have to let Remus have whatever terribly gruesome plotline he wanted just to make up for this. Even if it meant having his face eaten by zombies. He had planned a daring mission to find a cure to the pretend outbreak but that would need to be put on hold just to appease his probably annoyed twin.
The trees began to thin around him and Roman slowed his run to a speedy jog. The top of old, worn-out sky scrapers becoming visible through the tree line. A few rising way above the natural landscape. He just had to make it to the tallest right in the middle and then he could grovel his way to forgiveness.
As the prince moved through the city, he had to commend his brother on making the place a perfect set piece. It looked like this town had not seen human inhabitants in a long time. Some windows were smashed or blown out completely, cares abandoned on the road, and vines snaked up the concrete monoliths. Nature reclaiming what had been taken from her.
He made mental note of an abandoned motorcycle next to an old bank building. While not a practical vehicle, it would be a fun prop to use for a daring escape from a horde. Maybe even a last-minute deal where they are closing in but then the ride comes to life at the last possible moment, allowing him to sweep through for a daring save.
A smile stretched over his face as he turned the corner and followed the evenly planned streets towards his marked building. His mind turning over possible story ideas like pages in a book. Each one more exciting and adding a bounce to his step. Maybe his ideas would get him out of the dog house.
The smile stayed on his face as he turned the corner to the tallest skyscraper’s street. His feet picking up the pace as he mentally prepared himself for the ascent. He was halfway there when a sound stopped him in his tracks.
A laugh rang out around him, seeming to come from the sky. It bounced off the concrete buildings and amplified its eeriness. Though it sounded joyful, there was something about it that sent a shiver of dread down the prince’s spine.
Roman did not have a chance to contemplate it as a loud smack rang out and skilled the sound. Something had fallen fast onto the pavement in front of him.
Something large and dressed in green.
His ears rang as he stood there, a high-pitched sound that seemed to take over the silence that laugh had left. Roman’s world threatened to tilt as he took a shaking step closer to the slowly growing puddle of red. The shrill sound only getting louder the closer he got.
Roman could not understand what he was seeing. Objectively he saw the arms and the legs; he saw the bones jutting out and the skull cracked like an egg. The puddle of red only getting wider around this mangled thing.
This mangled thing that could not be his brother. No, his brother was up at the top waiting for him. Not laying here in a pool of his own splattered blood.
Not d-.
“Nice try, Remus, but a corpse thrown from a building is not going to fool me!” He yelled up at the sky.
Nothing answered him. The high-pitched ringing was still happening. It was becoming unbearable and making his stomach knot.
“Remus! You better answer me, Poop-for-Brains!” He turned away from the thing lying in the road, “Get down here!”
Silence. Some fog began to roll in as the sun started its journey downward.
Panic started to run through Roman. His face paling as he looked down and found a splatter for red on his usually white shirt.
“Remus!”
His vision tunneled as he turned back to the scene. The face on this thing was smashed into the asphalt, but he could make out through the red a familiar strand of grey hair.
The vomit came up violently. So violently that the prince had to double over and was almost sent to his knees from the force. Whether it was the shock or the connection he could not say, but he did not feel the pressure was released once it was done. The vile chunks mixed with the red puddle in a horrendously gross concoction that would have made Remus squeal with joy.
“Oh God, Remus,” his throat felt raw and he could barely make his voice go above a whisper.
With shaking legs, he took a step forward into the puddle of blood. The sticky splashes only making his stomach roll, but he swallowed down the bile. He kept his gaze locked onto the body.
The body of-.
Roman’s legs collapsed next to the thing and his pants were instantly soaked through. A trembling hand reached out and tentatively touched the shoulder. It was still warm.
“No. No no no no no.”
He surged forward and rolled the body onto its side. The view made him want to hurl once more.
Remus’ face was smashed in completely. A few teeth, or bits of teeth, fell down onto the asphalt below him. The eyes looked like they had exploded from the force of the landing, leaking a clear jelly that made Roman even more squeamish. The forehead was completely flat and shards poked out of it.
He pulled back before he could get a clearer vision of his brother’s mangled face. The body fell back into the puddle of gore with a sick crunch.
Roman turned away and breathed a few times out of his nose. All he could smell was tangy stench iron. He closed his eyes tightly.
This has to be a nightmare.
He opened his eyes but still felt the sticky warmth of blood on his pants and still tasted the iron tang in the air.
He closed his eyes tightly a few more times. Each time he hoped that when he opened them the scene would go away. That he would wake up in his room to a brother laughing at him for letting his dreams be influenced.
It was on the tenth time that he let out a pained wail.
“Why isn’t this working!” He screamed and grabbed at his hair.
“Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!”
He tugged at the strands until tears leaked out of the corner of his eyes. A desperate rabidness taking over him as he tried to make sense of what was happening in his reality.
His brother couldn’t be. No. It was not possible.
“No!” He turned but his hands hovered over the corpse.
“You stop this right now! This isn’t funny anymore!”
His breathing was becoming ragged. He wanted to bite down on something, rip something to pieces. Hit. Scream.
But he was frozen over this mangled form of his twin.
With another scream he slammed his hands down onto the blood covered concrete. The rough surface scratching at his hands. He did it again, not caring about how it felt like it jarred his very bones.
“No! No! This isn’t right! You can’t just leave me!”
He grabbed onto the corpse and rolled it over onto his kneeling lap. He shook the body roughly.
“Wake up this instant!”
The high-pitched noise had reached a crescendo, his vision tunneling as he collapsed over the body in his lap. An animalistic sound left the prince’s lip as tears began to fall. A mantra of ‘no’ falling into dead ears. He felt his body rocking back and forth as if trying to sooth his wounded heart.
A hand suddenly touching his shoulder broke him from his rhythm of pain. His head snapped up and was met with scared eyes covered in the darkest eyeshadow. The mouth of his person was moving but the buzz would not let him hear the words.
It seemed to be repeating something. When he did not respond, the figure moved. Then he felt a tug on his arms and the panic returned.
They were trying to take him away from Remus.
“Let go of me! Don’t you take him from me!”
Roman started to thrash, holding onto his brother tighter. A shrill scream leaving him when his fingers were pried off the blood-strained shirt. Another pair of hands seemed to join the first pair that were lifting him up. Remus slipped into the bloody puddle like a limp noodle.
“Let me go!” He screamed. He cried. He begged. But they did not relent until he was far away from his brother’s body.
One of the pair of arms let him go when he was clear of the bloody scene’s radius. His head moved so he was now looking into two mismatched colored eyes.
“Sush, everything will be okay,” a voice distantly said under the panicked buzzing in his ears.
The lie tasted like honey mixed with sugar. He all but collapsed into the shoulder of the person holding him. Arms wrapped tightly around him as he let everything out into the dark fabric. Reality settling in as the adrenaline-fueled panic left his body slowly with each heaping sob.
His brother was gone and he had failed to save him.
“Let’s get you home, little prince,” the voice said.
“But-.”
“We will take care of this.”
Roman could not fight the force that pulled him away from the scene. Suddenly he felt exhausted; numb. The events he had just witnessed seeming like something come from another dimension. He let himself be led away and through a doorway. Only becoming aware of himself when he was standing in his own bathroom with a towel in his arms.
One glance at his reflection and he was crying again.
His normally pristine outfit was covered in blood, but that was something that happened fairly frequently living with a brother like Remus. No, what made him cry was his own face. Splattered and disheveled, he felt sick seeing his twin stare back at him through the glass.
“Why? Why did you do it?” He asked the reflection but it only silently cried back.
“Why!?” He shouted and threw the towel at the mirror before falling to a knees and sobbing.
The door opened and he felt two arms wrap around him. The smell of sugar cookies and vanilla hitting him full force as he was pushed into a world of baby blue.
“Oh Honey,” his hair was gently carded through, “I just heard. It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”
The voice sounded choked, as if they had been crying too.
“P-Pat?” Roman hated how much his own voice was shaking.
“Yes, kiddo, I’m here. Let it out.”
Roman shook his head and hid his face more in the familiar comfort of the side’s chest, tears falling freely. His throat felt sour from all the shouting.
“I don’t understand,” he mumbled into the fabric.
“I don’t either, Ro,” Patton started to card his fingers through his hair, “But we will figure this out.”
“I was right there and he…I couldn’t save him. I should have been there to save him, if I wasn’t so late.”
“Oh Roman, this isn’t your fault.”
Roman let his head be moved so he could look into the teary blue eyes of Patton. The moral side pressed a kiss to his forehead before pulling him back into the tight hug.
“Don’t you ever think this is your fault.”
Roman sniffled but said nothing. The numbness was coming back, fighting the guilt that was swirling in his chest like a tornado. He let Patton hold him close for a few more minutes before slowly pushing himself away.
“I…I think I’m going to take a shower now.”
Patton looked surprised but nodded.
“Okay, Kiddo. Just let me know if you need anything.”
“I-I will.”
Patton gave a weak smile and helped Roman back to his feet. The side giving a short, tight hug before leaving the bathroom slowly. Once the door was clicked closed, Roman waved his hand and made the bathroom mirror disappear.
He had not planned on taking a long shower, but the numbness seemed to possess him. The hot water, though scalding, bounced off his body like cold drops of rain. He let the white noise of the water take over as his eyes watched distractedly as pink water ran down the drain.
The blood of his brother.
If he had any tears left, they would be mixing with the shower water, but all he could manage was a small hiccup. It was only when the scalding heat began to feel like ice that he moved to wash with soap. Stepping out onto the tiled floor only brought back the reality.
Another wave of grief threatened to overtake him, but he swallowed it down like an uncomfortable pill.
With a wave of his hand, he was dressed in his pajamas. He just wanted to hide under the covers for the rest of his life. Rot away like the sandwich his brother kept in a jar next to his bed.
As he stepped out of the bathroom, he was met with an unwelcome sight. Logic was sitting at Roman’s desk with a small notebook, scribbling away some kind of notes.
“Logan, what are you doing in my room?”
“Ah, Roman, you are out of the shower.”
Roman grunted in response. It was not the most eloquent but the grief wave he was trying to suppress was fighting tooth and nail in his chest to come out. He really did not need a lecture from the side at the moment.
He moved across the room and pretended to search through his dresser drawers for something.
“I heard about your predicament,” Logan continued, “And I had some information I wanted to share after I investigated myself.”
Predicament. What an understated way of putting it.
“What information?” Roman muttered. Why do I have so many white shirts?
Logan seemed undeterred by Roman’s lack luster response.
“Remus is not dead.”
“What?!” Roman turned around fast at that, a hopeful bubble blooming in his chest.
“Well, I should correct myself. He is dead at this moment.”
And that bubble burst and sent eaves of angry lava through him.
“What the fuck, Logan!?!”
Logan put up his hands, “Apologies, I should have stated it clearer. Remus is dead.”
“Yeah, I know that, Poindexter!”
“If you would let me finish-.”
“No! You are just making things worse!” Roman threw up his hands, “I already failed in saving my brother now you are playing with my emotions!”
“But I am trying to tell you that he isn’t-.”
“Go away, Logic. I just lost my brother; I don’t need you playing with my feelings for some sick experiment.”
Roman turned his back once more on the side and glared at the wall. He wanted to punch it but was holding himself back until he heard his bedroom door click. He counted under his breath until he was sure that the logical side was far enough away before he let out a scream and let his fist fly.
