Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

One day, the sun decides fuck it and bloats, killing all life on Earth. All life except a single Choji Tomiyama, who sleeps peacefully despite everything he knows and loves being killed off in a frankly very selfish decision.

However, the sun doesn’t care about selfishness because the universe is incredibly insignificant or some other dumb shit humans spouted before getting their shit fucked. Really, all philosophy is an attempt to make the most out the fact that we live and we die and nothing can ever stop it. It’s terror incarnate, which is why people come up with shit like God or other deities to comfort themselve into believing that something lies beyond this cold, dead universe we call home. In reality, the sun fucking got fat because it could. And nothing could stop it. Earth died, who cares, right?

However, none of the dumb rhetoric just spewed by the narrator mattered to the young Tomiyama, who continued to sleep with a cheshire grin. As a matter of fact, the real reason he had that fucking shit eating grin is because he’d beaten a few kid’s asses before going home, where he then decided to have a big, hearty fucking dinner with his mother and sister before fucking off to bed. He then decided to dream about beating an entire army of trained fighters because as he claimed “fighting is super DUPER fun!”

Yeah, sounds like something a fucking idiot would say. Choji, however, does not believe himself to be an idiot, and his dream ended with him fighting a final boss that tore into the fabric of all that was good and true. Yeah, this fucking fist-brained loves fighting so much he dreams about it. Some guy, huh?

Maybe that’s why the Sun tore the fucking Earth a new one. Maybe it’s because it had to listen to Choji wank one too many times about FIGHTING FIGHTING FIGHTING that it just said “FUCK YOU, YOU PIECE OF HAIRBALL SHIT” and decided to bloat the fuck up. Now, it’s a giant, red piece of angry shit. Hope you’re happy with yourself, moron.

Choji, after dreaming about fighting a fractal entity that threatened to engulf the universe with it big, fiery fingernails, decides to wake up. He gives a waking yawn that makes every dog in hell CAUSE THAT”S WHERE THE FUCK THEY GO WHEN THEY DIE AND THAT OLD ASS MOVIE LIED TO YOU shudder in fear. Even more than the burning they’re going thorough and deserve.

“Ahh, I’m beat,” he says, standing up despite floating in fucking space. These kinds of people always make me feel like punching a brick wall because HOW THE FUCK?!

“Mmm…, I wanna go back to sleep…” he groans, deciding to start snoring as his dumb, fight-brained ass goes back to sleep. He starts dreaming again because why the hell not about fighting his good friend Umemiya. That guy was always strong. Maybe today he’ll fnally agree to bring his gang over and they can run hands like a bunch of fucking primate apes.

“Fists are a language” my FAT fucking ass. That’s just an excuse for you to give each other CTE and then act like you’re all chummy afterwards. Dunno if you know this, dumbass, but fists are something simple-minded chumps resort to when they can’t think like civilized fucking people.

Speaking of which, our stupid Choji begins to snores while holding that same cheshire grin because he’s beating the shit out of Umemiya like he always wanted. Fun. Maybe next time I’ll bring a gaggle o’ smores and smoke ‘em around the campfire like a blacknmild, you simpleton prick.

Goddamn, I need a break. I can feel my brain losing cells in real time dealing with this shit. That fucking dumbass better be here when I get back.

Chapter Text

Y’know, shit like this starts out small. 

“Hey, guy that I happen to call friend! Come play a sport that involves kicking a ball!”

This, of course, lights a fire under Friend’s ass, and he agrees because they probably had nothing better to do. They almost always have nothing better to do. It’s like they’re nonexistent until you come to them with some dumbass request.

“Hey, wanna see the next Marvel flop?”

“Hey, wanna go to the failing arcade up the street?”

“Hey, wanna WANNA WANNA WANNA.” You could probably say that and they’ll agree because friends literally have nothing better to do. Either that, or they’re hanging out with some other guy they refuse to tell you about and utterly refuse to tell you about that guy and then that stupid asshole drives a wedge between you and your first friend that you’ve known since fucking meiosis or whatever the fuck.

Then they become the duo and you and YOUR FUCKING BUDDY were suppposed to be the duo. Then you realize that there never was any duo, and that this was just a guy you knew incredibly well.

God, that sounds awful. Must be what Hell’s like.

Chapter Text

Choji decides to wake up and step inside a dream, falling through fractal patterns and light space to fight a being beyond Entropy and the Law of Metaphysics. 

He throws the first punch, knocking through all space laws to produce an atmospheric shockwave that knocks the entity backward. 

The entity stumbles for a moment, making time blink, but by the time it opens the things humanity mistakes for an eye, several wells in spacetime have opened, showing no discernible end. 

