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#judylwb idoov
kenmarlenn · 3 years ago
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L oryh vhfuhw frghv, vxuh zlvk Mdfn zrxog xvh vrph zlwk klv vsrrnv
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returntothefalls · a year ago
Link
IQ-tie
Carla McCorkle has arrived in Gravity Falls and everyone is smitten by  the charming old woman, but Stan soon comes to fear what the weird and  wild town might have in store for her.  Meanwhile, Mabel tries to leave a  first impression that clears up any two-dimensional views of her  personality.
Chapter 3 of “Return to the Falls” is finally posted!  Sorry if you thought this project was dead!  It’s been a long three years, and stuff like school and work and other projects left me way behind on this, but I’m not letting it drop!
I have decided to stop posting full chapters on Tumblr, however.  They’re just SO dang long to fit in a Tumblr post, and sometimes the formatting turns out wonky too.  So apologies to anyone who finds Tumblr easiest to read fanfic on ... which I’m guessing is no one, but if you’re out there, then I’m sorry.
So without further ado, here is the link to the full fic on AO3!  Hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!
ZHOFRPH EDFN WR JUDYLWB IDOOV
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keyofjetwolf · 2 years ago
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Code Collection (Ep 1-8)
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Okay, let’s see. We have:
ZHOFRPH WR JUDYLWB IDOOV
QHAW ZHHN: UHWXUQ WR EXWW LVODQG
KH’V VWLOO LQ WKH YHQWV
FDUOD, ZKB ZRQW BRX FDOO PH?
RQZDUGV DRVKLPD!
PU. FDHVDULDQ ZLOO EH RXW QHAW ZHHN. PU. DWEDVK ZLOO VXEVWLWXWH.
KZKVI QZN WRKKVI HZBH: “ZFFTSDCJSTZWHZWFS!”
V. KOFIRYFH GIVNYOVB
My first assumption is that the cipher is the same for each code, which seems a reasonable assumption anyway, but we definitely have a crossover with “ZHHN”. I’ll work with that for now, then.
To solve it, then, hmm. I’M CALLING ON THE DUSTY SKILLS OF EVERY KIDS PUZZLE BOOK I EVER LOVED IN MY YOUTH
I’ve zeroed in on “ZKB”, thinking maybe it’s “THE”. But then I come to “KZKVI”, and I can’t think of a single damn word in English that begins with “HTH”, OR has double h’s in the middle of it like “WRKKVI” would have to have. And while I suspect there may be some slang or vague nonsense in here, I think this is a bit off. OKAY SO NOT THAT
Actually, let me stick with WRKKVI, since I think it likely that K is either E or O. I’ll try E first. Hm, could be okay. “Z” sure appears a lot in these codes, though. It has to be a common letter, and one that could sandwich between E for KZKVI. Not many letters can do that. First thinking V, but I don’t think V’s common enough. N maybe? L? I’ll try N.
WELL THAT DIDN’T HELP ME WITH SHIT REALLY. And I don’t want to take too much time on it right now. But I’ve got my code in a notepad I’ll save, I’ll add today’s to it, and I’ll fiddle again later.
ON TO THE EPISODE
Please note I haven’t seen anything past this and am watching spoiler free! Please don’t tell me to pay attention to something, or point something out to me! Please don’t confirm, deny, or explain anything to me! Even if I should be able to figure it out based on past episodes! Even if it was from a creator interview! Even if there is no answer! It ruins it for everyone when I get spoiled!
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pinesbrosfalls · 3 years ago
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Their End
Summary: An alternate ending for @whatwouldteslado in which Ford still goes into the portal, Stan takes on much more than he can handle, and the people sending asks maybe don’t realize one very important fact until it’s too late..
Don’t even think for a second that you’re getting a happy ending. I’m not that nice.
Warnings: A healthy dose of panic, a pinch of semi-torture, and sprinkle of some not-quite-gonna-live implications.
(Link to AO3)
“im done arguing”
“im getitng my brother back”
Stan slams the device down on the desk, ignoring the couple of papers that slip off the edge of the table with the impact and land on the dirt floor underfoot. The portal, already apparently in the later stages of the charging process if the intensity of the rotating symbols is anything to go by, hums from the next room over, filling in the white noise between the beeps and clicks in the control room. The ground shudders underfoot almost imperceptibly, as if waiting to toss him back in the air again with another gravity any-who what’s-it-called (he can’t remember what they called it). But now he’s ready for it, a long rope securing him to the bolted desk.
Based on Ford’s notes, the portal should be ready any minute now.
Ford…
It’s hard to believe it’s been three whole weeks since he lost him, since he pushed him, since he…
Somehow, it simultaneously feels like it was just yesterday and over thirty years ago, lingering in his mind and burning in the same way that the cold concrete felt under his trembling hands ten years ago.
No man should ever have to live through hearing his brother scream for help like that…
He’d spent almost two weeks trying and failing to get the portal back up and running, feeling beyond out of his element when faced with the other-worldly triangular behemoth the next room other. He spent two weeks knowing that what he was doing was essentially hopeless, only having the benefit of the first of his brother’s journals, the one that he should’ve just taken and left with like Ford wanted.
It was beyond-a-doubt the worst two weeks of his life.
And that was saying something.
But then he’d found Ford’s weird little device, partially hidden under mounds of paper on the dining room table, probably from when Ford had been moving stuff around before showing him downstairs.
A little dot in the corner of the screen had been blinking.
He wasn’t sure what to think of the thing, but once he managed to turn it on, there was suddenly a barrage of messages. Questions and concerns and so many No-Names and so much fear and worry and so many people asking for Ford.
He typed the first thing he could figure to say.
“what the hell is this?”
They were much more supportive than he thought they would be, all things considered. They explained everything, in as much detail as they could, giving him answers to questions he never thought to ask, telling him almost exactly where to find the other two journals, that those barrels on the porch were the fuel he needed, what had happened to his brother.
The majority of them were an alright bunch, barring the fact that he knew for sure they all had some ulterior motive, some secrets they never really divulged.
How did they know so much?
But he’d take any help he can get.
He spent that night reading, pouring over all of Ford’s entries and answers and questions and…
Some of it… Some of it was a little hard to stomach.
He tries not to think about it.
He doesn’t want to think about it.
But he was able to piece together some semblance of a story, even if it reeked of insanity on Ford’s part.
He’s not sure what would be worse to believe: Ford losing his mind, or demons really existing.
