Day 21: Games

I wonder what games they would play. Also I wanna come up with a name for this chaotic trio. They are so damn underrated.

GF + OH - Fallen Owls pt.1

Summary: What happens when the milf of The Owl House meets the dilf of Gravity Falls? Find out in this multi-chapter crossover fic.

pt.2

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Episode Placement:

GF = after finale (S3?) OH = between S1E5 and E6 It was late, passed the gremlins’ bedtime, but it was summer, meaning the term “bedtime” had very little meaning unless Stan was tired and needed to make the kids quiet. But as of right now he was content sitting in his old armchair, boxers and undershirt and slippers and all, munching on popcorn with his family, sitting around telling stories. Stan and his twin brother, Ford, had just finished telling Dipper and Mabel more about the sirens they had faced a few months ago. While sailing around the world was a dream come true, it was nice to take a break to spend the summer with the niblings.

Dipper, having just heard how Stan had been charmed by the sirens’ song, chuckled and asked, “So, did you ever have any luck finding ‘babes’?” Stan rubbed the back of his neck with a sheepish smile. “Nah, but there’s always next year.” “Yeah, don’t worry about it, Grunkle Stan.” Mabel said as she popped some popcorn into her mouth. “You’ll find some pretty girl that is everything you deserve!” Stan, turning red, waved the subject away. “Thanks, sweetie, but it’s fine.” Ford, sitting on the dino-skull, elbowed him lightly and teased, “He’s still heartbroken over Carla McCorckle.” Mabel blew a raspberry. “If I ever find her I’m gonna give her a left-hook and break her nose!” Stan laughed and ruffled her hair. “That’s not necessary, kid. I’m over her.” “And it only took you forty years.” Ford added, earning him a punch on the shoulder. “I’ll have you know I’ve been with plenty of gals after Carla!” Stan quipped. “Heck, I was married once when I was traveling the country!” “Wait, what?!” The whole room gasped at the same time. Ford blinked like a confused owl. “I… I didn’t know that.” “Me, neither.” Mabel said and leaned on Stan’s knee. Dipper, meanwhile, was silent, a memory coming to mind. “Truth is I’ve been divorced once and slapped more times than I can remember.” “What happened? GASP! Do I have a secret Graunty you never told me about?!” Stan barked a laugh. “Hah! No, sorry pumpkin. I was actually married for less than a day. Vegan situation. We reached for the same slot machine handle and it was love at first sight. Marilyn. Had hair like a airline stordis and a neon pink shirt that said ‘Over thirty and very flirty’. Man I was, I was putty in her hands.” Stan said lightly, recalling the most romantic evening he ever had. “You should’ve seen the way she threw dice. One time right at my head. Turns out she only married me to distract me while she stole my car and my winnings. I guess her name was fake and, hair was fake. But ya know, the love was real.” Stan added with a casual shrug. “She was really the one that got away. Like, literally, it was a proper get away. She was chased by cop cars for a mile out of Vegas before ducking out of a door and into a canyon and making off with my loot. Sometimes I still think of her.” The old conman admitted. “That pale bingo hall skin. That one weirdly sharp tooth.” Stan’s face dropped at the sight of his family and he quickly said, “Sorry, I’m getting nostalgic.” “More like love-sick.” Dipper teased. “AW!” Mabel squealed. “That’s so sweet! Maybe you’ll find her one day!” Stan laughed and shook his head. “I doubt it, sweetie, but hey. Who needs stealing babes when I’ve got you three, right?” Mabel yawned and stretched her arms over her head. Ford chuckled and stood up, popping his back. “I think you two should head to bed. It’s getting late and we’re going camping tomorrow, remember?” Mabel gasped happily and stood. “You’re right!” She hugged both her uncles and wished them goodnight and then walked with her brother up the stairs for the attic, then Ford left to go finish packing, leaving Stan alone. He leaned on his knuckles, elbow on his armchair, and he remembered Marilyn. ~~~~~~~~~~ Mabel was grinning from ear to ear as she skipped ahead on the trail in the woods. “Finally, a real family camping trip!” Grunkle Ford, Dipper, and Grunkle Stan were right behind her, the Pines family heading back to the Mystery Shack after a fun night sleeping under the stars around a campfire. They were all smiling and happy to be reunited for the summer. While some things drastically changed and some things hardly changed at all, the Pines in appearance changed a little since Dipper and Mabel and turned thirteen. Mabel had always been nothing but smiles in the past, but if it was even possible she grinned even more now, proud to show off her braces-free white teeth. She still sported amazing sweaters with colorful headbands and skirts, today wearing a brown skirt and a yellow headband with a light-brown sweater with an owl on it, claiming she wanted to match the woods and her Grunkle Ford; he only proved her point when he blushed. Dipper and Wendy switched hats again when they saw each other when the twins came off the bus, but over his orange t-shirt he wore a green flannel unbuttoned and he matched it with blue jeans. No longer out in the freezing Arctic, Stan left behind his long coat, but he kept his white t-shirt, dark pants, red beanie, and water-proof boots for the hiking trip. Ford, the easily cold twin, still wore red turtleneck and dark pants and boots, but his smile was much more genuine and the crack in his glasses was gone. Grunkle Ford patted his niece’s shoulder. “It is nice to have some quality family bonding.” “Next time I say we go fishing.” Stan injected. “Not as many creepy spider-fires or whatever.” “Scampfires.” “I still say whatever.” Dipper chuckled and continued to sketch in his pinetree journal, shading in trees of his drawing of the woods. But he was pulled from his pleasant thoughts by his great-uncle. “Seriously, kid, you’re gonna walk into a tree and then I’m gonna laugh. You need to get your head outta book and see the rest of the world.” “Grunkle Stan, how do you think people shared the world back in your day? You know, when dinosaurs roamed the Earth?” Dipper quipped. “Oh, ho! Wise guy, huh?” Stan wrapped an arm around his neck and rubbed his knuckles on the top of his head. “Alright, Poindexter Jr…” “No! No nuggies!” “Yes nuggies!” “Ford!” Dipper laughed, calling for backup. Mabel, meanwhile, was slowly being pulled away mentally from the touching scene of guys being dudes as the internet would have called it. Distracting her, a tiny brown owl with cute round eyes was hopping. Not just hopping, appearing from behind one oak tree to the neck, but hopping with a sack clamped by the beak. Mabel watched it with wide eyes, hoping for another look, and the second glance she got of it was so brief she didn’t know how much faith she should have in her eyes, but it looked like that sack had things like a Cubic Cube, a newspaper, a floppy disk, a basketball, and other items that could be classified as junk. Mabel decided not to wait for another glance at the owl and to go look at it for herself. Mabel wandered off the path animals had made and moved in between trees and bushes quietly. Her brown eyes eventually landed on the little owl and she followed it; the clattering of the owl or it’s determination to finish it’s job must have been the reason why it didn’t hear Mabel and try to hide or lose her. The young Pines lady watched, walking farther and farther away from her family, and the owl hopped behind a tree and never emerged. Mabel smiled, thinking she was about to find an owl’s nest in the tree or a stash of human things by the tree’s roots, but when she turned to look behind the tree, she gasped to find a doorway that glowed white. Mabel looked around her for anyone that might have an answer or for any clue as to why this doorway was here, but she was alone. Gravity Falls certainly was where this sort of thing might happen, but that did not guarantee that this was safe. Maybe she should have the guys look at this thing. Mabel turned around, her back to