#intridimensional

[skeletboi]

Part 6 of the intridimensional au!

Previous /// Next

Is this even an au anymore, or just an excuse to experiment with drawing comics? (Something I've never had the displeasure pleasure of doing before.)

The next part will probably be more fic, because dialouge is too much effort with comics, and there will be quite a bit of dialouge.

Also, that is Ford's hand holding the map... just to make that clear. Don't pay too much attention to the map, its a modern map of Albuquerque and there is no motel there! Thought about being more clever with it, then decided that was more than my adhd brain could handle! lol.

[skeletboi]

Part 4 of the Intridimensional au! Fic this time because I do what I want.

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Ford waved goodbye to Fiddleford and made his way towards his boarding flight. He honestly had no idea what he was getting into, but Fiddleford had struck down every one of his excuses and booked a flight for him. He couldn't think of any other reason to not go aside from just flat out telling Fiddleford about Bill, but he still wasn't ready for that conversation.

He definitely wasn't ready to see Stanley again either, but Fiddleford was right, he couldn't ignore a call like the one he had gotten. He hoped it was all just a misunderstanding, that Stanley had gotten drunk or high and was just being dramatic, but his gut told him otherwise. Maybe it was something about the sincerity and pain in Stanley’s voice, or maybe it was just the suddenness of the call. Ford didn't know. He would just have to find out.

He boarded the plane easily enough and took his seat. It was already after 8:00pm and they wouldn't be landing until after 10:00pm, so he could at least try and get some sleep before dealing with whatever was waiting for him in New Mexico. He was asleep before they reached cruising altitude. 

He opened his eyes what seemed like only moments later and found himself in a familiar blue void. 

“Hiya, Fordsie! Isn't it a bit hard to work on a portal from 10,000 feet in the air?!” 

Ford looked up to see Bill floating a few feet in front of him.

“My Muse! I apologize, something came up. I plan to be back in Oregon tomorrow, so the portal is still on schedule!”

“Right! I heard all about it! The dumb version of you got himself in some trouble, huh?! Shouldn't be that big of a surprise! I say just let him learn his lesson! Who needs him?!”

“I promise this won't get in our way, but he is still my brother. I can't just let him…”

“Die?! Why not?! He ruined your life! Now he's ruining his own!”

Ford winced at the word ‘die’. He may still be mad at Stanley, and he was stressed about leaving the portal project at such a crucial time, but this wasn't like when Stan got kicked out ten years ago. This was something more, and he would never forgive himself if he didn't at least try to help.

“Well-” Ford sighed. “I'm not sure how to explain this, Bill. I just can't leave him to…”

“Die?! Don't be so afraid of that word! Humans are dying all the time! It's what your kind is best at! Hah! But don't you worry, you still got a while left!”

Ford frowned as Bill floated closer, narrowing his eye like he was considering something.

“Fine, Fordsie.” Bill said after a moment. “Go help that wannabe pirate, hah! Just don't let it take too long! You have a portal to finish!”

“Thank you, my muse. I promise I won't let him distract me. I just have to make sure he's alive.” Ford said, smiling.

“Yeah, yeah! Just keep him away from the portal! You know what happened last time he got too close to one of your projects! Hah!”

Ford grimaced, but nodded. 

“Good! Just don't come cryin’ to me if he's already dead! Hah! Byee!”

Ford woke with a start, nearly hitting the passenger next to him.

“Sorry!” he said quickly.

The passenger just frowned and scooted slightly away from him. Ford hid his hands in his jacket pockets and turned to stare out the window. It was probably best to stay awake for the remainder of the flight.

_____________________

This is some first draft material, friends. I didn't even try to read back over it. I might one day, but not today!

The next part will also be fic, then maybe more comics... Who knows! I don't!

This is obviously all backstory as to how they all ended up in Gravity Falls together, but there will actually be going into the portal and portal adventures eventually.

Once I have a bit more content I will post all of it on ao3 to make it easier to follow!

Again, this is Part 4!

Part 3 here!

Part 5 here!

[skeletboi]

Really short part 5 of the Intridimensional au!

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Stanley sat up, wiping his mouth on his sleeve with one hand and blindly reaching for the bottle of whiskey he stored under his bed with the other. He found it and took off the cap, throwing his head back and drinking as much as he could without taking a breath. He swallowed hard, focusing on the burn in his throat as he set down the bottle and ripped a piece of fabric off of his shirt.

He painstakingly leaned forward and wrapped the shirt right above his knee, tying it hard enough to hurt. He didn't need it to be perfect, there was no use worrying about infection when he was going to be dead anyway. He idly wondered if Ford would wonder what happened to him, or if he would just go about living his life. Knowing Rico he was sure they would never find his body, but he took comfort in the fact that his mother would never have to know what became of him. She would just think he was ignoring her calls per usual.

Maybe I should have told Ford to lie to mom before I hung up. He thought as he ripped off another piece of his shirt. Maybe he'll lie anyway.

He wrapped the second piece of fabric over the stump that used to be his leg and tied it off before picking up the bottle of whisky and downing the remainder. He waited for it to settle in his stomach before throwing the empty bottle aside and starting the painful process of dragging himself towards the door. He wasn't sure there was any real reason to shut it, since the worst anyone could do was kill him, but figured he might as well.

Fuck it. he thought as leaned against the wall. How nice of me to save Rico the trouble of kicking it down again.

It took longer than he cared to admit to drag himself the whole five feet, but he eventually managed it. The door swung shut, as he pulled the knob, but didn't latch all the way.

He looked up and blinked slowly as the whiskey started to kick in. He could swear the pattern in the popcorn ceiling looked a bit like a six fingered hand.

At least I got to say I was sorry…

________________________

I know I just posted part 4, but hey! Here's part 5!

Part 4 here.

Part 6 here.

[skeletboi]

Part 9 of the Intridimensional AU!

New to this? Start here!

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They drove in a surprisingly comfortable silence for all of thirty minutes before Stanley spoke up.

“Get off at the next exit.” He said quickly.

“Did the whiskey go through you that fast?” Ford asked, flipping on the turn signal.

“No!” Stan replied, reaching over to stop the turn signal. “Shit. Not this exit, take the one after. Don't use a turn signal.”