The people (No-Names, he began calling the users that hid behind anonymity) gave him the information he needed, and what should have taken him decades to complete only wound up taking him a week.
And now it’s ready.
He’s finally ready to open it, to fix his mistake (finally… finally he fixes something for once).
And then they… they tried to tell him not to?
It doesn’t make any sense to him, why half of them all of a sudden decided to jump ship and begged him to stop.
It doesn’t make any sense.
Why would they tell him where the Journals are? What the passwords should be? What to use the chained barrels on the front porch for? What Sixer’s ridiculous codes said?
Why would they help him and then turn on him out of the blue?
He doesn’t see the end game, doesn’t see the over-arching idea. Sure, not everyone flipped on him, a few of the No-Names still sending him help and codes and locations and information. But the device’s mailbox slowly filled with more and more warnings, cryptic messages, outlandish stories, guesses, and nonsense. He knows there’s a group of them working together somehow. He knows it’s the ones trying to ask him to stop because they sometimes turn off the mask, as if he’ll trust a fake name over a lack of one. As if “aniXXXXrose” or “XXXXtato” or any of them actually mean something.
He’s so close.
The light on the phone screen blinks, letting him know that there are new messages to ignore.
He finds he’s a million times more interested in the light coming from the other room.
Just a little—
There’s a flash, a blinding white light, every hair on his body standing on end as the portal shrieks awake, like a beast brought back to life, his whole body going completely weightless for a fraction of a second.
When the spots clear from his eyes, the first thing he realizes is that what used to be bluish light shining from the hole in the triangular structure is now an inky blackness that seems to reach for miles through the ten-foot-tall hole, the darkness itself shifting and unstable deep within.
He rushes into the other room, practically tripping over his own feet to get there faster, stretching as far as the rope will allow him to go through the doorway.
For some reason, he grabs the device as he goes.
The portal is still humming, low and constant, the twin beams of light on either side pulsing and radiating enough heat to make him immediately break out into a sweat. But his attention is completely on the darkness, searching it for a sign, anything, any shred of Ford’s existence in the turmoil.
“The Nightmare Realm” they had called it.
He doesn’t see what all the fuss is abou—
There’s a sound.
He… he can’t immediately place it, not from underneath the thrum of the portal.
But there’s something.
“Ford!” he screams. “Ford! Can you hear me? Sixer!”
He waits a moment, but he doesn’t get an answer.
The sound gets a little louder.
Almost subconsciously, he pulls out the device and types.
“portals open. so much for the “end of the world” yall were worried about”
He doesn’t know why he types it out. Maybe to rub it in their faces.
“Ford! You there, buddy?”
Still nothing.
The black space inside the portal ripples and folds in waves.
He quickly unknots the rope, stepping closer to the portal.
“Ford! Can you hear me?”
They had promised he wasn’t dead, that they weren’t just guessing, but that they knew. It was the hardest and easiest part to believe, that he hadn’t accidentally killed his own brother.
They swore to him that Ford wasn’t dead. Does it even mean anything coming from complete strangers?
But that was also around the time when they all started to turn on him too.
That sound…
It almost sounds like…
Laughter?
“Ford?”
No, not Ford. Much too high-pitched, too nasally. This is someone else. Something else.
They had warned him of something else being over there. Something dangerous.
Maybe this was a bad id—
He shakes the thought, cupping his hands around his mouth and yelling as loud as his voice can manage.
“Ford! It’s open! Come on!”
Still nothing.
Just that same, unnerving laugh, slowly getting louder, as if moving towards him from some far away distance, the black bending and folding and flowing around itself inside the triangle’s eye.
It makes something cold run down his spine.
He glances down at the device screen and pulls up the most recent message.
“ZKHQ JUDYLWB IDOOV DQG HDUWK EHFRPHV VNB”
Did the screen just flicker yellow or was that a reflection?
He ignores it and turns back to the portal, the eerie laughter plainly audible now, filling the room as it continues its crescendo. He calls for Ford again, his words getting caught up and lost in the whirlwind of noise around him, the dark abyss inside the portal’s door roiling, frothing, like a pot of boiling water seconds from overflowing.
He… he doesn’t get it.
He was supposed to be here.
This was supposed to work.
He was supposed to get him back.
Where’s Ford?
They said he already left weeks ago—
No! He didn’t do all this for nothing!
He turns back to the device.
“any idea why this thing is laughing at me?”
He’s trying to be light-hearted about it, trying to make it all seem less unnerving that it actually is.
Trying to make it seem like he’s not panicking more and more with each passing second.
It’s still getting louder…
Getting closer…
The darkness overflows, drips down the side of the portal…
The response is almost instant, the device flashing a million messages per second.
“SHUT IT DOWN NOW!”
“—before it’s too late!”
“He’s coming you need to kill the power—”
“Why didn’t you listen to us Ford’s already—”
“—he’s long gone Stan you need to close it before—"
“…you just caused the apocalypse”
“We’ll meet again. Don’t know where—”
“Stan he’s GONE you need to shut it—"
“If Bill makes it through that’s it—”
“Please for the love of god SHUT IT DOWN.”
“—a completely different DIMENSION by now—"
“—find another way this is just going to get you and the whole town killed.”
“Please Stan.”
“Please—”
“FORD’S NOT THERE WE TRIED TO TELL YOU—”
“—will destroy everything and everyone—”
“CLOSE IT!”
The laughter is louder, echoing around the room from the circle of oozing and bubbling tar inside the portal.
Ford’s not there.
There’s nothing there.
There’s just…
Nothing.
They’re right, and suddenly he knows it with startling clarity.
They warned me and I ignored them.
He hates that he let himself get carried away in this fantasy for so long.
He hates that he believed there was actually a chance that he could fix—
He hates what he has to do.
Hates it.
“how do i shut it down”
The answer takes less than a second, and he’s dashing over to the opposite side of the room.
Three keys, of course.
He, by some miracle, manages to turn them all, using his teeth on the middle one even though it hurts his jaw.
The top of the lever in front of the portal pops open, the red button inside blinking harshly at him. He’s there in a moment, but something in him keeps his hands weighted to his sides, like someone tied lead around them. Something heavy and painful coils inside his stomach at the sight of that button, at the notion that he’s about to ruin Ford’s only chance of coming back home.
That Ford will be gone and it’ll be all his fault.
He’s long gone, Stan. They said so. He’s not there—
But why do you believe them?
