#i think people get caught up in 100% word accuracy but its like..... yeah but when you string the words back together in another language

[faunandfloraas]

Bless the subbers at viki 🙏🩵

[standforford]

Too Much Time

this is for week one of @forduary (the prompt was portal) and i’m late but oh well

this also contains one-sided fiddauthor because i love pain

also it’s a songifc because this song absolutely kills me when i think about ford my eyes literally started watering writing this

summary: ford hears music for the first time in years. it makes him think about some things he doesn’t like to dwell on.

words: 3640

tw for suicidal thoughts

When he came to, he was lying on a beach of soft sand the color of his skin. He shifted his fingers, watching the tiny grains cascade down as he lifted his hand up. For a moment, he almost thought he was back in Glass Shard Beach. Then he lifted his gaze and caught a glimpse of the purple ocean lapping gently at the shoreline. He came back to reality, letting out a breath of slight disappointment. He sat up and immediately felt the nausea that usually accompanied jumps between dimensions rear its ugly head. He retched onto the sand, taking a few minutes to let the sick feeling in his stomach recede.

The man then lifted himself to his feet, absentmindedly rubbing the stubble on his chin and brushing the sand from his long black coat. He adjusted his glasses with a frown and studied his surroundings. This dimension was rather earthlike apart from some of the strange colors. The clouds were few and far between, little puffs of white against the magenta sky. Or maybe the pink hue was just the sunset, he could never be too sure. He hadn’t suffocated yet, so the atmosphere was clearly breathable.

He also appeared to be alone on the long stretch of sand. Looking inland, he spotted a forest of palm trees that looked like they’d been pulled directly from an old comic book about 100 yards back from where the waves met the shore. As soon as he spotted a little beach shack of light-colored wood nestled neatly along the treeline, he realized he must not be the only sentient one here. Stanford walked toward the structure. He noted the flickering pink and blue neon signs in a language he couldn’t read that hung outside the building. The sand turned to strangely fluffy dark green grass under his mud-stained boots. Ford ran a hand through his quickly graying hair and ascended the steps, strangely comforted by the sound his boots made against the wood beneath them.

He pushed open to door to be greeted with the sight of a strange humanoid creature with bright orange skin and three white, oval-shaped eyes with black pupils. The creature, not unlike the trees, looked like it belonged in a cartoon, two comically stereotypical antennae sticking up from atop its head. It had no nose and no hair of any kind. Its skin looked smooth and moist, almost like that of a frog. Three fingers reminiscent of a gecko’s were on the end of each of two skinny arms. It was clad in black dress pants and a wrinkled white button-down with the top few buttons undone. An untied tie hung around its neck. Ford couldn’t really see enough of the thing’s lower half to count legs, since it was hidden from the hip-down behind a counter.

The setup inside was rather like that of a bar. Perhaps this was the bartender? It was a bit strange how so many things here were similar to his own dimension, yet so many things were different. Then again, he’d been in an out of so many dimensions by now that he shouldn’t really be surprised. The lifeform looked up from polishing a glass with a white cloth and greeted him with a smirk. Ford turned on his dimensional translator as it began to speak.

“’Ey pal, what brought you here?” (it? they? he?) said in a distinct Boston accent. Ford couldn’t tell if that was what they really sounded like or just his translator trying to bring some sort of familiarity to the situation.

While he couldn’t exactly trace the chain of events that had led him to this particular dimension, he did know his overall mission. “My name is Stanford Pines of Dimension 46’. I seek information about Bill Cipher.” He replied in a formal tone. Normally, he wouldn’t be this forward about his goal (what with Bill’s cronies out to get him at all), but something about the setting put him at ease. The pair seemed to be the only ones in the bar anyway. Heck, maybe even the only ones in the dimension. In any case, his hand slipped down around the pulse rifle clipped securely to his belt. He carried it with him at all times. Better safe than sorry.

“Nice to meetcha, Stanford Pines. You can call me Fraz. Yeah, I’ve heard some horror stories about this Bill you’re talkin’ ‘bout.” The creature looked down at the counter and set the glass down. “Take a seat, traveler. Lemme pour you a drink.”

Ford sat down, but waved his hand dismissively at the offer of a drink. “I’ll pass, but thank you.”

