#a rising oui stan | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

blushing-starker · 3 years

Text

Insanity brings me truth and you

can you guess what Peter's doing to not be understood by the guards?

It's not easy, being crazy. There are expectations to run away from, a bar to limbo under, a specific number of people one has to betray and scar. The unknowable becomes knowable, so you have to skirt the edge of that Venn diagram very carefully. Or very recklessly. Either way, it's a complex thing except for when it's not. Jesus, how infuriating to think about. The point is, the paradox that crazies carry on their shoulders? It's a fucking hassle, a tricky one and Peter is tired of it.

He sighs, lets gravity bend him backward, legs slipping dangerously off the blanket he's hung as a hammock inside his cell. Act like a psycho and you're predictable, don't act like an ax wielding murderer and whoops! Predictable. It's the downside of being insane; you leave the weary capitalist consumer mask out in the world, probably set that shit on fire and make yourself sick with the fumes. But you just replace it with the one labelled 'danger to society' and get forced to play along with that. He did what he did to avoid the world and its predetermined fate, its standards.

Peter closes his eyes, thinks of the nauseating smell on his left. Rupert, the guard that dared graze him while he came back from the shower naked, has a broken nose thanks to Ned and his loyalty to him. The idiot barely cleans the open wound and the whole cell reeks of pus because of it. He does the math of how long it's been going on for and shudders in disgust. His bare calves slip a little more.

An inhale near the front of his cage. Slow, but controlled. Not the usual. Thank God for a circus family and heightened senses.

The doctor is paying attention to him.

"Doctor Stark. Gnittor gnihtemos llems ouy nac?" Rupert grumbles from his perch on the second floor, curses a hare brained psycho that's incomprehensible. Peter hums, pleased to know that after ten months, nine days, twelve hours, and...

Breathe in. Breathe out. Focus on sinking deeper into nothing, into a yawning void. The blanket shakes and his thighs are starting to tremble. Blood is rushing to his head, veins most likely beginning to protrude. Irrelevant.

His favorite guard Stan wears a Swiss watch his wife got for him on their fortieth anniversary. It sings to him now, smooth and cool like a river. A skipping stone is thrown, tic, a fish heads towards the sound, toc. Above all the other stimuli in the room, the watch announces itself. Ten fifteen.

Ten months, nine days, twelve hours and twenty minutes into a game, his tiny gnat still hasn't caught on. Not like the charming doctor. He sees him then, behind closed eyelids, as clearly as a sweet nightmare. Tall, taller than Peter, but less strong. Wide shoulders that morph into a slim waist and a delectable ass he aches to sink his teeth into. Shapely calves from running, curiously delicate looking ankles.

Down and back again. A full head of dark hair with a dusting of silver. Dangerously clever mouth, what his aunt would call a noble nose. Agreeable cheekbones. Piercing eyes that tear his walls down, rip apart the bricks and mortar until he's scrambling on the other side, desperately, clumsily attempting to reinforce them for the millionth time. Those eyes saw the trick, the mirror reflection on his second day here, Peter offhandedly talking in reverse with Ned when they passed the new doctor. A dark gaze had pinned him in place, a spider fixed in place with its own silk against the cold dissection table.

Ned had rambled on, Peter had met a worthy playmate and the doctor had seen all he needed in that eternally prolonged glance. That very afternoon, a psychiatrist signed on as his very own voyeur.

Doctor Stark seems to be as interested in cutting him open to peek inside as Peter is in taking a dagger and comparing their hearts. He does this a lot; wonders how fate and the absence of lucky fate led them here. On opposite sides of a prison when perhaps it should be the other way around. Or perhaps there should only be Peter and Doctor Stark.

He feels himself falling, plummeting ever downward into fantasies and hazy dreams. It's not until the good doctor sharply calls out his name that he realizes he's also plummeting towards the floor. Now, MJ had warned him; had specifically said that the hammock being ten feet off the concrete ground was a bad idea. Ned had said he'd be fine and Peter loves the guy, ok? He has to do everything he can so that his best friend wins a bet over his other best friend.

Peter slightly regrets that when he's forced to arch his body backward, flip right side up in order to hit the floor on his feet instead of his face. The impact chokes the air right out of him, shakes his bones, but he doesn't react. Cracks his neck and that's all. Most of the guards were kind, some shade of understanding. They weren't harmless, though. He knows what he looks like, knows how many hours these men are cooped up with the scum of the earth.

"To answer your question," Peter leaps onto the bars of his cell, slithers higher than any sane person would and somersaults off the vertical slits, sinks into his trustworthy hammock with its trustworthy knots (MJ and Ned had tied them, one each), "yes, I do. It's less potent this time."

He stills, frowns. "How? There haven't been any changes. External or internal." No need to act like the Mad Hatter when the conversation could be had normally. Quicker and more reliable with meanings. But the doctor pauses, enunciates his next words slowly.

