#starting as ford just starting to deal with bill all the way to ford sailing with stan

[thereareeyesinsidethetrees]

the entirety of Death of An Optimist by Grandson can be applied to Ford. hear me out

Death of an Optimist // Intro - this can be a few different things- stan mourning him after accidentally trapping him in the multiverse, ford's mindset after stan broke his project, or ford's mindset after bill's betrayal/while he's in the multiverse. the rising intensity at the end, just to suddenly cut off makes me think of ford's rising anxiety/paranoia as weirdmaggedon draws closer

In Over My Head - ford being pressured all his life to do incredible things (getting famous/making millions, creating an interdimensional portal in just a year, attempting to kill bill, etc.) and the increasing stress that comes with it

Identity - this can be two different things i think (both at once?). ford after stan broke the project and was kicked out and/or ford post-portal. not entirely knowing who is, especially once he's in the portal, resigning himself to just 'destroy bill' and nothing else

Left Behind - 'i'm feeling like i don't have a reason to believe in' and 'i don't wanna move on, but i don’t wanna get left behind'. again, it's the pressure of having to do incredible things and do them quick. have you ever noticed how quickly he dropped everything to focus on the portal? One year. he was working himself to death

Dirty - the difference between ford and bord (or just bill in general). ford encompasses the first bits of lyrics- for example, ‘is it time to lead-?’, ‘is it time to speak up-?’, ‘is it time for peace-?’ and of course ‘is there anybody out there that’s paying attention?’. bord (bill) encompasses the second half- ‘or is it time to die?’, ‘or is it time for silence?’, ‘or is it time for violence?’. a conversation between the two, with ‘tell me, what you tryna hide?’ and ‘and what you running from inside?’. the chorus being entirely from ford

The Ballad of G and X // Interlude - the ballad of ford and bill. really just listen to the lyrics- lines like ‘he’s in my head, he makes me sick, he makes me antisocial’ and ‘losing my mind, i wanna find a way to keep composure’ and ‘i try to close my eyes, i’m haunted in my nightmares’ for example

We Did It!!! - ford with bill’s influence. ford and also bord at times. ford and also if bill can change his vocabulary, who’s to say what else was changed? who’s to say there’s not shards of yellow buried deep in ford’s mind like sea glass hidden beneath sand?

WWIII - Ford's experience with the portal (seeing as he was essentially trapped in a 'war' between Bill's side and everyone opposing him). in this interpretation, 'when you ship me off to war' turns into 'when you pushed me through that portal'

Riptide - ford struggling with guilt, regret, and self-loathing. struggling to picture himself in this happy ending, even though he so badly wants to. ‘i tried getting better, did all of the twelve steps. whoever would’ve thought, whoever could’ve guessed? the harder that i chase it, the further that it gets’ and ‘i’ve been caught up in the riptide, for too long cause it’s all i know’

Pain Shopping - ‘i just wanna fuck my hand up, through the wall- i need help, no one there to stand up when i call’, ‘looking for the proof that i’m still alive, i wanna feel something. cause all that i’ve got is nothing’, ‘i’m feeling all this pressure, it’s a weight on my shoulders. i thought that it would all be great when i’m older’, and ‘never mind my heavy mind, i’ll get in line, i’ll get behind. and every time i said i’m fine, whatever, i meant never mind’. ford struggling with his mental health. feeling pressured and alone with him not wanting his family to know how much he’s struggling

Drop Dead - ford and stan. everything feels terrible and we’re not entirely sure what to do about it, but at least we’re in it together right?

Welcome to Paradise // Outro - unhealthy coping mechanisms. ford pretending that he’s perfectly fine and happy to his family. ‘you ain’t gotta hurt no more. didn’t you hear? the war’s over. just don’t look behind that door. you don’t wanna get that much closer.’ the ‘you’ is both ford trying to convince himself and stan that everything’s okay. ‘conversation with my echo’

i would really recommend listening to all of these if/when you have time, especially since i couldn’t cover all the lyrics in one post. maybe i’ll go over each lyric sometime in the future, but for now i think these were enough to explain what i meant

[crackedhrglass]

i got this ask on my strawpage and was gonna type it up in my notes app and post it to twitter, but i really couldn't figure out a way to say it concisely, so i'm answering it here bc it's prob gonna be long lol.

do i think stancest is actually canon? simply put, no. despite how often i'm like "STANCEST IS CANON!!" i truly don't think that AH and the writers intended stan & ford's relationship to be seen through an incestuous lens.

their relationship is def the heart of the show, second only to dipper & mabel's own bond. they are the center of each other's worlds, their story & character arcs revolve almost entirely around each other, and their happy ending is literally the two of them sailing off into the sunset to spend "the rest of their days" together (ford says this almost word-for-word in journal 3).

but i still don't think all of that was meant to be taken romantically.

in my opinion, where things start to get a little weird is, surprisingly enough, ford's relationship with bill.

the rest is under a cut bc HOLY SHIT this got longer than i expected.

there's no denying that bill was written to deliberately parallel stan in a number of ways, from his mannerisms, to his conman status, to the fact that he calls ford the same name stan did when they were kids.

he's written in a very intentional way that makes him serve as both stan's parallel and his foil, especially in their respective relationships to ford (bill feeds into ford's ego and encourages him to aspire for greatness alone, stan has always been a direct obstacle & challenge to ford's ego, accidentally ruining his chances at WCT & encouraging him to live out their childhood dream together; bill valued infinite power over his own family and destroyed his dimension as a result, stan valued his family over everything, and saved ford and his dimension as a result).

normally, this wouldn't be that big of a deal to a stancest shipper like myself. but as the book of bill & the accompanying website all but confirmed in big, flashing neon lights, ford & bill have a romantic history and are exes.

having the two people closest to ford be compared to one another is one thing. having ford be drawn to bill because of how similar he is to the brother he secretly misses is one thing.

having ford be romantically involved with said character is what makes me raise an eyebrow lol.

again, do i think ford is literally a brocon who's got repressed sexual/romantic feelings for stan?

no.

i do, however, think he has unresolved Brother Issues that led him to subconsciously find comfort in a romantic partner that reminded him of stan (right down to bill calling him stan's nickname for him) in much the same way a person with "daddy issues" may seek out affection & intimacy from someone who reminds them of their father (or is just "fatherly" in general).

that much, i believe, was actually intentional. it's just too blatant to not be lol. it'd be a completely different story if either

bill & stan were nothing alike (untrue) or

ford & bill's relationship was strictly platonic and didn't have any romantic implications (also untrue)

i've said this before, but this isn't just a case of "oh, ford fell in love with someone who just coincidentally reminds him of his brother." bill's use of the nickname "sixer" during their first encounter was a deliberate attempt at appealing to a part of ford that was repressed, vulnerable, and aching, in order to get ford's guard down and make it easier for ford to trust him, and it worked.

billford is a ship that, to put it bluntly, would not exist without ford's buried feelings for stan, even disregarding shipping/incest/etc. ford's desire to be close to stan even platonically is what allowed bill to needle his way into ford's heart in the first place.

and all of this wouldn't be that weird if, again, bill hadn't continued to feed into ford's longing for stan even after they'd established a romantic relationship, by still calling him "sixer" and trying to permanently sever the relationship he had with stan specifically, once he and ford broke up (the phone call he tried to make while in ford's body that was described in tbob).

to put it another way, imagine if wendy was basically an older, taller mabel, or if any of mabel's crushes were eerily similar to dipper. people in the fandom would def take notice and view it as a little strange. so i don't get how people can look at ford dating someone so blatantly and intentionally similar to stan and think to themselves "ah yes, this is normal. ford is completely Normal and definitely doesn't have any underlying issues whatsoever" lmao

to conclude: no, i don't think ford & stan's relationship is actually canonically romantic, nor do i think ford falling in love with bill was incestuous, necessarily.

but i do think that he had a desperate longing to reconcile with stan buried DEEEEEEP down, and it manifested itself in the form of being attracted to bill, which is probably why he never bothered correcting bill's use of the nickname "sixer" since their very first meeting, or ever expressed that it made him uncomfortable.

[a-writing-otter]

WIP Wednesday - Chapter 9 of the Redemption and Subsequent Death of Bill Cipher

“Okay. Okay. One more time.”

Bill shakes himself off, eyes fixed on where Red and Dipper are standing. Dipper is sitting on the back of Question Mark’s pickup truck with his notebook and Red is standing there, twirling an axe in her hand. Bill is stanced in front of a target, facing them.

As of three days ago, Bill is back on his feet and back to work. After waking up and being cognizant enough to actually function in Ford’s room, they’d made him lay back for another day. While Bill put up a good bit of complaint about it, it wasn’t all that bad, mostly because Ford stayed with him and pet his hair and let him stay in his bed.

Again, things aren’t exactly back to the way they were before, but there’s marked improvement. Ford will be in the same room as him again, talks to him again, even seeks him out. The night before, they’d just sat on the roof of the Mystery Shack looking at the stars and talking in a way that made Bill remember again how things had been thirty years prior.

In addition to whatever is repairing between him and Ford, Bill has devoted all spare energy to trying to get that alternate form to come out. They’ve tried meditation and clenching and willing it into being, but nothing has worked. The last solution was near-death experiences.

Thus Red, her axe, and a large target behind Bill.

“Ready?” Red asks, tossing the axe up and down in her hand for a second.

Shaking his shoulders out, Bill nods.

“Ready.”

“Alright then. Three… two—“

Red throws it on two, it sails right past Bill’s ear, Bill screams, and nothing else happens.

“What happened to ‘go on one’?!” Bill shrieks when he comes back to himself, heart hammering in his chest.

“It’s no fun if you expect it,” Red laughs, going over to collect her axe where it is sunk deep into the target beside Bill. “We’re trying to simulate a ‘near death experience’.”

“Yeah, well—“

“What are you doing?”

The three of them look up to see Ford and Mabel wandering to them. Ford is staring at Bill like he’s got three heads while Red pulls the axe out and puts it on her shoulder.

“I actually don’t know how to answer that question,” Bill confesses.

“We’re seeing if we can coax that other version of Bill out through fear,” Dipper says instead.

“By throwing axes at him?” Ford doesn’t sound mad, almost unimpressed. “There’s better ways to scare him.”

“Well, if you’ve got anything better, I’ll hear it. Nothing’s happening,” Bill tells him.

