#I might add a little more to Fiddleford later

[kaye-go-moo]

Shapes and Strange Ciphers AU: Need a hand? Pt. 1

SaSC by me

Shapes and Pines by @/void-dude

Next Part

Bill and Ford

While exploring one of Gravity Falls’ caves, Bill stumbled upon a wall covered in ancient text. Bill recorded his findings and translated the writing to reveal an incantation to summon an oval-shaped entity. Bill hesitated to try the summoning but felt he couldn't miss the opportunity to push past his plateau and continue his research. So he read the incantation aloud.

Later that day, Bill experienced an extraordinary dream. While floating through an infinite cosmos filled with books and scrolls, Bill was greeted by the creature pictured on the cave walls. A yellow, oval-shaped being with one eye and glasses at its center–part of its form appeared chipped away. The entity, underwhelmingly named Stanford, told Bill that he was there to help expand his research by acting as a ‘mentor’.

-

Bill, though wary in the beginning, grew to trust his new friend. Ford shared his knowledge of Bill's world and the oddities that resided in it–though never enough to satisfy the man. He would always leave Bill with a tease of new information, promising to teach him more later on. Like a fishing lure, Ford would use his extensive knowledge to reel Bill in and keep him close.

Ford also fed into Bill's narcissism, telling him that he was special and different from those who had summoned Ford in the past. This gave Bill the love and attention he so desperately craved, inflating his ego just enough to keep him happy and obedient. Before long, Bill was completely wrapped around Ford's finger, hanging on his mentor's every word, utterly infatuated. Ford believed Bill was ready for the next phase of his plan, but he had to be sure.

To test Bill’s commitment, Ford asked Bill to remove his lazy eye, reasoning that it was only holding him back and that doing so would prove Bill was serious about expanding his knowledge. Bill's lazy eye–something he was teased for while growing up, but also something that he and Tad had bonded over–was an innate part of his identity. But Bill didn't hesitate.

-

A few months later, Ford revealed that it was nearly time for him to leave, explaining to Bill that he didn't have anything else to teach him, and soon there would be no point in staying. Bill was caught off guard and desperate to keep his Mentor close. He frantically searched for an excuse to have Ford stay, telling him that he still has so much more to learn, not just about his world, but about Ford’s too. Bill’s desperation grew, overtaking his mind in hopeless pleas. Don’t leave me. Please. Please don’t leave me alone. Not again.

Seeing Bill's anguish over his leaving, Ford relented before offering a solution. He explained that it wouldn’t matter if he talked about the makings of his world because Bill couldn’t experience it for himself–unless he could. Ford admitted to knowing a way for Bill to explore not just Ford’s world, but countless others, hinting that he could also continue as Bill’s mentor–if Bill was fully prepared to expand his research. Bill jumped at the opportunity, swearing that he was ready. Ford revealed his plan: Bill needed to create a portal that would open a gateway to other worlds, allowing him to explore beyond the limits of his dimension.

Bill was eager to create the portal, especially since he could work on calculations with Ford. However, they still needed to gather materials and build the machine. After realizing that it would take far too long to do on his own, Bill called his old college friends–some lent him supplies, while others traveled to Gravity Falls to help him build. But Ford was not happy. He chose Bill to do the work, not his bumbling group of ‘friends’ with their useless degrees. What infuriated him the most wasn’t that Bill had gone over his head, but that he was right–things were progressing much faster with their help. But this didn’t matter to Ford. He already knew the sting of trusting the wrong person, so he wanted them gone.

Ford couldn’t outright tell Bill to kick his friend out, so he restored to planting subtle doubts in Bill's mind, suggesting that his friends might sabotage their work. Bill, initially confused, tried to reassure Ford that there was nothing to worry about. However, Ford persisted, slowly dripping poison into Bill’s mind. Slowly, Bill began to believe him. He started double-checking his friends’ work, scrutinizing the materials they brought, and analyzing their actions. Ford's words gnawed at Bill until he was on the brink of sending away his friends. It was only after Ford confided in Bill, sharing how trusting the wrong person had cost him everything, that Bill was fully convinced.

One by one, Bill began dismissing his friends with various excuses, though it was clear that he simply didn't want them around anymore. Over time, they watched Bill twist into someone they barely recognized–cold and distant, treating them less like friends and more like subordinates. Some tried convincing Bill to let them stay, but he wouldn't budge. He told them they were no longer needed and that he couldn’t risk their shoddy work jeopardizing his project. In the end, Bill all but called them stupid before severing ties and destroying his friendships.  

However, one friend, Jheselbraum, stayed behind. She sensed something was off and wanted to keep an eye on Bill, making sure he was safe. Jheselbraum would stop by Bill's home to check on him and hang out, and while he enjoyed her visits, Ford would always convince him to send her away. Eventually, Bill banned her from coming over, insisting he needed to focus on finishing his project and couldn’t afford any distractions. But Jheselbraum persisted, calling daily to check on Bill until she finally convinced him to let her at least drop off food.

Every time she visited, Bill was either locked away in the basement or gone from the house entirely. On the rare occasions she saw him, Jheselbraum noticed how worn down he looked–becoming more decrepit with each passing day. She tried talking to him, but he either ignored her or brushed her off, insisting he was fine and too busy with his project to worry about his appearance. The more she tried reaching out to help him, the further away he felt, like an ever-widening chasm. She could scream and still, he wouldn’t hear her, her voice swallowed by the void between them. Even when standing in the same room, Jheselbraum couldn’t help but feel they were miles apart, and it frustrated her.

It wasn’t long before Jheselbraum reached her breaking point. One day, she noticed a trail of blood leading to the basement and found Bill crumpled on the floor. She managed to get him out of the basement and into her car, wanting to take him to the hospital. But during the drive, Bill woke up and demanded she take him back home. He insisted he was fine and that a hospital visit would only waste more of his time. Jheselbraum tried reasoning with him but Bill rolled his eyes and muttered, “I knew you’d get in the way.”

Jheselbraum went silent, and her grip tightened on the steering wheel. She turned the car around, helped Bill back into his house, and placed him in a chair. She patched up his wound in continued silence. When she finished, she stood up, looked Bill in the eye, and told him that she was done. She wouldn’t be dropping off food or visiting anymore. She was through with him. However, Jheselbraum couldn’t bring herself to leave Gravity Falls completely. She was angry, but a feeling in her gut wouldn’t allow her to leave. Something was wrong. Though she couldn’t pinpoint what, she knew she had to stay–lingering around places she thought Bill might go, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. Her actions more akin to monitoring a suspicious than simply looking out for old friend.

-

Now that Bill was alone, Ford concentrated his manipulation into pushing Bill further into isolation. He used Jheselbraum's leaving as proof that Bill couldn’t trust anyone–except for Ford. Yet, Bill began second guessing himself, more importantly, Bill geban second guessing Ford.

Bill tried his best to remain focused on building the portal, but doubt gnawed at the edges of his mind, festering until he couldn’t ignore it any longer. What exactly was Ford planning to do with the portal? Bill hated the thought–hated that he was question his mentor–but he couldn’t help it.

As soon as this doubt bubbled to the surface of Bills mind, Ford new instantly. Ford attempted to reassure bill, emphasizing that the portal was more beneficial for him than it was for Ford, stressing that his only concern was Bills success. However, this reassurance didn’t fully take hold, and Ford knew it.

Bill continued to build the portal, doubt still lingering in his mind. He didn't want to believe that his mentor had ulterior motives. Desperately, he clung to their friendship like a life raft in a vast, empty sea–though one of his own making. He wanted to believe Ford, to trust that their partnership was genuine. But as time passed, his doubts only deepened, and he bagan to long for his old friends.

Before Bill could act on his feelings, Ford intervened with further manipulation, choosing to have a ‘heart-to-heart’. He reminded Bill of their previous conversation about how trusting the wrong person had cost Ford everything. This time, he revealed that it was his brother who he had misplaced his trust in, leading to the loss of his family and his dimension–everything. Ford claimed that his journey for knowledge was meant to help others, serving as a way to overcome his past.

Ford also admitted that he had lied to Bill in the past, but not out of malice. He confessed that he was ashamed of his limited understanding of Bill’s dimension. Having always prided himself on his vast wealth of knowledge, Ford felt inadequate and uncertain about to teaching Bill. He explained that he feared Bill would take advantage of his naivety–just like his brother had. However, over the course of their partnership, Ford had come to genuinely trust Bill and was happy to call him a true friend.

Moved by Ford’s supposed vulnerability, Bill apologized to for doubting him, realizing that he had been wrong. Ford’s manipulation had work. Sensing the shift in Bills mind, Ford seized the moment to reveal a new ability: the power to control someone's body through their mind. He asked if he could try it on Bill. More trusting of his mentor than ever before, Bill admently agreed.

-

Weeks passed, Bill and Ford settled into a routine. When Bill was awake, he worked on the portal. But when he was asleep, Ford took control of his body and did the work to keep Bill alive–ensuring he ate, drank, and rested. Of course, Ford would also work on little side projects. Using the schematics of a former interdimensional follower, he created a tool that could erase memories, hiding it from Bill. Ford knew it was only a matter of time before one of Bill's pests would try to interfere, and he wanted to be prepared. It didn’t take long before he was proven right.

_____

Lore Comment

[gay-dorito-dust]

I loved Ford nervously after Reader kissed him. So I thought, Reader dated Ford since college, and he was already pretty addicted to her kisses, the portal thing happens and 30 years later Ford come back, what would kisses be like from a Ford desperate for contact after 30 years?

P.S. I love your writing ♡ and sorry if it is not very clear, English is not my first language

Kisses with Ford back in your college days were soft, sweet, gentle and a little hesitant and or nervous to start off with as he’d often overthink whether his kisses were any good.

‘They were,’ you’d reassure him as you held his face, ‘they taste like heaven…and the jellybeans you’ve had prior.’ You chuckled at his flustered expression. He could’ve sworn he had eaten a healthy amount of jellybeans beforehand but he guesses that he let himself overindulge in his sweet tooth a little bit.

You loved kissing Ford as the look on his face was the most rewarding thing to see in your entire life. You didn’t care for achievements or accolades, just seeing Ford’s flustered cheeks, panting, fogged up glasses, wide blown eyes and a expression that told you that he wanted more before he confidently cups your face and goes in for another series of kisses.

That and the look of admiration, desire and more when you sat yourself in his lap, feeling his heart race against his chest, but wilfully ignored it for his sake as you ranted about how pretty your smart Fordsy was while peppering kisses across his face and neck and hands. Only to soon decide that enough was enough and that you should kiss him senseless as he whimpers against your lips, his cautious hands now gripped your waist in order to keep you against him.

The glasses stay on when you kiss! You didn’t care if they got fogged up or slanted, that was the best part! You just wanted to give your smart as fuck but overworked man a bit of loving as reward.

Jellybeans maybe his favourite food but your kisses had become an unhealthy addiction for poor Ford as each second that passes where he wasn’t with you, his mind was racing with the thought of your lips on his in the comfort of his and Fiddleford’s dormitory. You made the man unable to focus on the best of times but he always makes up for it tenfold in the end as that was Ford at his core.

So after waiting thirty long years after seeing him be pulled into the portal and hearing your heart break into two, after thirty long, gruelling years of being remained that Ford might never come back to you. lost to the wide expanse of whatever -or who- lied beyond that portal and sleeping in the room you once shared together, now feeling colder and lonelier then ever, finding yourself lost and haunted by the memories that were encased into the walls of the very shack itself.

Thirty years and the wait was finally, finally over the moment you saw Ford come back through the portal, dressed in an all black attire and an aged face that only made you believe he has only gotten more handsome with age; Very handsome you might add but you were bias towards Ford in every sense of the word.

‘Ford?’ You whispered, almost as though you were scared that any louder and you would’ve woken yourself up from the realest dream you’ve had in a long, long time.

Ford, who had equally been your presence for the past thirty years, looks over at you with wide eyes as though you were an aspect of this reunion he didn’t take into account for. ‘Darling?’ He asked as he finds that his body had taken over him, his feet were leading him towards you in a slow and hesitate pace, almost as though he was just as uncertain whether all of this was real. That you were real and looking as beautiful/handsome as the day he first met you back in college.

‘It’s me sweetie.’ You said eagerly as you found yourself walking towards him, almost as though it was coded into your dna to be drawn to him -your other half- no matter how much time has passed between the two of you. You’d always find yourselves going back to each other one way or another, though neither of you were exactly complaining about that as you were soon enough within reaching distance of each other.

No other words were exchanged as Ford was quick to grasp you by the waist, pull you in and kissing you senseless this time as you’re forced to grip onto his coat for dear life. His kisses were desperate, sloppy, deprived and almost carnal with how it seemed to show just how much the time apart had affected Ford.

Though soon as the kiss began Ford slowed his pace to a more tender, loving and gentle manner as he weaved his lips between your own, making extra sure to allow for his lips to linger there for a second longer just to pull away to see your expression with newfound confidence.

You were panting, flustered and just as wide eyed as he was when you first kissed him in college and Ford had to say the expression looked far better on you then it probably ever did him, but knew you would digress…had you managed to catch your breath that is.

‘Welcome home.’ You said breathlessly as you tried not to show just how affected you were by the kiss but with the way you were struggling to stay standing up right on weak legs, that and how your grip on Ford’s coat remained, was enough evidence for him to know that he had accomplished what he had dreamt of for thirty years. And yet he still found himself wanting to kiss you even more with the way you kept glancing at his lips, sharing his sentiment to keep going at it but having to restrain yourself in the presence of others, who were looking at you both were gobsmacked expressions.

‘It’s good to be home with you my beloved.’ Ford then whispers, equally as out of breath but not as much as he rests his forehead against yours. ‘Your kiss is still as sweet and as addictive as I dreamt, and believe me I have dreamt about it enough in these past thirty years away from you to last a lifetime.’ He then adds, pecking your tender lips as you whined, trying to follow after him as though in a trances.

‘Oh Ford I’ve missed you so much.’ You said softly as your hands reached to cup his face, tracing the new lines that graced it while peppering his face in kisses like you use to back when you were younger. In this moment it was almost felt as though you were young again and with the way Ford kept hold of you by the waist, it certainly brought back some rather fond memories of your youth, but most importantly it felt as though you had finally gotten your other half back and everything was right again.

Your vision was once again filled with colour the moment Ford came into view, as did his when you came into view, there was a weight that had finally gotten off of your shoulders and now you could rest in the arms of your beloved Stanford Pines as intended from the start.

Kissing Ford thirty years after the portal incident is a different kind entirely. He wants to make up for lost time and so you’re more then likely cooped up in your shared room, in his lab or anywhere the kids aren’t likely to walk in on you both, and allow yourselves to reacquaint with one another through strong and passionate, drawn out kisses that always leave your forgotten your human need to breath.

You were familiarising with each other favoured forms of kissing as though you were two teenagers who couldn’t keep their hands off of each other. There were kisses where Ford was dominating your mouth, giving you cheeky nips on your lip now and then just so he could have more access to your mouth and deepening the kiss.