Ford frowned and looked over at Stan.

“Why would I not use a turn signal? That's what they're for.” He asked, but figured it out as soon as he saw the glint of the revolver in Stan's hands. He glanced into the rearview mirror to see a car a few hundred yards behind them. “That could be anyone, Stan. People drive on highways all the time.”

“I know those lights, and they've been following us at the same distance for twenty minutes now. Any normal person would have passed you by now, you've been going exactly the speed limit.” Stan said.

“Of course I've been going the speed limit, that's what speed limits are for!” Ford replied, annoyed.

“Shit! They definitely know we noticed them. Take the exit, now!” Stan practically yelled as he rolled down his window.

Ford did as he was told, but still used the turn signal.

“Shit. Take a left. Find a place to pull off the road so the car is hidden.” Stan said, sounding more panicked by the second.

“Where the car is hidden? Stanley, this is the desert!”

“Then find a big fucking rock! Or a billboard! And stop going the speed limit!”

Ford sighed, but hit the gas and took the next turn. There were bushes lining the side of the road that looked large enough to hide in a few hundred yards, so he turned on his turning signal.

“Fucking- dammit Ford! No turning signal!” Stan yelled.

“It's the right thing to-” Ford started, but was cut off when he heard a loud bang and glass shatter.

He swerved and went off the road, nearly missing the bushes. “Shit, Stan are you-” another shot, this time from Stan.

“Fuck. Keep driving, they know where we are now and I can't get a clear shot from here.” Stan said, leaning halfway out the window.

“A clear shot at what? The person driving?!” Ford asked, putting the car back into first gear and getting back on the road.

“I'm going for the tires, but the driver if I have to.” Stan said. “I only have three shots and no time to reload.”

Ford grimaced, but sped up, shifting swiftly from first to second to third. He flinched when the gun went off again.

“Fuck.” The back window shattered and Stan fell forward, gripping his arm.

“Stan?!”

“I'm fine Sixer, just drive.” Stan said through gritted teeth.

Ford glanced down at the gun in Stan's lap and made a split second decision as another bullet hit the passenger side mirror. He rolled down his window and gripped the steering wheel in one hand, the gun in the other. He took a second to aim using his side mirror, and pulled the trigger. The headlights behind him swerved off the road.

“Fuck that was a good shot.” Stan said, sounding impressed in spite of the circumstances.

“Crossbows take more practice since they're ammo is more susceptible to wind speeds.” Ford explained, throwing the gun on the dashboard and returning his focus to driving.

“Nerd weapons.” Stan mumbled as he started to strip off his red jacket.

Ford huffed out a laugh as he got back on the highway.

“How bad is it?” He asked, glancing between Stan and the side mirror to make sure no one else was following.

“Way better than my leg, or lack thereof.” Stan replied with a self deprecating laugh. “It's fine until we get out of here.”

Ford was not reassured by that vague response, but didn't argue.

“Who are they?” Ford asked when Stan finished wrapping his arm.

“Those guys in particular, or the whole gang?” Stan asked, changing into the shirt Ford had bought him.

“In general. Who are you running from?”

“Mostly the leader of this sect of the gang. His name's Rico and he's a real fucking jerk.”

“Right… But why are they after you? What did you do to cause such ire?”

“Ire- is that even a word? Whatever. I took a job as a getaway driver. I didn't know it was for a gang at the time, but overheard them talking about who they worked for. Once I realized I was being hired as a fall-guy rather than a getaway driver I stole some money from them and dipped.”

“You-” Ford sighed. “Why didn't you just not steal from them?!”

“I couldn't leave without money. I needed gas and hadn't eaten in days. That's why I took the job in the first place!”

“Well that worked out just swell, didn't it?!” Ford said, raising his voice.

“No! It didn’t! That's just how it fucking goes!” Stan responded, matching his brother's anger.

“It didn't have to go like that! How did you end up that bad?! Why not just get a job like a normal fucking person?!”

“With what? My birth certificate?! My Social Security card?! I guess our good ol’ dad didn't bother remembering those when he pre-packed for me!”

Ford frowned, gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles went white.

“Maybe you should have thought about that before you destroyed my project!”

“Right! Before 18 year old me punched a table I should have known that I would end up on the street running from a gang. How silly of me!”

“Punched a table? You mean sabotaged my future?!”

“It was an accident, Ford! I didn't think it was broken! And how sabotaged is your future, exactly? Don't you have a house in Oregon where you do exactly what you wanted to do!? With an assistant and probably a working stove or some shit?! You still went to college! Unless you're also secretly missing a leg and running from a gang, I would say you seem to have a pretty not-sabotaged life!”

“You don't get it! I could be so much further! I could have a whole team of assistants! I could have a full lab and my own company by now! I could be so much more!”

“Oh, of course. You could have so much more! And I would still have nothing! All I ever had was you, you fucking asshole!”

“That's not my fault! Maybe if you actually tried to make something of yourself you could have had something more! I didn't ask to be everything to you!”

“But you never told me you weren’t, either! You always planned on leaving me behind, so why wait until that day? Why not tell me sooner?!”

“Because I couldn’t!” Ford yelled, then sighed, the fight leaving him all at once. “Either way you wouldn't have accepted that as an answer.”

“You didn’t even give me a fucking chance, Ford.” Stan replied, sighing and turning to stare out the window. “I would have done anything for you.”

“Except not mess with my project.” Ford mumbled.

Stan turned back towards him and glared. “It was a fucking accident! Fuck. It doesn't even matter. I apologized, didn't I? What else do you want from me?”

Ford glanced over at him as he considered that.

“I suppose I don't know.” He responded after a moment.

“Great. At least we're both clueless for once.” Stan mumbled.

Ford sighed and focused on the road ahead of him.

“I'm happy you're not dead.” He said after a few minutes.

“Well, that's better than nothing, I guess.” Stan replied, looking back out the window. “I'm happy you're not dead, too.”

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Previous /// Next

Wow, Skelet, have you considered getting to the fucking point?!

Yes, I have considered it. My hands, on the other hand, just keep typing dialouge. I love dialouge! I'm generally quiet in real life, so characters do all the talking for me. It's a nice trade.

