#Dimensional Split

[futurefatum]

🔵🔮Leaving the Age of Material and Entering the Age of Frequency (Tone: 540)

Posted on November 18th, 2024 by @SergeiDavidoff ABOUT THIS VIDEO: The video features Franco Romero, a psychic medium, discussing humanity’s transition from a materialistic era into the “Age of Frequency.” The central premise is that Earth operates as a “school” and that humanity is at a pivotal point of spiritual activation and internal transformation. This change involves moving from…

[scribz-ag24]

duskvyle save me.... save me, duskvyle.....

[rhaenyratargayen]

“She’s EVIL. She’s the villain. She’s manipulative.” and it’s her

[snailtowne]

absolutely LIVID over how they butchered Bubble like thattt oh my godddd

[sendmyresignation]

something I've been thinking about lately. i do think it's incredibly telling that almost 80 percent of the conversations around 'gatekeeping' and 'posers' and shit end up just becoming vitriolic hatred of 'alt girls' like i hate shit spotify playlists and dollskill fake leather edge and tiktok recommendations as much as the next person but this is a very big attitude coming from a website full of people who spent their formative middle school years shopping at hot topic for multi-colored skinny jeans while listening to like. falling in reverse or 21p unironically (this is a self-own btw). first of all teenagers having shit taste isn't killing punk music. but also why is the object of your hatred always boil down to a woman faking it? as if it isn't the single oldest stereotype in heavy music? like am i insane for thinking this is an issue

[spikeymike]

me getting ready to fight god for not letting me and my partner hang out doing nothing every single day and making me go to work instead

[missgowgow]

I saw a motorcycle while driving the other day and my mind immediately went to “remember yugioh 5d’s? how the first season was about this incredibly segregated society where the lower class lived in a literal garbage dump and were forcibly branded by lasers if they committed petty misdemeanours? and then some people played a card game on motorcycles and then some other people built a bridge and now society is fully integrated with no problems whatsoever? like no one even mentions anything about the main character’s state-sanctioned criminal brand burned onto his face as a child? we used to hate people with those things, but then there was That Duel so society is good now :)”

http://www.dorkly.com/post/85925/pokemon-vs-yu-gi-oh

[tomato-face-xoxo]

i just love moments like these.

jax can seem like the 1 dimensional “haha evil shit i do evil shit for funnie haha” guy to a lot of people, which is the persona he tries to uphold throughout all the episodes. his mindset is that because nothing’s actually real, might as well cause chaos for the sake of it. it’s how he copes. but moments like these, where jax is being genuine even for a split second, really show so much for his character.

no, i don’t expect him to be redeemed. gooseworx says that he gets WORSE, and he IS an asshole to everyone around him. but under all of that he is still human. and after being presumably tortured by gangle for who knows how long he really doesn’t have the energy to keep up his fake evil persona. and so he asks pomni how she’s doing, an action which confuses her greatly.

most of the time, jax is terrified of showing weakness. hell, THIS is his reaction to the employee training session.

he’s just had his body twisted in all sorts of ways by a bunch of mysterious hands and his biggest fear is people seeing him weak.

jax you are so pathetic and i love you as a character greatly ❤️

[youling-the-ghost]

Technically, it's both!

Botanically, the fruit is the ripened ovary of a plant that contains seeds. Technically the word "cucumber" also encompasses the vines on which the fruits grow, but it's used almost exclusively to refer to the fruit colliqually. If you want to get really specific with the pedantics, you can call the cucumber by its scientific name (cucumis sativus), but only nerds do that (/lh).

Meanwhile, a vegetable is defined as "a plant or part of a plant used as food, such as a cabbage, potato, carrot, or bean". So technically, all fruits are vegetables! The term "vegetable" actually has no set botanical definition, and it's mostly been used as a buzzword make something sound healthier (similar to the term "superfood" in a way). Here's an interesting video on the topic.

(this is totally not just a reason for me to promote Food Theory)

Weird conclusion, I know, but technically none of the boys are wrong! Unless they were arguing against it being a fruit and/or vegetable, in that case they were all horribly wrong.

watching a livestream and the guys just spent a whole two minutes arguing over wether a cucumber is a fruit or a vegetable I love these idiots

[3minsover]

Steddie who keep missing each other. Who aren't in love at the same time. It's neither of their faults; they're just not quite in touch, in tune with each other.

Sure, Eddie had a stupid huge embarrassing crush on Steve throughout junior year, senior year and senior year 2.0. Sure, it was made so much worse when in Steve's first and only senior year, Eddie found himself sat in math class diagonally behind the fallen king. He'd watch the way his hair moved when he ran his hands through it in frustration. He'd see the shift of muscle under his shirt when he bent down to pick up a dropped pencil. And every time Steve would smile, flutter his lashes and pinch his eyebrows, say; "I'm sorry sir, I just don't know", Eddie would find himself shifting in his seat, nipping at the skin on the side of his finger, knee bouncing under the desk. They didn't really talk beyond 'hey's in the corridor, beyond 'did you do the homework?'s - to which Eddie would without fail stutter out an 'Uh- so, no. I meant to- Just, uh. No.' and Steve would without fail flash a soft smile, bump his shoulder into Eddie's and whisper 'Me neither.'

It got easier, after Steve graduated. Eddie still saw him around, still recognised his car in the lot when he was giving Robin Buckley from band a ride to school. But it wasn't so immediate, wasn't so raw. And after a while, the butterflies would fade. He'd be able to meet Steve's eye across the Family Video counter without feeling his mouth go dusty and his heart leap into his throat.

Steve hadn't realised his feelings for Eddie were anything more than friendly, until he graduated high school. Without the daily glances across the classroom, the moments he'd always take to make conversation, it felt emptier. It gave him time to think about the way his chest would tighten at Eddie's shy smile whenever they talked. Steve hadn't realised he might be allowed to feel something softer than 'dudely bro-ship'.

That is, until it fades so the only time Steve sees him is when he drops Robin off at school, or when he comes in to family video to rent Halloween again. Steve's heart prickles at the sight of him, but after a while, Eddie's visits drop off.

Steve tries to keep himself busy, grateful for some time without inter-dimensional battles or Russian agents trying to kill him. Thoughts of Eddie drift to the back of his mind, for almost six months. And then in the spring of '86, Steve finds himself thrown against the splintered wall of a nondescript boathouse on the outskirts of town. And it's Eddie Munson from Math that has a shaking, jagged bottle held up to his throat. It absolutely doesn't awaken things in him that he never knew he could want, absolutely not.

But regardless, he's staring half-terrified into the dark, watery brown eyes of Eddie Munson from Math, and all he wants is to reach out and smooth a palm over his cheek. He wants to curl his hand around those trembling fingers and tell him it's all gonna be okay. Of course, it isn't. Steve doesn't get much of a chance to talk to Eddie over the next week, what with some vampire soul-sucker guy terrorizing the town, and Max getting possessed and the whole thing going entirely to shit. But he finds himself drawn inexplicably into Eddie's space, splits off with Eddie and has the girls pair up and then Eddie calls him 'big boy'. And his entire world stops spinning for a moment. For just a second, it's just the two of them, and Eddie's face is so close to his, his smile so wild and beautiful.

The whole world stops, before it rockets back into thrilling, terrifying motion.

In the fear and the panic of the final Vecna showdown, Steve has to thrust his feelings back down deep. He can't let shit like a crush get in the way when the lives of the people he loves most are at stake.

It all happens so fast, and before he knows it, Max is in a coma, Eddie's been torn up to within an inch of his life, there's no certainty that Vecna's even gone, and he doesn't know what to do.

For days, Steve sits by Eddie's bedside when he can - when he's not with Max - only sleeps when he does. He silently begs for Eddie to be alright, feels guilty for every thought he has that isn't about Max. He begins to resent how desperately he pines for the moments when Eddie's awake, and after a week, once it's clear that Eddie's going to recover, Steve doesn't visit him anymore.

With all the feelings that are getting jumbled amongst the multitude of all the other horrible nasty fragile things that are writhing around inside, Steve forces himself to shove any thoughts of Eddie down, to get over him. And before he realises, it's been weeks. He's still worried for Eddie, of course he is. The guy almost died in Henderson's arms. But now the world's not actively ending, now he has a moment to breathe, he wonders whether the sparking, shimmering thing that had his mouth going dusty and his heart leaping into his throat was the same thing that had him saying all that shit to Nancy in the upside down.