Then there were kisses where they were long and slow, almost as if trying to savour the taste of each other’s lips as though it was going to be your last ever. The types of kisses where you just wish he’d pick the pace but loving it even more when he weaves his lips between yours so slowly that you could feel the texture of his lips and commit it to memory.

Ford has gone far too long without your touch that he dedicated all his time to familiarise himself with you again however he could. But you don’t mind letting him do so as you’ve went the same amount of time without him also.

Stan tells you both to get a room frequently because of how touchy you both were being for people pushing 70. (Is he jealous? Maybe. Is he happy for his bother? Fuck yeah!)

[disgruntleddemon]

since i've been drawing Ford and McGucket so much lately, i figured i'd try and do some proper refs for them. i mean, even with this, my designs aren't 100% in stone, but i think it'll be helpful anyway.

Fiddleford is first up for a ref! i'll do Ford later (and possibly more characters if i get the motivation) he's a tricky one to figure out with his face and nose shape. i'm still not entirely sure how to translate his chin as a dog lol.

i ended up giving him hazel eyes cause i couldn't decide between green and brown. might change it later. i cannot imagine young McGuck with blue eyes tho (apparently those are somewhat cannon??) i could buy blue eyes as a side effect of using the gun too much tho. anyway, not much to say on his young design.

the second design is post society of the blind eye, cause i like giving him the green glasses. means i don't have to worry about eye color or face patterns lol.

the bald spot on his tail was a recent thing i wanted to add. if i'm drawing him as a dog, might as well do stuff with it, and i definitely think he's develop gnawing on his tail as a bad habit. it's hard to figure how to draw a bald character as a dog, but i think he turned out pretty decent. maybe i'll give him a literal bald head under the hat ghjhjk

last design is post cannon. i mostly added some little things i've seen other people do and liked. Mabel going nuts decorating his beard is SO cannon to me. and i find the idea of McGucket refusing to wear any shoes beyond flip flops or sliders to be pretty funny tbh. really main difference is he's slowly starting to take better care of himself now

individual pics under the cut:

[this-dirty-sinner-right-here]

Ok I have an idea for an AU so hear me out.

Gravity falls as Jurrasic World Camp Cretaceous + Chaos Theory.

I wanted this to follow a modern Au with the stan twins going to the camp at the age of 13 and meeting the other camp members. It would include Fiddleford, Crala, Susan, and Preston.

it would follow the shows storyline of the Jurrasic World show with changes to fit the narrative and characters. I would list some details, but I'm unsure if anyone from the gravity falls fandom has even watched that show. if you haven't you are truly missing out. Like if you like dinos and kid shows it's the show for you.

So to start with which charcter would be characters from the jurrasic world show as well as a small description as to why.

Fiddleford = Ben

I picked Fiddleford to be Ben because Ben's character is a timid character, he is scared of most things, but is tough and will brave the fear to help those he cares about.

Preston = Kenji

To the point with this one I picked Preston to be Kenji is because the are both rich with a major ego on them. Plus spoiled rich kid learn that friendship is kinda better than money seems cool. But Kenji is a kind soul even if he has a habit of making everything about himself, which I feel like would match Preston if he were allow himself to grow.

Susan = Sammy

Sammy in the show is a sweet girl with a sunshine personality who seems to like everyone and somehow makes everyone like her. She has a love for animals and tends to always look on the bright side of things even when things look dark. so I figured to add a little more to Susan's character I would pick her.

Carla = Yaz/Yazmina

Carla doesn't have any screen time so we know nothing about her character so I modeled her after the character I chose for her. Yaz is a girl who is determined and headstrong. She's athletic and likes to draw as a hobby, but her favorite thing to do is run

Ford = Darrius

So this one is pretty simple. Ford as Darrius made sense to me because they are both smart and passionate people about the things they love. Darrius has a love for knowledge and dinosaurs and Ford has a love for science and anomalies. I figured if there was anyone in this group of characters Ford or Stan would be dinosaur lovers.

Stan = Brooklyn

This was the only one that was hard to explain, but to sum it up, Brooklyn's character craves approval and attention. She’s also a truth seeker and has a knack for investigation. She's tough and caring, has traveled the world, and has done many things. She's strong-willed and strong-headed. This was a hard pick because sure stan is kinda like that, but because everyone else was kinda easier to assign a character to this was my last choice.

I have photos for this au that I might post later just because.

I would like to mention there is implied stancest in this au as well as fiddauthor, Fiddlestanwich, and fiddlestan. I was thinking of maybe some Stan x Preston stuff but am unsure of that. Also, I plan to let Carla and Susan date. I need more ships of characters who have little screen time or none at all being together.

[orangeoctopi7]

All of Your So-Called Problems

[AO3 link]

Stan was trying to find room for the leftover Mac and Cheese in the fridge when he heard the doorbell. He grumbled a few obscenities under his breath as he trudged towards the door. He was NOT in the mood for visitors tonight, even if they might be paying customers. The fact that a demon was trying to break into the house to steal some world-ending piece of junk from Ford didn’t help.

"We're closed!" He shouted before he even peeked out the window. He pulled back the blinds just enough to glare at whoever thought it was a good idea to drop by this late, and his eyebrows raised nearly to his receding hairline when he saw who it was.

"Wendy!? Since when do you knock?" Stan couldn't think of a single time she hadn't just come in and made herself at home since she'd started working at the Shack.

"Since Dipper told me you answered the door with a loaded gun earlier today." The teen answered as Stan opened the door.

"Gonna have to have a talk with that runt about blabbing." Stan rolled his eyes. "What, you having a movie night with the kids?"

"Not exactly." The teen jerked a thumb over her shoulder, and Stan finally noticed the rest of the Corduroy family standing just behind her, right off the porch. They were all carrying sleeping bags and pillows.

"...Wha?" Stan could only utter a surprised grunt as his brain tried to piece together why it looked like the entire Corduroy family was here for a sleepover. 

"Dipper called me and said we could stay here until your brother puts up a barrier around our house." Wendy explained, noticing her boss's confusion. "...Aaand he never even told you anything about it, did he?"

"He sure didn't." Stan deadpanned.

As if on cue, Dipper and Ford both stepped into the entryway.

"Oh, Wendy, you're here already!" Dipper said, voice dripping with faked surprise. "I forgot to ask Grunkle Stan if it was ok for you guys to stay the night. But gosh, since you're already here, I guess we can't turn you away!"

"You can drop the act, bucko, I wrote the book on It's easier to ask forgiveness than permission." Stan folded his arms disapprovingly. "The answer's still no. We're already putting up one freeloader."

"I'm the one who said they could stay." Ford said firmly.

Stan turned his glare to his brother. "This isn't a safehouse, genius!"

"It's my house, Stanley!"

"Where are they even gonna sleep!?"

"Well, perhaps we'd have some place to put up guests if you hadn't turned the two largest rooms into a tourist trap!"

"Oh, like you kept the place ready for company when you lived here!" Stan countered. "These rooms were both filled to the brim with your weird experiments when I got here!"

“Hey, we can sleep outside like men, if it’s too much trouble to put us up!” Manly Dan interrupted the brothers’ argument.

“Unfortunately, that’s not an option.” Ford shook his head. “The barrier barely extends past the front porch.” 

Ford quickly took a mental survey of where there might be extra room. The basement lab was out. He’d finished dismantling the portal, but he was storing the rift down there for now. His secret study was supposed to be a secret, and he still needed to clear out all that old Bill memorabilia. The attic was already taken by Dipper and Mabel. Stanley still had the main bedroom, and Fiddleford was currently sleeping on the couch in the upstairs study. That left the den, which might be large enough for one or two people, but certainly not a family of five. If only Stan hadn’t filled his old experiment and specimen rooms with useless junk! Sure, the rooms hadn’t exactly been empty before, but Ford at least would have known what things could be moved where to make room for their guests. Even his old thinking parlor was… wait…

“What about the parlor?” The old researcher asked.

Stan shrugged. “I kinda use it as a space for rotating exhibits, or whatever else I need at the time. Pretty sure it’s still full of leftover campaigning junk.”

“So, nothing we can’t throw out then.”

“Not so fast, genius, I still haven’t agreed to letting anyone stay here.”

“This is an emergency, Stanley!” Ford fumed. “And besides, it’s not your decision to make!”

Stan regarded the Corduroy family still standing awkwardly on his porch, and tried to imagine Manly Dan with those disturbing yellow eyes he’d seen on that time traveler earlier. He tried to picture the hulking lumberjack acting like that erratic demon. It was not a pleasant thought.

“Alright, fine.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “But only because I don’t want any of these ax-weidling giants possessed by a triangular serial-killer. And don’t expect me to provide any bedding or food!”

“Yeah, we can probably snare ourselves a few squirrels or something.” Wendy’s oldest brother assured Stan.

Stan grimaced. “On second thought, help yourselves to some canned meat. Only the stuff that’s expired though!”

“Thanks Stan.” Wendy said. “For giving us a place to stay until this blows over, not for the expired meat.”

“What? They pad that date out by at least a year. As long as it smells fine, it’s good to eat.” Stan defended himself.

The teen rolled her eyes but stepped into the Shack, followed by her family.

Ford observed them all carefully as they entered. No hesitation or sign of even noticing it as they crossed over the barrier. So they definitely weren’t possessed now. He would have to keep a close eye on them while they stayed. He knew that Dipper trusted Wendy, and that was good enough for him, for now, but the others? Ford vaguely remembered Dan from when he’d been a young man, building this very cabin for him. He’d been friendly, loud, and boisterous. It appeared his sons were cut from the same cloth. But it was hard to say whether or not Bill could convince any of them to try and smash the rift.

“So Wendy, did you manage to get more unicorn hair?” Dipper asked as he helped her lay out a sleeping bag in the parlor.

“Oh yeah. I just snuck into that glade again with a pair of shears and a tranq dart. Works just as well as fairy dust.” She handed a grocery bag full of rainbow hair to Ford.

Ford made a mental note to add that tidbit to the Journal 1 entry on unicorns later. “I’ll get started on it first thing tomorrow.”

Mabel came downstairs to help just a minute later. After a lot of rearranging of campaign signs and novelty phones, everyone had a sleeping space set out. Dan took Stan’s recliner in the den, and his youngest son set out a sleeping bag at his feet. The oldest three children laid out their sleeping bags between the piles of junk in the parlor. 

“Ohmigosh, Dipper, we should pull our mattresses down here and have a mega-sleepover!” Mabel gasped as she pushed the last of the campaign signs into a corner.

“What was the point of clearing out all this junk if we aren’t even gonna sleep in our own beds?” Dipper asked tiredly.

“Hmm, good point. Maybe Barry and Stuart can sleep in our beds, and we can sleep down here with Wendy!”

Dipper and Wendy’s middle brother both blushed beet red.

“Uh… I mean… I, uh, I don’t think Wendy would want to sleep with me--US! With us!” Dipper stammered.

“M-me? Sleep in a g-girl’s room? Like a room that a girl sleeps in?” The middle brother gulped.

“Yyyeah, I think we’re good where we are.” Wendy said cooly, trying to diffuse the awkward tension in the room.

“Aw man!” Mabel pouted, but she didn’t put up any other protest than that. Dipper suspected she was still pretty worn out from the rescue mission this morning.

Eventually, everyone got settled down and the children all fell asleep. The elder Pines twins moved back to the living room to check on Dan one more time.

"Hey, now that the kids are asleep, I've been meaning to ask you something." The lumberjack said in a low rumble that was probably his version of a whisper. "How long have there been two of you?"

"Hooboy…" Stan pinched the bridge of his nose. He really didn't want to retread this again.

"I'm Stanford. I'm the one you first met when you built this place for me. My brother Stanley has been living here under my name for the last 30 years." Ford summarized tiredly. Apparently he wasn't in the mood to make a big deal out of it right now either.

Stan could practically see the gears turning in Manly Dan's head. Eventually the grizzled lumberjack nodded. "Yeah, that adds up."

With that, he turned over and went to sleep. Stan was a little surprised that the guy accepted their explanation just like that. But then again, Dan had lived in Gravity Falls his whole life.

Ford grabbed a folding chair from the card table and carried it out into the giftshop.

"Are you seriously gonna stay up and keep watch over that snowglobe thing all night?" Stan asked incredulously.

"My usual sleeping place is already occupied, I may as well." 

"Y’know, operating on so little sleep just makes you more likely to screw up.”

“Don’t worry. I’m well accustomed to it.”

“Not reassuring.” Stan said flatly, turning and climbing the stairs up to his room. If he was being perfectly honest with himself, he probably wouldn’t sleep a wink tonight either. But at least he was going to try. Ford was going to run himself ragged if he kept up this pace.

- - -

Nights in prison were the worst part of the whole ordeal, in Gideon's opinion. At least during the day, he was able to sway the other inmates to do what he wanted. There was a sort of mob mentality that he could take control of. But at night, it was just Gideon and his cell-mate, and there was nothing the boy could do to stop the hulking man from taking his pillow and doing whatever he wanted with it. 

Last week, the convicted felon had staged a wedding in their cell. He’d made a veil out of toilet paper and hummed “Here Comes the Bride” and everything. Tonight, he seemed to be discussing the possibility of children with his new “wife”.

“But Tessa, your mother and your aunt both died in childbirth! I’m just worried about you, honey!” He paused for whatever imagined reply the pillow gave. “Adoption, you say? I’ll admit, I had not considered it.”

Gideon groaned. He couldn’t even put a pillow over his ears to try and block out the nonsense! He’d tried to persuade the warden to let him switch cell mates so he could room with Ghost Eyes, but apparently they were “both instigators” and putting them both in the same cell would be “asking for a prison riot”.

The boy’s eyes flicked with annoyance to the cat poster still hiding his last attempt to summon Bill Cipher. The triangle had appeared and promised he was working on something, but so far Bill had failed to deliver.

“Stupid useless demon!” Gideon muttered under his breath. He rolled over, expecting another sleepless night.

Well, it did turn out to be sleepless, but not for the reason he’d anticipated.

It was a little past 10 PM when Gideon heard the familiar sound of an old van’s engine revving. He’d heard it many times on his father’s used car lot, but what on earth would one of those junkers be doing here?

That’s when he heard the unmistakable sound of a van crashing through a wall. Followed by the even more unmistakable sound of a machine gun.

“Heavens to Betsy, what was that!?” Gideon ran to his barred window just in time to see a pudgy man with a machine gun walk away from the wreckage of where a large van had burst through the prison wall. His maniacal laughter sounded familiar.

“Well whaddya know? Bill came through!” Gideon said in a hushed whisper. 

He dove away from the window with a yelp a second later when the machine gun started firing in his direction. A few seconds later there was a much quieter bang as a tall ladder hit the wall just outside the window. 

“HEY GIDEON, I HEARD YOU WERE GETTING TIRED OF YOUR PRISON AND WANT TO FIND SOMEPLACE NEW TO PARTY?”

“Bill!?”

“THE ONE AND ONLY!”

“Are you trying to kill me, you maniac!?” 