“Short of just praying that it happens when it happens, we’ve tried everything I would normally suggest,” Dipper notes from the truck.

And that’s the problem, isn’t it?

“You could try the ‘Mew Mew Kissy Cutie’ method?” Mabel suggests, climbing up into the truck to sit next to Dipper.

Ford and Bill both blink at her while Red groans and rolls her eyes.

“The what?” Bill asks.

“It’s a stupid kid’s show,” Red dismisses.

“It is an ‘anime’,” Mabel corrects with a good deal of gravitas, “and it is a very important anime.”

“Those are the shows that Soos watches sometimes, right?” Ford recalls and Mabel nods enthusiastically.

“Soos showed them to me! It’s about a magical girl!”

“Magical—” Bill starts.

“Girl?” and Ford finishes.

“Well, I’m not magic or a girl.”

Dipper makes a thoughtful sound.

“You are magical and, technically, you aren’t a boy or a girl, you’re a demon.”

“I mean, yes, your binary understanding of gender doesn’t work outside of your realm, but according to the fake ID your grunkle got me so I can buy various age-appropriate implements, I’m a man.”

“It’s not about being a boy or a girl,” Mabel insists before standing, striking a pose, “it’s about saving the world and doing so in a cute outfit and magical powers! One of those things is taken care of.”

“…but I can’t access the magical powers,” Bill reminds. It’s stupid, incredibly stupid, but at this point, they’ve only got so many options.

“Alright, what do I do?”

Mabel energetically jumps down from the truck and goes over to him.

“So, the first thing you do is you have to spin around in a circle and put your arms above your head. After a couple circles, you stop, you strike a pose, and you wink.”

“…I do what?”

“You know, you—“ And Mabel comes closer before lifting her arms above her head. She turns in a neat circle a couple of times before stopping short, hip popped with one hand on it and the other holding a peace sign next to her face.

Bill blinks at her.

“You’re kidding.”

“You heard her,” Ford insists, sounding amused. “You spin in a circle with your hands above your—“

“You just want to see me dance around and make an idiot of myself.”

“The concept has merit, yes,” Ford teases.

Bill waves him off before looking down at Mabel. “I seriously have to do all of that?”

Mabel nods energetically.

The entire group is staring at Bill hopefully and— Look, they’re desperate at this point. …what’s the worst that happens, honestly?

Bill lets out a deep sigh, squaring his shoulders, and muttering under his breath about “stupid powers” and “stupid magical girls”. Stopping a few paces away, he takes a deep breath in, willing the pale heat in his face to die down.

He lifts his arms over his head, spins in two circles before doing the same move as Mabel before stopping, hip popped, hand on his hip, and peace sign near his face.

Nothing happens.

Ford immediately bursts into laughter and Bill throws his hands up.

[cr1spyyy]

An analysis ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Alrighty, been seeing people fighting over the Stan twins and who ‘had it worse’. I don’t expect people to see this, nor is my heart really into it. Most are sticking up for Ford. I’m here to say that both Stan and Ford messed up, and when you think about it, they’re both equal in their flaws! 

Let’s start with the infamous science fair. I’m going to start off with saying that the entire situation could have been avoided if they just talked to each other. They both have piss poor communication skills, and they both have the emotional intelligence of a rock. Stan should have talked to Ford about how he felt, should have told him about accidentally wrecking his project, about how he felt inadequate. Ford should have talked to Stan about how he wanted to find his own way of life, how he didn’t want to sail, how he wanted some time to himself. Ford had every right in wanting to fulfil his own life, for having a different dream than Stan. Really, in the end they’re both teenagers who didn’t know any better. It’s Filbrick, world’s most awful father, who put a wedge in any communication that could have occurred. Ford didn’t deserve to have his dream destroyed, and Stan sure as hell didn’t deserve to be kicked out onto the streets. They were both just kids at that point, man. 

After ten years, Ford calls up Stan to help him hide his journal. Things don’t go quite as planned, and it ends in a fight. Okay, I see plenty of people blaming either Stan or Ford. How about we split the blame and say that both of them are at fault here. Ford is dealing with a dream demon who has manipulated him and scoured his view on other people. Whenever I see people blaming Ford for Weirdmageddon, I lose another ten years of my life. Bill is a dream demon who clearly intended to manipulate Ford. He knew what he was saying, and the only mistake Ford made was reading the inscription even after the warnings told him not to. But mans was desperate. Anyways, Ford is sleep deprived, clearly not in his right mind and paranoid. Stan, on the other hand, has been living on the streets for 10 years. Street life is far, far from easy. Man was running from some other guy, living in a greasy ass motel. After 10 years of radio silence, he finally receives something from his twin. Oh, nevermind, he’s just being used as an errand boy. Stan’s anger is justified, and I’m probably saying this because I relate to him more, but I’d be surprised if he was anything but pissed. Ford had even gotten his hopes up, only to crumble them (and I doubt Ford said it like that on purpose, it’s kinda made obvious that he sucks at talking). He’s mad, they fight, Ford says some things he shouldn’t have, Stan does some things he shouldn’t have, and we already know the end results. 

When Ford steps out of the portal, the first thing he does is punches Stan. Alright, I get that, he wasn’t thinking straight and Stan really did put the entire world in danger. He also finds out that his name has been stolen, along with his house. All his research has been turned into a mockery. He has every right to be upset. Stan’s upset because after spending 30 years trying to save Ford, he doesn’t get so much as a ‘thanks’. And also the fact that after the summer is over he’s going to have to give up his life’s work. Both of them are mad and also awful at communicating with each other. Really, lack of communication seems to be their main problem.

They both refuse to apologise to each other. Yes, Stan should have apologised to Ford for the science fair, for pushing him in. And Ford should have apologised for not talking to him about their sailing dream, and for pushing him away. 

Another issue is how they treat the kids. Ford puts an unhealthy amount of trust in Dipper, and not enough trust in Mabel. I get the dude has had his trust broken many times, but c’mon, you don’t put the weight of the entire world on a twelve year old. You don’t give said twelve year old a chance to stay with you and try to push him away from his twin without talking to the BOTH of them. You’re a grown man, my guy. I really don’t like the way he treated Dipper. Stan’s at fault too, he treated Dipper differently than Mabel. He gave him tough chores, treated him roughly as a whole, to the point Dipper was convinced Stan hated him. In the end, Stan just didn’t want Dipper to go down the same path Ford did. Although he could’ve gone at it a better way. Yes, both of them are yet again at fault when it comes to how they treat the kids. In the end, they both love their niblings and have proven that they’d do anything for them.

During Weirdmageddon, Stan states that he doesn’t want to go save Ford because he never thanked him. Don’t worry, I had the urge to violently shake him as well. But after reflection, I doubt that was the real reason why he didn’t want to go after Ford. His main priority was the kids. Ford can protect himself far better than the kids can, and Stan has entire handful of survivors who he has to look out for. Yes, surviving on canned meat and then the gnomes isn’t one of his better ideas, but at least that way he could watch over Dipper and Mabel. 

After everything, he proves that all he really wanted was to protect his loved ones when he sacrifices himself to save the town. I wish the ending included them talking it out, because that was something they both sorely needed. To talk it out and apologise to each other, see the error in both their ways. I’ll go down with the hc that they make amendments before setting out to sea :’)

So who’s had it worse, who’s done worse, who was in the wrong? The answer is.... neither! They’ve both made poor decisions, they’re both selfish people because really, aren’t we all?

[runrundoyourstuff]

Sunrise

(Gravity Falls ficlet--875 words)

--

They rise early, these days—like the old geezers and sailors they both are.

Some mornings, they’re busy. The Stan-o-War II is a trawler, not a sailboat, so there’s no mast to climb, no sails to tighten like the pirates in the comic books they’d read aloud to each other as children—and isn’t that a relief, for their old limbs—but there are coordinates to check, courses to plot, and a revolving door of repairs around the boat to complete on a daily basis.

Other mornings, though, are more contemplative. They make instant coffee with the water they boil on their kettle, and wrap their fingers around their tin mugs as they sip, sitting quietly together at their little table below deck—or, sometimes, as they venture above to the salty pre-dawn air.

“Can I...uh…ask ya something?” Stan asks on one such morning, fingers tightening around his mug.

“Certainly.” Ford turns from where he had been gazing out at the horizon, watching the sun rise. As Winter approaches—and as they, in turn, approach the Arctic circle—sunrises are becoming less and less frequent, and each one is an event. He’d spent so long chasing miracles inherent in the bizarre, in the unnatural, that he’d forgotten that there was so much to see and learn about the natural world too.

And, this too, is commonplace. Stan’s memories have more or less returned, but there are nonetheless gaps, particularly of the more traumatic moments. (of which, Ford has come to understand, there were far more than he initially realized.) And when these holes in his recall make themselves known, this is how he approaches finding answers: eyes flitted away, a request for Ford to fill in what he knows, often on these quiet mornings.

Ford always obliges when he can. When he can’t, he’s honest about it—more honest than he might have been once—and if there is anyone who might be able to provide some guidance, they keep a list of questions, call whoever might be able to help next time they dock on shore.

On this particular morning, Stan continues: “That whole apocalypse thing that happened at the end of the summer—”

“Weirdmageddon.”

“Yeah, that. It was really bad, wasn’t it?”

Ford moves his hand as if to lay it on his brother’s shoulder, but when his fingers brush the old burn-scar branded into Stan’s skin, lets it fall. “If your memories of it are returning, then that’s a good—”

“Yeah, yeah, but…” he pauses. “You were in that weirdness dimension for thirty years. Was it all like that? The whole time?”

Ford hesitates. This is a different sort of question. Not about Stanley’s memories, but rather about his own—aspects of almost half of his life that he sometimes wishes that he could forget. “I wasn’t only in that dimension,” Ford answers at last. “I sort of…drifted through the multiverse, phasing in and out of different dimensions…I suspect it had something to do with the angle that I initially—”

“Okay, but Stanford—Werid-ma-whatchyacallit was terrible. Was it—the whole time you were in there, was it all that bad?”

“Not…all of it. Some dimensions were quite nice.”

It’s a cover-up, a lie of omission, and Stanley seems to hear the sentiment behind these words. Finishing his coffee in a single gulp, he crosses his arms, then sinks against the guardrail, slips down, and eventually lands, on the deck.

