#also ford being able to let his guard down around stan a bit and let his drowsyness get his insomiac ass

[blabberoo]

ok another doodle of whatever this au is because i am normal about it..

[fallen-gravity]

Sixty Candles

On June 15th, 1972, Stan Pines celebrates his eighteenth birthday in the back seat of his car.

or, how Stan Pines spent his birthday throughout the years.

Notes: Here is my very loose interpretation for Week 4 of @stanuary!The prompt for this week was Future with the subcategory Old, and I decided to play around with the concept of birthdays! This was a lot of fun to explore and I hope you have a ton a of fun reading! :D

AO3

At exactly midnight on June 15th, 1972, Stan Pines celebrates his eighteenth birthday in the backseat of his car.

It’s not ideal, and nothing like how he thought he had it planned from the moment he turned sixteen, but he supposes he should be thanking his lucky stars he’s able to celebrate at all. His Ma, bless her caring heart, must’ve snuck some emergency funds into his duffle bag the moment she saw Pa reaching for it before he kicked Stan to the curb.

Stan supposes that she probably intended for that money to be spent on emergency rations and gas money, but what she doesn’t know probably won’t kill her. He also supposes that he probably should’ve gotten himself a cake, but cakes are messy and he has no means of cleaning it up, so a bottle of whiskey and a pack of cigarettes will have to suffice.

He pops open the bottle with ease, and takes a large swig.

“Happy birthday, y’ asshole” he says to nobody, slamming the bottle down onto his car dashboard with more force than intended. “Hope you’re livin’ it up at home with your fancy expensive pizza and two layer cake you’ll never be able to finish on your own” He leans back against his chair, propping his arms smugly behind his head. “An’ I hope the guilt is eating you alive” he slams his hand down on one of his armrests, and reaches for the bottle on his dashboard for another swig.

Just six months ago- not even a year, just six months ago, Stan and Ford had been talking about what it’d be like to share their first drink together. They’d talked about getting absolutely wasted at the pub down the block, followed by walking to the boardwalk to ride the coaster until it made them both sick.

It wasn’t much, but it was theirs.

Stan chokes, and he isn’t quite sure if it’s the alcohol or his emotions.

“Fuck,” he coughs, and stumbles out of the car for some fresh air. In between his coughs and splutters, he takes a sharp inhale of the cool nighttime air to steady his breathing. He sighs deeply, and pulls out the pack of cigarettes from his ratty coat pocket. 

He lights one up, and leans against his car to lose himself in his thoughts as he wordlessly watches the cigarette smoke dissipate into the starry night sky. Stan gets too distracted by the sight and accidentally burns his first all the way down to his fingertips, and hisses in pain as he stumbles to light a new one.

No matter. He stomps on the burnt remains with his shoe, and grinds his emotions into the ground with them.

 ~~~~~~~

On June 15th, 1978, Stan Pines celebrates his twenty-fourth birthday in prison.

“Pines!” An officer shouts, whacking at the cell door with his baton. “Wake up. You’ve got a visitor”

Stan sits up in the cheap cot, groggily rubbing at his eyes. “Wassat?”

The officer’s keys jingle as he clicks Stan’s cell door open. “You’ve got a visitor. He insisted it was important, so we’re giving you ten minutes to talk.”

Stan’s been to jail enough times that he knows that when someone says something’s important, it really just means that they bribed their way through security so they can talk to Stan before the designated visitor hours.

But who could possibly be willing to risk getting arrested just to talk to him before eleven in the morning? Every name that comes to mind is either on the run, already in jail, or…much worse. Anybody foolish enough to try is either out of their mind, or…someone who genuinely wants to see him.

But…who could possibly want to see him? After everything he’s done, after everyone he’s stolen from, who could possibly be left that trusts him enough to bribe a police officer for his company? The police officer happens to walk Stan by the surveillance room, and he notices his page-a-day calendar is torn to June 15th.

Stan’s heart nearly stops in his chest.

It-It couldn’t be, could it?

Six years of silence, and Ford wants to break it like this? Is this some kind of joke? What kind of idiot does Ford take him for, thinking that now is an appropriate time to make amends? After all the times Stan tried writing, or calling,  or even trying to get a hold of him through Ma, now is the time that Ford finally agreed to reconvening? 

Pah. He had his chance the past five times Stan tried to pass on a happy birthday. He doesn’t care if it’ll land him ten more years in prison, the moment he sees his twin brother’s stupid face he’s spitting in it.

As Stan rounds the corner to the visitation room, though, all of his anger disappears into thin air, and if it weren’t for the officer pushing him along, he’d turn heel and sprint the other way.

“My friend!” Rico cheers with a forced smile on his face. He’s holding a large box in his hand. “It’s so good to see you again!”  He takes a seat at the small table, rhythmically tapping on the box.

Stan swallows hard, but takes a seat across from him. “It’s, uh…” he squirms uncomfortably, unsure if he’s allowed to address him by name. “…good to see you too, buddy. What, uh, what are you doing here?”

Rico laughs heartily. “What, a man cannot visit his best friend on his birthday?” He flips open the box he brought with him, and Stan flinches when he spins it around towards him. To his surprise, it…looks like a perfectly normal birthday cake.

“Would you mind giving us a moment alone?” Rico flashes a grin towards the police guard behind Stan. “I would like to sing my dear childhood friend happy birthday, but I’ve always been very shy about the sound of my voice. I promise I will be quick”.

Childhood friend? 

The officer squints at the birthday cake in the box for a moment. “Fine.” He says. “You get two minutes. And I’m staying right outside the door to prevent anything funny from happening”

“Of course! You have my word,” Rico grins, placing his hand over his heart. The officer says nothing, and for the briefest of moments Stan’s convinced he sees right through Rico’s bullshit and he’ll let Stan slip quietly back into his cell.  But after those brief moments pass, the officer shrugs as he closes the door behind him.

Rico’s fake-plastered grin slips from his face the moment the officer is out of sight.

“Alright, listen here, you walking stain upon the Earth,” Rico slips easily into Spanish. “You think you’re safe behind these bars? You think my boys still won’t burn this place to the ground to collect what you rightfully owe us? You’re gravely mistaken. We have eyes everywhere, in every corner of the globe. And don't you dare even think about running off somewhere else under a new name, Stanley Pines, because we’ll find you, one way or another”

Rico stands from his chair and pushes the cake box towards Stan. “As soon as those guards declare you a free man, we’ll be waiting for you on the outside.” He grips Stan’s shoulder as he heads towards the door. “It really is such a shame. I loved you like a brother. But you know what they say, don’t you?” He places his hand on the door, and glances back towards him. “The good ones always die young”

Before Stan has time to respond, Rico slips his fake smile back on and opens the door. “Happy birthday, my friend,” he says, slipping back into English and speaking loud enough for the officer waiting outside to hear. “I hope you enjoy your cake”

Stan swallows, defensively bringing his hands to his throat, before he carefully inspects the cake in front of him. It looks normal, as far as he’s concerned, just a standard chocolate cake with “HAPPY BIRTHDAY, STAN!” inked across its surface in bright red frosting.

He contemplates. On one hand, he hasn’t had any real food outside of the slop they’ve been feeding him here for the past three months, and he’s never been one to turn away free cake.

On the other, knowing Rico…

Stan shutters. He stands to his feet, takes the cake box, and throws the whole thing into the trash can in the corner of the room.

He’d rather starve to death than risk being poisoned.

~~~~~~

Stan stopped keeping track of his age the day he started going by his brother’s name.

Sure, it wasn’t even close to being the first time he had to live under a new name. You do it enough times and you’re able to come up with an entire life story at the drop of a hat. Stetson Pinefield was from Ohio, born in the fifties in late December. Andrew "Eight Ball" Alcatraz, born in Alabama in mid-May, got his nickname from his troubled childhood that resulted from his dad getting locked up when he was only eight. It was something of a specialty, giving life to people that never truly existed.

But suddenly, all at once, Stan was forced to overtake the life of someone he loved, and it’s like he forgot how to so much as breathe. This wasn’t some sob story he could bullshit to people he’d never see again, or a name he pulled out of his ass to keep him in place just a bit longer. This is his twin brother, someone he spent every moment of his childhood with, yet someone he feels as though he doesn’t know a thing about.

Sure, none of the people in this town can tell the difference between himself and Ford, and for that he’s grateful.  But a man can only pose as his possibly-dead brother for so long before somebody starts getting suspicious.  Ford’s lived in this town for over ten years, he’s bound to have been on good terms with somebody.

Oh well. He’ll burn that bridge when he gets to it. For now, all Stan needs to focus on is scamming enough people out of their wallets so he can pay off the bills and keep working on the portal that swallowed his brother whole, and those seem to be going…well, just about as smoothly as teaching yourself three years-worth of advanced multiverse physics when you never even graduated from high school can go, but at least he’s making process.

Turns out, there’s still one more flaw in Stan’s plan that even he should’ve been able to factor in.

As much of a recluse Ford advertised himself to be to the locals of Gravity Falls, it turns out that he always receives a call from home on his birthday.

The first year Stan spends in Gravity Falls, he debates letting the phone go to voice mail. He has no idea how in or out of character it would be for Ford to answer his phone, nor does he have any idea who could be calling at all.

Eventually, though, he figures it’d probably look even more suspicious if he doesn’t pick up, and Stan isn’t willing to risk anything, even if it means bullshitting his way through a phone call for the rest of the night.

He takes a deep breath, and with a shaky hand he picks up the phone.

“Stanford?” his mother says, and to say he’s overjoyed to hear her voice for the first time in years is a massive understatement.

“Ma?” Stan replies, struggling not to slip into his own voice. “Why are you calling?”

She cackles. “Well hello to you too, birthday boy. I’m starting to think all of that research is getting to your head. Can’t a mother call her son on his birthday?”

Stan blinks. Is it…really June already? “Is that today?”

She laughs again. “See? It is getting to you! Do your poor aging mother a favor and go outside and get some sunshine. It’ll be good for you!” She quips. “Or at the very least, please, take a break and go to bed early tonight, for me”

Stan smiles. “Okay, Ma. I will.”

“Good,” she replies matter-of-factly. “Now, tell me all about what it’s like up there on the West Coast. Is it unbearably hot over there? I can’t seem to find your little town on my map. Must be why it’s so spooky, since you’re the only living soul for miles.” She laughs again. “I’m kidding, dear. I’m sure it’s fantastic. Tell me everything.”

And all at once, it’s like Stan’s a kid again. Stan and his Ma talk on the phone for hours. He figures that Ford must not call very often, so he spews out anything that comes to mind in hopes that she doesn’t see right through him. She buys it, miraculously, and when they hang up at the end of the night Stan promises that he’ll try and call home more often.

It becomes an easy pattern for Stan to slip into as the years go by. Just as long as he calls frequently enough not to raise suspicion, he can always look forward to receiving a call on June 15th every year. Some tiny part of him feels selfish for posing as his brother and lying to his mother for so long, but it’s the most connected he’s felt to any sort of family in years.

Deep down, though, he knows he can’t get too comfortable, and there’s still too many loose ends he needs to tie up before he can let his guard down.

On June 5th, 1987, just before his thirty-third birthday, Stan Pines dies in a fiery car crash.

On June 7th, he just barely misses a call from home as he’s coming up from tinkering with the portal.

“Stanford”, his mother’s voice says, lacking any of the snarky bite it usually contains. “I know that you’re a very busy man with your research, and driving all the way back to New Jersey on such a short notice is…unfair of me to ask of you, but…” She pauses to take a shaky breath, like she’s struggling not to cry. “But something terrible happened to Stanley, and…” she pauses again. “We’re holding a service for him on the fifteenth. I know that things haven’t been great between you two the past few years, and I can’t imagine a funeral would be an ideal way to spend your birthday, but…It was the only date they had available, and it would really mean the world to all of us if you could attend. I’m so sorry you had to find out this way. Call me as soon as you get this, okay? I love you.”

There’s a click, and she’s gone, and Stan contemplates his options.

Would Ford attend his funeral, if things were exactly the way it seemed? Would Ford even consider him worthy of the time? He’d said it himself: I want you to get as far away from me as possible. Would Ford be relieved that he was finally rid of him, like a weight off his shoulders?

Stan doesn’t even realize that he started crying until a tear drop lands on the counter beside the phone. Just how long has Ford been waiting to get rid of him, anyway?

No. Stan shakes those thoughts away. He can’t lose himself in those kinds of thoughts again. Every time he lets those thoughts get to him, bad things happen.

Besides…a funeral for, er, himself, may not be the most ideal way to spend his birthday, but finally being able to spend it at home for the first time in near decades, despite the circumstances, still beats slaving over an indecipherable journal in a dimly lit basement for twelve hours straight.

He takes a deep breath, and dials home.

“Hey, Ma”

~~~~~~~~

Ever since he turned eighteen, Stan found himself unable to celebrate his birthday without a sour taste in his mouth. As a kid, he looked forward to it more than anything. It was the one day a year that Pa would splurge and let him and Ford do whatever they wanted, and having a birthday in mid-June meant that there was only about a week of school left before they were free for the summer.

Most of all, it was about togetherness. Stan and Ford never had that many friends when they were growing up, so their shared birthdays were always about spending time together, because nobody else deserved to come to their party and celebrate with them anyways.

Once he was forced to spend his birthdays on the streets, Stan was starting to think that maybe he didn’t deserve it either.  Even when he did have people to celebrate with, whether that be his cellmates in prison or nameless gamblers in Vegas casinos, everything felt empty, and there isn’t enough cake or alcohol in this world that could’ve filled that void.

Those early summers in Gravity Falls were the worst years of his life. The calls from home were nice, sure, but his stomach flipped with nausea every time his mother called him Stanford. To no fault of her own, she made him feel as though her love was conditional, and that he wasn’t meeting any of the requirements.

He knows, of course, that it’s not true in the least, but Stan just wishes that wake-up call hadn’t come from attending his own funeral. Stan had gone in expecting to have a terrible time, but he really had thought that seeing his mother’s face for the first time in a decade would’ve cushioned that fall.

Turns out that it only made him feel worse, and he’d declared sometime later over a bottle of whiskey that his birthday must be cursed, and that he never wanted to celebrate it again.

~~~~~~~~

On June 15th, 2013, Stan wakes to the sound of a seagull screeching its head off outside his window. He groans, and sits up in bed to look out his window, but all that meets his eye is the vast sea. He looks then to his bedside clock, which reads 8:30am.

Grumbling to himself, Stan kicks off his covers and stands to his feet, because he knows if he tries to go back to sleep now he’ll be out cold until mid-afternoon. He ruffles through his clothing drawer and picks one of Mabel’s hand knit sweaters at random, because the Arctic doesn’t care what time of year it is when it comes to the weather.

Ford is already sitting out on a deck chair with a fishing rod when Stan steps out of his bedroom.

“Morning” Stan says as he approaches so as not to sneak up on his brother and spook him.

“Oh, good morning, Stanley” Ford smiles as Stan takes the seat beside him. “Did I wake you?”

“Unless you’re a screaming bird, then no” Stan rubs at his eyes. “How long you been up?”

Ford shrugs. “About an hour, hour and a half, I think? What time is it?”

Stan raises an eyebrow. “You sure you slept at all, Poindexter?” He holds three fingers mere inches from Ford’s face. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

Ford smacks his hand away. “Very funny, Stanley. I’ll have you know that I got a solid four and a half hours of sleep last night”

Stan cackles. “Woah, looks like we got a new record, folks” He stretches his arms in the air. “You make any coffee yet? I’m still not awake enough to deal with the cold”

“Oh,” Ford replies, like the question caught him off guard. He stands to his feet. “I must’ve completely forgotten” he says.

That reply does catch Stan off-guard.  Ford? Forgetting to make coffee? His practical lifeline? There must be something up.

Stan rises from his chair, frowning. “You sure you’re doing okay, Sixer?”

“Of course,” Ford replies, not turning back to look at him. “I’m just…tired, is all”

Okay, Ford knows that Stan can sniff out a lie from hundreds of miles away, so whatever it is that Ford is hiding from him must be really bad, because---

That train of thought leaves his head just as quickly as it had entered it the moment he steps foot into the kitchen. There’s a banner hanging up above the window that reads HAPPY BIRTHDAY, and there are a handful of multicolored balloons scattered across the floor.

And right at the center of their table sits two cupcakes and two steaming cups of coffee.

“It was Mabel’s idea,” Ford finally turns to meet Stan’s eyes, smiling. “She called me last night to try and walk me through her cupcake recipe, but…” he rubs at the back of his head as he takes a seat at the table. “It turns out that baking isn’t quite my forte” He gestures to the seat across from him at the table. “So instead, when we were still docked last night, I snuck off board to hunt down a bakery”

Ford fiddles with the paper wrapper on his cupcake. “I know it’s not much, but…” he raises his cupcake in the air like he was making a toast. “Happy birthday”

Not much?

Not much?

This is winning the lottery compared to all the other birthdays Stan’s suffered through.

He takes the seat across from Ford, and raises his own cupcake to clink it against Ford’s.

“Happy birthday to you too, Poindexter”

[a-solitary-marshmallow]

Please Don’t See Me - Chapter 13 (out of 14)

Not – not right. Something was wrong, familiar but not familiar and his head was hurting now, his teeth ached and everything ached. His body felt weird, why was it shaking? Why did he hurt? Where was he again?

 He ached all over, like something was gnawing at him. The bone-deep aching seemed to touch every fibre of his being. It swelled in his jaw, where it seemed to throb alongside his heartbeat. He could hear the crunching as bones shifted and reshaped. He let out a pitiful whine.

 “…with me? Can you…?”

 He hadn’t been expecting an answer to his whimpering. Who was – why? Why was he? No, wait, wrong words. Where was he? He felt like he was struggling to wake from a year-long sleep. Wasn’t sure he wanted to wake up, with the pain radiating through him, intensifying for a moment in his back as cracks and pops shuddered through him. But slowly, slowly, that pain was starting to recede, clearing space for other sensations to filter through.

There was hard floor under his hands. Well, kind-of-hands, with long claws that bit into the wood grain. He could feel air rasping in his throat with every breath that shuddered through him. Something pressed a steady weight against his shoulders, large and warm and grounding. A pair of hands steadying him. Something to focus on. He counted the fingers in his head. One, two, three, four, five, six. Six? He counted again, just to be sure.

 “It’s okay, I’m right here.”

 He knew that voice – lower and a little more prim than he remembered from their childhood, but still familiar. The sense of pack-home-warmth-food-safety-protect. Brother. Brother was there. Brother had given him something awful-tasting, and-

“Stan? Can you understand me?”

He tried to respond but his mouth was dry and only another gasp of air escaped him. How did you speak again? He swallowed hard, testing the muscles that felt like they hadn’t been used in ages. Maybe they hadn’t. When he finally did manage to make a sound it was rough and strained, more of a whine than anything. Maybe it was just the wheeze of his Shift finishing, depositing him firmly as a confused human kneeling on the floor. His claws had shrunk into uneven, dirty nails.

“Just – just nod if you can understand me, okay? Can you nod?”

He swallowed again, forcing out sounds through alien human vocal chords. It came out as a croak. “Ford?”

“Yes!” Someone – Brother – Stanford shouted. Too loud, it hurt his sensitive ears and made him wince. He groaned and brought a clumsy hand up to rub at his throbbing temple. Ugh, either he was hungover or partly in wolf mode or both. Probably both, seeing as he couldn’t quite remember where he was or how he’d gotten there.

“Didja… get the number plate of the car that hit me?”

The words felt odd and disjointed – rusty in his mouth – but they were familiar and made his brother laugh, so he counted that as a win. His memory was pretty blurry, but he was pretty sure that his brother hadn’t laughed in a while. No, Ford had been so frustrated and upset, trying to find some…

…cure.

Huh.

“How do you feel?” Ford was asking him. “Besides hit-by-a-car, of course.”

“Well, I can count up to six and remember yer name, so I’m gonna go with ‘better than before’.” He rasped. With each word his sentences were coming easier, falling into a well-worn pattern of practice. He hadn’t spoken in… how long? Why hadn’t he been speaking?

There was movement, and he was blinking over a shoulder – there were arms wrapped tight around him. A hug? Why was Ford hugging him?

Wait, no, Ford often hugged him. Hugged Rebus. Who was him, who was also-kinda-not-quite Stan?

The final puzzle piece clicked into place, and Stan groaned.

“I turned into a goddamned lapdog.”

The last few weeks were a blur – he wasn’t quite sure it wasn’t all a dream, but he remembered glimpses of it. Of having the mental capacity of a spoon. Napping while Brother worked. A sense of protect-danger-keep-guard-fight. God, he hoped he hadn’t attacked anyone Ford liked.

“Yes. You were Warped.” Ford pulled away to dive into techno-babble, one hand still on Stan’s shoulder. Stan looked around blearily at their surroundings – Ford’s lab, it looked like. The last thing he remembered was being in the forest, but…

He pulled his shredded jacket closer around himself and shivered.

“Do you remember the bear that attacked us?” Ford continued. “You must have ingested some of its blood, because you were affected by the same substance that mutated it. One of the symptoms I’ve isolated is cognitive deterioration, which explains why you were stuck in a simpler mindset. That was the main challenge to reverse. Luckily I was able to figure it out in the end.”

“’Course ya did.” Stan mumbled out. Ford was the smart one, of course he would be able to fix him. Ford let out a little, relieved-sounding laugh, eyes fixed on Stan’s arm as he ran his six fingers over an old scar. At least, it looked old, seeing as it wasn’t a fresh wound anymore. Stan didn’t remember getting it. It looked like some huge bear had taken a chunk out of his arm or something.

…oh yeah, the bear.

“It did take me quite some time to develop a cure. You aren’t the most cooperative subject, Stanley – at one point you climbed onto the roof and then were unable to get down for several hours. I thought your fear of heights had faded since childhood?”

Being dangled over the edge of a five-story building helps with bringing back old phobias. Stan very carefully did not say that out loud. Oh, look at that, his brain was working well enough to recall memories of his escapades with Rico’s gang. Whoopee.

Another shiver ran through him. It was cold down here – or at least it felt that way, given Stan’s sudden lack of fur. The only warmth came from Ford. The nerd was constantly in motion as he babbled, putting a warm hand on Stan’s arm or touching his shoulder or grabbing his face to tilt it from side to side and study his eyes in the light. If Stan didn’t know any better he would have thought his brother was fretting.

