#I do have some doodles of bill possessed me with my twin

[0m3n-0f-d3ath]

Doodles :3

I think I’m very funny btw

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

s3 episode 14 thoughts

okay, i didn’t watch an episode yesterday. so the thought of being reunited encourages me. although i’m still a bit bitter about the last episode, i guess considering it some sort of cosmic “opposite day” makes it more palatable. still. new episode!! 

well. new to ME, at least!

and it mentioned gargoyles in the description?? the stone fellows? i actually think gargoyles are cool as hell. some of them look wretched on purpose- which i am less fond of- but others are very cute.

but i’m unaware of them possessing any sort of life or supernatural capability beyond being funky little guys. and to me, they don’t look like creatures who have a craving for blood. perhaps mulder knows something i do not…

we open on a naked man. he’s quite beautiful. posing for some art students. good way to make some decent money, if you’re comfortable doing such a thing.

a guy in the corner is drawing furiously and trembling. but he’s drawing a spoooooky creature and not the handsome man we see on the screen!

AUGH he sliced his finger and IS DRAWING with the BLOOD?? no ma’am. no ma’am. 

the trembling blood artist is rushing out and running into people. and we see a gargoyle on top of the building he is leaving!!! an ominous sign? or a nice little guy?

handsome model man is getting in a car in a back alley. we hear a thunk. oh no. i see where this is going…. someone in a mask jumps on him

the artist wakes up. his name is john. and the FBI bursts in, mulder included! john bites someone who is arresting him!! yowch!

his room is full of very spooky drawings, covering the walls and everything. all gargoyle looking creatures. hey, maybe he’s goth??? you thought about that?? maybe he streams the cocteau twins and doodles some creatures... can’t a guy have hobbies?

not defending the killing of people. just the freaky drawings.

some guy takes a picture off of the wall, then he finds john's artist knife thingy and it’s covered in blood. the question is: is it his own? because we did see him slice that finger.

mulder's office time. so this john is an immigrant from uzbekistan, but he spent almost a decade in an insane asylum.

SCULLY IN RED!!! SHE IS SO BEAUTIFUL. WOW! 

she says this guy killed at least 7 people. and apparently he claimed to be possessed, which is a thing that lots of killers do to distance themselves from their crimes. seems plausible to me.

skinner name drop!!!!!!!! he was the one that put them on this case. good to know he’s still around, tasking them with things. 

(it seems i have grown fond of skinner, despite our tumultuous time together. i am sure my feelings towards him will continue to fluctuate)

so john has been in custody for 5 days, BUT yesterday, another killing took place with the same signature face gashes. who did it!!

off to da prison. scully asks john why he isn’t using his bed. and it is because john is drawing on the floor. also the light hurts his eyes, but i think that would make sense if you were stuck in a dark room for many days.

he says that this creature he’s drawing was the one who killed those men and everyone knows his name. perhaps the devil, mulder suggests? no no, says john. it. scully’s like “well it’s fingerprints weren’t on the murder weapon; yours were” gag him a little…

but john calls them both fools. rude! 

scully asks if that is what happened yesterday- that it attacked again, and killed another victim in the same fashion- and john starts really freaking out because that means “it found somebody new”. so if it keeps jumping from guy to guy, i’m not sure we can ever really stop this thing short of an exorcism. if it really exists, that is.

the agents get called out by bill, who was the dude taking the drawings off the walls at the crime scene and who found the knife. he’s being mean to mulder, asking him if it was aliens. hmm. not sure i’m supposed to like his guy. 

but scully knows who he is, and says it’s an honor to meet him; he's famous for his FBI work. he asks if she also thinks it’s spirits, and she says no, and bill says well that’s strange company you keep. a shameless dig right in front of the man they speak of!

mulder looks sad more than angry, and says that no one would ever guess how mean-spirited bill is. and yes! maybe he can write a good book but damn, he’s being a jerk!

bill is offended by the possession theory because he worked on that case for three years and blah blah blah. doesn’t explain the second murder. bill claims that both murderers were acting alone. um okay?? that doesn’t make sense because then how would they have the same markings…

mulder is pissed at this guy and i don’t blame him. bill says john draws the gargoyles to keep the evil spirit away, mulder points out that is what they have been used for in the past, which pisses bill off further. scully is watching all of this like wtf. and he’s with some other dude who is staring at scully in a manner i don’t care for. we later learn that this second man is named greg.

mulder says bill has always hated him because mulder never worshiped him back when they worked together, even if everyone else did. ohhh, mulder says that to bill, catching a monster meant becoming one yourself. that’s juicy. i wonder what he means by that. 

(author's note: WE LEARN WHAT HE MEANS BY THAT!)

so now they’re at the crime scene, covered in gargoyle drawings. shoutout to props design. 

a cat jumps out and yells at scully!!! she is scared and i would be too! mulder says “it’s just a cat” like that makes it’s sudden appearance less terrifying, and she sighs and says she thought it was a picture coming to life. there’s a bit of a laugh in there, like she realizes how ridiculous that sounds.

mulder gets on his knees, peeks under the bed, and tries to call to the kitty LMAOOO AWWWWW but it sneaks away through a hole in the wall. they realize it’s hollow and it’s actually a door! 

scully still seems scared to go in there, asks to wait until there’s more light, and he pulls out a tiny flashlight lmaoooo 

meow kitty. and inside the door are horrific gargoyles sculpted out of clay. 

MULDER WIPES HIS FINGER ON THE CLAY AND LICKS IT? HUH??? then be starts digging in there. AND BLEH!! bodies. inside the clay!!!

he craves the minerals of clay i guess...?

he put the flashlight in his mouth so he couldn’t talk, and she kept yelling for him to tell her what the hell was going on in there, which he was not doing. too busy ruining some art that contains people to communicate what was in his line of sight, i suppose. but no explanation on the licking.

some guy is working in a glass studio when he is being approached. use the molten glass for self defense! but alas, something growls and grabs him. 

so now glass guy is in the hospital and greg is here. she tells him they found 5 bodies in the studio, all dismembered and with gashes on the face like this guy, the glass artist.

greg says that he thinks bill went to skinner and REQUESTED mulder on this case. and that bill tells him “mulder stories” after a few beers, about how he’s some kind of genius. HELLO? the vibes are weird here. why is he telling her this....?

and the victim in the hospital bed is gagging or gurgling a bit so the doctor asks them to please leave. i can imagine this would be distressing.

mulder is a library!! a big, nice library. reading about gargoyles, apparently named after a french dragon!! he’s flipping through old books and it looks like he has blood on his shoulder, which makes me concerned about his hands and therefore the condition of said books. he’s monologung about the nature of the human soul and taking notes. okay, a researcher! “is this the monster called madness?” <- how poetic!