But really, I do plan on time skipping a bit because I need Stan to meet Fidds. The next part will probably be back in comic form because I like to torture myself, I guess. (This is news to me, too.)

Thanks to everyone following along! Likes/reblogs/comments give me the seratonin I so desperately lack. ❤️

[skeletboi]

Part 2 to this.

Part 3.

This is me deciding if this au will be fanfic or comic. I have never drawn a comic in my life. I have no idea what I'm doing. Send help.

(This is part of my inTRIdimensional AU, where the whole mystery trio falls into the portal.)

[skeletboi]

This is part 3!

Part 2 here.

Part 4 here.

News flash: I still don't know how to draw a comic, and this is very lazy. You're welcome.

Still might do half fanfic half comic... I don't know what I'm doing.

[skeletboi]

I need a mystery trio all go through the portal au.

But make it fiddauthor. And Stan x flirting with random people across dimensions.

Edit: I started this crapshow here.

[skeletboi]

Sneak peek of where this AU is going.

*edit* this turned into part 1, part 2 here.

*****

Stan hit the ground hard. He knew it should have hurt, but he couldn't feel anything more than the screaming pain in his leg. At least Rico had been kind enough, if he could call it that, to drop him off back at his motel.

He painstakingly reached a hand out towards the door and dragged himself closer. The door was still wide open from when Rico and his goons had knocked it down, which was good. He was sure he wouldn't be able to stand in this condition. 

He wasn't sure if it was his focus on getting to the phone or the blood loss, but he thought he was doing a pretty great job ignoring the pain. He made it to the phone an indeterminate amount of time later, and dragged himself upright enough to dial.

“Fiddleford McGucket here!” A man answered cheerfully after the second ring.

“Who…? Shit.” Stanley responded, his voice sounding worse than he had expected. “Nevermind, wrong number.”

“Wait jus’ a second, there. Were ya lookin’ for Stanford?” Fiddleford asked.

Stan froze, realizing too late just how unprepared he was to hear his brother's name.

“Ya still there?” Fiddleford asked, sounding less cheerful and more confused.

“Yeah- yeah. Sorry I am- fuck- I am looking for Ford.” Stan struggled to respond as pain shot up from his leg.

“Lemme get em’ for ya. Just a sec.” Fiddleford said. 

Stan heard a click as the phone was set down and took a second to wonder who the hell Fiddleford was. Had Ford actually made a friend? Stan felt a jolt of sadness, but pushed it back. He knew why he was calling now, and, if he was being honest, he was happy Ford had someone by his side.

“This is Stanford Pines.” Stan heard, tearing him from his thoughts.

“Ford- hi.” Stan said, then paused to take a breath as another jolt of pain ran up his spine. “I- it's Stan. Please don't hang up.”

“Stanley?” Ford asked, an odd mix of old anger and concern in his voice. “What's wrong with your voice?”

“It's a long story- I- shit- I just needed to let you know I'm sorry.” Stan said, digging his hand into the dirty carpet and trying his best to focus on his words instead of his leg. “I'm sorry for everything. I really didn't mean to fuck up that project- fuck- no, that doesn't matter- I'm just sorry, Ford. I hope you're doin’ alright.”

“Stanley, what are you not telling me?” Ford asked, clever as ever.

“It doesn't matter, Ford. I just needed you to know, alright?”

“Stanley, what did you get yourself into this time?!” Ford practically yelled.

“I fucked up, that's all.” Stan said, with a humorless laugh. “Nothin’ new there, I guess. It doesn't matter though, I probably deserved it. Don't worry about it.”

“That did not answer my question.” 

“And I told ya it doesn't matter! I'm calling you to fucking apologize! Did you not get that?” Stan snapped, then immediately regretted it. “Shit, sorry. I just mean to say it doesn't matter, alright?”

“Like hell it doesn't matter, Stanley. You sound terrible. Do you have a car? I can give you my address.”

“I still got the Stanley Mobile, but it would be pretty hard to use the clutch right about now.” Stan responded with another humorless laugh as he tried to look anywhere but his leg. “Anyway, I'm not callin’ you for help. I just couldn't let it end how it did.”

“Stan, what the hell does that mean?!” Ford yelled in earnest.

“It just means what it means, Ford, alright? Can't ya just take me at my word this one time?!”

“This one time?! I took you at your word our whole childhood!”

“Then do it again! One last time, would ya?! Ya stubborn bastard!”

“That makes no sense! If I were a bastard, then you would also be a bastard! We're twins!”

“At least you haven't changed.” Stan mumbled.

“Obviously, neither have you! What did you mean ‘one last time’?!” Ford yelled.

“It doesn't matter! I'm sorry, alright?! That's all you need to know!” Stan yelled back.

“Stanley-” Ford started, but Stan didn't wait, he slammed down the phone as hard as he could from his awkward angle on the floor and groaned at the searing pain that followed.

He finally looked down at what remained of his leg and immediately leaned to the side to vomit.

Rico would be back in three days, and Stan had nowhere, and no way to run.

*****

Well I guess less of where it's going, and more where it started?

Anyways, more to come! I'll be posting it on ao3! And probably drawing more art to go along with it.

I call it the InTRIdimensional AU!

[skeletboi]

Just in case you're wondering what Fiddleford is up to while Ford is in New Mexico.

I'm sorry I write in cursive because I'm old. It says "Just a few equations he said..."

Poor Fidds. Ford left him a few equations to keep him busy. He needs a nap.

[skeletboi]

Unrendered and unhinged. The Portal Trio AU!

Still needs a better name.

I have a backstory, but I'm not good at drawing comics, so I'm thinking of making it a fanfic instead.

*edit* It has a name! The intridimensional au!

Original idea here.

Part one of the actual storyline here!

[skeletboi]

Uploading them separately so y'all can see them in all their not quality glory.

[skeletboi]

Part 8 of the intridimensional au!

New? Start here!

Silly extra about what Fiddleford is doing during all of this here.

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“We're going to have to stop before Arizona.” Ford said after about thirty minutes of driving.

“That is not a good idea.” Stan replied, his voice thick with pain. “But I wouldn't say no to some whiskey right about now.”

