#at least until the absolute panic caused by my fear of failure hits

[winter-soldier-vibes]

Why do you bother with me? (Bucky x reader)

Why do you bother with me?

Bucky x reader

Summary: Reader struggles with body image, has bulimia and Bucky catches her purging one day while the rest of the team was on a mission

Word count 2726

Warnings: bulimia/vomiting, low self worth

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You didn’t know how to stop. You didn’t even know if you wanted to stop.

You knew it was a problem and it was getting worse. And it started small. You were painfully aware of the people who you were living with and their appearances and you couldn’t help but feel insecure around them. Especially when you were around Natasha. She was like a goddess, and you just wished you had a fraction of the looks she had going for her.

Looking at yourself in the mirror, you felt absolutely disgusting. All you saw were problems and things that could be improved. You decided to stop eating as much as you were, and if you did then to eat only healthy things. And it worked for a while. It was all healthy and there wasn’t an issue.

That is, until one night when you were out with the others.

You had gone out to a bar with a few of the team members after a mission to celebrate. And you really didn’t plan on drinking as much as you did. But you felt a little buzz and then there was a bunch of food and you didn’t stop yourself. Later that night you realized what had happened and you began to panic

How could I be so stupid?

What the fuck was I thinking?

God I’m such a failure…

You were trying to figure out what to do to fix what had happened. You were frantically trying to figure something out as you looked at yourself in the mirror, when your gaze focused on the toilet that was behind you. You froze. Is this what you wanted to do? Was it even an option? You had heard about purging before and you knew the consequences it could have on your body. But then you thought back on the last few hours.

You didn’t think you had a choice.

You made sure the door was locked and played music on your phone, turning to the toilet. You bent over in front of it and stuck a finger down your throat. You weren’t practiced at all in how to do this, so it took a few tries before it began to work. It felt horrid, and you wondered if it was really worth it. But whenever you would go to stop you found that you couldn’t. Because after that initial awful feeling, you felt relief.

When you began dry heaving and nothing more was coming up, you flushed the toilet and walked over to the sink to clean yourself off. Your eyes and face were red and your throat was sore, but you just wet a towel and wiped your face. 

You really thought it’d just be a one time thing. You had no idea it would ever become a habit

You had gone back to your regular way of eating, but whenever you ate something you deemed to be ‘bad’, you would find yourself bending over the toilet and vomiting it out minutes later. You would always promise yourself that it would be the last time, but it never was. 

Instead, you found yourself wanting to do it more. It was addicting, the euphoric feeling of being empty and being able to control it. You would obsessively control your intake but every few days you would give in and eat some sort of junk food, just being unable to resist. But once you came back to your senses you would revert back to the bathroom, knowing you could get rid of it. 

It had gone from being once a week to almost every day and you didn’t remember when that happened. You found yourself being triggered to do it more often, feeling less able and willing to eat. 

Your throat was always sore and raw, and your knuckles were beginning to call us over. Your stomach was in constant pain and whenever you stood up you would get tunnel vision and sway on your feet a little. Whenever someone would catch any of this, you just claimed to not \drinking enough water or forgetting to wrap your hands when using the punching bag. 

You were losing weight, and you loved every bit of it. But after a few weeks your weight stabilized and you became frustrated. You weren’t doing anything differently, and even though you still slipped up, you always fixed it. You began throwing up almost anything you put in your body, refusing to keep anything down.

The team had noticed you were losing weight but they didn’t think too much of it. At least, not at first. But when you kept getting dizzy when you stood up, that was a cause for concern. Steve made sure you weren’t assigned to any missions for fear that you’d pass out. You were angry when you realized why you were staying back all the time, but you gave it up. There wasn’t anything you could do about it without changing your ways, and you weren’t ready to give that up just yet.

You kept losing weight, and you weren’t able to keep anything down anymore. You were terrified that someone would find out, but it was overpowered by the urges to care too much.

Most of the team was away on a mission, except for you and Bucky. He had to stay back because the team was still a little hesitant to bring him on missions. Steve trusted him wholeheartedly, but he knew that it would take time for the rest of them to get to know the Bucky he knew.

You had been exercising despite the dizziness that you felt because you felt like you needed to. And it wasn’t too bad after a while. You’d learned to ignore it. It always went away eventually.

You finished beating the punching bag and began to unwrap your hands when you heard a voice from behind you.

“At least you remembered to wrap them this time.”

Startled, you turned around to see Bucky with a half grin on his face. You smiled and brought a hand to your chest. “You scared me!”

He chuckled. “Sorry, my bad.”

You shook your head and bent over to grab your water bottle, but when you stood back up another wave of dizziness hit you. You put an arm out to lean on the punching bag, but Bucky caught you first.

“Woah, you okay?” he asked. He noticed how your fram was a lot smaller than he remembered.

You shook your head and got your footing back, pushing away from Bucky. “Yeah. Fine.”

He stood there for a second. “Whatever just happened, I don’t think that it’s normal. So you want to tell me the truth?”

You offered him a smile. “I just probably haven’t -”

“Been drinking enough water, yeah I know.” he finished for you. You closed your mouth and looked away, biting your lips nervously. “Look, it’s just after noon, why don’t you come eat something with me.”

You snapped your head up, but tried to hide the panic on your face. If you said no, he’d suspect something and insist. You knew you could take care of it after. Plus, what harm would it do? You hadn’t kept much down the past few days anyway. Nodding, you head out with him to the kitchen.

You made yourself something small, and Bucky noticed that too. But he decided not to say anything about it. Not yet anyways. It was when you were playing around with it more than eating that he decided to speak up.

“Something wrong y/n?”

You came out of your thoughts, realizing you had been absent-mindedly picking at your food. Shaking your head, you said “No, everything’s fine,” and brought your fork to your mouth.

With every (small) bite you took, your stomach churned. You knew it sounded crazy but you just felt like it was causing you to gain weight with every forkful. Eventually it got to be too much for you and you pushed your chair back, bringing your half eaten plate to the sink. Bucky looked confused, this was coming out of nowhere for him. “You okay?”

Turning your head as you walked out, you said “Yeah, just not feeling great. I’m just gonna go lie down.” Before he could say anything, you turned on your heel and left. 

You walked quickly until you were out of sight and ran the rest of the way back to your room. Shutting the bathroom door, you hunched over the toilet and shoved 3 fingers down your throat, trying to trigger your gag reflex. It didn’t take too long before what little you had eaten began coming back up.

What you didn’t know was that Bucky, being the concerned man that he is, had decided to come to your room. If you weren’t feeling well he wanted to know if he could do anything. But when he saw you weren’t in bed and the bathroom door was shut, he grew more concerned. And even more so when he heard you retching.

In your panic, you had forgotten to turn on some sort of sound to cover up the sounds you were making, but you also forgot to lock the door. Bucky opened it to see you hunched over and he quickly came over and started pulling your hair out of your face, rubbing your back. You didn;t even notice

But he noticed after a few seconds was that one of your hands was in your mouth, and he grew even more worried. Pulling your hand away gently, he said  “Hey, stop it.” You flinched at his touch, finally realizing he was there. Your eyes widened and you tried to wrench your arm back, but he tightened his grip.

“What are you doing?” he asked softly.

You shook your head, a little out of breath and heart racing. You kept your eyes anywhere but on Bucky, saying softly “I just didn’t feel well…”

“Then why did you have to force yourself to throw up?”

You opened and closed your mouth a few times, trying to find the right thing to say. And if there was any chance that you could talk your way out of having this conversation. You felt tears in your eyes and let out a sob before you could stop it.

He hugged you and started to rub your back. He whispered comforting things to you, and after a while you realized he was slipping in Romanian phrases. You had no idea what they were, but it was relaxing you. 

Once you had calmed down enough, you said “I don’t know how to stop.”

Bucky swallowed. “Wait - how long have you been doing this for?”

He had an idea of how long, but he wanted to be wrong. He couldn’t imagine someone doing this to themselves for an extended period of time.

“I don’t know...a few months?”

His grip on you tightened. “Why are you doing this to yourself?”

You shrugged. “I was insecure about myself I guess. Hell, I can’t look at or think about Nat without hating myself. I was dieting and it was fine until this one night where I just totally binged while I was drunk. I thought it’d be a one-time kind of thing.” you shook your head. “I never meant for it to get this far.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he asked, trying to understand why you wouldn’t ask for help when you were obviously hurting.

You closed your eyes, embarrassed to give your answer. “I didn’t want to stop. And I knew that you guys would make me.”

Bucky’s heart ached for you, wishing he had said something sooner. He had noticed you were getting thinner but he didn’t think too much about it. But it was all starting to make sense to him now. You disappeared after eating, your knuckles would be raw sometimes, the dizziness… he felt like an ass for not putting it all together.

“You know how unhealthy this is, don’t you? He tried.

You nodded into his chest. “I guess I just stopped caring.”

He pulled back to look you in the eyes, and his hands rested on your shoulders. “You know how much we all love you, don’t you?” You nodded and he continued. “Look, I know you might feel like you have to do this, but it’s so dangerous.” He swallowed before he said “This can kill you, you know that right?” You kept your eyes downcast but you nodded again. He sighed. “This team needs you y/n.”

You now looked at him, fresh tears in your eyes as you narrowed them. “Do they?”

He shook his head slightly. He didn’t understand how you couldn’t understand your worth. “Yes, we all do. You’re so valuable to everyone not just as a team member, but as a friend. You’re such a great person. You’re funny, kind, brave, everything about you is good.” You scoffed slightly, wanting to believe him but not quite able to. “I really want to trust you on that, I really do. But I just don’t.”

He sighed again. “Well it’s true,” he said softly. You pulled your lips into a smile for a split second before dropping it again. “Let’s get you cleaned up,” he said, and you noticed that your hand still had vomit on it. God I’m disgusting.

You flushed and moved to the sink, bringing water to your face before looking over to Bucky. “You know you don’t have to stay, right?”

He smiled slightly. “I want to.”

You tried to hide the confusion you felt and turned back to the sink, trying to wash away the redness in your eyes but not really succeeding. You turned off the water and dried your hands and face, before running a hand through your hair and crossing your arms. “I’m sorry you had to see all of that. Look I’m serious, I’ll be fine if you go -”

“I’m not going anywhere, doll.” he said. Since when did he call me that? You wondered. Shaking it off, you nodded and turned back to your room, sitting on the bed. You kept your eyes on your hands in your lap but felt the bed dip next to you. “Why are you even bothering with me?” you asked, still looking down.

“Because I care.”

Now you looked at him, not hiding your confusion this time. “Why?”

Because you’re an amazing person. Because I can’t stand to see you doing this to yourself. Because I’m worried about you.” He looked down and took a breath before he looked back at you. “Because I like you, y/n.”

You furrowed your brows together. You were not expecting that. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that -”

“No, no It’s not that, it’s not that at all,” you said, putting a hand on his arm. You took a breath before saying “I - I’m just a lot to deal with. And I don’t know why you’d want to put up with me.”

He cocked up an eyebrow. “And I’m getting over everything HYDRA did to me and I have a metal arm, I’m sorry, I’m not a lot to deal with?” he asked before laughing a little. You joined him, nodding slightly. “Good point.” you said.

“But I am being serious y/n. I really do like you.” You looked up at him and from what you could tell, he was being genuine. After today, you had no idea why no one else really trusted him. He was being so sweet to you. Smiling a little, you confessed “I like you too Bucky.”

He brought you in to hug him again, and this time you wrapped your arms around him too. “We’ll get through this y/n. I’m here for you all the way.”

You nodded. Maybe he was right. “Thank you Bucky.”

“For what?”

You looked up at him. “For believing in me. For staying. And for this,” you leaned forward to kiss him.

After a few seconds he pulled away, the two of you smiling. “Anytime, y/n”

#buckybarnes #buckybarnescomfort #avengers #mcu #marvel #fanfiction #imagine #bucky imagine #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barns x reader #bucky barnes comfort #bucky barns imagine #bucky barns fanfiction #tw bulimia #tw body insecurity #tw bulemia #tw purge

[sideblogformindtrash]

CW: mild NSFW(kissing, implied), implied nocon, Lots of swearing, stupid insults, prostitution(?), slave/pet whumpee, creepy/intimate whumper, panic attacks, insinuation of physical abuse, hair pulling, deshumanization;

Sorry if this one is too convoluted, I runned out of meds and the abstinence of them is weird, I just feel my head like it’s full of cotton today. Also, this perspective is trick to write a bit, his world is a little different. Thanks to everyone who is reading these, by the way (◕ܫ◕✿)

Part of:  Same as: one, two, three four and five 

there is this one here as well I just forgot to link 

order is wathever, although maybe reading five before this one would help.

That man touched his scars, running his fingers all over his back, pressing on the texture of the old whip marks. It took all he had not to turn around and kick his face. Instead, he turned and pulled the man into a kiss, forcing him to at least put his hands somewhere else.

Sometimes, he wished saliva could be venomous. That would be fun.

Snake. Pestilence. Venom, poison! the darkness cries. Well, he has a serpent-soul. It’s tiny, but furious, and hoards gold with the same intent as a dragon would. It’s hiding now. It doesn’t want to be touched especially not by the soul of that old fucker.

The old fucker was followed by a tower-like creature, always too big for the room he was in. It had tentacles that spread just around everything, in search for absolute order and control. On the tower top, it had a glowing, all seeing-eye. Funny how despite appearances, that eye was almost blind, and could not find the serpent.

“Sweetheart, you were wonderful today”

The man smiled, tiny white teeth, some bathed on gold, as he leans in and caresses his cheeks, pulling the dark strains of hair out of his sweaty face.

Impure. Impure. Mess. Sinner.

“I’m glad I made a good impression.” He chuckles “But you… You are wonderful, every single time, darling”.

Wonderful… Yeah. That man is about as interesting as a bottle of hot dog water… But judging by the creature that follows him, at least he is pleased for today. The man kissed his forehead and gets up on his feet, searching for his robes.

Why is it always these type of people? No one else seems to like him. Not even tolerate him. But people like the old fucker like to keep him around, like their own personal freak. He can interact with them just fine, he can manipulate them… But he can barely talk to normal people.

They are bad too. Just like you.

Just like you.

Darkness screams… No. Shut up. I’m not this. I refuse to be like him.

“So, do you remember I said I had a gift for you?”

His snake gingerly puts its head out from the hiding spot, sliding up his body and rolling around his arms.

“How could I forget? You are always so good to me” Pay my bills old fucker. “And your gifts are the best”.

“I hope you like this one. It’s a bit different than the gifts I usually give you. A bit ragged as well… But still a very nice item” He moves out the door. Orfeu assumes it’s on the small office he has connected to the bedroom, but no, he leaves the chambers, closing the door, tower-like monster following. The room looks much more empty without that thing roaming around.

He gets into the bathroom to wash up and get dressed. So many mirror, so many expensive stuff, he thinks to himself, stealing a bit of cologne.

Monter.

Demon.

Impure.

Shut up. Shut up, shut up, shut up- He looks angrily at his own back. He can still feel fingers there, tracing those fucking scars. He wanted to cover them up with tattoos, like he did with some of the others, but a full back tattoo would be. Too. Expensive. He needs to eat. Food money.

He could try and seduce one of the old fucker… But he doubted he could. He and his little friends enjoyed seeing scars on his back…. A reminder that he was inferior maybe.

Inferior.

Show them. Beat them into the ground. Let the darkness come.

“Shut up” he whispers to the mirror. Okay, apply some makeup again, fix the hair… And good to go again. Reptilian eyes stare at him through the mirror, his shadow-like soul sliding in and out of existence.

He goes back to sit on the bed, a bit bored. Why is it taking so long? He just wants to get whatever it is and go back home. This place is disgusting.

Loud noises downstairs, shouting, stuff falling. Oh. The old fucker is fighting with his son, who is the human embodiment of stubbing your toes on a table, with the additional of having the haircut of an Alpaca. 

Something heavy falling down, a muffled scream, steps on the stairway. Office door opens… Something hits the floor. Old fucker is back, with a nasty smile. His soul is disturbed and it doesn’t try to enter de bedroom this time. It stays back on the office.

“Hello again” he smiles, teeth just a bit too sharp.

“…Hm, sweet, tell me you have come to my parties before, haven’t you?”

Yeah of course. And stood by the corners while most of his guests stared at him like he was monster or a piece of meat, at least until the old fucker called him so he could show off his personal little freak.

Freak, freak, those people thought. Uncanny, go away.

Or alternatively, that they needed to have him, to control him, to show who really is the monster.

Joke was on them, because it was a great occasion to pickpocket, these parties.

“Of course I have darling. It’s such an honor to be there!”

The old fucker’s smile is unusual, something like someone making a commercial of toothpaste on gun-point.

Controlling, all-consuming, Danger danger.

“Well, you remember my little songbird?”

…Something the old fucker liked to display even more. The young man was put on a sort of pedestal on the beginning of those parties, and would sing and perform gracefully to the guests, before coming to sit and serve his master. By later hours he was tossed around all the guests, and when the party was over, there wasn’t much left of him anymore.

“Sure. The one with the long white hair” He saw him sometimes, walking around the house, always following the dumb ass son of the old fucker. They never really interacted. “Your son’s pet. What about him?”

“Oh no. It’s not my son’s anymore.”

He frowns, and the old fucker’s grim widens. He gesticulate for Orfeu to follow him into the office, where… The boy is there, shivering, covered in bruises and cuts. Ragged.

Fragile. Ice. Thin, thin ice.

…On no. Hell no. Please please no.

“-You…?”

Master grabs the boy’s hair and pulls him up, as he lets out a faint whimper. The boy’s soul… It’s keeling on the ground, but its arms, painfully long, too broken and mangled… They are strangling the boy right now. He can’t breathe right.

No.

Nononononononononononono.

“He is yours now, darling!”

Fear. Anxiety… Anger?

“Are you… giving me a person?”

Nope nope nope nope nope. Can’t interact. People don’t like me. He’ll be scared. He’ll be terrified. He will see me as monster. Won’t be able to help. No nononon.

…He bites his own cheek so much it draws blood. Calm the fuck down. Keep the façade.

“Oh, no darling” the man chuckles “It’s not a person, it’s a pet. Remember how you told me you wanted some company, but you can’t have animals at home? They are scared of you or something, you said. Well, this one is perfect, I’m sure. He won’t dare run away.”

The man comes closer, dragging the poor boy to his feet, with that nasty, nasty smile. That’s why his controlling tower-soul stood back, keeping those arms and tentacles wrapped around the boy’s soul.

“Little songbird here needs a home. He doesn’t sing anymore… So I don’t really have a use for it. He would be very happy to go with you, wouldn’t you?”

He pulls his hair again, so hard he lets out a whimper. The crooked soul mimics its owner to perfection, the tentacles of the old bastard all over it.

“-Y..Ah-“ he shrieks, shivers, raises his head so the tears don’t roll down.

“…He doesn’t talk much anymore. But then again, dogs don’t either” He sighs “I wanted him to be clean of fresh wounds when you took him, but my son got his hands on him somehow.”

Somehow. The soul shivers. The boy cries.

“Well… I know it’s a bit sudden, but it’s your choice after all. You want him? He can clean, cook, do some stuff for you.”

Say no say no say no say so you can’t do this wtf this is wrong and bad and you can’t take of him you can’t barely take care of yourself it will be worse if you don’t he will be killed or tortured that’s not fair it’s not his fault it wasn’t your fault he deserves better than you he won’t get any chance-

“Of course I want him.”

Panic panic – don’t. Don’t panic. Fuck this.

You wanted someone in the darkness for you, and no one ever came… So be the person. Be there.

“Good!” Old fucker says, too loud “Aren’t you happy, songbird? I won’t have to dispose of you after all”

The poor thing tries to answer but can’t. And he noticed how old fucker moves, about to smack the boy, so, on a swift movement, Orfeu  falls to his knees and cups his hands around the boy’s face. Old fucker crosses his arm instead.

“It’s okay if he can’t answer. I’m a quiet guy, believe it or not!” he chuckles “Is just you… that makes me want to talk so much, dear! I’m only chatty around you, cause you have so many nice things to say…”

…Like bragging about his stocks and finances and complaining about being a failure of a father who raised a monster. The usual.

“Well… That’s good to know, I’m special to you!” old fucker smiles victoriously “If it does happen that the pet sings again, make sure to tell me, I’d like to hear”.

Yeah, sure. Like hell he would.

#whump #oc whump #pet whump #slave whump #whump writing #orfeu and haru

[jonjordanforrealz]

12 Years Is a Long Time

September 29th is my son Arron’s 11th birthday – a cause for celebrating for sure, and a time for this parent, as most parents do, to ponder aloud, “How in the hell did that go so fast?” For me, sentimental sap that I am, birthdays are always a time for reflection too.

In doing so this morning, I was, of course, reminded that September 29th is also the anniversary of my brother Michael’s passing. A year to the day before Arron came into this world, Mikey left it. 12 years ago today. That’s gone a different kind of so fast itself.

I’ve talked about my brother’s death many times over the years and it never bothers me to do so. Most of the time, it makes me happy just to talk about him at all. To be remembered is to be loved and he certainly is in both instances. But I don’t think I’ve ever really shared much publicly about his last day.

And I need to let it go.

Who knows? Maybe something like this can help somebody.

For 12 years, I’ve carried the weight of that day and never really faced it or dealt with it. And I’m tired. It’s heavy and I’m tired. And to fulfill my final promise to Mikey, actually, I need to get rid of it, once and for all.

Following a lifetime of major medical issues and severe mental and physical handicaps, and doing all he could over the course of his 25 years to beat the odds and somehow conquer and survive one and all, Michael would meet his match in the form of an internal bleeding issue that just couldn’t be solved.

A kid like Mikey, who couldn’t really communicate outside of very basic emotions, had no way of conveying to doctors what anything felt like, where it hurt, how long something had been bothering him, and so on and so forth. So oftentimes, things got worse, sometimes as bad as they possibly could get, before anyone could even get anywhere close to figuring out what the hell was going on. And in his final chapter, this reality first led to him being transported to be treated by specialists in Tampa, and then ultimately, to our family’s greatest test. That we were so conveniently able to face that final decision together thanks to his relocation to my neck of the woods was a stroke of luck that I don’t think anyone appreciated until years later.

Michael’s bleeding issue just wasn’t going away no matter what the doctors tried. Not to cheapen the matter, but I think someone likened it to plugging a hole in a hose with your finger, only to have another open shortly thereafter. At some point, you run out of fingers. And so, we were faced with two choices: An exploratory and very invasive surgery that guaranteed nothing or a nonsurgical Hail Mary that was every bit the final hope. My parents encouraged me to speak freely and honestly in that days-long conversation and as I recall, my opinion never wavered, though of course, I respected and understood their agonizing back-and-forth.

To me, this kid had already been through so much, literally since Day 1. Countless major surgeries and painful procedures that would absolutely hammer (and maybe finish) most “regular” people were the worst of the lot. Other concessions over time – simple things like eating and drinking normally – also took a toll, I’m sure, as every human needs simple joys.

Throughout his last ordeal, there had already been several procedures, and in my eyes, he didn’t need more of that. With the proposed surgery highly likely to kill him anyway, I didn’t see the justification to put him through that sort of torture again. I didn’t want that to be his way to go out. As his closest advocate, because “brothers” means something more that those who don’t have can know, I knew he didn’t want that to be his way to go out either.

Instead, I argued, that through the non-invasive course of treatment, while the odds of that working were stacked heavily against him, this put the ball in his court. This made it so that he could fight, if he wanted to. For a kid who rarely had the chance to call his shot at any time in his life, this was that. “Scrap if you want to, kid,” I thought. “If anyone can beat the odds one more time, it’s you.” And if not, I thought he had that right too. And I wanted to fight for that. This time, I wanted to fight for his right to fight. Or not.

And so, with my parents on board, we gave him his shot, and at first, true to form, the kid was responding positively. Amazed yet unsurprised, we carried on with some hope for the first time in seemingly forever … and then everything just tanked. Quickly.

I’d prepared for this my whole life. And I had thought I had been stepping into this moment already time and time before. But I wasn’t nervous. I felt a sense of urgency, after getting the call, because I wanted to be with him but I wasn’t nervous or scared. Something that always comforted me was a belief that if anyone ever deserved a peaceful end, it would be Mikey. Once we were faced with the grave news, the doctor assured that as they stopped doing whatever they had been doing to treat him, and focused on making him comfortable, that he would indeed get that peaceful transition. And I know in the medical world that nothing is ever guaranteed but I really believed it. I believed in that. It’s all I wanted, then, knowing that there was no winning this last fight.

But it didn’t go down like that. His last day wasn’t, at first, peaceful at all. It was prolonged. And there were gasps and groans. At one point, a seizure. And I was mad. I was so mad.

At the same time, I knew what it was, really. This kid’s will to fight just doesn’t go away. It’s funny because from the very beginning, one of the things he was diagnosed with was some syndrome called Failure to Thrive. Fuck that.

When the worst moments hit, and I watched my brother and my family suffering, I didn’t feel mad anymore. I just felt like I had to do something.

There’s a picture that I have of my brother and I in bed. I was maybe 10 and he, six. We shared a room at that time and when my mom or dad would come in to get us up, if I was being a bum and still laying there and we had somewhere to be, they’d plop Mikey right in my bed next to me. That always got me up. Nothing like an eye poke or swift kick from the kid who “couldn’t control his movements” to start your day – accompanied, of course, by his trademark giggle.

That little shit … It’s still my favorite picture in the world.

In those final moments, I just crawled as far into his hospital bed as I could to lay next to him, just like we did on those mornings as kids, and I whispered to him, “It’s okay. You don’t have to fight anymore. We’re going to be okay.”

You see, I’d often wondered, when I was very young, why he pulled through so many things that most people wouldn’t. After all, I’d always noticed people bitching and moaning about the stupidest things (oh, contemporary America!), wandering around aimlessly in perpetual woe-is-me mode. If anyone should have ever just said, “Screw this!” and checked out, Michael should have. But he had us. And we, him. He pretty much defined us, really, for better or worse. I felt like there was at least a little something in him that told him he needed to stick around for us. And I just wanted him to know that we would be okay if he couldn’t anymore.

Within minutes, things calmed down. His breathing slowed. The stupid machines making noise start doing so more sporadically. And then, before we knew it, it was over. That was it. The end.

I remember lots of hugs and tears and one of many goodbyes to come. And then we said thank you to some staff members – really a symbolic thank you, from me at least, to so many over the years. To people in the medical field, I look at you as I do teachers, and that is in the highest regard, having intimately known both worlds, whether I wanted to or not.

I remember going outside and nobody saying very much.

I remember sitting down at a table.

And then I remember saying, “Well, what do we do now?” I don’t think I ever quite figured out what to do. A purpose I’d always had was now gone.

Of course, in the coming days and weeks, we had plenty to do – plenty of the mind-numbing, gut-wrenching things you have to do to prepare for a loved one’s final arrangements and all that. I took on a lot more of the sort than I ever had at that time because I felt like my parents shouldn’t have to, so I was distracted by productivity. But soon after that, I don’t remember anything. Don’t remember his funeral. Don’t remember leaving my parents and coming back home. Don’t remember going back to work. Sports, friends, events … nothing.

Truly, I think I completely lost a year. I don’t remember a lot at all about the time in between Mikey’s death and Arron’s birth. And then the latter happened and it was like the pause button I’d pushed on life had been pushed again, whether I was ready or not.

And while I was obviously happy to be a dad for the second time, I was also still hurting, which I must have forgotten about too in that year prior. And again, I was mad. I was so mad.

In the years since, that anger lingered, because if you don’t hit something head-on, it doesn’t just go away. Anger leads to hurt, fear, panic, anxiety, a defensive existence, and isolation. I’ve experienced it all and I wouldn’t wish any of it on my worst enemy. I’ve distanced myself, I’ve been checked out and I’ve lashed out, retreated within and pushed people away. It has caused me problems in every element of my life at one time (or more) or another.

None of it is any excuse and it’s a lot for which to apologize over a long period of time but if my suffering has ever caused any sort of suffering for anyone reading this, I am sorry.

(Note: I’m still going to enjoy my space and my distance more than most people but, overall, I can be better!)

I feel like some of this might be a surprise to people because I don’t show it, hardly ever. I’ve gotten good at projecting this version of myself at any time, regardless of what’s really going on. I even manage to have and to be a good time, probably a bit too often influenced by some additives I’ve grown fond of over the years. But there are times when all of that is just masking a wreck. And it has to stop.

I don’t know why I’m shedding this now other than that I need to – because it can’t go on forever. I haven’t come close to being the best version of myself and I have people around me who deserve nothing less than that. What better time than now if I’m finally recognizing that, at times, I haven’t been good? And at my worst, I haven’t even been okay.

And the bottom line is that I promised my little brother, as he left us 12 years ago, that I would be.

I’ll never let go of him. He’s on my arm and in my heart and I hear his voice – especially that laugh! – every single day.

But I’m letting go of that day.

12 years is a long time.

It’s been heavy.

And I’m tired.

And I have to be okay.

#bros #family #michaeljordan

[saibh29]

Stand and Deliver (Part 1)

Pairing: Will x Jay x Reader (sibling) and Kelly x Reader (relationship)

Warning: Blood, Accident, Car Crash, Language

AN: As always please don’t take my medical advice as real, i’m not a doctor and doing what I say will probably make it worse... 

Will and Jay’s sister is pinned between two cars, what a way to introduce Kelly as her boyfriend. 

*******

Out of the three of you, logically speaking you were definitely the failure in the family. After all your oldest brother was an Attending ED Doctor at one of the best hospitals in the state and the other was now a Detective after being honourably discharged from the military. You on the other hand had slipped through the cracks, so to speak.

You’d done a little bit of everything, temp jobs here and there, determined to find the one thing you were actually passionate about. Right now, you were doing courier work and deliveries with your bicycle around the business district of the city. It was fun, mostly, as long as you didn’t think about what it would be like when full winter hit Chicago rather than just the beginnings of it.

Shoving the latest packages into your rucksack you fastened it up and tightened the straps over your chest. Getting back onto the bike you stabbed the route into your GPS and made for the first stop.

Later you wouldn’t be able to recall exactly what it was that happened, all you knew was that one minute you were going around the corner on your green light and the next you were somehow pinned between a tailgated sedan and an SUV.

“Holy fuck” the pain in your trapped leg registered a second after your brain caught up with what was happening. You’d never felt anything like it.

“Oh my god! Are you ok? Fuck, I'm ringing an ambulance. Shit that guy just came out of nowhere”

The driver of the SUV was slamming his door and running to where you were trapped. He looked frantic as he glanced at you and then, you noticed, the unmoving driver of the sedan who had cut you all off. He was face down, forehead resting on his steering wheel.

“Fire as well” you gasped. “He’ll need to be cut out”

The SUV driver was panicking, that much was clearly obvious as he stabbed wildly at his phones screen in a manner that definitely wasn’t going to call emergency services.

Thankfully more people were approaching now, and offers for help were all starting to pour in.

When someone was in that much pain, as much as you were right then, it was very difficult to keep track of time. It could have been hours or simply minutes before you started to hear sirens rapidly approaching the accident.

The Engines were the first to get here and you were being faced with firefighters, that you knew. It was Engine 51 who’d been called to the scene.

“Herrmann”

“Shit, Y/N, what the hell” Herrmann raced over to you, eyes flicking over the cars and your crushed bike along with you wedged between all the metal debris. “You’re alright darling, we’re gonna get you right out of there”

“Appreciate it” the pain in your legs was actually starting to fade, and while you were enjoying the lack of pain your brain also registered that not feeling the pain probably meant something really bad was happening down there. “Herrmann?”

“Yeah sweetheart” Herrmann was only half listening to you as he shouted out commands for other guys to start being the ‘jaws of life’ over and to begin to assess whether they could safely separate the vehicles.

“Rescue squad… they didn’t get called?”

Herrmann’s attention zipped back to you, hand coming up to your face. “We might have to sweetheart” he didn’t say it but from the look on his face you realised this was bad. Worse than you’d initially thought.

“Kelly”

“You weren’t gonna keep it secret forever doll” Herrmann grinned. “Your closest Hospital is Med as well so I think the time is nigh”

Ok, so maybe you’d been hiding your relationship with Kelly from your brothers, you couldn’t really be blamed though. Your childhood had been pretty rough, loosing your mum and having a fairly absent father. Your brothers had sort of taken over and neither of them had ever accepted that you were an actual adult now. Hence, you tended to keep who you slept with a mutual secret.

You’d zoned out and Herrmann was talking to Otis, both of them staring at the mess of metal you were trapped between. Other members of the Engine’s were already cutting off the roof of the Sedan attempting to get to the unconscious driver.

“Y/N?”

“Huh?”

Herrmann was looking at you in concern. “Darling where’s the most pain? You need something for it?”

“Actually, I can’t really feel anything anymore” that got raised eyebrows and more worried looks. “I know its bad Herrmann”

“It’s gonna be fine doll, absolutely fine”

“I'm cold” you’d just noticed it but it was the truth you were starting to shiver and your skin was covered in goosebumps. “really cold”

“We’re gonna fix that right up” Herrmann shouted for a blanket and in the mean time you were covered in his outer jacket that he’d shrugged off. “Here, Y/N look at me, just look at me”

You really did want to but it was starting to become difficult to focus on anyone thing or any one person.

Herrmann could see you fading away in front of him and there was literally nothing they could do, there was no way of getting these two cars apart until the guy from the Sedan was out, and in the mean time they had no way of knowing the amount of damage done to your lower body. You could have a massive bleed down there and no one could see or stop it.

“Herrmann?”

Rescue Squad had arrived and Kelly along with them. Herrmann didn’t mind being elbowed out of the way this time, at least with Kelly there it gave him the chance to go find out what the hell was keeping the Ambo team.

“Y/N!” Kelly shouted cupping your face in his hands. “Babe look at me, please fucking look at me”

You did manage to open your eyes once more and focus on Kelly who was now the one in front of you, desperation in his gaze. “Hey”

“Shit, alright, don’t panic sweetheart. We’re gonna get you out of there”

“I'm not panicking” you muttered letting your head drop forwards to rest on Kelly’s chest. “you, don’t panic”

Kelly tangled his fingers into your hair his heart pounding in what he was horrified to recognise as fear. “Where the hell is the Ambo”

“Here” Sylvie arrived just as Kelly shouted. “I'm here. Y/N, sweetie where’s the pain?”