“What is it?” Ford asks, concerned. “Is…Did the memory trigger—”

“No, no, it’s just—“ he sighs. “You were stuck in this awful place—or places—for thirty years…because I pushed you.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Stanley.”

“Yeah, yeah…”

“No.” Ford follows him to the floor of the deck, and grips his shoulder tight, this time leaving his hand there. Stan, with what appears to be a great deal of effort, looks up at him. “I mean that,” Ford continues. “It was mine. I got so caught up in all of it…in creating…something—and yes, some of that was Bill pulling my strings, but not all of it was—that I couldn’t see the danger. Or, if I could, I didn’t care. I mean…” He pinches the bridge of his nose with two fingers. “Fiddleford very nearly got pulled into the portal. He did get pulled in, and would have stayed that way if he hadn’t happened to get caught on a rope so that I could pull him back. It was only a matter of time before I got yanked in too.” A pause. “I should’ve done more than shut it down. I should’ve dismantled it after I learned of Bill’s plan. But I couldn’t bring myself to…it was my life’s work.”

“But…” Stan glances away. “But as you got sucked in, you kept calling my name. You told me to do something, and I…I was too dumb to…I…I couldn’t.”

“But you did, Stanley. You brought me back.” Ford wraps his arms around his brother. “Do you…remember that?”

“Yeah,” Stan grunts, returning his brother’s embrace. Gradually, he begins to relax into it, and the sun starts to peer over the horizon, spilling light and warmth onto them both. “Yeah.”

[ao3]

[orangeoctopi7]

A Negligible Price

I guess it’s becoming a tradition for me to add another chapter to A Minor Inconvenience every year for @stanuary . I swear I didn’t mean for this to happen. It’s just that the prompt “Sacrifice” got me thinking about this story and where I thought it could go, and then I got writing and I started coming up with ideas for how I could actually put a finish to this story. So yeah, hopefully it won’t be another year before I post chapter 4, but not promises!

Also, first time I’ve had to do this, but:

CONTENT WARNING: DISCUSSION OF SUICIDE/MARTYR COMPLEX AND SUIDICE ADJACENT THEMES.

* * *

Bill rushes to gather himself together again. Now that Sixer and his idiot brother have caught on, he knows they’ll probably be making a move against him soon. The time for lying in wait and keeping a low profile has passed. He’s been getting faster, better at finding the tiny flecks of gold scattered into the dark abyss below. 

Unfortunately that also means that he’s noticed that some missing pieces just never turn up. As an interdimensional being who’s existed in countless dimensions across innumerable timelines, Bill likes to think he knows himself pretty well now. What he’s made of, how much power he’s accumulated, what he’s capable of. And if he had to estimate now, which he does, he’d say he’s been reduced to maybe a third of his power. Roughly two thirds of him are missing. 

What happened to those missing pieces? Were they simply deleted by that memory eraser? Did he leave some of himself behind in that physical form he left to enter Stan’s mind in the Fearamid? Bill can only guess, but really, in the grand scheme of things, it doesn’t matter. What matters is getting out of this moron’s brain and starting again on his path to a universe free of rules.

* * *

Stan recovered from his latest memory lapse quickly, despite the fact that it was the worst one he’d experienced since he sacrificed himself to the memory gun last summer. The experience had clearly put Ford on edge, and as much as he tried to bottle up his emotions and remain calm, Stan could practically feel the panic coming off him in waves. 

They were both relieved when they reached Spitsbergen. There was a hospital in Longyearbyen, where Ford insisted they stop to give Stan a check-up. Stan felt fine, but if it helped ease Ford’s nerves, then he could sit through a check-up.

Explaining Stan’s condition to the doctor was a struggle, considering English was not his strongest language. They definitely got across that Stan was experiencing memory problems, but the doctor seemed to be under the impression it had been caused by an injury to the head in an accident, rather than a purposeful exposure to a memory-erasing device. 

Eventually, Ford had lost his patience and just asked if they could use the CT or MRI machine themselves. The doctor spoke enough English to tell them that the nearest CT or MRI machine was in either Iceland or Russia.

The elder Pines twins left the hospital in low spirits. Ford kicked at little pebbles as they walked down the street.

“There’s a research facility in Ny-Ålesund. Perhaps we could sail up there and commandeer some equipment to rig up our own CT scan…”

“I think it’d be easier to just hop on a plane back to the States at this point.” Stan suggested.

“If we’re going to hop on a plane somewhere, it’ll be to Reykjavik, where we won’t have to pay an arm and a leg for any treatments.”

“Yeah, we’ll just have to wait half a year.” Stan rolled his eyes. “I don’t think they’re gonna take ‘revived demon in my head’ as an urgent need.”

“Probably not…” Ford admitted.

“And you’re sure you didn’t figure anything else out the last time you were pokin’ around in my head?”

Ford grit his teeth. The truth was, he was afraid what would happen if he tried to revisit that memory. The cold flames of the memory eraser had felt so real, even just revisiting it in Stan’s mind, and they seemed to be the trigger of his latest memory lapse. Would they have a similar effect within Ford’s own memory?

“Nothing I’ve been able to make sense of.”

Stan grit his teeth. “So what now? Just leave that jerk in my head?”

Ford sighed. “I want to do some more research into what we’ve learned so far. Perhaps a trip to the library will help me find some insight. But truthfully… I may have been too hasty with punching out Bill, when I encountered him. He’s a liar who can’t be trusted, but he’s also a braggart. If I’d just let him run his mouth a little longer, we may have learned something about what he’s up to.”

* * *

Longyearbyen’s library wasn’t any bigger than the public library in Gravity Falls, and had significantly fewer books relating to Bill and mind magic, but it did at least have access to several library databases that Ford couldn’t typically log into from the Stan’O’War II. (According to Fiddleford, these databases could be hacked into quite easily, but Ford didn’t have the time or the wherewithal to learn how) It would have to do for now. Ford took a seat at a computer, and with a little help from a librarian, he was soon scrolling through peer-reviewed articles from different archeologists and anthropologists and folklore experts and descendants of the Aztecs and Mayans debating who Xolotl was, what his role was in the Aztec religion, how much his lore changed from Pre- and Post- Colombian invasion, and so forth. 

What he’d learned so far was interesting, to say the least. The things that most people agreed upon was that Xolotl was a god of death, fire, and lightning. What caught Ford’s attention was the fact that they were also the god of twins and deformities. He glanced down at his twelve fingers, which rested awkwardly on the small keyboard meant for people with just ten. It seemed odd that Bill would call on this particular death god, when they seemed far more likely to be a patron to Stan and Ford. 

While Ford puzzled over this new information, Stan browsed the library, looking for something to entertain himself while he waited. Unsurprisingly, there weren’t a whole lot of English books in this Norwegian library. Luckily, it wasn’t long before he stumbled upon an extensive comics section. Even though he still couldn’t read most of them, the pictures were at least enough that he got the gist of what was going on.

 European comics were very different from American comics. They featured a lot less costumed superheroes punching bad guys and a lot more weird, quirky characters setting out on adventures and exploring the world. They also seemed to lean more heavily on comedy rather than drama. Stan decided he liked them.

He’d been looking at a story about some rich duck when he noticed he felt odd. He didn’t know how else to explain it other than to say that his brain felt itchy. The more he concentrated on it, the more it faded away, but when he went back to looking at the comic and got absorbed back into the story, it came back.

After almost an hour of the feeling coming and going, Stan decided he was not imagining the sensation. He stuffed a tissue into the comic as a bookmark and got up to see what Ford would have to say about it. Almost as soon as he laid eyes on his brother, a wave of anger washed over him. Just like the itchy brain feeling, it went away almost as soon as he stopped and thought about it, but it had been so strong, that he couldn’t deny it had happened.

“Hey.” Stan tapped his brother on the shoulder as the old researcher skimmed an article about why the Aztecs associated lightning with twins.

“Hmm?” Ford acknowledged him without looking away from the screen.

“Am I forgettin’ to be mad at you about somethin’?”

That got Ford to turn and look at him. “Are you having a memory lapse!?”

“I don’t think so, but just a second ago I looked over at you and I felt really mad all of a sudden. Can’t really think of a reason why, though. I’m just wondering if maybe the other day, when I had the big blank-out, maybe we missed somethin’?”

The old researcher’s face contorted with guilt. “You have ample reason to be mad at me. I didn’t stand up for you when dad kicked you out. I never reached out to you for over ten years. I expected you to drop everything and help me with my problems without any explanation. I refused to thank you for saving my life--”

“Yeah, no, none of that stuff.” Stan shook his head. “I remember all that stuff, and I’ve already forgiven you and junk. Mmmm… did you try to enchant the mop again and not let me remember it?” But even as he joked that the underlying reason must be the latest chapter in a minor argument, he knew that couldn’t be right. The sudden bloom of anger had been much more deep-seated and horrible than that. It had felt like… it had felt like Ford had ruined everything. 

To be fair, there had been a long period of Stan’s life when he had felt like Ford had ruined everything. But Stan was over that now, and this brief brush with anger had felt even more heated than that.

Ford gave him an appraising look. “Were there any other memories or emotions associated with this feeling?”

“Oh yeah, my brain was feelin’ itchy right before that.”

“Have… you been using shampoo?” Ford asked, unsure of what to do with this information.

“Not my scalp, genius, like the actual thinking part of my brain!”

“... I can’t even begin to guess what that means.”

“Ugh, I don’t know how else to describe it, ok? It’s like somethin’ was squirmin’ around in my mind!”

The brothers wore twin expressions of realization as the words left Stan’s mouth. 

“We need to get back to the boat.” Ford stood from the computer desk abruptly.

“Yep.” Stan set the comic he’d been reading down on the desk, not even bothering to remove his improvised bookmark. 

* * *

Bill throws his hands up and roars in frustration. He can’t seem to take control, even when the moron’s mind is zoning out, losing himself in some stupid comic book. He’s already in the mind! He’s been here for months! He knows his way around here. So why isn’t it working? Is it because he never made a deal with this guy? That shouldn’t matter! The last thing they did before the whole memory gun thing was shake hands! 

There's no time to waste complaining, though. Sixer will be poking around here any minute. Bill needs a plan. Before, he'd spent millions of years in the Nightmare Realm planning. Now he's making everything up as he goes.

It's clear that Bill can't just take control of Stan like he'd been counting on. But do the other two know that? He might still be able to use that to his advantage.