Fretting over his latest lab rat, maybe. Was that why Ford had – had fixed him? Because Stan was more useful with his brain intact?

No, Ford was probably just feeling guilty about kicking him out while he was in that state. (And of course Ford would get rid of him, Stan was nothing but trouble, always had been, the only thing he was good at was fucking things up.) So, he found a cure. Undo the damage, fix Stan up before kicking him to the curb, so the scientist could walk away with a clean conscience.

Well, screw that. Ford might as well have just booted him out then and there, when Stan’s head was full of bees and he couldn’t remember his own name. At least then he wouldn’t have had to know that he was being rejected yet again.

As if rejection was something new. Heh, story of his life.

“Stanley, pay attention.” Stan felt a hand lightly tapping his cheek, drawing him back to the present. He finally focused on Ford’s face. The nerd looked almost as bad as Stan felt, with wild hair and tired, bloodshot eyes and ink stains on one cheek where he must have fallen asleep at his desk. He didn’t smell too great, either. Like old coffee, unwashed human and rusted metal. The nerd must have been feeling really guilty to put himself so out-of-sorts. “Now, are you noticing anything unusual for either your wolf or human form? Your eyes are still somewhat reflective but that could just be a werewolf trait rather than a Warped trait. You feel hot, you may be developing a fever. Stay here, I’ll get a thermometer – or, do you think you can stand?”

“Why did you fix me?                      

Ford looked as if Stan had slapped him. Shit. Stan hadn’t even meant to speak, but the words had slipped out.

Well, gotta commit now. He shuffled back and folded his arms over his chest, trying and failing to meet Stanford’s eyes.

Ford made a disbelieving sound. “You’re my brother. I couldn’t just leave you like that.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sure you felt responsible or whatever.” Stan waved his hand dismissively (and clumsily, because coordination with hands was hard. Too many moving parts.) “But did you ever stop to consider that maybe I didn’t want to be fixed?”

“Why on earth would you want to stay like that?”

“Ya didn’t even have to put up with me!” Stan shouted, flinging up his arms, and Ford’s mouth snapped shut. His chest bubbled with anger. “You could have just – I dunno, sent me off into the woods or something.” And it would have hurt just as much, sure, but Stan wouldn’t have been around to feel that pain. “I woulda been fine.”

“You were an animal-”

“But at least I was happy.” Stan snapped. “When – when yer mind is mush at least you don’t know what you’re missing out on, you don’t know that people don’t want you around, you don’t have to be sad all the time. Maybe I like not bein’ me. Maybe I like not knowing how much of a screw-up I am. Maybe I don’t want to know that I’m JUST ANOTHER EXPERIMENT TO YOU!”

Ah, shit. Way to go, motormouth.

Stan huffed and finally met Ford’s eyes, expecting his brother to look angry at his outburst – and maybe, just maybe, a little bit guilty. He hadn’t expected the aghast look he received.

“Stanley.”                                          

Stan flinched back, suddenly very unsure of what was going on and what Ford’s horrified reaction meant. “What, what did I do?”

“Stan, of course you’re more than an experiment. If – why do you think I worked so hard to bring you back?” Ford leaned forward and grabbed Stan’s shoulders again. “If I wanted a lab rat I would have left you in that form, which now that I say it seems quite heartless and this is really besides the point because the point is that I didn’t. You’re my brother, Stanley, whatever grievances we’ve had in the past. And… and if I’ve made you feel that I would think otherwise I apparently haven’t been a very good brother.”

Stan scanned his twin’s eyes, trying to find some hint of dishonestly – any indication that he was lying. He found nothing. And damn it, now he was even more confused!

“…what was all that talk, then?” Stan’s voice was rough. Lack of practice probably. He sounded like a chain smoker. “The ‘it’s my life’s work to study anomalies’ and stuff?”

“It is my life’s work to study anomalies. What does that have to do with this?” Ford frowned, as if confused. Stan spluttered.

“The – the whole ‘only-not-kicking-me-out-because-of-it’ deal!”

“I didn’t say that!” Ford protested.

“Yes you did! You said it right to my face!”

“All I said was that I wouldn’t be-”

Ford stopped. Blinked hard. Swallowed. Stan could almost see the cogs whirring in that big old brain of his.

“…oh. I can see how that would give… the wrong impression.”

Stan groaned and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to grind out the headache he could feel growing there. “Look, Ford. I just – I’m tired, okay? So you can just say your piece and send me off or study me or whatever. But don’t make me –” He let out a frustrated growl. “Just stop givin’ me false hope, okay? I don’t wanna hear it. I’m just… tired.”

The last word was low and pathetic. God, what was wrong with him? C’mon Stan, get your act together! He was a fucking werewolf for crying out loud, and he was sitting here acting like a kicked puppy. No wonder Ford was…

Hugging him again?                

“Hey, hey hey hey, what’s goin’ on here?” Stan flailed a little in the rib-squeezing grip. His eyes prickled – because he was stupid and Ford was hugging him, Stanley, and Stan hadn’t been deliberately hugged in almost a decade. Tears spilled over without his consent. Thank god Stanford couldn’t see his face.

“I’m hugging you.” Ford mumbled into his shoulder.

“Yeah, I – I get that.”

“It has been brought to my attention that I’m not very good at communicating sentiment through words.” Ford continued. “So, I – I’m hugging you instead.”

“…okay.”

______________________________________________________________________

Ford was beginning to realize that he had – eloquently speaking – fucked up.

When he and Stan were younger they had been thick as thieves. Ford could read his brother’s face as easily as an open book. He’d known when Stan was hurting, or feeling guilty or lovesick or whatever else the knucklehead had seen fit to try and hide. Stan had always been better at reading people but if there was one person Ford understood, it was his brother.

He didn’t know how to read his brother’s face now. Maybe Stan had learned to hide his feelings better, or Ford had simply forgotten how. Either way, Ford hadn’t been able to tell what Stan had been thinking since the man had barged back into his life. His brother had been hurting and Ford hadn’t even had a clue. And now everything he said seemed to make it worse.

So Ford didn’t speak. He hugged his brother tight and didn’t let go.

After another moment Stan hesitantly hugged him back, scarred arms closing loosely around Ford’s back. A shudder ran through him and he sniffed. Then hiccupped. Then sniffed again, as if he were desperately trying to hold back tears and failing.

Ford weighed his words carefully before speaking. “…I don’t want you to leave.”

Stan’s fingers dug into his back as the man stiffened.

“Not because of my research, I mean.” Ford continued. “Honestly, Stan I – I missed you. Through the last nine years. You were such a huge part of my life and suddenly you were gone. I wanted to have my freedom – to go to college and move away from home – but never at the expense of my brother.”

Ford’s mouth was dry. He swallowed and forged on.

“Having you back – even in disguise – has been wonderful. I didn’t realize how much I missed you until I got you back. How much I missed my brother. I was so afraid that I’d lost you forever.”

He forced his voice to not wobble; emotions were well and good but falling apart over that particular scenario could wait. Right now Ford was trying to make a point, he didn’t have time to be distracted.

“I’ll understand if you never want to see my face again but please trust me, I want to keep in touch. I don’t want you to just disappear again. And I most certainly will not force you to do so. Do you understand?”

Stan was shaking. Ford rubbed slow circles on his back, desperately hoping that he was helping instead of making things worse. Stan made a soft affirmative sound.

“…mm hmm.”

“And I worked so hard on curing you because I care about you. Even though I may not be good at showing it.”

“Mm.”

Ford gave a low chuckle. “Plus, I… may have gotten in over my head, just a little bit, with some of my experiments. I’m glad I’ve had you to watch my back.”

Stan snorted. His voice was barely a mumble through Ford’s coat. “A little? On day two I was saving your ass from a bunch of angry cat-birds.”

“Griffins are not cat-birds! They are eagle-lion hybrids. And for your information they are generally non-aggressive unless provoked! I just… got a little close, is all.”

Stan pulled away, chuckling wetly as he scrubbed at his face with a torn-up sleeve. “Yeah, whatever.” He cleared his throat. “Jeez Poindexter, you need to sweep down here. You, uh, got a lot of dust.”

“…sure. Dust.”

Stan’s clothes were unsalvageable at this point – torn to ribbons and stained with blood and dirt and other substances Ford couldn’t identify. Even if they ceased to exist when Stan took his wolf form (which would be an incredible thing, Ford had to investigate its limits and the logic behind it) he had been wearing them for far too long.

Which begged the question…

“Stan?” Ford ventured. Stan looked across at him warily.

“…I don’t like that tone.”

“Why did you stay for so long?” Ford crossed his legs to settle next to his brother, since Stan didn’t seem like he was ready to move. “Not that I haven’t appreciated your company, but…?”

Stan buried his face in his knees and mumbled something.

“Stanley, you know I can’t understand you when you mumble.”

“That’s the point of mumbling.” Stan said a little louder.

“You’re dodging the question.”

“Deliberately.”

“Just answer it!”

Were shoulder punches still safe? Ford risked it, and was rewarded with another snort of amusement.

“Ugh, whatever, nerd. I didn’t really have anywhere else to go so I figured – why not stay for a while? Ya know, in case you needed me to bail you out again.”

“Nowhere else to go?” Ford echoed, mystified. Of course Stan had somewhere to go – he must have had a home somewhere! He even had a car… which, now that Ford came to think about it, seemed rather lived-in. And wasn’t even registered. And there was the fact that his brother was dressed like a hobo. And had a mullet. “…oh.”

“Just shut it, I don’t need yer pity.” Stan rolled his eyes. “Yeah. By the time I got outta that stupid cage I figured ‘hey, might as well stay for a bit’ and you know the rest. Now you got your answer, I’m a homeless bum. Go ahead, yuk it up.”

“I’m not laughing.”

Stan squinted at him suspiciously. And… he looked pretty terrible. Ford was pretty sure that he looked like a mess but Stan was twice as bad. His skin was sallow and waxy and his eyes were sunken in, the skin around them dark like a raccoon’s.

Alright. Priorities. Ford pulled in a deep breath, and let it out.

He climbed to his feet and offered a hand. “Do you think you can stand up? You should take a shower and make sure there’s no Warped blood on you. I have some clothes that should fit you, and then you’re going to eat a vegetable. Human bodies need vegetables, Stanley.”

Stan peered at him. “I’m not actually a human, Sixer.”

“Human or not, vitamins are important. Come on.”

Stan reached up, and then hesitated. “Are, um – you sure you want me in your house? After all the, uh…”

“Deceit?” Stan flushed and looked away. “We’ve both made mistakes. And you can more than make it up to me by telling me about werewolves like yourself.”

“I – I won’t touch anything. Or break anything.” Stan mumbled.

“Except for my door.”

Stan flinched. “That wasn’t – I mean–”

Of, curse it. Ford hurried to reassure him. “No, no, I’m sorry, that was a joke. A poor one.

“…your jokes are terrible.”

“My timing could use work.” Ford conceded.

“We’re such a mess.”

“That’s an… accurate way to put it, actually. But you’ll just have to get used to it, because you’ll be staying with me for the near future.”

“I – what?” Stan jerked.

“You said yourself, you have nowhere else to go. And you’ve certainly been pulling your weight, what with making sure I don’t die. So you’re staying here, for as long as you need. Unless you have any other plans?”

Stan spluttered.            

“Just take my hand already.”

With shiny eyes and a rather red face, Stan did. Ford pulled his brother to his feet.

And then promptly went down again as Stan’s legs gave out beneath him, sending him into Ford and both of them to the floor.

 “…you do remember how to walk, right-?”

“Stupid fuckin’ legs-”

“That’s alright, take your time.”

“Shut up!”

[nyroom]

The Ghosts of Childhood - Chapter 2

The Pines family adapts to this new change with mixed results. 

[AO3 Link] [Part 1]

All things considered, Stan took the news remarkably well. 

“So you’re sayin’ something came around and turned me into a kid?” He had echoed, scrunching up his face in thought for a moment. “Eh. I guess it could be worse.” 

To be fair, Ford had kept it simple and brief. There was no sense in telling Stan the reason he had gone out in the first place, just as there’d be no sense in explaining every shred of bitterness that had built up over the years. Stan was old, went out, and then wasn’t anymore. Anyone could understand. 

“And we’re your great-niece and nephew!” Mabel piped up, grabbing her brother in a side hug. “Your favourite great-niece and nephew, by the way.”

Ford almost corrected her that they were their only great-niece and nephew (unless there were more descendants of Shermy? Ford would need to investigate that once he was settled), but bit his tongue. For once, it wasn’t the time to play perfectionist. 

“Great-niece and nephew, eh?” Stan tapped his chin, a slow grin spreading across his face. “So that makes me the boss of you!” 

“Well, you’re younger than us right now.” Dipper corrected, straightening out his clothes from his sister’s hug/chokehold. From what Ford could tell, Mabel didn’t do her hugs by half measures.

Stan ignored this point, nodding to himself. “I’m the boss of people… Cool!” 

“Let’s not forget who the older twin is here, technically and literally.” Ford cut in next, shooting his brother a stern look. “So I’m the one in charge right now.” 

That made Stan deflate a little, crossing his arms and huffing defiantly. “Only by fifteen minutes!” He shot back, but kept it at that. For as stubborn as Stan was, that was certainly remarkable. Maybe now that they were farther apart in age, he would finally listen to Ford. 

Ha.

The annoyance passed quickly, Stan’s face brightening with realization. “So if Sixer’s an old man, then I’m an old man too, right?” He immediately rounded on Ford, leaning forward excitedly. “Did we fix the Stan O’War and go treasure hunting?”

Ford’s mouth shut with an audible clack. He had already told himself he wasn’t going to bring up the years of bitterness, but how was he supposed to answer that question without lying? ‘For unspecific reasons, we actually haven’t spoken in 40 years.’ That would never work.

He may be upset with Stanley right now, but he couldn’t bring himself to crush this child’s innocent naivety.  

“You run a business!” Mabel volunteered, saving Ford from having to answer. He wondered if she did that intentionally or not. “And you do have some employees, so you’re basically still a boss anyways!”

Stan’s eyes widened with wonder, childhood dream momentarily forgotten. “No foolin’? Wow! I bet Pa was real proud of me!” 

And here Ford thought it was impossible for this to get worse. 

The excitement in Stan’s expression crumbled a little at his audience’s stony faces, uncertainty creeping back into his features. He looked right at Ford, searching. “...He was proud of me, right? Stanford?”

The scene was so heart-wrenchingly familiar that, for a second, Ford wasn’t an old man with the threat of the world on his shoulders. He was a child, just like Stan, standing in a cave, hiding in a theme park attraction. His twin was so open and vulnerable, looking at Ford like he had all the answers in the world, pleading to tell him he was wrong. 

‘Do you really think I’m a bad kid?’

‘It just sometimes feels like Pa hates me.’

‘Do you know what it’s like being the stupid twin?’

‘I wish just once Pa would look at me the way he looks at you. Like he actually likes me.’

Truth be told, Ford had spent so long trying to bury Stan in his memories that he had forgotten all about his twin’s insecurities. His stomach twisted at the reminder. How long ago had those memories happened for Stan? How long had he felt like that in general? Probably longer than you’d care to admit.

Ford hadn’t wanted to lie to Stan if he could help it. Lies had never been Ford’s strong suit, not like they were Stan’s. Lies were liabilities, a misstep waiting to happen. They were messy and risky and something Ford would rather avoid altogether. Yet looking into Stan’s eyes, he knew he had no choice.

“Not just proud, Stanley. He was impressed.” He said, and his voice didn’t even shake. “You really beat him at his own game.” 

If at all possible, Stan looked even more starstruck than before. He looked back in the direction of the Gift Shop, blinking hard. Ford didn’t need to see his brother’s eyes to know they were damp.

It’s just a white lie. He told himself when Stan turned back to him with a thousand-watt smile. There’s no harm in a white lie or two. When Stan is back to his proper age, he’ll understand.

After that, the questions came at Ford rapid-fire. Really, he should have expected as much.

“So did we really go treasure hunting after all?”

“Yes.”

“Did we find lots of treasure and get all the girls?”

“Yes.”

“Did I open the business before or after we went sailing?”

“After.”

“Where’s all the treasure now?”

“Hidden away to protect it from pirates.” 

“What about the Stan O’War?”

“In a museum. We are world-famous adventurers, after all.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the younger twins exchanging a grimace and pretended he didn’t notice. The children just didn’t understand. It was easier to do things this way. If Stan knew the harsh reality their lives had taken, he may not be so quick to trust Ford and allow him to reverse whatever had done this to him in the first place. Stan didn’t have the emotional capability to handle the truth. This was for his own good.

He also pretended that the giddy smile Stan wore didn’t warm something within him, buried after so many years. 

Just because Stan is this way right now doesn’t mean I’ve forgiven him. I’m still justified to feel angry with him. When he’s his proper age, we’re going to have a very long discussion. 

“I told you it’d happen!” Stan proudly declared, reaching across the table to affectionately punch Ford in the arm. Ford pointedly ignored the memory of the last time Stan had punched him 30 years ago. 

Before Stan could launch into more questions, Dipper awkwardly cleared his throat. “Hey, uh, Great Uncle Ford? Do you think we could have some dinner?”

Right, Ford should have realized. Stan had left around midday and, apparently, hadn’t been back until just now. The children must be starving. That realization was followed by another, more daunting one: Ford would have to cook for them. 

Ford hadn’t cooked for anyone since he lived with Fiddleford, and even then that had been sparingly. Fiddleford had dubbed him a “fire hazard” when he accidentally added vinegar instead of pasta sauce; a clear overreaction. It wasn’t like he had done it intentionally, he had just been sleep-deprived! It could happen to anyone! 

“Of course, Dipper.” He responded, spite burgeoning him with confidence. He could cook just fine, thank you very much, Fiddleford. “You’re actually in luck, I was in the middle of cooking for myself when you all arrived. It shouldn’t be too much to whip up a bit extra.”

If he could survive the multiverse for 30 years, he could handle cooking for 3 children. It was just cooking more, after all. It wasn’t rocket science. What could go wrong? 

----------------------

Evidently, a lot could go wrong. 

As it turned out, leaving food unattended in this house was a bad idea. Apparently, a pig - Mabel’s pet Waddles, Ford learned later - had taken the opportunity to indulge in the unguarded delicacies and left nothing to salvage when Ford returned. Never one to accept a setback, he had merely taken it as a sign that he needed to make something a bit more extravagant than plain old eggs for a family dinner.

After liberally covering the kitchen in food matter, utensils, and soot from a spontaneous fire, the family had made the decision to give the kitchen a much-needed break. This was what had lead to them piling into Greasy’s Diner, tucked into a booth near the end of the restaurant. Mabel tried to assure him that Stan had done much, much worse in the beginning. Ford got the impression she was just saying that to make him feel better.

Truth be told, the idea of being in town set Ford’s teeth on edge. While the Rift may be contained, it was in no way safe. Until Bill was defeated once and for all, he would never stop trying to get it. This made every citizen not only a target, but a suspect as well. They couldn’t afford to trust anyone. 

Ford had almost turned the idea down when it was suggested, but a look at the kitchen reminded him that he wouldn’t be able to provide the proper meal growing children needed. Instead, he settled on lecturing them at length about keeping on guard, making sure to keep it specific enough to dissuade questions and vague enough not to keep Bill’s name out of their mouths.  Worryingly, the children barely seemed fazed. 

Now, sitting in the diner as the group looked over the menu, Ford was struck with another troubling realization. While people were going to address him by his actual name, they were still going to think he was his brother. With Stanley right there, he couldn’t very well correct them, either. Not only that, but he’d need to think of a good excuse for why “Mr. Pines” suddenly had another child. 

Frustration surged through him at the thought and he found himself remembering the resentment he felt earlier today. Damnit Stanley, why do you need to make everything so hard?

Before Ford could entertain that thought further, he caught sight of an older woman in waitressing attire approaching their table. She had a lazy eye, but the eye that remained open was a perfectly boring hazel. Not Bill. Ford could relax a little.

“Stan!” She greeted, smiling brightly at him. “Did you get dressed up just for me?” 

Ford looked down at his clothes and inwardly cursed. If he had had the forethought, he would have taken the time to dress like Stan to compl-- wait a second. 

As he finished processing the woman’s words, he felt his cheeks heat up with embarrassment. Of all the people in Stan’s life that Ford could have met first, why did it have to be someone he had been or was currently romantically involved with? He could barely woo his own partners when he bothered with romance, let alone his estranged twin’s. 

Luckily (or unluckily, in hindsight) for Ford, the woman soon shifted her attention to Stan and brightened even more. “And who’s this cutiepie?” Damnit, Ford hadn’t thought up a decent cover story for the town yet.

“My name’s Stanley!” Stan chirped, puffing out his chest at the compliment. He had always been more receptive to people’s praise, soaking it up like a sponge while Ford shied away from it. Ford supposed it was natural, considering how they were raised. 

 “He’s our younger brother who just got back from a trip to New Jersey!” Dipper cut in quickly, drawing the attention of four sets of confused eyes. He seemed to quail a little under the scrutiny, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uhh… Our parents decided to just send him here too.” 

There was a moment of silence, but only for a moment before Stan answered confidently, “Sure am! I can’t let my big siblings hog all the fun of camping up here.” Ford had forgotten how honed his brother’s lying was, even at such a young age. He hadn’t even stuttered. 

The waitress laughed and, thankfully, took their orders without pressing the issue further. Once she was gone, he smiled gratefully at Dipper. “Nice thinking, Dipper. Great work.” 

The boy flushed at the praise, eyes darting down to the menu as the hand rubbing his neck increased in pace. “Oh, uh! It was nothing… I just figured we probably should keep this under wraps until we get Stan back to normal.” 

Stan nodded his agreement, much more cooperative than Ford thought he’d be. “Makes sense to me, but won’t people wonder where I am? I mean, if I’m a world-famous adventurer and successful business guy an’ all…”

Right then. It would probably be best to get their stories straight before anyone else happened by. Though Ford wasn’t much good at this lying business, he knew the logic behind it. If they were all in agreement, that lessened the chances of conflicting lies, which lessened the chance of confrontation. Confrontation was certainly not something Ford’s skittish heart needed right now. 

“Simple: you’re an adventurer. Though the lull of running a business was a nice reprieve, the calls of the sea were not so easy to dismiss. You set out in search of wonder and new exhibits for your business, ready to fight any who opposed you.” 