AWWWW he falls asleep on the books. WAIT STOP :((( why is this so cute… he was working too hard again smh!

bill scares him!!! and wakes him up!! RUDE! i thought it was going to be scully and it would be sweet but it’s this loser. he’s asking what mulder is looking for, and he admits he isn’t sure yet. 

and bill is back on his yelling at people bullshit, saying mulder is wasting his time, that john is only doing all this gargoyle art because he is insane. and he is MEAN!! he tells mulder that he’s disappointed in him and he comes back with a “well, i wouldn’t want to disappoint you by not disappointing you”<- ooohhhh get his ass.

why is he here at this library anyway? it seems unprofessional and stalker-adjacent. bill leaves with some more parting bullying and mulder seems really upset honestly. he looks out the window and sees A GARGOYLE! they're haunting him!

scully at the door to his place. she lets herself in. she’s so pretty. but where is he?

oh. he has covered his place with gargoyle art. so that is not a promising sign… did he steal it??? or is this his own work? 

we then see him back at the crime scene, staring at the same drawing that is in his house. so does he possess a copy machine, or a photographic memory and a secret talent for drawing? or did someone break into his place and target HIM?

why is he back at the scene of the crime? pacing about. what is going through your mind, strange man. why is he touching the art. while there are voices whispering. HUH?? MULDER POSSESSION ARC??? 

now HE’S sculpting stuff?? okayyyy artist!! at 3 in the morning. at a crime scene. he’s SLEEPING in john’s bed??

but he wakes up!! to a creepy gargoyle looking creature standing over him!! he grabs his gun and starts running. climbing ladders n stuff. but then he loses him. 

NO! the creepy guy jumps out and slashes at mulder. and then knocks him into a big pile of something soft. very lucky.

scully is with mulder now, he’s getting bandaged up, and she’s telling him how scared she was. “you turned your phone off? why do you even bother carrying it?” <- lmaooo

he claims he was “working” in john's studio at 3 am, and scully is NOT happy because she hasn’t heard from him in 2 days, which is a concerning amount of time to be apart for them!

he’s insisting that whatever it is, it’s real. and she says she knows about his “new wallpaper”, and that bill is “testing” him. with some sort of psychological torment? yeah, seems in character. 

he leaves without telling her where he’s going and she is NOT happy. she marches up to bill. and starts asking what the hell he’s doing to mulder. bill says he wants to finish the case and to “let mulder do what he needs to do” because she won’t be able to stop him.

HELLO? the man is going off the deep end. his best friend (who is a doctor) is going to be trying to help him. that’s an unstoppable force (mulder's desire to finish his quest) meeting an immovable object (scully's need to keep him safe and healthy).

fuck you, bill you’re really making me upset. because you’re making scully upset. and fuck your little henchman greg watching all this. 

but she notices a razor stuck in a car nearby. wait, do you think this henchman greg is the killer?

she finds the handle underneath the same car….

mulder is back at the jail, talking to john. asking why “it let him live”. he’s asking john to help him get deeper, to help him find it.

OH! he punched john when his answers weren't helpful. his mouth is full of blood. john says that only it can find him, and maybe it already has. 

MULDER POSSESSION ARC!!??? or is it an exploration into the evils people can be driven to out of desperation and a quest for answers?

scully took the razor and handle she found to the lab for analysis and she’s putting on some sunglasses to look at stuff. okaaaayy. 

AND THEY ARE MULDER’S PRINTS ON THE KNIFE!!! she is shocked. she has to excuse herself. 

she’s going to the archives and someone gives her a box. she just gets on the floor and starts looking through it. no time to bring it to a table, we need answers NOW. it’s the evidence box from the crime scene, and that knife from evidence is missing. 

and skinner wants to see her right away!!! what is going on?? she looks soooo scared. 

but she looks good. 

anyway, skinner asks if the knife she found could be the same as the one from the crime scene, and also, how is mulder doing? well, i would say, not good. she says she’s not worried about him, but he can tell she’s lying, because he says “off the record, so am i” no :( what did they do to him?!

mulder is back at the crime scene again? looking at the clay gargoyles. 

WHAT IS GOING ON... THERE ARE ONLY TEN MINUTES LEFT. HOW IS THIS GONNA GET WRAPPED UP?

that CREATURE ATTACKS HIM AGAIN!!! and he sees bill and the other guy greg there???

but it’s just a dream. okay, well i was fooled. guess i’m gullible. he’s actually sleeping at his apartment on that damn couch again. once again asking for mutual aid funds to buy him a mattress. 

anyway, he wakes up covered in sweat and surrounded by gargoyle drawings all over his walls. clearly a very healthy man /s

now he’s getting up and leaving his apartment. creepy music is playing as he goes back to the crime scene. to do more searching. now he’s looking at the gargoyles IN REAL LIFE. and the music is getting more intense.

the cat is licking some blood on the floor!!!! he follows it to a hand??? but whose….. 

greg calls scully, and leaves a message saying to call her back. but we hear his phone ringing at the crime scene when scully calls it! so where is he? well, i have a guess. mulder picks up greg's phone.

she asks about the prints on the knife, and he says he wanted “to see what it felt like in my hand” which is deeply suspicious!!! you’re scaring me!!!

she says mulder needs to stay EXACTLY where he is, and that she will be there in a few minutes so they can “work this thing out together, okay?” and MAN she is a good friend!! she will wake up in the middle of the night to find you losing sanity at a crime scene after you stole a murder weapon, and she’s gonna do what it takes to help you out. he says “yeah” and hangs up. he seems unappreciative.

he’s looking at a sculpture with great intensity. it looks very wet. and then he DIGS INTO IT AGAIN and finds ANOTHER FELLOW IN THERE. is it GREG??? it IS!

mulder hears a noise behind him and its bill. he’s adding two and two together- or possibly being delusional- and saying that greg knew it was bill who did the killing, so bill killed him. and bill’s hands ARE covered in clay. bill seems really confused. mulder has him at gunpoint.

mulder says that bill imagined everything john (the killer) did as he got deeper and deeper into his profiling over the three years it took to solve the case. and when he caught john, it wasn’t enough. by then bill had become the monster like he always said to! and he brought mulder in on the case for subconscious help!

scully rolls up and pulls her gun out. because let’s be honest, it’s not looking great for mulder. he asks her to put the light away- also suspicious- but tells him to explain. and then bill shoves her down. mulder helps her up and says “it’s him”.

next thing you know, they’re searching on the roof. i’m scared someone will fall over the edge. 

everything is very tense. and then the gargoyle grabs mulder again. we hear a gun go off! scully screams "mulder!!" and she runs over. 

he shot bill! right under the roof gargoyle!

now bill is in jail and screaming about “not doing it”. 

mulder wrap up time. “if a man’s character is his fight, this fight [against evil] is not a choice but a calling” <- ooooh okay banger line. gonna have to think on exactly what it means but it sure does SOUND cool.

closeup on gargoyle drawn in blood on the wall, presumably by the jailed bill. while mulder talks about looking into the laughing face of of madness.

hmm. initial thoughts: hmm.

this episode was used to dive into mulder’s psyche. to examine his past and also his fragility. he throws so much of himself into a case, that he almost loses who he is. 

but it also could have been the influence of an evil gargoyle... so: ??? 

i think that, in general, sanity is a frail thing. and we see how delicate it is, how people who are capable of evil can manipulate and terrorize. if you assume that mulder wasn’t in any sort of actual demon possession, it’s scarier, seeing how people can lose themselves. if you go with the interpretation that there was no real demon at all, and the urge to do evil came from bill’s year’s long quest to catch the killer, then that proves the point even further. in that interpretation, the result is very scully-esque, how the real horrors of life are the unpredictably of fellow man. and we could see how terrifying it was to her, how scared she was of him disappearing, not communicating, covering his walls with scary drawings (that we never really got answers on if he drew himself?), how the way he acted started changing, and she was losing touch with the person she knew so well because of how he was being manipulated. how she was going to do anything, from confront bill to track him down at 3 am at a crime scene to try and keep him safe.