If Bill is going to trick these losers and get out of here, he needs to play his opponents right. Luckily, he's got years of experience fighting against Sixer. It's the Big Mackerel that he worries about. 

Before, Bill hadn't paid much attention to Stan. He thought he understood what made the simple con man tick. But then, in the end, he found he didn't understand at all. Even after months of being trapped in his mindscape, Stan is very much still a mystery to Bill.

But there is one thing about Stan that Bill does understand.

He’s willing to sacrifice himself for his family.

* * *

Once they were back aboard the Stan’O’War II, Stan allowed himself to relax, just a little. At least here his surroundings were familiar, and the only person he had to worry about was his own brother.

Under normal circumstances, “the only person he had to worry about” meant he didn’t have to look over his shoulder for law enforcement or old criminals who might recognize Stan from his drifter days. 

Today “the only person he had to worry about” meant the only person he could possibly endanger if Bill was able to take control of him. Ford was the last person Stan wanted to put in danger, but he also had to admit, his brother knew more about the demon than any other living being on the planet. 

Stan may have been able to relax a tiny fraction once they were back aboard their boat, but not Ford. Ford was in full-blown panic mode.

He frantically searched around the storage room for something, anything, that could help protect his brother from Bill. Unfortunately, they hadn’t thought to bring unicorn hair or moonstones on their voyage. He did have titanium, but he wasn’t confident enough in his emergency medical knowledge to perform cranial surgery on his own, and he doubted they’d be able to find a doctor crooked enough to do it for them. Currently, his best idea was to build an updated version of Project Mentem, but that would take time. Time he wasn’t sure Stan had.

“I can re-enter your mindscape and shatter him again.” Ford decided, pulling out the candles again. “That should at least buy you a few days.”

“Ok.” Stan nodded. He’d definitely prefer to know Bill was shattered again, and not moving around in his brain. “But it’s not like he’s doing anything right now.”

“He’s probably trying to get us to lower our guard.” Ford assumed. “I’ll need to tie you up. He usually makes his move while his victim is asleep.”

“If I need to fall asleep for your spell while tied up, we’re gonna be waitin’ a long time.” Stan warned. “I dunno if I could even fall asleep right now if I had the world’s most comfortable bed.”

“Fair point.” Ford nodded. “I may have to drug you.”

“You gotta be kidding me!” It was abundantly clear that Ford was not kidding in the slightest.

“Would you rather be used as his puppet!?” The old researcher shouted. The outburst rang in the air for a few seconds while Ford tried to steady his breathing. “Stan I… I’m sorry, I just--”

“It’s ok.” Stan pulled him into a hug and tried his best to calm his brother down. “I know you’re just scared.”

“I’m not scared for myself.” Ford explained in a small voice. “I’m scared for you. Waking up to find that you’ve hurt someone, it’s-- I wouldn’t wish that on anyone, least of all you--”

“Stanford, look at me. We’re not gonna let that happen. What if we do it while I’m awake, like we did with the memory before?”

Ford nodded meekly. “That… that could work.”

“You can still tie me up if that makes you feel better.”

The old researcher bit his lip. “...It shouldn't be necessary...”

“Ford.”

“...But it probably would ease some of my fears, yes.” he admitted.

“That’s what I thought. I’ll go get the rope.”

Still unwilling to let his brother out of his sight, Ford followed Stan up to the deck while he retrieved said rope. Once they were back below deck, he wrapped Stan tightly in a large blanket before sitting him down on a chair and tying him up, to ensure he was as comfortable as possible while still restricting his movement.

“How do you feel?” Ford asked as he lit the candles.

“Like I’m about to be shipped back to Oregon in the mail.”

“And Bill…?”

“I haven’t felt anything else from him since we left the library.”

The lack of activity should have reassured Ford, but instead it just added to his general unease. At least he was able to compose himself enough to perform the incantation.

Just as last time, after a flash of light, he found himself on the deck of Stan’s mindscape, with Stan himself standing beside him. This time, though, Bill was floating there, waiting for them.

“I KNEW YOU’D BE BACK HERE AFTER I GOT YOUR ATTENTION IN THE LIBRARY!” The demon taunted. “OH, AND LOOK. STANO HERE EVEN MADE A MENTAL CONSTRUCT OF HIMSELF WITHIN HIS OWN MIND JUST SO YOU WOULDN’T HAVE TO FACE ME ALONE! HOW CUTE!” He prodded Stan in the stomach like he was the Pillsbury Doughboy.

“Back off, bucko!” Stan threatened. “We’re here to break your whole face!”

“WHAT, YOU COULDN’T WAIT UNTIL TONIGHT TO DO IT IN YOUR DREAMS LIKE YOU ALWAYS DO?” Bill asked, voice dripping with false innocence. 

“We’re not able to risk the chance of you parading about in Stanley’s body.” Ford growled.

“HA! YOU SHOULD KNOW BETTER THAN ANYONE, FORDSY, I ONLY DO THAT TO STUBBORN KNOW-IT-ALLS WHO WON’T WORK WITH ME WILLINGLY.”

“If you think I’m gonna work with you willingly, then you’re an even bigger idiot than I thought.” Stan grunted.

“HEAR ME OUT, MAC! WE BOTH WANT THE SAME THING HERE! ME, OUT OF YOUR SAD PATHETIC MIND!”

“You can’t leave!?” Ford asked in surprise.

“WHAT, YOU THINK I ENJOY SPENDING TIME IN THIS BOZO’S MIND? YOU THINK I WAS PLOTTING MY REVENGE?”

“Honestly, yes.”

Bill gave a long, mocking laugh. “AHAHAHAHAHA! YOU REALLY THINK I CARE ABOUT A COUPLE OF INSIGNIFICANT FLESH SACKS LIKE YOU?”

“We’re the insignificant flesh sacks who killed you!” Stan reminded him.

“WELL, YOU KNOW WHAT THEY SAY. THE BEST REVENGE IS LIVING WELL.”

The brothers exchanged a suspicious glance. They highly doubted Bill actually believed that adage.

“BUT I CAN’T EXACTLY LIVE WELL TRAPPED IN YOUR MINDSCAPE. I MIGHT GET BORED AND DECIDE THE BEST REVENGE IS KILLING YOUR ENTIRE FAMILY WITH YOUR OWN HANDS.”

Ah yes, that was more along the lines of what they expected from Bill.

“So you’re saying you’ll just let bygones be bygones if I cooperate with you?” Stan asked skeptically. 

“WE’LL GO OUR SEPARATE WAYS, NEVER TO MEET AGAIN!”

“And what are you planning on doing once you’re free?” Ford asked coldly.

“NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS, SIXER.” The demon waved him off. “NOW ARE YOU GONNA HELP ME OUT OF HERE OR NOT? THE SOONER THE BETTER. YOU TWO AREN’T GETTING ANY FURTHER AWAY FROM THE AVERAGE LIFE EXPECTANCY OF A HUMAN MALE, AND FISH FACE HERE DOESN'T EXACTLY TAKE GOOD CARE OF HIS BODY.”

“Hey!” Stan shouted indignantly.

“Why should Stan’s life expectancy factor into this?” Ford asked.

“HMMM? OH, NO REASON.” Bill said evasively. “I’M JUST, Y’KNOW, IN A HURRY.”

“You’re an immortal, extradimensional being. You’ve been trying to find a way out of the nightmare realm since before multicellular life developed on this planet. If you’re so sure we’re close to the end of our lives, why not wait until we’re out of the way? You must realize we’ll try and stop you from starting Weirdmaggedon again!” Ford reasoned.

“WHO SAID ANYTHING ABOUT STARTING WEIRDMAGGEDON AGAIN?” Bill denied. “AND MAYBE AFTER A BILLION YEARS, I’M TIRED OF WAITING!”

“Unless you aren’t immortal any more.” the old researcher concluded.

“YOU’VE SEEN FOR YOURSELF, FORDSY, EVERY TIME YOU OR YOUR IDIOT BROTHER SHATTER ME, I PULL MYSELF BACK TOGETHER.”

“Immortal in the mind, perhaps. But what happens when the mind you’re occupying finally dies?”

“ALRIGHT, YOU FIGURED IT OUT!” Bill sneered. “I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN A GENIUS LIKE YOU WOULD. YEAH, MY LIFE’S TIED TO THE BIG MACKEREL’S NOW. SO WHAT? YOU GONNA KILL YOUR BROTHER JUST TO GET RID OF ME?”

“Of course not!” Ford barked.

“Hey, I’d be more than happy to take you down with me if it meant making sure you never hurt anyone else ever again!” Stan challenged the demon.

Ford stared at his brother with wide eyes. “Stanley, no!”

“Hey, relax, I’m not talkin’ suicide or anything.” Stan assured him. “But he’s right about one thing. I’m not gonna live forever.”

I’ll only do it if I have to. A stray thought cawed overhead.

Stan cussed under his breath as Ford gaped at him with a mix of alarm and pity.

“I’m not gonna take it back.” Stan insisted after a moment. “If that’s what it comes down to, to keep him from hurtin’ you or the kids, then I’m taking him down with me.”

Ford placed his hands firmly on Stan’s shoulders and looked him straight in the eye with all the intensity he could muster. “We won’t let that happen!” 

Bill laughed at them cruelly. “RIGHT, CUZ YOU’VE HAD SO MUCH SUCCESS STOPPING ME IN THE PAST.”

“I’ll find some other way!” Ford insisted.

“I’M SURE YOU COULD, WITH TIME.” Bill agreed. “BUT I’M GONNA STRANGLE YOU IN YOUR SLEEP BEFORE THEN!”

Not if I strangle myself first! Another one of Stan’s stray thoughts called.

Ford gave his brother a frustrated shake. “No! Stanley, I swear to you, that won’t be necessary!”

“Alright, that’s it. We’re not havin’ this conversation in my brain, where you can hear all my unprocessed thoughts.” Stan decided.

Suddenly, Ford’s form and everything around them flickered and began to fade to white. Stan and Bill were the only ones who remained solid and whole. Stan was waking up? But he’d never been asleep before the spell in the first place!

“Don’t you try any funny business!” Stan pointed an accusing finger at Bill. “I’m coming back to shatter you into a million smaller pieces as soon as I fall asleep tonight!”

[a-solitary-marshmallow]

Rewind Chapter 5 - Finding Stan

Ford’s hands were shaking as he dialed. He clutched at the phone, whispering “Come on, come on!” with every ring.