"Ti koot uoy erom emit yadot." God, he loved hearing Doctor Stark talk that carefully and smoothly. It was as comforting as it was uncomfortable. (He and sex don't particularly get along. It's like a headache that comes and goes; with the right medicine it can dissipate and evolve into something soothing, pleasant. With the majority of medicine, it blossoms into pain and soreness, a dry throat clogged by a thick syrup that won't leave him be no matter how much water MJ and Ned encourage him to drink. Peter isn't yet completely certain which side of his scale the doctor falls on, but he's guessing it's likely the first.)

(The man seemed to live in the grey areas; fitting that with this, too, he'd reside in the in between.)

The reverse effect is in play and he grins, genuine and wide, when he catches it. "Monsters are visiting more frequently, taking up space in the light." His nightmares had intensified recently, and they're starting to accompany him even in moments Peter knows are real; shapes drifting by the corner of his eye. As a coping tactic, he rips parts of his nails off. Not entirely, just the corners. His mind could concoct lots of things, but in his dreams his hands are always pristine.

(He hasn't caught up with it, hasn't noticed that although his nightmares have a clearness to them, a bright intensity, Peter can't shift enough focus to realize his hands aren't his own. They never are. But he usually has more pressing bodies to deal with than the good doctor's.)

Another pause, this one being done by Tony Stark, doctor and healer of men, instead of Doctor Stark, curious keeper of deranged souls. "I'm sorry to hear that. Maybe this will help." Peter peers over the edge of the grey hammock, watches with interest as the doctor approaches his cell with a glass bottle of clear liquid sloshing inside. The other man stops an inch away from the bars, looks up at Peter.

There's a slow tension simmering between them, something as thick and addictive as honey. There's scientific curiosity, a desire to seek out and maybe comprehend the unknown lurking inside their mirror image, as other and as alike as oneself. But there is also a gleam of something he's afraid of acknowledging in Doctor Stark's eyes. A madness once tucked away steadily unraveling itself with each glance they share.

Peter returns the look, unblinking and thinking. " 'If you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you.' " A lesson Nietzsche offered to those wise enough, sane enough to live blind.

The doctor raises an eyebrow, is otherwise still. Sometimes, if Peter considers their current predicament for too long, his grasp on his masks loosens, and the Spider begins to spin its deadly thread round and round its very own body. He sees a guard exchange money with a partner; the crazy quota has, he guesses, been filled for the week. And they had such a nice streak going on, too. Oh, well. This web is unavoidable anyways.

He pitches himself forward, is the one who controls the descent instead of gravity this time. Letting the air rush up to meet him, he inhales, tastes a distinct sharpness around him. Crouching, Peter takes it all in, every last detail. Looks, really looks, at the doctor and suspects.

As if he were none the wiser, he calmly heads to the front of the cell. Meets the doctor at the divide and wonders what it'll be. Wonders if he'll rise higher than ash and flame, an acrobat testing the fates by flying just seconds ahead of death. Doctor Stark hands him the bottle and he can see now, tiny pieces of lavender. A distraction for the guards. "That should keep the monsters in the dark. Use it before you got to sleep and tuck away your hair."

Like a schoolgirl with a crush, he self consciously brings a hand to his curls. They're getting a bit long, but the warden only allows haircuts once a month or two. "I don't have anything to use." Digging into his lab coat, the other man retrieves a single black stick.

Well, to everyone else it's a hair pin. Peter knows the truth though, can see it and smell it and very nearly touch it. As it is, he gently plucks the items out of elegant hands and refuses to look at them. Looking draws attention. Doctor Stark gazes at his face, eyes flickering in a rehearsed way around his own, but not into them. That's alright, he understands.

"The lack of movement around your face should also help." The question of why is out before he can reel it in and act as a sane, normal person. Christ, he could handle crazy, not rude. He would have to practice being in control so as not to slip up when the doctor is around. Said doctor cocks his head, doesn't have to do anything more for Peter to get the message: go on, ask the devil why he made the deal.

Peter B Parker does not back down when intrigued. "Why are you helping me sleep better?"

Why help me escape?

"It's my duty." Three words. Not the explicit declaration of affection typical, normal, dull people receive from an admirer or partner. Not a grand proclamation of wanting what the heart wants, or a sonnet regarding the connection between star crossed paramours. Simple, short, concise; enough to turn to religion, to sanctity and salvation if it means hearing it again. He'd do anything, including putting on a discarded mask from his past if it gets him what he desires. Peter would suffer through sanity for this man. He would if it means hearing what sounds silent to those around them.

You're my duty. Whatever happens tonight, Doctor Stark believes it's his duty to see it through. To see him through, in a way.

"Why would you accept?" Ah, silly doc thinking any of his principles have changed since the first time they met, since the first time he brought fire to life and gave death in return. Peter smiles, brings forth the prisoner that had not seen the light of day in almost a decade.

(His uncle often said Peter's greatest gift to the world was his smile, his true smile. His aunt said it was the final move needed to capture a king and make him his pawn.)

"Why, doc, you know I hate to be bored." Call him a psycho, a freak, a sick, pitiful creature. Call him anything and everything and maybe those words would ring true. But Peter will never allow himself to be bored, not when there's so much fun to be had. Especially with a doctor as crazy as he is. "This looks...promising."