He can't trust that it's not just a trauma response.

After Eddie recovers, slowly and with more help than he'd ever admit he needed, he sees Steve again. But he's distant. Friendly, but impersonal. An acquaintance. Things are as they were before. It hurts, but he knows all too well that any of the flirtation, the playful teasing and longing looks can only be chalked up to the fear of the end of the world.

It's a couple months before Steve tells Eddie he's going to college out of state. He's leaving in a week. And everything that had been laying dormant for so long comes bubbling up to the surface.

"Shit, I wish you'd given me a little more notice, Harrington," Eddie says, trying desperately to keep the heartbreak out of his voice.

"I'm sorry man, I just. It all happened pretty fast and like if I didn't do it now, it wasn't gonna happen, yknow?" Steve shrugs awkwardly, runs a hand through his hair.

If I didn't do it now, it wasn't gonna happen.

"It's gonna be a damn sight harder to like you this much when you're that far away," Eddie's mouth says before his mind can catch up.

"I like you too, man, but hey, I'll be home for Christmas. You can catch me up on everything I miss, huh?" Steve bumps Eddie's shoulder, just as he used to when they were leaning against the lockers back at school.

"No, Steve. I- You're, I mean. I like you. In a- Like I have, I totally have feelings for you, dude," Eddie forces out, watching his sneaker as he kicks at the ground.

"Eddie..." Steve says softly, and it just breaks Eddie's heart even more. Because that's a let-him-down-gently 'Eddie'.

"No, no it's- Don't sweat it man, just sorta had to tell you before you- Anyway. Have fun at college. I'll- I'll be here when you come home."

"Eddie, wait. I'm sorry. I just..." Steve begins, looks so pained, reaches to take hold of Eddie's shoulder. He avoids it, ducks out the way. And then Eddie leaves, before Steve can try to do something awful like making him feel better or tell him it's okay.

Eddie doesn't see Steve again before he goes to college. Hears from Henderson over the next few months how he's getting on, all the babes he's dating, the assignments he's trying to actually do before the deadline, and Eddie forces himself to smile, crack a joke, whatever.

Slowly, he extricates himself from conversations about Steve. Doesn't want to hear it, but can't tell anyone why. So he finds excuses; he has to take a leak, just remembered he promised Wayne he'd pick up groceries, got band practice, whatever he can come up with. He doesn't even hear Steve's name, tries desperately not to think about him (and fails), until December.

Until the evening of December 24th, when there's knock at the trailer door. With Wayne already asleep, Eddie drags himself from the couch to pull the front door open.

Eddie's met with a coat-wrapped, scarf-muffled, bobble-hatted Steve Harrington standing on his doorstep. He’s rocking back and forth on his toes, arms crossed tight around his chest, hands tucked under his arms. His cheeks are pink, the tip of his nose pinker still, nibbled by the cold. He’s just as beautiful as the last time Eddie saw him, and it jerks his heart into frantic motion against his ribs.

He’d thought he was over Steve, that seeing him again would be just like what it is; welcoming home an old friend. Except all Eddie wants to do is take hold of Steve’s frostbitten cheeks, pull his face towards him and kiss him like it’ll erase all the months of pining that had gone before.

Of course, he doesn’t. Instead, he just balks, says "Steve? What are you-?"

"I had to see you. I’m sorry if this is like inappropriate or if you don’t wanna see me- Dustin said you seemed like, mad at me or something. And honestly I can’t blame you, really. I shouldn’t have- it’s not that I didn’t, that I wasn’t. What I’m trying to say, Eddie, is that I know it’s too late. I know I missed my shot. But I haven’t stopped thinking about you for the last four months."

"Steve-"

"I know I have no right to do this to you. But it was killing me, man. Because I think I might have- I think I might be-"

"Me too," Eddie interrupts. His mind’s whirring and tumbling, trying to gather up the pieces of Steve’s fragmented confession. Steve’s jaw hangs open just a little, paused halfway through a word. "I thought it’d gone away. Thought I’d gotten over Steve Harrington," Eddie continues with a sardonic little shimmy of his hands, "but uh, seems you’re a little harder to shake than I thought."

"D'you, d'you want to shake me? Off, I mean," Steve asks, dipping his chin and looking up through thick lashes, a shy, self-conscious suggestion of a smile pulling at the corners of his lips.

"No. no I don’t."

"Oh thank god. 'Cause I don’t know if I’d survive that," Steve exhales, his small smile spreading into a grin. He rocks forward onto the balls of his feet again, and Eddie finds himself pulled into Steve’s orbit. It doesn’t matter that he’s just in his socks and the doorstep is damp with cold. Eddie crosses the threshold and curls his fingers gently around the lapels of Steve’s coat. Eddie’s struggling to breathe, little puffs bursting forth from his lips and clashing in the air, mixing with Steve’s own.

"Can I-?" Eddie asks, doesn’t dare say the word aloud in case Steve’s not on the same page; gives himself an out if Steve’s not where Eddie’s at. Where he’s always been at, really. It just wasn’t quite at the right time.

"Yes. Please," Steve breathes, sweet frosty breath swirling gray-white around in the thin, chilly air between their faces. Slowly, giving Steve plenty of time to back away, change his mind, Eddie draws Steve towards him, tips his chin until their noses brush. the very peaks of their lips touch, and Steve’s breath hitches at the contact. It’s the prettiest sound Eddie’s ever heard. Eddie sips in a breath, hardly daring to move, and lets Steve nudge their mouths together.

Finally.

Their lips press softly together, and Eddie feels Steve’s hands come to grip at the sides of his sweater, bunching it at his waist. He pulls Eddie towards him, moans softly, just the tiniest hint of voice slipping out and into Eddie’s mouth. A new prettiest sound.

Suddenly aware of their very public, very chilly location, Eddie stumbles backwards, pulls Steve inside with him. Steve follows enthusiastically, kicking the door shut behind him with his heel, lips never leaving Eddie’s for even a moment. They’re entirely wrapped up in each other, even as Eddie frantically unwraps Steve’s cold-proof clothing, lost completely in the feeling of their bodies pressing together.

They took their time, to get here. But now that they are, here is where they’ll stay. It won’t be easy, being apart for long stretches while Steve’s away at college, but now they’ll have a little something of each other’s to keep hold of until they’re together again.

They’ll have the promises they made each other that night, the words whispered against skin, the kisses pressed and breath shared. They’ll have the silent, precious exchange of one heart for another. And that will see them through.

[starlightshadowsworld]

Crack concept: Atsushi doesn’t exactly get absorbed…not completely that is.

Akutagawa: Weretiger!

Atsushi: Oh my god can you lower your volume I’m right here!

Akutagawa:…Well get off the floor then!

Atsushi: Oh jee let me just get my nonexistent leg and my nonexistent arm and oh yeah the entire MISSING HALF of my body and then I’ll be right up there with you.

Akutagawa: Sarcasm is unbecoming of you.

Atsushi: When my leg comes back I’m going to throw it at you.

Akutagawa: I see nothing changed now you’ve lost half your brain.

Atsushi: I see being bought back to life didn’t give you a sense of humour.

Akutagawa: Does it hurt?

Atsushi: You remember when you cut my leg off, the first time?

Akutagawa: Obviously.

Atsushi: I would prefer having that pain over this…every day of my life over this.

Akutagawa: You damn fool, why would you protect me?

Atsushi: Why would you protect me?

Akutagawa: I asked you first!

Atsushi: I asked you second!

Akutagawa: That doesn’t even make sense!

Atsushi: My consciousness is split between here and a 4th dimensional plane of reality where I’m being guided by a hallucination of my dead Headmaster pretending to be Dazai.

Atsushi: Nothing in our lives makes sense.

Akutagawa: I suppose you’re right.

Atsushi: Oh man am I dead? Did you just admit that?

Akutagawa: Idiot you’re not allowed to die until I kill you.

Atsushi: Well I’m at least half way there-ow!

Akutagawa: Don’t even joke about that!

Atsushi: Okay ow! Jeez keep that up and I’ll start to think you were worried- stop kicking me!