“YEESH, YOU FLESH-SACKS ARE SO SENSITIVE! YOU’RE FINE. BESIDES, I NEEDED TO LOOSEN THESE BARS!” He ripped out the bars on the window with ease. They’d already been loosened by the machine gun fire. “YOU COMING OR NOT? I NEED YOUR HELP STAGING A LITTLE PRISON BREAK OF MY OWN.”

Gideon pouted and followed the demon down the ladder, grumbling the whole way.

“... You know what, Tessa? I don’t think I want kids after all.” Gideon’s cowering cell mate said after they left. 

Bill kept the guards off them with plenty of machine gun fire, but he had little regard for who he was shooting at, guard or prisoner. He even narrowly missed Gideon on a few occasions.

“Oooh, I hope Killbone’s foot will be ok.” The boy hissed sympathetically as he saw one of his inmate friends go down.

“NAH, HE’S CRIPPLED FOR LIFE!”

They finally made it to the van, and Gideon climbed into the passenger-side door. Bill followed after him.

“A-aren’t you gonna drive?” The boy asked.

“TCH, FUNNY! I JUST RAMMED THIS THING THROUGH THREE WALLS OF CONCRETE; YOU THINK THE MEASLY COMBUSTION ENGINE STILL WORKS?” He flicked a lighter on and dropped it down between the driver’s seat and the steering wheel. Gideon could smell the gasoline. This thing was going to blow any second. He scampered over the benches and out the back door. Bill followed casually behind him.

“Then how are we supposed to get away!?” Gideon demanded as he sprinted to put distance between himself and the burning van.

“RELAX, SHORT-STACK, I’VE GOT A SECOND GET-AWAY CAR RIGHT HERE!” Bill pointed out a small black Audi parked behind a tall tree.

“Then why did you set the van on fire?” Gideon asked in confusion.

“BECAUSE I THOUGHT IT’D BE FUN.” Bill grinned as the van blew up behind them. Gideon screamed and ducked to avoid fiery flying debris. “AND I WAS RIGHT!”

Gideon got into Bill’s car. There was no child’s car seat. “You better drive careful.” He warned the demon.

“AHAHAHAHA, OH GIDEON, YOU’RE ALWAYS A RIOT!” Bill struggled to shift the car into drive, and Gideon had just enough time to realize with horror that the demon didn’t really know how to operate a human vehicle before it sped off through the trees.

[piningfor-pinestwins]

Natural Attraction - Investigations (ch. 9 ) (Stan X Reader Slow Burn; Eventual Not SFW)

You scratch at your chin as you look down at the haphazardly-packed duffel bag on your bed, thinking of what else you should bring. Really, you should be prepared for anything with this crew…

It’s been pretty chilly the last few nights, so you brought both t-shirts and sweaters, in case of better weather or to layer up. You have your sturdy hiking boots (the ones you bought after your shoes got caught in the thorny brushes a few ‘adventures’ ago), four pairs of socks, five pairs of undies, 3 pairs of jeans and your most fluffy and warm pj pants. Tapping lightly at your cheek, you feel the way your mouth screws up in thought, moving around your room for just a few more things before you hear a familiar set of footsteps coming up the stairs to your bedroom door.

“I dunno if you wanted to pack the tent with your stuff or not, but I’ve got it here for you,” Stan’s voice says from behind you, and you smile before you notice you’re doing it.

Thanks, if you’d just leave it by the door, that’d be great, You motion, moving toward the foot of your bed to lift the patterned quilt you sleep beneath off the mattress. Could you help me fold this? You look to him just as he moves to make his leave, but he stops at your request, offering a little smile as he moves closer to help. You take two corners and he bends to do the same, watching you with a gentle confirmation of which way you’re folding the thing.

It’s a simple thing to do, yet each time your knuckles brush against his fingers, or the closer you step as the blanket folds smaller, you feel an odd sort of intimacy in the motion. He passes the bundle of fabric into your hands with a warm look, blowing hair out of his face as he takes a step back.

“D’ya not have a sleeping bag? Hon, y’might get cold, even with all that.” Motioning to your nearly-full duffel bag, he leans back against the wall of your bedroom, quirking a brow in something like concern.

No, and it’s too close to time to go into town for one, You admit with a sigh, shrugging a little as you shove the quilt into the bag. Shuffling some stuff around to make room, you tsk and readjust your journal against the side by your undies, glancing up just in time to see Stan’s gaze following your hands in your bag. You flush, but quickly cover the things with your hands as you look over at him with a smirk. Stan’s brows quirk up at your movement, and his gaze trails up your arms to see your heated cheeks and playful smile, his dimple showing as he tries to hold back his own smile with his tongue pressed against his cheek.

“Listen, y’shouldn’t have that shit layin’ around if you didn’t want me to see it,” He starts with a laugh in his voice, eyes glinting playfully in your direction before flicking up toward the ceiling instead. You scoff in response, but your smile doesn’t falter as you finish packing up the bag and zip the thing up, Maybe you shouldn’t stick your nose in other people’s business. Didn’t your mom teach you that?

“Oho, if you think Ma taught me to stay outta other people’s business, you’ve never met her. The woman’s a blabbermouth--probably why she did so well on the psychic line all those years,” He hums, scratching at his chin seemingly in thought. You’ve heard, albeit briefly, about the Pines parents and their respective lines of work. Though, you don’t know much else about the duo--not that it really matters, per se.

Well, anyway, thank you for your help, you snooper, teasing, you pull the bag on over one shoulder as you glance around, double-checking for anything else you might need before moving closer toward the door. You pinch lightly at his elbow, getting his attention back to you and making him laugh all in one motion. He’s smiling when he looks at you, and you feel heat in your cheeks when you find yourself smiling back, standing the closest you have to the man since the night before. You clear your throat, reaching to grab the little bag that holds the tent that he’d brought in and left at the door at your request, A-And thank you for this, too. It’ll be put to good use, you promise, immediately feeling dumb for it because no shit, Sherlock, it’ll be put to good use, you have to sleep somewhere.

He shrugs, motioning you ahead as he moves to leave your room behind you. “It’s really no problem. If Sixer’d thought ahead, he would have warned us that we’d need them and we wouldn’t be in this mess, but I think his tent’ll be big enough for the three of us guys to sleep in for a couple nights. S’long as they can keep their mouths shut for a few hours of shuteye, it’ll work out fine.” Stan shuts your bedroom door behind him as you take the steps down to the second floor, stopping to see his things already packed and waiting outside his door.

“Are you two nearly ready?” Ford calls from downstairs, a soft grumble of a headache complaint following his question. You smile at the voice as you respond, glancing over the bannister as you start down the rest of the stairs, It would seem so.

“Good,” Fiddleford’s voice chimes in, and you catch sight of the two standing together with their packs and warm jackets on as you come further down the stairs, “We’ve got about thirty minutes o’daylight left, and if we plan to get anywhere close to the first clearing in the trees, we’ve gotta shake a leg.” You look out the window when he talks about lingering daylight, nodding at his approximation.

You said this creature creeps out at night, right? Do you think we’ll get wherever it is this evening?

“It’s unlikely,” Ford answers, and you hear Stan come down the steps and stop a step or two behind you to join the conversation, “But if we make our way far enough tonight, we’re likely to find more evidence of the being, at least.”

“What kinda thing d’ya think it is, anyway?” Stan asks, and Fiddleford shrugs in response. “I couldn’t rightly tell ya. Have you got any idea?” He cocks his head in your direction. You feel all eyes on you, offering a shrug as you step off the stairs and move toward the back screen door, Let me take a look at these tracks while you three lock up.

Ford nods, pulling his heavy backpack on with a grunt, and Fiddleford tugs his own canvas bag closer, double-checking the carabiner attaching it to the little icebox containing what you can assume is your meals for the next few days. Stan pulls his (seemingly lighter than Ford’s) backpack on, taking the last remaining steps down to the duo as you make your way out the back door to find the tracks that your inebriated colleagues claimed to see.

When they join you again a few minutes later, you’ve found the tracks, near Fidd’s truck, and sure enough, veering off into the woods. You reach to where your camera strap is hooked to the duffel bag, quickly undoing the tie and snapping a picture of the tracks. Eyes are on you again as you study the real deal ahead of you, but you hardly notice the trio of brunets watching you with varying degrees of intrigue as you shake the film that’s fresh from the printer and put the camera strap around your neck instead.

They’re odd, you murmur, the thought coming to you easily from your years of studying, It’s a bipedal thing, with something akin to toes, but...its gait stays on the balls of its feet--if you want to call these feet.

“Yeah, I see what you mean,” Stan offers, and your head turns to look at him just as Ford and F’s do, too. The man seems almost surprised at the attention, brows flying up as he stammers to explain himself, “T-The thing’s got like, three toes. I don’t know if you can call these feet.”

You nod enthusiastically, getting a little more excited at engaging in your wheelhouse. Four, actually. The three you see on the front, plus the one in back, implies that whatever this is, is skilled in perching or climbing. So, it’s possible we’ll find it in a tree, or some other off-ground thing.

“Are we chasin’ some superbird?” Fidds asks, brow furrowing toward you and Ford. Ford frowns with a shrug, looking to you for confirmation as he offers a shrug, “It doesn’t seem out of the realm of possibility...She’s not been wrong before.” He adds, a lift of a smile curling his lip. He’s excited to put your knowledge to work, the prospect of discovering another new species causing a joy-filled anxiety to bubble in your belly.

That was my next point-- Near here, where the tracks end, you take hurried steps beside the trail and the trio follow behind to keep up, The pattern of steps is interrupted. Two steps, two steps, one step, and nothing.

“But, there’s these...marks,” Stan seems to be following your train of thought, foot scuffing against a distinct pattern in the dirt a few feet from where the single footstep (clawstep?) is settled. Fiddleford points to the pattern’s twin, mirrored on the other side.

Exactly! Indication of an upward force in the dirt. If I were to… You move a few steps back, stepping toward the pattern near Fidds. You cup your hand as you kneel close to the ground, raising your hand above your head and swinging the force down toward the ground without hitting it, the fast-moving air making a whizzing sound by your ear.

Pleased, and maybe a little excitable still, you look at the mark made by the force of air in the soft soil, standing as you confirm the similarity, Wings! At least two, as the patterns indicate. We’re looking for a creature capable of at least short-term flight, with an anisodactyl arrangement of toes. By the looks of these marks, it’s possible the creature can be...well, about my height, You conclude, looking up at the boys with pride and a grin.

Ford looks similarly pleased, smiling with a warm, almost-smug look on his face as Fiddleford and Stan both look at you in something akin to surprise. “Impressive as always, my friend. I almost forgot how quickly you’re able to come to conclusions.”

Fiddleford laughs, clapping a friendly hand on your shoulder as he gives you a little shake, “Astonishing! Well--now we know, we gotta be lookin’ up as much as we’re lookin’ down. Aw, hell--” He looks at his watch, waving toward the three of you, “We’ve got about twenty minutes left of daylight. We need’ta keep our flashlights as charged up as they can get, so the less time we use ‘em, the better. Come on,” F leads the charge toward the woods with Ford following behind, grinning at you with pride as he flashes you a wink.

You turn to look at Stan, finding the twin starry-eyed for a brief moment before he coughs and comes back to himself. “That… Wow, you uh, really know your stuff.” He clears his throat, and you swear his cheeks aren’t normally that pink. A trick of the setting sun, you’re sure…

Thank you, you laugh, feeling almost embarrassed as you rub at the back of your neck, putting the developed picture into a safe spot in your bag before rethinking your decision to leave your camera around your neck, putting it away too. I probably got a little carried away there, I’m sure.

“No! Not at all--I may not understand all the words y’said, but you’re...You’re seriously smart, sugar. It’s cool to see.” He smiles, rubbing at the nape of his neck. Your cheeks definitely flush at that, laughing lightly at his words, and biting into your bottom lip to muffle it. Clearing his throat, he adjusts the pack at his back, his smile lingering as he points to the duo moving ahead. “We should catch up. God forbid we get lost with whatever, uh...winged an’i-social or-whatever-you-said superbird flyin’ around here.”

You snort at his words and correct him, Anisodactyl, to which he replies, “Yeah, that’s what I said, isn’t it?” with a laugh of his own as you both move with purpose, following to catch up to the duo of brunets.

[sweatersexual]

In Gravity Falls, You Abduct the Aliens

Read on AO3

Read the previous work in this series

“This,” proclaimed Stan, “is not a house.” He waded through the piles of books, papers, and weird gadgets. “Seriously, who keeps a chalkboard in their living room? This is more like some kind of nerd lair.”

“I prefer to think of it as my own research lab that I have all-hours access to, but the term lair does lend a certain ambience,” said Ford.

Stan picked up a deformed skull that looked like it belonged to some kind of rodent. “This feels like the intro to a horror movie. With a plucky pair of teen heroes to terrorize and giant switches to a zappy doomsday device, you’d be all set.” He started playing with the skull’s jaw hinge.

Ford reclaimed the skull from him. “Well, it’s no doomsday device, but once I get the portal in the basement working, it’ll be plenty ‘zappy,’ as you say.”

Right, the portal. Ford had talked about it a lot on their drive up from Vegas, where the two of them had happened to run into each other and ended up reconciling. Ford seemed preoccupied by how he’d build the thing without his old flame, Fiddleford McGucket. Ford had invited him to join them in Gravity Falls as well, but when the two nerds realized they still had the hots for each other, Fiddleford had decided to do right by his wife and kid and stay in Palo Alto.

Stan, on the other hand, might be no mechanical engineer, but he was smart enough to realize there was more to this portal business than Ford was telling him.

“Man, you really have a one track mind when it comes to that portal, huh? You were even talking about it in your sleep while we were driving up here. ‘So sorry, shouldn’t’ve let my personal feelings get in the way. . . . ‘S only a temporary setback . . . won’t let all our hard work go to waste . . .’ Has somebody else been helping with the portal?”

Ford nervously spun the skull around in his hand. “Really, Stanley, it’s silly to read too much into sleep talk. I could’ve been talking about anything.”

“Come on, Sixer. If you’re gonna lie to me, you gotta try harder than that.”

“Don’t you trust me, Stanley?”

“Don’t you trust me?”

“I do, but . . . I don’t want you to think I’m crazy.”

Stan put a hand on Ford’s shoulder. “Listen, bro. I’ve been all over the world. Whatever it is, I’ll understand.”

Ford sighed. “All right, I’ll try to explain. But first, let me go get something. A visual aid, if you will.”

A few minutes later, he returned, having replaced the deformed skull with a ceramic jar in his now gloved hands. “I was lucky to get my hands on this,” Ford told him. “The Northwests hoard just about all the artifacts they can find. Please avoid touching it, I don’t have any disposable five-fingered gloves to protect it from the oils on your hands.”

He presented the design on the jar to Stan, who was doing his best to show Ford he didn’t think he was crazy. The picture was of a man with an animal pelt on his head talking to a triangle with one eye. “Don’t tell me you got recruited by the Illuminati or something,” said Stan.