“Nowhere”

Kelly and Sylvie shared a look at that, no pain, that was a really fucking bad sign. Ignoring the fact that you’d said you weren’t in pain Sylvie still found a morphine syringe from her bag. “I'm going to give you this morphine, it’s going to help Y/N”

“Alright”

The drugs hit your system fairly quickly and you were barely clinging onto consciousness anymore. The other firefighters had finally gotten the driver of the Sedan clear and were now congregating around the cars trying to figure out how to separate them.

“Just go for it, we can’t know until we try” Herrmann eventually ordered.

The men lined up and very slowly the jaws were deployed the cars starting to move apart and your eyes flew back open. Shocked back to life by the sudden excruciating pain in your leg.

“NO, STOP” you screeched clinging to Kelly. “Fuck”

“Stop” Kelly ordered instantly, hands gripping your arms as you sobbed into his chest, gasping in pain and trying to get a breath back in. “Shit stop”

The cars had moved just enough though for Sylvie to get a look between them and at the mess that your bike had caused she moved away with a horrible expression on her face as she looked around at the men.

“What is it Sylvie?” Herrmann asked softly, from the looks on their faces they knew it wasn’t good either.

“The bike” Sylvie started. “The frame’s twisted and separated…”

Kelly was losing his patience at this “Sylvie just say it”

“Part of the frame has pierced her upper thigh, the femoral artery… Kelly the only thing stopping her bleeding out right now is that bike in her thigh. If we separate them…”

“She bleeds out in minutes”

Kelly looked down at your face, you had actually passed out now and were fully resting against his chest. It was a catch 22 right now.

They had to separate the cars to get you out, but if they did, then they killed you anyway from a cut to the femoral artery.

“we need a doc on site” Kelly eventually said. “call Med”

“On it” Sylvie took off back to the Ambo to call in a Doctor.

Kelly meanwhile looked down at your pale face, what a way to introduce your boyfriend to your family. Over your hospital bed.

 *****

@clementines-x​ @the-chosen-one-time-lord​ @no-other-names-availible-blog​ @angelaiswriting​ @selldraug​ @angryares​ @thenovarose​ @georgiagrl1990​ @punk-rock-5-sos @mindofthescattered​  @dontstopxx​ @iamabeautifulperson18​ @madelinecraig03​ @ka-x-in​ @im-hurric4ne @mesmericbell​ @something–awesome @weirdpotato-14​ @putinontheritzz​ @soulslaststand​ @fuckthatfeeling​  @ember1201​ @morganlb23​ @kitkatbadass @tomhopperarms​  @fakingintrest​ @artprincessbree​  @dreamer-lover-laughter​ @artprincessbree​ @rime-warrior​ @captainvaneswife​ @jaib2-blog @kapolisradomthoughts​ @thingsandstuffienjoy​ @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked​ @aya-fay​  @itsbubbaog​ @hp-hogwartsexpress​ @emmykinzs​ @thatbadassunicorn​ @sassywingednightmare​ @weirdnewbie​ @goyawriter​ @shipperfangirling​ @nathaliabakes​ @stillreadingfantasy @waywardblueshun​

#one chicago #chicago fire #chicago med #chicago pd #chicago fire x imagine #chicago fire x reader #will halstead #jay halstead #kelly severide #kelly severide x reader #kelly severide x imagine #kelly severide x you #herrmann #engine 51 #sylvie #ambo 61 #imagine #fanfic #you #reader

[darkpoisonouslove]

You’ve basically written everything I’ve asked for and a hundred times more, so to stop me from feeling insatiable and not to crowd you with ideas (more than you do that to yourself haha) consider this a fun fact of me? xd I love hurt/comfort, like it’s very likely my absolute fav genre. So, obviously, I would go crazy over some good old ‘lover worried about their hurt partner’ stuff, preferably with Coven-era Valtor and Griffin, with Griffin as the injured one 🤪

Thanks for the consideration. :D Now I’m kinda curious whether there is anything else you would like to see from me, though. (Why is my brain like that?) So if there is, feel free to tell me. Who knows when the inspo will strike and make me write it. XD

Quite like with this one. “Write a tidbit” Yeah, right. Like I know how to do that. I just want to say that I don’t know what I am doing as I think Hurt/Comfort is my worst genre so be warned about that. I think I managed to steer it to angst again but I tried my best to stick to the request. Also, if you have any pointers on the Hurt/Comfort front, feel free to give them as, like I said, I am not even sure I get what needs to happen in those fics. (I mean it’s kinda self-explanatory but then again, kind of not really and I am totally lost. Help!)

Summary: They say love can make you do crazy things. It can accomplish astonishing things itself as well as it heals wounds it opened with its own strength. Valtor has yet to experience how powerful a feeling that makes you so weak can be when Griffin gets hurt by it.

Griffin was sitting on his–their–bed and nursing a cup of hot tea he’d conjured for her. She seemed to like it if the way she inhaled the steam from it was any indication even if he wasn’t quite sure what it tasted like when he’d been all over the place with his mind too scattered to remember what she loved. Other than him, that was, but he had to focus on her well-being and not get lost in memories.

She was obviously still sore from her injuries even if she insisted she was okay now. He could tell from the way she winced every time she moved to cocoon herself better in the sweater he’d gotten her.

Her mother had knitted it for her and he was sure it would bring her comfort. Probably even more than any of his clothes could have when they were all too formal and restricting which he knew she would have overlooked on account of them being his and prioritized that over her comfort. They couldn’t have that.

She was better after he’d drained most of whatever magic he had left after their mission in the healing spells he’d dug out of his memory when she’d refused to go to the infirmary. She was doing it for both of them when she could picture his mothers’ sneers and magic bolts thrown at them to make any injuries worse and teach them to never make the same mistake again. She’d gotten even more familiar with their temper tantrums now that she was with him in everything. His failure was hers and she was paying for it.

“Ow!”

Griffin’s distress had his attention snapping back to her in an instant.

She swiftly switched the hand she was holding her cup with and waved the other one as if that could make the burn of the tea scalding her go away. As if it was that easy to erase what had hurt her.

“You should be more careful,” Valtor said, pursing his lips the moment the words made it past them to contain the impulse to scream at her. That would hardly be appropriate after what she’d just been through. It would hardly be the way to treat his lover even if it made perfect sense and not just in the confines of his troubled mind.

He could still feel the swelling under her skin that his magic had mapped out, the bruises that had needed only that much time to start forming, the crack in a rib his mind had almost fallen through and out of his grasp, and worst of all – the absence of her own powers reaching to tangle with his. He’d been alone again when she’d lost consciousness on him, just like he’d been before she’d loved him. They’d been lucky he hadn’t sent them to Domino, which had definitely been a probability when the Dragon Fire could provide the healing power his mind had pulled him to but he hadn’t been sure he could find in the darkness in his own veins, when he’d opened that portal to take them home. Back to their base where she’d been safe when she hadn’t had to fight his battles.

“Tea can hardly burn me after I’ve been exposed to your hotness,” Griffin said, the mischief and allure back in her gaze as if her eyes hadn’t closed on him like there’d been no life inside them left.

It was what he was afraid of. She’d walk into the fires of hell convinced they wouldn’t hurt her when his own flames didn’t burn her. But as much as she claimed his warmth helped her muscles relax, she needed cold to keep at bay any bruising his magic may not have caught. His power was in destruction, not in healing that she’d always been so much better at. He’d been the only one that had been able to do anything for her injuries, however, when she’d just regained consciousness and had been robbed of her magic that was only now starting to come back with too little space left for it as gratefulness was filling her to the brim.

She scooted away in the bed to make room for him and lure him close again and he answered her unspoken plea. She would just start protesting and moving to irritate her muscles successfully after everything they’d been through already. Plus, if he was comforted by the softness of her body–even as sore and stiff as it was–he could only imagine the effect his presence had on her.

She laid her head on his shoulder once he was in bed with her only to whimper like a kicked puppy when her neck protested and the sound of misery hit that nerve in him that was still inflamed with worry.

He’d been restless like a scaredy-cat in the few moments it had taken him to confirm she hadn’t broken her neck as she’d fallen out of the sky, not at all similar to a shooting star when she’d plummeted headfirst towards the ground with the frailness of her human life and her death would have only granted his worst nightmare. He’d thanked her lucky stars–she had to have at least a few of those to compensate for the absence of his own that she hadn’t followed into even as she’d followed him everywhere–that they’d lent her some of their endurance and power that had seen her all in one piece when she’d landed in the dirt of his failure to protect either one of them.

“You’re more reasonable than that,” he chastised quietly when the light of her eyes would illuminate every corner of his soul to leave nothing hidden from her gaze. He didn’t want to hide any of his weaknesses from her if it would stop her from taking them as her burden and sacrificing herself to save him from them but it was worth the energy he wasted in attempts to cover them when they would only push her further into her selfless foolishness that she loved to call love. At least he could count on her to read all his pages and empathize with his panic and horror which he could only pray–if he knew to whom–would tip the balance back to her mind, back in her favor.

“I am,” Griffin said, moving again to catch his gaze and causing herself pain in the process, poking him to capture her lips and kiss her until she was out of breath and couldn’t put him first anymore but the steady rhythm her chest was following in its movements had been the only thing keeping him sane when it’d meant she was alive. He couldn’t bear to see it disrupted so soon after that very thing would have been his death. “Your magic was our only ticket back home so I couldn’t let anyone take you out,” she said calmly as if the explosion of her magic hadn’t shaken her to her core like it had him and her pretense of strategy could fool him.

He wasn’t as blinded by her love as he would need to be to buy her lie about the strength of it. Her comfort was a priority right now, though, so he pretended to believe her even when she always saw right inside him. They both saw through each other’s eyes to the mind behind and he hoped that would make her use hers more instead of her heart even if that could hurt their harmony. Her own well-being was in the balance and with that he didn’t want to take any chances.

Griffin nuzzled her head in the crook of his neck and wrapped an arm around his chest even if he could hear her muscles screaming against it. Challenging any logic, the tension in her melted away when he wrapped her in his embrace and pressed her in himself as gently as his heart was capable of when it was racing still from the terror of losing her to her own love for him. He couldn’t hurt her for the damage she’d done to herself in his name when they shared feelings. They were one whole so hurting him was hurting her and vice versa.

It was a shock he had to actively fight against to keep from shaking in its grasp to know how vulnerable their weakness for each other left them. And yet, they were the embodiment of content when wrapped in each other and the comfort of their shared breath as his lips found hers and her life left him too full of itself for fear to find a way in his body.

Send me a summary of the fic you want me to write and I might write a little from it

#winx club #winx valtor #winx griffin #griffin x valtor #covenshipping #fanfiction #my fanfiction #my writing #ask #her-majesty-wears-jeans

[salamoonder]

Words Fail

All those long nights are finally getting to Logan. (Sanders Sides)

Wordcount: 2.6k

Warnings: Semi graphic self harm

A/N: I don't recommend reading this if you're in a bad headspace. Yes, there's self harm, and it's not terribly graphic, but I did go into quite a lot of detail about Logan's emotional state. This is the first and probably the only songfic I will ever write. Also!! sidenote, this takes place in an established platonic LAMP universe.

|| Read it on AO3 ||

There’s no dramatic inciting incident. Nothing huge that pushes him over the edge; no screaming match or offhanded, deep-stinging insult. No failure.

It’s just late, and he’s just tired, and when he goes to get up his wrist catches against the sharp edge of his spiral bound notebook and it breaks the skin. He turns his hand so the blood wells up and doesn’t drip, walks to the bathroom, rinses the cut, swipes over it with an antiseptic, and bandages it.

Then he returns to his room and conjures a knife.

His hands are shaking. He lays the knife on his bed and runs a finger over the bandaid on his left hand. It’s weird. He’s read about this. He’s clinically familiar, keeps an eye on Virgil to make sure he doesn’t flinch when people brush against his arms, that he’s not scared of rolling his sleeves up. But he’s beginning to understand that there’s quite a big difference between reading something and practical knowledge.

There’s a surprising sort of relief in what remains of the pain in his wrist. He knows a flood of chemicals went straight to his brain, dopamine among them. It’s odd that knowing something and experiencing it would be so different.

He should be horrified at himself. Absolutely disgusted.

Instead, all he feels is the numb tiredness of his third three AM study session in a row. The gently aching void in his chest where the ping of caffeine should be. The softness of his sheets, the warmth of the room.

None of those are real emotions.

He smooths his thumb over the bandaid again and he feels it. A tiny jolt of pain. An even smaller jolt of pleasure. And underneath that, mind blowing relief. Again. He presses harder.

But it isn’t enough. The pain goes away after a moment, and then it’s just vaguely unpleasant pressure.

Logan locks the door of his room and strips down to his boxers.

He knows, looking back, that he didn’t do much that first night. Not in comparison. But it felt like a lot, watching the blood bead along each slash mark on either of his thighs, trailing the knife a little further to make them symmetrical. He was exhausted and high on a feeling he’d never experienced before. Not quite pleasure, not quite pain. Something like a shot of adrenaline mixed with fear and a deep, strange contentedness that was almost satisfaction.

Two neat, perfect lines. He didn’t go any further that night. He felt overly sensitive, like someone had scraped off a layer of skin and left him open to contagious emotions.

Well. He supposed someone had.

Logan summons the energy to clean and bandage these new cuts and then climbs into bed. He lays flat on his back, turns out the lamp, and tries not to strain his eyes looking for the ceiling. But he can’t help it. He doesn’t like sleeping on his back; it makes him feel vulnerable. He usually sleeps on his stomach or curled up on his side, but he doesn’t want to reopen the cuts on his thighs.

It takes him a good half hour to fall asleep, and when he finally does he has nightmares. Something’s chasing him, and he’s tearing through the dark with his hands outstretched, trying to clear away the cobwebs in front of him. He’s running down a long hallway that swirls and bends with colors that make his head pound. The something has loud footsteps that sound faintly of Danse Macabre each time they hit the ground. Snippets of sound. Snippets of the clarinet solo and dancing strings and the colors hammering into his head like what he imagines an acid trip must be like, and it’s all crashing over him like a tidal wave and he can’t have a panic attack in a dream, can he?

“Logan?”

He sits bolt upright, grabs at the sheets to be sure they’re covering his legs. Patton’s hovering in his doorway wearing an absolutely heartbreaking look of concern. “I’m fine,” he says without prompting. “Merely a nightmare.”

“I heard you yell,” says Patton slowly, inching the door further open. “Do you want me to stay with you?”

“No-” says Logan too quickly. “No, I’m fine.” He doesn’t add anything else so that Patton can’t make an objection about it really being no trouble.

“Alright…” says Patton, frowning at him and not moving. “Yell if you need me.”

“Will do.” Logan fumbles for his laptop to switch on his sleep playlist and waits for Patton to leave. He does, reluctantly, letting the door click softly closed behind him.

It’s essentially all over after that.

Every night after dinner Logan slips into his room and reopens perfect, symmetrical cuts along his thighs. They have to be even. If they're not, he lengthens one or the other until they match. It fascinates him to watch the skin peel away from itself, like he's coming apart in slow motion. It doesn't even hurt anymore.

He’s rationalized it a thousand different ways, because that’s what he does. He rationalizes. He reasons. That’s his damn job. He’s not causing any permanent damage, it’s not affecting his brain the way acid or crack would. He knows it’s addictive but that only means that he trails the knife further down his leg, waits a couple days, and then returns to a spot higher up, waiting for the first cuts to heal. Over and over. Straight, thick red lines. Symmetrical. Calming.

He doesn’t realize how distant he’s become. He doesn’t need anything from the other sides; his first solution is a closed door and a knife. It’s more efficient. Efficient is what he does. Not needing anybody is part of him, and he believes the other sides know that.

So when he opens his door in the middle of the night and hears a surprised squeak along with the soft thump of wood hitting flesh, the first thing he wonders is where he went wrong. How did he give himself away?

More importantly, how does he cover now?

It’s too late, though, Virgil’s already standing up and rubbing his back, a snarl half locked onto his face. “Watch it, Logan.”

“I- wh- Virgil, what are you doing up? Outside my bedroom? Wh- what?”

He’s trying to back away but Virgil’s eyes have already swept downwards and raked over each even line stacked along Logan’s legs. “Jesus, Logan. I...wow. I knew something was wrong, but.” He stops, whatever snarky thing he was going to say dying on his lips.

“It’s nothing,” says Logan, with no options left but to lie spectacularly. “Goodnight.” He starts to close the door but Virgil’s already jammed his body into the doorway.

“Logan,” he says. “Stop. Lemme in. Let me help.”

Logan frowns. “Help with what?”

Virgil’s mouth falls open. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Before Logan can continue the charade, Virgil’s closed the door behind them both and turned to face Logan fully. “Look, man, I get it, denial and pretending to be fine is like, a recreational sport with you. But would you just- just slow down for five seconds and let someone else in before you do something you’ll seriously regret?”

Logan falls backward onto his bed, resigning himself to Virgil, and bites his lip. “I…” he takes a deep breath. “I can handle it.”

“Bullshit,” says Virgil swiftly. He clicks the lock on the door on and sits next to Logan on the bed. “You’ve been sneaking out of your room in the dead of night for weeks.”

Logan startles. “How do you-?”

“Logan, I’m friggin anxiety. If something’s wrong, if anything in this whole place is the slightest bit off, I’m gonna notice it. And this-” he waves a hand vaguely at Logan, seemingly unwilling to gesture directly at the cuts, “is very, very, off.” He glances down, then looks back up quickly to face Logan. “At least you’re sanitary. You are taking care of it, right? That’s why you’re sneaking out?”

Logan huffs out a breath. “Getting an infection doesn’t exactly seem fun or productive.”

“This isn’t fun or productive either! Logan, how the fuck are you so smart and so short sighted?” Virgil’s gritting his teeth. He looks like he might be on the verge of a panic attack, so Logan stands up, just to have some semblance of control over the situation. He doesn’t need taking care of. He needs Virgil to not be distressed over something so insignificant as Logan’s emotional health. He tries to ignore the outburst, moves toward the door. “I’ll take care of it,” he says, trying to diffuse. Virgil looks ready to vibrate into pieces.

“I’m coming,” he says, standing up as Logan opens the door and trailing him to the bathroom. Logan doesn’t protest. He figures allowing Virgil to see him taking care of himself will get him off his case.

He goes to get bandages out of the cupboard but Virgil lays a hand on top of his. “Let me.”

“Virgil-” Logan starts, frustrated, but Virgil’s already shaking his head. “It’ll calm me down. Please.”

“I...I suppose.”

“Great. Sit on the counter.”

Logan does as he’s told and stares at the wall, jaw clenched. Virgil runs the water, dipping a finger in to check the temperature every few seconds. He dampens a cloth and starts cleaning the cuts furthest down Logan’s legs.

A few moments pass in silence and Logan thinks maybe he’s escaped Virgil’s lecture. Of course that’s the moment Virgil chooses to start speaking.

“Logan...how could you possibly think this was a good idea?”

“I didn’t exactly-”

“No. Stop. Let me finish. You’re…” Virgil pauses to put down the cloth and press the backs of his hands into his eyes. “Logan, you’re kind of perfect,” he says softly. “And I don’t understand why you of all people would want to hurt yourself.”

Logan raises an eyebrow. “But you can understand how...other people…would?”

“That’s different,” he mumbles, and moves one shaky hand from his eye to pick up the cloth again. “We’re not talking about me right now. We’re talking about you.”

“I’m far from perfect,” says Logan. Virgil snorts. “Yeah, well. Either way you’re too smart for this.”

Logan doesn’t have an answer to that. They pass a few more moments in silence, and Virgil moves on to his left leg.

“I’m just wondering why,” says Virgil, almost conversationally. “If I knew why I could help. Maybe. I don’t know.”

Logan opens his mouth to respond, and all the carefully constructed reasoning he’s done over the past few weeks falls away.

Why does he do it? Because it takes the edge off every unrewarding night of work. Because sometimes the tension building beneath his skin is so venomous that he needs to let it bleed out. Because the others don’t understand what it’s like to push and push and push yourself beyond what you’re capable of...and then keep going further. Because it’s hard, it’s punishing, to be the “perfect” one. No errors, ever.

Because there’s nothing else to do.

But he can’t say that out loud.

“Lo?” Virgil asks softly. “This is gonna sting.” He’s holding the folded tip of a second cloth over the mouth of a bottle of rubbing alcohol. He turns the bottle over once, quickly, and sets it back on the counter. “Logan. You okay?”

Logan lets out a shaky sigh and reaches out to grip the edge of the counter. “I’m fine. Go ahead.”

Virgil bites his lip, then takes Logan’s hand from the counter and laces their fingers together. “Okay.”

It does sting, and more than once Logan finds himself tightening his grip on Virgil’s hand. Virgil rubs slow, soothing circles over the back of his hand with his thumb, and Logan wonders how someone who is literally the embodiment of anxiety can be such a comforting presence.

When Logan’s legs are completely bandaged, Virgil doesn’t let go of his hand. Instead, he tugs him off the counter, and they both wander back to Logan’s room and collapse on the floor.

“Talk to me?” asks Virgil tentatively. He’s leaning against Logan’s bed, and Logan has his head on his shoulder, trying to pretend that this is just another cuddle pile, just another movie night. He shakes his head, frustrated.

“Please?” whines Virgil.

“I don’t know how,” says Logan, and it comes out harsher than he meant it to.

“Logan, you’re a walking encyclopedia. How do you not know how.”

“Virgil, I’ve never had to deal with this before! There’s no precedent! And the more I research it- every time I see the word ‘blade’ or ‘dopamine’ or ‘skin’ I just want to do it all over again. I-” Logan stops, turns his face into the fabric of Virgil’s hoodie. “I honestly don’t know what to tell you,” he mumbles, his voice muffled.

Virgil’s curled an arm around his shoulder, gathering Logan to him. “You’re okay,” he says, like he’s talking to a child who’s fallen and skinned their knee at a playground. “You’re okay. It’s okay. Everything’s...it’s gonna be okay. I’ll figure this out. We’ll figure this out. Hey. You like music, right?”

Logan shrugs, trying to stay within Virgil’s grasp. “I guess. Not like Roman does.”

“You don’t have to like it like Roman does,” Virgil says gently. “I was just thinking. Why don’t you pick a song that you can empathize with? I dunno, might be a bit easier than using your own words.”

Logan looks up. “I- that’s- that’s actually not a bad idea.”

Virgil smiles. “You’re not the only side who can think, you know.”

“I never said I was,” Logan says indignantly, and pulls his laptop down from his bed to scroll through his iTunes library. It’s mostly instrumentals, classical music and movie soundtracks. Nothing catches his eye. Then- wait. Oh.

Logan hesitates for a moment, lets his mouse hover over the title. If anything it hits a little too close to home. “Promise you won’t make fun of me?” he asks Virgil, whose response is to hook his arms under Logan’s and pull him into his lap.

“For something like this? Never.”

Logan takes a deep breath and clicks play.

Ben Platt’s soft voice blankets the room, and Virgil’s eyes widen a bit. “Oh,” he says. “Oh. Logan.”

Logan shrugs again, almost embarrassed. The song is “Words Fail” from Dear Evan Hansen. And while the circumstances are quite different, Logan feels that the title, at least, is fitting.

They get to the line “I’d rather pretend I’m something better than these broken parts” and Virgil hugs Logan’s head to his chest.

He waits till the song ends. Then he says, “Logan, you know you don’t have to put up a front for us. That’s stupid. We love you. You know that.”

“I-” Logan swipes at his eyes. “Yeah.”

“I love you.”

“I know.”

“Say it back, you idiot.”

Logan laughs through a sob. “I love you too.”

“Good.” Virgil hauls Logan up by the arms and throws back the covers on his bed. “Want me to stay with you tonight?”

“Is it going to make you feel like I’m safe?”

Virgil shrugs sheepishly. “Um. Yeah.”

“Then of course.”

Logan folds himself into Virgil’s body, and Virgil reaches out and turns off the lamp.

“Promise me you’ll come to me and let me know if you ever feel like doing that. Or Patton or Roman.”

“I…”

Virgil sighs unhappily. “At least come to one of us afterwards?”

“I’ll try to do something before it gets that bad, Virgil. But I promise either way I’ll get one of you afterwards.”

Virgil squeezes him so tight he can’t breath for a minute. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

Logan pauses. “I was going to say ‘I know’ but- is this one of those instances where I’m supposed to say it back?”

Virgil laughs. “Oh, Logan, you’re an idiot. You can, if you want.”

Logan wrinkles his nose. “I’m not an idiot. And I don’t want you to get hurt either.”

“I know you’re not an idiot. Goodnight.”

Logan snuggles into Virgil’s collarbone. “Goodnight.”

#logan #virgil #sanders sides #thomas sanders #mine #tw: self harm

[interstellarprecure]

Interstellar Precure: Chapter 1

With the future’s hope in your heart, soar towards tomorrow! Interstellar! Pretty Cure: Chapter 1 Fight for the Future of the Sun, ari!   “Bye, Grandpa!” Niko said it as she rushed out the door, already leaping onto her bike. Her grandpa in question didn’t even get a chance to respond before the door slammed behind her, and Niko was off. A mental checklist went up in her brain. She needed coffee. Then she would go to school. She’d wing the rest. There was nothing special about today, just like how the rest of the days had gone. And honestly? Niko was kind of glad about that. It was nearing six months since everything had started, and she just wanted to forget about it all like the rest of Keres had. Six months since her grandpa got sick. Six months since the sky darkened. Six months since the meteor shower, and six months since…. Since Chikara had disappeared along with twenty-six other teenagers.

Niko shook her head. No, no. She had sworn to herself that she’d push it all back, that she wouldn’t dwell on it. For her sake, and for her grandpa’s sake. Chikara wouldn’t want her to be as depressed as she was almost six months ago. No, there was nothing special about today. Niko would just head to Luros Preparatory as always, barely passing classes and doing nothing after school but going home, having empty conversations with Madison and Aria. Was it the future she wanted? No. But it was the future she had, and she didn’t need anything different or life changing. Life could just stay stagnant like this.

“You can’t run forever, little messenger.” The voice echoed in Sollari’s ears as they ran. People barely looked up as they weaved between human legs, clamoring over leather shoes.It should have struck Sollari as odd. Messengers were either welcomed or feared, not ignored. But they only cared about getting away. Ritzu would be close behind. “The Absolute knows you will never make another Pretty Cure. You are a failure, and you only came here in a fruitless attempt to save a much better messenger.” Creatures of the Vertex didn’t have stardrops. There was no point to Ritzu’s taunts. Which meant...which meant….they were all true. No! Sollari wouldn’t believe that. They’d lie to themself over and over again before they believed it. They could do anything. They could, they could… “Lead me to your new child. Your divine saviour.” They wouldn’t. But they could feel Ritzu, they could feel them…was it already too late? Was their soul spark damaged, like a stardrop in a human who had lost their hope? “Your celestial.” Sollari’s rust-red tail twitched. Their nose knew where they were going, even if their brain was preoccupied.  The girl with the pink stardrops. Their saviour. The last child who had known Cure Star, even indirectly. They didn’t know her name, but they would know when they say her. They had to. It was their duty as a messenger of the Vertex Core. It was a reach, but it was all Sollari had. Lune was gone. Star was gone. The only one who had known Star’s identity was gone. Sollari knew they were a failure of a messenger. Every Pretty Cure they had had never lasted very long, not even in training. Their power wasn’t strong enough. They didn’t know how to make Pretty Cure, but they knew Lune. And they had to...they had to….. They had to try. For Lune’s sake. It was the future they wanted. Sollari and Lune, the sun and the moon, day and night…Their best friend was lost, and Sollari would not give into darkness.So they continued to run.

I will find you, purikyua, ari. For our future, ari. For the future of the sun above, I will fight, ari.

For the future of the sun above, I will fight. Niko’s head suddenly felt like it had been stabbed. Her bike wobbled and toppled over, and Niko was crumpled on the sidewalk. For the future of the sun above. Without thinking, Niko’s hands moved up to unclip her helmet. She had to get it off, off, because it had to be the one stabbing her head like this. In only a few strokes, the silver helmet slammed to the ground. Alright. Step one done.The second was to get up. Get up, and then she could walk somewhere, get some advil. Or maybe coffee. She needed something. She hadn’t hit something while she was biking, had she? No, the path was clear. Cars zoomed by, but nothing had stopped for even a second.It was normal. It had to be just a headache, not anything special. “No, no, it was weird. I heard it in my head, Ni. In my head - don’t laugh! God, this is why I don’t tell you stuff. Hey, hey, I don’t mean that. It’s a joke, alright? I tell you everything.” “I mean, you’re like my only friend. Yeah, that is kinda depressing, huh?” No. No no no no. Life could stay stagnant. It had to. It had to. It had to. Niko pushed herself up, legs still shaking. Just had to get to school. Nothing ever happened at Luros. Aria, and Madison, and everyone...they just rambled on about tv shows or games and it was all mindless nonsense they knew was just to avoid talking about anything real. Niko liked that. It was normal. You’re wrong. Nothing is normal anymore. The words felt like something was squeezing her head, and Niko almost hissed aloud at the pain. The whole world faded for a second before it came back, which probably wasn't good. Stop it, stop it! She thought. It was telepathy or something stupid like that, right? Just more nonsense that wasn’t real. So if she said stop it, it would stop. I’m at the park. Please help me. I can help you. The park. That wasn’t anything specific, but somehow...somehow Niko just knew. There was a park just across the street, and that would be fine. Please stop it. Niko took one step, than another, her entire body tense. If she got a return message, she might collapse in the middle of the street. A flash of green light started her moving. One step. Two steps. Three steps. She had left her bike behind. Niko inwardly cursed. Four steps. Five steps. Why was this happening? Nothing had done this for six months. Not since the calls for help had resounded in everyone’s minds for miles, seconds before the meteor shower. Even that hadn’t hurt so much. It was more subconscious, a simple you have to help, go before everything ended. No one had made it in time - wherever it was - before everything ended anyway. Niko was pretty sure the official explanation for the two-week panic was gas leaks, or something equally as stupid. The teenagers knew what had happened. It was their friends who had vanished from existence, after all.You know, until everyone forgot. Niko had lost count of her steps. She was in the park now, tennis shoes sinking in tanbark as she walked through the trees. “Ari,” came a squeak. Niko tensed, hands balling into fists. Probably just a squirrel. Or a bird. It was nothing, nothing. There was a cafe stall in the park. Just walk towards there, and get a coffee. It was a stupid idea, but Niko held onto it. “You can hear me, right, ari?” That wasn't a squeak. A tiny white squirrel-like body dropped from a tree to the tanbark below. It raised its head, revealing twin glittering black eyes.It was more bunny-like than a squirrel, with long burnt orange ears, though they were rounded rather than pointed. The bunny’s tail was the most interesting - a rust red trail that seemed at least a foot long. “Help me, ari. You’re the only one that can, ari.” Niko took a step backwards. “I think you’ve got the wrong person. I only came here cause I wanted my head to stop hurting.” The words flowed out of her mouth too quickly, but they were true. The bunny winced. “Sorry, ari. I should have known it would hurt you, ari. I shouldn’t have forced the link, ari…but I need you, ari.” Niko held a hand out. Things needed to stop for at least one second. “Need me for -” Niko cut herself off. First, she needed an explanation. “Who are you? And why the hell can you talk?” The bunny stood up on two legs, their eyes shining with fear and determination. “I am the solar messenger Sollari et Al of the Vertex Core, ari. You can call me Sollari, ari. I’m here because my friends have been captured, and you’re the only one I know, ari.” Sollari’s tail swayed from left to right, like a cat ready to pounce. “But I don’t...I don’t know you?” It came out more like a question. Sollari’s eyes shimmered once more, but it seemed more like tears hidden out of sight.“You knew Chikara Oshiro, ari?” Niko paled. Her hands curled into fists once more, nails digging into the skin of her palms. “Why would you ask that?” Sollari didn’t falter. “But you knew her, ari?”Niko nodded. She couldn’t think of a response. “Then you’re the one, ari. You have to...you have to help me, ari.” “Why would you...” No one had said Chikara’s name in months. “I’ll explain later. Please, ari. They’re coming, ari.” Well, the messenger or whatever wasn’t going to answer her questions. Niko, against all better instinct, scooped up Sollari in her arms and walked into the park.