Fyodor:…Did you get any of that?

Gozen shrugs.

[bunji-enthusiast]

Bunji hear me out 🙏🥺👀. So imagine a satoru gojo!reader in the invincible. Mark down bad for her (you've seen the girls cosplaying him 😍👀) , homegirl would just be out saving lives just for the fun of the game . Ciecil would hate to see gojo!reader coming since most know how much gojo hates the higher ups in jjk and feel like she'd just love messing with him . Anissa and conquest trying to be funny with her man mark end up split on the ground . Invincible war ending before angstorm levy can try another one of his villain monologues . Please bunji 🙏🥺

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐨

Mark Grayson x Fem!Gojo!Reader (something’s there lol)

Summary || your existence was something unexpected, both infuriating to most, but also a pillar of strength when needed.

Note // superrr tired, but I liked writing this one. I only addressed the events that occurred with Anissa in the show, Invincible War and Conquest happen right after eachother (I’m too pussy to write those things just yet lmao).

Mark was sent by the Coalition of Planets to investigate a dimensional rift. He expected a universe-threatening villain. Instead, he crash-landed in the middle of a battlefield where [Name] Gojo was already handling things—casually levitating mid-air, arms crossed, while cursed spirits vaporized trying to land a hit.

Mark tries to step in to help. You stop him with a finger to his chest and a smirk: “You’re cute. But also in the way.”

Mark is stunned. Not just by your power, but your vibe—like you knows your the strongest and wants him to watch you prove it.

He respects strength, but he’s not used to someone being so… cocky about it. Meanwhile, you find his earnestness both adorable and a little exhausting.

Mark is the heart. Your the sharp edge. You fight for fun, for pride, because it’s a game of domination. Mark fights because he has to. It leads to arguments���but also epic synergy in battle.

People mistake you both for a couple constantly—Mark’s flustered, you lean into it. “Can you blame them?” You says, ruffling his hair. “You’re always chasing after me.”

Mark offers to fly you somewhere. You pretend to be impressed… then levitate beside him just to make a point. Next time, you ‘forget’ and lets him carry you bridal-style through a sky battle just for the bit.

Battle banter consists of something like this:

Mark: “We should try not to kill them!”

You: “They tried to kill us. You’re too soft. Want me to toughen you up, sunshine?”

Mark: “Please don’t call me that.”

Your sparring sessions are practically relationship therapy. You like pushing his limits; Mark wants to prove he can beat you. He never does—but he does improve. And you notice.

Mark reminds you of your younger self—before the arrogance fully settled in, back when you still had Suguru. His compassion gets under your skin in ways that surprise you. You sees potential in him, maybe even a kind of moral compass. Not that you’d admit it.

It’s painfully obvious. He’ll deny it to his dying breath, but he always stands a little too close, always looks a little too long. The others tease him. You just raise an eyebrow: “He blushes when I breathe near him.”

You both lost someone close—Mark with his father’s betrayal, you with Suguru’s fall. One night, during a rare calm moment, Mark asks if you ever wonder if you could’ve saved him. You go quiet. Then: “Every day.”

You claim your stronger than any Viltrumite. Mark says “no way.” So you make him hit you with everything he’s got. He does. You smiled through it.

Mark wouldn’t stand a chance. You would absolutely dominate the relationship. Not in a cruel way—but you loves being the most powerful being in the room, and Mark would lowkey love being the guy who got you to open up.

You call him “baby Viltrumite.” He calls you “Queen of Chaos” when he’s flustered.

Your the kind of couple that people warn you about: loud, passionate, terrifyingly good at fighting, and stupidly in love beneath the surface tension.

The golden light casts long shadows over the ruined shoreline. The cruise ship lies grounded, metal groaning as rescue crews scramble to help the injured. The monster’s corpse still steams in the distance.

You watch from a short distance, arms folded, your tight black shirt speckled with ocean spray and blood that isn’t yours.

Mark’s voice is raised now, his fists clenched. “You don’t get to lecture me about humanity! You don’t care about this world!”

Anissa steps forward, calm, firm, a little too sure of herself. “I care enough to warn you. Earth is weak. You are weak. You’ll understand soon, Mark.”

The tension snaps.

Mark lunges at her, anger driving his punch. Anissa blocks, but just barely—he’s stronger now, more focused, more dangerous. Still, she’s older. Sharper. Viltrumite-born.

The two of them collide like thunder, fists cracking like lightning across the sky. Sand explodes in geysers as they slam into the beach, sending terrified civilians scattering for cover.

Then—

Time halts.

A shimmer in the air. A stillness. And suddenly, you’re there—standing between them.

Mark’s fist stops just short of your shoulder.

Anissa’s next strike halts midair.

Both of them freeze.

You tilt your head, smiling that lazy, arrogant smile of yours. “Wow. You two really know how to ruin a sunset.”

“[Name]?” Mark stammers, stumbling back slightly. His expression softens—for a moment, relief flooding his face.

You glance at the crushed sand around you, the frantic screams from nearby civilians, the cracked pavement where someone nearly died. Your smile fades.

“You wanna break each other’s bones, fine. But do it without turning humans into collateral damage.” Your voice dips. Cold. Sharp. “I don’t do messy team-ups.”

Anissa narrows her eyes. “Who are you supposed to be?”

You blink, and suddenly you’re inches from her. She didn’t even see you move.

You lean in, eyes gleaming behind your bangs. “The reason you’re still breathing.”

And with that, you tap her chest—nothing more.

She flies backward like a meteor, skipping across the waves with a deafening crash. The ocean hisses around her impact site, the water parting from sheer kinetic force.

Mark stares, slack-jawed. “…I had that under control.”

You shrug, stepping back beside him. “Sure, sunshine. But you were taking way too long.”

He opens his mouth, closes it, then sighs. “She said I was her ‘first warning.’ That the others are coming.”

Your expression hardens. For a brief flicker, your usual smugness cracks.

“Let them.”

Your voice is quiet. Final. Like you already know how this ends.

Now, the air smells like salt and ozone.

Rescue drones hum overhead. EMTs load the last few injured passengers onto stretchers. The wreckage from the cruise ship smolders in the distance, but the beach is mostly cleared now, thanks to your timely arrival. Civilians lived. No one got flattened. Clean work.

Mark stands near the water’s edge, hands on his hips, bruised, scuffed, and visibly rattled. He’s still watching the spot where Anissa vanished after your hit sent her flying halfway into next week.

You appear beside him without warning—no sound, no shift in the air. Just there.

He flinches. “Do you always sneak up on people like that?”

You smirk. “Only the cute ones.”

Mark groans, scrubbing his face. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet,” you gesture to the mostly intact beach, “incredibly effective.”

He exhales slowly, his shoulders sinking. “Thanks. For saving the people. And… probably me.”

You glance at him sidelong. “That was your thank you? You sound like someone just told you your dog ran away.”

Mark chuckles softly, but there’s no humor in it. “She said they’re coming. Stronger ones. That I should’ve joined her. She sounded so sure I’d break eventually.”

You pause.

Then you reach out and flick his forehead—lightly, but enough to snap him out of the spiral.

“Hey,” you say, voice low. “You’re not breaking. Not while I’m around.”

He looks at you, really looks. There's weariness in his eyes, that deep-soul tiredness he carries after every fight where the odds were rigged from the start.

“But you won’t always be around,” he says quietly.

You don’t answer right away.

Instead, you walk ahead a few steps, letting the waves lap at your slippers, arms crossed. The wind whips your hair, your silhouette sharp and untouchable against the dying sun.

“I don’t stick around for many people,” you finally admit. “Most aren’t worth the trouble. Too weak. Too scared. Too boring.”

You glance over your shoulder at him.

“But you… you keep getting up.”

Mark’s brows lift slightly.

“You think that makes me strong?”

“I think it makes you stupid.” A beat. “But the right kind of stupid.”

He laughs, a little more real this time.

Then—more hesitantly—he steps up beside you. “So what now?”

You shrug. “Now? We prepare. Train. Fight. Win.”

Mark nods. Then, quieter: “And if we don’t?”

You flash him a wicked smile, eyes glinting. “Then we make sure the world remembers we went down swinging—and looking damn good doing it.”