Ford glanced over at him and noted the sheen of sweat over his face.

“What you need is a hospital, not whiskey.” Ford replied.

“Not worth it. Hospitals ask questions and call the police. Whiskey would never do that to me.”

Ford sighed, but couldn't really argue with that logic.

“Fine, but we have to stop before Arizona. I didn't bring my first aid kit so I will be needing some supplies.”

“Let me get whiskey, first. Taking the fabric off the wound is going to be extra shitty if I'm sober.”

Ford dug the map from his pocket and threw it towards Stan.

“Find us a rest stop. I'll go in to purchase supplies and call Fiddleford to let him know what's happening. He's most likely pacing a hole in the floor as we speak.”

Stan picked up the map, but didn't unfold it.

“Fiddleford, huh? That's the guy that picked up the phone when I called.”

“Yes. He's my assistant.”

“Assistant. Is that what they're calling it these days?”

Ford swerved, but quickly righted the car.

“He- he's married, Stanley!”

“That wasn't a denial.” Stan laughed.

“We are not talking about this. Aren't you supposed to be looking for a rest stop?!”

Stan laughed again, but gave in and unfolded the map.

“There's a stop in another 20 miles.” Stan said, glancing at the rear view mirror to make sure no one was following them. “We should be fine to stop there. Which means we have at least twenty minutes for you to tell me all about how you met this ‘assistant’ of yours.”

Ford took a second to glare at Stan, but gave in when he noticed Stan's pained grimace. He needed the distraction, so he figured Fiddleford was at least a distracting topic to start with.

“We were roommates in college.” Ford started, not missing the way Stan winced in his peripheral vision at the word college. “He's a brilliant mechanic and mathematician. I recruited him to help me with my work in Gravity Falls because of his invaluable knowledge of machinery, and he agreed to help for a few months.”

“Invaluable knowledge, huh? Did you say that to him? That's a weird way to flirt.”

“Did you miss the ‘few months’ part?” Ford asked, unable to hide his annoyance. “He plans on going back to his wife and son in Palo Alto in another month or so.”

“So he left his wife and son in California to work with you? That doesn’t sound very casual.”

“We are done talking about this.” Ford said.

“Fine, fine. Tell me more. Why do you need a mechanic? I assumed you'd be hunting bigfoots or whatever.”

“I told you, his knowledge is invaluable.” Ford replied, a bit too quickly.

“Right…” Stan said, not convinced, but ignored it for now. “So you were roommates. You ever drink too much shit beer and check under the hood or…”

“STANLEY!”

“That wasn't a no!”

“We may have- wait! No! We are absolutely done with this conversation! Fiddleford is just a friend, alright?!”

“A friend you fucked in college that left his wife and child to ‘work with you’. Right.”

“I should have left you in that motel room.” Ford mumbled.

“That's what I told you to do! Not my fault you're so damn stubborn!”

“I'm stubborn?! You got caught up in some gang garbage instead of just getting over yourself and talking to our parents!”

“Talking to them wouldn't change a damn thing! You're just a paycheck to Pa, and I'm even less than that!”

“We are worth more than that! Anyway, what about Shermie?! Couldn't you reach out to him?!”

“And what, ruin his life, too? He has a wife and kids! You think I was going to put them in danger! You hate me and I didn’t even want to put you in danger! I just called to let you know I was sorry!”

Ford frowned and glanced over at Stan.

“I don't hate you, Stanley. I'm just angry with you.”

“Whatever. Same shit different day. I ruined your life, I ruined our parents life, I ruined my life and I will probably ruin your boyfriend's life, too. I’m not going to risk ruining Shermie's kid's lives on top of that.”

“Dammit, Stanley! He is not my boyfriend, grow the fuck up! And you didn’t really ruin my life, you just made it ten times harder.”

“Again. Same shit. Different day.”

Ford sighed. He did not get enough sleep for this. He didn't think it was possible to get enough sleep for this. He couldn't just drop ten years of anger in one night, but he didn't want Stanley to think he was worthless, either. He didn't have the time or energy to have this conversation.

“It’s the next exit.” Stan said, tearing Ford from his thoughts.

Ford nodded and took the exit, happy for the distraction.

“I'll park around the side of the building where there is some light to see your injuries. Try to turn towards the door so I can get a better look at your leg, alright?” Ford said, pulling into the parking lot.

“Yeah, yeah. I can patch myself up, ya know? Just get the supplies and I'll deal with it.”

“Stubborn.” Ford mumbled as he got out of the car.

“Takes one to know one.” Stan shot back as Ford closed the door behind him.

Ford grit his teeth and made his way to the store entrance. It was small, but well-stocked, so it was easy enough to find everything he needed.

“Rough night?” The clerk asked as he brought everything to the counter.

“Very much so.” Ford replied tiredly.

“Ya ain't the first one to come in here with a haul like this. Just happens round these parts, I ‘spose. Though, ya don't look the usual type. Ya look more… proffessory.”

“I'll take that as a compliment.” Ford said, paying for his merchandise. “May I get some quarters back? I need to make a call.”

“I'm sure ya do.” The clerk laughed.

Ford frowned, but didn't bother asking as the clerk handed him the change.

“Have a better night, friend.” The clerk called after him as he left.

“I'll do my best.” Ford replied.

He walked over to the car and found Stanley sitting sideways, one and a half legs dangling out of the car, and a revolver in his lap.

“Whiskey first.” Stan said as Ford approached.

Ford handed it over.

“Damn. This stuff isn't bad. I assumed you'd get the cheap shit. You holding out on me, bro?”

“It was only $9.00, I wouldn't exactly call it the best whiskey.”

“Usually I get the $3.00 bottle. This is smooth as silk in comparison.” Stan replied, downing at least a quarter of the bottle without taking a breath.

“I doubt most people would refer to that as ‘smooth’.” Ford said.

“I ain't most people, Sixer.”

“No argument there.” Ford mumbled.

“First time for everything.”

Ford sighed but knelt down in front of Stan to get a closer look at his injury.

“I told ya I could do it myself, Ford. Don't you have a boyfr- ‘assistant’ to call?”

“I would feel better if I did it. You're in pain and might miss some crucial disinfecting.”