The atoms in all of reality hiccup, and the sound that can be loosely called a roar zooms at lightspeed toward Choji, carrying a stable fusion of dark energy and electromagnetism that violates the space it traverses until it is nothing but VOID. 

Choji, feeling hungry, burps so loudly and so forcefully, the idea of noise flickers and decides it wants nothing to do with this fight anymore. 

The entity stops, because noise has stopped, therefore time has- ok, how the fuck does that even work? How the actual hell does noise affect time?! Where in the hell does physics explain that? 

You know what, fuck it. Fuck. This. Trying to pin physics on this dumbass kid is like trying to pin blowdarts on the sun. You just CAN’T. Screw this, I’m out.

Chapter Text

“Stop playing with me!”

Tenko throws a punch towards Izuku, who dodges with no effort. 

“Then you should get serious with me!”

He laughs in response, using the momentum of the dodge to twirl into a kick, digging his heel into the boy’s cheek and stunning him. Tenko recovers fast, using a platform construct to lunge towards Izuku. 

“I AM being serious! Come on, give it back!”

Izuku sticks his tongue out, taunting Tenko into a frenzy. 

“Nuh-uh! You want it so bad, then come get it,” he says, twirling the stolen ray gun by its trigger. He begins to fly off again, with Tenko far behind. Izuku soon reaches the speed necessary to break through the universe before crashing into a teleporting Tenko, foiling his attempt.

“Stop flying so fast, you idiot! You’ll break it!”

Izuku’s expression grows annoyed as Tenko’s grip increases. They fly through a star, the nuclear fission at work unable to keep up with the sheer strength of the two young boys.

“Then don’t get in my way, DUMBASS! ”

The entire weight of a galaxy clams down on his body, as well as the heat of the cosmic dust from the newlymade supernova. He didn’t know how far he’d been sent flying, only that when he’d regained control of his body, the area had a white rip. He looks at the massive sight in awe, and thinks he might let Izuku keep the gun. 

—---------------------------------------

There was something so fun about chases like these. At first, it confused Izuku as to why. Was it the rush? Maybe it was the adrenaline? Oftentimes, he’d look back on the aftermath, and whichever universe was unfortunate enough to host his high-octane exploits would be left in utter shambles and complete disarray. Maybe that was it?

Voids in space big enough to fit galactic clusters, tears in reality that opened pathways to higher dimensions, and distortions in space-time that, under no circumstances, could go unnoticed if the integrity of reality was to stay intact. He’d look at that, and nothing else would run through his mind except:

“...that’s… so… COOL!”

By the time he reached ten years old, he began to understand why he loved the act as much as he did. Why his eyes sparkled with joy, feeling the hot rush of a supernova against his skin. Why his blood would run with adrenaline every time his strength left the unfortunate universes reeling from its effect.

Why, even after everything was said and done, he still wanted to go out and leave even more destruction behind. 

That’s why his friend Tenko chased him across Space for the last thirteen minutes over his latest invention. Or was it fourteen? It takes him a few minutes or two before he eventually settles on fifteen.

He smiles before letting off a slight chuckle. He was never really good with time.

He freezes, preventing himself from diving face-first into a Red Star. Izuku marvels at its size. He finds it weird how something he might as well be an atom to could be so… weak. 

“Awesome…”

“Hah! I’ve finally cornered you!” 

Izuku turns around, spotting his friend Tenko giving him an angry expression. He takes his words into account, thinking back on them for two seconds before fully committing to a hearty laugh. 

Unbeknownst to the young boy, rippling sonic shock waves emanate from his joyous laughter. Despite the utter lack of noise, they bellow unabated throughout the vacuum, swelling until they can no longer be contained by conventional universal standards.

All in all, it leaves Tenko with an unsettling shiver that he wishes came from the deep chill of space or the radiant heat of the once bright red star. A star that has unfortunately fallen victim to Izuku's rampant, raw power.

For the moment, Tenko is happy there’s no atmosphere in space, otherwise he’s certain he'd 100% be deafened by the supernovae of the hundreds, potentially thou- no, scratch that, innumerable amount of stars as the universe–goosebumps crawl on his skin at the thought of adding a -s to that, though, in the back of his mind, he knows that -s had been firmly attached before he even began his chase–begins to collapse and fold on itself.

Izuku finishes his laughing fit, much to the benefit of the multi-, no, UNI verse’s remaining structural integrity. He wipes the tears from his eyes, trying and failing to regain his initial posture. Tenko begins to wonder how he hasn’t noticed they were standing in the cosmic dust residue of the star he so admired.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” Izuku says, his beaming grin oblivious to all the damage he’d caused, “You’re so funny, Tenko! I couldn’t help but laugh!”