He laughs again. Then looks at you for a long moment, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I meant what I said earlier. You scare me sometimes.”

You tilt your head, amused. “Flattery’ll get you everywhere.”

He shakes his head, but he’s smiling now. “Yeah. I figured.”

[natalievoncatte]

Lena watched their new visitor as she, in turn, watched the bier that lay beneath the healing power of the Purple Ray. It had been almost a full day and while she was breathing shallow breaths, Lena’s counterpart on the table was still not awake.

The cyborg stood just outside the perimeter of the beam, as still as a statue, just watching. At various times Kara, Nia, Alex, and Diana herself had all taken up silent watch next to her, along with the honor guard of Amazonian warriors.

Lena looked at… herself. Her doppleganger tapped the name tag on her leather jacket.

“It’s easier if you just call me by my number- 938. That’s how we keep track of each other.”

Lena nodded. “Others?”

“The other Lenas. There’s about fifty on the ship right now, the core membership. There’s about three hundred of us in total. We’re the ones who can’t, or won’t, go home.”

“I see,” said Lena. “Why can’t you go back?”

938 looked at her. “It’s not a fun story.”

“I’m listening.”

“Let me show you something.”

She held out her wrist. There was a piece of tech on her arm, like a bulky smart watch. When she activated it, a three dimensional holographic display appeared above the smooth surface. 938 pointed out the branches of what looked like a huge tree.

“The multiverse is much larger than you can imagine. I’ve spent some time charting a small section of it. See this branch?” she indicated one with a sweep of her finger. “This the reality cluster I come from. Our worlds are different from yours. I believe it’s because the divergence point, where the two universes split on a quantum continuity level, is further back in history. I think some of the changes can go all the way back to the Big Bang.”

“There’s so many,” said Lena.

998 nodded. “There are. There are worlds like yours, but many others like mine. We have no protectors. No Kryptonians. No Lanterns. There are worlds out there where no one has powers at all.”

“But not yours,” said Lena.

938 turned off the device, and turned away from the scene behind them. “For me it started with a lab accident. A genetically modified spider was irradiated and bit me before it died. It’d escaped from an enclosure in another lab and got zapped by my own experiment. I was sick for three days. When I came out of it, I had the proportionate strength, speed, and agility of an arachnid, plus a precognitive danger sense and spinarettes in my wrists.”

“You became a superhero?”

“Yes,” said 938. “For all the good it did. I fought the good fight for a few years and eventually ran afoul of a new gang in town. The problem was that it was led by my own brother.”

“Lex,” Lena spat.

“He’d experimented on himself. Used an unstable steroid. It drove him utterly insane and he started wearing a goblin costume and flying around on a rocket powered glider.”

“Oh God,” said Lena.

“My universe doesn’t have a Krypton. My Kara was human, only human, and I loved her with all my heart. I couldn’t breathe without her. She was my everything. I tried to keep her safe, so I kept my identity and my feelings from her, but it didn’t matter. Lex knew. He abducted her and threw her off the George Washington Bridge.”

938 looked away. “I thought I had her. I tried to use my webs to catch her but I didn’t think and the shock… I’m the one who killed her really. The sudden stop snapped her neck.”

Lena stared at her.

“I’m so sorry.”

938 shook her head. “I fought Lex after that. I was in a rage. I killed him in front of thousands of witnesses. I broke his neck, almost twisted his head off. It didn’t matter. She was still gone, and nothing would ever fill that void. I hung up my costume and turned back to science, trying to build something meaningful in Kara’s name, but no matter how many labs and fellowships I named after her it was never enough. That was how I stumbled across the multiverse, working on a portal device in my lab.”

“You found yourself, I take it. Or ourself.”

“No. I found another Kara, and in a world with no Lena. She was alone. I crossed over with some of my tech, never planning to go back. Then I realized, that woman wasn’t her. All I could ever be to her was someone grooming her to be a dead woman from another world. I despaired for a while, jumping from ‘verse to ‘verse, trying to find some reason to keep going.”

“What did you find?” said Lena.

“Lena 1467, the Sorcerer Supreme of her Earth. She’d lost her Kara too, in a car accident when they were med students. That was when the League of Lenas got going. We found more of us, started assembling a team.”

“To do what?”

998 looked at the cyborg. “Fix it. Save her.” She sighed. “Our main mission is to help out and protect as many Karas as we can, but also to protect the multiverse from rogue Karas or rogue Lenas that might breach the barriers between universes.”

“I’m assuming that’s to prevent wars between timelines.”

938 shook her heads. “No. Not long after I started traveling I had… an experience. I only vaguely remember it but there were these yellow aliens and they told me that we had to protect the branches from each other so that some kind of corruption won’t reach what they called the ‘core world’ or the ‘Ab-Juda-Earth.’ The multiverse needs superheroes. We have to exist to keep it alive.”

“So you’re here to help the cyborg?”

“Both of them.”

“You know,” said Lena. “The cyborg Kara mentioned something about yellow aliens when I first met her, but I didn’t think to ask-“

“She’s awake!” The cyborg was saying. “She’s awake, let me see her!”

Lena turned and found both her Kara and Diana holding the cyborg back.

“Shut off the Ray,” Diana commanded.

Once it was off, the pair released the cyborg. She lunged across the space, limping as her metal foot clacked on the floor, slowing as she reached the bier.

“Kara?”

Lena watched, 998 standing next to her. The cyborg kept her distance, suddenly apprehensive. The other Lena slowly sat up, finally prompting the cyborg to move.

“Lena?” she rasped.

The other Lena- thinner, visibly older with strands of gray shot through her hair, smiled and cupped the fleshy side of Kara’s face with her hand.

“You found me.”

“I found you. My love. My zhao. My red sunrise. I found you.”

“It’s going to be alright, baby,” said the other Lena. “I can fix you up. I’ll make you better.”

The cyborg took a deep, rasping breath, closed her eyes, and collapsed to the floor in a boneless heap.

“Move!” 938 shouted. “We don’t have time, we have to help her now. Princess, I need to jump my ship into your airspace. Please.”

“Who are you? What’s happening?” the other Lena demanded.

“Trust us, please,” said Lena. “You’re among friends here and we want to help you.”

938 was speaking into her watch.

“I need you now, hurry.”

Outside, a booming shockwave sent a blast of air through the open, airy temple, almost gusting Lena off her feet. Her Kara steadied her, then lifted her cyborg counterpart gently in her arms.

“Get her aboard my ship,” said 998.

[hasnomoxxie]

So, if the Smile Dip Dog swaps with Bill, did he still destroy his own dimension? A dimension full of colorful talking animals? Because I’ve gotta say, that already sounds even sadder.

Right on the money boss!

Here's how I think it'd go!

First off the zodiac, this initially was the way that the beast was split and banished to the astral plane.

Now that this is here, I can list out all the main swaps hoho!

Dipper ⇆ Stan

Mabel ⇆ Ford

Wendy ⇆ Lazy Jane

Soos ⇆ Manly Dan

Abuelita ⇆ Tyler

Pacifica ⇆ Fiddleford

Gideon ⇆ Bud and mrs Gleeful (little villain couple to rival the stan duo)

Robbie ⇆ Preston

THE BEAST ⇆ BILL CYPHER

The pups are silly and playful in nature, opting to try and make things as brightly coloured and 'fun' as possible. Though this usually results in freakish abominations that do things that really shouldn't be done. Though they're not stupid, they know exactly what they're doing and how it effects others- It's mainly just for their own enjoyment.

After destroying their universe full to the brim of brightly coloured talking animals, 'The Beast' was split into halves and banished to the astral plane. This meant their reality warping abilities was whittled down to being intense illusions and hallucinations, however they typically tend to use it to try and restore their original look when they are seen by people- though that only works for a short time.

Pretty much anyone could theoretically see the dogs, either through extreme meditation or having a suspiciously high amount of sugar in your system. Safe to say, a food company having a suspicious amount of complaints from parents saying their kids are now 'unresponsive', 'babbling gibberish and mysteriously disappearing' or were 'seeing God and He's a Dog' was enough to get the entire line of candy shut down. Mabel was unlucky enough to stumble onto some smile dip during a late night work session and met the pups. They quickly bonded and the pups were leading Mabel to the weirdness left right and centre, with the end goal of opening a 'weirdness rift'.