“No, I haven’t joined any secret societies,” Ford assured him. “This depicts a man named Modoc from three thousand years ago, seeking wisdom from an ancient being. From time to time, this being presents himself to truly singular minds, giving them divine insight and knowledge. And now this Muse has chosen me.”

“Okay,” said Stan. “So you’ve gotten into some kind of niche religion. It’s not that weird. Just don’t drink the Kool-Aid, all right?”

Ford set the jar down on what little empty space his dining room table had left. “I haven’t joined a cult, Stan. I mean, it is a kind of spiritual experience, talking to my Muse, but there’s no organized religion involved. Ever since I summoned him, he manifests himself in my dreams. I never could’ve gotten this far in my investigations of Gravity Falls without him. And he’s helped me come up with the plans for this portal. I know it sounds strange, but there really is something otherworldly about him. And even if he is somehow all in my imagination, the inspiration has never steered me wrong.”

Stan’s bullshit-o-meter was going off, but not because he thought Ford was lying to him. Stan knew his twin’s tells, and Ford was definitely sincere about this muse thing. He couldn’t take Ford’s words at face value, but he could tell that Ford was really going out on a limb here, being honest about something that could get him called a quack at best or institutionalized at worst. So what if the guy was in his thirties and had an imaginary friend? Let him have his weird triangle dreams if it made him happy.

So Stan simply said, “Hey, whatever floats your boat, poindexter. But now that I’m here, you’re not just some weird hermit living in the woods. We’re a family. And families live in homes, not nerd lairs.”

Ford blinked, seeming surprised that Stan had changed the subject. But he went along with it anyway. “Right. Well, I have been meaning to organize everything for awhile now. My research keeps getting ahead of me. But I’ll probably be able to think better without so much clutter around.”

It didn’t take long for the twins to settle into a routine. Mornings were for cleaning and organization. After lunch, Stan would run errands while Ford struggled building his machine in the basement. Stan never imagined he’d get so excited about yard sale curtains and other furnishings, but after so many years never having a permanent place of his own, he relished the chance to decorate his own living space. Afternoons and evenings were dedicated to finding and studying anomalies, then Stan tried to persuade Ford to go to bed rather than get back to work on the portal again. He was rarely successful.

“I owe it to myself to at least stumble along with the limited mechanical knowledge I have,” said Ford. “And maybe I’ll find someone or something else that can help.”

Stan did try to help, but it took so long for Ford to even explain what he was trying to do, and it was so boring listening to him speak nothing but jargon, and Ford just didn’t think the way Stanley did. Stan would probably have better luck just taking Ford’s plans and trying to decode them himself, either way it would take ages. Instead he simply figured out how to use a welding torch and applied it where Ford told him to.

But Stan’s favorite hours were spent running through the woods with his brother. He had never expected to see a gnome for himself, or play with magic size-altering crystals. About one week into his stay, Ford was over the moon to find a sleeping gremloblin. “I don’t know when I’ll get another chance to study one up close like this!”

Stan helped take samples and measurements (it really was remarkable how heavy a sleeper this gremloblin was), then helped himself to his favorite toffee peanuts while Ford finished scribbling in his journal. Rustling in the bushes behind him turned his head, and before he knew it a red and black creature was running away from him, and the toffee peanuts that had fallen on the ground were gone.

Ford snapped to attention, too. “Did you see what that was?” he asked Stan.

“Something with a duck bill.” Stan held up his snack. “It was trying to get these.”

Ford grimaced. “I suppose there’s no accounting for taste.”

Stan rolled his eyes. Ford was so dramatic about his distaste for Stan’s favorite snack.

“Can I try to lure it back out?” asked Ford, reaching for the toffee peanuts.

“Fine.”

Once they had gotten the creature to reemerge, Ford was back to scribbling in his journal. “So the plaidypus legends are real! Fascinating, fascinating. Is it just me, or do you think it smells like maple syrup and bacon?”

They were able to track the plaidypus back to its burrow on the marshy banks by the creek, where they found a clutch of flannel-patterned eggs. To improve upon their fantastic luck, they had arrived in time to watch the eggs hatch.

“Look at that! They only have the horizontal stripes now, the vertical stripes must come in as they grow - did you get the measurements on that last one, Stanley?”

“Yeah, but what do you think the deal is with that one?” Stan pointed to a blue egg that hadn’t yet hatched.

“I have no idea. I’m not even sure that’s a plaidypus egg.”

Ford turned out to be extremely correct when the blue egg did hatch and a slimy white monster popped out.

“What the hell is that thing?” asked Stan.

Ford replied, “I’ve never seen anything like it,” then gasped when the monster mutated into another baby plaidypus. “It’s a mimic!”

“Wait - which one is it?” asked Stan.

Ford cursed. “I should’ve been paying closer attention.”

The shapeshifter soon revealed itself when instead of latching on to the mother plaidypus’s lactating glands, it sank its teeth into another baby plaidypus. “No!” cried Stan as he picked up the imposter and pried its jaw open. “Bad shapeshifter thing!”

Ford tended the baby plaidypus’s wounds while Stan wrestled the shapeshifter into a containment jar, where it resumed its original pale, slimy form.

The study of this creature quickly set Ford into what Stan liked to call Full Nerd Mode. They hardly seemed to get through a conversation without Ford bringing up how “Shifty”, as he’d nicknamed the thing, changed his DNA when he changed forms, and how the implications from that would revolutionize the field of genetics, or asking for suggestions for safe forms to add to Shifty’s repertoire. Stan had to admit it was nice to see his brother obsess over something other than that portal for once, though if he had his way he could think of several ways for Shifty to aid with some under-the-table schemes.

“Stanley!” Ford had chided him when Stan had joked about the idea. “You have a job with me now. You don’t need to get into more trouble with the law.”

Yeah, that had been weird, getting an actual, legitimate paycheck for once, and with his brother’s signature no less. And it really was quite a lot considering that Stan didn’t need to pay rent or anything. But Stan couldn’t help that niggling doubt in the back of his mind questioning whether he had enough, whether Stan’s luck might still run dry and he’d better get as much as he could while the getting was good -

Stan had simply shrugged at his brother. “A side hustle never hurt anything,” he said. “And with Shifty’s help, we wouldn’t get caught.”

“I’m afraid it’s out of the question,” Ford had insisted. “We wear masks around Shifty for a reason, you know. It’s too dangerous to have him impersonate humans.”

And Stan could see the wisdom in that, but even so, he thought he did a good enough impression of his brother to recognize the second-rate performance Shifty would put on. The little monster couldn’t even talk!

That last assumption was proven wrong one afternoon while they were working on the portal and a high-pitched voice called out, “Beans!”

Ford’s head perked up from his schematics. “Did you say something?” he asked Stan, who shook his head.

Stan pointed to the dog kennel where they kept Shifty. “I think it was -”

“Beans!” the voice repeated, and it was definitely coming from the kennel.

“Remarkable,” said Ford, replacing his mask as he walked over to kneel in front of the kennel, where Shifty could see him. “Are you hungry, Shifty?”

“Beans,” he repeated, “for me.”

“I’ll go get him some,” said Stan. As he climbed the stairs up to the house, he heard Ford ask, “What else can you say, Shifty?”

When Stan returned with the beans Shifty liked so much, the little monster was repeating the brothers’ names. “Stan,” said the little voice. “Ford. Sixer poindexter knucklehead.”

Ford laughed. “Very good, Shifty. Those are some other names we call each other.”

“Who am I?” asked the shapeshifter. Stan felt his mouth drop open. That wasn’t the sort of question a parrot asked . . .

“Why, you’re Shifty,” said Ford without a trace of the trepidation Stan was feeling just then. “Stan has brought you those beans you wanted, Shifty.”

“Beans!”

When he was done eating, Shifty went back to asking questions. “Who am I? Who is Shifty?”

“Speaking in full sentences already,” said Ford. “This is really quite incredible.”

“He’s asking if he’s a person, Ford.”

“Stan, don’t anthropomorphize him. Even parrots can repeat phrases -”

“Parrots don’t ask existential questions like that! And besides, when have we ever said anything like that around him?”

Ford frowned. “I’ll need to collect more data -”

“This isn’t about data, Ford!” Stan gestured to the kennel. “That’s a kid! A weird monster kid, but still a kid. And we’re keeping him in a cage. Take it from someone who’s been to prison.” At that, Ford glanced up at him in surprise, and Stan looked away. “It does things to you.”

Ford stammered, “Stan, I - I didn’t know - you never said -”

“I don’t like to talk about it,” said Stan. “And anyway, this isn’t about me. This is about him.”

Ford nodded. It was a moment before he answered, “Well, I will need to do more tests, and we do need to keep his abilities under control, but -” Stan opened his mouth to argue, but Ford placed his hand on Stan’s shoulder in a calming motion - “but . . . your concerns have merit. Even a parrot would need a more stimulating environment than this. Will you help me whip something up for Shifty?”

Stan grinned. “Of course.”

With Stan’s help, Ford was able to construct a walled-off enclosure in the basement, which Shifty took to happily. When Ford was able to determine that the burrow Shifty made in the corner was a bed and not an escape route, he found he could breathe much easier.

Ford spent an increasing amount of time in the enclosure, testing Shifty’s language and cognitive skills. Soon he had an impressive amount of data confirming the shapeshifter’s intelligence. Shifty was always eager to participate in the “games,” as he referred to them, and responded very well to Ford’s praise. Ford had to admit he also enjoyed designing activities to keep Shifty occupied while Ford was working on other projects. These activities usually took the form of a puzzle or scavenger hunt, with chicken nuggets as prizes.

Shifty was also making great strides in learning to read. Ford had picked up a number of secondhand children’s books, but only ones that contained no illustrations of humans or dangerous animals for Shifty to take the forms of. This still left him with a wide variety of benign anthropomorphic animal characters like Frog and Toad, Frances, and Little Critter, many of whom became common forms for Shifty to take.

Eventually Ford felt comfortable enough for Shifty to have supervised playtime in the house and walks around the yard, but he and Stan always stayed masked and kept Shifty from seeing any people or dangerous animals.

On one such occasion, Stan was keeping an eye on Shifty upstairs while Ford was getting in some work on the portal. A loud thump from the floor above broke Ford’s focus, and a second had him scrambling up the steps, adjusting his mask as he went. The last thing he expected to find in the living room was two elephant seals.

“You didn’t tell me humans can shapeshift too!” said one of the elephant seals.

“What? Shifty? Are you saying Stan turned into this elephant seal right here?”

The other elephant seal groaned, a grumbling, braying sound.

“Elephant seal,” Shifty repeated. His high voice sounded comical coming from such a blubbery monster. “I like being an elephant seal. I’ve never been this big before.”

This was a disaster. Ford had never intended to have Shifty turn into such a volatile creature. “I’m afraid elephant seals are too big to be in the house, Shifty. Would you please turn into something smaller?”

“But how come Stan gets to be an elephant seal?” Shifty complained as he morphed into Arthur Read, hands clenched into fists at his sides.

“I don’t want him to be an elephant seal either,” said Ford. “Stan? Can you try to turn back? What were you messing with, you know a lot of the artifacts I keep are cursed.”

Stan made a series of grunting seal noises, none of which were in the least helpful.

Ford sighed aggravatedly. “What happened before he turned into an elephant seal, Shifty?”

“Well, we were gonna build a blanket fort, so we got some blankets out of a trunk, then I put one of the blankets on my head and pretended I was a ghost, and Stan did too, only he used the -”

“The sealskin?” asked Ford. “The heavy one with the decorative beading?”

“I think so. He turned into an elephant seal after he put it on.”

“But that one’s cursed!” said Ford. “This is not good. We need to turn him back soon, or he’ll stay an elephant seal forever.”

Stan let out a series of angry honks and grumbles which, if translated to English, would probably be the kind of language Ford would not want Shifty repeating.

As it was, Shifty shrank into a field mouse, his ears meekly tucked behind his head. “What can we do?” he asked. “How do we change him back?”

“I’ll need to consult my journal,” said Ford. “I think I found a curse breaking spell somewhere . . .”

Ford tried to flip through journal 2 quickly, but had to pause every time Shifty climbed up to his shoulder, trying to get a glimpse of the pages.

“Cut it out, Shifty,” he said, setting Shifty back on the ground for the third time. “You’re slowing me down, and time is of the essence.”

“Why don’t you trust me?” asked Shifty.

“Come now, you know my journals are off limits,” said Ford. “Why don’t you make sure Stan doesn’t wreck the coffee table, hmm?”

A few minutes later, Ford found the page he was looking for. “Vis maleficiis expello. Fundere atque fugare in pacem. Purgare. Purgare. Purgare,” he chanted over Stan’s blubbery form.

Nothing happened.

Ford rechecked the journal entry. “Did I miss something? Let me try that again.”

The second attempt was no better than the first.

“This curse is clearly more malignant than I thought,” said Ford. “A simple spell is simply not up to the task. We’ll need to try something with a little more oomph to it.”

“Can I help?” asked Shifty.

“You can,” said Ford, “by waiting very patiently in your room while I take Stan to meet an acquaintance of mine.”

“But I can do more!” Shifty protested. “I’m sure I can.”

“I’m sorry, Shifty, but I’m afraid the risk is too great.”

“But what if he gets stuck as an elephant seal forever and it’s all my fault?”

“Shifty . . .” Ford was surprised Shifty had developed such an attachment to Stan, and a sense of responsibility. Though as far as Ford was concerned, it was entirely unwarranted. “I don’t blame you for any of this. If Stan had been more careful -” Stan snorted at that - “or if I had clearly labeled which items were cursed,” Ford conceded, “that is to say, this was just an accident. You don’t need to feel guilty.”

Shifty seemed to accept that, “But I still want to help. If you let me go with you, I promise I’ll be good. I’ll do what you tell me, I promise.”

Ford shook his head. “Shifty, it really will be more of a help if I’m not having to watch out for you while we’re undoing the curse. Don’t worry, I’ve dealt with phenomena far more malignant than this. Why don’t I refill your octahedron puzzle, hmm?” It was one of Shifty’s favorites. “By the time you’re done with it, we’ll be back, and Stan will be in his right shape again.”

Once Ford had started a reluctant Shifty on his puzzle, and gathered a few materials he thought might be helpful for curse breaking, Ford and Stan started hiking over to the lake. Well, Ford was hiking. Stan was doing more of a hobble. Ideally they would drive over, but the El Diablo wasn’t built to cart around elephant seals, and Stan wasn’t too keen to try.

“We’re going to summon a siren I’ve had some dealings with,” Ford explained to Stan. At his questioning look, Ford added, “She’s safe, don’t worry. We may have had . . . some miscommunications, at first, but we’re on good terms. Doripea’s been an excellent source of information. I just hope she’s not too busy.”

To their good fortune, she wasn’t. “Well, if it isn’t my favorite gentleman caller,” Doripea greeted Ford. Her angular face and pointed ears add to the mischievousness of her grin, aided in its brightness by the afternoon sun reflecting off her turquoise scales. “Here for another interview date?”

“Ah, sort of?” said Ford.

Stan’s snorts sounded an awful lot like laughter.