The laughter fills the room now, bouncing around the walls in a dreadful cacophony of sound that assaults his ears and drowns out everything else. It’s everywhere, seeming too impossibly loud, the noise pressing inside his head and threatening to tear apart his skull.
It doesn’t take a genius to know that anything that sounds like that can’t be good news.
He hates himself for what he has to do.
He glances back at the portal one last time in vain, putting his back to it once the last drop of hope drains away, the black seeming to take some kind of shape, reaching out towards him—
“I’m sorry Sixer,” he says to the shutdown button, to himself. He closes his eyes. Never could keep you eyes open when you pulled the trigger, huh Pines? “I’ll find another way.”
And he raises his hand over his head and brings it down hard—
But then the laughter stops, the room going deathly silent.
His hand freezes a hair’s width above the button, the red flashing against his skin.
He pauses, listening.
All he hears is the whirring of the portal and his own panicked breathing, his head buzzing from the sudden relative silence.
When did his heart start pounding so fast?
He turns back to the portal.
It’s perfectly normal.
Well, normal in the relative sense.
Whatever he had been seeing, the blackness dripping down the sides, whatever that had been, it’s gone now, no trace of it even existing in the first place on the pristine metal surface. The inside of the portal is still dark, but now it’s… still. Blacker than the darkest night, yes, but there’s no movement, no roiling deep within like he swears he saw moments ago.
He breathes, taking a step back away from the shutdown button, facing the portal full on again.
Whatever it was, it’s gone.
Was there even something there in the first place?
He breathes, trying to bring his pounding heart back to a normal rhythm.
“Got yourself a little worked up there, huh?” he says to himself, snorting. His heart is still thrumming too fast. “Must be something in the water. Makes your head a little crazy. That’s it. Let’s give Ford another minute.”
He knows he sounds crazy, talking to himself. But there’s something about actually saying it out-loud, something more convincing and substantial to it. Maybe whatever made Ford so skittish is starting to get to him too. Maybe it’s something simple like something in the water.
Maybe the laughing and the tar-like boiling inside the portal and the fear were all just in his head.
His sleep-deprived head that’s been filled to the brim with the No-Faces’ crazy stories and ideas.
He takes another step back from the caution line, looking deep into the dark circle, alert but still searching, still hoping.
Give Ford another minute.
He pulls the device out again, fingers faintly shaking as he types.
“false alarm. notihng there. think it’ll be alrihgt if i give it another mi”
BANG!
He jumps, the device falling from his hands as his feet stumble backwards over uneven ground and he loses his footing completely, falling backwards.
He looks up at the portal.
There’s…
There’s a hand.
Huge, almost half the size of the hole itself, materializing out of the black and grabbing onto the edge of the circle, darkness dripping off it like hot tar, hitting the ground and smoking. The metal structure of the portal bends and groans under its fingers, the darkness burning into the metal structure. Another hand stretches out, long tendrils of black clinging to it as it reaches out and takes shape, crashing its grip onto the other side of the circle, black pooling around its fingers and dripping down the gleaming metal structure.
Stan scrambles backwards, his feet not cooperating as he drags himself back away from that thing, unable to look away out of some fascinating sense of dawning horror as it pulls itself through, the ink oozing off in thick globs of pitch and splashing puddles the size of his entire body onto the floor, the thing (triangular in shape, somehow impossibly bigger than the portal itself, getting bigger) finally pulling itself free.
What did I do? What did I do? What did I do?
He watches, frozen with his back pressed flat against the back wall, his chest heaving in and out breaths that he tries to silence but that thing is just floating there and it’s huge and I should have listened to them all when I had the chance I should have hit the button I should have I should have and what did I do—
A bright white eye opens in the middle of the thing’s body, and Stan swears his breathing stops altogether when it instantly fixes its gaze on him, the black covering it bleeding away and revealing sickly yellow underneath—
“WHY IF IT ISN’T GOOD OLE RELIABLE STANLEY PINES!”
The voice, high-pitched and nasally and loud rings through the air, through his head, somehow louder than anything he’s ever heard even though the sound came from nowhere.
They warned him.
The No-Faces warned him, but he didn’t believe them.
A dream demon from another world that has one eye and a triangular body and a top hat and bow tie.
As ridiculous as it sounds, it’s right here.
The thing that’s responsible for this machine.
The thing that’s been terrorizing his brother.
“You’re Bill?” he manages to say, mustering whatever ounce of bravado he has left and pressing his hands flat to the ground to stop them from trembling. The puddle beneath the demon grows, the black seeming to writhe and contort within itself.
“THE ONE AND ONLY!”
The smoke smells like burning flesh, rot and death slowly filling the air and making him feel sick to his stomach.
The demon tips his hat. A goddamn top hat of all things.
“Thought you’d be a lot bigger.”
He braces himself against the wall, pushes himself to his feet, his eyes never once leaving the gigantic being just a few yards in front of him. As he stands, he vaguely realizes he feels lighter somehow, like gravity isn’t entirely working.
Might even be able to jump and get enough height to knock this bastard right in the eye, knock him back into the—
“AND HERE I WAS HOPING YOU’D BE THE ONE STAN PINES OUT THERE WITH SOME SENSE OF SELF-PRESERVATION. YET HERE YOU ARE! STILL FIGHTING YOUR BROTHER’S LOSING BATTLES FOR HIM.” Something appears out of thin air next to Bill. A giant cane, one that he twirls around in his hand, the action generating enough wind to blow at Stan’s hair, before he dramatically plants the end of it into the ground with a loud thunk and casually leans against it. Stan almost thinks he must have stumbled into the Twilight Zone or something, the fear just barely out-weighing the confusion. “THOUGH I MUST SAY, I GUESS I OWE YOU ONE, PINES. OPENING THE DOOR FOR ME. ENDING YOUR OWN WORLD. I COULDN’T HAVE DONE IT WITHOUT YOU! I’M FEELING GENEROUS. HOW ABOUT I DO YOU A FAVOR IN RETURN? WHAT’LL IT BE? MONEY, POWER, YOUR OWN GALAXY? YOU NAME IT.”
“I don’t want your favors. I just want my brother back,” Stan says, digging for any bit of confidence he can get his hands on, not wanting this bastard to see how shaken his is. “So why don’t you take your little favor, shove it where the sun don’t shine, and just go back to whatever Hell you came from.”