A portal.

Safe to say, Mabel couldn't do this on her own. She's smart but not- dimensional science smart. So she called on the smartest person she knew, her twin brother Mason. At this time, Mason wasn't really doing as well as he could have, being attracted to the extraordinary he was prone to being the laughing stock of his university- but a solid breakthrough. Money wasn't an issue, especially when Mabel's old friend Pacifica was willing to help lend a hand and be on site (despite lying about her financial security in order to help her friends). So- the three of them set to building the portal.

Due to unknown circumstances, Pacifica leaves the project. When Mabel finally realises the true intention of the portal and tries to shut it down, Mason is reluctant to do this- fearing that it may be sabotaging his last chance at being recognised for his scientific works and being slightly jealous that Mabel found all of the weirdness instead of him. Either way, a small fight happens, ending with Mabels disappearance, leaving her scrapbooks behind.

The project failed and the pups still aren't free, but it's a matter of time before someone eventually sets them free

I'm litterally figuring out the timeline as I write but some things are set in stone. I'm just figuring out how to show it all off- I did get alot of outsite help for this too ^^

How would y'all feel about comics? or animations? What particular scenes? I feel like tackling this bit by bit would be the most effective way to go about it, especially for what the world is like in this flipped version.

I dunno this is my first time doing something like this umm, if this doesn't make sense lmk and I'll revise some stuff

umm

bazzinga, thanks for yer question ^^

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Now that all the main cast's unique magic has been shown, can you make a ranking on your favorite unique magic from most to least favorite? Would be favorite unique magic from each dorm but felt some feels unfair especially Ignihyde when Ortho is confirm unable to have his own. You can include the other characters like Chenya, Rollo, Skully, and Fellow.

Originally I was gonna ask about your top favorite dreams, overblot boys' dream outfit, and chapter 7 SSRs (excluding the main Diasomonia uniforms), but there is chance there will be more dreams in upcoming chapter since some people theorize that we might see both Silver's and Malleus's now that Ace's UM is shown. Even a possibility of Silver having an SSR card. So I will be holding this question once chapter 7 is over.

[For a complete compilation of known unique magic (including name, incantation, first use, effects, and limitations), check out this post!]

To briefly explain what is mentioned in the second ask and the second paragraph of first ask, some fans theorize that with Ace’s new UM (which seemingly allows him to borrow, copy, or swap UM with a target?), he could use Malleus’s magic against him or on other characters too. This could potentially allow us to see his dream and/or Silver’s. As far as I could tell it though, there doesn’t seem to be a purpose for doing this provided by theorists yet.

Aaand with that aside, here’s my personal ranking of the UMs, with explanations for each below. It’s not numerical, but rather tiers. This is primarily based on how practical or fun I think the UMs would be to my daily life, NOT based on power level or some other metric.

“Useful overall”

Snake Whisper/Snake Charmer — At the risk of sounding slightly unhinged, this would make life in general easier. Shockingly few drawbacks or limitations too. (Big surprise, the person who says they are similar to Jamil puts Jamil’s UM as at the top…)

I See You/Arrow Afar — As someone that easily gets lost while traveling and easily loses things, this UM sounds like a godsend. Just tag whatever you want to locate and you’re good to go!

Far Cry Cradle — The idea of experiencing stories by touching a random object is so fascinating. Endless entertainment but could also help with answering questions. Bonus: reminds me of the Dimensional Scream from the Pokémon Mystery Dungeon Explorers games.

“Fun to experiment with”

Doodle Suit/Paint the Roses — The simple act of being able to change the smell, taste, or texture of something would make dietary restrictions so much easier to deal with. Other applications would be nice for comfort too, like adjusting the perception of brightness or loudness just for yourself in a group setting like a movie or concert. (There’s some ominous fan works and theories about Trey being able to use his UM to overwrite others’ emotions or thoughts too, but I’m only sticking to what he is shown to be capable of in canon.)

Split Card — I’d wanna see how many clones can be made at once and what each is physically and mentally capable of. (We already know the magical power of the original and the clones goes down, so what about other parameters?) Useful for multitasking.

Joker Snatch — It's basically the same has having multiple UMs. Would fuck around and find out what this sucker is capable of. :9

Fairest One of All — Such a flexible and customizable UM, honestly. You can basically set whatever conditions you like, just be careful about the wording because the curses get pretty locked in.

Meet in a Dream — The idea of hopping around dreams and seeing what weird shit goes on in people's heads sounds so fun! Then you can embarrass them about it in the waking world :>

Not All My Head —Ultimate stealth... You can bypass into some of the most secure places in the world just for the lols 🤣 or, y'know... sneak into the kitchen to steal some snacks or something.

“Messing with the forces of nature because fuck you, that’s why”

King’s Roar — Could be used for a fight, but also to clear an area. What's that? Destruction of nature/property? Potential for murder? IT'S OKAY, JUST BREATHE IN THE SAND PARTICLES FLUTTERING IN THE BREEZE AND DON'T CHOKE :))

Oasis Maker — Need clean water to drink? BOOM. Want to water your garden? BOOM. Making a random swimming pool? BOOM. Maximum output for minimum effort.

Fae (of) Maleficence — You become a literal god of time and space. Scary amount of potential for control.

“The trail mix where I pick out the bits I like and leave the gross stuff in there”

Laugh with Me — Not really useful unless for small pranks or you + the target are in a convenient location already (since you'd have to take steps forward to get the target to do the same).

Sleep Kiss/Crimson Slumber — Can be protective (but can't seem to be cast on the self, only on others). Also useful to put people to sleep. Would like to use to send my pet or loud neighbors to sleep early instead of staying up late and bothering me :v

Living Bolt — Very good for an extra boost of speed and/or power if in a rush or in a desperate situation. Unfortunately comes with electrical side effects so that's... not optimal.

Scary Night — Basically Off with your Head but also limits your movement, so I consider it an upgrade with applications besides just combat. Wonder what happens if you cook with those pumpkin’d people or smash the pumpkin on the ground… Is that instadeath? Gruesome to think about, but unsure of since we see so little of the UM in action.

“Requires rizz”

It’s a Deal and Life is Fun — Same reasoning for both; takes a certain amount of charisma to pull these UMs off and if you lack that then this magic sucks. Would be useful if you did have these characters’ sway though.

“Fistfighting central”

Off with your Head — Could shut down a hostile party’s magic, but if you’re not as trigger happy as Riddle is then how often would you realistically use this? And if the target has no magic then this basically does nothing.

Bet the Limit/Double Down — Assuming you’re not already dead from the blows you’ve already eaten and/or you can aim properly and get that shot in before you wipe??? Okay, sure 😂

Bind the Heart — Only deflects magical blows. Physical hits will still pass. Would get my ass beat anyway.

Dark Fire — Primarily useful only for combat, which most people don’t get up to on a regular basis. Must be a true hater or be surrounded by true haters to get the most power out of this. What happens if everyone holds hands and sings a song at you? Do you just pathetically whimper and die out in a pile of ashes/j

“Not a furry, don’t @ me”

Unleash (the) Beast — The idea of a big furry... creature... charging at me makes me want to run and hide 🤢 Could have its use for strength and speed, but… I still don’t want a massive dog around.

“This could have been an email”

Shock the Heart — Nothing a reasonable amount of blackmail research cannot do. Has so many limitations (eye contact, only one use per person, target may resist/refuse anyway, etc.) you may as well need a PhD in order to manufacture plans to effectively use this UM.

“So niche it has like no practical application”

Gate to (the) Underworld — Y-You just… open and close a door to a pit of Phantoms. Discounting opening the pit to retrieve Phantoms to test or experiment on, why would you not just keep this closed all the time and just never use this UM 💀

[ckret2]

Chapter 56 of human Bill Cipher probably not about to be the Mystery Shack's prisoner much longer:

Bill and Mabel wrap up their impromptu lesson on the second dimension, while Ford and Dipper wrap up their final preparations for Bill's execution.

Dipper peeked in through the door to the gift shop. When no one acknowledged him, he cautiously meandered across the living room toward Ford, straight between Bill and Mabel without either of them glancing at him; they were too caught up in Bill answering Mabel's question about how to see through walls with the fourth dimension.