" 'He who fights with monsters might take care lest he thereby become a monster.' " The first part of Nietzsche's warning.

"Nietzsche didn't understand; those who fought monsters were already fated to become what they struggled to defeat. They believed salvation could be found by killing the monsters outside, but all they did was feed the ones inside."

Anthony Stark, the truest version, grins at him, all glinting eyes, sharp teeth and a crooked smile. Peter Parker, armed with a match, gasoline and soon to be glass shards, grins right back. In this instant, being crazy isn't such a hassle. After all, he has someone to share the crazy with now.

#starker #dark!starker #insane!peter #insane!tony #patient!peter #doctor!tony #peter parker x tony stark #i mean sorta dark #arsonist!peter #demisexual!peter #legit a harley/joker version where theres no manipulation #theyre insane and in love yall #sophie writes

15 notes · View notes

nataliedanovelist · 4 years

Text

GF - Beauty Within the Fallen ch.IV

Summary: Two misfit twins come across an enchanted castle, home of a mysterious beast, and slowly begin to form a strong bond that just might survive through anything. Even evil demons.

AU and artwork belong to the beautiful and very talented @artsycrapfromsai. Go give her some love, guys!!!

ch.III - ch.V

~~~~~~~~~~

A loud bang scared the kids awake. Mabel pushed her messy brown hair out of her eyes and Dipper had to take a moment to remember where he was and why he was here. They looked at the door to find Stan the beast standing there with a scowl on his face. “OY! Rise and shine, runts! Hurry up and do your chores, and maybe I'll think about giving you breakfast. Food tastes better after you work for it, anyway.”

Mabel quickly tied her hair back with her pink handkerchief. “Oui, Monsieur Stan.” she said as she jumped down. Dipper frowned at the beast as he left the kids alone to get up; he suspected this kind of behavior, but it didn’t mean he liked it. The twins quickly got dressed and they found Wendy at the bottom of the stairs. “Good, you’re up.” She led the way through and said, “Before breakfast, you two need to dust and sweep the front door. After breakfast, you’ll move to the ballroom and clean the whole thing, even climb up to the chandeliers and get the cobwebs out. Cleaning that whole mess’ll take all day. You got it?” “Don’t you worry, Madame Wendy!” Mabel said as she grabbed a broom and handed a duster to her brother, both tools waiting for them by the exit. “Eyes on the prize!” Dipper and Mabel went outside and met chilly air with a bright sun. On the stony entrance, they warmed up like lizards on rocks and got to work, sweeping fallen leaves away and dusting the lamps so they shined brighter. Dipper paused his work at the handle of one lantern and awed. “Wow, Mabel, come look at this. The way the metal swirls… the colors… This place really is beautiful.” Mabel looked at what her brother was looking at and smiled. “You’re right, Dip-Dip. All this place needs is a little love.” And she swept a pile of leaves off onto the ground to further prove her point, showing a shiny, pretty entrance. Dipper looked up at the tall towers and the enormous castle. He remembered what Soos said yesterday and he speculated out-loud, “I wonder what kind of mysteries are in this place. I have so many questions. Like, how is this even possible? Who exactly is Stan? Did he just come across this place and made it his home? And what about the talking furniture and tools and stuff?” Mabel leaned against the broom. “Those are great questions. Maybe after chores we can explore!” “Maybe…” “BREAKFAST!” The grandfather clock by the door screamed. “Great!” Mabel cheered and hurried inside. Once again, when the kids saw that Stan was nowhere to be seen, Mabel led the way up to his room. Dipper was more hesitant, but he did agree with his twin that Stan should eat. Maybe he just wasn’t a breakfast person. At the first door on the stairwell, advised not to go farther by Soos last night, Mabel knocked cheerfully. “Monsieur Stan, breakfast’s ready! Wanna eat with us?” Dipper crossed his arms over his chest. It took a few moments for the doors to open but when they did Mabel was grinning. Stan shrugged casually. “Sure. I could use some more coffee.” After eggs with toast and hot tea for the kids and black coffee for the beast, Dipper and Mabel went off to clean the ballroom. They gasped at the vast room with the huge balcony and even Dipper had to admit he was looking forward to making this place sparkle and shine. The ceiling was at least forty feet high and the room was a beautiful circle with a thirty-feet long diameter. By the wall, on their left, stood a grand piano. Mabel dropped her bucket of cleaning supplies and rushed to the musical instrument and found, oddly enough, that it was the only thing not dusty. Someone must come in often to play it. “Dipper, look! A real piano to play! I haven’t seen one since our last playdate with Gideon.” “Me, neither.” Dipper joined his sister and silently ran his fingers over the keys. The piano opened her eyes by the music-sheet stand and giggled. “Oh! That tickles!” Dipper’s face turned red and he pulled away his hand with a yell of shock. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” “Hi, I’m Mabel!” The girl greeted. “This is Dipper!” “Bonjour! I’m Melody! Want some music while you work?” “Yes, yes! Fiddleford says cleaning is fun with music. Here, do you know this song?” She pressed a key to find a note and began to sing before playing the piano. “Every task you undertake, becomes a piece of cake! A lark! A spree! It's very clear to see that…” The girl dragged on, and Melody the piano picked it up. “A spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down, the medicine go down-wown, medicine go down! Just a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down in a most delightful way!” Mabel picked up a duster and she and Dipper quickly got to work, the piano playing songs and singing beautifully, whether the kids sang along or not. ~~~~~~~~~~ Stan waited for some words to form on the page after spilling about everything. Bits and pieces were suddenly making sense, leaving the other half of the conversation shocked. Stanley, It took a moment for more words to form after that. Stan could almost hear his brother’s desperate, low tone. Have you considered the idea that these children may help us break the curse? “I may be an idiot, Sixer, but I’m not stupid.” Stan growled. The journal was still once more for a few moments. I know it is dangerous to hope, but they could help. Stan didn’t respond. He looked away. The journal waited for a response, but soon the beast slowly rose his head, his ears flicking with faint sound. “Hold up.” Stan stood from his armchair. “Is that… music?” Stan opened the door, now only one corridor blocking the sound, and he growled. “What are those kids up to now?” Stanley, Luckily the beast caught the sudden appearance of words out of the corner of his eye. Let it play. I haven’t heard music in so long. Stan looked at that sentence sorrowfully, sighed, and sat back in his chair, letting the music barely seep into the West Wing. ~~~~~~~~~~ He almost requested to be moved out of the West Wing and down to meet the children, but that was out of the question. He knew there was no way Stanley would let him leave the safety of this room. It was suffocating. ~~~~~~~~~~ Mabel and Dipper accepted the glasses of water from Candy in the afternoon, sweaty and dirty from the dust, but they were happy with their work. The room was just too big for two kids to get it all done in one day, but they got a lot done and though Dipper’s arms ached and Mabel was sneezing from the dust, they were proud. The door opened wider and the beast was there. He looked over the room and down at the kids. Dipper readied himself to be scolded for not getting it all done, but Stan snorted a smile. “That’s impressive, kids. Good job. Still got your work cut out for you, though.” Mabel saluted like they were in the army. “We’ll get it done, Monsieur Stan!” Stan waved her promise away nonchalantly. “Well, dinner’ll be ready by the time you two have a bath. You two need it.” Mabel sneezed and giggled, admitted that Stan was right, and he left them alone again. At dinner, Dipper decided to test his luck and ask a question. “Monsieur Stan, can we go find Fiddleford?” Stan raised an eyebrow. “That your friend?” “Yes.” Dipper nodded. “Please, what if he’s hurt or he can’t find us. I bet together we could find him.” “Yeah!” Mabel said encouragingly. “Please, please, please Monsieur Stan!” “No.” Stan said firmly and then spoke in a calmer tone. “It’s too dangerous out there. You kids were almost killed. You’re staying here.” “But what if Fiddleford is in danger?” Dipper asked; he didn’t want to bring up the possibility or worry Mabel, but he had to be realistic. Mabel’s smile dropped and she looked devastated at the idea. “I said no, kid.” Stan growled. “It’s best if you stay here and let this guy find you. Didn’t your parents ever teach you to do that when you get lost? You stay still and don’t move until someone finds you.” Mabel bit her lip and looked down at her plate. Dipper scowled at the beast for hurting his sister, even if unintentionally, and he muttered bitterly, “Our parents are dead.” Stan looked down at the children sympathetically and a compassionate sound rumbled in his chest, but was very quiet. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” “It’s okay.” Mabel said at once, picking up the regret in his voice. “We were only babies. That’s why Fiddleford takes care of us.” Stan gave it some thought. He watched as Dipper took one of Mabel’s hands and squeezed it. She smiled at him and held his hand even tighter. Stan smiled a little at that, reminded of another set of twins, and he said, “Well, I don’t know much about good parenting, but I’d bet this Fiddlebucket guy would want you safe in a castle instead of out looking for him in the woods. I’m sure he’ll find this place soon and take you home.” “Merci, Monsieur Stan,” Mabel said, smiling at him. “For letting us stay here.” Stan stood and headed towards the exit. “Heck, I should be thanking you knuckleheads for being willing to stay with a monster and not cut off his head.” Mabel’s heart dropped. She opened her mouth to correct him, but the door was closed and he was gone. Two more days passed, each just the same as the last, except the beast and the children were becoming more comfortable with each other. Telling stories and jokes, getting to know each other more than just sad, lost children and a lonely, scary beast. Still, every night, Dipper and Mabel begged to look for Fiddleford, and every time they asked Stan got angrier. Dipper was bold enough to try his luck again, and when he did, Stan