i think mulder wanted to prove himself to bill, and so he pushed himself as hard as he did. he seemed really hurt by his lack of approval, which probably stems from mulder’s reputation for getting results, even if others consider his approach unorthodox. 

but then why would mulder cover his place with those drawings?? and why did he want to feel the knife in his hand? was it because he wanted to see how the killer felt before doing something so awful? if so, why now? there have been tons of cases before in which he could have held a murder weapon and pondered its use on taking a life. was it his glance into the history of gargoyles that got him all contemplative on the human nature and what evil is and if it can be resisted, or if it is something that is inside of you and unavailable? was he tempting himself to prove if he could resist it?

i’m a bit puzzled. i guess you can take a bunch of approaches here on who really did the killing- bill and john, or a force of evil- and why. and whichever read you take will characterize the themes of the episode very differently. please share what you thought; i’m curious on if there was a popularly accepted interpretation or one that the creators intended us to get, or if the ambiguity was intentional. i feel like i'll be gnawing at this one in my mind for a bit, trying to reach whatever it was saying.

it was very tense, but overall a pretty good episode. things i liked the best: mulder pssting a cat, worried scully, angry scully yelling at bill for messing with mulder’s head, an apartment entrance (she still has the key to his place <3), mulder falling asleep in a library after going on a quest for gargoyle facts (art history nerd? library nerd? you decide), scully in a red suit, scully telling mulder very firmly to stay still so she can come get him and they can figure whatever situation he is in out together, brief scully sunglasses moment.

wouldn't it be funny if they both got pets from a case? if that cat wasn't feral, he could have adopted it. taken it around for walks on a cat harness. a lovely thought!

[acrobaticcatfeline]

Of Books, Brothers, and Broadway (Creativitwins College AU) Chapter One!!!

Word Count: 1771

TW: So Remus, obviously, swearing, ocean mentions, sea creatures and reptiles, and I think that’s it!

Pairings: None yet. This chapter is just a ton of platonic creativitwins!

Notes: This is three pages that I wrote last night. I’m now at ten pages of this. I don’t know what I was possessed by but I’m not about to complain. Its a college AU, I mention it I think, but Roman is a theatre major and Remus is a marine biology major with a minor in creative writing. I’m excited for you guys to see more of this!

Summary: “Bro!!! Bro I found a giant ass lizard in the yard look at it bro!!!” Roman and Remus Reyes live together. They figured it would be cost effective to do so while in college. Roman deals with Remus’ reptiles and fish tank, Remus deals with Romans singing at 3 in the morning. They’ve had an interesting relationship, and when Remus reminds Roman of a deal they made years ago, hes ready to start crying. Can a couple of kids from Florida make a Broadway musical?

“Bro!!! Bro I found a giant ass lizard in the yard look at it bro!!!”

Roman was done with his brothers bullshit. He doesn't know where he got the bright idea that the two of them should cohabitate in an apartment during college, but as he panickedly climbs onto the kitchen counters to escape him he knows he must've been on some sort of drug. He released a scream as he backed into the corner of the room as his brother held out a lizard that was definitely going to jump and attack him.

“GET IT AWAY!!! ITS SLIMY AND GROSS AND MALICIOUS!!!”

“This little guy malicious? Nah bro, that's a you problem. He's so cuteeee look at his scales they’re almost a holographic!”

That caught Roman's attention. He stopped panicking to actually look at the critter in his brother's hands. Remus was right, he was almost holographic. Roman gave it a weak smile and Remus beamed.

“See? It's not that scary! I'm gonna keep him! He's gonna be named fred!”

Roman chuckled softly as his brother finally left and brought the lizard to his room. He slipped off the counter and followed at a safe distance.

“Don't you think you have enough reptiles? If you keep getting more you'll need more heat lamps and i'm giving you more of the electric bill”

“Ok fair point but hear me out, have you ever seen a collared lizard quite as colorful as this one? I mean he's such a pretty one aint he?”

Roman took more steps forward, relaxing once the lizard was placed in the terrarium. The lizard was quite colorful, and Roman couldn't deny, it was one of the prettiest ones Remus had captured. It immediately scurried around and dived into the water bowl. Roman laughed at it.

“Besides, he was just begging to be brought in! Like really this time! He kept bumping into my feet, he started climbing my pants leg, it was so cute you should've seen it!”

“I'm sure I would have cried.”

Remus chuckled as he moved to the other wall of his room covered in a giant aquarium that Roman was still amazed fit through the doors. Remus grinned at all the fish swimming around, tipping a good portion of fish food into the tank after turning off the filter. He then made his way to his bed and sat on the twin sized mattress covered with octopus blankets. He grinned at his brother and Roman rolled his eyes.

“When are you finally kidnapping an octopus huh?”

“I'm glad you asked! You know my internship right?”

“Of course, the only time you don't talk about the marine institute is when youre talking about your reptiles”

Remus popped up and grabbed Roman's wrist and dragged him to the whiteboard calendar that hung on the outside of his door, pointing excitedly at tomorrow's date while bouncing on his toes.

“Well they just got an octopus buddy in that needs constant care that they don't have the time for! She's real fucked up, she needs meds twice a day, she needs to be hand fed, its a real fucked up case, they were rescued from a seaworld copycat, the poor thing hasn't been healthy since it hatched we think. There's a chance that she won't even be able to be released cuz she's been so dependent on humans for her whole life. But they opened up for applicants, and I was the only one willing to take her in. they're coming and checking my tank tomorrow and if it is good enough, which i'm certain it will be, and then they'll hand her over and i’ll be her caretaker!”

Roman grinned at the excitement his brother had. He ruffled his hair quickly.

“That's cool rem. I'm happy for you. She got a name?”

“Mhmm! Her name is Cephanie! But I've been calling her Cephy. She's so pretty ro, i can't wait for you to meet her! And she's so friendly!”

“You know every day I get less confused at your choice in major. And more confused about your minor”

Remus grinned at Roman and released his wrist, skipping over to their kitchen, relishing in the fact that Roman followed still. He poured himself a cup of coffee and jumped onto the counter with a grin still plastered to his face. He took a sip from his mug, the one with a tentacle handle, and kicked his feet.

“I don't know why! It's totally sensical to have a minor in creative writing ro! It's not like you can expect me to be your playwright if i don't know what i'm doing! Besides, i can write epic lovecraftian horrors that aren't incredibly racist and who doesn't want that?”

Roman blinked. He had to process what Remus had said and he was still confused. His head tilted like a dogs.

“My playwright?”

Remus giggled, it was funny when Remus giggled, it wasn't a sound that you would expect to come out of him. And yet he did it often.

“Did you forget? Aw ro, you can't back out on it now, you asked me when we were still in middle school to write you a book for a musical, and you were gonna write the music and you kept saying you were gonna get it on broadway. I've held up my end of the deal! In fact, I actually have a story started, I think you're gonna love it! Course, i haven't written it all out yet, it's gonna be my final”

“Wait, you remembered that? Rem we were like 10!”

“And now we’re 21, what's your point?”

“We, we can't get on broadway! We’re a couple of idiots from florida! I’m, i'm not a musician, I'm barely even a dancer, what are you talking about? That was a fever dream from a couple of kids, it's not like we can actually do it!”

Remus frowned. He set his mug of coffee down and hopped off of the counter. He crossed his arms over his chest and gave Roman a serious look.

“Do you know when lin manuel miranda wrote his first broadway musical?”

