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ckret2 · 1 month

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Chapter 43 of suddenly human Bill Cipher is pretty eager to remain imprisoned inside the Mystery Shack:

The Eclipse: Part 1

Gravity's disappearing in Gravity Falls. Bill has an explanation for what's going on that has absolutely nothing to do with him, and also doesn't make any sense. Fiddleford has an alternate theory that makes a lot of sense, and has a whole lot to do with Bill. Ford trusts Fiddleford.

####

"An eclipse," Ford repeated. "Gravity's vanishing, you're floating, and you expect me to believe that it's due to an eclipse."

Bill shrugged. "I don't expect anything out of you. Believe whatever the heck you want. That's what it is, though."

"Even if it wasn't a ridiculous notion, there aren't any solar or lunar eclipses anywhere near Oregon this summer—"

"Did I say the eclipse was solar or lunar?" Bill asked. "No. I didn't." He breezed past Ford, heading to the kitchen. "Hey, is anybody gonna eat those pancakes?"

"Mine." Dipper ran past Bill to his abandoned plate.

"Then what kind of an eclipse is it?" Ford demanded.

Bill leaned on the kitchen counter, crossed his arms, and pursed his lips thoughtfully. Finally, he said, "Gravitational eclipse."

"There's no such thing!"

"Oh, I'm sorry, Dr. I Think Having A Mere Five PhDs Means I Know Everything! Please, enlighten the trillion-year-old all-seeing eye who spent a year correcting all your math with your superior knowledge of physics!"

"It's twelve PhDs and you know it."

"Oh, so what! I can still count 'em on one hand." (Dipper gave Bill's hand a puzzled look.)

"Is that how it is!" Ford huffed angrily. "Fine, great teacher—would you be so kind as to educate your student on what the devil a 'gravitational eclipse' is!"

He fully expected Bill to start spouting some absurd science fiction explanation; but instead, Bill hesitated, gaze flicking nervously toward the ceiling. Ford looked up, but didn't see anything.

"Just don't worry about it." Bill rubbed his right eye. He turned away from Ford to watch Dipper struggle to squeeze pancake syrup out of an uncooperative bottle. "Everything will go back to normal in three days. Just—don't look at the sky."

"Why not?"

"Don't worry about it," Bill repeated. "Hey, take off the lid and stick a knife in, you're never getting anything out that way."

"I've got it," Dipper said testily.

Soos came downstairs at about the same time Stan joined them from the hallway. "Dudes, I think something weird's going on," Soos said.

Ford turned his back on his fruitless conversation with Bill. "We've noticed. Gravity's decreasing."

Soos paused. "Oh," he said, slightly deflated. "I thought I was developing super strength."

"Sorry to disappoint."

"So what's causing it?" Stan asked.

"I don't know yet."

From the kitchen, Bill called, "I just told you!"

Ford didn't look at him. "I don't know the real reason yet."

Stan asked, "Think it might be a portal thing? When it was powering up, gravity got kinda screwy. It wasn't like this, though. Any time there was a surge, gravity hiccuped for a few seconds. It never just... went down a little."

"And not for this long, either," Soos said. "It's been like this all morning." He paused; then asked, hopefully, "You sure we aren't just all developing super strength at the same time?"

Ford shook his head apologetically.

"Aww."

"I suspected the portal first," Ford said. "But I just looked it over and checked the equipment. There's no way any of it could have powered on. It's been completely disassembled since last summer."

Stan shrugged. "What else could it be?"

"The gravity anomalies occurred whenever the portal was connected to the Nightmare Realm. All I can think is that perhaps it's something else with a connection to the Nightmare Realm that might be having a destabilizing effect on the fabric of reality. Something much weaker, but steadily regaining power..." He turned to cast a venomous look at the kitchen. "Power like the ability to float..."

Bill had been preoccupied with dipping a strip of raw bacon into a stolen uncapped syrup bottle; but at the accusation, he stared at Ford in disbelief. "What—are you kidding me?"

"Have a better explanation for why, the moment all this starts, you can suddenly hover down the stairs?"

"Sure," Bill said. "I'm better at floating than the rest of you because I've been doing it longer."

"Oh, that's stupid!"

"You're stupid."

"You're up to something," Ford snarled. "I know it."

"What could I possibly be up to!" Bill spread his hands, exasperated. "Seriously! Tell me! What could I possibly be up to?"

Ford screwed his face into a scowl, trying to think of any way Bill could have orchestrated the gradual decline of gravity while imprisoned in the Mystery Shack. "You are up to something," he said firmly.

Bill groaned and rolled his eyes. "Well if you ever figure out what, let me know! I'm dying to find out what I'm plotting." He chugged from the syrup bottle like it was a flask. And then had to keep holding it up while he waited for the reduced gravity to work on the syrup.

"Hey, Dr. Pines?" Soos held up his phone. "Just got a text from Tate. He says Old Man McGucket wants to know if you can come discuss the gravity issue?"

"I was just thinking the same thing. Let Fiddleford know I'll be there as soon as I can. Does he want me to bring anything?"

"Nope. Just your handsome face." Soos chuckled. "He—he didn't say that part, though. I did. I just think guys should compliment each other more."

Ford nodded solemnly. "Thank you, Soos."

"Grunkle Ford, can I come too?" Dipper dumped his dirty dish in the sink. "I could—I dunno—help brainstorm solutions, or something...?"

"I'd be delighted." Ford had wanted to spend so much more time with Dipper this summer. By now, he'd thought they would have had at least one hike through the mountains around Gravity Falls and maybe dug into a couple of old mysteries he'd never solved. At least this was one mystery Ford could bring him along for.

Dipper's face lit up. "Hold on, let me go get my journal." He ran upstairs, bouncing up two steps at a time in the reduced gravity.

Ford murmured to Stan, "You can hold down the fort while I'm gone?"

Stan nodded slightly. "I'll keep a close eye on him."

"Good."

When Dipper had returned and they were headed out the door, Bill called from the kitchen, "Keep your head down out there. And get inside as soon as you can."

Ford shot a dark look at Bill, but said nothing. "Let's go." He shut the door behind them a bit harder than necessary.

Soos headed into the kitchen to make breakfast. As he passed, Bill said, "Hey. Does the 'guys complimenting guys' thing only apply to humans, or what?"

"Oh. Uh..." Soos pulled his head out of the fridge to look at Bill. "You... look good in yellow? Is—is that a good compliment? I don't know what triangle demons consider a compliment."

Bill considered it. "Sure, it'll do." He dipped another strip of bacon in the syrup. "I look even better in gold."

####

A quarter mile from the shack, Ford drove over a small bump in the road he'd gone over a hundred times before.

The car bounced so high that Ford's head hit the car roof.

Somewhere, he just knew, Bill was laughing at him.

####

Dipper's knee had been bouncing for three minutes straight by the time they approached the gate to the Northwest Manor. "Dipper, are you alright?"

"Sorry." Dipper planted his foot flat on the floor. "It's just—we're driving really slow, and this whole gravity thing is kind of an emergency..."

Just nervous. "I know," Ford sighed. "I can't go any faster without losing control. Lower gravity means lower traction between the tires and the road." But it was driving him mad.

At the manor, Tate greeted them at the door with a slight nod. "Hey. Dad's in the lab."

"Thank you, Tate. I know the way."

When they entered the lab, Fiddleford was working with a soldering iron on an electronic device the size of a toaster. He looked up as soon as they came in. "Stanford, Dipper! Good timing. Come in. How's the shack?"

"Down a few rubber balls."

Ford left Dipper to drift around the lab inspecting Fiddleford's equipment and listening in on the conversation as he and Fiddleford caught up. Fiddleford had first noticed something was wrong during his usual morning post-coffee rambunctious rollick, when he leaped high enough to bang his head on the ceiling. ("All the way to the ceiling? In this house?" "Well, I was standing on the counter, you see." "Ah, of course.") He'd immediately built a vacuum chamber he could drop various tools and cutlery in so he could measure the acceleration of gravity. Usually, objects on Earth fell 9.8 meters per second. When Fiddleford first measured, falling objects accelerated by 7.9 meters per second—almost 20% slower than they were supposed to. Now, it was 7.7 meters per second. If that rate of decline was steady, gravity must have been going down overnight without anyone noticing. By Fiddleford's calculations, gravity was decreasing by around 1.5% an hour—and, if it continued at this rate, it would be gone the day after tomorrow, by early afternoon.

(Bill had said three days. That wasn't even two and a half.)

Fiddleford had done some scans and called some old college pals down in Texas to ask if they'd noticed anything strange—and it seemed that Gravity Falls was the only place in the country experiencing anything unusual, at least according to NASA's data. Fiddleford had asked Tate to drive around town dropping things; quelle surprise, the gravitational oddity seemed perfectly contained to the circumference of the town's weirdness barrier.

"If you're in communication with NASA, I don't suppose you could ask if..." Ford winced at himself, "they've... noticed any astronomical anomalies?"

Fiddleford stroked his beard. "I reckon I could, but—why?"

Ford sighed. "Bill said this is being caused by what he calls a 'gravitational eclipse.' Which sounds like patent nonsense, but—on the one percent chance he's telling the truth..."

"I getcha. That Bill's as trustworthy as a rattlesnake with rabies—but until we know what's happening, we ought to consider every possibility."

"Yes. Precisely." Ford paused. "Can... rattlesnakes catch rabies?"

"Absolutely not! Which is why you should never trust one what says he's rabid."

"Ah. Yes. I see," Ford said uncertainly.

Like Ford, Fiddleford's first suspicion was that this had something to do with the portal—a suspicion that was scuttled when Ford informed him he'd already checked the portal. Ford's own next theory was that Bill personally was somehow behind this. His gravity already seemed to be far lighter than the rest of the town. But Ford didn't know whether that was because Bill was causing the gravity-reducing anomaly, or because the gravity-reducing anomaly was disproportionately affecting Bill. And even if Bill was causing it, as yet Ford had no idea by what mechanism he was doing it.

Fiddleford had the first idea that might explain how this was physically happening: dimensional rips.

At the end of last summer, the town and surrounding woods had been lousy with small dimensional rips torn in spacetime by Weirdmageddon and its aftermath. A few had been large enough for a grown man to stumble through, but many were barely as long as a fingernail. Ford and Stan had spent the last few days of summer running through the town and the woods with the kids, armed with alien adhesive, glueing shut the rips; and then—after traveling back and forth to California to attend Dipper's bar mitzvah and to get hollered at by Shermie for disappearing and/or faking a death—they'd spent most of the next month taking care of even more rips. (Just enough time for gnomes to steal Ford's new Journal 4.)

The remains of the rips could still be seen throughout Gravity Falls: odd invisible seams in the air that seemed to make the woods behind them bend strangely, like the transition between air and water where light refracted differently. Sometimes the sun would line up just right with a gap in the leaves so that you could see a sunbeam bending in midair.

Fiddleford had two theories:

Theory one: even after they'd sealed up all the rips, the distressed fabric of reality around Gravity Falls had grown threadbare. Rather than a few huge rips tearing through to the Nightmare Realm, countless micro-rips were forming—hundreds of thousands of holes between the fibers of reality, too tiny to be seen or detected—and they were reaching critical mass. The structural integrity of reality itself was about to catastrophically fail. The barrier between here and the Nightmare Realm could shred apart at any minute, ripping open a massive maw too wide to ever be repaired, irreversibly swallowing Gravity Falls into Bill's dying dimension of madness and leaving a frothing pustule of chaos trapped inside the weirdness barrier, ready to spread across all of Earth if anything should ever pop it!