Finally, on the sixth ring, there was a click. “Stanford?”

“Is Stanley with you?” Ford rushed out. There was a hesitation from the other side of the line.

“I… no, Stanley’s not-” Fiddleford’s voice turned shrill. “Ford, ya lost yer brother???”

“No! I, well. Yes? I don’t know, Fiddleford, he was here when I went down to the basement but now he’s gone and I’ve searched the whole house, he’s not here!”

“How long were you gone for?” Fiddleford demanded.

“Only a few hours.”

“A few-” Fiddleford spluttered. “Ya shoulda just had me stay if you were gonna leave ‘im alone again!”

“I didn’t mean to leave him for so long, I lost track of time! F, please.”

Fiddleford groaned. “Alright, alright. Here’s what we’re gonna do. You’re gonna start searchin’ the woods around your house. I’m gonna ask around town, see if ‘e came down here. And we’ll call when one of us finds ‘im. Alright?”

“Yes. Yes, thank you.” Ford stammered.

Fiddleford hung up with a click, leaving Ford alone. Ford made it outside before realizing he wasn’t wearing a jacket and it was freezing outside, he needed to get his jacket – and something for Stan too. Had Stan taken a jacket? No, of course not, Ford didn’t have one that would fit him which meant the child was alone and underdressed in the snow and even if nothing else happened to him he could still freeze to death. How could Ford have left him alone?

“Hey Ford, look what I got!”

“Not now, Stanley.” Ford waved his hand dismissively at the approaching child, unwilling to be pulled away from his panic as he paced on the front porch. There was no time to be distracted, not while his brother was in danger–

Wait.

“STANLEY!”

Stan let out a little yelp as Ford grabbed him, snatching his brother tight against him. Stan had come from the forest, judging by the trail of footprints leading from the tree line. He was shivering in Ford’s arms. Ford barged through the door and slammed it shut behind him, placing his brother on the living room carpet to inspect him.

“Geez, Ford! I’m fine!” Stan whined. A jacket far too big for him was bunched up around him and his feet were shoved into a pair of Ford’s boots (resourceful, a part of Ford noted) but he was still snow-dusted and shivering.

“Where were you? Do you have any idea how worried I was?” Ford demanded. “What were you doing out there?”

Stan laughed, showing a mouth with less teeth than there used to be. “I got fairy dust from a gnome! ‘Course, then the other unicorns saw me and I had to skedaddle, but I got the hair!” He brandished it in one fist triumphantly.

“Other unicorns – but – she said she was the last –” Ford shook his head quickly to clear it. “Never mind. Are you hurt?” Ford pulled his brother closer to inspect him, Stan wriggling and whining as he did so. His face and arms were all scratched up and his lower lip was swollen, a trickle of dried blood down his chin from when a tooth must have been knocked out. His jaw was beginning to darken in a nasty-looking bruise. “Stanley, what happened?”

“I toldja! One of the unicorns got me in the face but I got outta there quick. You were right Ford, unicorns are jerks. I take back everything I said about liking ‘em. And now you’ve got the hair you can do your spell thing, right?”

For the first time Ford comprehended the clump of shimmering rainbow hair in his brother’s tiny fist. “You… you got the hair?”

Stan nodded happily. “Yeah! You said you needed it and that unicorns are mean, and your book said how to find them. So I got it for you.” He held it out with a huge gap-toothed grin. Ford could do nothing but stare.

Slowly Stan’s grin crept away, one arm wrapping around himself self-consciously.

“Ford? Did – did I do something wrong?”

All at once life returned to Ford’s limbs and he forced himself into action, offering a small smile and carefully prying the unicorn hair from Stan’s fist. “No, Stanley. Well – you should have told me where you were going. In fact, you shouldn’t have gone out alone at all.” Stan shrunk a little. “But this is very helpful, so overall I would say you did rather well. Provided we don’t make this a repeat performance.”

“…so I’m not in trouble?”

“No, you’re not in trouble.” Ford didn’t even know what that would look like. Stan wasn’t in his right mind – Ford had to be extremely gentle with him right now. He had no idea what disciplinary measures would do to the wobbly balance they had struck.

And anyway, he was too elated to be angry for long. They had the hair, which meant Ford could protect his house from Bill and finally get some much-needed sleep. Once he was rested he would be able to come up with a game plan to defeat the one-eyed menace once and for all.

Ford straightened up, dusting the last few snowflakes from his brother’s hair. “I have a barrier to set up. Now, where did I put those moonstones?” A stray thought hit him. “Oh yes, I should call Fiddleford and let him know that you’re safe. He… will not be pleased with me.”

“Fidds is here?” Stan perked up.

“No, not here. I’ll call him in a moment, once we construct this barrier. Would you like to help me?”

“Sure!” Stan beamed at him again. Ford took a moment to study his brother’s rudimentary snow protection (boots and a jacket too big for him, evidently fished out of Ford’s closet, with sleeves rolled up to half length and still dropping down over his hands, and huge boots threatening to slip off with every step). Stan was lucky the ensemble held up during his escapade into unicorn territory. Those horns were sharp – who knew what the unicorns could have done if Stanley had stuck around?

But Stan had done it for a reason, and that reason was currently clutched in Ford’s hand. He shook his head quickly to clear it and hurried to collect the other ingredients he would need. Once the ingredients were assembled Ford grabbed the glue and rushed out to set up the barrier, Stan hot on his heels.

“See, we need to glue the hair down here – like so – to form a ring around the house. This way Bill cannot enter.”

“Mmkay.” Stan peered around him to watch as Ford began pasting down the unicorn hairs. “Uh, who’s Bill?”

Dang it. Ford sighed. Well, he would have to tell Stanley at some point, it may as well be now… “He’s – a very dangerous person, Stan. This barrier is going to protect us from him. He won’t be able to cross it.”

Stan frowned down at the fine line of rainbow hairs. “…are ya sure about that? Seems pretty easy to get past to me.”

“I’m very sure. Bill isn’t human, like you and I. He’s a demon. A dream demon, to be precise.”

“Oh! Is he that guy with yellow eyes you were talkin’ about? The one I’m not supposed to make deals with?”

Ford shifted to the next spot, talking as he worked. “Yes, exactly. Bill is a very powerful entity who claims to be a benevolent muse, but anything he says he will give you is a lie. Do you know those stories Ma used to tell us, the ones where people would make deals with the devil and they’d get everything they asked for, but in some twisted, sick way?” Stan nodded. “That’s Bill.”

“…oh. Okay.”

Ford worked in silence for quite some time before his brother spoke up again.

“Hey, Ford?”

“Yes Stanley?” Ford didn’t look up from gluing down the unicorn hair.

“We don’t go sailing, do we?”

Ford very nearly froze. As it was, he continued to construct the barrier as his mind raced to come up with an appropriate answer.

He doubted that Stan would accept a lie and be placated – Ford was a terrible liar and Stan always seemed to know when he wasn’t being honest. He’d have to tell the truth. He could only hope that his brother wouldn’t throw a fit at having his childish dream denied.

“…no. We don’t go sailing.” Ford said carefully.

“Oh.” Stan paused. “Does the Stan O’ War get out of Jersey at least?”

“No. It was too small, anyway; by the time we grew large enough to sail it was far too small to support us in the open ocean.”

“You are pretty big.” With that Stan nodded thoughtfully and went back to watching Ford construct the barrier. Ford waited for more questions, but… that was it? He’d expected a larger reaction.

Ford cleared his throat. “Forgive me, Stanley, but at this age…” In reality it was at any age but Stan didn’t need to know that, “I thought you would be more upset.” Stan sent him an odd look, and Ford elaborated. “The two of us sailing away on a boat has always been your dream.”

Stan rolled his eyes. “Well, duh, but it’s not about the boat.”

Ford blinked. “It’s… not?”          

“No! C’mon ya dummy, treasure’s cool and all, but I just wanna do something with you!” Stan grinned and punched him lightly. “It’s okay that we don’t go sailing because we get to do this! Whatever ‘this’ is.” He shrugged. “Monster hunting…? Monster-science-people. Science – tology? Scientology?”

Ford clapped a hand over his brother’s mouth. “Nope, nope, that’s already a thing and we do not speak of it. Try again.”

Stan giggled and shoved his hand away. “Ugh, you know what I mean! This thing!” He waved wildly at the woods around them. “Stuff with unicorns and cool creepy labs and – whatever that thing is.” He pointed to a gnome waddling out of the underbrush. “Holy – Sixer, what is that? Is that one of those gnomes from your book?”

“Yes it is. They’re relatively harmless so long as you don’t interfere with their queen or try to steal their hats. They’re rather sensitive about the hats.”

With Stan occupied with the gnomes, Ford was able to quickly finish setting up the barrier. As the final piece fell into place an iridescent sheen flickered across the house, a smattering of symbols glowing across the shimmering barrier before it faded into the air from whence it came. Ford let out a shaky breath of relief.

“There. Bill won’t be able to reach us inside.”

Stan clomped up to him in too-big boots, a couple brown beard hairs clutched in his fist. “Hey Sixer, does gnome hair work too?”

“No. Now come inside and wash your hands, you don’t know where that’s been.” Ford placed a hand on his brother’s back to hurry him along but the screeching of brakes made him tense. It was only when he recognised Fiddleford’s beaten-up buggy zooming into view that he allowed himself to relax. Though… Fiddleford was travelling quite fast for his regular, cautious style of driving. The buggy pulled up sharply and a disheveled-looking Fiddleford clambered out, red in the face.

“Fidds!” Stan called out happily. Fiddleford stomped over and Ford began to feel like a zebra watching a fast-approaching lion. He… probably should have called earlier to let his friend know that Stanley was safe.

Fiddleford let out a gasp when he noticed the child’s bruised face. “My word – Stanley, are ya alright? Ya look like ya went head-to-head with a feral cat!”

Stan beamed up at the man, who seemed to flinch when he noticed the missing tooth. “I’m fine, you should see the other guy!”

“…I’m sure he’s hurtin’.” Fiddleford sent Ford a glare, which – yeah, he probably deserved. Ford coughed awkwardly.

“Yes. I apologize for not calling you earlier. I had to set up the barrier as soon as possible…” He rubbed the back of his neck at the dry stare he received. “And I’m sorry for waking you up. No one is hurt, so you can go back home-”

“I’m not leavin’ you two alone again!” Fiddleford scolded. “Not if yer just gonna get into more trouble. No, I’m stayin’ right here until this age debacle is over, understood?”