The pain raced up his arm but he barely felt it. The anger that was coursing through him turning into another sob. Roman turned and threw himself onto his bed, burying himself under the soft blankets. Tears ran freely once more as he let out another hiccup.
His eyes stung from crying. His hands hurt from punching asphalt and drywall. And his heart hurt from the pain of having someone he cared about ripped away so violently.
Even though Patton told him not to blame himself, Roman could not help but wonder what if. What if he was not running late. What if he got to the skyscraper just a minute sooner. What if he could have saved him.
*
Roman refused to move from his bed all morning. Patton had brought him hot chocolate sometime around eight, but it had sat untouched on the bedside table. The prince had just stared at it blankly as time passed by.
Between silent tears and half-awake doses, he was pretty sure no one else had come into his room all day. It was one of his dosing moments that he heard the squeak of his door’s hinges. He closed his eyes and curled up into a tight ball under the covers; waiting for Patton to speak some over sweet words to him.
Instead, he felt the end of his bed dip. And then a long, loud slurp.
“You know, this stuff is even better when it has been sitting out all day.”
Roman had never sat up so fast in his life.
That voice. It couldn’t be.
“Remus!?!”
At the end of his bed, holding Roman’s mug of cold hot chocolate, was Remus. The side had bandages wrapped around his head and a cast on his right arm, but was otherwise alive. Completely and totally alive.
Roman scrambled to untangle himself from his blankets and all but threw himself at his twin. His arms wrapped tightly around the stinky duke’s middle. Chocolate spilled over the side of the mug and landed on his sheets, but Roman did not care.
Remus was alive. His heart was beating, he was warm, and he was alive.
Remus gave a hiss of pain but did his best to pat Roman with the hand still holding the mug. It just got chocolate in Roman’s hair.
“You’re alive!” Roman felt tears start to fall again, “How?”
“Turns out sides can’t die,” Remus shrugged.
“Turns out?”
“Yeah, didn’t know that before.”
Roman shivered and looked up at his brother from his crunched position.
“Turns out. So you just…without knowing!?!” Roman sat up fast and the mug went flying; it landed on the floor with a crash.
Remus stared at the mug with a pensive expression on his face before looking at this brother. Normally Roman could read Remus like a book, the side never hiding his emotions or thoughts, but right now Remus was unusually closed off.
“How stupid can you be? What if you didn’t come back!”
Roman grabbed his brother’s shoulders.
“Would that be a bad thing?” Remus asked.
His voice was so small and quiet and yet it seemed like a mouse had roared to Roman.
“Of course it would be a bad thing!” Roman all but yelled.
“But I’m icky.”
“Yeah, you are. But you are also my brother!”
Tears appeared in the corner of the duke’s eyes but he wiped them away quickly. Roman wrapped him in a tight hug and flopped them both over so they were laying across the bed. They laid like that, neither acknowledging the silent tears running down both their faces.
Roman is the one that broke the silence.
“Please don’t do that again, Remus. You really scared me…and not in a good way.”
Remus sniffled.
“I’m sorry.”
Roman shook his head, “Just promise me, please.”
Remus took in a long breath before nodding his head, “I promise.”
Relief washed over Roman and he gave one final squeeze before letting go. He rolled onto his back and stared up at his ceiling.
“Thank you.”
“Anything for you, Ro. Anything for you.”
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Roman is running late. Now he was nearly two hours past when he should have been in the imagination. Hopefully Remus would forgive him and they would have an awesome adventure despite his tardiness.
Roman was running late.
Not just late, super late. About two hours worth of late. And it was not entirely his fault. Thomas’ rehearsal for the school musical had run over, which was expected being that it was the first full run through of the show. But then it led to him getting caught up in a conversation with Logan about stage directions and singing techniques. That ate up about an hour, though an hour Roman felt was highly productive.
What was not productive was letting that conversation diverge into anything and everything when Patton joined in.
Now he was nearly two hours past when he should have been in the imagination. Mentally he was cursing himself and outwardly he was as well, though under his breath as he ran through the wooded area surrounding their recent sandbox.
He was going to have to let Remus have whatever terribly gruesome plotline he wanted just to make up for this. Even if it meant having his face eaten by zombies. He had planned a daring mission to find a cure to the pretend outbreak but that would need to be put on hold just to appease his probably annoyed twin.
The trees began to thin around him and Roman slowed his run to a speedy jog. The top of old, worn-out sky scrapers becoming visible through the tree line. A few rising way above the natural landscape. He just had to make it to the tallest right in the middle and then he could grovel his way to forgiveness.
As the prince moved through the city, he had to commend his brother on making the place a perfect set piece. It looked like this town had not seen human inhabitants in a long time. Some windows were smashed or blown out completely, cares abandoned on the road, and vines snaked up the concrete monoliths. Nature reclaiming what had been taken from her.
He made mental note of an abandoned motorcycle next to an old bank building. While not a practical vehicle, it would be a fun prop to use for a daring escape from a horde. Maybe even a last-minute deal where they are closing in but then the ride comes to life at the last possible moment, allowing him to sweep through for a daring save.
A smile stretched over his face as he turned the corner and followed the evenly planned streets towards his marked building. His mind turning over possible story ideas like pages in a book. Each one more exciting and adding a bounce to his step. Maybe his ideas would get him out of the dog house.
The smile stayed on his face as he turned the corner to the tallest skyscraper’s street. His feet picking up the pace as he mentally prepared himself for the ascent. He was halfway there when a sound stopped him in his tracks.
A laugh rang out around him, seeming to come from the sky. It bounced off the concrete buildings and amplified its eeriness. Though it sounded joyful, there was something about it that sent a shiver of dread down the prince’s spine.
Roman did not have a chance to contemplate it as a loud smack rang out and skilled the sound. Something had fallen fast onto the pavement in front of him.
Something large and dressed in green.
His ears rang as he stood there, a high-pitched sound that seemed to take over the silence that laugh had left. Roman’s world threatened to tilt as he took a shaking step closer to the slowly growing puddle of red. The shrill sound only getting louder the closer he got.
Roman could not understand what he was seeing. Objectively he saw the arms and the legs; he saw the bones jutting out and the skull cracked like an egg. The puddle of red only getting wider around this mangled thing.
This mangled thing that could not be his brother. No, his brother was up at the top waiting for him. Not laying here in a pool of his own splattered blood.
Not d-.
“Nice try, Remus, but a corpse thrown from a building is not going to fool me!” He yelled up at the sky.
Nothing answered him. The high-pitched ringing was still happening. It was becoming unbearable and making his stomach knot.
“Remus! You better answer me, Poop-for-Brains!” He turned away from the thing lying in the road, “Get down here!”
Silence. Some fog began to roll in as the sun started its journey downward.
Panic started to run through Roman. His face paling as he looked down and found a splatter for red on his usually white shirt.
“Remus!”
His vision tunneled as he turned back to the scene. The face on this thing was smashed into the asphalt, but he could make out through the red a familiar strand of grey hair.
The vomit came up violently. So violently that the prince had to double over and was almost sent to his knees from the force. Whether it was the shock or the connection he could not say, but he did not feel the pressure was released once it was done. The vile chunks mixed with the red puddle in a horrendously gross concoction that would have made Remus squeal with joy.
“Oh God, Remus,” his throat felt raw and he could barely make his voice go above a whisper.
With shaking legs, he took a step forward into the puddle of blood. The sticky splashes only making his stomach roll, but he swallowed down the bile. He kept his gaze locked onto the body.
The body of-.
Roman’s legs collapsed next to the thing and his pants were instantly soaked through. A trembling hand reached out and tentatively touched the shoulder. It was still warm.
“No. No no no no no.”
He surged forward and rolled the body onto its side. The view made him want to hurl once more.
Remus’ face was smashed in completely. A few teeth, or bits of teeth, fell down onto the asphalt below him. The eyes looked like they had exploded from the force of the landing, leaking a clear jelly that made Roman even more squeamish. The forehead was completely flat and shards poked out of it.
He pulled back before he could get a clearer vision of his brother’s mangled face. The body fell back into the puddle of gore with a sick crunch.
Roman turned away and breathed a few times out of his nose. All he could smell was tangy stench iron. He closed his eyes tightly.
This has to be a nightmare.
He opened his eyes but still felt the sticky warmth of blood on his pants and still tasted the iron tang in the air.
He closed his eyes tightly a few more times. Each time he hoped that when he opened them the scene would go away. That he would wake up in his room to a brother laughing at him for letting his dreams be influenced.
It was on the tenth time that he let out a pained wail.
“Why isn’t this working!” He screamed and grabbed at his hair.
“Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!”
He tugged at the strands until tears leaked out of the corner of his eyes. A desperate rabidness taking over him as he tried to make sense of what was happening in his reality.
His brother couldn’t be. No. It was not possible.
“No!” He turned but his hands hovered over the corpse.
“You stop this right now! This isn’t funny anymore!”
His breathing was becoming ragged. He wanted to bite down on something, rip something to pieces. Hit. Scream.
But he was frozen over this mangled form of his twin.
With another scream he slammed his hands down onto the blood covered concrete. The rough surface scratching at his hands. He did it again, not caring about how it felt like it jarred his very bones.
“No! No! This isn’t right! You can’t just leave me!”
He grabbed onto the corpse and rolled it over onto his kneeling lap. He shook the body roughly.
“Wake up this instant!”
The high-pitched noise had reached a crescendo, his vision tunneling as he collapsed over the body in his lap. An animalistic sound left the prince’s lip as tears began to fall. A mantra of ‘no’ falling into dead ears. He felt his body rocking back and forth as if trying to sooth his wounded heart.
A hand suddenly touching his shoulder broke him from his rhythm of pain. His head snapped up and was met with scared eyes covered in the darkest eyeshadow. The mouth of his person was moving but the buzz would not let him hear the words.
It seemed to be repeating something. When he did not respond, the figure moved. Then he felt a tug on his arms and the panic returned.
They were trying to take him away from Remus.
“Let go of me! Don’t you take him from me!”
Roman started to thrash, holding onto his brother tighter. A shrill scream leaving him when his fingers were pried off the blood-strained shirt. Another pair of hands seemed to join the first pair that were lifting him up. Remus slipped into the bloody puddle like a limp noodle.
“Let me go!” He screamed. He cried. He begged. But they did not relent until he was far away from his brother’s body.
One of the pair of arms let him go when he was clear of the bloody scene’s radius. His head moved so he was now looking into two mismatched colored eyes.
“Sush, everything will be okay,” a voice distantly said under the panicked buzzing in his ears.
The lie tasted like honey mixed with sugar. He all but collapsed into the shoulder of the person holding him. Arms wrapped tightly around him as he let everything out into the dark fabric. Reality settling in as the adrenaline-fueled panic left his body slowly with each heaping sob.
His brother was gone and he had failed to save him.
“Let’s get you home, little prince,” the voice said.
“But-.”
“We will take care of this.”
Roman could not fight the force that pulled him away from the scene. Suddenly he felt exhausted; numb. The events he had just witnessed seeming like something come from another dimension. He let himself be led away and through a doorway. Only becoming aware of himself when he was standing in his own bathroom with a towel in his arms.
One glance at his reflection and he was crying again.
His normally pristine outfit was covered in blood, but that was something that happened fairly frequently living with a brother like Remus. No, what made him cry was his own face. Splattered and disheveled, he felt sick seeing his twin stare back at him through the glass.
“Why? Why did you do it?” He asked the reflection but it only silently cried back.