Or two: something else was happening.

Ford thought it was worth investigating. The damage was already there; maybe Bill knew it, was exacerbating it—perhaps by his mere presence—and was just hoping the humans wouldn't figure it out before his homecoming.

"You remember the wormhole detector I built last September to sense when new dimensional rips were openin' up?" Fiddleford asked. "Well, it ain't detected a thing in town since March—but if these micro-rips are real, they'd be too little to detect from any farther than forty or fifty feet. So's I whipped up a portable scannermadoohickey!" He picked up the object he'd been working on when Ford and Dipper arrived. "You can take it to the places with the most damage and wave it around to see if it senses anything!"

Ford inspected the scanner. "It says it's detecting eighteen right now."

Fiddleford waved him off. "That's fine, a few itty bitty little tears oughta be expected for the kinda damage we got last year. But if my theory's correct, there's somewhere in Gravity Falls that'll have hundreds of thousands of tears within the scanner's radius. That's what we're looking for."

"Great. And, what do we do if we find them? Such small rips would be impossible to individually seal with my adhesive applicator."

"I thought of that, too!" Fiddleford scrambled over two tables, knocking tools on the ground as he went, to grab a plastic cone-shaped object the size of a football. He scuttled beneath the tables back to Ford. "Look! I made a glue grenade!"

"A—a what?"

"Once you figure out where the micro-rips are concentrated, just pour that alien adhesive of yours into this spout here, pull the pin, and chuck it! It'll instantly seal up all the micro-rips in the area and then cover the whole town in a cloud of alien adhesive, closing any remaining rips!"

"Hmm... It sounds risky. It would use up the rest of our andhesive all at once," Ford said. "And the environmental impact could be devastating."

Fiddleford blinked. "Environmental impact?"

"Just think of an adhesive this powerful settling over the whole town and forest in a thin film. It would glue people's pores shut! They wouldn't be able to sweat! Imagine. And that's just one example of the potential consequences."

"Hm." Fiddleford scratched his head. "I could invent a body lotion with alien adhesive solvent?"

"Or, maybe we should only use the grenade once we're sure that such an extreme measure is necessary."

"Aww." Fiddleford kicked his foot in disappointment. "Hold on—let me at least whip up a spray attachment for your adhesive gun. So's you can patch up any clusters you find as you go." He darted between several tables, searching through drawers and tool chests for supplies, and then returned to his soldering station.

"Wait, hold on," Ford said. "In the space of a morning, you've built a vacuum chamber to calculate the gravitational acceleration in Gravity Falls, called NASA to get ahold of somebody to collect data across the rest of the United States, built a handheld version of your wormhole detector, and built a grenade to distribute alien adhesive?"

"I sure did!"

"And, how long have you been awake?"

"An hour and a half!"

Ford stared. "Where do you get your coffee?"

Fiddleford glanced across the room at Dipper, and whispered, "I'll tell ya later."

Dipper had drifted over to the miniature particle accelerator and was slowly circling it, inspecting all the pipes, trying to figure out how it worked. He was leaning over the trash can when Ford drifted over to join him. "Hey, Grunkle Ford? I... think there's a cat in here?"

"You don't know that!" Fiddleford shouted. "It could be dead!"

"No it's not, I can hear it meowing."

"That might be something else! You can't tell!"

"I could just open it—"

Fiddleford chucked an empty plastic spool of solder wire toward Dipper. "Don't you touch that!"

Dipper withdrew his hand from the trash can lid and looked at Ford, baffled.

"I'll explain how it works," Ford said.

While Fiddleford worked, Ford caught Dipper up on the details of the fuel they needed for the Quantum Destabilizer, the contraption Fiddleford had built to synthesize it, and the complicated way they'd tried to paradoxically (not) observe the experiment in progress. When Fiddleford came over to offer the completed spray nozzle, Ford asked, "Any progress on figuring out how to get this thing working?"

"No," Fiddleford sighed. "I've been lookin' into more stable paradoxes to replace the cat. But as far as the observer—I'd hoped usin' twins might just get close enough, but I've redid my cac'lations three times and I'm afraid the only way to get this thing working is by gettin' one person to both observe and not observe it at the same time. If we can just do that, we'd have all the fuel we need. But for the life of me I can't figure out how."

"Maybe if we had two versions of the same person from different dimensions..." Ford mused. "But that would require opening up a portal to reach another dimension, and there's the risk that uniting parallel versions of the same person might destabilize our entire dimension. It's not worth the risk."

"It sounds like one of those impossible riddles," Dipper said. "Like, 'If only a barber shaves people who don't shave themselves, and if anyone who shaves himself isn't a barber, then who shaves the barber?' Because if he shaved himself he wouldn't be a barber but since he shaves other people he has to be a barber..."

Ford said, "A second barber shaves him."

Fiddleford said, "He just don't shave at all."

Dipper paused. "I think I told it wrong."

Ford patted his shoulder. "But I think you're on to something. We need to think of this as a riddle; and every riddle has a solution. We just need to find it."

"After we save the town, right?" Dipper asked.

Ford smiled wanly. "One crisis at a time."

####

They agreed that investigating all the potential micro-rip hotspots around town would probably necessitate a camping trip—which was the only bit of good news to come out of this mess so far. Due to all of this summer's Bill bullsoup (as Stan had taken to calling it in front of the kids), Ford and Dipper had hardly gotten to see each other so far, much less do any serious paranormal investigating together. Hiking and camping while in search of the strange sounded like exactly what they'd been missing out on—and it would've sounded even better if the situation weren't so dire.

Ford and Dipper came back in the Mystery Shack as Shandra Jimenez said on TV, "Today's top story in Gravity Falls is that gravity isn't falling. Many residents recall similar incidents around this time last summer, when gravity intermittently shut off entirely, leading many to ask: could this possibly be another devastating effect of global warming? Temperatures today are—"

Ford scoffed. "Global warming. Of all things. Gravity is probably the only part of the environment it isn't affecting."

"I dunno, Ford, maybe you oughta consider it." Bill was sitting cross-legged on the couch, chin in his hand. He had his eye patch over the eye he'd been squinting that morning. "As long as you're already rejecting the real explanation to make up one you like better, why not go whole hog? Let's adopt a real crackpot theory."

"You want to talk about 'crackpot theories'? Global warming sounds at least as likely as an eclipse."

"That says a lot more about your education than it does about the theories."

Ford grit his teeth. "You know I'm one of the most educated men on Earth."

"And that says a lot about your planet's educational system."

Stan, sitting in his armchair reading the paper, folded it down to glower at Bill. "Stop antagonizing my brother."

"Tell him to stop making it so easy."

Ford grit his teeth harder, but ignored Bill. "Dipper, go pack your backpack. I'll check the basement and meet you when I'm done."

"Right!" Dipper hurried up the stairs.

Ford crossed the living room, checking the micro-rip scanner—88 detected rips, over five times higher than at Northwest Manor, but still nowhere near the 100,000 rip danger threshold. He'd see whether that remained true next to the portal. He paused next to Stan's armchair, "Stanley, do you remember where we stored the alien adhesive applicator?"

"Uhh... when's the last time we used it?"

"Last fall, right before we headed to Seattle."

Stan lowered his paper, staring at the ceiling. "I think we stored it in one of the lockers in the basement, right?"

"It's not there," Bill said.

Ford gave him an exasperated look. "And how would you know."

"Because the first day I came here, I emptied out all those lockers and hid their contents while I was waiting for the rest of you to get downstairs."

Ford smacked the back of the armchair, making Stan start. "So that's what happened to my infinity-sided die! Where the devil did you hide it?"

"Frankly, I don't think you're responsible enough to handle that kind of power," Bill said archly.

"Where's the adhesive applicator!"

"What do you need it for?"

"That's none of your business."

"Pity." Bill turned up the volume on the news.

Ford moved between Bill and the screen. "If you don't tell me where you hid it..." What threat could he make? This was the demon willing to threaten suicide if his captors didn't keep him entertained.

"Tell me why you need it."

"As if you'd give it to me if I did!"

"Maybe I'll find your cause noble," Bill said flatly. "Try me."

Oh, what did he have to lose. "Fine. I'm testing to see if imperceptibly small rips are opening between Gravity Falls and the Nightmare Realm. If they are, I'm going to seal them shut." He hoped the revelation would throw Bill off—he hoped he was close enough to the truth to shock Bill into giving something away.

Bill's eye widened, eyebrows shooting up; and then he burst out laughing. "That's what Specs filled your head with? Embryonic wormholes? That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard! And you're turning to him for an explanation when you've got a being with infinite answers sitting in your living room?"

Ford scoffed. "Sure, infinite answers—and just like the infinity-sided die, whatever I get is infinitely more likely to be trouble than anything useful. Now tell me where you put my adhesive applicator."

"I didn't put it anywhere." Bill held the remote out to the side to change the channel and stared at the TV straight through Ford, as if he didn't exist. "It's still in the basement. A little adhesive leaked out, I couldn't get the locker door open."

"Ha!" Stan slapped an armrest.

Ford whirled around to glare at him.

Stan held up his hands appeasingly. "Sorry! Sorry. That's not funny. Wasn't—wasn't funny at all. How dare you, Bill."

"I know, I'm just the worst."

Ford held in a harsh sigh and stalked out of the room. He didn't have time for this—not when they were on a deadline to prevent whatever was happening. (What if it became too late to reverse before gravity even reached 0%? What if they were approaching a tipping point when the whole sky would rip open?)

He opened the vending machine and headed downstairs.

####

He had to break the locker door to get the alien adhesive applicator out. He'd have to figure out how the nozzle had leaked before he stored it again.

According to the sensor, there were over a thousand micro-rips detectable just from standing near the portal controls. The number increased as he approached the portal itself; the highest quantity the scanner detected was nearly 5,000. Over fifty times higher than on the shack's ground level. It was clear some sort of damage had been done here.

But Fiddleford had said, for them to be concerned about reality shredding, there should be hundreds of thousands of micro-rips in one location. And Ford trusted any numbers Fiddleford gave him; wherever Ford tended to double-check his math, Fiddleford quintuple-checked his.

Even at the interdimensional portal itself—the spot where the veil between Gravity Falls and the Nightmare Realm had been ripped open and stitched shut so many times, the spot where the rift that nearly ended the world had been formed—there were less than 5% of the rips they needed before they started reaching dangerous levels.

Ford looked up at the portal, frowning.

The portal's torn and crumpled pieces lay against the cavern walls where he'd left them last summer.

Never mind. There were several other places that could be hotspots for micro-rips. He couldn't draw any conclusions about what was happening here until he'd checked them too.

But whatever was happening, it certainly wasn't an eclipse.

He added Fiddleford's spray attachment to the adhesive applicator and filled the chamber with a mist of glue, until the scanner read less than 200 micro-rips; then stopped by his study to grab a couple maps of the mountains around Gravity Falls, his antique lantern, and a tent; and headed back up to the house.