The words catch Tenko off guard. His angry expression drops, and memories begin to flow through his head. He’d chased him through countless universes. He’d seen stars quake, galaxies tremble, and space-time fluctuate around their mere presence. He’d seen reality tear asunder from their clashes and forced open holes to higher dimensions.

He thinks harder. What was it about again?

…

…

Oh, right. A ray gun. His ray gun.

Tenko looks back at Izuku, whose smile is now up close and personal. He doesn’t even notice the cosmic dust parting from his sheer speed.

“I told you it was fun! So, whaddya think?! Was it fun?!”

Tenko takes a breath. He remembers the feeling of clashing fists with Izuku.  He wants to deny it, say it was a “spur-of-the-moment” thing. He wouldn’t be wrong, either. Adrenaline is known to be exactly that.

So… why did it last so long ?

Izuku takes Tenko’s hand, yanking it up and down continuing his rave. “Come on, you know you liked it! You liked fighting me! Even though I beat your ass~”

…

Tenko feels a chuckle slip past his throat. He tries to frame it as a sneeze, but Izuku is more perceptive than he realizes. He grabs it, lowering it to see his friend’s pathetic attempt at hiding a smile. 

“Hah! Look at you! I told you!”

Tenko doesn’t attempt to hold back the laughter pouring through him. His frame shifts over and over, with him soon having to lean on the green-haired boy for support before he floats off uncontrollably.

“Why does it feel so good?”  

The adrenaline? The rush? The thrill? The aftermath?

He finally had his answer. It was all of them.

The adrenaline stemming from his initial anger toward Izuku. The rush of moving through Space at speeds he never thought possible. The thrill of pushing back against Izuku’s monster strength. The aftermath they would leave behind.

It was everything.

He began to laugh even harder.

Chapter Text

A Specialist-Class Harbinger, Axis, walks alongside his friend Footloose, A Scout-Class.

Early one evening, on the recently charred surface of a resistant planet named Allevia, Footloose walks without a care in his programming and is, probably, trying to stay upright from walking backward like an idiot. He has a question rise in his programming. At first, he dismisses it, something fleeting with little mainstay. 

“Hey, Axel, do you ever think fighting is boring?”

Axis, who already thinks Footloose is one hell of an idiot, looks at him like he just got even stupider.

“Dude, no. If I get bored, then who’s going to blow you up every time you say something stupid?”

Chapter Text

Once upon a time, Existence actually used to be quiet. You know what that is? Quiet? I wouldn’t know anymore. Not since some idiot too powerful for their own good put an atmosphere around everything so they could hear their punches in space.

Before it became this big fightbox, it was pretty chill. Nothing much happened, and that was because the Lords of Order kept things peaceful, though that peace was hella enforced, you know. Like a… Multiverse wide police state. Still, it was quiet. I liked that quiet.

Then, out of nowhere, a few chaos gods decide “this shit sucks” and wage a wide spanning war on the lords, which they win. They then decide “fuck it” and make existence their personal playground.

Moral of the story: everyone sucked. The end.

Chapter Text

(Dewey Duck and Boomer are celebrating their win against Jasper and their subsequent elimination. Dipper sits down, catching his breath relieved.)

Dipper: (Internally) We… We did it…! My plan actually worked! I can’t believe it…!

(Dipper’s blood races. He’s never felt this feeling before. This kind of rush. Something that pushes you beyond your comfort zone. It’s something he wants more of. He thinks back to Weirdmaggedon and wonders if anything would’ve changed, had he known this rush before. Maybe he and Mabel wouldn’t have been caught, forcing Grunkle Stan to lose his memory.)

(His hands won’t stop shaking. This feels way too good…)

Dewey: (Jumps on Dipper’s back, knocking him out his trance.) BOOM! Jumpscare!

(Dipper is shocked, but can’t help his smile and subsequent laugh.)

Dewey: Why are you just sitting here?! You should be celebrating with us!

Boomer: (Leaning in closer) Maybe he’s thinkin’ about somethin’ super nerdy again!

Dewey: (does a somersault over Dipper’s shoulders, the sheer athleticism surprising him once again) I bet he is! Did you see the way he shouted those callouts? “Dewey, go left!” “Boomer, fly over Jasper’s head!” SO. FRICKIN. AWESOME. It was like a frickin’ RAID BOSS!

Boomer: (star-studded) Like… Like the one from the games…?

Dewey: HECK YEAH!

(Dipper sits there, surprised. To think he’d had such a big impact on the fight… It’s almost unreal. He remembers when people like Gideon didn’t consider him a threat. Now…)

Dipper: Thanks… Though… I only acted as a decoy. I didn’t do much fighting, I would’ve been eliminated if not for you two…

(Dewey and Boomer look at each other, unaware of what to make of Dipper’s humble comment.)

Dewey: (encouraging) Look, man, you are entirely too humble. What you did was just as important as any of us! If not for that, who knows what would’ve happened?