Fraz shrugged. “Suit ‘yoself.” They grabbed the glass off of the counter and tucked it into a shelf underneath before turning their focus back to Ford. “Dimension 46’\, eh? So you’re a human?” Stanford nodded. “Had a couple of your kind pass through here before. None from your dimension, though.”

“So what can you tell me about Bill Cipher?” Stanford cut in.

“Not much. All I know is what I hear from people passing through. A coupla’ stories ‘bout how he tried to take over a few dimensions. Sounds like he never had much success. Apparently there hasn’t been a lot of news about him recently other than the occasional mischief his henchmen cause. They say they’re huntin’ for a certain someone and Bill will pay handsomely for his capture.” Fraz flashed a knowing smile. Ford’s grip tightened around his gun and he clenched his teeth. “Easy there, your secret’s safe with me. I heard that Bill’s been lyin’ low. People say he’s biding his time… Planning something.”

Ford frowned. “I appreciate your help, but do you know anyone who might have more information I would find useful? Anything more about Bill, his allies, his weaknesses?”

Fraz shook their head and chuckled. “I’m the only inhabitant of this dimension, buddy. Jus’ get a lotta people passin’ through for some reason. None of ‘em ever seem to know how they got here and most of ‘em wanna leave immediately.” They grinned . “Their loss. I’m assuming you wanna get outta here, too?” Ford nodded again. “Alright. Got myself a machine that’ll boot you into the next random dimension jus’ for these kind of scenarios. Takes a couple of minutes to start up, I’ll go get it running while you wait here. You sure you don’t wanna drink?”

Ford hesitated. “I don’t have any form of currency.”

“On me.”

“Well, in that case, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt. Thank you for your hospitality.”

“No problem.” Fraz smiled and turned to the rack of drinks behind him, scanning until the found a bottle of beer. “It’s a shame you humans can’t consume the more toxic stuff, just this watered-down excuse for booze. Lemme tell ‘ya, once you’ve had toxic waste, you never go back.” They slid a frosty mug full of ale across the bar to him. Then they turned and switched on some kind of machine that was beside the drinks. Ford raised his eyebrows in surprise when music in English started playing.

“How did you…”

“I got my ways. Besides, I personally prefer human music. I’ll call for you when the machine’s ready.” With that, Fraz walked through a door behind the bar and disappeared.

Ford sipped his drink as the first song played, something relaxed that he didn’t recognize. Then the next song began, another unfamiliar yet mellow tune. He had never been an especially musical person, but this song was… Interesting.

Woke up on the sand and I tied up my sleeping bag A jetty won’t last forever Waves that tumble and tumble

He almost laughed at the strange accuracy of the lyrics, wondering if it was just coincidence that waking up on the sand was how he had started in this dimension. He looked out the only window (which wasn’t much of a window, just a hole in the wall) and out at the sea. The purple waves lapped at an old pier that he hadn’t noticed before. Sections of it had fallen into the water, old and rotted. He tried not to think of it as a metaphor for his age.

It was so strange to hear another human voice, even if it was recorded. He hadn’t heard another person speak in so long, it’d been years since he came across a parallel earth with humans. He hadn’t heard music created by his own species in that time, either. It was both comforting and disheartening to think about the fact that he was so completely alone. Stone by stone I ended here all alone

The chorus came and something jarred inside him. He’d forgotten how heavily music could impact one’s emotions, how easily it could bring so many memories flooding back. He tried not to think about it, tried not to relate the lyrics to his situation, but his brain just kept making painful connections to memories he’d tried so hard to repress. He felt himself sliding out of reality and far back in time.

Then he was back with Fiddleford, greeting him at the door and wrapping his arms around him as he welcomed his old friend into his home in the woods. Then they were creating blueprints, checking calculations, camping in the forest, building the framework for the portal, laughing during long sessions of Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons.