Ford expected Stan’s eyes to light up at the very idea. It played into his dream quite handily, harkening back to days spent weaving tales on the beach. He even pitched his voice dramatically for the effect. Instead, Ford was met with a stormy expression, Stan’s lips pressed into a thin line. Ford didn’t understand. 

“An adventure without you sounds like a pretty dumb adventure,” Stan grumbled, picking at the edge of his menu. He refused to meet Ford’s eyes. “Are people really gonna buy that?”

Of course. Sailing away hadn’t just been Stan’s dream, it had been Ford’s once as well. Wherever we go, we go together. He swallowed uncomfortably. 

“Well, of course they will.” Ford reasoned, wracking his brain for a believable lie. “One of us needed to stay back and keep running the Mystery Shack. No good business can just close down, you know.” 

Stan’s scowl deepened, unconvinced and stubborn as ever. Ford found himself sighing in response. “It’s just a lie, Stanley. It doesn’t need to be realistic.”

“If anyone can make something unbelievable believable, it’s you Grunkle Stan.” Mabel pointed out, smiling. “And this time, it’s for a good cause!” 

Stan’s expression wavered at that. “I guess so. And it’s not like it’s gonna last forever…” He nodded to himself, tension easing. “It can’t be any harder than that time I convinced Mr. Carter that I ate roasted seagull for lunch every day. The look on his face was priceless!” 

The air at the table lightened some as Stan began to re-tell tales from their youth. Another forgotten aspect of his brother’s personality came to surface as he watched him, gesturing and speaking with the flair of a showman. Truly, Stan had a knack for public speaking. Ford wondered what else he had forcibly repressed about his brother. 

He might have been able to make something of himself if he wasn’t so insistent on suffocating me. A dark voice murmured in his mind. Ford dismissed it, forcing himself to focus on the present. There would be time to stew in bitter thoughts later. 

Though the children were listening with rapt attention, they were not content to play captive audiences for long. As their food arrived and the group dug in, they repaid Stan with stories of their own from their summer in Gravity Falls. It didn’t escape Ford that plenty of their tales centred around anomalies that he had recorded in his journal, nor did he miss the side glances Dipper cast his way anytime one was brought up. 

He thought back to the first time he had opened his third journal upon his return, flipping through the carefully scrawled blue words. The twins - Dipper mostly, judging on the writing - had certainly been busy this summer. The solutions they posited seemed so obvious when spelled out, how hadn’t he thought of it? 

Stan had been firm in keeping Ford away from the children for their own safety. At first, he could see the logic behind that assertion. While Gravity Falls was a wonderfully weird place, it was also dangerous to those who were unprepared. Yet the more Ford read the journal, the more capable the children became in his eyes. Hearing the stories firsthand merely solidified the notion in his mind. Stan was just being overprotective. 

If they were going to turn Stan back to his proper age, then he was going to need to work with the children, deal be damned. If he happened to get closer to and bond with them along the way, then that was just a logical and inescapable outcome. Stan couldn’t fault him for that, not when it was for his own good. 

Besides, these children were his family too. Stan had no right to hold them hostage from him. 

---------------------------------------------

The past few hours had been such a whirlwind, Stanley was having trouble processing. To start the day on the beach and finish it in a small town smack dab in the middle of a forest? It didn’t feel real. More than once, Stan would dig his fingernails into his arm when he felt like no one was paying attention, just to see if he was dreaming after all. No luck. 

Don’t get him wrong, he was interested in this new life he seemed to have made for himself! His great-niece and nephew seemed really nice (even if it was weird to think that kids around his age were actually younger than him?), and the fact he was a businessman now was an unexpected delight. But it just wasn’t the same without Ford here by his side to experience it with him. 

Ford may be around, but he wasn’t really around. He was older and wiser and sure, he was still the same old Pointdexter, but it just wasn’t the same. Experiencing this sudden environment shift on his own, after doing everything with his twin before, was a change Stan wasn’t ready to face. Beneath the bravado and excitement, Stan couldn’t stop himself from feeling terribly anxious. 

Riding in the backseat of an admittedly neat looking car (“It’s your car, Grunkle Stan!”), wedged between unfamiliar family, Stan could feel those anxieties creeping back up to the forefront once more. He had been to the woods before on a school trip, but never at night. The trees looming through the windows looked dark and foreboding without the sun, like they could swallow you up and no one would hear from you again. He had to resist the urge to shrink back into Dipper’s side. 

Ugh, what kind of wimp was he? Pa would likely scold him if he knew. ‘Belt up, boy. A Pines man doesn’t hide from danger.’ Of course, that thought just made him homesick. What he wouldn’t give to tuck himself into Ma’s arms right about now. 

But Pa was right. He was a Pines man, and a Pines man didn’t hide. He pointedly squashed down his fears and, instead, asked about the pig Mabel had called Waddles. The girl lit up with a dazzling smile and spoke at length about how wonderful he was, showing him picture after picture that she had saved in the pockets of her sweater. Dipper assured him this was only a fraction of the pictures she had, the rest having found a home in her scrapbook. Stan believed him.

Maybe Stan didn’t have Ford here to face this unknown situation with, but Dipper and Mabel made good company. Though he wouldn’t trade Ford for the world, it was nice to have other people to call friends for once. He closed his eyes as he listened to the two talk, allowing himself to be soothed by their voices. 

If they and Ford weren’t afraid right now, then he had no reason to be either.

He hadn’t realized he had dozed off until he heard the sounds of car doors opening. He opened his eyes, blinking blearily and scrambling to get out of the car. Looks like they were back at the Mystery Shack (his business, wasn’t that so neat?). Man, how long had he been out? Hopefully, the others hadn’t noticed.

As they made their way into the house - coming in through a different door this time, though Stan guessed that wasn’t really important - Ford clapped his hands together. “Alright then, Stanley. Let’s get you situated and off to bed.”

Darn. He must have noticed.

“What? But it’s only -” Stan paused, looking over at the clock on the wall “- 8! It’s not even close to bedtime, and I’m not even tired!”

Ford shot him a stern look, looking much more like Pa than Ford. Stan felt himself instinctually straighten. “Let’s say, for the sake of argument, I believe that you aren’t tired. That doesn’t change the fact that you’ve been through quite an ordeal, mentally and physically. Your body and mind need time to recharge. You don’t want to get sick, do you?”

As usual, Ford was making a good point. That didn’t stop Stan from crossing his arms and scuffing the floor with his shoe, most assuredly not pouting. Stan didn’t pout. Pouting was for babies. 

Apparently satisfied with Stan’s silence, Ford turned his attention to the other two. “While I’m attending to that, do you two mind fetching me my remaining two journals? They should be down in the lab.” 

Dipper’s eyes widened at Ford’s request, looking like a kid on Christmas. Were Ford’s nerd scribbles really that interesting? “O-Okay!” He stammered out before turning on his heel, racing out of the room. Mabel was hot on his heels, calling after him to slow down and wait for her. 

Stan watched the two until they disappeared down the hall. “Journals, huh? Isn’t that kinda like a diary?” He asked, turning to where Ford was standing. Keyword: was. Turns out, his brother was already halfway up the stairs. Looks like he had decided to take a leaf out of Dipper’s book. Stan frowned at that and hastened to follow.

Ford stayed quiet as they journeyed through the house, scarcely seeming to notice that Stan was following at all. He looked lost in thought, which Stan supposed wasn’t all that out of place. Ford was usually thinking about something, and sometimes he’d get so lost in that big brain of his that he stopped noticing his surroundings. Usually, that only happened when he was faced with a really hard problem. 

Maybe Stan’s situation was hard too? It seemed hard to Stan, but Stan was never all that bright to begin with. For Ford’s sake, he stayed quiet too.

Eventually, the pair stopped outside a door. Luckily, Ford seemed to snap out of whatever daze he had been in. “Ah, yes, here we are,” He said, opening the door and gesturing inside. “This is your room. You can sleep here while I work on getting you back to normal.”

The first thing that Stan noticed was that it was dark. Maybe it was just because the lights were off, but the dark felt different somehow; suffocating, almost. The curtains on the window were drawn tight, preventing any moonlight from brightening the room. The light that did spill in from the hallway illuminated the dusty air and the general state of disarray the room was in. 

If Stan had to describe it, it seemed sad. Was this really the room he slept in as an adult?

Ford continued talking, sounding way too casual after revealing such a dim place. “Now I doubt you have any children clothes here, but I don’t anticipate Dipper having an issue with you borrowing some of his. If everything goes well, I should have you back to normal in a few days, so it won’t be an issue for long. The children sleep in the attic and I’ll be sleeping in the room down the hall, so we won’t be far if you need anyth--”

“Wait.” Stan cut in, realization dawning. No wonder there’s only one bed. “You’re not sleeping with me?”  

He turned to look straight up at Ford, watching as his brother’s eyes immediately looked off to the side. He had that sad look on his face again, a look that Stan was starting to realize showed up quite frequently now. It made him wonder if he was the one causing that look. 

“No, Stanley.” He eventually said, reaching up to push his glasses further up his face. It was a nervous habit, one Stan could easily recognize. “We haven’t slept in the same room for a very long time. Adults need their own space.” 

Stan wanted to argue that. Ma and Pa shared a room - heck, they shared a bed! - why couldn’t he and Ford? Yet taking another look at his brother, Stan once again remembered that this Ford wasn’t really his. This Ford was basically a stranger to him, and Stan hated it. Sharing a room would probably just make the strangeness even more apparent.

It was Stan’s turn to avoid eye contact, staring into the room instead. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Ford’s features softening a little. Soon enough, the familiar six-fingered weight was settling on Stan’s shoulder. The fingers were bigger and rougher now, but the gesture was still the same. It felt like Ford was drawing out the tension through touch alone. 

���I know it’s new and frightening, but I promise you’ll get used to it.” He said, stooping down so he was level with Stan. His lips twitched up into a slight smile. “As I said, I’m not far away, okay? If something happens, you can still come to me. Just because we don’t share a room anymore doesn’t mean I won’t be there for you.” 

Of course, what was he thinking? Ford might be old and strange right now, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t still his brother. He really shouldn’t be expecting so little of him. Just because he was sleeping here alone didn’t mean Ford didn’t have his back. 

It’s just temporary. The room is weird but you can do this. You’ve taken on worse. 

Stan took a breath and let the weight on his shoulder strengthen him. It was hard to feel afraid when he had someone at his side and a slow, shy smile spread across his face. He turned to face his twin, holding up his hand in mutual solidarity. No matter how many years separated them now, surely this was universal. This couldn’t be tainted by the strangeness. 

“High-six?” 

Instead of immediately raising his hand and completing the gesture, Ford just stared blankly at it. One moment passed, then another, and Stan’s smile began to flicker. Ford had that look in his eye again, that sad, far-away look. Stan decided he hated it more than he hated the room. 

Subconscious now, Stan lowered his hand. Maybe he had been wrong after all. Stan couldn’t imagine it; in what reality could he achieve his dream while everything he shared with his brother was suddenly different? Was it just inevitable? 

“I-I’m sorry, Stanley.” Ford finally stammered, removing his hand from his shoulder to card anxiously through his hair. “It’s been… A trying day for me, too. I hope you can understand.”

Stanley didn’t, not entirely. 

Maybe… Things were just different because Ford had lost someone, too. Maybe he felt this same strangeness in reverse, looking for the adult version of his missing half. Stan didn’t really know how he’d feel in Ford’s shoes, so it seemed probable to him.

Either way, he put on a smile and reached over to put a hand on Ford’s shoulder too. His hand was much smaller and probably lacked the same satisfying, grounding weight to it, but he hoped it helped anyways. “Course I do, Pointdexter,” He lied. “But it’s okay. We can be here for each other, just like always.” 

Ford inhaled softly at the touch, but didn’t immediately move away. Stan took that as a good sign and remained there, allowing the silence to stretch for as long as Ford needed it. 

The moment passed soon after and Ford straightened once more, letting Stan’s hand fall away. Stan understood; Pines men didn’t just sit there and whimper. If you had time to cry, you had time to fight. That was what Pa had always said. 

Feeling lighter, Stan dutifully crawled into the too-big bed without any further complaint. For the time being, he didn’t even notice the heaviness. Now that he was really laying down, the exhaustion that he had been fighting since the diner was returning with a vengeance. He had just enough energy to turn onto his side, looking at where Ford stood in the doorway. 

“G’night, Ford.” He murmured, eyes already closing. 

Whatever Ford’s response was, if there was any at all, fell on deaf ears. Stan was fast asleep before he knew what hit him. 

--------------------------

Far away from the odd little family, in a dimension nothing like theirs, a being contemplates the scene he has just witnessed. The little display was disgustingly saccharine, almost making him sick to his proverbial stomach.

Still, the advantage that had just been handed to him was well worth enduring that little sob fest. He leans away from his handy eavesdropping orb, hands clasped at his back. 

“And here I thought my conquest was going to be difficult.” He thought aloud, unable to stop himself from cackling. After enduring those embarrassing defeats at the hands of those meddlesome twins, this break was exactly what he was looking for. 

It was time to exploit that six-fingered freak’s kryptonite: Stanley Pines. 

[anistarrose]

Illusion (Pokemon x Gravity Falls One-Shot)

Summary: When you're afraid you'll never have a chance to hug your brother again, there's only one thing to do.

Word Count: ~2300

Warnings: Some self-blame and self-hatred

[Can be read without prior knowledge of Pokemon. However, it may be helpful to know that (caesar ciphered for vaguely implied spoiler) Crurdun kdv wkh delolwb Looxvlrq, zklfk ohwv lw glvjxlvh lwvhoi dv rwkhuv.]

July 2nd

It’s only the beginning of my third week in Gravity Falls, and already, I’ve encountered far more strange Pokémon than I could have ever anticipated! Just this morning, Decidueye and I nearly captured a strange creature wearing a decorated rag over its body, as if to mimic a Pikachu! Based on how easily it escaped the trapping power of Spirit Shackle, I’m tempted to classify it as a Ghost-type, but the attack also seemed to do no damage whatsoever to the Pokémon itself, only busting its disguise. We’ll be keeping an eye out for this “shadow of a Pikachu” to show up again it to show up again, of course, in hopes of exposing its true form!

Beheeyem has also been especially delighted lately — I can’t help but wonder if it senses the presence of other extraterrestrials! Perhaps that’s even the origin of all the anomalies in this town?

Stan buried his head in his hands. He’d reread the damn journal four times now, and it was still half useless information and half information he was too stupid to make any sense of.

His Pokémon — except Gyarados, for obvious reasons — were milling about the basement, unsure of what to do to help but too loyal to leave. Pangoro sat cross-legged in front of the portal, as if guarding it, while Persian slowly paced around the room, sniffing things he had definitely had time to sniff before. Even Gabite, who hated the cold and would definitely rather be upstairs under a pile of blankets, was lying at Stan’s feet, wrapping his fins around Stan’s leg for warmth.

And then there was Zoroark — good old, reliable old Zoroark, who’d gotten him through more rough points in life than Stan could count — who leaned over his shoulder, offering a faint murmur of reassurance. There were no words, but twenty years of time spent together made the message clear:

You can do this. We believe in you.

But Stan was tired, so tired. His brain was crying out for coffee, but his limbs felt too heavy for him to get up and make any, his mouth too dry for him to ask any of his Pokémon to bring it to him…

He was tired of being the dumb twin, tired of being the failure twin, tired of being the twin who wasn’t good for anything but protecting others and ultimately just ended up doing the complete opposite. He was tired of being seen as a shadow, as a poor pathetic imitation of something better. He was tired of Ford and everyone who saw him like that not being wrong.

He didn’t remember falling asleep, but he must have, because a hand on his shoulder was suddenly shaking him awake.

A six-fingered hand.

“You’re not a failure,” Ford told him gently.

“And you’re not real,” Stan responded.

“I’m saying what he would say if he was here.” Ford’s nose twitched slightly, in a very inhuman — yet still familiar — way.

“Pretty sure just about the last thing he said to me was that I’d never done anything worthwhile in my life. And he was right.”

“He was angry,” Not-Ford replied. “Angry and wrong.”

He gestured around the basement, to where Stan’s Pokémon had all drifted off into sleep. “Was all the time you spent with Persian and Gabite and Pangoro not worthwhile? Was training Gyarados up from a weak little Magikarp you found stranded on the beach one day not worthwhile?”

He rubbed his shoulder, where his trench coat was singed — though subtly, in a way that Stan might have missed if he didn’t know exactly what it meant. “Was convincing your parents to adopt me and Vulpix off the street in the middle of the winter not worthwhile?”

Stan closed his eyes and shook his head slowly. “No, it was — it was worth something.”

Still wearing Ford’s appearance, Zoroark wrapped his arms around Stan and hugged him tight, in just the same way that Ford always had. Stan hugged back, and a sob caught in his throat, just in front of his heart, blocking any other sound from coming out.

“If Ford was here right now, he might still be angry,” Zoroark told him. “But I know he wouldn’t say that any of those things were worthless. You’re not worthless, and you can figure this out. We all know you can. That battle won’t be the last one Ford will ever have with us, and calling you worthless won’t be the last thing he’ll ever say to you. I promise. You’ll get to hug him again for real.”

“Thank you,” Stan choked out as the illusion melted away and Zoroark buried his long black snout in his jacket. “You’re right, buddy. You’re right.”

***

From the moment the memory gun slipped out of his hands and clattered to the ground, the end of Ultramageddon dragged on and on for Ford like some kind of eternal punishment, even as it only registered in his memory as a series of blurred and disjointed images. He barely registered the bricks of the Fearamid flying out from underneath his feet as he grabbed Dipper and Mabel and Decidueye and Ninetales and held them tight as stared up to the chaos that was the sky.

The Ultra Wormhole closed itself like cracked glass being melted down into one cohesive whole again, colors streaking from horizon to horizon and until they finally, finally subsided to a uniform blue dotted with white clouds, a faint rainbow forming above the falls in the distance.

Ford thought, for a moment, that he saw the silhouette of a winged creature above that rainbow, lit up from behind by the blazing summer sun — but he blinked and it vanished, and he had a million other things to worry about, the most horrible being the man who wore his face but was no longer his twin.

It wasn’t hard to find Stan (he almost wished it was), because Zoroark, whose bright red mane stuck out in the woods like a sore thumb, was waiting by his trainer’s side, standing down on all fours like he hadn’t since he was a Zorua and whimpering faintly as the others approached.

Mabel, wonderful blessed optimist that she was, ran up to Stan, returned his fez to his head and and was greeted by a confused smile and a question. “Uh, hey there… kiddo. What’s — what’s your name?”

“Grunkle Stan?” Mabel asked. “Grunkle Stan, it’s me! It’s me!”

“We had to erase his mind to defeat Bill,” Ford explained, the words sounding hollow in his mouth — because no explanation could ever make this any better, could ever lead to anything but more sadness. “Stan has no idea, but — he did it. He saved the world.”

Ford let out a ragged breath.

“He saved me.”

Not a full minute ago, he’d made a promise to himself that he wouldn’t expect Stan to still be Stan, wouldn’t expect him to behave like his brother would, wouldn’t say anything to this poor confused man that we wouldn’t say to a stranger.

But he’d known, in his heart, it would been a promise he wouldn’t be able to keep. All of a sudden he was hugging Stan and crying, tears seeping into his own trench coat, the coat of the man who should have taken the fall.

“You’re our hero, Stanley.”

Stan remained limp and silent, not making any move to return the embrace.

I’ll never hug my brother again, Ford realized. I haven’t in forty-three years and I never will again.

Soos joined them on the way back to the Shack, his Bibarel tailing after him, and Stan just blinked at them slowly. Zoroark pressed his nose to Soos’s shoulder and let out another mourning whimper, as Soos’s smile melted away and he wiped at his eyes with the end of Zoroark’s tattered mane. Waddles waited for them at the doorstep of the Shack, as if he’d known they were coming, but his expression remained as blank and innocent as a Pignite’s could be as he followed them inside.

Stan settled into his chair in his chair comfortably, his expression a little brighter, a little less confused-looking, and for a moment it was as if a stream of pure oxygen was being blown at the last spark of hope in the back of Ford’s mind. Maybe, just maybe, there was a bit of Stan left —

“Hey, what’s wrong? You guys look like you’re at someone’s funeral!”

And then it was gone, extinguished by the deluge that was reality, and while Ford knew the kids needed him, that their Pokémon needed him, he couldn’t stay, couldn’t keep looking at this — this shadow of a brother.

He remembered the time when he’d convinced himself that Stan had always just been his shadow, an inferior imitation, and hated himself for ever thinking it. He deserved to be hated for thinking it. If anything was a shadow, a warped reflection, a mockery of what it was supposed to be, it was the stranger sitting where Stan should have — which wasn’t fair to this amnesiac man, Ford knew, but he couldn’t keep looking at his once-brother like this, couldn’t stay here —

Hurriedly, awkwardly, he excused himself and rushed to the wreck of a kitchen, where sitting amongst the rubble was… Stan.

Except it wasn’t, because this Stan’s suit was singed and ripped over his left shoulder. The place where Ford’s Ninetales had struck Zoroark with a far more powerful than intended attack in the heat of that fateful battle thirty years ago, an attack that still left a scar to this day.

“Why are you doing this?” Ford blurted out. “Why are you being him?”

“I don’t know,” Zoroark replied, voice close to that of Stan’s yet somehow different, as if with a very faint accent. “Denial, maybe? I — I miss him. I miss him a lot already.” The sorrow in his voice, on the other hand, sounded very, very believably human.

Ford flinched as Zoroark leaned towards him, only to be drawn into a hug just like the one he’d hoped so desperately that he’d receive from Stan back in that clearing.

This isn’t real, he told himself. It’s just an illusion. It’s not really Stan.

But he also hugged Zoroark back.

“He didn’t hate you, you know.” Zoroark murmured between sniffs. “Was frustrated by a lot of things you did, maybe. But he forgave you for all of that in the end.”

Ford nodded slowly. “Do you want to go back to Stan? Together? The kids… the kids need us.”

“Mmhm.” Zoroark let its illusion fade away and withdrew from the hug. When the two of them got back to the living room, Mabel was sitting on Stan’s chair with him and crying, flipping through pages of a scrapbook.