####

During their past year of travels, Stan and Ford had started keeping two emergency backpacks stocked in case they needed to flee on short notice. The backpacks contained everything they'd need to survive in the wilderness or a strange city for three days; and Ford had thirty long years of experience to teach him exactly what supplies that necessitated. He grabbed his backpack out of the guest room, and then spread out his map on the kitchen table to show to Dipper.

"If our micro-rip theory is correct, there are four potential places where I suspect they'll be most densely concentrated: the place where the interdimensional rift formed; where it was unleashed; where it was suspended for the majority of Weirdmageddon; and where it was sealed."

"And you've already checked the portal where it formed," Dipper said. "What about the place it was suspended? It was floating in the sky over town. There's no way we can get up there until gravity's completely gone, and by then it'll be too late."

"I've considered that. The closest we can get is Gravity Peak, but from there we should be able to get the sensor close enough to tell if there's an unusual amount of rips." Ford circled three spots on the map, and drew a dotted line connecting them. "We're heading out late, but we should be able to hit the locations where Weirdmageddon began and ended today. We can cross the lake to camp in the cavern behind Trembley Falls, get an early start, and take the hidden cave tunnel up to Gravity Peak."

"Not the best time for a hiking trip," Bill said.

Ford shot him an exasperated look. Bill was leaning in the kitchen doorway, arms crossed, smirking condescendingly. "Or maybe it is, if you're trying to avoid as much effort as possible," he says. "But I still wouldn't go if I were you. You don't want to be outdoors during an eclipse—and you don't want to be on a mountain when gravity comes back."

"Nobody asked you," Ford said, turning his back on Bill. "Now—cooking will be difficult as gravity decreases, but not to worry—" he unzipped his backpack, "—I've already prepared everything we'll need." Grinning, he pulled out what looked like a toothpaste tube with a "beef and vegetables" label. "Astronaut food!"

Dipper grimaced. "Great."

"You should have asked me," Bill said, a bit louder. "Considering that Specs is sending you on a wild goose chase. But hey, if you're that determined to waste your time, just don't say I didn't tell you so."

"You haven't even told us what an 'eclipse' is," Dipper said. "If it's not important enough to explain, I don't see why it's important enough for us to listen to you."

"Well said," Ford muttered.

"It's too important to explain," Bill retorted. "I've told you everything you need to know!"

Ford said, "Ha," and started folding his map to pack.

There were a few seconds of blessed silence; and then Bill walked into the room, leaned on the fridge, and glowered at Ford. "Listen. As far as you're concerned, the eclipse is probably harmless. It should peak in three days—"

"Fiddleford said at its current rate of decrease, it should be the day after tomorrow."

Ford expected Bill to argue; but instead, he frowned uneasily. "I—Sure, fine, whatever, he's probably done the math, I've just been eyeballing it. Did he say what time?"

Surprised, Ford said, "early afternoon, by his measurements."

Bill nodded vaguely, glancing again toward the ceiling. "Whatever time it happens—gravity will gradually decrease until totality, and then it'll come back very quickly, so—if you want to help your town so much, tell them that they don't want to be climbing trees in zero G. Otherwise, the best thing you can do is stay inside, wait for it to pass, keep your eyes shutduring totality—and do not look up."

"Why can't we look up?" Dipper asked.

Bill laughed derisively. "Would you stare at the sun during a solar eclipse? It's like I'm talking to babies!"

The last fraying thread of Ford's patience snapped. He seized Bill's hoodie by the strings and dragged him closer. "Enough!"

Bill flailed, kicking the table as he tried to back out of Ford's grip, and ended up losing his footing and landing on the floor. It was too easy to drag him around—he was so light. Ford leaned down to glare straight in his eye. "If you're so worried about how we're handling this eclipse of yours, maybe you should come with us!"

Horror bloomed in Bill's eye. "What? No no no, that's—that's fine, I told you everything you need, I'd just slow you down, I'd really be much happier in here—"

"I bet you would be," Ford snarled. "As far as I'm concerned, the fact that you want to stay inside so much is reason enough to bring you along! Either something out there scares you, or there's something in here you want to be close to during totality! Maybe something will happen at the portal! Whatever it is you want, I don't want you to get it."

"Grunkle Ford?" Dipper had gotten out of his seat and was looking uncertainly between Bill and Ford. "I'm not sure about..."

Bill's gaze snapped from Ford's face to Dipper's, and Ford could almost see the gears shifting in his head as he latched on to a more vulnerable target. "Kid. Remember when I told you there are things out there you don't want to meet? Stay inside—let me stay inside—find a good book to distract you the next couple of days, and don't worry about things you don't want to know too much about. As far as you should be concerned, this is a weather phenomenon. You don't want to dig any deeper than that. Stay. Home."

The corners of Dipper's mouth turned down. He grabbed Ford's coat sleeve and said, voice low, "Great Uncle Ford, I... I'm not sure he's lying. I've never seen Bill scared like this before. And when he told me about things in other dimensions, this gravity thing hadn't even started, so he couldn't have..."

"Unless Bill was expecting this to happen, and everything he told you yesterday was the groundwork to make us believe whatever he wants us to believe." Bill had wormed deeper into Dipper's head than Ford had realized, if it was enough to make him consider Bill's nonsensical claims. Ford should have asked more about what Bill told him yesterday. The monster could have been filling his gnephew's head with all sorts of nightmares. "Doesn't it seem a little lucky that he told you all that one day before this?"

Dipper grimaced. "I mean..."

Ford glared at Bill again. "I'm not buying it. And the more you make up ridiculous explanations like 'gravitational eclipses' and 'things from other dimensions,' the more you insist that this is somehow both no big deal and incredibly dangerous just to witness, the less I believe this is anything but a patently ridiculous attempt to keep us from interfering with whatever is about to happen! And frankly, that makes me want to interfere even more!"

Bill let out a strangled laugh. "You've gotta be... If you think I'm that suspicious, how do you know this isn't reverse psychology?! Maybe I want you to take me outside!"

"Maybe you do. That's the awful thing about you, Bill: I can second-, third-, and fourth-guess everything you say, and I'll never be sure I've figured out the truth! At some point I just have to make an educated guess."

There was a knock at the doorway. "Hey, Dr. Pines?" Soos leaned into the kitchen. "I heard furniture and anger. Is everything... uh..." He trailed off, taking in the scene—Bill on the floor backed up against the fridge, Ford crouched over him, Dipper watching anxiously. "Everything cool here?"

Ford got to his feet. "Dipper and I are going on an expedition—and unfortunately, he has to come along. Soos, do you have a spare backpack we can use for his supplies?"

"Uh, I think so—"

"Great," Dipper snapped. "This is just perfect. I've been waiting a month and a half for us to do something cool together, and when we're finally about to go on an expedition, it's ruined by him?" He gestured angrily at Bill. "He's already ruined the rest of summer!"

Bill said, "Hey, I didn't consent to this plan either."

"You shut up," Dipper snapped. "This is all your fault! You could have just left us alone, but...!" He let out a frustrated noise. He pushed past Soos out of the room and ran up the stairs.

Ah. Ford's shoulders slumped. Sometimes he wasn't quite sure where he'd misstepped in a conversation, but this time it was pretty obvious. Between this and the nearly-disastrous trip to Portland, Ford was well in the lead for Worst Grunkle of the Summer.

"Wow. You broke that kid's heart," Bill said. "Not too late to make it up to him by going back to the original plan."

Ford shot him a dirty look.

Bill shrugged. "I'm trying anything I can think of at this point!"

Ford sighed harshly, and left to follow Dipper upstairs.

Bill sat up and waited until Ford's footsteps had receded. Voice low, he said, "Questiony, listen, I need your help. Stanford's gone completely insane. You didn't see how he was ranting and raving before you got in here. Who knows what he'll do to me if he gets me alone outside the shack with only his junior sycophant as a witness—?"

Soos looked deeply uncomfortable, but he shook his head. "Not buying it, dawg."

Bill groaned.

####

Ford knocked, and gently pushed the kids' damaged door open a crack. "Dipper?"

Dipper grunted. He was sitting on his bed, chin in his hands, glaring down at his journal in his lap.

"Can I come in?"

Dipper grunted again. Ford wasn't being ignored, so he took that as permission to enter. He delicately sat next to Dipper and tried to figure out what to say next. (He was surprised at how firm the mattress was—and then realized the real reason he wasn't sinking as far into it as he expected.) "Dipper..."

"You don't need to say anything," he sighed. "You're right—Bill probably is up to something. If he wants to be in the shack so much, and won't give us a straight answer why, then... it's probably safer to keep him out of it." But he sounded so terribly resigned.

"All the same, I understand your disappointment," Ford said. "I'd far rather go hiking with you than with him."

Dipper nodded. "Yeah. It's just..." He trailed off.

"I know. I wanted this summer to be different, too." Ford sighed. "As soon as he's gone, I owe you another hiking trip."

Dipper nodded again. He mumbled, "I've never gone hiking before."

This was some way to experience it for the first time. "We could treat this like a practice round? A warm-up with lower gravity to make it easier. Next time will be a real trip—without any crises to worry about, and without Bill."

"I don't mind the crises," Dipper said. "I'm kind of used to them, actually. They're almost fun now."

In his mind, Ford knew that this was probably another thing that should earn him a Worst Grunkle award. But in his heart, he was proud of Dipper. That was an adventurer's attitude.

"It's just... I haven't been able to get away from him all summer," Dipper said. "And even when I'm avoiding him, Mabel's spending all her free time either with her friends or trying to reform him, and you're spending all your time trying to figure out how to kill him, so I barely see you two..."

And that wasn't even something Ford could blame on Bill, was it? He hadn't been spending his time trying to figure out how to kill Bill since he'd handed over the Quantum Destabilizer design to Fiddleford. He'd simply been... obsessing. Hiding and obsessing. Ford stared down at his hands guiltily. "Tell you what. As soon as this is over, we can go do—something. I don't know what yet, but we've got a couple of days to think it up. I've spent too much time underground the last few weeks, anyway. We may not be able to go on that big adventure until Bill's gone—but it's something, for now."

"Yeah, I'd like that. Thanks, Grunkle Ford."

Ford nudged him. "And as long as you do have to put up with Bill for this trip... look on the bright side. Haven't you been wanting to get a crack at him without your sister around? See if you can pry out any more alien wisdom before his execution?"

Dipper huffed—but one corner of his mouth reluctantly quirked up. "Thanks, but I'm starting to think that's a bad idea. Every time I try, he just says stuff that gives me nightmares."

"Well—consider it an intellectually broadening experience."

Dipper gave him a weak smile.

"Anyway, with a little luck, it won't be long before you'll never need to deal with him again."

####

Soos had an old Monster-Mon backpack with cracked vinyl around the straps that he hadn't used since he outgrew it in fifth grade. "Lucky I didn't throw it out when we moved. You never know when you're gonna need old stuff!"

Bill had no idea what he was supposed to take on a forced camping trip. He knew what humans took, but humans craved all kinds of material comforts that meant nothing to him. After a couple minutes staring at the bag forlornly, he stuck in a spare shirt and leggings—he doubted he'd need extra underwear or socks, right?—and the Pony Heist bedsheet he'd been using as his sole blanket the last month, his toothbrush and toothpaste, a cider six-pack, two boxes of cereal, a kazoo, and the TV remote.

