#Those two are gonna walk through the portal and stans gonna be waiting

[ahkylous]

Ford was never good at self censoring in the first few years he and Mabel were together, you can kinda tell.

[a-solitary-marshmallow]

Rewind Chapter 3

Awareness came in pieces, like waves lapping over the shore, slowly bringing back each sense. Ford yawned and rolled his neck to ease out a crick. He really should stop sleeping sitting up.

The warm form cuddled against him stirred and he placed a soothing hand on their head of soft curls until they stilled, burying their face in his shirt. Ford hummed happily and let his head rest back against the headboard, content to just stay here forever…

…wait a second.

Ford’s eyes flung open with a jolt.

What had he been thinking, falling asleep? Sleep was the one thing he couldn’t afford! He looked around quickly, heart pounding. He was still sitting against the headboard of his bed, pillows propped behind his back and a child-sized Stanley curled up in his lap, the way they had been when he must have fallen asleep part way through telling stories of his previous discoveries. His journal lay open at his feet. To his relief it was bereft of cryptic code and taunts. Bill must have been busy, or perhaps had not noticed Ford’s slip-up. He hadn’t been possessed.

Ford cursed himself. How could he have made himself vulnerable like that? The portal was wide-open for the taking! And there was no telling what Bill Cipher would do to his brother – his child brother, who was currently helpless and foolishly, trustingly snuggled against the front of Ford’s turtleneck.

He forced himself to take a deep breath. He couldn’t change the past, only the future. Now he had other things to concentrate on – namely, building a Bill-proof barrier, since his investigation on how to cure Stanley had hit a snag – he had none of the components he would need to start reverse-engineering a cure. The sun peeking through his window told that he must have been sleeping for at least an hour. Morning was already slipping away from him.

“Mmmph.” Stanley mumbled. Ford’s hand was still in his curls. Ford couldn’t resist ruffling those curls as Stan pulled his head up, yawning and blinking sleepily. “F’rd?”

“Good morning, Stanley.”

Stan rubbed at his eyes. “Whaza time?”

“Time to start working. Come on, up you go.” Ford lifted his brother from his lap. Stan whined at being put down on the covers.

“Nooooo, ‘s cold!”

“Then hurry up and get moving.” Ford swung his legs over the bed and stood. “I have a lot to do today.”

Stan grumbled the whole time. He was still wearing that old shirt. Perhaps Ford should get him something that fit better? No, it would be useless in a day or so anyway.

Ford spoke to himself as he walked.

“Now, I’ll have to go as soon as possible to get that hair – what’ll I do with you? Oh, children need to receive their daily nutrients, don’t they? Hmm, when was the last time I ate?” He couldn’t recall. “Never mind, it doesn’t matter, I’m an adult, I can stand to skip a few – hmm. Weeks? No, that can’t be right. I should eat too. I have coffee? Is it safe to give a child coffee?” He opened the fridge and stared in dismay at the rows of empty shelves. “Oh. That’s why I haven’t eaten. Guess I’ll just have to – buy some supplies. Yes. Come along Stanley, we’re driving into town.”

“Who’stha whatnow?” Stan stumbled into the kitchen after him. That was right, his brother was certainly not a morning person. Ford wondered again how ethical it was to give a child coffee. Probably shouldn’t risk it.

“Town, Stanley. I have to do some shopping. And come to think of it, you’ll need someone to watch you…” Unless he could just leave the child locked in a room? Ford wasn’t exactly familiar with babysitting protocol. Maybe it was better to just bring him along for now.

He dropped one of his old coats around Stanley’s shoulders and ushered him outside. The coat was a good call ­– it was still freezing. Ford was climbing into the car when he hit another snag.

“…ah.” He didn’t have a booster seat. Stanley would be riding in the back seat, it seemed.

 Luckily the town was still waking up, so it was quite simple to walk in, grab some supplies, pay and leave without having to deal with the hustle of crowds. Ford pulled up in his driveway with a relieved sigh. He thanked his lucky stars that Gravity Falls was slow to wake on a Sunday… wait, no, what day was it?

Didn’t matter.                            

With his arms full of groceries, Ford nudged the door open with his foot. He could hear Stan grunting under the weight of his own load as he placed the bags on the kitchen bench.

Maybe he had gone a little over the deep end, Ford admitted to himself as he went about sorting groceries. He hadn’t realized until this morning that his fridge was empty. That did explain the hollow feeling in his stomach though. Come to think of it, when was the last time he ate? Not counting the copious amounts of coffee and energy drinks he ordered weekly.

It also explained Stan’s rumbling stomach. Honestly, Stan should have said something if he was hungry!

Said child wobbled his way into the kitchen with a shopping bag in his arms. Ford took it and started unloading it as well. Marshmallows – he didn’t remember buying those. Maybe Stanley snuck them into the cart. Ford could remember the gleeful giggles he and Stan would break into when they’d managed to sneak a treat into their mother’s shopping cart. Stan was always better at it than Ford.

Ford shook his head to clear it. He had no time for nostalgic thoughts anymore. He snagged two frozen single-serve pies plates and started searching for clean plates to put them on. Finally he found two with only a few crumbs on them – he brushed one off and placed it in the microwave, trying to remember if he’d paid his electricity bill recently.

He must have, because the microwave was heating and glowing when he pressed the right buttons. Ford sighed and leaned against the bench to wait.

Stanley was in the process of pushing a chair towards the table. He paused to let out a gigantic yawn, rubbing his eyes with his too-big sleeve.

“Tired?” Ford found himself asking. Stan nodded and yawned again.

“Mm hmm.”

“Did you have trouble getting to sleep?” The uncomfortable position must not have helped.

Stan finished pushing the chair and now he crawled up into it and rested his elbows on the table. On closer inspection he did look tired, dark bags collecting under his eyes.

“Nah.” Stan rested his cheek on one hand, squishing his round face slightly. “Just had weird dreams.”

A shiver ran down Ford’s spine.

He hadn’t even considered if – what would happen if Stan made a deal with Bill Cipher? Had already made a deal? It would explain why Bill wasn’t in Ford’s dreams. Ford hadn’t warned his brother about the demon, he’d been so sure that Bill would focus on him and him alone, but Stanley was vulnerable here and Ford hadn’t even thought about it-

“Did you make a deal?” He demanded. Stan blinked at him blearily.

“What?”

“A deal. In your dream. Did you shake anyone’s hand? Talk to anyone?”

Stan shook his head with another yawn. “Don’ think so.”

He was a child, Ford reminded himself sharply, a child that didn’t grasp the significance of what was happening. He needed to have patience. Or else Stan might clam up and refuse to talk to him further.

“Stanley.” Ford forced his tone to stay even and slow. Stan send him a curious look. “I need you to tell me everything that happened in your dream. It might be important. Okay?”

Stan frowned. “Uh – okay. Are you gonna interpret my dream, like Ma does?”

“…something like that. But it’s very important you don’t leave out any details.”

“Okay.” Stan hummed for a minute, in thought, before he brightened. “Oh, yeah! So I was in my car – I mean, I don’t have a car, but it was a dream and you just know stuff in dreams so even though I don’t have a car I knew it was my car – and it was all snowy outside. I think I was stuck in a snow bank or something. Hey Ford, where do snowmen keep their money?”

The microwave beeped. Ford placed the hot pie in front of Stanley and searched for a fork. “A snow bank. Continue.”

Stan pouted. “You ruined my joke!”

Ford handed him a fork. Stan sighed and poked at his pie while Ford started heating up his own. After a moment the child continued, his voice uncharacteristically somber.

“It was really cold. Like, really cold. I could see my breath and it wasn’t even cool. Haha – cool. I… didn’t know cold hurt so much. It was like my bones were made of ice, all cracking and popping.”

“Was anyone in the car with you?”

Stan screwed up his face in thought. “Um, no. Just me.”

“Then what happened?”

“Well, I had some matches and I was lighting them for warmth, but then they ran out.” Stan paused for a moment with a frown, comedic on his childish features. “I, um, was looking for some more in the glove box and a gun fell out. An’ I don’t know where I got it but I know it’s mine. S’ gotta be, if it’s in my car, right? But I don’t remember where I got it and I don’t know if it’s got any bullets in it.”

Ford nodded along. If Stanley could recall the dream so vividly, it probably wasn’t a normal dream, the likes of which tended to fade as quickly as they had appeared. But so far it didn’t seem like Bill’s style.

“What happened then?”

Stan bit his lip, wincing. “Um, you remember how we used to play Russian Roulette with soda cans? How we’d shake one up and take turns opening ‘em and try not to get the fizzy one?”

Ford got a bad feeling in his gut. “Of course.”

“I, um, I can’t remember why, but I wanted to find out if it had bullets in it. So I put it to my head and pulled the trigger.” Stan pulled a face like he’d tasted something sour. “There was this click and I guess it was empty because nothing happened. So I put it back and curled up all small, because it was still super cold, and I think I went back to sleep.” Stan shrugged with one shoulder. “Then it ended.”

Well, there was a lot to unpack there, and Ford could unpack it later. The microwave beeped to signify his breakfast was sufficiently warmed. He took it and slid into the seat opposite Stan.

“Is that everything? No one talked to you? How clearly do you remember it?”

“S’weird.” Stan admitted, pulling off the top of the pie to get at its insides. “So normally dreams kinda fade, all fuzzy-like, right? But the ones I had last night aren’t fading. It feels real but not-real.”

“Vivid?”

“Yeah, maybe.” Stan shrugged. Ford took a bite of his pie and was chewing before he registered what had just been said. He spluttered a little.

“Ones? Plural?”

“Uh, yeah.” Stan shrugged again. “The other one was weirder. Do you wanna know about that one too?”

“Do I – why wouldn’t I? Why didn’t you mention that?”

“Well, it was shorter and way more blurry. I couldn’t even see anything so I don’t think it really counts as a dream.”

“Tell me.”

Stan scrunched up his face. “You sure? It’s kinda silly.”

Ford sent him a look and Stan sighed.

“Fine. In the second one it was all dark, I couldn’t see anything. Well, not at first. There was this… man.” Stan shuddered. “This, uh, really creepy guy. And he put me in a coffin? No, um, a car trunk I think. It was all dark and then I couldn’t see anything. Then there was just lots of noises, and rumbling, and it got all wet.”

“Wet?” Ford echoed. Stan shrugged.

“Yeah, all wet. And cold. Like I’d been dumped in a lake or somethin’! Cause the whole trunk started flooding, which was really scary. An’ I don’t remember how I got out but at some point I was swimmin’ up feeling like my lungs were gonna explode.” Stan shivered, hugging himself. “An’ my mouth hurt and the water tasted like metal an’ it was so dark. Then, um… I dunno, I woke up or something?” He frowned. “Wait, no, there was something else – about a llama that knew too much? It all kinda gets smudgy.”

Unsettling, certainly, and something to ask questions about later – but for now it sounded like Bill had missed his chance to mess with the Pines twins. Ford let himself relax slightly.

“Thank you, Stanley, for telling me.”

“So are you gonna read my future or something?”

“No.”

Stan poked out his tongue. Ford sighed. The matter aside, he still had to find someone to look after Stanley while he got the unicorn hair! But there was only one person in Gravity Falls he trusted, and…

Well, that person might not pick up the phone.

But desperate times called for desperate measures. Surely, surely Fiddleford would at least hear him out? And if that failed Ford could always lock the child in a room for a couple hours.

Mind made up, Ford excused himself to go make a call.

His palms were oddly sweaty as he dialed the number he knew off by heart and pressed enter. The phone rang once, twice, thrice in his hand. Surely a hopeless endeavor. Ford was sure he wasn’t going to pick up, when there was a click and a crackly voice sounded tiredly down the line.

“Hello?”

His old assistant’s voice sent his heart leaping in his chest. Ford hurriedly cleared his throat. “Fiddleford? It’s me, Stanford.”

In the half-second of frigid silence that followed, Ford began to realize he might have made a mistake by introducing himself.

“Wait!” He gasped out. “Please don’t hang up.”

“What do ya want?” Fiddleford growled out. He sounded so unlike himself that it made Ford pause. But – no. This was Fiddleford. His research assistant. His friend. The one person he could trust.

“I – I need your help.” Ford admitted. He plunged on before Fiddleford could interrupt, “I was an idiot. You were right – about the portal, about Bi- the demon.”

There was a crackly silence. Ford took a deep breath.

“I know that what I did is unforgiveable. I abandoned you and refused to heed your warnings. I understand if you can never forgive me. But please, I need your help to fix what I’ve done.”

“I aint goin’ near that portal!” Fiddleford’s voice lifted in both volume and pitch. Ford hurried to reassure him.

“No, no, of course not. That’s not what I need your help with. And it’s not for me, it’s for my twin brother.”

“You have a twin?” Fiddleford demanded, a lilt of curiosity sneaking into his tone. He sounded a little more like the man Ford knew. “Why didn’t ya tell me that?”

“Stan and I haven’t on the best of terms recently.” Ford explained. “Fiddleford, you’re a father, you know how to take care of children. I need you to take care of my brother – just for a little while.”

“Whoa, hold up.” There was shuffling on the other end of the line. “I’m gonna need ya to go back to the beginning. What did ya get yourself into this time?”

Ford chuckled humorlessly. “An experiment gone wrong. Stanley – my twin brother – has been reverted back into a child.”

A pause.

“Fiddleford?”

His friend let out a sigh. “Yeah, sure, course this is happening. Weird stuff always happens around you, Stanford.”

Ford chose to take that as a compliment. “I currently have my hands full. There is a spell – a magical barrier, in fact – that can protect us against the demon you warned me about, allowing me to disassemble the portal without risk. But to do this I have so obtain several rare ingredients. I can’t take Stanley with me, and I can’t leave him alone. I was hoping you would be able to watch him. Just for a little while!” He added nervously. “I know Stanley can be a handful but I’ll be back as quickly as I can and-”

“Ford, shut yer yap.”

Ford shut up.

“I’ll not leave a child alone, no matter what I think of his brother. When d’ya need him taken care of?”

Ford let out a breath and thanked any and all deities that may have lent a helping hand. “I was hoping, today? As soon as possible?”

Fiddleford groaned. “Fine, fine – but only for the kid!” He added. “And in the name of keepin’ that demon away. Not for you.”

“I understand completely.”

“Ya still at yer cabin?”

“Yes.”

“’Course ya are. Now, how old’s yer brother?”

“Ah…” Hmm. Ford had never been good at ages. He’d passed through them himself and never looked back. “He’s old enough to talk. And complain about not having clothes that fit. Maybe about as old as Tate was when I last saw him…?”

Another long-suffering sigh. “A’right, a’right. I’ll bring some old clothes of Tate’s, see if they fit, and I’ll watch the little tyke for ya. But I’m not goin near that portal. Or any of your hinky experiments, ya hear?”

“Certainly. Thank you, Fiddleford.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be there in an hour, maybe two.”

“Thank you.” Ford said again. Fiddleford hung up.

[euphoniumpets]

Nothing left to say | (2/?)

Prompt: ‘’Everybody is afraid of something, and she will become their fear who they cannot control.’’

Authors Note: Glad that you guys are whipped at the first chapter of nothing left to say!! And as usual, Dylan Sprouse is Elijah Jenkins. 

Warnings:  may come up some disturbing scenes in the future chapters such as child abuse, manipulation etc.

Tag list:  @losers-club6 @frantasmic @guineverebeckilicious @emma-is-a-nerd @white-wolf-buckaroo @irenne-stans​ 

Walking upstairs and slammed the door behind you, you let out a sigh. You couldn’t believe how Luther was acting and how he blamed everyone that someone could be the responsible for Reginald’s death.

Shaking your head, you glanced around your room as nostalgia consumed you.You widened your head when you noticed a voice that someone sang. As you waited for a moment, the voice becomes clearler now. 

‘‘Children behave...’‘ You shook your head towards the song as you began to move around your room. However, the music stopped and the lights are out and the entire house seemed to be trembling. 

You could see the corner or your eye, that bright flashes of light trembled through the window. ‘’Everybody, downstairs, now!’’ You heard Luther shouts as you could hear thunder that filled their ears. 

Without hesitation, Allison and you were quickly following him in his footsteps.

-

Nine year old y/n was standing in a room as a unknown man was tied up as he had something above his head that covered his face. ‘’Conectrate, number eight,’’ Reginald’s voice boomed through the quietly room.

He lifted the hood as it revealed a boy. He was younger than her and a pretty one at that. He had brown curls and brown eyes. Y/n looked towards Reginald with a fearful look. 

‘‘I don’t want to do it,’‘ Her small voice echoed. Reginald looked at her with a facade as he walked slowly towards her. His monocle was in his eye as he leaned towards her. 

‘‘Do it, you don’t have another choice, number eight,’‘ He straightened up as he stood next to her. Y/n gulped as the boy looked confused and afraid. Y/n’s small figure approached the boy in front of her with guilty look. 

‘‘I’m sorry,’‘ She muttered before her eyes turned red and a red mist was coming out from her hand. She flicked towards his forhead and his eyes glowed red for one second before he started to scream in horror. 

-

‘‘It’s coming from outside,’‘ Allison screamed over the thunder. Diego walks past the group and find his way to the doors that led out to the courtyard. ‘‘Whoa...’‘ He exclaimed as he shielded his eyes from the blue light.

‘‘What is it?’‘ Vanya questioned as you noticed her move uncomfortably close as you gripped her arm. 

‘‘Don’t get too close!’‘ you shouted as Diego glanced towards you with an eye roll. ‘‘Yeah, no shit,’‘ He replied which made you glare at him.

‘‘Looks like some sort of temporal anomaly,’’ Luther responded. ‘‘Either that or a black hole, one of two,’‘ 

‘‘Either way, those two options suck!!’ You shouted as you and the rest of them silently stared at the strange portal before a noise catches their attention. 

‘‘Out of the way!’‘ You could hear Klaus shout as you watched him clumsliy running with a fire extinguisher in his hand. He shoved both Luther and Diego away before he threw the fire extinghuiser in the portal.

‘‘What the hell do you think it’s gonna do?’‘ Allison screams. Klaus put his hands in the air. ‘‘I don’t know! Do you have a better idea?’‘ He exclaimed. 

Before anyone could respond, a loud fit of thunder errupts from the portal itself. The portal begins to shift, electricity crackling in the tinted blue air. ‘’Everybody get behind me!’’ Diego and Luther shouted in unison. 

You felt Diego grip your hand which, made you caught his attention. The two of you locked your eyes before you released his grip from you harsly. You missed the guilty look on him before the portal suddenly dissappeared and you noticed a certian figure in front of you. 

‘‘Does anybody else see...little number five, or is it just me?’‘ 

-

‘‘What’s the date? The exacte date?’‘ Five questioned all of you as you still couldn’t process everything that had happened.

‘‘The 24th,’‘ Vanya quickly answered. ‘‘Of what?’‘ 

‘‘March,’‘ 

There’s a silence as you all watched him  making a sandwhich as he spread messily the marshmallow fluff onto a slice of bread. 

‘‘Good,’‘ he sighed in relief. He began with the other half of slice of bread with the peanut butter one. 

‘‘So, are we gonna talk what just happened?’‘ Luther asked him confusedly.

‘‘It’s been 17 years-’‘

‘‘It’s been a lot longer than that,’‘ Five interrupted him as you furrowed your brows towards that. Using his powers, he teleports through Luther to get a few napkins on the counter. 

‘‘I haven’t missed that,’‘ Luther muttered.

‘‘Where did you go?’‘ Diego questioned as his brows twitched in frusteration. Five teleported back.

‘‘The future, it’s shit by the way,’‘

‘‘Called it!’‘ Klaus exclaims as he smiled smugly. Allison elbowed him by the side as you rolled your eyes. 

‘‘I should’ve listened on the old man,’’ He walks over to the fridge to grab a drink. ‘’You know, jumping through space is one thing, jumping through time is a toss of dice,’’

‘‘Nice dress,’‘ Five commented Klaus as he tried to sit comfortably without exposing anything as he wore his skirt. 

‘’Well, danke!’‘ He smiled towards the compliment and winks at him. ‘‘Wait, how did you get back?’‘ You questioned. 

‘‘In the end, I had to project my consciouness forward into a suspended quantum state version of myself that exists across every possible instance of time,’‘ 

‘‘That makes no sense,’‘ Diego replied.

‘‘Well, it would if you were smarter,’‘ Five retorted back as Diego was pissed off and stood up quickly before Luther stopped him.  

‘‘How long were you there?’‘ Luther questioned him as he tried to change the subject. 

‘‘Forty-five years, give or take,’‘ Five shrugged. ‘‘So, what are you saying?’‘ Luther began as he tried to process. ‘‘You’re fifty-eight?’‘ Five sighs annoyed as he leans against the table. He pinches the bridge of his nose and shuts his eyes for a moment while you smiled softly towards the familiar gesture.

‘‘No, my consciouness is fifty eight, apparently my body is now thirteen again,’‘

‘‘Wait, how does that works?’‘ Vanya questions. ‘‘Delores kept saying the equations were off,’‘ He turned back towards the group and smiled slightly as you frowned towards the name. ‘‘Bet she’s laughing now,’‘

‘‘Delores?’‘ You asked him as Five shook his head and ignored your question. 

‘‘Guess I missed the funeral,’‘ He replied simply as he stared at the newspaper in his hands.

‘‘How’d you know about that?’‘ Luther furrowed as he studied Five.

‘‘What part of the future do you not understand?’‘ He nods over to the paper. ‘’Heart failure, huh?’’

‘‘Yeah,’‘

‘‘No,’‘

Diego and Luther replied in unison. Five looked at them in confusion and frusteration. ‘’Hmm, nice to see that nothing’s changed,’’ Five replied as he clicked his tongue and raised his eyebrows towards them. 

Five grabbed the drink in one hand and his sandwhich in his other and begins to leave the room, leaving all of you confused. 

‘‘The funeral is going to be in the yard, near Ben’s statue, be there in thirty minutes,’‘

-

y/n walked out of the kitchen like everyone else did before she made her way towards the staircase. but she slows down when she approached Five’s old room further down the hallway. 

you noticed that the door was in ajar and you could hear Five cursing under his breath at something. With a curious mind, you decided to open the door. ‘’What?’’ You heard him snap as you flinched towards his harsh tone.

‘‘Is everything alright?’‘ You mumbled but loud enough to him to hear. 

‘‘You wouldn’t happen to have normal clothes I could wear?’‘ He questioned you softly as you chuckled slightly as you looked at his clothes.

‘‘Sorry, no,’’ You replied with a soft smile. 

‘‘Perfect,’‘ Five groaned as he tossed teh outfit on the bed. ‘‘Stop worrying about me,’‘ You could hear him mumble softly. You snapped your gaze towards him as he looked at you with a smile. 

‘‘What are you talking about?’‘ You questioned innocently. Five rolled his eyes.

‘‘You hardly changed since I left,’‘ He replied. ‘‘I know that look whenever you would worry about me,’‘ You huffed. ‘’Of course I’m worried about you, Five, you were gone missing,’’ 

‘‘Well, don’t be, I’m back now and I’m fine,’‘ He replied. You sighed in frusteration. ‘‘Five, I mean it,’‘ 

‘‘I know that you have a big ego and you’re too cool to not care about having feelings but, I’m here for you, always have been,’‘ Five looked at you with a smile before you could see the hesitation in his eyes. He noticed something that was wrong. 

‘‘By the way, how did it wen’t with Diego? The last time you saw him was when the two of you talked about your plans for the future,’‘ He reminded you as you felt a pang in your chest. You let out a scoff. 

‘‘Turns out, it was a total waste, he left the academy when we talked, turns out that he was too afraid of having an ordinary life with an ordinary woman,’‘ 

[fallen-gravity]

Fightin’ Back Chapter 4

Chapter Notes: I’d like to give a shoutout to @elegiesofemptiness for throwing suggestions my way for this chapter and helping me out of a rut.

We’re really in it now, boys. Scary-oke this time around, and the next chapter following this one takes  place in my favorite episode in season two. >:)

AO3

“You have to promise me you’ll only use the journal for self-defense, and won’t go sniffing around for trouble.” 

Dipper crosses his arms over his chest. “Okay, but only if you promise that you don’t have any more bombshell secrets about this town”.

“Promise” Stan replies, placing one hand against his heart and the other crossed behind his back. Dipper squints at him for a moment, but then he sighs.

“Promise”, Dipper echoes, and his tone doesn’t sound any more genuine than his own. 

Maybe he should just hide all the black lights in the house so the kid doesn’t get any big ideas. For now, though…

“Oof, we have a lot of zombie damage to clean up.” Stan pokes at his recliner with his foot. “Where’s my handyman, anyway?” 

As if on cue, the zombified Soos wanders into the room from the kitchen, arms outstretched and eyes glossed over. 

“Holy Moses!” Stan yelps, instinctively grabbing for the nearest piece of furniture to smash it over Soos’s head, before Dipper stops him, placing a hand on his arm. 

“Wait! It says here there’s a cure for zombification. It’s gonna take a lot of formaldehyde” 

“Ooh, and cinnamon!” Mabel beams, popping her head over Dipper’s shoulder. 

“C’mon, Soos, let’s fix you up” 

Mabel picks up one of the dining chairs off the floor and prods Soos in the stomach back towards the kitchen. Dipper’s about to follow her into the kitchen, but Stan places a firm hand on his shoulders to stop him in his tracks. 

“Not so fast, little man,” he scolds. “Don’t think you’re getting off that easy. I saw that zombie pick you up”

“Are you...accusing me of being a zombie?” Dipper turns to face him, and Stan almost laughs that he looks more baffled than he does angry.  “Wouldn’t my head have exploded while we were singing together if that were true?”  He asks, and visibly cringes at the mental image. 

“Well, yeah. Maybe you weren’t infected as quickly as Soos, but zombies don’t always gotta bite you to infect you. It’s about direct contact.” Stan grins. “Matter of fact, most zombies only bite cause they’re hungry! If they’re just looking to infect, they’re more likely to leave a nasty scratch” he offers out his hand. “Lemme see” 

Dipper places his hand in Stan’s, and Stan tugs him a bit closer so he can get a better look at Dipper’s arm. His shoulder looks fine, which means it isn’t spreading as quickly as Stan expected it to. That’s a relief. He turns Dipper’s hand to inspect the other side of his wrist, and sure enough, there are three large gashes right on the spot where the zombie had grabbed him. It doesn’t look like it’s bleeding, but the skin surrounding the gashes are already turning a sickening grayish green.

Dipper’s face goes white as a ghost at the sight of it, and if Stan weren’t holding his wrist he’s almost sure the poor kid would pass out right then and there. Stan squeezes his hand, just to give the kid a grounding gesture to prevent him from passing out a second time. “Whoa, whoa. Deep breaths, kid. You said it yourself! There’s a cure for this. We just gotta follow your sister into the kitchen before she uses it all on Soos, okay?” 

Dipper sighs, and his breath is shaky. “Okay” he replies, and he takes three steps forward before he stops. Stan’s afraid he’s going to pass out again, but he turns back around and points a finger at him. 

“How did you know that?”

“Know what?” 