“This’ll work! This has to work! Here’s the first day we came to Gravity Falls, Grunkle Stan, and here are the seals I used on my ball capsules that ended up blinding you!”

“That time we went fishing with you and Gyarados?” Dipper offered. “That time a giant Aerodactyl kidnapped Waddles and you punched it in the face?”

Stan shook his head sadly.

“I’m sorry,” he told them, “but I don’t know what any of this is, or who you are — ah, quit it, Waddles, I’m tryin’ to remember my life story here!”

Ford nearly collapsed with relief, and next to him, he felt Zoroark jump.

“What did you say?” Dipper gasped.

“I said get Waddles off of me!”

“It’s working!” Ford exclaimed, rushing over to Mabel’s side and putting a hand on her shoulder. “Keep reading!”

“Skip to my page! He needs to remember our boss-employee relationship!”

“Hey, just because I have amnesia don’t go tryin’ to give yourself a raise, Soos!”

From somewhere above them, something let out a caw, so loudly that it had to have been from an absolutely giant Pokémon. Between the cracks in the roof of the Shack, Ford could see a rainbow of colors in the sky — and for just a moment, a giant red and white winged creature flying past.

Ho-oh, the Pokémon of rainbows… and revival.

“You okay, uh… Ford? You’re Ford, right?” Stan asks. “My brother? Or is that just short for somethin’, or —”

“No, that’s my name — and I am fine, now. I just…”

He shook his head. “Never mind. It’s not important —”

Stan frowned, and met eyes with Zoroark, who also frowned.

“Alright, fine. Could — could I have a hug?”

Stan got a strange look in his eyes, but Zoroark nodded to him, and he stood up and let his head rest over Ford’s shoulder.

“I missed you,” Ford told him, and for a moment Stan was quiet and Ford was afraid he’d said something wrong, triggered some unpleasant memory to come rushing back without context.

“I don’t know why,” Stan finally said, “‘cause as far as I know I’m the only one who got my mind wiped lately, but… I missed you too. I don’t know what happened, but… I get the sense I’ve been really worried about you lately. And maybe, uh, not on the best terms with you.”

He sniffed. “But I’m… I’m really glad you’re here.”

Ford nodded. “It’s thanks to you that I am. You and your team.”

Overhead, Ho-oh cawed again, and a single feather drifted down between the crack in the roof, shining in red, white and green.

“To new beginnings?” Ford asked, catching it.

“To new beginnings,” Stan agreed.

***

Thanks for reading, feedback is appreciated as always! I definitely have plans for more stuff in this crossover, but also some other fics I want to prioritize over those, so it may be a while.

[thelastspeecher]

Not too good at suggestions, but how about for the werepire au we take a look at Stan and Angie getting along when they first met, and maybe them confessing to each other that they aren't human?

Day 01   Day 02   Day 03   Day 04   Day 05   Day 06   Day 07   Day 08Day 09   Day 10   Day 11   Day 12   Day 13   Day 14   Day 15   Day 16Day 17   Day 18   Day 19   Day 20   Day 21   Day 22   Day 23   Day 24Day 25   Day 26   Day 27   Day 28   Day 29   Day 30

You want it, you got it.  Enjoy some Stan and Angie initial interactions.

Word count: 1352

              Stan tossed the clothes he’dstolen from Walmart at Angie.

              “Here,” he grunted.

              “Thank you,” Angie said quietly.  Stan looked over at her.  When he’d woken up this afternoon, only tosee that the wolf he’d found last night had turned into a nude woman, he’d beenfrustrated beyond belief.  It didn’t helpthat she only remembered her first name. He’d hoped that she was a vampire like him.  Maybe someone that he could commiserate with.  But she wasn’t.  

              Angie, wrapped up in a blanket,looked through the clothes, her cheeks flushed a slight pink.  A few strands of caramel-colored hair dangledin front of her face.  She tucked thehair behind her ear.  Stan looked away,suddenly realizing he was staring.

              “So,” Stan said.  He cleared his throat.  “Did, uh, did you remember where you’re from?”

              “No.”  Stan could practically feel the anxietycoming off Angie in waves.  “I don’tremember a thing.”

              “That sucks.”

              “Yeah.”  Angie sighed heavily.  “I’m- I’m not sure what to do now.”  Stan clenched his hands into fists.

              Don’t do it, Stan.  Don’t.  She’s a grown woman.  She can take care of herself.  She doesn’t need help from a homeless vampire.

              “I guess I’ll- uh, maybe I’ll tryto take a bus somewhere,” Angie continued. “Not- not sure where. Arkansas?  California?”

              “One of those is a good option,the other one isn’t,” Stan said.  “Why thehell would anyone wanna go to Arkansas?”

              “…I don’t know,” Angie whispered.  She sniffed loudly.  “Than- thank you fer- fer yer help.  I ‘ppreciate it.”  Her voice was choked up.  She was clearly struggling to hold backtears.  Stan sighed.

              Fuckit.

              “Look.”  Stan took a seat on the grimy motel bed.  Angie looked at him, a few stray tearsshining on her cheeks.  “If- if you wannago going, try to figure stuff out, you can. But…”  Stan grimaced.  “You can come with me, if you want.”

              “I’d- I’d hate to impose,” Angiesaid quietly.  She twisted the blanket inher hands.

              “I’m not gonna try to convinceyou that it’s fine,” Stan said.  “Ialready told you.”  After a moment, Angienodded.

              “If- if yer fine with that, I’ll-I’d like to- to come with ya.”

              “Okay.”  Stan got up. “Get dressed, then.  We’ve gottabounce tonight.”

              “Isn’t checkout usually in themornin’?” Angie asked, confused.

              “Yeah.  We’re leaving before checkout.”

              “Why?”

              “One word, toots,” Stan said.  “Money.” Angie frowned.  “If you’re notcomfortable with stealing things or breaking the law, you’re not gonna enjoycoming with me.  I’m pretty much alwaysrunning from cops.”  Angie chewed her lip.

              “Beats wanderin’ ‘round thecountryside without any protection,” she said finally.  “And on the bright side, if I get hauled infer bein’ an accomplice, the police might be able to figure out who I am.”  Stan raised an eyebrow.

              “Yeah.  But they’re never gonna catch us.  I’m pretty damn good.”

              “Guess I’ll have to find out whoI am some other way, then,” Angie said with a shrug.  A slow smile began to spread across Stan’sface.

              “You’re a tough one, huh.”

              “Tough as nails and twice assharp,” Angie said.  She winked.  Stan’s grin broadened.

              “Yeah?  Maybe you can prove it when we’re on theroad.”  He nodded at the clothes she wasstill holding.  “Get dressed.  We can grab somethin’ to eat on our way outtatown.”

—– 

A month later

              “So that’s why when I met you,you were a giant wolf,” Stan said.  Hehanded Angie a protein bar.  Sitting onthe hood of the car, wrapped in the blanket Stan had stolen from the motel they’dstayed in a few weeks ago, Angie frowned.

              “Yer tryin’ to tell me I’m…awerewolf?  I don’t remember much ‘boutmyself, Stan, but I think I’d know if I was a werewolf.”

              “Look, I saw it, okay?  We were outside, I was taking a smoke break,you were trying to find constellations or whatever-”

              “I remember that part,” Angiesaid, nodding.  “You made fun of me, butthen I found Gemini and you got all sad.”

              “I wasn’t sad,” Stan scoffed.

              “Uh, yeah, ya were,” Angieretorted.  Stan glared at her.

              “Sometimes I wonder why I let youstick around with me.”

              “I’m amazing at standin’ guardwhile ya break the law,” Angie said.

              “Yeah, yeah.  Whatever.” Stan leaned against the car, next to Angie.  “Like I was saying, you were talking aboutstars.  And then you stoppedmid-sentence.  I looked at you, and youstarted growing fur all over.  Next thingI knew, you were a huge-ass wolf.”

              “But…werewolves aren’t real,”Angie said slowly.  Stan rolled his eyes.

              “That’s what people say aboutvampires.  And you know I’m one of those.”  Stan grinned at her, showing off his largefangs.

              “That’s true.”  Angie pulled the blanket closer.  “I- I s’ppose it’d make sense, since I’ve gota scar that looks like a dog bit me.  Butwhy can’t I remember a time before bein’ a werewolf?”

              “Maybe it short-circuited yourbrain or something,” Stan suggested.  He shrugged.  “When I got turned, it fucked me over.  I was delirious for three days straight.”

              “Great,” Angie muttered.  She rubbed her face.  “I wonder if- if I even told my fam’ly that Igot bitten by a wolf or dog or whatever I thought it was. ��Y’know, before I disappeared.”

              “Dunno.”

              “My fam’ly…” Angie saidquietly.  Stan eyed her.  The first few days on the road, Angie hadbeen crying near constantly, to the point that Stan seriously considered leavingher at a gas station.  The number one reasonfor her tears: the fact that she couldn’t remember her family, but also couldn’tshake the feeling that they were important to her.

              Can’t really relate to that.  Notanymore.  Stan took a breath.  No, Stan.  Stop being a dick.  Angie’s been great, especially for a homelessamnesiac werewolf.  Try to comfort her.  She’s dealing with a lot.

              “I…I get it,” Stan managed.  Angie looked at him.  “I, um, I have a twin brother.  His name’s Stanford.”

              “…Stanley and Stanford?”

              “Yeah.  Pops wasn’t a very imaginative guy.”  Stan shoved his hands in his pockets.  “Ford and I had a falling out a while back,when we were still in high school.  Thingswent south fast, I got kicked outta the house, spiraled, got turned into avampire, and then found you in the woods. I don’t- I don’t really think about my family being worried about me thatmuch anymore.  But if I was still onspeaking terms with Ford…”  Stansighed.  “I’d be upset, knowing that hehad no clue where I was.”

              “Why did ya have a fallin’ out?”Angie asked quietly.

              “I’m not gonna get into it rightnow.  It’s a long story.  And we barely know each other.”

              “I don’t know if I’d say that.  We’ve been livin’ together fer a month.”

              “Still.”

              “Hmm.”  Angie looked down at the unopened protein barstill in her hands.  “This is my fav’riteflavor.”

              “Yeah.  I remembered from last time,” Stan said.  Angie grinned.  “It’s not like I- I went outta my way to getyou the flavor you like or whatever.  Thatone was on sale.”  Angie let out a barkof laughter.  Stan stared at her.

              I think that’s the first time I’ve heard her laugh.  A smile forced its way onto his face.  I kindalike it.  It’s weird, like she is.

              “Yer quite the character, Stan,”Angie said.  “Never thought I’d meet avampire who cared so much about people, but felt like he had to hide it all thetime.”  She paused.  “Never thought I’d meet a vampire, period.”

              “Yeah, well.”  Stan shrugged.  “I aim to impress.”  Angie leaned over.  She planted a small kiss on his cheek.

              “You succeed.”  She slid off the hood of the car, leaving theblanket and protein bar behind.  “I’mgoin’ to use the bathroom real quick ‘fore we head out.”  Angie strolled into the gas station, humming.  Stan watched her leave.  The heat from the kiss spread throughout hisface.

              It was the warmest he’d felt inyears.

[minijenn]

Breaking the News and Her Heart

A sequel to The Worst Possible Time

If there was one thing that Mabel Pine was known for, other than her eccentric personality, it was her positivity.  Normally, when a person tries to stay positive for a long period of time, it usually ends with them just being drained out and reverting back to whatever neutral mood they were in.  This was not the case with Mabel Pines.  For some unexplainable reason, it seemed like the girl had an unlimited well of positivity that she could tap into at the drop of a hat.  Not just that, but it was also highly contagious, so she always produced this aura that made most people around look more on the bright side.  Of course, Mabel had her somber moments, or there were times she had to be serious for the appropriate situation.  However, these moments usually didn’t last very long and before anyone knew it, she would be back to her old optimistic self again.   There were a lot of constants in the universe, and Mabel’s endless positivity was just one of them.

It was a skill that was especially useful during these trying times.  For the first few days after she and Steven had barely escaped Homeworld, Mabel was absolutely devastated when Dipper didn’t return with them.  It was almost to the point where her famous unending positivity was at risk of permanently fade away.  However, things changed when Dipper did miraculously return to Gravity Falls, only as someone completely different.  Stonemason had caused endless havoc to the small Oregon town in his quest to essentially kill Dipper, but Mabel saw it in a different light.  After the initial shock had passed, it was like a fire was ignited in her soul.  She had just found out that her twin brother was alive.  He was under some kind of mind-control albeit, but he was still alive.  From that point, Mabel’s positivity returned as she was determined to find some way to bring her brother back.  No matter how long it took or how much effort it took to snap Dipper out of it, the girl was on a mission.  This determination spread to Steven, Connie, the Gems, Stan and everyone as the quest to rescue Dipper had begun, with Mabel in the lead.

That was exactly what Mabel was doing that afternoon as she and Steven wandered around the lake.  Mabel had convinced the young Gem help her scout the town to see if they could find where Stonemason was holed up.  Her hopes were that maybe if they could catch the assassin off-guard it would give them a better chance to snap him out of whatever trance he was in.  Steven happily agreed to come along with the girl today, mostly to provide some protection incase things got violent.  They decided to spend the day searching the lake first, but they couldn’t find Dipper anywhere near the lake.  While this was somewhat disheartening, Mabel knew that there was always tomorrow to search again.  The pair were about to head into town when Amethyst suddenly showed up to tell them that they were needed at the Shack immediately.  Mabel could have sworn that Amethyst seemed more distant than usual, but the purple Gem retreated back to the Shack before they could ask further question.  With no other reason to not accept the Gem’s request, Steven and Mabel innocently made their way to the Mystery Shack to see what was going on.  Unfortunately, both of them were unaware of the earth-shattering news that they were about to receive.

As the two kids made it back to the Shack, Steven slowed down as he began to ponder more about what exactly what was going on.  “Mabel,” he asked Mabel.  “Why do you think Amethyst called us here?  She seemed a little bit…off.  Like she was distant or something?”  The girl turned around to look her best friend and saw the worry in his eyes.  She gave him a simple smile and did her best to reassure him.  “Steven, don’t worry too much, okay?  Grunkle Stan probably just wants to talk to me about how I’ve been pushing myself lately with finding Dipper.  But never worry!  I know exactly what to say to reassure him and before you know it, we’ll back to saving my bro-bro again!”  Steven could help but smile at the girl’s enthusiasm as he gave a determined nod.  The two kids finally went inside the Shack to see what Stan had exactly wanted with them.

Mabel was admittedly surprise when she saw that not only Stan was in the living room, but Ford and the Gems as well.  What was even weirder was that they had looks that seemed rather odd to the girl.  Garnet’s expression was stoic and stern, which wasn’t exactly out of the ordinary for the Gem leader.  Amethyst was just like she was at the lake, looking downtrodden and avoiding eye contact.  Pearl was looking at Mabel, although it was a look of worry and concern.  Ford was the most peculiar, he had on a neutral look, but Mabel could have sworn she saw tear stains around his eyes.  And finally there was Stan, who just looked tired in general, but gave the girl a small smile.  With everyone in the room looking so serious, Mabel realized that this was a bigger problem than he thought.  It looked like she would have to put on the “Mabel charm” to put everyone at ease.  Meanwhile, Steven saw everyone in the room and realized something was very wrong.

“Uh, heya pumpkin, how’s it going?” Stan said trying his best to break the tension in the room.  “Heard you’ve looking real hard for Dipper, right?”  Mabel put on a proud smile and put her hands to her hips.  “Yep,” she said enthusiastically.  “Been looking high and low for him around the lake.  Don’t worry though, I dragged Steven along just in case Stonemason gets all crazy!”  Steven gave a small nod to confirm this.  “Have you…found anything yet?”  Ford asked carefully.  Mabel’s smile faltered a little bit, but her voice was still full of enthusiasm and confidence.  “Not yet, Grunkle Ford.  But there’s always tomorrow!  Dipper would never give up on me, so I plan on never giving up on him!”  Mabel’s rather optimistic thought was interrupted by a disgruntled groan from Amethyst.  “Can we just tell her alright?  The suspense is killing-“

“Amethyst!” Pearl quickly hushed the purple Gem.  “We need to be delicate with this.”  Now Steven was really worried right now.  The only times that the Gems acted so hesitantly about something was when something disastrous happened.  “Guys,” the young Gem asked.  “Is there something going on with you guys?  You all look…really worried all the sudden.  I know you guys are still worried about Dipper, but it looks like there’s something else going on.”  Garnet placed a steady hand on Stan’s shoulder and gave him a firm nod.  The conman understood the silent message and let out a heavy sigh.  “Mabel,” he said, staring directly into his niece’s eyes.  “There’s some that we need to talk with you about.”  The conman had worked himself up for this moment, and he wasn’t planning on backing out now.  It was time to rip the bandage off.

However, before the conman could speak up, Mabel put up a hand to Stan’s face.  “Hold that thought for one second, Grunkle Stan,” the girl stated in a matter-of-fact tone.  “I know what you’re going to say.  You, Grunkle Ford and the Gems are all worried that I maybe pushing myself a little too hard with finding Dipper.  Well, don’t you worry about me, because I feel fantastic!  Sure, I’ve spent less time eating and sleeping since I’ve been busy with trying to figure out how to save Dipper, but I’ve been keeping myself loaded on sugar packets and Mabel Juice, so I’m always full of energy!”  To prove her point, Mabel started to twirl around a few times to demonstrate her excess energy.  Stan cringed at his niece’s antics, almost hurting him on how oblivious the girl was about what was really going on.  “Mabel…” he said, trying to get the girl to be serious but ultimately failing.  “Yep, big ball of energy, I am!  Sure, I have one or two major crashes and random time intervals, but it rarely happens!  It’s all gonna be worth it when we save Dipper from whatever mind junk that mean Yellow Diamond put him under.  Then me, him, Steven and Connie can all have our summer back again!  It’ll be just like the old days, solving mysteries and all that!  It’ll be awesome!  Sure, me and Dipper will have to go back home again soon, but there’s always next summer too!”  The situation was becoming worse and worse by the minute.  Pearl was about to speak up but was stopped by Garnet.  The Gem leader shook her head at her comrade, implying that this was something Stan had to do himself.  Meanwhile, the conman was getting frustrated by this, so he attempted to take a more direct route instead.  “Mabel…you’re parents….they’re…” Stan tried his hardest to say, but was interrupted once again.  “Oh, Mom and Dad?  Yeah, I guess it’ll be kinda hard to explain Dipper’s…new arm when we get back to California, but it won’t change anything!  Mom and Dad will still love Dipper for the lovable dork that he is!  It might take some time to adjust, but I know Mom and Dad will be patient and supportive.  They’re some of the greatest parents around, and it’ll be nice to have Mom’s cookies, listen to Dad’s terrible jokes and just be there for each other like a big, happy famil-“

“MABEL!” Stan grabbed both of Mabel’s shoulders and looked at her straight in the eyes.  “Your mom and dad passed away last night.”  

At that single sentence, Mabel’s mind went completely blank.  It was as if all of air, color and sound in the room, leaving the girl in a cold, empty void for what seemed like five minutes.  Pure shock was all able to be expressed on her face.  Her mind kept repeating that sentence over and over again, desperately trying to see if she misheard her grunkle..  But alas, there was no mistaking it, she heard what she heard.  As for Steven, his shock was almost as big and Mabel’s.  The young just believe that his best friend’s parent…just passed away.  After what seemed like an eternity of silence, Mabel finally found the ability to speak again.  “W-W-What…What do mean they…passed away.

The difficulty of the conversation was starting to get to Stan, as he backed away from his niece and couldn’t even look at her.  Thankfully, Ford decided that it was his turn to talk to Mabel about this horrible situation.  The scientist took a knee in front of his niece, gently looking into her eyes.  “Mabel,” he slowly began.  “Your mother and father died in a car accident last night.  Your parents were on their way home from an outing when…a truck driver who was completely intoxicated crashed into the side of their car.  They died on impact, there was nothing the paramedics could do.  I…can’t express how sorry I am.”  As Mabel heard the tales of how her loving parents met their untimely end, tears began to naturally well up in her eyes.  Her mind was still finding hard to grasp the cold reality she was in right now.  “No���.no that’s not possible!  My parents would never be so reckless!  You’re lying!  You’re all just LYING!”  Mabel’s voice went from somber to outrage, as if she was angered that her family and friends would even try to trick her like this.

“Mabel, we’re telling you the truth!  Why would we make you think your parents are dead?” Amethyst sharply said, trying to snap the girl out of her denial.  The tears finally broke pass the eyes and were now streaming down Mabel’s cheeks.  She couldn’t deny that the purple Gem had a point.  Whether Mabel wanted to believe it or not, Stan was telling her the truth.  Her parents were dead and now she was officially an orphan.  As she came to terms with this thought, Mabel began to break down into tears.  No one in the room knew exactly how to comfort the sobbing girl, but the white Gem decided to at least try.

“Mabel,” Pearl said she approached the poor girl.  “I know you must be devastated right now.”  The white Gem slowly extended her hand to gently wipe away the tears.  “In my many years on this planet, I’ve lost many of my comrades.  So, I know that you must have a sort of…empty feeling in your heart.  But please believe me when I say that it will get easier with time and patience.  Just know that-“  Pearl was interrupted when Mabel suddenly pushed Pearl’s hand away from her.  “Easier?  EASIER?!  My parents are dead!  How am I ever going to get over that, Pearl?!  Do you have any idea what this means?!”  The girl paused to see if anyone in the room would dare to take a guess at what she was referring to, but there was complete silence.  “I just lost my twin brother and now I find out that my parents are gone.  Why is all of this happening to me?  Did I do something so terrible that I deserve all of this?!  Why is my family suddenly being taken away from me?!  WHY DOES THE UNIVERSE WANT ME TO BE ALONE!?”

Before Stan could say anything to comfort his niece, Mabel rushed out the door, heading to parts unknown.  The living room was left in an awkward and somber silence as no one in the room knew exactly what to say after Mabel’s outburst.  The silence continued until Stan finally let out a tired sigh.  “Well, that could have gone better.” He said, trying to break the tension.  While Amethyst put her hand on the conman’s shoulder in support, Steven was still awe-struck at what had just happened.  His mind began racing on how exactly he could help Mabel in a time like this.  In the past, Steven was no stranger to providing emotional support to his friends whenever things got too intense during one of their adventures.  However, the death of a family member was something entirely different.  Did he really have to the ability to properly comfort Mabel from such a loss?