“No i-”

“His sophomore year of college. Who says we can't do the same? Roman you under sell your talents. You're a theatre major, you may not be amazing at any instruments other than your voice but damn bro, your voice is good enough on its own. I've seen you dance, you're one of the best dancers i've ever seen and you're in your fourth year of college. We have potential. I know we can do this if we try, but i can't make it happen alone. I need your help”

Roman looked lost. He wanted, oh so desperately he wanted, to make it happen. It had always been a dream of his to make it to broadway, but he wasn't wrong, they weren't lin manuel miranda, they were some twins from florida, they had no idea what they were doing. And yet. And yet he held out his hand to his brother.

“Ok. ok, we can try this. I can, I can make a score. We can do this”

Remus grinned again and took Roman's hand. He tugged him into the living room. He sat on the couch, pulling out his notebook and flipping to a bookmarked page. Roman sat next to him and looked over at it. There were a few doodles around a plotline that was both gorey and Romantic a la sweeney todd but also quite similar to ella enchanted. Remus grinned at the book and then started explaining.

“Ok so the main character, played by you presumably, is an author”

“Did you just write out your personal fantasy Remus?”

“No, shut up! Ok so he's written several books, like neil gaiman or terry pratchet level several, but those aren't all the stories he's made, he has several stories that have never seen the light of day. He writes his stories in notebooks and journals ordinarily, waiting until they’re fully developed to make them digital. In one of these notebooks there lies a bit of magic. So he writes in this unknowingly, writes of a powerful magician, and as he sleeps it awakes. The magician escapes and brings each of his hundreds of creations to life just the same as him. The characters run amok and the author awakes to see the most beautiful man he's ever met at the foot of his bed. It takes him seeing the magician running through his home to realize that these are his characters. And the man is the protagonist from his most famous novel, one he wrote as a guilty pleasure, writing of a man he had met in his dreams. And he finds that these characters were pulled from different points in their books. The character had been pulled from the early pages, after he had suffered a major trauma and had no clue of the powers he possessed. So now, with his dream man in his living room, in pain from an event he had written, and gifted with emotionally driven powers, he has to fix this mess with the added hurdle of the character creating villains and fiends ready to destroy humanity as a whole with no way to stop. Along the way, some of his characters suffer mortal wounds at the hands of heinous and violent creatures, and all the author has is one magic notebook to fight them off. Romantic plot between the author and dream MC, with angst from the reality of once everything is dealt with, he will have to go back to the book. Thats what ive got so far, what do you think?”

Roman is starry eyed. It's far less violent than Remus’ normal brand of writing, it doesn't inherently include any sea monsters or snake men, and it's something Roman can really appreciate. He loves it, he can already feel the gears turning for songs and dances. Now that he heard the actual story instead of just going on the drawings, he saw far more nutcracker vibes from it. 

“Oh, and there's a happy ending or whatever that the author gets to like, marry the other MC, and everyone lives happily ever after. I know you like the cutesy shit”

“Remus this is amazing! I can't believe I hesitated, I already have some ideas for the score! Remus you're a genius. I love you!”

Roman launched into a hug with Remus, which had the other laughing. Remus hugged him back.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

It was Roman's turn to turn into a giggling mess.

Taglist: @fivebyfive-finebyfive @tacohippy56900 @analogical-mess @crookedlyoptimisticdestiny @angels-and-dreams @fandomloverangel

Let me know if you want to be tagged in my writing!!!

Thank you for reading I will see you later ladies lords and nonbinary royalty!!!

[littlemonstersau-blog]

The Feels Awaken, Part 3: A New Hope (for Friendship)

Written by @jkl-fff, illustrated by me

PART I - PART II [Interlude] - PART III - PART IV [Interlude] - PART V [FINAL] (you are here)

——————————————————————————————–

A new day dawned then waxed then began to wane, but Ford and Bill hardly noticed. A manic, obsessive energy (plus an unhealthy amount of coffee and sugar) kept them focused throughout their self-appointed task. Such is often the case for the kind of people who feel the need to write to right a wrong in the world. Not all heroes wear capes, after all; some wear turtlenecks and trenchcoats, some wear paper-based clones of teenage boys produced through unholy abominations of SCIENCE!.

… For that matter, not all heroes are particularly heroic; some are morally ambiguous straddlers of the line between antihero and antivillain, some are demonic chaos gods who (quite frankly) still wonder how in the 79 Hells they found themselves in this position.

In the end, though it did take more than the one night, they still finished in just over 16 hours. The plot outline came in at just over 18 pages, which they tidily stacked together on the table and declared to be more than adequate … before passing out on the carpet. Facefirst.

When Bill next regained consciousness, he was in his attic bed and morning light was streaming through the window. His mouth tasted like an abandoned prison for criminally insane chalk and his head felt like the internal turmoil of a buzzsaw having an existential crisis. It was a pain that was anything but hilarious; it was the sugared caffeine hangover equivalent of nuclear fallout … Mouthwash fixed the first problem. The second took an adult dosage of aspirin, a lot of water, and deliberate manipulation of many of the clonesuit’s normally automatic processes for a full eight minutes. And even then, not completely.

“Guess I can’t pilot one of these things through 36+ hours of no sleep on a gallon of coffee … Not if I wanna be able to still maneuver it the next day without crashing every ten feet into a wall or the floor, at least,” he grumbled to himself. “Major design flaw … Can’t believe they got evolutionarily approved for mass production with such weak durability …”

Downstairs in the kitchen, Stan greeted him jovially enough. “Stancakes are up, and so are you, it seems. How you feelin’ today?”

“Honestly, confused,” Bill graveled, his clonesuit throat still raw. “I can get longterm possession of a meatbag leading to me—y’know, the real me—developing emotions and physical cravings and other … gross, brain-mush junk like that. Neurochemistry is basically just an addictive habit, like how people respond to hearing the question ‘What is love?’—”

“Baby, don’t hurt me. Don’t hurt me no more,” Stan mumbled automatically.

“Exactly. But what I don’t get is why the real me is also feeling this coffee and sugar hangover. No joke: I tried leaving my clonesuit to get away from it, but it followed me. How is that fair? And, yeah, existence isn’t fair,” Bill interjected before Stan automatically could. “But still …”

Like the benevolent and experienced sage he was (more or less), Stan chuckled to himself. Then, laying a companionable arm around Bill’s shoulders, he leaned in and whispered the truth as grimly as Death itself, “You can outrun your sins, but you can never outrun a hangover.”

“W-wha?”

“Some say if you never stop drinkin’, it’ll never catch up with you. But they are fools. Sooner or later, all things must sleep—sooner or later, all who drink must suffer.”

“Uh … K-kinda freakin’ me out here.” Bill tried to lean away, but Stan’s hold was inescapable. “And, just sayin’, I’m kinda responsible for making most of the 79 Hells as freaky as they are.”

“Heed my warning, child.”

“I’m heeding! I’m heeding! Elder Gods, Stan, the only one who’s supposed to give people nightmares around here is me …”

Straightening up, Stan went back to the stove to continue what passed for cooking with him. “Once you’re done eatin’, by the way, I gotta plate for you to take down to Ford. He prob’ly needs some food and water more ‘n you do.”

Between mouthfuls of food, Bill said, “Yeah, sure … You seen what we wrote, by the way?”