> Text message from Aria: Niko???? > Text message from Aria: Are you okay??? > Text message from Aria: Where are you??? > Text message from Mads: dude where the hell are you > Text message from Mads: if you leave us to do this presentation on our own i will drop kick you out the window > You: busy > You: i’ll be there > You sent a photo. > Text message from Mads: that’s blurry as hell dude > Text message from Aria: Busy with what???? > You: chikara > Aria and Mads are typing... “A mocha for Niko?” Niko looked up from her phone. The cafe server, a lady not much older than Niko with dark blue hair down her back, held an exceedingly large coffee cup in her hands. “Thanks,” Niko mumbled, and took the cup. She shouldn’t have said Chikara. She was going to need a lot of caffeine to deal with the fallout of that decision. Despite beginning to sip the searing drink, Niko still felt a gaze on her back. She looked up once more to see the server still looming over her. “Is that...a bunny?” Don’t tell them. With a pounding ache in her head, Niko looked at Sollari, hidden inside her backpack. The “messenger” didn’t show any signs of movement.Niko took another sip. “Stuffed animal,” she replied, voice flat. The server looked skeptical, but turned to go back to the coffee cart. Thank you. Niko held her forehead in her empty hand. “Don’t do that,” she muttered. “Hurts.” Sollari squirmed in the backpack, upset. Or were they uncomfortable? I- Sollari seemed to realize their mistake as soon as they started, burrowing deeper into the jumble of books in Niko’s backpack. “Hope you’re not eating any books in there,” she muttered. She really shouldn’t feel bad for it. It was basically blackmailing her into helping it through the whole telepathy thing. But...it didn’t know it was hurting her. Niko sighed. Better not to make an enemy just yet. Turning behind her, Niko scooped up Sollari and placed them on her lap. “That better?” she asked. Sollari nodded, curling up on her lap. Niko sipped her mocha with one hand, petting Sollari with the other. > Text message from Mads: why the hell would you > Text message from Mads: this isn’t funny > Text message from Aria: Niko???? Niko shut her phone off. “Sollari.” The bunny raised their head slightly, orange ears pressed flat. “What does this have to do with Chikara?” It still felt so wrong to say her name like that, like it was all still happening. Like everyone had hope they’d find the missing teenagers. Sollari pressed themself against Niko’s lap, unwilling to answer. It was so different than the unfaltering speech of before, or the commanding voice in her head. “Sollari,” Niko tried again, a bit sterner. Sollari only shook their head. “Sollari, please.” “They came after her, ari. They wanted to get to Lune, to Star, so they came after her, ari.” It took a second for Niko to realize that Sollari had said it. They looked so sad, bundled up with their long tail wrapping around them. “They dissolved her, like they did to everyone else, ari. They took the light of hope from her, ari.” Niko’s mocha seemed to taste bitter all of a sudden.“What do you mean?” Niko wasn’t expecting an answer, but Sollari finally met her eyes with their own. “Stardrops, ari. You humans have them, ari. The light of hope and the power of creation, together as your very essence, ari. The Outer Limits -” that must be who ‘they’ were, Niko noted, “- extract the light of hope, ari. Without the light of hope, the power of creation means nothing, ari. The human breaks down into despair, ari.” “Then why did no one notice this ‘despair’?” Sollari looked grave. “I meant it literally, ari. The human literally dissolves into despair energy, ari.” Niko wasn’t thirsty anymore. “And that...that’s what happened to Chikara. The twenty-seven teens…” Sollari nodded. “It will happen to more, ari. The Outer Limits don’t just want the light of hope - they want the power of creation, ari. So they will try again, ari. Again and again….” Niko decided to change the subject. “So,” she tried, feeling a little better when Sollari raised their head again, “what happened to, um, Lune? Or was it Star?” Sollari’s face fell along with Niko’s heart. “Lune, ari…” Sollari’s eyes shimmered with small tears. Were they going to start crying? Niko grabbed one of the napkins she had set next to her mocha. Sollari sniffed, and rubbed their eyes. “Lune is...the moon, ari. Bright but gentle, unyielding but kind, ari. A guiding light, ari.” Sollari made a motion to sink back into Niko’s lap, but stayed where they were. “I am the sun, ari. Too bright, ari. Too strong, ari. You look to me as a beacon of hope, and I can only sear in response, ari. I burn people with my own arrogance, ari.” “What...happened?” Niko knew she wasn’t going to get a response. Sollari curled around themselves once more. “We should go, ari.”“Huh?” The park was still abandoned. No one would notice Sollari here, except for maybe the two cafe ladies. “Ritzu will be coming, ari.” That was all the justification Niko really wanted to hear. She scooped Sollari up in her arms, slid her backpack back on, and pushed herself up from the cafe table. Holding Sollari to her chest, she walked quickly away. A quick look behind her told her that both the barista and the server weren’t looking.Then why could she still feel a gaze on her?

Wings spread wide. The fairy couldn’t run forever. Even if they had found their so-called saviour, it was nothing but false hope.Though truly, all hope was false. Ritzu had learned that long ago. They cracked a smile under their bird-like mask. Stupid fairy. They had tried to reason with the solar messenger, if not for very long. Ritzu was more patient than their subordinates, but that didn’t mean much. Pretty much anyone was more patient than the Trinity. However, patience in interrogating and patience in stalking prey were two very, very different things. “Ritzu? Ritzu?” A quick look down told them that one of the Trinity in question, Rune, was currently trying to establish connection between their heart links. The kuriline’s face rippled across the surface of the violet heart on Ritzu’s chest. Ritzu wasn’t particularly fond of kurilines as a species, much less Rune. She had her merits when it come to gathering the light of hope - particularly with the kurilines’ ability to store energy in their antennae - but she was still a petulant little child. A bratty young kuriline with the ability to shapeshift was never good. Still, they detached the heart from their chest and held it up to their face. Rune’s four white eyes lit up. “Ah, you picked up! That’s -” and there came the hissing crackle Rune peppered into her sentences as much as Nebulous did with her human “curses” - “-ing new. Not complaining, though!” Another hiss, though this one was most likely laughter. Ritzu had had to learn to pick up on the context of each hiss. “What do you want, Rune?” Rune frowned, though Ritzu didn’t know why. She had called them, after all. “Don’t get snappy. Neb and Merc want updates. Are we going after the messenger or not?” “I am going after the messenger. You are to wait for instructions.” Rune’s frown deepened into a scowl. “Oh yeah?” The words came out in an angry hiss, not unlike a earth cat. “Yes, ‘oh yeah.’ I am attempting to cut the messenger off before they create a new legendary warrior.” Rune’s eyes widened at the word warrior. She was still a coward, Ritzu mused. “If I fail, it is up to the Trinity to take them down.” Rune looked away from the heart, shaking her head. “You’re still an asshole...but fine. Get the messenger by yourself. But I get to get the information out of it.” Without a goodbye, or any real sense of professionalism, Rune disappeared. Ritzu snapped the heart back onto their chest. They would do this themself. Time to get to work.

Thank you for reading! If you liked this and want to see more on tumblr, make sure to like or reblog! Interstellar Pretty Cure is also on ao3! Until next time, soar towards tomorrow!  - Mod Celestial

#pretty cure #pretty cure fanseries #precure #fancure #precure fanseries #interstellar pretty cure #mod celestial #writers on tumblr

[minijenn]

Universe Falls Chapter 43, Part 2

Damn I almost forgot to post this on here, but alas, here it is for your enjoyment if you haven’t gotten a chance to read it yet! Though brace yourself, for the feels are fucking REAL and the HURT. So without any further ado, let us begin!

Previous: http://minijenn.tumblr.com/post/166730418164/universe-falls-chapter-43-part-1

Chapter 43: Sock Opera

Part 2

P JXCI MJTY WPW UMGHTS E LZDIIXRZ KIUG'H JTDACCV E LODLS HABFVYG'H FXWC MEJVGWS U GDWXTJX'H GIFGGMTUYEDN WPAPBFV

Steven hit the ground only seconds before the laptop did, and as stunned and shocked as he was by what had just happened, there was nothing he could do to stop Bill from slamming it into the ground before gleefully ripping up the stack of photos that had been sitting beside it. Really, the most the young Gem could do was watch in frozen, agape bewilderment as the demon simply laughed wildly over the unabashed destruction he had caused, as well as over the body he had just apparently stolen. And it seemed as though Bill found yet another point of twisted amusement as he happened to glance over at Steven with a wide, maniacal grin, one that looked so incredibly out of place on Dipper’s face, though there it was all the same.

“So, Rosebud, what do ya think of my new digs?” the demon asked, clumsily stumbling forward towards the young Gem, clearly not used to the process of walking. Steven gasped, scrambling to his feet to help before he quickly remembered exactly who he was dealing with here, despite the fact that, at least physically, this was still the body of one of his best friends. “I’m usually not for small, stringy, and sweaty, but it’s been so long since I’ve inhabited a human body, so I’ll take what I can get!”

“I-I don’t understand!” Steven finally spoke up, his eyes still wide with alarm as he shook his head incredulously. “What just happened? What did you do to Dipper?!”

“What’s it look like, kid?” Bill shrugged as he finally gained proper footing. “Me and Pine Tree just struck up the deal of a lifetime! I solved his little laptop problem for him,” he nodded over to the utterly ruined remains of the laptop lying discarded among torn photo scraps on the ground behind him. “And he gave me a puppet, just like I wanted! Isn’t it just great when things work out for everyone like this?”

“W-what? No!” Dipper exclaimed hotly upon hearing this, his ghost or spirit or whatever he was now still hovering anxiously near the ceiling. “You tricked me! This isn’t anything close to what we agreed to!”

“I dunno, Pine Tree, seems pretty on the level if you ask me,” Bill remarked callously. He completely ignored Steven as he glanced around in confusion over who the demon could possibly be talking to, since, as far as he knew, they were the only two people present in the room. “Say, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you don’t look too happy with how our little bargain turned out!”

“Of course, I’m not!” Dipper asserted, absolutely livid. “The deal’s off, Bill! Give me my body back and leave us alone, now!”

“Aw, it’s just plain adorable that you think that’s how this works, Pine Tree!” Bill laughed condescendingly as he nonchalantly headed over to the nearby mirror. “But nah, I think I’m gonna stick around in this meatsack for a while and have a little fun with it, you know? Break a few bones, maybe lose a limb or two, normal stuff you humans do.”

“Whoa, hold on!” Steven finally interjected upon hearing such sadistic plans. “First of all, who do you keep talking to? Dipper’s not… still in there with you… is he?”

“No, Steven, I’m right here!” Dipper exclaimed, haphazardly gliding down to position himself right in front of the young Gem, who seemed to not even register his presence at all. “Steven?” he tried again, frantically waving his hands in front of the young Gem’s response, only for him to continue staring right through him, as if he wasn’t there at all. “Steven! Ugh, why can’t you hear me?!”

“Ha! Welcome to the mindscape, kid!” Bill goaded mirthfully, clearly taking enjoyment in watching Dipper panic over his plight. “Without a vessel to possess, you’re basically a ghost! Fun, huh? Oh, and to answer your question, Rosebud, this isn’t like one of your dumb old fusions. The only one rolling around inside this lump of flesh is me! But don’t worry about your poor Pine Tree, he’s still floating around here, nagging at me to get out of his body, as if that’s ever gonna work!”

Steven took pause at this, gasping softly as he took another tentative look around the attic, the slightest hint of hope entering his tone, despite how disastrous this situation seemed to be. “Dipper…?”

“Steven!” Dipper shouted desperately, as loud as he could, even if his voice still seemed to reach no one but himself. Still, as distraught and horrified as he was amidst existing outside of his own body as he currently was, he hardly cared. “I’m literally right in front of you! And even if you can’t hear or see me, which I guess is what’s going on here, then you still need to get help! Find Mabel, or Connie, or the Gems, or someone and-”

“Well, lookie here!” Bill exclaimed with a wide smirk as he stood before the mirror, roughly examining his new vessel. “Two eyes?! This thing’s deluxe!” The demon paused, only for a second to, of all things, slap himself hard across the face, laughing with gleeful sadism all the while, much to Steven and Dipper’s shared appalled shock. “Woo! Ha! Pain is hilarious! I could do this all day!”

“Hey, stop it!” Steven protested, rushing over and stilling Bill’s hand before it could go in for another self-intended strike. “What do you think you’re doing?! If you’re using Dipper’s body for yourself right now, then why do you wanna hurt it?”

“Uh, because like I just said, it’s funny, kid,” Bill rolled his eyes as he pulled his hand away from the young Gem. “Duh.”

Steven paused at this, admittedly taken aback by such a demented, perverse train of thought, but even so, he wasn’t going to let such harm towards his friend go unchecked. “Y-you can’t-” he began rather shakily before cutting himself off and starting again, a bit firmer this time as he squared his shoulders and set the demon a look of hard resolve. “Bill, you need to get out of him, right now. I’m not just going to stand by and let you hurt one of my best friends like this!”

“Oh yeah? And what are you gonna do about it, Rosebud?” Bill challenged haughtily. “Hug me out of him? Sic that cotton candy colored cat of yours on me? Oh, or maybe force me to ‘talk about my feelings’ until I get bored and leave?”

“No,” Steven shook his head, his manner still quite brazen as he turned to leave. “I’m going to tell the Gems. If I can’t stop you and save Dipper all by myself, then maybe they can.”

“Yes!” Dipper cheered, heavily relieved upon hearing this plan. After all, if there was anyone in Gravity Falls who could square off against a foe as crafty and dangerous as Bill, then certainly it was the Crystal Gems. “Good! Hurry up and tell them, Steven! Hopefully they’ll be able to-”

“Oh yeah, sure, go ahead and tell those three Crystal Chumps all about this,” Bill cut in, his tone surprisingly lax as he grinned confidently. “In fact, I want you to!”

“Wait… you do?” Steven’s assured manner was all but gone upon hearing this, replaced with an acute sense of foreboding at how calm the demon seemed to be over his threat in general.

“Sure! It’ll be a blast to see my old pals Fuse Box, Bird Brain, and Half-Baked again after all these years! But, uh… fair warning, kid. By the time you get back, there might not be a Pine Tree left to save, if you catch my drift…” Both Steven and Dipper were left in confused silence at this, neither of them really seeming to gather what the demon had ominously just implied, though neither of them liked the sound of it at all. Still, Bill fortunately decided to explain it to them both, letting out something of an annoyed sigh as he did so. “Yeesh, you two sure are dense. What I mean, Rosebud, is that you’re more than welcome to go tattle on me to the Gems; but if you do, then I can’t make any promises that my little puppet here will stay alive and in once piece if you do…”

While it took Steven to understand exactly what this meant, Dipper got it almost instantly as he let out a horrified gasp at what this ultimatum could entail for him if Bill actually decided to go through with it. “Oh, no! Absolutely not! You can’t just-”

“Now, now, Pine Tree,” Bill cut him off, still grinning incessantly as he pitted Steven in just as impossible position as he had with him. “Those of us here in the physical plane are talking. So, Rosebud, I think I’ve spelled it out for you pretty nicely. You blab, he bleeds. Any questions?”

Steven was stunned into silence for a moment, his gut wrenching at the very thought of Dipper being harmed because of his own attempts to save him. By all accounts, Bill seemed to have all his bases covered with this, but even so, the young Gem didn’t want to believe that there was no hope left. “Y-you wouldn’t…” he trailed off weakly, hoping that he could somehow call the dream demon’s bluff, though of course, this attempt was nothing but an abject failure.

“Oh believe me, I would,” Bill’s smirk seemed to widen manically as he nodded down to his new vessel’s foot. Before Steven could even question his intent, the demon suddenly twisted his ankle sharply, a distinctive snap sounding out along with the unnatural movement as Bill simply let out a delighted, almost euphoric gasp to go along with the boys’ shared aghast one. “Ah, now that’s what I’m taking about! And there’s a lot more where that came from, Rosebud, if you don’t keep your trap shut. So, do you think we’ve reached an understanding yet? ‘Cause I keep this pain train going for as long as I have to until you get the point.”

“I get it! I get it!” Steven instantly nodded in fearful agreement, his eyes wide as he looked down to Bill’s, or rather, Dipper’s now twisted ankle. “I won’t say anything to anyone, I promise! J-just… just don’t hurt him anymore, please.”

“What?! No!” Dipper protested, even though he knew Steven couldn’t hear him. But even so, he persisted in the small, almost nonexistent hope that at least something would make it through to him. “This is a horrible idea, Steven! Bill’s just trying to trick you like he tricked me! You have to get help, before he does something-”

“Geez, Pine Tree, would ya quit being so rude up there?” Bill deadpanned, rolling his eyes up at Dipper. “Me and Rosebud are trying to make a deal here. And it’s a deal I think I’m willing to take…” The demon extended a hand out for the young Gem to shake, one that, interestingly enough, didn’t light up with any blue fire this time. Still, knowing that this was the only real way he could keep Dipper safe for the moment, Steven knew he had no choice but to hesitantly comply, at least for now.

“Steven, don’t do this!” Dipper pleaded once more, distraught beyond measure by this point. “He’s blackmailing to you just so he can keep his tracks covered! You have to hear me, please!” In a meager attempt to stop this dangerous deal, he actually rushed down to place himself between Bill and Steven, hoping that he could at least do something. But of course, both of their hands cleanly passed through his incorporeal form and met in a firm, solidifying handshake, one that he was completely powerless to stop, just like this entire waking nightmare he now found himself in as a whole.

“Wow, what do ya know?!” Bill quipped happily, taking clear enjoyment in Steven and Dipper’s shared expressions of pained defeat. “Two deals in one day! I’m on a roll! They should give out prizes for being this good!”

While Steven really had nothing to say in the aftermath of the silence he had just agreed to keep, Dipper was far more vocal about it, absolutely outraged with the dream demon for deceiving not just him, but now the young Gem, who had really nothing to do with any of this, as well. “I don’t get it,” he glared coldly at the dream demon, who simply smirked up at him in smug satisfaction. “Why are you even doing this? What could you possibly have to gain from possessing my body and forcing Steven to keep quiet about it?! It makes no sense!”

“One thing you should learn here and now, kid,” Bill began as casual as ever. “Is that me and ‘sense’ don’t usually see eye-to-eye. But still, you’ve been getting way too close to figuring out some major answers lately. I’ve got big plans and I don’t need either of you getting in my way. Destroying the laptop was a cinch! Now I just need to get rid of that journal of yours and the rest is history!”

“Wait, the journal?” Steven asked, confused. “That… that’s all you want?”

“You bet your gem it is, Rosebud!” Bill quipped, crossing his arms. “You wouldn’t happen to know where I could find it, do ya?”

“No! Steven, you can’t tell him!” Dipper practically screamed, knowing that he couldn’t afford to lose both the journal and the laptop all in one day, especially if he ever hoped to regain his body. “Wait a second… do you even know where-”

“I-I don’t know…” Steven replied truthfully, unknowingly supplying Dipper with the answer he had been hoping for. At the same time, the young Gem realized that he was treading on fragile ground almost constantly now. After all, if he said one wrong word or made one wrong move, then certainly the dream demon could and would gladly mutilate Dipper in any way he pleased. A thought that made Steven practically nauseous with worry and woe. “But if you do end up finding the journal, then will you let Dipper have his body back?”

“Pfft, sure, I will, kid,” Bill remarked, his tone overtly sarcastic as he headed for the stairs. “I’ll get on that as soon as never!”

“Wha—But you can’t just-”

“But for now,” the demon interrupted with a leering smirk. “Race you boys to the bottom of the stairs!”

Without another word, Bill tipped back, still grinning all the while as he intentionally allowed himself to fall backwards down the attic stairs headfirst. Dipper and Steven both gasped in alarm at this, especially as they heard the demon thump loudly and clumsily down the stairs. And while the young Gem fretfully ran after him, Dipper hastily decided to take advantage of his new intangible form and dove right through the floor, passing through it recklessly as he largely had no idea how to maneuver about like this. He made it to the kitchen just seconds after Bill did, only to find the demon casually pulling a can of Pitt Cola out of the fridge. “Ah, human soda!” he exclaimed cheerfully, cracking it open. “I’m gonna drink it like a person!” He proceeded to do so in an incredibly unorthodox way, pouring the soda directly into his mouth before moving the can upward to pour into his eyes, laughing twistedly all the while.

“Ok, seriously?!” Dipper groaned in frustrated disgust at this. “First you go and twist my ankle, and now this?! Could you maybe just, I dunno, calm down with all this crazy masochism stuff for a minute?!”

“Why don’t you calm down with all that whining, Pine Tree?” Bill countered snidely, his face still dripping wet with soda. “After all, being an incorporeal, immaterial apparition isn’t that bad. And I should know, seeing as how I’ve been one for countless millennia! You might as well get used to it now, kid, ‘cause as soon as I get my hands on that journal, you’re gonna be as good as stuck like that. Forever!”

As Bill let out another malicious laugh over this, Dipper stilled, finding that he had nothing to say in light of such a horrific implication. The thought of him being outside of his body while it was battered and abused by an insane demon for even another minute was bad enough on its own, but the idea that he might never get it back? That he would be forced to forever remain as nothing more than an imperceptible, essentially voiceless spirit for the rest of eternity, all because of one single, thoughtless, desperate decision made in the heat of the moment? It was unthinkable, downright unbearable. And yet, as deeply as he feared such a horrendous outcome, Dipper forced himself to remember that hope wasn’t completely gone yet. In fact, he received a much-needed reminder of that hope as Steven finally arrived, breathless as nearly collapsed against the kitchen entryway after having searched the entire house to find Bill and make sure he hadn’t caused any further harm. And while Dipper knew that young Gem couldn’t currently see or hear him and that the demon had blackmailed him into secrecy about the matter, he managed to take a small semblance of solace in the fact that someone knew about his dire plight. And even though he had literally nothing else at the moment, including his own body, at least he had that.

“Wow, Rosebud, you sure are slow!” Bill quipped as Steven tried to catch his breath. “I would’ve thought your space rock half would give you a little more spring in your step, but I guess not. So anyway, speaking of that journal, Pine Tree,” the demon paused only briefly, shoving his hand into the nearby cutlery drawer before brutally slamming it onto his arm repeatedly while he continued, wincing every once in a while from the pain. “Where do you keep it anyway? Seeing as how Rosebud’s clueless—what else is new?—I figure you’d be the best guy to go to, what with you always shoving your nose into it. So, it’s gotta be around here somewhere, right?”

“Hey, cut that out!” Steven interjected before Dipper had a chance to answer, rushing over to Bill and quickly pulling his arm out of the drawer, only to gasp in alarm as he myriad of forks sticking out of it.

“Boy, these arms sure are durable, huh?!” the demon chuckled zanily, though fortunately he didn’t stop the young Gem from gently pulling the forks out of his stolen flesh.

“Like I’d ever tell you where the journal is!” Dipper exclaimed, his former dread replaced with renewed fury as he glared at Bill defiantly. “I’ve hidden it! Somewhere you’ll never find it in a million years!”

“Dipper! Steven!” Mabel’s cheery call cut through the ongoing tension like a knife as her and Connie made their way into the room. “Oh, there you guys are! We’ve been looking all over for you!”

“Did you guys, you know, work things out yet?” Connie asked tentatively. “Is everything finally ok between all of us again?”

“No, everything’s not ok!” Dipper shouted to the girls, gliding down right in front of them only to find that, much like Steven, they apparently couldn’t see or hear him either. “Mabel! Connie! Oh, come on! Not you guys too!”

“Yep! Everything’s a-ok here!” Bill replied brightly, keeping one arm held behind his back and one resting on the startled Steven’s shoulder to effectively hide the bleeding puncture wounds the forks had left behind. “Isn’t that right, Steven?”

The young Gem had practically frozen up altogether by this point, his eyes wide as he looked between Bill and the girls, completely unsure of what to say. Of course, he wanted to tell them what was really going on, to warn them about the demon’s outright theft of Dipper’s body and the danger he now posed, not just to his new vessel, but potentially to them all. But as Bill sent him a terse, conniving wink, he was all too quickly reminded that his lips were sealed, lest he inadvertently cause Dipper untold amounts of harm. Still, that didn’t mean Steven couldn’t at the very least try to get the message across somehow. “Uh, r-right! Everything… everything’s completely fine, n-nothing to worry about here!”

“Oh good!” Mabel let out a huge sigh of relief at this. “You know, Dipper, I kinda felt a little… well, terrible about what I said earlier, about Lapis not being as important as my puppet show?”

“Don’t remind me…” Dipper grumbled to himself, crossing his arms as he floated away from the girls in defeat. A part of him wanted to blame Mabel for his current disastrous straits, seeing as how her refusal to help him had, in a way, driven him into accepting Bill’s “help”. But when it came right down to it, he knew the only one he could really blame for all this was himself. And in many ways, that fact only made everything so much worse.

“But I’m so glad to see that you don’t hate me or anything because of it,” Mabel continued with a warm, though somewhat embarrassed grin. “After all, you know I didn’t mean any of that. I just… really want this puppet show to work out, and I—Steven, is something going on with your eye there?”

Steven sucked in a sharp breath, his hands abruptly falling back down to his sides upon being called out. With Bill momentarily distracted, the young Gem had made an attempt to wordlessly signal his presence to the girls by way of using his hands to make a triangle shape around his eye while subtly nodding over at “Dipper”, a look of muted, anxious desperation written all over his face. Connie had been the first to notice this attempt, but she didn’t bring it up as she had instead merely stared at him in blank confusion, unsure of what to make of his rather odd behavior. Though of course, Mabel curiously addressed it as soon as she saw it and inadvertently diverted Bill’s attention towards it in the process, and the broad, knowing smirk he sent Steven over it was more than enough to frighten the young Gem to his core.

“Steven?” Connie cut in, suddenly concerned by his visibly anxious silence. “Are you ok?”

“Y-yeah! I’m fine!” Steven exclaimed loudly, forcing a huge, albeit fake smile onto his face. “G-great, even! “Super great, actually! Couldn’t be better! In fact, I’m so great that they should make a whole new category of great, c-cause that’s how great everything is right now!”

The young Gem let out a small bout of awkward laughter, one that elicited an amused eyeroll from Bill and initially bewildered stares from the girls before Mabel split into a wide, pleased smile. “Great!” she gripped cheerfully, turning to leave. “Well, we should probably get going. The show’s only in a few hours, and there’s still so much to do! Oh, by the way, Dipper, I borrowed your journal to use as a prop in the show! I hope you don’t mind because I’m gonna go before you can finish processing this sentence, ok, bye!” Without another word, Mabel ran off, her excitement steadily building for her long-awaited sock opera as its premiere drew ever nearer.

“Sorry, Dipper,” Connie remarked with a small laugh as she prepared to go herself. “I tried to talk Mabel out of using the journal, but she wouldn’t really listen since she’s so pumped about her play and everything. But hey, look on the bright side; at least once it’s over, we’ll finally have time to sit down and figure out that password.”

“Oh, I’m sure we will…” Bill remarked sardonically as Connie left, sending Dipper in particular a smug grin as if to silently remind him that the laptop was no more. A reminder that he certainly didn’t need as he was still in the process of reeling from it, and everything else, in the first place. “And don’t worry about the journal! I have a feeling I’ll be seeing it soon enough…”

“No, you won’t! Not if I have anything to do about it!” Dipper protested crossly, more than prepared to do whatever he could to stop the demon’s ambitions. Even if, in his current state, he could do so very little. “Mabel! Connie! Wait!” he called, starting to glide after them as they left. “Don’t listen to him! That’s not me! I’m not-” He stopped short he heard the front door close behind the girls, painfully reiterating for him, once again, that no one could hear him, no one could see him, knew one even knew he was there at all. No one that is, except for Bill, which gave him no consolation at all, and Steven, who was only merely aware of his presence and nothing else, and who was only struggling because of that knowledge.

“You know, Rosebud,” Bill remarked, his tone suddenly cold as he looked over at Steven, crossing his arms disapprovingly. “You’re pretty terrible at this whole keeping quiet thing. I thought you actually ‘cared’ about Pine Tree and wanted to keep him ‘safe’ and everything, but I guess I thought wrong.”

“W-what are you talking about?” Steven asked nervously.

“I’m talking about how you just tried to sell our little secret out to Shooting Star and Sword Swinger!” the demon scowled, frightening the young Gem as he took a sudden, daring step closer to him. “You must’ve thought you were pretty clever by trying to tip them off when I wasn’t looking, but I was, Rosebud, I was! So if you think for one second that you’ll be able to get away with telling anyone while my back is turned, then you’re dead wrong. Because I can see everything…”

Steven swallowed hard, his hands trembling at his sides as he met Bill’s chilling, unnaturally slitted stare. “B-but I… I didn’t tell them!” he squeaked, sounding much more timidly than he would have liked to. “I-I was just trying to-”

“You were just trying to break our deal!” the demon snapped, suddenly outraged for whatever reason. Still, he backed off from the young Gem a bit, letting out an evening breath as he slowly, almost methodically walked back over to the silverware drawer once more. “But that’s fine, it’s perfectly fine…”

By now, Dipper had taken notice of Bill’s outburst and had turned back towards the kitchen, initially more concerned for Steven’s safety than his own. “W-what are you doing…?”

“What… what are you doing?” Steven unknowingly echoed, just as unnerved by the demon’s rather unsteady tone as he reached into the open drawer for something.

“Oh, just keeping things fair…” Bill’s sinister smirk returned as he slowly pulled something out of the drawer that made both boys freeze in unabridged terror. It was a knife, a long, sharp, narrow boning knife, one that glistened in the light coming in through the window as the demon held it up with an admiring grin. “After all, if you can’t keep your end of the bargain, Rosebud, then I don’t see why I have to keep mine!”

Steven gasped sharply, finally understanding exactly what was going on here as Bill coyly lifted the knife up to his left shoulder, its tip dangling dangerously close to digging right in. “No!” the young Gem cried, rushing forward in a sudden, absolute panic.

“W-wait! Don’t!” Dipper exclaimed fearfully, doing the exact same thing, though Bill easily countered him by smoothly stepping out of his path. Unable to really stop himself yet, Dipper accidentally crashed right into the wall behind the demon, or rather he would have if he was physical; instead, he phased cleanly through it and into the next room, leaving only Steven behind to try and fail to stop Bill.

“Oops!” Bill gleefully exclaimed as he roughly shoved the tip of the knife down into his appropriated shoulder, flinching from the pain but clearly reveling in it in the same time. Steven stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes huge with distress as he watched the demon pull the blade down just a bit, creating a rather large cut, one that began to leak with blood the moment it was made. While Bill simply laughed sadistically at this self-inflicted torment, Steven paled at it, his mind going completely blank as he watched the blood from the wound start to pour down his arm. Down Dipper’s arm, Steven had to remind himself, and as he did, instinct abruptly took over.

Acting quickly, the young Gem generously licked his hand, his expression rife with both fear and resolve as he used his free hand to pull the knife out of Bill’s grasp, clearly catching him off guard. Then, without any hesitation, Steven gently placed his spit-covered palm right on top of the bleeding shoulder wound, replacing his fear with bravery as met the demon’s surprised expression with a cold, unflinching one. One that he hoped would let him know that he wouldn’t stand for any of his friends being harmed, especially not like this.

A beat of tenuous silence passed between the dream demon and the young Gem at this, and during it, Dipper managed to phase back into the kitchen, only to freeze in shock at the sight of his own torn-open shoulder. Still, he said nothing as he noticed what he assumed was Steven trying to heal him, only as the seconds went by and the cut showed no signs of closing up whatsoever, he started to doubt if that was really the case.

“I-I don’t understand…” Steven shook his head incredulously as he slowly pulled his hand away, cringing at the resurgent blood now covering the still-open wound. “W-why isn’t this working?! My spit, i-it’s supposed to be-” The young Gem cut himself off, still rather surprised that Bill hadn’t said anything about this yet as he instead only gave him a dark, knowing grin, one that only told Steven that there was more to this than he thought. Still, he only understood what was happening as he thought about just how cold the demon’s stolen body was, just how pale and colorless his skin seemed to be, just how Bill seemed to be making no effort to even breathe at all. And all at once, every single solitary gruesome piece clicked right into place.

“Well, what do ya know, Rosebud?” the demon smirked, his voice strangely soft and subdued for a change. “Looks like your spit can’t heal everything…”

A tight sob finally escaped Steven at this, tears filling his eyes as he reeled from such a horrific realization, one that likewise nearly sent Dipper into a complete panic attack as he simply looked to his own preoccupied body, completely distraught that it wasn’t his anymore, not really. Instead, he had signed it away with just a mere handshake, to a masochistic demon who had no gripes about damaging and even destroying it in any sick, twisted way he saw fit. And if even Steven, with healing powers and all, couldn’t save him from such a dark, terrible fate, then who could?

“Steven! Dipper!” Connie suddenly called from outside, unfortunately not venturing inside to see the bloody scene in the kitchen. “Come on, you guys! We’re all leaving to go to the theatre!”

“On our way!” Bill called brightly, already heading off to do just that, but not before smirking triumphantly back at Steven. “Oh, quit your crying already, Rosebud! Pine Tree’s arm isn’t gonna fall off… yet!”

The demon simply let out another insane laugh as he went on his way, leaving Steven behind, his hand still covered in blood from a wound that, against all odds, he had been powerless to heal. Dipper, on the other hand, was nowhere near as shell shocked, his invisible hands clenching into tight, angry fists as his despair was replaced with raw, unrestrained fury. Because how dare Bill con him in the name of helping Lapis like this, and then proceed to do anything but. How dare he injure and abuse his body in such a callous, sadistic way. How dare he rope Steven into of this and prey upon his endless selflessness and devotion just to keep him quiet and compliant. The demon had crossed far too many lines, but even as relatively helpless as he currently was, Dipper adamantly refused to let him cross any more.

“I’m gonna stop you, Bill!” he lividly shouted after the demon before he could leave the room. “I’m going to find that journal before you do, and I’m going to stop you!”

Bill paused at this, but only for a moment, already letting out a dark, demented chuckle as he spoke ominously. “But how can you stop me…” he began, slowly turning to glance back at Dipper with a huge, deranged grin. “If you don’t exist!?”

The demon’s laughter amplified to absolutely psychotic levels as he walked out, leaving both boys stunned and distressed over everything that had just happened. Dipper in particular took Bill’s cruel taunting especially hard as he looked down to his own intangible hands once more, hands that couldn’t touch or feel anything at all. In fact, in his current state, he might as well have just been dead air: incorporeal, invisible, imperceptible, practically nonexistent, just as Bill had said. And as much as he hated to even entertain the thought of the demon being right, in a sense, it was largely true. No one could see him, no one could hear him; to everyone but him, it was like he wasn’t even there. The dreadful thought of Bill possibly winning somehow, of him having to remain as a hallow apparition forever, filled Dipper’s thoughts once more, only now they were more crushing and overwhelming than ever before. He couldn’t even imagine existing in such a cold, lonely state, with no one to talk to and nothing to do but wander aimlessly and formlessly, for the rest of time itself. He couldn’t imagine never being able to so much as even feel even the slightest of physical sensations ever again, to never feel the sun on his skin or the ground beneath his feet or all of the other things he had always taken for granted when he had his body. And most of all, he couldn’t imagine never being able to apologize to Steven for putting him in such a terrible position, never being able to make things right with Mabel after their bitter argument, never being able to help Lapis, who was still arguably in an even worse state than he was at the moment, all because he had been impulsive, he had been desperate, he had been stupid to think that making a deal with an actual demon would lead to anything other than complete and utter disaster.

Still, for as genuinely possible as all of that was, Dipper was still resolved to do what he could to keep any of it from becoming a reality. There had to be something, anything he could do to stop Bill in his tracks and secure the journal before he could get his hands on it. As far as he was concerned, that was very well the key now, not just to halting the demon’s ambitions, but to getting him back in his own body as well. And as long as Bill didn’t have it, then there was still a chance, no matter how small.  

And so, Dipper prepared to go after Bill, largely out of fear of what would else would happen to his body if he left it alone with the demon for too long but also with the determined intent of reaching the journal first. And yet, before he could get too far, he stopped short upon hearing Steven quietly and tentatively speak up to address him.

“D-Dipper…?” he ventured, still rather tearful as he looked up at the seemingly empty space above him. “I… I don’t know if Bill was telling the truth about you still being here but… i-if you are… then I… I’m so sorry. If I had been there just a second sooner, t-then maybe I could have stopped this from ever happening! B-but I was too late… A-and now… you’re… he’s going to… I can’t…” He cut himself off with another small sob as he looked to his still-bloody hand, a heavy wave of shame washing over him, one that he had no idea how to reconcile.