the doorway, to leave, but she saw something above her and took in a sharp breath. Stan had Dipper pinned on the grass now, both of them laughing, with Ford shaking his head and scolding lightly. “Stanley, that’s enough.” “Don’t worry, Grunkle Ford, I promise not to break such an old man.” Dipper teased as he lightly fought back, “Old man?!” Stan repeated in pretend offense. They were interrupted by a blood curdling scream that made their hearts drop. Stan immediately got off of his nephew and stared ahead, terrified. “Mabel…” And he ran for the direction he heard the scream with Ford and Dipper at his heels. Mabel pulled her grappling hook out of her hiking-backpack and tried to calm down, but it was hard to with the dangerous anomaly liking it’s chops at the sight of her. It was like a gray lizard, but ten feet long, including the tail, and only on it’s four legs it was seven feet tall. It’s eyes were red and narrow and cold, and it had long sharp claws like a dragon’s and a long snout like a crocodile. Mabel shot her grappling hook at the monster and it hit it on the snout, tossing its head back. The lizard hissed but did not back down. It advanced, getting closer to Mabel, and she wanted to back away, but she was careful not to touch the spooky doorway. Stan saw the scene first, appearing out of the corner of Mabel’s eye. “Mabel!” “Grunkle Stan, what do I do?!” She asked, her eyes glued to the giant lizard. Ford and Dipper caught up. The younger moved to jump between his sister and the monster, but Ford stopped him with a firm six-fingered hand. “No! Listen to me, Mabel. That thing is called a Stone-Reptilian. They're excellent at camouflaging into mountains and can hang onto a one-hundred-and-eighty degree wall for hours, waiting for its prey. It actually has two tongues: one for licking its eyes since it doesn't have eyelids, and one for paralyzing it’s dinner and dragging the meal into its mouth.” “So what do I do?!” Mabel begged, shaking a little at the idea of being paralyzed and then eaten alive. “Mabel, stay calm, it’s alright.” Ford soothed with a voice as soft as silk. “Stone-Reptilians have excellent eyesight, but they’re deaf. Notice how it’s isn’t reacting to us. Now, I want you to…” The Stone-Reptilian suddenly whipped out it’s long, thorn-covered tongue to paralyze Mabel, but she was too quick and leaped through the doorway to survive. As she did, it disappeared, and the Pines men were left to scream and then fight for their own lives. ~~~~~~~~~~ “Whoops, can’t have another stowaway, can I?” A voice said, and then before Mabel knew it, her way back home was gone. She observed her new surroundings. Misfit things like a refrigerator, a grandfather clock, an old mattress, and cardboard boxes full of items cluttered what looked like a big tent, judging by the cloth walls and such. Mabel smiled with wonder at the things. “Wow. What a collection.” She whispered. Her eyes landed on a small glass ballerina on top of a music box. She turned the ballerina around with a finger to catch a few music notes. Mabel smiled, but was once again distracted. “Right, let’s see here… Nope. Garbage. Garbage. Another one of these? Oh, well. Good thing the potions have been selling. I should really thank Luz for helping me take out that competitor. Or not.” Mabel covered her mouth with both hands to keep from snorting; that sounded like something her Grunkle Stan would say. Her heart sagged a little and she turned to look back at where the magical doorway once was. Despite what he might pretend, Mabel knew Stan would be really worried about her. She needed to find a way back home. She crawled on her hands and knees out from under the tent and then got up to explore. “Okay, let’s see…” Mabel looked around to find herself outside in the open air. She raised an eyebrow. “The… Crawlspace? I thought it was underground? Maybe there’s more to it! Won’t Grunkle Ford be surprised!” Mabel cheered and looked around for anything familiar, but the longer she looked, the more she realized nothing was like back in Gravity Falls. She stood at the edge of a cliff, overlooking an odd city of some kind. Giant monster hands with no body stood like trees. Smoke rose from chimneys of medieval-looking houses. A small herd of cat-sized dragons flocked by the clouds. A mammoth roared like a lion and then walked into the ocean. Something resembling an orange nun was selling bags of oozing red stuff to tiny red monsters with teeth and fangs for a face. People were riding a giant caterpillar from inside its mouth and then kissing it for a toll. Mabel’s heart was racing from excitement and fear. Nothing here was familiar, but she was familiar with the unfamiliar. She grasped the straps of her backpack and took a deep breath. “Okay, Mabel, you’ve obviously discovered another rift and came to another dimension. Just remember what your grunkles taught you. Don’t touch this dimension's version of yourself or everything will explode. I just gotta live long enough for them to find me. Easy.” Her stomach suddenly growled. Mabel clenched her stomach on reflex, but then remembered her bag of marshmallows, pulled them out, and began to munch on her fluffy sugar pillows. She turned around and walked away from the tent she had left, saw she was in some sort of market, and walked down the street to explore calmly. ~~~~~~~~~~ “And remember to apply it twice a day for the best results.” Luz said friendly to a blue monster made out of goo as she handed her the small bag of dust and the customer closed the door on the human. Luz wiped her sweaty forehead with her wrist and groaned. “Man, it’s so hot today. Ready to head home, King? King?” She looked down to find that the king of demons had found the perfect spot on the porch to nap in the sunshine. Luz smiled, scratched his back, and scooped him up one-armed while her other hand carried the empty sack. “Eh?” King woke up, angry and cute. “Luz! I was having the perfect dream!” “About what?” “What could be more perfect than sleeping?!” “You were dreaming about sleeping?” Luz clarified with a confused smile. “Don’t you?” Luz snorted a laugh and walked through Bonesburrow. Compared to the rest of the Boiling Isles, the apprentice had learned that this was the quietest neck of the woods. King’s nose caught a delightful scent, but the demon was unsure if he should believe it. He sat up in Luz’s arm and smelled the air. “What is it?” Luz asked. “Hm, it’s sweet. Really sweet.” King commented and shivered. “Like, really sweet. So sweet it’ll put anyone in a sugar-induced coma.” “Well, why don’t we just go home and we can have some of Eda’s strawberry jelly instead.” Luz suggested as they turned a corner. She immediately saw the one really really weird thing in the Boiling Isles, apart from her. Another human. After being away from home for about three weeks, Luz didn’t think she would be so happy to see another human girl or see human food that wasn’t red, but here she was, eyes sparkling with happy tears over the sight. Mabel’s eye eventually landed on Luz and the two stared at each other, a good twenty feet away from each other. After a few moments, however, they both shouted, “ANOTHER HUMAN!” And ran towards each other, King clinging onto Luz’s arms in order not to fall. “Wait,” The brunette said and looked worried. “Is this your first time seeing another human here? How long have you been trapped here?!” She apparently had drawn the conclusion that there was no way out of this place. “Oh, no,” The Latino smiled and shook her head. “I’m not trapped here; I can leave whenever I want, I just choose not to.” “Oh. Cool! Hi! I’m Mabel!” “Hi, Mabel.” Luz greeted. “I’m Luz! So… how did you get here?” Mabel’s face dropped a little and she looked around. “You know, I’m not really sure. One minute I was camping with my family and the next I’m falling through a door that disappears and takes me here.” Luz giggled and shook her head. “You must have fallen through Eda’s door. Don’t worry, I can get you back home.” “You can?!” Mabel hugged her tightly, squishing King in between the two girls. “ThankyouthankyouTHANKYOU!” Luz, who was quite the hugger but lived with two hug-haters, grinned and relished in the hug, until a high-voice yelled, “AH! What