#the tracey fragment
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On Death
Death in other people’s words
Succession s04e09 / Joyce Carol Oates / Bridge to Terabithia / The Tracey Fragments / Fleabag / Richard Siken / The Last of Us s01e03 / Phoebe Bridgers / Close / Hanya Yanigahara / Gustav Klimt / The Haunting of Hill House / The Haunting of Bly Manor / The Smiths
#web weaving#succession#roman roy#joyce carol oates#bridge to terabithia#the tracey fragment#fleabag#richard siken#the last of us#phoebe bridgers#close#hanya yanigahara#gustav klimt#the haunting of hill house#the haunting of bly manor#the smiths
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Maureen Medved, The Tracey Fragments
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elliot page in the tracey fragments , 2007 ₊˚⊹♡
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something something familial cannibalism 😍
#quotes from the tracey fragments and the juniper tree#i think about them often especially the one from the tracey fragments#txt
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Lines from The Tracey Fragments by Maureen Medved
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The Tracey Fragments (2007)
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Writings from 3am
As the title indicates...sometime in the night, I got up, feeling compelled to write out a little scene that doesn't have a proper story to go with it. It's minimally edited for coherency here. If you haven't read my fic Interproximal Gradations (third in the For Want of a Jailbreak trilogy) on Ao3, then none of this will make any sense whatsoever, as Quattro and Stan are referring to events from the last three or four chapters of that story; specifically, this occurs sometime after the end of chapter 26, which itself takes place after a ten-year time skip. It...probably won't make that much sense even with that context in mind, to be honest, but it'll make marginally more sense than it would without said context.
All clear as mud? Great. Here's the thing:
Stan sat alone at the kitchen table, smoking a cigar and laying out cards for a game of solitaire. He didn’t look up when Quattro – carefully; he hadn’t yet gotten around to repairs to his suit since the shootout with the feds – sat down, but he did speak.
“No,” he said.
“No, what?”
“No, there’s nothing significant about me playing solitaire right after my brother’s funeral.”
Quattro nodded slowly. “Right,” he said, not bothering to attempt to sound sincere. He remembered the day his brother had died, and what he’d said after he’d finally been forced to accept the reality of the situation, at least as well as Stan did, if not better: I guess I should pick a different name now, huh? Mine doesn’t really make any sense anymore. I guess I’m just Solo. He would bet his best wig that the reference was deliberate on Stan's part. "Sure there isn’t.”
Seconds passed, and the sound of the kitchen clock ticking them away was the only thing that interrupted the silence.
"How's the leg?" Stan asked finally.
"A few minutes at the auto shop and it'll be fine." Quattro shrugged. "I've told you, I don't really feel things anymore. I'm not sure if I would even if I took off my suit...maybe. Who knows." Half his trouble had been that it had been so long since he'd consciously felt anything that the impact had thrown him for a loop; before that, he had honestly thought he no longer sensed contact with his person ‘naturally’ at all. He had no intention of taking his suit off just to test the limits of his probably-atrophied sense of touch, though. Instead, he cleared his throat and added, “you know I’m going to kill him, if I ever get the chance."
Stan grunted in acknowledgment, showing no signs he found this shift in topic at all strange. “Know you’re gonna try,” he conceded.
Quattro nodded and thought he might have smiled, bitterly, behind his mask. “Because we both also know you’re going to try to stop me.”
“Yep.”
“Even though it’s his fault we just buried the last family either of us has besides each other.”
“No we didn't. Mabel’s still out there, somewhere, and I’ve heard you call Soos your brother with my own ears.” Stan pointed to one of the ears in question to illustrate, as if Quattro could have possibly missed them. “Plus, Dipper’s still part of the family. He might not want to be, and you might not want him to be, and I might even ring his bell for being an idiot and a fed and especially a fedidiot if he walked in here right now, but he’s still family.”
“If you want to get technical about it, I guess he’s sort of my father,” Quattro agreed. “In a...weird, Dr. Frankenstein-y kind of way. Except he’s the one who’s gotten to wander around the world and do whatever he wanted to do all these years like the Monster, and I’m the one who gets to watch everyone I care about die whenever he’s around. You might outlive me, but Soos? Mabel? Everyone else?”
Stan’s hands had gone very still on his cards. “What do you mean, I might outlive you?”
Quattro looked at him closely for a moment to see if he was joking, but he didn’t look like he was. Did he really think, then, that Quattro somehow hadn’t noticed that….