"I need some first-aid supplies. In case of emergency," Bill told Soos.

"Sure, whaddaya need?"

"Bandages, painkillers, matches, and a knife."

"You got—" Soos paused, then pursed his lips at Bill disapprovingly.

Bill sighed. "Bandages and painkillers. And cold medicine. Woods get chilly."

He glanced up as he heard footsteps upstairs. Not much longer until he was dragged outside. He grimaced. "One more thing, Jesús. This is important."

"Whoa. Full-first-name important?" He stuck a bottle of cold syrup in the backpack, hit something hard, and peered in confusion at the six-pack.

"Stanford's being petty and refusing to believe anything I say, but I know you're not that stupid," Bill lied. "So listen: this thing will peak in a couple of days and then go back to normal. It's mostly harmless to humans—but once the peak has passed, gravity's coming back like that." Bill snapped his fingers. "So anyone you want to come out of this intact needs to do two things. One, the moment gravity completely disappears, they need to anchor themselves, as close to the ground as possible, before it comes back. And two, do not look at the sky. Got it?"

Soos hesitated; but then nodded. "Y-yeah, got it."

"Understand?"

"Understood."

"Good."

"So are you like... trying to protect the town now?"

Bill laughed bitterly. "I'm trying to cover my base. When this is all over, even if all my warnings were ignored, at least nobody will be able to say I didn't try. I could have sat on everything I know! But I didn't! And I'm going to rub. It. In. Ford's. Face." He punctuated each word with a jab to Soos's chest.

Soos endured the jabbing with a patience Bill didn't deserve. "Byyy protecting the town?"

Bill opened his mouth, reconsidered, and said, "Sure! Of course I'm protecting the town! Why would I want any harm to befall the citizens of my once and future capital?"

"I mean, no offense, but you befelled a lot of harm on us last year—"

"I did not," Bill snapped. "Everyone was perfectly comfortable in my throne of frozen human agony." He yanked the backpack's zipper shut, pulled it on, and pushed Soos aside to leave the kitchen.

Stan had stopped Ford at the foot of the stairs. "But if this is some nightmare dimension thing, isn't that just another reason not to take Bill outside? What if one of those wormholes opens up and he dives through? Maybe escaping back to his dimension will give him his power back, we don't know."

"I've considered that—but if that is what he's planning, all the more reason why he should stay with Dipper and me, so we can stop him if he tries anything."

"Are you nuts? It'll be two of you in the woods versus four of us here in the shack! We outnumber him more than you do! Plus walls and doors!"

"We have the hexed bracelets, he won't be able to escape us," Ford said.

"Aww, I get to share matching friendship bracelets with someone?" Bill gave Dipper and Ford what he hoped was his most obnoxious smile. "Who's the lucky guy?"

Scowling, Dipper raised his hand.

Bill's smile dimmed. "You are the lesser evil," he admitted grudgingly. "But I'm surprised ol' Six-Fingers doesn't want to keep as tight a grip on me as possible."

"We decided that if you try to kill your bracelet partner and escape, Grunkle Ford would have a better chance of avenging me than I would have avenging him."

Bill's brows shot up. "Ruthlessly utilitarian. Was that Stanford's idea?"

Ford ignored the question, pushing on with his conversation with Stan: "And anyway, there might be more people in the shack, but none of them would be me. I know him better than anyone else."

Bill laughed hard enough that his feet momentarily lifted off the floor. "Oh do you!"

Ford's gaze shot to Bill's face, eyes blazing with fury. "You know I do. I've spent thirty years learning every trick, every lie, every betrayal that's made you who you—"

"What's my favorite food."

Ford's mouth worked uselessly. "That—doesn't matter—"

"You think you know my innermost soul when you don't even know my favorite food?"

"Favorite... human food, or...?"

"Oh, sure, I'll give you a fighting chance. Human."

Ford chewed on the inside of his mouth for several seconds. Finally, he said, "Jalapeños."

Bill crossed the entryway, leaned into the hallway, and took a deep breath. "HEY, MABEL!"

From the far end of the house (where Mabel was seeing how high she could jump in the floor room), she shouted, "YEAH?"

"WHAT'S MY FAVORITE FOOD?"

"NACHOS WITH CHOCOLATE SAUCE AND SUMMER-SHAPED SPRINKLES!"

Bill gestured down the hall, ta-da. "THANK YOU!"

"I was close," Ford grumbled. "Nachos have jalapeños."

Stan said, "You're not even out of the house and he's getting under your skin. Are you sure you wanna—?"

"I am not," Ford said, "leaving him in the house. And if you'd heard how he was fighting to stay under this roof, you wouldn't trust him in here either."

Stan looked at Bill.

Bill looked Stan dead in the eyes and said, "I don't know what he's talking about. I agreed to go as soon as he asked."

"Oh, shut your—" Ford snatched the bracelets off the coat rack, flung one end at Bill, and handed Dipper the other. "Put these on. We're leaving."

Bill scowled, but considered his odds of successfully resisting, reluctantly put his end of the bracelet on, and yelled down the hall, "BYE, MABEL! I'M BEING KIDNAPPED BY YOUR UNCLE AGAINST MY WILL! I MAY NEVER RETURN!"

"I'LL MISS YOU FOREVER!"

Ford opened the door and gestured impatiently. Bill took a couple reluctant steps closer, but stopped to look at Soos and say, "Remember what I said. Do not let Mabel be in the air when gravity comes back, you know if someone doesn't watch her she'll launch herself as high as she can—"

Ford snapped, "Either you walk or I drag you, Cipher."

"I'm coming." He stepped outside, paused, and cast a worried look at the sky; then squeezed his eyes shut, lowered his head, and walked into the sunlight.

####

(That's this week's chapter! I'd love to hear your comments and thoughts. Next week: I'm gonna do my level best to shatter your hearts. Look forward to it!)

#bill cipher #human bill cipher #grunkle ford #stanford pines #(for the chapter)#fiddleford mcgucket #(for the art)#gravity falls #gravity falls fanart #gravity falls fic #fanart #my art #my writing #bill goldilocks cipher

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dana-chan-the-control-brain · 5 months

Text

An alternate dream take of what Eclipse could have done with the Star

I had a pretty weird dream that was spawned on by a bout of "not-feeling-well" (no fever, just general sinus headache and fatigue)

But this dream gave a pretty alternate scenario and what I think they should have done when Eclipse had the star in tsams.

Eclipse basically gained the star, and took over. He wiped Lunar's, Sun and Moon's memories, and kept them as a pets/slaves, along with Solar.

However, Solar never had their memory wiped. My brain didn't give me a reason for this. But as far as I can figure, the most Eclipse reason is that "You're an Eclipse, you remind me so much of myself." Again, it's another case of companionship, and a case of that SOMEONE needs to Acknowledge what Eclipse is doing and look how bad he's being. And who can better understand him then himself? (well, a version of himself)

Solar meanwhile is playing the long game, and is loyal to Eclipse for now...

But Solar slowly was trying to awaken Lunar's memories, make him realize all the abuse and pain he's put him and his "brothers" through. But Lunar's memories never awaken. But Lunar ends up fighting against Eclipse anyway, cause Eclipse was mean, and the alternate scenario Solar was preposing sounded better. So he'll fight for that. Also Solar played with and engaged with Lunar in a way Eclipse never did. So he liked that one better. (like my dream has this image of Lunar and Solar laughing and throwing a goose around while Eclipse is just pissy and annoyed with those two but not doing anything cus they're still loyal to him techinically)

Also, in this preposed dream scenario:

Moon not having memories actually works to his benefit here. Cause he can just rewrite them if this is all he knows. Who's to say "the sun and moon show" is nothing but lies and propaganda? Especially if Eclipse got to Moon before he had a chance to watch that Show first.

Moon thus being the hardest to convince, the most loyal to Eclipse and the major threat once Solar and Lunar start opposing.

Sun found out the truth awhile ago cus Eclipse's power on the star is loosening. As Eclipse weakening from the Star power he's using is still a thing. But Sun's scared to go against Eclipse and doesn't want to lose what little of his brother he feels he has, and is convinced wiping Moons memories was part of Eclipses plan since Sun in this au wouldn't have gotten the message that OG Moon left before Eclipse starts fucking shit up. (Moon losing his memories was still a result of KC wanting to be his own person, and KC is trying to build his own body with the help of the AI with no one knowing he's around. Because he wants to stop his son and get things under control)

I actually think if the show dynamic changed like this for a month, it would have been a fresh take, especially since in multiple realities, we see that Eclipse likes to keep Sun or Moon (sometimes both) as pets or servants. Even Evil Lunar does a similar thing with his Eclipse.

So yeah. Thanks sick-haze brain for brining me this.

@ayyy-imma-ninja @twinanimatronics

#tsams #the sun and moon show #danachan's rants

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lincolndjarin · 9 months

Text

Best Kept Secret

chapter thirteen : lunar interlude : vercopa (RE-UPLOAD)

ao3 link ✿ series masterlist ✩ main masterlist ✧

pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader

rating : 18+ mdni

word count : 3.5k

summary : the mandalorian does some thinking

warnings, etc. : language, angst, references to sex

A/N : i had to change accounts so this is a re-upload of my ongoing fic bks!!

He did it.

He did exactly what he knew he needed to do.

So why does he feel worse than ever?

The look on your face when he had lied so blatantly to you made him want to collapse in on himself. If someone else had made you that upset he would have caved their skull in, why does he deserve any less?

He did it. That’s what matters, even if he had to lie to get you to believe it, he ended things. He doesn’t bother taking off his armor as he collapses onto his mattress.

His eyes find the plastic flower on his nightstand. It’s a good reminder that he’s a bad person for what he’s put you through. He never should have slept with you.

He never should have loved you.

He deserves every form of torture that would be performed on him if they found out what the two of you had been doing.

He deserves damnation for what he has done.

And he gets just that when he sleeps.

Most of his dreams follow the same theme. You, in his cabin, sometimes he finds himself entangled against your naked form, sometimes it’s just laying on his twin bed, enjoying the warmth of each other.

Something is immediately off about the dream he’s in now.

His first thought is that this cabin is different.

It’s bigger. There’s more dressers, the bed is twice the size of his. His confusion is palpable as he tries to find you.

He knows he will if he looks.

You’re always there when he closes his eyes.

So he stands, and he walks around the house. It’s completely new to him yet so familiar and as he turns the corner and you’re there.

His breath hitches.

You’re sitting at the kitchen table, with a genuine smile, and your hair hanging down across your face. But what catches his eye the most is the little green baby in your arms. You pinch at his cheeks as he makes those all too familiar babbles that used to fill the Crest.

His heart is in his throat.

He can’t move. It’s like he’s staring down the greatest threat of his life and if he moves an inch it will attack.

Maybe he died in his sleep and this is heaven.

That doesn’t make sense, he’s done nothing to earn his place. Or it’s hell, and his torment is knowing he can’t stay here with you and Grogu, that he’ll have to wake up and live with what he’s put you through, and the kid will still be gone.

He’s content to stand in the doorway and watch this alternate reality for as long as he sleeps. His chest heaving as he takes in the sight of everything he’s ever wanted, just a few steps away.