“Oh, Steven…” Dipper sighed, both incredibly touched and incredibly guilty over just how upset the young Gem was over this disaster. Solemnly, he took the time to float down to Steven’s level, wishing that there was something he could do to assure him that he was still indeed there and that he didn’t blame him for his current state at all. After all, the young Gem had been cruelly manipulated and duped by Bill just as much as he had. As far as he was concerned, they were both completely lost in a storm that neither of them had any genuine hope of stopping on their own.

“I-I... I’ll figure out some way to save you, Dipper,” Steven said after a moment of heartbroken silence, his tone a little steadier this time. “I don’t know how, but I-I’ll find a way! I promise.”

Dipper took pause at this, somewhat caught off guard as he realized just how much this resolved promise reminded him of his own vow to rescue Lapis, a goal that seemed even further out of reach now that he was the one who needed rescuing. Still, for as much as he usually preferred to take on insurmountable challenges like this on alone, he couldn’t deny just how grateful he was for the young Gem’s aid now, no matter how small and tenuous it was forced to be. And for the first time since any of this mess had begun, Dipper couldn’t help but smile. “Thank you, Steven,” he said softly before heading off, hoping that very soon, he’d be able to deliver his words of gratitude to the young Gem in person.

Mabel had made sure to spread the word far and wide throughout town about her sock opera, and seeing as how Gravity Falls’ local theatre didn’t often host any actual shows of any note, a surprisingly large turnout showed up for the play, mostly just to see what all the fuss was about. Immediately upon their arrival to the theatre, Mabel had immediately requested Connie and Steven’s presence backstage so they could help her, Candy, and Grenda with last minute preparations. Which was something that the young Gem didn’t really engage in as he instead anxiously peeked out from behind the curtain, his nerves still frayed as he watched Bill sit down in the audience alongside Soos, Wendy, and Stan. The demon seemed to be fooling just about everyone into thinking that he was actually Dipper, and he had even managed to conceal the shoulder wound he had given himself by partially cleaning it up and haphazardly bandaging it, though that gave Steven on consolation. Especially since he knew that Bill could just as well cause another, even graver injury at any given moment, with or without any kind of provocation on his part.

Even so, the young Gem had gotten the message clearly; he had kept his mouth discreetly shut all the way to the theater, and despite Connie’s show of concern for his apparent tension, he had managed to largely convince her that everything was fine. It was a lie he hated telling, especially given the circumstances, but a necessary one all the same if he ever wanted to help save Dipper. Still, Steven couldn’t suppress a small sigh of relief as he spotted the Gems enter the theater and take a seat up front alongside the aforementioned group, hoping that they, if no one else, could somehow see through Bill’s dangerous ruse.

“Huh, you know I’m surprised you three would turn up for something like this,” Stan remarked to the Gems as they sat down. “Especially you, Pearl. I always thought something like some boring ballet would be more your taste.”

The white Gem scoffed, crossing her arms as she rolled her eyes at the conman. “Oh, please, Stan. We’re obviously here to support Mabel and Steven’s little… what was it called again?” she whispered to Garnet, aside.

“Puppet show,” Garnet replied simply.

“Yes, that,” Pearl nodded affirmatively.

“Well, Mabel mentioned that there’d be fireworks and junk, so I kinda just came to see that,” Amethyst said as she messily munched on a large bag of popcorn.

“Amethyst, where’d you get that popcorn from?” Stan asked, raising an eyebrow. “Last time I checked, this cheapo theater doesn’t even have a concession stand.”

“Found it,” the purple Gem shrugged bluntly, leaving open a question that no one really wanted to ask.

“Ah, there’s nothin’ like the theatre, huh, toots?” Bill quipped casually as he leaned back in his seat between Wendy and Soos. “Hey, Soos, wanna hear the exact time and date of your death?”

“Heh, ok!” the handyman agreed in blithe innocence.

“Whoa, dude!” Amethyst spoke up, leaning forward in surprise as she looked over at “Dipper”. “What happened to your shoulder?”

“Oh, this tiny scratch?” Bill began smoothly, clearly reveling in the fact that even the Gems were blind to his charade. “It’s just from a little fall down the stairs. Nothin’ too serious.”

“Well, it certainly doesn’t look like it’s not serious!” Pearl frowned with concern, noticing the blood starting to soak through the bandages the demon had carelessly wrapped around the wound. “Dipper, you should really ask Steven to heal that for you. Or at the very least, have Stan take you to go get some proper medical attention.”

“Meh, he’ll tough it out,” Stan spoke up, deadpan as he absently glanced through his program, not even bothering to so much as even glance up. “Besides, a few cuts and bruises here and there never hurt anybody. …Well, I guess they do, technically speaking, but not that much.”

“Yeah, what he said,” Bill remarked to Pearl with a satisfied smirk. “So you and that traffic cone on your face there have nothing to worry about!”

The white Gem gasped in appalment at this, blushing profusely as she covered her nose in disgruntled embarrassment as Amethyst let out a rowdy laugh. “Oh man, nice one, Dipper!” she chuckled, ignoring the harsh look Pearl sent her way. “Who knew you could actually be funny when you’re not busy being a huge nerd like Pearl here?’

“Hey!” the white Gem protested, still quite flustered as Amethyst laughed once more, and this time Bill joined her. The demon cut his levity short, however, upon noticing that Garnet was staring at him, her expression cold and mistrusting as she ignored her teammates’ banter entirely. The Gem leader could sense that something was off, and while she was unable to pinpoint exactly what that something was, she could at the very least detect that “Dipper” seemed to be at the center of this apparent strangeness. And while she didn’t know what it was or why she had suddenly picked up on it, Garnet received an overwhelming sense of foreboding from it, one that was almost seemed almost familiar somehow, especially as she watched his confident grin turn into an annoyed scowl under her scrutiny. But even so, she said nothing on it for the moment, largely because her future vision was cloudier and more muddled than ever before, to the point that she couldn’t even clearly see the end of the upcoming play, much less anything past it. In a way, it was almost like her foresight was blocked off by a wall of static, one that she didn’t know how to get rid of or even why it was there in the first place. Still, that didn’t mean that she didn’t still have access to her natural perceptiveness, which was giving her whispered warnings that something was wrong, even if she what yet.

“Hey, guys!” Mabel chimed as she ran up to the group on the front row, a delighted grin on her face. “So glad you all could make it!”

“Are you kidding me? I’d never miss… whatever this is,” Stan said, somewhat uncertain, though it was clear he was still putting forth an effort to be supportive.

“So when do we get to the part with the fireworks?” Amethyst asked zealously. “Cause I’m ready to see this place get lit up!”

“They’re not till the end of the show, silly!” Mabel chuckled. “But don’t worry; they’re gonna make the super dramatic, epic, romantic climax I wrote the most explosive thing you’ve ever seen! Pa-pow!” To punctuate her point, she mimicked the sound of a firework going off, embellished hand gestures and all, her eyes practically sparkling with excitement over her grand plans finally coming to fruition.

“By the by, Mabel,” Bill spoke up, his chipper manner instantly returning as he averted Garnet’s continued suspicious gaze. At the same time, Dipper finally managed to make it to the theater himself, awkwardly phasing in through the roof after having recklessly glided across town just to get there. Still, he was still determined to figure out a way to stop Bill, though upon overhearing the question he was currently posing to Mabel, he was quick to realize that would be much easier said than done. “Where’d you put my journal again?”

“Oh, I’m using it for the big wedding scene!” Mabel quipped, pointing up to the stage, or rather the catwalk above it where she had positioned the journal in anticipation for its eventual appearance. “I still need a reverend though…”

“Hey, what if I play the reverend?” the demon offered, barely suppressing a greedy smile. “I mean, someone’s gotta hold that journal, right?”

“Ooo, great idea!” Mabel readily agreed. “Let’s go!”

Not wasting another second, Mabel began making a beeline for the stage, Bill not hesitating to follow after her all for the intent of getting the journal and nothing else, something that Dipper was acutely aware of, even if his sister wasn’t. “Wait! Mabel!” he called anxiously as he began to race after them backstage. He stopped short however, upon taking a brief glance back towards the front row, or more specifically the Gems, as he heard them talking about him.

“I wonder what’s gotten into Dipper lately…” Pearl mused fretfully, though still rather bitter about Bill’s callous teasing from earlier. “Did you hear what he said about my nose? That was just plain uncalled for!”

“Uh, did ya see those big ol’ bags under his eyes, P?” Amethyst asked casually. “The kid obviously hasn’t been catching any Z’s lately. Probably working on that dumb old laptop all week.”

“Well, I hope he gets some sleep soon,” the white Gem remarked, crossing her arms. “Honestly that laptop can wait if he’s that out of it. Don’t you agree, Garnet?” Pearl paused, noticing that the Gem leader wasn’t answering but was instead staring after where the kids had just ran off to, her expression still set in a tight, dubious frown. “Garnet?”

“Pearl, Amethyst,” she finally spoke, her voice soft, almost tense as her shades seemed to reflect the curtain ahead. “Did you two feel something… familiar just now?”

“Familiar?” the purple Gem asked with a confused frown. “Like what?”

“Like-” Garnet cut herself off upon looking around, clearly uncomfortable with the thought of talking about this with so many people around. After all, for all she knew, it could have been nothing at all, so why raise any alarm until she at least knew at least a little more about what was going on? “I-it… it’s nothing. Forget about it.”

Amethyst and Pearl exchanged a confused look at this, but even so, they decided to let the matter go if that’s what Garnet intended to do as well. At the same time, Steven gasped softly upon noticing Bill approaching, and, out of fear more than anything else, he quickly tucked himself behind the curtain just as Mabel passed by first, followed by the demon. Despite the young Gem’s attempts at making himself scarce, Bill still noticed him and still sent him a sinister, triumphant grin, one that sent shivers down Steven’s spine as he remembered what had happened back at the shack and just how desperate he was to prevent that from ever happening again. As far as the young Gem was concerned, he’d remain as quiet as he had to for as long as he had to just to keep the demon from inflicting any more harm upon Dipper. It was a difficult, almost painful charge, but one that Steven knew that he had to keep up, no matter what; after all, he was the only one who really could.

“Steven?”

“Ah!” Steven gasped, caught completely off guard by Connie as she tapped his shoulder to get his attention. “O-oh, Connie! I-it’s just you…”

“Uh… yeah, it is…” Connie frowned, taking note of just how panicky the young Gem seemed to. “Anyway, I’m glad I found you. We have to que the puppets up before the show starts, remember?”

“Right!” Steven nodded with a nervous laugh, one that was quick to falter back into fear. “P-puppets…”

“Steven, are you… ok?” Connie asked, concerned as she began to lead the way backstage. “You’ve been acting kind of weird all day. You and Dipper, for that matter. What’s going on with you guys?”

“N-nothing! Nothing’s going on!” Steven protested defensively, breaking out into a cold sweat. “I don’t know why you’d think anything weird is going on, b-because that couldn’t be any further from the truth!”

“Hm…” Connie mused, clearly not fully convinced of this claim. Really, she had picked up on the fact that something seemed off with the boys all the way back at the shack, with Steven’s sudden outright anxiousness and Dipper’s rare bizarre cheerfulness, both things that seemed quite odd considering how they usually acted. Still, with the puppet show about to begin and the young Gem being as tongue tied as he was, Connie knew that getting the answers to her steadily accumulating questions would just have to wait. “Well, if you say so…” she remarked doubtfully, making the resolve to keep her eyes open for any other strange happenings nonetheless.

The ongoing buzz of the awaiting audience quelled itself down into a silence as the house lights flickered on and off, the show’s orchestration tuning itself backstage. At the same time, Mabel stole a quick peek out from behind the curtain, taking in an excited, albeit nervous breath as she spotted Gabe take a seat in the middle of the audience, puppets still on both of his hands. In light of all her hard work, her meticulously planned show was set to turn out perfectly; and when it did, then certainly, Gabe would be enamored with her as much as she was with him, and they would both live happily ever after. And as far as she could see, nothing was going to keep that happy ending from coming true.

“The show is about to begin!” Grenda shouted boisterously over a megaphone backstage as the theater lights dimmed. “Please turn off your cell phones! Unless you’re texting me, cuties!”

With this, the curtain finally pulled open to initial applause, revealing the elaborate, glitter-drenched cardboard set the kids had constructed of the Mystery Shack and the Gem temple, both of them sitting right next to each other. Colorful stage lights illuminated the stage as fog from a pair of smoke machines began to pour in as Candy began the opening narration, playing a mystical keyboard riff all the while. “Gather round, and let us sing, about a girl who had almost everything…”

As she was rolled off the stage, the show began in proper. Mabel got to work, operating all of the sock puppets by herself seeing as how everyone else was regulated to rolls backstage. And as the first number’s upbeat tempo began, she did just that, her voice bright and buoyant as she poised her first two puppets to perform.

“Hey, look, its Mabel!” the puppet Mabel had made of Dipper began before her own puppet jumped in.

“Hi, there!” said puppet chimed brightly.

“Did you say stable?” puppet Soos asked, popping up from below.

“No, he said Mabel!” puppet Stan joined in.

“She has no labels!” Connie’s puppet proclaimed boldly.

“No one’s more able!” puppet Steven announced excitedly.

“Ok, hit it, everyone!” puppet Mabel exclaimed as the song began in earnest, the entire company of puppets singing as puppets of the Gems popped up and joined in as well.

“Who’s that girl, with the pig and braces? She puts smiles on everyone’s faces! When she’s around, you’re never bored!”

“I am a mayor!” a mayor puppet declared, holding up a small trophy. “And here’s an award!”

“I’m so confused about what’s happening right now…” Pearl whispered down in the audience below as the opening number exuberantly continued.

“What did she do to get all those socks to sing like that…?” Amethyst wondered, both impressed and disturbed. “When I had them, all they ever did was just lie around in a boring old pile in my room.”

“What, are you telling me you two have never seen a puppet show before?” Stan asked with a small snicker at their bewilderment. “Yeesh, you guys really need to get out more.”

“Shh!” Garnet cut in, silencing the ongoing banter at once lest they distract Mabel from her performance. “Just sit back and enjoy the show.”

“Thank you, mayor,” Mabel sang through her puppet warmly, having an admittedly wonderful time making her plans come to full fruition. “It’s true, I’m great. But the perfect girl needs the perfect maaaaate!”

“Hey, what’s up, I’m Gabe,” a puppet of the puppeteer himself appeared, just as casual as its real-life counterpart always was.

“Bwaaaa?!” puppet Mabel gasped, lovestruck as heart-shaped sunglasses were layered over its eyes.

With the show now in full swing and its audience fully distracted by it, Bill took the opportunity to try and get closer to the journal, all while remaining masterfully and craftily discreet the entire time. True, Steven had found out about his scheme from the get-go, but the dream demon hardly saw that as a hindrance, especially since the young Gem had been so easy to placate and manipulate that he had barely even had to try. As for everyone else, they were completely clueless to what was really going on, including the Crystal Gems, which Bill found to be an absolutely hilarious irony, all things considered. Really, all that was left was for him to get his hands on that journal and his inevitable victory would be ensured, in more ways than one.

“So, hey, Grendo,” Bill addressed the large girl who was currently in the middle of her stage managing tasks. To prepare him for his “role” as the reverend in the play, Mabel had suited him up in a very fitting clergyman costume, something that the dream demon hadn’t minded at all; as far as he was concerned, the only thing missing from the attire was his iconic dashing top hat. “Where’s that book prop I’m using for the wedding scene?”

“It’s up in the wedding cake,” Grenda replied, nodding up to the large wooden cake hanging up in the stage rafters. “But that doesn’t come down until act 3, so hold your horses!”

“Oh, I’ll hold my horses…” Bill remarked ominously as he backed off into the shadows backstage. “I’ll hold them… you monster.”

No sooner had the dream demon left than Dipper glided by, his frustration with not being able to be perceived by practically anyone quickly starting to mount. He had already perused the entire audience, hoping that someone among them, no matter who, would have been able to see or at least hear him, but that had been only a complete waste of time at most. Even Garnet, whom he had hoped would have been able to perceive the grave situation through her future vision, seemed to know nothing of it whatsoever. Still, Dipper didn’t stop trying, hoping that he could somehow find a way to communicate his dire plight to someone, before it was too late.

“Hey! Listen! Have you seen Mabel?” he frantically asked Grenda as he flew up to her, only for her to, just like everyone else, not notice him at all. All the same, Dipper knew that above all else, Mabel was the one he needed to warn about Bill’s intentions first, especially considering the access she currently had to the journal. A part of him hoped that Steven would be the one to fill her in on this, any injuries that Bill might inflict upon his body as a result notwithstanding, but of course, the young Gem was far too terrified of the dream demon’s threats to even try to breathe a word about the situation to anyone. Not that Dipper really blamed him though; after all, over the course of today alone, he had managed to form a pretty healthy fear of the blatantly insane, unwaveringly sadistic demon himself. “Ugh, this is pointless!” he grumbled to himself, though he still decided to take a brief pause to try and come up with some kind of strategy. “What did Bill say again? I can’t be heard without a vessel? Where would I find-” He cut his musings off the moment he glanced over to see the plentiful pile of sock puppets lying just to the side of the stage. And oddly enough, those simple gave him the first concrete idea he had all day, one that he only hoped would end up working.

“Finally, we’re together!” puppet Mabel proclaimed as it and puppet Gabe embraced, embroiled in the romantic tension of the opera.

“I’m sorry, Mabel, but I have to go fight,” puppet Gabe began melodramatically. “In the war!” At this, a helmet and gun landed upon the puppet, the background changing to cardboard flames as a gigantic, sock-tentacled monster rolled into the side of the stage. The fog machines started up again as lasers flickered about and gunshots sounded, all while puppet Gabe went off to valiantly fight while puppet Mabel saw him off.

“I’ll wait for you, Gabe!” she cried tearfully as the curtains began to draw on the first act. “I’ll wait for you!”

“Intermission has begun!” Grenda announced over the intercom as the audience applauded. “Mill about!”

As the house lights came back on, the audience proceeded to do just that, most of them pleasantly surprised at how the puppet show was turning out so far, a sentiment that its ragtag backstage crew carried as well. In fact, the only one who had barely been paying any attention to the show at all was Steven; after the beginning of the show, he had managed to slip away from Connie or anyone else, instead opting to take some time alone so he could try to think of a plan, something that he desperately needed right now. Of course, the young Gem knew that outright telling anyone about what Bill was up to was out of the question; the violent wound he had cheerfully inflicted upon Dipper’s shoulder was warning enough against that. But still, Steven had to do something; he couldn’t just sit by idle and silent while the twisted dream demon used his friend’s body to carry out his own nefarious purposes, whatever they really were beyond just the journal. And so the young Gem paced anxiously near the theater’s back door, occasionally muttering worriedly to himself as he struggled to come up with an idea that would successfully oust Bill while keeping Dipper from further harm. Which, at this rate, seemed like almost a complete and total impossibility, something that, much like everything else about this situation, only made Steven feel so much worse.

“Ugh, this is the worst!” the young Gem groaned morosely to himself, his face in his hands. “I can’t tell the Gems, or Mabel, or Connie, or anyone, o-or else he’ll just keep hurting Dipper! I feel so useless! There’s gotta be something I can to do-”

“To what, Rosebud?”

Steven froze, his shoulders tensing as he spun around to see none other than Bill, leaning casually against a nearby beam, arms crossed as he gave him a cold, almost vicious smirk. The young Gem had hoped that at the very least he would have been safe in contemplating the matter to himself, without anybody knowing, but even that seemed to be within Bill’s knowledge somehow. After all, the demon had so himself: he saw everything.

“T-to… to…” Steven trailed off, not even realizing that his hands were trembling out of fear. “I-I wasn’t… I was just… I’m not-”

“Oh, I know you’re not planning on trying to stop me,” Bill remarked smoothly, a smug grin still on his face as he brushed past Steven. The young Gem gasped softly, his eyes widening as he looked to the shoulder that had just bumped into him, with blood starting to seep through the darkened fabric now covering it. “Because that would be breaking our little… arrangement. And you wouldn’t wanna do that, would you, Rosebud?”

“N-no! I wasn’t going to—I was only-” Steven cut himself off, forcing himself to calm down as he took in a steadying breath. He knew what he was about to try was a longshot, considering how the dream demon seemed to have no sense of compassion or really anything even remotely related to mercy, but he decided to make this desperate appeal anyway. Just in case it might somehow miraculously work. “Look. All I want is to keep Dipper safe. I don’t know why you want to destroy the journal, b-but… maybe once you do, you could just, I don’t know… give him his body back and leave? The point is, you don’t have to do all of these terrible things to get it!”

“Well, of course I don’t have to any of this, kid,” Bill rolled his eyes sarcastically. “But I think what you’re not getting here is that I want to.”

“W-why?”

“Because it’s hilarious!” the dream demon chuckled twistedly. “Seeing you and Pine Tree get so panicky and riled up over every tiny cut or bruise I land on this boring ol’ fleshsack here is just endless laughs, more than I’ve had in a long time! In fact… lookie what I grabbed from the shack before we made our way over here…”

Steven jolted, his eyes growing wide with stark terror as Bill slowly pulled a knife, smaller than the one he had used to cut his shoulder but still quite sharp all the same, out of his clergyman’s coat, his sinister smirk deepening all the while. “W-wha—no!” the young Gem shook his head, his voice coming out as only a shaky whisper before it exploded in anxious protest. “You can’t! I-I already promised you that I’m not going to tell anybody a-and I haven’t!”

“But you were still thinking about it,” the dream demon pointed out, pulling the knife away from Steven as he tried reaching for it. “Which, if ya ask me, is almost just as bad.”

“But I’m not going to-” Steven grunted as Bill suddenly shoved him away to keep him from prying the knife out of his grip. The young Gem stumbled back, fortunately not falling, but still somewhat stunned, especially as he watched the dream demon begin to lift the blade slowly up towards his face.

“You know, now that I think about it, this whole two eye thing is pretty overrated,” he remarked caustically. “It’s been throwing my depth perception off like you wouldn’t believe! I don’t know how you humans stand it, looking at everything through two of these things instead of just one! So why don’t I just do Pine Tree a favor and just get rid of one ‘em for him? I’m sure he’d appreciate it, don’t you agree, Rosebud?”

“No! Don’t!” Steven cried frantically, nearly falling ill as he watched Bill draw the tip of the knife dangerously close to one his eyes, or rather, one of Dipper’s eyes. The young Gem knew that the dream demon was willing to stoop low just for the sake of fulfilling his own sadistic pleasure, but this was going way too far, especially since Steven knew he wouldn’t be able to heal any injuries that Bill might inflict. “I’m serious, Bill! You can’t do that to him!”

“Oh yeah?” the demon challenged smugly, the knife nearly touching his eye. “Why not?”

“B-because… y-you… that’s not… he… I-I…” Steven trailed off, choking on a small, desperate sob as tears began to roll down his cheeks. Once again, he was reminded of how completely helpless he was to stop this; true, he had promised to remain silent, and as far as he was concerned, he had even dutifully kept up his end of the bargain. But that didn’t mean he could force Bill to keep his. “Because… y-you just… can’t… Please… I-I’ll do anything! Just… just don’t do it!”

“Anything, huh?” Bill raised an intrigued eyebrow at this, lowering his knife, but only a bit. “Well, looks like things just got a bit more interesting… Especially since I just so happen to know about a certain… party who’d just love to get their hands on something that only you can give them, Rosebud…”

Steven’s palpable fear turned into uneasy confusion at this, largely since he didn’t have the faintest clue about what the dream demon might be referring to. Still, that didn’t mean he liked the ominous implications of what Bill had just said at all. “W-what are you talking ab-”

“Oh, there you guys are!” Connie interrupted, coming around the corner with a clipboard in hand. “Act one just ended, so we need to get ready to-” She abruptly cut herself off as she glanced up at the boys, her eyes wide with surprise as she noticed Steven’s frozen, fearful expression and the sharp knife that “Dipper” was holding alarmingly close to his face as he sent her an almost angry look of surprise. “Uh… what are you doing?

Steven simply sucked in a sharp breath, not daring to say a word or even make a move, lest Bill see that as proper grounds for harming his vessel, even if he clearly intended on doing so anyway. But even so, the dream demon was quick to cool off, his coy, confident facade returning, even if there was a hint of bitter frustration to it as he lowered his knife. “Oh, ya know, I was just telling my good buddy Steven here about how dangerous it is to play around with knives!” he quipped brightly, throwing an arm around the stiff young Gem’s shoulder. “It’s a pretty valuable life lesson, if I do say so myself. Wouldn’t you agree, Steven?”

“Uh, y-yeah!” Steven exclaimed immediately, breaking out into a cold sweat as he tried to force a smile. “I-it… it’s really, um… valuable…”

“Really?” Connie asked dubiously, raising an eyebrow as she crossed her arms. “Call me crazy, but for some reason I feel like a sock puppet show is a really weird place to be talking about knife safety, of all things. Especially since I thought you’ve had other things on your mind lately, Dipper, like, oh I don’t know, the laptop?”

“Oh, well of course, I’ve been thinking about that old laptop!” Bill contested smoothly enough. “In fact, you could almost say that I’ve been making some smashing progress with it!”

“Uh huh…” Connie nodded flatly, her manner turning even colder and more suspicious as she stepped closer to the dream demon. Now more than ever, she could tell that something was off with both boys, and she was determined to get to the bottom of it once and for all. “Say, Dipper… you sure looked pretty exhausted earlier… Are you sure you’re feeling ok?”

“Yep! I’m feeling right as rain, Con Con!” Bill assured snappily, not too phased by her suspicious scrutiny. “Why wouldn’t I be?” As this exchange continued, Steven took a small step back, his eyes still wide as he looked to Connie in hopeful amazement as well as growing fear. After all, if she did manage to somehow see through the dream demon’s clever ruse, then who was to say that Bill wouldn’t blackmail her into the same oppressive vow of silence that he had forced the young Gem into? Or, given the dangerous knife still held firmly in his grasp, do something even worse than that?

“Well, I noticed that you haven’t really been acting like yourself lately…” Connie mused, her tone still stoic and unflinching, even as she took a subtle glance down at the knife in the demon’s hand. “And I just wanted to make sure that nothing… weird was going on.”

“Weird, huh?” Bill asked knowingly, still smirking as calmly as ever. “Like what?”

Connie didn’t answer right away, her expression still incredibly skeptical, to the point of near hostility as she looked back and forth between Steven, wringing his hands anxiously on the sidelines as he intentionally averted her gaze, and Bill, who met her suspicion with an almost smug grin that was just full of untold secrets. Secrets that she knew she was getting so close to uncovering, that she was determined to uncover, because something here was wrong, perhaps even gravely wrong, with two of her closest friends. And she felt compelled, obligated even, to discover what that something was and help fix it as best as she could.

But for now, Connie was prepared to remain levelheaded and inconspicuous, largely since “Dipper” seemed intent on doing the exact same thing. However, she really couldn’t remain completely silent anymore upon noticing the blood on his shoulder starting to seep through his suit coat. But before she could even get a word out, this rigid encounter was abruptly interrupted by Mabel as she hectically hurried by.

“Steven! Connie!” she exclaimed, grabbing the pair by the wrist as she began to pull them away. “Come on! I need your help setting up for the next act! Dipper, you keep getting ready for that wedding scene! It’s coming up sooner than you think!”

“Oh, don’t worry, Mabes!” Bill replied blithely, taking care to hide the knife behind his back as the others left. “I’ll be ready alright! I’ll be ready…” His bright grin darkened as Steven anxiously glanced back at him, his eyes still wide with distraught panic, especially as the dream demon placed a finger over his lips, a sinister reminder to stay silent or have Dipper suffer the unthinkable consequences.

Whatever tension and uncertainty now filled both Steven and Connie, Mabel hardly noticed it as they stepped into her dressing room. Seeing as how the first half of the show had gone off without a hitch, her spirits were running high, just as high as her energy levels currently were. In fact, she was so elated at her success so far that she initially paid no mind to Steven’s ongoing nervousness or Connie’s growing suspicion as she took a short breather to gear up for the next act.

“Ok, you guys,” she began steadily, pacing back and forth between the pair. “The first act was a lot, but I think it turned out pretty amazing, just like I knew it would! And we’re already halfway there! Only 36 more musical numbers, and then it’ll be a wrap, and then Gabe will fall in love with me, and then we’ll get married, and then we’ll have a bunch of beautiful puppet prodigy babies, and it’ll be great!”

“Uh, sure it will, Mabel…” Connie mused, arms crossed as she at least took solace in the fact that nothing seemed out of the ordinary with her when compared to the boys. “But in the meantime, have you noticed anything… strange about Dipper today?”

“Strange?” Mabel paused, frowning in confusion. “Well, now that you mention it, he has been a lot more cheerful and smiley than he usually is… But I just chalked that up to him finally stepping away from the laptop for a bit to take a nap.”

“Y-yeah! You’re probably right, Mabel!” Steven hastily interjected, shuddering somewhat as Connie sent him a disapproving glance. “I’m sure Dipper’s just feeling better because he got some rest! Which means nothing weird or unnatural or scary is going on at all!”

“Sorry, Steven, but I really don’t think you’re one to talk seeing as how you’ve been acting so nervous and jumpy lately,” Connie shook her head dubiously. “Seriously, what’s been going on with you and Dipper? I’m really starting to worry about you guys…”

“W-worry? Why would you be worried?” Steven asked, playing her concern off with a fake, anxious laugh.

“Oh, well, let’s see,” Connie began pointedly. “There was the fact that, just a few minutes ago, I spotted Dipper talking to you with a knife in his hand!”

“A knife?” Mabel asked in sudden bewildered alarm. “W-what was he doing with a knife?”

“That’s what I’d like to know…” Connie remarked, glancing over at Steven expectantly.

The young Gem swallowed hard, his hands clenched into tight fists at his sides as his eyes darted back and forth between Connie and Mabel, both of whom were looking to him as if he had all the answers. And though he did, Steven knew he couldn’t give any of them, even if Bill wasn’t there at the moment. He was playing a dangerous game with the dream demon, one that he couldn’t afford to take chances with, lest he gamble away something that wasn’t even his but was still incredibly valuable to him. But despite his submissive silence, Connie seemed to somehow be onto Bill through her own clever merits, which Steven saw as both a blessing and a curse, given that now, the pressure was all entirely on him to cover the demon’s tracks, as much as he desperately didn’t want to. But even so, he had to, especially since there could be potentially dire circumstances for all of them if he didn’t. “Connie, n-no, you don’t under-” the young Gem cut himself off, clearly struggling to come up with a proper explanation to something that he barely understood himself. “H-he wasn’t… we… we were just… Look, I-I know some weird stuff’s been happening today, but you guys have to trust me when I say that… that y-you have nothing to worry about.”

“Ugh, yes, we do!” Connie protested in apt frustration as Mabel simply looked to him in fretful confusion. “It’s so obvious that something weird is going on here! And it’s something we all deserve to know about! Steven, I thought you said you weren’t going to shut us out anymore, so why are doing that again now?! What are you hiding from us?!”

“I’m not hiding anything!” Steven argued, even though he knew that was a complete and utter lie. “Connie, Mabel, you have to believe me that there’s nothing-”

“I don’t believe you!” Connie practically exploded, absolutely livid by this point that Steven, of all people, would deny her of the truth like this. “Just admit it already, Steven! There’s something wrong with you and Dipper!”

“No, there isn’t!” the young Gem fiercely asserted, desperate, guilt-ridden tears starting to well up in his eyes.

“Yes, there is!” Connie retorted harshly, refusing to let up until she had the answers she was seeking.

“No, there isn’t!”

“Yes, there is!”

A unified gasp rose up from all three of the kids as Dipper’s voice suddenly cut into the argument completely out of nowhere. Their surprise turned into outright shock, however as they looked over to see that it hadn’t come from him but rather out of his sock puppet duplicate as it hovered in midair, apparently completely its own accord.

“Ah!” Mabel cried in newfound fear at the seemingly conscious puppet, Steven and Connie echoing her sentiment as they took a startled step back. “It’s come to life! The puppet books didn’t warn me about this!”

In an act of self-defense, Mabel grabbed a nearby fork and hurled it at the floating puppet, which hardly even flinched as it struck it squarely in the eye, alarming the trio even more as they huddled together in genuine fear at such an unsettling sight. Their terror was soon allayed however, as the puppet somehow began to explain itself. “Guys, calm down. It’s me: Dipper! You three have to help me!”

“Wait…” Mabel frowned, taken aback with confusion as she looked to the sock puppet iteration of her brother, unable to deny that it was indeed his voice coming out of it. “…Dipper?”

“D-Dipper!” Steven cut in with an incredulous gasp, his eyes already wet with oncoming tears as he took a step forward. “I-is that… is that really you in there?”

Dipper sighed at this, his immense relief at finally being heard thanks to his new “vessel” dissipating back into grief as he remembered just what Bill was putting Steven through in this entire ordeal. “Yes, Steven… It’s really is me.” The young Gem was unable to hold back a tight sob of joy as he rushed forward, ignoring the bewildered looks the girls gave him as he happily embraced the puppet, something Dipper hadn’t been expecting as his still mostly incorporeal form lurched forward a bit as Steven clung onto his covered hand. “Augh! Steven, what-”

“I-I can’t believe it!” Steven cried, overwhelmed with relief as he let out a small laugh amidst his tears. “It’s really you! Bill said you were still around, but I didn’t know what he meant by that o-or if I should really believe him at all, but it’s true! You’re still ok! Well, uh… mostly ok, given the whole, um, no-body thing…”

“Ok, hold up,” Connie interjected, her former shock replaced with apt befuddlement. “Can somebody please explain what in the world is going on here?!”

“Yeah, seriously…” Mabel agreed, just as disconcerted. “Steven, what’s all this about Bill, and Dipper, why are you… so much more of a… sock than usual?”

“Mabel, Connie, listen carefully,” Dipper began solidly, more than ready to fill someone else in on his dire straits after all this time of speaking to essentially no one. “Bill tricked me! He said he was going to help me with the laptop, but instead stole my body and now he’s after the journal! You guys have to get it and keep it away from Bill before he destroys it! It’s the only hope of getting me back into my body!”

“Whoa, what?!” Connie exclaimed, startled by such distressing news. “So… that means… the you that’s been around all day… actually isn’t you?”

“No, that’s Bill!” Dipper clarified adamantly. “Honestly, I’m kinda surprised that no one even noticed that, what with my eyes looking like his and his voice coming out of my mouth. Like seriously, come on, you guys! Were you just not paying attention or something?”