Dipper’s rubbing at his infected wrist, and the sound it’s making is akin to someone walking through a pile of dead leaves. “How did you know that zombies can infect someone without biting someone? All Journal 3 talked about was how to cure a bite”

...Shit. That must’ve been the first journal that talked about home remedies for monster attacks.

“W-Well I’ve lived here for over thirty years, y’see? You have to learn these things pretty quickly.” Stan straightens out his posture to better sell his lie, and gestures vaguely towards Dipper. “Look at you, kiddo. You’ve had the journal for...what, two months? And I see you going around every day like you own the place” 

Dipper blushes. “I guess that makes sense”

Stan rolls his shoulders. “Of course it makes sense. I’m older and wiser, and all that” 

Dipper chuckles quietly, mumbling something under his breath about I don’t know about wiser, but Stan’s too distracted by the fact that Dipper keeps scratching at his infection to bite back. “And speaking about older and wiser, I of all people would know that all scratching at that thing is gonna do is make it worse” 

Dipper’s hand drops to his side immediately. “Right, right” he murmurs. Stan rolls his eyes, and places a hand on Dipper’s back to gently shove him towards the kitchen.

“Hup to. The last thing we need around here is a zombie with an irrational fear of himself” Stan slaps Dipper on the back and roars in laughter, who only responds with a roll of his eyes. When they step into the kitchen, Mabel and a dezombified Soos are sitting at the table chatting casually. Soos has an ice pack on his head.

“Oh, hey dood!” Soos grins. “Hey Mr. Pines! Sorry about the whole trying to eat your brains thing. I got like, way too into the character.” 

“Uh, water under the bridge” Stan waves him off before he turns his attention to Mabel. “Listen, sweetie, you got any more of the formula?” He exchanges a quick glance with Dipper, who’s hiding his arm from his sister behind his back. “I, uh, wanna toss some of it around the yard. See if it doubles as a free fertilizer for the...dead flowers” 

Mabel gasps, her eyes going wide. “Those poor zombified flower pixies!” She yelps, and gestures to a pot bubbling with oil on the stove. “Take as much as you need. I accidentally made, like, ten batches too many anyway, so if it works you could sell bottles of it in the gift shop and tell ‘em Mabel sent ya” 

Stan laughs, and takes a moment to muss up her hair. “Ah, I knew my swindling skills would rub off on one of ya! Atta girl” he grins, and she grins back in equal measure before returning to her conversation with Soos. As soon as she has her back turned to him, Stan grabs the entire pot and walks as fast as he can towards the back porch without spilling any of the oil.

“Follow me”, he whispers to Dipper once he’s sure he’s out of Mabel’s earshot, and Dipper doesn’t hesitate to trail closely behind. He places the pot of oil on the ground beside the porch couch, and pats at the armrest. Dipper wordlessly complies and takes a seat, and Stan takes one last peek through the window to make sure Mabel hadn’t followed them out to watch him “revive the pixies” or whatever it is she’d said. Once he’s sure that she’s too engrossed in her conversation with Soos to notice they were gone, he takes a knee beside Dipper.

“Alright, lemme see it again” Stan says, and Dipper spreads his arm across the armrest. The infection seems to have spread to the base of his elbow, and the skin surrounding the initial gash in his arm has withered to a faded gray color. Stan sighs, and dips both of his hands up to his wrists into the pot of oil. 

The smell of it makes Stan sick. It’s far from his first time dealing with formaldehyde, and a tiny little demon at the back of his head is screaming at him that Dipper could’ve been coming into contact with it for much, much worse reasons if he came up from the basement to help him just ten seconds later. 

No. He squashes that thought down before it can get any worse, and begins rubbing the oil into the worst of the infection on Dipper’s wrist. It makes him flinch, and Stan’s not sure if it’s because of the smell or the burning sensation.

“Y’see, this is exactly why I tried keeping you and your sister away from the supernatural.” He flicks the excess oil off of his hands, but it’s a redundant gesture because he’s right back to sticking his hands in the pot anyway. “Do you have any idea what could’ve happened to you if I hadn’t heard you in time? Or if I’d looked anywhere else in the Shack for you first? I would’ve been forced to assume the worst”

He’s trying to sound strict, but damn these kids for tearing him down so much that it hurts his chest to even think about it. “I can’t have the people I care about aimlessly running around and throwing themselves into danger”

“I’m not being aimless!” Dipper whines, but hisses in pain when Stan accidentally rubs some of the oil directly into the gashes in his wrist. 

“Mhm,” Stan hums. “And I’ve never spent a year in a Colombian prison”

“I’m not!” he squeaks. “Look, Grunkle Stan, I’m not just running around trying to hunt and capture every monster in the journal for fun, or anything! I’m so close to discovering the identity of the author that I have to follow leads when they present themselves! Nobody can really just...disappear out of thin air, right? He has to be around here somewhere”

Every nerve in Stan’s body freezes up at once. 

I’ve been telling myself that for thirty years, kid.

“Look, kid…” he pauses. What can he say? You’re never gonna find him cause I accidentally pushed him through an interdimensional portal? Oh, and by the way, he’s my twin brother and your other Grunkle and he would probably love you and your sister to bits if he were still here? “...I get it. I do. But you have to understand that I’d never forgive myself if anything horrible happened to you or your sister.” He waves a defensive hand in the air. “I don’t mean to say that you can never go anywhere, ‘cause even I know that tryin’a strap you down and make you sit still would be like caging a rabid animal.” He wipes the rest of the excess oil on his pant leg, and places a gentle hand on Dipper’s shoulder. “I just can’t have ya gettin’ hurt on my watch, ya hear?” 

Stan can’t help but drift his gaze towards his wrist,

More than you already have, anyway.

“It’s not like that. Mabel and I can take care of ourselves”

“Watch it.” Stan points an accusatory finger at him. “You’re twelve. The last thing you need is a hero complex”

“What?” Dipper shakes his head. “No, Grunkle Stan, I mean, Mabel and I’ve already fought half of the monsters in the journal and won. You don’t need to worry about anything happening to us”

Stan raises an eyebrow. “Kid, didn’t I just rescue you two from a hoard of zombies?”

“That’s just the thing! We’ve been chasing after monsters all summer, and this is the first time you’ve ever had to get involved!” Dipper’s beaming, and okay, someone better tell this kid to stop being a picture perfect replica of his brother before he finds out it’s his biggest weakness. “You saw Gideon’s giant robot the other day, didn’t you?” 

Stan blinks. “You mean that giant pile of metal scraps everyone was crowding around?”

“Yeah!” Dipper backtracks. “Okay, well, before that, it was a giant robot.”

“You’re losing me” Stan huffs. “What could Gideon’s broken robot have anything to do with why I should trust you running off on your own?

Dipper blinks, like he’s in disbelief that Stan hadn’t already connected the pieces together himself. “We’re the ones who broke it”

If Stan had a drink in his mouth, he’d be spit-taking all over the place right now. “You two? Wasn’t that thing twice the size of the shack?” 

“Oh, it was. As soon as the bus you put us on to go home pulled away from the bus stop, he tried chasing after us in it because he insisted that we still had something that he wanted”

Stan snorts. “Was he goin’ off about Mabel’s hand in marriage again?” 

Dipper laughs, but then he shakes his head. “No, he just kept rambling on about Journal 1 and how bringing the journals together could, I dunno, end the world or something? And he wanted to bring them together so he could hold the world hostage, or something.” He shrugs. “It didn’t make any sense to me. I mean, I know the author’s missing, but I just assumed he’d been kidnapped by some...thing that didn’t like being recorded. I didn’t think it was some kind of superweapon”  

Stan swears he can feel his blood turn cold. He tugs awkwardly at the collar of his shirt, and hopes Dipper assumes it’s because of the mid-summer heat.

“...But we didn’t have it!” Dipper throws his arms up in the air. “We tried telling him we had no idea what he was talking about, but he just kept getting angrier and calling liars. He had both of us in his...giant robot hands at some point, but then he decided there was nothing else he wanted from me and literally tossed me away”

Dipper’s hands are balling up into tiny, shaking fists. “He tried taking Mabel hostage. I wouldn’t have cared how much he insulted me, but...we’ve never been separated like that before”. He glances down at his shaky hands. “I don’t know what came over me. I’ve never been the braver one between us. But next thing I know, I’m flinging myself off the train tracks” 

“Train tracks?” Stan blinks. “Y’mean the ones up on the cliff?”

Dipper nods, blushing. “I just...went for it. I probably got a ton of cuts from the broken glass when I smashed through the eye of the robot,” he muses, pausing to give his own arm a look over. “But I don’t think I’ve ever felt so much adrenaline in my life”

Stan snorts. “You’re trying to tell me you punched the robot so hard that you knocked it off the cliff?”

“What? No, Gideon was inside of it. He was wearing one of those weird...motion control suit...things. The robot only lost its balance because I punched him in the face.”

Stan roars in laughter. “You punched Gideon in the face?” 

“Yep!” Dipper beams. “Quite a few times, actually. I think with everyone treating him like he’s a god he tends to forget that Mabel and I are three years older than him.” He flexes an arm to show off his nonexistent muscle. “Remember that trick you taught me about punching someone in the face with their own fist?” 

“Hah!” Stan grins. “That worked?” 

“Knocked the robot’s head clean off!” Dipper grins back. “Or, well, it probably would’ve, if that wasn’t what pushed the robot over the edge” 

Stan’s keeling over in laughter. He can’t believe how casually Dipper’s talking about this. Just a month ago, if Dipper had told him the same story detail for detail, Stan would’ve been sure that Dipper was describing a movie he’d watched the previous night. 

“Not bad, kid!” he grabs Dipper into a gentle headlock, messing up his hair. “But what about your sister, huh? Don’t think I don’t see you trying to take all the credit” 

“Oh, not at all!” He’s beaming again. “That’s the best part. Mabel’s the one who saved us from falling to our deaths. Don’t ever tell her I said this, but I think the grappling hook is the best thing she’s ever owned”

Stan nudges him with his elbow. “Yeah, last thing we need around here is both of you having giant heads”. Dipper glares at him, which only makes him laugh harder. 

Stan wipes a tear from his eye with his wrist. “Alright, kid. You convinced me. If you two can come out of fighting a giant sci-fi monster without so much as a scratch, I trust that you and your sister know what you’re doing”.

Dipper’s eyes go wide. “Really?” 

Stan nods. “Really. But you have to promise me you’ll still be careful, okay? I can go back on my word and hide that book away from you faster than you can say journal. Got it?” 

Dipper nods. “Got it.” and then, after a short pause, “I promise”. 

[impishnature]

Unexpected but not Unwanted

AO3 Fandom: Gravity Falls Rating: G Prompt: @hinatauryusen (why is this not tagging? Sorry!)

Summary: Ford struggles as Stan remembers. 

.

"I think that's enough scrap booking for now, Mabel."

Ford winced as two sets of eyes snapped to him as if he'd just told them all over again that their plans were useless and there was nothing they could do to bring their Grunkle back.

He hadn't meant it like that. He didn't want to put a stop to things, not when Stan was slowly on the mend but at the same time, he knew that pushing it wasn't the best option.

"Huh? But we're just getting to the good-" Mabel's disappointed expression vanished into concern as she tilted her head up to look at the man whose lap she was currently occupying, taking in the half glazed eyes and the index finger rubbing never ending circles into his temple. "Grunkle Stan! You promised you'd tell me if you started to get headaches again!"

Stan gave her a toothy grin, or at least tried to through the grimace of pain. The glaze to his eyes vanished as he came back into the room, gaze flickering to Ford almost disapprovingly before turning back to the kids. "Well, actually we had a deal I think. I don't remember promising anything. And you should know by now not to make deals with me." Before she could respond he scooped her up, tickling her mercilessly in an attempt to dissuade the conversation, her high pitch squeal of joy enough to bring a proper smile to his face. 

Considering the quick darting look that Dipper gave the pair and then Ford, however, the conversation was not over.

Ford stood awkwardly in the  doorway, not knowing quite what to do. The mention of a deal had turned his stomach and if it hadn't been for his brother's actions straight after, he might have panicked then and there- not the best thing to do whilst trying to keep everyone else calm and happy considering the circumstances they'd found themselves in.

If anyone had reason to panic it would be Stan, but he had done surprisingly well since remembering the kids. Almost like his mind remembered that he wanted to protect them more than he cared about himself.

Which as much as Ford commended him for... he still kind of hated it.

They just wanted to look after him.

Which might be why he was stood there so awkwardly. He didn't want Stan to look at him annoyed again, it reminded him of- well, before- but at the same time, his health came first no matter how much they all wanted him to remember everything as soon as possible. So, the fact that as much as his brother was obviously enjoying teasing Mabel, every loud, high noise was making his eye twitch and his smile waiver, convinced Ford deep down that pushing anymore today might spark a new memory but it would also put him in immense pain.

And he still wouldn't be allowing that. Regardless of how much it annoyed Stan.

He just hoped it wouldn't start an argument, because he really really couldn't be arguing with his brother, not now, not anymore.

They'd done too much of that to last a lifetime. He just wanted things to change now, go back to when they were kids and the world wasn't constantly ending or warping around them. When things had been simple and the thought of losing his brother had been as nonsensical as growing an extra head.

But they couldn't go back. 

And Stan was remembering.

He'd remembered him quickly enough, not long after the kids in fact. He'd remembered fighting to get him back, the similarities between their younger selves and the twins, perhaps because those memories were interlocked with the Summer that had meant so much to him. But then he'd started to remember... the harder things to acknowledge. The fights, the yelling, the distance. 

The first time Stan had flinched when he'd walked into a room too quickly had almost broken him. 

The way he watched him carefully sometimes when they were alone, as if waiting for the other shoe to drop, for him to begin yelling at him or fighting with him- it wounded him, hurt more than he ever thought it could. 

He wanted his brother back.

But he wasn't sure what that would mean for them at this point.

Would it mean going their separate ways? Would it mean this awkward distance spreading further and further?

Was it too big a bridge to rebuild?

He hoped not.

He wasn't sure he could lose him again.

"Grunkle Stan?"

Ford pulled out of his musings the same time Stan stopped tickling Mabel. "Yeah, kid?"

Dipper slipped off of the sofa, grabbing the scrapbook that had fallen to the floor and tucking it under his arm. "Grunkle Ford's right, we should stop for now."

Stan glanced over at him again like this was his fault. "Aww, come on, kid."

"Nope, you made a deal with us." Mabel prodded him in the cheek causing him to pretend to bite at her. "If you get a headache or you need a break then we'll sit and watch one of those movies you pretend you don't like, but secretly do."

"Hey now, I do not like them-"

"You recorded them, Grunkle Stan." Mabel's face was deadpan, as if she just wanted him to accept that he liked things that weren't conventional and that was OK.

Instead he scowled, a mock version of the one Ford recalled being aimed at him but a scowl nonetheless, as he crossed his arms. "Yeah, well, it's not like I remember recording them..."

Mabel patted his arm softly. If it was anyone else Ford might have found it condescending, as it was Mabel he had to bite his lip from laughing. "Whatever you say, Grunkle Stan." She turned to Dipper, winking. "So, you don't want Dipper and me to go get the sequel to the one we watched a few nights ago?"

Stan sniffed, making sure neither of them were looking before answering. "I didn't say that. And I mean, it's only because my head hurts too much for one of your loud cartoon movies."

"Excellent!" Mabel slipped from his lap to Dipper's side. "I'll go grab snacks! Dipper-"

"On it."

And like that they were gone, vanished into the ether as quickly as jumping through a portal.

Ford wasn't entirely sure where the pair got all their energy from.

"So..."

He jumped, glancing up at Stan watching him. "Sorry?" 

He wasn't sure why the word came out, and neither did Stan by the confused frown.

"F-for stopping the fun. It was just obvious that the pair were distracted by - the Gideon robot?" Ford really should have been listening in more than he had been. "And you seemed to be struggling with all the information."

"Oh." Stan rubbed the back of his head, wincing. "Yeah, it is a lot. But it's all my own memories, so surely it shouldn't be this hard, right? What's a little pain when it makes those two happy."

"Stan." Ford sighed, walking over to place a hand on his shoulder. "You had your memories forcibly removed. The fact that you're remembering at all is a miracle, so just, take it easy alright? We want you back, but we don't want you hurting yourself to do it."

Stan stared at the hand on his shoulder, a soft smile on his face that Ford couldn't quite read. "Yeah. Alright. Thanks, Sixer."

Ford's hand clenched ever so slightly and Stan winced.

"Sorry- Ford. Thanks, Ford."

"No." Ford squeezed his shoulder again. "Sixer's fine when it's coming from you."

The smile that he got in return was brighter than the sun, the kind of smile he remembered from caves at the beach and adventures through the sand.

The awkwardness fell again then, the silence between them strange and stilted as they waited for the kids to come back. "You- you need some painkillers?"

"Hmm?"

"For the headache."

Stan shook himself, seemingly coming back into the room again as Ford pulled his hand away. "Oh. Right. Nah, I'll be fine. I've had worse."

"Stan..."

"Alright, doesn't matter if I've had worse, I get it, I get it." Stan shook his hand at him in a flippant movement. "But nah, it's slowly getting better the more I don't try to remember things so I'm sure it'll be fine."

"If you're sure." Ford shuffled from foot to foot, wanting to help but not wanting to overstep. "Maybe some water at least-"

"I'm sure Mabel's making us all drinks."

"...Ah."

He guessed he wasn't really needed when it came down to it.

"Good. That's good." Ford deflated, looking over his shoulder. "I guess I'll just-"

"Where are you going?"

He froze, already half turning to vanish down into his lab, a prospect he wasn't really looking forward to but at the same time what seemed best. "Oh, I was just going to-" He gestured halfheartedly out of the room as Stan raised an eyebrow at him.

"Nu-uh. You got us into this mess of watching old period movies, so you're gonna sit here with us too." Stan tapped the seat beside him, face jokingly serious before it fell away into something more hesitant. "That is if you haven't got anything more important to do."

"No! Not at all." Ford turned back fully, shocked but inwardly delighted at the change.

Stan grinned. "Good. Because if you did have more important things to do, I'd be concerned about what they were. Think I've had enough of your doomsday devices to last me a lifetime." He stretched and groaned, holding his back like all of his aches and pains were Ford's doing.

Ford huffed out a laugh in response. "Quite. Believe me, I think I might have as well."

"Might have?" Stan looked at him, mock appalled. "OK, definitely get over here, where I can keep an eye on you."

Ford's laugh deepened as he shook his head. He took the few steps forward to fall into the seat beside Stan, though he kept himself near the edge, just in case the kids came back and reclaimed the spot or in case Stan wanted him to get anything or-

"What are you doing, Sixer? We're watching a movie, not having an interview."

And with that Ford felt himself get pulled back onto the seat, his brother's arm wrapped around his shoulders as if it was the most normal thing in the world. He could feel the moment he froze, the moment he worried that he'd pushed too far but Ford couldn't bring himself to even speak. Instead he relaxed wholeheartedly into the motion, let Stan's arm around him remind him that they were both safe and sound and the world wasn't ending any time soon.

It wasn't like they were kids again. This was something new, something warmer, something lighter. An affection that wasn't really allowed between them when they were young and their father wanted to make them into proper men. This was something altogether more vulnerable, more accepting- no awkwardness at all, just family being family.

It was entirely new.

And Ford would welcome every second that would be afforded to him.

"Oh, is Grunkle Ford watching the movie with us too?"

Ford flinched, sitting up as Mabel came back in, laden with supplies. "Uh, yes- if that's quite alright, of course."

"Of course!" Mabel beamed at him, patting his knee. "It just means that I need to grab more blankets-" She ignored Stan muttering under his breath that that wasn't possible. "-and we'll need to catch you up on the first movie in the series."

"R-right." 

"Don't worry, Sixer. Mabel's reenactments of the movies are better than the actual movies." 

"Liar."

Ford half tuned out the conversation, just happily watching the pair of them bicker jokingly back and forth. Every time Stan said 'Sixer' it was like another piece of his heart was being glued back into place. It shouldn't, it should remind him of Bill and him rummaging around in Stan's head, but it didn't, all it reminded him of was his brother, the person who always had his back.

And really that's what the nickname always should have reminded him of.

The preparations took longer than he had anticipated. There were pillows and blankets everywhere and a giant mound of snacks barely within reaching distance. The biggest surprise though had been once Mabel started her reenactment of the last film like she had been planning to perform it all along and Dipper had climbed up onto the sofa. Instead of curling up in Stan's lap like he had been doing whenever Mabel wasn't there, he sat himself dead centre between them, snuggling into the space where their arms met. 

Ford would be lying if it didn't make him feel incredibly fond in that moment.

Once Mabel was done, however, she pushed Dipper across, shocking Ford even more by jumping on his lap and settling against Dipper's side. She grinned up at him once before turning the movie on and piling the blankets on top and around the four of them, tugging his arm around her as it was another pillow she was adjusting and settling fully into her now instigated hug.

Ford stared down at her for a few moments, in awe of the peace it gave him. He felt warmer than he had in a very long time and he was sure it had nothing to do with the blankets that had been draped across him. It was more like his heart was lighter, he had never expected after everything to be allowed this level of family again. 

He turned to glance at Stan, jolting ever so slightly when he noticed that Stan was staring back with a thoughtful expression. 

It took a moment longer to realise he wasn't staring at him exactly but at the arm that Mabel had commandeered.

Before he could question the look, Stan dropped his arm from around his shoulders. Ford wouldn't admit how cold it suddenly felt. It was as if Stan had finally realised this wasn't right, not after everything. But then he continued to move and Ford lost track of what was going on. His own arm was tugged out from between the tangle of people, and just as Mabel had, Stan manoeuvred Ford's arm until it wrapped around him instead. When he was satisfied, he nodded, using his own arms to instead encase Dipper, who happily snuggled into the space without even looking around.

Stan's eyes darted once, twice, to Ford's face, gauging his reaction before huffing and shrugging when Ford simply stared.

"What? I haven't had a hug from you in years. Don't make it weird."

Ford wanted to say that wasn't true. He wanted to say he had hugged him, when he didn't remember anything, when everything had hurt and he'd wanted to hug him until he was himself again even though he knew that it would never happen.

But that hadn't really been Stan had it?

So he guessed Stan had a point. And he'd rather he remembered this hug than... that.

Ford tightened his arm around Stan's shoulder, pulling him in closer. 

"I guess it has been too long."

Stan grinned, eyes returning to the TV now that he was settled. Ford took a longer moment to go back to the film, his mind elsewhere.

It really had been too long.

But it never had to be again.

[orangeoctopi7]

Man of Wax

The TV flickered like an aurora in the darkened living room. Stan was sitting in his recliner, watching a rerun of Ducktective, and Ford was sitting on the chair's arm beside him. He'd finally convinced his brother to watch the show with him.

"Well Ducktective, it looks like you've really quacked the case!" The constable on the screen said.

"Don't patronize me."  The duck replied flatly.

Stan grinned when that joke actually got a chuckle out of his brother. 

"Hahah, yeah, stupid duck!" He stood up. "Well, I'm gonna use the john, you need anything?"

"An actual chair to sit on would be nice."

Stan chuckled again, pointing at his brother as he walked out of the room. "I love this guy! Don't you go nowhere!"

"I'm going six inches to the left, into your seat!" Ford called after him as he left.

Stan continued smiling to himself as he quickly relieved himself and washed his hands. If Ford took his seat, he'd just sit on the nerd. That'd show him.

When Stan reentered the living room, he was fully expecting his brother to be sitting in his recliner. He wasn't expecting to see his brother lying prone on the floor, headless.

"No… no! Noooooooo!"

Stan fell to his knees. There was no blood. He reached out to hold the body, but it melted away beneath his fingers. The more he tried to save it, the more it melted, until all that was left was a puddle of wax.

No! It couldn't be! It couldn't have all been fake, or just in his head! He could still hear his brother's voice!

"Stanley, Stanley, wake up!"

Something took him by the hand, and suddenly it was completely dark. No light from the TV, or the hallway. His heart pounded against his ribcage and his lungs couldn't cycle through air fast enough as his eyes slowly adjusted. Whatever had grabbed his hand was dangling above him. He blinked, and his vision cleared as much as it could without his glasses. It was Ford, hanging nearly half-way out of his hammock in order to reach down and comfort his brother.

"Are you alright?" Ford asked.

Stan heaved a sigh of relief. "Just a nightmare."

"Obviously it was a bad one."

"I-it was nothing." Stan insisted, feeling his face burn with embarrassment. He pulled his hand out of Ford's grip and rolled over on his side.

"Stanley, you were screaming like you'd just witnessed a murder!"

Stan groaned and buried his face further into his pillow.

"Wax Stan! He's been m-murdered!" He remembered telling the kids. Everyone had thought he was being over-dramatic. And really, he was. It wasn't like the wax figure was his brother…

"Stanley, please…" Ford had gotten out of his hammock and was now sitting on the little bench beside Stan's.

"... it's stupid…" Stan choked into his pillow.

"I don't care if it's stupid, it's obviously causing you distress!"

The old conman slowly sat up in his hammock, making room for his brother to sit on the hammock beside him.

Stan began to explain about how one day he'd bought a bunch of cursed wax figures. How he stored them away when they stopped making money. How the kids had rediscovered them last summer, and how Mabel had rebuilt one in his image. How when he first glanced it out of the corner of his eye, he'd actually fallen over in shock, because for a quarter of a second, he actually thought Stanford was standing there in the room with him.

"It must have been very lifelike." Ford guessed.

"Heh, yeah, well, you know how good Mabel is. She wasn't kidding when she called it her masterpiece." Stan closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "But that's not the really embarrassing part."

Stan proceeded to explain how he'd started treating the wax copy like a real person. How he'd stand it next to him while he sat and ate or watched TV. 

"I guess everyone else just thought I was that vain. But I just… Sweet Moses, Stanford, I missed you so much that summer. I thought having the kids for the summer would help me feel less lonely! And they did, for the most part. But they also reminded me of how we used to be. So I guess I just… wanted you there so bad that I was willing to pretend this wax statue was you. I even started talking to it, telling it things I wished I could've told you when I thought nobody was watching. How messed up is that?"

Ford rested a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Stan, you experienced some serious trauma, and then proceeded to do your best to suppress it for thirty years. Of course you were messed up. That's honestly one of the healthier coping mechanisms you could have gone with."

Stan laughed shakily "Yeah, still pretty messed up, though."

"How does all this relate to your nightmare?"

Stan took another deep breath before continuing. "I guess those cursed wax figures had a grudge against me, or something, cuz the next night, I left to use the john during a commercial break, and when I came back, Wax Stan's head had been chopped clean off. But in my nightmare, it wasn't Wax Stan that lost his head. It was you."

Ford grimaced and nodded. That would certainly make sense. And it made for a very disturbing nightmare.

"But then, you were wax. Like… like you'd never really come home at all. Like I'd been pretending you were real this whole time." Stan barked a dry laugh. "Guess you're not the only one who feels like what we got now is too good to be true."

Ford frowned and tried to remember what Stan usually did for him when he himself felt this way. He took his brother's hand and interlocked their fingers, squeezing tightly.