“Yeah. It’s not bad at all. I’d def’nitely go see movies like that. Might even pay my own money for it, too. Heh … Even Soos admitted the storylines are better. Haven’t seen him that downcast ‘bout anything in a while, either. Looked as painful for him as cutting out his own kidney. Might have to do something nice for him soon just to make up for it,” Stan added to himself.

“Huh … Yeah, maybe …” Bill chewed on his breakfast, almost starting to maybe feel guilty. Then, when he finished, he put his dishes in the sink, picked up what was meant for Ford, and took it down to the lab.

Ford, as usual, was at his desk. He was hunched over with a pen, which was also fairly usual. However, and this was very unusual, all his notes and Journals had been pushed into a corner—neatly stacked, but well out of the way. Close to hand, as if for quick reference, was actually their Cosmos Conflicts storyline.

Bill cleared his throat. “Brought some breakfast for ya from Stan.” He set it on the desk, but away from any of the papers (just in case). “How you feeling? I woke up with a caffeine hangover I couldn’t escape even when I left my body. Er, clonsuit. Whatever. Same dif.”

“… I didn’t really sleep very deeply,” Ford eventually replied, his voice as hoarse as Bill’s. “Ergo, I can’t really say I woke up with such a hangover, but I’m suffering one all the same.”

“Yeesh, that sucks. Taken anything? Had some water and some food? That helped me.”

“Some water and aspirin, yes, though I’m not sure I could keep much food down … I suppose I ought to try, anyway.”

“If you feel more rotten than a two-week-old apple core, why are you working?” Bill asked, sliding the plate closer.

“I’m not really working, per se,” Ford answered guiltily. “Just … sketching. Some stuff. For what we came up with.”

Bill’s eyes lit up with interest. “Ooo! Really? Can I see? Please?”

For a moment, Ford’s jaw worked. As though trying to control himself.

“It’s okay,” Bill said hurriedly, though unable to fully contain his disappointment. “I get it. I’ll leave you al—”

A couple pages’ worth of images (some rough sketches, some little more than absent doodles, and some rather intricate and detailed) were thrust at the Demon. “Here. Can’t see any harm in you looking at them, anyway, so …” Ford mumbled. Without looking up, he cut in to his food. “Was just doing this since I’m too awake and restless to just not do anything, but too … wooly in the head, I suppose you could say, to do any productive work.”

Bill poured over them, delighting in the imaginative whimsy of them. Most were of characters from the prequels, though with distinctive touches—touches reflecting their own collaboration (such as Otherkin in a stained pilot’s attire, Imdolledupa aiming ruthlessly with a blaster, and Jelived Knights wearing a different style of clothing from Jelived Sentinels or Jelived Healers). But some were very different, especially among the doodles. “Ha! You made a Soos Wookie!”

Ford couldn’t resist smiling. “Soosbacca. Co-pilot to Stan Solo.”

“In their spaceship, the Mystery Falcon, right? Is Melody a Wookie, too?”

“Huh … That’s not a bad idea, actually. I was having a hard time seeing how to fit her in, since she isn’t really the Princess Leia type.”

“But Mabel and—pff!—Dipper are?” Bill snorted, pointing to where they were both sketched with the iconic braids wrapping around their ears. “Both of them together?”

“Well, they’re also both Luke, since I couldn’t really pick who fit which roll better.”

“Two sets of the twins running around, huh?” Bill murmured, though he was really thinking about two Dippers (and they weren’t running around, either—they were very much not running). “… And Wendy’s Lando, I see. Am I Yoda, since I’m the most triangular or everybody, and the right size?”

“Uh …” Ford hesitated.

“Pff, it’s alright, I can already see 3PO and R2 are both me.”

Lamely, the Weirdologist explained, “Because you’re shiny. That’s the extent of the logic.”

“You gonna do any more sketches?”

“Assuming I can keep breakfast down, probably,” Ford said around a mouthful. “It’s … distracting. And fun. And relaxing, too. Helps to pass the time on a down day like this.”

“Um … M-mind if I stay and watch? Please?” Bill almost begged. “Y’know how much I love watching you meatbags make art.”

“… Oh, fine,” Ford relented. Because what was the harm in being nice to the Demon? Ford didn’t have to trust him for that. “Just don’t make any noise. My head aches enough as it is.”

Bill mimed zipping his lips and throwing away the key before pulling up a chair and settling himself comfortably beside Ford. The only time he broke his silence after that was to ask Ford if he wanted more water, and to assert that the others would get a kick out of seeing these sketches (“especially Soos … the Twins, too, though we’d have to text ‘em a photo of ‘em, or mail the whole project to ‘em to see …”).

All in all, it turned out to be a rather nice day for both of them together.

[invisibletinkerer]

Fic: 30 Seconds Later (chapter 5)

Chapter 1 – Chapter 2 – Chapter 3 – Chapter 4 -- Chapter 5 -- Chapter 6

Length: ~5000 words

AO3 Link.

The hunger signals that hadn’t quite reached Ford’s brain earlier was doing so with a vengeance by the time he came down to the kitchen. Stanley apparently made pancakes by their mother’s recipe, with a liberal sprinkling of cinnamon, and the smell alone made Stanford stop in the doorway and indulge in the luxurious illusion of – comfort? Perhaps even safety.

His brother was already seated by the table together with the grand niece and nephew, and the children were eating – he noted that the girl had her pancakes with an alarming amount of fruit sauce, whipped cream and glittery sprinkles. For some reason the young twins greeted him with a cheerful good morning, as if they were happy to see him. He couldn’t imagine why – he was a stranger to them, and he could hardly have made a good impression last night, so there was no reason for them to be excited.

Stanley insisted on seeing to Ford’s wrist first of all. Ford expected it to be quite unnecessary – the injury wasn’t likely to kill him anyway – but he had to admit that it stung less after being cleaned and wrapped in soft gauze. It also stopped the hem of his sleeve from rubbing painfully against the wound, even though it limited his movements somewhat.

“Thanks,” he mumbled.

Stanley shrugged and handed him an oral thermometer. “How do you feel?”

Ford considered the question for a moment. “Not ideal,” he admitted, although that much must be obvious to anyone. “But better, overall.” He put the tip of the thermometer under his tongue and waited for the reading.

Stanley patted his left shoulder, and Ford suppressed a wince. “You still need more sleep and some food in ya. What does the gizmo say?”

“No fever,” Ford said after checking, finding it to be almost exactly what he’d expected, then handed the thermometer back to Stanley. “I didn’t think there would be.”

Stanley took a look at the reading and frowned. “Huh,” he said. “Isn’t this kinda low?”

“Yes. That means there’s no fever.” Of course, it was low, but probably not dangerously so. “Actually,” Ford added, glancing at the pancakes, “I’m hungry.”

Stanley looked happier at that. “Glad to hear it! Go ahead and eat.”

The pancakes tasted just as delicious as they smelled, if not better. The fact that his body was starting to remember hunger for the first time in weeks might have something to do with it, but the fact remained that he hadn’t had homemade pancakes in many years. It brought back memories of a different time, when life had been simpler and the weight of the world hadn’t been piled on his shoulders one mistake at a time. He would have liked to eat a stack of them, but sadly he could barely finish one before a wave of nausea caught up to him and he had to put his fork down.

Stanley looked up from his own pancakes. “Did it taste okay?”

Ford nodded. “They’re like mom’s.”

Stanley grinned. “Success!”