“Uh, I dunno, bro-bro, your body looked and sounded pretty normal to me,” Mabel shrugged truthfully.

“But I could tell the difference!” Steven contested earnestly. “I wonder why that is… Maybe it’s because I was actually there when Bill took over your body, but no one else was…?”

“That doesn’t matter right now; what matters is that I was right!” Connie cut in, more than a little proud with her accurate deduction skills. “I knew something weird was going on, but even I could have never guessed that it was something this weird! Speaking of which… Steven, if you knew about all this from the beginning, then why didn’t you tell anyone? If you had, then we all could have helped Dipper out a lot sooner!”

“I-I… I really, really wanted to tell you guys…” Steven said, glancing down guiltily. “But I-”

“It’s not his fault!” Dipper interjected, firmly intent on setting the record straight and allying the young Gem from his remorse. “Bill blackmailed him into not telling anyone, or else he’d-” He sharply cut himself off at this, not too keen on filling the girls in on the horrendous terms of the deal between the dream demon and the young Gem, a sentiment that Steven shared as he glanced away apprehensively.

“He’d… what?” Mabel asked, growing increasingly more unsettled by the shared, anxious silence between the boys. “Dipper, what would he do?”

“H-he said…” Dipper hesitated, looking over at Steven and faltering upon seeing him start to tear up once more. “He said that if Steven didn’t keep quiet… t-then he… he’d hurt my-”

“H-he said he’d hurt Dipper!” Steven finally exclaimed, unable to remain silent about it any longer as morose tears continued streaming down his cheeks. “A-and he did! I tried to stop him, I really did, but I couldn’t… I-Id couldn’t even heal him… And the worst part is he might hurt him even more if we don’t hurry and stop him!”

“Well, then we better get started with coming up with something to do just that,” Connie said with firm resolve, more than ready to help curtail this grave situation before it could get any worse.

“B-but what about the puppet show?” Mabel asked, torn between wanting to assist her brother and completing her elaborate play. “My cue’s coming up any minute now!”

Dipper, Connie, and Steven were all ready to argue against her reasoning, but before they could, they were interrupted by a sudden knock on the dressing room door. “Hey, Mabel?” Gabe asked with a soft smile as he stuck his head in, a flower bouquet in hand. “Do you have a moment?”

“Gabe!” Mabel gasped, hastily grabbing the puppet Dipper had been speaking through and hiding it behind her back so as not to raise alarm.

“Ow! Mabel! Let go!” Dipper protested at the sudden movement, struggling to free his hand from her grip as Steven and Connie looked to the freely twisting puppet curiously.

“How does this even work anyway…?” Connie wondered in a whisper, poking the puppet, which actually flinched as she touched it. “Yeah… this is just gonna keep getting weirder as it goes along, isn’t it?”

“Probably, yeah…” Steven shrugged.

“S-so, Gabe!” Mabel flashed her crush an adoring smile. “How are you liking the show so far?”

“Simply put, it… is… phenomenal!” Gabe praised, raising both of his puppets into the air. “It’s clear to me now that you really love puppets. I mean, you went whole hog! And if you stick the ending, well… maybe later you could join me for a biscotti?”

“You drive a biscotti?” Mabel asked, continually amazed at how sophisticated he was. She didn’t get to ask him more, however, before the house lights began to flicker, a signal that the second act was just about to begin.

“I’ll be waiting for you…” Gabe promised as he began to leave, sending her a wink that left Mabel blushing even after he was gone.

“I-I’ll be there…” she sighed contentedly, though she was quickly brought back to reality by the scrutinizing looks Connie and Steven were sending her. “Did you guys hear that?” she asked, finally letting go of the puppet and allowing Dipper to readjust himself. “He loves it! This play has to be flawless!”

“B-but what about stopping Bill?” Steven asked fretfully.

“Aw, can’t it wait until after the show?”

“No!” all three of the others agreed in adamant unison, surprised that Mabel would even suggest such a thing.

“Mabel, are you serious?!” Dipper exclaimed harshly, not even noticing as his vessels yarn arms flailed about in frustration. “Do you want me to be a sock puppet forever?!”

“Dipper’s right,” Connie staunchly agreed. “We don’t have any time to waste, Mabel! If Bill is really as bad as you guys say he is, then who knows what he’ll do once he gets that journal? He needs to be stopped!”

“H-he really does,” Steven spoke up apprehensively, not as incensed as the other two as much as he was desperate to see this ongoing disaster finally come to an end. “Especially since he might… well, you know…”

Mabel flinched, her hesitation to step away from her show lifting quite quickly as the young Gem reminded her of the heavy threat the dream demon had apparently put upon her brother’s head. And yes, while she still wanted her show to finish off strong, she knew she couldn’t very well completely abandon Dipper when so much was on the line. So instead, she figured she’d just compromise. “Right…” she finally consented, taking in a deep breath of newfound resolve. “Well then, Dipper, I’ll need you to cover for me with the show until we get back. Steven, Connie, you guys are coming with me. We have a journal to get.”

Steven and Connie both nodded in firm agreement with this plan, and while Dipper did partially want to protest taking over Mabel’s zany, outlandish puppet show for her, he found that he was really in no place to, given the circumstances. Still, before they could all completely split up to their respective tasks, he did make sure to stop the young Gem short after the girls were already out of earshot, knowing that he owed him so much more than the mere apology he was about to give him. But for now, it would have to suffice. “Steven, wait,” Dipper began, letting out a small, sad, apprehensive sigh as Steven stopped and turned to him. “I-I don’t know if I’ll ever get this chance again if… if something goes wrong out there, so…  I just wanted to let you know that I’m so sorry… This whole mess is my fault, and I should have been the only one to suffer the consequences of that stupid deal! But then you got dragged into all of this, even though you had no parts in it at all! Bill’s been making you absolutely miserable all day just because you’re trying to protect me, which is something you shouldn’t even have to worry about in the first place!”

“Why not?” Steven asked earnestly, taking a step back towards the puppet Dipper was speaking through. “Dipper, you’re one of my best friends, of course, I’d want to keep you safe! I wish none of this had ever happened just as much as you do, but I’m glad I was at least there to know about it the moment it happened instead of not knowing how much trouble you’re in at all! And don’t worry; now we have Connie and Mabel to help us! With all of us working together, we’ll have you back in your body in no time, I promise.”

Dipper said nothing for a moment, suddenly feeling quite unworthy of the kindness the young Gem was offering him. After all, he had been the one to make that ill-fated deal with Bill in the first place, the deal that had dragged them both so far down in just a matter of hours. He should have known better, regardless of the pressure he had been under in that moment; but he hadn’t. He had been foolish, hasty, careless. And now, here he was, with nothing more than a sock to speak through as his friends ran off to put themselves in harm’s way in a fight that wasn’t even theirs. A fight that he was painfully powerless to even participate in on his own, much less win. Still, Dipper knew there was no time to contest what Steven had said; after all, the third and final act was about to begin. “R-right…” he said unsteadily, hoping more than anything else that the young Gem’s sincere promise would somehow come true, despite the immense odds against it. “Well then… good luck. I’m sure we’ll all be needing it…”

True to his word, Dipper was there to cover for Mabel as the puppet show opened on its second half. He did so a bit haphazardly, both not as familiar with her messy script as he could have been and also still dealing with the struggle of not currently having a physical form. But he made do with the puppets as best as he could, even if most of his line reads were either awkward or halfhearted at best.

“Gabe! You’re back from the war!” puppet Mabel cried happily as puppet Gabe rolled in on a wheelchair, damaged from battle.

“Yes, I am!” puppet Gabe proclaimed. “Wanna kiss and sing at the same time?”

“Ok!” puppet Mabel readily agreed as they did just that.

“Ugh, seriously, Mabel?” Dipper groaned to himself as he pressed the two puppets together, hardly even surprised by his sister’s shmaltzy storyline.

As the audience applauded over this tender romantic moment, they all failed to notice the trio climbing up onto the catwalk above the stage, an intent, very serious mission on all of their minds as they began their stealthy quest.

“Ok, so the journal should still be in the cake where I left it,” Mabel noted to Steven and Connie as they hurried over to it. “You know, unless Bill already got to it first.”

“Well, it looks like he didn’t!” Steven exclaimed with a sigh of apt relief as they reached the cake to find the journal resting safely inside it. “Thank goodness! We still have a chance to save Dipper!”

“Then let’s hurry up and grab it while we still can,” Connie urged as they all started to lean against the catwalk railing to retrieve it. Unfortunately, the cake was just a bit too far out of their reach, even as they all strained against the railing to grab it. However, as brittle and old as many things in the theater were, the railing wasn’t well equipped to handle the weight of all three of them pressed tightly against it. Which was why it didn’t take very long for it to end up snapping cleanly in half, abruptly sending the trio falling towards the cake. Somehow, they all managed to land safely inside of its empty center along with the journal, but as soon as they did, the cake itself began to rapidly plummet down towards the stage, taking all three of them down with it. Their unified fearful cry was cut short, however, as the cake suddenly and miraculously stopped its descent and began to be pulled back up towards the rafters, much to the shared relief of the kids inside of it.

“Phew, that was too close…” Steven sighed, catching his breath from the harrowing experience as he leaned against the side of the cake.

“Tell me about it,” Mabel remarked, grabbing the journal as she began to flip through it while Connie and Steven helped her in her search. “Come on… come on… There’s gotta be something in here that can help Dipper get his body back!”

“Oh, but why would you want to do that?”

All three of the kids froze at the chilling sound of the dream demon’s voice, something that they were all able to recognize now that they all knew of his presence. A round of startled gasps escaped them as they glanced up to see that Bill had indeed been the one to stop the cake from falling, a sight that hardly allayed any of them whatsoever. In fact, he looked absolutely sinister as he grinned down at them darkly, the bright stage lights behind casting sharp, dramatic shadows that seemed to illuminate his piercing yellow slitted eyes, which were filled with so much malicious intent that it struck all three kids to their cores with fear. But when they did shake off the initial shock, Mabel was the first to speak up, her grip on the journal tightening as she glared up at the demon currently wearing her brother’s skin. “Bill Dipper! Bipper!”

“Shh!” Bill quieted, still smirking manically. “You wouldn’t wanna ruin the show, would you?” He nodded down to the crowd below, all of them completely unaware of what was going on just above the stage, including Gabe, who was still happily enraptured by the parade of puppets going on upon it.

“Who cares about the show?!” Connie contested brazenly, hardly showing any signs of fear against the dream demon she had heard so many terrifying things about. “We’re here to stop you and get Dipper his body back, and that’s exactly what we’re going to do, no matter what!”

“Ah, Sword Swinger, finally we meet face to face!” Bill quipped, amused by her boldness, but little else. “I gotta admit, I’m impressed with you for nearly figuring things out earlier. You’re a little more clever than most of the other dolts around here, but not by much!”

“Sword Swinger?” Connie questioned in muted confusion.

“Oh, yeah, he’s got a thing for calling people by these really weird nicknames,” Steven filled her in in a whisper. “Yours’ doesn’t really make a whole lot of sense though…”

“And Rosebud, I have to say, I’m very disappointed in you,” the demon interjected in faux displeasure. “I really thought you were trying hard to uphold our little bargain, but then you go and blab everything to everyone! Then again, I’m hardly surprised; after all, your mom did the exact same thing way back when before just making everybody forget about it later on!”

“She… wait, huh?” Steven asked, completely caught off guard by this sudden mention of his mother, even if he didn’t understand the context at all.

“So, since our deal’s clearly off,” Bill continued regardless. “I guess that means that after I get that journal, Pine Tree’s body here will just have to take a little fall right over that railing, all the way down onto the stage way down there. What a grand finale that’ll be, huh?”

“It won’t be any kind of finale, because it’s not happening!” Mabel protested, absolutely livid at the dream demon for even making such a horrific threat against her brother.

“Are you sure about that, Shooting Star?” Bill asked coyly, loosening his grip on the rope holding the kids up, allowing them to fall a bit before he caught it once more. “Oh no, looks like its slipping! How’s about you hand that book over and I can ‘help’ you three out of there?”

“No way!” Mabel harshly refused, holding the journal closer as Steven and Connie both helped cover it as well. “This is Dipper’s! I’d never give it away!”

“Funny, you didn’t seem to have a problem taking it for your own play or ditching him when he needed you,” Bill mused knowingly, more than ready to pull off yet another masterful manipulation to get what he wanted. “Seems to me that’s just what you always do, Shooting Star: let your brother take the brunt of things while you come out on top. It’s safe, its easy, and best of all, profitable! So why let this time be any different? Come to your senses; give me the journal or your show is ruined!”

“Forget it!” Connie staunchly refused as Steven nodded in irresolute agreement. “You’re never getting your hands on this journal as long as we’re around! Right, you guys?”

“Right!” Steven readily agreed, determined to succeed in stopping Bill where he had failed earlier.

Mabel, on the other hand, was somewhat less certain. She said nothing as she glanced down at the journal in her arms before looking down into the audience below, or more specifically, at Gabe. She had put so much time, so much work, so much raw, unabridged effort into making sure everything about her puppet show was as perfect as possible, just to impress him. She had poured her heart and soul into this play, so how could she possibly stand by and watch it all go to waste over a mere journal?

“Uh… Mabel?” Steven frowned in confusion as he noticed her ongoing hesitation. “W-what are you do-”

“Wait!” Connie gasped, appalled as Mabel began slowly offering the journal up to Bill. “Mabel, are you serious right now?! You can’t give the journal to him! He’s just going to-”

“Hey, how about you two just butt out of this, huh?” Bill cut in, gladly grabbing the other end of the journal. “After all, Shooting Star’s making a perfectly reasonable move here. I mean, who would sacrifice everything they’ve worked for just for their dumb sibling?”

Mabel gasped softly at this, her eyes wide as she froze, a heavy wave of realization washing over her. Indeed, who would sacrifice everything they wanted, everything they dreamed of, just for the sake of assisting and appeasing the flighty whims of their sibling? For that matter, who would sacrifice those things time and time again, regardless of the situation, out of their sheer, ceaseless, sometimes even senseless selflessness of his own heart? Who would go even beyond just giving it everything he had for their sibling alone, but would struggle for the sake of so many others as well, from a Gem trapped in a hostile fusion to a friend forced into oppressive silence? Who would think so rarely of himself and so often of others, to the point that it had ultimately ended up costing him a price that was far more than he had been hoping to pay? All of these questions held the same exact answer, an answer that Mabel knew beyond a shadow of doubt, and one she had realized she couldn’t possibly leave hanging at a time like this. “Dipper would,” she finally answered boldly, taking in a deep breath as she prepared to pay everything he had ever done for her back in full.

“Huh?” Bill’s steady confidence was replaced with confusion, a wrench thrown into his plans as Mabel suddenly turned the tables on him. Making sure he still had a hold on the journal, she suddenly yanked it back hard, sending the dream demon stumbling forward, though somehow, he didn’t fall off of the catwalk entirely. Instead, he let go of the rope holding the cake up altogether in order to secure a firm grip on the journal, as the prop immediately began to sink down towards the stage with all three of the kids in it, Mabel’s hand slipped off of the journal out of panic.

“Jump!” Steven shouted before they could fall too far down, and that’s what they all did. They all leapt at the same time, with the young Gem only barely managing to latch onto the edge of the catwalk before catching Connie, who caught Mabel, who’s heart sank as she glanced up to see that Bill had been the one to catch the journal.

At the same time, the cake continued its rapid, unrestrained plunge towards the stage, initially unbeknownst to the audience and to Dipper as he continued to dully lead out the play, even as its plot began to take a rather ridiculous turn. “I’m giving you away, you are a woman now!” he threw his voice to sound like Stan as he manned a puppet of the conman, rolling his eyes all the while. “Waddles, the rings!” Right on cue, Waddles popped up with a squeak, two rings held in his maw. However, before he could go any further in the scrip, Dipper just so happened to glance up at the sound of a sudden snap from above, only to see the oversized cake plummeting down right towards him. Even though there was no risk of his incorporeal form being harmed by the inevitable crash, he still dove out of the way as it smashed into the stage, its wooden construction shattering to pieces as it essentially destroyed the set. The audience was instantly stirred up and alarmed by this unexpected apparent plot twist, but Dipper paid their confused murmurs no mind as he instead looked up to the catwalk the cake had fallen from, freezing in apt fear at what he saw.

Steven, Connie, and Mabel were all precariously dangling off the edge of the catwalk in a chain they were struggling to maintain, and all the while, Bill stood above them, the journal in his hand and a treacherous, triumphant grin on his face. “Whoo boy, that was a close one!” the demon remarked, smirking down at the trio as Steven struggled to hold onto both of the girls and the catwalk at the same time. “You kids nearly had me going for a minute, especially you, Shooting Star. But in the end, I still win, just like I knew I would! You know, it’s kind of a shame; I was actually thinking about letting you three walk away from this whole thing alive and mostly not dismembered. But since you three seem to have such a death wish, then who am to disappoint?!”

Steven let out a sharp, pained cry as Bill slammed a heavy foot down onto his hand that was clinging desperately onto the edge of the catwalk. But even so, the young Gem refused to relinquish his hold on it, knowing that it was the only thing keeping both him and the girls from plummeting to a rather grisly fate down below. “S-stop!” Steven exclaimed, clearly struggling as the demon pressed down harder on his hand. “Please!”

“Oh, come on, Rosebud,” Bill deadpanned, rolling his eyes as he took sadistic pleasure in the young Gem’s pain and panic. “When are you finally gonna get that the whole begging for mercy thing doesn’t work on me?”

As the dream demon let out a manic, gloating laugh, Mabel glared up at him from the bottom of the chain, her already palpable rage towards him essentially skyrocketing. Already he had the audacity to possess her brother and carelessly injure his body, and threaten the young Gem into silence about it all day, but now he was eagerly poised to send her, Steven, and Connie all plummeting to a harrowing doom. Her now-ruined show was all but forgotten, replaced with a sense of righteous fury and a deep-seated desire to finally cut the maniacal demon down to size as she decided that enough was enough. So instead of simply hanging around waiting for the eventual fall, she instead used her free hand to fish around inside her sweater, only for her to anxiously realize she didn’t have her grappling hook on her. What she did have on her was only a bundle of unused sock puppets, bunched together into a bumpy, but surprisingly weighty ball. And if that was all she had, then Mabel figured she’d just have to make due and take a chance, no matter how much of a risk it might be.

“The crowd down there’s already gotten one bang, but it looks like they’re hungry for more,” Bill commented twistedly, his grin widening as Steven clung onto the platform by just his fingertips now. “And it’s their lucky day, seeing as how they’re about to get three for the price of one!” The dream demon broke out into yet another gale of crazed laughter, holding the journal up in triumph as he practically crushed the young Gem’s fingers, bringing agonized, fearful tears to his eyes as he realized there was little he could do to save himself or the girls. But where Steven lacked an idea about what to do, Mabel went ahead and enacted hers’, lobbing her bundle of puppets up towards Bill with as much force as she could possibly muster. Her aim missed the dream demon, but miraculously enough, it ended up squarely striking the journal, cutting his laughter off instantly as flew out of his loose grip and off the edge of the catwalk towards the stage below.

“No!” Bill shouted in blind fury, not even hesitating to dive over the railing after his prize, something that aptly shocked all three of the kids. And yet, mere seconds after the demon began taking his deadly plunge, Steven’s grip on the catwalk finally faltered as he was unable to hold on any longer, sending him, Connie, and Mabel falling right after him. For a brief, breathless, absolutely terrifying moment, all four of them were in a paralyzing freefall, with their sole destination being the hard, unforgiving stage far too many feet below them. Dipper could scarcely believe what he was seeing as he watched them all fall from the sidelines, desperately wanting to do something to somehow save his own body, as well as his friends, only for him to remember just how incredibly helpless he was to stop any of this, just as he had been from the very beginning of it all.

Fortunately, before anyone could hit the ground, Steven abruptly snapped to his senses, his eyes widening as he watched the stage grow closer and closer, but even so, he did what he had to. The young Gem threw his arms out wide, his gem sparking with light for an instant as a large pink bubble blossomed out from it, one that quickly spread to encompass him, Mabel, Connie, and even Bill, only mere seconds before they all hit the stage. And those seconds proved to be just enough as the large bubble rammed into the stage hard, providing a mostly suitable cushion for what would have been an otherwise deadly fall.

But even so, the audience was completely taken aback upon watching four kids brutally crash onto the stage from above, everyone spectating letting out a collective gasp of alarm. Likewise, the Gems all darted up in their seats the moment they saw the pink bubble, the fact that Steven would even need it for something like this catching them all completely off guard.

“Whoa, mama!” Amethyst quipped with an exhilarated smile. “Looks like this show just got a ton more exciting! Now this is the kinda explosive action I’m here for!”

“W-what’s going on?!” Pearl exclaimed frantically, especially as the lasers and smoke machine began obscuring the kids from view. “There’s no way this can be part of the show, can it?”

“Who cares?” Stan remarked, just as excited as the purple Gem. “I’m with Amethyst; this is exactly the kind of unexpected action that lovey-dovey fluff fest needed!”

Of course, the kids paid the audience no attention at all in the immediate aftermath of their hectic landing, all of them struggling to regain their bearings now that they were on the ground. Given how they had fallen, Steven, Mabel, and Connie had all landed on one side of the bubble while Bill landed on the other. Regardless, Mabel was the first to pick herself up, a sharp gasp of stark fear escaping her as she noticed the dream demon listlessly lying face down, a small pool of blood spilling out from his body. From Dipper’s body, Mabel reminded herself, her heart pounding with blind terror as she rushed over to him, hoping that it wasn’t too serious, hoping that perhaps Bill had finally been knocked out of him, hoping that he was somehow ok after—

Her fretful thoughts were abruptly cut short as the dream demon suddenly shot upright right before she could reach him, still very much in control of his stolen vessel and absolutely outraged with all three of the kids. Mabel stumbled back a bit, a gasp of surprise escaping her as the bubble fell, Steven and Connie running over to join her. At the same time, Bill picked himself up off the ground slowly, glaring at the trio with nothing less than complete, livid hatred and allowing them to see that the knife he had earlier had managed to dig itself into his side during the fall. The demon’s hostile expression didn’t change as he swiftly pulled the blade out and tossed it aside, ignoring the alarming amount of blood already pouring from the newly-opened wound as he sulked towards the frightened kids menacingly.

“You three!” he shouted furiously, his violent intent against them all quite clear. “I’m gonna make you wish you were never even brought into existence for getting in my way! You’ll regret so much as even thinking about trying to stop me when I’m through with-”

Bill stopped short, his anger fizzling out just a bit as he happened to glance over and notice the journal lying just a few short feet away, something that all three of the kids spotted at the exact same time. And of course, after both sides exchanged just the briefest of confrontational glances, they all leapt for the book at once.

By now, the fog that had quickly covered the stage had begun to clear somewhat, allowing the audience to see the outright brawl that had just begun. Bill and Mabel had reached the journal simultaneously, and as soon as they had grabbed it, neither one of them refused to relinquish their grip on it as they essentially grappled for it, with Steven and Connie rushing to join in where they could.

“Get out of my brother’s body, you evil triangle!” Mabel ordered fiercely, using her leverage to shove the journal down hard onto Bill’s face, resulting in what already looked like a pretty nasty black eye.

“Ah!” Steven gasped in alarm upon seeing this. “C-could we maybe do this without hurting Dipper?!”

“Whoa, children fighting!” Stan exclaimed down in the audience, immensely intrigued as he pulled his camera out and started recording. “I can sell this!”

“Oh, for crying out loud, Stan!” Pearl scolded harshly, swiftly rising out of her seat. “The kids are up there beating each other senseless for some reason! We have to do something to stop them!”

“Aw, come on, Pearl!” Amethyst protested. “It’s probably just part of the show! Right, Garnet?”

The Gem leader was silent, her manner tense as she watched the disaster unfolding onstage, her future vision giving her no clear answer to that question whatsoever. As the fog started rolling over the kids once again, her foresight seemed to become even more clouded, something that only made her even more indecisive about what to do. “I-I… I don’t know…” she finally answered, her voice just a soft, almost nervous whisper at first.

“What?” Amethyst and Pearl asked in unison, both of them knowing this was a rare thing to hear from Garnet, of all Gems.

“I don’t know!” she exclaimed, clutching the sides of her seat tightly as she tried as hard as she could to peer into the future, only to find absolutely nothing at all.

Meanwhile, back up on stage, the kids had finally managed to pry the journal away from Bill, largely through all three of them pitting their combined strength against his and winning. Still, the dream demon had no plans of giving up so easily.

“You can’t stop me! I’m a being of pure energy with no weaknesses!” Bill boasted angrily, hands clenched into tight fists as he lunged at Mabel, seeing as how she was the one who currently had the journal. She barely managed to use the book as a shield as the demon plowed into her, knocking her to the ground as he tried once more to wrestle the journal back, despite Steven and Connie’s shared attempts at prying him off of her.

“True, but you’re in Dipper’s body,” Mabel pointed out with a confident smirk as she formulated an impromptu plan. One that she desperately hoped would end up working. “And I know all his weaknesses!”

“What do you mean his-” Bill cut himself off with a sudden, involuntary laugh, one that he was powerless to stop as Mabel suddenly reached up to tickle his underarm. The sudden reaction allotted Connie enough time to shove him away from Mabel, who quickly hopped to her feet and began taking off before he could recover.

“Guys, split up!” she called to the other two, the journal still tucked under her arm. “I have an idea!”

Steven and Connie did as she said, neither of them questioning what that plan might be, seeing as how something was better than nothing at a moment like this. However, they were delayed in putting it into action as Bill remained on the floor, still lost in an uncontrollable fit of laughter as he wildly jerked about, struggling to so much as pull himself up into an upright position. “Ah! Body spasms!” he cried in shocked confusion as he weakly rose to stand. “What are these?!”

“Fun fact about the human body,” Mabel began goadingly, not even flinching as Bill finally regathered his bearings and began charging for her. “You haven’t slept in over 24 hours! Meanwhile, I got a full night’s sleep and I’m on four mega-shots of Mabel juice! Connie, catch!”

Right before the demon could make it to her, Mabel tossed the journal right over his head to Connie, who stood on the other side of the stage and caught the book perfectly. A clever smirk crossed her features as she realized exactly what the plan here was, a plan that she was more than ready to go along with, even as the demon hotly spun around to face her.

“Sword Swinger!” Bill growled, rushing at her and wheezing in growing fatigue all the while.

“Oh, what’s the matter, Bill?” Connie deadpanned slyly, holding the journal up teasingly. “Can’t keep up? Maybe you should take a little break!”

At this, Connie threw the journal over to Steven, who jolted somewhat as he caught it, especially when Bill started lividly storming towards him, albeit a bit slower than before as his feet started to drag with increasing tiredness. “H-hand it over, Rosebud,” he warned rather breathlessly, still scowling hatefully all the while. “Or else.”

Steven gripped the journal close for a moment, his eyes wide as he knew he didn’t even have to ask or else what. And yet, for as afraid as he had been all day, and as much as that fear, as well as the dream demon himself had manipulated and controlled him in such unspeakable ways, the young Gem had decided that enough was finally enough. “No,” he said, his tone cold as he stared Bill down unflinchingly, effectively surprising the demon enough to stop in his tracks. “All you’ve done since this whole thing began is threaten and hurt me and my friends, but no more! I’m done letting you get away with all of these horrible, messed up things! After all, you said so yourself; our deal is over.”

Steven’s expression was still bold with firm resolve as he threw the journal back to Mabel, who was quick to toss it off to Connie once again. From here, things quickly began to boil down into what was essentially a game of keep away with the book, with Bill stuck in the center as he frantically tried and failed to claim it for himself. The audience was still largely unable to see or hear what was happening on stage as fog clouded everything and the puppet shows’ music continued prattling on at full blast. But all the same, the kids kept their fast-paced throws going, laughing in cathartic amusement as the demon began to stumble, panting and sweating out of exhaustion, to the point that it was clear he wouldn’t be able to hold out for much longer.

“Augh! W-what is this feeling?!” Bill shouted, both enraged and weary as he struggled hard to keep going, the journal continually flying right over him as the kids continued throwing it amongst themselves. “My body is burning! I can’t move these stupid noodle legs! Curse you, useless flesh sticks! B-body… shutting down… Must… s-scratch… mosquito bites…”

By now, the kids had put their keep away game on pause, the journal resting in Mabel’s arms as they all waited apprehensively to see what would happen next. Even so, it seemed as though Bill had finally reached the physical limits of the body he had appropriated as he began to sway about, unable to maintain his balance. The demon let out a long, completely depleted groan as he started falling forward, before, with not a single once of energy left to spare, he finally collapsed to the ground hard. The very moment he hit the floor, Bill was sent starkly tumbling out of his vessel, back to his usual triangular form and, at last, no longer able to control his “puppet”.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hey!” the demon shouted in protest as he flew backwards, unable to stop the force that had launched him back into the mindscape. At the same time, Dipper, who had been anxiously watching the entire skirmish from above, instantly recognized this as his chance. Not wanting to waste a second, lest Bill somehow reclaim his body before he could, he dove for it, mindless of the fact that it was absolutely still and completely battered in its spot on the ground as he slipped back into it seamlessly.

At the same time, Mabel, Connie, and Steven all took a cautious step forward, none of them wanting to risk the possibility that Bill might still be inhabiting Dipper’s apparently unconscious body. However, their worries were soon allayed as he slowly, almost tentatively opened his eyes a moment later to reveal that they were no longer yellow and slitted, but just as normal as they should have been. Likewise, so was his voice as he let out a soft, barely audible groan, one that elicited a heavy sigh of apt relief from all of the others.

“Dipper!” Steven cried, joyous tears starting to fill his eyes as he realized this ongoing nightmare was finally, finally over. “Y-you’re back! W-well, I mean, you were never really gone, but still, you’re back to the way you’re supposed to be!”

Dipper had hardly heard the young Gem’s proclamation of relief as he remained lying where he was for a moment, staring at his outstretched arm beside him in utter disbelief. The fact that he was back in his own skin hadn’t really seemed to dawn on him yet, as if his previously disembodied spirit was still trying to reacclimate itself to having a physical presence at all. He only barely remembered that he had to breathe again, and as numb as he initially was, even moving seemed like a challenge that was far beyond his current capacity. He had thought that, reclaiming his body would feel natural and welcome, like returning home a long, perilous journey. But instead, it only felt odd, foreign, alien, even somewhat uncomfortable.

Almost as if he didn’t even belong inside his own body anymore at all.

“Uh… Dipper?” Mabel cut in, looking down at him with concern as she took notice of his silence, as well as the shaken expression on his face. “Y-you… you ok, bro-bro?”

“H-huh?” he finally spoke up, flinching somewhat as he found both his voice and his ability to move again. As both Steven and Connie offered hands out to help him up, he accepted them, his movements rather slow and awkward as he struggled to regain proper control over his own limbs. “O-oh… uh, no, I-I’m fine—Ow!” he let out a sharp cry as the first wave of pain washed over him, its epicenter being his twisted ankle as he tried to steady himself on it. “Ok, ouch! No, I take it back, I’m not fine! Ugh, everything hurts…”

Before any of the others could offer him any comfort or support, their reunion was starkly interrupted by a chilling, twisted laugh from none other than Bill himself. Startled, the kids all quickly found its source: the very same sock puppet that Dipper had used to speak through, which the dream demon was now using as his own mouthpiece. “This isn’t the last you’ll see of me!” he warned fiercely, his outraged manner still quite apparent. “If any of you think that this is anywhere close to over, then you can just forget it! Big things are coming, and not just from me either! You can’t stop me! Nobody ca-”

“Ok, ok, we get it!” Connie cut in, exasperated. “You’re gonna try and get your ‘revenge’ or whatever. Can we just speed this along already?”

Mabel nodded in agreement with this sentiment, letting out a long sigh as she pulled out her “big finish” button. “I’m sorry, Gabe…” she muttered remorsefully, closing her eyes and looking away as she pressed it.

Bill was more than ready to continue throwing vicious threats out, but before he could, he just so happen to notice that the puppet he was utilizing was sitting squarely atop a box laden with a huge array of various pyrotechnics. And as soon as Mabel pressed her button, they all immediately started going off at once, the initial explosion shaking the entire theatre as the fireworks went completely haywire. The colorful blasts rocketed themselves in nearly every direction, even out into the audience, who were all aptly shocked and terrified by such an abrupt, wild, admittedly dangerous display. Well, mostly all of them.

“Whoo!” Amethyst cheered, jumping up onto her seat as the fireworks continued going off above her. “Now this is what I’m talking about!”

“I’m still so confused about what’s happening here…” Pearl mused, shaking her head in bewilderment.

“So am I…” Garnet muttered in agreement, though she did let out a small gasp as her future vision finally began to clear itself up. Almost as if the fog, fog that carried an ominous familiarity that she couldn’t even begin to explain, was lifting at last.  

As the pyrotechnics continued shooting about at random, it only made sense that one of the blasts would manage to strike the highly flammable crate of sock puppets sitting near the edge of the stage. In another violent explosion, puppets began flying everywhere, and as they rained down in a burning cascade of fiery destruction, Candy began playing a mournful rendition of Ave Maria on her keyboard backstage, to add to drama of it all. Mabel’s shoulders sank in another sigh as she spotted Gabe in the audience, a completely horrified, almost tearful expression on his face as burning puppets rained down all around him.

Not long after this, what little remained of the fireworks soon went off in a massive, cacophonous explosion, effectively destroying what few puppets were left. One of them, namely the Dipper puppet, happened to, ironically enough, land on the stage right in front of Dipper. And seeing as how Bill had just been using said puppet, he didn’t hesitate to slam his uninjured foot down on it as hard as he could, a small, though still somewhat hallow smile of cathartic satisfaction on his face as he realized that the demented dream demon was finally gone. Or at least, he hoped he was.

As the smoke cleared up from the explosions and the audience settled down into a tentative silence, the kids all slowly turned to face them, unsure of what might happen next. The set behind them was smoldering, a piece of scaffolding from above snapping and crashing down onto the stage as they stood in awkward silence before a crowd that was just as initially quiet, a sign which none of the kids really knew what to make of.

“Don’t worry,” Mabel spoke up, putting on an air of hopeful confidence. “I’ve seen enough movies to know that this is the part where the audience thinks it was all just part of the show and loves it. Cue applause!”