“Why!?” He shouted and threw the towel at the mirror before falling to a knees and sobbing.
The door opened and he felt two arms wrap around him. The smell of sugar cookies and vanilla hitting him full force as he was pushed into a world of baby blue.
“Oh Honey,” his hair was gently carded through, “I just heard. It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”
The voice sounded choked, as if they had been crying too.
“P-Pat?” Roman hated how much his own voice was shaking.
“Yes, kiddo, I’m here. Let it out.”
Roman shook his head and hid his face more in the familiar comfort of the side’s chest, tears falling freely. His throat felt sour from all the shouting.
“I don’t understand,” he mumbled into the fabric.
“I don’t either, Ro,” Patton started to card his fingers through his hair, “But we will figure this out.”
“I was right there and he…I couldn’t save him. I should have been there to save him, if I wasn’t so late.”
“Oh Roman, this isn’t your fault.”
Roman let his head be moved so he could look into the teary blue eyes of Patton. The moral side pressed a kiss to his forehead before pulling him back into the tight hug.
“Don’t you ever think this is your fault.”
Roman sniffled but said nothing. The numbness was coming back, fighting the guilt that was swirling in his chest like a tornado. He let Patton hold him close for a few more minutes before slowly pushing himself away.
“I…I think I’m going to take a shower now.”
Patton looked surprised but nodded.
“Okay, Kiddo. Just let me know if you need anything.”
“I-I will.”
Patton gave a weak smile and helped Roman back to his feet. The side giving a short, tight hug before leaving the bathroom slowly. Once the door was clicked closed, Roman waved his hand and made the bathroom mirror disappear.
He had not planned on taking a long shower, but the numbness seemed to possess him. The hot water, though scalding, bounced off his body like cold drops of rain. He let the white noise of the water take over as his eyes watched distractedly as pink water ran down the drain.
The blood of his brother.
If he had any tears left, they would be mixing with the shower water, but all he could manage was a small hiccup. It was only when the scalding heat began to feel like ice that he moved to wash with soap. Stepping out onto the tiled floor only brought back the reality.
Another wave of grief threatened to overtake him, but he swallowed it down like an uncomfortable pill.
With a wave of his hand, he was dressed in his pajamas. He just wanted to hide under the covers for the rest of his life. Rot away like the sandwich his brother kept in a jar next to his bed.
As he stepped out of the bathroom, he was met with an unwelcome sight. Logic was sitting at Roman’s desk with a small notebook, scribbling away some kind of notes.
“Logan, what are you doing in my room?”
“Ah, Roman, you are out of the shower.”
Roman grunted in response. It was not the most eloquent but the grief wave he was trying to suppress was fighting tooth and nail in his chest to come out. He really did not need a lecture from the side at the moment.
He moved across the room and pretended to search through his dresser drawers for something.
“I heard about your predicament,” Logan continued, “And I had some information I wanted to share after I investigated myself.”
Predicament. What an understated way of putting it.
“What information?” Roman muttered. Why do I have so many white shirts?
Logan seemed undeterred by Roman’s lack luster response.
“Remus is not dead.”
“What?!” Roman turned around fast at that, a hopeful bubble blooming in his chest.
“Well, I should correct myself. He is dead at this moment.”
And that bubble burst and sent eaves of angry lava through him.
“What the fuck, Logan!?!”
Logan put up his hands, “Apologies, I should have stated it clearer. Remus is dead.”
“Yeah, I know that, Poindexter!”
“If you would let me finish-.”
“No! You are just making things worse!” Roman threw up his hands, “I already failed in saving my brother now you are playing with my emotions!”
“But I am trying to tell you that he isn’t-.”
“Go away, Logic. I just lost my brother; I don’t need you playing with my feelings for some sick experiment.”
Roman turned his back once more on the side and glared at the wall. He wanted to punch it but was holding himself back until he heard his bedroom door click. He counted under his breath until he was sure that the logical side was far enough away before he let out a scream and let his fist fly.
The pain raced up his arm but he barely felt it. The anger that was coursing through him turning into another sob. Roman turned and threw himself onto his bed, burying himself under the soft blankets. Tears ran freely once more as he let out another hiccup.
His eyes stung from crying. His hands hurt from punching asphalt and drywall. And his heart hurt from the pain of having someone he cared about ripped away so violently.
Even though Patton told him not to blame himself, Roman could not help but wonder what if. What if he was not running late. What if he got to the skyscraper just a minute sooner. What if he could have saved him.
*
Roman refused to move from his bed all morning. Patton had brought him hot chocolate sometime around eight, but it had sat untouched on the bedside table. The prince had just stared at it blankly as time passed by.
Between silent tears and half-awake doses, he was pretty sure no one else had come into his room all day. It was one of his dosing moments that he heard the squeak of his door’s hinges. He closed his eyes and curled up into a tight ball under the covers; waiting for Patton to speak some over sweet words to him.
Instead, he felt the end of his bed dip. And then a long, loud slurp.
“You know, this stuff is even better when it has been sitting out all day.”
Roman had never sat up so fast in his life.
That voice. It couldn’t be.
“Remus!?!”
At the end of his bed, holding Roman’s mug of cold hot chocolate, was Remus. The side had bandages wrapped around his head and a cast on his right arm, but was otherwise alive. Completely and totally alive.
Roman scrambled to untangle himself from his blankets and all but threw himself at his twin. His arms wrapped tightly around the stinky duke’s middle. Chocolate spilled over the side of the mug and landed on his sheets, but Roman did not care.
Remus was alive. His heart was beating, he was warm, and he was alive.
Remus gave a hiss of pain but did his best to pat Roman with the hand still holding the mug. It just got chocolate in Roman’s hair.
“You’re alive!” Roman felt tears start to fall again, “How?”
“Turns out sides can’t die,” Remus shrugged.
“Turns out?”
“Yeah, didn’t know that before.”
Roman shivered and looked up at his brother from his crunched position.
“Turns out. So you just…without knowing!?!” Roman sat up fast and the mug went flying; it landed on the floor with a crash.
Remus stared at the mug with a pensive expression on his face before looking at this brother. Normally Roman could read Remus like a book, the side never hiding his emotions or thoughts, but right now Remus was unusually closed off.
“How stupid can you be? What if you didn’t come back!”
Roman grabbed his brother’s shoulders.
“Would that be a bad thing?” Remus asked.
His voice was so small and quiet and yet it seemed like a mouse had roared to Roman.
“Of course it would be a bad thing!” Roman all but yelled.
“But I’m icky.”
“Yeah, you are. But you are also my brother!”
Tears appeared in the corner of the duke’s eyes but he wiped them away quickly. Roman wrapped him in a tight hug and flopped them both over so they were laying across the bed. They laid like that, neither acknowledging the silent tears running down both their faces.
Roman is the one that broke the silence.
“Please don’t do that again, Remus. You really scared me…and not in a good way.”
Remus sniffled.
“I’m sorry.”
Roman shook his head, “Just promise me, please.”
Remus took in a long breath before nodding his head, “I promise.”
Relief washed over Roman and he gave one final squeeze before letting go. He rolled onto his back and stared up at his ceiling.
“Thank you.”
“Anything for you, Ro. Anything for you.”
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Make Believe
Chapter 8: Riddle Me This
Daring sword fights, magic spells, a prince! What could be more amazing than a world that can be shaped to the whim of the pure creative energy of a man? Or could it be something terrifying as pure energy can sometimes run without reason? Roman knows all about that as he takes the other sides into his wonderful kingdom for an amazing quest. What the quest entails only he knows... At least, he think he knows. He is the only being that can manipulate the subconscious to his whim as far as he knows. A03
The party had brought the village back to life. People clustered into The Rainbow Otter’s main room to drink, dance, and be merry. It was a delightful time. Marge sang her heart out. Roman danced with Julia. It was truly a grand celebration that brough the prince joy. It had continued long until the early hours of the morning, the birds’ song the only thing calling the happy people back to bed.
Roman woke with a groan to a loud knocking on the door. He pulled the pillow over his head and tried to drown out the sound. He wanted nothing more then to stay curled up under the covers a while longer.
“Princey, get the door,” a tired voice said to his left.
“No, you get it,” Roman shot back between a yawn.
“Boys, it is time to hit the road. Logan is getting antsy!” Patton’s voice called from behind the door.
Roman threw the pillow to the side and grunted as he rolled over onto this back. Tired eyes glaring darkly at the ceiling. The wooden swirls illuminated by the light nicely by the sunshine streaming through the window. The very closed window, thankfully. It seemed the harpy had kept her word.
A tired groan came from his left and then the floorboards creaked as someone walked across them. The door opening with a slight squeak from the hinges.
“Morning Anxiety,” Patton chirped, “Ready to get back on the road?”
“Not really, but I don’t have a choice.”
Roman cringed at the words and sat up slowly. His side ached with the deep bruise from two days before. This was a stubborn injury that was not wanting to heal fast. With a sigh, he ran a hand through his bedhead and sent a smile over to the door.
“We’ll be down in a minute, Padre. Just go to get changed.”
Patton’s face, previously a small frown, turned up in a smile once more.
“Alright. I’ll save you two some waffles.”
With that, the moral side disappeared and Anxiety closed the door. The air around the room becoming heavy with tension.
Roman stood up slowly, stretching out his back with a small grimace as the bones popped. He shuffled across the room and began to push things back into his travel bag, leaving out his jacket and sash. Across the room, Anxiety sat on the edge of the bed and pulled on his boots. The cloak lying next to him on the bed ready to be thrown on and hide the somber side’s face from the world.
“You could pretend like you are enjoying this,” Roman muttered.
“What’s to enjoy?” Anxiety bit back, “I was just kidnapped by a bird monster, Princey, unless you forgot about yesterday. Then I had to sit through a party that I did not want to be a part of.”
Roman felt his eye twitch. He did not want to admit that the side had a point. With a huff of breath through his nose, finished buttoning up his jacket.
“Well, at least try to for Patton. He is just trying to make you feel welcome.”
“Whatever,” was the only reply as the side threw on his cloak. Anxiety did not even look at him as he left the room; the door slamming shut behind him.
“Ungrateful little-,” Roman balled his hands into fists before taking a slow breath.
Obviously, Anxiety was still feeling the effects of yesterday. It would pass and they could focus on their quest. And once the quest was done, everything would go back to how it was.
With a nod to himself, he opened the door and stepped out into the hall. The smell of baked goods calling him down into the main room of the inn. To an epic breakfast and hopefully an epic ending to their quest.
“Good morning, my fellow adventures!”
Roman’s voice rang out through the nearly empty main room as he stepped off the last stair. Over by the door, the other sides sat. Patton looking up and waving at him, across from him a steaming pile of waffles.
“Who is ready for an epic continuation for our quest?” Roman sat down and took the offered plate, “Thank you, Patton.”
“No problem, kiddo.”
“I would have liked to have been on the road by now,” Logan said from where he sat next to Patton, “It is nearly noon.”
“Logic’s got a point. It feels like we have been in this village for at least two years,” Anxiety grumbled.
“Well, one needs beauty sleep,” Roman replied as he carefully added some berries to the top of his breakfast, “Especially after such a roaring celebration.”
“Oh, that party was fun,” Patton giggled, “I had such a good time and it is so nice to see everyone so happy.”
“I think it was a distraction,” Logan said, “We could have been at our destination if we did not stay the night.”