slammed his claws on the table so hard it broke several dishes and made the kids still as stone. “FINE!” He roared and he stood up. “Fine, here’s what’s gonna happen. I’m gonna go look for him and bring him here. You two, STAY HERE! DO NOT leave this castle! Understand?” Dipper just scowled at the beast. Mabel found it in here to nod. Stan left quickly, too angry to admit that he was losing his temper, but he managed to catch a tiny voice saying “merci” before he was out of the room. Dipper gave his sister a look and shook his head. He wasn’t going to thank the beast until they were reunited with Fiddleford again. The twins settled in the living room, by the fire. Mabel was bored, antsy, and wanted to do something fun. She wished she had some knitting with her. The last few days they told stories with Stan or jokes or played games, but with him gone and the uncertainty of him coming back with Fiddleford hanging over their heads, the kids were silent for awhile. “Hey, Dipper? Wanna read a book? I bet Soos or Wendy could find us one.” “No thanks.” “How about we play music in the ballroom.” “I’m sick of the ballroom right now.” Dipper sat up straighter on the couch (before being slouched over with his chin on his fist) and he suggested, “Let’s go exploring. No one ever told us we couldn’t.” Mabel smiled and hopped down from the couch. “Okay!” The kids had already seen their bedroom, the washroom, the dining hall, the ballroom, and the living room. So where to explore next? They wandered up the stairs, looking at old paintings and decoration. They were heading towards the door they usually knocked on for Stan and decided to venture on, agreeing that if it looked like they were reaching his bedroom, they would stop and turn around. “This castle is like a dream.” Mabel said as she twirled on the spot. Dipper pulled the door open and gasped. “Or a nightmare.” Mabel looked at what her twin was looking at and gasped, too. A corridor, trashed and ruined, laid before them, the carpet ripped, scratches on the walls, furniture and paintings destroyed. The kids slowly entered, curiosity getting the better of them, and observed their surroundings carefully. Ahead, a set of double-doors stood, so they approached it and worked together to open the door, pulling hard and letting an eerie creak ring. They found a large room that was just as torn, if not worse, than the corridor. Drapes dangled, vases were shattered, dust covered every surface. Hesitantly, the twins entered, looking around. Mabel caught sight of a messy bed and held onto Dipper’s arm. She looked around and saw a huge portrait that caught her attention. Parts were in shreds, like the face of the father and the eldest child and the mother was hidden by a curtain, but two twin boys stood in their nicest clothes, smiling. One had his arm wrapped around the other’s neck, and the other brother had his hands behind his back. The painting seemed to be so real, like it had purpose, like it wasn’t just a nice decoration. Mabel was uncomfortable, feeling like she was invading. “L-Let’s go.” She quivered, tugging on Dipper’s arm. Dipper was about to agree with her, but he saw something else and his eyes sparkled with interest. “Mabel, look.” There was one thing in the room perfectly intact. By the balcony, in a glass case, stood a book. A maroon book with golden trim and a six-fingered hand on the front stood on a little end table. So much care had been put into preserving it, it must be for a reason. Why would the beast take such good care of a book? Predicting that it had valuable information, Dipper slowly approached. Mabel allowed herself to be pulled gently towards the book, still holding onto her brother’s arm. Dipper looked at the book. Never before had he seen such a beautiful book in all his life, all the ones in the Valentino library old and worn. His thirst for knowledge and his love for books had him slowly lift the glass cover off of the book and set it on the floor. He picked up the book carefully, finding it as big as his arms, and he opened it. He was crestfallen to find it blank. Dipper flipped through a few pages and said, “It’s a journal. With nothing in it.” “Maybe it was a gift.” Mabel guessed. She ran a hand over a page and smiled at how soft it was. “It’s beautiful.” She breathed softly. Dipper thought his eyes were playing tricks on him in the darkness, but no. Slowly, ink soaked into the pages, coming from nowhere, and read Thank you. Greetings. Dipper, in shock, accidentally dropped the journal on it’s spine and forced himself and Mabel back. A page fell out of the journal and it laid open, nothing changing. Mabel was about to scold Dipper, but then more words appeared on the page. Ouch. “Dipper!” Mabel punched him on the shoulder and scooped up the journal. “I’m sorry, Monsieur Journal. Here, I’ll fix you up.” She picked up the page, kissed it, and placed it in the book, hoping something magical would happen, like the binding would take the page back, but the page fell onto the floor like a leaf from a tree. It’s alright, my dear. That happens sometimes. Though falling on my spine is rare. Mabel smiled sympathetically, detecting a joke, but maybe she was misinterpreting a harsh comment for sarcasm. Maybe not. Dipper rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m really sorry for dropping you, Monsieur Journal.” Apology accepted, but please call me Ford. “Sure. Sorry, Monsieur