When Dipper was nearly out of the room, Bill suddenly focused on him. "Hey stinky, what have you been up to?"

Dipper jumped. "What?"

Mabel laughed. "Yeah! You smell like burning hair."

"You smell like nightmares," Bill corrected.

Ford muttered a curse under his breath. Ford hadn't noticed a smell, but Dipper's soul had fallen into the Nightmare Realm—did its distinctive scent still cling to him? Would Bill realize what it meant? If he did—

Dipper swallowed hard. "I... was... having a nightmare?"

Bill considered that. "Ask a stupid question..." He shrugged and turned back to the grid he'd been adding notes to.

Dipper sighed in relief. He joined Ford in the entryway to watch the lesson in bafflement. Under his breath, he murmured, "Has this been going on a while?"

"At least the last fifteen minutes." That was how long Ford had been watching. He'd learned a couple things about higher dimensional physics even he hadn't known.

"Wait," Mabel said, "Bill, I get it! You don't look through walls, you look over them!"

Bill's face split into a wide grin. "Explain it!"

"It's like, if I was floating above the second dimension, I could just see over all the walls! But Flatworlders don't even know what 'above' is, so they'd think I was looking through the walls somehow! So there's got to be some kind of fourth dimensional place 'above' the third dimension, right?!"

"On the money, star girl! Give yourself another sticker!"

"YES!" She'd run out of facial real estate for stickers, so she slapped it on her headband.

Bill beamed proudly at her. "How come your brother's the one with the straight A's, huh? You could blow him out of the water if you wanted."

Mabel's smile immediately disappeared.

Dipper hissed between his teeth. "Oooh." Under his breath, he said, "Mabel hates people saying things like that. I should go rescue her." He crept back into the room. "Hey! Bill!"

Mabel turned toward Dipper. Bill only glanced askance at him. Flatly, he asked, "What."

"Uh..." Dipper skimmed the papers coating the room for anything that he could talk about, and focused on the ringed planet behind the TV. He pointed at it. "Is... that Flatworld?"

Bill shrugged apathetically. "Sure, you can call it that."

"Why are all the countries off the planet?"

"Do you think we lived underground?"

Mabel perked up. "Dipper! The shapes live in outer space! In between their home planet and the planet's rings! They only use the planet for vacations and underground science buildings and stuff."

Dipper asked, "Underground science buildings?"

Bill sighed and turned away from the grid, giving Dipper a look that said I'll give you my attention, but I won't like it. "Research facilities. Like wave pools, particle accelerators, and solar farms. Gigantic equipment like that is more stable anchored in bedrock."

(Ford remembered, suddenly, over thirty years ago, Bill telling him that he ought to dig out a subterranean cavern for the interdimensional portal. "A big machine like this," he'd said, "you want that anchored on all sides by solid rock. It'll be a lot more stable that way." Ford had never dreamed that was a trillion-year-old cultural artifact from a dead civilization.)

Still studying the map, Dipper asked, "How do you tell where your country's borders are if you're just floating in empty space?"

"How do you?"

"We use... rivers, and..."

"And sometimes you just make them up. It's not that complicated."

"Were they all as oppressive as the country in Flatworld?"

Bill gave Dipper a withering look. "This isn't a politics class, kid."

(Ford cast a dubious look at the blood-red letters reading "ANTI-MONARCHIST ANARCHISM".)

Dipper scowled, crossed his arms, and looked over the map again. "But, wait—if you were floating in outer space, and you could just... float up and down between your planet's surface and the ring, then why isn't there anything further out than that? What was stopping you from floating all the way to that moon?" He gave Bill a challenging look, as though he'd uncovered a logical fallacy that undermined the whole map.

Bill rolled his open eye. "This is what you get for coming late to class." He pointed his crayon at his star student. "Shooting Star?"

"They did float all the way to the moon!"

Dipper's shoulders dropped. "Oh."

"It was a big extreme sports bragging rights thing," Mabel said. "Like climbing Mount Everest! Except first you have to get through the rings without dying! And it'd take like thirty years to fly there and thirty years to get back!"

"Approximating the human years," Bill said.

"So they couldn't go until they invented cars, because they're fast enough to get through the rings without getting hit and it only takes a year to drive to the moon, but that means you still have to carry enough supplies for two years, and—"

"Hold on," Dipper said. "Cars?"

"Yeah!"

"But there's no ground! They're flying around in the air! They don't have wheels, do they? What makes a car different from a rocket ship?"

"Um..." Mabel looked to Bill for help.

Bill said, "Firepower." He drew a rocket sailing up toward the moon at an angle, its fiery trail cutting through the planet's rings. After a thoughtful pause, Bill added, "I know a guy that used to work at an observatory on the far side of the moon."

Dipper said, "So what happened to your world?"

And there was that hesitance, that guarded look Ford had remembered seeing whenever Bill got too close to teaching Ford enough for him to recognize the danger to his dimension. He turned away from the kids, busying himself with refining the shape of the moon. "Do the math. I'm over a trillion years old! Stars burn out, universes go cold. Your planet will barely last twelve billion years. That's the way planets go."

"Well, if you're so powerful, why didn't you just—I dunno—keep it alive?"

The crayon snapped in Bill's hand.

Mabel gave her brother an irritated look—"Dipper, don't be mean,"—but it turned to a worried look when Bill rounded sharply on them both.

Bill snapped, "Who says I didn't, smart aleck?"

"Wh—I—"

"It is alive, thanks for asking. I made sure of that."

"Then where is it—?"

"Do you think I let you sit in here so you could ask stupid questions?" Bill planted a fist on his hip and pointed toward the door. "All you've done is derail the lesson and bring up stuff we covered three hours ago. Scram, kid."

"What—? But..." Dipper looked to Mabel for help.

Mabel shrugged. Dipper sighed, got up, and trudged out of the living room to join Ford in the entryway, giving him a forlorn look as he did.

Ford muttered, "I used to get kicked out of classes for challenging the teacher, too."

Dipper snorted. "Did he ever kick you out of class?"

Ford thought. "No—but why would he? He needed me to think I was his star student."

Although one time Bill had woken Ford up at two in the morning in the middle of a dream during the portal's construction, because Ford had forgotten some measurements he'd taken in the basement and he hadn't left his notes somewhere one of Bill's eyes could see them. And then, once Ford had retrieved his notes, the irritation of being woken had prevented him from falling back asleep and returning to his Muse.

They'd laughed about it the next night.

"Do you think his world does still exist?" Dipper asked.

Ford shook his head. "The Oracle said he destroyed his dimension himself in his pursuit of power. I trust her more than him."

They stood outside watching as Mabel asked Bill if there was any way for a normal human to see into the fourth dimension without busting their eyeballs. Bill started illustrating a way to grind glass to refract light from several minutes in the future, before abandoning it halfway completed to start explaining to Mabel how regular three-dimensional refraction worked. Ford recognized the unfinished illustration. Bill had included it in his miniature grimoire, too.

Voice low, Ford murmured, "You can't tell your sister we're ready."

Dipper nodded. "She'll be heartbroken."

Ford remembered having the exact same thought that morning. He squeezed Dipper's shoulder. "I suppose I won't be going with her to that concert in Portland tomorrow."

####

"... and that," Bill concluded, "is why the Time Giants banned sixth-dimensional tourism. But by then the damage was done—which is why there's only one survivor left."

Laying on the floor, staring at the ceiling, Mabel said, "I'll never see balloons the same way again."

"Nobody ever does." Bill clicked shut his marker and dropped it on Mabel's chest. "So that covers the last fifty billion years of local politics! Did that answer your question?"

Mabel paused. "I don't remember my question."

"Good. I don't either." Bill sat on the floor beside Mabel and crossed his legs. "Anyway, you owe me fifty grand. All the info I gave you today is worth at least a year of college classes on this planet."

"Pssh, yeah right!" She paused. She sat up. "Wait. Really?"

"I might've skipped a few names and dates and formulas—but sure! We covered all the important stuff!" Smugly, he said, "So, still think I think you're dumb?"

Mabel stared at him, and then around the room at all the papers coating the walls, covered in Bill's handwriting. "You did all this just to prove I'm smart?"