It occurred to Ford that after thirty years, their parents might not even be alive anymore. He was not thinking about that. If he couldn’t eat more, he should be thinking about the rift. The alien adhesive was still the best idea he had for neutralizing it, but he had to admit it was an unpredictable substance. He’d never been able to discover exactly what uses the aliens had had for it, though sealing rifts in reality was probably not it. It most likely wouldn’t be a permanent solution even if it worked.

Ford appreciated that neither of the children had asked explicitly about the wound on his wrist – perhaps it was obvious even to a child – but now he suddenly noticed Mabel looking thoughtfully at the bandage.

“Can I draw on it?” she asked, already holding several colored markers.

“Just leave out the glitter, sweetie,” Stanley told her immediately, as if permission was a foregone conclusion.

“Don’t!” Ford said, scowling at the girl and pulling his arm away from her. “That’s completely unnecessary!”

She made puppy-dog eyes at him. “Please, uncle Ford!” Was that a normal thing children did?

“No,” he repeated, softer. “I’d rather you didn’t.”

“Oh.” She sighed. “I just wanted to cheer you up. You say you feel better, but you still look sad!”

“I’m not sad. And I doubt a doodle is going to fix anything that is wrong with me.” He’d prefer not to find any more markings on his own body this morning.

Mabel huffed and looked at him like he was an especially challenging puzzle, but Stanley interrupted before she said anything else.

“Alright, still having breakfast here,” he said, handing Ford a cup of black tea that he hadn’t asked for but wasn’t about to turn down. “We’re brainstorming Ford’s problems later.”

“Alright,” Mabel grumbled, getting back to stuffing over-accessorized pancake in her mouth.

Ford took a sip of tea, wondering whether it would be better to walk out of this domesticity now and force himself to get something done or whether it’d be worth it to stay and pretend he belonged here for another few minutes. The tea was good, but he really would have preferred coffee.

“Great uncle Stanford?” Dipper said. “Could we talk about the journals now? Just a little bit? If you want to! There’s so many creatures out there that I’ve met this summer that you wrote about and I’ve got so many questions about stuff and maybe we could compare notes and—”

“Dipper,” Ford interrupted him.

“Yes!”

This was the child who had been writing in Ford’s journal, been possessed by Bill, and kept a memory gun. Perhaps Ford really did want to talk to him. He leaned forward across the table, ignoring the way the fresh cuts on his body protested the movement. “Stanley mentioned that were the one who found my third journal.”

“Yes! I did! Right at the beginning of summer, it was in this—”

“I know where it was. I put it there.”

“Ah, yes! Of course you did. But it was a good hiding place! Grunkle Stan said he never found it in thirty years, and it was really mostly a coincidence that I did, so—” He stopped, pursing his mouth.

That wasn’t where Ford had been going with this, but the conclusion of that thought was obvious. He sighed. “So if you hadn’t found it you wouldn’t have a universe destroying rift in the house, no.” He’d wanted those journals to be hidden away for a reason.

Stanley opened his mouth to protest, but Mabel was faster. “He meant that if he hadn’t found it you would still be stuck behind the portal, silly!”

Ford felt his shoulders tense. He knew that perfectly well, but so much had happened that he’d almost lost perspective. “That would have been preferable,” he said tersely.

It would have been unbearable, too. Just thinking it made his fists clench involuntarily on the table. But if Stanley had left him and forgotten about the portal there would be no rift and Ford’s foolishness would no longer endanger anyone, and that would have been better.

“Nu-huh,” Mabel said, childishly shaking her head. “You don’t even believe that yourself.”

“Thank you, Mabel,” Stanley said. “And you shut up, Poindexter.”

Ford bristled. He knew he was right. “You want me to shut up? You put the world in danger by opening the portal!”

“I didn’t make that portal!”

“You didn’t have to aggravate my mistake! You knew it was dangerous!”

“Hey!” Mabel shouted, waving her arms around. “Hey! No shouting at breakfast!”

In the momentary silence that followed, Dipper raised an arm and spoke up. “I actually have a question,” he said. “Great uncle Stanford – what is on the other side of the portal?”

“That’s a good question,” Stanley added, crossing his arms. “Can people live there at all?”

Stanford looked down at his empty plate. “No – I don’t think so. Bill called it a ‘nightmare realm’, and that’s an apt name.”

“Great.” Stanley said, an edge in his voice now. “So you’re saying it would have been preferable if I killed you.”

“No!” Ford looked up again. “I didn’t say that! I just—” He’d certainly implied that, but no, he didn’t want to turn Stanley into a murderer. Worse. Ford might not even have died in the nightmare realm. And in either case, Stanley would never have known.

It occurred to him to wonder what he himself would have done if he’d accidentally pushed Stanley into the portal instead. He couldn’t be sure. Stopping Bill was the priority. Could he really have risked the world to fix a smaller mistake? Could he have lived with himself if he hadn’t? He didn’t know, and the thought was unbearable in a different way than imagining himself lost in the nightmare realm.

“It’s fine,” he said eventually, leaning back in his chair and silently wincing as the cuts stretched again. “You saved my life, Stanley,” he added quietly. He hated the weakness that made him feel grateful for it.

Stanley huffed.

“That’s enough!” Mabel said. “Uncle Ford, give grunkle Stan a hug!”

Ford and Stanley glanced at each other, then at Mabel, but neither moved.

“Great uncle Stanford, you know what?” Dipper spoke up. “Yesterday, before everything happened, I got really mad at grunkle Stan. I mean, furious. Because I had read all the warnings about the danger, but I didn’t know about you at all, and we’d just found out that grunkle Stan had lied to us about his name all this time, too.” He glanced at Stanley. “He said he was doing everything for this family, but I didn’t believe him, so I tried to shut the portal down before it opened completely. But Mabel—” he nodded at his sister, “—was the one who was close enough to push the button, and she trusted him, so she didn’t push it. Otherwise you wouldn’t be here, and that rift wouldn’t either.”

Mabel nodded, and Stanley a ruffled her hair a bit.

“And the thing is,“ Dipper continued, “I was wrong! And she was right! I realized that as soon as I saw you coming out of the portal and grunkle Stan called you his brother. Because yeah, it was risky and there’s all this danger – but you’re family. That’s worth the risk.” He bit his lip self-consciously, glanced at his sister again, and added, “I know I would have done the same thing if something happened to Mabel.”

Stanford shook his head slowly, trying to file away the boy’s words. He still didn’t know what to think about Dipper or Mabel, but memories of another pair of twins that would have said similar things without hesitation at that age came to mind. It hurt to think that Stanley would still be able to think like that after everything that happened between them and another thirty years besides.

Thirty years. He shuddered, eyes stinging. What a stubborn, knucklehead brother.

“That’s naïve,” he said eventually, but without much conviction.

Stanley sighed. “You’re definitely feeling better,” he said, “because now you’re just being stubborn for the sake of it.”

“Unlike you?” The opportunity to quip was welcome.

“Pfft. You wish.” Stanley rose and started removing the dishes and the remaining pancakes from the table. “I get it, Ford,” he said from the kitchen counter. “You’re worried about Bill.”

“Bill is a jerk and we’re not standing for it!” Mabel declared and slammed her fist on the table. She could have been talking about a schoolyard bully. Dipper nodded confidently, but he was rubbing the marks on his arm again.

Stanley returned to the table and slumped back into his chair. He turned to face Stanford. “So. How do we get him out of your head?”

“I—what?”