“You haven’t aged a day since the end of the apocalypse, Stan. Do you really think anyone believes that’s a coincidence?”
The silence turned sullen before Stan finally removed his cigar from his mouth. "That damn lizard."
“Your friend the blind lizard god’s never spoken to me in my life,” Quattro assured him. “It’s just that I do have eyes. Sort of. See?” He reached up and removed his outer mask, revealing his real face for a moment. “Time’s been messed up in this town since the world un-ended, but most of the people kept getting older. Including your identical twin. But not me - “ he pointed to the perpetually twelve-year-old visage normally hidden behind his mask – “and not you.”
Stan squinted at him, clearly trying to tell if he was bluffing – and then, to Quattro’s surprised, laughed.
“Paper boys,” he announced, “have no business being as sharp as you, kid. Scissors are supposed to be one of your natural enemies, aren’t they?”
“Not so much while I’m wearing this,” said Quattro, gesturing toward his artificial body as he reattached his mask. “So – what did they do to you, anyway? And why?”
Stan sighed. “Bozo the Lizard God said that his brother made it hard for him – Bozo, I mean – to see me,” he said. “Said that looking at me made him feel like he’d gotten drunk on a trampoline. No-Eyes then said – something, I don’t remember exactly – but that it had something to do with Bozo spending too much time in the underworld. Nobody told me this, but I’m guessing...from that, and from some other stuff I've put together, I’m guessing that the way No-Eyes kept me alive was by making it...really hard for your standard-issue death gods and death angels and all those kinds of things to see where I am too clearly.” Stan chuckled grimly. “And I even think I know why he did it.”
“To save the world,” said Quattro. “Right?”
“Eh, yeah, that, too,” said Stan. “But I don’t think that’s why I’m still alive, ten years after I did that. I think that’s because of you.”
Quattro could only stare in response to this at first. “Me?”
“Yep – sort of. See, I punched him and Bozo both in the face.” Quattro nodded; Stan never tired of that story. Not that Quattro did, either; thinking too much for too long about Stan's former contacts on the Other Side had still made him angry, sometimes, even before Dipper had come back to town; now, after what had happened to Ford, he just wished he could time-and-dimension travel well enough to loan Stan his suit's gloves for said face-punchings. It was unlikely that even alloys that were nigh-indestructible by earthly standards would have made any difference, but a guy could hope.... “And I told ‘em some of it was for Tracey. The Lord of Jerks said I had no right to get upset after how I – was to you two – back then, and so I told him to shove it, because maybe Tracey wasn’t one of Bozo’s, but he was one of mine, and that therefore I could say whatever I wanted about him, unlike Bozo. So….pretty sure if I ever get a chance to ask if it was supposed to be a reward or a punishment, he’ll just say ‘yes,’ because again, jerk, but I think that’s about the time he got the idea to just...not help Bozo get over feeling drunk whenever I was in the room. Not yet, anyway.”
Quattro thought about that for a moment, and about everything that had happened since, and about how difficult he was to kill lately. "Yeah, it was definitely a punishment" he said. "If it helps, though - even in the absolute worst-case scenario, we'd get taken out in the heat death of the universe I guess, but it shouldn't take that long. Doing the math, thinking about how much air I have to let into this thing to talk...I'm guessing I'll dry rot or something in...probably not more than a hundred fifty, two hundred years, maybe. So if you're right, you'd be off the hook then, too."
Stan seemed to mull this over. "Well, guess it beats sticking around until the heat death of the universe, anyway," he said.
#gravity falls#gravity falls fic#gravity falls fanfic#for want of a jailbreak#fwjb#tracey and quattro#stan pines#sequel fic#fragments
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“One day you fall for this boy. And he touches you with his fingers. And he burns holes in your skin with his mouth. And it hurts when you look at him. And it hurts when you don’t. And it feels like someone’s cut you open with a jagged piece of glass.”
#literally inject this entire book directly into my veins#personal#all time faves#the tracey fragments#maureen medved
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Maureen Medved, The Tracey Fragments
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Everything is a crisis
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I don't like the country. Creeps me out. In the country, dead bodies live in swamps, and ditches, and shallow graves. A man dumps the body of a girl in a ditch. The body rots; Melts into slime. Flowers pop up where the body lies, seeds fly out of the flowers, and a bee sucks the flowers and makes honey. And then the family of the girl buys the honey from the store. And the family eats the girl.
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