“…Understood.” Ford echoed. “But – can we at least go inside first, where it’s safe?”

Fiddleford nodded and then turned to Stan, who had taken a nervous step back at the tension in the air. He relaxed slightly at the kind, if somewhat brittle, smile Fiddleford sent his way.

“Let’s get out of the cold, shall we?”

 _______________________________________________________________

Sleep had been a luxury Ford had not been able to afford for weeks. Luckily, that meant that as soon as he relaxed and his head hit the pillow, he was out like a light. By the time he awoke the clock by his bed read eight-twenty in the evening and his window was dark.

Ford stretched, yawning hard as his mind slowly surfaced from thick, dreamless slumber. For a moment panic struck him and he sat bolt-upright in bed – before the memories of that morning trickled through and he remembered the barrier.

We’re safe. Bill can’t get to me. Stan and Fiddleford and I are safe.

Speaking of the others, there was clattering going on across the house that sounded promisingly like pots and pans being moved. Ford’s stomach grumbled at him.

The sleep must have done him some good at least because at least his head wasn’t complaining anymore – his constant headache was all but gone. Even better, his mind no longer felt fuzzy and vague. In fact he could probably recite the digits of pi right now without getting dizzy! Ford did so in his mind as he made his way to the kitchen.

Fiddleford looked up from stirring a pot of soup as Ford approached. “Ah, Stanford. Come on and get some dinner, yer right on time. Stanley here was just tellin’ me about the unicorns.”

On a chair at the kitchen table, Stanley seemed to be in the middle of a dramatic reenactment, which – for some reason – involved a butterfly net, the saltshaker, and a too-big Hawaiian shirt.

“-so the gnome police have this thing about butterflies, right? Hi Ford! Okay, so this Smell-ulock guy let me borrow his net if I caught his escaped squirrel, and that took forever but I got the net – I gotta give that back to him at some point – and man Fidds, butterflies are hard to catch!”

Ford settled down at the table with a bowl of soup, letting the chatter wash over him. The rich, savoury scent made his mouth water. Before he realized it he’d already bolted half of it down, mouth and throat burning slightly from the scalding temperature. Fiddleford ‘tsk’ed.

“Didja sleep alright?” The other man asked once Ford paused to take a breath.

“Quite well, thank you. Having the barrier up is a welcome relief.”

“That barrier means the triangle guy can’t mess with our heads anymore, right?” Stan sat down in his chair with a plop, dropping his assorted props on the table. Ford nodded in affirmation.

“Right.”

“So what does unicorn hair have against demons anyway?” Stan asked curiously. Ford swallowed his last spoonful of soup and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before speaking.

“It acts as a protective force against evil and those with ill-intent.”

“So, if I went to punch someone but they had a bunch a’ unicorn hair, it would stop me?”

“Erm – not quite. It can help to ward against demons, though.” Stan opened his mouth to ask another question but Ford beat him to it with the answer. “It seems to have a kind of purpose and sentience, to be able to target demons and mind-invaders specifically, but I haven’t been able to study it before now so I haven’t the foggiest idea how or why.”

“But it hurts demons, right? Like Bill!” Stan jumped up on his chair again and flung a punch at some imaginary foe. “Can’t you just use your smarts to make a giant unicorn-hair-laser-gun-missile-launcher thing? And then we’ll blow ‘im right outta the sky!”

Ford snorted at his brother’s exuberance. “If only it were that simple. Unicorn hair isn’t the only ingredient in the barrier spell; there’s moonstone and mercury as well, and anyway, the whole thing merely acts as a shield. It might be able to do some damage to Cipher if I alter the formula and substitute… hmm, foxglove?” Yes, that could theoretically work, especially if he combined spells. “But there’s no way to deliver the final product to him, he’s too slippery. We’d need to manufacture some kind of… gun…”

Ford stopped.

“…actually, that might work.”

[gravityfallsgarbagecan]

Waiting in the Shadows AU

In summary, Bill bides his time and waits to activate the portal, after all, what's a few decades to an immortal being? (this is kinda long so be prepared)

Everything that happened in Stan and Fords childhood is the same, Stan accidentally breaks Ford's project and he is kicked out. Ford goes to Backupsmore and meets Fiddleford and goes to Gravity Falls to study anomalies. He writes the journals and summons Bill honestly just to see if it was real. Ford still works with Bill but doesn't let him take over his body, he wants to be the one to make it, pride and stuff. After Fiddleford falls in, Ford decides the portal is (a bit) dangerous, puts it on pause, and calls Stan to help hide the journals. 

When Stan comes he and Ford talk it out and Stan talks some sense into him. Not wanting the years of work to go to waste, Ford doesn't destroy the portal, but he does shut it down and hides his journals*. Stan and Ford repair their relationship for the most part, and it takes a while, close to 30 years (wow, would you look at that). The twins come and Ford lets Dipper look through his journal. Dipper wants to go on adventures so he uses the copier to have his own journal to go on monster hunts with (and add his own things). Him and Mabel hid it from their Grunkles and went on adventures themselves. The show mostly follows canon,(Gideon doesn't have a journal though, so no dreamscapers, but he does still try to steal the shack instead by working with Mcgucket to build a giant robot (to “promote the Tent O’ Telepathy”) and the twins stop him. 

*He rewrites just the anomalies from all 3 books into one and destroys the original ones, most of his research is safe and the notes and blueprints of the portal are gone, win-win situation.. Mostly. 

Dipper and Mabel decide to tell Stan and Ford about the copy of the journal after the zombie incident (BAMF Stan, Ford is still a lil nerd since he was never in the multiverse). Stan understands (he would have done the same thing, let's be honest) and Ford is a bit upset, but he saw how well the kids handled everything and let them hang onto it. 

It's around here that Bill decides he’s waited long enough and wants to get Ford to complete the portal and turn it on. (at this point Ford doesn't think Bill is /evil/ but he is a little wary of trusting him, unlike at the beginning).  Bill goes to Ford in the mindscape and tells him that after 30 years he still isn't famous, and that he knows it's his dream. Bill is SUPER manipulative and convinces Ford to make the deal to take over his body and complete the portal. Ford doesn't tell any of this to Stan, and instead sneaks down to the basement at night to work on it. After a few days of this, Ford is sleep deprived enough that Bill takes over at night to work on the portal. 

Bill is less careful than Ford, and Stan figures out something is up, but doesn't know exactly what. He looked through the journal but all the pages about Bill were not added so he can't figure out what is happening, but he will still figure out how to stop… whatever it is.

Stan confronts Ford about it and Ford denies anything happening, he just has interesting research that's been keeping him up and Stan is worried about pushing Ford too much, especially in his sleep deprived state, so he tells Ford to just go sleep some. Bill knows he’s gotta hurry up before Stan puts a stop to him, so when Ford goes to nap Bill takes over and hurrys to start up the portal. 

Later when Stan goes to check on Ford (to make sure he's actually sleeping) he finds Bill in the basement working on starting up the portal Stan thought had been destroyed. He gets upset at “Ford” for not destroying it earlier and trying to figure out wtf is going on. Bill tells him he is Ford's muse he summoned to help him become famous because Stan was “holding him back from greatness” and all the mean things Ford was thinking when Stan was kicked out. Stan gets pissed but doesn't want to hurt his brother. Bill chooses this moment to bounce, so Stan has to deal with an unconscious brother and a demon trying to start up the portal. (at this point Stan doesn't know why the portal is dangerous, just that it is, especially if that creep is trying to start it.)

When Ford wakes up Stan tries to talk to him but just ends in a huge fight between them. Ford goes to sulk in the basement, and Bill uses their fight to get Ford to finish starting the portal. The kids know something is wrong after the fight and try to get them to hug it out. Stan is stubborn and doesn't want to talk to Ford, at least for a bit, so they decided to try and talk to Ford themselves. Stan is a responsible grunkle and goes with them, not trusting Fo Bill. They find Ford starting the portal, and a scene very similar to NWHS happens. Stan is at the button and Ford is pleading with him to keep it on. Stan doesn't want to, but he still trusts his brother. 

The portal causes weirdmageddon and everyone is too shocked to be pissed at first, but Stan is pissed that his trust resulted in this, and Ford is pissed that Bill lied to him (who'da thunk!) The younger twins have to deal with both the apocalypse and their grunkles fighting. There is no unicorn barrier around the shack, so it is no longer a safe place. Dipper and Mabel get Ford and Stan to stop fighting long enough to figure out how to stop Bill. He tells them of the zodiac so they have to work together to get everyone together. They split up into two teams, Mabel with Stan and Ford with Dipper. They go to find everyone in the zodiac, surviving in the throws of the apocalypse (similar to Dipper in canon). As soon as everyone from the zodiac are together Bill figures out he cannot leave Gravity Falls, and goes to kidnap Ford. He tries to just get the equation himself but since hsi deal was “Now till the end of time” and in weirdmageddon “time is dead” the deal is no longer in place and Bill can't get it. 

Everyone else (zodiac members and survivors) are trying to come up with a plan and Mcgucket's idea is a giant robot. Gideon suggests using the Gideon Bot since it's only moderately destroyed rather than starting from scratch. Stan is very unenthusiastic to help (his brother kinda betrayed him and he's salty and stubborn) but he doesn't get in the way or anything, he knows he still cares, even if he doesn't want to. 

The rescue mission goes well, they arrive faster than canon and see Ford being tortured for the equation. Stan feels a bit guilty at this point, the relization that if he pressed that stupid button none of this would have happened hit him and now he hates himself more (he could never hate Ford, no matter what he does). The Gideon Bot distracts Bill enough to free Ford and get the zodiac set up. Without a barrier protecting the robot it is defeated much quicker and Bill stops the zodiac before they can get Stan to join (he’s really salty at Ford, and Ford isn't exactly happy with Stan either. Ford doesn't want to blame himself so he blames Stan just a bit). 

Bill captures them like in canon and the twins distract him while the grunkles come up with a plan to stop him. Since Ford doesn't have a plate in his head they don't switch, Stan just has to effectively kill his brother after he starts the apocalypse. Logically both of them know this is the only way to save the kids- and the world- but it doesn't make it any easier. Stan still suggests they switch, “Your mind is useful, Sixer, mine's never been good for nothing”. Ford pauses for a sec and actually considers it, everything Bill said, everything that happened, but Ford still cares about his brother, and will not let him take the fall for his mistakes. No matter what happens, Ford can't hate his brother, and he still cares about him regardless. 