Boomer: Probably somethin’ bad!

Dewey: Yeah, that.

(Dipper sits and thinks, REALLY thinks, about what just occurred. If he could be honest, he didn’t really think about what he shouted out. It just came to him the moment he saw it. Like his analysis fused with his instinct.)

(…wait.)

Dipper: (Inquisitive) Hey, Boomer.

Boomer: Hmm?

Dipper: That attack… where you missed the first energy ball, made it spin back to Jasper, and then sent a second faster one… How’d you come up with that? 

(Boomer starts to respond, but then he stops, realizing he doesn’t actually know. He shrugs.)

(Huh. Pieces of an unfinished thought float in Dipper’s mind, connecting but missing the essentials needed to be a revelation.)

Dipper: (curious) So it was just your imagination, huh…. Is it always like that?

Boomer: (excited) Yep!

(Dipper seeps back into his thoughts. There was no analysis in his offense. Just pure instinct. More pieces are connecting.)

(But does the same apply to Dewey? He doesn’t seem as dim and childish as Boomer, but would that mean his attacks are also pure imagination, or was it an analysis x instinct combination too?)

Dipper: Dewey?

Dewey: (Looks up, focused on what Dipper’s saying) Hmm? What’s up?

Dipper: Are you the same? When you fight, do you think about what you’re doing or is it all intuition?

(Dewey also takes time to think about his answer.)

Dewey: (thinking) Uuuuh… kinda? But… not really…? Whenever I do something, it’s just “GO, GO, GO!” annnd whatever happens after that just happens! 

(Dipper is shocked, but he burrows the answers in his brain. Both of them rely on imagination and instinct to make the attacks they do, while he had to think first, and then act. If this is a skill they can nurture to the fullest, then, given time, they’ll be unstoppable.)

(Maybe… if he needs to find his objective to “change,” then… this could be it. His “task” is to bring out their fullest imagination and let their creativity flourish. A background piece meant to make them shine.)

(But, at the same time, something stirs within Dipper. This thought bothers him. More than it should. Something within refuses to let him sit in the background.)

Dipper: (aiming for a fist bump) Let’s team up some more. If we can pull off this same combo again, then we’ll be able to win this match. I know it!

(Dewey and Boomer waste no time, accepting Dipper’s invitation with fervor.)

Dewey: HECK YEAH! Let’s win this thing!

Boomer: Win, win! It’s triple combo time, baby!

Chapter Text

It’s been… god, I don’t even know how long anymore. 200 days. Maybe 400. I stopped counting when my tallies hit triple digits.

Gah…, it seems so funny now. I remember when counting the days felt like a chore. Painful. Like something was genuinely hurting me when I did. It was… uh… somewhere around my birthday. June…. Yes! That’s it. June 19. One day before my birthday. We were… we were going to see the sunset off of Mt. Kilman. Greatest sight in the world. My parents asked me if I… if I wanted to do anything else. 

Nope, I said, I’m dead set on this.

“I’m going to be 20 this year. I don’t know how many more birthdays I’ll have with you, so… I want this one to be special.”

They… understood where I was coming from, at least.

We went the following day. It was… the same sight… from all those years ago.

Sometimes…, it feels like they’re still there. Sitting beside me. Watching the same sunset we watched every year. 

…

I’m sorry. I should’ve done more… Maybe then you’d still be here.

Please… forgive me.

I’m so sor-

—-----------------------------------------------

Something used to be here.

They left so much behind.

Where did they go?

Did something happen?

The sky bleeds red so much. It hurts to look at.

The ground is buried under dry sand. If you look closely, you can see each individual grain. 

It’s almost like they want to preserve it.

Was that other place truly so much better?

Maybe something removed them. 

But who? Why?

I feel sorry for those that lived here.

I look at this place, and know they loved it with all their heart.

—-----------------------------------------------

(As Dipper traverses the hidden chambers of the castle, he stops to go over his notes. So far, he’s found three answers to what happened in this world: The riddle of Passion - The riddle of Knowledge - The riddle of Strength . He does wish for them to be longer. Frankly, he’s getting tired of the three-sentence formula.)

(Dipper opens the door leading to the King’s chambers, and for a moment, marvels at the grandeur and Majesty of it. He sees the size of the antique windows, the purity of the red carpet sitting on the ground, and the sheer importance he feels standing on it. Dipper walks up the stairs, his light steps carrying a loud, grand echo, and lays eyes on the throne chairs. Two massive, silver arks of a long-forgotten history.)

Dipper: (in awe, moving to sit in one) Wow… 

(He sees the other empty chair, and envisions a chatty Mabel alongside him. She’d likely be all over the chair, probably climbing to the top to see what happens if she falls. The thought gets a laugh out of him.)