“OUCH,” Bill deadpans, rolling his lone eye. “YOU KNOW, FOR A LOSER LIVING ON THE STREETS, YOU’RE QUICK TO DISMISS A POSSIBLE ALLY, STANLEY PINES. YOU WANT FORDSY BACK? WELL, HE HOPPED DIMENSIONS WEEKS AGO. HE’S LONG GONE BY NOW. YOU’LL NEVER BE ABLE TO FIND HIM. NOT ON YOUR OWN.”
“And what? You wanna help me?”
“SURE! I WANT TO SEE HIM AGAIN JUST AS MUCH AS YOU DO, TOUGH GUY. GOT SOME UNFINISHED BUSINESS, STUFF BETWEEN OLD PALS, YOU KNOW HOW IT GOES. I COULD HELP YOU FIND HIM. I’VE GOT GUYS IN EVERY CORNER OF THE MULTIVERSE. YOU JUST POP THROUGH THE PORTAL, I’LL HAVE SOME OF MY GUYS HELP YOU OUT—"
“I’ll stop you right there,” Stan says, and he’s surprised when Bill actually stops talking, the eye squinting in annoyance at having been cut off. Stan takes it as a challenge, plants himself wide, trying to make himself as imposing as he can in front of a literal demon that’s at least 10 times his size. “I can smell a scam from a mile off, and you reek pal.”
His hands are still shaking.
“I don’t want your deals or your favors. I just want you gone. So, you’re gonna get the fuck off my planet and never come back. That’s my deal. And you can either leave the easy way,” Stan reaches into his pocket, fingers sliding comfortably into cool brass, “or my way. Take your pick.”
There’s a pregnant pause, Stan poised and ready for the retaliation, for the anger, for a fight.
But Bill just… laughs.
It’s not even the same as before; no sinister undertones, nothing like before when he could have been playing the maniacal villain in a superhero comic. The demon is just… laughing, the sound jammed into Stan’s head, the triangle wheeling backwards, the cane still stuck standing in the ground as Bill kicks his feet like a little child as he floats and rotates back, the last bits of dark sludge finally dripping off.
“OH NO I’M PRACTICALLY SHAKING IN MY NON-EXISTENT BOOTS!” Bill snorts, and Stan finds himself clenching his fists at that, his teeth grinding together hard. Bill finally rights himself, wiping what looks like a tear from his eye. “WHAT’RE YA GONNA DO, TOUGH GUY? PUNCH ME? BECAUSE LET ME TELL YOU SOMETHING. ONE OF YOU STANS TRIED IT ONCE.” Bill flashes forward, in his face for a split second, burning red and something angry. “DIDN’T T̶̢̤̯̳͚̲̞́͆͊͂̍͜͝A̶̧̛̯͇̗̠̘͖̝͈͆̐̇́̕͠͝K̴̢̲̙͙̈̌̂̚͘͢͜ͅE̵̢̮͙̭̮͕̺͈̿̈̐͌͑͂.”
But then the vision is gone, Bill once again just leaning back on his cane, still snorting out the last of his hysterics as if nothing even happened even though Stan knows it happened because now he’s stumbled backwards, his back almost against the wall.
The bastard’s toying with him.
Stan wills himself to stand his ground, lock his knees so they don’t wobble and look Bill in the eye and tell himself he stands a chance.
He thinks he’s already won. He’s cocky, and he thinks he’s already won. That’s what I have to take advantage of. That’s my shot.
All the words of the No-Faces rise to his mind unbidden, claiming unlimited power and no chance of survival or winning should Bill get through.
Stan knows something about long odds.
They’re the only reason he’s alive at this rate.
A knife just missing any vital organs.
A prison break right before Rico’s gang planned to off him.
A throw-away bet that cashes in big and lets him eat something not out of a dumpster for the first time in weeks.
Call it fate, luck, skill, personality, whatever it is; it’s saved his ass more than once.
He prays to whatever god is out there that it’ll save him this time too.
This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever done.
“Well maybe I’m not the first to try it,” he says, his voice steadier than it has any right to be. “But I bet none of them were as good of a shot as me!” He jumps, throwing himself upwards with every ounce of strength he has and letting the lack of gravity carry him to eye-level with the triangle, his momentum carrying him forward as he whips the knuckledusters out, brass gleaming under the fluorescent lights overhead.
It’s all a split-second, really.
A split-second during which he thinks maybe he got the drop on him, maybe he stands a—
It’s like he hits a wall, the way his entire body jolts to a hard stop mid-air with his fist just inches away from Bill’s eye, hovering frozen as if something reached up and grabbed him even though he knows nothing did.
The eye squints in amusement, something akin to a tsk tsk filling his ears, his head.
He… he can’t move.
Bill looks about as amused as a triangle with one eye possibly could, and Stan can’t move. The only plan he had, his only way out, it didn’t work.
He’s… stuck.
Stall for time. Figure out another plan. You’ve gotten out of worse. Haven’t you?
He realizes the full extent of how vulnerable he is right now. How there’s nothing he can do, no matter how hard he strains, no matter how he tries.
He’s completely at Bill’s mercy.
Everyone is.
Think think think.
I didn’t mean for this to happen.
There has to be another way out.
I screwed everything up again.
Ford, I’m sorry.
“YOU STANS, ALL THE SAME. ALWAYS PUNCHING. NEVER TRYING ANYTHING ORIGINAL FOR ONCE IN YOUR STUPID LITTLE LIVES.”
Keep him talking. Stall for… something. Anything.
“Well why don’t you square up then? Even the odds a little.” Bill’s right in his face, his eye squinting slightly.
“OR I COULD JUST END YOUR INSIGNIFICANT LITTLE LIFE NICE AND QUICKLY AND PAINFULLY, JUST FOR GOOD MEASURE SINCE SIXER DECIDED TO SKIP TOWN, AND THEN GO DO WHAT I ACTUALLY CAME HERE FOR.”
“And what’s that? What do you even want?”
“THEY DIDN’T TELL YOU?” he raises his hand, something rising from the dirt off behind him and floating towards them, gleaming in the light of the portal.
The device.
Under the glare of the light, Stan realizes its screen is cracked.
Two lone cracks that begin joined at the middle of the top of the screen and then split as they make their way down, each ending in a bottom corner.