is with you humans and this tight holding ritual?!” Mabel’s eyes got wide and she jumped away, looking around wildly; that voice sounded too familiar for comfort, but when she saw the king of demons, she gasped with a huge grin and shining eyes. “OH MY GOSH! How cute!!!” She squealed. “Thanks.” Luz giggled and rubbed his belly. “This is the King of Demons.” “This little bundle of joy?” Mabel asked, happily smoothing over his skull and scratching his back. “That’s what I said!” “Hey, hey, easy with the merchandise!” King complained. “What makes you think you can… oh! Oh! Right there, yup, right there.” Mabel had found the right scratching spot, just between his shoulder-blades, and King relaxed in Luz’s arms, almost asleep he was so comfortable. Mabel giggled and asked, “So, how can you get me back to my family?” Luz gave it a moment’s thought and said, “Well, I guess we could take you to Eda and have her send you home, but she’ll be going home soon and it’s kinda…” The girls screamed as a huge guard jumped in front of them. He glared down at the humans and said, “Human previously associated with Eda the Owl Lady, you’re hereby under arrest!” “Not today, sucka!” Luz yelled, threw down one of Eda’s smoke bombs, and grabbed Mabel’s wrist. “Come on! I know where to go!” “Crazy monsters, criminals, smoke bombs, demons… I LOVE IT HERE!” Mabel cheered as she was fleeing with her new friends. ~~~~~~~~~~ Stan huffed, catching his breath, with his hands on his knees. Ford helped Dipper up cautiously, scanning him over for broken bones from when the monster swung his tail at the boy and slammed him against a tree, but apart from being shaken up, he was fine. Now that the Stone-Reptilian was gone, the Pines men were free to worry about the most important thing in their whole world. “MABEL?!” Stan screamed and looked around wildly for the rift that took her away. “MABEL! MABEL, SWEETIE!” “Mabel!” Ford called out. “Mabel, can you hear us?!” “MABEL! MABEL!” Stan screamed and ignored his stinging eyes. Dipper’s own brown eyes were aching, too, but he refused to be seen as weak and he powered through. “Did… did that thing… g-g-get her?” “No.” Ford said firmly. “I saw it. She fell through… some sort of door, or a rift.” “A-A door?” “It was rectangular like one, but it was hard to tell.” “The Crawlspace!” Dipper gasped and slapped his forehead. “Don’t the entrances change randomly through Gravity Falls? What if she fell through and is down at the black market?” “What, you mean she’s probably surrounded by dangerous monsters in some freaky market?” Stan asked. “It’s a likely possibility.” Ford speculated, holding his cleft chin. “Scour the area. If it was an entrance to the Crawlspace, one will show up again soon.” The three men split up, relatively close, and searched for an anomaly. Maybe a hole in a tree or in the ground, what might have been passed as a bird’s nest or a groundhog’s home could actually be an entrance. Stan was checking some bushes when he thought he heard a strange noise and he looked ahead. A rectangular white light appeared on an oak tree and soon an owl with an empty sack in its beak hopped out. Stan gasped and thought that this was the doorway that took his little girl. Ford saw his twin run out of the corner of his eye and then disappear through the hole. “Stanley, wait!” He called and ran towards him, disappearing, too. Then the doorway was gone. Dipper looked around nervously. “Hello? Guys?” He paused, letting it sink in that, once again, he was alone. “I swear if she’s at MAB3L again…” ~~~~~~~~~~ Stan had stopped. Ford then accidently ran into him and they both fell forward. “Sixer, get off!” “Shh!” Ford slapped a polydactyl hand over his brother’s mouth, which made him grumble, but before Stan could lick his hand in response, he heard what Ford was hearing. “I’ll give you fifty snails for the whole lot.” A laugh-filled snort followed. “It’s seventy-five, kid. Take it or leave it.” That voice… something was familiar about that laugh. There was grumbling and what sounded like items being collected. Stan and Ford exchanged looks and slowly got up. After looking around the tent, they peered out of the crack in the curtains to see an odd market. They awed at the sight of dozens of weird creatures. One looked like a turquoise hairless-cat. One looked like a pig with green eyes and it breathed fire on a piece of meat on a stick to cook it for a snack. A kid with pointy ears dropped a basket full of eyeballs and scrambled to pick them up. Ford grinned excitedly like a dork while Stan winced at the sight of an ice-cream eating a customer. Stan glanced to his left and he had to hold his breath to keep from gasping and blowing their cover. Wearing a tight-fitted, torn maroon dress and matching boots, gold on her chest and ears and fingers and a sharp tooth, her eyes sparkling like gold coins, a woman with big gray hair and pointy ears leaned against a table full human things and flicked through a Gold Chains for Old Men magazine with a skeptical look on her face. Stan was nearly as pale as she was when she snorted another laugh and flipped a page. “Hah! Not a bad read. Better than that kindling Luz keeps around.” She mumbled and made herself comfortable in her chair, waiting for another customer, one leg crossed over the other and she lightly kicked it as she read. Stan swallowed. There was no way. No possible way… then again, given everything weird that’s happened to him, from freaky portal, to demon triangles, to gnomes and unicorns and sirens and krakens, even to a full-blown Weirdmageddon, should he really be all that surprised that faith would bite him in the butt like this? Ford glanced down at his twin and found he could read him like an open book. “Stanley…” He hissed. The lady straightened in her seat and looked up from the magazine, listening. Now it was Stan’s turn to cover Ford’s mouth. They were still, waiting for the ady to find them, but she shrugged casually and continued to read. The men backed away, out of sight, and were each on one knee, facing each other, as they whispered. “Sixer, where the heck are we? The Crawlspace?” “I’m not sure.” Ford hissed. “I have never seen these types of anomalies before. I suppose it’s possible they hide here during the day and I had never seen them at night, but… this place feels off. To summarize, I have a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore.” “Fine, but when what do we do about Mabel?” “Our objection is still the same. Let’s just keep a low profile and try to find her.” The twins froze when the curtain was thrown open and the lady stood before them. She immediately sneered down at them. “If you amateur pickpockets think you can…” But then she stopped, for several reasons. One: these creatures were clearly old, about her age, and so unless they had a sudden career change, they were not amateurs. Two: as a human expert and a teacher and hostess of a human, she instantly recognized these two big-eared creatures as humans. Three: something about the one in the white shirt and red hat was very familiar. “No… way…” She narrowed her golden eyes. Stan was now confident that his memory wasn’t flawed; the way she reacted to seeing him, recognizing him, confirmed that he knew her. Before he could do anything, she grabbed each twin by the ear and pinched; they were at her mercy and receiving flashbacks from when their mother was angry with them. “You two got some explaining to do.” The lady sneered. “Gah! Let us go, crazy old bat!” Stan barked as she dragged them out from the tent and made them sit on barrels for stools. “Who are you calling old, human?” The lady sneered and crossed her arms over her chest. “Just tell me what you think you’re doing here.” “Begging your pardon on our introduction,” Ford said coldly, but then softened as he and his brother did have an important mission. “But our grandniece is missing. We believe she came through here.” And he pulled out a picture of Mabel hugging a stuffed-penguin from his wallet and showed it to her. The lady peered down at the photo and said, “Sorry, old-timers, I haven’t seen anyone like that around here.” “Now, how can we trust you, Marilyn.” Stan sneered, crossing his arms over his chest. Ford’s