"You proved you're smart. I got a captive audience for the afternoon. Quid pro quo!" Bill grinned. "I wasn't kidding earlier! You've got twice the brains of any of the other morons you'll share a classroom with. I'm surprised it's your brother on the honor roll instead of you."

Mabel's smile faded. Oh. "Yeah," she grumbled, pulling her knees to her chest. "You and everyone else." This wasn't much better than Bill thinking she was stupid: now he had expectations for her.

She'd heard it a million times, any time she did anything intelligent. You're so smart too, why aren't your grades better? Why don't you make grades like your brother?

Because Mabel liked art, music, motion, and stories (and usually not even the stories they read in English class); and Dipper liked—or at least was good at—math, science, and history. Because Mabel's brain fuzzed over with TV static when she tried to read a textbook, and the static got louder the more she was forced to reread it to "study"; whereas Dipper could read a chapter once, retain everything that mattered, and then skim it a second time right before a test to remind himself of the important names and dates. Because Mabel's bulb was just as bright as Dipper's, but hers had faulty wiring, making it flicker on and off outside her control; and she could only get it to glow steadily for things her brain was interested in; and she couldn't choose what her brain was interested in; and school wasn't on that list.

But how did she explain that when her parents were disappointed in her C+ test because Dipper came home with an A? When they told her she just needed to apply herself, how did she explain she was already applying herself five times harder than Dipper and still trailing behind him when the whole family knew she had just as much brains as him? It might have been easier if she actually was stupid. At least then they'd know she was doing her best. But she wasn't doing her best.

She got it from everyone. From her parents, day in and day out; from aunts, uncles, and grandparents; from teachers she'd taken by surprise with a particularly passionate essay; sometimes even from friends. Why aren't you making A's like your brother? So why shouldn't she hear it even from Bill Cipher.

Bill leaned back in surprise when Mabel curled in on herself. "What? I'm calling you smart, kid. Most humans like that."

Mabel shook her head, pouting at the floor. "Forget it. It just—it doesn't matter what my stupid grades are, all right?"

He stared at her in bafflement for a moment; and then said, with a tone of growing horror, "Oh. Ohhh. I sound like your dad."

She hated how much he knew about their home lives. She never knew when he was going to reveal he'd combed through one of her most shameful memories. "Just forget it," she repeated. "I just don't make grades like Dipper, okay?"

"Kid, I didn't mean it like that. I..." Bill floundered for a moment. It was weird to see him struggling for words. He leaned forward, cheek in hand, putting himself eye level with Mabel. "You know—I don't think I'm fond of your brother."

That dragged a small laugh out of Mabel. "Really? You hide it so well."

"I know! I'm a real gentleman," he said. "So when I say 'hey, why aren't you getting A's,' I'm not saying you should be more like him, ugh. I just want to watch the alpha twin trounce that little nerd."

She laughed louder. "Bill! Be nice, that's my brother!"

"And you have my eternal sympathy."

"Bill!" She punched his arm. "I don't want to compete with him, though. Even if I try a zillion times harder, I'll never get grades as good as his." She sighed loudly. But Bill was watching her, full attention on her face, expectant, so she continued: "I don't want to be a slightly worse Dipper, I just... want to be a really good Mabel! And—and maybe a really good Mabel is just okay at school. It's fine if I just... graduate with C's and go to some boring local college to get a boring degree for a boring job... while Dipper goes to some... big, fancy stupid technical college... or..." She trailed off, chin in her hands, staring at the carpet.

"Or while he gets private tutoring from some genius with too many PhDs?" Bill said wryly.

Mabel didn't answer, trying to swallow around the lump in her throat. "I know he wouldn't have actually left me behind."

Bill grimaced, sucking in a breath between his teeth. "Yeeeah, no, he would have," he said. "Sorry, kid. If it weren't for Weirdmageddon, he'd have taken the apprenticeship."

Mabel's stomach flipped. "Oh."

"So, you're welcome," Bill said.

Mabel socked him again, more seriously.

Bill just laughed. "Hey—if it helps, he woulda been worse off for it! He made the right choice sticking with you."

"Really?"

"Would I lie to you?" He paused. "Poor choice of words. I'm not lying to you. He'll be better off suffering through a middle-upper-class Californian high school beside you than he ever woulda been hiding in the woods catching gnomes in butterfly nets."

She nodded. That was some comfort. Even if, in another life, apparently Dipper would've ditched her.

Bill gave her one of those long, piercing looks he sometimes did; and then he nudged her. "Hey. Don't worry about school—that's your parents talking, not you. And don't worry about what your brother does. Let him bust his butt at a big stupid technical college! Flunk every class and draw flowers on the SAT bubble sheet! You'll have plenty of your own things going on, and your dumb grades won't matter for any of them—"

Mabel flung her arms around Bill. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Hey. You're gonna be fine, kid." He leaned his head on Mabel's, one shut eye pressed to the crown of her head. "I—know it's hard. But you'll be fine."

She didn't know how he could know it was hard. He already knew everything, it wasn't like he ever had to worry about grades. But—the fact that he cared (that he cared) meant a lot. "Thank you."

"Buuut, if you ever decide you do want to be an honor roll kid, call me up! I can give you some advice."

Warily, Mabel asked, "Study tips?"

"No way! What a waste of time!" Bill rolled his eyes. "But I can teach you how to cheat."

####

After Ford told Stan and Soos the news about the Dontium, he headed downstairs to fuel up his Quantum Destabilizer. It had been waiting on a worktable in his study for weeks, the corded power adaptor Fiddleford had made plugged in where it usually took fuel, its empty fuel tank laying nearby.

Fiddleford had said the adaptor he'd invented only gave the destabilizer enough power to act like a common laser—not enough to completely destroy matter and energy. It was insufficient for the job at hand. Ford unplugged the power adaptor, carefully coiled it up, and slid it into a storage pocket in the destabilizer's carrying case.

He picked up the fuel tank, retrieved the milk jug of NowUSeeitNowUDontium, and poured it into the tank, eyes never wavering from the jug until every drop had been poured inside and the tank re-sealed. He triple checked the destabilizer's safety before he plugged in the fuel tank. Then he put the destabilizer in the carrying case as well, and shut and latched it.

As he headed toward the door, Ford spied Flatworld laying on his desk—Dipper must have left it downstairs. He picked it up... and then sat down, studying the cover. It showed a square with arms and legs peering through a telescope.

How much did the book really matter? The kids must have cracked open something in Bill's psyche by reading this book, with how talkative he'd been today—Ford suspected he'd learned more about Bill's world in less than thirty seconds of staring at the crayon drawings in the living room than he had in all the years he'd known him. He itched again to start recording revelations in his journal.

Would Bill have been this forthright years ago, if Ford had remembered more about the book then and asked about it? Or was Bill only willing to share so much because the Pines already knew the truth about his cruel intentions and he had nothing more to hide? No, that couldn't be it—just a year ago, long after he'd revealed his plans, Bill had been willing to guardedly confess to Ford that he'd "liberated" his dimension, but nothing more. The only descriptor he'd given of it was "flat." He hadn't even shown Ford an accurate illustration of his home world.

Then was it because he'd died since then—a ghost desperate to share his life story before he dissipated completely? Or was it just because Mabel had asked?

If Bill had been honest when he'd said he wanted to be Ford's friend... then, Ford supposed, it was possible Bill was also sincere in caring for Mabel. No, Ford was sure that was sincere. How many times had he seen Bill lost in thought, staring at the friendship bracelet she'd given him?

Ford idly flipped through Flatworld, choosing a passage at random to read, wondering how much he'd remember.

SQUARE. Most illustrious Sir, I can observe plainly that you are a Circle, though I know not by what magical means you have found an ingress into my dreams. Would your Lordship deign to satisfy the curiosity of one who wishes to know the identity of his esteemed Visitor?

SPHERE. Your question is more difficult than you may realize. To begin with, I am not a Circle, but rather a Sphere, the definition of which I shall explain to you in due time; and you, my humble pupil, if you exercise the full extent of your intellectual and rhetorical capacity, I hope shall be the Square who changes Flatworld. 

SQUARE. Your Lordship both honors and confuses me. I shall strive to be worthy of your high estimation, but I am naught but a mere Quadrilateral and know not how I could contain the potential to achieve such a feat.