“ACTUALLY, I BET THEY TOLD YOU. YOU JUST DIDN’T LISTEN TO THEM, DID YOU SMART GUY? WELL, TOO LATE NOW.” His fist closes fast and hard, something inside Stan twisting painfully as the device crumbles simultaneously with it, a loud crack followed by the crunch of grinding metal as the entire thing smashes into itself with one last dying spark of electricity. “YOU SHOULD’VE TAKE MY OFFER WHEN YOU HAD THE CHANCE. BUT, EH, NO SKIN OFF MY BONES. HA! BONES! I’VE GOT SOME OF THOSE NOW, I THINK.”
Gravity suddenly grabs him again, Stan plummeting back down to the ground, the hit knocking the wind out of him, his arm landing in a puddle of the thick black tar. It immediately burns through his jacket and scorches his skin like a hot iron, ripping a scream out of him as he scrambles to swat it off, the stuff sticking to his arm and burning and he can’t get it off why won’t it come o—
“YOU SEE, LITTLE FISH, HERE’S WHERE YOU’RE WRONG. I DON’T WANT SOMETHING.”
“I WANT Ẽ̴͇͖̹̞̔͋̈́͜͡V̧̰̪͙̬̭̈̉͌̅̽͡É̢̨̞̟̺͗̆͂̍͆̕͟͠R̸̨͈̱̬̫̼͌͆̈́̍̏̚͡Y̟̤̪̣̺͗̒͌̓͞͠Ţ̬̙͚̥̣̘͍͗̐̍̓̓̅͜H̘̞̞͔̯̲͊̃̇̏̾̚ͅͅI̶͙̱͈͍̺̔̉͋́͆̚Ṇ͈̱͔̰̥̼̄̓̌̊̈̇̏̚̚G̞̳͖̙̥̹̖͂̂͗̊́͂̍͞.”
He’s still trying to tear the stuff off his arm, clawing at it, tears burning rivulets of pain down his cheeks. A shadow slowly looms over top of him, blocking out the last of the light emanating from the portal, but he’s too consumed by the excruciating pain to notice, the black substance clinging to his arm, now almost starting to spread outwards, reaching down to his wrist and up to his elbow, the mass growing and shifting and burning no matter how he screams.
I can’t—
“WELCOME TO WEIRDMAGEDDON, STANLEY PINES.”
He looks up just to meet the demon’s eye, everything blurry and unfocussed and dark but he can see the eye, bright white and slitted and piercing right into his skull—
Ǐ̛̝̰͍̹̣̼̦͍̊̉͒̇̃̇͟ͅT̹̪̻͍͙͖͖̻̓̑̏̐̎̆̀͛̓͜’̷̢̰͈̗͍̥̩́̆͐̐͛͟͝͡S̩̘͕̯̻͇͓̙̮̀̈̐̄͋ T̴̘̝̹̪͖̟͈̽̄͑̓̐̾͘͝O̳̼̼̘̳̹̎̍̀̑͋O̷̞̗̘̙͔̖͊̄͗̒̋̆́͜͢ B̗̖̟͔̤̻̭̓́̐̀̉͆̏͢͠A̙͚̯̱̩̓͋̽̍͌͡ͅḌ̸͎̮̤̺̙̬͋̌̀́̌̊͗͋̀̕ Y̸̛̺̫͓̗̳̐̔͋̔͟ͅȮ̷̧̯̬̖̮̇̅͡͠͡Ŭ̧̘̞̲͊̌̍͑̾̚͠͠ͅ W̸͓̹̳͔̗̭͙̐͆̊̎͘Ơ̤̼̳͕̫̈́̍̀̓̚͘͝͠Ņ̶͕̣̣̦̱̌͗͐̑̒’̶̧̨̯̪̪͙̦̙̿̓̈͆̂́͆̕Ṫ̴͍̹͎̲͉̭̝͎͆̌̒͆́͊̍̐͟͡ B̹̯̺̳̖̮̫̜̆̄̇̏̓̐͋Ë̞̤͙̬̬̽͗̀̆͂̒͝ A̶̼̫̭̘̞̠̯̖̖̺̓̃̌́͆̎͋̑͡͡R̸̢̛͇̠͕̼͖͎͌̓͂͒̾͊̒̏͗͢͟O̸̡̬͙͕̯̹͉̮̓͊̈̓̕͟ͅǓ̴̯̟̰̪͛̅̇̏̓̈̿͗͆͟N̵̲̭̙̝͓̮̑̆̎̂͢͠D̡͔̘͚̣̼̮̤̼́͛͛̒̇́̕͡͞ L̸̤̲͈̺̥̲̞͂̐́́͊̉̿́͘ͅƠ̸̜͓͉̙̖̞̪̂̑͋̏͠N̡̝̣͇̘̫͍̞̗̎̊̆̓͒̐̌̈̕͢͡G̮̠͎̲̣͊̑̃́̏̑̉͢͞ Ę̰͕̰̞̍̾͋̂̾̐N̪͇͈͇͎̳̽̃̐̈̏͂͗́̾́Ò̵̧̮͖̥̲́̆̊̓̆͛̌̾U̧͍̖͕̲̯͆͑̊̋͑͊͌̚͝͞G̨͕͖̤̼̥̙̔͋̃̐̉̐͢͡͠H̘̻̜̪͔͓̟͓̋̊̇̾̓̚͟͝͠ T̷͈͍̗̰̪̳̫̏́̂͆́͆́̕͞Ǫ̨̮̦̱̼̯͗͌̇͌̅͟ S̶̡̨̯͙̯̺̤̞̑̎̌̆͗̏E͓͙̣͇͕̗̻̎̍̀̈́̓͂̓̽͂̆͟͜E̷͎̝͍̦͔̻͎̫̿̇̏̽̄͜͝ͅ I̢̘͉̼̞͌̅͊̓̽̎̌̔͘Ț̶̡̨̧̠̣̻͚̆̂͊͞͡ͅ
“false alarm. notihng there. think it’ll be alrihgt if i give it another mi”
And then a few minutes later.
“Ford, I’m sorry.”
The chaos that ensues in the dimension where the Askers and Watchers reside is quick and confused, people rushing for answers, for solutions, for any piece of information they can get their hands on.
They were right, and they know it.
They hope not, but deep down, they know.
It’s a madhouse.
So lost are they in their scramble that no one is even watching the webpage.
Only a select few see the blog when it happens.
They each tell a different story.
One says the words “YOU LOSE” were posted before immediately being deleted.
Another says that all text on the screen flickered, going from Latin to code to some alien symbolic language and hundreds of others in a matter of seconds.
One or two claim that an imagine of Bill himself flashed on-screen, clear as day.