"Stanley, look at me." He waited for his brother to make eye contact before continuing. "Do you believe I'm real right now?"

Stan rubbed his thumb over his brother's knuckles, feeling all the wrinkles and bumps in his skin.

"Yeah." He affirmed with conviction.

They just sat there in the lower hammock for a couple of minutes, leaning against each other comfortably. Eventually, Ford broke the silence.

"Do you want to talk about it more?"

Stan paused. Did he want to? No, not really. The next part was even more embarrassing than everything else. But he felt like he needed to. Like now that he'd started telling the story, he had to finish it, or he'd have it hanging over him forever.

"I held a funeral for you."

"In the nightmare, or…?"

"When I lost Wax Stan's head. I mean, everyone else thought it was just for the wax replica of myself. But to me, it was like… I dunno, a sign or something. The universe was telling me you were gone. I should give up. Move on."

"There was a time when I would have said that was the right course of action for you to take." Ford admitted. "Honestly, when I was out in the multiverse, I thought that was what you had done. But obviously you didn't."

"Well that's the thing. I did give up for a while. For almost a month after that, I never even set foot in the portal lab. I just focused on spending time with the kids, makin' sure they had a good summer."

"What changed your mind?"

"I found two of your Journals in one day, after thirty years of searching. If that's not a good sign, I dunno what is."

Ford hugged him. "I'm glad you changed your mind."

"Heh, yeah. Me too." Stan finally cracked a genuine smile. "Heck, I'm glad you changed your mind too, about bein' happy I brought you back."

Ford scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. "Now, to be fair--"

"You really wanna have this conversation at 2 in the morning?"

Ford rolled his eyes fondly. "I suppose not." He climbed back into his hammock.

They'd both been lying in silence for a few minutes when Ford heard the sound of suppressed laughter from the bottom bunk.

"What?" He asked.

"I guess, now that I got all that off my chest… in hindsight, treating that wax statue like a real guy is a little funny."

"Go to sleep, Stan."

[minijenn]

Universe Falls Chapter 76

AN: Heyoooo kudos to me for writing a chapter with a hella short turnaround time of only 3 days. That’s pretty solid on my part if you ask me, as is this chapter as a whole. Anyway, here it is, enjoy!

Previous: https://minijenn.tumblr.com/post/190860819859/universe-falls-chapter-75

***

Chapter 76: The New Stan

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“For your consideration…” Steven began, his tone authoritative as he paced before the trio sitting in front of him in the shack’s den. “The koala, a marsupial from the forests of Australia. And the sloth, hailing from the forest of South America. Who should be crowned king of the ‘Hanging Around and Doing Nothing’ mammals?”

At the proposal of such a seemingly trivial question, a beat of silence passed between Dipper, Mabel, and Connie, at least until the lattermost of the three spoke up to it. “I read once that sloths eat their own droppings.”

“Aw, gross!” Mabel exclaimed as Dipper likewise cringed. 

“...Well, that’s definitely going to affect the rankings,” Steven noted thoughtfully. 

“Um… why are we talking about this again?” Dipper asked, raising a confused eyebrow. 

“Uh, because it's only the most important question ever,” Mabel said with an eager grin. “Koalas vs. sloths; the battle of the century. One of them has to come out on top as to who's the laziest. And who gives the best sleepy hugs! The fate of the world depends on this decision!”

“See? Mabel gets it,” Steven nodded in agreement. 

“Um, guys, no offense, but... do you think that this ‘important’ conversation might be stemming from the fact that we’re all kind of… bored?” Connie asked, finally pointing out the obvious. 

“What? No,” Steven scoffed. “We’re not-”

“We’re totally bored,” Dipper interjected flatly. “Guess it was inevitable seeing as how we’ve sorted out most of our major problems this summer. Defeating Gideon, finding out who the author is, stopping the Cluster and Malachite. Everything’s pretty much over, except-”

“Oh, honestly, Stanley! Would you just act your age for a change?!”

“Yeah, sure I will, Ford, just as soon as you get over yourself and that planet-sized ego of yours!”

“...Except that…” Dipper finished, frowning. 

The kids all turned towards the room’s entrance just as Stan and Ford entered, their bitter argument continuing all the while. “Look, Stan, it's not like I’m even asking that much of you,” the author said, trying his best to remain calm, even if his expression alone told that he was clearly frustrated. “All I want is for you to keep all of your clearly illegal activity as far away from my house as humanly possible.”

“Illegal activity?” Stan scoffed. “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, sixer, but I’ve never done anything illegal. Well, at least not around here.”

“Oh really?” Ford raised a dubious eyebrow. “Then why did I find this bag under the kitchen sink earlier today that’s clearly labeled ‘illegally imported cat fur’?”

“Uh, ‘cause somebody’s framing me, duh,” the conman rebuffed, crossing his arms. “Also if anyone asks, that fur was obtained in a perfectly humane manner. That may or may not have involved shaving.”

“For crying out loud, Stanley...” Ford pinched the bridge of his nose, exasperated. 

“Hey, don’t act all high and mighty,” Stan countered, pointing an accusatory finger at his brother. “It’s not like you’ve never acted under the law either, Mr. ‘I’m Gonna Build A Secret Space Portal Fueled By Toxic Chemical Waste In My Basement’.”

“That’s completely different,” Ford glowered. “First of all, my portal was--at least on my end of things--for science.”

“Oh yeah? And how did that whole ‘science’ thing go for ya, huh, Ford?”

“Stanley!”

“Whoa, hey!” Steven exclaimed, the first and only one of the kids to interject as he hurried to stand between the quarrelling brothers. “Why are you guys spending time fighting when you could be spending time hugging?”

“Yeah, like koalas and sloths!” Mabel chimed in from her spot on the couch. 

“Tch, kid, would you butt outta this?” Stan scowled down at the young Gem. “We’re sort of in the middle of something here.”

“Correction, Stanley, you’re in the middle of getting this unlawful cat fur out of my house!” Ford huffed, shoving the bag of contraband into the conman’s hands. 

“Geez, fine,” Stan groaned, heading to the door to do just that. “Remind me to never let you find my illegal stashes of albino goat fur and bearded dragon scales. Those are the big money makers right there. And the ones most likely to warrant a full-on police raid if anybody ever found out about ‘em.”

“Your what?” Ford asked, baffled as he hurried after his brother, aptly alarmed by this information. “Stanley, wait!”

“Y-yeah, wait!” Steven called after the pair as they headed out of the shack. “Don’t you guys wanna stay and hang out, maybe catch up, talk through your problems with each other-”

“No!” both Stan and Ford adamantly shouted just shy of the shack’s door slamming shut.

“Wow, why isn’t that surprising?” Dipper remarked with an exasperated huff in light of the pair’s hostile exit. 

“Well, at least they can agree on one thing,” Connie said. “The fact that they can’t get along at all…”

“Which is so sad, you guys!” Steven exclaimed, genuinely upset. “That trip to Emerald City was supposed to help Mr. Pines and Mr. Ford get along and be a family again-”

“And it didn’t work…” Mabel said with a glum sigh. 

“But that doesn’t mean we should give up,” the young Gem urged intently. “There’s gotta be something we can do to-”

“Steven…” Dipper interjected with a fretful sigh. “I know you mean well, but what can we really do at this point? Stan and Ford have already made up their minds. It’s just like Connie said; the only thing those two have in common is that they can’t stand each other.”

“But that’s just how they act,” Steven pointed out. “Deep down, I bet they really do care about each other and love each other, just like family should! Right, Mabel?” 

While normally, Mabel would have eagerly agreed with such warm and hopeful sentiments, this time she said nothing, her brows furrowed anxiously as she borrowed her face into the collar of her sweater, forlorn. Yet even despite this relative lack of support, Steven wasn’t about to give up so easily. “C’mon, you guys,” he encouraged with a bright smile. “Like you said, Dipper, we’ve solved every problem that’s come our way this summer except for this one. So between the four of us, I’m sure we can come up with something and-”

“And then it’ll turn into a big deal and things will inevitably go awry, and we’ll all learn some deep lesson while things between Stan and Ford remain exactly the same,” Dipper finished knowingly. “Been there, done that, several times over now. Don’t you think that story’s starting to get just a little bit stale?”

“I can’t help but agree,” Connie nodded, frowning. “We’ve tried taking a more active approach here, and it… hasn’t gotten us very far. Maybe we should just let Mr. Pines and Mr. Ford patch things up on their own.”

Steven was more than prepared to protest this, knowing that waiting for something to happen hadn’t done much for any of them--particularly for Stan and Ford--either. And yet, as he took in the mix of doubtful, dejected, and dismal faces before him, he realized that, despite his best efforts, he was ultimately alone in altruistic intentions to help the bitter brothers. “Yeah…” the young Gem finally sighed, disappointed. Yet even so, some small, yet substantial part of him wasn’t so willing to let the matter go. Even if his friends had made it quite clear that they already had. “I guess you’re right…”

“Great! So let’s get back to something way more fun and less depressing!” Mabel chimed in, quickly perking back up. “Like the age-old question… koalas or sloths? Someone’s gotta win here, people!”

As Dipper and Connie merely laughed the downright trivial question off, Steven hardly paid it much mind. Instead, his focus was still on the door Stan and Ford had just walked out of, his thoughts on them and largely nothing else. He knew that something had to be done to right the decades-old wrongs between the pair, to bring them back to being the close-knit brothers they apparently used to be. But as for exactly what could be done, the young Gem admittedly, regretfully had no ideas. And maybe, he wondered and slightly even feared, such an idea might not ever even come at all. But even if it that brilliant, much-needed idea didn’t come and even if his friends wouldn’t stand by his side on this, Steven was still resolved to do something to bridge the far-too long-standing gap between the brothers. To fix that final problem, once and for all. 

In fact, the young Gem was so caught up in his thoughts about the brothers that carried them home with him later that evening, incomplete plans and unformed ideas swirling around in his mind, all of them centered on what could possibly work to finally repair Stan and Ford’s broken bond. And yet, even as Steven went to bed that night, he still didn’t have much to show for his efforts, much to his frustration. Which was why the young Gem’s sleep was restless as he tossed and turned in bed, fitfully muttering softly all the while. 

His dreams didn’t seem to offer him much peace either, for Steven barely even noticed as they landed him in a strange, dark sort of void. In fact, as he floated aimlessly through that void, his thoughts were still focused on Stan and Ford, to the point that he wasn’t even surprised when he spotted the pair of brothers also floating afar in the darkness much like he was. 

“Mr. Pines! Mr. Ford!” the young Gem exclaimed, reaching out to the brothers even though their backs were turned away from him as they floated apart from each other. “Why can’t you guys just see things eye-to-eye and get along like brothers should? I wish I could show youuuuu-AH!” 

Steven broke into an alarmed cry as he suddenly started speeding across the void completely against his own volition. Panicked as he was, he tried taking some control and direction of his rapid motion, especially as he haphazardly flew towards the twins. And as he did, his frightened cry finally seemed to reach at least one of them as Stan briefly began to turn just as Steven was involuntarily pushed toward him in particular as a result of his rapidly flailing arms and legs. Until, in a moment far too stark and sudden for the young Gem to even process, he collided right into the conman right as everything suddenly slammed to black. 

“Ah!” Steven shouted, abruptly darting up in bed, though not without an odd ache coursing through his lower back as he did. In fact, nearly everything about his body seemed strangely… stiffer, not that he really had an immediate change to figure out why as he realized something was covering his face--a magazine filled with, of all things, pictures of older ladies dressed in expensive coats. Peculiar as that was, the young Gem quickly tossed it away, only to find that the space he found himself in now was a far cry from the one he’d fallen asleep in last night. 

“Huh…?” Steven muttered, frowning as he got a better look around. The room was musty and messy, with only sparse morning light filtering in from the dawn shutters to reveal clothes and other various objects strewn across the floor. Even so, there was something of an air of familiarity about it all the same, one that the young Gem couldn’t quite place as he shook his head in confusion. “This isn’t the temple-” He gasped, his eyes wide as he realized just how deep and gruffly the statement had come out, paired with an even more alarming revelation that his hand was larger and calloused than he was used to it being. “T-this isn’t my voice or my hand or-WHAAAAAT?!” 

 Steven’s bewilderment reached its peak as he caught a glimpse at the mirror propped up against the wall alongside the bed he was sitting in. A mirror that didn’t show his own reflection at all, but rather the reflection of a certain conman instead. “No way…” he muttered, leaning into the mirror to make sure that, sure enough, his current face wasn’t really his. “I’m… Mr. Pines?!”

As shocking as this realization was, the young Gem was shaken up even more as he happened to lean just a bit too far, only to end up falling off the bed entirely. He landed onto the floor with a loud crash, disoriented for a moment only to realize that the body he was currently somehow inhabiting was only barely dressed. “Gah! A-and I’m in boxes!” he cried, flustered as he shielded his eyes while awkwardly stumbling to stand. “I-I must have jumped into Mr. Pines’ mind, l-like I did with that Watermelon Steven!” The young Gem tried his best to rationalize, knowing that his odd powers and his relative lack of control over them were really the only explanation he had for something so unprecedented. Still, even if he had no idea exactly how or why his powers had inexplicably landed him in control of Stan’s body, he properly stood, glancing around for anything he could use to cover the conman’s sparsely-clothed body. 

“I-I guess while I’m in here,” the young Gem began, thankfully finding Stan’s usual suit coat and tie. “I’d better do my best to respect Mr. Pines’ body…” Steven frowned as he held up a pair of pants he found on the floor. “And his privacy. Oh, wait!” he exclaimed brightly, stars in his eyes as he looked to the mirror once again. “Dipper and Mabel have got to see this. They’ll love this!”

With an excited grin, Steven rushed to dress up in Stan’s usual attire, fez and all, before bursting out of his room and into the rest of the shack with verve and gusto. As he sauntered down the hall, he was more than happy to declare the strange, yet interesting state of affairs to himself as he got used to his new voice and new body all the while. 

“I’m Mr. Pines!” he chuckled, playfully flicking the tassel of the conman’s fez around. “I’m Mr. Pines, I’m Mr.--ohoho! I guess I could also say… I’m Stan! Right, Waddles?” He asked the pig, who was blankly sitting in the hall as he passed him by. Waddles simply tilted his head, slightly confused by ‘Stan’s’ chipper attitude, but Steven simply took it in stride all the same as he began walking backwards and continuing excitable declaration of his current identity. 

“I’m Stan for the day, I’m Mr. Pines, I’m-oh!” Steven stopped short as he happened to accidentally bump into something from behind. Or rather someone. 

“Ugh, Stanley…” Ford grumbled, turning to his ‘brother’ with a dry, annoyed expression. “What in the multiverse are you doing? Aside from not watching where you’re going, that is.”

“Oh! I’m so sorry, Mr. Fooooo--or I-I mean, just Ford,” Steven attempted to play himself off with a small laugh, not quite prepared to reveal the truth to the author just yet. “How’s your morning going?”

“Um… fine?” Ford raised a confused eyebrow, especially as he took note of the ‘conman’s’ wide, warm smile. “Are you… feeling alright, Stanley?”

“Yeah, never better!” the young Gem grinned, quite amused by the fact that he had even the author himself so very fooled. “Why do you ask?”

“...No reason,” Ford said stiffly, still somewhat suspicious as he continued on his way past the ‘conman’. 

“Ok, bye, ‘bro’!” Steven called after him with a cheerful wave. The young Gem couldn’t help but let out another small, somewhat devious giggle in spite of himself, impressed by just how well his own mind-changing power seemed to work. Which was why he couldn’t wait to see how Dipper and Mabel would react as he hurried up the stairs toward the attic as fast as he could. 

In fact, he barely managed to suppress an excited grin as he briefly peeked into the attic to find the pair of younger twins getting dressed and ready for the day. Wanting to put on something of a playful act, Steven put on the usual stern and grumpy demeanor he knew Stan to usually have as he knocked on the door, not even waiting for either of the twins to invite him in. 

The instant he burst the door open, that gruff act quickly fell the moment he caught sight of his pair of friends, both of whom were quite surprised by the sudden intrusion. “Uh, Grunkle Stan?” Dipper began, quite confused as the ‘conman’ broke into an uncharacteristically elated smile. 

“Yep! It’s me! Your Grunkle Stan!” Steven exclaimed, barely managing to hold back another amused snicker. “How’s my favorite niece and nephew on this beautiful morning?”

“Aw, we’re doing great, Grunkle Stan!” Mabel chimed, clearly charmed by the ‘conman’s’ high spirits. 

“What’s got you in such a good mood?” Dipper asked, crossing his arms. “What, did you finally win one of those ‘win a thousand bucks every week’ sweepstakes you’re always entering?”

“Nope, even better,” Steven shook his head. “I’ve got a secret.”

“Ooo, a secret?” Mabel asked, instantly intrigued. “Oh! Wait! I think I know! Grunkle Stan…” Her smile widened into a coy, knowing smirk. “Do you have a girlfriend?!”

“Um… no,” Steven said plainly. “The secret I have is even better than that!”

“Might it have anything to do with why you’re acting so… weird?” Dipper ventured, raising a perplexed eyebrow at the ‘conman’. “Because no offense, Grunkle Stan, but you don’t really seem like… well, you.”

“That’s because… I’m not!” Steven winked, catching both of the twins off guard. 

“Uh… what do you mean?” Mabel frowned, not following. 

“I mean… I’m not actually Mr. Pines!” Steven finally revealed. “I’m--oh, wait! This’ll be more fun if you guess who I really am!”

“Easy,” Mabel snapped her fingers. “You’re Amethyst! ‘Cause she can and has shapeshifted into Stan a bunch of times before. Mostly to play pranks on people, but joke’s on you Amethyst, cause we’re too smart to fall for it this time!”

“Uh, one problem with that theory of yours, Mabel,” Dipper pointed out. “Amethyst is usually, you know, purple when she shapeshifts into people? And I doubt even her Stan impression is that good.”

“Dipper’s right, I’m not Amethyst,” Steven grinned proudly as he crossed his arms. “I’m actually… drumroll, please!” Mabel readily offered that drumroll with a pair of pencil’s against the nightstand, even though Dipper didn’t join in on the excitement as he simply kept a cautious eye on ‘Stan’. At least until he finally revealed who he really was. “Steven! Ta da!”

“Whaaaat?!” both twins exclaimed in equally dumbfounded surprise.

“No way,” Dipper shook his head, immediately doubtful. 

“Whoa, Steven!” Mabel, on the other hand, readily believed it. “Did you shapeshift into Grunkle Stan?”

“Not exactly,” Steven chuckled. “You guys know how I was able to go into the minds of one of those Watermelon Stevens a while back? I think I can do that with people now too! That’s how I woke up this morning with my mind in Mr. Pines’ body! Pretty cool, huh?”

“Oh my gosh! Heck yeah it is!” Mabel exclaimed, absolutely amazed. “What’s being a super old man like? Are you all stiff and crinkly because of the arthritis setting in?”

“A little, yeah, but I’m getting used to it,” Steven said, stretching out the best he could. “What do you think, Dipper?”

“Isn’t Steven-Stan the coolest?” Mabel added, sharing the young Gem’s eager smile. 

Dipper, however, refused to adopt that smile himself, the shared levity completely lost on him as he instead looked to Steven, stern disapproval clear on his face. Especially as he thought of exactly what this bizarre turn of events, of what someone completely taking over the body of someone else, reminded him so very much of. “...I don’t like this,” he said plainly, deciding not to go any further into why. At least not right now. 

“Aw, why not?” Steven frowned, confused. 

“C’mon, don’t be such a stick-in-the-mud, bro-bro,” Mabel huffed petulantly. “Even you’ve gotta admit this is the most amazing thing to ever happen. Or… at least to happen this week; a lot of really crazy things happen to us after all.”

Dipper said nothing, instead crossing his arms as he glared away from the pair almost bitterly. While his discomfort was somewhat lost on Mabel, Steven did take note of it. And even if he didn’t quite understand exactly why Dipper seemed to be so upset, that didn’t mean the young Gem wasn’t still quite concerned all the same. “Dipper?” he ventured, starting to reach a hand out toward him. “Are you-”

“Oh my gosh, Steven!” Mabel suddenly interjected, breaking through with an excited gasp. “You know we have to tell Grunkle Ford about this. He’ll totally flip when he gets a load of the ‘new Stan’, if ya know what I mean.”

“Oh, well, actually I already ran into Mr. Ford on the way up here,” Steven said, picking up a small smile once more. “And he was completely fooled! He really thought I was Mr. Pines! Isn’t that crazy?”

“The craziest!” Mabel readily agreed. 

“In fact, I even--wait,” the young Gem stopped short, his eyes widening as a sudden idea came to him. One that could very well accomplish what nothing else so far really had. “You guys… what if… we use this as a way to help Mr. Pines and Mr. Ford finally make up?”

“Oh?” Mabel asked, curious. “Whatcha got in mind, ‘Mr. Pines’?”

“I can go talk to Mr. Ford,” Steven began. “And he’ll think I’m Mr. Pines. That way I can finally get him to open up and talk about he really feels about his brother-”

“Oh! And then you can go into Grunkle Ford’s body and do the same thing with Stan!” Mabel finished. “And then they’ll finally make up and be best friends again without even realizing it! Steven, that’s a brilliant idea!”

“No, that’s a horrible idea,” Dipper interjected, looking between the pair in absolute disbelief that they’d both be so on board with such an underhanded scheme. “Steven, even if this plan of yours does somehow work, then it won’t be Stan and Ford making up; it’ll be you doing it for them. Isn’t that just a little bit--or should I say really--manipulative?”

“...Yeah, maybe it is...” Steven frowned, rubbing his, or rather the conman’s, arm apprehensively. 

“But nothing else has worked so far!” Mabel countered. “The camping trip, Emerald City, they’ve all been big huge busts! We need to face it, Dipper; if nothing is going to get those two talking on their own, then maybe it’s time for somebody else, somebody in disguise like Steven here, to step in to help give them a tiny little… nudge in the right direction.”

“That’s true too,” Steven noted thoughtfully. “Sure, it may not be the best way of doing things, but it is a way, one that might actually work too. And as long as it ends up with Mr. Pines and Mr. Ford getting along again, then that’s all that really matters, right?”

“Right!” Mabel nodded, assured that this idea could succeed. Dipper, on the other hand, was still absolutely, adamantly against it. 

“I can’t believe you guys,” he said, shaking his head disdainfully. “Steven, you should just… get out Stan’s body and back into your own and forget this whole ridiculous plan before it can all come crashing down. Because trust me, it’s not going to work.”

“Aw, says you,” Mabel rebuffed with a wave of her hand. “You never think our ideas are any good, Dipper, just admit it.”

“Well even if I don’t, at least I usually try to help you guys make them work,” Dipper countered crossly. “But this one? I’m sorry, but I refuse to have any parts of this. You guys are on your own.”

“Dipper…” Steven said softly, faltering with an uneasy, fretful frown. And yet, Mabel was much more openly frustrated and annoyed by her brother’s seemingly stubborn refusal to lend them a helping hand. 

“Fine! We’ll just get someone else to help us,” she huffed petulantly turning on her heel to leave. “Then we’ll see just how ‘horrible’ this plan is after Stan and Ford have finally hugged everything out like they should have done a long time ago! C’mon, Steven, let’s get started.”

As Mabel coldly headed out, Steven turned to join her, though not before looking back toward Dipper one last time. By now, he’d completely turned away from the pair, his arms tightly crossed as he refused to so much as even acknowledge their exit. Briefly, the young Gem considered making things right with him first, but at the same time, he knew he was quite ill-suited to, especially since he’d already largely made up his mind about the course of action they were going to go through with. And besides, Steven figured, there would always be time to smooth things over with Dipper later; now was the time to finally, finally sort things out between Stan and Ford instead. 

At the same time, Dipper remained still, refusing to budge on his stance against assisting in such an asinine plan. All the while, however, he was still trying to shake the sinking dread, the perpetual reminder of an all-too-painful point in the past that he couldn’t help but recall every time he so much as thought about the fact that Steven could so easily enter and take over the body of someone else without even really trying at all. The Watermelon Steven had been one thing, but with Stan, it was as though everything had changed. And as he stood there, he hoped with practically everything he had that in light of such a change, his instant misgivings over the the young Gem’s peculiar new power wouldn’t be proven right after all.

“Wait, I’m… confused,” Connie shook her head, trying to process everything Mabel and ‘Stan’ had just relayed to her. “So… you’re not Mr. Pines… you’re… Steven?”

“Well… yeah!” Steven grinned. “But I am in Mr. Pines’ body, so… I technically I am Mr. Pines while being Steven. Oof, I can’t say I blame you for being confused, Connie. This is tricky for even me to wrap my head around…”

“...Steven, this is really weird,” Connie said, point blank, looking to the ‘conman’ incredulously. 

“Weird and cool!” Mabel interjected brightly. “And it’s about to be exactly what we need to finally help Stan and Ford be the ‘Best Bros Forever” that they’re supposed to be! Mostly ‘cause Steven is way better at getting people to like him than Stan is, no offense to him.”

“What are you talking about, Mabel?” Steven frowned. “Tons of people like Mr. Pines! Like us, and Soos, and Amethyst, and… uh… um… hm…”

“Um… guys?” Connie spoke up apprehensively. “Don’t you think this whole plan of yours to help Mr. Pines and Mr. Ford out, while good-intentioned, might just be a little… morally ambiguous? And shady?”

“Aw, now you’re sounding like Dipper,” Mabel huffed, exasperated. “Just think of it like one of those means to an end sort of dealies, where it doesn’t super matter how we get there, just as long as we get there. It’s like Grunkle Stan himself always says: ‘sometimes ya gotta break a few bones to make an omelet’.”

“I think you mean eggs, not bones,” Connie said, deadpan.

“Nah, pretty sure Stan said ‘bones’...” Mabel mused before letting out a sharp gasp upon spotting Ford emerge from the shack, not too far away from their current meeting space outside it. “There’s Grunkle Ford! Go on, Steven, put your relationship-repairing skills into action! And don’t forget, you’ve really gotta sell the whole ‘you’re Stan’ thing, ok?”

“Already way ahead of you on that,” Steven winked, raising himself to a confident posture to match his brazen grin. “‘Stan’s the name, and relationship-repairing is my game!’ How’s that?”

“Uh… maybe a bit too on the nose,” Connie frowned. 

“Eh, you’ll figure something out,” Mabel said, unconcerned as she began pushing the young Gem forward. “Now go on out there and glue those two broken teacups back together again!”

Steven nodded, ready to do just that as he left the girls behind to watch whatever happened next from a safe distance away. “So… what should we do when this eventually ends up going wrong?” Connie asked, worried. 

“Nothing, cause it’s totally not gonna go wrong,” Mabel grinned calmly. “Just watch and see.”

“H-heya, Mr.--I-I mean--Hi, Ford!” Steven greeted with a cheery smile as he walked up to the author, who was in the midst of checking over some sort of odd handheld beeping device. “Whatcha up to?”

“Oh, simply checking the house’s perimeter for an infestation of termants,” Ford explained dully. “A highly destructive ant-termite hybrid indigenous to Gravity Falls. Not that it’s any of your concern, Stanley, seeing as how you probably never even bothered to think about checking for them over the past 30 years.”