“Fine, Doctor Ford, but you should still go make that phone call first. It's going be a minute before this whiskey kicks in.”

Ford nodded and handed the first aid supplies over to Stan.

“I'll be back in five minutes. Don't… run off.”

Stan looked up in shock before breaking into raucous laughter.

“Damn, your ‘assistant’ teach you how to make a joke? That was a good one!”

“Stop saying assistant like that.” Ford replied, attempting to look angry, but failing as he started to laugh, too.

“Whatever. Go call him before he calls the police. We don't need more people after us.”

Ford rolled his eyes, but did as he was told and made his way towards the payphone.

“Hiya, Ford. How goes everythin’?” Fiddleford said in lieu of hello.

“Hi, Fidds. How did you know it would be me?”

“I took that caller identification majig and hooked it up to my computer so it tells me who is callin’. I call it call-ification! I figured no one else would be callin’ me from New Mexico.”

“Fascinating. Did I not leave you enough equations?”

“Oh, you done left me plenty. I just needed a break or I was gonna lose my darn mind. Anyways, ya didn't answer my question, how is it goin’?”

Ford sighed and glanced back towards the car.

“Not well. I have an… issue I need to discuss with you.”

“Well that don’ sound good. What's the problem?”

“Stanley is the problem. As I suspected he got himself in some serious trouble, and he has nowhere to go, so I'm driving him back to Gravity Falls with me.”

“Well that's not so bad. It'll be a pleasure ta finally meet ‘im.”

“Hah, you say that now. Either way, we are driving because he isn't in good enough shape to fly back. It'll probably be another day before we get there.”

“Not good ‘nough shape? What happened ta him?”

“I haven’t asked him for details but he's… well he lost a leg.”

“A LEG?!” Fiddleford practically screamed. “Gosh darnit! I thought you were gonna say he was just beat up a bit! That's terrible!”

“It is less than ideal. I'm going to patch him up to the best of my ability and we will be on our way.”

“You're gonna patch ‘im up?! Take that man to a damn hospital, Stanford!”

“I tried that. He refused because, and I quote, ‘hospitals ask questions and call the police’.”

“Ya really got yerself a conundrum there, then, doncha? Well… keep me updated, alright? Does he have a similar build to ya? I bet I can make him a robot leg…”

Ford chuckled.

“He has a larger build than me, but we'll talk about it when we arrive in Gravity Falls. Sorry I didn't leave you with more equations. You'll have to find your own entertainment.”

“Don't you worry ‘bout me, Stanford. I am plenty fine workin’ on my computers. Keep me updated, though, seriously. I’m gonna be worryin’ ‘til I hear from you again.”

“I will, Fidds. I'll call you at our next stop.”

“Alrighty. See ya soon, Ford.”

Ford hung up and turned back towards the car. This was definitely going to be an interesting road trip.

Ford made his way back to the car and found Stanley already removing some of the makeshift gauze on his leg.

“Damn, that fucking hurts.” Stan thought aloud.

“That is not surprising.” Ford responded, grimacing. “I grabbed you a new shirt as well, since you didn't grab any clothes on our way out the door.”

“That's because I don't have other clothes.” Stan said through his teeth as he peeled off the remaining fabric, leaving only the makeshift tourniquet under his knee.

Ford swallowed hard, but leaned down to get a better look.

“Do I even want to know how this actually happened?” He asked, grabbing the gallon of water he bought and opening it.

“Probably not. Even if you did, I don't exactly want to talk about it right now.”

“Fair enough. This is going to sting.” Ford said, then poured the water over the gaping wound.

Stan stuffed the sleeve of his coat in his mouth and bit down hard, trying his best to focus on the fabric in his teeth and ache in his jaw over the screaming pain in his leg.

“Fuck, Stanley.” Ford mumbled, sounding wobbly. “I've patched up some serious injuries in my time, but this is definitely the worst one.”

“Tell me about them.” Stan said, momentarily removing the fabric from his mouth. “And don't pass out, or we'll really be fucked.”

Ford thought for a moment, then started to tell the story of Fiddleford and the Gremgoblin as he continued his work.

“Damn, that's pretty intense.” Stan said as Ford finished wrapping the cleaned wound. “What did he see when he looked into it's eyes?”

“I have no idea. He never did tell me, and everytime I ask about it he just gets this far-away look, so I decided not to push it.” Ford replied, carefully removing the makeshift tourniquet and checking to make sure the gauze stayed clean.

“A mystery you actually let go of, huh? You really must love this guy.” Stan said.

“You know I could rip this gauze off, right?”

“Alright! Fine! I’ll stop bringing it up! I’m excited to meet him, though.”

“Yes, well, he is excited to meet you as well. He said he would build you a robot leg. Knowing him, he probably already has the blueprints ready. He built himself a metal cast of sorts after he broke his arm. He was already wearing it the day after the incident.”

“That sounds badass. You think he can make it look like a peg leg? I’ll look like a cool pirate.”

Ford laughed and gathered the remaining supplies to store in the trunk. “I'm positive that he could. He would probably enjoy it.”

“I already like this guy.” Stan laughed.

“I'm sure he already likes you, too.” Ford said with a chuckle as he finished packing up and made his way to the driver's side. “He honestly likes everyone. It's fascinating. I'm sure he would be a terrifying villain if he wasn't always so nice.”

“Ooh. A dark side. The plot thickens!”

“I wouldn't call it a dark side, exactly. More of an intense side. He built a bunker with a boobytrap room that wouldn't be out of place in a horror movie, but I don't believe he would ever use it to hurt another human.” Ford mused as he got the car started.

“Why even build it, then?” Stan asked.

“It’s to keep creatures in more than keep humans out, although it functions both ways.”

“You think he'll make one of those to keep some asshole gangsters away?”

“It's feasible. You'll have to ask him yourself.”

“I plan on it. We should switch clothes and see if he can tell the difference.”

“You're missing a leg, Stanley.”

“I'll put a boot in my pant leg and we can both stand still.” Stan suggested with a laugh.

“He is extremely intelligent, he most likely won't fall for that.”

“Are you suggesting that he knows you too well? Intimately, perhaps?”

“I will push you out of this car.” Ford said, but laughed anyway.