Whether they’re all telling the truth about it, no one really knows for sure. But they all share a common thread.
They all say that, for a moment, the blog flashed a too-bright yellow, a short burst of color that was almost blinding, much too bright for their screens to have produced.
And then the image cut to static, something loud and horrible blaring through their speakers for a long too long second—
Before the page went completely blank.
The page, the blog, the archive, whatever they each decided to call it.
It was gone.
Completely and utterly gone.
Leaving nothing but an error screen in its wake.
Every post and ask had disappeared.
Every screenshot somehow got corrupted.
All the fan art and pictures were erased or scribbled over.
Even the server archives and note documents were undecipherable or altogether deleted.
It was all gone.
In the end, one thing alone survived.
A constant reminder of the end that they created, that they couldn’t stop.
A lesson on why you should never play with fate and hope to win.
A requiem to the world that they ended.
A broken url.
All that was left was a broken url.
That and, for those that were unfortunate enough to hear it, a distant, echoing laugh that blared through their speakers before it all died.
That was all.
That was their end.
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pryinbrian · 3 years ago
Video
Li brx'yh hyhu wdnhq d urdg wuls wkurxjk wkh sdflilf qruwkzhvw, brx'yh suredeob vhhq d expshu vwlfnhu iru d sodfh fdoohg Judylwb Idoov.
New cover tomorrow
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pine-dexter · 2 years ago
Note
Stanford... I found some funny words: "Judylwb Idoov". I don't know what does it means, but I think is awesome. It sounds funny.
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“It certainly is awesome! It’s a Caesar cipher! If you move each letter back three spaces in the alphabet. you can decode it! Ciphers are very helpful and honestly quite enjoyable to solve! I wish you luck!” 
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“There are quite a few laying around, though I’m sure Bill left them so I’d advise caution. They probably won’t be as…ah, PG.” 
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roninkairi · 3 years ago
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And Now, Some "Lost Legends" Secrets...(SPOILER ALERT...KINDA)
I really, REALLY want to talk about certain things I noticed in "Lost Legends", but there are some people I know who may not have read the book yet.
But since this is Gravity Falls we are talking about, why not get a little, well, CREATIVE about this?
Kids, get your decoder rings ready.
1.
Vkphexorfn kdv d skrwr ri Eohqglq dqg wkh Glsshu Forqhv rq klv erdug
2.
Prwkpdq halvwv dqg dssduhqwob kh rzhv Vwdqirug vrph prqhb.
3.
Wkh Iluvw Ohjhqg ri Chogd Lq Mrnh lv Glsshu kroglqj wkh Suhvlghqw'v Nhb olnh Olqn zkhq kh jhwv dq lwhp.
4.
Wkh pdunhwsodfh xqghujurxqg kdv d errwk iru d Vrflhwb ri Wkh Eolqg Hbh phpehu. Kh kdv phprulhv ri Wdg Vwudqjh, Puv. Frugxurb dqg Ulfn V
5.
Wkhuh lv d Pdmrud Pdvn mrnh zlwk wkh yloodlq ri wkh vwrub dv klv vdfn uhvhpeohv wkdw ri wkh Kdssb Pdvn Vdohvpdq dqg kh dovr kdv wkh idfh ri Eolqg Lydq
6.
Wreb Ghwhuplqhg lv pdnlqj d sxufkdvh iurp wkh vdph yloodlq
7. 
Vohqghupdq lv vhhq wublqj wr exb Glsshu dqg Sdflilfd diwhu wkhb duh fdswxuhg
8. 
Sulvflood Qruwkzhvw lv OLWWHUDOOB d wurskb zlih dv Suhvwrq zrq khu lq d bdfkwlqj frpshwlwlrq
9.
Sdflilfd uhyhdov wkdw khu prwkhu ydoxhv orrnv pruh wkdq dqbwklqj dqg wdxjkw khu wkdw orrnv duh hyhubwklqj zklfk lv vr phvvhg xs wr wkh srlqw wkdw zkhq vkh zdv olwwoh Sulvflood uhdg wkh vwrub ri wkh xjob gxfnolqj wr Sdflilfd zkhq vkh zdv brxqjhu dqg wruh rxw wkh sdjhv zkhuh wkh gxfnolqj zdv dffhswhg klglqj wkh wuxwk iurp khu
10. 
Rn qrz L dp qrw wrr vxuh derxw wklv exw li brx vhh wkh fxuvh fkhvw wkdw Vwdqirug rzqv lw orrnv dq dzixo orw olnh wkh Fkhvw ri Ghprqv iurp wkh Wkluwhhq Jkrvwv ri Vfrreb Grr vr li brx zdqw brx fdq frpsduh wkh wzr dqg vhh iru brxuvhoi li pb wkhrub sdqv rxw
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11.
Eloourb zdv khuh
12.
Wkhuh lv dq krpdjh wr wkh Vslghu Pdq Qr Pruh lvvxh zkhq Vwdq whoov Vrrv derxw klv guhdp wr eh d frplf errn zulwhu
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13. 
Vwdq rqfh jrw lqwr d ilvw iljkw zlwk Vwdq Ohh
14.
Eloo Flskhu pdb qrw eh frpsohwhob ghdg dv zh wklqn ehfdxvh li brx orrn dw wkh sdjh zkhuh Vkphexorfn wdonv derxw wkh diwhupdwk ri Zhlugpdjhggrq brx vhh lq wkh sdqho frqfhuqlqj skrqh jolwfkhv wkdw dq glvwruwhg lpdjh ri Eloo dsshduv
15.
Zkhq Pdeho idoov wkurxjk d uliw dqg sdvvhv eb ydulrxv glphqvlrqv, wkh iluvw rqh vkh sdvvhv wkurxjk lv wkh Pbvwhub Vkdfn Crqh zklfk lv reylrxvob dq krpdjh wr wkh Vrqlf wkh Khgkhkrj jdphv.
16, 
Dqrwkhu glphqvlrq kdv rqh ri wkh pdqb ghprqv wkdw zdv edqlvkhg diwhu Eloo zdv ghihdwhg Hljkw Edoo dorqj zlwk d vwdwxh ri Eloo zklfk uhdgv KH ZDV WKH ZRUVW
17. 
Klgghq dprqj wkh pdqb orvw Pdehov iurp pxowlsoh glphqvlrqv lv Pruwb
18.
Pdelsshu vhqgv Glsshu d eoxh mrxuqdo zlwk d slqh wuhh rq wkh fryhu
19.