Ford.” Dipper said. “I’m Dipper and this is my sister, Mabel.” Bonjour. It’s lovely to make your acquaintance. What brings you here? Dipper and Mabel blushed a little in their cheeks. “We… we were exploring.” Dipper answered. Ah, I see. My brother and I used to explore all the time as children. The trouble we would get into drove the staff mad. “The staff?” Dipper repeated. “You mean, you grew up here?” He looked back at the painting of the two boys. Yes, a long time ago. “Neat-o!” Mabel complimented, still cradling the book ever so gently. “You must have a lot of stories!” As a matter of fact, I do. “Well, we love books!” Mabel sat on her knees, and Dipper peered down, interested. “Fire away, Monsieur Ford!” The whole journal quivered, as if chuckling, and sure enough, small letters appeared on a page, making hmmm, suggesting maybe a warm chuckle. I love your energy. Well, there was one time when we… “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” Mabel closed the journal and held it close to her chest, protecting it. Dipper stood in front of his sister with his arms outstretched. The beast ran towards them on all fours and stopped just inches from the kids, growling with fire in his eyes. Dipper stood strong in front of his sister, determined to keep her safe, meanwhile she couldn’t understand how someone so nice could be so… so scary. Stan, with a shaking claw and heavy breaths, reached towards them. “Give him to me.” He growled in such a low, cold, scary voice, that Mabel’s eyes filled with tears. She was flooded with the sense that she had done something very wrong. She scooted an inch to the side, better out from behind Dipper, and held out the journal. Stan carefully took the book and hunched over slightly, keeping it close to his chest and against his fur. Dipper pulled Mabel away from the beast, still on her knees, but Dipper was ready to scoop her up and run if needed. The beast moved it’s furious eyes back on them and Dipper felt a shiver go down his spine, but he refused to be seen as weak. “Why did you come here?” The beast growled dangerously. “W-We’re sorry, M-Monsieur Stan.” Mabel piped, quiet as a mouse. “W-W-We were just exploring and… and…” “You BRATS! After everything I’ve done for you, you’re NOTHING BUT TROUBLE! GET OUT! GET OUT!!!” Dipper pulled Mabel up and they ran as fast as they could. Mabel was grateful that Dipper was pulling her, because her eyes were full of tears and it was hard to see. The second the twins were gone, Stan felt like he was sinking. He had allowed his monstrous temper to get out of hand. Again. He took in a few deep breaths to calm down and he opened the journal. “Stanford, are you okay? Did those kids hurt you?” No, Stanley. I’m fine. Those children would never harm me. The beast’s eyes found the page on the floor. Seeing this, the journal made new words on the page. You and I both know that happens randomly. Stan sighed languidly, the whole world on his shoulders. “We’re running out of time.” That may be so, but with the little time I have left I wish to spend it outside a glass container and among good people. Like you. Stan could hear his brother’s lecturing tone. “I’m not a good person, Sixer. I proved that just now.” He said darkly as guilt overwhelmed him, a feeling he was far too used to. So go apologize. Then when you come back, bring the children with you. I wish to tell them embarrassing stories about my brother. Stan somehow managed an anemic smile. He only heard half the conversation with his excellent hearing on the way here from the woods (more like a fourth of the conversation, since he had no way of knowing what his brother had written), but from what he could tell the kids and Ford were having a good time together. He knew it was paranoid and selfish for Stan to keep Ford locked away like this, but what if something happened to him? He was already losing him slowly. He just couldn’t lose him, but he wanted Ford to be happy just as much as he wanted him to be safe. “Okay, Sixer.” Stan closed the journal, laid him on the table, and left. Meanwhile, in the freezing cold, wrapped in black cloaks, the twins were running in the woods, Dipper leading the way, gripping Mabel’s hand. They swatted past branches and trees, running farther away from the castle as fast as they could. “If that beast won’t help us we’ll just have to find Fiddleford ourselves.” Dipper sneered. “Dipper, how will we find him?” Mabel asked. They began to slow down. Scared and angry and hurt, the kids had acted irrationally, leaving without supplies or even a lantern. Still, pride and stubbornness clouded the boy’s mind, so he said, “We’ll just have to look carefully. Come on. Fiddleford! Fiddleford!” The kids walked in the woods, holding hands, and called out his name. Dark clouds rolled over the full moon, their only light course, and so they moved carefully through the dark forest in order to avoid being hurt again. Mabel squeezed Dipper’s hand and stopped them all of a sudden. “Wait, did you hear that?” Dipper listened through the howling wind and he thought he heard a small noise through the bushes. He peered in the same direction as his sister and they gasped to find a pig scurrying towards them. “WADDLES!” Mabel cheered with glee and let go of Dipper to run to her pet pig and pick him up, hugging him tightly. “Oh, my Waddles! Have you been looking for us since no one came home? Good pig! Good