eyes widened as he pocketed his picture. He was rendered speechless for a moment. “Oh, like you’re one to talk about honesty, Stan.” She deride. “You two know each other?!” Ford gasped, looking from his brother to the stranger rapidly like a game of tennis. “She’s your ex-wife?!” The lady snorted a laugh and sighed happily. “Ah, good times, huh?” “Not really.” Stan sneered and stood. “You still owe me five hundred bucks!” “At least you got your car back, Grumpy.” The lady teased and patted his cheek; he swatted her hand away in response and growled like an angry pitbull. “If you want my help finding your girl then play nice.” “So, you honestly didn’t see her.” Stan repeated with a raised eyebrow. “Hey, I may be a conwoman, a pickpocket, and the most powerful witch you’ll ever meet, but I wouldn’t lie if it was gonna endanger some kid.” The lady snapped her fingers and all of the human collectibles floated and gathered into a green cloth, tied up like a hobo’s luggage. She pulled out a staff and put the bag through it, making it easy to carry. Eda whistled and the little owl flew to her and landed on her staff and turned into wood. “Come along, humans, we’ll find your niece and get you two home.” Ford followed the lady and decided to be the “nice” one since Stan was obviously too salty to be one; someone had to be nice to the lady that was going to help them find Mabel. “Thank you, Marilyn.” “Oh, right. That’s not my real name…” “Knew it.” “... you’re a fool to give your real name to a casino in Vegas. It’s Edalyn, but just call me Eda. Or your worst nightmare.” “Whatever you say, toots.” Stan growled as they walked down the street. “So, Eda,” Ford cut in to try to cut the tension between the two. “What exactly is this place, and what are you?” Eda stopped suddenly and turned around, wearing a proud grin. She stabbed her staff on the ground with a small bang, making the owl come to life, the sack hanging by her fist, and she proclaimed, “I am known as the Owl Lady, the most powerful witch here on the Boiling Isles!” “A witch?” Stan laughed. “More like a b…” “I am a feared, respected, vigorous force to be reckoned with!” Eda went on and let go of the staff so it floated like a witch’s broomstick. “Come on, old-timers, let’s get a bird’s eye-view to find your girl.” They each grabbed the staff when Eda sat upon it and yelled with fear as she had them fly up in the air, leaving the old twins to dangle in the air. “GAAAAAAAH!” “EDA!” Stan yelled. “Put us down!” “That can be arranged.” Eda said cunningly and swooped down quickly. With the air drying Eda’s eyes and forming tears and the brother holding onto the staff (and each other) for dear life, all three were yelling, one with delight, two with fright. “STANLEY!” Ford shouted. “PLEASE try not to piss off your ex-wife!” Eda laughed and at the very last second, right before the men would crash into the ground, she flew them up into the sky. “Ah, don’t worry, I won’t let you two knuckleheads get hurt.” They flew softer and calmer above the Boiling Isles and the humans awed at the scene. In the carcass of a monster, by the sea, the Bones of the Isles sat snug in the midst of chaos. Eda floated to allow the men a moment to take in the scenery, smiling down at their round brown eyes. “It’s beautiful.” Ford admired. “Yup, not too shabby.” Eda commented casually. “It’s not much, but it’s home.” “We know what that’s like.” Stan muttered. “Speaking of which,” Eda said casually. “Where did you two say you were from?” “We didn’t. Gravity Falls, Oregon.” Ford answered, keeping an eye out for Mabel. “Oh, I’ve heard rumors about that place.” Eda said as she flew calmly over the town. “My door has a bad habit of appearing there way too often. I need more variety in my human collectibles.” “So, you steal our junk and try to sell it for a great price?” Stan asked; he sounded a little impressed. “That and I sell potions on the weekdays. When I’m not mentoring my student. Enough chit-chat, see your girl down there?” The men took a few more minutes to look, as well as Eda, but there was no sign of her. “No.” Ford’s voice dripped with concern. “Eda, what are the chances she was kidnapped or hurt?” “Oh, that probably didn’t happen to her.” The witch said calmly. “If she’s not safe she probably got eaten or taken by Warden Wrath.” “WHAT?!” “Relax, Sixer,” Stan said, confident in his pumpkin. “She’s our little fighter, she’ll be fine.” Eda snorted. “Sixer?” “It’s Stanford, actually.” His face was a little red over the fact that he couldn’t hide his six-fingered hands, too busy holding the magic staff to keep from falling. “Meh, I’ve seen weirder.” Eda looked like she truly didn’t care how many fingers he had; Ford appreciated that. “Well, I’ve got a great tracker at home.” The Owl Lady said and started to fly towards the red forest. “Why don’t we go pick him up and see if he can help us out. Got anything the girl held?” “Yes,” When the men landed on their feet and Eda hopped next to them, Ford pulled out his wallet again and took out a folded-up, hand-drawn picture of Stan and Ford on a boat, a gift from Mabel while they were apart that she had mailed to them. “Aw, that’s so cute.” The witch cooed. “Who knew all Pines men were putty in girls’ hands.” She laughed at her own joke and shook her head. “Ah, keep moving, boys.” Stan hurried to catch up and he walked next to Eda with narrow eyes, ignoring the way her odd golden fang sparkled, how her eyes gleamed with spunk, how she held herself up high with pride. “So, you’re gonna answer some questions for me…” “Maybe I will, maybe I won’t.” “If you’re a witch, what were you doing in Las Vegas?” “Hey, a witch’s gotta make some gold, too.” Eda shrugged as she smiled. “I haven’t exactly kept a clean record here so making a living takes a bit of extra effort, but it’s much for fun and unpredictable, the way life's supposed to be.” Stan raised an eyebrow at two things: the fact his ex was a criminal in this world too, and her philosophy. “I can respect that, seeing how I was there for the same reasons.” “I know.” Eda rolled her eyes teasingly. “You wouldn’t shut up about how you were gonna make it big and show the world what this big lug could do.” And she elbowed Stan, which he chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. “Heh. Yeah, what can I say, I’m a real loud-mouth. Say what’s on my mind.” “Hey, nothing wrong with being brutally honest to make up for lying, am I right?” Eda said with a shrug. “So, was your hair fake back then, or…” “No, no, it was real. I was really proud of my hair back in the day, flaming red and wild.” “Looks pretty good now. Love it, in fact. Big and bold, hard to miss.” “Hey, you aged pretty well yourself, handsome.” Ford smiled as he watched the exes tease and pick on each other. If a compliment was given, it dripped with sarcasm and there was no guarantee that it was sincere, but they must have seen a gleam in their eyes or felt a “vibe” that Ford didn’t experience, because the conversation progressed well as they walked through the forest. Ford was happy to see Stan get along fairly well with this woman and wondered if this would go exceptionally better than the whole McCorkle incident. They emerged from the woods and found a large house standing by some cliffs leading to an ocean. It was about as far from the seas as Pines Pawns was all those years ago. The house was big, maybe bigger than the Mystery Shack (probably not if counting the basement-floors) with a big stain-glass window that reminded Stan of a cat’s eye and Ford of Bill’s eye, but then they both individually remembered Eda’s title and realized it was probably representing an owl’s eye. A weather-vane with an owl sat on top of the house, a broken-down tower stood behind, and an owl’s head was on the door. The humans were startled, but they quickly recovered, again having experienced much weirder than a live owl-head on a door. “Girl knows how to keep a theme going.” Stan commented as they approached. “Oh, boy!” The owl on the door hooted. “More company! Maybe they wanna hear some of my stories!” “Not a chance, Hooty.” Eda quipped. “Is King still home? We need his help, and we might want Luz’s too while we’re at it.” “They’re both telling stories