“Huh,” Steven frowned, unsure of what to really say. “Well… I-I’m sure if I had known about them, then I would have. But if you say they’re dangerous, then I’ll keep a close eye out for them. Thanks for the heads up!”

“...You’re welcome?” Ford raised a confused eyebrow as he looked over at his ‘brother’. “Still acting as strange as you were earlier, I see. Is there any… particular reason for your bizarrely… upbeat attitude today?”

“W-well, I just thought I’d have a much better day if I got through it with a smile instead of a grumpy old frown all the time,” Steven shrugged, hoping Ford would buy this. Though of course, he didn’t. 

“Pfft, please,” the author scoffed with something that almost sounded like a laugh. “Who are you and what have you done with my brother?”

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about!” the young Gem exclaimed, panicking that Ford might have already seen through his ruse. “I am your brother! T-totally not somebody else going around pretending to be him; that’d be just silly.”

“...Stanley, I was being sarcastic,” Ford remarked flatly. “Though… now that you mention it, you are acting noticeably… un-Stan-like…. Could it be that you’re not really who you claim to be after all…?”

“N-no!” Steven took in a sharp, anxious breath. “I-I really am Stan, I promise! I-I can prove it too! I like money, and uh… joy rides...” he listed, getting most of his ammo from Mabel as he glanced back at his shoulder at her, following the prompts she was signing to him. “And… watching TV and… prison?” he finished, offering the author a hopeful smile, one that Ford hardly returned. 

Instead, the author kept up his skeptical scowl as he looked past the ‘conman’ over to Mabel standing in the distance behind him. “Mabel, what exactly are you doing back there?” he asked, interrupting her continued attempts at pantomiming for Steven’s sake. 

“Oh!” Mabel gasped, caught off guard. “Uh… n-nothing suspicious! I-I… I’m just playing a friendly round of charades with my good friend Connie here!”

“Please don’t drag me into this,” Connie said stiffly, knowing that the situation had already far passed the line past ridiculous by this point. 

“Mm hmm…” Ford nodded dubiously as he turned back to his ‘brother’. “Stanley, I don’t know what kind of game you and the children are playing here, but I’d much prefer if you left me out of it. Thank you very much.”

And with that, the author turned to leave to continue his termant inspection, leaving Steven behind to realize that his plan was very quickly starting to fall apart. “W-wait! I-” the young Gem stopped short, letting out a disappointed sigh as the author walked out of earshot without even so much as thinking about looking back whatsoever. “...You’re welcome…”

“So, again I ask, since that the plan more or less has failed,” Connie began as Steven paced around the gift shop before her and Mabel. “What do we do now?”

“That’s a… good question,” Steven admitted with a small sigh. 

“I wouldn’t say the plan ‘failed’,” Mabel corrected as she leaned against the counter. “It’s just… hit a teeny tiny roadbump. But that doesn’t mean we should give up so easily! What we really need to do is find a way to get you and Ford to talk things out without any distractions getting in the way. And being a little more convincing with your whole Stan impression might not hurt either.”

“Yeah, I know…” Steven scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “I guess it doesn’t matter that I’m using his body; I’m still more Steven than I’ll ever be Stan…”

“Yeah, that’s… kind of obvious,” Connie noted, frowning. “But look at the bright side; your Stan act is pretty convincing in every way outside of, you know, the whole ‘acting’ part.”

The young Gem sighed tiredly as he lay his head down on the counter, clearly at a complete loss as to what to do from here. “This is a mess…”

“Uh, it better not be a mess. Especially not after we spent the entire shop from top to bottom like you told us to last night,” Wendy remarked as she and Soos stepped into the gift shop, returning from their break. 

“Oh, hey, you guys!” Steven greeted the pair with a friendly wave despite Mabel and Connie’s shared alarm over their arrival and just how candid Steven seemed to be over it, given the circumstances. “Sorry, I… wasn’t really talking about the shop. But just for the record, it looks great! You two really did an awesome job cleaning it!”

Clearly, both Soos and Wendy were caught off guard by such a kind remark, especially since such sentiments were usually so hard to come by when it came to ‘Stan’. “G-gee, thanks, Mr. Pines!” the handyman smiled warmly. “By the way, are you ok? Somethin’ seems a little… different about you…”

“Oh!” Steven gasped, remembering the ruse he was supposed to be keeping up. “Uh, n-no, everything’s fine. Stan--w-who is me--is A-ok! T-thanks for asking.”

“Mm… no, something totally up with you…” Wendy noted, narrowing her eyes at the ‘conman’ before turning to Mabel and Connie. “You guys got any idea as to what?”

“N-nope, not us!” Mabel said with a forced grin, one that Connie shared as she shrugged innocently. “Everything’s totally normal around here! A-and especially with Grunkle Stan here who’s just started out on his new Foolproof Path To Becoming a Nicer Person, a plan created by yours truly. Right, ‘Grunkle Stan’?”

For a moment, Steven simply looked down at Mabel, absolutely confused until she gave him a knowing wink that silently instructed him to agree. “Oh, uh, y-yeah, that’s absolutely right! N-no more, uh, ‘Sour Stan’ for me! F-from now on, you can just call me… ‘Sweet Stan’! Yeah…”

“Oh, ok!” Soos grinned, readily believing this. “Whatever you say, ‘Sweet Stan’! Huh, really has a nice ring to it.”

“Hm…” Wendy frowned, not buying this herself as she looked to the ‘conman’ doubtfully. “Alright, then let’s put this whole, ugh, ‘Sweet Stan’ thing to the test. Mr. Pines, can I have a raise?”

“Are you kidding? Of course you can!” Steven instantly exclaimed with an eager smile. “Hanging out with you is one of my favorite things about being at the Mystery Shack, Wendy! Same to you, Soos! In fact, you can both have raises! My treat.”

“Whoa, really?” Soos asked, amazed. 

“...Eh, you know what? As weird as this whole thing is, I think I’ll take it,” Wendy shrugged, aptly satisfied by her raise as she ventured pushing the limit just a bit further. “Do you think maybe we could have the rest of the day off too? Just for the heck of it?”

“I don’t see why not,” the young Gem grinned, hands on his hips. “It’s such a nice day outside, so why stay cooped up in here for it? Go on out and have some fun!”

“Wow! Thanks a ton, Mr. Pines!” Soos exclaimed, waving to ‘Stan’ and the girls as he began to head off, completely oblivious. 

“I still don’t know what’s going on around here but… eh, what do I care?” Wendy grinned, following the handyman out. “Free day off, here I come!”

The moment both Soos and Wendy left, Steven, Mabel, and Connie alike all let out a collective sigh of relief, glad that their cover hadn’t been entirely blown even if it had been seen through. “That was way too close…” the young Gem muttered, allayed, though only for a moment as an all new-problem made herself apparent. 

“What was too close?”

“Ah!” Steven gasped, stumbling backward as a certain purple Gem dropped down from her spot in the rafters. “A-Amethyst! What are you doing here?”

“Oh, ya know,” the purple Gem casually plopped down to take a seat on the counter. “Just hanging around.”

“Oh, would you say you hang out more like koalas or sloths?” Steven asked before quickly catching himself. “Uh… I-I’m asking for Steven.”

“...What?” Amethyst asked, confused. 

“Aha! D-don’t mind Mr. Pines, Amethyst,” Connie interjected with an awkward chuckle. “He’s not exactly… feeling himself today.”

“Boy, tell me about it,” Amethyst remarked, eyeing the ‘conman’ warily. “What’s all this I hear about you going all ‘soft’ and ‘sweet’, Stan? That’s not how you roll, never has been, never will be. And don’t you two go acting all innocent either,” she said to Mabel and Connie. “I know you’re both in on whatever dirty little secret Stan’s got up his sleeve here, so… spill it.”

“Uh… it’s… actually not that dirty,” Steven said, not seeing much harm in letting the purple Gem know. “Would you believe me if I told you I actually wasn’t Stan but I was really Steven and that I used my powers to accidentally send my mind into his body?”

For a moment or two, Amethyst stared at the young Gem blankly, as if baffled by this information before she simply shrugged in calm acceptance of it. “Eh yeah, I guess I would,” she said plainly. “I mean, it’s not like none of us have noticed that your powers can do some… pretty wacky stuff, Steven. Er, uh… Stan? Stanven?” 

“Ooo, if you and Grunkle Stan ever fused, Steven, Stanven would be a perfect fusion name for you guys!” Mabel pointed out, making sure to write the name down for future reference. 

“Sooo even if this whole thing was an ‘accident’,” Amethyst began, leaning toward the ‘conman’ curiously. “What exactly is your whole endgame here, Stevo?”

“Endgame?”

“Yeah, what’s the point of hijacking Stan’s body if you’re not gonna use it to have some fun?” the purple Gem grinned deviously. “You could drive his car around, crash it into a tree, use his credit card to buy a whole bunch of dumb stuff, the sky’s the limit! And the best part is, whenever you guys switch back or however that happens, then we’ll all get to see the look on his face when he realizes what happened, it’ll be hilarious!”

“Um, actually, Amethyst,” Steven interjected. “We were actually hoping to use this as an opportunity to patch things up between Mr. Pines and Mr. Ford…”

“Ew, seriously?” Amethyst groaned. “That’s so boring! And pointless. Those two old dorks hate each other. What makes you think you running around pretending to be Stan is gonna change that?”

“Well… we’ll never know until we try,” Steven shrugged, hopeful. “And maybe you might be able to help us, Amethyst! You’ve known both Mr. Pines and Mr. Ford for a long time, so maybe you could give us some advice? Especially when it comes to Mr. Pines. Let’s just say my impression of him… isn’t the best…”

“Yeah, no duh, you’re way too nice to make a good Stan,” Amethyst chuckled, somewhat amused. “And that’s ok. But while nice may be Steven’s thing, it sure as heck isn’t Stan’s.”

“Oh! I have an idea!” Mabel raised her hand enthusiastically. “Amethyst, you could Steven a lesson on how to be Stan so that he’ll be more convincing the next time he talks to Grunkle Ford. After all, I can’t really think of anybody who would know him better than you!”

“Tch, for better or worse,” Amethyst remarked sardonically, though ultimately she folded upon meeting the pleading expressions the kids were offering her. “But… fine. I guess I can hook you guys up. But only if we get to pull off a whole bunch of pranks using Stan’s body after this whole thing with Ford is over.”

“Um, Amethyst, I don’t know if that’s such a good-”

“Deal!” Mabel interrupted Connie, readily agreeing to such worrisome terms. 

“Thanks so much, Amethyst!” Steven cheered, not hesitating to show his gratefulness by embracing the purple Gem.

“Ah ah ah! Stan lesson numero uno,” Amethyst pushed away from him. “Stan is absolutely not a hugger.”

“Ah, right…” Steven frowned, backing off apprehensively. “...This is gonna be harder than I thought…”

The young Gem took in an anxious breath as him, Mabel, Connie, and Amethyst all rode the elevator down to Ford’s private study, hoping that their scheme would end in success this time. For the past hour or so, the purple Gem had drilled him in every tic and trait she knew Stan to have, essentially teaching him how to talk, walk, and overall act exactly as the conman would. And yet, even with those lessons in grumpy gruffness in mind, Steven was still resolved to be a bit softer in his approach than Stan likely would have been, all in the hopes of finally reaching Ford so they could begin finally bridging the broken gap between the brothers once and for all. 

Or at least, get halfway there for now. 

As soon as the elevator reached the basement’s second floor, the group split up, Amethyst, Mabel, and Connie taking to concealing themselves along the sides of the study so they could watch the encounter that was about to unfold. Steven, however, continued forward, steadying his resolve as he quietly approached Ford, who was so engrossed in writing in his journal that he didn’t even notice the young Gem’s arrival. At least until he spoke up to greet him. 

“Uh, hey, Mr. Fo--oh, right! I mean, heya, ‘sixer’,” Steven began, remembering Amethyst’s pointers on how Stan would address Ford in particular. “How’s it, um… hanging?”

Ford stood upright with a start at this, spinning around to face his ‘brother’ in appalled shock. “Wha--Stanley?!” he exclaimed in disbelief. “W-where--how did you--what are you doing down here?! How did you even find out about this room? It’s a secret study for a reason, you know.”

“Oh, um… Amethyst told me about it?” Steven ventured, getting the excuse from the purple Gem herself as he looked over his shoulder at her as she remained in hiding alongside the girls. 

“Ugh, of course she did…” Ford groaned, exasperated. “Well, since you’re down here, what is that you want? In case you haven’t noticed, I’m very busy.”

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Steven readily apologized, only for Amethyst to clear her throat to catch his attention. The purple Gem shook her head disapprovingly, reminding him once again that ‘Stan’ needed to drop the manners than Steven always made sure to mind so carefully. “Uh, I-I mean… What, you’re busy working on your, uh, ‘nerd books’ again?” he asked, trying his hardest to carry an air of dry sarcasm in his tone. 

“Stanley, how many times do I have to tell you to stop calling my important research ‘nerd books’!” Ford snapped, not even noticing as the ‘conman’ flinched back, startled by his harsh tone. “Now, if you’ll please state your business down here then be on your way, that would be-”

“I-I wanted to hang out with you!” Steven exclaimed, completely forgetting what Amethyst had told him in an attempt at salvaging this before it was too late. 

“You what?” Ford asked, baffled. 

“You know… hang out?” the young Gem tried again with a small smile, ignoring the disgruntled look the purple Gem was sending his way all the while. “Like I guess we probably always used to do when we were kids? I just, I mnea… w-wouldn’t it be nice if you guys--er, if we finally started getting along again? Just like old times…?”

For a moment, Ford’s expression almost seemed to soften at this, though it quickly grew harsh once more as he drew in a sharp, almost offended breath as he shoved away the hand Steven was offering to him. “What kind of fool do you take me for?” he asked, his voice low and undoubtedly angry. 

“W-what do you mean?”

“It’s it obvious?!” the author exclaimed harshly. “You keep pretending like we can move on and act like nothing ever happened, but we can’t Stanley! I missed out on my dream school, I spent 30 years straggling between countless dimensions, barely surviving, all because of you! And yet you want to just forget about all of that without even admitting that you were wrong? Without even saying that you’re sorry?!” 

“W-well, then I am sorry!” Steven said frantically, hoping to give the author what he wanted to hear in the hopes that it would work. But of course, it didn’t. 

“But I don’t believe you!” Ford exclaimed incredulously, both fury and the first inklings of what almost sounded like grief starting to leak into his tone. “You never act like you’re sorry! You just want to act like it’s all over and done but it’s not! You’re always off living in your own little fantasy world, just like you used to do when we were kids! It’s like… it’s like you don’t even care…”

The young Gem froze, genuinely shocked as he noticed tears starting to well up in the author’s eyes. Tears that he rushed to wipe away but tears all the same. “H-hey…” he reached a shaking hand out in an attempt to comfort him. “Don’t be sad… I-”

“Don’t patronize me, Stanley,” Ford huffed bitterly, pushing his hand away once more. “After all, we both know you’re only doing this for your own gain, just like everything else you’ve ever done!”

“That’s not true!” Steven tried once more but it was very clear by now that Ford was having none of it as he outright pushed his ‘brother’ away. 

“I’ve had enough, Stanley,” Ford sighed tiredly. “Every time I so much as think about making amends with you, you always manage to remind me just how much of a mistake that would really be and I’m done. Now get out.”

“B-but wait!” Steven protested as the author continued pushing him back toward the elevator. “I-I just wanted to fix everything!”

“You only ever try to fix anything when it’s convenient for you!” Ford shot back fiercely. 

“Y-you don’t understand-” the young Gem tried to counter, but once again the author sharply cut him off. 

“No, Stanley, I understand perfectly,” Ford finally stopped just shy of the elevator. “You want me to thank you, to need you; you always have, but I don’t. I never have! I’ve been just fine without you for well over 30 years now and I’ll be even better after we finally part ways. And I, for one, can’t wait until we finally do. Now GOODBYE, Stan!” 

With that, the author shoved his ‘brother’ into the elevator, pressing the button that would send him back up to the shack’s upper levels. However, right before he could, Steven took in a sudden breath, his regret and and guilt having built up to unbearable levels as he finally decided to reveal the truth before it was too late. “I’m NOT Stan!” he shouted just as the elevator doors closed on him. 

Taken aback, Ford was quick to call the elevator back down to the study, curiosity getting the better of him. When the elevator doors opened again, they revealed ‘Stan’ still standing there, tears streaming down his cheeks and his expression awash in genuine remorse. A sight that was more than enough to surprise the author even more. “What…?” he asked, looking over the ‘conman’ cautiously. 

“I’m actually… Steven,” the young Gem confessed with a sad sigh. “I accidentally used my powers to send my mind into Mr. Pines’ body a-and then we thought we use this to help you guys make up but… it didn’t work, obviously…”

“...We?” Ford raised an eyebrow, still unsure of what to really think about such a strange story as a whole. 

“Yeah… we…” Mabel spoke up, stepping out into the open alongside Connie and Amethyst. 

“Mabel? Connie? Amethyst?” Ford turned to the trio, even more confused than before. “What are you three doing down here? Actually, you know what? Forget that. Let’s focus back on the part about Steven’s mind supposedly being in Stan’s body…”

“I just wanted to help you guys,” Steven frowned earnestly, wiping some of his tears away. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings like this, Mr. Ford! I’m so sorry!”

“...Alright, so maybe you actually are Steven…” Ford noted, his doubt starting to dissipate somewhat. “Stanley would never apologize to me, after all.”

“That’s what I tried telling him,” Amethyst remarked, crossing her arms. “But did he listen to me or any of my ‘What Would Stan Do’ lessons? Nooooo, ‘course not. He had to get all soft and sweet. Tch, if the real Stan was here, he’d totally be gagging all over the place right now.”

“Speaking of Stanley…” Ford began thoughtfully. “I’m assuming you somehow entered his mindscape, Steven. But that begs the question… is Stan inside of yours?”

“Wait, do you mean Mr. Pines’ mind could be inside of Steven’s body?” Connie asked, bewildered. 

“I’m… not sure,” the author frowned, turning back to Steven in the hopes that he’d know more about his mysterious powers than anyone else would. “Would he?”

“...I don’t know,” Steven said starkly, having not even considered the possibility until now. 

“You don’t know?!” Ford exclaimed, aptly alarmed. 

“Maybe we should check?” Mabel ventured, feeling the rising panic in the room. 

“Uh, ya think?!” Amethyst exclaimed, rushing to the elevator first. The others all quickly piled onto it, frantically pressing the button until it took them to the shack’s main floor. From there, they all rushed out of the building altogether, knowing that the temple would be the best place to check for the young Gem’s body. If it wasn’t there, then there would be no telling where it might be. 

However just as the group burst out of the shack, Soos’ truck just so happened to be pulling up with both of the shack’s employees in tow. “Thanks again for the ride, Soos,” Wendy said, stepping out of the vehicle.

“No problem, dude,” Soos said, grinning as he tipped his hat to her.

 “Can’t believe I forgot my jacket here again,” the cashier rolled her eyes. “Better hurry in and go get it before Stan changes his mind about our day off.”

“Oh hey, speaking of Stan, there he is!” Soos pointed out the group ran past them toward the temple. 

“Huh, wonder where they’re going in such a hurry,” Wendy said with a curious frown. 

“Wanna find out?”

“Not really-”

“Too late! We’re emotionally invested now!” the handyman exclaimed, running to catch up with the others. Even if she wasn’t too keen on going herself, Wendy ultimately let out a sigh of defeat as she joined in the chase too, albeit at a much slower, more lax pace. 

At the same time, Steven, Ford, Connie, Mabel, and Amethyst all reached the temple, dashing up the porch stairs only for the young Gem to find another obstacle barring their path. “I-It’s locked!” he cried, trying his hardest to push against the screen door to get it open. As he tried rushing for it, he ultimately bounced right off and rolled back, leaving them with no way in. At least, not until Ford easily managed to kick the door down without much effort at all. 

“Whoa, breaking and entering into Steven’s house?” Wendy asked as she and Soos watched this as they continued their way up toward the temple. “This suddenly got a lot more interesting.”

“I’ll say!” Soos eagerly agreed. “But um… doesn’t Amethyst already live there?”

“Hey, man, nobody ever said you can’t sneak into your own place,” Wendy shrugged with a grin. “I do it all the time.”

As the larger group rushed into the house, they wasted no time looking around for the young Gem’s body, Connie spotting it first as it lay listlessly on the bed upon on the loft. “Steven! There you are!” she called, pointing the young Gem’s way back to his own body. The others all ran after him, taking just the briefest of moments to take in the sight of Steven’s real body, still sleeping soundly before them, with no signs of Stan inhabiting it really apparently. 

“H-how do you switch back?” Mabel looked to Steven, or ‘Stan’ as it were, anxiously. 

“I-I don’t know!” Steven shook his head, gripping his slumbering body by the shirt and shaking him roughly. “Come on! Wake up!”

“Whoa, what’s going on?” Soos asked as he and Wendy stepped through the house’s broken-down door. 

“I have no idea but I gotta say,” the cashier placed her hands on her hips. “This was not what I was expecting to see on my day off.”

By now, Steven had gotten desperate, and aside from shaking his sleeping self up, he’d also taken to lightly tapping him on the face in a hectic attempt at rousing himself, one that didn’t seem to be working. “Augh! Wake UP!” Frustrated, the young Gem finally lashed out, finally slapping himself hard enough to finally, and miraculously do the trick. 

In an instant, Steven found himself back in his own body, his own eyes flying open as he bolted upright in bed. However, he barely even had time to settle back into his own skin before he noticed the body he’d just been in starting to sway. Stan seemed to be only barely conscious, his eyes rolling back into his head as he began to fall towards the edge of the loft, nearly falling off of it entirely until Ford happened to catch him by his suit coat. As the author pulled him back it, the conman’s rather rough fall to the floor was finally enough to snap him fully back into his own mind, even if he still did so rather sluggishly. 

“Ugh… I feel like I just got hit by a truck… and I should know because I have been hit by a truck…” Stan muttered, shaking his aching head to clear it before he properly took stock of his surroundings. “Uh… how the heck did I get here? And what’s everybody doing here? Is there a party or somethin’?”

“Uh… not exactly…” Connie said with a worried frown. 

“Grunkle Stan, don’t get mad…” Mabel began just as apprehensively. 

“Mad about what?” the conman raised an eyebrow as he picked himself up to stand. 

“Steven really didn’t mean to-” Mabel continued, though once again, Stan cut her off. 

“Mean to what?” he asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously as he turned to the young Gem.  

For his part, Steven let out a tight, anxious laugh to try and ease the growing tension. Even so, he ultimately did admit the truth, knowing there was no use in trying to hide it. “I… might have… spent the day… with my mind… in your body…”

Stan’s initial reaction to this news was quite apt, shock overtaking his expression, though strangely he was quick to replace it with a look of stoic acceptance. “Yeah, that sounds about right,” he said stiffly, not really giving too much of a reaction at all outside of that. 

“Y-you’re not… upset?” Steven ventured, gripping his bed’s blanket tightly. 

“Oh, no, I’m furious,” Stan said with a surprisingly steady smile. “In fact, it’s taking just about every inch of self control I have to stay calm right now and believe me, it’s not easy.”

“Stanley, please don’t make a scene,” Ford huffed, already anticipating his brother’s known temper’s tipping point. 

“Don’t worry, I won’t,” Stan assured. “At least not in here.” With that, the conman turned on his heel, heading down the loft and passing by Soos and Wendy on the way out. “What are you two doing here?!” he asked them with a harsh scowl. “Get back to work!”

“B-but what about our day off?” Soos asked, frowning. 

“Day off?” Stan scoffed incredulously. “Give me a break! You heard what I said: back to work, now!”

“Ugh, I knew it was too good to be true,” Wendy sighed as the conman left. 

At the same time, Amethyst eagerly hopped down from the loft, hoping to catch up with the conman as she let out an amused laugh. “Aw man, here comes the freakout I’ve been waiting for,” she grinned, rushing to join Stan right outside. “This is something I don’t wanna miss.”

And sure enough, she didn’t for as soon as Stan stepped outside onto the porch, he finally let his anger out in the form of a single large, loud scream. A scream that Steven simply flinched at the sound of, knowing that once again, another plan to bring the bickering brothers together again had fallen through completely. And this time he only really had himself to blame. 

Steven stopped just shy of the gift shop’s entrance, letting out a fretful sigh before finally deciding to enter, hoping that he’d be able to make amends for what happened the previous day. Fortunately, it seemed as though he’d get that chance for sure enough Stan was sitting at the counter, boredly tallying up his profits for the day. He didn’t so much as even look up as the young Gem entered or even as he approached the counter, but all the same, Steven offered him a friendly, if not somewhat awkward greeting all the same. 

“Uh… h-hey, Mr. Pines,” he said with a small smile, though Stan said nothing in response, his expression remaining cold as he kept his eyes on his cash. Even so, Steven continued. “Um… I’m really sorry about yesterday. I know it’s not much, but… I got you a card.” His smile picked up a bit as he slid said card, one that read ‘hang in there!’, onto the counter. “It’s got a koala and a sloth.”

Stan finally glanced up at this, first at the card before looking to Steven himself. And try as he might to remain silent and stoic, he couldn’t help but crack a small smile upon noticing just how genuine the young Gem’s apology really was. “Ugh, kid, put that pout of yours away,” the conman sighed tiredly. “I’m not mad, at least not anymore. By now, I’ve come to expect weird stuff like this happening around here, especially whenever you and the Gems are involved. But what I can’t figure out is why you did it in the first place…”

“Well, it was an accident at first…” Steven admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “But then I kept it going because I thought… I thought maybe while I was in your body, I could finally help you and Mr. Ford get along again.”

Stan let out something of a sharp, almost bitter snicker at this, shaking his head incredulously. “That’s what you were trying to do, kid? If you ask me, then you tried way too hard to fix something that’s been way too broken to even try to fix for years now.”

“W-what do you mean?” Steven asked with a worried frown. 

The conman’s sardonic grin faded at this, his expression turning more serious as he looked away. “Er… f-forget it,” he said dismissively, not wanting to think on the matter any more than that right now. “Still, your heart was in the right place, so I guess I can’t fault you too much for basically hijacking my body for a day. Just as long as you promise to never do that to me again.”

“I think I can do that,” Steven chuckled, allayed that there were no hard feelings. 

Stan smiled once more at this, fondly ruffling the young Gem’s hair and eliciting another warm laugh from him in the process. “Ya know, Steven,” he began thoughtfully, kindly even. “You’re a good kid. But… you might wanna ease up a bit on your approach to helping people. You tend to come on… just a little too strong sometimes, if you know what I mean.”

“Ease up…” the young Gem repeated, not entirely sure what this advice meant, though he still valued it all the same. “I’ll make sure to remember that. Thanks, Mr. Pines.”

“No, thank you, kid,” Stan remarked with something of a wry smirk. “Knowing Amethyst, she probably tried to rope you into using my body for some of her nutso pranks, so thanks for not following through on any of that.”