Chapter Text

It’s the second half of the four-hour time allotted to the battle. Gladstone, tuckered out after making his escape, takes a moment to catch his breath. The elimination of his nephew, Dewey, weighs heavily on his mind. Gladstone is someone who prides himself on being as laid-back as possible. After all, why put in effort when the universe offers everything to you on a silver platter? To him, it defeats the purpose of the generosity.

His legs feel weak, and his body is letting out more air than in. Even so, he keeps himself moving. This kind of pain, this overexertion, is alien to him. Merely something to laugh at.

"Oh..., look at you, Gander...Some guy you turned out to be... What would... what would Donald say? Heh... heh heh, who cares what he feels..., right? You're only... his cousin..., and..."

(Gladstone rests his arm against a tree, catching his breath. A cough more violent than any he'd ever felt before bursts from within him. A stray tear drops from his eye, though he'd never admit it was of grievance. He moves again, each step long and lingering.)

"Dumb... friggin' kid... Had to go and... throw yourself in harm's way to save me... Shoulda ran like... I said... Hurting yourself helps no one... You and your dumb luck... Heh... Heh... is this how it feels, Donald? I... I hate it…"

Chapter Text

(Victor and Valentino fist bump transition into a high five each other, each wearing a smile of triumph, Together, they’d managed to take out Sylvia (Wonder over Yonder) with their combined strength x speed, they could throw her off long enough to be eliminated. She was formidable, incredibly so, but the duo was clever enough to pull their victory.)

Victor: (Excited/still catching his breath) Heck yeah…! How’s that for a Combo?!

Valentino: That was an insane move, Vic! How’d you do that?!

Victor: (smug, wiping his mouth) Hehe. Nothing a little training couldn’t help with! These legs are all powerful, baby!

Valentino: (incredulous) Wow… Victor Calvera? TRAINING?! Now I have seen it all.

Victor: (jumping on Val’s shoulders) Stop talking about me, you idiot! When’d you get so strong? You’ve neeeever been like that before!

Valentino: (Confused) Huh? Uh… simple. I trained a lot! You’d be surprised what a few push-ups can do for ya!

Victor: (incredulous) …uh-huh… Anyway, what do we do now? Wanna knock this out park, Val?

Valentino: (Gesturing Victor to stop) Wait. Not yet. Let’s wait and see what they do first. … Depending on their reaction, we can win this in a flash.

Victor: (Understanding) ooooooooh…, I see! Ok, ok! Let’s wait, then!

(Meanwhile, Marco Diaz sits still, contemplating their recent loss while, Combo Breaker slowly wraps first-aid gauze around his arm. He keeps his teeth from grinding, but the pain shoots through him like a rocket. He didn’t expect Valentino to be so strong, much less his brother so fast. He knew they had more physicality than most, but… they’ve gotten so much better!)

Marco: (frustrated) Dangit… We lost…

(They lost completely.)

CB: (Confused, still wrapping) What… what do you mean?

Marco: I…

(Marco pauses. Takes a look at CB diligently wrapping his forearm.)

Marco: (sighing) It’s nothing. Thanks for wrapping my arm.

Combo Breaker: (Smiling and saluting) Noooo problem! That’s my job! It’s just what us sidekicks do!

(Something about that rubs Marco the wrong way. He doesn’t know if it’s the chipper tone of the young robot’s voice or the inclusion of “us,” but, for the first time in a while, since the RED vs GREE N match, Marco feels lost.)

Marco: (slowly moving his left arm and wincing at the pain) I didn’t think they’d be so effective… 

Combo Breaker: (enthused, though wary of the threat the brothers pose) So, what do we do, Marco? Do we come up with a plan? 

Marco: (Thinking) Hmm…

(But Victor, catching onto the opposing duo committing the simple act of being tactically prepared, decides to makes his move. His speed is ferocious, and the air whizzes past him like a hurricane. Before Marco can react, he’s already halfway to them.)

Val: (intent) Vic, wait!

Vic: Uh-uh! We can’t let ‘em plan anything! If we’re gonna do this, it’s gotta be right now!