to that new human. The one with the pretty owl sweater.” “Wait, what?!” The three old people asked and Hooty swung open the door. Luz was holding King on her lap on the couch, sitting with Mabel as all three were laughing. Even King was rolling around and holding his little fluffy body with glee. Mabel’s back was to the door and she resumed her storytelling as she wiped a tear under her eye. “So then I look down at Dipper and see that he’s still got his socks on!” Luz cackled a laugh and held her head one-handed, her other arm still holding King, but it was to no avail as the demon fell off from all the laughing. Eda, Ford, and Stan smiled as the girls were having fun. They had no idea how they found each other, but it was better for them to be here, safe and happy, than to have the newbie be someone’s meal. Luz fanned her reddening face and finally noticed the company. “Hi, Eda. Sorry, but she was lost and needs our help.” Mabel turned, on her knees on the couch, but grinned with a gasp. “GUYS!” And she hopped over the arm of the couch for her grunkles. “Mabel!” They opened their arms and got on one knee for their girl. Mabel ran into their hold and they hugged her tightly, relieved to be with her again and to find her more than okay. “What did I tell you about scaring me like that, pumpkin?!” Stan asked as he held her with all of his might. “You didn’t tell me, Grunkle Stan.” “Oh, right.” “We’re just so happy to find you alright, my dear.” Ford loosened his grip just enough to look up at Luz, who was smiling admirably at the reunion. “And I see you’ve made some friends.” Mabel let go and nodded. “Yeah! That’s Luz! Luz, these are my grunkles! Stan and Ford!” “Nice to meet you guys.” Luz said and waved politely. “Mabel said you’d come, but how did you two survive out there?” “They nearly didn’t.” Eda lied easily. “Were in the mouths of a giant giraffe when I saved their butts.” “Yeah right!” Stan barked a laugh. “Anyways, we’ve been through worse, kid.” Luz gasped excitedly. “Worse than giant bugs and centaurs with eyes on their chest and man-eating slugs and fire-breathing eye-less fangs and jealous witches?!” “Worse. I’ve punched a pterodactyl in the face and a few zombies, fallen down a Bottomless Pit, lost my hands to a witch, fought off eagles and explosions, survived giant man-eating spiders…” “Stanley, that is all impressive, but have you fought a talking chair, battled in four wars, conned an abominable snowman, outran a volcano, examined floating eyebats, been turned to gold…” “I find that hard to believe.” Eda snorted. “I believe them.” Luz said with a shrug. “You always said weird stuff leaks from this world into theirs.” “So, if you don’t mind me asking,” Ford said, stepping forward. “What exactly is this place? I’ve heard rumors of a place called the Boiling Isles, but I just thought it was a little hiding place like the Crawlspace, not an entirely new dimension.” “Nope!” Eda corrected happily. “This whole world is the Boiling Isles, a world full of despair, monsters, gross-stuff, demons, and magic.” “This place sounds so cool!” Mabel cheered. She looked at Luz and said, “No wonder you wanted to stay here. Wait! Do you have your own room?!” “Yeah! C’mon, I’ll show you!” And the girls ran off with Luz scratching King’s tummy and leaving him to nap on the floor, tired from laughing. Eda plopped down on the couch and gestured for the men to do the same. “I’d offer refreshments but all we have is apple blood and some disgusting beverage Luz likes called orange juice.” Stan looked up at the wanted poster of Eda and the reward promised for her capture. He smiled, impressed and interested. “We’re okay, thank you, Eda.” Ford said. “If you don’t mind me asking, our niece said something about Luz choosing to stay here?” “Yeah, that’s right.” Eda reached under her couch-cushion and rummaged as she spoke. “Kid came through my door when Owlbert brought over some little treasures to sell. Sweet girl. Kinda naive and gullible, but clever in her own right and she’s a fast learner. Stubborn with the forces of positivity.” Stan snorted. “Heh. We know someone like that.” “She said she didn’t fit in at home.” Eda finally found what she was looking for and pulled out a wrinkled, crumpled up pamphlet at read, Reality Check Summer Camp: Think Inside the Box. “Don’t really understand some of this human stuff, but I figured it must be pretty bad if it made a kid not wanna go home, so I read over it and this place sounds awful! Totally squandered any creativity or individualism! Her own mother was sending her here!” Eda let Ford look it over and she shrugged off the rant. “Anyway, she said she wanted to stay and she was willing to work for it, so I took her in as my apprentice for the summer and now she’s learning how to be a witch.” “Hm, sounds a lot better than kidnapping.” Stan approved with his arms crossed over his chest. “This place is completely horrible.” Ford commented about the summer camp. “They teach kids how to appropriate public radio!” “AM or FM?” “Both.” “Ouch.” “So, what exactly are you doing with such a cute girl, Eight-Ball?” Eda asked, getting Stan’s attention. “And what is a grunkle?” She snorted with a smile. “She’s our grandniece.” Stan said proudly, puffing out his chest. “We’re her great-uncles. Her grunkles.” “Aw, who knew you were such a softie?” “I am not!” “You watched over five hours of video-tutorials on how to braid hair.” Ford said behind the pamphlet. “She asked me to braid her hair and it bothered me that I couldn’t do it!” Eda cackled and touched Stan’s shoulder. His eyes followed and he smiled at her cute laugh. “Aw, you’re worse than King.” King peeked an eye at her and sneered, “One more passive aggressive comment and I’ll…” “That’s not a passive aggressive comment.” Eda said as she picked up the little goofball. “I can do better than that.” “Huh, and here I was thinking that was just one of Luz’s toys.” Stan teased. “Hey!” King stood on the couch by Eda’s side and pointed a bony paw at the old man. “Since you’re a human, I’ll let you walk away with a warning, but have it be known that I’m the King of Demons and shall one day drink the fear of those who mock me!” Ford folded the pamphlet and observed King cautiously. He didn’t like… his voice. His voice sent shivers down the old scientist’s spine. Stan snorted. “Sorry, pipsqueak, but I’ve faced worse demons than you.” “Oh, yeah, like what?” King asked. The girls came back, smiling and holding hands, and Luz asked, “Eda, can we please please PLEASE have a sleepover?! I want to show Mabel the new light spell I learned and show her how to properly scratch a demon’s tummy.” Ford chuckled and stood. “I’m sorry, ladies, but we really should be heading back. I’m sure Dipper is worried sick.” Mabel gasped with horror. “Oh, NO! Dipper!” “Oh, hey, don’t worry.” Luz eased. “You two are totally welcome here anytime you want.” “Aw, thanks, Luz.” Mabel hugged her and said, “I promise I’ll bring Dip-Dip next time. He’d love it here! And he could tell you all about the Manotaurs and the weird copy-machine.” Eda and Stan stood up, too, and the Owl Lady had her arms crossed over her chest. “Well, looks like we’ll be seeing each other again pretty soon. You okay with them hanging out?” Stan shrugged and pocketed his hands in his jeans. “Yeah, sure. Good friends are kinda rare these days. Gotta hold onto ‘em and never let ‘em go.” “Agreed.” Eda said and saw them exchanging those odd codes on their glowing rectangles. “Well, have your girl tell my girl when to open the door and I’ll see what I can do.” And she held out a hand to Stan. He hesitated (not just because of whose hand it was, but because shaking hands always seemed to lead to something bad, but maybe this time will be different), but he took it and shook it gently. “Yeah, and if your girl never needs a break in the human world, have her tell my girl.” Eda smiled at Stan and shook Ford’s hand, as well. She pulled the key out of her hair and unlocked the door, making it appear and swing open. Mabel skipped to her great-uncles and waved goodbye to Luz, who waved back, and she went with Ford through the door for home. Stan stole one last look at Eda, who winked at him, and he disappeared with a pink face.