Then Fiddleford was interrogating him and asking him what was really going on, who he was really working with, where his ideas were really coming from, avoiding him, giving him suspicious glances out of the corner of his eye. Then they were in the diner, his old roommate’s eyes looking everywhere but at him. Fiddleford was pushing a paper across the table to him with shaking hands, his knee bouncing, his voice soft and nervous. And Ford was asking for the check and storming out of there like the absolute idiot he was. He was throwing the palm reader’s ring in the garbage. It was black.  And then Fiddleford was flying away from him and into the portal. He was grabbing the rope, pulling him back, toppling onto the floor. Fiddleford’s hands were on his shoulders, fingers digging into his skin, wide eyes staring into his as he urged him to shut the project down. There was screaming. And then Fiddleford was walking away. Forever. And he was the most alone he had ever been and he didn’t even know it.

And brick by brick I woke myself from happiness

To wake from that final dream with his “Muse” (the fact that he had ever called that demon that ridiculous name was something he still felt disgusted and ashamed he had ever done) had been to wake from the dream he had been living in for those past few years. And he woke to a living nightmare. The realization that his fantasies had shattered into a million pieces and there was nothing left except ugliness and lies and broken dreams and false promises and guilt and fear and sorrow that pressed heavy on his shoulders. It had been a trap, and he’d been foolish enough to fall for it. And now he had no one. He kept fooling himself into believing that he would be something. Because he only listened if it was a compliment. Because he kept pushing people away until there was nobody left but himself.

And eucalyptus piled high I’m shivering by a flaming fire

He remembered huddling in a cave with the strange group of refugees, powerless. His situation had been so hopeless. He knew nothing, he had nothing, and yet he had so much anger that it had given him hope. The dream of revenge had given him such a boost of confidence that he had overlooked how bad the situation really was. The way the refugees cheered when he set out into the unknown made him feel like he could still be a hero. And he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to hold onto that feeling as long as he could. It was the only thing keeping him from falling apart right now.

Too much time Ah oh-oh Too much time gone by And I can’t find you if I try

Years and years of time had passed. Years and years and years that he’d been traveling the multiverse, sick and starving and bitter. He’d told himself that he’d be so much stronger and so much smarter by now. So why did he feel weaker? Why did he feel like he was breaking?

Too much time Ah oh-oh Too much time gone by And I can’t find you if I try

He couldn’t go back. He’d been told that almost as soon as he first crossed the threshold into the Nightmare Realm. He knew that, and he’d known that for years now. He liked to think it was something he accepted, but in reality it was just something he kept pushing to the back of his mind and choosing not to think about. But now it was all that filled his thoughts. He kept trying to make himself angry so that he could hope again, so that he could be anything other than sad. His anger was running out as fast as his resolve. He wondered how long he could keep this up, how long he could keep telling himself it was worth it, that he could do this.

Rolled up my mat and I’ve got no obligations

He didn’t have to do it. He didn’t have to stop Bill. He could just end it. He could end it all and never have to think about any of it ever again, never have to feel the guilt or the pain. He drew the pulse rifle from its holster and tilted it in his hands, examining it. It fired single bursts of energy that were enough the cause serious injury to any human-sized lifeform, lethal if to the head. He pressed the end of the barrel to his temple and squeezed his eyes shut.

He couldn’t make himself do it. Not when it was his fault in the first place. Killing himself would mean letting Bill win. And letting Bill win would mean he’d let him reduce him to this and get away with it. He couldn’t let all this be for nothing. Not when he’d already forced himself to come so far. Ford was angry with himself for even entertaining the idea of simply giving up. Not when there was still some chance, however small, that he could stop him.

Packed up my pots and pans and Freedom is overrated

Wasn’t that the truth. He smiled through the tears he didn’t even realize had been streaming down his face. He wiped them away, hating the fact that he’d become such a mess. He clipped the gun back onto his belt and took a swig of his drink. Stone by stone I left my only home

He would never see Dimension 46’\ again. He could say that was home, but he wasn’t really sure what home meant anymore. Home used to mean Glass Shard Beach, New Jersey. It used to mean his brother’s face and abandoned boats and stealing wood from the boardwalk. For a while it meant Backupsmore, however frustrating it was to be there. It meant banjo music and stacks of books and pulling all-nighters with Fiddleford. And finally it meant Gravity Falls. It meant pine trees and anomalies and a friendly face from back in college. But home was constantly changing. It was never one place or one person or one feeling. It simply wasn’t tangible, and therefore he couldn’t understand it. He could never really put home into any sort of clinical terminology. Science had always fascinated him because it was so complex yet so clear. It wasn’t the same way with emotions, all muddled and vague.