Stan laughed with him and Ford couldn't help but feel like a teenager again, laughing alongside his brother over some stupid joke. For a moment he swore he could hear the squeak of a swingset, and smell the salty air of the ocean.

___________________________________

I realize that gauze and a tourniquet would not be enough for this wound- he would definitely need to cauatorize it, but suspend disbelief for a moment....

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Also, what do you mean it makes more sense to go through Colorado?! It's Janurary and they're in an el diablo. Better to go around the bigger mountains! This was definitely planned and not a mistake.

I didn't mean for the backstory to go on this long, my hands just keep typing! I can't stopppppppp! I swear there is portal content eventually!

Also, I know some of you are not here for Fiddauthor, but I couldn't not have Stan being an annoying brother about it. I needed it to happen.

[skeletboi]

Part 7 of the Intridimensional AU!

New to this crapshow? Start here!

______________________________________________

“Ya sure that's the right address?” The cab driver asked as Ford clicked his seatbelt into place.

“Yes. I am positive.” Ford responded.

“What's a scholarly-lookin’ fella like you want to do in a place like that?”

“You think I look scholarly?” Ford said, smiling.

“I think ya missed the point. That place is real seedy. I sure as hell ain't waitin’ ‘round there for you. I'll drop you and leave.”

“That's fine. I won't be there long, and the person I am going to meet assured me he has a vehicle.

“Your funeral, I guess.” The cab driver said with a shrug.

Ford frowned, but decided not to worry too much over it. He may not look intimidating, but he was sure he could handle his own in a fight. Albeit he hoped there would be no need for fighting. He just had to get Stan out of there, and maybe to a hospital. Worse case scenario he could just call mom and let her deal with Stanley's issues. Dad wouldn't be happy, but surely he would change his mind and let Stan stay over letting him die. Stan and his father had parted on bad terms, but so had Stan and Ford. Ford was here now, so it made sense that his father would come around, too, right?

“Here we are. Hope you brought a gun.” The cab driver said, tearing him from his thoughts.

“Oh- uh, thanks.” Ford said, paying the cab driver and stepping out into a dingy motel parking lot.

“Good luck!” The driver said with a laugh as Ford shut the door behind him.

Ford frowned and watched the cab peel away before turning his attention back on the motel. Stanley's car was parked a bit further down the lot, so Ford decided he could start there.

He didn't make it very far before realizing the door to the second room was slightly open, light spilling onto the sidewalk in front of it. He took a few cautious steps forward and noticed the dark spots on the sidewalk leading to that door. He swallowed hard and tried to glance into the room without seeming too suspicious, his heartbeat loud in the silence of the parking lot.

He took another step closer and froze when he spotted a familiar-looking vacuum cleaner against a wall in the room. He had seen it before on one of those terrible infomercials, and the realization made his stomach drop.

“Stanley?” he asked quietly as he slowly pushed open the door.

He heard a quiet grunt from the floor next to him and nearly fell backwards when he saw the state of his brother.

“Stanley?!” he said again, panic evident in his tone.

Stan blinked a few times and looked up at him.

“Is this heaven or hell? Probably hell, right?” Stan asked groggily.

“Stanley! What the hell happened to you?!” Ford said, falling to his knees next to Stan as he fought back the bile rising in his throat.

“Is this some kinda trick? Good try, Satan, but my brother definitely wouldn't care about this. Should have started with my Ma. That would have gotten me.” Stan responded with a humorless laugh.

“Stan! You're not dead! It's actually me! Also, we're Jewish!”

Stan frowned and blinked a few more times.

“That was better. Still should have started with Ma, though.”

“Stan! Your leg! It's-” Ford stopped and put a hand to his mouth, willing himself to not vomit directly on his brother.

“Oh yeah. That still hurts- what's up with that? Can't I at least have a leg in the afterlife?!”

“Fuck. I'm bringing you to a hospital! Where are your keys?!” Ford said, standing shakily and looking around the near-empty room.

“Keys? I- Wait, am I really still alive? Ford! What are you doing here! It's dangerous!” Stan said, finally catching on.

“No shit, Stan! You- you’re missing a leg! It's going to get infected!” Ford said, tearing through the drawers by the bed and finally finding the keys to the Stanley Mobile.

“Ford! Calm down! I can't go to a hospital! He'll find me there, and I can't guarantee he won't cause collateral damage. It's better if I just stay here.”

“He? Who is he?! The one who did this to you?! He'll find you here, too!”

“I know! That was the plan! The problem is that now he'll find you, too, so you better leave before he comes back or we'll both be fucked!”

“Then we are both leaving! We'll go to a hospital out of town! Then I'm bringing you back home!” Ford yelled, grabbing Stan's wallet from the ground at his feet and glancing around to see if there was anything else he might need to grab.

“Home?! What the hell does that mean?!” Stan said, attempting to push himself up from the wall and failing.

“Home. To New Jersey. I'll get you a plane ticket- but you can't stay here!” Ford said, pocketing Stan's wallet and holding out his hands to help Stan up.

“I can't go back there!” Stan said, nonplussed.

“Sure you can, dad might be mad about it- but it's better than death!”

“No! I literally cannot go back there! I’m banned from New Jersey! They'd throw me back in prison the second I crossed the border!”

“Prison is better than death!”

“Not when the gang member after you has connections in prisons across the country! It's death either way!”

“Is that why you never went back home?!”

“That and dad wouldn't let me come back!”

“He would have if he knew what happened!”

“No he wouldn't! He had that bag packed and ready to kick me out the second he had an excuse! I don't know what dad you're thinkin’ about, but the one I knew hated me!”

Ford paused and dropped his hands to his side.

“He… he did, didn't he?”

“Yes! You never noticed that?! What the fuck did you think he threw at me?! He-” Stan sighed and glanced away. “Fuck. It doesn't matter, Sixer. What matters is that you need to leave. Take my car if you want- I sure as hell won't be needing it.”

Ford knelt down to be at Stan's eye level and sighed.

“It does matter, Stanley. I'm still mad at you, but I won't leave you here to die. You haven't been kicked out of Oregon, have you?”

Stan furrowed his brow as he turned to look back at Ford.