~~~~~~~~~~

Author’s Note: OKAY, first things first, when it comes to fic, I personally don't really like crossovers. Crossovers can be a fun NON-CANON crossover for animation or actors. I get more enjoyment over fun fanart than I so of fics, because I like mine more plot-driven and it's hard to get a good story going just because you wants certain characters to mingle. HOWEVER, I find Gravity Falls and The Owl House just fit so well together! Why? #1: Alex Hirsch and Dana Terrace (the creators) are dating and Dana Terrace is responsible for the awesome Ducktakes reboot (season 1, anyway) AND the famous Not What He Seems scene. So having such a strong connection creativity wise of the shows is very apparent, more so than the other shows. #2: Evidence that supports these connections. Both shows have referenced each other and a theory goes that Eda and Stan were once married for less than a day. (plz check this video for more) And #3: ... I ship it pretty damn hard, okay? So I hope you guys will enjoy this fun little crossover as much as me! And thank you so much for reading!

Know Your Enemy: Celebrating 50 Years of the Forever War

Robert Sammelin

No one drank more than the scientist. Every night, after whatever patriotic black-tie gala marriage played props at, he could be found at the hotel bar, trying to extract existential meaning from a banana colada. It was an odd drinking of option for such a serious human, but only once did he respond to our interrogations about it.

It pleases the nerve fibers, he said, all baritone to his voice, before disappearing into the chilled yellow muck again. We were in New Tulsa, debriefing after a grueling dinner with a bunch of white-haired solar energy exec. Wed been on the road for months, and morale used to go the way of the glacier. I ordered a round for the table, and we toasted to the hustle. Heroes of the nation, peddling war bonds by day, drinking like froufrous by night. Our drill instructor would not have been proud.

Maybe it wasnt New Tulsa. Maybe itd been in Charlotte after the fund-raiser with the nanofinance douchebags. Anyhow.

There were 11 of us on the bond drive, 12 if you included the JngerBot. The Forever War had just entered its sixth decade, and our politicians didnt pretend they were going to end it anymore, even during elections. They couldnt. Wed tried everything: nation-building, nation-destroying, sending terrorists and their families to the Mars penal colony, sending the rebel Young Siberians to actual Siberia. Nothing had worked. We were at war because we always had been. We were at war because we always would be. We were at war because we were at war.

Matt Gallagher

About

Matt Gallagher is the author of the novel Youngblood and the Iraq memoir Kaboom: Embracing the Suck in a Savage Little War.

The government decided to celebrate the Forever Wars golden anniversary with loud, shiny bombast. We were part of that bombast. AMERICAS HEROES, TOGETHER AT LAST, ran the tagline. We were like a roving assortment act, but without name recognition or singing or sex appeal. Without anything, truly. Just pasts wiped clean with the antiseptic of narrative. So we stood there and smiled and waved while other people told our tales to the crowds. The crowd cheered. We waved again.

After the coladas, I settled the tab and excused myself. The younger veterinarians night was just beginning, but mine was nearing its end. In the queue for the teleporter to the rooms, a human about my age waited behind me. He wore a rumpled dress shirt and an overlong tie-in and a goatee on the brink of coherence.

He was looking everywhere but my hoverchair. People with legs always do that. It reminds me of the route some men used to try very hard not to look at my cleavage when I was younger. The endeavor simply underlines the fixation.

Thank you, he said. For what you did.

Thank you for your supporting, I told, a answer as hollow as it was practiced. He mustve been at the event earlier.

Cancan I tell you something?

Sure, I told. Women in military uniforms have this impact on men in dress shirts, for some reason. If youd like to.

I wanted to be a recon marine when I was a kid. He said it like it was a church confession, something hidden away in the lost rifts of his soul for decades. Did the recon workout at the gym for years, he continued. Stupid, I know.

I nodded, both because it was stupid and because I knew.

Youre a bona fide hero. The men segue was as graceful as a startled dog, but it was late. That scientist, though. Hes killing people. And not only the enemy.

I thought about “the mens” words. They were true enough. So what would you do? I asked. If you were him.

Me? The man stroked his goatee. I wouldnt even know.

Pragmatically, I told. Youre the scientist. You live in this country. The wars happening. You can perhaps aim it or not. Either style, people succumb. What do you do?

II object to the question. And to the idea. Im not him. The human voice had a quiver to it now. Not an angry quiver, either. A frightened one. I was just sayingI dont think its right. Thats all.

OK, I said. Night. It was my turning at the teleporter. I get in and went to my room. I didnt begrudge the man his opting out. We all had in some manner. Even us.

Especially us.

The Federals had discovered me at my sisters, on the porch, scrolling through a holopad article about the rabid lemur thatd killed Justin Bieber Jr. Furious George Howls With Delight! read the headline. Its always spooky when sons succumb the same way their fathers did. The past comprehend us all, eventually. Even Biebers.

I was on my seventh year of an indefinite visit, still sleeping in a bare guest room. A potted flower or framed scene would have felt like marks of permanence, somehow. Id been living in increments since high school and wasnt about to stop simply because I couldnt figure out what to do with the rest of my life.

Theywell, welived at the top of a windy mound in a suburbium of a suburbium, wedged between a stand of wild honeysuckle and a pond shaped like a swollen snout. It was green and quiet. The kind of place where big flags hung from porches with humility. I taught painting at the community center and took my nieces to soccer practice and spend my Saturday nights at the one townie bar that served ros.

The life didnt induce me happy or anything, but it could have. Maybe should have.

There were three of them. They all wore jeans and plaid shirts of differing blandness. Id have expected suits and black sunglasses, but the decay effects of after-empire were reaching and vast.

Chief Warrant Officer Valerie Speer? one said. Well, asked. I didnt look my part, either. Female veterinarians tend to cut a certain mold. A liter-sized gremlin in a gardening hat wasnt it.

They told me about the bond drive. About how it would inspire patriotism again in the hearts and minds of the person or persons. About how it would get everyday citizens invested in the wars again.( Like they ever were. I knew the history .) About how the governmental forces needed the money, how 50 years of blowing up things in strange, faraway places had taken its toll on the budget, especially since the geothermal insurgency in Blue Russia began eating away at Uncle sam foreign trade.

About how the bond drive needed a woman on it, because they had an old guy, a blexican, a mexipino, and a robot, and showing that heroes were as diverse as the country mattered.

I laughed. A female. I danced my metal fingers through the air. In the right sun my prosthetics could look like flesh. We werent in it. Thats why you need me.

That made the two men in jeans and plaid look down at the ground, but the woman Fed just stared at me.

Youre Valerie Speer, she said. The tone in her voice sounded so earnest it snapped. Do you know what you mean to my generation of status of women? I joined the agency because of you.

She was lying about that, I was almost sure. But shed appealed to my pride. I danced my fingers through the air again and took in all the green, all the quiet. Seven years here. Seven years that had induced me soft. Did people my age go on escapades anymore?

I requested information about financial compensation.