“Oh, I figured out Ford was gay pretty quickly,” she told Stan, apparently in response to a comment Ford hadn’t been able to understand. “What I couldn’t figure out was why he kept trying to summon me with a suitor’s call.”

Ford groaned. “The summoning instructions in Eatherena Aquatica didn’t specify -” He was cut off by Stan’s repeated laughter. “Anyway, I was hoping I could get your input, Doripea. You see, we’re in a bit of a pickle.”

“Aside from the shapeshifter stalking you?”

“What?” Ford whirled around, zeroing in on a deer which had frozen in place with a wide-eyed, panicked expression. “Shifty, I told you to stay in your room!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” cried the deer. “I just wanted to make sure Stan was okay! Please don’t hate me.”

With a sinking feeling in his stomach, Ford realized he wasn’t wearing a mask, meaning Shifty could now take his form if he wanted. Who knew how many people or dangerous animals Shifty had come across while tailing them to the lake? How could Ford possibly do damage control on this?

“You don’t have to panic,” said Shifty. “I said I’d be good if you let me come. I’ll do what you tell me, just please, I couldn’t just wait around doing nothing.”

“Amazing,” said Doripea. “You tamed it. I didn’t even know their kind could talk.”

Ford turned to her, curiosity suddenly overcoming his concern. “You’ve seen other shapeshifters before?”

She shrugged. “Not in a long time. It’s been, what, a century and a half? I saw it come out of its burrow to feed every now and then, but for the most part it kept to itself, I think.”

“Strange,” said Ford. “Shifty has tested well when it comes to social behaviors. It’s hard to determine such things with only one extant specimen, but I would’ve guessed his kind to be pack hunters.”

“As far as I know, only one of them has existed at a time. Can’t pack hunt without a pack,” said Doripea.

“Hmm.” Ford would have to examine the implications of this later, but for now, “Shifty, you can stay, as long as you keep close to me and stay in deer form unless I tell you otherwise, got it?”

“Okay.”

“Now, Dora, the reason I came to call on you. My brother here mishandled the selkie’s revenge and I was hoping you could help me change him back to human form.”

“How long has he been in seal form?”

“No more than two hours.”

“Oh good, you caught it early. Stan, you don’t feel any strong urges to swim in this lake, do you?”

To Stan’s grunts she replied, “Well, if you get any, resist them. This curse is designed to turn you into an elephant seal in mind as well as body. Swimming in the water will kick start that process. You’ll be drawn to the other elephant seals, and before you know it you’ll be on the wrong side of a territorial beachmaster. You’re lucky we’re so far inland, and that it isn’t mating season.”

“I tried a simple curse breaking spell, and when that didn’t work I thought we would need something more specialized.”

“You got that right, Stanford. Did you bring any material we could use as a taglock?”

Ford nodded and produced some hair he’d removed from Stan’s hairbrush. Doripea listed a few other ingredients, some of which Stanford had on him, and another she could harvest from the bottom of the lake. She sent them off to gather cedar leaves while she retrieved it.

“See, Shifty, you had nothing to worry about,” Ford reassured him as the three of them set off on their short trek through the forest. “With Doripea’s help, Stan will be back to normal in no time. You didn’t need to break out of your room.”

“I guess,” said Shifty. “It’s just that you and Stan never let me go anywhere. And maybe I didn’t have to come, but now that I’m here, it’s not so bad. Why do you think I’m so dangerous?”

Ford hesitated. How wise was it, to let Shifty know how powerful his shapeshifting abilities were? How easily they could be misused? How much of Shifty’s good behavior was due to his innocence?

Before he could start parsing out his answer, something caught his eye. “Look, there! A cedar grove. Shifty, why don’t you change into bird form and help me gather the leaves?”

Shifty was sufficiently distracted by leaf collecting for the time being. But as they made their way back to the lake with their spoils, something seemed off about Stan. He would stop moving periodically, his head cocked to the east. Then he would shake his head and catch up with Ford and Shifty.

The third time Stan stopped, Ford asked, “What is it, Stanley?” but Stan didn’t seem to hear him. Instead he took off in the eastern direction.

“What are you doing?” asked Ford, running alongside him. “That’s not the way back to the lake!”

“He can’t help it!” said Shifty as he glided through the air above them, still in bird form. “Something is drawing him that way!”

“The river,” Ford realized. “It must be closer to this spot than the lake is! We can’t let him get in the water!”

“Can I turn into an elephant seal now?” asked Shifty, and he whooped gleefully when Ford gave his assent. With an extra burst of speed, Shifty flew several feet ahead of them, then dropped to the ground in elephant seal form. The two bull seals collided, and Stan looked even more frenzied as he tried to evade this new obstacle.

“Stan, don’t hurt him!” cried Ford. “You know Shifty, he doesn’t want to hurt you! Stan, look at me, you know you can’t get in the water! Snap out of it!”

Stan paid no attention to this. Clearly the call of the water was too strong. Was Stan hearing the water? Were there lower vibrations from the gallons of rushing water that elephant seals could pick up, but humans couldn’t? Ford could only think of one way to find out.

Grateful he’d thought to bring an infrasonic transducer, Ford quickly set it to the needed specifications. “Shifty, cover your ears!” cried Ford, demonstrating with his hands.

Shifty found a hole in the ground to duck his head into, just in time for Ford to press the button. Ford couldn’t tell by the sound if it worked or not, because it was far too low for human ears to detect. But Stan let out a cry and dropped to the ground, rubbing his head in the dirt.

“I’m sorry, Stan,” Ford said to the writhing elephant seal. “It was the only thing I could think of.”

“He’s mad at you,” said Shifty, pulling his head out of the ground. “But at least he’s not crazy anymore.”

“And what about you? Are you hurt?” Ford asked Shifty.

“I’m okay. It was kind of fun, wrestling like elephant seals.”

Ford sighed, relieved that Stan had snapped out of his frenzy, and that Shifty was unharmed. “You did very well, Shifty, thank you. I suppose it was good you came after all.”

Shifty turned into a dog, the way he always did when he was happy, and moved as if to lick Ford’s hand, but he paused. “Sorry, I didn’t ask if I could change -”

“It’s all right, Shifty,” Ford assured him. “You got excited. It happens.”

For the rest of their hike, Ford kept his infrasonic transducer handy, just in case the sound of the water got to Stan again. Luckily he didn’t need it. Doripea helped him grind all their gathered ingredients into a thick paste, which they applied to Stan’s body. Then, and only then, was Stan allowed to get in the lake. Ford couldn’t think of a time he’d been happier to see Stan’s face as he watched his brother resurface from the lake. He helped Stan wring his wet clothes out and put them on, then hugged him, unconcerned about getting soaked himself.

That evening, the three of them all ate dinner together, something they’d never done before, since Stan and Ford had always worn masks around Shifty. Eating at the dinner table was new for Shifty, but he took to table manners well enough. Ford could tell it would take some doing to cure him of talking with his mouth full, though.

“Why didn’t you want me to see your mouths and your noses?” Shifty asked around a mouthful of beef.

“We were trying to protect our identities,” said Ford.

“What’s an identity?”

“Your identity is, well it’s who you are? How do I explain this . . .”

“Let me show you something,” said Stan. He ducked into his room briefly and came out with a shoebox. He pulled a few driver’s licenses out of it. “These are fake IDs. Basically they tell everyone that I’m someone I’m not. They’re lies. And they’re illegal.”

“What’s ‘illegal?’” asked Shifty.

“Only the fun stuff, kid.” With a look from Ford, Stan added, “Kidding, I’m kidding! Lots of illegal things can hurt people. Like killing, that’s bad. So the government will punish you for doing those things. If I stole someone else’s ID, I could steal their money, or do bad things under their name, so they would get in trouble and not me. It’s called identity fraud, and humans take it very seriously.”

“So that’s why we didn’t want you to see any human faces,” said Ford. “Because stealing someone’s identity like that is wrong. Do you understand?”

Shifty nodded. “You don’t want me to lie and pretend like I’m a human.”

“Exactly,” said Ford. “You’ve seen our faces now, so it can’t be helped. But if you want to meet other humans, we need you to promise you won’t take their forms, all right?”

“Okay, I promise,” said Shifty. “I won’t turn into you, or Stan, or any other humans. I won’t lie.”

Ford realized he had every confidence Shifty would keep his word.

The following week went much more smoothly, now that Stan and Ford didn’t have to wear masks so much and could take Shifty with them on field expeditions and into town. It started to feel like Shifty was a third, junior member of their team.

Shifty made it clear he thought of it differently, when one night he asked Ford, “Are you my dad?”

Surprised, Ford put down the Little Critter book he’d been reading to Shifty. He shifted uncomfortably at the beseeching look from the red eyes of Shifty’s true form, which he always reverted to when tired or sleeping. “Ah, not biologically, no. I assume you’re referring to my social role as your caregiver?”

“Yeah. You tuck me in at night, like Little Critter’s dad. And we play during the day, and you take care of me. We love each other.”

Ford was surprised at Shifty’s word choice. He’d always found Shifty interesting, at least, and Ford couldn’t deny he’d become quite invested in Shifty’s welfare, but love? How did you quantify such a thing? How did Shifty even know what that meant?

“Isn’t that how human families work?” asked Shifty.

“I - yes, I suppose. I’m afraid it’s not my area of expertise. I never expected to make a human family of my own. I’m still just trying to be a better brother to Stanley.” Ford adjusted the cushion he sat on, next to the opening of the den Shifty preferred to sleep in, rather than a more traditional bed. “But you, Shifty, you’re not human. Why would you want a human family?”

“I dunno. I thought it would make me happy. We don’t have to be family if you don’t want to.”

Shifty curled around himself, rolling deeper into his den, and Ford felt his heart sink. “I do want you to be happy,” he told Shifty. And that was when he knew Shifty had become more than an experiment to him. He had more than a scientific interest in helping this creature learn and grow. He had felt that way for a long time. “You can call me Dad if you want.”

“Really?” Shifty scrambled out of his den, morphing into a dog as he went. His paws rested on Ford’s shoulders, and he nuzzled his soft, furry head into Ford’s neck. Ford reflexively hugged him back, stroking his pelt. “Thanks, Dad.”

The enormity of it hit him then. He was a father now. Another being depended on him, loved him. He was Shifty’s whole world. And Shifty was his.

Ford hugged him tighter. “I love you, Son,” he said.

“I love you, too. Dad.” said Shifty.

When Shifty called him Dad the next morning at breakfast, Stan raised his eyebrows. “Shifty’s your kid, now?” he asked Ford.

“Last night, I asked if I could call him Dad, and he said yes,” Shifty informed him.

“Really?”

Ford tugged at his collar. “Well, he is a sapient child whom I have grown to care and take responsibility for, so. It is appropriate.”

“Huh. Well, Shifty, if Ford’s your dad, that makes me your fun uncle!” He clapped Shifty on the back. “It’s Uncle Stan from now on, all right, kid?”

Shifty smiled back with Little Critter’s buck-toothed grin. “Okay, Uncle Stan.”

“Mazeltov, Sixer!” said Bill. He summoned some lavender balloons that read, ‘It’s a shapeshifter!’

“Thank you, Bill.”

“Hey, I’m just grateful you’re able to make time for me now you’re a working parent and all.”

“I’m sorry, Bill. I know between Shifty and not having the mechanical help I need -”

Bill waved off his excuses. “I told you, a solution for that is in the works. I just don’t want you getting lost in the weeds with individual specimens while your Grand Unified Theory goes unpublished!”

“Yes, of course. I’ll try harder.”

“And anyway, once you get the portal up and running, you’ll be able to find the dimension Shifty comes from. Think of how much you could learn about his species then! Things you should probably know if you’re trying to raise one of them.”

Ford hung his head. “You’re right. When it comes to figuring out Shifty, and what he needs . . . I’m stumbling around in the dark. He’d probably be happier if we made contact with some of his own kind . . .”

“Yeah, well, for now he’s stuck with you, isn’t he? With any luck, he won’t end up resenting you the way you do your dad, right?”

“Of course not! I would never treat him the way our dad treated us.” Despite his indignation, Ford was forcefully reminded of the inhumane way he’d treated Shifty all of a few weeks before, and was ashamed.

Bill clapped a reassuring hand on his back. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll do your best, Sixer.”

The deep midnight blue of the mindscape abruptly faded away, and another voice called out to Ford.

“Get out of his head!”

“Shhh, Shifty, let him sleep, he never takes a minute to rest like this . . .”

Ford opened his eyes and found Shifty in the form of a badger, scrambling to get out of Stan’s grasp. “Dad!” he said. “Did you tell the monster to go away?”

“He thinks something was attacking your brain while you were asleep,” Stan explained.

Ford shook himself awake, annoyed at himself for messing up his schedule like this. He’d only meant to sit on the couch for a minute or two . . . “Come here, Shifty,” he said, and extended his arms to Stan, who handed Shifty over.

Ford stroked his pelt and assured him, “I’m fine. Nobody was trying to hurt me. I was simply speaking with my Muse.” Really, it was quite extraordinary that Shifty seemed able to sense Bill’s presence. “Sometimes he enters my dreams and helps with my research. It’s nothing to worry about.”

Shifty looked unconvinced. “He made you feel bad. Bad shame wrong. He’s yucky.”

Ford gave an explanation that was close enough to the truth. “We were just talking about some of the obstacles setting back my project. It’s not his fault. How could you tell what I was feeling when I was asleep, anyway?”

Shifty looked confused. “You . . . smelled? No, not a smell. I just felt the, you know, the little waves, they tell you what the feelings are. I can’t feel them when I’m asleep, but I was awake. You were asleep.”

“You have a psychic sense for other people’s emotions?” asked Ford. Of course he did. Looking back, it was so obvious. Shifty had always been so confident when talking about how people felt. Ford really should have noticed sooner. “And that’s how you could sense my Muse’s presence?”

“Yes? Is that not something humans can do?”

Ford shook his head. “We can read facial expressions and body language, but otherwise, the only way we can tell how someone is feeling is if they tell us.”

“Is that why you didn’t trust me at first? Because you couldn’t tell I didn’t want to hurt you?”

“Well, yes,” Ford admitted. “I didn’t realize you were a sapient being and I didn’t know what your abilities were, or how you wanted to use them. So I kept you locked up. I’m sorry.”

“Oh. I thought I had done something wrong. I tried to be good.”

“Oh, Shifty . . .” Ford hugged him closer. “You are good. You’re a wonderful kid. I’m sorry it took me so long to realize it.”

Shifty must have sensed how guilty Ford felt, because he said, “It’s not your fault. You didn’t know. I know you love me now.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t deserve to be mistreated,” Stan cut in. “You don’t have to take care of Ford’s feelings. He’s a grown up. We should take care of yours.”

“You’re right, Stan,” Ford agreed. “I know we’re at a disadvantage, Shifty, when it comes to supporting you emotionally. I’m bad at dealing with feelings, even by human standards. But I’ll do my best for you. Will you tell me your feelings so I can help you?”

“Okay,” said Shifty. “I wish you had always been my dad. I wish you had never been mean.”

“Me too,” said Ford.

“I’m glad you said sorry, though. I still love you, anyway.”