pig!” Dipper smiled and rubbed the pig’s head, who oinked happily. “It’s good to see you too, buddy.” The happy reunion was ruined when they heard a low growl. Dipper hugged Mabel tightly and her grip on Waddles grew stronger, who trembled in her arms. They could hear howling, so Dipper grabbed one of Mabel’s arms and she put the pig down. “Come on!” They ran through the woods, hoping to get far away from the wolves and to live to see the sun rise. Waddles ran right behind the twins as they went up and down a hill, tripping on tree roots but coming up okay. Just as they were at the bottom of the hill, a wolf jumped in front of them gray-blue fur covering it’s skinny body and it’s razor sharp teeth unmasked by a snarling muzzle. This wolf was not going to leave without some food. Mabel screamed. Dipper picked up a fallen branch and was ready to attack the wolf with it. Waddles scampered in front of the kids and oinked warningly at the wolf, but the savage animal roared and the pig was so scared it squealed and ran to be behind Mabel. Dipper swung the branch at the wolf and hit it over the head, dazing it. Mabel acted quickly, grabbing a rock, and threw it. The wolf stumbled, whined, and ran off over the hill and was gone. Dipper breathed heavily, his heart racing and he smiled at his sister. “G-G-Good… job.” He panted. “You too, bro-bro.” Mabel hugged him, relieved and proud, and then got on her knees to pet a shaken Waddles. “Poor Waddles, you were so brave.” Dipper smiled down at his family, but his eyes and ears caught something else. At the top of the hill, a bigger, meaner, scarier wolf appeared. He howled out into the night air and more of his pack joined. It appeared that the wolf the twins had fought off was the weakest one, the runt, and they will pay for bullying him. Mabel picked up Waddles and another rock; Dipper tightened his hold on his branch, ready to fight and protect his sister. The wolves came running down, circling their dinner. Dipper swung his branch like a club, keeping the wolves at bay, but one grabbed the stick with his teeth and snapped it in two. Dipper threw the sad remains of his weapon at it and hit it on the head. One wolf behind Mabel ambushed and bit her dress, dragging her and Waddles. She screamed bloody murder, terrified, and Dipper cried out and reached out for her hand. Suddenly, something cloaked in red pounced on the wolf that had a hold of the little girl and threw it against a tree. The wolf staggered up, roaring, but a beast stood in front of the children on all four and roared more horribly. Mabel stared as Dipper hugged his sister close. “Stan?” She whispered in shock. The wolves circled them, sizing Stan up. Should they work together to try to earn enough food to keep them full for a month, or should they retreat and not take the risk. The alpha seemed to have decided to engage in combat, for it snapped at Stan and the beast retaliated viciously. As the wolves piled on Stan, attacking together as one threat, Dipper held Mabel against his chest, shielding her eyes from the fight in case it turned ugly. She allowed it, squeezing her eyes shut and petting Waddles, her ears forced to hear the growling or wolves and Stan’s painful roars. Dipper watched as the beast worked tirelessly to keep any wolves away from them; one almost jumped on Dipper, but Stan grabbed it’s tail and threw it away in the fight like it was a stuffed toy. Dipper almost didn’t dare to believe the strength Stan had, but the beast was tackling the whole pack of wolves singlehandedly and despite the bites to the necks and his ribs, he was winning. At one point Stan roared so loudly the whole woods trembled and the wolves whined like dogs and ran off, admitting defeat and fleeing up the hill. As they left, with his back to the children, Stan slowly rose to his back paws like a man. A breeze ruffled his gray fur and red cape, exposing a bleeding arm that he held with his opposite paw. He panted for breath, his head spinning, but ignored it all and turned to look at Dipper and Mabel. Stan’s eyes were soft and lost the fire they held earlier. “Knuckleheads… I meant get outta the room… not the…” His strength left him and he fell onto the dead grass. Surprising Mabel, Dipper was the one to run to him and fall on his knees by his side. His little hands hover over the beast, unsure of what to do or how to help, but there was no way he wasn’t going to do something. Mabel put Waddles down and joined Dipper. The twins exchanged looks and nodded, their twin telepathy in play. Mabel moved to Stan’s left side and Dipper kept to his right and used his black cloak to cover his bleeding arm; a wolf had scratched it pretty bad in the fight. Waddles nudged his head gently and he started to come back. “You gotta help us, man.” Dipper said. “Can you stand up?” Stan growled in his throat, powering through his pain, and with Mabel and Dipper under his arms for support, he soon stood on his back paws again. Slowly, with Waddles leading the way, the kids helped Stan limp towards the castle. Under his breath, coming and going from his daze, Stan huffed, “Thanks.” Dipper looked up at him and swallowed. “Thank you, for saving our lives.” Mabel gave his uninjured arm a comforting squeeze. To help them all feel better, she hummed a tune quietly. All of them were so distracted that they didn’t notice that a few snowflakes had fallen from the dark clouds above.