Heres the thing about being labeled a war hero: You either love it or hate it. Theres little space for mixed impressions. Take the scientist. Invented a drone mosquito that gives people the runs, sold it to the military, and stopped the Arabican conflict practically overnight. You cant fire a rifle when youre crapping out your brains. But some of the mosquitoes werent as specific as billed. During strafes, they bit foes and civilians alike. Which wouldnt have mattered much had we been fighting in the developed world. We werent, though. Outbreaks of dysentery and super-cholera followed, and the last UN estimate I watched numbered deaths in the tens of thousands.

The bond drive needed a woman on it. They already had an old guy, a blexican, a mexipino, and a robot.

The scientist had ended a war all with his mind. Yet the only thing he wanted in the world was to return to his lab, to his anonymity, and forget any of it ever happened.

The JngerBot seemed to resent the attention for other reasons. It didnt know what to induce of people, and truth be told, people didnt know what to attain of it. They could handle robots, had been dealing with them all their lives. Even the rough-and-tumble behaviour of a regular InfantryBot could be explained away. But an elite InfantryBot 5000 upgraded with the transcendental heroism and philosophical musings of decorated German World War I soldier Ernst Jnger? That caused some issues.

The anarch wages his own wars, the JngerBot said at a fund-raiser to a journalist whod would like to know whether it missed battle. Even when marching in rank and file.

Before a boxing prizefight, the JngerBot felt it necessary to remind the crowd what was what. Furrow opposing is the bloodiest, wildest, most brutal of all, it said to 70,000 drunk revelers in Vegas. Of all the wars exciting moments , none is so powerful as the session of two cyclone troop leaders between narrow trench walls. Theres no compassion there , no going back. The blood speaks from a shrill exclaim of recognition that tears itself from ones breast like a nightmare.

And then there were the children.

It told a 10 -year old with a JngerBot poster on his wall that killing an adversary would be a finer tribute. And when a bank presidents “girls ” pointed to us and asked if we were heroes, the JngerBot objected as only it could TAGEND

Heroes deeds and heroes graves, it said. Old and new you here may assure. How the Empire was created. How the Empire was preserved. It paused. We sought the death of heroes. There is no lovelier demise in the world.

The little girls face paled to glass as her father resulted her away. We all laughed about it , no one harder or longer than Dizzy. Dizzy was a walking, talking debate for breeding the remaining cis-males out of the gene pool, if only he hadnt been so pretty. Drone pilots. They think theyre so starfish because they can laser insurrectionists dead from space. And Dizzy was an superstar. He adored every minute of the bond drive, “members attention”, the parties, the hoverfloat rides, the certain type of female patriot who wanted to see the view from his hotel balcony. Beats going back to Pueblo and coaching CrossFit, hed tell, before unleashing that smile of full, fluoride shine. God, he could charm the sorcery underwear off a Mormon.

Would try, at least.

Hed earned the Silver Star in the Iraq war. Well, the Iraq war before the last one. Maybe it was three Iraq wars ago.

Dizzy and the younger vets on the bond drive are always privateersmercenaries if youre the protest, virtual-petition kind. WarriorCorps and Foreign Legion Inc. and Armed Humanitarianism Limited and the like. I was hybrid: part contractor but also part national military, before that ran extinct during the Whig Revolt of 36. Merely Emo Carlos was old enough to have been GI from beginning to end. Hed earned the Silver Star in the Iraq war. Well, the Iraq war before the last one. Perhaps it was three Iraq wars ago. Anyhow. We asked Emo Carlos about it over sushi, after a parade in Cleveland.

Jumped on a grenade at a checkpoint, he told, defining down his chopsticks with a shrug. Didnt go off.

We hollered and banged the table just because we could. Itd been a couple decades since anything but a bot had been close enough to a grenade to do anything like that. Even the JngerBot conveyed its admiration.

Defective? I asked.

Emo Carlos nodded. One in a million, they said.

What happened then? Dizzy asked.

The creases in Emo Carlos forehead folded into one another like papier-mch. He usually never talked about anything but drumming for his old-man punk band. Theyd served together back in the day and were known across the greater Rochester area as the Infidels. Geriatric humor.

Stood up, he said. Dusted off. Looked down. Realise Id pissed myself.

We hollered and banged the table all over again.

An elderly couple came over to us subsequently. Theyd overheard our conversation and wanted to say thank you. They said they had two grandsons in privateer training.

I know our thanks is a small thing, the spouse said. He and his wife looked so cute in their nice old-people clothes, khakis and sweaters and thick-rimmed glasses. They looked like other peoples grandparents always look. But sometimes its all those of us here can offer.

The wife nodded. Were all involved, she told. We believe that. As taxpayers, as citizens, thats how it is. Were with you.

We thanked them for thanking us and they left the restaurant.

What did she mean, Were all involved? Dizzy asked. No theyre not.

There were echoes of agreement and deliberation over what the old woman had meant, and not just about the word involved . Also about the word we .

Yo, Emo Carlos told. The table hushed. Theyre from my hour. When wars had objectives. When citizens tried to keep up. America used to be young. Thats what she meant.

Then say that, Dizzy told. Taxes? Who the fucking cares.

Emo Carlos shook his head again. He was trying to clear himself of frustrations, either with himself or with us. Then he pointed at me. Sent her to the damn moon. Supposed to save us all, putting the wars up there. Preserve the land and resources, remove civilian demises. Be tidy and simple. That was the plan.

And no one ever went back, Dizzy told. The game changed.

Well. Emo Carlos giggled. Military lesson numero uno, son, he said. No plan survives first contact.

The rest of us chuckled along with the old wisdom. Everyone but the scientist, who sat off by himself in the corner. He looked up at us with something between sadness and ferocity. It was hard to decide which.

Tidy and simple, he said. I like that.

When my nieces turn 12 and gain access to FreedomNet, they will find these three paragraphs about their aunt, etched into the digital histories forever and ever TAGEND Valerie Jade Speer( born May 2, 2011) was a chief warrant officer( air) and assault pilot in the United States Army and later the privateer organization Star Spangled Security. She was awarded the Star of Valor in 2042 for her actions during the Battle on the Moon, of which she was the only survivor . Deployed to the moon as part of the NATO coalition during the course of its South Seas dispute, Speer flew a Flying Yeager fusion helocraft during the battle, destroying five Chinese Federation space-helos and two Young Siberian cosmo-planes. Struck by an enemy dwarf ballistic, Speer crash-landed into the Titius Crater. She was thus sheltered from the amaze thermonuclear strike carried out by the Young Siberians that killed all other fighters and blew the hole in the moon now known as Putins Smile . Initially presumed dead, Speer was found during NATO recovery operations two days after the end of the combat. She lost three extremities, suffered burns over much of her body, and survived over 90 surgeries. President Natasha Obama told Speers life and narrative are a testament to the American spirit at her Star of Valor ceremony at the White House .

Words can be funny beasts. Her actions suggest some sort of agency, even control. Destroy is such a clean term for such messiness. Struck by defied my memory of it. Same with crash-landed.

Less so with lost. And suffered.

Testament. As if enduring were a selection. I did what anyone would have. There are no atheists in moon craters. And there are no fatalists in survivor wards of one.

I was thinking about that ward as I zipped up my suitcase in my sisters guest room for the bond drive. Thinking about the long stills of quiet during the nights. Guessing about being “ve called the” Burn by nurses who guessed I couldnt hear them. Supposing about the full-thickness graft done without anesthesia.