“I love you, too,” Ford assured him.

“And I still don’t like your muse. He’s mean, and he’s sneaky.”

“I’m not sure I like him either,” Stan concurred. “When you first told me about him, I didn’t really take it seriously. I’m sorry, it was just really weird. But if Shifty can sense him, and he’s actually real, well, all that stuff you said, about how he only picks one brilliant mind a century and all that? If I were trying to con you, that’s exactly the angle I’d go for.”

“But he’s not a con,” Ford said reflexively. “I don’t think I did a good job of explaining him. If you met him in person, you’d see, Bill is amazing.”

“No no no no no,” said Shifty. “I don’t want him in my head! Promise me you won’t let him in my head.”

“Okay, I promise,” said Ford, alarmed by how much this agitated Shifty. “He won’t hurt you, he won’t hurt any of us. Ever.”

Shifty was still wary, but he accepted Ford’s comfort. Ford could tell Stan had more to say on the subject, though, and he did, after Ford had put Shifty to bed.

“Ford, I’m just saying, your mind is a powerful thing. Letting some supernatural creature inside it is no small potatoes. Whatever you’re getting out of this arrangement you got, make sure he’s not short changing you.”

“Of course he’s not! Look, Stan, if you want to see the truth for yourself, there’s a simple spell you can use to follow him into my mind, next time he’s there. You’ll see, there’s nothing to worry about.”

“All right,” Stan said tentatively. “I might do that. But just ask yourself this, Ford, what is this Bill guy getting out of this? Why does he want you to build the portal so badly?”

“Well that’s simple, he . . .” Ford realized he’d never asked Bill that question before, and he’d never volunteered the information himself. But clearly that just meant his motives were pure, right? “He’s a being of the mind, Stan. Scientific discovery is its own reward.”

“Are you serious?” asked Stan. “You’ve never questioned anything he’s said, have you? I thought you were smarter than that.”

Anger flared in Ford, quick and intense. “You have no idea what the hell you’re talking about! This is just like you, to barge into things you don’t understand -”

“Hey, don’t try to turn this around on me. I’m just looking out for you, like I’ve been doing since day one.”

“I can think of at least one glaring exception.”

“Seriously, Stanford? Are you going to hold that one mistake over me for the rest of my life?”

“It just shows you have a history of ruining my work right when it’s about to pay off. You never cared about the things that are important to me, you’re only interested in chasing your cheap thrills.”

“I never cared about what was important to you? I thought I was important to you! You think I went to prison in three different countries just for the fun of it? I did what I had to, just to survive. Which I’ve had to do for over ten years, while you never bothered to stick your nose out of a book long enough to check on your brother.”

Ford’s seething response melted away at the thought of Stanley shivering, Stanley hungry, Stanley alone. “Stanley, I - I didn’t mean to imply that I don’t care about you. These past weeks with you have meant the world to me. You’re right. I should’ve tried to reconnect with you sooner, and - and I shouldn’t still be blaming you for something you did in high school.”

Stan’s gaze shifted down to his feet. “It wasn’t that I didn’t care about your perpetual motion machine. I really didn’t mean to break it, and I should’ve owned up to what I did and told you instead of trying to fix it myself. I may not understand everything about this portal, but I really do want to help you. It’s just that this Bill guy seems fishy to me.”

“And I told you, you have a chance to talk to him yourself. Will you at least try to keep an open mind about him until then?”

“I will, if you try to keep your mind open to the idea that he may not be what he seems.”

“I . . . suppose that’s fair.”

“Now will you please get some sleep? Between the kid and the portal you’ve been running yourself ragged.”

“It’s not so bad as all that.” Ford tried to shrug it off. “I think if I change the alignment on the oscillator I might get a better charge on the clux fapacitor -”

“It can wait until tomorrow.”

“It won’t take that long to test out. Anyway, I got a nap in earlier, I’m fine.”

“Yeah, a ‘nap.’ Looked more like you passed out from sheer exhaustion. You definitely need more sleep.”

“I can sleep when I’ve published my Grand Unified Theory of Weirdness.” And with that, Ford escaped to the basement before Stan could respond.

Ford didn’t want to admit it, but this whole business unsettled him. Stan was the one person he trusted best in all the world, but Bill was his Muse, the one who not only saw what Ford could be, but gave him the tools to achieve it. Now the two seemed to be setting themselves against each other. Ford didn’t want to think of what the outcome would be, should he be forced to choose between them. He could only hope it wouldn’t come to that.

Read the next work in this series

[nataliedanovelist]

GF - Where the Crop Circles Grow ch.6

Summary: When things get out of hand at the Pines’ family farm, Ford asks an old college buddy to assist investigating anomalies and Stan hires a farmhand. Who knew asking for help would actually get you somewhere?

For @lemonfodrizzleart. Part of her Farmer AU and featuring her OC, Jackie Asante.

Ao3 link here.

ch.5 - ch.7

~~~~~~~~~~

Jackie was wide awake a good hour before the sun would rise, before Clock would wake the whole house, and yet she didn’t have the strength to get out of bed. Her mind was swimming with so many thought she felt like she was drowning.

Last night she had sex with Stanley Pines, her employer and friend. What the hell was she thinking?! She was thinking he was beautiful and smart and kind and everything she had ever wanted she just wanted to hold him forever, and thus it resorted to her losing her white dress to hay and walking out of a barn in Stan’s shirt and being caught red-handed by Ford and Fiddleford. (Thank God Tate was asleep and didn’t ask questions; if he had been awake Jackie probably would’ve killed herself.)

Her mind replayed what Stan had said to her before they got busy. He seemed to have meant those nice things he said to her, not just saying it to get her to undress. Jackie was a pretty decent reader of character, so okay, at the absolute very least Stan liked her. He wasn’t going to kick her out or dump her. But did he want to do it again? She knew she wanted to at some point, but…

Jackie groaned and laid on her stomach as she buried her face in her pillow. Really, would it be the end of the world if they were together? Probably not, but did Stan even want that? Jackie wanted to think so, but a small voice in the back of her mind told her he only saw her as an employee with benefits and to not get her hopes up. And of course there were the other men in the house. Ford was mortified when he discovered what they had done, but Jackie considered that it was only because he did not want to think about his twin having sex. Fiddleford, who had been married and even had a son, seemed a little too understanding and supportive. Jackie didn’t think she could stand to see their faces today, so she made up her mind to get up now, do her chores quickly before anyone else woke up, and lock herself in her room until dinner.

While the coffee pot brewed, Jackie quickly mixed together some simple blueberry muffins. While they baked in the oven, she quickly fed the chickens and watered the sheep and let them out onto the field. By the time she re-entered the kitchen the muffins were perfect and she let them cool while she tidied the sheep’s barn and gave them fresh hay. Jackie had just fixed her mug of coffee and plated herself two muffins when she heard footsteps and she hurried into her bedroom to indulge in a book.

It took a hot shower and a few sips of coffee for Stan to realize what Jackie had done. He laughed at himself to find the morning chores done and an easy breakfast laid out on the table. Shaking his head, he happily munched on a muffin on his way to the big barn to milk Luna and brush Truffles and he decided that he would check on her later.

~~~~~~~~~~

As the day wore on, as the sun crept higher and higher up the sky, dark clouds drifted into the scenery and hid the sun. Ford and Fiddleford had just enough time to retrieve their cameras so they could spend the rainy afternoon developing the photos in the thinking parlor before it started pouring down. It never escalated into thunder and lightning, but it was a merciless rain that kept the animals sleeping inside their barns and nests, but thankfully the lack of wind made it okay to sit on the porch and watch the rain, and that’s what Stan did until he fell asleep in his chair.

That left the four-year-old to snuggle up with a blanket on the couch and watch TV, but nothing good was on. Tate huffed and turned it off to try to think of what to do so he wouldn’t be bored no more. He could read a book, but he had done that yesterday. He could play with his toys in his room, but he didn’t feel like it. He wanted to get up and move, but it was raining too hard to play outside, Daddy said so when he came back with Uncle Ford with the cameras, so Tate decided he would do exploring.

He liked this house. It was big but not too big and it felt like home. He really liked it here, and though he knew it wasn’t good to be a sneaky peaky spy, Daddy and Uncle Ford and Uncle Stan and Auntie Jackie never got mad. Tate knew what most of the room were and where most doors led to, but there was one in the hallway that he didn’t know where it led to, so Tate opened it and he beamed to find raincoats, a vacuum, and a box of board games on the floor so Tate could reach.

Tate grinned and decided to pick a game to play. Maybe Daddy would wanna play, or when Uncle Stan wakes up he would wanna play. There was a small box of cards on the top of the stack; Tate thought it would be a good idea to play Go Fish. Tate saw Connect Forty-Four, Don’t Wake Stalin, Battle Chutes and Ladder Ships, but the game on top of the stack and right below the cards a game caught Tate’s eye. He liked the big red dragon behind the funny looking wizard, some kinda monster with big lips, and the pretty elf with the unicorn, all above a table of people playing the game.

Take picked up the green box and smiled. He was only four, but Daddy taught him how to read, so he could read the game and the rules. It looked like fun!

Meanwhile, Ford stretched his arms over his head and left the thinking parlor for a drink of water and possibly a snack. He looked down the hall and smiled when he found Tate in front of the closet where they kept the board games, holding a box he found intriguing. “Hello, Tate,” Ford said and walked up to him.

“Hi, Uncle Ford!” Tate piped and looked up at him and showed him the box in his hands. “Lookie what I found!”

Ford instantly recognized the well-used fantasy-talking, level-counting, statistics and graph-paper involved game from college and grinned. “Dungeons, Dungeons and More Dungeons! That’s my favorite game in the whole Multiverse! I used to play with your father and some other fans of the game back in Backupsmore.”

“Can we play it now?” Tate asked.

Ford held his cleft chin in thought and smiled down at his best friend’s son. Dungeons, Dungeons and More Dungeons was usually a complex and thoughtful game; you had to have a prepared Quest Master for starters, create a character and fill out a character-sheet, and use math and statistics a bit too advanced for the average four-year-old, but Tate wasn’t the average four-year-old. Ford knew he wasn’t good with kids and so he had somewhat kept his distance, but Fiddleford had often said the two were very similar and Ford was quicker to notice the similarities between the father and son, so Ford shrugged and got on one knee to be eye-level with the boy. He might not know much about kids, but he did know a lot about this. “Yes, I suppose we can play. This game involves both math and imagination, so I’m sure someone was intelligent as you will love it.”

Tate grinned at the compliment and watched Ford grab a black backpack from the closet’s shelf and then followed him to the living room to play on the card table. Luckily Ford had what he needed to be a Quest Master and knew the game well enough for the job, so he let Tate use a basic character to learn how to play and to see if he would like it. Ford looked out for any sign that the boy wasn’t having fun, but Tate took to it like a fish to water. The minute he learned he had to fill out a character sheet to play for real, he begged to fill one out and Ford happily showed him how to roll the dice and earn his character’s traits and skill-set.

Soon Ford had Tate the elf go on a magical quest. Tate found a dungeon by a river when he used his sword to cut away some plants, and Tate now had to battle boody-traps and devious gremlins to win the game. Ford started to roll dice in a normal manner, but after a while he reverted to his unique way: weaving the dice in between his fingers and picking it back up with his thumb, starting the cycle all over again. Tate nearly lost his mind and demanded to see it again. With hot cheeks, Ford happily showed the boy his little trick and Tate instantly tried to do it, too, but Ford chuckled and explained that it took lots of practice, and then it was back to the game.

“Alright, you enter the chamber.” Ford narrated, in his element, with the models in front of him and his guide for what to do, determined on what Tate rolled. Tate decided that he liked the way Uncle Ford told stories. “Princess Unattainable beckons you, but wait! It’s a trap!” Tate gasped in horror as Ford wiggled his twelve fingers and imitated an evil grin. “An illusion cast by Probabilitor the Annoying!”

“Oh no!” Tate yelled and shook the dice in his combined fists. “I’ll get him with my sword!”

“Hold on, he only has one weakness.” Ford chuckled. “Prime statistical anomalies over 37 but exceeding 51.”

“Oh. Isn’t an anomaly a weird thingy in the woods?”

Ford laughed; of course this kid would first associate the word with Ford and Fiddleford’s field research. “Yes, but… okay, okay, here’s what you do. You see the dice with 38 sides? Roll that with these two, and then I’ll roll these three, and then we get to do some math to see who wins.”

“Yay! Math!” Tate quickly rolled his three dice and Ford rolled his. Ford even took the time to show Tate on his notepad why you should add certain numbers together, and it looked like Tate barely beat Probabilator’s illusion. “Yes! I did it!”

“Good job!” Ford said and ruffled Tate’s hat. “You’ve Probabilitor on the ropes! Now…”

“Oh ho, so this is where you disappeared to.”

“Hi Daddy!” Tate said happily as Fiddleford stood at the doorway, smiling and amused by the scene before him. “Uncle Ford’s teachin’ me how t’play Dungeons, Dungeons n’ More Dungeons n’ be an elf n’ kick Probabilitor’s butt!”

Fiddleford raised an eyebrow at his old college roommate, his smile still standing. “You dug out that old game, then?”

“More like your son was nosy and I couldn’t resist teaching him a trick or two.” Ford answered with a chuckle and ruffled Tate’s hat to show there were no hard feelings.

“Ugh, are you serious?” Tate and Ford looked over to find that Stan had returned, rubbing his eyes with his fists, awoken by the sounds of dorks. “You’re teaching squirt that nerd game?”

“It’s not a nerd game, Stanley, you would like it if you gave it a chance.”

“Thanks, but no thanks. I prefer to do my dice rolling in Vegas.”

“C’mon, Uncle Stan, don’tcha wanna play?” Tate asked and smiled up at him. “You’re always a lot of fun to play with! You can even pick the weapon I get Probabilitor with!”

Stan couldn’t hide the blush in his face. Before he could answer, Jackie walked behind Stan swiftly for a drink of water, but Tate saw her and quickly said, “Auntie Jackie’ll play, won’t you?”

Jackie jumped and darted her eyes all over the room. She ignored Stan and Fiddleford’s smug looks and tried to piece together what the boy wanted. “Um… what?”

“Dungeons, Dungeons, n’ More Dungeons.” Tate explained and even held up the box’s lid for her. “Can’t we all play together, pwease pwease pwease?” He begged, and even puckered his bottom lip out a little bit to sweeten the deal.

Jackie smiled sympathetically as she exchanged facial expressions with the adults. It wasn’t fair to Tate that there was no one his age to play with or to keep him company. While he had never once complained, it meant a lot of his free time was spent playing alone or helping with chores just so he had somebody to talk to. Just for one afternoon, it couldn’t hurt to give in and do this one thing the child clearly desperately wanted.

“I don’t see why not.” She said with a shrug. “Never played, but I’ve heard good things about it. Why don’t I pop some popcorn and make hot chocolate for a snack?”

“Great idea!” Fiddleford backed up. “I’ll go get my old character sheet!”

“Alright, Stanley come here and I’ll help you create your character.”