“No problem,” Steven laughed brightly, a bout of levity that Stan soon joined in on. And yet, as that laughter eventually died down, the young Gem couldn’t help but steal a glance between the conman and the vending machine on the far side of the shack, behind which lay the elevator that led to the study that Ford was certainly working within, alone as he usually was. And as he did, Steven finally started to understand exactly what Stan’s advice truly meant. For maybe his approach, his plan had been wrong all along. Maybe, instead of trying to find ways to push and prod the brothers along to reach common ground, that ground was a place they’d have to find on their own. Maybe, just maybe, the only ones who really could repair what had been broken between Stan and Ford for so long now… were none other than Stan and Ford themselves. 

And yet, as Steven took solace in the hope that they someday would, he didn’t happen to see who was discreetly peeking in from the den to watch the whole exchange. Dipper let out a small sigh as he pressed back against the wall, closing his eyes as he absently rubbed his left shoulder, a shoulder that had once been heavily injured, nearly gravely so, all while somebody else had been in control of his body. All while he’d lost control of everything that was rightfully his own, all because someone else had decided to take it for a cruel and callous joy ride instead. 

And as much as Dipper didn’t want to suspect Steven, of all people, of such a thing, he couldn’t help but wonder, perhaps even fear, just how far that power, so very similar to a power someone else possessed, could really go.

Next: 

[jbbuckybarnes]

Universe Portal

Description: Second Part of the Universe series. After people asked for a resolution to Universe Bracelet, a one shot I wrote for @yslbuckyx `s challenge, I thought I’d make a three-parter out of it. This is part two. Find part one on my masterlist below. Pairing: Bucky x Reader

M A S T E R L I S T

*I have a draft for how the portal could work but I still need to fix the suction problem.* *Solved the suction problem, now I have a size problem. Should take me about a week.* *Solved it. Still working on the last bits to correct it.* *Be ready at 3pm on Sunday and don’t lose your mind when you see it.* Shuri’s projection flickered in front of you over your Kimoyo bracelet. “Should bring him his sweater back,” you whispered to yourself and put it out to be ready the next day.

The next day rolled around and you sat on your bed in Bucky’s sweater, waiting for something to happen. It was a few minutes late but silently a portal opened inside of your room and made you jump back. “Holy,” you mumbled at the hole in your room that reminded you of video games. You slowly reached out towards it and your hand went through it. It looked like a mirror and your hand wasn’t visible anymore. With a deep shaky inhale you closed your eyes and stepped through Shuri’s portal into her universe. After a few seconds, you slowly opened one eye to see Shuri with a big grin and clearly happy about the portal working and being stable. With a deep exhale you embraced her in a hug. “You are a genius, Shuri.” you smiled and she giggled. “Nah, just a bit of math and a few weeks of work,” she said smiling proudly. “Girl, if I could be only half as good at math and physics as you are.” your brows went up. “Hey Y/N.” a deep and familiar voice came from beside you and you turned around to see Bucky standing there with his hands in his hoodie pocket. “Buckyyy!” you ran over and hugged him as tight as possible. “Is that my sweater?” he smiled and looked up and down on you, making you blush a little. “Yeah. It’s the most comfortable thing I own, to be honest,” you answered scratching your arm nervously. The short silence was interrupted by Shuri, ”Show her Wakanda a bit while I get my brother.”

You were on the streets filled with energy in the city center shortly after. “Were you here a lot when you weren’t...frozen,” you asked a bit distanced from him. “Sometimes. Most of the time it was a bit too much for my mind.” he smiled down at you before asking a question back. “What did you do in the last weeks?” “I just...wrote a lot and tried to take better care of myself. I tend to forget that I’m also a human being, you know?” you chuckled lightly. “I spent time here, watching Shuri work. And I was in South Africa with Steve for a break from the team,” he answered the question too. “Isn’t he the person you’d want a break from?” you asked with a grin and got laughter back. “You’re right. I enjoy having someone out of time with me tho. He got more mellow.” Kids were running around you and one smiled at him and said something in Xhosa and the words “White Wolf” which earned the kid a smile from Bucky. “What did he say?” you looked up at him. “Nothing.” he had a big grin on his face and put his arm around your waist. Whatever you wanted to say before was gone now. This was an unexpected move. You continued walking down the busy street and past tons of vendors that decorated their products colorfully. “Who is the pretty girl with you, White Wolf?” a middle-aged woman asked from a hair store that was decked out in hair products and scrunchies. “Y/N,” you got out a little shy but with a small smile on your face. She must’ve known him from the time he was here and it kinda made sense for someone with hair like his to be here sometimes but you were still in another universe and didn’t want to interact with too many people to not ruin the timeline if there was one. After a while, you had walked so far that you had left the city limits of the city center. Now, most of what was surrounding you was ackers and meadows. It was breathtakingly beautiful with multiple different flowers in full bloom. After a while, the street ended and you were standing in front of a big tree that was giving you a bit of shadow. “I suppose it’s a bit weird to ask you this since you’re not even from the same universe,” his voice broke through the silence and he positioned himself in front of you, “But would you like to go on a date with me, maybe?” He let a guard down and was nervous, which was quite an adorable sight for a scary big man like him. “I’d love to, Bucky.” you automatically answered calmly before you could even actively decide what to say and a smile formed on both your faces. The perfect moment was interrupted by your Kimoyo beads and a message from Shuri to come back and meet her brother, the King of Wakanda.

There he was, right in front of you. T’Challa, the King of Wakanda, the Black Panther. “Hello, Y/N. I’ve heard great things about you.” he shook your hand with his typical smile. “I can only give that back.” you blushed a little, not only had they talked about you but he also was really charming. Your brain interrupted you with the first world problem question if you are allowed to call him T’Challa or just ‘your highness’ “You know a lot about this universe?” he asked with attentive eyes on you. “Well, about the heroes in it I guess. It’s depicted in movies in my universe and doesn’t go too deep, but yeah...I blew his mind when I started talking about Wakanda.” you pointed at Bucky with a big grin. “Hey, it’s not every day that a girl from another universe knows my full story and how Wakanda works.” he held his hands up and really reminded you of Sebastian Stan at that moment. Laughter went through the room at how weirded out he still was by your knowledge. “My universe doesn’t have vibranium, at least not as far as I know. And no heroes. But also nobody that just turned half the universe to dust, so I guess I’m okay with no heroes.” you went on and a serious nod came back “No, Wakanda, huh? Would love to check.” T’Challa chuckled. “I think all hell would break loose if it was real in my world. I mean, you’re fictional where I live.” “With my sisters' new technology we might at least be able to study your world.” he smiled and looked over to Shuri. “You’re gonna find a lot of dumbasses. Shitty politics and people burning down the rainforest cause money seems to be more important than life.” you shrugged and got concerned faces back. “What? You can’t tell me that there is no equivalent to that here?” you held up your hands. “It’s just incredibly sad that this is a problem in other universes.” T’Challa went on. “Yeah, it’s not really helping my anxiety either.” you joked. “Guess some things are just human errors,” Shuri concluded before explaining the portal to his brother, you and Bucky.

“So...technically I could visit her?” Bucky pointed at you. A knowing smile spread across all faces in the room and you turned to him with a, “Yes, that’s basically the bottom line of what she just explained. But you wouldn’t be allowed to stay. I’d kick your ass if you would. Sam needs someone to annoy him to death.” you giggled. “You would kick my ass?” his eyebrows went up. “Well, verbally. I don’t think there is any way I could overpower you unless I get Nat.” “I’d pay to see you two have a strategic fight.” Shuri giggled. “Yeah, there is no strategy with me. I know how to kick basic men away, not a supersoldier with a metal arm.” “So...could T’Challa and I visit you, like right now if you let us?” he finally finished his thought from earlier. “Technically. If you plan to not come across fans of your in my universe FICTIONAL characters and possibly ruin a bit of a timeline, sure.” you shrugged. The three of you looked towards Shuri and got a nod towards the portal. “I didn’t clean tho. And don’t open drawers.” you giggled before going through the portal again. “I love the future man.” came from behind you from an awestruck voice. Your room had a little bit of chaos from the previous evening scattered across it. Socks, an empty cookie package, charging cables, a little pile of laundry and your bed was only half made. “Cute.” “I wouldn’t call it cute...but that’s subjective.” you chuckled before taking your pile of laundry and bringing it to the bathroom. “Show us our fictional versions.” T’Challa grinned like a child which would irritate you if you wouldn’t know the movies. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea. I don’t wanna change what’s happening in your universe.” your weight shifted from one side to another. “Pretty please!” Bucky joined in. Your glance shifted between the two grown men in the middle of your apartment. You felt like a mother with two children begging for more chocolate. “Fine.” a little success high five was interchanged between the two men. “So your universe is the MCU universe, there are comics that depict other universe versions and the MCU took inspirations out of those for the movies…” you started while walking to get your laptop. Knowledge hungry eyes stared at you for the rest of the day while you were explaining your and their world to them. Including the jealous look of Bucky when you started talking about the actor depicting him, looking exactly like him, just with a normal arm and different personality traits. “Don’t worry. He doesn’t know me. Probably never will.” you giggled before you went on about the actors. In the evening they left again and after T’Challa had left through the portal Bucky turned around one last time. “You’re really special, you know that?” one of his rare soft smiles was on his face. “You talking about yourself, Barnes?” you grinned taking both his hands, not without a tiny flinch from him. “Any requests for the date?” one of the hands went to brush a strand of hair out of your face. “I dislike restaurants. Maybe something more relaxed. As long as you’re there I don’t really care that much.” you said blushing and got a nod back. “Noted. See you soon, darling.” he left a kiss on your forehead before vanishing through the portal. You watched the portal vanish too and stared at the white wall behind it for another minute before getting ready for bed.

M A S T E R L I S T TAGS:

@elsatxx @yslbuckyx @marmariavel @yknott81

[dubsdeedubs]

A Thousand Natural Shocks [Epilogue]

[AO3]

[A/N: lmao sorry i know drag me]

One said, Tell us…what is it like?

  “What is what like?”

  One said, Being insane. Being human.

September 20, 2012

from the Journal of Stanford F. Pines

It has been some time since my last entry. I suppose that is to be expected, given all that has occurred in the past several weeks.

I am writing from Northern California, with the sound of my brother's loud snores rumbling faintly through the wall that separates our rooms. We are well on our way to Piedmont, but with our age and the single valid driver's license between the two of us (one that matches neither of our features exactly) it seemed prudent to rest before continuing onto the last leg of our journey.

...Preferably to do so without ear plugs, hence my rare moment of privacy.

Lately, I have had no real opportunity to seek out new creatures to fill my notebooks with. Nor, if I must tell the truth, has there been much desire.

Instead, I have taken the time simply to think. Making up in some way for the many years for which contemplation was a privilege I did not hold.

I have been considering the anomalies in the world that Weirdmageddon might have woken from their long sleep. I have been pondering on the nature of family, and whether I will find it in the familiar strangers I shall meet for the first time tomorrow.

Mostly, however, I find myself thinking over what I now remember seeing in that strange space between consciousness and the lack thereof.

The green glint of eyes. The unspoken promise of safety. There is no doubt in my mind that they knew me. And, even in my indisposed state, I had known them.

'Stanley,' I said then. And they had answered.

That should surprise me far more than it does.

I tell myself that I must think about this logically. Instead, I feel myself considering the impossible.

I realize better than most just how finicky the concept of time can be in the context of the multiverse. Jheselbraum had once spent hours trying to explain how impossible it was to define a beginning or an end when speaking of creatures that transcended linear realities, that for them once something had occurred, there is a version of them for which it had always occurred.

However the entity has been changed by their deal with Stanley, the effects have extended as much into the past as they have into the future. They have become entirely independent from the single, fragile timeline of our individual dimension.

That is a powerful position to hold. But it is also a deeply lonely way to exist.

Stanley had once told me to trust in his ability to figure things out, to make things work. I do. But I am also deeply aware of how important family is to my brother, how important it is to him that he can protect those he considers his - the kids, Soos, Shermy. Me.

The entity has no family.

Yet I am hopeful, perhaps illogically so. As I think back to my time wandering the multiverse, I cannot help but remember the times I should not have survived. And there were many, more so than I can recall coherently. A blaster jammed at the nick of time, back-up guards that were called but never came... occurrences that had always seemed too contrived to be pure coincidence, especially in conjunction with one another. What if they were?

What if they had been helping, in whatever way they could?

...I would be the first to admit that these are fanciful thoughts, but I refuse to consider them impossible. After all, true family is not inherited - it is found. If nothing else, the entity has time.

And the multiverse is a very large place indeed.

  It’s in the darkness where your eyes can’t see. The universe becomes two halves, and you live in the half behind the eyes.

  An eldritch abomination walks into a multiversal bar, orders a Manhattan, and gets it.

"Huh," they said, or the nearest approximation of it. They prodded at the borough uneasily with a carefully corporeal tentacle.

The screams of approximately 1.7 million residents increased briefly in volume.

"...Y'know, I really don't know what I expected."

A bit more whiskey, perhaps?

A large amphibious creature perched casually on the bright red bar stool across from them, pink frills draping over the vaguely sticky countertop. It nursed a glass of murky liquid between two delicate paws, beady eyes unblinking as it looked directly at them.

"...I know ya, don't I?" They said after a long moment.

Yes. A long, transparent blink. No.

"Oookay." They fidgeted, as much as a mostly incorporeal mass of cosmic star-stuff could fidget. "So. You uh... come here often?"

I come when I am needed.

"...Right."

The frills twitched. And what brings you here?

"Um."

The Axolotl waited patiently.

"Got bored, I guess."

Boredom. The expression on its face never changed, but somehow the stretch of its smile became more noticeable. How entirely unlike us.

They went still at that, stiff with realization.

"You."

There was a silence that stretches for millennia and milliseconds, and for no time at all.

"...Why did you do this to me?"

I was under the impression you did this to yourself, said the Axolotl.

They made a face. "But ya came up with the rules for all of this, yeah? Things didn't have to turn out this way."

They never do.

The Axolotl hummed.

Are you angry?

"Hell, why wouldn't I be? I would sure love to still be out there eating planets and universes instead of..."

They trailed off, glanced around them as if to reiterate their current situation.

"Moping over shitty cocktails with a giant lizard that's drinkin' swamp water out of a wine glass."

The Axolotl blinked slowly, its smile unchanging.

No, it disagreed politely, you would not.

Their silence was answer enough.

"...What the hell am I, now?"

You will never be human, the Axolotl said. But you hold symptoms of humanity.

"Symptoms?" They repeated disbelievingly. "You make humanity sound like... like getting head lice, or something."

Is it not? It chirped.

"Er."

Humanity is imagination, is belief, is hope. It is not given or bestowed, it is caught. The Axolotl blinked. What is it then, if not a very contagious disease?

"...I would be lyin' if I said that metaphor doesn't make me incredibly uncomfortable," they said slowly. "But I get what you're saying. Kinda."

Your drink remains untouched.

They blinked, six eyes shuttering and opening at once, as if just then remembering the screaming mass of human civilization sitting right in front of them.

"Look, I know I'm from Jersey and all," the entity said defensively, "and sure, I hate shoobies as much as anyone out there. But I'm not actually gonna eat all of New York."

You are not from New Jersey, the Axolotl reminded gently. You exist without precedent. You are not 'from' anywhere.

There was a moment of silence.

"...I need a drink," they said blankly.

You have one.

"A drink without a million screaming people in it, alright?"

Would you like to have a sip of mine? The Axolotl offered generously.

The entity stared. "Buddy," they said slowly, "the day I willingly drink swamp water is gonna have to be a hell of a worse day than today."

No, it will not. For you, there are no days.

It blinked, long and slow. No weeks, no months, no lifetimes.

You have 'now', and you will have it forever.

They twitched at that, component parts squirming.

"...Great. So, uh, is this all there is?"

This?

"You know." Something like a grimace flashed momentarily across their form. "Floating around in the multiverse, messing around with planets and galaxies, playing all these giant - cosmic games that don't mean anything to anyone."

For us, yes.

The entity hesitated. "Then what - what do I do now?"

What would you want to do?

"Well, I wanna catch the latest episode of Ducktective, for one," they said, a tad bit wistfully. "Munch my way through a coupla bags of toffee peanuts. Work on a new exhibit for the Shack. ...Hell, maybe I'll even drag Ford up from his lab one of these days. Drive down to visit the kids. Just to see how they're doing."

The Axolotl said nothing.

"...You don't hafta to tell me. I get it, alright?" The entity said quietly. "I'm not stupid, I know I can't do any of that stuff. Not without bringing the whole damn universe down on our heads."

They hesitated. "Again."

You are not incorrect.

"Besides, Ford and the kids..."

There was a long, long pause.

"They've got a Stan already. I'm just - leftovers."

The Axolotl said nothing.

And then, slow and measured, it says, Not all of them.

The entity went still. Six eyes blinked as one.

There are many universes like the one you are familiar with. Certainly, they have their differences.

But where there is a portal, there is someone who went though it.

"Ford?" They said hopefully.

Someone.

"And then, they're here," they said, an odd note in their voice. "Here. Where I am."

Yes. At some point in time, at every point in time. Working through their own personal timelines.

The entity was quiet. "Are any of them, y'know -"

There is no version of Stanford Filbrick Pines wandering the the multiverse that is fully the brother you remember. There was only one, and he has returned home long ago.

"Right," they said, an odd tone in their voice. "Right, of course. We knew that."

The Axolotl inclined its head. Does that matter?

"No," the entity said immediately and stilled, surprised at themselves.

Then, with a second wind of confidence, "No, it doesn't. Because - then that just means every version of Ford out there in the multiverse is just as much my brother, yeah?"

The Axolotl paused. Then it smiled, and that was that.

And the multiverse is a very large place indeed,

It finished its drink in the stillness that followed.

"Hey. Hang on."

There's another long silence.

"...You know what I'm thinking about," says the entity softly. "What we're gonna try to do. You're not gonna tell me it's a crazy idea? That I'm gonna rip open the fabric of the universe, or something?"

The Axolotl blinked ponderously.

They hesitated. "Then, you got - advice for this, or something? Anything?"

Advice?

The Axolotl smiled, pale pink fronds waving gently around its face.

Yes. Perhaps. Just the one.

"Alright, good, because I'm -"

Choose life.

The entity reared up.

"What the hell is that supposed to -"

But the Axolotl was already gone, as if it had never been there at all.

A single glass of untouched swamp water sat on the varnished countertop.

They sighed.

"...Whelp, that's one extradimensional entity I'm never playing cards against."

  I have seen galaxies die. I have watched atoms dance.

  But until I had the dark behind the eyes, I didn't know the death from the dance. 

 Ford was fairly certain that when one looked into the abyss, it was not supposed to wave back.

He blinked blearily, trying to make sense of his swimming vision. The dull ringing in his ears did not help with that endeavor, and neither did his budding concussion. Still, he could not rid himself of the peculiar certainty that there had been something out there in the darkness of space, something friendly enough to say hello.

How many times did he hit his head? How many times did his alien captors hit his head? ...Were those different ways of phrasing the same question? Between the head injury and general exhaustion, he couldn't even begin to make sense of it.

Distantly, he could hear the click-clack sound of arthropod feet on the steel flooring and angry chittering he could only assume - with the context of a lifetime consuming ridiculous sci-fi media - translated to, "Re-capture the prisoner!"

He pulled himself away wearily from the window and the void beyond. He had made a good attempt, but there was nowhere else to run.

Ford swayed, and fell.

           - and then it started, as it always did, with a dream.

He had all but forgotten the possibility. Ford had not dreamed since he had fallen through the gap between worlds, that uncertain number of decades ago. Maybe Bill had taken the capability to do so from him as retribution, perhaps he had been cut off from the Dreamscape as sharply as he had been from his own home dimension.

There was no way to know for sure. All that was certain was that he did not dream, until he did.

Stanford Pines dreamed he was in a house, one that once upon a time was his. It was as familiar to him as it was strange. There was a sense of the worn and the lived-in here, one had never developed in his own years of living between these walls. He saw it in the sloppy pile of dog-eared magazines on the counter, in the photo frames scattered all around, filled with faces he can't quite make out.

There was something here with him, sitting legs crossed on the armchair.

Something wearing Stanley's face, young and unlined and exactly as Ford remembered.

It even had the mullet.

"It's been a long time, Sixer," it said conversationally, green eyes glinting, with a familiar conspiratorial grin that sent his heart into his throat.

Impossibly enough, he hoped.

"We heard you needed a hand?"

[thelastspeecher]

Story Time

I usually like to include in the title of the post what AU the write is from, but this particular AU has such a long name that I don’t really want to.  This takes place in the Reverse Portal Stanley McGucket AU, and is a rare write that takes place from Lute’s perspective.  It’s not quite as Lute-centric as the thing I’ll be posting tomorrow, since it focuses a bit more on Stangie memories.  But still, we get some good Lute thoughts into what is going on in this tragic AU.

              “Uncle Lute, look!”  Lute looked up from the dishes he was currently in the process of washing.  His niece Daisy ran over, proudly holding a piece of paper.  Lute smiled and dried his hands.

              “What’s this?” he asked.

              “My teacher left a note on my project, sayin’ I’ve got potential in science she’s never seen before!” Daisy enthused.  Lute chuckled.  He took the piece of paper.  It was the results of her fourth-grade science fair project.  Angie had helped, but Daisy had insisted on doing the majority of the work on her own.

              “I ain’t all that surprised,” he said, ruffling her hair.  “Yer quite the smartie.  Just like yer ma.”  Daisy beamed. “Ya told her when she picked ya up, I assume?”  Daisy nodded. “Good.  I can put it on the fridge right away, then.”  Lute walked over to the fridge and stuck the paper on the door with a magnet shaped like a salamander.  He heard the front door open again.

              “Ma, are ya goin’ to tell us?” Emory’s voice asked eagerly.

              “Yes, sweetie, just let me take a seat in the livin’ room, okay?” Angie’s voice said.  Lute pursed his lips.  Angie was frequently tired, particularly since she started to help Ford with his research on the Gravity Falls anomalies, in addition to her own.  But the exhaustion in her voice wasn’t physical. It was emotional.  And that pointed to his missing brother-in-law.

              I knew they’d start askin’ about him eventually. The breadcrumbs Danny ‘n Daisy have, or what all Stanford ‘n myself tell ‘em isn’t enough.  They want to hear about Stan from their mother.

              “Don’t start without me!” Daisy said suddenly.  She darted out of the kitchen.  Lute took a deep breath and followed her into the living room.  Angie entered and took a seat on the couch.  Emily and Emmett, six years old and just done with their first week of school, climbed up next to her.  Daisy sat on the floor in front of the couch.  Danny joined her.

              “Angie,” Lute said softly.  Angie looked up.  In the seven years that had passed since Stan’s disappearance, the bright caramel color of her hair had started to fade, and she’d been forced to wear reading glasses regularly.  Lute couldn’t help but wonder if the stress of everything that had happened was what caused her to age so quickly.

              “I’m fine, Lute,” Angie said with a forced smile.  Lute leaned against the wall.

              “You don’t have to talk about him.  I can tell ‘em another story.”

              “No, we wanna hear about Dad from Ma!” Emmett protested from Angie’s lap. Lute blinked, surprised.  Emmett was the black sheep of his siblings, quiet and unsure.  He very rarely raised his voice, and even more rarely wasn’t willing to compromise.

              Maybe he’s finally gettin’ some stubbornness in him.  Lute smiled. Good.  Stan wouldn’t want a kid who’s willing to back down.

              “It’s fine, really,” Angie said to Lute.  She took a deep breath.  “It’s been seven years.  I can talk.”

              “Okay,” Lute replied.  He stayed where he was, determined to step in if Angie became too emotional to carry on.

              “What do ya want to hear about, babies?” Angie asked, stroking Emmett’s hair.

              “What was Dad like?” Emmett asked.  Angie smiled faintly.

              “It’d take a long time to explain everything about him,” she said.  “Like all people, he’s complex.”

              “Ma,” Danny piped up.  “Don’t dance around the question.”

              “All right, all right.  He’s stubborn.  Stubborn as a mule.  Loyal, willin’ to do anything to protect those he cares about.  He has issues showin’ emotion in front of people at times. He’d try to downplay anything he did to be kind as him doin’ just ‘cause it didn’t inconvenience him.  His voice would get all gruff when he talked about yer sisters, ‘cause it was the only way to hide how proud he is of ‘em, and how much he loves ‘em.”

              She’ll never stop usin’ present-tense, will she.

              “How did you two meet?” Danny asked.  Angie raised an eyebrow.

              “I know you’ve heard that story.”

              “Yeah, but not from you.”  Danny leaned forward.  “Did ya know he was the love of yer life the second ya laid eyes on him?”  Angie laughed.

              “Not by any means.  I was sixteen and hadn’t even left the state before.  I couldn’t feel any emotion other than curiosity until I got to know him.” Angie looked over at a photo on the wall, of her and Stan’s high school graduation.  “Most of the first interactions we had, I was confused how someone could be so obtuse.  He was a real fish outta water on the farm.”

              “But he got better,” Daisy said.  Angie nodded.

              “Yes.  He got better.”

              “How did ya know he was the one?” Danny asked.  Lute let out a small huff of amusement.

              There she goes, the hopeless romantic.  Lord, am I goin’ to have fun terrorizin’ her dates when she gets older.

              “I’m not quite sure,” Angie replied after a moment.  She untangled a knot in Emmett’s hair.  “It wasn’t one moment.  It was a series of moments that all built up.”

              “What were-” Danny started.

              “Where is he?” Emmett interrupted.  Angie’s face broke.  Lute stood straighter.

              “…I don’t know,” Angie whispered.

              “We’ve answered that question, Emmett,” Lute said.  Emmett looked over at him.

              “Yeah, but yer lyin’,” Emmett said firmly.

              “No, we were tellin’ the truth.”

              “No.  It doesn’t make sense,” Emmett insisted.

              And already his new stubbornness is comin’ to bite us in the butt.  He really is Stan’s son.

              “Honey, yer Uncle Ford was there,” Angie said gently.  “He saw what happened.”

              “Yeah.  Right after he and Dad had a big fight.  Uncle Ford could be lying to cover his tracks.  He probably is.  ‘Cause it doesn’t make any sense fer Dad to be- be wherever Uncle Ford’s machine took him!”

              “Junior,” Lute snapped, using the nickname he had come up with when Emmett was five and wanted to go by his middle name, Stanley.  “Yer on thin ice.”  Emmett glared at him.

              “I just want to know what really happened!” Emmett said, crossing his arms. “Dad shoulda been here!  He wasn’t!  If it’s Uncle Ford’s fault-”  A single tear traced its way down Angie’s cheek and landed on Emmett.  He looked at Angie, startled.  “O-oh.  Sorry, Ma.”

              “I’m fine,” Angie said.  She rubbed her eyes.  “I just don’t like thinkin’ ‘bout- ‘bout where yer dad is right now.”  Emory embraced Angie.

              “Ma, don’t cry,” Emory said softly.  Angie smiled through her tears.

              “Fer you, I’ll hold ‘em back.”

              “I’ll be quiet now,” Emmett mumbled.