Roman cut into his waffles and took a bite to stop himself from shooting a scathing comment at the logical side. He understood the frustration that side quests could cause, but it had been important to make sure their party stayed together.
“Maybe we should just give up and go home,” Anxiety said, “What’s the point anyway?”
Patton gasps, “Anxiety, we cannot just leave those people with a burning building for all eternity!”
“Exactly!” Roman said with gusto, “We promised them they would be saved and by the gods we are going to keep that promise.”
“Promise to imaginary people,” the darker side grumbled none too quietly.
“Well, I never!”
Logan cut in before Roman could continue, “Unfortunately, Anxiety, Roman explained to me earlier that this make-believe adventure cannot be so easily avoided. We cannot leave until it is finished.”
“You mean he trapped us here!?!”
“Trapped is a strong word,” Roman said at the same time that Logan agreed with Anxiety.
“It isn’t a trap,” Roman protested, “It is just how the imagination works. I cannot even leave when I start a story.”
“Great, just great.” Anxiety sighed and buried his face in his hands.
“It isn’t that bad,” Patton said, “It’s pretty fun once you get used to it. All the magic and pretty scenery.”
Roman nodded, a grateful smile being sent to Morality. At least someone appreciated how the imagination worked when it was in story mode.
“I did not mean to imply this was not entertainment for some,” Logan said, “Just that it is inconvenient when one did not voluntarily join this ‘quest’.”
“It’ll be fine, Lo,” Patton patted Logan’s arm, “Time flies when you are having fun.”
“How does time fly? Are we throwing clocks?”
Anxiety shook his head, muttering something too quiet for them to hear. Roman decided to ignore him and continue eating his excellent breakfast. Even with half of the party reluctant to continue, this would still be an excellent quest.
After breakfast, Patton was tasked with returning their room keys to Reg while Roman saddled up the horses in the stables. Logan and Virgil were asked to buy some provisions from the reopened market stalls before they set off into the woods once more.
Roman carefully led the two horses around to the front of the building, smiling brightly when he saw Marge standing at the doorway.
“Hello, fair maiden. I would think you would be sleeping in after last night.”
“I couldn’t let you go off without saying goodbye,” Marge opened her arms for a hug.
Roman’s smile softened and he moved into the embrace, holding her tightly.
“Thank you so much, Ro,” she whispered.
“Do not think anything of it. I am glad I could bring your beloved home.”
Marge blushed and moved back, carefully tucking some hair behind her ear.
“And I am happy you found your friend.”
“Well, he is not really a friend,” Roman said quickly, “He is just…”
He trailed off. What was Anxiety? He had set out for him to be the villain of this story but at every turn the simpering shadow had defied that expectation. In fact, this was the second time that he needed to be saved. First from the bandits and then the harpy. What kind of villain needed the hero’s assistance so easily?
“Roman!” Patton’s voice knocked him from the awkward staring with Marge, “You ready to go?”
Marge stepped to the side as Pat skipped out, a bright smile on his face. He patted the side of his brown horse and looked to the prince expectantly.
“Yeah, just saying my goodbyes,” Roman replied.
Patton nodded and gave a wave to Marge, who returned it with a small laugh. Her father appearing at her side and placing a hand on her shoulder.
“Come back soon,” Reg said, “There might be a wedding.”
“Dad!”
Roman laughed, grabbing onto Darling’s reins and turning toward the market.
“I look forward to the upcoming nuptials,” he said with a flourishing bow, “Until we meet again.”
“Bye! Thank you for the hospitality!” Patton said.
Darling nickered and pulled on the reins. Clearly she was done with this drawn-out goodbye. Roman chuckled as he was pulled, giving one last wave before leading Patton and the horses down the road. It did not take long to spot the two members of their party amongst the stalls, arms laden with parcels.
They helped load the provisions into the saddle bags before they mounted up and headed out of town, Logan once against behind him with Anxiety sharing a horse with Patton. Behind them the tiny village seemed to disappear into the trees as if it never existed in the first place.
The journey continues. The intrepid adventurers victorious in their fight against the dreaded harpy now set out once more on their quest for the mythical grail that would clench the hungry flames. Nothing would delay them now.
“Hey look a bridge!”
“What?”
Roman blinked back from his daydream and slowed Darling down to a stop, beside him Patton did the same.
The bridge itself was unremarkable; a wooden contraption that was slightly mossy on the other side. The side the moved into a forest notably darker than the one they had been traveling through thus far. The bridge stretched over muddy river that was flowing calmly about four feet below them.
“Why did we stop?” Logan asked, “It’s just a bridge.”
“There shouldn’t be a bridge here,” Roman said quietly, “Or a river.”
“Well maybe you made it appear,” Patton suggested, “For scenery.”
“Can we just move on? We are losing daylight,” Anxiety spoke up.
Roman turned and shot a glare at the side over Logan’s shoulder. Anxiety just glared back and then, surprisingly, slipped off Patton’s horse.
“If you are too scared, I’ll go first.”
Roman’s annoyed frown deepened and he watched the side walk over to the bridge, “I’m not scared, I am just being cautious. Something I thought you were all about.”
“I’m also about getting home as quickly as possible.”
Anxiety’s boot hit the first plank of the bridge and then Patton screamed. Out from under the bridge, covered in mud, appeared a hand. The hand was followed by a mud-covered arm and then a torso. The whole thing revealing itself slowly and in jerking motions.
Roman was off his horse in an instant, sword drawn and ready for a fight. Anxiety scrambling back until he was next to the prince.
The mud-covered thing opened it mouth, some much dropping onto its tongue.
“Hello, welcome to my troll bridge.”
Roman blinked, his sword slowly lowering.
“Remus?”
The thing shook its head fast and mud went splattering everywhere. The globs nearly pelting Roman’s white jacket if he had not deflected them with his sword. Anxiety was not so lucky, taking a glob to the face.
With the mud thinned, it was easy to see the comical mustache and gap-toothed smile of his twin brother.
“Hi Roman!”
“What are you doing here?” Roman sheathed his sword and moved toward the side lying on the steep bank of the river, “This is my story time.”
“Come on, Prince Poopy-face, you invite Anxiety to play with you and not me?” Remus waved a mud-covered hand at said side, “I feel hurt.”
“He invited himself, thank you. I didn’t want him here.”
Anxiety wiped the mud from his face and glared at the prince, “For the record, I don’t want to be here either. You made me join this stupid story.”
“It is not stupid,” Roman whirled around and sent a glare at Anxiety; an insult ready on his tongue.
Remus yawned and licked some mud from his hand, “As fun as it is to watch you two’s foreplay, I got a Just Dance competition to get to. So do you want to cross my bridge or not?”
Roman grimaced at his brother’s antics.
“We would like to cross,” Patton said as he slipped down from his horse, “Um, if that is okay?”
“Of course it is,” Remus said with a smile.
Patton sighed, his shoulders relaxing. Only to tense up when Remus laughed.
“Ah, there is a condition,” Logan observed.
“To cross my bridge, you must answer my riddles three! Or…four. Cause there are four of you.”
“Ah, word puzzles,” Logan shifted on the back of Darling, “This should be easy.”
Roman sighed through his nose and ran a hand down his face. He did not have time to play his twin’s games but he had not choice. He would not subject Darling to a muddy, steep river bank. He had no choice.
“Fine,” the prince said, “Ask your riddles, fiend.”
Remus pulled himself up to his feet and rubbed his muddy hands together, “Excellent.”
The Duke cleared his throat and rocked back on his heels, “If two’s company and three’s a crowd, what are four and five?”
Roman looked back at Logan. He was confident that his brother could not trip of the logical side.
“An annoyance,” came a gruff reply beside him and Remus cackled.
“Cure, Emo, but wrong. It’s nine.”
Roman’s head snapped to the anxious side next to him. The side was not looking at him, but staring straight at Remus. He shrugged his shoulders in nonchalance that made Roman’s blood boil. Anxiety should have known that Logan was their best bet to getting past his brother’s tricks.
“That’s okay, kiddo, you’ll get the next one.”
“Or perhaps I would be better suited to answering these,” Logan suggested.
“Give us your next one, Remus,” Roman ordered, “We are in a hurry.”
“Tut, tut. I could almost believe you all don’t want to spend time with me.” No one said anything back and Remus pouted momentarily, “Ouch. Don’t hold back all your protests.”
“Remus,” Roman tried to hold back his rising annoyance, “The riddle?”
“Alright. Alright. What has a heart that doesn’t beat?”
Logan sat up straighter and seemed ready to speak but was cut off.
“A dead body?” Anxiety kicked at a stone as he mumbled the answer. To Roman’s annoyance it seemed he did not mumble quietly enough.
“Oh, I like that answer,” Remus laughed, “But no. What is it, Specs?”
“An artichoke,” Logan said with a disappointed sigh.
“At this rate, I am going to have to make the bridge disappear,” Remus giggled.
“Don’t you dare,” Roman glared at his twin, “Can’t you just ignore him?”
“No can do, Bro. These are for all of you and first to answer is what I’m taking.”
Roman wanted to strangle the mustached side. But seeing as he needed his brother to keep the bridge up, he turned his glare on the emo beside him. His mouth puckered like he had eaten a sour grape.
“Will you stop answering?”
Anxiety looked at him out of the corner of his eyes, “I’m just trying to help, Princey, no need to get all defensive.”
“Well you are not helping.”
Patton stepped in between them before things could escalate. Giving a tense smile to the mud-covered Remus before he pulled them both back beside the horses.
“Will you two stop fighting,” he whispered, “We are both tense about this, but fighting it not going to help. We need to work together.”
“No, we need to let Logan answer the questions,” Roman countered.
Patton looked up at Logan, who pointedly looked away from the three of them. A disappointed look on the logical side’s face.
“Anxiety,” Patton said slowly, “Could you possibly let Logan take the next one? Not that you aren’t helping but I think someone else needs a turn.”
Anxiety huffed and pulled his arm out of Patton’s grip so he could cross his arms, “Whatever. Sorry I tried.”
The hurt look on Patton’s face did not seem to register for the anxious side as he moved away to lean against a tree. Roman shook his head and gently patted Patton’s shoulder.
“Don’t mind him. He is just mad his answers are all wrong.”
It is almost like he is trying to sabotage us. He already is expressing how much he does not want to go on this quest.
“Are you guys done whispering to each other? I am going to be late,” Remus called out.
“Yes, yes. We are done,” Roman waved his hand and turned back to the threat that was his twin, “Continue on with this.”
“What has many teeth but can’t bite?” Remus asked.
Logan looked over at Anxiety, but the side was picking at his finger nails, “A comb.”
“Correct. Nice going, Nerd.” Remus clapped his hands and mud went splattering, “Alright. Last one, what three-word question can you absolutely never answer ‘yes’ to?”
Roman looked to Logan expectantly, but was surprised to see the logical side frowning. His eyebrows were scrunched up as if he was having trouble coming to this conclusion.
“Lo?” Patton whispered, “You alright?”
“Tick-tock, teach,” Remus sang.
“Give me a moment,” Logan said quickly, looking down at his hands as he muttered words under his breath. His fingers moved as if counting out the words.
Roman was starting to panic. He looked over to Patton, but the side just shook his head. It seemed Roman was on his own. He looked at Remus. Mud-covered and disgusting Remus and thought over what the riddles had entailed so far.
Numbers. Hearts. Teeth. The first one was a riddle Thomas had ready somewhere on the internet. The other two were Remus’ weird twists. What could this riddle be? What would his brother come up with in his twisted mind that Thomas may already know the answer to?