Of course, the audience did the exact opposite of applaud as a round of uproarious, disappointed boos rose up, various patrons grumbling about how they nearly died from the fireworks show as they got up and began to file out of the theatre. One of the last to rise was Gabe, who looked anything but pleased as he stared Mabel down with a cold, disapproving glare.

“G-Gabe!” she quipped, still hoping she could somehow salvage this. “Stick around for the wrap party? W-we’ve got mini-quiches!”

“Don’t speak to me, Mabel,” the puppeteer scoffed harshly, turning his nose up at her. “You’ve made a complete mockery of my art form! Let’s go, my loves.” Gabe turned on his heel, affectionally kissing his puppets as he stormed out of the theater and leaving all four the kids rather disturbed as they watched him leave.

“Did he just make out with his puppets?” Dipper asked, raising a bewildered eyebrow.

“I… might have dodged a bullet there…” Mabel noted, scratching the back of her neck.

“Kinda hard to believe that all this craziness sort of started because of him, huh?” Connie remarked with an incredulous smirk.

“Gaeibeu'i jamkkan! Kaendi na ajikdo neol saranghae!” Candy cried as she ran after the puppeteer, still clearly holding affections for him even if Mabel no longer did.

“So, that was some show, huh?” Amethyst spoke up, plopping back down into her seat. Out of the entire audience, the Gems and Stan were the only ones left, though really only out of obligation to the kids and little else. “Steven, I loved what you did what that whole bubble stunt. That was so hardcore!”

“U-uh, yeah…” Steven chuckled awkwardly, exchanging a nervous glance with the others. “Stunt…”

“Yes, your play was very… interesting, Mabel…” Pearl said with a halfhearted smile. “Though I’m still not sure if I understood the part where you kids started fighting each other…”

“What’s there to understand?” Stan shrugged callously. “It was just a bunch of good, clean, slapstick humor. It’s not like it’s supposed to be ‘high brow’ or anything. Either way, ya did great, pumpkin.”

“Heh, thanks, Grunkle Stan…” Mabel blushed, though as she glanced over at Dipper, she found she was unable to ignore the growing guilt in her gut any longer. “Uh, actually… Do you guys mind giving the four of us a minute?”

While somewhat confused, the adults all consented to this request, allowing the kids to take a step further back on the stage so they could have some relative privacy. And as soon as they had that privacy, Mabel wasted no time in making an attempt at a much-needed apology, only for Dipper to beat her to it.

“Mabel, I’m sorry about all of this,” he began, glancing away from her remorsefully. “It’s my fault all of your puppets got ruined, and your show… I was just so obsessed with that dumb laptop, that I didn’t even-”

“Dipper, no,” Mabel quickly cut him off, her eyes wide as she looked him over, every single solitary injury out of many reminding her that this was her fault. That he had been robbed of his body and had been hurt so brutally all because she had been blind and selfish and stupid enough to think that her pointless, frivolous crush had outweighed his legitimate fears and goals. “Please, please don’t be sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“B-but… but I made a deal with-”

“I don’t care about that!” Mabel interrupted, fighting back tears as she realized her pent-up remorse was hitting her all at once. “All you were trying to do was find a way to save Lapis, and what did I do to help you? Nothing! If I had given you just a little of my time instead of putting it all into this stupid show, then maybe you would … m-maybe… maybe Bill wouldn’t have… I-I didn’t think that… h-how was I supposed to know that this would…”

She ended up trailing off into a sob, one that only ended up making Dipper feel even worse. He was more than ready to contest that this was indeed his fault, that their lives had all been put in grave danger because of one thoughtless, reckless decision. One that he already knew he’d likely always regret, even now that everything was all supposedly said and done. “Oh, Mabel…” he sighed, reaching out a hand to place on her shoulder, though he stopped it as he felt a heavy ripple of pain go through his own, the feeling finally returning to it in full force.

Mabel flinched as she heard her brother’s sharp hiss of pain, pain that, while it had been inflicted by the dream demon’s hand, she was ultimately responsible for. “I-I guess what I’m trying to say is that… I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry, Dipper. I spent all week obsessing over some dumb guy, when the dumb guy I should have cared about is you.”

“Awww!” Steven chimed in, him and Connie equally charmed by such a heartwarming reconciliation. “When are you two finally just gonna hug it out already? We all know it’s coming!”

“Oh, well, uh, I would, but…�� Dipper trailed off with a frown, nodding down to his already aggravated injuries, though he didn’t really feel like detailing the newfound pain pounding through his ribs. A pain that felt nearly startlingly identical to the injury he had sustained from Jasper knocking him back in the moments right before her and Lapis fused.

“How about we settle for a four-way fist bump instead?” Mabel suggested, perking up once more. The others all agreed to this, letting out a triumphant cheer of “Mystery Kids!” as they did so, only for Dipper to immediately pull his hand back with small gasp of pain.

“Ow! Ugh, what’d Bill do to my hand?” he grumbled, noticing that it bore no apparent external injuries. Then again, the demon had managed to inflict more than a fair share of wounds that weren’t just physical, perhaps even a few that he wasn’t even fully aware of yet.

“Nothing that a little sleep can’t fix,” Mabel assured warmly as she began to lead the way offstage.

“Yeah, and maybe a little healing spit too!” Steven added with a tentative smile, hoping that it would actually work this time. Dipper, on the other hand, didn’t seem too keen on the idea.

“Uh, m-maybe we should hold off on that for a while, Steven…” he said hesitantly. Even so, he still cringed a bit as he grabbed his arm and felt the sting from the puncture wounds the forks Bill had indirectly jammed into his skin.

“What? Why?” the young Gem frowned as him and the girls turned to him in concerned confusion.

“B-because… I-I… I don’t think I… I...” Dipper trailed off, his breathing suddenly labored as the full force of his various injuries finally seemed to hit him all at once. It was as though he had finally settled back into his skin, but it was hardly a welcome sensation as it was instead racked with flash after flash of intensive pain, unlike any had ever really felt before. Still, he didn’t really cry out in response to it as much as he froze, his hands shaking as he slowly reached up to feel out the sharpest of these agonies, one that was accompanied by a rush of unexpected, wet warmth at his side. He hardly even heard the round of suddenly distressed gasps from Mabel, Steven, and Connie as he pulled his hand away from the wound, more confused than alarmed upon seeing that it, as well as at least half of his torso was covered with blood from an injury he hadn’t even seen the demon inflict upon him.

“Dipper!” Mabel’s fearful cry barely registered to Dipper as his vision started to blur, the world suddenly tilting sideways more and more with each passing second. The echoed shouts of newfound concern from Stan and the Gems as they shot out of their seats were also mostly lost on him. Really, all he was aware of as he helplessly slipped into the void of unconsciousness was pain. A kind of pain that was, without question, more than just skin deep.

Mabel’s eyes hadn’t left Dipper from the moment they left the theater, and even as he was languidly propped up against her for the car ride home, she continued watching him like a hawk, even as out of it as he was. After all, watching her brother collapse right in front of her from injuries far more serious than she had initially thought had been more than enough to shake her to her core. And she hadn’t been the only one; Steven and Connie had both been just as distraught as Mabel upon watching Dipper lose consciousness, and Stan and the Gems hadn’t hesitated to rush up onto the stage to help, all of them equally as shocked and confused as to how he had sustained so many horrific wounds. The barrage of questions they had put upon the equally frightened kids had received no answers, since they really didn’t know how to even begin to explain everything had happened, nor did they really want to in the immediate aftermath of it all. Still, one thing was incredibly clear to everyone: Dipper needed some serious medical attention, and fast, and Steven had readily volunteered to provide it via his healing powers.

And so the rush back to the shack was on, with the intent that such healing would happen there as it was much less public and admittedly more sterile than the heavily damaged theatre. The Gems, Steven, and Connie had promised to meet Stan, Mabel, and Dipper there, which left the latter group to ride back as the conman largely ignored the speed limit the entire time. Stan had spent the first half of the trip hounding his niece with demanding questions, awash with both anger and concern for how Dipper had gotten so beaten up in the first place. But as Mabel maintained a solemn, morose silence, the conman eventually gave up, leaving her to her own heavy, guilt-ridden thoughts.

All of this pain, pain that was only inflicted upon her brother alone, and for what? Just so she could appease a boy she had already fallen out of love with? So she could give herself yet another aimless distraction to try and steer her mind away from the dreadful events of the invasion? How could she have been so blind not to see that, while she was diverting herself from what truly mattered, Dipper had been engulfing himself in it all, desperately searching for answers that she had done nothing to help him find? How had she not seen him struggle, not noticed the guilt in his eyes or heard the anguish in his voice? How could she have let something like this happen? For while she had sailed through the world with her head in the clouds, just as she always did, her brother had been dragged so far down below them. Really, when it came right down to it, he could have died, a fact that chilled Mabel to the bone, especially as she fixated her gaze on his blood-soaked side. And if he had, then what would she have done? How would she have ever been able to live with herself, knowing that she could have done something to stop all of this? True, Bill had objectively been the one to harm and hurt him, but as far as Mabel was concerned, her own hands might as well have been the ones to cut and cripple him for all she had done to lead him to this point.

As she let out a soft, sad sigh, her eyes finally drifted away from him for a moment, instead landing on a folded slip of crinkled paper on the floorboard in front of her. A frown of curious confusion crossed her features as she reached for it, taking care not to disturb Dipper too much as she retrieved it and flipped it open, her eyes widening at the message inside. It was written out in messy, manic handwriting, no consistency between letters to be found and even a few sparse blood spots on the page for good measure. But what really horrified Mabel was what was actually written in this haphazard scrip, a sharp, distraught gasp escaping her as she struggled to hold back tears. She had only barely finished reading what it said before she quickly folded it back up, though instead of discarding it, she shoved it away into her sweater, knowing that getting rid of it would be the same as denying that any of this had ever happened. Which was something that no one would likely be able to do for a very long time.

The collective group gathered at the shack was a very solemn one, with everyone showing their apt concern and care for Dipper as they eased him onto the couch. With the other kids all intently and worriedly crowded around him, the adults all congregated on the other side of the room, discussing the matter in hushed, bewildered whispers amongst themselves, all of them trying to make some sense of what had just occurred. Steven, Mabel, and Connie did notice them glancing over at them fretfully every few minutes, but for the most part they kept their attention focused on Dipper as he rested before them, still completely out of it, even if his expression was tight with almost feverish agony.

“Uh… aren’t you going to heal him, Steven?” Connie spoke up, breaking the ongoing tense silence between them. “Because he really looks like he could use some of your spit right now. As weird as that sounds…”

“I-I know,” Steven nodded anxiously, holding his hands close to himself out of stress. “It… it’s just… I’m not sure if it’ll work…”

“What do you mean?” Mabel asked fervently, gripping Dipper’s hand tightly in the hopes that it might wake him up. “W-why wouldn’t it work?”

“B-because it didn’t when Bill was… w-well… you know…” the young Gem muttered, glancing down remorsefully. “This is all my fault. The only reason why Bill kept hurting Dipper like this was so he could force me not to tell anybody that he was possessing him! E-even though I tried my hardest to stop him, even though I did everything I could, I still wasn’t able do it on my own. And now, because of me, Dipper’s… h-he… h-he’s…”

As Steven trailed off into yet another guilty sob, Connie was quick to put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Oh, Steven… Don’t beat yourself up about this. It wasn’t anybody’s fault that any of this happened! In fact, the only one responsible for this mess is Bill, and Bill alone.”

Seeing as how they were still both weighed down by mutual regret, both Steven and Mabel prepared to argue such a claim, but before they could, they were all caught off guard as Dipper suddenly let out a soft, tired groan below them. The trio all held their breath and Stan and the Gems’ quickly looked over as he gradually eased his way back into consciousness, though in a way that was anything but peaceful. Just about every inch of his body was seeped in varying levels of agony, his ribs and his shoulder currently causing the worst of it, though his side wound was still a pretty potent source of pain as well. On top of all that, exhaustion, a feeling he was no stranger to by now, covered him like a veil, to the point that he made no effort of even addressing the multiple faces hovering over him, all of them filled with overwhelming concern and apprehension.

“H-hey, bro-bro,” Mabel greeted, her voice and smile both soft and subdued. “How you feeling?”

“…How do you think?” Dipper remarked somewhat dryly, though his sarcastic manner completely dissipated as he attempted sitting up, only to gasp in pain as his torso jolted in aggressive protest.

“Careful,” Garnet advised, stepping in to lend a lend him a hand, one that he had no choice but to accept. “Whatever happened during that final act certainly left its mark on you, Dipper.”

“Yeah, seriously, kid,” Stan cut in with an openly worried frown. “What the heck happened to you back there? You’re so cut up that I almost considered taking you to the hospital, until I thought about how insanely overpriced they are.”

“O-oh, um… well…” Dipper glanced over at the others, who were just as unsure about what to tell the adults as he was. After all, how could just come right out explain that they had all just battled a twisted, masochistic, incredibly powerful dream demon and only barely won without some kind of disastrous consequence resulting from such a daunting revelation? The short answer was that they couldn’t. And as far as Dipper was concerned, they weren’t going to. “I-I… guess I just… hit the stage the wrong way when we all landed in Steven’s bubble…”

“Y-yeah!” Steven exclaimed in anxious agreement, hating to lie to the Gems especially, but knowing that he was far from ready to tell them about what had really happened. “That… that’s totally what happened! B-by the way, Dipper, did you want me to try healing you up now? I wanted to wait until you were awake because—well, j-just because…”

Dipper flinched upon hearing this offer, not from his ongoing pain but from something else entirely. All day long, Steven had been running himself ragged, just in a futile attempt to protect him from Bill’s sadistic pleasure; he had been dragged into a catastrophe that had never been his to begin with, one that had trampled on his good-natured selflessness time and time again to the point that Dipper was surprised he had any of that left in him. Yet even now, in spite of all the horrors, dread, and danger he had been put through, the young Gem was still kindly extending the offer to heal him, to help him, once more. And even though this was an offer that he knew he needed, it was one Dipper knew he couldn’t think of accepting without piling even more endless guilt onto his already injured shoulders.

“Uh, n-no thanks, Steven,” he shook his head, averting everyone’s gaze as he covered his still-bleeding shoulder. “I… I think I’m good.”

“Good?” Amethyst scoffed incredulously. “Dude, you’re like, totally janked up right now. You might as well take whatever offers for a free healing session before you clonk out on all of us again.”

“Amethyst’s right,” Pearl nodded fervently. “Dipper, you’re badly hurt, and while my knowledge on human anatomy isn’t encyclopedic, I do know that if those injuries of yours aren’t treated soon, then they could-”

“Don’t worry, you guys, I’m fine,” Dipper assured as smoothly as possible. “They’re all just flesh wounds anyway. All they need is a good cleaning and like, a few bandages or whatever and it’ll be like they never even happened.”

“Well… do you at least want some help wrapping everything up?” Connie asked, dubious of his claim to wellness seeing as how his side was still completely covered in blood.

“N-no,” Dipper readily refused as he slid off the couch, though he still had to rely on it to help him steady himself. “No, like I said, I’m ok. You guys are all freaking out over nothing. I just need a good night’s sleep and I’ll feel completely better by morning, I promise.”

Everyone exchanged a concerned, bewildered glance at this, but ultimately no one protested as they watched him begin to slowly limp over to the stairs, suppressing an agonized cringe with every single step he took. But even so, Mabel noticed his feeble gait, her heart aching as she desperately wanted to run over to him and offer him all the comfort and assistance she could offer. But instead, her feet remained planted right where they were, her voice trembling with worry somewhat as she addressed him before he could leave the room. “Dipper… are you sure you’re ok?”

Dipper did briefly stop at this, one foot on the first stair as he glanced back to look at her, her pleading expression almost crumbling him apart completely. But even so, he couldn’t fall apart; not here, not now, and especially not in front of her. “Y-yeah…” he answered, putting on a small, bittersweet smile as he tried to convince himself of this lie more than anyone else. “I-I… I’m ok…”

Even if he had refused to take the easy way out when it came to his injuries, Dipper had still decided to do as he had said and patch them up as best as he could on his own. His torso had been easy enough to wrap up in copious layers of bandages, even if they did rather painfully constrict his ribs, which he had the shaken suspicion a few of which had indeed been broken during the fall from the catwalk. His shoulder had been a bit trickier as the blood pouring out of it had been rather persistent, but he had managed to get it mostly under control. Aside from that, the worst external injuries he had sustained were a myriad of smaller cuts and bruises, the worst of which he made sure to cover, even if they’d heal on their own soon enough. But then there were the injuries he couldn’t hide behind bandages, like the black eye Mabel had accidently caused, or his ankle, which still pounded with pain every time he put pressure on it, or the countless other wounds he had received from this ordeal that weren’t even physical at all.

He had been outside of his own body for nearly an entire day. What an odd, bizarre, outright horrific thing to think about in retrospect. But what Dipper still found so terrifying was the fact that he could have very well stayed like that forever if his friends hadn’t intervened when they had. But even so, their intervention had nearly gotten them all killed, which was something that would have been so much worse than being condemned to a formless existence within the mindscape for all eternity. Especially since, if they had indeed met their ends at Bill’s hands, it would have been entirely his fault. All because of one wrong choice, one single moment of foolish impulse, one desperate, but failed attempt to set things right.

With a mere handshake, he had lost his body. But now that he had it back, he realized he had lost so much more than that. He had lost a part of himself, one that had died the moment it left him. One that he’d likely never get back.

And for what? It was a question he kept asking himself as he tried to make sense of this, as he tried his hardest to rationalize something that held no reason at all. Why had this happened? Where had it begun? Who was really to blame? And most importantly, was it ever really going to end?

As Dipper slowly dragged himself up to the attic, he realized that he had gotten so tired of asking questions like these. Really, of asking questions in general. After all, they had been what had indirectly lead him to such a low point in the first place: questions about the author, about Gravity Falls, about the Gems, about Homeworld, about so many other things that he had stopped bothering to keep count. Not knowing the answers to any of them had driven him to uncertainty, which had driven him to fear, which had driven him to desperation, which had driven him to devastation. And in the aftermath of such devastation, the only thing he really found amidst the ruins of it all was despair.

In fact, that despair only seemed to grow as he passed by the other attic room, the one where this disaster had started in the first place. A part of him was almost too afraid to enter through its threshold again, out of the admittedly irrational fear that if he did, then certainly Bill would show up and he’d violently rip him out of his body once more and this entire catastrophe would start all over again, endlessly repeating itself in a vicious cycle that would never end. And yet, upon noticing the ruined remains of the laptop still sitting exactly where the dream demon had left them, Dipper knew he couldn’t stay away. The entire room was seeped in solemn silence as he quietly walked in, approaching the laptop’s broken pieces with care. Bill had certainly done a thorough job at destroying it, to the point that Soos or even someone as technologically adept as Pearl likely wouldn’t be able to salvage it now. It seemed like such a waste to Dipper; so many untapped answers, so many brand new leads and clues, now all completely gone forever. Even so, he didn’t wish for it back. After all, the laptop itself was inconsequential when compared to the ends he had hoped to accomplish with it. Ends that he was painfully reminded of as he noticed the scattered bits of photographs littered amongst the laptop’s debris.

Slowly, he lowered himself to his knees, his hands trembling somewhat as he reached out to collect what pieces of pictures he could find amidst the mess before him. Most of the scraps were unrecognizable, but a few he could clearly make out: the pine tree on his hat here, a piece of Lapis’ hand there, one of their now disjointed smiles there. Still, despite his careful efforts, none of the pieces seemed to fit together they way they should have. He had spent so much time since Malachite’s formation wistfully staring at those pictures that he could recall what they looked like from memory. And now, it seemed as though the memory of them would be all he’d have left, not just of the photos themselves, but of the blue Gem in general.

It was so unfair, so incredibly unfair that it almost enraged Dipper. Lapis had taken a chance, she had made a deal, and had given up everything she had, just to save him. Her sacrifice had been selfless, noble, heroic even. She had known exactly what she was doing when she had accepted Jasper’s offer to fuse, and had brazenly turned the tables on her in a way that had ultimately saved the day. Yet there she still remained, trapped at the bottom of the lake, existing as only a fusion composed of mutual hatred. Meanwhile, Dipper had done nearly the same thing; he had taken a chance, made a deal, and had been willing to give what he could up, just so he could find a way to rescue her. But he had been tricked, deceived, manipulated, and robbed of something that he could not truly exist without. His foolish choice had gravely endangered the lives of his friends, it had nearly resulted in his own sister dying, it had almost ended up with him dying for that matter too. He had been selfish, cowardly, impulsive, and reckless. And yet, where was he now? Right back in his body where he belonged, beaten and battered, yes, but alive and safe and free and back among the warm love of family and friends, something he couldn’t help but feel like Lapis deserved more than he did right now. For unlike her, he had made no sacrifice, he had only caused harm. Unlike her, he had showed fear, not courage. Unlike her, he was a failure, not a hero.

As this brutal realization struck him, the spares photo pieces slowly slipped out of his hands and onto the floor, a starting tear hitting it not long after, soon followed by several more. He had tried, so hard and for so long, ever since Malachite had disappeared into the depths of the lake really, not to lose himself to grief like this. To keep the pain held inside, where it was easy to manage and easy to control. But with every single part of his body and his mind engulfed in a sea of agony, he found it impossible to keep it all in any longer. A harsh sob escaped him, one that he could do nothing to stop as it all finally hit him at once. Lapis was gone and so too was the only lead he had found that could have possibly helped her. Bill had possessed him, had torn him out of his own skin and had mutilated said skin in unimaginable ways. Steven, Connie, Mabel, had all been put in life-threatening danger in their reckless pursuit to save him. And now, at the end of it all, here he remained, but only just barely. Because despite his now-covered outer wounds, on the inside he was still bleeding, he was still bruising, he was still breaking. And given how much of him had already been broken by the past few weeks alone already, there was a good chance that soon enough, there would be simply nothing left of him to break at all.

Which was why he didn’t bother to make any effort to move from that spot, broken laptop and ripped-up pictures all strewn before him aimlessly, all just as disconnected and useless as he currently felt. And, with nothing left to give but tears, he simply sat and sobbed, blanketed by the blood red glow of the familiar triangular window above him, the glass gaze of its central eye gazing down upon him with a shallow, soulless stare that had always been watching, and always would.  

Next: 

#jen writes #universe falls #gravity falls #steven universe #crossover #au #sock opera #dipper #mabel #steven #connie #bill cipher #stan #garnet #amethyst #pearl #blood warning #self harm #keyword is puppets

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

#26

Short opinion: This is the best book.  Not the best Animorphs book, just the best book of all time.  Period.

Long opinion:

This is one of those books where plot and character are difficult to sort out, because the plot is so character-driven and the characters are so influential to the plot that they are irreparably wrapped up in each other—and the entire story is driven by the protagonists’ agency.  This book opens and closes on Jake’s dreams, and in that first dream sequence he’s this tiny, helpless human in the face of this ginormous cosmic power.  I love that this scene draws attention to the fact that Jake first encountered Crayak under circumstances when he was literally the most helpless he’s ever been in his life: Jake is literally paralyzed because of the dying yeerk inside his brain when he suddenly finds himself facing down this malicious all-knowing deity.  In that scene Jake describes himself as the “keeper” of his brother’s memories (Have I mentioned the Cain parallels recently?), foreshadowing both the fact that by the end of the book he’ll be the only being with Howler DNA or memories in the whole universe, and the fact that by the end of the series he’ll be the only being with Tom’s memories in the universe.

The next scene with the kids watching a production of Lion King (funny how that plot hinges on the villain killing his older brother…) in a way that makes them utterly themselves: Rachel is pretty much daring a guy to try and hit on her so she can release a little pent-up frustration on a harasser, Marco is pulling ridiculous stunts to get Jake to laugh, Cassie is totally zoned out because let’s be real she doesn’t give a crap about the fine arts, and Jake is enjoying the peace and quiet for a bit while also not giving a crap about the fine arts.  When Ax shows up he’s totally confused but goes into hyper-protective mode toward his team anyway, and when Tobias pops up he figures out in two seconds flat what it took everyone else a few minutes to catch on to: this is the Ellimist at work.  

One of my favorite subtle moments in the series is when Marco snarks at the Ellimist about the pinnacle of ketran evolution being the ability to look like a teenager with braces, and then almost immediately has a silent freak-out because he just sassed a divinity.  I really love how Marco’s quick thinking gets him in trouble almost as much as it gets him out, and how it shows that even his clever one-liners are a coping mechanism rather than a calculated attempt to appear cool.  His inability to get through a stressful situation without making dumb jokes literally almost gets the kids killed in #30 and #42, and here he has the good sense to realize that the Ellimist is the absolute last person he should be mocking—about ten seconds after he’s already gone and done it.

Also, Jake and Rachel’s relationship in this book is heartbreaking and awesome.  When the kids first learn about the conflict with the Iskoort they’re understandably reluctant to get involved in yet another cosmic war but Rachel especially argues that they shouldn’t get themselves killed needlessly in a conflict that has nothing to do with the yeerks… Until Jake admits that Crayak has been harassing him in his dreams.  Rachel does a one-eighty to “No Crayak space monster is gonna beat up on my cousin” the millisecond she finds out (#26).  Marco also jumps sides of the argument immediately with an eye to defending Jake, and before they know it they’re already off to the races.  Later on, just before the final battle, Rachel literally holds Jake in her arms in grizzly morph while he becomes a Howler for the first time, because she’s the only person Jake trusts to kill him without hesitation if he loses control of the morph.  These two share a level of trust—Jake trusts Rachel to defend his life, but also more importantly to know when to end his life when the cost of defending it would be too high, and Rachel has exactly the same level of trust in Jake—that we don’t see with any other pair on the team.  It goes way, way beyond their simple shared willingness to get their hands dirty; it’s about trusting each other with their lives but also with their deaths.  

This is also the book where (if he didn’t already have it) Jake definitely earns the title of “war-prince.”  Not only does he fight a battle against two infinitely more powerful beings and win, not only does he outmaneuver the most deadly alien species the kids ever face using the power of love, but he also plays the part of Team Mom throughout this nightmarish field trip while just as scared and lost as everyone else present.  He takes the time to check on Cassie in the middle of the night while also terrified the Howlers will attack at any moment.  He gently talks Marco down when Marco’s about to panic at the sheer foreignness of the situation.  He not-so-gently calls Erek on the fact that Erek is lying by omission for large parts of this book.  All the while he also weighs and balances everything he knows about the Howlers and the Iskoort, constantly gathering more information (frequently at risk to his own life, as with that awesome-nutso gambit with jumping off a cliff to acquire Howler DNA) until eventually he figures out the motivations of everyone else jerking him around.  He describes himself as “an ant on a chessboard,” but that doesn’t mean he can’t learn how to play.  By the end of the book he’s thinking on the same level as the Ellimist and Crayak, while also viscerally understanding the ordinary Howler or Iskoort.  As Rachel’s bulletin board says:  ’“If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the results of a hundred battles.’ - Sun Tzu” (#4).  

Jake also verbally embraces the title of “prince” for the first (possibly only) time in the series during this book, twice ordering Ax to defend his own life against the Howlers.  Jake doesn’t totally get andalite culture, evident in the fact that he’s not sure why Ax cares so much about having run from an unwinnable battle.  But he also knows and understands (and cares about) Ax, enough so to grasp that what Ax needs is the reassurance of his prince that he didn’t do anything wrong.  Jake has to practically step on Rachel’s toes to stop her from volunteering for the suicide mission (because of course) but he does it, aware that Ax will view this as a chance to reaffirm his place on the team and regain what “honor” he lost by running from the Howler.  Jake is never comfortable with the leadership role, and least comfortable of all when someone puts a formal title on his leadership.  However, he also understands that when Ax is literally ready to die in order to affirm his place on the team, the whole “prince” bit is not about him; it’s about helping Ax.  And so he calls himself Ax’s prince, not once but twice, in order to save Ax’s life.  Because it’s what needs doing in order to keep the team alive.  

In addition to the spot-on characterization and the mind-bogglingly huge plot, this book also has some vicious commentary on philosophy of war.   Marco actually calls Erek on the fact that, when the Animorphs are about to be slaughtered by a far more powerful enemy, Erek’s decision not to act is an action in and of itself.  Maybe Erek doesn’t have a choice about not causing harm, even at the expense of preventing a murder, but Erek also sure as hell does not have the moral high ground.  Pacifism is not a righteous course of action in the face of atrocity, and Erek standing by to watch his friends get slaughtered—knowing all the while that the entire Iskoort species also hangs in the balance—is not the moral high ground.  Jake actually feels loathing for the Pemalites as he frantically flies back toward the hopeless battle that might have cost Cassie and Rachel their lives, thinking that he’ll never forgive them if they got his friends killed with their short-sighted, obsessive nonviolence when they programmed the Chee.  

The social comment in this book isn’t a particularly comforting or comfortable one (but then when are they ever, in Animorphs books?) but it is an important message: that the world is an ugly place in which simple neutrality is the prerogative of the privileged.  One cannot call oneself moral simply by standing by and refusing to fight back while evil triumphs (X).  As Cassie points out to Jake, only slave owners and Nazis have ever had the luxury of branding entire groups of people as uniformly evil and one’s own cause as uniformly good (#26).  In order to stop a terrible wrong, the kids have to commit a terrible wrong.  The war is not won through anything as easy as standing on principle, because no lofty abstract principle ever works in 100% of cases in the real world.  Erek is no better or worse than any of the kids because he is held to a certain standard of behavior by external constraints; even an idea as pure as “do no harm” does not stand up when one has the chance to stop genocide and cannot.  

Crayak understands the idea better than the Pemalites did, when he designs the Howlers: the opposite of love isn’t hate; it’s indifference (X).  The Chee aren’t programmed to hate—or to love—any other species.  

More specifically, this book also calls Erek out on his tendency to consider himself above the Animorphs because of his nonviolence.  Erek is every bit as vengeful (bloodthirsty, even) as Ax or Rachel throughout this whole conflict, but he also refuses to acknowledge that fact.  He conveniently forgets to mention the fact that the Howlers are innocent (relatively speaking) in their childish indifference to death and ignorance of failure until Jake also discovers that fact.  Years before the Animorphs use Erek to do their dirty work in the fight against Tom’s yeerk, Erek uses them to do his dirty work through setting up the fight with the Howlers and letting them annihilate another species without even having all of the facts about who they’re fighting.  

The motif is writ large throughout the series: war is won through sacrifice, and most of those sacrifices are not as clean or glorious as simply dying for one’s cause.  Erek stands by, choosing to give up the fight after only one battle turns too ugly for his liking (#10), and as a result the entire species of Howlers gets wiped out by Crayak.  As a result of his later actions, both Tom and Rachel get killed and the Blade ship remains free to conquer another planet (#53).  And yet this is a being who (allegedly) never hurts anyone for any reason.  Erek is self-righteous, vengeful, and morally hypocritical.  That fact gets a little lost in books like #20, #32, or #45, but here Jake makes the contrast between his friends—who are running headlong into a deadly battle for the sake of some yeerk-descendants—and the Chee—who are forced to stand by and risk nothing with nothing gained—painfully clear.  

This book offers no simple answers, and it shows that in war, there are no simple answers.  However, it also ends with Jake surrounded by his friends, taking triumph from the fact that he’s just a helpless little human facing down a malicious all-knowing deity whose ass he just kicked.  USING THE POWER OF LOVE.  Have I mentioned that this is the best book ever written?  

#thewanderingdelusion #asks #answers #animorphs #animorphs reviews #tiger mommy #jake berenson #26 #the attack #erek king #the only thing that could possibly make this book better #would be more of tom's presence in the early chapters #SHUT UP AND LET ME HAVE MY BIASES

[impishnature]

The Light Keeper (Part 8)

AO3

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7

Rating: T

Summary: A beast lurks in the waters. Stan loses Ford to the waves, the lighthouse his only point of contact and hope of ever getting him back. …He used to love the sea, now it’s taken everything from him.

Lighthouse Keeper AU.

Series of One-shots.

AN: Commission and story collab with @garrulousgibberish​ based on their Lighthouse Keeper AU (link above) OK I lied cause I get caught up every time... I think this has been my favourite so far - I mean I got tired out writing it. (Warnings for drowning and... general peril?)

.

Part 8: The Lights That Guide Us Home

.

The light came on without warning that night.

Stan had been pacing when it happened. Back and forth. Back and forth. Just like he had done every night for the last week.

The kids would notice soon, whether it was the bags beneath his eyes or the snappish remarks he didn’t mean to give. They were smart, he was sure one of them would say something soon enough if he wasn’t careful, but he couldn’t seem to bring himself to care.

Sure, he felt ashamed for how he’d yelled at them when they’d come home late, but he hadn’t been able to think how to apologise, not through the descending fog that he was running out of time. How did he tell them that they had scared him? Had absolutely terrified him? That somehow he felt like he’d already lost one person that day and that the fear of losing them too had sent him over the edge, his worries magnified to a degree he didn’t even know he was capable of feeling?

He couldn’t lose them, the sea had already taken one person from him and the thought of them stranded on the beach, stuck where he couldn’t reach them with the tide getting higher and higher…

It had just been another hit to the already crumbling walls around his heart.

He wasn’t sure he could hold out to any more hits.

And so he grew distant, pulled himself away. He fretted about them throughout the day, made sure they were safe, made sure to keep a close watch on them until they were sound asleep. Then, and only then, would he go straight to the lighthouse to fret over the other worry that had splintered and cracked the wall in the first place that day.

Ford had said goodbye to him.

He’d never said goodbye to him before.

And he hadn’t heard anything since.

So every night he found himself tirelessly working, not that he didn’t always but with the kids he’d grown lax, needed any energy he had spare to spend with them and so his hours at the lighthouse had grown shorter. His eyes had drifted shut more often, needing what rest he could gather for the small bright whirlwinds that had invaded his home.

Or that’s what he called them under his breath, the gruffness hiding soft warm endearment.

That was until Ford had said goodbye. Now all he felt was bitter regret and cold cloying panic that he had done it all wrong.

You had one job, one and now look at you, look at what you’ve done.

He’d focused on something else just once and he had lost Ford completely.

The argument he had had with the whispering familiar voice had hurt, he had denied it entirely, assuming that it couldn’t have been Ford. It had to be some trickster pretending to be him, especially when his brother had been placating and calm the next visit. He had spoken about their childhoods, reminded Stan of what he was trying to get back. His twin, their adventures, the one person that had meant the world to him before he’d brought that world crumbling down around him.

But none of that mattered now, the argument, the encouragement.