“Ugh, do I gotta be some sparkly elf or something?”

“No, you can be whatever you want to be. An ogre, a fairy, a centaur…”

“You had me at ogre! I’m gonna have my own swamp and kick out any annoying fairytale creatures!”

Later that evening, after all the characters had been set and the game was ready to begin, the card table became too filled to function, so everything was laid out on the floor and everyone sat in pajamas and snacked on bowls of popcorn, pretzels, chipackcerz, and mugs of hot chocolate. Clipboards for the players’ character sheets, colorful dice, and notepads also littered the living room, and as the room was lit with candles and the wood-burning fireplace to give it a spooky feel, Ford happily narrated his players through the game. “After your victory against the clan of goblins, you rest at a pub…”

“I’m gonna flirt with the barmaid to get some free drinks!” Stan declared and rolled a 38 sided die; once he understood that this game involved more risk and imagination than math, he started to warm up to it, and though he would never admit it, he had fun playing pretend.

Ford chuckled and looked down at the die. “You’re successful! The barmaid is charmed by your smooth words and strong stature, and slides you a free drink, but unfortunately your score isn’t high enough to earn everyone else a drink. Your players need to recharge from battle, so everyone needs to pay one gold coin for fuel.”

“Imma get chocolate milk!” Tate cheered as he changed the amount of gold he had in his bag on his character sheet.

“Okay, everyone roll your 12 sided die.” Once all the dice were still, Ford winced at the score and said with a devilish smile, “Your cheerfulness over your victory has caught the attention of your worst, and most annoying, enemy: Probabilitor the Annoying!”

“Dang it!” Stan yelled as he popped a piece of gum into his mouth.

“He’s accompanied by his trusty eagle, perfect for capturing victims, a hot elf, and his head ogre. Seeking revenge for taking down his army of goblins, Probabilitor attacks the pub with…” Ford rolled his dice. “... a math ray! Everyone roll your D-38.”

While Stan rolled a 32 and Tate rolled a 28, Fiddleford rolled a 17 and Jackie rolled a 2. “What!?” She shrieked, having been earning low numbers the entire game. “Stan, did you load my dice!?”

“Aw, c’mon, missy,” Stan laughed. “I wouldn’t cheat… okay, but not at a nerd game. It ain’t worth my best tricks.”

“While Goldie and Tate dodged the math ray in time, Hadron and Drizzle are hit, Drizzle left weak while Hadron almost made it to safety. The eagle takes advantage and takes them in his talons, following Probabilitor into the sky as the ogre and hot elf ride on the large bird’s back. Goldie, Tate, what do you do?”

“We go after them!” Tate declared.

“What happens if we don’t?” Stan asked.

“Probabilitor will eat their brains. It’s his thing.” Ford answered.

“Fine, guess we’ll go on another quest.” Stan ruffled Tate’s hat, the two paired into a team, and Ford had them set off into the woods for their team members.

“Alright, meanwhile at the campsite,” Ford went on. “Hadron and Drizzle are tied to a tree while the hot elf readies the brain-cooking pot.”

“Hold on, ain’t there a way we can escape?” Fiddleford asked. “It’s only rope, n’ I got my dagger, remember. If it’s in my belt by my hip…”

“Good ingenuity, let’s give it a try.” Ford cleared his throat and reread the rules to make sure it was fair. “Probabilitor, distracted by picking garnishes for your brains, doesn’t notice that Hadron has a weapon he can use without his hands. Roll your D-12, you have to get a 10 or higher to be successful.”

Fiddleford blew into his fists for good luck and let his D-12 go, but then slapped his forehead and winced at the 8.

“You managed to cut some of the binding holding you and Drizzle captive, but your dagger falls from your belt and lands on the grass and out of reach. Before Drizzle can even try to get it back with her foot, Probabilitor returns to do some more annoying dragging about how he’s going to eat you.”

“If I get my eight-year-old character killed over this, Imma lose it.” Fiddleford joked; there was no way he was going to die like this, right? Right?!

“Ugh, if my hands were free I’d break every part of his face.” Jackie growled.

“Oh ho, Probabilitor is so annoying he has even invoked the wrath of the peaceful druid elf.” Ford chuckled. “Helpless for the time being, it’s up to Goldie and Tate to save them, but first they must travel through the woods and reach the campsite.”

“Okay!” Tate cheered and punched the air, ready to beat up some bad guys.

“You two are getting close to your destination, you can tell by the frequent fairy bites. When suddenly your path is blocked by a huge ogre, armed with an axe!”

“Aw, come on, Manly Dave, I thought we were cool.” Stan said sarcastically and the whole room laughed.

“‘Halt!’ Dave the Ogre says.” Ford was using a deeper, gritter voice for the ogre, making Tate grin as the narrator had a way of making the story come to life. “‘You interlopers are trespassing on the ancient forest of Probabilitor the Wizard! If ye wish to pass, first ye must complete seven unworldly quests, each more difficult than the last…’”

“I bonk him over the head with my bat!” Stan interrupted.

“Okay, one, you have a club, not a bat, Stanley,” Ford explained for the uptheenth time. “And second, you can’t…”

“Sure I can! Our team members are gonna be dead soon, we don’t have time for seven stupid quests! So I use nature’s snooze button and bonk him over the head!” Stan argued and shook his dice in his fist.

“Fine, roll your D-38…” The room gasped as Stan rolled a 36. Ford, chuckling with disbelief, said, “You bonk your club on the ogre’s head and it knocks him out cold. He’s not dead, but he won’t be walking for a long time.”

“There’s no cops in the forest.” Stan hissed to Tate. “We take this to our graves.”

The boy actually pushed his hat and bangs back to show Uncle Stan his trusty wink, making the whole room laugh.

“Very well! You are approaching the campsite!” Ford narrated with wiggling fingers. “As Goldie and Tate hide in the bushes, Probabilitor tackles.” Ford cleared his throat and made the wheeziest, annoying voice he could muster, causing Jackie to snort and cover her mouth to keep from spitting out soda. “‘And now, a little math problem! When I subtract your brains from your skulls, add salt, and divide your team, what’s the remainder?’”

“YOUR BUTT!” Tate cried out.

“‘What?!’” Ford wheezed. “‘My butt isn’t part of this particular equation!’” The whole room laughed loudly and Ford had to wait for everyone to calm down before continuing. “Though your insult may have been funny, your cover is blown. Goldie and Tate now have no choice but to battle Probabilitor for the lives of Hadron and Drizzle!”

“Yup, we’re dead.” Fiddleford said and pulled out a clean character sheet. “Better start creatin’ a new character.”

“Hey! We’ve got this, right squirt?” Stan asked as he wrapped an arm around Tate.

“Yeah!”

“Let the battle begin!” Ford placed two small figures of ogres and said, “The ogres swing first! Roll your D-38s to dodge!” Ford rolled a 13 while Stan rolled a 14.

“Goldie uses a… Shield of Shielding to, you know, shield Goldie and Tate!” Stan made up.

“Probabilitor casts a reversal spell, and…” Ford rolled a 15. “... is successful. The shield disintegrates. The ogres attack! Now you can choose to attack or…”

“Oh! Giggle time bouncy boots!” Tate yelled out. “To jump over the meanie’s heads!” Both Ford and Tate rolled, but Tate’s was higher.

“The boots work!” Ford said. “Goldie and Tate bounce to safety, missing the axes and clubs by the skin of their noses.”

“Now they use flamey swords… no! SUPER hot flamey swords!” Tate declared, getting really excited. The boy rolled a 21, Stan rolled an 18, and Ford rolled a 2.

“Incredible luck!” Ford gasp. “Your swords are so powerful they destroy the ogres in an instant!” And he swiped up the little figures. “‘Drat you!’ Probabilitor screeches. ‘You’ll never outrun my Ogre-nado!’” And Ford rolled a 30.

“Yes we will!” Tate said and hopped up on his feet, shaking the die hard. “Centaur-taur will swoop in and save Tate and Goldie!” And Tate rolled a 32.

“A what?” Fiddleford chuckled.

“A Centaur-taur.” Tate repeated and showed a drawing he had made last night when thinking of weapons and characters. It was both horrifying and impressive.

“Tate, I am so confused n’ so proud right now.” Fiddleford said thickly with shiny blue eyes.

“The Centaur-taur dashes just in time and carries Goldie and Tate to the thick of the trees, where the ogre-nado is broken and destroyed. Goldie and Tate rush back to try to free Hadron and Drizzle, but Probabilitor’s score is still too high to be defeated.” Ford rolls his D-4, D-12, and D-38 to determine which of Probabilitor’s spells or minions to use; the Quest Master’s eyes widened as this specific combination of numbers meant he had to use the most powerful monster is all of Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons.

Ford grinned sheepishly, and narrates slowly for suspense, “You think all is well and good, but Probabilitor was saving the worst for last. Just before Goldie and Tate reach their team members, they’re grabbed by a huge claw with three fingers and are faced with a mouth inside of a mouth and a fiery red eye.” And Ford slammed down the biggest statue they had.

Fiddleford gasped. “The Impossi-Beast! I thought they banned this character!” He argued.

Ford shrugged. “Sorry, but this is the original 1972 version. They didn’t ban the Impossi-Beast until the second version, released in 1975.”

“It’s okay, we’ll just think of some cool weapons…”

“Ya don’t understand, son.” Fiddleford said as he gripped the boy’s shoulder. “He’s so powerful that he can only be defeated by rolling a perfect 38! If not, then we all lose our characters!”

“Rollin’ a 38?!” Tate gasped. “The odds are…”

“Hey, long odds are what you want when you’re a world-class gambler!” Stan said and took up his D-38. “C’mon, c’mon… Papa needs a new pair of… elves!” And he let go of the D-38.

Tate held onto Stan’s arm as it rolled across the floor. Fiddleford’s knees were bouncing despite being criss-cross. Jackie had her hands in her hair. Ford bit his lip, wanting his first quest with the team to be a success. The little blue die looked like it might fall on 1, but at the last second it balanced perfectly on that beautiful 38.

“WHAT?!”

Tate jumped up and down as he cheered and punched the air. “YES! Yes, yes, yes! We won! We won!”

“What do you say, buddy?” Stan asked.

“DEATH BY MUFFINS!”

“Goldie and Tate then throw magical Death Muffins into the Impossi-Beast’s mouth!” Ford narrated. “The monster explodes and Probabilitor is powerless and pathetic as always. But keeping true to his name, he annoyingly disappears into a cloud of math, promising to be back for another journey, but for now Drizzle and Hardon are free, and Goldie and Tate are upgraded to level 2 and earn twenty pieces of gold.”

“YAY!” Tate quickly scribbled down the changes on his character! “Can we go on another adventure?! Maybe we’ll find a dragon this time! I wanna try to get a Trust Arrow!”

“Unfortunately that’s all I had plan for now.” Ford held his chin and gave it some more thought. “I suppose I could…”

“Not so fast, Sixer, that’s enough nerd-game for me.” Stan stretched his arms over his head. “Ole Goldie over here’s ready for some mindless fun.”

“How about a movie?” Jackie asked and looked under the TV for the box of VCR tapes. “We’ve got The Voyages of Lionclothiclese: Clash of the Genres.”

“Oo! Put it in!”

“I haven’t seen that movie in years!” Fiddleford said excitedly as his son sat in his lap up on the couch.

Ford moved up to the couch and allowed Jackie to put the tape in the machine and soon the TV lit up with the lights and sounds of the old film. Stan had collapsed into his armchair and Jackie held her knees by her chest, sitting between the couch and the chair. Stan noticed this and shook his head discreetly. No way such a pretty woman was going to sit on the floor, even if it was carpet. 

Jackie couldn’t help but feel someone’s eyes on her, and when they looked at each other Stan gave his lap a little pat so no one else would notice. The farm-woman hesitated, but being in his hold sounded amazing, and really what did she have to lose, so she slipped up into his arms and curled up in his lap, the gang allowing the old movie to fill the atmosphere and happily distract them from the real world.

[thelastspeecher]

eregyrn-falls replied to your post “The AU where Stan goes through the portal— Stan and Angie’s first...”

(so i also just wanted to add as a reply that wow... my reaction to Lute is that he was SUPER out of line. Like, he came across to me as unusually aggressive towards what is ultimately a harmless gesture on Angie's part. And like... dude. Stan is MISSING, not DEAD -- I'm assuming Lute knows that? But even if Stan was dead, if Angie wanted to hang a stocking for Stan, to remind her children of their father, or even just comfort herself, WHAT IS THE HARM???

i also can't quite get past the idea that he seemed to think that there is a mere 1-year statute of limitations on grieving / processing grief. Like, "you were a mess last year so I didn't say anything --" (now noble of you?) "-- but it's been a whole year now so you should be over your irrational coping mechanisms"???? yeah, lol -- i'm kind of angry at Lute, I think.

(And so grateful that Ford's reaction was the opposite; since Ford is often portrayed as being that asshole, which often makes me unhappy. and i know that in the context of this au, what Ford did -- his responsibility for Stan having been lost through the portal -- is much more serious than what Lute is doing here; but I still want to smack Lute.)

yeah, Lute turned out acting like a dick in this.

Lute’s of the opinion that moving on is the best method to get past grief, and after seeing how much Angie struggled with losing Stan, he wants her to get to that point.  one of the first things he did when he moved in to help Angie with the kids was to redecorate the bathrooms and kitchen, as well as do some lawnscaping, so that there could be less things to remind and thus trigger Angie.

but he wasn’t vocal about how he felt that this method would be the best for her, since Angie was in a very bad place, mentally.  he wanted to wait until she was better.  and he was fairly pushy about it bc he thinks Stan is as good as dead.  does he know the truth of what happened?  yes.  but does he actually think that Ford and Fiddleford will bring Stan back?  no.  

none of this is to excuse his behavior, of course.  it’s just to explain.  Fiddleford later talks to Lute in private.  Lute’s too stubborn to consider that he might be in the wrong, particularly since he’s very passionate about protecting and taking care of his little sister.  he doesn’t want to think that he could be harming her.

luckily, Fidds knows this, and is able to talk Lute down.  Lute apologizes for his behavior, and Angie apologizes for storming out of the room instead of talking to him (altho her storming out was probably the right move, given that the other reaction she would have had would be full on shouting.  in front of the children.  which neither Angie nor Lute would want).  Lute also does something nice for Angie bc he started to feel very bad the more he thought about how he acted, like make her favorite food or buy her something shiny.

and yes, I decided Ford should be the one to comfort her.  Ford feels very guilty for much of this AU and steps up to help with Stan’s wife and kids as much as he can, but this is really the first time he’s tried to comfort Angie directly.  hence his nervousness.  but he understands Angie’s reluctance to move on more than Lute does (I mean. canon Ford tries to move on, but he carries those pictures with him, even when he and Stan are on the rocks), so he does better than he expected.  Angie’s still low-key pissed at Ford for many reasons, but this interaction does help to put him a bit more into her good graces.