“How do we get Bill out of your head?” Stanley repeated. “I told you. That’s gonna be our priority one, here. Let’s brainstorm.”

Stanford folded twelve fingers around his teacup. There was no way around it. “You can’t,” he said. “It’s impossible. He made sure of that when we made the deal.”

“Really? What were the terms?”

Ford looked out the window. “’From now until the end of time’.”

“Hm.” Stanley frowned. “Not a lot of leeway there, huh. Well, as long as we’re brainstorming—” He looked at Mabel, who was unfolding a large piece of blank paper. “Put down ‘stop time’ as an option.”

“Yep!” She did so, with a glittery pink marker.

“Stanley!” Ford rose to his feet and raised his arms, appalled. “What are you trying to do here? This is serious! We need to neutralize the rift, not waste time playing games with impossibilities! Bill is going to stay in my head and the more time passes, the less I’m going to be able to—”

“I’m dead serious,” Stanley said, talking over him. “We’re gonna fix you before we fix the rift – now sit down.”

Ford sat down, despite better judgement. “If ‘stop time’ is an answer,” he muttered, “You might as well put down ‘punch Bill into oblivion’ while you’re at it. Isn’t that your favored solution?”

“Good idea,” Stanley said, and Mabel wrote ‘punch Bill’ on her list. It was ridiculous. “Any other suggestions?”

“If Bill is in his head,” Dipper said, “maybe we can go into his mindscape and force him to leave? It worked once. More or less.”

“He’s not actually present there all the time,” Ford said with some exasperation, “And even if you did find him and somehow made him leave, nothing would stop him from coming back.” He didn’t enjoy the thought of opening himself up to more people rummaging through his thoughts and memories, either.

“We’re brainstorming, Sixer,” Stanley said. “Don’t explain why it won’t work just yet.”

Right then, a voice came from the living room. “Mr Pines, are you still—Oh.” Soos appeared in the kitchen doorway and looked around. “Hi, younger Mr Pines. How you doing, dood?”

“I—um.” Ford hesitated. “Better.”

Soos gave him a thumbs up before turning to Stanley. “Mr Pines, I’ve finished checking around, and there’s a bunch of minor stuff I could fix right now, but I think we’re gonna have to order some cement and stuff for the foundation. It’s like, the entire Shack actually floated in the air there for a bit, you know, so there’s a bunch of huge cracks.” The gravity anomalies. They must have been intense, indeed.

Stanley grunted. “Yeah, I’ll handle that later. Hey, Soos, why don’t you join us for a bit?”

“Nah, I already had breakfast.”

“No, for brainstorming. We’re trying to come up with ways to get Bill out of my brother’s head. Any ideas?”

“Hmm.” Soos put a hand over his chin in thought. “Think we could go into the mindscape and make him go away?”

“Yeah, Dipper already suggested that.”

Soos frowned deeper. “Hmmmm. Oh, I know! If Bill made a deal to be in your head, couldn’t someone, like, trick him into some kinda reverse deal? I bet Mr Pines could do that.”

Stanley grinned. “I like that one. Write it down, sweetie.”

“But—” Stanford stopped, not sure if he was frustrated or just confused. That was nonsense. Bill would know. How could you trick a trickster?

“Cool,” Soos said. “I’ll be outside if you need me.”

“So what do you think, Sixer?” Stanley asked, leaning towards Ford as Soos left.

Ford made a defeated gesture. “What do you expect me to say?”

“You can’t tell us you haven’t been thinking about it. Problem is, you’ve been trying to handle things alone without sleeping or eating, and he’s poking at your mind, so of course it feels hopeless. But right now we’re brainstorming together, so go ahead and tell us what kinda crazy ideas you have. Even if they won’t work.”

“You want me to tell you about the things I’ve considered. That won’t work.”

“Yeah. What’ve you got?”

Ford closed his eyes, but opened them again quickly as he felt more than heard a tinny laughter in the back of his mind. “Well,” he said with a sigh. Of course he’d been contemplating it, especially at first. Ways of breaking his connection to Bill, at least temporarily. Bill had mocked him for it more than once, and he was well aware that their deal was forever, but he had considered it.

“There’s a machine down on the second basement level,” he told them. “Fiddleford and I built it to read and register people’s thoughts, and it works well for that purpose. In theory, it could be modified to not just read the mind but affect the brainwaves in such a way to put a filter over it. It would be analogous to using a simple ceasar cipher – move the letters of the alphabet a few steps to the side, and plain text looks like gibberish. Such an encrypted mind would be incomprehensible to outside forces.” He grimaced. “Unfortunately, there’s no way that I know of to do that without utterly destroying the mind at the same time.”

Dipper winced, but Stanley looked thoughtful. “Anything else?” he asked.

“A physical barrier made of cold steel placed in direct contact with the brain might do it, but the likelihood of surviving such a surgical procedure is very low.” He swallowed the last of his tea. There had been a point when he’d seriously considered cutting his own skull open to attempt this. Bill had discouraged it by giving him a minor concussion and told him he’d looked forward to piloting his corpse.

Stanley grimaced at that, but then he raised a finger. “Wait a second. What about the barrier spell?”

“The what?”

“It’s in your journal number one,” Stanley said. “I’ve read that one a few times by now, and there’s one place where you describe some kind of magic spell that’s supposed to ward off incorporeal weirdness or whatever from a building. Wouldn’t that work against Bill?”

“Oh.” Ford scratched the side of his head. “That one.” He knew what Stanley meant, but it was hardly useful. “I don’t even know if it’s real. I never had the opportunity to try it out when I discovered the formula, and the theories behind such mysticism are still a bit... opaque. One of the components is impossible to acquire.”

“You’re talking about the unicorn hair?” Stanley asked. He’d definitely done his reading.

“Yes. Unicorn hair.” He had attempted to deal with the unicorn of this forest years ago, long before he met Bill and started to unleash evil upon the world, and even then he hadn’t been pure enough to be worthy of its hair. By the time he would have needed a barrier, he hadn’t even considered trying.

Mabel gasped, eyes widening. “Unicorns!? There’s unicorns in Gravity Falls? Please please grunkle Stan can I go see them? I love unicorns! I’ve always loved unicorns, they’re amazing and beautiful!”

That was not how Stanford would describe unicorns, but Mabel’s reaction made his mind spin with sudden implications, his jaw falling open. He wasn’t worthy of a unicorn’s protection, but – a child? A little girl? It wasn’t impossible. It felt like a door that had been locked and barred was suddenly standing ajar. If that spell worked – if he could keep Bill away, if only inside the building – it was enormous.

“Do you mean—” He had to clear his throat. “Do you mean you would be willing to go out there and ask the unicorn for its hair? For this purpose?” He didn’t say ‘for my sake’, but it was the same thing. She had no reason whatsoever to do anything for him, except that she was Stanley’s family. His family.

“Yes!” she said without hesitation, raising her arms. “I’ll go get unicorn hair for you, uncle Ford! I won’t let you down!” She looked around at the others. “No arguments, right? I’m definitely the most pure hearted person in this room!”

“Can’t argue with that,” Dipper said with a shrug.

“Sure,” Stanley agreed. “Although for the record, that ‘pure of heart’ business smells kinda fake to me – it can be interpreted in far too many different ways.”

Mabel pursed her lips. “What do you mean?”

“I’m just telling you to be careful, Mabel. I don’t know anything about unicorns, but if it tries to mess with ya, don’t let it.”