Nothing felt as painful as the silent void that had been left behind.

“…Goodbye, Stan.”

“Stop it. Stop it, stop it- Stop it!”

Whenever he closed his eyes, the voice would ring through his head and up he’d get to pace again.

He was out on the balcony when it happened. The light bathed him, bright and white just like it did in his dreams, just like it had that night so many years ago.

It took him a minute to realise it was actually happening. That the light after all this time had finally come on in all its bountiful glory just as he felt the tug of hopelessness sinking him to his knees.

It burned away the forlorn feeling, heated him up from the inside out as it beamed across the bay and woke him from the fog of pain he’d been restlessly sitting in since his world had crumbled around him once more.

The binoculars he’d been grasping white-knuckled in his hand fell to the balcony floor with a loud clunk, helping to draw him back physically into reality as the light brought his mind back to sharp focus.

And, just as quickly, a new determination and realisation flooded through him, as if the light was helping him with his reasoning as well as his navigation.

It was telling him what he needed to do, telling him where he needed to go.

I need to get out on the water. I’m coming, Sixer! Don’t you give up on me now!

If Stan didn’t know any better he’d have almost assumed he was back in one of his nightmares.

Rain peppered across his face and arms, burning shards of ice that made his eyes squint as he forced himself to continue locking on to the beacon the lantern was sending him. The wind howled and tore at him from every angle, as if it couldn't decide which direction it wanted to attack him from. It left him breathless, left him to hold on tight as it yanked and tugged at him, left him fighting with the sail in an effort to combat the vicious swipes it continuously sent at him.

But even so, he couldn’t turn away from the heart of the storm. Even as he fought the wind and waves for control, as the roar of the wind and thunder left a deafening ring in its wake that he wasn’t entirely sure would ever truly leave him, he couldn’t stop now.

It was like he was channelling the tempest, channelling an energy and strength that could not be swayed. Drawn into its epicentre, right into the eye of the storm even as the full force of Mother Nature tried to bar him entry.

A vicious grim twist of a grin slid across his face, more gritting teeth and a snarling grimace than anything that could truly be said to contain any real mirth, but it was the only thing he could muster in that moment.

A boom of a laugh clattered out of him, as he crested a wave and his sails caught, a sudden burst of momentum speeding him into the circle of light that had drawn him all this way. Victorious and heady, his own voice entered the fray, his own mocking thunder, as the storm tried to drown him out, his eyes sparking with determination and defiance.

The storm would not break him, he would get to his destination.

And in that frame of mind he knew this couldn’t be another nightmare, nor even a wishful dream. That it couldn’t all be in his mind, not as the storm took over his senses, as salt water filled his mouth and covered his skin, tugging insistently as it dried, or as the cresting waves foamed up on to the deck at every opportunity. No, it couldn’t be, as his hands stung from the burn of ropes as he kept everything in check, as he winced as the wheel caught him off guard and lurched away from him, smacking with force into his arm before he caught hold of it once more.

Through it all, he knew that no matter how vivid his resting mind could be, it could never drum up this.

This fight with the world, this push and pull to get his brother back that all rested on how far he could go.

No, his nightmares were never so kind as to leave him with this amount of willpower. The crushing sense of failure that had followed him night after night now but a speck of dust that had blown away in the tempest to leave him with a solid wall of resolve, his purpose a raging fire in his chest that even the storm could not dampen.

No, this was not a dream.

And Ford needed him.

That was all that mattered.

The light blossomed along the deck as he breached the circle, bringing with it a new wave of hope as he found himself another step closer to his goal. He kept his eyes locked to the centremost point, something guiding him still further even as the storm continued to bubble and fizz above him. The rain turned warm in the wake of the light, still torrential and still hindering his movement forward but at least less painful, less freezing as he pushed ever forward.

Or perhaps his skin was just growing numb to the onslaught.

Just as an odd sigh of relief echoed out of him at the feel of warmth as it soaked into his coat, it grew too hot to handle, his head jolting instinctively away from the hot flecks of water that were burrowing into his skin. He raised a hand to shield himself, eyes turning out of the storm entirely and just for a second, the winds died down entirely, a hush of absolute silence, just for a beat as his gaze hit the water.

There.

There was nothing to be seen, just the green waves in the lanterns light but somehow he knew he was there, he had found him after all these years.

The silent bubble burst, a loud crack of thunder heralding the assault as water pummelled back onto his frame, the thud of it against the wood bringing him back to his senses as he struggled towards the side of the boat. For a second it felt like he’d been at the top of the lighthouse, completely disconnected from the world as he watched it from above until suddenly the storm broke through the glass, cracked every single pane and dug its way in, tooth and claw, to tear apart his small safe haven.

His mouth tugged upwards at the thought, a snide snarl of a smirk resting deep within his core.

He never had been one to stay put and stay safe.

The coarse wood grounded him as he skidded across the deck and managed to catch onto the side of the boat, even as another wave crashed across the deck and threatened to knock him down with it.

He searched the waters below him, the light impossibly burning a hole through the water as if it was opening a portal to the bottom of the sea. If he narrowed his eyes, he was sure he could see the seafloor, see the sand and rocks, the creatures that darted confused and disorientated by the blinding light that had engulfed their abyss of a home. But he wasn’t trying to focus on that, he was trying to focus on the even more impossible.

Trying to focus on his brother that should be there. Should still somehow, after 30 years submerged in the gloom, come back to him unhurt, breathing and whole.

“Ford.”

A gasp tumbled out of him, the air knocked out of his lungs as if something solid had punched him in the gut when he found him, a bundle of struggling muscles trying to push his way through the depths.

His hands gripped tighter as he leant over the railing, the sting in his hands as salt water found the rope burns insignificant against the pounding of his heart against his ribcage. There was a tightness to his chest that heralded a panic that even fighting through the tempestuous weather hadn’t been able to drum out of him.

“Come on, Sixer, I’m right here. All you gotta do is keep fighting.” Stan couldn’t help the words that slipped out, his own resolve, his own determination trying to bleed out of him and into his brother, willing him upwards. He was getting closer but he could see how taxing it was becoming, could see how his coat twisted around him and made his movements harder. He could feel the rain drumming on his back, making it hard for him to stand, and wondered whether it was even a sliver of what his brother was feeling as all that water, all that distance between them pressed onto his body, making his upwards fight a vicious and hard fought battle that he wasn’t sure he could tackle alone.

He doesn’t have to. I’m here.

Stan’s eyes widened as he pulled himself upwards and glanced around the boat quickly, looking for anything that could help him. Everything he had done had led up to this moment, he had fought so hard to get his brother back and there was nothing that was going to stand in between him and making sure Ford got out of this safe and sound.

Ford didn’t have to tackle this alone, Stan was going to make sure this was a hard fought victory no matter what it meant for him.

But even as he tried to recall what the best course of action would be, the panic was starting to fizzle through the determination. Time wasn’t on his side and every second he dallied was another second Ford was stuck beneath the water. The sounds of his brother’s gurgling breaths stuttered through the wind, chased by a lingering laughter that seemed to crest and wane with the waves against the ship.

No time, no time, gotta help him, gotta save him- just got to figure out how-

He knew what he should do, knew that he had already broken the rules of the sea by coming out alone in the middle of a storm to save someone. Knew that the silly foolhardy decision had lost many a sailor his life to the waves by trying to be a hero but that hadn’t stopped him. And now he knew that there was a way to do things, to tie himself down before he did anything reckless, keep a firm grasp to the only thing that would save them both so that he all his efforts weren’t in vain.

But that would take time.

And that was the one thing he didn’t have in that moment.

His eyes went from the rope waiting for him, the supplies that were always on his boat in case of an emergency and back over the side, to his brother whose strength was waning, his arms and legs moving sluggishly through the water. He was trying his best, he could see that, but no amount of willpower on his part was going to help him get to the surface.

There was only so long he could hold his breath for and Stan knew that he had been under for a very long time.

There’s no time for this.

He took a deep breath, pushing every thought to one side as they threatened to engulf him, threatened to leave him lost to the storm until it was too late.

And just as before, the tempest now inside his head broke, leaving him with only one option and a complete lack of concern for his own safety as he disregarded the items he knew were there purely for this purpose.

He cleared his mind, ignored the warning bells and insidious fears of failure. Let the resolve bury back into him, warm and heated and all consuming.

You’ve got a job to do. It’d both of you or neither of you.

And then with that last thought and his gaze firmly glued to Ford-

He plunged into the deep.

Everything was suddenly moving far too quickly.

After so much time floating in the nothingness of the abyss, reality was suddenly overwhelming. All his senses were on fire. His mind was clicking itself back into place as if it had been dislocated all these years and with the motion his memories sparked back into vision behind his eyelids, all his sense of self rushing in with the tide in one agonising jolt that left him reeling. But he didn’t have time to focus on any of that as the smell, the taste of the water filled him to the brim, the all-encompassing fear that he was actually drowning ringing through his head to dampen the abrupt return to consciousness.

There was no laughter in his ear this time as he propelled himself with dwindling strength towards the light and the surface. His arms and legs were heavy and cumbersome, his coat dragging him down agonising inches with every upwards movement he made, tying him in knots and making his ascent more difficult than he needed it to be.

He was so weak, each second another precious atom of time that he could feel slipping away as black spots appeared around the light. The salt burned his eyes and his nose as he pushed up and up. He could feel the pressure of the water on his chest, a solid weight that his mind tried to reason with but couldn’t. He was so far down in the depths that he wasn’t sure how the light was actually reaching him, logic dictating that he was so deep below the waves that the pressure should have already crushed the life from him.

It was getting harder and harder not to breathe, his body reacting to the lack of air in his system. Pain thrummed through his chest, tight and hot, fluctuating with his pulse.

His heart beat grew steadily faster with the dismal realisation that he would never reach the surface in this state.

He wasn’t going to make it.

He could taste freedom, could see the lighthouse rippling above him as his arms refused to follow his instructions. It was like he was caught again at the bottom of the sea but he knew this time that it was his body giving out, a haze fizzling in his peripheral vision as the world closed in. He tried to will himself to continue, to drag himself up just that bit further but it was like swimming through tar, sapping his energy even as his mind remained clear.

It was freezing, the cold biting into him like it never had before. It was still deathly quiet but there was an ironically twisted humour to it all as he found himself succumbing to his fate.

He had finally been allowed to feel, to live again but only for a moment.

Allowed to feel but only pain, how was that fair?

His hand stretched out towards the light, cupping it one last time as his eyes drifted closed.

I hope Stan will be OK…

Before he could give up entirely, something grabbed the back of his collar.

Shock bubbled out of him, his mouth opening as he gasped and the water flooded in. A burst of energy filtered in with the adrenaline, fighting and pushing at whatever held him, clawing at the back of his neck until he froze. His hand found fingers, another human hand curling around his coat and pulling him towards the surface.

But- How-

Before he could fathom any of it, his head popped through the surface of the water and much needed air burned down his throat as painfully as the water had before it.

He coughed and heaved, manhandled until he was clinging on to the back of whoever was rescuing him for dear life. He was sure the person was talking to him but he couldn’t really focus, the sudden noise around him deafening him and the ice cold wind and rain peppering him in sharp hot pinpricks. He buried his head into the crook of the person’s neck, wracked with violent shakes as he continued to heave up the water that had entered his system.

He didn’t have much time to think as the waves continued to assault them, washing over them in unpredictable hits that left him spluttering more and whimpering as his would be rescuer dipped below the waves himself and seemed to slow with each hit.

But they finally made it to something solid, Ford’s eyes glazing slightly and his thoughts too lethargic to really grasp the situation as he kept a tight hold until he was prompted to do otherwise.

He let himself be shoved and pulled upwards, not really able to help much other than grip tightly once he was out of the waves entirely and let himself be propelled over the side of, what he now realised was, a boat.

He hit the deck with a dull thud, pain rippling through his side as he laid there but he couldn’t bring himself to mind as the threat of a watery grave finally left his system. He continued to cough weakly, breathing in deep heaving gasps as his fingers trailed fascinatingly over the wooden texture under him, the solid flooring beneath him a welcome respite after 30 years of drifting and floating with nothing concrete to cling onto.

I’m alive. I’m alive, I’m alive, I’m alive-

There was a groan as the other man pulled himself up and fell beside him for a few panting moments. He gave what he hoped was a small sympathetic sound but considering the way the man shot up again, he couldn’t be sure the noise had had the desired effect.

“Ford? Ford, are you OK?”

Stan?

Large warm arms encased him, tugging him upwards, even more grounding that the boat. A soft but slightly damp fabric was wrapped around him, surrounding him in warmth and safety in a stark contrast to the cocoon that had been his prison below. He hummed tiredly, gratefully as fleece tickled his nose but the utter relief and warmth seemed to radiate more from the body that was holding him almost painfully tight, anchoring him to consciousness and giving him the strength he needed to keep himself awake.

“I’ve got you. I’ve finally got you, I can’t believe it-”

He could feel his brother trembling, found himself tugged impossibly closer and gave an appreciative choked off noise as he found he could bury himself into his brother’s chest, arms winding round him albeit weakly in response. He took in a deep breath and smelt something other than salt and brine, felt and heard Stan’s steady heartbeat and used it to try and centre his own.

Heard the soft whispers of encouragement meant only for him and the mumbled prayers to whatever deity had let him find him again.

Ford couldn’t help but agree with the sentiment, even as his mind still struggled to catch up entirely with it all. The world still seemed to be spinning just that bit too fast, as if hours were mere seconds, as if everything that had just transpired could have happened in the blink of an eye.

Stan? Is it really you?

The boat bobbed in the waters, his stomach lurching with the sensation. It derailed his thoughts and reminded him of what else there was waiting for them below the surface. He struggled in Stan’s grasp, his feet sliding and unable to find purchase at the angle he was being held at, though he wasn’t even sure they’d be able to support him if he did manage. He tried to will himself upwards, pushed away from Stan but he was unable to push himself up more than a few inches in his weakened state. He tried to talk, tried to voice his concerns but it was still so hard to breathe, the air wheezing in and out of him as if he was inhaling through a straw lodged where his windpipe should be.

“Easy, easy, Sixer. Just keep breathing for me, that’s- that’s it. In and out, along with me, OK?”

“S-Stan.” Ford managed to splutter out, his eyes closing as he listed forward in Stan’s grasp, arms unable to hold his own weight for too long.

He felt waterlogged, inside and out, the entirety of his body sluggish as his voice slurred out of him.

“Shh, it’s OK. I’ve got you- I can’t believe it but I’ve got you.”

There was something warm splashing on to his cheek in rivulets that his brain tried to fathom sluggishly. He debated on the rain growing warmer but the theory quickly vanished when he realised Stan was shielding him from the brunt of it. Instead of focusing on it though, he shook his head, still pawing at Stan, trying to gain his attention.

“Stan, p-please… listen…”

“OK, sorry, I am- I’m listening. What is it? What do you need me to do?”

“We need- need to go. It’s coming, Stan, whatever took me… it’s down-” Another coughing fit seized him, his entire body spasming as Stan clutched him tight and tried to ground him against the sudden hacking tremors.

He gave a sigh of relief as Stan gently put him down once he could breathe easier, before springing to action.

Ford’s eyes drifted shut as he finally found his strength wane entirely.

Stan couldn’t believe it.

He’d done it, he’d actually gone and done it.

There was his brother, tired and strained but alive, lying next to him on the deck as he got his breath back.

He wanted to laugh, wanted to cry and scream and yell to the heavens.

But all he could manage was a small wobbly hiss of a breath.

He’s back. I got him back, I can’t believe it- He’s back, he’s breathing, he’s here, he’s-

It only took a small sound of discomfort for Stan to snap back into reality, for him to find that this suddenly wasn’t enough and it was all becoming dreamlike again. He bundled his brother up into his arms, took comfort in the fact that he was there, solid and real in his arms, cold as ice and shivering maybe, but nowhere near deaths door like he could have been if Stan had been just a second longer-

Stan shook violently at the thought, the mere notion that his actions could have been just that little bit too late making anything that remained of the walls around his heart turn to dust and scatter into the storm.

He found himself muttering a mantra, soothing words for every small pained noise his brother made, for every shuddering breath he managed to take and though each one made his heart twist in sympathy they also gave him an odd feeling of relief.

Every sound was another reminder that he was real.

Broken choked off thanks fell from his lips in amongst the reassurances. Words meant for whoever might be watching over them, because it couldn’t have just been him that had led to this moment. He’d been trying for years to get his brother back, he couldn’t believe that it was all his doing now, and frankly he didn’t care.

Ford was there, wrapped tight in his arms and he could feel the weak hug he was getting in return and nothing else mattered.

He’s here, he’s finally here. None of it was a waste. It was real, all of it was real.

Ford started to struggle against him, pulling out of the hug and Stan’s heart panged in his chest.

He wasn’t ready to return to reality yet. He knew he had to, but he wasn’t ready.

The bubble around them was starting to pop, the sounds of the waves roaring back into his ears past his brother’s wheezing breaths, the feel of the wind now more incessant when all he wanted to do was focus on Ford’s thready heartbeat against him.

His arms tightened for a second before yielding, unable to let the temptation get the better of him when he knew deep down they weren’t out of danger yet. He found more soft words slipping out of him as his brother fought his own body’s need for rest, unable to stay quiet and let him go through it all alone.

His heart ached, cracking as Ford slumped back against him, too weak to do more. He could feel tracks burning down his face, his arms curling instinctively, protectively around his brother as all the emotion he held in him- had held him for so long seemed to pour out of him in waves.

He didn’t know whether he was crying because Ford was back or because he hated to see him so unlike himself.

Either way he knew he had to stop.

“Stan, p-please… listen…”

Stan nodded, rubbing at his eyes as Ford gave his all. He could feel the resolve, the desperate plea behind the tiredness and he knew, as much as he wanted to tell Ford to conserve his strength, that whatever he had to say was important.

“OK, sorry, I am- I’m listening. What is it? What do you need me to do?”

The next words made him jump into action, the heady mix of emotions snapping behind logic.

“We need- need to go. It’s coming, Stan, whatever took me… it’s down-”

An ice cold shiver ran down his spine, the creature from his nightmares rearing its ugly head to the forefront of his mind.

Don’t think. Do.

Of course they needed to go, they were in the middle of a storm, stuck far out to sea.

Stan felt his body tighten mechanically around Ford as another tremor shuddered through him, hand rubbing his back to get whatever water still remained up before he finally got to work. He felt his brother grow limp, ran a hand through his wet hair one more time before he focused on his new objective.

His feet slid from under him as he tried to traverse the deck, the wood slippery and uncooperative beneath him. He landed with a heavy thud, the wind knocked out of him as he cursed and scrabbled back upright with difficulty, his body aching with the bruises he knew would be forming once they got back home.

He gave a groan, shaking his head. Something felt off, like a word on the tip of his tongue, like an incessant pull to his consciousness even as he struggled to the helm to guide them back to shore.

“Keeper…”

Despite where he had been heading, his feet instead pulled him to the side of the boat with little difficulty. The light from above them waxed and waned as if warning him but he couldn’t seem to resist the sway, tired from the exertion that he had put his body through. Ford’s words rang in his head, a trickling inkling of what awaited him that he needed to know, needed to see for himself.

He’d spent so long knowing these things existed but pretending that they didn’t that he’d almost fooled himself.

Was it really real? The thing that had haunted him for years? Had trapped his brother and used his voice to get to him, to fuel his nightmares further?

His mind vaguely drifted, the tug of the wind towards the side of the ship so achingly familiar, like a little light guiding him up the steps of the lighthouse that very first night, a long long time ago...

Another wracking cough echoed out from behind him, somehow making it past the fog that had descended upon him, and through the storm that now burst back to the forefront of his senses.

He blinked, snapping out of it just as he found himself leaning dangerously far over the edge.

A large sickening yellow eye gazed back at him, amused and gleeful from the depths. Thick tendrils, the bulbous body that had shifted and contorted in his nightmares, were thrown for once into stark contrast in the gleaming light from above. His breath ghosted out of him in a torrent as he found himself unable to turn away from the horrific sight.

“Have you finally come to join us, keeper? You won’t make it back.”

What on earth makes you think you can save him? You should just join us, rot in the sea where you belong.

The words left a bitter taste in his mouth, jarring others out of his memories. The eye widened in surprise as he reared back away from the edge. It was the edges of a nightmare brought to fizzling life and he’d be damned if he’d let reality end the same way those nights did.

His gaze hardened, his thoughts once again his own as he pushed the influence that was trying to gain control out of his skull.

He recognised it, felt what were his own thoughts and what weren’t and buried the intrusive thoughts that needed to be buried from sight.

The boat shuddered under him, the tempest above them far more of a priority than the thing below the waves.

He could do this! He just needed to focus.

The winds died down slightly as he thought this, as if Mother Nature was questioning the reckless old man that had stumbled into her midst and was staring her in the face with little more care than if she was a schoolyard bully he was determined to take down.

He was stuck between two creatures in his head, one rising up to greet them whilst the other continued its pummelling assault. Both bearing down on his little vulnerable boat and its two very breakable occupants and all Stan could feel was the roar of fire in his veins as he launched across the ship. Any fear was clamped down on and twisted into a rage filled determination that nothing- nothing would take his brother from him again.

No, not this time! I just got him back- I won’t let you!

The light that had guided him vanished into nothingness, a sudden unyielding darkness consuming him as he clattered to the floor, his jaw hitting the deck and making him see stars. He ignored the pain and the blindness however, moving steadily forward on his hands and knees to stop his wayward feet from abandoned him again.

His fingers hit the wheel just in time to stop his head colliding, his hand gripping a rung as he used it to pull himself upwards and gave himself just a moment to find his feet.

His breathing was heavy and loud in the darkness, nothing penetrating the gloom as he waited. It was like the world had vanished. The tempest had gone, the swirling winds had become empty. The silence was deafening, his hair standing on end at the all-encompassing sensations, tingling with anticipation and cold as the rain ceased to exist.

“S-Stan…”

Stan gave a whistling breath as a warbling rasp echoed through it all, grounding him.

Ford was still awake, that was good. Tired and weak maybe, but still coherent enough that Stan hoped he could still provide him some reassurance.

Because it really sounded like he needed it.

“I’m here, Sixer, you keep listening to me, OK? We’re going to get home, don’t you worry.”

But he knew for all his words, this was the calm before the chaos, knew the creature was still slowly making its way up towards them and soon it would wrap around them, crush the life from his boat and drop them into its gaping maw below the surface.

So close, I was so close, I just need to see- just need a way home.

The light didn’t answer him.

An echoing roar came out of the darkness, tearing through it like it was cloth and tattering him to shreds as he clung to the wheel like a lifeline.

He shook under the brunt of it, shoulders hunched around his ears as agony engulfed him, ice and fire burned through his eardrums and directly into his skull to rattle there even when the roar dissipated.

And then the heavens opened.

The rain fell like a wave, crashing against him and battering onto his already worn down body. He heard a whimper somehow through the tempest, ears somehow straining and able to catch his brother where he lay. He blinked in the gloom, seeing absolutely nothing but somehow also knowing for a fact that his brother was directly ahead of him, barely holding on to the mast of the ship in an attempt to stay on board.

Every fibre of his being was so focused on his brother being OK that even the storm was less pressing than his brother in the darkness.

“Sixer, you just hold on! Keep your head down and hold on, because there’s people back home that you’ve got to meet and I’m gonna make sure that happens.”

Stan glanced around him, eyes narrowed as he tried to adjust. The ship juddered below him, making him lose his grip on the wheel and it spun out of control, the entire boat listing to the side before he could remedy the movement. If he had been disorientated before, he was more so now, the only thing he was sure of was the sky above him and the depths below.

He had no idea which way was home.

“No. No, no, no, not now. Shi- come on, come on, I just need some light. Just another beacon, just for a second to guide me home-”

“Stan! Stop!”

The shout came out, plaintive and cracking, and derailed his mantra before he could really let the words form. “Sixer? Sixer, are you OK?”

The croak that came was more of a whisper, somehow whistling on the winds to him. “Stan, we can’t- the light. It needs the light, that’s what it wants you to do.”

Stan let out a bite of a laugh, no mirth behind it but a solid thick denial of their predicament bubbling up protectively against the fear that threatened to engulf Ford’s tone. “I thought I told you to just hold on, Sixer. There’s nothing out here, you-” Stan hissed as the boat spun again, locking his arms around the wheel in an attempt to stop it, his teeth gritting painfully tight. “You’re not thinking straight after your dip. It’s just a storm, nothing weird about that other than us being out here.”

“Stan- you know… that’s not true.”

“Maybe.” Stan growled, yanking the wheel back where he thought it had been before. “But just because I know it’s there doesn’t mean I have to acknowledge it!” He yelled, loud and clear through the wind and rain as he glared upwards. “It is just a storm. And it will continue to just be a storm until we get to shore, you hear me? Nothing is going to stop us.”

Stan let out a deep breath, eyes drifting back to head height to glimpse for any sign of the shore to guide them back, mouth a tight lipped line. “Now then, if you’re done doubting me, I’m going to make sure we get there.” His next words came out in a grumble meant for himself more than anything else. “And I still think just a little bit of light would be helpful right now, creature be damned.”

Silence met him for a second, and for just a moment blinding panic shot through his veins, making his heart stutter in his chest.

“Ford?”

“There’s a light… You asked for light and I saw it.”

Stan blinked, his brother’s voice filled with a strange mix of hope and trepidation, bewilderment and disbelief. It left him reeling, lost and confused. There was too much going on, too many conflicting points of interest and the sensory deprivation was starting to tire him, chip away at his resolve as the hopelessness of the situation started to slip into his skull no matter how hard he tried to push it away. “What? What are you talking about? It’s pitch black-”

“There are lights, lots of them! Can’t you see them?”

Stan narrowed his eyes, squinting painfully through the rain that was still thundering down on him as worry slipped cold and slimy into his chest. “Hey, Sixer, did you hit your head? I need to know now cause I don’t see any damn light-”

His words caught in his throat as a pinprick fluttered in the distance. He held his breath, watching it dart this way and that as more and more little lights joined it. Small insignificant dots that spanned the horizon and flickered across his vision.

Insignificant but so very, very important that it took his breath away, the fear and trepidation melting to pure warm hope and recognition.

“Oh.”

“Stan, do you see them? What are they-?”

Ford’s words cut off, still doubtful and confused, as if the ordeal was leaving its mark on him and made him suspicious of everything around them. Not that Stan could blame him, with everything he must have gone through, when the light that had guided him this far was also what the creature below needed. But Stan also knew that this was different.

Knew that this light was their ticket to freedom, and theirs alone.

A flame burning in the darkness just to light their way.

He found his eyes catching on two of the lights, close together and moving faster than any of the others. Found the multitude of soft bright colours that gleamed against the artificial white of the rest of the flickering orbs, found the bright beam of the other, the strongest light of them all.

And he knew.

He knew exactly what they were.

He turned the boat towards them, focusing on those two little lights above everything else, above the other dancing lights.

“That’s home, Sixer. That’s what that is. And that’s where we’re headed.”

“Now hold on tight.”

.

AM: 8D THIS WAS SO FUN EXCUSE ME WHILE I GO SLEEP NOW.

#gravity falls fanfiction #gravity falls #lighthouse keeper au #stanley pines #stanford pines #bill cipher #grunkle stan #mabel pines #dipper pines #the light keeper

[johnchiarello]

Corruption in Corpus Christi

THE CORRUPTION CRSIS IN CORPUS CHRISTI TEXAS-

 Chief Simpson- https://youtu.be/U-wycmX5WuQ

http://wp.me/a4V5qQ-Hu

.Judge Manuel Banales

.’We have warned you John- do not be in public’! CCPD to me- CCPD has also spread a rumor that I carry a gun- and am dangerous -are they documenting a record- just in case they need to act?

.Henry

.The Race

 Here’s a brief report from El-defensor- whole article below-

 Jul 4, 2009 - The Picture of Manuel Banales Almost Says"Maximum Sentences For Those ... has feared a sentencing by state District Judge Manuel Bañales, who's known for ... open his own Corpus Christi law firm, earn an estimated $10 million mostly in .... is a corrupt judge who crippled two men and buys prostitutes.

  Criminal history of judge Manuel Banales- https://youtu.be/p8d6W4fufvo

http://ccoutreach87.com/9-19-17-criminal-history-of-judge-manuel-banales-2/

.I read reports that he has been picked up for the solicitation of prostitutes

.And reports that he ran his car into a homeless man by city hall [past record]

 Scene of the crime- https://youtu.be/_56iLOYum9c

http://ccoutreach87.com/9-19-17-scene-of-the-crime-2/

.I did not connect the dots when I made this video- if you watch the last video- the dots are connected

 Update- https://youtu.be/yuHCnzY5wMA

http://ccoutreach87.com/9-19-17-scene-of-the-crime/ [update]

.CCPD spreads false rumors

.Dangerous ones at that

.Judge Manuel Banales- are the reports true that you solicited prostitutes?

 I think we solved the riddle [previously titled ‘sex with kids is wrong!’]- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b_eEuTZunQg

http://ccoutreach87.com/9-19-17-i-thnik-we-solved-the-riddle/

.Children of God [cult]

.David Moses Berg

.Ricky Hernandez- victim of child sex cult [Maybe Rodriguez?]

.He made a video years later- killed the woman involved- and killed himself

.Jesus movement of the 70’s

.Kieth Green

.Judge Sandra Watts- and Judge Missy Medary just honored Judge Manuel Banales as a great man of integrity

.They have publicly stated they truly respect his values and life

.Whats wrong with this picture?

.Why would they do this- knowing the history?

  Final thoughts below-

 Here’s the link to patriot dad and tom Greenwell- https://thepatriotdad.wordpress.com/judge-tom-greenwell-just-what-would-cause-suicide/

 As I drove the possible ramps where judge Banales drove his car off the road- I finally got to the one where it happened. I actually stated on the video I had to drive down Leopard street- to access the ramp. I don’t like driving Leopard- because it is known as the ‘Red light district’ here in Corpus- and a lot of cops patrol this street. I was actually surprised it was this ramp that the judge wiped out on.

I figured it was the other ramp heading out of town- where maybe because you were in a hurry leaving town- yeah- you might speed.

But as I ‘investigated’ this case- I realized it was the ramp- going back into the courthouse area.

Anyway- after this video [Scene of the crime] I took a ride up towards San Antonio.

On the way back- I was thinking of a cult I studied in the past- because it too involved sex with children [Like patriot dad believes is happening with the judges and officials in Nueces county].

Sure enough- right when I got to the ramp coming into town- on the other side of where the crash happened- I remembered the name- [Ricky Hernandez] and stopped and made the last video [I think I solved the riddle].

As I made the video- on the side of the ramp coming back- I realized the judge- like my earlier drive- was probably exiting Leopard street at a very high rate of speed- which seems strange.

Earlier today- while simply googling Judge Banales name- to find the exact site of the wreck- I saw another report that he was once stopped for soliciting prostitutes.

Then I realized- why was the judge going so fast- was he possibly caught again- and evading the scene?

Which of course is a felony.

Was there an undercover sting operation- and did the judge panic- thinking he was caught again?

I can think of no other reason why you would be speeding like that- out of control- unless you were fleeing the scene of a crime.

Of course the cop would have gotten his license number- and then maybe that's when the wheels started turning- working within the system to simply cover up 2 crimes.

One being the crash itself- and the other being caught in a prostitution sting- again.

Either way- what the judge did- in the car crash- was indeed a serious crime.

 As I was simply googling Manuel Banales- to find the location of the car wreck- I came across multiple reports that claim judge Banales had been picked up for soliciting prostitutes- had a history of running into a homeless man by city hall- and how in these cases- because of corruption- he escaped justice. Some reports said he appeared before judges- who he actually hired their family members for jobs.

If all the reports are true- the corruption is even worse then I believed. Then I saw links where Judge Sandra Watts praises him for his integrity- Missy Medary honors him 5 days ago.

All of this is absolutely unbelievable.

The rabbit hole goes deeper than even I thought.

 Final thoughts- https://youtu.be/wsxfxta_D9U

http://ccoutreach87.com/9-19-17-final-thoughts/

 LAST NOTE- As I read the articles- I got mad. I got mad because if it is all true- then it shows a corruption in this county that is even worse then I thought.

I also read comments that were wanting the destruction of the judge.

If these allegations are true- the judge obviously should not be a judge.

There are no past reports that say he engaged with underage kids- which others think might be happening in the system here [Patriot dad].

But if the prostitution charge is true- yes- it’s a crime.

Should Manuel Banales be destroyed over it?

No- he should be restored- not destroyed.

But I read other Hispanics who are mad- they are mad because they believe Banales went after them- unfairly.

They are mad because- if the allegations are true- he should not be a judge- never mind going after others with a vengeance.

The best advice for the judge is this-

There is forgiveness with God- there is mercy.

I usually do not spend this much time- dealing with these issues.

In reality- as those who watch the videos can see- it drains me down.

So- if true- simply ask God for forgiveness.

If you struggle with sin- as we all do- then God forgives.

I attend the Catholic Cathedral here in Corpus Christi- I think I read in one of the posts that you attend as well.

If so- I would be glad to see you there- as a fellow believer in Christ.

Not a Mexican brother- or a Gringo brother- or a Black brother-

No- the kingdom does not have these boundaries.

No- I would be happy to see you as a fellow Christian.

And in the end- I hope the right thing is done.

May God bless your soul.

 John

 These were copied from other reports- I added the links to yesterdays post-

WATT IS EMBELLISHMENT?

AND

WHERE IS THE TRUTH?

THURSDAY, JUNE 5, 2008

BANALES IS GETTING AWAY WITH A THIRD CRIME?