“Steven…”  The young Gem’s train of thought was interrupted as he was addressed by Garnet.  He looked to the Gem leader to see what wisdom she would offer him this time.  “Go to her, Steven.  I know right now that you’re doubting whether you can support Mabel during her time of need, but you still need to see her.  She needs someone who can convince that she’s not alone, and I can’t think of anyone better than you.”  Garnet finished off by giving Steven a small smile.  “Kid,” Steven then turned to Stan.  “I don’t know if this will be useful, but tell Mabel that she’s going to be living here in Gravity Falls with us.  I’m not gonna dump her in some rundown orphanage.  Just…use that “charm” of yours and I’m sure she’ll listen to you.  I’m counting on you, kid. 

That was all the reassurance the young Gem needed as he gave a firm nod and made his way out the door.  Ford walked next to the Gem leader and gave her a concerned look.  “Do you…think he’ll be able to make Mabel smile again?” the author asked.  Garnet didn’t give a response right away and adjusted her shades.  “It will be difficult,” she said.  “And I’m not sure if it will be immediate.  But I believe does have what it takes.  That boy knows how to mend a broken heart.”

Mabel didn’t know how long she had been running for, and frankly, she didn’t care.  She was too sad or too angry to care about anything at the moment.  All she wanted to do was to just run away from thought that another part of her family had been taken from her.  She knew that was physically impossible, but that didn’t stop her from trying anyway.  Unfortunately, Mabel didn’t pay attention to her footing, so she ended tripping and getting a face full of sand.  When Mabel got back up and brushed off her face, she noticed that she was back at the lake.  The late afternoon sky colored the lake with a beautiful mix of reds and yellows, creating a scene from an exquisite painting.  Feeling tired front her sprint, Mabel decided to just sit down on the lakeshore and look into the horizon.  However, this did little to dull the pain that was aching in her heart.  The girl was starting to realize what was happening to her.  First it was Dipper, and now it was her beloved parents.  Her family was being taken away from her faster than she realized.  She could only wonder how long it be before she would be left all alone.

“Mabel!”  The girl turned around to find that Steven had followed her and had eventually caught with her.  “Go away, Steven,” she said turn back to look at the horizon again.  “I don’t want to talk.  Just…leave me alone.”  That was something Steven couldn’t afford to do.  The young Gem knew that his friend needed him now more than ever.  The poor girl was already very sensitive, so Steven knew he had to trend carefully with this.  “Listen Mabel,” he said, still feeling a little out of breath.  “I know things are really hard right now.  But please believe me when I say I’m here for you and I know what you’re going through.  You know that I lost my mom when I was really young.  So…”  Steven trailed off when he heard Mabel let out a sad sigh. 

“Steven, that’s completely different.  You didn’t even get to know your mom before she…died.  But I knew Mom and Dad for my whole life!  Birthdays, holidays, family outings, there were so many special moments with them that I’ll never get to experience again.  I’ll never get to see their smiling faces again or feel the warmth of their hugs.”  Mabel hugged her knees to her chest as fresh tears began forming in her eyes.  “What if we’re not able to save Dipper?  What if he’s stuck as Stonemason forever?  Do you realize what that means, Steven?  It would mean that almost all of my family would be gone.  And I really hate to admit it, but Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford are really old, and they won’t be around for long.  After that, I won’t have any family left, I’ll be alone.” The tears broke free from Mabel’s eyes again as the thought of being the only surviving member of the Pines family.  “Steven, just leave me alone.  I might as well just get use to spending-“

Mabel cut herself short when she felt two, warm arms wrap around her.  She turned around to see that Steven had pulled her into a hug, but there was something else.  She looked into the young Gem’s eyes and found only comfort and concern in them.  For a moment, Mabel felt safe as she just looked into Steven’s eyes.  After a few moments, Mabel broke down crying again, only this time, she started weeping into Steven’s shoulder.  For the next 10 minutes, Mabel just continued to sob into the young Gem shoulder, causing his shirt to get rather damp in the process.  However, this didn’t matter to Steven, as he continued to hug the poor girl and gently brush her hair to comfort her.  After what seemed like hours of hugging and crying, Mabel started to calm down.  She then looked to the young Gem again, her eyes red from all of her weeping.  Steven gave a gently smile and wiped the tears from her eyes.

“Mabel, I want you to listen to me closely.” He said calmly.  Mabel gave a small sniffle and let the young Gem say what he needed to say.  “I know it feels like that you don’t have any family left, but that’s not true.  Mr. Pines told me that you’re going to be living here in Gravity falls with us.  He promised that he would never put you in an orphanage.  Mr. Pines and Mr. Ford might be old, but I have a feeling that they’re going to be around for a long time.”  This did bring some comfort to Mabel.  Gravity Falls was always like a second home to her, so at least she won’t be into an unfamiliar environment.  However, there still doubt in her mind about the future, but Steven wasn’t finished yet.  “And you should know that there’ll always be a place for you at the Temple as well.  As far as I’m concerned, you and Dipper are a part of my family too.  Garnet, Amethyst and Pearl all agree with me when I say that you are family.  So, just know that you’ll never be alone in this world, not as long as we are around.”

Sadness was still saturated in Mabel’s heart, but she was still moved by Steven’s touching words and drew him in for another hug.  Knowing that she still had family in the form of Steven and the Gem gave her a sense of safety from the crippling fear of being left alone in the world.  However, there was still one concern that was plaguing her mind.  “Telling Dipper about…this is going to be really difficult.” She said in a disheartening tone.  Steven responded in an equally saddened tone.  “I know,” he said.  “But we’ll worry about that when we finally save him.”

With that, Mabel closed her eyes and leaned her head on the young Gem’s shoulder again.  As much as she wanted to smile at this reassuring thought, she couldn’t.  Her heart was still hurting, and she didn’t feeling forcing on a fake smile.  But in the end, that was okay.  Because she had other people that could be positive for her.  She didn’t have to carry the world’s optimism on her shoulders all the time.  She could just sit back and silently enjoy the optimism that other provided for her.  But she knew that this was only temporary.  After an appropriate amount of time of mourning and grieving, she would be able to smile at the world again.  Even if she didn’t have her parents anymore.

After all, she would always have family to smile at.            

[donutpwns]

Journey to the Roots - Part 2

Part 1 - Part 3

How did he get himself mixed up in shit like this?

The thought was playing on repeat in his brain as he drove, sparing the occasional glance at the kid in his backseat. She’d shoved most of the trash back there to the floor to make herself more at home and, after a half day of driving and a brief pit stop for her to barf up what had to be a metric fuckton of glitter and what she claimed was the remains of ‘Stancakes’, had settled herself to sleep. Stan found himself feeling slightly bad at the sight of her curled up under the thin, hole-infested excuse for a blanket he used when he had to sleep in his car, which was more oft than not these days. He had learned to ignore how crappy it was given he basically lived in his jacket, but maybe he should think about investing in a new one.

Damn, he really was going soft.

With a sigh, he rests his cheek on his fist, elbow poking out the open window while he drives one handed and enjoys the crisp November air. It’s getting colder and colder the further north they get; he hopes the kid’s sweater is warm enough for snow given the increasing amount of slush he’s been seeing on the highway for the last six hours. Maybe he should liberate her a jacket from a store with lax security before they get there. Probably about time for him to liberate himself a new jacket too.

He can’t stop thinking about what the girl said about being his niece from the future. About Ford. About the photo of the two of them at boxing practice, his arm slung around his nerdy brother and grinning like the dope he was, that had gone into his wallet the moment he could slip it in without the kid noticing. He wasn’t sure if he believed her about everything, but he couldn’t let go of the nagging idea that if Ford was in trouble, he couldn’t just leave him. Stan still had a lot of mixed up feelings about his brother, about what had went down nearly ten years ago, but he was still family. If there was a chance that he was in trouble and Stan could help, he had to do it, right? Even if there was a large chance that Ford would just give him the boot the moment he saw him. Hell, at least he’d be in a new state then, and if Ford wasn’t in trouble, he was still probably better equipped to deal with the kid.

She’d kept talking about someone named Bill, someone that had tricked Ford and put him in danger. A half-ass conman from the sounds of it, and Stan knew a thing or two about half-ass cons. Stan could believe that Ford had been tricked; his brother might be a genius but he was dumber than even Stan when it came to people. Ford liked to think his six fingers was the whole reason he’d never made many friends when they were kids, and Stan had been fine letting him believe it, but his inability to talk to people was at least a partial factor. If he wasn’t unintentionally talking down to people, then he was believing any lie said at least halfway convincingly.

“Yoooounkle Staaaan…” the kid is yawning from the backseat, sitting up and rubbing at her eye. He’s not sure how he feels about that name, but he figures there’s no point in arguing with her about it. It’s not like it really bothers him the way being called Lee bothers him these days, that hitting too close to home, so he’d rather save his energy.

He has to actively focus on not crashing the car into the guardrail of the highway when she starts climbing over the middle console to sit in the front seat. He bites back a swear as a driver in the lane next to him honks when he cuts into the other lane before jerking the car back in line. “Geez, kid, you couldn’t stay in the back until we stop?”

“Nope! Bwop!” she drops herself into the front seat with zero grace and tugs the seatbelt around her. Stan doesn’t know how good a seatbelt works when someone is sitting cross-legged but he chooses not to comment. Safe enough for a petty cop to not pull them over, at least. Probably. He hopes. She’s brought the blanket up front with her and uses it to cover her lap before patting her stomach. “Younkle Stan, I’m hungry and you’re all out of surprise tacos.”

Right, kids needed to eat. Stan himself could do with some food as well; the kid had eaten the last of his food supply when she’d eaten the days old taco. Now that he thought about it, that might’ve had a good deal with why she barfed. Well, he needed to get them each a jacket, might as well get them some food as well. He sees the sign showing the next exit, hopefully they can find a good super store to ‘shop’ at there. “So, kid, what do you know about shoplifting?”

Mabel flashes him a metal filled grin as she shoves her sleeves up. “Nothing bigger than your sleeve! That stuff is for night theft. Also, always have a smoke bomb ready in case you get caught.”

Shit, they were related. And Stan had apparently taught her well in the future. Good job, future Stan. Stan sends a grin right back at her. “That's right, sweetheart. So, you think you're ready to be my partner in crime?” he winces when she lets out a squeal so high pitched he's pretty sure it could break a window. “Holy sh-iny new shoes! You're like a dog whistle turned human!”

Mabel’s practically vibrating in her seat. “I get to do crime with my Younkle Stan~ oh, but we can only steal things we need. Okay? Cause that way it's hafta-crime, not fun-crime. Though hafta can be fun...hmm…”

Stan takes the exit while she debates her morals, looking for the first gas station he sees. There he's able to get directions to the nearest super store, as well as the wallet of a guy too focused on a thing of rotating hot dogs to notice Stan slipping it out of his back pocket. Sucker. Stan uses the money in it to pay for his gas. How's that for a fun hafta?

Mabel has managed to flip herself in the seat, socked feet against the headrest. Stan glances to make sure her shoes are in the floorboards; they are. Stealing shoes could be a real pain so he'd rather avoid it, given they needed to get jackets and food. He takes the time to flick her forehead before moving around to climb back into the driver’s seat. “Sit up and buckle up, kid. Last thing we need is getting pulled over on our way to commit crime.” He says his usual silent ‘please start’ prayer as he turns the key and thankfully it only stalls for a second before the engine is turning over. One of these days he’s going to have to take the Stanleymobile to an actual mechanic and not just a chop shop that he’s managed to temporarily be in good standing with.

The moment they’re in the parking lot, Mabel’s got her hand in his, grinning when he shoots her a look. Her hand is so small in his, soft except for a strip of callus that goes across the inside of her fingers. He tries to ignore the squirming in his feeling in his gut that drives him to give her hand a small squeeze back as they walk in. He was going so soft.

The jackets are simple enough; Mabel picks a neon pink thing filled with feathers that poke out once Stan has removed the little anti-theft tag with the help of a pocket knife while pretending to check the size tag. He rips the plastic price tag off the sleeve and gives the girl a little sleight of hand show of making it disappear that has her staring wide eyed. For himself he finds a simple dark red zip up not dissimilar to his usual one that he left in the car. A twirl of the knife and he’s got two anti-theft tags now which he slips into the pocket of a jacket still on the rack along with the price tags.

“Now we just need some food and we’ll be good to go.” He fiddles with the zipper of his new jacket, scratching with his nail until a bit of the paint on it chips away. “What do kids in your time eat?”

“Sugar!” she yells it loud enough to earn them some turned heads, which Stan just flashes his best salesman smile at. She leaps up to latch herself to his arm, forcing him to lean sideways so she’s still touching the floor. This kid’ll be the death of him. “Younkle Stan! Younkle Stan! Can we have ice cream for dinner? Grunkle Ford always gets a wrinkly nose when we do it at home, not that that stops us, but he’s not here so that means judgment free ice cream! And ice cream always tastes better without judgment!”

Stan basically scrapes her off of his arm, frowning. Well, he certainly liked ice cream for dinner, but that wasn’t exactly something they could do in the car. “How about we stick with something that won’t melt once I turn the heat on. We need, like, dry food. Non-perishables.” Stan was an expert of living out of his car at this point, and that included grocery shopping.

She pouts but doesn’t really argue. He thinks she’s going to just follow along and he’s contemplating how many boxes of crackers the two of them can fit in their jackets when she lets out another loud squeal. Moses, he was going to need a hearing aid by the time he was done with her. “Flapjacks, kid, what the hell?”

“I just remembered something we really, really need to get! I’ll be right back!” before he can protest, she’s gone. How a kid running on days old taco could have so much energy he has no damn idea.

Well, while she’s gone.

He gets three boxes of crackers in the back of his jacket, trapped when he zips up the front. Two loose cans taken from a six pack of Pitt Cola fit into his hood without looking funny. In his sleeves he manages to fit six cheese stick snack packs, two packs gummy fish, a package of toffee peanuts, a tangerine, and a plastic wrapped beget that snaps in half when he bends his arm. Finally he finds himself in the ice cream aisle, glaring a challenge at individually wrapped fudgecicles.

Kids liked fudgecicles, right? It was chocolate and Mabel didn’t really strike him as a kid that was picky when it came to sweets. Hm. Maybe he could just…he opens the freezer door to grab a package.

“CHEESE IT, YOUNKLE STAN!” she’s screaming as she comes barreling down the aisle. Her new jacket is bulging with who-knows-what and there’s an overweight security guard hot on her heels. Stan has approximately half a second to process the situation before she’s running past him. He swears, stuffs the fudge bar in his pocket with one hand, and takes off after her himself.

Thankfully, his legs are much longer than hers so he catches up in five strides, even with her manic speed. He grabs her under the arms and hefts her up. Without breaking his speed, he tucks her under one arm like a football. Then he’s dodging shoppers, knocking over a display of cereal boxes in the process. “I thought you said you were good at this?!” he barks at her as he makes a beeline towards the exit and, beyond that, the parking lot.

“I’m good at everything!” her legs give a kick. “Oh! I know what I forgot!” she wiggles a bit in his hold, reaching into the front of her overloaded jacket. He doesn’t see what it is, but he feels the motion of her winding up her arm. “MABLE BOMB! BWOMP!”

Behind him, he hears a scream followed by frantic coughing and the sound of someone falling. He chances a look back; the laugh is out before he can even think about it. The guard is on the ground, frantically trying to scrape bright blue glitter off his face. It’s not a smoke bomb but it’ll do. A nice personal touch to the crime. Stan finds himself feeling oddly proud.

He throws Mabel feet first into the front seat and slams the door behind her. He slides across the hood of the car, Dukes style, and maybe he’s actively trying to look cool because his heart swells when he hears the kid cheer from inside the car. This time the car starts on the first turn, no prayer needed, and the tires squeal on the wet asphalt as they tear out of the parking lot. He’s 80% sure no one was chasing them but Moses is his heart racing and his cheeks ache from grinning.

“Holy shit, kid! Did you seriously throw glitter at that guy?” he’s laughing as he asks it, looking back and forth from her to the road as he tries to get them back to the highway. He’s got one hand on the steering wheel, the other emptying his sleeves and pockets of the food he’d gotten, tossing them to land on the floorboards in front of her seat. “What did you even steal?”

The girl’s hair is a mess, sticking in all directions and clinging to her cheeks. She’s got glitter all over her right hand and the front of her new jacket; that is never going to get out of his car, he can already tell. “I procured the most important stuff ever!” she unzips her jacket and a waterfall of yarn, and at least five jars of glitter, falls out. From one sleeve she produces two long, metal knitting needles, the other a cheap disposable camera. “Now I can make us sweaters and memories!”

Stan can’t believe this kid; he steals food and she steals craft supplies. He reaches over to muss her hair, “You stupid knucklehead.” He shakes his head, smile unwilling to fade. He fishes the fudgebar, now smooshed and half-melted, out of his pocket to drop it in her lap. “You’re not half-bad, sweetheart. That was the most fun hafta-crime I’ve had in a while.”

She just keeps grinning at him and his heart just keeps swelling.

---------------------

Nearly twelve hours later, Ford can confirm that Dipper isn’t lying. He’s performed the possession detection ritual which revealed faint traces of Bill but nothing recent enough to have a current effect.  He ran blood tests, both the standard DNA testing as well as the less standard hot coil test, which concluded that the boy was in fact related to him and not some sort of shape shifting thing. To be honest, he’d truly started believing that the kid was related to him as soon as he’d pulled out the needle to draw the blood. The boy had turned white as a sheet and Ford would swear the boy had tears in his eyes as he tried to play brave. It was so much like Stan when they were kids…

There was also the mark on the boy’s forehead; a mark of the peculiar. Ford had found himself tapping each of his fingers to his thumb while thinking about it. One-two-three-four-five. Repeat. The boy was fascinating. An anomaly in so many ways. Ford wished he had access to his second journal to compare his notes from the time anomaly from three years ago; oh what he wouldn’t give for the time measuring device him and Fiddleford had put together, but it had been dropped in the Bottomless Pit during their encounter with the Timeless MantaLemur. He’d had dived in after it if not for Fiddleford. Of all the things the Pit had decided to keep.

The boy was asleep now, nervous as that made Ford, clearly exhausted from the ordeal. Traveling through time was a lot to process, despite the boy’s claims of having done so before. Ford had many questions about this ‘time baby’ that Dipper spoke of but they would have to wait. All of the questions he had for Dipper would have to wait; questions about his experiences in Gravity Falls, about the Mabel he kept going on about, about why Stan had the two children.

It seemed almost like a sign, the boy appearing with knowledge of his brother when Ford has been debating reaching out to Stan for the near month since the Incident. A month since the photo of two foolish little boys standing with a broken down boat had gone from being hidden in his desk drawer to burning a hole in his wallet while he continually argued with himself the idea of reaching out to Stanley. The idea of having his brother take the journal and sail as far away as possible with it, of hiding it away where no one could find it. If Dipper knew Stan and Gravity Falls, did that mean he never reaches out to his brother to take the journal away? Or does he, and Stan fails to follow such a simple, important request? What effect will Dipper being here have on choices already made? Were they already living in a paradox or was everything happening as it was meant to? Had their timeline split into another one of a million possible versions of every moment? Oh how Ford wished he didn’t have to worry about Bill; a mystery like his time traveling great nephew was great enough to fuel his studies and work for years.

But he did have to worry about Bill and now a child on top of that. Dipper had said he’d faced off with Bill before, in his time, which means Ford had failed in that timeline to destroy the demonic triangle. It’s almost enough to make him feel like giving up, knowing that thirty years from now Bill will still be a menace to not just him but also his family. No, infinite timelines, infinite possibilities. So what if another version of himself had failed? That simply meant that this version of himself had to work harder than that version so that he could succeed. And wasn’t that an interesting thought; rivaling himself in work ethic and effort.

He’s not aware of the fact that he’s pacing until he’s drawn out of his thoughts by the sound of a door opening down the hall. He looks around; he seems to have made his way to the kitchen for some reason. He’s trying to puzzle out exactly why when Dipper comes in, wrapped in the blanket Ford had covered him with after he’d put him in the spare room to sleep. The couch in there was mostly free of the clutter that had taken over the rest of his house and, once he’d rolled up the electron carpet and stuffed it in the corner of the room, the room was safe enough for a child to sleep.

The boy had left the hat in the room apparently; Ford made a note to take a closer look at the thing later, the symbol on it has been nagging at his mind. Things for later. “Ah, Dipper, good to see you’re awake.” He grabs the boy’s chin to lift his face up, studying his eyes. No slits, no yellow. Good. Can’t be too careful. “I trust you, uh, slept well?”

Dipper nods, another yawn escaping him as he wraps the blanket a little tighter around him. Ford had placed a space heater in the room for Dipper to sleep, but the rest of his house was still pretty cold. It seems he had been neglecting his gas bill for some time. “Yeah. Uh, Great Uncle Ford? I’m…kinda hungry. Do you…have food?” he peers around Ford towards the sink.

Ford follows his stare to the dishes that fill his sink and cover every inch of the counter not taken up by more of his books. “Right. Food.” Now that he thinks about it, he’s not sure when the last time he had something in his stomach other than coffee and even that supply was beginning to run low. Fiddleford had handled the shopping once he’d showed up, same as when they’d been in college. He takes a few steps over to look in the fridge before quickly slamming it shut again. He’s pretty sure there wasn’t that much green or fuzz last time he checked. “I…may be running low on certain supplies.”

To his surprise, Dipper laughs. He gives the boy a bemused smile; what was funny about this situation? Dipper’s cheeks go ruddy when he seems to realize he was laughing and he clears his throat. “S-sorry. Just remembering something Grunkle Stan—it doesn’t matter. I’m not that hungry, we can get food later.” Then he looks up at Ford and Ford would swear that there were actual stars in the boy’s eyes. It makes him a little uncomfortable the number of times he’s caught Dipper looking at him like that, like he’s the boy’s hero. “So, what’s the plan, Great Uncle Ford? I have lots of theories about how I got here and what we can do to get me back home. I’m sure if we both work together—”

“Whoa, easy there, boy.” He holds up a hand to silence the boy. He takes a moment to consider the last twelve hours. The tests, the questions, the sound of Dipper retching in the bathroom after the blood test. Ford has to check his watch; it’s approaching five in the morning. Dipper had mentioned eating breakfast before he was sent back in time and though it was clear that he didn’t come through at an equal time of day, it had still had been too many hours since he’d eaten. As eager as he is to get back to work, he was still responsible for the boy. He remembers how much he’d witnessed Fiddleford’s son put away the weekend he’d come to visit and Fiddleford had insisted Ford meet his family. Growing boy and all that nonsense. “Let’s get something in you before I get to work on fixing things.”