“Oregon? No. Never made it that far, I guess.”

“Well, that's where I live. So you're coming with me.”

Stan frowned, trying his best to damp down the glimmer of hope in his chest.

“He'll still come looking for me. He probably has eyes on me right now, making sure I don't make a run for it.”

“Whoever ‘he’ is, he won't find you. I live in a very remote town. It's not even on any maps.” Ford said, standing up and reaching out a hand to Stan.

Stan continued to frown, but took Ford's hand anyway.

“Fine.” He said, struggling to stand and wincing at the pain in his leg. “But no hospitals until I'm sure he isn't following.”

“Fine. Do you need anything else from here, or can we just leave?” Ford asked, letting Stan lean on him as he glanced back around the room.

“Fuck it. You grabbed my wallet and my gun is in the car. That's all I need.” Stan responded, his voice thick with pain. “Might need to grab whiskey for the road, but we can deal with that once we get to Arizona.”

“You have a gun in the car?!” Ford asked.

“Funny how you focus on that. You live in some no-mans land in the woods! Are you really going to tell me you don't have a gun?!”

“I have a crossbow.” Ford mumbled.

“You fucking would, nerd.” Stan mumbled back, then laughed.

“It's a perfectly good weapon. I have no need for a gun.” Ford huffed as they started towards the door.

“Sure, sure, for shooting deer, maybe. You're going to need a better weapon than that if you have a bunch of gangsters after you. I'll have to get you a gun.” Stan replied as they made it to the car.

“I'm perfectly capable. I have grenades, too!” Ford said as he helped lower Stan into the passenger seat.

“Perfect. Nerd weapons!” Stan mumbled.

Ford shut the passenger side door in his face and made his way to the driver's seat.

“You could clean your car, you know.” Ford said, grimacing as he adjusted the mirror.

“Yeah, yeah. I had shit to do! I lived in this thing for a while so I never really bothered.” Stan replied defensively.

“Disgusting.” Ford replied as he backed out of the parking spot.

“I'm sure your car is so much better.” Stan mumbled.

“I don't have a car. A tree giant named Steve crushed it.”

Stan looked over at Ford and laughed.

“What?!” Ford asked over Stan's raucous laughter. “He really did! I can even show you the wreckage in the woods!”

“I believe you, Sixer. I'm just laughin’ because you would get your car fucked up by a giant. It's very you of you.” Stan replied between laughs.

“You believe me?” Ford asked, seeming genuinely surprised.

“Of course I do. You're a lot of things, Sixer, but a liar isn't one of them. That's my job.”

Ford glanced over at Stan and huffed out a laugh. He was definitely still mad, but maybe this wouldn't be as bad as he had imagined.

____________________________________________

I swear we will get to the portal part eventually...

I had too much fun thinking about the backstory- so for now you get this! Sorry not sorry.

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[skeletboi]

Part 10 of the intridimensional au!

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New to this? Start here!

I know I posted part 9 earlier, but I am distracting myself from the election by hyperfixating!

(I live in America, and I voted early, so I can distract myself now that I have done my due diligence.)

Anyway, I'm having fun with this weird coloring/no shading/whatever the fuck style this is, but I will also probably do the next part fic-style because Stan meeting Fidds will be dialouge heavy.

I have no inbetween, it seems. It's either all dialouge or no dialouge.

[skeletboi]

For the five people following the Intridimensional AU I also posted it on ao3 to make it easier to follow.

Find it here!

❤️

[skeletboi]

Part 11 of the Intridimensional AU!

New to this? Start here!

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Fiddleford opened the door to see Ford half-dragging Stan towards the house.

“Lemme help ya, Ford, those stairs are gonna be a doozy.” He said, making his way towards them.

“We got it. I feel like I would crush you if I fell over.” Stan responded before Ford could say anything.

“Hey now, I'm a lot stronger than I look.” Fiddleford said with a bright smile.

“It's true.” Ford added. “He's like an ant, I've seen him carry things ten times his size without even breaking a sweat.”

“Smart, strong, and a southern accent? Where did you find him? College? Maybe I should go to college.” Stan said, half to himself.

Ford let up his grip on Stan, nearly knocking him over.

“Right, right! No hitting on the assistant.” Stan mumbled as he attempted to catch his balance.

Fiddleford chuckled as helped them up the stairs.

“Ya never told me he was a charmer, Ford.” He said as they made it to the door.

“That's because he isn't.” Ford deadpanned.

Stan opened his mouth to respond, but forgot what he was going to say as they entered the house.

“Damn. This is exactly what I should have expected.” He said as the other two helped him sit on a nearby chair.

“What's that supposed to mean?” Ford said, at the same time Fiddleford said “That's ‘zactly what I said when I came here!”

Ford and Fiddleford looked at eachother and Stan laughed.

“Anyways, lemme get a look at yer injuries. Ford told me he tried ta patch ya up, but I've seen his work, and I ain't impressed.” Fiddleford said, grabbing a nearby first aid kit and putting on a pair of rubber gloves.

“Hey!” Ford said, defensively.

“Ya know what I mean, Stanford. Go fetch me some of that magic goop yer always usin’.”

Ford frowned, but left to go find said ‘magic goop’.

“Damn, he never would of listened to me if I said that. He really does like you.” Stan mumbled.

Fiddleford ignored that, but Stan didn't miss the way his cheeks reddened.

“I'd really rather you'd go to a hospital, friend. This really ain't lookin’ good.” He said instead.

“Yeah, yeah. Hospital-schmospital. What are we going to tell them? We were just fucking around and I lost my leg and got a bullet in the arm?”

“Bullet in yer arm? I thought it was jus’ the leg.” Fiddleford said with a frown as he looked up at Stan.

“It was just the leg when Ford found me, but then we got shot at near the border of Arizona.” Stan explained.

“You-” Fiddleford started, then sighed. “Does catastrophe run in the family?”

“Yes.” Ford and Stan said at the same time as Ford reentered the room.

Fiddleford huffed out a laugh.

“Well, least I know what to expect, then.”

“That makes one of us.” Ford mumbled handing a small unmarked container to Fiddleford.

Fiddleford put it to the side and started to unwrap the gauze on Stan's leg.