Mabel smiled. “Okay. But I’m sure it won’t!”

“That’s my girl.” Stanley patted her on the shoulder. “See, Sixer?” he said to Ford. “We’re getting somewhere.”

A part of Ford was certain this wouldn’t work. Mabel would fail, or Bill would stop her, or the spell would turn out to be useless after all. But that was no reason not to try. He tapped six fingers on the table, making a decision. “You should borrow my first journal,” he told Mabel before he had time to regret it. “It will tell you how to get to the unicorn’s glade and what to expect in that area. Just – just don’t lose it anywhere.” It mustn’t fall into the wrong hands, but Mabel... wasn’t that. She was family, and Stanley most certainly trusted her. If she could do this—

He’d insist to come with her, but no, she’d have better chances without him.

“Thanks!” she said. “It’s still in the basement, right?”

Ford nodded.

“I’ll pick it up before leaving. See you later!” Mabel said with a smile and waved at them. As she took off towards the gift shop, Ford heard her shout into a – tiny walkie-talkie? – “Candy! Grenda! Wendy! Clear the day! We’ve got a mission!”

Ford flinched. He hadn’t expected her to be taking friends along, even though he should have. That was three more names that he didn’t know – people who was not family and there was absolutely nothing guaranteeing that none of them had dealt with Bill.

“Mabel, wait!” he called and hurried after her, awkwardly colliding with the doorframe when the dizziness returned as soon as he moved. He failed to suppress a groan of pain when the impact jolted the cuts on his chest.

“Uncle Ford?” Mabel said, turning back to him. “Are you okay?” She mumbled something to the small device in her hand, then put it away.

“No. Yes. I’m okay.” Ford shook his head to clear it, keeping balance with one hand on the wall. “It’s just that – your friends.” He couldn’t stop her from bringing them. The forest would be safer with company. “Who are they?”

She tilted her head at him. “I just told them to come here, so you can meet them if you like!”

“Yes, good. I’ll do that.” At the very least he’d be able to confirm that Bill wasn’t possessing them.

Mabel walked over to the vending machine and pressed the code. “Candy is smart and funny and Korean,” she explained, “and Grenda is super strong and has a lizard, and I met them both on a party that grunkle Stan threw earlier this summer. And Wendy’s this teenager who works right here at the Mystery Shack. Except it’s closed right now after those gravity hiccups last night, so she’s off duty.”

“You okay there, Sixer?” Stanley asked behind them, making Ford jump.

“Yes, of course.”

“Going downstairs?”

“Yep, to get the journal,” Mabel replied in his stead. To Ford’s surprise, she grabbed his hand and voluntarily pulled him along down the stairs to the elevator. Stanley followed. It was obvious that his brother didn’t trust Ford to be alone with the grand niece, but that much was fair.

Mabel’s hand was small and warm, and after getting into the elevator, she smiled and squeezed his fingers. “Wow,” she said. “Six fingered hand-holding. That’s a whole finger cozier than normal!”

Ford blinked at her. “You’re weird.” It was a conclusion he might have drawn when she first started spouting silliness, but he felt more confident about it now. She was weird, not derisive. He squeezed her hand back. “I like that.”

She beamed at him. “Thanks! I make it work!”

The first and second journals were still on the work desk where they’d been left. Ford flipped through the first one to the page detailing the formula for the barrier spell first, refreshing his memory on the other components. Then he showed Mabel where to find the information on the enchanted glade and the unicorn itself. “Just don’t lose it,” he reminded her as he handed over the book.

Mabel assured him she wouldn’t.

 A few minutes later they were all waiting by the main entrance to the house for Mabel’s friends to arrive. The veranda didn’t look much like Ford remembered it, and not just because it was summer. He could see how it must have been repaired – even rebuilt – time and again over the years, and even at present one of the support beams for the roof was damaged, apparently by the gravity flux last night. There was a couch right beside the door – old and well-worn, but unfamiliar to Ford – that Stanley immediately lounged in, joined by Dipper. Ford tried it, but while it was lumpy and threadbare and somewhat smelly, it was still soft and comfortable enough to make his eyes start drooping. He got back up and started pacing instead, acclimatizing himself to the feeling of cuts stretching on his chest.

While he was at it, he walked a circuit around the house to get a look at it. The greatest change was the huge sign on the roof that named it the ‘Mystery Shack’ – or possibly the ‘Mystery Hack’, since the ‘S’ had fallen over. Knowing Stanley, it could be a deliberate pun. There were plenty of smaller signs as well, making vague promises of ‘amazement’ and ‘wonder’. The veranda outside what was now the gift shop looked completely unfamiliar. The backyard had turned into a parking lot.

It was all... uncomfortable. But no more than he’d started to expect. Thirty years.

The redhaired teenager arrived first, waving at Stanley and the children from a distance. Noticing Ford, she grinned and walked straight up to him. “Hi there!” she said. “You must be Stan’s brother from thirty years ago or whatever Soos was babbling about last night.” She held out a hand for him to shake. “Wendy Corduroy.”

Hiding his hands behind his back was a reflex. He looked from her hand to her eyes – white and green, no hint of demonic influence. Her pupils constricted normally in the sunlight, too. “Yes,” he said, without taking her hand. “I’m Stanford Pines.”

She laughed, pulling her hand away. “Crazy,” she said. “You really do look like a young Stan.”

“I should. We’re twins.”

“Uh-huh.” She had a very cheerful smile. “I’m digging the sweater vest, by the way.”

“Um.” Ford flustered. “Thanks?”

She ignored that, turning over to Mabel to ask about the ‘mission’. Ford had to be satisfied with that. She wasn’t possessed. It was fine.

The other two girls arrived soon enough on bicycles, both of them rolling up to Mabel and engaged in a squeeing three-way bearhug before exchanging a single word. Once they were done, Mabel was the one to introduce them to Ford.

“This is Candy!” Mabel gestured at a petite girl of East Asian heritage.

“Nice to meet you,” Candy said.

“And this is Grenda!” A much bulkier girl with reddish hair and the word ‘cool’ printed on her t-shirt.

“Hi!” Her voice was incongruous to the point that Ford found himself wanting to like her despite himself. He knew what it was like being an anomalous child. The thought was irrelevant, so he pushed it away.

“And this is uncle Ford!” Mabel told her friends. “He’s grunkle Stan’s brother and he sort of got timetrapped in a portal for thirty years, but grunkle Stan got him back last night!”

“Whoa,” Grenda said, staring at him with wide eyes.

“That is amazing!” Candy said. “You must tell us everything about Gravity Falls in 1982.”

Ford didn’t reply, but silently crouched down to the children’s level and looked them in the eyes. Normal, both of them. He breathed a sigh of relief before getting back up. “Thanks, Mabel.”

Going back and leaning against the wall next to Stanley’s couch, he watched Mabel tell the other girls about the unicorn hair and showing them the directions in the journal. They were off not much later.

“They’ll get your magic hair,” Stanley said confidently. “Don’t worry about it.”

“If anyone can deal with unicorns, it’s Mabel,” Dipper agreed.

“I hope so.” Stanford should know better than to have hope.

“So what else did you need for that barrier?” Stanley looked up at him. “Mercury?”

“Yes, about three ounces of it. And seven moonstones. I have those things in—” He stopped, leaning his head back against the wall. He didn’t have anything. “—I had those things in the laboratory on the ground floor. Do you still have them?”

“I guess we’ll have to find out.”