~~~~~~~~~~

Author’s Note: Phew! The next few chapters are longer than the first three, FYI. Now, since Dipper and Mabel are sharing the role of Belle, I decided to have fun with Dipper being hesitant to trust Stan, also to parallel the episode Dreamscapers and how Dipper was all for pressing the button and Mabel was the one to trust him in Not What He Seems.

I couldn't help myself and just HAD to make Melody a piano. One thing I really liked about the live-action BatB movie was the addiction of the piano, a possible homage of the huge evil piano dude in the Christmas movie. And come on, what Disney-referenced-filled story would it be without some Mary Poppins, huh? Also, consider Stan telling the kids they’re nothing but trouble a reference to Ducktales 2017, specifically when Scrooge calls his kids that in the season one finale.

Just gonna go ahead and say that working with Ford here and SO much fun! The ANGST! So much angst!!! The scene where he meets Dipper and Mabel was one I was really looking forward to writing (it should be noted that @artsycrapfromsai’s idea for Journal-Ford came from Tom Riddle’s diary in Harry Potter, so there’s that).

As far as Waddles is concerned… I’ll talk more about him next chapter.

#GF #gravity falls #beauty within the fallen #mabel pines #dipper pines #ford pines #stan pines #fanfiction #gotta love some stan twins angst #thank you so so much to every who's been following and leaving nice comments

25 notes · View notes

dahlpengee · 5 years

Text

My Favorite Show Is Back To Torture Me [Produce x 101, Episodes 1 and 2]

When I found out the show was having a five year contract, I became wary. No company wants to be forced to split a profit 11 different ways for five years because their marketable trainee got picked to be in the group. And by the time the group is over, the trainee is older, and redebuting with a bunch of younger kids isn’t a great idea. So, I thought this would be a season with young and inexperienced trainees because you can afford to lose them. And I was partially right. I loved the battle for the Number One Seat, even though I thought it had no meaning. Or at least I thought it didn’t. Turns out that whoever managed to stay in the seat got a major PR opportunity. Too bad it was wasted on a contest that was removed from the show (I have mixed feelings on this, partially because Seobin was one of my faves before he got kicked out). But anyway thanks to the battle Gichan went up on my radar. He slayed those one handed pushups. Let’s go, Fantagio! The “X” twist seemed cruel initially until they revealed that X trainees are going to actually get more training than the others. I’m really glad that they did that, considering that a lot of the trainees on this show have less than a year of training. I can’t wait to see how people improve! And now for the Auditions!

Source Music: They did KoKoBop, and their vocals weren’t all that great.

DSP Music: Also did KoKoBop and their version was superior. They were all in sync and their vocals were tolerable. Son Dongpyo is definitely shaping up to be a stand out. I swear I thought he was one of the 15 year olds, but he’s 18. He looks super young lol. Starship: This performance validated my theory that companies were going to send young, inexperienced kids so that they don’t lose an opportunity to promote other, more seasoned trainees. They all looked super nervous, were hard to hear, and looked like they forgot the words. The judges were super harsh as well. I don’t understand how they can insult kids, then expect them to want to perform a freestyle or sing off the cuff. I’m rooting for Wonjin and Hyungjun though. Their friendship is adorbs. Cre.Ker: He was kind of boring.

Plasma: He was alright. I don’t think he deserve the X was he given though. Maybe a D.

Maroo: They started off clean and then the performance started to go downhill.

Oui: Okay I am going to be biased for a second because this performance made me love him. He is my current fave. He’s not the best singer but his stage presence in this performance was perfect. THE HEELYS. He is adorable and his whole stage is adorable. Though...I don’t think he should have gotten an A. “B” would have been a better grade. PROTECT KIM YOHAN AT ALL COSTS. ....also Yohan’s grade makes me wonder how the hell the grading system works on this show. It feels a bit unfair that they gave him an “A” based on his potential, but gave the other kids an “X” as if they could not improve, when we’ve all seen kids improve during this show.

SidusHQ: Sunho didn’t make the cut for Boyfriend or Monsta X. Shit. He has so much passion and you can see how much he wants this. He’ll be a good, stable addition to the team if he makes the Final 11. MLD: DONGBIN. THAT CONFIDENCE THO. YES. He completely redeemed himself from PD Season 2. And he got a B. I am so proud of him! A.Conic: Oh lord. Seokhoon is pissed. He feels as though he didn’t do this song justice. And he got an X.

AAP.Y: From what I heard (which was very brief) I liked their composition!

Yuehua: I also enjoyed it! The composition sounded very pretty! BNM: They are extremely gifted composers and dancers and I need them to make it into the Final 11. Yes. All of them.

MBK: I love how no one acknowledged that Hangyul was on The Unit. And by love and mean hated. Come on now. Give him some promo.

Music Works: They are the vocalists that will save this season. And they both got As. Stan Yuvin and Kookheon.

Esteem: Giving everyone an X while Yuri was the only passing grade was bullshit. They all danced well and should have gotten Ds. E Ent: They’re adorable, they have great dance skills, and they both have great stage presence! They both got Bs! Woolim: The freestyle kid was nice to watch!

Chandelier: He was struggling to maintain control.

JH1: He’s struggling to ride that beat.

Hongyi: They’re both sticking around so I am happy. But ZiYue should have gotten a B. His voice is extremely pleasant to listen to, and I hope he gets a chance to shine in future missions. With a little confidence he could do really well! AroundUs: I enjoyed their performance, so I was thrilled they all got high grades!

Jellyfish: Junseong got a well deserved B. But Minkyu. The judges knew exactly what they were doing by giving him an X. He was not horrible. He could have gotten a C or D at least. But they gave him an X to set up a storyline and he’s definitely going to get a “hard worker” edit now. I like him a lot so I’m not too angry. I just wish the editing was less obvious. Eugene: I wasn’t surprised by the X, but I hope he doesn’t give up on his dream! YG: I knew they weren’t going to give YG’s trainees Xs. YG would riot. Individual Trainees: I WAS SO IMPRESSED. Their dances skills were sharp as hell and they ranked high! YES! RISE SUHWAN. Top Media: They were very stable!

Plan A: They better slay that choreo! And they both got As! Yay! Current Faves: Yohan (Oui), Yuvin & Kookheon (MusicWorks), Wonjin & Hyungjun (Starship), Ziyue (Hongyi), BNM Boys.

I can’t wait for episode 3!

#Produce x 101 #Produce 101

4 notes · View notes