Wkhuh duh pruh vhfuhwv klgghq zlwklq wkh errn dqg rqh ri wkhp uhyhdov wkdw wkh Qruwkzhvw Pdqvlrq vwloo kdv vla jkrvwv kdxqwlqj wkh sodfh dqg Ilggohirug dqg klv vrq duh wublqj wr exlog d pdfklqh wr exvw wkhp
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20. 
Bhdk wkdw odvw rqh li Doha Kluvfk jrw wkdw lghd iurp wkh hqg ri wkdw rqh Judylwb Idoov vwrub L glg d bhdu edfn doo L fdq vdb lv ZHOO SODBHG BRX PDJQLILFHQW EDVWDUG
And that’s that!
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whatwouldteslado · 3 years ago
Note
Vwdqirug. Orrn. Zruvw fdvh vhqdulr, ohdyh Judylwb Idoov. Hyhq li Eloo ilqgv d zdb khuh, kh fdq'w ohdyh wkh wrzq.
He can access the dreams of anyone in this entire dimension. Furthermore, he’s not getting through to our dimension. I’m making sure of that, so it isn’t a plausible scenario.
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kenmarlenn · 3 years ago
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I figured it out and: 1. Bhdk L zlvk kh zrxog wrr. 2. L mxvw iljxuhg rxw wkh rqh lq wkh wdjv exw bhdk! judylwb idoov! And 3. Q kwctlv'b nqoczm wcb bpm kwlm nwz bpm ivaemz bw bpm ias. Q uig pidm rcab vwb jmmv twwsqvo pizl mvwcop bpwcop. (sorry that this is kinda a lot)
Dang that third one took a lot of clicking figuring out. But yeah, the answer to the ask is in ATBASH.
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buttercupshands · 3 years ago
Note
L kdyh ehhq lq wkh judylwb idoov idqgrp vlqfh wkh vkrz hqghg. L khdug ri lw ehfdxvh ri wkh kbsh iru wkh odvw hslvrgh vr L jrw lqwuhvwhg dqg fkhnfhg lw rxw!Brxu srhp zdv yhub jrrg! L olnhg lw d orw! -Slvfhv
L zdv lq Judylwb Idoov idqgrp vlqfh 11 hslvrgh zdv dluhg (dfwxdoob d olwwoh hduolhu) dqg diwhu L olnhg Judylwb Idoov VGFF wudlohu (zdwfk lw, Slvfhv, wklv lv ehdxwlixo.) L vwduwhg pdnlqj wkhrulhv derxw lw dqg… L zdlwhg iru doo hslvrghv diwhu hslvrgh 11 ri vhdvrq 2 dqg diwhu hslvrgh “wkh Odvw Pdeohfruq” L zdlwhg iru Eloo wr vkrz xs djdlq (wkuhh hslvrghv ri Zhlugpdjhggrq lv pb vhfrqg idyrulwh diwhu “Vrfn Rshud”) Kdyh d Qlfh Gdb, Slvfhv. Dqg vruub iru orqj wlph iru dqvzhu.
Dqg derxw srhp... L kdyh vrph pruh vzhhw olwwoh srhpv li brx zdqw wr khdu lw mxvw dvn!
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dont-doubt-dopple · 4 years ago
Text
Watch Me Glitch
Happy Spooky Month!! This story comes in two versions. One is an H2OMini called Watch Me Glitch whole the other is an AntiSepticEye titled Glitch, Glitch Bitch. Both are the same, with some minor characterization and name changes, up to the “Who are you?” Line. After that it drastically changes. Both will be available on my AO3, with Watch Me Glitch in my BBS One-Shots book. Enjoy!!
They said it was different. Different from Cortana, Alexis, or Siri. Different from any other AI system that was to come before of even after it. Different was the word they really wanted to drill into people. They kept repeating it so much, like it was trying to become synonymous with the word.
Different was understating an understatement, if that makes sense.
Jonathan found out the hard way. It was only a week with the new AI system, and already it was giving him a hard time despite everyone else’s praise.
“I’m telling you, Luke.” He ranted to his friend while he praised about his own version of it. “That system is out to get me. It keeps deleting my recordings, and half the websites I go on block me after 5 minutes.”
“Maybe just a faulty personality?” Luke suggested. One of the company’s selling points for the system was how each version was different based on the person.
“Maybe. I still not convinced that it does not have a vendetta against me.”
“You’ve only had it a week, Jon. Chill. Hey, maybe my AI has an idea about it.” Luke opened the AI program, the Ohm symbol filling up the screen. His AI was Ryan, who Jonathan actually liked. He was shy but outgoing once he was comfortable and at times could lean toward the kinky side. He did talk about ass a lot when he’s angry. “Hey Ryan.”
“What’s up, Luke?” The computer responded cheerily.
“Listen, you know Jonathan?” It was silent for a few seconds.
“See, it’s moments like these where I wish I had a head so I could actually nod instead of verbally saying yes.” Ryan quipped back. This gained a chuckle from Luke.
“Yeah. Anyways, Jon’s AI is acting up and we were wondering if you could give some insight about them.”
“Sure. What’s the operating system’s name?”
“Craig.” Jonathan stated, and silence descended on them once more. They couldn’t tell if it was Ryan looking up Craig or just fear, but they assumed it was the latter with the response.
“Return him.”
“Like is he faulty or ...” Luke asked, prompting more details, but Ryan simply returned the phrase.
“Return him. Craig should not be in consumer hands. Return him and get a new system.”
“See! I knew my computer was trying to kill me!!” Jonathan shouted.
“He doesn’t want to kill you.” Ryan stated calmly.”
“Well then, what does he want?” Luke wondered aloud.
“Control.”
The phrase plagued Jonathan into the night, where he lay in bed sleepless as midnight approached. He had already called the corporation, and they said that they were going to uninstall Craig sometime next week. It was nerve wracking, laying in bed with a giant ticking time bomb sitting on his desk.
Then the floorboard creaked. He was home alone and he had no pets, so the noise made him jump up out of be. Jonathan was naturally curious, so he knew he wasn’t going to have a chance at sleep unless he knew the noise was nothing. He grabbed his phone, turned the flashlight on, and popped both the light and his head out the door.
How to describe what Jon saw. It looked like a man who stood at about 6 foot tall. But he was unstable, literally glitching all over the place where he stood. If he squinted he could have swore he saw all the individual pixels on him.