Dipper’s entire form seems to deflate, disappointment marring his face.

Ford clears his throat, scratching at the back of his neck. “And, uh, you can help me? You said you were studying my work in the future, right?”

“Oh, yes! I’ve read the third journal front to back a gazillion times! And the other two, but I haven’t got to read them as much since you didn’t—well, after the unicorn thing you let Mabel and me see them but we were working on the barrier and so I didn’t have that much time to read them more than four times each so—”

“Unicorns? Wait, you guys were able to get the unicorn hair for the barrier?” Ford is sincerely impressed. Dealing with unicorns was one of the most frustrating things he’d had to do since he came to Gravity Falls. He still remembers the echoing voice NOT PURE OF HEEEEEEAAAAART before he was booted out of the clearing with his boots in hand.

Dipper’s face splits into a wide grin, “Oh, yeah! Well, Mabel did.” He smacks his open palm with a fist. “Hair, blood, eyelashes; she even got a load of treasure for Grunkle Stan.”

Treasure hunting! He can still hear the chant of excited little boys, skin made bright red by the sun. It brings a small smile to his face to think that they got some treasure in the end. Then he remembers it's Stan they're talking about and the smile curdles. The boy is bringing out the nostalgic in him which is counter productive to what needs to be done.

“Well, it's good to know you children are safe in the future, and capable it seems. Now, since I seem to be rather…low on supplies, what say you and I take a very quick trip into town to restock?” that wouldn't be too hard; he could just give Dipper the money and wait in the car. The idea of being around people had his fingers tapping and his brain itching. But he had an assistant again! Someone else to handle all the prickly social situations life seemed to demand as well as assist in research. The boy still made him nervous, Ford wouldn't stop checking his eyes for a good while, but if he was forced to be responsible for him and the boy was eager to be of assistance then he might as well get some use out of the boy.

Dipper nodded happily; just as Ford thought, happy to help. “Of course! Oh, we could go to the diner! Wait, is the diner open? I don't know how long it's been a thing…”

“I...don’t know.” was there a diner in town? Maybe, Ford wasn't sure. He remembered the pizza place where Tate had eaten two large Supremes without pausing for breath. It still rankled him that Fiddleford had refused to let him study the child as an anomaly. He swore he had more stomachs than the mutated cow in his book. “I was thinking we could just run to the grocery store?”

“Yes! Then we can get back to work quicker!” Dipper grins but it falters a second later. He clears his throat and averts his eyes. “Do you, uh…wanna get ready before we go?” his face is pinched with nerves. “...maybe shower?” he says it in such a small voice that Ford almost doesn't hear it.

But he does and it has blood filling his face and heating his neck. When was the last time he'd showered? Now that he's thinking about it, he can practically feel the filth sticking to his skin. A touch to his cheek feels like he's a few days from an actual beard and he could likely fill a lamp with the oil in his hair. Okay. He was completely disgusting.

Twenty minutes and one cold shower later, Ford is much less gross as they make their way to the car. He’ll admit that the water felt nice on his lingering bruises as well. Dipper has been draped in one of Ford's old sweaters from college and, while smaller in the shoulders and chest than what Ford wears now, still hangs to the boy's knees and the sleeves have to be folded several times before it stops at his hands. He's still got the blanket around him as well. Ford will need to see about getting him some pants; those shorts were not good for this snow.

The drive to town is slow but uneventful. Once they reach the town, Dipper is basically rotating in his seat trying to look at everything, muttering about things that have changed and what has not. Ford finds it easy enough to ignore.

He starts to give Dipper his wallet before remembering the photo and instead giving him a handful of bills from inside. He watches the boy produce a notebook and pen from...somewhere. Huh. They go over the few essentials they need: milk, bread, maybe eggs for protein. Then Dipper is running into the store and Ford is once more alone with his thoughts.

It’s harder to block out the whispers without anything to focus on, so he tries to force himself to run through the Kaplansky’s conjecture, trying to find the flaw in why it hasn’t been solved. Chasing down numbers in his head as opposed to thoughts of emotions or certain geometrical shapes helps calm his anxiety with being out of his house. He was just a guy sitting in his car outside of the grocery store. No one was going to spare him a second glance, no one knew who he was. Numbers, numbers, numbers.

He’s so engrossed in the numbers and not thinking about triangles or eyes on him, that he fails to notice the two figures approaching his car until one taps on his window, startling a yelp out of him and having him reach for the knife he has stashed under the driver’s seat. Then he sees who it is and his eyes narrow. It takes a moment for him to crank the window down. “Dipper, why did you bring him here?”

Dipper looks nervous again, but Fiddleford just looks annoyed despite the obvious tremble in his hands and jaw that Ford suspects isn’t all to do with the cold. “Nice to see you too, Stanford.”

\lsdqformat1 \����*<

[radioactivedelorean]

Human Sample #17

<<First | <<Previous | Last>>

Chapter 17: Escape, part II

As the pair approached the exit to the prison ward, two guards drew guns out and aimed at them. Rick put an arm around Ford’s throat. The first guard took a step forward. “What are you doing with him?”

“He’s sick.” Rick replied. “He was being violently sick. I’m taking him to the infirmary.”

“He doesn’t look sick to me.” The guard walked forward and stood in front of Ford. “He looks just fine.

At that same moment, Ford felt his stomach lurch violently again. He leaned forward and vomited at the guard’s feet. The guard let out a startled yelp and jumped backwards. Ford continued to cough and retch. Rick took a fistful of Ford’s hair and yanked his head back when his stomach was empty. Ford hissed in pain and made a mental note to talk with Rick about this when they got out of his mess.

The guard looked thoroughly disgusted. “Humans are vile creatures. Get him out of here.”

Rick nodded and attempted to haul Ford away. He barely got past the guards before one of them held the gun up again. “Where is his restraint?” The guard demanded, pointing at Ford’s bare ankle.

“Took it off him.” Rick replied. “He’s cuffed - it’s not like he’s going anywhere.” He turned Ford around and showed the other guards that Ford’s wrists were bound tightly together.

The guard grunted and shrugged, pulling the gun away. “Alright. If he bites you it’s your own damn fault.” They pressed a button on the panel beside the large door in front of them, before entering a keycode. There was a loud beep before the metal doors slowly opened. “Get him out of here, we’ve got this mess to clean up.”

Ford growled and rolled his eyes as Rick took him away. They got perhaps a hundred yards down the hall before Rick leaned down and whispered into Ford’s ear. “So far so good.”

“Don’t jinx it.” Ford muttered back. “We’re not free yet. Where the hell are you going anyway?”

“This way.” Rick led Ford down an adjacent hallway and into a room on the right. Once inside, Rick shut the door and uncuffed Ford. Ford swayed a little on his feet and had to lean against the wall, wiping his mouth on the collar of his jumpsuit.

“You’re lucky I was able to throw up,” Ford muttered.

Rick removed the disguise and the Gromflomite form fizzled away into his own one. “Yeah yeah, I’ll thank you later once w-uurp-we’re outta here.”

Ford sat down on the floor to try and get his head to stop spinning. “Urgh…”

Rick crouched down in front of him. “You okay?”

Ford responded by backhanding Rick across the face. “Don’t act all concerned, Sanchez. I’m not exactly happy with you after you turned me in.”

Rick rubbed his face. “Okay, first of all, ow. Second of all, you’ve got every right to be pissed off at me, but if you want to get out of here I suggest you keep that anger to yourself for the time being and work with me. After that, you can b-uurp-beat the shit out of me all you like.”

It was clear by Ford’s face that he was still seething, his hands clenched into tight fists, but he let out a deep breath and nodded. “Fine. But just until we get out of here.”

Rick sighed and sat on the floor. “Handing you over was the worst mistake I’ve ever made, you know. I made an irrational decision and I fucked up big time.”

“Hell yeah you did.” Ford muttered. “I can’t believe I fell in love with someone as selfish as you.”

Rick frowned and avoided Ford’s glare. “Y’know, part of me regrets ever getting K. Michael to get you out of that zoo. Maybe you would have been better if you’d stayed there.”

“Well I wouldn’t go as far as to say that.” Ford admitted. “I would likely have never gotten out of there on my own, so I suppose I have to thank you for that at least. I’m certainly not thanking you for throwing me in there, though.”

“That’s understandable.” Rick murmured. “I wouldn’t thank me either. Nobody would.”

Ford sighed and looked away. “In all honesty, Rick… I’ve missed you.”

“What?” Rick lifted his head to look at him. He hadn’t expected Ford to say something like that, of all things.

“I’ve missed you.” Ford repeated softly. “I’ve missed having you around. I’ve missed being around you. At least when I was with you I was happy, and then...”

“And then I went and ruined it all.” Rick finished Ford’s sentence for him. “I turned you over and ruined your life.”

“My life was already ruined.” Ford muttered. “Having a guy like Cipher drifting in and out of your mind whenever he pleased is enough to ruin anyone’s life. I just hope he hasn’t tried to get anything out of my brother. Hopefully Stan, the lying cheat that he is, will be able to see Bill for his true self, and won’t end up repeating my mistakes.”

Rick bit his lip, thinking for a moment, before reaching across and hesitantly placing a hand on Ford’s shoulder. “Hey, that wasn’t your fault. Bill’s a no-good, dirty rotten scam-artist. He’s been around for thousands of years, he’s conned countless numbers of people. He scammed you too and that wasn’t your fault Fordsy.”

Ford had been about to break Rick’s arm for touching him, but his words made him stop and think. “I suppose...I still don’t feel any better about what I did for him, though. I guess all I can hope at the moment is that he hasn’t broken through the portal into my dimension. It would mean the end of the world.”

Rick frowned. “I’m sure he hasn’t, otherwise no doubt we would have heard something about it. He’s still stuck in the Nightmare Realm as far as we’re aw-uurp-aware.”

Ford nodded a little and sighed. He glanced at the door behind him. “We’d better get moving before someone finds us. We can have a heart-to-heart about who’s the bigger idiot later. Hint: It’s you.”

Rick couldn’t help but chuckle as he stood up, helping Ford to his feet. “Yeah, it’s me alright.” He brought another small device out of his pocket and pressed a button on the side of it. A three-dimensional hologram appeared, showing a map of the surrounding area of the facility. He pointed to a wall at the far end of the corridor alongside the room they were currently in. “This wall here is as far as we can get from this ward without having to go through a herd of guards. It’s also not under as high a level of sec-uurp-security as the room we’re in at the moment, so we should be able to use the portal gun on it.”

Ford nodded as he studied the map. “This place is still swarming with guards, though. It’s easy enough for you to get there with that disguise generator of yours but it’s going to be a little harder for me.”

Rick frowned in thought for a moment, analysing the map again. “It’s not that far, I reckon if we’re careful we can make it. I brought a blaster for each of us, anyway, so we can always shoot the guards if they get too close.”

Ford nodded, taking the blaster that Rick handed to him from his backpack. “You look like you’ve prepped for the apocalypse.” He smirked.

Rick chuckled as he put the map away. “Couldn’t afford to not b-uurp-be prepared. With the sort’a shit we’re dealing with, it pays to be prepared.”

Ford raised an eyebrow. “No shit. Just wish I’d been prepared for you handing me over.”

Rick frowned. “You know I’m sorry, and I know I’ll never make it up to you, but for now we have to focus. You can berate me l-uurp-later.”

Ford nodded with a roll of his eyes, standing beside the door with his blaster in one hand. Rick fiddled with the device on his wrist once more as the Gromflomite disguise fizzled back into place. “Right, let’s get moving.”

Ford nodded, raising his blaster a little as Rick drew his own. Rick slowly opened the door and checked down both sides of the hallway. “Right, the coast is clear. We should be able to get out unnoticed,” he murmured.

“Alright,” Ford nodded, mentally and physically preparing himself to run. Rick stepped out into the hall and took hold of Ford’s arm, guiding him down the hall towards the wall. Both of them kept their senses heightened, on edge and ready for any guards to come too close. Miraculously, they made it halfway down the hall with no incident.

“We’re halfway there,” Rick murmured. “So far so good.”

“Rick I swear to God if you fuck this up….” Ford threatened.

“I won’t. We’ll be fine.” Rick replied. “We’re almost there, anyway.”

“Don’t fuck this up for us…” Ford muttered, glancing around to make sure they still hadn’t been spotted. It was a miracle in itself that they had made it this far.

“Hey, it’s only you that matters here, not me. I frankly don’t care if I get out of this or not, as long as you do.” Rick shrugged, his alien shoulders moving in a freakish, jerky fashion.

“That’s really nice to know, thanks,” Ford muttered sarcastically. “Good thing I can always count on you, huh?”

Rick just frowned, deciding to stay quiet this time instead of replying with something equally as snarky. “We’re nearly there, come on. Just a little farther.”

As they approached the wall, they could hear footsteps getting closer. “Shit!” Rick hissed, grabbing Ford’s hand and dragging him to a nearby doorway, roughly pushing him inside before standing in front of him to hide him. The group of guards walked past them without noticing them. The footsteps retreated and the hallway was silent once more.

“Phew, that was close,” Rick breathed a quiet sigh of relief. He turned around to make sure Ford was alright, but froze.

Rick had shoved him through the doorway into one of the guards’ break rooms. Ford was currently being restrained by three Gromflomites, blasters being pointed at him from all angles. Had Rick been in his human state at this point, the colour would have drained completely from his face. “.... shit…”

Ford stood there giving Rick a death glare as he struggled fruitlessly against the guards. Rick’s eyes went wide and he swore he felt his heart stop. There were six guards in the room, all pointing blasters at Ford.

“What is this prisoner doing out of his cell?!” One guard demanded. “What’s your clearance code?!”

“Uhm…” Rick swallowed, fumbling for the fake ID badge on his guard’s uniform. “QZ67 Delta 3.”

“That’s bullshit.” Another guard snapped. “You’re not Calvin. He’s down in the canteen two floors below us.”

Rick desperately tried to think of an excuse. “Oh, well I must’a picked up his card by accident. I’m sure he’s got mine.”

“But surely you’d know your own identification?”

“I-I’m new here. Only been on a week.” Rick replied. He cursed silently at how his breath was too quick and how his voice shook and stumbled.

“Bullshit.” Another guard, the one grasping Ford’s left arm, said. “The newest lot of staff were hired three months ago. Nobody has been hired since then.”

Shit… Rick was rapidly running out of options, clutching at straws in an attempt to keep both himself and Ford away from being captured and locked up again, or worse. “Well I was hired as a last-minute temporary fill-in for someone else. He’s just gone on paternity leave, so I’m taking his place for a month.”

“Oh really? Who are you filling in for?” The guard looked sceptical. “There’s four employees currently on paternity leave. Which one are you filling in for?”

Rick swallowed. “J-Jerald… Jerald Parker…” he stammered. He’d plucked a name out of thin air, desperately hoping that it would work.

“As if. Jerald Parker is gay. He hasn’t got a wife.” The guard retorted. “You’re an imposter.” He aimed his blaster at Rick. “Who are you really?”

Rick risked a glance at Ford, finding the man gazing at him with a mixture of fear and anger in his eyes. He swallowed and reached into his pocket for something. He pulled out a small, spherical device, holding it out to the guards. Three of them leaned in, looking at the object curiously.

BANG!

All of a sudden, the room was filled with grey smoke, the guards’ ears ringing. The three guards holding onto Ford had let go of him in favour of pressing their hands against their ears. Rick rushed forwards and grabbed Ford, pulling him out of the room and running down the hallway.

“I knew you’d fuck this up!” Ford snapped, glancing over his shoulder to see if the guards were following them. Before long, the guards were running up the hallway after them.

“Now’s not the time for this!” Rick shot back, fiddling with the watch on his wrist to deactivate his disguise. It didn’t matter any more. He tossed Ford a spare gun, firing his own over his shoulder at the guards chasing them. A few of them got hit, collapsing to the ground. An alarm went off above their heads, a screeching, wailing noise accompanied by red flashing lights.

Both humans rushed down corridors right and left, trying to get the guards off their tail. The further they ran, the more guards seemed to close in on them from everywhere. The sirens continued blaring out above them. Ford darted around a corner and hid behind it, shooting at the guards behind them. Rick stood just beside him, both of them firing. The guards fired back, the shots barely missing the two men. One shot clipped Rick’s shoulder and he let out a gasp, collapsing back around the corner of the hallway. Ford kept firing, trying to hold them off.

The shot had easily burned through Rick’s clothes, searing and cutting his flesh. His would bled and ached, the flesh searing hot and blackened by the heat. It stung horribly, the air around them filled with the scent of burned skin and muscle. Rick hissed in pain, quickly tying some bandages around his arm to stem the flow of blood.

“Could you maybe hurry up?!” Ford asked, his focus still on holding off the guards. “We’re running out of time! They’re gonna be on us any minute now!”

“I’ve got it!” Rick exclaimed, grabbing Ford’s arm and pulling him away from the corridor. They continued to sprint down the hallway, firing at the guards chasing them. They heard multiple shouts from the guards behind them as several of them were hit by the humans’ shots. Several others cried out as their colleagues and friends were shot down. Neither Ford nor Rick seemed to hold any sort of remorse or guilt for their actions - getting out was their only priority, and they were more than prepared to shoot people if that was what it took.

Inevitably, they reached a dead end, managing to screech to a halt in front of the wall. They turned around, preparing to run back the way they came to find another exit, but found their path blocked by guards. The two humans froze in place upon seeing numerous blasters being pointed at them. Several of the guards were nursing minor injuries, the ones with more severe wounds having fallen behind. Most of them had spots of black blood on their uniforms and every single one of them looked pissed off beyond comprehension.

“Drop your weapons!” One guard at the front snapped. “You’re outnumbered, and you’re trapped. Drop your weapons or we’ll shoot!”

Ford and Rick exchanged a quick glance, before nodding to each other. Slowly, keeping their heads down, they set their blasters down on the ground a foot in front of them, in plain view of the guards. The last thing either of them wanted was to get shot at such a close range.

“Now, keep your hands where we can see them and step forward!” The guard ordered.

Ford moved to step forward as the guard asked, until Rick grabbed his upper arm and pulled him back to stand beside him. Rick leaned over to whisper into Ford’s ear.

“On the count of three, face the wall and jump. Don’t look back, don’t bother about me, just do it.”

“What?!” Ford hissed. “Are you insane?!”

“Yeah, I am. I handed you over to these goons in the first place. Of course I’m insane.”

“Hey!” The guard barked. “I said step forward! Do it, now, or we’ll shoot you!”

Slowly, not breaking eye contact with the guards, Rick reached into his pocket and pulled out the portal gun, hiding it behind his back. Of course, the guards saw the gun as a weapon and aimed their blasters at him. “Drop your weapon! Now!”

Rick flicked a dial on the gun and some coordinates appeared on the small display. Lifting the gun up behind his back and aiming it at the wall, Rick put his finger on the trigger, glancing at Ford. “One.”

“Rick no! What are you doing?!” Ford hissed, his heart racing. “You’re gonna get us killed.”

“Ford listen to me. I’ve fucked up and this is the only way I can make sure you get outta here safely at this point.” Rick said. “I know you hate my guts right now but you’ve gotta trust me, just this once. Please. If you don’t do this, we’ll both die. At least if you jump through you’ll be safe.”

The guards advanced forwards, closing in on the men. Rick and Ford each took a small step backwards. Rick glanced at Ford again. “Two.”

“There’s gotta be another way around this!” Ford protested as Rick raised the gun a little higher, still aiming at the spot on the wall behind them. He knew what Rick was doing, and wasn’t prepared to let him go that easily. “Please, Rick!”

All at once, Rick pulled Ford in for a very quick kiss, before firing at the wall. A large green disk exploded onto the wall behind them and Rick swiftly pushed Ford through it, before tossing the portal gun to the ground and stepping on it, crushing it to pieces. The portal behind him fizzled out and died. At the same time, the guards fired, the sounds of their shots being carried through he portal a moment before it collapsed.

Ford landed in a heap on the floor of a familiar apartment, the smell of stale booze and leftover takeaway filling the air. Gunshots echoed out above his head and he threw his arms over his head to protect himself from any stray shots. He barely had time to turn around before the portal disappeared in front of his eyes.

Everything came crashing down around him at that moment, realisation hitting him with the force of a runaway freight train. Rick had shoved him through, knowing Ford wouldn’t jump through without him. The gunshots he had heard indicated that the guards had fired a split second after the portal appeared. He looked around, desperately, hopelessly wishing that Rick was with him.

He was utterly alone in the apartment.

As the last of the adrenaline left his system, Ford forced himself to stand up. He hadn’t noticed he’d been sobbing until he felt lightheaded, and realised he wasn’t in control of his ragged, shallow breathing. Taking a few breaths to steady himself, Ford left the living room and headed into the bedroom, intent on collecting supplies. He couldn’t stay here. He had to keep going. He was never going to be able to defeat Bill by sitting on his ass in some apartment, doing nothing all day. As he gathered clothes, weapons and medical equipment, he spotted the sack of reward money underneath Rick’s bed. It was still full, the string tied firmly around it. Thinking for a moment, Ford took half of the money, sticking it into a small black rubbish bag and stuffing it into his large backpack.

Ford let out a shaky breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding. He ran a hand through his hair, his mind finally calm enough to process what had just happened. Rick had sacrificed himself to get Ford out of there, and it had worked. Rick was most likely dead while Ford was free to live on and complete his mission - bringing down Cipher. Rick had known that bringing down that demon was more important than his own life, and had willingly died so that Ford could continue to build a weapon suitable of defeating Bill. Rick hadn’t thought twice about dying, knowing that if he got Ford out of the prison, there was a chance of defeating the demon.

Maybe Rick wasn’t such a bad guy after all.

Ford shook his head. Now wasn’t the time to dwell over his maybe-dead ex-boyfriend. He had to keep going. Grabbing some food from the kitchen and making sure he had everything he could possibly need, he left the apartment, locking the door and stuffing the keys back through the letterbox. He headed towards the garage, where the ship he and Rick had built together still sat, waiting to be used. Ford climbed into the driver’s seat and started it up. Driving out of the garage, Ford directed the ship upwards, flying far off up into the sky and leaving the apartment behind.