The two most important people in his life, and in his reality he’s pushed you both away.

He could have kept the kid. He hadn’t been sure about leaving, he truly believes that if he had asked Grogu to stay that they could have been happy. But he was just so scared.

What if he got hurt while out on a hunt? What if he changed his mind and years down the road resented Din for keeping him? Or worst of all, what if plain and simple, he just got sick of Din?

And then he did the same thing to you.

He got scared.

He can’t already be regretting it, it’s been less than a day.

The sound of your voice calling him snaps him out of his trance.

You say his name.

His real name.

Din.

Second to the little noises the kid makes it’s the sweetest sound he’s ever heard. He’s not in control of himself as he stumbles towards you. Falling to his knees in front of your chair, scared to reach out to touch you because deep down he knows this isn’t real.

You should be upset. Upset that he’s lied to you, told you that he doesn’t want you, used you. You should be throwing insults into his face but instead you reach down to put a hand on his cheek and he’s vaguely aware of the fact that in this particular dream he isn’t wearing his helmet.

He’s so at ease from your touch he doesn’t care.

You don’t speak. You just use your thumb to rub gentle circles into the planes of his face. Eventually the house is gone, the kitchen is gone, the table and chairs are gone and it’s just you. Standing above him, caressing his face with one hand, holding the kid to your chest with the other.

He doesn’t dare move a muscle as he tries to burn the sight of the two of you into his memories.

He wakes up with a start, sitting upright in his bed, his hands clawing at the helmet as he gasps for air. He haphazardly tosses it onto the sheets as tries to catch his breath.

Wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his flight suit he stuffs some rations into his satchel and locks his helmet back on.

So he can’t stay in the cabin anymore.

He had never even brought you here but it reeks of your absence. And that dream didn’t help in the slightest.

There are whispers of you in every corner and crevice of his home. He’s not an idiot, he knows no matter where he goes there will always be traces of you. So there’s no sense avoiding it, he makes his way to the castle and stands guard outside your room.

He doesn’t sleep the rest of the night. He stands against the wall opposite your bedroom door. He can’t go back to sleep, he can’t handle that dream again. So he stays up until the sun rises.

He’s a bundle of nerves waiting for you to greet him, but you never do. You stay in your room the entire day, the only change in scenery is when Leo or one of the girls brings you food, he tries to catch a glimpse of you when the door is briefly open but he never does.

His heart hurts.

He doesn’t move. When the hallways are empty he eats his rations just for something to do. Sometimes he’ll turn up the external audio so he can hear you pacing around your room but most of the time it’s silent. He’ll stretch his legs every few hours, pacing the hall. And then he’ll sit and repeat.

He wants to go in.

He wants to tear the door down, kneel before you and beg for forgiveness. But he manages to resist.

He doesn’t sleep when the sun goes down.

When he feels his eyes starting to flutter he’ll chew on a ration.

Sometimes if he feels sleep creeping up on him he thinks of things to say to you in the morning.

He wants to say sorry. More accurately he wants to grovel at your feet and tell you he’s an idiot, that he was lying, that he didn’t mean a word of it and that he’s madly in love with you.

Of course he won’t do that.

He shouldn’t say anything.

It’s better that way. It’s better for the both of you.

Doesn’t mean he can’t fantasize about a world where he begs for forgiveness and you grant it.

Would you want him in that world? All of him, not just moments in secret when one of you craved the other. He wants mornings, noons, and nights. Would you give them to him?

He could take you away from here if you did.

It wouldn’t be easy but when your job is to find people who don’t want to be found you get pretty good at hiding. You could change your names, go get the kid, he could make his dream real.

Would you really want that though?

Of course you wouldn’t. Even if he hadn’t ended things so cruelly, you were a princess and he was just Din.

You wouldn’t want that cabin in the woods, you were too good for that. You deserved castles and gowns, not living in the woods with a Mandalorian.

So he won’t talk to you. He will simply resign himself to loving you from afar. (Or more accurately he will love you from a few steps behind you.) And he will leave you alone because he’s caused enough problems.

Well, if you came out of your room he would. But he can’t properly leave you alone if you won’t let him.

He’s exhausted as he sits against the door, willing himself to stay awake to avoid any more dreams. He turns up his audio for most of the day, listening to you mill about the room.

He wishes you’d give him a reason to come in, the sound of a scuffle, a yelp, for Makers sake, if you stub your toe he could use that as an excuse just to check in on you. But all he hears are the sounds of your muffled footsteps.

And he can’t keep his eyes open forever.

The combination of the flight suit and his armor makes him heat up when he sits still, especially as the sun sets and the light through the windows hits him. He isn’t sure when exactly he falls asleep but he’s back in that big cabin when he does.

He makes the executive decision this time to stay in bed.

He doesn’t want to see you, and he doesn’t want to see the kid. Because neither of you are real, and eventually you’ll be ripped away from him when he wakes up.

Of course his strategy doesn’t work because in this dream you bring Grogu to him. He tries to shield himself from his delusions, even in his dreams he knows it’s pitiful, a trained killer hiding under the blankets from a singular person and a sleeping child.

You still don’t speak. Gods he wishes you would speak, he wishes you would scream at him, shame him for his cowardice but instead you peel back the sheets just enough to put the kid between the two of you and lay with him, Grogu snoring through that tiny nose of his as you lay down with him, giving him that smile that makes his heart melt and his brain turn to mush. You lean forward and your forehead rests on his.

He knows he deserves this anguish but still, it’s ruthless.

Everything he could ever possibly want, under one blanket and it isn’t even fucking real.

He’s startled awake when the surface he’s laying on moves.

He doesn’t have a lot of time to come to his senses before he’s looking up and you’re there. The real you. The dream version could never compare to the real thing. That’s how he knows he isn’t sleeping anymore. You're clearer, confusingly you’re wearing simpler clothing. He can’t really think about that right now though because he’s hit with a wave of embarrassment.

He was the one who had ended things with you yet here he was, sitting outside your door like a dog who got locked out overnight.

You just step over him.

Just like that you’re over him.

Literally and apparently figuratively.

Huh.

He had assumed you had locked yourself in your room because you were trying to process everything, that you were trying to repair the parts of you that had been broken.

He had assumed you felt as terrible as he did.

But you seem fine, like nothing even happened.

He should be elated. That you’re not only fine but seem to be completely over it.

Instead he feels sick. He’s worried he’s going to vomit in his helmet because he can’t stop wondering if maybe you never even cared about him in the first place. It’s wrong, it’s a terrible thing to wonder and he can’t help but think of what an awful person he must be to have such a thought.

He follows behind you, as is his natural instinct but he feels like he needs to sit down again.

Did you ever care about him? He had only ended things with you because he couldn’t handle the idea of you loving him. If you loved him and he still couldn’t be with you he wouldn’t survive it.

Yet you seem perfectly fine.

And he can’t help but think that he ruined everything on a bad judgment call. He hasn’t felt this stupid since he almost got himself stuck in carbonite when he first bought the Crest.

He can’t focus on a thing you’re doing, yet he stays with you the entire time, he knows you grab books and he knows you return to your chambers and he knows that at some point he ended up back on the floor, leaning against your bedroom door again.

Maybe you had never even liked him as a friend.

He had never considered that you might have been exactly what he had claimed to be. Bored and in need of entertainment.

That isn’t possible, you had been so upset when he had ended things.

Of course you could have just been upset because he had been unnecessarily cruel.

He has no right to be bothered by this. This was his choice. His decision.

Maybe he chose wrong.

It’s a little late for thoughts like that.

He can’t just change his mind.

And he’s left to think about everything he possibly could have done differently as he fights sleep.

He doesn’t even know how he’s still standing when the sun rises and he groans as he gets to his feet.

Your ladies in waiting go in, and this time they actually stay in and he’s more awake then he’s been in days because he knows that you’re actually going to come out today. He braces himself to see that fire in you, tells himself that last night was a fluke, that you hadn’t been prepared to see him and now that you are you’ll want to argue and berate him and he can finally sort things out in his head.

But you don’t.

You barely even look at him and you’re already walking to the library like nothing happened.

Like it’s any other day.

He can’t think, he can’t form a coherent thought because you seem perfectly fine. He really hadn’t meant anything to you.

He had hoped that this confirmation would free him. That if it was true he wouldn’t feel an attraction to you anymore and he could finally get off this kriffing planet. But his adoration doesn’t waver for a second. He still feels exactly the same way except now he feels smaller. There is nothing worse than a problem that can’t be solved with a blaster.

He’s got big plans to spend his day trying not to give in to his mental and physical exhaustion while he does everything in his power to not think about how unbothered you look. But those plans are immediately halted when you freeze up right after you get into the library. He’s puzzled for a few seconds until he sees the nook and your voice echoes inside his helmet.

“Why is your favorite color green?”

The kid, the cabin, and you.

He wants to fall apart. He wants to collapse right there on the floor and he’s so tired he briefly considers it until he realizes you’re still not moving. He gives you a second, he knows better than to try and talk to you right now, his helmet has been silenced since the last time he had spoken to you.

He can’t be trusted to not beg for absolution.

Your eyes are glued on the nook and he swears you tremble slightly.

So you did care.

He can’t even take pleasure in that fact because his heart drops when he sees your expression. It’s like looking in a mirror.

What the hell is he supposed to do in this situation?

He’s faced enough deadly challenges throughout his bounty hunting career to know when to just go with your gut, so that’s what he does. He gently guides you away from the nook and sits you somewhere where you won’t have to look at it.

You look as small as he feels, there’s something so intimate about your misery that he can’t look any longer, if he does he’ll give in and all of this will have been for nothing. You’re strong, even though he wasn’t sure for a moment there he knows that you still have your fire so of course you pull yourself together. And when you speak, you address him as you task him with finding Leo and he’s so happy to not only hear your voice but to hear you sound okay that he does it without a second thought.

He desperately waits to hear you say more but you never do. He should have seen that coming. But he’s so weary at this point, he lets himself lean against the shelves and close his eyes, just for a second, the last thing he sees is you sketching something out on the papers Leo brought you.

Of course you’re there when he closes his eyes as well.

There’s no cabin, no kitchen, no bedroom, no kid. It’s just you this time. And he is trapped in a never ending loop of you. Every few minutes he’ll wake up, turning to make sure you’re still there, before drifting back into unconsciousness. You’re there too, waiting for him. It’s a funny sort of hell. To wake up and see you there, to fall asleep and see you there. He can’t escape for a single second.

What else is new?

The dream you isn’t real. He can’t bring himself to interact with her, because even the fantasy of you that he has conjured up doesn’t live up to the real thing. The real you is right there, everytime he slips back into consciousness he turns to see you. He’s never been a devout man but looking at you now he gets it. How people can be religious. The idea that you can adore something so much that you commit your life to it. He shouldn’t be thinking about you like that, at this point it’s unhealthy, but he’s just so tired, and you’re everywhere, and it’s hard to focus on anything but the look of pride on your face as you stare at your drawing.

The dream you is too polished and shiny, she always seems so quiet. This is the real you, pleased with yourself, fighting back a smile because you’ve accomplished something.

The sound of your chair pushing backwards wakes him from his strange middle ground of awake and asleep as he straightens up. He shouldn’t have let that happen, he doesn’t sleep in front of people, there’s too much risk involved but as much as your presence torments him it also soothes him.