Ford makes the deal and Stan erases him, the pyramid falls and weirdmageddon is over. Stan feels even more guilty now, he enabled the apocalypse and then killed his brother to end it. They find Ford and he doesn't know who they are (this follows canon). Mabel and Dipper drag them back to the shack (which has been repaired since Weirdmageddon) and try to get his memories back. (“Remember when we played DD&D? Or going on monster hunts?” “Or when I showed you how to knit? The time I made your hand into a hand turkey?”) Stan is in the corner hating himself, but he doesn't want to show it to the kids. 

Ford gets his memory back and offers to sail with Stan (I love sea grunks, okay? I want them to live out their childhood dreams like the sappy old men they are) and Stan of course says yes (it's the least he can do after erasing his brother). 

On the boat Stan still feels bad about everything that happened, but he and Ford actually talk like functioning humans and Ford explains his deal with Bill better so Stan can better understand what happened. They get to live their dreams and get a happy end cause it's what they deserve!

[detectivejigsawpines]

ORN-Part 15 (Taking a STANd)

I’m not gonna lie to you people: you’re probably really not gonna like the ending of this next chapter.  Just trust me on this.

Stan barely had time to let out an anguished scream that seemed to come from the very depths of his soul, and jump back to his feet from where he’d fallen, before this thing that was clearly not Dan Corduroy grabbed Ford by his hair, jerking his head back; he yanked the knife out of Ford’s shoulder (not good not good not good Stan had been stabbed there before, and while it was better than a gut wound he knew there were still some important veins and arteries and things in shoulders Ford needed a doctor right now) and placed it against Ford’s throat.

“How’s about you come on in with us, Stanley?” he asked, still grinning.  And now Stan recognized Bill’s voice, even though he had no idea how it was possible, but it was so hard to think about it one way or another when every thought in his head was busy shrieking FORD FORD FORD FORD’S HURT HELP FORD-

Slowly he followed Bill and Ford into the cabin, relieved that the wound wasn’t spraying or leaking extensively, so at least no arteries had been punctured.  Once they were all the way inside Bill kicked the door shut with his boot, and then dragged Ford, who was getting paler by the second and starting to loll his head backwards, towards a large wooden chair set up next to the table.  He didn’t take the knife from his throat until he’d sat Ford down, and even then it was just to grab a few coils of rope off the table and tie him to the chair (which Stan thought was more than a little ridiculous-there was no way his brother was going anywhere on his own right now).

Stan stepped towards them; instantly the knife was on his brother’s throat again.

“He needs to have that looked at!” Stan protested.  “Please!  I can’t-”

He swallowed a little, despite his determination not to show weakness in front of this freak.

It should have been me.  It’s my fault.  I need to fix it.

Bill sighed, rolling his eyes.  “Stupid fragile flesh sticks, can’t handle losing a little blood,” he muttered, twirling the knife in irritation.  But eventually he conceded, “There’s a med kit over there,” pointing to a corner where indeed, Stan saw a very large kit.  He snatched it, and occupied himself when he returned with cleaning and bandaging Ford’s shoulder.

He ignored Bill breathing down his neck, lightly slapping his brother’s cheek a few times after he’d finally pasted together the mess as best he could.

“Ford?  Stanford?  Hey, don’t go away now, you gotta stay with me.  We’ve got a bit of a problem, and you’re the brains here, Poindexter, so you gotta stay awake and figure out how ta fix it, ya hear me?”

Ford’s eyes, glazed with pain behind their glasses, tried their best to focus.  They settled on him for a moment, then glanced over his shoulder, and widened with fear.

Stan peered in the same direction; Bill instantly lowered his borrowed hands and stuck his tongue back in his mouth, grinning innocently at him.

“Done now?”

Stan gave a tiny shrug.  “I’ve done all I know how ta do.”

“Good.”  Bill yanked up another chair and flung himself into it.  “Then let’s talk business, shall we?”

****

“I mighta known you were the one I’d need ta deal with,” Bill said, crossing one leg over the other knee and using the knife blade to start cleaning his nails.  “Cuz Fordsy, he’s got his head stuck in his mysteries, so he’d believe anything I said as long as I told him how smart he was; he doesn’t remember the outside world even exists mosta the time.  But you-you’re a man of the world, Stanley, and I respect you for that-”

“What did you do ta Corduroy?”  Stan wasn’t in the mood for this freak’s flattery BS.

“Oh, you mean my meat puppet?”  Bill smoothed his fingers over the flannel shirt in a way that made Stan distinctly uncomfortable.  “Turns out you give a guy a nice enough dream about his girlfriend, she can ask him to do a-ny-thing you want.  Am I right?”  He cackled, and winked like he was inviting Stan to get in on the joke.

Stan gave him a glare of disgust.

“Oh, get your mind out of the gutter, they were just on a picnic in the woods!  And she asked him ta help her out with a favor, and he said he’d do anything for her, so she said-” he made his voice even more high and twittering- “‘Thank you, Dan, I know I can count on you, you big strong man!’  And then she held out her hand for him to help her up, and-”

“Get ta the point.”

“The point?  The point is, I wanna hire you!”

Stan blinked, more than a little nonplussed.

Bill groaned.  “Didn’t you ever watch It’s a Wonderful Life?  You’d relate to it, the main guy’s kinda like you.  Thinks the world would be better off if he’d never been born.  But you’re right, I digress.”  He leaned forward.  “I need Ford to do a job for me, and you’re gonna be the incentive for him to do it.”

“What kind of job?”  Stan put a protective hand on Ford’s non-stabbed shoulder.

“I want him to build something!  Just a neat little project that’ll let me into your world with a physical body of my very own, so I don’t have to keep borrowing other people’s!”  Bill spread his hands with yet another wide grin.  Then, just as abruptly, he glared.  “I was going to pull him into this gradually, get him invested in the idea through a process, but then you butted in with all your questions and just spoiled everything like always, and that means we gotta do it like this.  So here’s the deal-” he reached out and flicked Ford’s kneecap.  “Is everyone paying attention?”

Ford groaned, and shifted away.  To Stan’s relief, though he still looked dazed, he appeared to be a little more awake now.

“Good.  As I was saying, here’s the deal: he does what I say, and I’ll let you live, since in this dimension he still cares about you.”

Dimension?  What’s he talking about?

“You do what I say, and I’ll let him keep all his limbs.  I’ll even spare you both after Weirdmageddon happens, and you can go sail around the world like you’ve always dreamed of!  How’s that sound?”

Stan had a few choice words to describe how that sounded, even if he had no idea what ‘Weirdma-what-now’ was.  He refrained, however, instead reaching into his coat pocket for the other thing he’d taken out of his duffel earlier: his gun.  Which he pointed right at Bill.

Bill blinked-and then cackled scornfully.

“Oh, good try, Stanley, really cute-but no dice.  You try using that, you’re just gonna kill the meat puppet, you won’t get rid of me.  And I wonder how the locals are gonna feel about you murdering one of their own-you really that eager to go back to prison?”  He stood up and actually pressed his chest right up against the barrel of the gun, waggling his eyebrows in challenge.

Stan’s hand trembled with rage...before he lowered the gun.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.  Put it away like a good boy so I can get you settled in.”  And he picked up another coil of rope, obviously intending to tie him up too.

But Stan stood still, mind racing.

“Stan-ley, I’m not playing games here!”  Bill’s voice became sharp with impatience.  “Well, okay, I am playing games, but they’re gonna get a whole lot less fun for you if you keep trying to defy me!”

“I just wanna get something straight.”  Stan’s voice, by contrast, was quite soft (by his standards anyway).  “You wanna use me as a hostage so Ford’ll do what you want?”

“You need me to draw a diagram?” Bill demanded.  “Chop chop, h-wait, what?!”

Because Stan raised his arm again-and pointed the gun at his own temple.

****

...I warned you.

[fordanoia]

This Is What Dreams Are Made Of

Words: 1,900~ || CW: — || The parallel fic to ‘Hey Now, Hey Now.’ This time, Mabel’s Dream Bubble - But if Stan had been there for it. Following shortly after Wendy and Soos leave with their dream bubble father and friends.

-

“Hey, listen kid - go find Wendy, I’ll round up Soos. Let him play catch for five minutes then get him back, easy.”

Dipper nodded and set off.

Stan sighed, walked along for a while until he heard a familiar voice happily calling out for him.

“Stanley!”

“Ford?” He turned, seeing his brother hopping off a boat in the middle of the bouncy ground floor.

“Oh, so much for being captured, let me guess you already made it out, huh. This was exactly why I tried telling everyone to not even bother.” Stan gestured at him. “Congratulations on rescuing yourself.”

Ford’s face turned a bit sad, but there was no bitter or angry expression. “Stanley, listen I-”

“Wait a damn second, you’re from this bubble, aren’t you?” Stan interrupted.

Ford paused, shrugging. “Well- yes, but I-”

“Oh, isn’t that just great.” He crossed his arms over each other. “Gotta deal with an apocalypse and another version of you.”

Ford frowned, walking over to him and putting a hand on his shoulder. “Please, give me a chance.”

“For what?” Whatever it was, he wasn’t looking forward to it.

“To tell you I was wrong.” Ford said.

“...what?” Stan blinked at him.

“Yes.” Ford took a breath. “You were right, Stanley, and I should have realized that beforehand. I never even thanked you for saving me.”

“Ya still haven’t actually.” Stan couldn’t help pointing out, and as soon as it slipped out he was ready for the jaded reply.

Instead, Ford half laughed, smiling. “An accurate assessment... Thank you, Stanley. I wouldn’t have ever gotten back home if it wasn’t for you.”

Stan’s chest felt a bit lighter, but not by much. “That’s great and all, but it’s a load of bull.” He said crossing his arms. “That punch in the face is a good enough reminder here that the great Stanford Pines isn’t grateful for me rescuing his butt.”

“That was wrong of me. There was a lot going on why I acted that way, but that’s no excuse... Not after you spent the past thirty years working every night to get me back.”

“Talking like you’re supposed to be him, huh.”

“Well, technically speaking, I am. Just a different version, like you said.”