______

Based off the bonus bit of this post by @looloolalalol

AO3

[courage-a-word-of-justice]

Reflection 12 (FINAL) | Netjuu no Susume 1 | Mahoutsukai no Yome 1 | Code:Realise 1 | Kino’s Journey (2017) 1 | Dynamic Chord 1 | Houseki no Kuni 1 | Anime-Gataris 1 | Idolmaster Side M 1

Kekkai Sensen seems to be off limits, even when I try to comprehend the relevant JavaScript after dodging region lock. Grr…I spent and hour and 30 mins just trying to figure out that code!!! Oh well (dejected tone), at least I have Classicaloid…

Reflection 12 (FINAL)

Oh please, X-On. Fighting fire with fire is the worst thing you can do. Haven’t you learnt that over the course of this show?

Gahhhh! Finally, the magical girls have arrived! Thank you, Stan Lee!

Wowee, that was some concentrated sound, so to speak.

Well, that’s just original, y‘know? Pyramid. In the desert. Whoop-de-doo.

Rule number 14138008 of crime-fighting: Always make sure you have a backup in case someone uses yorur kryptonite against you. Or in this case, a superpower-stripping technique.

I don’t think X-On’s become one with the Darkness yet. He has some flippin’ plot armour on his side, after all. Why haven’t any of these guys succumbed to the ageing process yet?

Well, I got my answer to my previous question, but how did vision!Eleanor appear, anyway?

Wait…wait. I knew he had plot armour! Argh! X-On! What the heck did you do to deserve plot armour???

Oh, the magical girls are part sentai and part actual magical girl. Notice they have kanji across their chests for their associated element.

“Why won’t you accept Darkness’s darkness?” – Okay, “Darkness’s darkness” is a bit too redundant, y’hear?

Wait…wait. Ninth Wonder only had 4 members??? Wat. Then Ian goes and undoes all their hard naming work by calling them by their real group name, dangit. You ruined a perfectly good magical girl show, Ian.

They didn’t even put in the crack on X-On’s helmet…head…thingy.

Okay, I am so confused…Guh. Thank goodness it’s over.

Netjuu no Susume 1

I like the rare stories where a girl transforms into a boy for non-hentai reasons. This is the closest anime I’ve gotten so far to that concept, so…yay, me?

“Recommendation of the Wonderful Virtual Life” and “Recovery of an MMO Junkie” mean two very different things on the same topic. What was happening in the localiser’s mind when they created this title for the English-speaking audience???

That scene where Moriko collapses on her bed…for some reason, someone was watching a show with the Moonlight Sonata in the background, so now I think MMO Junkie is sad. (Which is probably wrong.)

Oh, by the way. The –juu in Netjuu gives the word a special kind of connotation. A riajuu is what’s known as a normie, or a non-otaku, non-gamer sort of person. A netjuu must therefore be a net addict. Kiznaiver taught me that.

“I chose the NEET life.” - I know that feel, Moriko.

Oh, they even gave Moriko’s character Saiyan hair for a moment, LOL.

Okay, here’s a pun. Mori (forest) is 3x ki (tree) and hayashi (grove) is 2x ki. That’s using the kanji, though.

The guy with the glasses looks like a dude from Occultic;Nine. I have bad memories of that show because of Ryouka…er, big knockers girl.

Owee. I once joined an RPG because of some IRL friends but I forgot to ask them what group they were in, and so I was a solo quester…so I know that feel, Moriko.

This is based on a Comico manga, so the designs are simple to draw and they were originally in colour, so they just needed to be reworked for animation. See? Backing Comico in my Superstar wa Nemurenai days wasn’t such a bad idea, now, huh?

Himeralda? For a guy character? Well, that broke the gender barrier.

Christmas is a holiday for lovers in Japan, so I suspect it’s something to do with that.

Lawson -> Cowson, LOL.

Despite all the obviously still motion shots, I’m really enjoying this. Why does it have to be 10 eps??? (By the way, why didn’t I get Kekkai Sensen??? Dangit, Funi!!!)

Oh, this is so adorable! Lily even dressed up and Moriko got her chicken! It’s such a heartwarming Christmas for these guys.

These transitions, while not original, I find are really cool. Not Disney-level, but still inventive. Also, that green dot is definitely Hayashi and the pink one Lily.

LOL, Lawson was a sponsor this ep, it seems. Had I paused a little later, I would’ve missed its credit!

This is a keeper for sure. I’m just disappointed about the short ep count (due to the nature of Comico)…and Kekkai Sensen, uwu…

Mahoutsukai no Yome 1

Le hype. That’s all. I’ve been watching 1 – 2 eps per day (for these first eps of the fall season) and since the weekend is so full of good shows, I don’t know how people can watch entire seasons like this…As for my take on this show, it’s pretty and well-received after the OVA and advance screening, so hopefully this will deliver. I’m not an AMB manga fan by the way.

It’s normally a bad sign to start with an OP, but it shows off the animation, so I’m not complaining.

The English title shows how interconnected the world is these days…it’s kinda scary, actually.

Chise looks lke a bride here, or she’s on her deathbed. Both symbolic meanings are applicable.

I never thought Japanese people would be able to capture Western elegance so well.

The chibi-ish style doesn’t suit such a serious show. Are these chibi-ish sections also part of the manga?

I thought the woman with the bonnet was called Silky? Not Silver? The promo materials all say “Silky”, and the OVA did too IIRC.

I think the biggest descriptor of this show is “whimsical”.

Historically, fairies lure people into Fairyland like the stereotypical portrayal of sirens, and they’re not as benign as my portrayal of them in One Wish They Never Wanted.

The irony of a dog-face skull calling you his puppy. It really brings an odd sense of humour to this show.

Welp, that’s another safe keeper. I’ve being quite definite about my choices, as you might have noticed, since the weekend is positively overloaded with shows (as I mentioned earlier).

Code:Realise 1

It’s an otome game adaption. They don’t always go down well, but it’s worth a shot.

Isn’t it “London Bridge is falling down”?

CR seems to have forgotten to title this ep “London Steam” on their site.

Well, they’re guards. Y’think lowering their guard would’ve been a funny pun, at least if this were dubbed in English (which this will be…eventually).

Ooh, so this plain bishie is Arsene Lupin? Me likey.

Like, seriously, Where are this tiny spark-star-thingies coming from?

Impey…who? Update: Google (plus previous spoilers) tell me that Impey is Impey Barbicane, accomplice to Lupin.

LOL, I’ve watched me too many Kaito Kid heists. Me likey, once again. However, the thing I don’t get is the voiceover. Couldn’t Lupin have actually said these lines instead of putting them on voiceover???

Gahhhhhhh! This eyecatch’s bishie has such horrible eyes that they burn mine! Get me out of here!

How does Impey know Cardia’s name??? Update: You’ll get the answer later…

It’s a few generations too early for a man to go to the moon, LOL. Poor Impey.

Victor…well, I never. Anime really does cover everything. Plus, Frankenstein ain’t his monster in this one, which would make Mary Shelley proud.

Hey, Kaitou (Phantom Thief) Lupin is one thing but using your real name as your kaitou identity is taking it a bit far. Sure, there was Kaito Kuroba, but at least he was Kaito Kid as well.

Sheesh, the Horologium sounded like nuclear power before Lupin explained it was Cardia’s heart…that would’ve been tonnes scarier, had Cardia been a nuclear monster.

LOL, Lupin’s so tsundere! Hahaha…

Oh please. Don’t let the vampires steal away Cardia (LOL)!

Victor being pegged as a terrorist has something to do with Isaac, right?

Lupin’s so effin’ short. No wonder he stands in high places when he lords over the British Army, haha.

Smol corgi with cyborg leg is probably my new dog aesthetic, haha. Plus top hat. I like top hats.

Shouldn’t the corgi have died when Cardia grabbed it though, or was that because of its leg?

The rainbow transition was a bit much, but okay. I can live with it.

So smol corgi is called Sisi? What a weird name.

It’s…not bad, I could probably watch until the end. However, the colour scheme seems to be “bright” with these recent female games (see Sengoku Night Blood for another example of what I mean). Well, since I said that, it’s a keeper. (I think the random James Bond-esque scene involving shooting guns then being in front of an explosion in the ED sealed the deal though, LOL.)

Kino’s Journey 1

I’m a noob to the world of Kino, so please don’t spoil me on anything you’ve seen in the previous adaptations! All I really know is the shtick: Kino is neither a guy nor a girl. They stick around in a country for 3 days then leave. They have a talking motorbike named Hermes…that’s pretty much it.

Lerche? On Kino? Y’think someone else could’ve done it better? I feel like a washed-out, subdued feeling would suit this show best. However, these words are coming from a Kino’s Journey noob, as I just said, so disregard me if you want.

Mori no naka de…b? What’s the “b” for?

A few times when they say “country”, I imagine a sea. That makes sense, considering it’s the sea that separates a lot of us.

How does Hermes talk???

Hermes is CGI. Trust my eyes, they’ve seen a lot of CGI for their time.

The gun is called Cannon? Wuh? The other gun is called the Woodsman? Wuh wuh???

A motorrad appears to be a motorbike, but…okay. It’s a BMW make of motorbike. Like a Ford Gran Torino.

*Kino points the gun* Whoa! What a fakeout!

Kino is CGI sometimes, too, it seems.

Those cows seem to be angry at Kino for some reason…

Why does no one question the talking motorbike???

Oh, I see. That was what I suspected from the moment the rifle was shown in the store. Public order is good here because people simply turn a blind eye.

I think Kino hopping behind Hermes should’ve been 2D. It’s not fluid enough in 3D…not quite yet to convey a proper sense of action, but enough to create a sense of disquiet. (Which is what I believe the show wants, so I’ll take my words back for the moment.)

“Ow!” is an understatement, considering it (the arrow) must’ve severed a muscle or two.

Ah, loophole. I didn’t see that coming.

Whoa. What dramatic irony.

I swear they recycle parts of this footage over and over again. I’m getting dejavu.

Hahaha, that crepe ending was funny. It wasn’t an ideal way to finish such an unsettling episode, but it was a good punchline.

Well, I think this is going to be really repetitive, so I’ll put it on hold and roll the next show up.

Dynamic Chord 1

More Ume. As an Ume fan, I’m spoilt for choice this season.

Cherry blossom opening is probably a bad omen. It’s probably the most cliched opening you could go for.

Holy eye colours, Batman! “That yellow should not exist as an eye colour,” is all I’m saying.

Honestly, this is the least gripping band/idol anime I’ve tackled all season. If they’re just going to be angsty in the rain, they should’ve been one season earlier because I would’ve taken this over The Reflection or In Another World With my Smartphone, laser eye boy be damned.

Wait, is pinkhead in the car or out of it? Update: He’s in a convertible. So it’s a yes and a no.

That metronome transition was pretty bad. Really hamfisted.

That transition away from the metronome, I couldn’t even tell that was a transition!

Aw gawsh, spare me. This looks like one of those ads you see play between shows on TV channels without company sponsorship. Or an only-half-decent MV.

I think they’re trying to be Dark and Edgy (TM) in comparison to, say, TsukiPro, but that was better than this.

Extended Pans for No Reason Whatsoever (TM)! Also, Bumblebee car. I’m having fun ripping this show apart, man. Now I see the real quality of Hatewatches (with a capital H), but it’s only been 5 minutes...

Dual eye colour boy (Reon), oi. You really didn’t do anything. Don’t give yourself unnecessary credit.

Bumblebee boy has way too long eyelashes, by the by. Did I ever mention that?

At least they justified the previous shots. That one there, at about the 6 minute mark, was not justified.

Based on Dai Murase (Ume’s role in TsukiPro), I thought the Kyohso doppleganger was gonna be Ume, but he thankfully got someone more attractive (Kuro of apple polisher). I still don’t like the name apple polisher though, how the heck did that name “get popular overseas”???

The camera shakes sometimes for no reason at all.

Reon seems constantly grumpy for some reason…

C’mon…this production is visually quite junky. Admit it.

Please don’t make this another ad fakeout. Only play your cards once for a certain trick…

Pink and blue eyed boy looks like a villian, but he’s probably a “hero” in this story.

This is probably a music video, but if I wanted a music video, I’d go to YouTube. Not an anime, unless it were an anime musiv video (a proper one, not an amateur effort YouTube Poop).

Wait, they spent 5 minutes just showing us a music video? It was pretty bad, so of course I noticed it in a bad way.

What is up with black and blue guy’s hair? I thought bumblebee guy was bad enough.

Sometimes removing the volume is all you need to figure out if an anime is good, since if they cared about their visuals and plot enough, then they wouldn’t be relying on shots of dudes rocking backwards and forward so much.

I get not all band people are singers, but still…bumblebee boy, if you’re so willing, why not you take Reon’s place?

Wait, so pink-haired convertible boy is the famed Yorito??? Dorito, more like it!

If the animators for this show were any good, they’d animate the fingers when the guitarists play. I’ve seen people play the guitar before. I used to take music classes. Geez, Pierrot. Stop skimping.

Another Skimping Technique (TM) – Speedlines in Replacement of Actual Motion (sic).

Too bad Dorito’s skipping practice, eh, Reon?

C’mon, Dorito. First it’s an angsty rain scene, now it’s an angsty shower scene? You don’t even look half hot here. Or half wet, for that matter.

I know anime is meant to look flat, but these sections I’ve been calling “music videos” are…superflat, to give them a name. They look like paper overlaid on the anime background, with little to no real animation being done, and that’s why I’m giving this show such a bad rap.

All that angst…for this? It seems a little anticlimatic, is all I’m saying.

Well, I made it through one episode. It’s probably not as bad as I made it out to be, but I do hatewatch picks for my own pleasure and this just became one of them. Onto the drop pile it goes…

Houseki no Kuni 1

This is the last debut of the fall season, at least until someone hands me Kekkai Sensen. Okay, here’s the story about why I’m here: I heard good things about Steven Universe in my home country, so I went on a trip and tried some Cartoon Network there. Thing is, Steven Universe didn’t resonate with me as much as I thought it would. Therefore, to take the concept and turn it into a real anime – would that do it for me? Let’s find out.

Hmph, I had the sound on this time and I had the feeling all the gems were voiced by women. Like Steven Universe.

When they said “sunspots”, they…uh, kinda meant it.

I feel like Master Kongo’s VA is a bit too soft. Otherwise, this show is pretty good.

Whoa. Seeing Phos shattered like this and still conscious must be freaky. Makes for some good body horror, eh?

Well, this show has some excellent worldbuilding. That’s something I haven’t said in a few seasons…in this simulcast commentary, that is. Made in Abyss has good worldbuilding too. The only problem with this is…where did Phos’s gloves come from?

The eyecatch seems to be in English. Like Princess Principal last season.

The echo, I think, had a worse effect this time than when Kongo destroyed Phos.

“Don’t use that hand!” - LOL.

So Cinnabar’s poison creates amnesia and (an indirect need for) amputation, eh? What a duo of afflictions.

Well, it’s…actually pretty good. Let’s press on.

Anime-Gataris 1

I actually wanted to pass on this, but after seeing Karandi pass judgement on its second episode and seeing a Haruhi reference, I decided I would pass a judgement on it too. Well, it’s an anime about anime. What do you expect, really?

Hahaha…Oarai is known for being popularised by Girls und Panzer, so Galtan is short for Girls with Tanks.

Haritaro = Hamtaro, Dezumon = Digimon, PreFae = PreCure. Haha, it’s an anime watcher’s paradise of parody anime!

“Double riding is illegal.” - I think that’s a reference to the first episode of Gekkan Shoujo Nozaki-kun and the tandem bike.

Fish??? Wuh???

Aw. That fakeout, I was hoping for it to be A Certain Magical Index or something.

Geez, typical School Council Pres with optional Ethereal Glow. Now available in Blonde too, it seems.

Sebastian Michaelis right there.

The teacher just did the flippin’ Ringo (from UtaPri) intro! Holy gender-barriers, Roppongi is a man??? Why I don’t react like that to Ringo, I’ll never know.

The “I should go by myself” bit is also from UtaPri, IIRC. The bit where one of the boys reveals he’s actually the star Haruka likes.

Obvious Chuunibyou with extra Fake Magic. Geesh, if it weren’t for the anime references…I really wouldn’t be covering this…

That’s my face when people talk about anime, LOL. Hero School = Boku no Hero Academia while R:Zero is Re:Zero.

Shika = deer, hence the weird deer. I don’t know what the references around the Shikabari one are, though, including the fence jump.

You picked a fight with the wrong anime lover, Anime-Gataris (I specialise in recent anime, for obvious reasons)! Tamukeda = Tanakeda (Tanaka-kun wa Itsumo Kedaruge) and Toramiko = Kumamiko. Clearly someone doesn’t remember that Kumamiko was a controversial flop, anime-wise.

Bakusou = Bakuon. Therefore, Shikabari is probably…Kiznaiver? No, it’s Kabaneri. That’s the best match, considering we’re talking about spring 2016. Time Travel Shonen = Time Travel Shoujo. Still don’t get the fence jump though.

Kyou Kara Sessha Wa!! = Kyou Kara Ore Wa!!, where “sessha” is an pronoun for…I think it’s older males. Angel Story = Angel Legend (Angel Densetsu).

The OVA references went over my head again…

Gachiemon = Doraemon, naturally. Nobue = Nobita and Karashi = Takeshi (Gouda). Well, while looking for the Gachiemon movie, I found Reddit spoiling it all for me. Refer to it if you don’t want me doing it for you, because I’m going to...ignore it! Haha, you thought I was going to use it as a crutch now, didn’t you? I like this challenge.

The dog one is A Dog of Flanders, Everstrike is Evangelion. I thought the Cinnamon Roll one would be the not-often-mentioned Powerpuff Girls anime  but Reddit says it’s Dragon Ball??? Autumn Wars = Summer Wars.

Light music club = K-On, classical literature club = Hyouka, NJ club = GJ Club.

The cover of this magazine appears to be Newtype or Animage, which I think both started around the 70s or 80s. That’s definitely Urusei Yatsura on the front, though.

The Girl who Slept Through Time = The Girl who Leapt Through Time and Replica…Paprika, perhaps? (Think I was recalling Reddit there.)

Is that…a Boueibu reference?! Or is that just a cliché…? (If it’s a cliché, I’d feel sad, man.)

I feel like the video quality seems to warp a little at infrequent moments. It’s quite disappointing for a 2017 anime to be suffering from strange visual problems like that.

There’s a KonoSuba poster…sort of.

Maria Clara doesn’t look like anything I’ve seen although it does kind of look like Hatsune Miku or Elsword.

Dang that fakeout, I thought she meant the beret.

I feel like this is best binged to get at all the references, so onto the on hold pile it goes. I think its plot will be cliché but its references are the best thing about it.

Idolmaster 1

Time to thin out the herd! This’ll be tough, since all the contenders I’ve kept have the potential to be great.

The pun here is that 315 (saikou) can mean “the highest”, or in this case, “the best”.

The eyeless producer (and Saito, by the by) was probably a bad idea.

Hey, it’s a 315 business card!

The cardboard boxes say “Bear Mark Moving Company” (Kuma no Ma-ku no Hikkoshi Kaisha).

Ooh! I like ponytail boy. I have a thing for bishies with ponytails.

“Handwriting” is probably the wrong word for a typed contract, CR subbers.

An odd juxtaposition between lawyer (or any other job) and an idol. That’s what piqued my interest about this idol anime specifically – because there is clearly going to be some dirty stuff that comes to light once characters have debuted as idols, and the more disconnect between the past and the present, the more the paps are gonna eat it up. At least, that’s my thoughts, having written Half-Paid Heroes. (I’m currently not sure if I should continue on HPH though, since I had a fight with fellow Honeyfeed writer Aura…).

Nice shirt, Teru (LOL).

When Kaoru broke the cheery atmosphere, Teru’s shirt suddenly said roiya (“lawyer” in katakana, transposed to hiragana).

Dandou literally translates to “male way”. It’s actually hilarious since it sounds really macho…in a bishie show intended to capture a female audience.

“I want us to work together…”

Does this producer have a name? I get the feeling he doesn’t. Maybe, instead of that woman producer they were hinting at at the end of Side Jupiter (was that a woman?), it was this guy.

Sakuraba’s being kind of awkward on the side with his fistpump. I like him.

“Then from now on, the three of you…”

If you know me from Boueibu, you’ll know the line Saito says should actually be “Boys be ambitious”.

The board up the back of the Dramatic Stars’ party says “Celebrate! Dramatic Stars’ Formation”…or something like that, anyway…(Happoro beer, LOL.)

Oh, it’s Hokuto, Shouta and Touma from Jupiter.

It’s this shot from last episode. Oh, okay. It’s kinda like Death Parade in that there are two backstories leading to the same ending shown in ep 1.

What’s with those 17 badges, guys???

This frog mascot looks kinda funny in a (LOL) sort of way. I think Ume’s character will be in a unit with the shota that likes this frog mascot, so…good on me.

At least “Drive a live” doesn’t sound as bad as “Burny!!” or “Crazy Baby Show”, namewise. It does, however, sound like a slogan for a drink-driving government prevention scheme.

I think Ume’s character is the guy behind the counter, although I’m a bit sketchy on that. We’ll see in a few eps.

I think I’ve probably been missing out on something by not listening to the trio with the music. Even though I threw the others out based on visuals and plot, an idol/band show is nothing without its music, so I’ll put Idolmaster on hold so that I don’t become too attached to any of the trio and maybe someday I can evaluate TsukiPro vs Idolmaster better.

[throwthrough]

Another Conclusion. Chapter 2: Reunion

Summary: Core of this AU happens here though there is a very clear storyline it is all scrambled in my head.

WARNING: This is ANGST but I also tried to make it true to the scene and chars the * marks areas I feel are only gesture and not that necessary to the plot

Speech is between "" Thought between ' '

Also I’m not from any english speaking nation so I may have got something wrong.

Stanley was quite apprehensive being here in this place. The sender’s address on a post card of a town in the middle of nowhere that showed barely any landscape on the photo, choosing instead to display the weird name of the place occupying the most of it. It could be a trap. But no cartel, gang or two bit criminal knew of his brother…

And ‘cause he kept tabs on him over the years…

It wasn’t flawless detective work; Even though he was kicked out 10 years ago he called his mother on her psych line AND in hours the pawn shop is likely open; just to make sure.