Chapter Text

• The arena is dark, a pitch-black void hiding the contents from all prying, curious eyes. Creaks can be beyond the veil, like something lurking.
• A click, echoing like a powerful thud, is heard, and a dim, orange light glows out in the distance. A lone beacon. Faint, but undeniably there.
• And, like dominoes falling over, multiple other lights power on in succession, coming together to give the dormant arena life.
• Wooden, antique structures, reminiscent of an old emperor’s palace flood the space, protruding in all directions. Up, down, left, right, diagonally, split, bulging, contracting, etc.. If you could think it, something was shaped like it.
• We follow - Zak Saturday, wearing a Blue Demon SlayerTM Uniform, a white belt, and black socks with wooden sandals falling through the empty, ambient stadium. 
• He comes to a surprising stop, falling left and landing inside one of the rooms, rolling to a stop. The sliding door shuts behind him, leaving the room in sparse darkness. He rubs his head, recuperating his bearing after the strange fall.
• “Ow… way to make a guy feel welcome…
• He analyzes his settings. A skill his dad taught him. If you’re in an unfamiliar place, you should know two things: The layout of the room and the closest escape route. 
• It’s not a room he can recognize immediately. It’s a wooden, four-wall space. Judging from the matting of the ground, it was likely Asian, more specifically Japanese or Chinese. 
• The doorway he landed through could be opened, but the idea of resuming his fall into the depths of this bizarre place made him rethink things.
• Zak sees another door parallel to it. He looks through that one, and a long, dimly lit hallway appears before him. He decides to go this route, hands in his pockets, calm as can be.
• As Zak walks, he occupies his mind with the people he’d met here and the friends made. Zak thinks it’s weird to have a group of kids in a fight club, but if he can stay and get to know them, then he thinks he’ll like it here.
• He examines each door he comes across and checks every corner he turns before walking it. He’s confident in his defensive capabilities, but it never hurts to be safe. After a while, he truly starts thinking they’re the only ones there. Also, the idea of a liminal space castle is pretty cool to him.
• Then, Zak, alert as always, hears a sound emerging from around the next corner. He stops, aligning himself with the wall, waiting out the person, thing, whatever on the other of the corner. 
• He hears a voice. Soft. Confused. Not too squeaky, not too deep. 
• Wait, no. He recognizes that voice. It was a voice that Zak had sworn to memory ever since he’d first heard it.
• But he says nothing. For all he knows, it could be someone…, or something, impersonating his voice to lure him.
• Zak lets the steps get closer. One clamped step at a time.
• Once he can make out that the figure is indeed one Dipper Pines, he rushes him, locking his hand behind his back and grappling him to the ground with the practiced ease of a professional.
• “Agh!! What the heck, Zak!?”
• Zak remains calm. He can’t break his posture, otherwise he risks losing his grip.
• “Tell me something only Dipper would know.”
• Dipper scoffs, almost offended, but then stops and realizes what Zak is doing. He’s scrambling, trying to think of something when–
• “Uuh…, one time I slept outside with a goat because Mabel had friends over and woke up to a coyote biting my legs!” 
• It comes out as a rapid spew of words that Zak doesn’t know what to make of. He can’t truly confirm it, so he decides to trust him. 
• Zak lets him go, to Dipper’s vast relief.
• “Sorry about that. Liminal Spaces creep me out.”
• “Yeah, and I’m sure that meant “tackle the first person you see!” Why the heck are your knees so strong?!
• “Good training, and I was just making sure. You could’ve been anyone.”
• “Ugh…, yeah…, I know. I’m just annoyed. That friggin’ hurt.”
• Zak remains calm. “I’m sorry. Won’t do it again, I promise.”
• Dipper straightens out his back. “God, I hope not. I happen to like walking, thank you very much.”
• Zak catches up with Dipper, and vice versa. Despite being on different teams, he shows no interest in fighting, much to Dipper’s relief. 
• Dipper shows Zak to the hallway exit. Coming across an open dead end, Zak asks if Dipper came through here. Dipper confirms, saying the gravity here is weird. They can’t see through the impenetrable wooden fortress that is this arena, but after he was dropped in here, Dipper fell through an uncharacteristically open space moving through a red circle that spiraled as he fell. 
• They both look outside, and they see the vast endless paths, structures, and lights that stretch infinitely into the abyss.
• Dipper: It’s so big… How do you think of a place like this, let alone make it?
• Zak: Time, Effort, A lot of Curiosity. 
• Dipper can’t say anything to that. He listens to the creaking of the moving wood, the chilly breeze that blows through. Above, he sees a set of stairs unfurling before disappearing through a spontaneous, floating door.
• Dipper: I need to find Mabel. Can you help me?
• Zak looks at Dipper. He smiles. Dipper can tell it’s genuine.
• Zak: Sure. Why not?