              “You don’t need to be fer my sake, honey-bun,” Angie said.  Her voice was still thick with tears.  Emmett shook his head.

              “No, I- we should talk ‘bout the good things,” he said.  Angie stroked Emmett’s cheek.  “I don’t wanna think about him bein’ somewhere bad, either.”

              “Thank you, sweetie.”  Angie took a shuddering breath.  “Danny, the first time I knew yer father and I had somethin’ was when we moved in together. He jumped at the chance to move out of yer grandparents’ house, across the country, with no plan fer a job or anything.  Just so he could live with me.  Everything that happened after just made me more sure of it.  Our bickerin’ over the thermostat, me draggin’ him to museums and forests, him draggin’ me to sporting events.  The way- the way he’d just laugh if I jumped onto his back, takin’ on the challenge to carry me to whatever my destination was.”  Angie’s eyes grew misty with memory.  “The way he smelled and felt.  And…the day he proposed, blurting it out without thinkin’, without even havin’ the ring on him.”  Danny’s eyes widened.

              “Wait, how did Dad propose if he didn’t have a ring?” she asked.  Lute cocked his head, curious as well.

              I don’t think she ever told anyone how Stan proposed.  Angie smiled fondly.

              “We were down in the mines, and yer father kept tryin’ to get me to go to this fancy restaurant I liked.  But I ignored it, said I was fine traipsin’ ‘round underground.  I didn’t pay attention to what was goin’ on, and yer father had to rescue me from bein’ eaten by somethin’.  He tackled me, we rolled down a hill, and there, at the base of the hill, with me starin’ up at him, he asked me to marry him.”  Angie let out a small wistful sigh.  “Never did find out what exactly prompted him to pop the question then and there.  Knowin’ him, it probably just felt right.  And it did.  It was special.  Way more special than if it had happened at a restaurant.”

              “Aw,” Danny gushed.

              “I can see why ya kept that story a secret,” Lute said softly.  “It’s a sweet one.”

              “Yep.  And Stan’s got that hard shell.  He wouldn’t want folks to know he’s secretly sappy.”

              “He’s gonna come back, right?” Emory asked.  Angie nodded.

              “Yes,” she said.  “He will.” Lute’s heart sunk.

              She’s never goin’ to move on.

              “I think that’s enough story fer today,” Angie said briskly.  “Y’all have some homework, and I have some data to write up.”  The children grumbled, but gradually dispersed.  Once all four children were gone, Lute joined Angie on the couch. She was staring at the photo on the mantel of Stan, Angie, Danny, and Daisy during their first Halloween as a family. Stan and Angie were dressed as robbers, and the infant Danny and Daisy as sacks of money.

              “Banjey, it’s not right to get their hopes up like that,” Lute said in an undertone.

              “I know you don’t think he’ll come back,” Angie said softly.  “But I know my husband.  He’d do anything to come back to his fam’ly.  It’s not gettin’ their hopes up to let ‘em know that one day, their dad will be back.  It’s preparin’ ‘em fer the future.”  She stood. “I really do have research to work on.” She walked away.  Lute sighed.

              “Learn to keep yer darn mouth shut, McGucket,” he said to himself.  He stood up and walked over to the mantel to pick up the Halloween picture.  In the background, he could just make out Ford with his back turned, helping Tate go trick-or-treating.

              If there was anyone who could bring Stan back, it’d be Stanford.  And if there was anyone who could survive alternate realities to come back home to his family, it’d be Stan.  He set the picture back on the mantel.  Maybe I should try bein’ optimistic like Angie fer once.  It’d sure be better than assuming my brother’s dead.  He let out a sigh.

              “Somethin’ to ruminate on,” he said quietly.  He turned away from the mantel.

              Now, back to the dishes.

[gosecretscribbles]

Stanuary 2019 Week 1 Bonding

“GET BACK HERE!”

“AAAGH!”

Stan chased after the tourist, brandishing his cane in one hand and the crossbow in the other.  The guy had tried to pay for his tour with a baby goat!  What did he think this was, Medieval Europe?!  Goats were not currency!  Goats weren't even profitable!  They just ate, pooped, and stank!

Stan thought he was in decent shape for an old fat guy, but the skinny farmer sprinted to his truck like all the tax collectors in the state were on his heels.  Plus that stupid baby goat was prancing around Stan and tripping him up.  Even so, Stan nearly made it to the truck when the farmer hit the gas.  The engine roared to life and dirt sprayed in Stan's face.  He skidded to a stop, coughing and scraping at his eyes.  

There was a thunk and Stan looked down.  The kid had keeled right over, all four legs straight out.  

“Oh, great, now he's dead!  YOU PAID ME WITH A DEAD GOAT, YA MORON!”

He swung up the crossbow and fired, but the truck hit a bend in the road.  Instead of popping a tire the bolt just hit the license plate and jarred it loose.  It fell off with a noisy rattle as the truck swung around the curve and disappeared, the other goats' bleating quickly fading from earshot.  

Swearing a blue streak under his breath, Stan went to retrieve the license plate.  Never know when you'd need one to throw the cops off your trail.  

Now he had to decide what to do with a dead baby goat.  The next tourist bus wasn't coming until noon, so he had about an hour to figure it out.  He didn't really want to stuff it, but he couldn't think of anything else to do with it.  Hey, maybe he could make his new mechanic do it instead – what was his name, Zeus or something? Sure, that'd work.  He just had to get the goat out of the way until Soup came back from school.  

He reached the goat and bent down to grab its leg.

“Baa-aa-aah.”

“AAH!”

He jumped back.  The goat's ears and tail twitched, then it rolled over and looked up at him.  

“Baa-aa-aah,” it repeated insistently.

“Yeesh, give me a heart attack already,” Stan growled, one hand over his chest.  “If you're looking for food, you're lying in it.  Grass, meet goat.  Goat, meet lunch.  Now stay outta the way, I got a business to run.”

“Baa-aa-aah.”

He went inside to work on more pun-related exhibits for the museum. Those wax figures had brought in a ton of money when he'd first set them up, but business had gone dry a week ago, and he needed another money maker and fast.  Those portal parts didn't come cheap.

The goat bleated from the porch for a solid twenty minutes, then he heard it clopping away.  Stan snorted, then went back to gluing googly eyes on a plastic octopus.  Maybe eight eyes, so it was like a combo spider-octopus?  Yeah, that'd work.  Now he just had to think of a catchy name for it.  Or maybe Octo-spider?  Arachnipus?  Octo-Eyes? Hmm, maybe that'd work...

Stan came out of the Shack in time to greet the next tourist bus.  He didn't see the kid anywhere, so many the dumb thing had wandered into the woods.  Perfect, one less thing to worry about.  He put everyone in the carts and drove 'em out to see random stuff in the forest, like the Tree of the Screaming Tourist.  He told them the eerily twisted bark was an actual tourist whose spirit had been sucked into the tree when he refused to pay for the tour.  (Everyone was suddenly very eager to pay him for the tour.  And tip him.  Generously.)

He drove 'em back and waved them into the bus.  Then he headed back to the Gift Shop.  His pockets were practically bulging with cash.  He definitely had to use that Screaming Tree story more often!  Even if it kind of freaked him out.  Wait, hadn't Ford's journal's mentioned something about –

“Hi, Mr. Pines!”

“AAH!”

He jumped back for the second time that day, glaring down at Deuce, who was standing innocently in the doorway of the Gift Shop.

“Geez, kid, make some noise when you move!”

“Sure, Mr. Pines!  By the way, I didn't know you had a pet goat!”

Deuce moved aside.  That dumb stinky nuisance was sitting on the floor, legs sprawled everywhere, its floppy tail thumping like a puppy's.  

“Baa-aa-aah!”

He groaned.  “That's not a pet.  And get it out of here! Smells like a moldy haystack, and I got some new attractions I need to make for the museum.”  He stepped over the goat and strode to the craft counter in the corner.  “Octo-Eyes was a huge hit! Taxidermic monstrosities are gonna make me a fortune!”

“Couldn't we make this little guy an attraction too?” Moose asked behind him. “I bet you could even give him a punny name!  Like 'Cutebacabra'!”

Stan stopped and turned around.  The goat looked up at him with those weird sideways pupils.  

“Yeah,” Stan said slowly, holding up both hands to frame the little moneymaker.  “Yeah, the Cutebacabra!  Glue on some fake wings, coupla cow legs – maybe some red paint drooling from its mouth! Ha, I love it!”

Bruce beamed at him.  “Thanks, Mr. Pines!”

“Kid, gather every spare stuffed limb I've got and a ton of crazy glue. Then go set up a display for him in the museum.  This creepy cuteness is gonna be our next main attraction!”  

Exactly forty-three minutes later, Stan was showing a new set of tourists into the museum.  He'd already taken them to the Tree of the Screaming Tourist, and now he was gonna milk 'em dry.  Zeus had rigged up a little stage and a red velvet curtain for Chompers.  With a single grand gesture, Stan pulled it aside.  Instantly the crowd went 'AAAAH!' and 'AWWW!'

He grinned and gestured grandly.  Sluice had made it a little vest and glued on every spare animal limb they had.  “That's right, folks, the rare baby Cutebacabra!  The only one in the world!  Pictures are five – no, fifty dollars each!”

Immediately tourists stuffed good ol' Grants into his hands and snapped pictures, flashes going off in every direction.

The goat's eyes went wide and it keeled over, legs straight out.  

A kid in the crowd screamed.  “OH MY GOD IT'S DEAD!”

“WE'RE CURSED!”

“RUN FOR YOUR LIIIIFE!”

“Oh come on!” Stan shouted.  He didn't bother chasing the tourists – he'd pick-pocketed them while they had their eyes on the goat, and he knew they didn't have even two bucks left among the lot of them.  But why in the name of Paul Bunyan did the goat keep playing dead?!  If it had done that two seconds earlier it would've cost him all those picture fees!

“I'm back with the goat feed, Mr. Pines,” Puce said, poking his head into the Museum.  He was dragging a forty-pound bag of feed.  “You didn't give me any money, so I had to pay Mr. Sprotts with three hours of child labor.”  Then he caught sight of the goat, turned white, and dropped the bag.  “SWEET MOSES HE'S DEAD?!”

“No he's not,” Stan scowled.  He reached out and poked the goat with a foot.  The goat twitched, then flipped upright and started gnawing on one of the cow hoofs taped to its back.  “See?”

The goat bleated and head-butted him.

“Aw, he likes you!” Spruce said.

“Ugh, get it offa me.  The darn thing's defective!”  He paused.  “Then again, if I could get it to do it on command...”  Imagine the look on people's faces if he walked his goat into traffic, then made them think they'd hit his Prize German-Australian Longhair Goat!  They'd pay through the nose just to keep him from suing them!

“Eh, he probably just has that myotonic thing.  Or maybe it was myopia?  I always get those two mixed up.”

“Mia-what?”

The gumdrop shrugged.  “Myotonia.  Mr. Sprotts told me about it.  You know how people get startled, and then they freeze up?  It's like that, but for goats.  And it lasts for longer, like their muscles seize up or something.  It doesn't hurt them or anything,” he added, “but it is a genetic thing.  Mr. Sprotts said a lot of his goats got it from the toxic waste dump.”

“So he's being literally scared stiff?”

Moose laughed.  “Good one, Mr. Pines!”

The goat had finished chewing on the cow hoof and proceeded to gnaw on Stan's pantleg.

“Whoops!” Soup pulled the goat away, then set it down in front of the bag of feed and tore it open.  “There ya go, little Gompers!  This'll taste waaaay better.  Trust me, I tried it!”

“Baa-aa-aah!”

Stan watched the goat eating.  “Hey Swoose.”

“It's 'Soos', Mr. Pines!”

“Whatever. You're sayin' the goat just keeps getting scared?”

“Yep!”

“'Cuz it's genetic?”

“Uh, I guess so?”

“Well NOT ON MY WATCH!  After one day of Stan’s Scare-A-Thon Therapy Session, this goat’s gonna be so desensitized it’ll never faint again!”

First, Stan got Moose to wire his satellite to pirate-stream horror movies from Japan.  (Watching these also traumatized Puce, which Stan found hilarious.)  Next Stan hired a clown (who he did not pay) and then practice his jump scares (which made Soos scream so loud it scared off all the birds in a three-mile radius).  After that, Stan converted the Museum into a haunted house, complete with sheet-ghosts, cobwebs, and a looped sound track of death metal, complete with screaming.  He shoved Gompers in and locked it tight.  

He didn't realize until he went back three hours later that he'd also locked the child labor. Moose had collapsed on the floor in the middle of the room – but Gompers was stumbling around bleating to himself.  It didn't look like he'd played dead at all!

Stan grinned.  “Alright, now we're makin' progress!”

“That's great, Mr. Pines,” Bruce gasped.  “You should – oh sweet burrito angels – you should totally save this stuff for Summerween.”

“Summer-what?”

“Summerween!” Soup struggled to sit up and collapsed.  “It's – it's this holiday where – oh man I'm having a panic attack.”

Gompers clonked over, bleated, and started chewing on Soos' face.

Stan roared with laughter and slapped his knee.  “Ha!  This is goat's the best!  Alright, Floose –”

“Soos.”

“Get ready for the main event.  Something even scarier than Japanese horror movies or that weird mold growing in the corner.”

Sue sat up.  “Okay, but if I don't come back, tell my grandma I love her and give all my stuff to charity.”

“The Mystery Shack appreciates your donations!”

Night was falling and the full moon was out.  Luckily Soup had fixed the golf cart right down to the headlights, so they trundled along the beaten road in relative safety.  Gompers and Soos were in the backseat, the kid's arms wrapped around Gompers like it was a really smelly plushy.  He grinned.  When he was done that goat would be almost as hardcore as Stan himself!

When they got close enough, Stan stopped the truck, hustled around to the trunk and started handing a stuff to Soup.  

“Okay. Run ahead and put these all around the tree ahead.  The batteries are all dying so the light'll flicker all weird and creepy.  This one has a full battery.  Lie down at the bottom of the tree, and then when I give the signal, shine it right at the bark.”

“Sure, Mr. Pines!  Which tree is this again?”

“The one with a human soul was trapped in its bark writhing in agony!”

“Ok!”

Stan gave him a shove and then hustled back to the cart, where Gompers was currently chewing on the back seat.  He hopped back in the driver's seat, waited three seconds and then drove slowly up to the Tree of the Screaming Tourist.  It was hard to see the shape of the messed-up bark, which would make it even creepier when Zeus lit up the flashlights.  

He parked, took his portable radio out of the trunk, and then grabbed Gompers.  He set the goat down in front of the tree, backed up, and hovered his finger over the “play” button.

“Okay, Sluice...NOW!”

From the radio, a hollow scream filled the air and the whole tree lit up with a flickering yellow light.  

“Ha! That's perfect!”

“Baa-aa-aah,” said Gompers.

He grinned, but before he could tell Zoop to step it up, the lights suddenly flickered.  They turned orange, then red.  The radio suddenly crackled with static and he dropped it as electricity singed his hand.  The bark of the tree started moving and a huge ghost-y thing ballooned out of it, just a massive face made of fire and fury. Stan backed up with a shout.  Several tree branches snapped and started bending like spider arms.  One of them swung around from the back of the tree – and a certain pear-shaped mechanic was dangling from its twigs.  

He waved.  “Hi, Mr. Pines!  I'm a hostage!”

The spirit's yellow eyes turned on him.  Its pupils went red. “YOOUUUUU!”

“AAH!”

He sprinted for the golf cart, but the spirit lashed out and smashed it with a bark-covered arm.  He grabbed Gompers and held it up.  

“JUST TAKE THE GOAT, TAKE THE GOAT!”

“Do you know how long my spirit has been stuck in that tree, completely alone, just listening to those stupid squirrel-squids chatter about acorns and sushi?  And after years of waiting for you to come back, you finally bring people to visit me – and you tell every last one of them how terrifying I am, so they'll never!  Come!  BACK!”  The face swelled until it blotted out the sky.  Its heat seared his skin. “AM I SCARY ENOUGH FOR YOU NOW, STAN PINES?!”

He screamed and tried to run, dropping the kid, but she swooped down and grabbed him up.  She lifted him higher and higher, squeezing him so tightly he could feel his bones creak.  He could barely breathe!  He had a funny feeling he wasn't the Stan Pines she was talking about, but he couldn't get enough air to tell her that!

“Um, excuse me?  Ms. Tree Spirit?”

They both looked at Soos, who was wiggling one of his chubby little hands to get the spirit's attention.  

“Hrrrrr,” she growled.

He smiled.  “Oh, I'm a him, actually!  Although I do have a feminine softness.  It sounds like you're mad because you've been lonely for so long, right?  But Mr. Pines has been bringing people to see you all the time!”

“They are TERRIFIED of me!”

“Not everyone.”  He pointed.

Gompers was standing on the ground below, absently chewing on a fallen stick. The ghost growled and moved closer, her face distorting until her burning yellow eyes were the size of whole cars, and her face was a gaping maw dripping with reddish flame, mere inches from the goat's puny face.

“DO YOU FEAR ME, LITTLE GOAT?!” she boomed, and her voice was so loud and deep the trees nearby actually shivered and creaked on their roots.

Gompers blinked.  

“Baa-aa-aah,” he said, and resumed his chewing.  

“Hmm.”

“Good goat,” Stan managed.  The spirit scowled and squeezed a little harder.

“But this is not what we agreed to. I don't want people to be afraid of me!”

“But scariness is part of the fun!” Soos said earnestly.  “Plus it's a fun way to spend time together!  My dad never hangs out with me, but Mr. Pines and I watched a horror movie marathon.  And even though I wet myself a couple of times, I wouldn't trade that time for the world.  I'll bet the families who visited you remember how frightening and fun it was, and they'll probably come back to see you again next year!”

Stan could see the spirit thinking it over.  

“Baa-aa-aah,” added the goat.

The spirit snorted and gave Stan a hard look, those ruby peepers staring right into his soul.  “You will keep your promise, Stan Pines?  You will not leave me to suffer in isolation?”

“Guarantee it,” he wheezed.  “Main attraction.  Every tour.  Can't breathe.”

“Very well.  But if you break your promise one more time, the woods will never be safe for you again.”

She let go of Soos and Stan, who hit the forest floor with a dull thump. The spirit withdrew into the bark, lifting her arms to become branches again, while the bark of the trunk twisted and rippled back to its previous shape.  Stan waited for a second, but the tree didn't so much as twitch.  

He sprang to his feet and scooped up the goat.  “Ha!  You did it!  You beautiful monster, you really did it!  You looked that tree-thing straight in the big yellow eye and didn't even twitch!  I bet this goat could handle the frigging apocalypse without batting an eye!”

“Probably!” Soos agreed cheerfully.  

Stan smirked, then mashed Soos' head in a noogie.  “Ya didn't do too bad yourself, there, ya midget.”

“Really?!”

“Uh, are those actual stars in your eyes?”

“For you, Mr. Pines, I would go full-on anime.”

“Don't make this weird, kid.  Now let's see if the golf cart's drivable. I'm allergic to all this bonding and I left my old-man tonic in the Shack.”

“Soda isn't tonic, Mr. Pines.”

“Says you.”

“Baa-aa-aah.”

A/N

“A myotonic goat, otherwise known as the fainting goat, is a domestic goat whose muscles freeze for roughly 3 seconds when the goat feels panic. Though painless, this generally results in the animal collapsing on its side. The characteristic is caused by a hereditary genetic disorder called myotonia congenita. When startled, younger goats will stiffen and fall over. Older goats learn to spread their legs or lean against something when startled, and often they continue to run about in an awkward, stiff-legged shuffle.”

- from a-source-I-forgot-to-save-the-website-for

Also Nour386 came up with the idea about why the Tree was screaming!  I had a different idea but this one is so much better!!!

@nour386

[stanford-da-dragon]

“Week 3: Forgiveness

Abit late on posting! Been a hectic week. Between working doubles at work and car shopping. Progress on art (And Story) is kinda slow... But I am finally finished with this! 

Week 4 will be late. But I will have it done!

As aslways. Story under Cut~

Coffee a Day keeps Bill away~ Ko-Fi Link Here!

A Better World.

The past 48 hours as been hectic. Coming into another Dimension that is actually an parallel of Earth. One he come to find out and dubbed as “A Better World” Where in this world. His twin took Journal 1 and left with it. He himself wasn’t pushed into the Portal. And here he was seen as an Celebrity Star of Science!

He was excited to see this world. To meet his Parallel Self. But was stopped by an Parallel Version of Fiddleford. His old friend. Taken down by the security guards. Of course his instinct was gonna kick in. He was being captured. Held down. His body told him to fight. And fight he did.

He fought all the way to the glass cells where he was tossed into one of them. Not caring or noticing how the cell next to him was dark. He stood up quickly and banged on the glass growling, snarling to be let out demanding for answers. 

The security guards left to let him fume. Ford growled as he looked around. They stripped him of his cloak. His weapons. He was only left to wear his sweater and pants. Pacing. Ford grumbled as his mind ran wild from him. Again not realizing the cell next to him seemed to be mimicking his pacing. 

The soft “clacking” sound of his boots was his only company. As he paced. He was mostly jealous now. Angry. His thoughts wondered back to home. His home. He growled thinking of his brother. Thinking how if he just listened he could have this all. If only...

Head snapping up. There was an loud “THUD” sound coming from the darken cell next to his. Frowning Ford as stopped and looked to the darken cell. When suddenly another loud “THUD” came. Rattling the whole glass wall. He didn’t see much other then a grey blurred thing hitting the glass and quickly disappeared into the darkness. 

Walking slowly to the other cell. The loud THUDs keep getting louder and hitting harder on the glass. I saw something black pace by this time. As he got closer he peered inside. Only to be greeted with glowing yellow slittled eyes. 

Ford screamed in surprised, “BILL!?”

But no reply came. Only the still quiet of those eyes watching. They floated to the air it seemed. Being about 6 feet above ground. A deep rumbling growl came from the other cell. Ford had backed away from the cell as it started to illuminate itself revealing the creature that lay inside. Glaring at Ford. 

Ford looked to the creature. It’s fur was black. Grey undertones with darker black markings. The once beautiful feathers been clipped away keeping this creature grounded. Two friller like feathers grew out from the clipped wings with a single eye on them. Blood red on these feathers plus on the 3 on his hind legs. Ford gulped as he looked to the once pawerful tail seeing 3 spikes protruding out sharply. Ford winced when seeing the tip of the tail. It was missing quite alot of fur on the tip. Along of being scared up. It seemed this creature had taken up the habit of chewing his tail pulling out the fur. 

Looking back to the face. It was very horse like in shape. Along with the body. If not being only skin and bones. The eyes creep him out though.. Black as darkness. Only letting that of the yellow slitted pupils to pop out more. Maroon colored horns came out of it’s head. Two ears folded back. One ear having an tag with: Experiment 69 on it.. Grey main. A scar over the nose like a ring..

But those eyes... Ford stared at those eyes. They were Bill’s! But this dragon before him was his friend! Despite the huge change. Ford still recognized him. He gulp as fear took hold. He stared at those eyes. Guilt started to build up as nothing registered in those yellow eyes. Only thing he saw in them was Hate. Hatred, Pain, Sorrow... Sadness.. But mostly hate as the Dragon continued to glare at Ford.

“Stanford?”

Flinching the dragon backed up and started head butting the glass. Using everything in his might to break through. Ford watched as the Dragon continued to headbutt the glass wall. Blood started to show from each hit. A black substance starting to form around the floor. Ford cringed at the sight. He winced when the glass cracked. Another hit. More blood. Ford watched in horror as his former friend continued to ram himself into the glass. 

“Stanford stop!!” Ford felt tears prickly at the corner of his eyes. He looked to his friend. The dragon swayed blood and black goop coming from his head eyes and mouth. The dragon huffed as he reared back and slammed into the glass again and again. Cracks growing wider. 

Ford closed his eyes once more. What did his Parallel Self did to this dragon?! Why was he caged up!? Why?! Afterall this dragon done for him. This Ford betrayed his friendship and bond to this Dragon by locking him up!? Ford’s eyes snapped open as glass shards flew by his face. Looking forward and pressing his back against the glass wall behind him. He watched..

The dragon stalked out of the cell. Watching Ford closely. He growled. Stalking his cornered prey. Ford watched on in horror. He didn’t have his weapons.. BUt he didn’t want to hurt his friend.. Even if this is just a Parallel version. The dragon lunged and everything went dark....

A gasp! Shooting up out of bed a cry escaped his throat as he sat up panting sweat glistened on his forehead. His glasses askew on his face. He huffed trying to calm himself his heart racing as his hand rested on his chest. But not where his heart is. Clenching at the red sweater tightly at his shoulder. Abit of skin was shown and under that cloth of his clothing bared to the world to see was a 6 long gashes going from his shoulder down to his chest. 

Ford gasping still looked around alert. Seeing that he is back in his own room. And not a cell eased his mind alittle. Sighing finally calmed down. He looked over seeing the time.. 4:40...

Welp... He’s gonna be awake now.. Sighing Ford got up putting on his boot and looked around.. Fixing his sweater he got up rubbing his head as he left. He thought back to his nightmare and frowned. He made his way to the kitchen and brewed him some coffee. As he leaned against the counter waiting. 

His thoughts ran wild from him. He couldn’t chase the image of his friend as an Abyssal Dragon. A Dutch Angel Dragon tainted and touched by pure darkness. Caused by Despair, Pain, Sorrow, any negative emotion and energy. He crossed his arms frowning. His shoulder ached. The wound as far healed into a scar. But a reminder nonetheless as what could’ve been. 

Thinking then. He was jealous and angry at his twin. But now... He’s glad for it. Cause if that’s how that world turned out.. How would he... No.. Shaking his head. Ford chased those thoughts away. Stanford was his friend. They’re bonded. He would never do that to him.. Or so he thought. Growling. Ford stood as his coffee finished brewing. He made his cup and made himself outside to clear his mind. He don’t need these thoughts. Don’t need to be thinking them.

Getting outside. Ford sat on the couch where he sipped at his coffee.. Staring at the liquid. Once again. His mind ran wild without him. He sat there remembering the times Stanford had saved him. And where he in return had saved him. The dragon was always there for him when he needed him. And he was there for the dragon as well. Wasn’t he?

Thinking back Ford frowned and an old memory played in his head. At that time. Stanford saved him from getting lost in the woods. But instead of thanking him... He treated him as apart of his research.. When the bunker was made.. He even had the dragon down with some tests and had for a short time deemed him as an experiment. But quickly erased that title as Stanford gave a warning growl.. And the time when Ford himself turned his back on Stanford in his paranoia state of mind...

Ford frown deepened at the memories. Maybe he was destined to betray his friend’s Trust?  

Ford looked down to the hot beverage in his hands of which was shaking at the realization of his thoughts.

Stanford may have bonded with Stanley first. But Stan had insisted that the Dragon protect Ford. Stanford still watched over Stan during the 30 years... But also came in search for him.

Ford closed his eyes. Stanford still came for him. Even after turning his back on him.. Still trusted him. Still loved him.  Another Realization hit  him. Stanley.. Ford blinked, he done the same to Stan  and when he needed him most. He came for him. Sighing. Maybe he was too harsh with Stan. He should try and talk to him.