His ma may not be the best person on the world but she obeys social standards and one of them is that mothers are supposed to be supportive; and in those rules, in some sort of hopelessly deserted child paragraph says:

If the kid makes contact give the information, contacts and news the kid may ask for at the very least and at most send negligible amounts of cash (in his case in mail).

Which wasn’t that often ‘cause he had to have an actual roof on his head or delivery box and WAIT for it to come (that being the problematic part due to being a wanted criminal).

It always made him smile how she hid the bills in a bunch of flyers of boring vacation spots inside the envelope though.

The place his mother told him REALLY WAS the one in the postcard. After arriving; he looked at a shack that apparently was either haunted by a ghost or by his brother in a grumpy mood. Either case made it look like a rural setting of a horror movie: Bloody easy to imagine zombies crawling out of the ground any moment now… or something else equally horrible.

And cooperating with the theme was: the fence, the multiple warnings, the lack of repairs of the place and… is that ACTUALLY radioactive stuff on the porch!?

Meh, seen worse… and weirder...

Maybe THAT’s why Stanford wanted to talk to him, and in his brother’s defense he lived with the guy for seventeen years and compared to him Stanford was tidier by a mile. He thinks that if he ever had to care for a house like that; it’d either fall apart or look absolutely horrifying(or in a worse way than now)! Though it would make for fun Halloweens...

BOTTOM LINE he just couldn’t imagine taking care of a house that didn’t feel like home or how he could attach himself to one for it to feel like it.

Not without Stanford. That made the word family meaningful… That hated his guts.

And even then that’d make him HIRE someone to do 90% of all the crap!

He never thought Ford would ever wanna see him again.

Thought the fact they were together since they were born and were only apart when Stan had a date or Ford had a nerd thing to go to that would most likely earn yet another medal or trophy, had a spanner thrown when the science project thing happened and now they are apart indefinitely, with his father throwing him out saying he needed to PAY A FARE to have a family again and not even THAT was a guarantee of his brother giving him the time of day.

But now he actually called him here with that postcard and that neatly and nearly geometric handwriting on it that Stan still remembered and that made him stare at it in disbelief and then drop everything to come.

Now he was in front of a shack most people would think is abandoned due to the many reminders to get out, lots of wire as well as a boarded triangle window though there was a bunch of sciency nerd antennas and the like. So maybe his brother WAS here and started on a downspiral to become an old man with issues over kids on his lawn. So after looking at the postcard like three more times he took a duffle bag with essential and left the comfort of his car to deal with a blizzard he was not prepared to deal with having just come from New Mexico even with clothes for weather.

And so he had taken his duffle bag that had most essentials in case he had to make a run for it, now he took it so to not have to make the trip back anytime soon.

The weather was terrible with cold biting at every pore.

Good thing he parked so near the place most people would think he was gonna rob the place.

Still he took the hood of his coat midway to take a look(and see if he was indeed any closer) at the place his brother made for himself in their time apart, probably messing with weirdness instead of patenting something to make himself rich as well as their parents as a side-effect/guiltrip for their expectations.

His steps seemed to get heavier until he finally made it to the door and…

Oh so they ARE radioactive judging by the symbol! Nevertheless the stress was still there and finally froze him as he made a light fist to knock and made it nearly touch the door.

“You haven’t seen your brother in over 10 years… It’s ok. …” He said making a dismissive gesture to convince himself instead of someone not present. And not being able to avoid making a light smile not being able to hold back some hope.

“…He’s family. He won’t bite.”

After barely knocking twice...

“WHO IS IT!!? Have you come to STEAL ME EYES!!?!”

The door immediately opens while his hand still formed a fist and his brother, who opened the door, first interjected than barked those questions, and as he barked the second and weirdest question he advanced on Stan pointing a nerdy board game weapon, that multiples times Ford had to remind him was called a crossbow, at his face the charge making Stan take a step back from the scare.

After a moment to compose himself even with the loaded thing in his face his mouth responds and words drip with offended sarcasm.

“Well I can always count on you for a warm welcome…”

Instead of denying anything his brother, barely any less antsy, puts the crossbow down while asking more questions and in the middle even makes a whispering gesture of putting a hand on the side of his mouth(even forgetting it’s dumb doing that in the middle of talking instead of before starting  and not lowering his voice volume at all as well):

“Stanly did anyone follow you? Anyone at all?”

“Ehr, hello to you too pal…” Answers Stan not done being upset. Barely after saying this his brother grabs him by his coat and pulls him making him shout in surprise and immediately his brother starts shining a small lantern in each of his eyes with his other hand causing him TOO MUCH unexpected discomfort.

“Ahr!! Hey! What is this!?”Snaps Stan stopping his brother’s sudden attempt of being an eye doctor by grabbing Ford’s hands, dragging them downwards and then pushing them against his brother’s overcoat.

“Sorry! Just had to make sure you weren’t…” After taking a step back his brother first looked weirdly stiff and shocked while raising his hands at him forming a gesture of non-agression before stopping  his sentence and gesture, quickly looks  to the left and right for a moment before closing his eyes and raising a single hand in a dismissive gesture.

“…Uhh, it’s nothing.”

“Come in, come in…”

Even though quickly turns away gesturing for Stan to follow. Stan’s mind then finally realized something…

His brother is a wreck!!

Ford’s eyes have deep dark circles under them showing he hasn’t been sleeping, hair is disheveled, is growing facial hair all over(and he knows his brother was the type to shave and if that changed the beard shuld look even, which it doesn’t) and when he talked unpleasantly Stan realized also hasn’t been brushing his teeth. And to top it all, while walking away he started pulling the sides of his overcoat with the opposite hands on what could look like an effort to close it showing distress even more as his smart brother surely know the overcoat has buttons.

After catching all that Stan starts getting actually worried for him and immediately forgets the “welcoming” and unpleasant test to focus on how to help as even though he hoped somehow Ford needed his help finding him in such state of distress made him drop his guard and so he ignores all the baggage between them decides to get Sixer to say what was wrong so he could do his best to make better. After first giving a brief look at a place that have stuff that looks like antiquarium crap, taxidermy weirdness and props from Frankenstein movies he goes deeper in to follow his brother. ‘Let’s start with some humor.’<br />

“Hey, you gonna explain what is going on here?You look like mom after her 10th cup of coffee!”

Stan’s humor didn’t work…

He got an answer though, progress maybe. His brother not standing still for a second goes to a desk at the end of the room and gets a big book and some papers while he replies.

“Listen there isn’t much time.

I’ve made huge mistakes and I don’t know who I can trust anymore.”

As if to confirm his point and fully showcasing paranoia he turned the head of a human skeleton model to face away.

“Hey easy there, let’s talk this through okay…?”

His brother had started walking in his direction but without looking at his face as Stan talked to him with no known effect that Ford even walked past him, but then he gently touched his brother’s shoulder and that succeeded in making him stop to Stan’s relief.

“I have something to show you, something you won’t believe…”

His brother turned around and said it making a “you will be amazed” gesture moving hand horizontally over his face.

Due to not believing his brother could get involved in too big of a mess he couldn’t help but answer smugly though genuinely concerned.

“Look I’ve been around the world okay?

Whatever it is I’ll understand…”

“There is NOTHING about this I understand!”

Is what came out of Stan’s mouth standing with his brother in front of a triangle thing after being taken to Ford’s version of the bat-cave.

“It’s a trans-universal gateway. A punched hole through a weak spot in our dimension…”Ford starts talking as he does a introduction gesture with a single hand.

“…I created it to unlock the mysteries of the universe. But it could easily be harnessed for terrible destruction.”As he started the warning his expression and tone turned intense again pointing his index finger in a “hear my words” way. Then he took the absurdly thick book he got from upstairs from his inside his overcoat and gesture his hand in introduction towards it.

“That’s why I shut it down and hid my journals which explain how to operate it...” and started walking towards him with the book in his hands.

“…There is only one journal left...

....and you’re the only person I can trust to take it.” While talking he then stood in front of Stan gestures for him to take it from his hands which Stan does a bit confused and simply stares at the six fingered golden handprint with a number 1 in it then looks up at his brother again that left him no proper pause.

“I have something to ask of you. Remember our plans to sail around the world on a boat?”

his brother looks so earnest as he says this…

Stan’s thoughts go a hundred miles per hour.

‘Is this real?’

‘I’m really being forgiven?’

‘I really have my brother back?’

‘Can things really be… GOOD again?’

Stan from looking shocked formed a smile he would at most times be embarrassed to showcase. But he was just that absurdly happy over 10 years wanting for this to happen...

It lasted nearly 2 seconds.

“Take this book, get on a boat, and sail as far away as you can! To the edge of the earth!”  His brother says it like instructing the help to do a specific chore poking and gesturing ending with both arms in an exaggerated form that conveys “don’t matter how and I don’t care, just do it!” before walking towards the thing.

‘…What?’

Ford just walks away…

“Just bury it where no one can find it!”

Standing facing the gigantic thing, now finished speaking he doesn’t even look at him in the face anymore…

…he just crosses his hands behind his back either for dramatic effect or to quell his longing for the BOOK they just held.

Stan could’ve cried, nearly did.

Even though he felt crushed with sadness or blind with anger, the most of him felt… disillusioned.

Not at his life as it was always bleak and devoid of future prospects, but at Ford.

Ford, the scrawny kid that he always put first, that even though was smarter than anyone they both knew he yet still believed what a petty bully said about him.

So Stan told him of a future they could have but contrary to countless kids that make voiced similar dreams

and promises, Stan MEANT IT!!

He would make it so there his brother would never have to be alone. And Stan worked at it for years. And now he felt as if Ford disregarded all that, disregarded all his dedication, disregarded the fact he was the one person he would never do something bad on purpose…

It wasn’t that as they got older he didn’t notice that Ford wanted something else; if it wasn’t for that damned mistake he would’ve let him have it.

Stan wasn’t dumb in requiring all that devotion from Ford ‘cause Stan thought there was no need in his case as he could always get by with street-smarts and Ford was the type of person the world rarely sees or does yet crushes so Stan was glad he stopped that happening. It was that he honestly believed that if his brother cared a tenth that he cares and called after 10 years meant there would at least get an opportunity to talk... but in the end he had called while feeling no different as the last words from back then:”Why would I want to do anything with the person that sabotaged my ENTIRE future!?!”

He got caught with his guard down… He just never though his brother would a chance to stab him and twist the knife, getting him all the way here to do GRUNT WORK!? Couldn’t it have been ANYONE!? And if it couldn’t why no one ELSE!? Why not their folks? So that means the years of covering for Ford or the years trying to BUY his family back only to go through hell without a f*&¨%g penny to show for it were really ALL FOR NOTHING!? That his brother would never want to see him he could understand but asking him to come just to be an errand boy!? Had Ford ever really cared!? That all the devotion was only appreciated THIS MUCH!?

That was it? All of Ford’s good will towards him and all the love he had for him as well as any fondness for what they’ve been through together amounts to… this.

“That’s it!?” Stan voices and now his INDIGNATION;

And like before with the crossbow,

Like 10 years ago AFTER GETTING KICKED OUT,

NOW was gonna help him say his piece!!

“You finally wanna see me after 10 years and it’s to tell me to get as far away from you as possible!?” Says Stan sounding with anger but also bits of denial and sadness… at least he wasn’t crying in front of the jerk…

“Stanley you don’t understand what I’m up against. What I’ve been through!”

*Said Ford making a gesture hands with the plams upawards wanting to grasp something invisible then he hits the sides of his head above his ears before making his hands return to the previous gesture while walking in his direction but AGAIN  walking past him.

Again Ford makes him face his back while whining of his problems AND SAYING STAN’S GONE 10 YEARS OF HELL TO BE TOLD THAT BY A GUY THAT WEARS A TIE AT HOME AND CARRIES A PEN IN A FRICKIN’ BREAST POCKET!?!

“NO, no! You don’t understand what I’VE been through!” Stan is seriously losing it but doing shady business and all the crap he’s been through made it amazing how angry he can get without shouting and how articulate he can be when scared for his life.* As he speaks he points at his brother which then looks at him as if indignant for not being allowed to be the star of his own tragedy then he points at himself with his thumb before approaching the dramatic nerd as he continues talking.

“I’ve been in prison in three different countries…”*making a 3 with his fingers with the palm facing himself and continues his approach.

“…I’ve once had to chew my way OUT OF THE TRUNK OF A CAR!!” Finally in front of Fords he yells in his face and hopes he sees the damage in the teeth!

“You think you got troubles? I’ve got a MULLET Stanford!”*he pokes him in the chest then gestures his hand at himself

“Meanwhile, where have you been?

Living it up in your fancy house in the woods!...”*he gestures at the cave around that mostly indicates Ford DID have a good time…

“…Selfishly hoarding your college money, because you only care about yourself!”*He then pokes Stanford again but caused him who till then looked like he felt slightly bad frowned.

“Selfish!?? I’M selfish!?”*He says while expanding his arms with a shocked expression.

“How can you say that after costing me my DREAM SCHOOL!!?” He keeps with the dramatic gesturing such as pointing a finger and making a “V” with his arms with an expression of indignation.

“I’m giving you a chance to do the first worthwhile thing in your life and you won’t even listen!”*Stanford continues while making a “my head will blow-up from frustration!” expression aided by his hands parallel to the sides of his head then drops them to perform a “and here you are!” gesture with a single hand towards Stanley.

“Well, listen to THIS: You want me to get rid of this book? Fine! I’ll get rid of it right now!”  Stan not amused or surprised the conversation got to this point gestures at the book like a magician showing the object to be involved in the trick, pulls a lighter and tries to make good on his words while his annoyed sneer hides how truly angry he is.

Honestly it was the first time he actually wanted to HURT his brother…

“No! You don’t understand!” Stanford in a speed that surprised Stan grabbed the book with both hands with a face of desperation as if he considered it his newborn child trying to drag it away from the flame.

Stan held firmly with ONE hand managed to win over his brother’s attempted rescue and pulled the thing to the lighter and makes an annoyed expression at the desperate action. “You said you wanted me to have it, so I’ll do what I want with it!”

At the sight Stanford closed his hands in fists and makes also an expression between outrageousness and horror the combo the hand and face making him look like a dejected child for a moment before...

“My research!!” He screams and jumps-tackles at Stan like a crazy person.

The journal and lighter drop from Stan’s hands and Ford immediately stands-up and runs to get the book and Stan immediately TRIPS HIM!

While Ford kisses the ground Stan manages to get the book and runs towards the control room that had all the sciency things related to the giant triangle… but Ford wasn’t far behind!

“Stanley, give it back!!”

Stan never saw Ford like that before.

He didn’t even realize Stan couldn’t be much of a threat to the thing without the lighter and just jump-tackled again making Stan burst open (and painfully) the metal door that separates the portal and control rooms. The impact only stopped when Stan hit something weird on his back but Stan was ready for his brother’s attack the second time and didn’t drop the book.

'Seriously!? this nerd thinks he can win a brawl against someone that fought gangsters before!?'

“If you want it back YOU’RE GONNA HAVE TO TRY HARDER THAN THAT!!”

He pushes his brother to the ground and they continue to fight over the damned thing which is why he hasn’t punched Stanford in the frickin’ face yet. His mind is hazy but the something turned clear in his mind as they roll on the ground fighting, how Stanford truly seems not to care for anything other than weird science since quite a long time…

Called him disregarding 10 years of resentment to keep his nerd findings safe, 10 years that Stan actually MISSED him....

Didn’t care to hear how the project broke and just branded him as the enemy,

And when he tried to cheer up a sad, scrawny kid in the beach that even mentioned wanting for a haven of weirdos, Stan only managed to make him feel better after promising a future of adventures worthy of a movie, including all unexplainable weirdness that likely goes with such script.

In the end Stan was the one that had the wrong idea about them being a team and building all his hopes and efforts towards it and once he realized it had no future he had already wasted too much time… Now for the first time he wondered, if his life could really be better if he was the same as those movie characters that avoid their nerdy siblings… since honestly all he got from him was heartbreak and incapacity of having future dreams and hopes that didn’t involve the ungrateful know-it-all.

For the first time, he regretted ever having anything to do with him, someone that could toss him out so easy.

He knew their father would get him out of the house one day and that Ford would go away. But not that his brother hadn’t helped him then was because he was never a priority at all...

”YOU LEFT ME BEHIND YOU JERK!

IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE US FOREVER, YOU RUINED MY LIFE! “

As much of a lousy fighter his brother was(he could even afford distracted with his thoughts) and with all that brawling that he needed to focus on it resulted in the words already disarranged to sound plain dumb… and it didn’t help that the two were grabbing the book while fighting like two kids wanting the same toy.

“YOU RUINED YOUR OWN LIFE!!” A bit embarrassed over what he misspoke Stan was caught by surprise when Stanford rebuttal came with a kick that succeeded in making him release the book and Stanford hugged the book to his chest now without competition for it.

“AAAAAHHHHHHHH!!” Stan upon being kicked and pressed by Ford’s foot felt a painful and burning sensation in the right side of his upper back like the flesh had been pressed in a heated waffle machine that had been oiled making him feel like that a chunk of flesh died but remained to throb for some time to give more frickin’ pain.

As he released the scream it made Ford notice Stan had been pressed against a dangerous area at the side of the control room’s CPU marked with a strange symbol where the machine heats up to the point of being a hazard which resulted in his brother having just been BRANDED with hot iron. Stan may not have seen all this but felt! At this Stanford scrambled to his feet showing an expression of genuine guilt, and after ten years, also SOME concern for Stan’s well being.

“STANLEY! Oh my gosh I’m so sorry. Are you alrigh…”

'TOO LITTLE TOO LATE!!'

Stan answers the dumb question with a PUNCH TO THE FACE!

The book yet again falls to the ground and Ford stumbles several steps back until falling on his butt colliding with a weird lever near the giant triangle.

Stanley stands up and approaches his brother while carrying the damned thing while feeling the burn still sizzling like bacon and uses his left hand hold his shoulder in place to avoid worsening the pain also with his eyes fixed on his brother who also got back on his feet and was staring right back but contrary to him stood still.

Ford doesn’t look regretful anymore even though he got just punched instead of a brand that’ll sure leave a scar. Stan’s just wants to get this over with.

“Some brother you turned out to be…

You care more about your mysteries than your family?

Then you can have them!”

He pushes the book against Ford’s chest with both hands doing his best to ignore the pain of the burn the action had intensified but gathers strength enough to make him lose balance…

And fall on his butt again.

“Take care of your own mess!!

Not interested in helping someone that'd only call to collect a favor!!”

Ford stares at him while gripping the journal to his chest like a mother protecting her child likely due to thinking Stan would fight him over it again. He makes a deadpan frown as if he’s talking to an idiot.

“What did I do that was worse than what YOU did?” Stan sees that now that Ford has the thing he’s willing deal with the rest of the aggression in words not fists.

Though like HELL he’d win at any.

He let Ford have the first move “After what you did 10 years ago I thought you’d want to redeem yourself, but I guess I overestimated you.”

Guess he’d need to deal with THAT though.

“One thing is ask for help, ANOTHER is asking me to do a chore like I work for the UPS not your frickin’ BROTHER! Why would I want a damned boat without you!?”

Ford’s expression is unchanged.

“I guess I am supposed to be sorry…” Ford says making a smile of derision as he stands up.

“…What was I thinking letting YOU near a great project of mine? I’m lucky you didn’t do any worse!!”He finishes the sentence with a smile of some relief over the sarcastic remark.

“At least the worst thing I ever done to you was an accident. While you like this a little too much…”

“We both know it wasn’t.”Ford smile fades turning into an unimpressed and resentful expression.

“Whatever you say. But let me ask ya something:” Oddly both of them look unimpressed at each other.

“If all your nerdy dream had come true and you went to the fancy college…” Ford immediately looks vaguely surprised where this is going.

“…Wouldn’t you have still ended up here in whatever mess you’re in!?” he moves his right hand between them with the palm upwards as if offering something to say “there it is, so answer”.

“…!” His brother is surprised and there is no answer.

Stan knows him better than anyone so he knew he’d go looking for weird science stuff to feel good about himself either way. Ford may have overlooked or denied the irrelevance part… till now.

“Y’know… brothers like we were…” Stan smiles slightly in relief ‘cause he thinks his point can get his point across from here while Ford is still frozen in shock.

“…that know each other since forever and that even share a birthday…” he can see Ford is bracing for the worst by unconsciously shield the book with his body while he could have just put it into the overcoat.

“…I started wondering just now…” Ford seem to relax but it must be cause he is about to complain over the point.

“…Shouldn’t you have believed me even if you were suspicious I did that on purpose?”  Stan’s changes the faint smile to a look of resignation.

“WHAT!?” Ford look of self doubt is replaced with a look of pure shock.

“If it was me, while I would be suspicious I wouldn’t believe the brother I’d been together my whole life would screw me over and lie about it being accident unless I was sure the guy could lie to me with no guilt.”

“But you do that!!”Now Ford was flustered by this that came from his left field.

“One thing is take your food or lie to make a surprise afterwards. But what I mean to say is you NEVER gave me the benefit of the doubt and chose to be upset over a school you only knew you could get in the day before!”

“You covered with the curtain!” Ford counters.

“I was a kid!! I got SCARED!!!

I just thought to HIDE what was wrong with it ‘cause it was coughing black smoke!”

He takes a deep breath so not to cry from recalling and continues.

“…thought you’d never forgive me…

and I was right…”

Ford is shocked most likely trying to find a rational way to refute him with no luck as Stan goes on...

“I knew you wanted out… find a more nerd way to get to look for weirdness… knew you’d forget about me if you went alone… now I get you wanted me out of the way... but I would have let you have that even if I knew then… having ya hate me would be worse…”

Stan hopes Ford didn’t see his eyes watering, then turns his back and starts heading towards the control room to get to the exit of the place.

“How would I know this isn’t a scam of yours?” He only hears this voice which sounds like it is between wanting and not wanting to believe him.

Stan’s shoulders drop causing an additional pang from the brand for this and replies.

“I know I’ll never be able to convince you by sticking around…

So you know this ain’t a con…

You’ll get your wish, this is the last you’ll see of me…

Goodbye Sixer.”