It hit him then. A morbid riddle that had been told to Thomas a year ago.
“Are you dead?” Roman whispered and then looked to his brother.
“What was that?” Remus asked, hand cupping his ear.
“I said, are you dead? That is the answer.”
Remus clapped his hands and did a little jig, “You got it. That makes two out of four, very impressive.”
“So, you’ll let us pass?” Patton asked.
Remus hummed and tapped his muddy finger against his chin, “I don’t know.”
“Remus,” Roman glared.
“Alright. Sheesh, I was just playing with you. You can go, I gotta get out of here anyway.”
With that, the side jumped backwards and seemed to disappear into the muddy river. Roman felt himself let out a breath he did not know he was holding. For Remus, that was one of his tamer appearances in his story.
“Alright now that that is over, let’s get on with this story,” Roman said as he pulled himself back up onto his horse.
Anxiety let out a passive aggressive breath as he moved back over to Patton’s steed and mounted up behind the usually cheery side.
“I do have one question before we continue,” Logan said, “Why can Remus leave at will but we cannot?”
“Because he isn’t supposed to be part of this story,” Roman answered, “Obviously.”
“Roman, be nice, it was just a question,” Patton scolded.
“And I answered!” Roman said and flicked the reins to move across bridge, knowing Patton would follow.
He held his head high and tried to ignore the disappointed look he knew was being directed at him from the moral side. He just kept his gaze focused on the dark shadows of the forest ahead and the trail that was leading them closer to their destination.
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10 Years More (Stanley’s Tale)
Stanley Pines is hitting his late 30s. He has lived a hard life on the road and only when he was in his darkest moment in '82 did he finally turn to family to help. Now, after a few years of living with his older brother, he is mostly on his feet. There are still days where he sleeps in his car but he at least knows he can make an honest living and turn to some people when in a terrible bind.
Still the world does change in terrible ways and now Stan finds himself packing up once again to drive towards a person he is sure never wants to see him again just because his mother asked him to. The last time anyone even heard from him was that same year Stan dialed up Sherman's number, who said that the man just decided to fully cut himself off from family forever?
What kind of town was Gravity Falls anyways? Whose to say Stanford even needed help?
Ao3 (THE FIC THAT MAY NEVER BE COMPLETED IS BEING WRITTEN)
Chapter 3
Gravity Falls was a small town nestled in a strangely shaped valley and, from Ford’s notes, was a place that was full of weirdness that the citizen apparently ignored. From gnomes to weird doorways that should not be opened, they would happily keep their eyes shut. What they did not ignore was the new red car that was currently driving down the main road.
All eyes seem to be glued to the stranger as he made his way up Main Street.
Stan shrunk down in the driver’s seat as he pulled into the first food place he saw. It was a weird building, shaped like a log with a big sign that read ‘Greasy’s Diner’ up on top. Hopefully the place was not too expensive.
He tried to ignore the stares that were being not so subtly thrown his way as he opened the door.
“Yeah, I know I’m good lookin’. Stop yer staring!” He shouted at a couple that had stopped mid-walk by to parking lot.
He watched the couple jump and scurry away, finally taking their eyes off him.
He knew he was a mess. Between driving up all night and cleaning up the office space in the house, he probably needed a good night’s rest. At least more then the few hours he got when he accidently drifted off in Ford’s room.
Stanley slammed the can door shut and locked it, shoving his hands in his pockets to subtly count what loose change he had saved from his last odd job. Hopefully it would be enough to last him however long he would be staying in this town.
He kept his head down as he moved up the stairs and into the Greasy’s proper. He could already feel the stares as he made his way over to the nearest booth and sat down.
“Well, I’ll be! If it isn’t the fancy scientist man up in the woods,” a voice said next to him.
Stan jumped and looked up. The waitress standing in front of him, Susan by her nametag, smiled down at him.
“We all thought you had split town with your buddy years ago,” she set a mug down and started to pour a cup of coffee without him even ordering one, “What brings you back to town, stranger?”
“Oh, I’m not-,” Stan tried to correct her but she just kept talking.
“You still doing your mysterious experiments up there in that house of yours?” She laughed, “I’d pay to see what crazy experiments you got cooking.”
“But the thing is...” he blinked, “Did you say pay?”
The woman smiled down at him, taking a notepad out of her apron, “Well sure. I ain’t going to just roam into your home without proper compensation. I’m just everyone would pay good money to check out what you had cooking up there all these years, especially after that disappearing act you did.”
Stan’s hand went back to the bills in his pocket. It was enough for a few days of diner food but would it keep him running as long as he needed to rebuild that portal? Then there was the issue of getting water, heat, and electricity turned back on. Plus, he would need to repair the house some if he was going to stay here for more then a few days.
“What about ten-no, fifteen bucks for a tour?”
“Really!” The woman’s eyes seemed to sparkle, “You would really give me a tour of your fancy science house?”
“Yeah,” Stan stood up, “In fact, I’ll give everyone a tour! Fifteen per head, no refunds!”
Everyone in the diner that had been watching the exchange seemed to turn away at that moment. The chatter in the diner growing to one of excitement as Stanley sat down and picked up a menu.
“Course I am gonna need to eat something first,” Stan said, “But then we an all head down to the…the Murder Hut and check out all the science doo-dads.”
“Well in that case, the meals on the house,” Susan cheered, “What name can I put down for the order?”
“Stan…ford. Stanford Pines.”
Susan wrote the name down and looked at him expectantly.
“And what can I get you, Stan?”
Stan glanced down at the menu. His mind churning with indecision. He was not sure why he had claimed his brother’s name, but everyone here seemed to believe he was some big science man with a spooky cabin. Maybe they would like it better if he WAS his brother.
“Just get me the Chef’s special, toots.”
He handed the menu back after his order was written down and tried to calm his racing heart. The chatter around the diner had not died and he saw a few people rush out with excitement. Maybe they would tell their friends about the newly opened Murder Hut and get him even more money.
He tapped his fingers a nervous beat on the table as guilt began to gnaw at him.
Maybe taking all these people would be a bad idea. He hadn’t done a con in years, what if they saw right through him and just chased him out of town. What was he even going to show them, he didn’t know any science.
He was broken from his nervous thoughts by a plate being set down in front of him.
“Thanks, Susan. You’re a really doll.”
The waitress giggled, “Have a good lunch, man of mystery.”
Stan cut into his pancakes and hummed in thought. He would just have to wing it, he guessed. Not that he was not used to that. If he wanted to survive out here in Gravity Falls, this might be the only way how.
It took no time at all to finish up his meal. Even without needing to pay, he still slapped a few bills down for a tip. Susan would be giving it back anyway, plus if she didn’t like the tour he could still claim he did give her money for the food.
“Everything to your liking, I see,” Susan said as she picked up the plates.
“Everything was great. Compliments to the chef and the lovely waitress that served me.”
Susan laughed and waved a hand at him, “Oh stop it you. But actually, keep going.”
Stan laughed awkwardly as he slipped from the booth and slipping his hands into his jacket pockets.
“I should have everything ready for a tour in an hour. So don’t be late,” he winked.
Susan gave another one of her laughs, “I can’t wait. I’m sure am excited to see what you have been doing up there these past ten years.”
“Yeah,” Stan scratched at the back of his neck, “I am too. I mean, excited to show everyone. It’s gonna be great.”
“Well, see you soon Mr. Mystery.”
She winked, saying the word wink as she did, before moving on to help the next customer. He took that as his chance to escape. He had to make it back to the cabin to make is presentable for people as quick as possible.
The car ride back to Gopher Road was one that seemed to take longer than he was expecting. Not that there was traffic but that his head was running through all the possible things he was going to tell these people that would make fifteen dollars a head worth it.
He did not know half the stuff locked away in his brother’s house, let alone enough to explain it.
As he pulled in next to the broken-down truck, he looked at the cabin in a light of an outsider. When he first arrived here, he had thought this place was a creepy abandoned shit hole. It still looked like that even in the light of day.
“How am I supposed to sell this place to them?”
He felt his palms sweat as he slammed the car door and rushed inside. Looking around at the dirt covered floor and grimy walls. As he moved through the house, he nearly tripped over his feet when he passed by the room that held the basement door.
Stan backed up and looked into the darkened room. Shelves on shelves of knick-knacks and doohickies were there. Those roobs had to find some of this stuff interesting.
“Alright, let’s get to cleaning.”
It took nearly the whole hour, but Stan thought he got the large room looking at least a little presentable. He was even careful enough to push a shelf in front of the basement door so nosy townsfolks would not ask to see the portal. He was not sure why, but he had a feeling that there were some things in this house he needed to hide even from them.
Wiping his hands on his jeans, he stepped out into the fading light. His fingers fumbled with the cigarette box he kept in his jacket pockets.
He felt nervous. Nervous that they would all demand their money back like every other scheme he conjured. Nervous he would be chased out of town. Nervous he would be found out pretending to be his much smarter twin brother.
As he took a drag from the cigarette, he felt some of the tension leave his shoulders. The relief did not last long. As he stomped on the smoldering ember a car pulled into the empty lot. Then another. And another. A few people coming on foot walking up with Susan at the front.
He felt the judging stares at the state of the house. He was pretty sure he needed to get someone to look at the roof, it probably would leak next rain storm.
Stanley rolled back his shoulders and gave the biggest grin he could as he stepped off the porch.
“Welcome to the Murder Hut…name still in progress.”
The crowd gathered around him as he stood on the top step.
“Everyone here? Everyone got cash? Good. Good.”
He took the offered bills without complaint, his smile becoming a little more genuine as he counted the amount of bills that had piled up in his hand.
“Alright. Step right up, folks, uh, to a world of... enchantment, or whatever.”
Stanley opened the back door cautiously, his palms sweating as he heard all the muttering behind him. Leading into the weird storage room close to the basement was the only plan he had. The rest of the house was trashed, after all, and this was the room with the most scientific junk. Plus, it was a large enough space that he could grow the business.
“Um, step this way. Feast your eyes on scientific wonders that the world has never seen.”
He weaved the crowd through the shelves, looking around for something that would entertain these patrons. He snatched a box off the shelf with two antennas protruding from the top. He spun around and messed with the dial as the tour group gathered around.
“Behold the, uh, nerdy science box.”
The box suddenly gave a spark. Unfortunately, it gave off such a large spark that it hit Susan in the eye.
“Ah! My eye!”
Stan felt his palms sweat more as he scrambled to set the box back on the shelf, “I can assure you that is no way permanent.”
He had no idea if it was, but a medical emergency was not a good idea for the start of his business. If this could become a business.
“I paid fifteen dollars for this!” Susan exclaimed. She had a hand over the eye that was just zapped but Stan could already tell it was puffing up.
The rest of the tour group began to mutter in discontent. The world seemed to be tunneling in on Stanley. If he could not get a steady income plus had the stain of hurting a towns person, he would have to leave town. If he left town, he would never find that second journal. Then Ford would never return.
“Um…uh…” Stan looked around the room with what he hoped was not a too panicked expression. He grabs a skeleton model he had dressed up out of boredom during the cleaning process. It looked like a tourist.
“you're lucky you weren't part of the last tour group,” He spun the skeleton around to reveal it to the group in its gaudy get up, “they never made it out aliiiivve. Heheh. Right?”