You seem like you’re in a rush to get back to your room and curiosity gets the best of him, so he allows himself a glance at your work as you scramble to get your things together.

The table is covered in sketches of weapons and ships, a lot of which he recognizes from his book.

That’s what you had been drawing.

He sees an ink depiction of the Crest and he can’t stop himself as he shoves it into his pocket, careful not to crinkle it.

Why did he do that?

He shouldn’t have done that.

But it’s too late because you’re out the door already which means he needs to be out the door. He trails behind you like always and there is the faintest hesitation from you where he thinks you might just invite him in, he’s imagining things, he has to be. He doesn’t think further on it as you close the door. He can barely stay upright and when he’s sure you’re out of earshot he lets himself slump back down onto the floor.

He reaches into his pocket and holds the drawing out in front of him.

He hadn’t told you about the Crest. This was just a freak coincidence. It’s a nice drawing though, you did it justice.

He puts it into his bag, careful not to fold or crease it.

He stops fighting sleep, he can’t keep this up forever so he lets his eyes close with a sigh.

His vision fading to black as he feels a tap on his shoulder, opening his eyes he’s expecting to see you and the kid but instead of the house he’s still in the hall and instead of you it’s a rather displeased looking Togruta girl.

He recognizes her as one of your ladies in waiting, he’s never learned her name. When she speaks she doesn’t sound even the slightest bit frightened of him like any of the other servants in the castle, she sounds furious.

“What did you do to her?”

I am no longer doing taglists so follow @lincolndjarinnotifs and turn on notifications to be notified when new chapters are posted !!

#lincolndjarin #the mandalorian #best kept secret #bks #din djarin #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x you #din dijarin x reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin fanfiction #RE UPLOAD

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robsheridan · 4 months

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BATTLE SANTAS trading cards were all the rage of Christmas 1988, hyping kids up for a toy line and film franchise that never came to be after Christian protesters halted production.

The cards, produced before the first film was finished, tell the story of a multiverse of cosmic Santas who arrive from across time on an array of Battle Sleighs to help Earth’s Santa save Christmas future from the forces of Hell. On Santa’s lunar battlestation workshop (where he relocated after the North Pole was ravaged in The Santa Wars), his elves built armed vehicles from old toy parts and the re-animated corpses of reindemons, the hellbeasts of the demon army unleashed on Earth after a portal to hell was opened in the North Pole when oil companies drilled near Santa's Earth Workshop (thanks to Reagan’s deregulation of protected lands).

The early release of the trading cards was meant to generate buzz for the film’s funding and toy licensing, but the plan backfired, as the cards revealed a controversial plot point: Mecha-Jesus, the Cybersavior, a towering robotic kaiju Jesus built by the Battle Santas as their last stand against Satan. Mecha-Jesus is piloted by the real Jesus, who the Battle Santas summon back to mortal form. When Christian groups heard about children trading cards that depicted Jesus eviscerating enemies with Nazareth Napalm missiles and shooting Light of the Lord laser beams from his robo-eyes while shouting “The Power of Christ compels you to DIE!” over heavy metal music, a firestorm of protests made the entire BATTLE SANTAS property toxic to investors, leaving the trading cards the only glimpse of a Christmas epic that never came to be.

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NOTE: This alternate reality story is part of my NightmAIres narrative art series (visit that link for a lot more). NightmAIres are windows into other worlds and interconnected alternate histories, conceived/written by me and visualized with synthography and Photoshop.

If you enjoy my work, consider subscribing to my free newsletter to stay up to date on my projects, or supporting me on Patreon for frequent exclusive hi-res wallpaper packs, behind-the-scenes features, downloads, events, contests, and an awesome fan community. Direct fan support is what keeps me going as an independent creator, and it means the world to me.

#christmas #80s movies #christmas movies #alternate history #80s sci fi #santa claus #rob sheridan #nightmAIres #battle santas #fake movies #synthography #ai sci-fi

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snowe-zolynn-rogers · 7 months

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I don’t like how canon’s going so I shall simply introduce you all to the alternative reality of the show that has lived in my head rent free since Lunar and Old Moon died.

Blood Moon and Harvest Moon are living as Sun’s cats. Sun doesn’t know this, Blood Moon and Harvest Moon are too busy getting spoiled and pampered and loved on to tell Sun, nor do they have the voice box to do so.

Old Moon separating from KC didn’t kill him but made a new AI, New Moon, that took over their body while Old Moon is just inactive because he thought he’d die and turned himself into a catatonic state in their head.

New Moon has no idea Old Moon is alive and neither does literally ANYONE else. Not even Old Moon knows he’s alive.

Eclipse does not get the star. After Sun tried to kill him, he went into hiding and became a better person so he could eventually show his family he’s changing so he doesn’t get another murder attempt for his head.

Solar Flare and Eclipse split eventually, Flare stays because he knows Eclipse is lonely and he’s trying to change and he appreciates this.

Flare also sneaks in and deletes the encrypted file he sent to Old Moon of the way to kill every one of Eclipse’s backups and Eclipse himself.

KC still goes off working at the soup kitchen and having tinder dates. But he’s grieving his children in assumptions that Sun has killed all three of them (four if he includes Flare, which he does).

Lunar doesn’t die because Eclipse doesn’t kill him. Lunar is the one to find Eclipse handing out food and blankets to homeless people and just yoinks him home and demands Lunar, Eclipse, and Flare play Uno together. Monty walks in on this and is completely shocked and confused.

Jigsaw comes in like a bat out of hell and does make a New Blood Moon. New BM almost instantaneously hates him and he tosses him off to the daycare so they get two new brothers, neat.

KC comes back once Sun and New Moon send word that he technically has two new kids. KC yoinks them, New BM gets to enjoy living the hippie life in a van in a forest with their dad. New BM gets renamed Zodiac and Horoscope so they can become their own people.

Jigsaw finds out Eclipse is alive. Somehow. He proceeds to scream and whine to Eclipse about how he wants a family and ‘how unfair it was that New BM got a family’.

Eclipse tells him to just reconcile with Moon and Sun. Jigsaw does this. And accidentally tells them that Eclipse is alive.

Sun and New Moon hunt down Eclipse and find him and Flare playing Scrabble. They do not kill him. They just call KC and KC’s camper van now resides in Lunar’s backyard. Lunar moves back into the daycare.

Lunar finally meets Sun’s cats and immediately points out that the cats are Blood Moon and Harvest Moon. Sun hands them over to New Moon to put into new bodies. KC gets another call. Sun gets two new cats. Blood Moon and Harvest Moon keep their cat ears and tails out of spite.

New Moon eventually feels Old Moon moving around in that head of theirs. KC is sent in as a volunteer for investigation. KC sighs and helps them separate New Moon into a new body so Old Moon has his body back. New Moon gets renamed Orbit.

Moon constantly jokes afterward that KC owes him six months of back child support for ‘their illegitimate son that they technically made together’, aka Orbit. KC always jokes back asking for joint custody or visitation. Orbit continues being an adorable boy and following in Moon’s footsteps.

Good Eclipse flees his dimension and becomes part of the main family. KC gets yet another call and yet another kid. KC can no longer fit his family in the camper van in the backyard. Everyone nicknames him Solar. Eclipse claims he, Jigsaw, and Solar are triplets.

The old twins and new twins have a show together. So do Eclipse, Solar and Jigsaw. Lunar’s show is with KC instead of Earth and jokingly gets called the Peepaw and Grandson Show.

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arcane-trail · 1 year

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What are the different “types” of witches?

During the infamous witch persecutions that happened across Europe and America between 1450 and 1750, the members of the Church that led the inquisitions had a very clear idea of what they meant by a “witch”. These were mostly women, but sometimes men, who had entered into pacts with the devil and his servants.

But the term “witch” has been used to refer to many different types of people across the centuries. In the Viking age, Norse witches were principally seeresses who could also detect negative energies that might be affecting a household or community. In the Greco-Roman world, witches and magicians were again principally diviners. In ancient Egypt, they wrote down spells to heal or remove hexes. In early medieval Europe, they were often wise women and healers who provided alternative medical care.

In the modern world, when someone refers to themselves as a witch, it could mean various things. Witchcraft is a very open practice, and you do not need to fit into a specific mold. That said, the witchcraft community has coined some terms to help define the different types of witches. Below is a list of some of the most common types of witches.

Coven Witch

A coven witch is a practitioner who is a member of a coven, which is simply a community of witches. Covens gather to teach one another and to pool their energy and power to have a greater impact on the world around them. Covens will sometimes have formal structures and admissions processes and are usually led by a high priestess or priest.

Solitary Witch

A solitary practitioner is a witch who prefers to practice on their own. Their journey of learning and self-discovery is between them and a higher power, and they may choose not to tell others about their calling and practice. Solitary practitioners choose this approach and are not simply solitary due to a lack of other witches.

Hedge Witch

Hedge witches tend to be natural witches who use the power of nature to create remedies and harness certain powers. They have great respect for nature, will often work with the elements, and tend to be knowledgeable herbalists. Hedge witches are often minimalist and practical, cutting away much of the ritual that has developed around certain magical practices.

Ceremonial Witch

Ceremonial witches actively engage in rituals and ceremonies to tap into the magic that exists within the universe. This often involved being part of an order that teaches the required rituals. The most well-known example of a ceremonial magic order is the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn.

Baby Witch

The term baby witch is used for someone who is just starting out on the witchcraft journey, so it is just another term for a beginner witch. Very often, baby witches have eclectic interests as they are still exploring broadly to find the type of witchcraft that they feel most connected to. There is no specific point when a person stops being a baby witch, but it is usually when they feel confident to speak authoritatively about their craft.

Eclectic Witch

Not every witch chooses to specialize in a specific area, and some continue to have a broad and eclectic practice incorporating several different traditions. These types of witches are called eclectic, and they will often mi traditions to create new rituals and approaches.

Divination Witch

Divination witches concentrate principally on seeing the future or gaining a deep understanding of the current reality to make educated inferences about the future. The method of their practice can take many different forms. They may read the Tarot, cast runestones, read palms, commune with the spiritual realm, or something else.

Cosmic Witch

Cosmic witches, also sometimes called Lunar witches, use astronomy and astrology as the basis of their craft. They are highly aware of the impact that the movement of the heavenly bodies have on the earth, especially the moon. But rather than just telling you your horoscope, they use their knowledge of these energies to affect active change in the world.

Death Witch

A death witch is another term for a necromancer, but rarely does their practice involve bringing back and controlling the dead. Witches who work as mediums and gain insight and power by asking the deceased for their assistance.

Green Witch

Green witches are very connected with nature and the elements and principally work towards healing and nurturing. They may create herbal remedies or engage in natural powers, such as the chakras, to nurture balance and alignment in the body and spirit.

Kitchen Witch

Kitchen witches are a variety of green witch, but they focus on imbuing their cooking and baking with magic, often to heal and invigorate those who eat. They use their knowledge of the magical properties of ingredients and may engage in rituals to imbue their baking with specific energies.

Energetic Witch

Energetic witches are often drawn toward the vibrations of crystals and the auras of individuals. They are good at reading, harnessing, and directing the natural energies of objects to influence the energies of individuals and situations.