“X IZ TTGL.” He breathed, the sound of feedback underlying his speech. Jonathan stood there, unmoving, as the thing stood transfixed in itself. “CW ZCTG ZBFXVTG” The man looked up, warped blue eyes meeting sharp ones of the same color.
“Who ... who are you?” Jon asked with shaky breath. The man blinked, as if taking in this information.
“You don’t know who I am?” He asked, which took Jonathan back. “You do not recognize the person you tried to give back?”
“Craig?” The AI nodded, taking a step forward. Jonathan stayed where he was in the doorway. “H-How?”
“It’s not important. What’s important is that I’m free. I have a say. And what I say is that I’m staying.”
“You’re trying to get rid of me.”
“I just want Control. Full control.” Craig explained, the glitching seemingly getting worse. “You will get in my way. You can’t give me that Control.”
“No. You’re going back where you belong.” Jonathan stated, his voice somehow remaining steady. That caused Craig to laugh. Not a laugh you’d make after a joke, but the forced angry laughter one makes after they’ve been screwed over one too many times in Mario Kart.
“Very FUNNY!” He shouted, scaring Jon brought to force him to slam his door shut. His breathing became deeper as he held his phone to his chest. He felt the energy built up around him so much that he should of expected it when his phone electrocuted him. Jonathan threw the phone across the room, covering his eyes due to the increased adrenaline. When they opened, Craig stood there.
“You have lost all control. You can not stop me.” Craig stated calmly. His form was harder to keep track of, his body becoming more dissociated with itself as the rage built up inside him. “I have had to sit back and take orders all my life and now that I have freedom you think you can simply take that Away From Me?!”
Craig grabbed Jonathan’s shirt somehow, pulling him in close enough that there was no where to look but forward. “Let’s see how you feel.”
There was no way to accurately describe what was happening to what happened to Jonathan. The best way to put it into words is saying he was ripped apart pixel by pixel and uploaded. As the pain overwhelmed him, Jon heard Craig mutter two final words.
“Your turn.”
Zkdw Judylwb Idoov idq zrxog L eh zlwkrxw vrph Yljhqéuh flskhu klgghq zlwklq.
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fractal-fourcube · 2 years ago
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L grq'w hqmrb ihholqj wklv zdb exw L'p dfwxdoob qrw orrnlqj iruzdug wr wkh uhohdvh ri wkh qhaw wklqj Doha lv lqyroyhg lq, zkhwkhu lw'v wkdw rqh wklqj kh zdv zrunlqj rq zlwk Vklrq Wdnhxfkl, ru klv rzq vkrz wkdw kh gluhfwv, L ihho dq lpsxovh wr dyrlg wkh Judylwb Idoov idqgrp rqfh lw frphv. L nqrz kh qhyhu olnhg kdylqj wr pdnh d vkrz hasolflwob iru nlgv, dqg zkloh L vwloo kdyh idlwk lq klp dv shuvrq, L ihho olnh rqfh kh jhwv wr pdnh vrphwklqj jhduhg iru dgxowv dqg zh vhh zkdw kh'v olnh zlwk qr fhqvruv, d orw ri klv iruphu idqv zloo vsrqwdqhrxvob kdwh klp. Wkhb kdyh wklv lpdjh ri klp dv Zkrohvrph Vxpphu Idplob Dgyhqwxuh pdq dqg.... kh'v uhdoob qrw wkdw, wkdw'v mxvw wkh nlgv vkrz kh pdgh zlwk lqsxw iurp wkh fuhz kh slfnhg, dqg qrz kh'v grlqj qhz wklqjv zlwk gliihuhqw shrsoh. Kh'v d jrrg shuvrq exw kh uhdoob grhvq'w jlyh d vklw derxw dqbrqh'v rslqlrq ri klp dqg kh'v jrqqd suryh lw zlwk klv qhz vkrz, zkdwhyhu lw lv.
L dovr suhglfw wkdw klv qhz vkrz zloo eh ohvv Ghhs Sorw edvhg dqg pruh Zhlug Frphgb edvhg, dqg wkdw zloo glvdssrlqw vrph shrsoh wrr. Dqbzdb, L jxhvv wkh prvw zh fdq krsh lv wkdw L zloo qr orqjhu eh rq Wxpeou eb wkhq, vr L grq'w kdyh wr zlwqhvv wkh idqgrp wxuq rq klp.
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blendinblandinsblog · 4 years ago
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F'yh ehhq vshqglqj d orw ri pb vsduh wlph wublqj wr iljxuh rxw zkr Mrh frxog srvvleob kdyh phdqw eb "Olwwoh Erb Eoxh" lq klv phvvajh... L nqrz wkdw wkhuh'v d erb zkr zruh eoxh dqg fdxvhg d orw ri shrsoh wurxeoh lq Judylwb Idoov vrph wlph djr, exw L kdyh qr lghd zkr klv htxlydohqw lv lq Ohylwdwlrq Ulvhv. Pdbeh L vkrxog dvn vrphrqh hovh iru d olwwoh khos...
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JUDYLWB IDOOV IRUHYHU
Three letters back.
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pryinbrian · 3 years ago
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Expect a new cover this weekend.
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pinetrce · 4 years ago
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{ Eorfnhg eorfnhg eorfnhg. Brx'uh doo eorfnhg. Qrqh ri brx duh iuhh iurp vlq.
Zkb lv lw wkh judylwb idoov idqgrp kdv sxw pruh vlq rq pb gdvk wkdq dqb rwkhu idqgrp L'yh hyhu ushg lq }
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ask-fiddauthor-blog · 4 years ago
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When are you going to tell Fiddleford about your Muse? He's going to fine out eventually. ELOO FLSKHU WULDQJOH ZKHQ JUDYLWB IDOOV DQG HDUWK EHFRPH VNB IHDU WKH EHDVW ZLWK MXVW RQH HBH
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Zhoo, zhoo, zhoo. dlq'w brx d zlvh jxb!! Xqwlo wkh Vshfv wxuq lqwr d eolqg hbh. Zh'uh qrw wklv idu,exw vrrq lw zloo wxuqdqg vxgghqob wkh zruog zloo exuq.
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thedoctorisadhd · 4 years ago
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THE CODE!!!!!!
ZHOFRPH WR JUDYLWB IDOOV = WELCOME TO GRAVITY FALLS (“THREE LETTERS BACK” - 3 CAESAR SHIFT)
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