SPHERE. I see I have gotten ahead of myself. I shall explain the purpose of my visit. I hope to find in you—as being a man of sense and an accomplished mathematician—a fit prophet to receive the Gospel of Higher and Lower Dimensions, which I am allowed to preach to only one brilliant mind in a century. 

SQUARE. Pardon me, my Lord, if I am speaking blasphemously in my ignorance; but would not a messenger from beyond this Plain who delivers Gospels to Prophets be better described as an Angel?

SPHERE. You may refer to me as an "Angel" if you so wish, as my nature is not so different from the creature you call such. However, I have come not to offer a revelation of the truth of the Higher Dimensions, but to bless you with the inspiration to discover the truth for yourself. In this manner, I am less like unto an Angel than I am to a Muse—

Ford threw the book on the floor.

####

When Ford headed back upstairs, he resolved to tear down all Bill's crayon drawings and throw them away, lest he give into the temptation to waste the rest of Journal 5's pages meticulously cataloguing them.

But when he reached the living room, the walls were bare, with no sign the papers had ever been there aside from some stray crayon marks and a little extra damage to the wallpaper where the tape had peeled up, and a faint smell of smoke.

Ford followed the smell into the kitchen. There was a cast iron skillet on the dark stove, embers and the last few strands of smoke trailing up from it. Bill was sitting at the kitchen table in the dark, staring out into the night, nursing what looked like the second cider can of the night.

"What's all this?" Ford asked.

Without turning around, Bill said smugly, "I knew you'd be back to try to get those papers."

"Wh—? I was coming to throw them away."

"In the middle of the night?" Bill scoffed. "Please."

Ford frowned at the skillet. Well. Temptation removed, just like he'd wanted. Although a petty part of him was miffed that now Bill thought he'd been coming to rummage through his detritus for secrets about his home world, rather than seeing Ford confidently throw it in the trash. "How did you get the stove on?"

"Oh, is it on?" Bill asked innocently.

Ford double checked. It was not, and the knobs to operate it were still removed. But it radiated heat as though it had been; Bill hadn't just dropped the papers in the skillet and ignited them there. (Which would have been an entirely new concern.) Ford checked the cabinet where they kept the stove knobs—all still there. If he asked Bill how he'd achieved that, he'd probably just profess ignorance.

Fine, Ford had plenty of other questions he wanted to ask. "How long have you been able to levitate objects?"

"You mean like this?" Bill lifted his empty cider can, tapped it twice with his index finger, and left it suspended in midair.

"Yes, like that."

"I don't know what you're talking about. I can't do that," Bill said.

Ford sighed in frustration. "Was it the eclipse? You said you were—what was it, 'better at floating' than us? Did it... unlock something? Or have you always been able to do this?"

"This is what I used to like about you, Stanford. You're so curious. You come up with the most interesting connections between things. Sometimes connections I'd never thought of! And you keep—asking—questions. Even when nobody answers you." He finished his second can, used both hands to crush it, and left it floating in the air next to the first. "You used to be such a good student."

You used to be such a good teacher, he wanted to shoot back—but that was a lie. Bill had never been a good teacher, he'd just pretended to be one.

He'd been a good teacher to Mabel today.

Why isn't he always a good teacher? Why had he chosen to be a poor facsimile when he could have chosen to be the real deal? Why hadn't he been better? Why hadn't he been better? Why did they always seem to have these conversations in the middle of the night?

"Why are you..." Ford spread his hands helplessly, gesturing at all of Bill, everything he'd ever done—golden god of infinite wisdom, poisoned by lies and cruelty, trapped in a slowly rotting body. "Why are you like this."

Ford wasn't expecting Bill to get out of his seat and round on him so fast. He didn't even see the blow coming before Bill punched him.

Ford seized Bill's wrist and only barely caught himself before he broke it.

Bill didn't even acknowledge Ford's grip. "I'm so sick of you." His voice was hard as iron. "If you ever ask me that again, I'll burn down this shack with all of us inside."

Ford stared at Bill. He let go of his wrist.

Bill silently swept around Ford and out of the kitchen.

"I'm sorry."

Bill's footsteps fell silent. After a moment, he muttered, "Might've overreacted."

Something about the grudging not-apology hit Ford harder than a proper apology ever would have. He remained standing in the kitchen until long after Bill had gone upstairs.

The cans had fallen at some point during Bill's departure. Ford knelt to pick them up. Experimentally, he tapped one twice, and let it go.

It fell to the floor again.

It occurred to him that, depending on what happened tomorrow, those might have been the last words he'd ever say to Bill.

####

Bill shuffled to his sleep spot under the attic window, flopped unsteadily onto the cushions, pulled Journal 4 from its hiding spot, and carefully stuck the gold star Mabel had given him earlier that day to one of its pages.

And then he filled half a page with all the things he should have screamed at Ford.

####

Mabel came into the bedroom, shut the door—it had been patched earlier that day by Soos—and flopped face up on her bed. Staring at the ceiling, she said, "Dipper I know everything now."

Dipper was already under the covers, eyes shut. "About what?"

"Bill."

"What shape was his dad?"

Mabel paused. "I know almost everything about Bill."

"Pfff."

"But I do know his mom was some kind of supermodel or something! He says that's where he got his good looks. I don't know if he's actually good-looking by Flatworld standards, or if he just has really high self-esteem, but if his mom was a model I guess he could have inherited whatever Flatworlders think is good-looking—"

"How do you know he's not lying?"

"Why would he lie about that? I'll never meet his mom."

"To make his family sound cool?"

Uncertainly, Mabel said, "I guess." After a pause, she loud-whispered, "Did you read Flatworld?"

Dipper figured he wasn't getting to sleep any time soon. He pushed his covers down and sat up. "Yeah."

"It was really messed up, huh?"

Dipper thought about it. "I... guess it was, yeah." He hadn't thought about it much earlier—he'd been trying to wrap his head around the math and visualize the fourth dimension, and then his quick tour of the Nightmare Realm had pushed it from his mind completely; but... "The author's really obsessed with dead baby shapes, huh."

"You remember those old 70s cartoons with singing numbers we watched in class to try to teach us multiplication?" Mabel asked. "I was expecting it to be like that but for old timey people. Not about shapes getting executed for having short sides."

"Or squares getting locked in insane asylums for heresy if they tried to say the third dimension existed."

"Or major sexism against lines."

"Yeah, what was that about? Did they really think lines went around stabbing everyone to death just because they're pointy and they could?"

"I don't know, maybe lines really did do that. If I kept being told to shut up because my head was too skinny to hold a brain, I'd stab my husband too."

"I guess that makes sense." Light through the attic's triangular window illuminated the room a deep gray-blue; but as Dipper watched, the room darkened as a cloud covered the moon. It was probably going to rain tomorrow. "And... this is where Bill grew up?"

"Yeah," Mabel said quietly. "Some details are different from the book, he said so. Like he told me colors weren't illegal and peace-cries were just a dumb etiquette thing. But..."

"What about the executions? Or—or triangles being treated like servants by everyone else?"

"I don't know. He didn't want to answer questions like that. He talked about stuff like dance clubs and gardening in space, but he got super mad when I tried to ask about the serious stuff."

"Maybe he got his power as part of some... triangle uprising? And then he went crazy and decided to destroy everything?" Dipper was thinking, again, about the Axolotl's half-remembered prophecy. That maybe Bill was here to help them against some threat even worse than him.

"I can see why he destroyed his dimension," Mabel said.

Dipper winced, "Okay, but—sure, it was bad, but that doesn't mean his entire dimension deserved to die."

"No, of course not," Mabel said quickly. "But like I get it. If all that was going on."

"If it was. Just... how much is different from the book, and how much is true?"

"I don't know."

The room fell silent again.

"Welp," Mabel said brightly, "I've got the rest of summer to get the whole story out of him! Goodnight, Dipper!"

Dipper's stomach flipped with guilt. "Yeah." The rest of summer. Mabel left for Portland in the morning. "Goodnight."

He lay down, pulled his sheet back up, and stared at the ceiling.

Friday, 11:00 p.m.

####

(Next week's chapter is exactly what you think it is. But before we get there, I'm looking forward to hearing what y'all think about this week!)