Sex Witch

Sex witches use the power and clarity that comes with orgasm to push into the spiritual realm. This can be a solitary practice, or one done with others. Probably the most famous sex magic practitioner was Aleister Crowley.

Folk Witch

Folk witches tend to preserve, maintain, and recreate historic magic and ritual practices established by pre-Christian ancestors.

Hereditary Witch

Hereditary witches come from a family of witches and will inherit or learn their practice from their elders. Their family has often been the shamanic heart of a community for generations.

Innate Witch

Innate witches are individuals born with certain abilities that look like magic. These can be hereditary, but this is not always the case. The ability, whether it be mediumship or the ability to heal, can vary greatly.

Grey Witch

People will often talk about black and white witches. The idea is that black witches use their power for their own personal gain, while white witches use their power for the greater good and follow the principle of “do no harm”. Grey witches, like white witches, tend to be driven by their desire to do good in the world, but they may be willing to do curses or hexes to punish those they see as evil doers.

You can see the broad number of different ways that a person may consider themselves a witch, and this is far from a comprehensive list. Plus, not every witch will fit into one of the categories that the witchcraft community use as shorthand to communicate about their practice. So, how would you define yourself as a witch?

[Full article here]

#grimoire #sex witch #kitchen witch #witchcraft #wicca #wiccan #witch #witches of tumblr #green witch #crystal witch #death witch #cosmic witch #divination #pagan #baby witch #beginner witch #ecclectic witch

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elminx · 3 months

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Numerology, Part 2: Musings on Numerology in Spellwork

Note: I began my discussion about Numerology, how it relates to astrology, and why I use it here. This post is about the practical application of numerology. Please refer to the first post for how to calculate the numerology for specific years, months, and lunar events.

When thinking about Numerology, it is important to remember that it works sympathetically. Geometric shapes and numbers have intrinsic cultural meanings which we can apply magically. We will spend some time discussing the shapes made by varying numbers - the shape of the number itself and the shape made by combining that number of objects. You probably already understand how Numerology works in spellwork and might even use Numerology in your magic practice without knowing it! Numbers commonly used magically are 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 8, and 9. I will focus on those numbers in this post. Numerology will change somewhat based on cultural practices and superstitions. If you are not American, your mileage may vary.

It is wise to keep in mind that numerology reads like an ascending story that begins at 1 and ends at 9 - once you understand this story, you can identify where your intended spellwork falls and apply numerology more accurately.

Number 1 1 is the number of beginnings. Everything starts with 1. When we are born and take our first breath, we individualize and enter selfhood. This is why the number one is connected, through the 1st house and the Ascendant (dictated by the exact minute of our first breath), with Aries and the planet Mars. One can look at all ideas as intellectualized pregnancy; we need energy and oomph to bring that idea out of our minds and into reality. That energy (Mars) comes from the number 1. In this way, any start to a project or beginning of any kind can be augmented by the use of 1 numerologically. We do this instinctively with based candle magic (burning a single candle), by writing one focused petition, or by making a spell bag or a spell jar. Other than the Number 9, the Number 1 is the most complete number. Many types of spellwork can be achieved with a single candle burn or other action. To begin a longer project or to perform a one-off spell, apply the Number 1.

We have all heard the phrase "One is the loneliest number". Though this is true for many, there is one big caveat to it: if you are not a number 1. Those who carry Aries (or the first house) strongly in their charts know this intimately. Many tasks are better performed alone. When that doesn't work, we move on to the later numbers.

Practical Applications: 1 Magic is fairly simplistic. You can burn one candle, write a petition for 1 thing, create 1 spell pouch, or enchant 1 item. This is really the basis of magic. The energy of 1 can be combined well with the energy of any of the other numbers as I will outline below.

Number 2

Number 2 is a connection number; it can be used to combine or to separate. It is often used in relationship spells of all kinds - one might burn two candles in a movement spell to bring two people together or in a cord-cutting to create distance. There are also candles made with two wicks that might be used for marriage work for good or ill. That said, relationships are not the only thing we want to draw into our lives. If your magic involves you and anything else, you can use the powers of two to draw together or push apart.

An easy way to think about the sympathetic magic of the Number 2 is to consider a line between two points. You can strengthen that connection by decreasing the distance between these two points or weaken it by moving them farther away from each other. Or, alternatively, you can interpose something between the two objects, breaking the line altogether. Practical Applications: Because of the nature of 2 energy, it also almost always includes the energy of the Number 1 as well. In this way, when doing relationship work, one will use one candle to represent the first partner and the second candle to represent the other. Alternatively, we can use one candle and a spell jar to bring in or remove, depending on our needs. Sometimes, especially in separation work, we may combine a third candle or object (therefore invoking the number 3) that we move one candle towards. Sort of a "fuck off and go find something else" energy. Number 3 If you look at it from a procreative perspective, three is a creation number. It takes the combined DNA of two individuals to make a baby and in this way, three naturally comes out of the combining of two number 1s. This shows the natural association with fertility and fecundity magic of all kinds, but don't let that pigeonhole your thinking about the number.

Undoubtedly, 3 is the most commonly used number in modern witchcraft and other esoteric practices. Whether it's within the Christian idea of the Father, Son, and the Holy Spirit, the Wiccanized Maiden, Mother, and Crone, the Threefold Law, and many other practices, three is almost always considered a very magical number. And it is!

An easy way to visualize how to use the number 3 is to think about the triangle. A triangle has a base with two connected points and a third point offset from them. Depending on how you draw your triangle, it can be used to increase or decrease energy. An upright triangle is believed to increase energy whereas a downward-facing triangle is believed to decrease energy. (you see this in the folk magic of Abracadabra, as an example) Practical Applications: Incorporating a triangle shape into your magic is an easy way to bring the number 3 into play. Additionally, you could burn 3 candles or use 3 items in your spellwork. A great "basic" creation ritual is formed when you use 1 candle + 1 oil + 1 herb in a spell. Here you are adding the Number 1 of new beginnings with the Number 3 of creation.

Number 4

The number 4 is a stabilizing number. It is highly represented in our world (we acknowledge four seasons Spring, Summer, Fall, and Winter, the directions North, South, East, and Wes)t, and in magic with the four common elements of Earth, Air, Fire, and Water. We marvel at the longevity of objects like the Egyptian pyramids which have four sides.

The Number 4 can be represented as open (an equal-armed cross) or closed (a square). As one might imagine, for ultimate stability, a square is advised. A square 4 is complete, it needs no outside influence - this can be highly advantageous for certain types of magic where you want to control something or hold something in place. Alternatively, four energy can remain open and than it carries the energy of all. Open 4 energy carries with it the liminality of the crossroads: it contains everything and can travel everywhere. This echoes the prevailing idea that through the four primal elements of earth, air, fire, and water, control of all things is possible. Pathfinding, compass magic, road opening, and many other types of magic often invoke 4 energy. In this way, you are turning the inner creation of 3 into reality and forcing it out and into the world.

Practical Applications: When you put something into a box to control it, you are invoking the energy of the number 4 (and some of the number 6). Calling the elements to complete a magic circle of protection is also invoking the 4 energy of control. 4 naturally combines with 1 energy quite well. It is common in candle magic to separate the burning surface into four quadrants: sometimes the past/present/mental/physical, or other times, the elemental energies. This can be used for divination purposes (reading whether the candle wax flows amongst these quadrants). Alternatively, it is common to burn 1 primary candle and 4 support candles when trying to accomplish a complicated task. This combination is especially well applied for things like building long-term wealth or growing a business, topics that are well supported by the structure of 4 energy. One can also burn one candle with lines leading away in the four cardinal directions, this directs the energy of your 1 intention out into all the corners of the world. Number 5

The number 5 can be seen as a tense number that breaks the perfect symmetry of the 4-sided square. You may notice that five is considered a tense number in the minor arcana of the tarot that often indicates conflicts and strife. Alternatively, the 5 Major Arcana card in the tarot is the Hierophant which shows the other way that five energy can be used magically: to focus.

This has been used traditionally in magic through the shape of the pentacle or pentagram. Here, in modern magic, the four elements of magic are joined by a fifth: spirit. For some, spirit is considered to reside within us all but others view it as a Higher Power, much like the Hierophant or "Pope" of the major arcana. I want to note a connection here to the 5th House, the Sun, and Leo - all rulers of the number 5, and the mythology of how Jesus was born under the sign of the King of Kings which would almost certainly make him a Leo. In this way, 5 is our power number. You can use the number 5 to increase or decrease the power of yourself or another - especially through the use of the upright (power up) or down turned (power down) five-pointed star. Practical Applications: I often see the use of 5 in magic through the shape of the pentacle. Point the star upwards for an increase in power or downwards for a decrease in power. A pentacle can be drawn onto a surface, made with an arrangement of five candles, or drawn in the air with your finger or tool of choice.

Number 8

Though I find reference to the number 8 less often in magical lore, I think that it is important to mention here. If you turn an eight on its side you can immediately see that it is an auroboros or infinity sign. This gives an important hint as to the meaning and uses of this number.

As an infinity sign, the energy of 8 is neverending. This energy can be harnessed for beneficial and baneful magic alike. Want to trip somebody's life up? Put them in an endless cycle of not having enough or of being forced to repeat the same lessons that they inevitably can't seem to master. Alternatively, do you want all the money that goes out of your house to return to you? 8 can do that, too. What about the love that you send out into the world? With the number 8, the possibilities are endless. I will caution that the number 8 is more fiddly and you have to be willing to accept the nadirs that come with the apexes of this energy. As an example, if you are trying to save money, that eight money trick wouldn't work so well because it is predicated on the idea that money is going out to come back in. I would instead look to the number 4 combined with 3 (see also that pyramid energy) for money matters of that kind. Practical Applications: What comes around, goes around. Draw an infinity symbol, and go from there. You can put a candle representing yourself or your target on one "end" and the thing that you want to return to them at the other. Focus on the cycling of energy here, it is easy to manipulate energy around this shape. You can use your pen, your finger, or some other object to direct it if you wish. For returning magic, consider writing your intention in the pattern of an infinity sign. Because breathwork is cyclical, it holds a natural affinity with the number 8. Try breathing in and out prosperity while imagining it as an ever-returning infinity sign between you and the world as a way to get yourself in the right headspace to perform some money magic.

Number 9

As the last of our base numerological numbers, 9 is the number of endings and completion. This can be used to stop something in its tracks or to bring a long-standing project to fruition.

Practical Applications: Many traditional spells call for burning a candle or performing a ritual for nine days; this invokes the energy of completion. Also, all 3x3 magic uses the energy of the number 9; the idea here is that the creation of 3 performed 3 times will reinforce your final result (9). I will write more about 3x3 spells in particular as they are a topic worth their own post. -----------------------------------------

My goal in writing this series is to take numerology out of the hands of the New Age woo-machine and place it where it rightfully belongs, in our magic. No matter how mathy you are, numbers still exist. They make up a fundamental way in which we all collectively choose to view the world. We can use that. Moreover, numbers are ALREADY in our magic. If nothing else, I hope this series helps you to understand why a particular writer might call for you to use 3 cloves or burn a candle for 9 days.

Do you need to use numerology in your magic? Absolutely not. (Why do I need to keep saying that?!?) Can it help your magic?