Hour One

• Five minutes earlier
• The Castle is lit with the inconsistent flickering of bright lanterns and the piercing yells of competitors who weren’t taking too well to the new change in environment. 
• Mordecai (Blue) falls yelling, shouting he wishes he’d never come here as gravity shifts fling him into different color sets.
• Randy Cunningham (Red) is equal parts scared and excited. He wasn’t truly sold on this “fight club” business, but he was eager to test his ninja skills outside his high school.
• Stanford and Stanley (Blue) are separated by a rising mass of conjoined rooms, stairs, and open doors. hat lead to different parts of the castle. Stanford, by way of wayward gravity shift, islands on a flat wooden platform. He promises to find his brother.
• Marco Diaz (Red) is hanging onto a set of flinging stairs rushing sideways He can’t look at the castle because he’s too busy hanging on for dear life. 
• Fethry Duck (Blue) glides so effortlessly among the gravity shifts and palace corridors that you’d think he’s swimming in it. Ironic. He lands on a rigid wall, as effortlessly as he entered.
• Gladstone Gander (Red) barely enters the castle before a floating door transports him onto safe ground. To be expected.
• All over the castle, the contestants all fall at varying degrees. Some scream, some don’t, and some go with the flow.
• Dewey Duck (Red) marvels in awe and fear at the sheer novelty of this “castle.” The lights flicker slightly in acknowledgement.
• Huey Duck (Blue) is too busy noting the gravity changes to be adequately scared. He learns soon enough.
• Outward, in the open space of bending woods and cold air, rose a lone, golden sword. The luminous light glistened off its sleek, smooth surface. It hovers with a majesty out of legend.
• Someone grabs it, a lone swordsman, this fall but a mere inconvenience in the grand majesty he would weave, should this arena keep to its fighting promise.
• He sheathes it through his waistband hold, and Mao Mao watches the infinite layers of wood pass his, silent. Observant.
• Anne Boonchuy descends quickly, trying her best not to yell and take in the surroundings. She calls out to Sasha, who is above her. Sasha calls out to Anne, letting her know that she’s there. The gravity shifts splits them up, with Anne disappearing into a dark room and Sasha falling through a door into a different part of the castle.
• Anne hops to her feet, not wanting to be caught off guard for a second. She doesn’t know where she is, but she needs to find her friends (Polly and Sasha) quickly.
• “Oh, great! I know you! I was looking for someone in this messy place.”
• Anne turns around to see Mabel Pines, someone she’d gotten to know the prior day. Despite being on separate teams, they partner with each other to find their friends through this castle.

Chapter Text

• Dipper groggily wakes up to a manufactured alarm. 7:30, it says. 7:30 and he already wants to punch something.
• He turns off the alarm and, despite his wanting to lie back down and get those few extra hours in, decides to get up. 
• If you’d told Dipper a month ago that he’d be representing a club run by BILL CIPHER, of all people, he’d tell you off and stop associating with you altogether.
• Now, he doesn’t know what to say. He’s changed so much over the past week that it feels unreal. He's made friends with people he’d have never known otherwise.
• He goes to brush his teeth. The bathroom is empty. That’s good. It’s better when it’s quiet.
• Today’s a big day. He’s gonna fight in front of who knows how many people. The thought makes him shake. It’s a terrifying thought.
• Though he shouldn’t expect any less from someone like Cipher, he nearly thinks it’s a new form of psychological torture, and the only thing keeping him from fully believing it is the fact that he’s still here. Still alive. Still breathing, after all this time. 
• Some days, he thinks the last two weeks have been a dream. Maybe he’s in one of those dream bubbles, like the one Mabel was in, and he’s living out his fantasy, too. 
• But, in his fantasy, Bill would be dead, or, at least, a non-issue.
• Dipper stops himself before he can go any further. Those thoughts always bothered him—that idea of hurting someone, really hurting them.
• With that thought, Dipper wonders if he should’ve declined this offer. This Action Club run by someone he despises. That pull inside him that wants the change, regardless of his feelings.
• He looks in the mirror and wonders what the 12-year-old Dipper–the small, ignored, dismissed Dipper–would say to this. 
• He finishes with his teeth and grabs a towel to wash his face. It’s quick, fast, and second nature. For a quick moment, he wonders if this club, this environment, is turning him into something new. Something he doesn’t want to be.
• He doesn’t want to be that. The kind of person who bullies because he has power. The person who destroys because he can. The person who takes without ever giving back. 
• He just…
• Dipper puts his toothbrush down. He goes back into his room and changes out of his pajamas. A Red Tee showing the Action Club logo with a yellow triangle smack in the middle.
• Dipper hates it. He hates that it’s the only tee available. He thinks he’s never wanted to wear one of Mabel’s stuffy sweaters more in his life.
• Dipper puts the tee on, hating every second he has to wear this stupid thing.
• “Ugh…”
• He takes a look at the picture on the nightstand near his bed. His family, weird and frustrating, in full. He sees Mabel with her signature, innocent smile. Still full of life, despite everything. Somewhere, deep inside, a pang of jealousy arises.
• He grabs his hat from beside the photo, the pine tree a glowing blue, and walks out.

Chapter Text

 SOUL DESIGNATION 4-5-1-0-H-E-R-O** has been drifting aimlessly for some time now. Sifting through the murky black void of space.