The crowd stared at him. He felt his soul be crushed as he tried to think of the quickest route back to Sherman’s place in California. Then Susan laughed.
Her laughter seemed to prompt the rest of the group and Stanely could not help but to join in.
“That’s funny,” Susan said, “Alright, show us what else you got Mystery man.”
“Right this way.”
Maybe he could make this work. He had to. For Ford.
#gravity falls#gravity falls fic#stanley pines#stanford pines#susan wentworth#gravity falls au#dimension hoppers au
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10 Years More (Stanley’s Tale)
Stanley Pines is hitting his late 30s. He has lived a hard life on the road and only when he was in his darkest moment in '82 did he finally turn to family to help. Now, after a few years of living with his older brother, he is mostly on his feet. There are still days where he sleeps in his car but he at least knows he can make an honest living and turn to some people when in a terrible bind.
Still the world does change in terrible ways and now Stan finds himself packing up once again to drive towards a person he is sure never wants to see him again just because his mother asked him to. The last time anyone even heard from him was that same year Stan dialed up Sherman's number, who said that the man just decided to fully cut himself off from family forever?
What kind of town was Gravity Falls anyways? Whose to say Stanford even needed help?
Ao3 (THE FIC THAT MAY NEVER BE COMPLETED IS BEING WRITTEN)
Chapter 2
Property of Stanford Pines.
Once Stanley had read those words he was hooked to the handwritten book. Every page held a peek into the kind of life Ford had been living since he last saw him. He had only started to get into the book when his flashlight died and he was forced back up into the house.
Stan was now sat at the old kitchen table with the dead flashlight and the light of the dawn helping him see.
Every word that was on a page Stan held onto tightly. The creatures, the adventures, and the overall strangeness of this town that his brother described he did not want to believe but he knew it all must be true. There was no way Stanford would stay out here so long or make these things up. This was like his brother’s dream place to research, all the weird and the fantastical.
But it was more than the adventures and monsters in this journal. Small things also caught his eyes as he read through the pages. There were codes and scattered symbols all throughout the edges of the pages. He got the feeling they were important but there was no key written down anywhere so he was out of luck. Stan gave a small sigh when he realized he was going to need to find books to help him decode all of it.
That was a task for later; he needed to focus on what he did learn from reading through his book.
He sat back in his squeaky chair in the ruined kitchen and ran a hand down his face. So, what did he know?
Monsters and strange creatures were real and lived in the woods that surrounded the town and this very house. Stanford had been here for around six years before he had disappeared in the January of 1983. His brother had come across this slime ball of a muse that told him to build an interdimensional portal. Ford and his friend, this mysterious ‘F’, had built the portal and were set to test it. This ‘F’ guy tried to put his brother to stop the test but Ford, being the stubborn ass he was, did not listen.
The day before the test the journal was left blank. The only conclusion was his brother and the other guy were sucked into the portal and lost in some other realm. Or possibly obliterated.
Stanley stared at the last page that had been written on; a diagram that he assumed was part of the portal downstairs. Probably instructions on how it was built or how to operate it. He let the ink be lightly hit by the sunlight that was filtering through the dirty window before he closed the book.
“Why couldn’t this have been simple?” Stanley muttered and hid his face in his hands. The book had brought him more problems and questions than answers.
What was he going to tell their mother? He had really wanted to come up here, be yelled at by Stanford, and then yell at his brother to call their mother for once in his life.
Instead, her mission of him coming up here had turned into something impossible. He could not just call her up and tell her that Stanford had built a dumb machine and got sucked into it. That his brother was probably deader than dead or at least lost forever since Stan did not know how to get him back.
Stanley moved his hands and stared at the book in front of him. He did not like to entertain the thoughts that he had come too late. That his brother was lost forever and probably dead. There was even the slim chance that the portal downstairs could still work; all the other machines seemed to be functioning down there even though the house was out of power.
Stan stood up quickly when that thought hit his head.
“It could still work,” he whispered and swiped the book off the table.
He headed out of the kitchen. His feet moved him quickly through the rooms until he was back at the door to the basement. That slim chance of the machine being able to work and bring his brother back caused delusional hope to grow quickly in his heart.
The man took the stairs two at a time ad held onto the side of the elevator as it made the slow journey down. He barely waited for the gate to open before Stan made his way across the room to the main control area of the portal.
“Okay. How do we do this?”
He set the book down on the desk he had found it on and started with his desperate idea.
Stan messed with the buttons and turned dials without really knowing what they did. Without the translations on the Journal’s codes, he was winging it. When nothing happened there, he moved into the main area and pulled on a lever that stood in the middle of the room.
“Come on,” he grit out and pulled on the lever desperately, “Come on. Come on.”
He tried everything that looked like it belonged to the machine to try and get it work or give any sign of life. All these attempts came up negative. The years of sitting dormant had left it without power and maybe even broken after the first failed attempt.
“Work!” He kicked the lever in frustration and the metal dented. “Come on you stupid piece of shit just fucking work!”
He kept up the kicks until the lever fell off. The rusted metal was in no condition for the rough treatment that Stanley had delivered.
The man crumpled to the ground, tears stinging his eyes, and took a deep breath to calm himself down. That little bit of hope that he had fed too much had been crushed in the smallest time span imaginable. He almost wanted to throw a temper tantrum because of the hopelessness of the situation. The one easy chance was a failure.
“Why can’t anything be easy with you, Stanford?” he muttered.
With a deep sigh, he sat up and looked at the portal hopelessly. He could not just sit down here and hoped by some higher power it was turn itself on and work. He was outmatched in the brain department to even begin to tackle this problem.
With another sigh, he stood up and grabbed journal off the desk. Stanley sluggishly made his way back into the elevator and hit the button to bring him back to the top floor. The elevator caught about halfway up but a quick hit to the controls made it move again.
“Gonna have to fix that,” he muttered to himself as the journey continued.
Stan felt more lost and confused than he had ever been in his life as he stepped off the contraption. He moved back up the stairs in a daze with the book clutched in his hands. He stared at the messy room the door was hidden in as if his desperate looks would give him the answers he desperately needed. That Stanford would appear from behind a shelf and scold him for messing with his things.
All Stan got was silence and some dust that floated in an invisible draft. There was no answer given to how he should go about this situation. No answer to if he should even bother to start the portal up. No answer to if his brother was even alive on the other side of that contraption.
The idea of calling his mother once again popped into his head but he quickly dismissed it. He could not tell her this. He would call her eventually, but right now it would be impossible to explain what had happened. Stan could not tell her that he had no idea how to save his brother and break her heart.
“No,” Stan mumbled, “Can’t tell Ma about this. Gotta think of something else.”
Stanley moved out of the cluttered room and hesitantly sat down on the couch next to the coat. The man blankly stared ahead at the television and sighed. He glanced once at the book in his lap before it finally clicked.
He stood up quickly and stared at the journal like it was the first time he was seeing it. The gold leaf on the front reflected his face but Stan’s eyes were not focused on that. They were glued to the number three printed in the middle of the palm.
“Three,” Stan said to himself, “That means there are two more. Two more with the dumb portal’s instructions or something.”
Stan laughed. There was his hope; the journals had to have the other parts of the portal’s instructions in them. He just had to find the other two and he could start working to start that device and, hopefully, save his brother from some unknown fate.
He lowered the book from his face and looked around the dingy living room.
“Okay,” he said to himself in a reassuring tone, “If I was Ford where would I hide my nerd books?”
Stanley closed his eyes and hummed to himself. It had been a long time since he had to do the ‘think like Ford’ trick, usually it was to figure out where his twin had hidden the candy in their room, but he was sure that this would work.
The man moved to the doorway of the living room before he opened his eyes to look down the hallway. He took a breath and moved away from the doorway he had entered the night before and glanced into any room he saw. His feet stopped in front of a door and he looked at the wood with interest.
The door was pushed open enough for him to see that sunlight was coming through a window in there. He pushed the door open more to see what it held. A pleased smile appeared on his face seeing that the room was set up like an office space.
“Bingo,” he whispered to himself and entered the room.
The room was not that special in contents. A sitting area under an open window, a desk, and very few personal items. Books, papers, and other random things seemed to be scattered around the floor. Stan concluded that mess was made from whatever escaped from the busted open cat carrier that sat in the corner.
He was not too focused on the mess as he made his way over to the desk and set his journal down on top of it before he began his search.
Stanley started to go through the drawers to see if he could find another journal like the one he already had. He pulled out blueprints, scribbled on notebook paper, fax sheets, pens, and pencils. He pulled out all the drawers to dump them out to see if they have a false bottom. When the desk proves to have nothing, he moved over to the two bookshelves and scattered novels around the room.
Stan picks up every book and looks them over. If they were not the certain two, he was searching for he would stack them up on the desk. The stack on the desk soon became two, then three, and then half of a fourth when, finally, he spotted it.
Stan dropped the books he was just about to carry over to the pile to reach for his prize. The maroon-colored journal had either fallen or had been flung behind the bookcase. The reasons for its hidden place did not matter to Stan as he pulled it to freedom.
Behind the bookcase the journal had been open and the pages had been stuck folded over. Stan tried his best to smooth them out again before he closed it gently since he sensed the journal’s spine may have been hurt as well.
Despite how careful he was being, Stanley was full of excitement that he had now located two out of, hopefully, three journals. The shining gold on the cover of the journal shone up in the dusty light of the house like a beacon of hope. Behind the number one written on the palm, the material reflected Stan’s hopeful grin.
“Two down, one to go,” Stan said to himself and set the book down next to the third journal and went back to searching the office area.
He picked up the rest of the books on the floor and emptied the bookshelves so he could search thoroughly behind them all. He did not want to miss anything. There had been nothing back behind them but dust and a small flip-note book that was written in someone’s handwriting that was too messy to be his brother’s. Stan had flipped through it out of curiosity and found to his delight terrible jokes and sarcastic comments that surrounded random math equations that made no sense to him.
He set the little notebook down on top of the journals and went back to his search for the second and last journal. The search resulted in the room becoming cleaner than when he had found it. The window was shut, the books put away, and the dirt on the ground had been swept up. Everything was spotless and he had found a few papers in the desk that he believed would be helpful, but he had not found the second journal.
“Okay, makin’ it hard for me I see. I like that,” Stan said to the air, “But two out of three ain’t bad. Plus, I got a whole house to search.”
He picked up his two prizes and carried them back into the living room, setting the books down on the small coffee table. If both were not in the office space he found, maybe there was another room his brother may frequent that could have this second journal. Like his bedroom.
Exactly, all Stan had to do was find Ford’s bedroom and he would probably find the journal tucked under the pillow or something. Hope was not yet lost.
He made his way out of the living room and back into the hall. Close to the stairs and front door he found a close doorway. Trying the handle, felt the door stick to the frame from the years of disuse. Old wood had warped just enough to make this more of a hassle to get to. Stan gritted his teeth and pulled as hard as he could. The door groaning in protest before it finally popped open, nearly sending the man off his feet.
“Stupid door,” he grumbled as he brushed off invisible dirt from his front.
Cautiously he peeked inside the room. The shade was drawn over the window and made the room dark as the night had been a few hours ago. But it was clearly a bedroom. A large double bed sat in the middle of the room; sheet rumpled as if someone had just gotten out of bed. It was a contrast to the pajamas still folded nicely at the end of the bed waiting for the person to arrive.