Today Maximum Manuel is again trying to slither his way out of yet anothe crime. As we have reported before it is not the first time Banales has been protected. He reportedly failed to control speed while exiting off 37 and hit a young man (34) and knocked he and the vehicle 50 feet. Banales had previously hit a homeless person according to police sources and he refused to exit the vehicle a few years ago, was rumored to have been under the influence of alcohol, called Carlos Valdez to come and rescue him and no charges were filed against him and the homeless man received a civil settlement. In another arrest Banales was reported to have solicited a prostitute and was handcuffed but later released. Now in the most outrageous coverup the mainstream media was showing him in neckbrace, minimizing the poor young man's serious injury, in fact which may lead to death. IS BANALES ABOVE THE LAW? Banales has had a questionable past including representing Biker's on drug charges. Reportedly after getting them off he was given women as presents. Unbelievable. He lost judge elections 3 times and was about to be run out of town until his controller DARREL BARGER a defense attorney who employs all of his children and who has told many an attorney that he controls judge Banales and reportedly Banales pushes all cases aside when this man enters the courtroom. Now he has hit a young man, exiting at a high rate of speed and hit the car and knocked it 50 feet. Can you imagine the high rate of speed that Maximum Manuel Banales was doing? Reportedly, one of the workers had time to move out of the way and the other one didn't have a chance. The media is already circling the wagons and even SHERIFF KAELIN is on message to want people to feel sorry for this man. How many hispanics have been victim to his maximum treatment and sentencing after he has broken the law now at least 3 times and gotten away with it? The Defenzor consulted with an accident reconstructionist and that expert believes that the look of the vehicles and the high rate of speed well over 50mph that pushed the truck over 50 feet is very suspicious. If they do not charge him with excessive speed, failure to control vehicle and negligent homicide if the boy dies is an injustice and a coverup. WHY ARE THE WAGONS BEING CIRCLED ALREADY? Banales is the administrative judge in control of many courts and appointed by Perry (one of the few Democrats, but he also has licked the boots of the King Ranch and Armstrongs for so long (see the Fernandez battle for legitimizing the doctor as the heir of Miflin Kenedy) that he shut down with his good friends Jorge Rangel and Tony Canales. Now Judge Maximum Banales has hit and seriously hurt and possibly murdered a young man and TxDot employee. Justice must finally be served. But, unfortunately, and predictably the Defenzor predicts that the powers that be here will cover and coddle Banales once again. 1) Homeless man seriously hurt 2) hooker solicited 3) and now a reckless driver. GET THE EVIDENCE FROM BANALES' CADILLAC? With his fancy Cadillac where is the blackbox on the Cadillac? It can calculate how fast he was going! He was traveling at a high rate of speed, there is no doubt by the look of both vehicles. He was driving reckless and if the boy dies it is a homicide according to one local criminal attorney who wishes to remain nameless and also who corroborated that Darrel Barger bragged about controlling and having influence over Banales. INDICT BANALES! He is not the victim! The poor man who was working needs to be heard! Where is DPS investigating? This is not his first accident? Where is the D.A. investigation? DO NOT LET A COVERUP OCCUR. THE DEFENZOR feels for the family of the poor man. How dare the mainstream media make Banales the victim here when he caused an accident and was careless and has hurt an innocent man! STAY TUNED FOR MORE. BE REST ASSURED THE DEFENZOR WILL NOT REST UNTIL A COMPLETE INVESTIGATION SHOWS WHETHER OR NOT BANALES "MAXIMUM MANUEL" WAS RECKLESS DRIVING AND MAY HAVE KILLED SOMEONE. ENOUGH IS ENOUGH. FORMAL ARTICLE IN DEFENZOR TO FOLLOW. STAY TUNED.

Posted by HOMERO VILLARREAL

Posted by Jaime Kenedeno at 6:05 AM Links to this post  

 Banales car struck man in 1990 accident

Corpus Chisti Caller-Times By Jaime Powell

CORPUS CHRISTI - Eighteen years ago, a gold Chrysler Fifth Avenue driven by District Judge J. Manuel Banales struck a Robstown man with mental disabilities who was crossing the street near Corpus Christi City Hall.

Banales was not ticketed for the incident and the pedestrian, Francisco "Frank" Pena, then 31, was found at fault. He was taken to Memorial Medical Center with cuts, scrapes and a broken leg.

Banales and his lawyer, Ron Barroso, did not return phone calls last Thursday.

The Caller-Times filed a public records request with the Corpus Christi Police Department on June 9 seeking a police accident report and other documents related to the incident.

The police department wasn't able to fill the request because, under department guidelines, traffic accident reports are purged after two years, according to police.

An Aug. 20, 1990 police report obtained by the Caller- Times through other means Thursday afternoon and verified by Mayor Henry Garrett, who was police chief at the time, shows that Banales was traveling west on Leopard Street at 7:20 p.m. when Pena crossed the street, without the benefit of a crosswalk.

The report says Banales braked and swerved.

"This is an accident report that we generated at the police department at the time," Garrett said. "It's the real thing. It looks like the pedestrian was crossing at the middle of the block. To look at this diagram, I wouldn't see that a ticket would have been issued. By the diagram and what's in the report, the violation was the pedestrian."

Pena's father, Ramon Pena, 74, gave a different version of events Thursday morning. He was not there to witness the collision but talked to witnesses shortly after.

Frank Pena was waiting for a bus at the corner of Leopard and Staples when he decided to cross the street to a convenience store to get a soda, his father said.

"He looked both ways and here came the judge," Ramon Pena said.

City Councilman Mike Hummell, an attorney, who was serving as the assigned prosecutor in Banales' court at the time of the accident, went to the scene shortly after it happened.

He could not remember if Banales had called him or if he happened upon the accident on his way home.

"The only thing I recall is the guy had a Big Red," Hummell said. "When I got there, there was Big Red all over the car and at first glance it was a scary thing. Looking closer it was just a soft drink."

Ramon Pena said he had difficulty finding a lawyer to take his son's case. "I saw a lawyer every day on TV, Mike Butler. At first he refused to take the case but then he decided to."

Mike Butler, who now practices in San Antonio, did not return repeated phone calls this week.

But Jeffrey DeVillez, who was an investigator and insurance negotiator for Butler's law practice at the time, remembered the 1990 accident.

"They were accusing the kid and the kid's family was accusing Banales, saying that he was not watching," DeVillez said. "He was a judge and the kid was (disabled). They couldn't put the kid on trial. They wanted to avoid that at all costs. So we asked for the total amount of the policy and said let's move on."

Ramon Pena said Banales had a $100,000 insurance policy. Lawyer's fees and hospital bills carved Frank Pena's share down to a little more than $47,000, Ramon Pena said.

"Frank, he's still limping today and he got a rod in his leg," Ramon Pena said. Note: This story was originally published June 13, 2008.

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Quote:CORPUS CHRISTI — District Judge J. Manuel Bañales will receive a traffic ticket but no criminal charges are being considered in his June 5 collision with a highway department worker, a police captain said Friday. The judge's Cadillac DeVille was traveling 71 mph six seconds before the collision, according to information downloaded Friday from an electronic information storage device in the car known as a "black box," police Capt. Mike McKinney said. Black boxes are standard on recent-model cars. The collision occurred on a curve where the posted recommended speed is 40 mph, but the legal limit is 65 mph, McKinney said. The recommended speeds on curves such as the accident site are on yellow advisory signs posted by the Texas Department of Transportation to increase safety, but are not enforceable, McKinney said. The offense in the citation will be failure to maintain a single lane of travel, a Class C misdemeanor issued when a driver weaves or veers off the road, McKinney said. The offense won't be speeding; the car was traveling 6 mph over the speed limit and the police department normally doesn't cite for that amount at freeway speeds, he said. McKinney said the ticket likely will be issued Monday. The accident occurred about 2:45 p.m. June 5 as Bañales entered the ramp connecting South Padre Island Drive to southbound Interstate 37. Police said his car slid off the pavement and struck Martin Garcia, 34, who remains in serious condition at Christus Spohn Hospital Memorial's intensive care unit. Bañales' car also hit a pole and a transportation truck near Garcia, a Texas Department of Transportation employee.

racerfink

1:04p, 6/17/08

L

I know what I'm doing if I'm a lawyer and I ever have a case in front of him...

LoneStarFree

2:56a, 6/18/08

L

Knew that was coming.

davisgary 87

1:16p, 6/18/08

H

Teflon, bullet-proof, hispanic politicos and power -brokers in this town who think they are above the law make me sick....and they are everywhere.

cmohle

6:51a, 6/21/08

H

AG

I'm enraged by this, but I live in MS and we have our own problems. Did live in CC for 12 years though, before in was consumed by our friends from the south. "57"

Peter Gibbons

11:04a, 6/26/08

L

A 34-year-old transportation department worker critically injured after a car driven by District Judge J. Manuel Bañales slid off the pavement and hit him was taken to an Austin hospital Wednesday for further surgery. Martin Garcia was crouched next to a Texas Department of Transportation heavy-duty pickup parked near a ramp connecting Padre Island Drive to southbound Interstate 37 when he was struck June 5. Garcia was hospitalized at Christus Spohn Hospital Memorial until Wednesday, when he was taken to Brackenridge Hospital in Austin for surgery related to pelvic injuries, highway department spokesman Cliff Bost said. Garcia arrived at the Austin facility Wednesday afternoon. Friday, Houston attorney Richard Mithoff, who is representing Garcia and his family, said Garcia's once critical condition had improved and that doctors were further stabilizing him before moving him to another facility for advanced surgery related to "multiple and serious pelvic fractures." Mithoff said Friday that Garcia was off of a ventilator and conscious but not alert. Garcia also suffered an injured left knee and lower leg, punctured intestines and fluid buildup in his lungs, Mithoff said. Bañales received a traffic ticket for "unsafe change from a direct course," a Class C misdemeanor citation related to the accident, police said.

LoneStarFree

11:23a, 6/26/08

Fall92

5:24p, 7/23/08

H

AG

Mithoff is a bad@ss mofo. One of his associates is an Aggie. Glad the family went outside of C-town for a lawyer. Word to my peeps on the southside.

huisache

1:44p, 7/24/08

L

That ramp is a hazard because nobody drives the posted speed and there is always gravel lying around. So if you have to slow down suddenly you have a problem.  As for charging Banales with something more serious, ask yourself if you would want them to charge somebody who was not a judge with aggravated assault for driving in the same fashion that everybody else does. The choice in charges is either the class c misdemeanor or a third degree felony. There may be a wreckless driving charge somewhere in between. But if you go out there and watch the traffic, everybody goes through there too fast to stop if something pops up. The best way to handle it is to charge him with the traffic offense and let them work it out as a civil matter, which is the only way the guy who got hurt will benefit anyway. And I will second the bit about the Houston lawyer. He is very good.

rmag8205

3:11p, 7/24/08

A

AG

I drove past that accident pretty soon after it happened (the cops had just arrived). The cars were just clumps of metal and I thought for sure everyone involved was dead. This makes me so angry!!!

 Lsal

David Cutliffe

in Billy Liucci's TexAgs Premium

DEFENZORMAGAZINE

YOUR BLOG FOR SOUTH TEXAS!EL DEFENZOR SAYS: STOP THE NETWORK FOR PROFIT SCHEMES http://www.sos.state.tx.us/elections/voter/reqvr.shtml Voter Registrars Office For more Information: Call the Nueces County Voter Registrar's Office at [phone]. 901 Leopard Corpus Christi, TX 78401

Saturday, July 4, 2009

BANALES EXPOSED

    The Picture of Manuel Banales Almost Says"Maximum Sentences For Those That Can't Afford to Buy Me, but For Those Who Can, the Jails are Overcrowded""

CARLOS VALDEZ THE DISTRICT ATTORNEY FROM CORPUS CHRISTI EXPOSING BANALES TENTACLES AND HIS DEALINGS WITH HIS CRONEYS TO GIVE CELIS THE BREAK HE NEEDED. CORRUPTION RUNNING DEEP IN BANALES 3 DECADE REIGN OF TERROR IN THE COURTROOM.

Below is the article by San Antonio reporter John MacCormack who also has followed the Celis story since 2007. Apparently Banales has been bought and paid for by the Celis Camp and not just Darrell Barger who appeared in front of him on hundreds of cases while his children worked for Barger and never disclosed that to the other attorneys.

 Can Tina Trevino or Angelica Hernandez or a host of other strong Latina Candidates finally expose Banales for what he is and his reign of terror over lawyers and people who couldn't afford to influence him who faced stiff sentences?. Maximum Manuel indicated that the jails were too overcrowded for Celis but yet he placed many in jail for much more minor offenses. The hypocrisy runs deep and his political days may be short.

 By John MacCormack - Express-News CORPUS CHRISTI Over the past two decades, many a South Texas defendant has feared a sentencing by state District Judge Manuel Bañales, who's known for meting out harsh and creative punishments. In 1993, the judge made headlines by sentencing a first-offense drug smuggler caught with 54 pounds of marijuana to 54 years in prison. The conviction later was overturned and the man went free. Eight years later, Banalesales again made national news by ordering sex offenders in Nueces County to place signs describing their offenses in front of their homes and on their cars. Other offenders have been ordered to serve lengthy jail sentences in small installments, year after year, during the Christmas holidays. He'sa no-nonsense judge who is very severe in sentencing. Very harsh,said Albert Pena III, a veteran criminal defense lawyer. Thus, when Banales appeared to show leniency this spring after stepping into a high-profile case involving the state's most prominent fake lawyer, Mauricio Celis, the natural legal order shuddered. That's not the Judge Banales I've known all these years. It's a different one. Maybe he's mellowing, said Pena, one of the few willing to speak on the record. Banales' deepening role in the case has triggered a public showdown with prosecutor Carlos Valdez. The longtime Nueces County district attorney wants Banalesoff the case, claiming he hasn't been impartial. I'm doing something that has not been done before. And when you take on a judge publicly, there may be consequences later, Valdez said. Impersonating a lawyer The improbable figure at the center of it all is Celis, a man who overcame his modest origins to open his own Corpus Christi law firm, earn an estimated $10 million mostly in case referral fees from lawyers and play the role of high-dollar rainmaker in Democratic political circles. He did it all with brains and chutzpah, without even being a lawyer. After he was denounced as a fraud two years ago, Celis added a colorful subplot to the story by chasing down a nude woman, who had fled his hot tub, while flashing a police badge and clad only in a bath robe. As the criminal charges and civil suits piled up, Celis insisted he had a law degree from Mexico, dropping that claim only after being convicted of 14 felony counts of impersonating a lawyer. The trial was heard by visiting Judge Mark Luitjen who was appointed by Bañales. However, in May, just before the Celis sentencing, Banales removed Luitjen on a recusal motion. The defense also asked for a new trial, claiming in both motions that Luitjen had been unfair. As proof, seven jurors testified that he showed bias against Celis, and Banales took over the case. But where Luitjen had outlined a sentence of a year in jail, probation and restitution of more than $1 million, Banales gave Celis 10 years' probation and reduced restitution to proven claims by victims. It was almost identical to what the jury had recommended for Celis, who faces at least three more trials on related charges. Assumingthat what Mr. Valdez says is true, that this defendant is a con artist of the greatest magnitude, that in and of itself does not warrant incarceration,Banalessaid at sentencing, noting the offenses did not involve violence or injury, and that local jails were crowded. To some local lawyers, it didn't add up, but because Banales' reputation for harshness extends to his critics, few would speak on the record. This was not business as usual. I think he did the guy (Celis) a favor. If this had been Joe Blow off the streets, he'd be doing his year in jail, one veteran defense lawyer said. Said another lawyer, Banales is a stinker all the way around. Maybe Luitjen rolled his eyes a little bit, but that's never been grounds for recusal.

But not everyone thinks the sentence of probation was out of line. Mauricio Celis isn't going to harm anyone, said James Granberry, who has practiced before Banales I didn't get a lot of heartburn about him not going to jail. Those beds are for people who keep me awake night, prying in my windows, he said. The nuclear option While online conspiracy theorists in Corpus Christi speculated wildly this spring about dirty deals in the Celis case, Valdez activated what he called “the nuclear option. Days before a June 26 hearing on a new trial for Celis, he filed a motion to remove Bañales, claiming his impartiality was suspect. “Judge Banales came in and undid everything that Judge Luitjen had done. And if he grants the motion for a new trial, we're back to Square 1,he said. In his motion, Valdez outlined the judge's financial and social links with various defense lawyers who have an interest in the Celis case, foremost Tony Canales, the lead defense lawyer. The things we have raised went on outside the courtcampaign contributions, socializing with the judge, and the possibility that Judge Banales is in line for a federal judgeship and that Tony Canales would be the perfect conduit to help him,Valdez said. A man of expansive ego and ambition, Bañales lost out on a bid in 1993 to become a federal judge in Corpus Christi. Rumors floating around town have him as possible replacement for U.S. District Judge Hayden Head Jr. who is expected to step down in October. Because Canales is a member of a state judicial selection committee and a reputed kingmaker, he is well positioned to help Banales, according to Valdez. “And if he thinks Tony can get him in, Tony is in the perfect place to get what he wants from the judge. It just doesn't look right,said. Canales and Banales declined to be interviewed for this article. In their response to the recusal motion, Celis' lawyers say it was filed too late, that taking campaign contributions from lawyers isn't grounds for recusal, and neither are the judge's social ties. The real bloodshed might lie ahead, because last week Banales declined to step down. “The state presents no legal basis upon which I should recuse myself, he wrote. This throws the recusal issue to Chief Supreme Court Justice Wallace Jefferson, who either will hear the issue himself or assign another judge. In a full-blown hearing, reputations are likely to be harmed. According to District Judge John Hyde of Midland, a recognized authority on recusals, several aspects of the legal drama playing out in Corpus Christi are noteworthy. “I don't think I've ever seen a case where a recusal occurred at the end of a trial,†he said, after reviewing some pleadings. Normally, he said, appellate courts are the remedy for alleged trial bias. “The fact that the motion for a new trial is almost a mirror image of the recusal motion indicates those are matters for an appellate ruling, he said. He said it's not customary for an administrative judge who grants a recusal to then assign himself the case. He also found the issues of outside influence raised by Valdez unsettling. On the whole, the entire case is not helping the image of the judiciary, Hyde said.

Posted by HOMERO VILLARREAL at 8:47 AM 

Labels: Corruption, Favoritism, John McCormack, manuel Banales, mauricio celis, Maximum Manuel, On the Take,Reversal, Tony Canales

2 COMMENTS:

 Anonymous said...

Put it simply, Banales is the biggest arrogant prick that has ever come out of South Texas. He needs to go down for the true asshole that he is and he needs to be disgraced so that all people remember is a corrupt judge who crippled two men and buys prostitutes.

July 4, 2009 at 10:27 AM

 Anonymous said...

Finally, Banales is exposed nationally for being the most corrupt and hypocritical judge there is. People when will we all stand up and get him out like we did his lamebrain wife? How many men does he have to cripple? How many prostitutes does he have to get caught with? How many shady deals with lawyers must he make? Time to stop corruption in this town. From Caserunning to corrupt judges it is all coming down. He also runs the most inefficient court around. People we MUST GET HIM OUT!!! SOMEONE RUN AGAINST HIM THAT CAN WIN!! A strong young lawyer who is honest! Come on. Save us!!! Banalesmustgo

July 4, 2009 at 10:41 AM

DEFENZORMAGAZINE: BANALES EXPOSED

eldefenzor.blogspot.com/2009/07/banales-exposed.html

00001. 

Jul 4, 2009 - The Picture of Manuel Banales Almost Says"Maximum Sentences For Those ... has feared a sentencing by state District Judge Manuel Bañales, who's known for ... open his own Corpus Christi law firm, earn an estimated $10 million mostly in .... is a corrupt judge who crippled two men and buys prostitutes.

Judge Tom Greenwell, Just What Would Cause Suicide?

There are some very disturbing indicators in the investigation of the suicide of Judge Tom Greenwell. The public has a right to know what has transpired.

Could Judge Tom Greenwell be involved in child abuse? Maybe even child molestation or child porn? Could this be a judge who used his office to abuse under age boys, just as in nearby Victoria County Sheriff Mike Ratcliff did for nearly a decade in Victoria with support from the former D.A., George Filley, an old schoolmate of mine gone bad. Mike Ratcliff had even been a former insurance client of mine.   Wouldn’t the corruption and environment of mutual cover-up by judges in the Nueces County Courthouse have encouraged these issues in Judge Greenwell’s life that caused him to commit suicide, no matter what the reasons were.   Was the rampant corruption in the Nueces Courthouse an invitation to excess?

The Nueces County Sheriff stated there were two people of interest then cuts off all information.   The judges in the area, en masse, did show up at Greenwell’s memorial service, in their robes.   The services were on Thursday, July 25, 2013.     It could be out of respect of a fellow judge or, it could be a circling of the wagons.  My 20 years of experience provides insight that it is more likely a ‘Circling of the Wagons’.

In the last known poll on a national basis of trial attorneys, Corpus Christi area was voted second most judicially corrupt area in the U.S..  This is right after Janet Reno’s Dade County and just a little worse than Obama’s Chicago.   The commonality among all of these is than none of the judges in those areas will take a stand to address and remove their corrupt cronies.   That makes all of them bad, just like one bad and murderous cop being tolerated in a police department, makes the whole department just as bad.   I believe the rampant corruption in the Nueces County Courthouse, in the middle of downtown Corpus Christi, can point the way to some of the reasons for Judge Greenwell’s demise.

Let me lay out the public information that has been made to date on the Greenwell suicide, and some of the speculation that experience in the Nueces County Courthouse justifies.

First is a 2004 article in the Corpus Christi Caller times discussing sex offenses that went to trial in 2003 “and the 58% overall conviction rate.  Judge Greenwell heard 7 AND HAD NO CONVICTIONS OF ANY IN HIS COURT:

“Judge Tom Greenwell of the 319th District Court did not see a single conviction in seven sexual abuse trials in his court in 2003.

But the lawyers are not to blame, he said.

“Before they come to the courthouse, these cases should be investigated better,” Greenwell said. “A number of these cases are not winnable cases. There’s too much doubt, too many loose ends.”

Who could be to blame for that failure?   The statistics for not getting a single conviction are not good.   I have been spent a good bit of time in courtrooms over the past two decades.   A crafty judge can greatly influence by whose objections he sustains or overrules, as just one of the many tools of manipulation.

Judge Greenwell was heavily in debt. His much younger life partner was in periodic trouble with the law. His partner was arrested at least once. It is rumored that there were several times the judge’s partner would have gone to jail were it not for the judge’s influence. Only a few years back, Judge Greenwell stated that his live in partner,  Mr. Albert Fuentez, was like a SON to the judge.  The age disparity is that great between the judge and his house partner.

The family of Judge Greenwell’s partner has stated Greenwell had been diagnosed with cancer.   If that is true, why wouldn’t that be a part of the public statements of the Sheriff and other officials investigating the judge’s suicide?  Wouldn’t that be a great excuse to deflect questioning of the situation such as is being done here?

For comparison of the current systems that are coming into play of the cover-up of other local pedophile officials:  The judge, Texas District Judge Robert Cheshire, in my original divorce openly stated he partied with and was a good friend of Sheriff Mike Ratcliff and the Victoria City Attorney. This judge, Robert Cheshire, is the one who gave my child to her mother who testified the molestation of our two year old child by a serial molester of at least 4 other little girls was ‘humorous’ and ‘appropriate’. The judge gave me visitation over half my child’s time, but gave all authority and custody to the mother, who had moved in with our daughter’s convicted molester. I was given most of my child’s time to ‘protect’ her, but my ex was given all authority and denied my child protective access to me.   During this same period,  unknown to the public, young males were complaining and being ignored by the D.A. that Sheriff Ratcliff was molesting them.

Here is a bit more about Michael Ratcliff that puts the handling of the Judge Tom Greenwell Suicide into more focus:

Victoria Advocate Article on Mike Ratcliff Conviction

The Victoria Advocate article in the link above even addresses the very real need of the public to be fully aware of the various issues of corruption, criminality, and even just poor lifestyle choices.

Let us go through the data already provided; the several most likely possibilities for Judge Greenwell’s suicide, and the commonalities upon which circumstantial evidence can be built.

Sheriff Ratcliff, when finally exposed by the Texas Rangers, had support from the City Attorney, Police Chief, and a Police Lieutenant who all reportedly threatened the lives of the witnesses if they testified. There was an informational black-out. Mike Ratcliff was allowed to plea bargain for something other than the egregious sexual offenses he committed and was sentenced to a two year prison sentence, in his own home. We see a repeat of this wall of silence and the public’s need to know in Greenwell’s suicide.

Both deceased Judge Greenwell and former Sheriff Ratcliff fit the second greatest commonality of sex offenders and child molesters, they are homosexual.   Ratcliff was bisexual which is just a subset of homosexual.   The CDC terms male homosexuals as MSMs (Males having SEX with Males) and determines an individual for medical tracking purposes is MSM if they have had a voluntary same sex experience within the past 5 years.

The greatest single commonality of both homosexuals and of sex offenders is that they were raised in a single mother home.    I am unaware of whether Mike Ratcliff or Tom Greenwell were raised in single mother homes.

Of course, both  of these commonalities are taboo to discuss in polite society and very definitely not part of any discussion our very liberal media will allow.  The discussions are aimed at continuing to claim the Emperor’s new suit of clothes is lovely, even though the naked truth is there for everyone to see.  With the homosexual agenda and feminism, there is to be no dialogue, only the monologue from the most extreme activists of those two sister groups.

The molester of my two year old child was both raised in a single mother home and bisexual.  That was no coincidence, he fit the two greatest commonalities of sex offenders and child molesters.   It would have been unique had the molester NOT fit into both of those two categories.    In Victoria County, that molester, even though he had multiples of convictions was given only ‘deferred adjudication’ upon conviction of all the molestations in Victoria County.   He was also given deferred adjudication for his convictions in McKinney, Colin County, Texas.   It is believed he may have been one of Sheriff Ratcliff’s underage male “partners” who receive special protections in Victoria, Texas.  He molested at least two other girls for which he was adjudicated with no incarceration over the two years following his molestation of my child.

In the instance of Judge Greenwell, The Sheriff of Nueces County has stated he will not provide further information at this time, 7/22/2013, on the apparent suicide of Judge Tom Greenwell. People in the courthouse have gone silent. It is reminiscent of what happened when Mike Ratcliff was indicted for pedophilia for using the county hospital cell as his playroom with under-aged males. Mike also would lure young males out of their homes claiming to be women wanting sex and with the power of his badge and gun, force himself on these young boys.  A juvenile probation officer for the molester of my child claimed Mike would spend long hours alone, behind closed doors with boys in the lock-down juvenile facility at the Victoria Airport Industrial Park.  The officer was very distraught at what he believed was happening to those boys with Mike and none of the local officials would act or investigate.

Mike was promising the boys he would get them preferred consideration on their offenses with the D.A. and that he, Mike Ratcliff, would pay for their legal defense if needed.

What is being kept from the public in Judge Greenwell’s suicide?

The Ratcliff story, in relation to the known facts on Judge Greenwell  makes one wonder  about  the judge’s young male live-in partner, Mr. Albert Fuentes, who was so much younger than the judge that he called the young man, his son.   So we now have another very important and telling piece of the puzzle as to why Greenwell may have killed himself, and it is tied to another commonality among the homosexual community the media does not want to discuss, the propensity of a very large percentage of homosexuals to openly state a desire to have sex with very young males, under age males.

Judge Greenwell lived in a modest home and drove a modest car, though his partner had a nice SUV. The judge had a $140,000 salary from the State and additional money, supposedly from the county. His life style was well below his income, yet Judge Greenwell was heavily in debt. The local Sheriff’s office and media have stated there may have been extortion involved. If so, if it were debt or drugs the Bar and Judiciary would protect and cover for him. If it were his homosexual relationship, it would be very unlikely in today’s climate his support would even experience a hiccup.  It might even improve his electability.  This was not a hidden fact. How could this be used for black mail or extortion?   It couldn’t.

So we come to the speculative aspect of what would cause a powerful, known homosexual state official, arguably more powerful than the governor, to pay blackmail and then to kill himself? The information held by an extortionist must have been very real and very well documented against the judge

If it were drugs, both the bar and the Texas Judicial Conduct Commission allow attorneys and judges to keep their licenses and positions if they attend their treatment programs, whether or not they manage to kick their habit. Both institutions have periodically had advertisements on their front pages for drug and alcohol treatment programs to keep them from damaging their careers. No one cares about addicts and drunks on the bench any longer.

It is very common for judges to be deep in debt and there are many gray areas where judges can obtain large sums of money and have all of officialdom  turn a blind eye on acts that would have Joe or Jane Citizen in the lockup for decades. Just look at Judge Bobby Galvan’s home in the ‘millionaire only’ section of Ocean Drive with the massive water front homes on the seawall as an example of unexplained wealth of a former Federal Drug Prosecutor and now a local Judge and his wife who had been a prosecutor and only middle income attorney.

Judge Greenwell interjected himself into some very sticky and smelly corruption tar.    He worked to help retaliate against a local attorney for exposing Judge William Adams and Judge Bobby Galvan.

Judge Galvan was accused by a young boy of trying to force the child to make false allegations of sexual abuse against his mother, Jennifer Flores-Lamb and her attorney, David Sibley. This effort to falsely accuse the client and her attorney is believed in retaliation for exposing undue influence in Galvan’s court by the attorneys who accompanied Galvan to the intimidation and witness tampering effort. There was physical evidence, table tickets and a complete lack of alibis and/or denials by all parties. There were waiters who were witnesses who corroborated the child’s testimony. The meeting was at the child’s favorite restaurant and the waiters knew the father and son. Men are sent to death row for less evidence and no witnesses. More on the topics of Judges Bobby Galvan, William Adams, Dick Alcala, and Tom Greenwell in other of my blogs on these judges.

It is unlikely that Judge Greenwell’s problems, debts, and eventual suicide were connected with debt or drugs. It is unlikely that the judge committed suicide over a possible breakup with his much younger male partner who had the much nicer vehicle and no known job and seemed to be the one running up large debts. What good looking lazy young hustler wouldn’t take the place of Greenwell’s lover in a heartbeat for lots of money and big SUV?

It is very unlikely that Judge Greenwell’s problems were merely judicial corruption on the bench.  The extremely egregious and well documented corruptions of Judges Adams and Galvan point to how insulated Texas Judges are from accountability.  And, I do have material indicating corruption in Greenwell’s court that is shocking to the public but laughably common to the judges in the area.

There is indication of corruption and attorney’s having undue influence in Judge Greenwell’s court. Judge Tom Greenwell was the subject of Attorney Larry Adams (no known family connection with Judge William Adams the judge who beat his disabled daughter) statements that he knew ahead of time that Judge Greenwell would make some very strong and unsubstantiated findings against local Corpus Christi attorney, Mr. David Sibley.   Mr. Sibley had been trying to get Judge Adams of Rockport removed from the bench before Judge Adams daughter put the infamous video on YouTube of her father, Judge William Adams, beating his M.S. afflicted daughter. So, it appears we can rule out any real concern that possible discovery of his corruption would create such a fear as to lead to suicide.   Corruption and a sexually charged beating of a disabled teenage daughter did not get Judge Adams sanctioned.  Here is the video of the brutal and very perverted beating of by Adams of his own 16 year old M.S. afflicted child:  Judge Adams Child Beating Video

And, we are back to the possibility of child molestation or child porn.

The case where Judge Greenwell wrongfully sanctioned Mr. Sibley is cause #

Mr. Sibley represented a father from Washington State trying to see his son in Corpus Christi in the face of a very spiteful and vengeful ex-wife with a wealthy new husband. The boy’s father, an electrician would make trips from the upper Northwest to Corpus Christi to see his son and the boy’s mother would hide the child. Just a petty meanness that cost the father immensely.

This is typical of a child abusing mother and these acts are themselves a form of very serious child abuse with life long destructive implications for the children.  It is a form of abuse called Parental Alienation and can create generational problems and dysfunctions as well as destroy the child’s potential for a happy and healthy life.  See the associated blog entries listed above on Single Mothers for insight into the data the liberal media and demagogic vote buying politicians won’t tell you.   The prognosis for children of single mothers is statistically very bad.  It does not mean that all children of single mothers will turn out badly, it just means that a single mother greatly handicaps the potential for her children to lead productive and happy lives.   95% of prostitutes and drug addicts are raised in single mother homes.

The father, Robert Johnson,  who was being assisted by Mr. Sibley in Judge Greenwell’s court is from a small town near Seattle. The father had not seen his son for years because of the mother’s moving from state to state and refusal to allow the custodial father to see his son she was wrongly keeping from him.

The father had primary custody. The father had another son from another relationship. This other son died after being hit by a car. The grieving father let the mother of his younger son keep the boy for a year while he grieved. When he wanted his son back, the mother had moved to another state and refused to allow the son to return to the custodial father and filed in her new state for custody. The mother was allowed to change venue and then to change custody. She later moved to Corpus Christi where the case was placed in Judge Greenwell’s court.

The mother’s attorney was Larry Adams. The mother’s new husband is a senior pilot for an airline with an income usually in the multiples of hundreds of thousands of dollars a year. Judge Greenwell sat on an initial hearing where the father flew in from Seattle in an effort to see his son.

The judge’s verbal orders were that the father ‘could‘ see his son over the next 60 days. When the order was written up by the opposition attorney who had the judge sign it without running it past the father’s attorney, Mr. David Sibley, the order stated the father ‘had‘ to see the child a set number of times in the next 30 days.

The opposition attorney, Larry Adams, did not send the father a copy of the order until a day or two before the end of the 30 day period. The Nueces County District Clerk reportedly refused to provide a copy to the father or his attorney until the fraudulent requirement period was beyond the physical ability for the father to comply, even if he had the money to make the requisite number of trips in 30 days on an electrician’s pay.

I was not in attendance, but as presented by parties present, on the first opportunity after the discovery of this fraudulently presented order that Greenwell signed, Mr. Sibley went to court on Mr. Johnson’s behalf to attempt to undo the damage. Before the hearing was to start, Mr. Adams, the mother’s attorney, tells the court manager that this hearing wouldn’t take long, even though Mr. Sibley had considerable information to present to the judge on the fraud committed by Mr. Adams and Mr. Adams wrongful actions to prevent a father from seeing his child after years of the child being denied access to his loving father.

Mr. Adams asked the judge for a sanction against Mr. Sibley for delay of judicial process, the very acts of Mr. Adams, himself. Judge Greenwell granted this. This was the weapon then used by the Bar in its efforts to disbar Mr. Sibley. Other judges in the Nueces County Courthouse were upset and angered at this. Mr. Sibley was known for taking up important cases for people with little or no money. This casew as one of those cases.

However, this is garden variety corruption for Corpus Christi and the counties surrounding the city. This would not be a reason for the suicide, other judges still on the bench in the area would be in prison for many years for committing even worse corruptions, if it weren’t for their power. I do not think the extortion and suicide resulted from corruption on the bench.

It appears we keep coming back to the most critical of possibilities, the only thing that would trump the judge’s power, open him up for extortion, and cause him to commit suicide, would be some form of child sexual abuse.

What else are we left to believe?

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#Corpus Christi police- Nueces county courts- Judge