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dark-lord-of-awesomeness · 10 days ago

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I should work on the next Cat Stan Short! (makes this instead)

Anyway.

Bill doesn't know how long he's in the theraprism. Seconds blend into minutes into hours into days into weeks into years into centuries into millennia on and on until time becomes a blur and feelings fade away with memories. Voices he once knew are hazier then the faces they belonged to, and those faces are smudges with sounds instead of names.

Who was that human he was so obsessed with again? There was one, but perhaps the other....?

Whatever. It doesn't matter anymore.

Not the smudges or sounds or voices. Not time or who he was or where he wanted to go.

It took millennia upon millennia to the edge of time and back, but he's ready.

He's going to be reborn.

A different time.

A different place.

As someone new.

Free from everything he was or did.

A fresh start.

With a final bow, Bill Cipher closes his eye one last time-

-And Stanford Filbrick Pines opens his.

The person Stanford used to be is a distant thought in the back of his mind. Like a dream he can't quite remember. He doesn't pay it too much attention, because he's got much more important things to worry about.

Like his freakish hands, the scorn of his peers, the coldness of the hospital, and the fact he can't tear all of it to pieces and burn it to the ground. Whoever he used to be, as distant and smudged as they were, used to wield powers beyond his wildest dreams.

Leaving him with nothing but the desire to see the playground burn to the ground, and nothing to show for it but his brother poking him in the forehead and laughing at his pouty expression.

His brother.

Thats the one part in his new life he knows he lucked out on. As terrifying and haunting as the dreams of who he was are, there's one solid fact that stands out and burns across his heart whenever he tries to sneak a peek. That person, as dead and dust as they are, was alone. They didn't have anyone truly on their side, and they kept burning and burning and tearing things apart to fill that empty void inside of them.

Stanford doesnt need to do that, because he has Stanley. Stanley, his twin brother, who stuck with him through thick and thin, stood up for him when the shame of his hands became to much (Even now, even here, he was always a freak), was his loyal partner in crime and the person he could count on to soothe the raging flames that hungered and cried for him to launch himself at Crampelter and tear his face off.

Stanley doesn't have a person who he was, not like Stanford. (he'd asked once, long ago, about the memories that whispered in his mind. Stanley had just given him an odd look, then told him to get more sleep). He was normal, with regular hands, regular brains, and an understanding of people Stanford knows he used to have (or thought he had) but now lacks.

He lacks a lot of things in his new life, but that's fine. This is a fresh start.

And Stanley was the worlds gift to him. Finally, someone who'd never leave his side. His own person, who's loyalty would never waver, who'd never scheme against him, who is his in every sense of the word.

(That piece of who he was screams and cackles and cries at this. It is the best outcome. It is the worst outcome. It is exactly as it should be).

But there is one thing that bothers him about his brother. One piece that tickles the back of his mind whenever they run and play and cause chaos across this tiny pathetic town they called home.

Stanley did not have memories of who he was, but the person he was right now was.. oddly familiar. Whenever they roam the beach and find something washed ashore in the distance, Stanley's first words are always "I wonder if its a dead body!" Whenever they find rats, twisted and dead along the pier, either from poison or some other means, he always shouts "this is the greatest thing i've ever seen!" When the bullies get too much, and Stanford shoves his hands somewhere no one can see them, Stanley throws his arm around Stanfords shoulders and always says "Someday we'll show them, we'll leave this town in the dust and they'll all be sorry."

Which wouldn't be strange, but as they grow and grow and get older and Stanford learns how to hear the whispers of Before, he finds that Stanley's words echo and harmonize with the voice of Who He Was more and more, until they almost seem to speak together more than apart. Whoever Stanford used to be, Stanley is them in miniature. Stanley's smaller, of course, and less grand and powerful, but there's a thread there that Stanford can't ignore. Something inside him screams that there's a connection, and he just doesnt know how to find it.