Stan stepped into the room fully and looked around, not quite sure about touching things yet. It had been years since he and his brother had shared a bedroom but here, unlike the office, this place screamed Ford. The posters still hanging on the wall of nerdy old men that Stan could not name. A jar of unusually shaped jellybeans also sat on wardrobe with a big sticky note on it that said ‘DO NOT TOUCH F!’. The DD&MD box set sitting on top of the wardrobe next to a picture of Ma. A few other family photos were there as well. David at age two with a newborn Sheryl on his lap, Sherman’s wedding, a formal picture of Ma and Pa together.
It almost hurt to see himself excluded if he was not already expecting it. Stan had been gone from his life for so long it was nice to see that Stanford at least tried to be part of Sherman’s a little.
Blinking away the feelings he turned back to the room. His first instinct was to push his hand under the old pillows to see if Ford still hid things under there like he did when they were tweens. Sadly, he came up empty.
He next moved over to the wardrobe and started to rifle through the clothing, not caring as he threw shirts and pants onto the bed. Searching for false bottoms in the drawers just in case his brother was being extra crafty. When that came up empty, he stuffed the clothes back in without much care to fold them and headed to the closet.
The closet was a bust too. Stan even checked the steamer trunk but all it held was old college memorabilia, some photo albums and film reels that he did not look too close into. Under the bed was also a bust.
With a sigh, Stan sat down on the mattress and ignoring the creaking groan the old springs did at being touched after so long. Exhaustion from the long drive and pent-up worry starting to drag down his shoulders.
He knew he still had another floor to check. He knew that half this house was trashed and needed a good cleaning, meaning that the journal could be anywhere.
However, it was hard to be optimistic when a personal thing like that is not in a place you expect it to be.
“Come on Stan, pull yourself together,” he said to himself, “You still got a whole house to search.”
At the thought of that his body almost wanted to collapse. He flopped over backward onto the bed and threw an arm over his eyes.
“It’s gotta be somewhere,” he yawned, “I’ll just rest here for a second and then go into the next room. There is no way it ain’t in the house.”
As he laid there, listening to the dead silence of the cabin around him, he tried to think of other places his brother may have placed something like this. Maybe it was in the attic or down in the basement where the first one was. Maybe he just needed to clean up the kitchen a bit. Course, it could take days to get this house full searched. He might need to get a motel room.
A frown crossed his face at the thought of spending what little savings he had on a motel room he might not even use. Maybe he should just stay here, get some nonperishable food from town, and just fix this place up.
Who knew how long the portal thing was going to take anyway once he found this dang journal. A month? Maybe two? It took Ford and his nerd friend six months to make it from scratch, he may not be the smart twin but he could follow instructions well enough that it shouldn’t take too long.
Right?
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10 Years More (Stanley’s Tale)
Stanley Pines is hitting his late 30s. He has lived a hard life on the road and only when he was in his darkest moment in '82 did he finally turn to family to help. Now, after a few years of living with his older brother, he is mostly on his feet. There are still days where he sleeps in his car but he at least knows he can make an honest living and turn to some people when in a terrible bind.
Still the world does change in terrible ways and now Stan finds himself packing up once again to drive towards a person he is sure never wants to see him again just because his mother asked him to. The last time anyone even heard from him was that same year Stan dialed up Sherman's number, who said that the man just decided to fully cut himself off from family forever?
What kind of town was Gravity Falls anyways? Whose to say Stanford even needed help?
Ao3 (THE FIC THAT MAY NEVER BE COMPLETED IS BEING WRITTEN AGAIN)
Chapter 1
Gravity Falls, Oregon. A small sleepy town in the middle of nowhere. The town was surrounded by mountains and probably was one of those back-water places that did not accept outsiders easily. A perfect place to go to lay low if someone was on the run from certain people or go searching for someone that had dropped off the map almost ten years ago.
A red car sped down the lonesome stretch of road in the dark of night. The dim glow of the headlights were the only things making a dent in the shadows the trees and mountains were sending across the road. The driver hummed to himself to fill the silence the night held.
The phone conversation he had had a month ago was still playing in his head and he was trying to drown it out.
“Stanley, it is so good to hear from you.”
“Great to hear from you too, Ma. Sorry it has been a while, got caught up in stuff…had to move a lot. What is going on with you?”
Silence.
Stanley reached for the radio dial to try and drown out the memory of the conversation. Each spin of the dial only came back with static this far out in the mountain range. He would have put a tape in but the thing had been busted for years now; he regretted not spending the time to fix it when he had the chance. He was left with the only other option: humming. It wasn’t working.
“Ma?”
“Stan…I’m worried about your brother.”
“Shermie? I just talked to him a month ago. He seemed pretty unhappy that Sheryl is headed off the college now. Told him he should have been used to it after Jacob flew the coop but I guess it is different when both kids go off. That ain’t really something to worry about, Ma-
“No. No, Stanley, I’m… I’m not talking about him… I’m talking... I’m talking about Stanford.”
Silence.
Stan’s eyes landed on the road sign that told him that the exit to Gravity Falls was just twenty miles away. With the lack of people on the road he did not care to be cautious. The man pressed down on the gas to speed up his car and get there faster. Anxiety pushing in around him as the memory filtered through his mind.
“He hasn’t called in years and the post office said they stopped delivering my letters.”
“Maybe he just dropped off the face of the Earth, Ma. He was never good at calling you.”
“I don’t think it is that. I just have that feeling he is in danger; I’ve had this feeling for a while.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“I just…I know you don’t want to talk to him but can you just go up and check on him? Please, Stanley, just to make sure he is okay.”
The welcoming sign of the hidden town of Gravity Falls came into view as the radio finally picked up a signal. Some late-night show began to play music and chased away the memory as he turned off the highway.
“This better be something bad, Sixer,” he grumbled as he turned the wheel, “I didn’t come all this way for nothing.”
Even as he said those words the idea of his twin brother being in some sort of danger made his stomach squirm. The gut feeling only worsened as he drove closer to the allusive town; it almost seemed the woods that surrounded the road was watching. As if they had expected his arrival and were eagerly waiting to gobble him up.
Stan slowed his car down when he spotted a street sign that was almost completely covered by the wild woods. Tree branches and brush hid the white paint in shadows. The man had to squint just to read the name of the street: Gopher Road.
Road was being generous. It was more of an over grown dirt path that had allowed the trees to slowly consume it. And it was sadly his destination.
He thought it would have been harder to find but here it was. The exit to the town had led him straight to the road he was looking for. A dirt road that led right into the creepy woods that he wanted to avoid because they looked ready to eat him alive.
“You just had to live in the creepy forest, didn’t ya?” Stanley groused as he turned the car onto the dark street.
Gopher Road was a long, winding expanse that traveled far into the darkness of the forest. The whole pathway was bumpy and full of holes from rainfall washing away the loose soil. Vines, weeds, and grass had cemented the some of the uneven street to the ground but not enough to make it an easy ride in.
Stanley wished he felt some relief when he finally reached the end of the road where a cabin sat in complete shadow, but all he felt was a foreboding sense of a doom. His headlights chased the darkness away as he pulled up next to a rusting truck that seemed to have been parked in the clearing for years. Vines and grasses were growing around the tires; a branch from a tree had fallen and dented the pine straw covered roof of the vehicle. Stan doubted it would even run even if he hot wired the thing.
The house lit up by his headlights was in no better shape. The step up to the front porch was covered in moss and the front door hung off its hinges as if it was forced open. Even with the light shining right at it, a darkness seemed to envelop the inside of the house.
All over it read that this place had been long abandoned.
Stanley pushed his car into park and sat there staring at the scene before him. The gut feeling of something terrible happening only seemed to grow the longer he stared at the dark house. He was very tempted to turn around, find a motel, and come back to search in the morning. But he needed answers.
His mother said this was Stanford’s last known address and, by whoever may be up there, Stanley Pines would find out what happened to his brother.
Hesitantly, he turned the keys and the rumble of the engine died. He turned in his seat to ruffle through his duffle bag that sat across the back seats, pulling out a flash light. He flicked the device on and off to make sure it had enough juice.
With shaking hands, he turned the headlights off and stepped out into the night.
A breeze blew as he closed the car door and made him shiver despite it being a warm wind. The cloud above moved so the moon was no longer obscured and cast the clearing with the house in an eerie glow. Despite it being a warm summer night, Stan felt chilled to the bone as he moved towards the house. His muscles tight at the terrible feeling of being watched as he carefully stepped onto the rotting wood of the front porch.
The wood of the porch groaned under his weight; it had not needed to support a human presence in quite some time. With a flick, the flashlight was turned on. He could see spots of mold growing over the wooden beams and did his best to avoid those places as he moved toward the front door. Last thing he needed was to fall in a hole on the front porch.
He tried to be careful as he moved the door open slowly, but his movement seemed to do it for broken, unused door and it fell with a clatter. The man jumped at the sound and sent a paranoid glance back at the forest before he let the light of the flashlight illuminate the abandoned hallway of his brother’s home.
Mud, dirt, and leaves had made their home inside the house over the time the house had been left alone. Who knew how long the door had hung down in such a sorry state. Stan would not be surprised if animals had used this place as shelter during bad storms or squatters had found this place as a safe-haven over the years. It certainly would be a place he would have chosen during his life on the road.
The trail of debris led into the kitchen which was in complete disarray. The idea of squatters and animals making this place their home did not seem too far off anymore as he flashed the light around the room. The dead fridge was open and empty, pots and pans were all over the ground, a few mugs were broken and another seemed to be full of old coffee, and the food that had been in the pantry was either gone or scattered over the floor in various states of decay.
“Nice of them to clean up after themselves,” Stanley muttered under his breath as he left the kitchen doorway to explore the rest of the house.
The living area was in a better shape than he thought it would be. The television was still in front of the couch, which was surprising considering one could get a decent money for a T.V. set. Dirt covered the floor just like the rest of the house and a dried-out fish tank stood against a wall. The couch was worn out but not destroyed by animals like he expected, but there was a winter coat draped over the back of it. Stan picked it up with curiosity.
It did not look like a squatter’s coat. It had the air of being new when it was worn to this location and seemed to have only been worn a few times. He would have guessed it was his brother’s if it hadn’t been a few sized smaller than he could fit into. The dust and grime over it seemed to indicate it had been there for a while, maybe as long as this house had been abandoned.
Stan dropped the coat back onto the couch. Possibly a friend of Ford’s? Maybe they were still around this town and could help him figure out what happened.
He next entered a large room that had different things scattered about. A dinosaur skull, weird machines, and chemicals in bottles. He moved to pick up a bottle with an eyeball in it when his light hit something that did not match the wooden aesthetic of the cabin. A door, slightly ajar, made of metal. Something about it drew him like a moth to a flame; like all the answers he needed would be answered if he just walked towards this door.
With a push, the door creaked open on rusted hinges and cold, musty air flooded out. Stan took an involuntary step back and clutched his flashlight tighter as he let the light hit every corner of the new area he had found.
The faint light of the beam hit the steep stairs leading down into the unknown darkness, the cobwebs handing from the ceiling, and a six-fingered hand print that seemed to forever mark the wall. If there was any place, he would find the answers to what had happened to his brother it would probably be down these stairs.
Stanley took a breath and rolled his shoulders. Whatever had happened to his brother could very well be hidden down at the bottom of these stairs. As much as everything was pushing him to turn around and leave, he took a step forward so he stood right on the precipice.