Ford took another sip of his drink and then leaned back on the couch. As he did.. Another memory hit him.

Memory.

In the mindscape Ford ran up on the path of books and journals to reach the high pitch of laughter. As he got to the top he glared out to the yellow triangle in front of him.

"BILL! You lied to me?! Where does that portal really lead too!?"

The yellow Triangle, Bill turned to him and laughed, “Oh oh! Looks like Mr. Brainiac finally got smart! Let’s just say when that Portal finishes charging up. Your dimension gonna learn how to Party! Right guys!” 

Laughter and giggling was heard from the rip rift Bill had to his friends. Bill turned to him with glee. 

“NO! I’ll stop you! I’LL SHUT IT DOWN!!” Ford yelled.

Bill just glared at him, “A deal is a deal Sixer! You can’t stop the bridge between our worlds. But it’ll be fun to watch you try! Cute even!”

Ford growled, “I won’t let you Bill..” 

“Oh? But what if I already did? After all your little Dragon friend seemed to never told you of his ability~” 

“Dragon..? Stanford?” Ford looked to Bill shocked eyes wide. He couldn’t mean that Stanford has been working along with Bill this whole entire time? “No! You’re lying!”  “Am I? Have you ever wondered where he disappears to? Besides the realms he reigns in? That bright light you sometimes see.. Think about it Fordsy! Your ANGEL Dragon already done what you cannot!” Bill laughed.

Ford frown. Being betrayed by Bill was one thing.. But by his companion? He felt hurt. More then ever. Ford took a step back. “No... I won’t believe you Bill!”

“Try as you might Sixer. But Stanford is a Dimension Hopper. Not only that. Well... I’ll show ya!” Bill clapped his hands as Ford’s surroundings changed. Gravity Falls was in utter chaos. But in the middle was Stanford! Or... So he thought.. The dragon had the same shape and look to Stanford. Same markings. Only.. This Stanford was Greys and Blacks three spikes on his tail torn tattered wings two frillers with an uncanny eye on them. But his eyes... Were not emerald green... But a sickess yellow with slits in them.

The dragon turned to Ford and hissed at him before the Abyss Realm swallowed him up. Black tendrils spreading about the land...

Ford blinked his eyes. It was at that moment in the memory where he had woken up from the nightmare.. And then proceeded to lose his sanity and trust in the dragon. He remembered when he saw Stanford again. He appeared papping him like always. But it had spooked him to the point that he turned and shot his crossbow at the dragon. 

Hearing the yowl of pain still haunts him as well. But the look will never leave... Ford was half gone screaming at the Dragon. Calling him Bill and to leave! Turning his back on the dragon that day. Little did he know. The Dragon disappeared for 6 months after that. Never to be seen again... Unknowingly that Stanford had Dimension Hopped and was fighting Bill for those 6 months..

Looking to the tree line staring blankly at the deep dark woods. Stanford has been gone for a few days... Where could he have be- “CHIRP!” 

“Argh!” Jumping up dropping his coffee Ford reached for his blaster as he stood alert and turned towards the sound. He was greeted with worried emerald green eyes that belonged to Stanford.. Ford eased seeing that it was his dragon friend. But guilt kicked in.. He almost done it again. 

Stanford.. Sensing his friends stress climbed on the porch making it creak loudly. Ford looked to him and smiled slightly at the Dragon. He stepped off the porch and Stanford followed him. Head butting his shoulder. Ford chuckled and patted his neck. He smiled as the dragon chirped again. But as quickly the smile came it went. Frowning. 

Ford stopped and turned to Stanford. Who looked to him confused. Ford looked to the dragon. At his missing ear. All the scars. And the brand that Bill had left on him. Frowning remembering the times that Ford wasn’t a friend towards Stanford when he was. Ford looked down and moved forward suddenly hugging the Dragon’s neck. 

“Stanford... Buddy.. I’m so sorry..! I just realized... I wasn’t a good friend.. Or the best caretaker. You’e done alot for me. You protected me.. More then once! You were always there when I need a ear to vent to. A shoulder to lean on. And not once have I returned the favor!” Ford buried his face into the dragon’s fur. “I promise.. I’ll make it up to you.. I’ll be better... I’ll...” 

Confused by the notion of his friend. Stanford sat there confused ears lowering hearing his friend whispering “Sorry” against him. Frowning.. The dragon rested his head on top of Ford’s and placed his paw on his friend’s back as he hugged Ford back. 

Ford hiccuped and chuckled, “I guess this means you Forgive me? 

A chirp. 

“Thank you buddy..”

[invisibletinkerer]

Fic: 30 Seconds Later (chapter 11)

Chapter 1 – Chapter 2 – Chapter 3 – Chapter 4 – Chapter 5 – Chapter 6 – Chapter 7 – Chapter 8 – Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 - Chapter 12

Length: ~3700 words

AO3 Link

Stan had kinda hoped that Ford would be less twitchy after that breakdown, but no such luck. His young twin still seemed to think he was carrying the world on his shoulders and any kind of help was either a miracle or a trick. Like Stan wouldn’t – or shouldn’t – care about him after what’d happened so many years ago.

It wasn’t like he couldn’t relate, and that might be the worst part. This was Ford, but he was acting like life had kicked his ass to hell and back. In fact, Stan was starting to think that the reason his brother had asked him to go away with the journal thirty years ago had been because he simply hadn’t dared hope for anything more. Like real help with the real problem hadn’t even been on the chart. That was not a familiar feeling at all, hell no. And Stan himself had been tired and broke and expecting something completely different from his brother at the time. In the end he hadn’t done a thing right – not until last night.

So yeah. Ford might have been ready to die, and Stan might have almost granted that wish thirty years ago – but he wasn’t dead. He was back now, and he wasn’t going to die any time soon, not if Stan had any say in the matter. Which he did. Ford himself must have started to get that, what with that strong reaction to the barrier, but maybe it’d take more time to get the message through.

At least he did eat the split pea soup Stan heated up, and he didn’t try to be sick again. In fact, his face gradually relaxed into something resembling contentment. Stan watched him and found the tension in his own shoulders ease up a little, too. He’d saved Ford from the goddamn portal against all odds. He could save him from this, too. So Ford was at rock bottom? The only way forward was up.

 Ford insisted on going down to the basement for the rift after the meal, but the nod he gave when Stan told him he wasn’t going alone might actually have been grateful. At the very least, he didn’t seem to mind.

“You sure that rift isn’t safer down here, though?” Stan had to wonder on the way down. “Secret door, coded locks, elevator – it’s not like anyone would be able to just snatch it.”

“Bill could,” Ford said. He was standing straight-backed in the elevator, hands behind his back, looking more like a soldier than a scientist. Not a good look on him, but better than ‘paranoid hollow-eyed madman’, which was still lurking right below the surface. “Possessing me or anyone else, locks wouldn’t stop him. However, the barrier will.”

“I guess that makes sense. But at least down here, no poor sod is gonna stumble on it and break it by accident.”

Ford turned his head and looked at him warily. “Do you think that’s likely?”

“Eh. Probably not.” Stan grimaced and rubbed the back of his head. “But it’s still in a glass jar, and believe me when I say I know how easily those things fall from a shelf and shatter. I sell snow globes.”

Ford shuddered. “I won’t put it on a shelf, then.”

The elevator let them out on the bottom floor, and for once Stan walked out into the control room without the oppressive weight of decades worth of despair and perseverance hanging over him. He was done here, and it almost surprised him how hard it still was to believe. Ford was here, alive, right next to him.

Even in the dim basement light Stan could see Ford’s jaws clench tighter as he looked around upon his own decades-old machinery. It occurred to him that they could take a sledgehammer to it – wasn’t like anyone needed it anymore. He wasn’t sure what Ford would think of the idea – might be too soon for that – but it’d sure feel good, bashing the whole system to smithereens. Besides, it was a danger to reality itself, so there was that.

The work desk still had that memory erasing gun as well as one of the journals – number two – left lying openly on top. Ford picked the book up and hid it in his coat pocket before he bent down to take the rift out from the drawer underneath, but something stopped him mid-movement. For a second he didn’t move at all, then he slowly straightened his back, staring at the memory gun.

Stan tensed reflexively, ready to defend himself if he had to. Last night Ford had gotten it into his messed-up mind to shoot him with that thing, after all.

“Stanley,” Ford said quietly, still facing the gun and not Stan. “I just realized that Bill can be defeated.” There was a weird tremble in his voice, hard to tell if it was fear or joy.

Stan’s eyes widened as the words sank in. “Really?”

“Yes, really!” Ford put his hands on the gun, still not turning around. “It’s too important for insincerity. I know—I know how to defeat him!”

“Hah!” Stan said, not sure what else to say, but feeling a grin creep up his cheeks. “I knew you’d figure something out once that big brain of yours was back to working order.” A total mess or no, Ford was nothing if not clever. “What’s the plan, then?”

“I’ll need your help.”

“Told ya a million times, Sixer. You have it.” Stan hoped that it would finally go through his brother’s thick skull. “So is it that memory eraser thing? Bill’s vulnerable to that?”

“Yes!” Ford said, whirling around to face Stan, both hands clenched tightly around the barrel of the gun. “He is! If I’m right in my assumptions on how he enters a human mind, he would have to be.” His eyes were practically burning with fierce determination.

Stan felt the cogs in his mind spin as he started to realize what Ford meant. “So you could erase him from inside someone’s mind and he would be gone for good? Dead? An ex-demon?”

“Exactly!”

“That’s amazing!” Stan actually laughed this time. A weapon Ford hadn’t had access to thirty years ago that Dipper just happened to have stolen from the Blind Eye guys just happened to be able to solve Ford’s demon problem. Just as Dipper had just happened to have found one of the lost journals and lead him to the other, giving him the final piece necessary to open the portal. He should tell the kid how incredible he was at some point, even if it would bloat his head.

“I know,” Ford said, smiling slightly even as his knuckles whitened around the gun. “It’s too simple.” He paused. “We won’t have the element of surprise for long, though. He could come and look through my mind at any moment. We have to hurry, but I have all I need to summon him quickly right above on the second basement level.” He waved Stan aside and started walking back to the elevator.

Stan touched his arm to stop him. “Wait.”

“What?” The word was curt, and Ford’s arm tense like a steel wire. The look on his face was just as scared and determined as when he’d insisted on summoning Bill to test the barrier earlier, but he didn’t need to feel like that.

“You don’t have to bring him back to your mind, Poindexter. I could probably—"

“He is my mistake, Stanley,” Ford interrupted tersely. “I’ll do this.” He looked at Stan like the matter was too obvious to discuss.

Stan huffed, but backed down. “Fine.” Of course Ford would be stubborn about doing it himself, never mind if it would be more painful for him. But in the end it didn’t really matter – not if it worked the way Ford said it would. If the demon could be killed once and for all, there’d be nothing stopping Ford from recovering anymore. He could get his life back. A small shiver reminded Stan that he had no idea what that would be like in the long run, but he pushed the thought away, just like he’d had for years. Right now, Ford still needed him.

“So what is it that we need to do, exactly?” he asked as Ford paused in front of the elevator. He got the gist, but he’d rather have it spelled out.

Ford took a deep breath, then turned around again and handed the gun to Stan. Hands empty, he ran one of them through his hair before speaking. “Can I trust you to pull the trigger?” he asked grimly.

“Of course,” Stan said immediately, though it sounded a little morbid when his brother put it like that. Ford relaxed slightly at this, though – and yeah, pulling the trigger was the cincher. Even if Ford had had one of these weirdo mind guns thirty years ago he wouldn’t have been able to fire it at his own possessed self. Stan was going to pick up that slack, that’s what he was here for. He turned the gun around in his hands. “All I gotta do is to put in what’s gonna be erased on that screen and then fire, right?”

“Correct.” Ford nodded. “You’ll need to do it fast, as soon as you can verify by my eyes that he’s in my mind. If he catches on and leaves it will all be for nothing.”

“Right.” If he shot Ford and the demon wasn’t there – well, that’d probably erase Ford’s memories of Bill. Which might be a relief for him at first, but Stan could only imagine what kind of mess that would cause when the demon came back. “And his name is ‘Bill Cipher’?”

Ford blinked.

“It’s probably better if you put it in. Don’t wanna risk misspelling it.”

“Stanley, no, you’re—you misunderstand.” Ford shook his head, looking warily at Stan. “This weapon erases memories. Parts of a person’s mind. Bill is a foreign entity, not a part of my mind at all.”

“Yeah, so he’s a different person that can be erased without touching your own memories, right?” Stan said, suddenly suspecting that wasn’t right at all.

Ford flexed his hands in apparent frustration. “No, no. He’s not a ‘person’ at all. If you target ‘Bill Cipher’, all that will go is my memories of him, and then I’d be defenseless! He himself will move over to some other part of my mind and be perfectly safe from the purge.”

Stan’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t like the sound of that. “Then what would we have to put in to get rid of him?”

Ford looked Stan straight in the eyes. “Everything.”

Stan dropped the gun with a clatter. He couldn’t possibly have heard that right. “Everything?” he repeated, too calmly for the way his guts were twisting themselves into knots inside him. He should have known better than to think that Ford’s plan would be any kind of acceptable – he was a mess – but that one word still stung like a slap to the face.

“Yes!” Ford clenched his fists at his sides. “Everything! If my whole mind burns while Bill is inside, he’ll be trapped. He’ll burn with it! He’ll be dead!”

“You’re—” Stan swallowed, taking a step back without thinking. “You’re asking me to kill you. After all this—all this time. I brought you back, Stanford, and you’re asking me to kill you.”

“I—” Ford stopped, and Stan thought he could see his young brother’s shoulders tremble. “Not in the technical sense.”

“I don’t care about the technical sense! You’d be gone!”

“Yes, and that’s for the better!” Ford’s face twisted in anger. “Whatever is left of me will most likely be a better brother to you! That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

Stan flinched. All he’d wanted for thirty years was Stanford back alive. He’d accomplished that, and the obvious next goal was to have him free from demonic shit. A better brother? Yeah, sure, he’d dreamed of recovering the twin relationship they used to have, but even at his most bitter, he’d never have wanted to rewrite his brother. “Not like that, Poindexter!” he yelled.

“Then what do you want with me? My life isn’t going to erase your mistakes, Stanley!” He broke off and pointed a finger at Stan’s chest, coming closer and lowering his voice. “My death could erase mine.”

That hit a bit close to home. “There has to be some—”

“Is validating your misspent thirty years worth sacrificing the world, Stanley?”

“There has to be some other way!”

Ford took a step backwards, hitting the wall, his face tensing into something that reeked of fear again. “You told me to trust you. You kept repeating that you’d help me. You never meant that, did you? I should have known. No one means it.”

“I meant it, Stanford! I—”

“So will you keep your word and pull the trigger?”

That was manipulation, but Ford’s face was desperate, cornered in more than the literal way. “I would,” Stan said, “If it didn’t mean taking you down with him!”

Ford smashed a fist into the wall with a thud. “We can kill him, Stanley!” he said. “End the threat once and for all! But you don’t want that. You want to keep me like a trophy until Bill figures out some way to get to the rift, and you’ll feel good about causing the apocalypse because at least you didn’t hurt your brother the one time it would have done some good to do so!”

Stan’s blood ran cold. His mouth felt dry. That wasn’t fair, but when was anything ever fair? Ford was giving him a choice between killing him and betraying him, but Stan wasn’t sure he could have done what Ford asked even if he’d wanted to.

“How about this,” he said eventually, his stunned mind finally reaching the third choice – the simple solution. “I’ll summon him. You fire the gun, erase my mind, kill him. There, it’s done.” He crossed his arms, the corners of his mouth twisting into a half smile. There was a certain kind of peace to this decision. A bit of closure, only slightly marred by worry for the kids – but Soos would be able to send them on their way back to their parents. He’d finished the task that kept him going for all those years, and with the demon gone, Ford would really be saved. Mission accomplished.

Ford flinched hard. “I told you,” he said. “These are my mistakes. They’re not yours to suffer for.”

Stan shrugged. “I’ve made plenty of mistakes. Besides, this isn’t about atonement, it’s about saving the world, right? So. I’m not gonna kill you, but we can still get rid of the demon.”

Ford stared at him silently for several seconds, like there was something about this he couldn’t believe. Eventually he closed his eyes, took several deep breaths and swallowed visibly. When he finally spoke, his voice was cracking.

“No,” he said. “No, I can’t let you do that.”

Whatever Stan felt wasn’t relief, but something did make the corners of his eyes sting. Blinking, he started to realize that he’d taken for granted that Ford would be able to do it. “Well then,” he said, at a loss for anything else to say.

“Besides,” Ford mumbled, “We don’t have time to stand around arguing about it. You have to realize that—”

“No, you have to realize something!” Stan interrupted, finding his words again and sensing an opening. “We do have time! That’s why we got that barrier – so you can be safe from demons messing any more with your head while we think up a better plan. There has to be another way!”

Ford frowned, fists clenching again, glancing from Stan to the memory gun on the floor. “Take it,” he said.

“I’m not going to—”

“Just take it. Carry it with you. If Bill possesses me again, despite all precautions—if he threatens the rift, or the children—I ask you to fire it then. Only then.”

Stan bent down to pick up the gun, looking it over in his hands. Finally, he took a deep breath. “Alright.” He’d do anything to make sure it wouldn’t come to that, but if it did— “That’s fair.”

Ford’s shoulders slumped with a soft sigh. “Let’s get the rift.”

 They didn’t talk while going back upstairs, and Stan didn’t comment on Ford’s choice to put the jar with the rift underneath the couch. At least it was out of casual view or accidental touch. After putting the journal away in the liquor cabinet with the other two, Ford stared at the wall for a moment, obviously stifling a yawn.

“We should get your bedsheets over here,” Stan suggested, breaking the silence.

“I don’t—” Ford stopped, frowning slightly. “Yes, you’re right. The bedsheets I used last night. I’ll go get them.” He left the room immediately, leaving Stan to follow.

“We’ll get your clothes while we’re at it,” Stan continued, matching his young brother’s strides. “The ones I washed, at least. And put the ones you were wearing thirty years ago in the laundry. Get you settled in a bit, so you can go to bed when you feel like it. I bet there’s more stuff of yours in storage that you’d want to unpack, too. Sorry I can’t put a proper bed in your room right away, but the kids are using my only extras, and—”

Ford stopped and looked at him with a strangely blank expression. “Do you know where my magnet guns are?” he asked after a moment.

Stan blinked. Of course he wouldn’t be Ford if he didn’t ask for weird science shit before anything else. But then again, ‘magnet gun’ did ring a bell. “Would that be the gizmo that rips nails straight out of a wall from twenty yards away?”

“Yes, that’s it.”

He remembered that one. Left quite an impression, both in his mind and on the shack. “I think I know where I put those. Need ‘em right away?”

“No, but I’ll need them tomorrow. I’m going out to collect the substance that might seal the rift, and a magnet gun will be helpful in navigating that particular environment.”

Yeah, he’d mentioned something like that before, and hearing that it might be in a magnetic part of the forest was weird, but whatever. He’d hoped that Ford would be willing to rest for a few days before running off into the forest, but at least he wasn’t insisting on going right now, so Stan didn’t argue. Still, he wasn’t about to let Ford take the car and go off on his own just yet. “You’re not—”

He was interrupted. “Will you come with me?”

That was unexpected. Ford was looking at him intently, actually asking him to come along. “Yeah,” Stan said, the obvious answer, then grinned. “’Course I will.”

“Good.” Ford turned around and made it to the bedroom a few seconds later, no more comments. Stan still couldn’t stop grinning.

While Ford stiffly rolled up the bedsheets in a bundle – he didn’t bother to straighten them first, much less fold them, not that Stan would have done that either – Stan picked up Ford’s dirty laundry and threw it in the corner with some of his own stuff that he was planning on washing. Pants, underwear, a ragged tie— “Hey, didn’t you have a shirt last night?”

Ford mumbled something behind the bundle of sheets and blanket in his arms.

“What was that?”

“Yes, I did have a shirt. I’ll find it later.” He pushed the blanket down a bit so he could see where he was going, but didn’t wait for Stan before he marched back towards the warded study.

Stan chortled, suspecting that the shirt was rolled up in the bundle somewhere, and Ford just didn’t want to put it down and go through it. It wasn’t like they were in that much of a hurry with the bedding. Still, Ford could probably manage to get through the shack without backup while Stan finished what he was doing, so he bent down to pick up the last item of Ford’s dirty clothing, which was the trenchcoat. As he did, a few items fell out of it with a clatter.

Huh. Stan scooped up an old color photograph and a few thin pieces of plastic and sat down on the bed to take a look.

A single glance at the picture was enough to realize what it was, but it still made his breath hitch for a moment. Two small boys with identical faces smiled up at him from the deck of an old wrecked boat. He had a few similar pictures in the shack, but this one was far less faded and ravaged by the passage of time. It was old, but not at all as old as it should be by right. It must have been in Ford’s pocket when he fell through the portal. Which meant it was in his pocket when he was greeting Stan with a crossbow and telling him to go far away thirty years ago. Something in his heart tightened at that thought, but he didn’t know what to do with it.

“Hot Belgian Waffles,” he mumbled, even though there were no children nearby to hear him swearing. “Who knew you were such a sap, Poindexter?” He put the picture down gently on the mattress.

The pieces of plastic were less nostalgic and more confusing. It seemed to be broken shards of – an old credit card? Yeah, kind of looked like the late seventies kind of Visa card. The name Stanford Pines was clearly visible when he put the sharp edges of a couple of pieces together – and if Ford had been carrying it in his coat when he disappeared, that explained what had happened to that. An old mystery solved, then. Except at some point it had been forcefully snapped into knife-edged pieces, and why the hell would Ford have done that? The credit on the card had still been good in 1982.

The pieces were definitely sharp enough to cut. He poked his thumb with a corner to test, drawing a small drop of blood. And they’d been in the coat. Within reach of Ford last night. He didn’t like the look of that at all.

[nikxation]

“I can’t do this without you” with the stan twins

Stanclimbs out of the Diablo with a groan, his back aching and his knees popping ashe stands upright and slams the car door closed behind him. There’s not enoughstretching in the world that can fix being stuck in a car for almost 9 hoursstraight, but he still tries his damnedest, leaning back enough that his spinelets out a satisfying crack andgiving his neck a few rolls to get out some of the kinks. It helps ease theaches and pains a little, but he knows from experience that he’ll be prettysore for the next few days once he gets home.

Butit’s worth it.

Shermie’s house is still just asboring as ever. Same two-story villa painted the same boring tan color as therest of the houses on the block with the same manicured lawn and the samesteep-ass driveway leading up to the garage. It’s the picturesque suburbanhome, complete with the cul-de-sac of identical houses lining the perfect,pot-hole free road. The air smells slightly of dew and exhaust, one of thethings he still doesn’t miss about living in urban cities, and the ground iswet save for the dry patches underneath the four other cars in the driveway,meaning they probably just missed one of California’s infamous winter showers.

Stan buries his hands in thepockets of the Christmas sweater Mabel knitted him, trying to take the edge offthe slight chill in the air. A quick scan of the house’s windows shows nofluttering curtains or grinning faces, meaning they haven’t been spotted yet.He reaches a hand out of his pocket and gives the roof of the Diablo a quickrap.

“Come on Sixer, hurry it up,” hecalls, walking around to the front of the car. “We’re already runnin’ late, andShermie ain’t gonna appreciate us making the whole family wait even longer.” Hestops in front of the car, looking in at his brother sitting in the passengerseat, still nose-deep inside some book on integrated circuits. He pats the hoodof the car, making Ford jump and glare up at him. Stan waves at him and motionstowards the house, mouthing “let’s go” at the other man.

“I’ll be just a minute,” Ford says,his voice muffled, already sliding back behind his book. “Go in without me. Ineed to finish this chapter.”

“Nuh-uh. No you don’t,” Stan says,coming around to the passenger side of the car, unceremoniously yanking thedoor open, and grabbing the book out of the other man’s hands.

“Stanley! I was reading that!” Fordprotests, reaching to grab the book right as Stan moves it out of his reach.

“Not anymore, nerd,” Stan says, crackingthe back door just enough to drop the book on the back seat and close it again.“Book time’s over. Let’s go.”

“Just a few more minutes, I wasgetting to a really good part,” Ford says, turning in his seat to reach behindhim. Stan opens and slams the back door again, the warning having the intendedeffect as Ford freezes.

“It’s integrated circuits. There is no ‘good part’,” Stan deadpans. Fordis still frozen part-way turned around in his seat, one arm braced against theback of the seats. Stan nudges him with his knee. “Come on. Out of the car.” Forddoesn’t move, his face turned away from him, giving no indication oracknowledgement that Stan had spoken. Stan nudges him again. “Bro?” Ford whipsaround in his seat, facing him so suddenly that the movement makes Stan flinch.

“Are you sure Shermie said he didn’tneed us to pick up anything?” Ford asks, a certain tension in his voice. “I’msure we still have time to run to the—”

“Nope,” Stan says. “He told me notto bring anything. Man doesn’t trust me after the last time I brought food andeveryone that ate it got sick.”

“What about drinks?” Ford says,eyes glancing momentarily to the side and then down. “We could probably run andgrab another pack of Pitt Cola. I’m sure it wouldn’t hurt—”

“We’re not going to the store,Ford,” Stan says calmly, leaning forward so that arms are crossed on thedoorframe, resting his head down on them so that he’s looking in at Ford who isstill glancing around nervously.

“Did you remember to grab Mabel andDipper’s presents?” he asks.

“They’re in the trunk.”

“What about our suitcases?”

“With the presents in the trunk.”

“Do we have the anomaly detectionapparatus?”

“In your suitcase.”

“What about the back-up batteries?”

“In my suitcase.”

“Well… Maybe we should run by thegas station and fill up the Diablo really fast,” he tries. “It’s a bit warmerhere than in Oregon, and I know the seal on the gas cap has a bit of a leak, soaccounting for the humidity in the air and the extra heat absorbed by the car’spaint, the gasoline will evaporate out at a rate of approximately one hundred-thousandthof a cubic meter per hour, and I know you like to drive until it’s almost emptybut I think—”

“Ford…”

“Plus the weather is wonderful, soI think we should just sit out here and enjoy it a little—”

“Ford…”

“Actually, I think we left the ovenon, we better drive back and check.” He re-buckles his seatbelt, not meetingStan’s eye. “Wouldn’t want the Shack burning down. Let’s go. Right now. No timeto waste.”

Stan just stares down at him, andFord openly avoids looking at him, his eyes plastered straight ahead of him andout the front windshield, his entire body rigid, only moving to reach up andadjust his glasses before putting his hands back down in his lap.

Stan shrugs and shuts the car door,heading around to the driver’s side, hopping back in the front seat, andsticking the keys in the ignition. The car turns-over once before revving tolife, and he pretends not to notice Ford’s slack-jawed expression as the otherman stares at him.

“Really? Just like that?” Ford asks,absolutely incredulous.

“Just like that,” Stan confirms,throwing the car in reverse and inching back down the driveway. “You wanna goback home? Then we’ll go back home.”