It pokes at his thoughts more and more as they get older, go to high school, and Stanley keeps being the echo chamber and shadow of Stanfords previous self. Stanford has grown far beyond that part of him, is different in ways they couldn't hope to achieve, has found new passions in showing off with his mind instead of his might. None of these small minded humans have even a fraction of the knowledge he was born with or devoured growing up. None of them understand the music of the universe or how to twist physics. Stanfords powers are gone, but his mind is still here, and he uses it to excel more and more, dragging Stanley with him as he reaches higher and higher.

Stanley is his brother after all, his eternal companion. If Stanfords going towards the top, then Stanley will too. Even if every day Stanford gets more and more frustrated with his inability to apply himself. He knows his brother can excel if he wants to (maybe not as well as Stanford, but better than he currently is) and doesnt understand why he doesnt.

But its fine. Stanford's going places, and Stanley will follow.

And then its their final year, once high school is done he'll go to college, get a degree, then become world famous. Stanley will be by his side, cheering him on as the embers of what he was finally fade in the light of his soon to be fame.

And then its the science fair.

Then West Coast Tech.

Then the presentation.

And Stanford's fury reignites those embers into an inferno, and he is so full of rage the gaping void that he'd spent seventeen years filling bursts open.

Betrayal.

From the one who was his.

Its terrible in its familiarity.

He watches from the window as the person who was supposed to be his partner, who was supposed to be by his side and help put the terrible specter that screeched in the back of his mind to rest, gets tossed out. Tries to figure out what his purpose was, if all he was going to do was push Stanford to be his best self, then pull the rug out from beneath him and leave him floundering.

Why even have a twin, if all he was going to do was make Stanford feel worse than before. How could he, who in another life reigned terror the likes his current one couldn't comprehend, get saddled with some tiny speck of a human who selfishly-

and then he sees it.

As Pa slams the door, and Stanley tightens his fists, there is a spark.

Blue flames, dancing across his fingers as his brother looks up at Stanford in the window. For the first time in their lives Stanley is facing dire consequences for his actions. For the first time in his life, Stanley is shaken to the core as he looks up at Stanford, face full of desperation. For the first time in their lives, Stanley might lose Stanford forever.

And suddenly the connection that has been poking at the back of Stanfords mind his entire life blazes.

He was powerful, once, an eternity ago. More powerful than anything here or anywhere could imagine. The reasons and whys and hows escape him, but he knows power like that can't be destroyed. Stanford didn't have a drop of it, so it must have gone somewhere.

Into another vessel, the unexpected child, when every doctor swore up and down Ma was only going to have one. A funny story to tell relatives, another reason to distrust hospitals, an odd thing, that every test showed one babe, and then there were two.

Unless whatever process turned who they were into Stanford couldn't handle what he was bringing with him. Unless the excess, the raw power and the personality imprinted on it, was given a hastily made last minute form. Unless they were split in two, so that they'd never be alone again.

Not just his partner.

Not just his twin.

Not just his human, to drag and keep and be his.

His literal other half, who held all of their power and not a thought on how to use it.

A part of him wants to shove the curtain closed. To turn his back on the part of himself that couldn't handle his success. To go on and grow up and finally be his own separate person. To maybe watch from afar as the power he knows is hungrily sitting inside of his brother explode and tear the world asunder.

It would be.... hilarious, to watch Stanley fall apart and not understand why.

But not as hilarious if he accidentally incinerated Stanford, the only one who could help him manage their flames.

And whatever else was bubbling deep inside Stanley's soul.

Stanford raises his hand, watches the tentative smile spread across Stanley's face, and bursts into action. He is furious, but more than that he's curios.

and hungry.

What else can Stanley do, what else carried over to their new lives. He pokes and prods at the pieces of who they were, watches hazy visions of fire, of Sight, of bending the rules of the universe until they broke, even as he flings things into bags and chucks them out of the window down below.

How much is there still, and how much can Stanley use before their meager human vessels fall apart.

Not that Stanford would let that happen.

Stanley owes him after all, and he's going to make sure Stanley pays up until their both standing on top of the world.

Together.

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