[pineque]

Ford’s (D46′\) Timeline

*cracks my motherfucking knuckles* alright my dudes @fordanoia asked me to share my Ford Timeline (which also includes some Stan and Fiddleford events). Now, this sucker took hours to put together so I’m putting it under a read more. The timeline is mostly about 1982 and before, but I put a few extra things in. 

Alright first I’m going to go through Ford’s diary journal for everyone that hasn’t read it and then get on with the timeline and explain how I chose the rest of the dates. I might make an ‘events only’ timeline graphic just in case anyone wants a simple, straightforward reference. If you’re interested in something like that, let me know and I’ll whip it up.

So the first date Journal 3 (J3) gives us is June 18th. The next sentence says that as of this date, it’s been six years since Ford arrived in GF. According to Ford’s own timeline, he arrived in 1975. This means that the current year is 1981. (There is one problem with Ford’s timeline. He pins 1981 as “Discovery of Muse,” but only like 7 pages earlier he wrote that Bill had been visiting him for two years so… I’m not including it). Sometime during this month, while writing about a category one ghost, Ford notes that he is a man in his 30’s.

The next important date J3 gives us is July 18th. This is the day Ford decides he needs help on the portal. The previous four pages detail Ford’s dream in which Bill tells him to build the portal and the plans for it, so I’m assuming he’d only been working on it for a week or two before he decided to call Fiddleford. That brings us to our next date, July 29th. Fiddleford arrives in GF.

Our two boys get to work and eventually hike to Crash Site Omega (CSO)(which Ford discovered two years ago aka 1979) for portal parts. Fiddleford gets fucked by the Gremloblin and spends some time being traumatized. During this week or two he makes the memory gun. Ford tells him to destroy it and Fidds uses it against him. He keeps the gun and Ford believes it has been destroyed. After this, Ford takes Fidds to the carnival. Ford gets the coolest fortune-telling experience ever, but he’s an ass and doesn’t believe any of it. Fidds has a chat with Ivan and then they go home. Fidds suggests they make an underground lab (fallout shelter) and they spend A LOT of time on it. After an accident that results in locking up the shapeshifter, they seal off the bunker and decide to work on it after the portal is done.

And now we’re back in the important stuff. A few nights before the completion of the portal, Bill offers to take over Ford’s body so he could do more work while Ford slept ((I feel like it is really important to note that Bill was only able to possess Ford for a few days before Fidds left. The possession thing was Not something that went on for years and there wasn’t any Bord and Fidds interaction/intimidation. Y'all can write or draw or make anything you want obviously and it is something that is a little contradicted by ‘possessed while meditating’ shot the show)). When he wakes up the work is competed, but his right eye is already starting to hurt.

Our first dated entry since Fidds’ arrival is January 17th, (1982), the night before Testing Day. Fidds tries to talk Ford out of testing the portal but he refuses. So January 18th, Fiddleford leaves. Ford is pissed and plans to talk to Bill when he goes to sleep, but throughout the day he becomes suspicious of Bill. That night Ford confronts Bill, as seen in the show, and he shuts the portal down. He begins his “sleep as little as possible” plan. Ford writes that “F is nowhere to be found,” so he begins to research Bill alone in the hopes of finding a way to destroy him.

Several weeks later, Ford’s paranoia is beginning to really set in. He catches his first glimpse of the Society of the Blind Eye. He wonders about them but generally leaves them alone in favor of his own problems. He begins to use invisible ink to add more information to his previous entries.

The next entry we get is something I call the Truck Stop Disaster. Ford had been getting coffee from this truck stop for weeks bc it was the only thing helping him stay awake, but while a guy was giving him advice to stay awake he hears him speak in Bill’s voice. He looks up and sees that everyone in the diner has glowing, yellow eyes. He flees the diner and runs until he collapses in a Twin Bed Motel parking lot. Plan Call Stanley begins to form in his mind.

Ford hides J2 but continues to write in J3 while he waits for Stan to come for J1. He mentions that “the first snow has already fallen,” and that he cannot leave his house until Stan arrives. However, over the next few days(?) Ford’s mind really starts slipping. Bill begins to take full advantage of his instability in order to write unsettling things in J3 and Ford is pushed to his limit. He decides to bury J3 before Stan gets there and that’s the last we get from 1982 Ford.

So now it’s time to piece together the rest. Let’s start off with one of the most interesting dates: When did Ford fall into the portal? 

My friend @killhitleragain ((I hadn’t even considered this so seriously thanks for pointing it out)) brought up that there is a bit of a problem when it comes to deciding when Ford leaves GF. There is evidence presented in the show that is contradicted by Ford’s writing in J3, so there are two possible dates depending on whether you prefer the show or J3. I’ll go into J3 first (I’ll openly admit I have a heavy J3 bias) and then I’ll go over the show. 

Our requirements for this date are that it has to be snowing, it has to be 1982, and it has to be after Fiddleford creates the Society of the Blind Eye (which happens in February). According to The Internet, Oregon’s winter lasts from November-March. J3 points to Ford entering the portal in November and not in February or March. The most telling piece of evidence is Ford’s mention of “the first snow.” By the time we get to that entry, a minimum of 5-6 weeks has already past since Jan 18th. It just doesn’t make sense for the first snow of the winter to fall in March, the last month of the season (and at the very end of the month too). Oregon winter would be over by this point and the wicked snowstorm we see Stan arrive in just shouldn’t be possible during that time of the year. Also, during No Sleep Time, Ford spent a few weeks walking back and forth between his house in the middle of the woods and a truck stop “out on route 14.” I don’t know how far away that might be from his house, but it’s probably far enough that he wouldn’t be able to get there that consistently every day in the winter on foot.

So according to J3, our first new date is November, 1982. Ford enters the portal. But now it’s time for the show route. 

Our requirements are the same, but the show, specifically the backgrounds, points to March being the month Ford left, not November. When Stan first enters Ford’s room in aToTS Ford’s calendar has a woodpecker on it. In Carpet Diem Ford’s calendar has an owl on it for July. This means that Stan had to be the one to flip the calendar. Since he left it on July, my interpretation is that he used Ford’s room from March till July, which is when he sealed the room off. Also, when Stan is walking through town after spending a few weeks holed up in Ford’s house, the snow from the storm looks like it is starting to melt. This could be because it’s March, the end of winter. 

So I’ll leave this up to you to decide which date you want to go with. I’m assuming that either month is also the month Stan gets Ford’s note and leaves his flat in New Mexico.

The dates of anything else that happens in 1982 are a little easier to nail down. Our only two sources are both incredibly unreliable and have huge holes in their memories, but Fidds’ dated memory clips help a lot. 

January 18th. Day 1 of Fiddleford’s lost memories. February 9th. Day 22 of Fiddleford’s lost memories. The creation of the Society of the Blind Eye. Sometime in Feb/Mar. Ford leaves his house and discovers the Society. July 26th. Day 189 of Fiddleford’s lost memories. “Hit another car in town today.” This is the last time we see him in his original house/apartment. October 18th. Day 273 of Fiddleford’s lost memories. He’s now filming from a motel. I believe that sometime between day 189 and day 273 is when Fiddleford’s “first memory” (the newspaper article) takes place. The headline of the paper is “Disoriented Man Found At Museum,” but what I think is more important is the actual article title, “Sent Packing.” I took this to mean that he was kicked out of where he was previously staying and had to move to the motel.

So now that we have that mess of a year out of the way, it’s time to start moving backwards.

July 29th, 1981. Fiddleford arrives in GF. June 18th, 1981. Ford begins J3. 1979. Ford discovers CSO. June, 1975. Ford arrives in GF. We know based on aToTS that around this time Stan was living out of his car. May, 1975. Ford gets his first Ph.D and is given a grant to study whatever he wants. Sometime between 1970 and 1975 is when Stan dates Carla McCorkle. The two of them spent their time at a “50's themed, 1970's diner.” I want to say that their relationship took place in the early seventies bc Stan still had the same clothes and hair style as he did in high school.

Here’s where it starts to get a little trickier, but once you have one date the rest fall into place. The youngest Ford can be in 1981 is 30, which means he can’t be born any later than 1951. For the sake of trial and error, let’s assume this is the year he was born.

June 15th, 1951. Stanford and Stanley Pines are born.

In aToTS, Stan starts his story with “It all started... a lifetime ago... nineteen sixty something.” This could be referring to one of two things. 1.) Stanford’s science project, or (what I personally like to think) 2.) The discovery of the Stan O’ War. If the latter is true, then that would put the discovery at 1961-1963 when they are 10-12 years old.

Because the boys are born in June, they’ll be 17 (about to turn 18) when they graduate. This puts Ford’s graduation at June, 1968. Stanley was most likely kicked out early fall of 1967, based on his attire and the weather. Also, most college applications and scoutings and such happen in the fall. (I’m not sure if this was the same in the sixties, but oh well.) ((WC Tech could have been doing some spring of junior year scouting, but I refuse to believe that that wasn’t their senior year science fair bc Stan getting kicked out when he was 16 is Not Allowed.)) 

Ford starts college at BackUpsMore in the fall of 1968 and will earn his undergraduate degree in 1972. In aToTS, Ford says that he went from undergrad to Ph.D three years early. The Internet says that the average doctorate takes 6 years to earn. If he started his Ph.D program in the fall and spent three years completing it, then he would end up in 1975 with a degree and a large grant, ready to arrive in GF that June. Boom. 

A few more additions that I like:

August 31st, 1999. Mystery Twins 2.0 are born.

July, 2002. Soos is adapted by starts to work for Stan at the Mystery Shack. 

Early August, 2012. Ford returns to Dimension 46′\. I really want to say that it was August 8th, but it could have also been August 1st. 

August 31st, 2012. Mabel and Dipper’s 13th birthday. The Original Mystery Twins officially make up. 

2043. Ford dies of a heart attack at 92???

Timeline complete. Message me if you have any questions or want to poke holes in my logic. It’s 3:32am so I might have missed a few things.

PS I didn’t include any Shermie dates bc I just don’t think there’s enough Hard Evidence for me to confidently make any statements about him.

[hillbillyisms-blog]

Society of the Blind Eye Theory

//Okay, so we know that Preston Northwest’s memories must be considered very important to the Society of the Blind Eye because we see his memory tube right next to Fiddleford McGucket’s in the Society of the Blind Eye episode.

In addition, we also see that Pacifica has a memory tube as well; though, it’s in a pile and not placed behind the statue like McGucket and Preston’s are. It’s possible her memory tube here might be referring to the events of the Golf War, but maybe not.

I’d say there’s about a fifty-fifty chance that Preston’s tube is up there because of the fact that he has an enormous influence on the town AND/OR because he has been involved in Blind Eye shenanigans himself.

I’m kind of leaning towards the latter possibility. Now, judging by a couple of responses I had to my previous post, I’m guessing this is a theory that has been considered before, but I think I’m going to add a bit more speculation about this.

And I’ll start by what made me start considering this theory just now. See, I was wondering, for fanfiction-related reasons, where Fiddleford McGucket was living in Gravity Falls. It’s very clear that after the portal incident he would definitely not be living in the shack with Stanford, but judging by the look of the place we see in his memories it’s not like some cheap motel or something, either (that seems to come later when he’s on his mental decline).

This is very interesting to me because Journal 3 seems to indicate that Fiddleford might have been struggling financially (during the stargazing scene with Stanford, he mentions wishing he had a place where the screen door wasn’t broken). Not to mention, he doesn’t just have himself to think about. Fiddleford McGucket does not strike me as the kind of husband and father who wouldn’t support his wife and child. He’s probably still helping his wife with mortgage and bills and whatnot while he’s staying in Gravity Falls. 

Something to consider, too, is that even before the portal incident, it seems Fiddleford McGucket wasn’t staying with Stanford at the shack. Now, I’m not saying that he didn’t start out staying with Stanford at the shack because even though Journal 3 is pretty vague about it, it kind of seems like Fiddleford was staying there at one time. It makes sense because Fiddleford and Stanford have been roommates before (so they know they can live with each other’s quirks even if they can be frustrating to each other at times), it would be convenient because then Fiddleford wouldn’t have to look for some place to live and would’ve been able to settle in immediately to help Stanford work on the portal, there’s plenty of room for Fiddleford to stay, and Fiddleford could possibly get away with having a free room which would keep his mind at ease not having to worry about extra rent for himself. 

Not to mention, Journal 3 does kind of seem to support Fiddleford staying at the shack (during the Gremloblin incident, Ford is able to note that Fiddleford hasn’t been sleeping for the past several nights. It’s possible Fiddleford just looks like he hasn’t slept for the past several nights and has told Stanford so, but it’s also equally possible that Fiddleford is staying at the shack and Stanford has seen firsthand that Fiddleford is not sleeping and is stressing out). 

It isn’t until after the Shapeshifter incident that it seems clear that Fiddleford is definitely not staying at the shack (anymore) because while they’re up late working, there’s that whole line about Icarus, and Fiddleford is said to have packed up his things to leave. It seems that at this point, tension between Fiddleford and Stanford is pretty high, their friendship is straining... and it hits a peak during the diner scene. But anyway, at some point, Fiddleford must have decided he needed some space away from Stanford and moved out of the shack to... somewhere else.

My question, then, is... Where? If not a cheap motel, where? Surely, he wouldn’t have been able to afford a nice apartment while he’s already struggling to support his wife and child, right? And although, Fiddleford is a friendly fellow and has probably acquainted himself with some of the locals, he’s been spending a lot of time on that project with Stanford. And judging by what we know about most of the locals living in Gravity Falls, what are the chances that a room they’d be letting Fiddleford live in (or rent dirt-cheap) would be as nice as the one we see in the memory tube? My guess is... not very good.

And then, it hit me. Fiddleford is shown to already be recruiting people for the Society of the Blind Eye, right? It’s probably a lot of work starting up a cult secret society... and it’d probably take a bit of money, too. Red robes don’t pay for themselves, after all. Also, there’s the question to consider as to what made Fiddleford decide to host the society’s headquarters underneath the museum (and is it me or does the place kind of seem a little ancient; I think I’ve seen theories going around that the place might have once been a temple dedicated to Bill Cipher).

Anyway, point is... I’m thinking at some point Fiddleford and the current patriarch of the Northwest family (Auldman Northwest; Preston would’ve been too young to seriously consider as a member of the society) had a little meeting and worked something out. I’m not sure how it would’ve gone down exactly (although, I think it would’ve been Auldman who would’ve approached Fiddleford rather than the other way around considering Fiddleford would’ve been considered a filthy commoner; perhaps Auldman had been lucky enough to glimpse the effects of the memory-erasing gun while in town one day).

After all, wouldn’t the Northwest family stand to gain a lot if they could use not only their vast wealth to influence the town but the ability to erase the townspeople’s memories as well? And who else has a tapestry clearly depicting Bill Cipher in their mansion (and therefore could possibly have knowledge of that temple-looking place underneath the museum; wouldn’t surprise me one bit if the Northwests owned that museum, too)? And... and...

Who else owns Northwest Realty and would have no trouble at all putting Fiddleford up in a nice place (one catches more flies with honey than with vinegar, after all) at least until he’s no longer useful to him? I dunno.

Just something I was thinking about.