“I didn’t say—”

“Sure, Shermie will be prettydisappointed, but he’ll get over it,” Stan says, foot still pressing lightly onthe brake, letting the car roll down the driveway inch by inch. “Mabel’ll probablybe upset for a few weeks. I know she’s been lookin’ forward to this. Dippertoo. But I’m sure they’ll understand. We don’t want the shack to burn downbecause we left the oven on, right?”

“Uh…”

“And I know Sue and Dave have been dying to finally meet the man the kidshave been raving about since the summer. But they can wait a little longer. Whocares if this is your first Christmas back in thirty years? There’ll be more,right? Maybe we can try again next year when you’re—”

“Stanley, stop the car,” Fordsighs. Stan obliges, the car lightly bumping to a halt halfway down thedriveway. Stan turns and raises and eyebrow at his brother.

“What? You finally remember turningoff the stove?”  he asks sarcastically.Ford buries his face in his hands, rubbing at his eyes under his glasses. “Ormaybe you thought of something we need to buy from the store?”

“Okay, okay, Iget it,” he sighs. “You can stop now.”

“Or maybe your mathwas wrong, and the gasoline is gonna evaporate out of the gas tank in sixtyhours instead of sixty-seven?” Ford snorts, his face still in his hands.

“Yeah, that wasa stretch,” he admits.

“You bet yourass it was,” Stan says, throwing the car in park, the thing jolting as he letsoff the brake and it settles on the steep incline of the driveway. “So, you wannatell me what all that stalling was about? Or do you wanna finish that fascinating chapter on the new dopingmethods of P-type semi-conductors?” Ford groans, running his hands down hisface and then tipping his head back against the headrest with a small smile.

“God, I don’teven remember the last fifty pages of whatever I was reading about,” he says,snorting as he shakes his head, his hair mussing against the seat-back. “I’msuch a wreck.”

“I’d beconcerned if you weren’t,” Stan says, turning in his seat to face him. “It has been thirty years, Sixer.” Ford justshakes his head, his eyes closed and a sad little smile on his lips.

“Thirty years,”he muses, breathing in a deep breath through his nose before letting it out witha chuckle. “Feels like it was all a lifetime ago.”

“I’d say,” Stanagrees. “You try spending that time trying to convince everyone I’m you, andthen we can talk.” Ford laughs, but it’s a small, sardonic thing, no real mirthin the noise, just a sad acknowledgement of the series of events that madetheir lives what they are today, of all the time they lost, not just after hefell in the portal.

“Hey,” Stan says,getting Ford’s attention with a gentle hand on his shoulder. Ford rolls his headto the side to look at him, the back of his hand still pressed against the headrest.“If you’re not ready to go in there yet, I totally understand. It’s a lot, andI get that it seems real overwhelming, ‘specially right now. Everyone’s gonnahave questions, and there’re gonna be a lot of difficult conversations to behad, and it’s not gonna be all sunshine and rainbows contrary to what Mabelwould have us believe.” That earns him a small, genuine smile, Ford’s eyesgrowing momentarily distant, probably thinking about the kids if Stan had toventure a guess. He knows they really grew on Ford in the short time they weretogether over the summer, and they were both looking forward to getting to seethem again. He gives Ford’s shoulder a light squeeze, pulling him back. “I can’t do this without you, bro. Notagain.” He remembers those first few years, after the portal incident, when hehad to walk into family dinners like this one alone and afraid. Afraid that someonewould find him out, afraid that he’d slip up, afraid that he’d say somethingstupid, afraid that he’d have to explain that he once again managed to ruin hisbrother’s life, and that this time he wasn’t sure if there was any way to saveit. The first few years were so hard, having to look at his Ma and pretendeverything was okay, having to watch them cry at his own funeral, having to alwayswear six-fingered gloves until he faked the surgery, always having to lie cuz Lord knows that’s what he seemsto do best—

“Stan?” Fordsays softly. It snaps him back to the present, his mind going through momentarywhiplash as he forces himself to remember that he’s not alone anymore, that hedoesn’t have to lie anymore, that everything is alright now, and Ford is home where he belongs.

“If ya don’t wannago in there, we can leave right now,” Stan says, holding his brother’s gaze. “I’llfigure out somethin’ to tell Shermie and the kids; they’ll live. I just don’twant you doin’ anything you’re not quite comfortable with yet. I’ll beperfectly happy either way. It’s all up to you. Whatever you want to do.”

Ford stares athim for a moment, his eyes searching Stan’s own, before he turns and glances atthe house ahead of them, his expression perfectly neutral, practiced. Stan putshis foot on the brake and his hand on the gear stick, ready for whatever Forddecides.

It seems like along while, though in reality it was probably only a minute or two, before Fordfinally speaks, his voice stronger, more determined than Stan would haveexpected.

“Wherever we go,”he says, almost seemingly to himself, “we go together.” He turns to Stan, givinghim one more searching look, before nodding his head. “I’m ready.”

Stan smiles,throwing the car back into drive and coasting back up the driveway, Fordlooking more determined than he thinks he’s ever seen him. Stan can’t help butfeel a little proud of him.

He puts the carinto park and looks up at the living room window just in time to see two setsof identical eyes disappear behind rustling curtains, the front door barreling openonly moments later.

[fallen-gravity]

Scars, Show Me All The Scars You Hide

Ford and Mabel have a talk about blame, and how too much of it can cause the heart pain.

Alternatively,

Mabel tells Ford about her encounter with Bill prior to the start of Weirdmageddon.

AO3

Everything is peaceful. 

Ever since the town had been cleansed of any and all evidence that Weirdmageddon had happened at all, the small town of Gravity Falls seemed to sigh a breath of relief for the first time in decades. The birds were chirping away as the clouds from an earlier rainfall were beginning to clear. The whole atmosphere of the town still smelled of rainfall, and it seemed that half of the town’s population was out for a walk to enjoy it. Everyone in town seemed friendlier to each other, too. It was near-impossible to come across a sidewalk unoccupied by groups of people gathered in messy circles to talk. 

The Shack was booming with business, far more than the morning after Gideon’s arrest.  Also in great contrast was the fact that those who were stopping by the shack had little interest in tours, rather to come in to meet the family that saved the town from utter destruction. Stan had already gotten far more than his fair share of aggressive handshakes and teary-eyed hugs from citizens who’d lived in town their whole lives,  while Ford stood off to the side, watching them with a quiet fondness, finally understanding what his brother had meant when he told them the Shack had been a fundamental part of the town’s history. When they had first argued over the deed to the Shack, Ford had just thought he’d been exaggerating, but it was moments like those, as well as the times he would be mistaken for Stan in public, that really opened his eyes to how much the people of this town really loved the place, and, more importantly, how much these people loved his brother. 

Today might be the first lull the Shack’s seen in a solid month, and Stan had made the decision to close up shop to spend time with the family before Dipper and Mabel had to head off back home. They’d spent the entire early afternoon together, playing dumb games and watching dumb movies, and now, for the first time today, they were all off doing their own thing. It wouldn’t last, they knew, but they also couldn’t argue against the fact that sometimes comfortable silence was one of the warmest feelings on Earth. 

Stan’s taking a nap on the back porch, Dipper’s in the kitchen scribbling things down in a blank notebook Ford had gifted him when he was offered the apprenticeship, and Ford was down in his basement lab, cleaning up the last of the rubble of the portal he and Stan had taken baseball bats to the night prior. 

Mabel…. 

Mabel is pacing back and forth in the living room, stuck wondering why if everything is so peaceful and perfect, just like she’d dreamed things would be, that something still felt...off to her.  Not in the sense that she’d forgotten something, or that things shouldn’t be all peachy keen, it’s more along the lines of something that’s wrong with her specifically.

She knew it couldn’t be a lack of sleep, because she’d fallen asleep in Grunkle Stan’s lap during one of the movies earlier. It could be that she’s sad to be leaving in a week, she supposes, but no, they hadn’t been talking much about her and Dipper’s departure lately, and she’d already made both Stan and Ford pinky promise her that the two of them could spend the following summer in Gravity Falls, so that couldn’t be it either…

“Mabel?” Dipper asks, startling her out of her thoughts, and she freezes in her pacing. He’s carrying his notebook under one arm, and his favorite blue pen is poking out of his hair from behind his ear. Nerd. “Is everything okay?”

“I don’t know…” Mabel admitted, rubbing at her arm. “I know that everything’s all sunshine and rainbows now that Bill’s gone for good, but I don’t feel like sunshine and rainbows”

“Oh, Mabel…” Dipper frowned, placing his book on the armrest of Stan’s chair. “Is it because we’re leaving so soon? I know Stan already promised us we could stay here whenever we needed, but I thought you missed Mom and Dad”

“I do miss them!” Mabel shot her arms in the air. “I miss everyone at home. But I don’t think that’s what’s bugging me so much”.

Dipper frowns, and takes a seat in Stan’s chair, indicating he wasn’t going to leave the room until he could figure out what was bugging her himself. “Well...what do you think it is?”

“I don’t know!” Mabel whined, bringing her hand to her forehead as if she had a bad headache. “I’m thrilled that everything’s okay, I’m thrilled that Stan and Ford are best friends again, and I’m thrilled that we get to come back next summer, but I...can’t shake the feeling that something’s wrong. I haven’t been able to since the morning Stan woke up with his memories intact” 

“Mabel, that was two days ago!”

“I know, I know…” Mabel begins pacing again. “But I just thought that it was just cause I was so stressed he was gonna relapse again, or that something else terrible was gonna happen, or-”

The small crunch of a piece of paper interrupts her before she can finish her train of thought, and when she looks down to see what she’d stepped on she realizes it’s an early draft of the invitation cards for her and Dipper’s birthday party.

Her face goes pale at the sight. 

“Mabel, are you okay?” Dipper stands to reach out for her shoulder. “You’re not looking too hot…”

“I know what it is” she says, before he can touch her, and he retracts his hand. 

“You do? Can you tell me?” 

Mabel takes a few looks around the room to make sure that they’re alone.

“Follow me,” she says, but then she grabs Dipper by the hand and runs up the stairs to their attic bedroom.

“Mabel, what’s happening?” Dipper asks her as she locks the room behind her. “You’re acting a lot like...me” 

“It’s all my fault”

“What? What’s all your fault?”

The concern in her brother’s tone makes her choke up for reasons she can’t describe. “Weirdmageddon”, she shutters. “It’s all my fault”.

“What?” Dipper’s voice squeaks, which makes Mabel flinch. “Mabel, don’t say that! Of course it’s not your fault!”

“Yes it is,” she mopes, and plops herself down onto her bed. “Bill came after me when I ran into the woods, and I gave him that weird snow-globe looking thing.” She buries her face in her pillow, but she doesn’t wait for her brother to respond before she keeps going.  “It wasn’t out of anger, or anything, I swear. He possessed that Blendin guy and promised me an eternal summer in exchange, and I handed it over because I’m a big dummy dumb, and everyone got hurt because I thought I wanted time to freeze forever so we wouldn’t have to be apart” 

For a brief moment there’s silence, but then Dipper’s hand on her shoulder. When she pulls her face out of her pillow to look at him, it’s all wet and gooey. “Mabel, are you kidding? I thought the rift shattered in your backpack. I thought for sure it was because you tripped, and everything exploded out of your backpack. I thought you were a goner”. 

Mabel sniffles, but she doesn’t respond. 

“Mabel, your story is so much better than the ones I was making up in my head. I mean, I wish Bill had never tracked you down at all, but I’m so glad you weren’t hurt.” He pulls her into a hug. “Great Uncle Ford and I were just talking about this the other morning, Mabel. He was worried sick that he’d hurt you taking it by force” 

“You’re…” she stutters, returning the hug. “You’re not mad?” 

“Of course not” he shakes his head. “I meant what I said in Mabeland. Whatever happens, we get through it together”. 

She giggles and pulls away from the hug, wiping at her face with her sleeves. “But...what about Grunkle Ford?”

Dipper shakes his head. “You should tell him too. He’s gonna be understanding, Mabel, he already knows how much Bill had it out for us personally”

That’s...true, she supposes, shuttering at the memory of her and Dipper offering themselves up as bait so Bill wouldn’t kill their Grunkles. She stands to exit the room, gives her brother one more hug for good luck, and and repeats Dipper’s words to herself the entire way down the staircase and into the gift shop. The stairs to the basement are propped open, which she assumes is because Ford no longer feels he needs to keep its location a secret.  She makes her way down slowly, partly out of nerves and partly to avoid spooking Ford.

He’ll understand, she says to herself one last time as she exits the elevator. Ford’s sitting at the work desk, and the view of the portal in the next room is blocked off with a curtain. He’s hunched over, just a little bit, and Mabel figures it’s probably because he’s writing something in one of the journals. It’s only as she approaches him that she realizes he’s not wearing his trench coat, because she can tell that he rolled the sleeves of his sweaters up to make for easier writing. 

“Grunkle Ford?” she asks, knocking lightly on the machine closest to her right in case calling his name isn’t enough to snap him out of his focus. 

“Mabel!” his response is cheery, and he places a bookmark on the page he’d been working on and closes the cover. “What brings you down here?” 

“Well, I...guess I wanted to talk to you about something”.

“Sure, anything” he grins, patting at his pant leg in invitation to come sit on his lap. Mabel sighs, tries to think for a moment about how she can place things lightly, and takes Ford up on his offer. She crawls up onto his lap, opens her mouth to speak, and freezes when she notices that his wrist is covered in cuts and blistering scars. A quick glance at the other wrist and she’s met with the same sight. 

“Grunkle Ford?” is all she can manage, and her eyes follow hers to the scars on her wrist. 

“Oh!” he replies, much cheerier than she’d expected him to, and rolls his sleeves back down. “I’m going to be fine, sweetie, those will heal in due time”.

“What happened to you?” she looks up at him with her signature puppy eyes. “How recent are these?” 

From her spot on his lap, Mabel can feel Ford’s chest rise and fall as he sighs quietly. “You have to promise me you won’t tell Stan,” he says, rubbing delicately at his wrist. Mabel nods silently, and his eyes fall to the ground to avoid eye contact with his niece.

“Bill did this to me. When he was demanding that I give him the codes to undo the bubble around the town, he chained me by my arms and legs and fried me until I talked. I’m so sorry that you had to come across them by accident, but, uh, I’m grateful that you saw them today, rather than earlier. I nearly threw up when I saw them for the first time after I was freed”

Mabel’s breath hitches, and she’s tearing up. It’s getting harder and harder to convince herself that It’s not your fault could be a true statement when everyone she cares about is getting hurt by it. Bill fried him. Bill chained him up and fried him, and if the scars on his wrists are just from the chains, she can’t even begin to imagine what the scars must look like under the rest of his sweater. He must be completely disfigured from the neck down, if she knows anything about Bill. He’d tried to kill her two other times prior to Weirdmageddon, but those were over much less risky things than control over the whole universe.

She throws herself against Ford’s sweater in a fit of choked sobs, and his arms are around her before she can even finish processing that she’s crying again.

“There, there, Mabel” Ford’s voice is cool and collected, but tinged with sadness to see her break down like this for the second time in three days. He rubs gentle circles into her back, quietly shushing her sobs, and the tender gesture of it all just makes Mabel cry even harder. “It’s okay, Mabel. You’re okay. You’re safe. I’m safe, thanks to you”. He gently pats her hair, and Mabel sniffles as she pulls away. Ford keeps his hand where it is, at the top of her head, and she hates how much of a grounding feeling it is. 

“It’s not okay!” She yells, and more tears pour down her face. “You’re hurting! Bill could’ve killed you!” she gasps for air. “If we had shown up just five minutes later than we did, you could’ve been a goner!” She takes his other wrist, which was still wrapped around her to prevent her from falling off of his lap, and rolls it up to reveal the identical scar he’d just covered up moments ago. “These look worse than the time I pulled a tray of cupcakes out of the oven with my bare hands cause I was too excited to wait for them! I thought I was never gonna feel anything ever again!” She cries. 

“Mabel, sweetie…” 

“No!” she cries. “I don’t deserve to be called that. It’s all my fault he hurt you.” Her sobs quiet as her body seems to double-whammy her and send her into a panic attack, trembling uncontrollably against Ford’s chest. “It’s my fault” 

There’s a gentle six-fingered hand on her cheek, and she looks up to warm brown eyes staring into hers with heartbroken worry. “It’s not your fault, my dear, Bill and I have a really complicated history together. Nothing you could’ve done would’ve changed that”

“That’s exactly my point! Bill may not have acted any differently, but I still could’ve!” 

“What do you mean?”

Mabel wipes away her tears with her wrist again.

“It’s my fault everything happened in the first place. I’m the reason Bill got his hands on the...uh...rift, I think Dipper called it” she sniffles. “Bill caught up to me when I was all upset in the woods about arguing with Dipper, and told me he could fix things if I gave it to him, and I-” 

She’s cut off by Ford’s hug around her tightening, like she just unlocked a set of keywords that’d make him never want to let go of her again.

“Mabel, I want you to listen to me very carefully”

She doesn’t say anything, but squeezes him in silent confirmation to let him know she’s still listening.

“Nothing that happened was your fault, okay? I need you to understand how genuine that statement is. It wouldn’t matter if Bill convinced you to smash the rift into the ground yourself. It wouldn’t matter if you handed it over without question, or if you shook his hand.”

“But-”

“Let me finish” he cuts her off, but the soft nature in his tone lets her know he isn’t upset. “Mabel, it doesn’t matter who said or did what because this is exactly how Bill liked to play his games. He knew you wouldn’t be thinking straight, he knew you wouldn’t question anything he asked you to do.” he reaches under his glasses to wipe at his own eyes. “He did the same thing to me when I was younger, Mabel. I called him my best friend. He convinced me to hang onto every word he ever said without giving them a second thought”

He pulls her away from the hug so he can look her in the eyes again. “You’re the sweetest person I’ve ever encountered in any dimension, Mabel. Don’t blame yourself for the mistakes I made when I was younger. If there’s anyone that should be blamed for the whole ordeal besides Bill, it should be me.”

“Grunkle Ford, don’t say that!” 

He laughs quietly, bitterly. “I should have told you about the rift earlier, Mabel. I’m sorry I kept it a secret from you”

“It’s okay,” she replies. “I know that you were just trying to keep me safe. Stan had to keep a lot of things from me, too”.

“No kidding…” Ford’s voice drifts off, which makes Mabel painfully aware of the fact she was currently holding a conversation with one of said things. He shakes his head. “Anyway, what I’m trying to say is that pitting all of the blame on yourself isn’t going to do you any good.” He rubs awkwardly at the back of his neck. “...Stan and I had to learn that one the hard way. If you focus too much on the idea that all you’ve done is hurt people, you miss out on all of the times you’ve done good for other people.”

He smiles warmly. 

“Dipper told me you were the one who stopped the portal from shutting down. I’m not sure I’d even still be alive if it weren’t for you. You’ve done so much good for the people you care about that anything else is nonexistent in comparison. You’re a wonderful person, Mabel, inside and out. If there ever were a person out there who truly was pure of heart, I can say in all honesty that I think it’d be you”.

Mabel’s on the verge of crying again. She throws herself at him in another hug, and he’s quick to hug her back.

“You’re a wonderful person too, Grunkle Ford. I don’t want you to forget that either”.

If she didn’t know any better, she’d swear she could hear him sniffle at the remark.

[thepeanutbutterwizard]

A.C. Pines - Chapter 3: An Unforeseen Adventure

Chapter 2      Chapter 4

Heyo!  I’m finally posting more of this!  Hope you enjoy!Dad!”  Alex slid across the linoleum floor of the kitchen in her socks.  With a small ‘oof’ she collided with her father and pulled on his arm.  “I finished my homework!  Can I go for a walk?”  Her headband had slipped crookedly, letting her tangled curls obscure one eye.

Dad cocked an eyebrow down at her.  “Ya got yer knuckle dusters?”

“Yep!”

“Jacket?”

“Yes.”

 “Yer watch?”

“Yes Dad.”

“Ankle tracker?”

“Daaaad.”  Alex half-groaned, half-chuckled.  “Can I go now?  Please?”

Dad ruffled her hair fondly, then carefully adjusted her headband.  “Alright, ya got half an hour before dinner, Sixer.”

“Thanks Dad!”  Alex cheered and gave him a quick hug before dashing toward the door and pulling her shoes on.

“Just remember ta stick to the paths!”  He stuck his head out of the door and called after his ten-year-old daughter.  “And if it starts to rain come right back!”

“I love you Dad!”

Alex pulled her soaked jacket tighter around her shoulders, but it didn’t do much against the pouring rain or the chilly breeze.  Her glasses had long since been rendered useless by the rain, so she had tucked them away in her pocket.  Her boots squished in the mud, sinking ankles deep and making every step difficult. 

The girl kicked at a rock with a growl and slumped onto a hard stump.  Alex had been wandering through the Gravity Falls woods for as long as she could remember; she knew this place like the back of her hand.  It should be impossible for her to get so lost she had been wandering in the woods for more than an hour.

And yet, here she was.  Soaked to the bone, shivering caked in mud almost to her knees and more lost than she had ever been.  Alex pulled her knees to her chest and screwed her eyes shut.  If she could just calm down and focus then maybe she could figure out where she was and how to get home.  But the wind picked up, blowing down the neck of her shirt and sending a trembling shiver down her spine, and she was getting a headache from clenching her chattering teeth together and she just couldn’t think!

Something snuffled at Alex’s bangs.  With a small yelp she jumped, almost toppling off of the stump.  A heavy pair of paws rested on her knees, keeping her off of the ground, but not letting her go anywhere either.   A large fox was staring her down with amber eyes.

Her heart jumped into her throat as the animal leaned in close, sniffing at her face and head inquisitively.  Alex held her upper body as still as possible, while she strained to get her legs out from under the foxes paws.  Her gaze darted around, looking for any way to escape, when something caught her attention.  The fox had four large tails bobbing around behind it.

Alex gasped as the fox-creature licked the side of her face.  The creature nuzzled her neck like an overly affectionate pet, and with a laugh Alex shoved the creature away as best as she could.  “Quit it!”  The creature pulled back and gave a happy-sounding chitter.  It shook and sent droplets of water flying everywhere.  Alex squawked and held a hand up against the spray.  “Hey, what was that for?”

The creature gently bit down on Alex’s forearm-not hard enough to hurt her- and pulled her to her feet.  It tugged her toward the forest for a few feet before letting go and darting ahead.  Alex watched the creature vanish into the bushes with a small, curious scowl.  A moment later the creature reappeared and yipped at her.  If Alex didn’t know any better she’d swear the creature looked annoyed.  It darted behind her and nudged her toward the forest.  “You want me to follow you?”

The creature gave an unmistakable nod before darting off again, this time with Alex hot on its heels, but it wasn’t long before she was falling behind the creature.  It sprung over mud puddles and rocks that grabbed at Alex’s shoes and tried to send her sprawling.  “Wait-wait up, would ya?”  She gasped at the creature.  It looked over its shoulder at her, slowing just long enough to give a taunting look before it shot ahead even faster than before.  “Hey!”

She vaulted over a dead log, and felt anger rise in her.  ‘If it didn’t want me to keep up, why have me follow at all?’  With a growl Alex caught her second wind and ran even faster, branches whipping past her.  She slowly started to gain ground; with an excited holler Alex fell in step with the creature.  It gave a sharp turn and Alex skidded through the mud to keep up.

A noise up ahead caught Alex’s attention.  A voice, loud and gravely and full of worry, echoing through the forest and calling her name.  Dad!  She turned toward the sound of his voice, almost tripping over a tree root.  Alex skidded back onto the path, breaking through the shrubbery around it.  “Dad!”  He was down the path a little bit, a yellow raincoat on instead of his suit coat, and he was so worried Alex could practically smell it on him over the scent of the pine trees and the rain.

“Alex?”  He gaped as Alex sprinted down the path and leapt up toward him.  He drop the flashlight he was holding to catch her.

“Dad, Dad, you’re never gonna guess what I saw!”  Alex pulled at his shirt,  “It was so cool there was-”

“Alex, sweetie, slow down, I can’t understand what yer saying!”  Dad held her out, inspecting her closely for injury.  “What happened?”

Alex tried to blow her wet bangs out of her eyes.  Her hair band must have fallen out somewhere in the woods.  “I kinda…left the path.”  She sheepishly admitted, avoiding looking at her father in the eyes.

“Sixer…”  Dad gave a tired sigh.

“A gnome jumped me and stole my watch!  I ran after him to get it back!”  Alex protested.

“And did ya get it back?”

“…no…”

Dad gave another sigh.  “Well, at least yer okay.  But yer covered in mud!  What did ya do, roll in a puddle?”  He tugged at the sleeve of her jacket.  She had mud caked up to her elbows, splattered on her face and hair, soaked into her pants and her socks.

“No.  But your never gonna guess what I saw!”  Alex chirped, cheering up.  Dad picked up his flashlight and started walking back to the Shack.

“What?  What’d ya see this time?”

“There was this fox out in the woods, but she wasn’t any normal fox!  She had more than one tail!”

Dad glanced at Alex with a weird look on his face.  “A fox with extra tails, huh?  That’s pretty cool.  How’d ya know that it was a she?”

“I dunno.  Just looked like a she.”  Alex talked about how the fox had helped her find the path again while they walked.  Dad made Alex take her shoes and socks off on the porch, before sending her to the bathroom for a shower.

TIME BREAK

Stan crept silently out of Alex’s room.  He had had to read a few chapters out of one of her book to get her to fall asleep after her little ‘adventure’ in the woods.  Alex had been reading things on her own since she was about five, but she still liked listening to him read.  Made him think of back when he was a kid and Ford would read out loud all the time.

He swung by the kitchen to grab a drink of water before heading to bed himself.   He wanted to catch an hour or two of sleep before going down to work on the Portal.  He looked out the window and caught the slightest bit of movement on the edge of the woods.  Stan stuck his head out of the back door and flicked on the porch light.  He caught sight of red-brown fur in the bushes, and a lithe looking fox stepped out and onto the edge of the light.  One, two, three…only four tails; Stan sighed and bit his lip.  She gave a small nod that Stan returned before she darted back into the woods, tails bobbing behind her.

He gave an irritated groan when he got into his room and saw his wet, muddy suit lying where he had left it on the floor.  He bundled up his clothes, giving a little groan when he saw all of the muddy paw prints on his white shirt.  Raising a kid was even messier than being one, if Stan’s memory served correctly.  Then again, he didn’t think his memory had been good in years.

Ah, well, mud washed out.  The way Alex looked at him like he was the greatest thing in the whole damn world was worth anything that he had to do for her.  Stan’s small smile faltered a bit, and he grabbed a picture frame off of his night stand.  It was taken the week after Alex was born; one of the happiest times of his life.  He had shown off his amazing wife and his wonderful daughter to anybody in earshot.  If only those time could have lasted longer…

But, no point dwelling on the past.  That had become Stan’s mantra.  Don’t dwell on lost brothers and missing wives and doomsday machines and motherless girls.  Can’t do anything about that.  All he could do was try and make it through tomorrow.  That was all he could do.

Bet nobody picked up on my oh-so-subtle hints about Alex’s mother.