“Take yer jacket off, I gotta check on that bullet wound, too.” He said.

Stan did as he was told and watched with mild interest as Fiddleford finished removing the gauze.

“Darnit, Stanford. All them PhDs and not a single one of ‘em in medicine.” He mumbled as he opened the unmarked container.

“I had better things to do.” Ford responded.

“Doncha always.” Fiddleford mumbled, and Stan didn't miss the fondness in his tone.

Fiddleford took some of the substance from the container and made to put it on the wound when Stan stopped him.

“Wait, wait! What the hell is that shit?” He asked, put off by the substance's eerie glow.

“That's quite interesting, actually!” Ford said, his face lighting up. “It's a healing potion I received from a forest nymph after they found me passed out in the woods a few years ago!”

Stan frowned, but nodded to Fiddleford, letting him know he could apply it. Fiddleford did so, and Stan let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

“What the fuck, Ford?! That shit is amazing! Why didn’t you bring it to New Mexico?!” Stan said, looking from his leg to Ford.

“Oh, right. I wasn't sure if I should bring it on the plane, it emits a small amount of radiation that has the potential to mess with certain radio signals.” Ford explained.

Stan glared at him.

“It's perfectly safe! I've used it dozens of times!”

“That doesn't make it safe, Stanford!” Stan responded, nonplussed.

“That's what I'm always sayin’, but stubbornness also runs in the family, I reckon.” Fiddleford said.

“Fiddleford refuses to use it, but I find it quite helpful.” Ford said.

“Whatever.” Stan said with a sigh. “It's probably just as bad as any other substance I've used, so it doesn't really matter. At least it works.”

“That's the spirit! Now lemme get a look at yer arm.” Fiddleford said, moving to Stan's side to start unwrapping the gauze there.

“That one isn't too bad, probably doesn't need radioactive magic goop.” Stan said.

“Ain't too bad?! I reckon the bullet is still in yer arm, Stanley!” Fiddleford said, moving Stan's arm this way and that as he looked for an exit wound.

“Probably, but I doubt those assholes are smart enough to poison their bullets, so it's fine. I’ve had a bullet in my thigh for a few years now and I barely notice it anymore.” Stan said.

“Jesus fuck, Stanley.” Ford mumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Language, Stanford.” Fiddleford responded.

“Language?! Stan hasn't said a single sentence without a swear word since we arrived!” Ford said, sounding a bit like a petulant child.

“He's missin’ a leg, Stanford. That’s a purdy good excuse.” Fiddleford replied.

Ford frowned, but didn't bother arguing.

“Lemme go grab the smaller magnet gun prototype, I betcha I can remove it that way.” Fiddleford said, standing up and removing his rubber gloves.

“That sounds fucking awful.” Stan replied.

“It's either the magnet gun or tweezer and a scalpel. Your choice.” Ford said.

“Right, nerd magic it is.” Stan sighed.

Fiddleford huffed out a laugh and left to grab the magnet gun.

“So he's cute.” Stan said when Fiddleford's footsteps faded.

“Fuck you.” Ford said, burying his face in his hands as Stan laughed.

“Ya know, married or not, I'm pretty damn sure he has a crush on you, too.” Stan said as his laughter died down.

“That doesn't matter, Stanley. I told you he would be moving back to Palo Alto soon enough.” Ford said, dropping his hands from his face with a sigh.

“All grown up and becoming a homewrecker, who coulda guessed.” Stan mused.

“I swear to god, Stanley…” Ford started, but stopped when he heard Fiddleford's footsteps down the hall.

Stan smiled innocently as Fiddleford rounded the corner.

“I was gone for one whole minute and y'all already fightin’?” Fiddleford asked.

“Not fighting, really, just disagreeing.” Ford said, sounding tired.

“Well, close ‘nough. Now looky here, I got the magnet gun, but I also brought my blueprints for a robit leg. I'll hafta take some measurements, but I think I was purdy darn close already.” Fiddleford said, setting the magnet gun down on a nearby shelf and handing the blueprints over to Stan.

Stan unfolded the paper and grinned.

“Peg leg! Hell yeah! How did you know?!” He asked, squinting at the design.

“Yer brother told me you'd prefer that over my usual designs.” Fiddleford said, putting on a new pair of gloves.

Stan glanced over at Ford, who was staring at the far wall and pretending not to listen. He shook his head and smiled as a warmth bloomed in his chest, but turned his attention back to Fiddleford when he heard a low hum.

“This is gonna hurt, but it'll only take ‘bout a second.” Fiddleford said, gently taking Stan's arm and holding up the magnet gun.

Stan nodded, setting down the blueprints and clenching his fist. He motioned for Fiddleford to continue.

Fiddleford looked a bit like he was about to pass out, but his hands were steady as he lined the magnet gun up with the bullet wound.

There was a click, a whirring sound, and a shot of white-hot pain, then it was over.

“That wasn't so bad.” Stan said, but the pain in his voice said otherwise.

“Sorry, Stanley. I jus’ gotta clean it up a bit then we can use more that magic goop.” Fiddleford said.

He sounded so genuinely apologetic that Stan was sure he could hear a layer of ice crack around his heart.

“No worries, Fidds! You can always kiss it to make it better!” He replied with a laugh.

“Stanley!” Ford said, his voice cracking.

Fiddleford just laughed it off and started the process of cleaning around the wound.

Stan used his free hand to pick up the blueprints again, looking over them carefully as Fiddleford worked. He glanced up at Ford when he felt eyes on him and motioned for Ford to join him when he saw the curious look on his face. Ford obliged and stepped behind Stan to look over his shoulder at the blueprints.

“Impressive as always, Fiddleford.” Ford said, and Stan didn't miss the way Fiddleford's hands stilled for a moment at the compliment.

“Thank ya, Ford. I'll prolly have a prototype by tomorra that we can try out.” Fiddleford replied with a nervous smile.

It took all of Stan’s willpower not to roll his eyes.

Running from gangsters might actually be less painful than dealing with the unresolved tension between these nerds. He thought idly, but he couldn't deny that he felt more at home here than he had in years.

___________________________________________

Oh, these boys. I love them.

That's all I got.

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Also on ao3! Here!