Absolutely.

Do you like my work? You can support me over on Kofi by tipping me, purchasing art or an astrological report, or becoming a monthly supporter of my writing.

#numerology #witchblr #words #mine #spell crafting

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theartisticpixelbit · 27 days

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Alright, It's finally time for Twilight's B.B.B.F.F! I didn't change his design too much, mostly just added a beard, grey'd his coat and styled his hair. I did add a few healed scars, he's the captain of the Canterlot Royal Guard, of course he's going to have a few.

════ •✧• ════ MIDDLE NAMES WORK THE SAME AS LAST NAMES IN MY AU, MOST CHILDREN TAKE THE LAST NAME OF WHICHEVER PARENT THEY WANT ════ •✧• ════

~Bio~ Name: Shining 'Star' Armor Nicknames: B.B.B.F.F (Twilight Sparkle), Gender: Male (Straight) Race: Unicorn Parents: Twilight Velvet (Mother), Night Light (Father) Siblings: Twilight 'Star' Sparkle Partner: Mi Amore Cadenza (Wife), Queen Chrysalis (One Night Stand) Children: Mi Amore Aphrodite 'Flurry Heart' (Daughter), Mi Amore Ares 'Platinum Shield' (Son), Mi Amore Eros 'Crystal Reflection' (Adoptive Child) Other Relatives: Celestial 'Del' Dawn (Aunt-In-Law), Lunar ‘Del’ Dusk (Aunt-In-Law), Princess Amore (Ancestor-In-Law)

~Headcanons~ 🛡️ The day Twilight was born, Cadence and Shining Armor stayed in the waiting room, playing games and butting horns jokingly, practicing for his dream of becoming a Royal Guard 🛡️ Shining doesn't know how to feel about his aunt-in-law, Celestia, married to an alternate reality version of the stallion that tried to take his's wife's kingdom from her three times. 🛡️ Shining Armor is not only the husband to Princess Cadence, he is also the top of her Royal Guard. He spends years training new recruits. 🛡️ Although his look and behavior is rather jock-like Shining actually really likes to enjoy the nerdy things in life like reading comics and attending monthly dnd sessions with his friends. He also adored reading books with his L.S.B.F.F (Little Sister Best Friend Forever).

🛡️Once a month he has Spike, Big Mac, Discord, and a couple of his old school friends over for D&D sessions.🛡️ Shining Armor was the firstborn to Twilight Velvet and Night Light. 🛡️ His grandfather on his mother's side was captain of the Canterlot royal guard. 🛡️ Shining Armor dreamed from a young age to be captain of the royal guard one day. He worked hard to prove himself and was a natural at shielding magic.

[Image Description: A digital art reference sheet of a redesigned Shining Armor from My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic. He is a male unicorn pony with a light grey coat, his mane is a mix of 3 different hues of blue, a dark navy, a lighter navy, and a sky blue streak, he has a medium sized beard with the same colors. He wears a golden wedding ring on his unicorn horn, a golden crest with his royal guard symbol on his chest, and golden metal shoes on his front two hooves. He has long straight fetlocks on his back hooves. His back two hooves are a navy blue. His cutie mark is a golden shield adorned with different shade’s of gold and a purple six pointed star. His horn is also displayed casting a magenta colored magic. The image also includes a watermark reading 'TheArtisticPixelBit'. End ID]

#(✿~autistic_artist~✿)#(✿my_art✿)#mlp #redesign #art #oc #mlp art #my little pony #shining armor #image ids

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luckbealincoln · 10 months

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Best Kept Secret

chapter thirteen : lunar interlude : vercopa

THIS SERIES HAS BEEN MOVED AND RE-UPLOADED TO ANOTHER ACCOUNT. WHICH CAN BE FOUND HERE. THIS POST STILL EXISTS AS AN ARCHIVE BUT THIS ACCOUNT IS NO LONGER ACTIVE!!

pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader

rating : 18+ mdni

word count : 3.5k

summary : the mandalorian does some thinking

warnings, etc. : language, angst, references to sex

He did it.

He did exactly what he knew he needed to do.

So why does he feel worse than ever?

He did it. That’s what matters, even if he had to lie to get you to believe it, he ended things. He doesn’t bother taking off his armor as he collapses onto his mattress.

His eyes find the plastic flower on his nightstand. It’s a good reminder that he’s a bad person for what he’s put you through. He never should have slept with you.

He never should have loved you.

He deserves every form of torture that would be performed on him if they found out what the two of you had been doing.

He deserves damnation for what he has done.

And he gets just that when he sleeps.

Something is immediately off about the dream he’s in now.

His first thought is that this cabin is different.

It’s bigger. There’s more dressers, the bed is twice the size of his. His confusion is palpable as he tries to find you.

He knows he will if he looks.

You’re always there when he closes his eyes.

So he stands, and he walks around the house. It’s completely new to him yet so familiar and as he turns the corner and you’re there.

His breath hitches.

His heart is in his throat.

He can’t move. It’s like he’s staring down the greatest threat of his life and if he moves an inch it will attack.

Maybe he died in his sleep and this is heaven.

He’s content to stand in the doorway and watch this alternate reality for as long as he sleeps. His chest heaving as he takes in the sight of everything he’s ever wanted, just a few steps away.

The two most important people in his life, and in his reality he’s pushed you both away.

He could have kept the kid. He hadn’t been sure about leaving, he truly believes that if he had asked Grogu to stay that they could have been happy. But he was just so scared.

What if he got hurt while out on a hunt? What if he changed his mind and years down the road resented Din for keeping him? Or worst of all, what if plain and simple, he just got sick of Din?

And then he did the same thing to you.

He got scared.

He can’t already be regretting it, it’s been less than a day.

The sound of your voice calling him snaps him out of his trance.

You say his name.

His real name.

Din.

He’s so at ease from your touch he doesn’t care.

He doesn’t dare move a muscle as he tries to burn the sight of the two of you into his memories.

He wakes up with a start, sitting upright in his bed, his hands clawing at the helmet as he gasps for air. He haphazardly tosses it onto the sheets as tries to catch his breath.

Wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his flight suit he stuffs some rations into his satchel and locks his helmet back on.

So he can’t stay in the cabin anymore.

He had never even brought you here but it reeks of your absence. And that dream didn’t help in the slightest.

He doesn’t sleep the rest of the night. He stands against the wall opposite your bedroom door. He can’t go back to sleep, he can’t handle that dream again. So he stays up until the sun rises.

His heart hurts.

He wants to go in.

He wants to tear the door down, kneel before you and beg for forgiveness. But he manages to resist.

He doesn’t sleep when the sun goes down.

When he feels his eyes starting to flutter he’ll chew on a ration.

Sometimes if he feels sleep creeping up on him he thinks of things to say to you in the morning.

He wants to say sorry. More accurately he wants to grovel at your feet and tell you he’s an idiot, that he was lying, that he didn’t mean a word of it and that he’s madly in love with you.

Of course he won’t do that.

He shouldn’t say anything.

It’s better that way. It’s better for the both of you.

Doesn’t mean he can’t fantasize about a world where he begs for forgiveness and you grant it.

Would you want him in that world? All of him, not just moments in secret when one of you craved the other. He wants mornings, noons, and nights. Would you give them to him?

He could take you away from here if you did.

It wouldn’t be easy but when your job is to find people who don’t want to be found you get pretty good at hiding. You could change your names, go get the kid, he could make his dream real.

Would you really want that though?

Of course you wouldn’t. Even if he hadn’t ended things so cruelly, you were a princess and he was just Din.

You wouldn’t want that cabin in the woods, you were too good for that. You deserved castles and gowns, not living in the woods with a Mandalorian.

Well, if you came out of your room he would. But he can’t properly leave you alone if you won’t let him.

He’s exhausted as he sits against the door, willing himself to stay awake to avoid any more dreams. He turns up his audio for most of the day, listening to you mill about the room.

And he can’t keep his eyes open forever.

He makes the executive decision this time to stay in bed.

He doesn’t want to see you, and he doesn’t want to see the kid. Because neither of you are real, and eventually you’ll be ripped away from him when he wakes up.

He knows he deserves this anguish but still, it’s ruthless.

Everything he could ever possibly want, under one blanket and it isn’t even fucking real.

He’s startled awake when the surface he’s laying on moves.

He was the one who had ended things with you yet here he was, sitting outside your door like a dog who got locked out overnight.

You just step over him.

Just like that you’re over him.

Literally and apparently figuratively.

Huh.

He had assumed you had locked yourself in your room because you were trying to process everything, that you were trying to repair the parts of you that had been broken.

He had assumed you felt as terrible as he did.

But you seem fine, like nothing even happened.

He should be elated. That you’re not only fine but seem to be completely over it.

He follows behind you, as is his natural instinct but he feels like he needs to sit down again.

Did you ever care about him? He had only ended things with you because he couldn’t handle the idea of you loving him. If you loved him and he still couldn’t be with you he wouldn’t survive it.

Yet you seem perfectly fine.

And he can’t help but think that he ruined everything on a bad judgment call. He hasn’t felt this stupid since he almost got himself stuck in carbonite when he first bought the Crest.

Maybe you had never even liked him as a friend.

He had never considered that you might have been exactly what he had claimed to be. Bored and in need of entertainment.

That isn’t possible, you had been so upset when he had ended things.

Of course you could have just been upset because he had been unnecessarily cruel.

He has no right to be bothered by this. This was his choice. His decision.

Maybe he chose wrong.

It’s a little late for thoughts like that.

He can’t just change his mind.

And he’s left to think about everything he possibly could have done differently as he fights sleep.

He doesn’t even know how he’s still standing when the sun rises and he groans as he gets to his feet.

But you don’t.

You barely even look at him and you’re already walking to the library like nothing happened.

Like it’s any other day.

He can’t think, he can’t form a coherent thought because you seem perfectly fine. He really hadn’t meant anything to you.

“Why is your favorite color green?”

The kid, the cabin, and you.

He can’t be trusted to not beg for absolution.

Your eyes are glued on the nook and he swears you tremble slightly.

So you did care.

He can’t even take pleasure in that fact because his heart drops when he sees your expression. It’s like looking in a mirror.

What the hell is he supposed to do in this situation?

Of course you’re there when he closes his eyes as well.

What else is new?

The dream you is too polished and shiny, she always seems so quiet. This is the real you, pleased with yourself, fighting back a smile because you’ve accomplished something.

You seem like you’re in a rush to get back to your room and curiosity gets the best of him, so he allows himself a glance at your work as you scramble to get your things together.

The table is covered in sketches of weapons and ships, a lot of which he recognizes from his book.

That’s what you had been drawing.

He sees an ink depiction of the Crest and he can’t stop himself as he shoves it into his pocket, careful not to crinkle it.

Why did he do that?

He shouldn’t have done that.

He reaches into his pocket and holds the drawing out in front of him.

He hadn’t told you about the Crest. This was just a freak coincidence. It’s a nice drawing though, you did it justice.

He puts it into his bag, careful not to fold or crease it.

He stops fighting sleep, he can’t keep this up forever so he lets his eyes close with a sigh.

“What did you do to her?”

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#din djarin fanfiction #din djarin/reader #mandalorian fanfic #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian #mandalorian x reader #din djarin

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