You sure about this, Val? My sister stood in the doorway. Her posture betrayed opposition. She was four years older and had always asked me questions that she already had answers for. You have options.

Shed said the same years prior, before Id left for the moon.

I am, I told both times, even though I wasnt both days. Id always detected power and resolve in ambiguity, though. Most people werent like that. My sister, for one.

Youve done more than your share, she continued, moving to the bed and putting her arm around my shoulder. So much more. I leaned my head into her and tried to hold in some of the familial warmth. Id miss it, I knew. Only sisters and nieces hug people like me. I dont think its right.

I smiled at that.

Its not, I told. But. If not me, then who?

Even running can be its own form of opting out. I didnt know that the first time. But I did the second. The last night in the guest room, as I tossed and turned in bed, I thought about that. Then I thought about the survivor ward again. And the long stills of quiet during the nights. And being “ve called the” Burn. And the graft.

Somewhere between Omaha and Tesla City, I began to realize just how different the younger vets were. It wasnt simply that they were privateers, either, or that they called adversary combatants pixels as an insult. Dizzy and his crew, they crowed about their service. Owned their superiority, then basked in it.

Do soldiers think theyre better than citizens? Of course. It has nothing to do with what did or didnt happen in their service, either. It has to do with the very notion of joining up. Americas been at war since before most of us were born. We joined because we wanted to go. Wed been told we were special from day one of boot camp, doing something the rest of our nation couldnt. Or worse, wouldnt. Too fat. Too selfish. Too lazy. Which made the realization after we got out that citizens think were beneath them all the more shocking. If theyre fat, selfish, and lazy, then whats worse than that?

We werent supposed to say any of that, though. My generation didnt, at least. We were taught that part of our service was biding quiet about it. To rise above, because thats what Jesus and George Washington and Beyonc wouldve wanted.

Thats what I did. Or tried to, at the least. Let the citizenry think what it wants, ran the logic. All part of being a republic.

Maybe we had it incorrect, though.

I wondered about that the night the protester confronted us. We were in Washington for a gala. Ordinarily “were in” ushered in through side or back door for events, but the organizers of this one had us walking in on a red carpet, through a galaxy of flashing lightings and holographic cameras.

Finally, Dizzy told, pausing to adjust his bow affiliation and lick his front teeth. The treatment we deserve.

Why the protester chose the JngerBot to cream-pie, Ill never know. By the time the uproar had reached my ears and Id floated around in my chair, the JngerBot had the young man by the throat. Request order to remove home-front adversary, it said, which was funny, and then not.

We got the young man free of the JngerBots prongs. He was reed-thin and had thick brown curls with eyes as dark and mad as the moon. I didnt know what to think about him or his pie. People didnt protest war in person anymore. It wasnt sane behavior.

Youre not heroes, he told. His terms were shaky. Its never easy coming face to face with people youve demonized. Or cockpit to cockpit. Youre tools of empire. Fuck you. Fuck all of you.

The cameras along the walkway started popping off like mortars. We all only stood there, waiting out his denunciation, because we were there to be seen and applauded , nothing else. His anger dazed me, and the others too. Not Dizzy, though.

Get bent, joker, Dizzy told, intersecting his arms for the cameras. War is bad? No shit. But it wont go forth just cause we want it to. Last month, two brigades from the same base get deployed. One goes to Kurd Mountain, saves those households from the horde. The other goes to Blue Russia, blows up some insurrectionists. Ones a humanitarian mission. The others combat. Both involve destruction.

Id never heard Dizzy speak with eloquence and passion before. He was good, and he knew it. He pressed on.

This JngerBot is a goddamn national gem. I dont know what brought you here tonight, and I dont dedicate a single fucking. We went so you dont “re going to have to”. Suck my hero balls.

The arrogance. The entitlement. The narrowness of thought. I loved it all, and I wasnt the only one. The red carpet explosion with applause. Dizzy even took a bow. But the acclaim wasnt universal.

After the protester had been escorted away and wed run inside for the gala, the scientist saw Dizzy. Dont do that again, he said. He loomed over the younger human like an angry parent. That guy is not your adversary. Neither is anyone else youve met on this stupid tour.

He aint a friend. Dizzy was trying to sound unbothered, and he leaned back in his chair and set his feet on the table. So what is he?

Only morons speak in absolutes, the scientist said.

Dizzy changed tactics. You know what he likely thinks about you? he asked. What all these people say when they think we cant hear? I had a woman tell me she didnt think we were whole human beings. Fuck her, and fuck that protester. Fuck all of them.

I wondered what the answers were to Dizzys questionwhat did people say about us? When they thought about us at all. Beyond the pomp and rite of the bond drive, we werent anything, I supposed. Just ciphers with tales people believed in, or didnt believe in, even before they heard them.

So. What. The scientists voice turned to iron as he responded to Dizzy. Thats the job. We have consequences.

Dizzy opened his mouth, but the scientist cut him off. You did . You did when you didnt “re going to have to”. Thats enough. It has to be. Then he stormed off, presumably for the hotel bar.

The scientist opted out that night. The rest of us did too, by doing the job. We stood there and smiled and waved while other people told our stories to the crowds. The crowd cheered. We waved again.

We walked back to the hotel as a group after the jamboree. We stopped in a park with green lawns and a marble fountain and joked about the protester, giggled about the scientist. The scientist had been right, but so what? What did being right have to do with anything? Dizzy had regained whatever force-out it was that sustained him and began chatting up a pair of young women who considered themselves patriots. I watched it all and thought about the ward and then my sisters home. The JngerBot came up beside me.

You managed that pie well, I told it. It didnt say anything, so I continued. Waiting for an order, I mean.

Here is our kingdom, the best use of monarchies, the best republic, the JngerBot told. Here is our garden, our happiness.

What a random thing to tell, I thought. Even for a robot. But subsequently, after considering it more, I decided otherwise.

The Fiction Issue

Tales From an Uncertain Future

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The post Know Your Enemy: Celebrating 50 Years of the Forever War appeared first on Top Rated Solar Panels.

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“My species may be remorseless agents of chaos, but we still have names.” — Noggin

Bucky

Snout Jr.

Duckface

Warbler

EVERYONE SHUT UP AND STOP DOING WHAT YOUR DOING AND LOOK AT THESE GUYS!!!

Very unpopular opinion: To me, the gremlins in the show are honestly rather more playful then aggressive and feral and don't really match the meaning of the word Mogwai which means devil/demon in Cantonese. I'm sorry but I just don't see it. They more come off as a family that just rough houses a lot and stuff like wrestling, throwing hands and all that other stuff is just how they play. This honestly seems like something I'd beg my brother and dad that we do. If they didn't multiply via water then I'm sure they would be throwing each other in the water trying to drown them (in an affectionate way). Yes they do take it too far and do become a lot more aggressive but in general to me at least, they seem more playful. Again yeah they take it too far and they have definetely caused a ton of chaos which okay is a reasonable reason to wanna get rid of them.

Honestly I just love how the minute Snout's boys are spawned, they immediately just play with each other and toss and chase each other around. they feel more cute then monstrous if anything. Just my opinion tbh.

Also I love how when Snout gets wet Noggin and Claw genuinely look concerned and maybe a bit afraid. Also how the hell they able to hold Claw up with no issue, she's like bigger then all of them (not fat shaming people there's a difference)