It wants to remember where it comes from, but it can’t. Sometimes, the emotional duress from the amnesia made it cry. These tears can be mistaken for stray particulate.

At some point, 4-5-1-0-H-E-R-O gained a coating. A spirit. It was no longer the dumb, unconscious creature it used to be. Instead of fading into Nirvana and being forgotten like it was supposed to, it clawed, scraped, persevered, but did not leave. It waited, waited, waited for its soul brethren to gain the same consciousness for…, but it was for naught. All of them merged with Nirvana, leaving it. This greatly saddened the wistful spirit, but also left it greatly bitter. Why did they leave? What was so special about this place that they would leave him behind? Curious, it set out on its own, aiming to prove those idiots wrong.

As it drifted, it had never felt more alone. For centuries, it had carried a deep resentment of the choices of his brethren. It couldn’t understand why they would choose Nirvana over being alive. Being forgotten over choosing to persevere. It was always so frustrating. To pass the time in its constant voyage through the stars, it would create stories. Stories where it and its siblings lived together and paved their own way. Stories of fun and love and beauty. Of never letting them go. He was able to protect them from all kinds of danger. To keep them safe. 

This deep need formed its soul. This will, its spirit. This want, its physical body. 

The first time 4-5-1-0-H-E-R-O saved someone was an accident. It was in the way of a feud. Something punched it, and of course, it got mad. The perpetrator was a monster threatening a world. One of the primordials. It knew better than to mess with those. It should have.

Ten minutes later, the primordial decided to screw off, and 4-5-1-0-H-E-R-O floated in silence, it’d never felt this kind of pain before. Such a rippling sensation, breaking it down to its core. But, just before it had the chance to finally die and join its family, it could hear the cheers of the people. Scores on scores of people, grateful for their lives.

What was this? This blazing heat, that glowing ecstasy it felt beneath its unconscious mind. That radiant joy.

For the first time in its whole life, under that bitter resentment and hate for choices long gone, it finally knew.

Love.

Chapter Text

• The antimatter annihilation of Giratina and the divine light of Necrozma clashed with bitter resolve over the shifting darkness of the Endless Abyss below. One was determined to show his former ally a new way forward beyond the world’s wishes. The other was determined to bring destruction across all of Pandemonium in reverence to the one law that has always been: fight. 
• Their powerful clashes razed the air and sliced jagged scars through the impenetrable darkness below. Necrozma and his blinding lighting crossed horribly with Giratina’s relentless destruction. Both flashing with determination to crush the other’s insanity.
• In the end, both fall. Giratina falls first, but not before bringing down his former brother. Necrozma, realizing there was no way out of his predicament, channeled the last of his celestial light into one last desperate rune. Before Necrozma fully succumbed to the abyss below, he uttered a final, pleading command:
• “Please… be better than us… than me…”
• Before the light could flee from the Endless Abyss and fulfill this wish, the thick shadows present in the abyss dragged it down. The light does not resist.
• The shadows are subsumed into the light at an expedited pace before they cover it altogether—the light, buried under endless shadow, would yearn to break free. For now, it remains dormant. A silent what if that never came to be.
• Marshadow’s bodily form came as a way to suppress the great light within. Also, Marshadow did not have a name. He had a goal: to fight, fight, and keep fighting.
• The Endless Abyss is the final remnant of Oblivion—the last absence of nothing. When the irregularity bled through and resisted the pull of annihilation, the idea of Oblivion underwent the beginnings of its slow, painful death. However, when it saw hold of that single, beaming light, that fleeting, desperate hope for a new world, it made that hope its own and overtook it, but unlike Necrozma and Giratina, this celestial light didn’t die. If anything, it blazed even brighter faced with its entrapment.
• Here, it began anew. Everything was a target, and everything would face annihilation at its vengeful, dreadful hand. All Creation would kneel before Oblivion and die.

• “I see you.”

• The creator holds Marshadow in their gentle, erroneous grasp. Marshadow doesn’t understand why, nor even how, but the first thing he feels permeating through his dense, smoky form is a fundamental sense of wrong. This… whatever it is, should not exist. That shade of red shouldn’t exist. That choking feeling of primal, boiling malice should.
• not.
• exist.
• And it makes him livid.
• With a soul-driven, irrational hatred, Marshadow lunges forth with instantaneous speed, his face contorted in vengeful enmity before being frozen in place, inertia ceasing as if he’d never moved in the first place.

• “You are… strong,” it acknowledges, almost reverently. The irregularity’s deep malignancy sings like the touch of rash skin. “I want… to see how strong. Succeed, and you will get your fight with me.”

• And thus, Marshadow is sent. Off into the following subset of Creation, like a disposable guinea pig.