“Creepy woods, creepy house and now a creepy stair case,” he whispered, “Ya’ know, Sixer. When I said that you should be in danger, I was hoping I would drive up here and find you happy and angry to see me.”
He got no answer but silence and a flicker from his flashlight. With another breath to gain some courage the man took his first step into the unknown. The journey down the stair case was slow. He made sure to shine a light on every step so not to trip or step on a rat if any had made their home down there. When he got to the bottom he found his next obstacle: an elevator.
“What the Hell?” he said to himself. He shone the light around the contraption, “Why do you need an elevator in a basement?”
Stan took a closer look at the machinery and hesitantly touched the button that called the car. To his surprise the old metal working started to hum and the inner workings started to pull the old car up. Stan’s only conclusion on how it still had power was that it had to be working with its own power source; probably a generator. He stored that thought for later; the mysterious power source may come in handy later.
He stepped into the elevator when the car reached him and grimaced when he heard the metal groan under the weight. The lack of use and sitting forever in some unknown location under him probably made the metal weak. Stanley took a breath as he pressed the first button he saw, taking him to the third level of the basement. He hoped the machine would have enough strength to bring him down and back up.
The further down the elevator went the more nervous Stan became at what he might find.
This was so much more than he had thought it was going to be. A basement with layers that were probably unknown to the builders, a house hidden away in the woods, and his brother just gone without any show that he had moved. When his mother asked him to come here, Stan had thought he would just find his brother rich in success and in his own world that did not involve any of them. Now, he was scared he was descending towards his brother’s grave.
Stanley’s breath was taken away as he arrived at his destination and saw the room. The room was the definition of every sci-fi-horror nerd’s dream. The machines were covered in dirt and dust from lack of use, papers were scattered across the ground, and a few lights blinked on and off so it gave the space an eerie glow. He could almost think he had stepped onto a movie set or this was all some kind of trippy dream.
His eyes were drawn away drawn away from the machines when he caught sight of something at the end of the room through a pane of protective glass. A giant triangle made of metal; a machine of some kind that looked like it had come from another world.
His feet walked towards it without him directing them to. Stan did not even glance at the warning signs around the door as he stepped into that machine’s room. The closer he got the larger it became; whatever this device was it certainly had a hold on him. It made him feel scared yet, at the same time, he was filled with wonder. What stopped Stanley’s journey towards it was something crunching under his dirty boots.
Stan stepped back at the noise and broke his gaze from the machine to look at the ground to see what he had stepped on. On the ground lay a cracked pair of round glasses; mangled from the foot that had just crushed them. Just a few steps away were another pair of glasses that matched the style he had last seen his brother wearing. He picked them both up and grimaced when the cracked glass of the spectacles fell to the ground.
Stan stared into the faint reflection of the glass and then looked back up at the portal. If this was all that remained of his brother then what had happened? Had this machine been the cause of his twin’s destruction? He wanted to ask these questions but the only thing that came out was:
“What did you do, Sixer?”
The biggest unanswered question out of all the ones swimming around in his mind. Stan’s simple journey to check on his brother had turned into something huge and beyond his imagination. It was giving more questions than answering them. He was left confused and daunted by everything around him.
Stanley pocketed both the glasses in his worn-out jacket and left the machine’s room to enter the lab again. He looked over the dirty machines before he spotted something that should have been his first thing to discover upon entering this room. A journal sat on a dust covered desk; the gold hand print was on the cover and shone bright under the light of Stan’s flashlight.
He set down the light and picked up the book gently. Without the glaring light of the flashlight, he could easily see a number three written in the middle of the gold. Stan looked at looked at the attached monocle with mild interest before he opened the book. The name on the inside of the cover was all he needed before he dove into the story of what Stanford had been up the years before he disappeared.
#dimension hoppers au#stanley pines#grunkle stan#gravity falls au#gravity falls fic#gravity falls#incomplete fic being written again?
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The drive was long but luckily traffic was not too bad. Stanley only stopped a few times to pick up directions from a few gas stations attendees. The further north they pushed the colder it became and snow began to litter the ground around the roads. Now, as they crossed the state border into Oregon proper, a few snowflakes began to fall from the sky.
Mabel had been a bundle of joy to have during the long drive. She would sing along to the radio, even to songs she did not know, or just talk about her family. He learned she had a twin brother and a pet pig. She learned that she had a big imagination as well, talking about fighting gnomes over the summer and other mystical creatures. Still, he felt she was holding things back. She would not say much about why or how she ended up in California on the shores of the bay. Nor would she say why she suddenly wanted to head back home. She had not even mentioned her parents.
He glanced away to from the road to look over at the young girl in the passenger seat. Mabel was curled up under the jacket completely now. Her soft humming had turned into soft snores as she had fallen into a small nap an hour back.
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Stanley Pines has been through a lot. He has been to jail in South America. He has been in the biggest trouble with a few cartels. And currently, he just chewed his way out of the trunk of a car. What he was not expecting after that was to find a young girl standing on the shores of Grizzly Bay alone in the December chill of Northern California. Especially when she says she is from Oregon. Now Stan is on a mission to get this girl home, while also using it as an excuse to skip states to avoid letting anyone know he survived the chilly waters of the bay. Little does he know he is about to confront is past in an even bigger way and maybe even meet his future head on.
Mabel Pines has been through a lot this summer. From nearly marrying gnomes to getting a second grunkle. Now she finds herself trapped in the past. She is just relieved that she found a much younger version of her Grunkle Stan. The only problem now is how she is going to get home to her time without ruining the time stream too much. Especially when her only idea to get back is to bring the brothers together a few months too soon.
#gravity falls#gravity falls fic#fiddleford mcgucket#stanley pines#grunkle stan#mabel pines#stanford pines#timestuck au
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Stanley Pines has been through a lot. He has been to jail in South America. He has been in the biggest trouble with a few cartels. And currently, he just chewed his way out of the trunk of a car. What he was not expecting after that was to find a young girl standing on the shores of Grizzly Bay alone in the December chill of Northern California. Especially when she says she is from Oregon. Now Stan is on a mission to get this girl home, while also using it as an excuse to skip states to avoid letting anyone know he survived the chilly waters of the bay. Little does he know he is about to confront is past in an even bigger way and maybe even meet his future head on.
Mabel Pines has been through a lot this summer. From nearly marrying gnomes to getting a second grunkle. Now she finds herself trapped in the past. She is just relieved that she found a much younger version of her Grunkle Stan. The only problem now is how she is going to get home to her time without ruining the time stream too much. Especially when her only idea to get back is to bring the brothers together a few months too soon.
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there was a meme in the days of livejournal where people picked a fic, or a scene from a fic, or an excerpt or chapter or whatever, and the author provided a DVD commentary on that piece of writing
what they were thinking, struggling with, almost included, etc etc. I loved it and cannot find a tumblr version of that meme I like, so reblog this post with a link to your AO3 and I (and hopefully some of your followers) will barge into your askbox and ask for a commentary on some bit of your fic
:D?
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Whumptober 2021

Welcome to Whumptober 2021! May the Whump be with you :)
To all of you who participated last year - we have changed a few of the rules, but overall things have stayed the same. To everyone new: WELCOME!
Please make sure to read the Event Info carefully, most of your questions will be answered there already. For everything else you are welcome to come to our ask box or ask questions in our Discord server here.
This year’s AO3 Collection can be found here.
With that being said, we’re very excited to see the community come together once more and be a wild, chaotic bunch of creators and consumers of whump. We wish you all the fun!
(All 31 Themes + Prompts, Event Information, and FAQs are posted below the cut!)
Keep reading
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(An alternate perspective from It’s Just an Experiment Chapter 5)
Let’s Go Out with a Bang
He didn't even say goodbye
Janus slammed the door to his room with a loud bang. The anger fueling him as he stomped into the dimly lit area without even a thought to flick on a light. The glow from the terrarium by the wall his only light source that cast looming shadows across the plain grey walls.
“You were gone for a week, Virgil, I am concerned! What if they had done something to you?”
His thoughts swirled angrily as he tossed his hat in a random direction as he continued his angry stomping.
Why Virgil took his concern as an attack, he would never understand. Why could his oldest friend not get it through his thick skull that he just wanted to protect him? Virgil had spent years being their defender, now it was Janus’ turn. Was it so bad that he actually cared?
He growled and threw open the door to his bathroom, the dull thunk of the wood against the wall barely went noticed as he made his way over to the sink. He was not gentle as he flicked the switch and the lights around the mirror lit up with a small blink.
A gloved hand rand through his hair and pulled slightly on the ends, sending small shocks of pain. He grimaced and let go after a second. His gloves were off after a small struggle with the button that kept them clasped around his wrist. He needed them off. He needed grounding.
The cold metal of the faucet paired with the sharp biting sting of the freezing water splashed on his face did nothing to calm the looming dread and retreating anger the swirled inside him. He let the sound of the faucet running wash over him as he tried to come up with some logical explanation for this sudden shift in attitude.
[continued on AO3]
#sanders sides#it's just an experiment#tw blood#tw suicide#remus sanders#virgil sanders#thomas sanders#sanders sides fanfiction#My writing
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Remus was a lot of things; trashy, gross, inappropriate. He did things without thinking and ignored any consequences that came of it. That is what everyone told him about himself so it had to be true. Everything he did was just a passing whim of unimportance.
“It’s just an experiment,” He told himself as he held the blade aloft.. “It’s just to see what happens,” he mumbled as he slowly tied the rope. “I just want to feel something,” he thought as the water lapped at his feet “I just want it to stop,” he prayed as poured out the pills
“Can a side even die?” He asked to the wind as he fell toward the ground.
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How are you today?
I am doing alright. Had some family scares recently, but things are looking up. Now if I could only get a job things would be better lol
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Whumper and Team Leader play a game of chess or something similar. Every one of Team Leader’s pieces represents one of their team members. Each time Whumper captures one of TL’s pieces, that teammate will suffer. TL has to choose which ones to sacrifice to protect their “more important” players.
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Fic Comissions
Link to Rules here: http://amydiddle-fanfiction.tumblr.com/Guidelines
Pricing!
500 words - 1 kofi (3 US dollars)
1000 words - 2 kofi (6 US dollars)
1500 words - 3 kofi (9 US dollars)
2000 words - 4 kofi (12 US dollars)
2500 words - 5 kofi (15 US dollars)
3000 words - 6 kofi (18 US dollars)
3500 words - 7 kofi (21 US dollars)
4000 words - 8 kofi (24 US dollars)
4500 words - 9 kofi (27 US dollars)
5000 words - 10 kofi (30 US dollars)
Ko-Fi Link!
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hi! I just found your tumblr and I wanna say that your fanfic, moony: curse of the full moon, quite literally kept me alive in jr high. I was going through some really hard times at that point in my life. I found this story beginning of 6th grade and spent the next 3 years avidly reading your work. It was a major source of comfort for me and your updates kept me going through the weeks. I just want to say thank you for unknowningly getting me through that time and inspiring me to write.
I honestly don’t know what to say. I was just reading the comments left on the fic itself, something I never thought I would see again tbh. I do want to apologize for never getting around to finishing it or updating it. Life took me in another path but I look back at Moony fondly, think about it often too.
I am so happy you are still here and creating. Jr. High is a tough time but having a small light is so important. I hope you are in a better place now and that you are not letting the current situation get you too down. Thank you for the comments, and the long lasting support for a story long left on the shelf but never really forgotten.
Continue to create. Continue to find joy in life.
-Amydiddle
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