And brick by brick Woke myself from happiness

He thought of the first place he had called home. At that time, home and family had been so intertwined that they were almost one and the same. His family was his one constant. And then everything was broken and suddenly home wasn’t really home anymore. He still didn’t know if he was angry or guilty about what had happened to his brother. Maybe a bit of both. And ten years after that… Well, he wasn’t really sure how he felt about that, either. In a way, he both loved and hated his brother. He was a thief and a liar and a cheat, but he was loyal one, and the very fact that he’d showed up in Oregon at all had to mean something. Ford could’ve said things differently, but then again, Stanley could’ve just given him a chance to explain…

He sighed and rubbed his brow. It was done. He just hoped that the poor bastard wasn’t dead in a ditch somewhere. Because as stupid as he could be sometimes, he didn’t deserve half the stuff that happened to him. He just hoped he was okay. He wished Stanley was there to tell him to chin up and punch him in the arm and call him Poindexter. But there was no one where his brother used to be.

And dead fur and almond wood Storm crosses over Mount Hood I’ve got too much time Ah oh-oh Too much time gone by And I can’t find you if I try

He would never see his parents again.

They were dead now, and the fact was pretty much inevitable. There was no way they’d have lived this long, both of them had enough health problems as it was. He wasn’t sure if he was too sad about it. He would rather not think about them at all. He loved them and he hated them, but not in the same way he loved and hated Stanley. Thinking about them was something he wasn’t really sure if he’d ever be ready to do. But now he’d never get the chance to prove to them he really was worth something. Partly because they were dead and partly because he wasn’t worth much of anything anyway.

I’ve got too much time Ah oh-oh Too much time gone by And I can’t find you if I try

He would never see Stanley again.

He would never get to say thanks for sticking up for him, for always being there to cheer him up. He would never get to sail on that dumb boat they’d always dreamed about. He would never fill the hole that was left by his twin. He would never get to say sorry that he hadn’t spoken up when dad had kicked him to the curb, that he hadn’t been braver, that he hadn’t been more understanding. He would never get used to the silence.

I’ve got too much time Ah oh-oh Too much time gone by And I can’t find you if I try

He would never see Fiddleford again.

Fiddleford, who had done nothing wrong. Fiddleford, who had only been good to him. Fiddleford, who had only tried to save him. Fiddleford, who had only wanted to help his friend. He would never get to find him and beg for forgiveness and say sorry a million times over. That he was sorry for the gremloblin and the shapeshifter. That he was sorry he lied. He would never get to tell him that he was the best friend he’d ever had and thank him for staying as long as he did, thank him for trying so hard to save him from himself. He’d never hear his voice humming along with the banjo music. He’d never see him obsessively solving his Cubic’s Cube or bouncing his knee or…

He’d never get to see him again. He cursed himself under his breath as a fresh wave of hot tears poured down his cheeks, back heaving with every hitch in his breath. He would never get to say any of the things he wished he’d said in college before he met his wife. He would never get to lace their fingers together like he did when they would study side-by-side in their dorm room and neither of them complained because it wasn’t weird. He would never get to tell him that he might always have been just a little bit in love with him and he was somehow still hanging onto that feeling because he was the only person he’d ever really fallen for and he didn’t know why.

I’ve got too much time Ah oh-oh Too much time gone by And I can’t find you if I try

It was far, far too late. Everyone he loved was so far away and so far in the past that it was beginning to become hard to remember their faces and their voices. So far removed that they were slipping from his memory. He knew that he would never see them again, but it was so hard to let go. He didn’t want to admit that they were gone. He didn’t want to admit that he would never really find home.

He looked up to see Fraz pop their head through the doorway with a cheery “Portal’s ready.” Then the creature saw his tear-streaked face and froze in his tracks. They opened their mouth to speak, but Ford cut them off before anything could get out.

“Thanks for your hospitality.” He grunted, pushing himself to his feet and walking briskly past Fraz. He barged through the door the creature had emerged from without hesitation and practically threw himself into the wormhole the machine had created, welcoming whatever chaos the next dimension would bring and hating himself for the tears that wouldn’t stop dripping down his face.