Stan’s face pulled into a deep frown, and he didn’t say anything to that.

The silence held for a few seconds, then Ford continued, changing the subject. “Are you looking for Wendy and Soos?”

He shrugged. “Finding Soos is easy enough, just gonna go and grab Wendy. Convincing them to come along won’t be hard. Just gotta tell them to get off their butts and stop playing around.”

“That makes sense, they’ll listen to you, I’m sure.”

“Yeah,” Stan’s voice started to rise, sarcasm quickly filtering in until it was dripping from every word, “that’s the easy part. The hard part is trying and talking to Mabel, you know. Thanks to that oh so great and generous apprenticeship you offered Dipper!” He finally shot a scathing look at Ford.

When he didn’t say anything, just looking back at him with a slight look of guilt on his face - Stan continued.

“Thanks for that, by the way. I asked you to do ONE thing.” He held up a finger. “Just one- stay away from the kids, and look what you’ve done! I’ve never seen a pair of siblings get along like that before, but lo and behold you’re around one of ‘em for what? A couple weeks - and just look!” Stan let his frustration build, gesturing around roughly before jabbing a finger at Ford’s chest. It wasn’t really Ford so he didn’t have to hold back a single bit.

Everything poured out of him like the toxic waste stewing away in containers of the basement. “Of course, you’d split them up, Ford. You probably don’t even see what’s wrong with it. I should never have let Dipper hang around you.”

“I figured, hey - what’s the worst that could happen? You’d keep him safe at least, right? Kid’s been around enough spookums, he at least knows when something’s too dangerous. You cared enough about the kids, didn’t you? Enough that they’d be fine for a couple weeks, but no.”

“This is why I didn’t want you anywhere near the kids. I knew if it wasn’t one thing, it’d be another.”

“It wasn’t my intention, I’m sorry.” Ford told him genuinely.

Stan scoffed, contempt freely bubbling up his throat. “Because of you Mabel would rather live here than go out in the real world without a brother. She didn’t deserve this, you hear me.” His voice had been simmering, but like a switch had been flipped he started yelling in Ford’s face again - anger boiling over.

“She’s TWELVE years old, and she’s already losing her brother- because of you, Stanford!” He jabbed a finger at him again, walking towards him and making Ford take a couple steps back as he shouted. “This is all your fault! You’re ruining their lives! I should never have brought you back, damn it!” At that he roughly shoved him so hard, that it was a miracle he didn’t actually fall over.

Ford stumbled backwards, managing to catch his footing before outright falling. He took in a breath, his chest rising, and falling back down - simply just taking the words without so much as a flicker of anger across his face.

Stan breathed heavily for a few moments, all the boiling anger so high it felt like it was he was wading in a thick liquid that was all the way up against his throat. It felt like the liquid was draining away, falling lower, and then Stan realized through the haze what he’d just said.

Even worse though, he still felt it, and honestly? Maybe it wouldn’t have been better... at least Mabel and Dipper would have been fine...

Ford wouldn’t have though... so he probably would have done it again anyways... even if it was stupid. That’s just what he was though, wasn’t he...

“You were right to try and keep the kids away from me... I should have been more aware of what I was doing.” Ford said, calmly apologetic. “I’ll rescind the apprenticeship offer. A kid such as Dipper should be playing and in school, not doing some research away from everyone.”

“He’s still gonna want to go off with you.” Stan said, jaded.

“I’ll make it sound reasonable. A high school degree is necessary for any good college. I’ll just tell him it’ll have to wait until after high school. He’ll forget about it by the time he graduates. Him and Mabel will go back to how they were before I stepped in.” Ford assured him. “They’ll stick together.”

Stan didn’t say anything to that. It would have been a lot better if it’d been coming from the real Ford. “Whatever. I’m going to look for Wendy,” he eventually said, “group of teenagers shouldn’t be that hard to find.”

“Can I help?”

“I don’t care what you do.” Stan replied. As he started walking, Ford went along with him without hesitating.

-----

Ford brought it up again later, as though trying to make him feel better.

Stan leaned his head against his hands. “It’s just not gonna work, Sixer...”

“Why not?”

He sighed. “You came from here - Dipper won’t listen to you.” As much as he wish it could work...

“He doesn’t have to know that.”

Stan was taken back, and lifted his head to look over at Ford. “What?”

“Well, I’m the only version that can talk to him.” He glanced away briefly. “That other one - is just some frozen statue. He’s not doing anything.” He explained easily. “All you have to do is tell him you found me, and saved me. I’ll tell him the apprenticeship is over, and Dipper and Mabel can reconnect inside this bubble. It’s the perfect place for them.”

“What about when the kids want to go out and stop Bill?” Stan asked, something uneasy sliding into his stomach at the way Ford was talking.

“We just tell them it’s too dangerous. Time is at a standstill after all, so there’s no rush, is there? We can even tell them we’re going off to look for a solution.” Ford continued.

“Not sure about all that.” Stan said slowly. It was a good plan though. It could definitely work. Between a life-like image of his brother and himself both telling the kids to stay put, it’d work. Dipper would trust Ford that they were working on something to stop Bill, and Mabel didn’t even want to leave, of course. It was full-proof.

Ford frowned slightly. “We would finally get to go sailing, Stan...”

Stan had to retrace his thoughts, his heart leaping up at that before he drudged it back down again. “We would?” He asked hesitantly.

He started to smile, face lighting up as he talked. “Yes. Yes, we would! There’s a sea out there, Mabeland can make it as big as we want - with whatever islands we could ever want to explore. Come on, just think about it, Stan!” He encouraged him, a hand on his shoulder. “This is finally our chance to go sailing and treasure hunting. Let’s take it.”

It was smooth and warm and as tempting to swallow down as a cup of hot cocoa, just sitting right there for him. Stan blinked back tears at his brother’s face so earnestly excited and actually wanting to go sailing with him, like they were both a couple of kids again - but this time they could actually do it. There was already a boat and everything.

“We won’t have this chance outside the bubble, Stanley. This is the only way we can do it.” Limited time offer. Buy now.

He had to take a moment, bite back on what he wanted to say, then pull himself through to actually talk. “Nice pitch.” Stan finally said. “I’m not buying it though.”

As Stan went to brush its hand off of him, its other intervened and grabbed onto his shoulder to be directly facing him. “Tell me why not.” It asked in earnest.

“Because you’re not him.” The words came out all on their own.

“After everything, you deserve to go treasure hunting with a brother who wants to go with you.” It said. “Even if you fix everything, he won’t want to go sailing with you.”

One Time Only Deal! Get it before it’s g o n e

Stan wound his fist back and punched it right in the face, the thing spilling backwards. “Yeah, well you know what - maybe I never had a brother that actually wanted to go treasure hunting with me. Guess what though - I also don’t want a fake one who does.”

It sat up from the ground, glasses oddly reflecting to hide the eyes. “...What about Mabel and Dipper?”

“They’re better than we were. Plus, they’re smart kids. They’d figure out you’re not real pretty quick, pal.”

Just like that its skin turned to dark crawling bugs and the atmosphere changed around him, turning dark.

Stan shouted at the sudden change, whipping his head from the figure crumpling into a pile of twenty different kinds of bugs in front of him to literal blood red sand.

A cheerful noise caught his attention and he checked behind himself to see a distant small horse with wings singing and when he glanced back again, just like that - everything was back to what he guessed counted as normal here.

“Okay, I’ve had my fill of creepy stuff here, thanks.” He stepped his way around the spot the other had been at and ran off to find the kids again.

[rmjagonshi]

Whole Again - Chapter 22 A Family in Waiting

Whole Again on AO3

Mason hears Mabel leave the room with the tablet before he opens his eyes. But he doesn’t follow. He wants to talk to Ford, but…there really isn’t much left to say. He doesn’t know how to feel about this. He doesn’t know how to feel about his uncle. He’s mad at him. More so tonight than any other. His behavior the last few weeks has been…unsettling. He’s become aggressive…violent and dismissive of anything or anyone who doesn’t outright agree with his hypotheses.

Mason still believes that Ford is one of the most brilliant minds of their time, but he’s starting to realize just how egotistical and brutal of a person that brilliance can foster.

The worst part, is that Mason can’t be sure that he’s not wrong. If it really is Bill, then all of this ‘zero-tolerance’ response is justified. If Bill really did take over Stan, and Stan isn’t in control anymore, then it would make sense to keep their distance, to do everything they can to keep Bill contained.

But…he isn’t…Mason doesn’t want to believe that it’s Bill. Stan hasn’t done anything out of the ordinary. Well, no, that isn’t true, Stan had done a lot of things lately that are bizarre and impossible for the average person. But, it’s always been…well, as Stan. He’s always been ‘in character’, as it were.

He pulls Fox Stan into his lap and does his best not to lift the red knit cap from over its eyes. He doesn’t know if Mabel glued the yellow eyes over the fox’s brown ones. He doesn’t want to know. He’s scared. He’s scared and left in the dark more often than not. He should follow Mabel, demand answers, but he just can’t.

If everything is left in limbo, if he doesn’t know what is really going on, then he can pretend that everything is fine. He can pretend that everything will work out for the best. He’s afraid to talk to Ford because he knows what Ford is going to say. He knows how this plays out. And he wants to live in this blissful limbo of not knowing for just a little longer.

Just a little more of normal, just a little more of imagining his grunkles sailing all over the world and having adventures and hearing about all the excitement.

Mason clutches Fox Stan tight to his chest buries his face into the grey synthetic fur. He’s angry at Ford for not trying to get along with Stan, even after he promised the twins over and over that they wouldn’t fight anymore. He’s angry that Ford can’t even listen to them. He knows Ford spent the most time with Bill, but they fought him too. And won multiple times. It’s almost as if Ford can’t accept that anyone but himself can understand things.

A creak in the floor boards lets him know that Mabel is on her way back. He doesn’t know if he’s able to talk to her just yet. Too many things swirling in his head, and too many feelings screaming at each other in his heart. He throws the blanket over his head and lays flat just as Mabel opens the door to their shared room. He clutches Fox Stan tighter. He hears cloth moving, papers shuffling and finally the creak of the door again.

Mabel had a theory. A good one. One Mason isn’t sure he can let himself fully grasp. The very thought that the person he’d come to know and love last summer was a lie…

He curled tighter around Fox Stan. His gut wrenched and he felt his eyes sting. Mabel had cried enough for all four of them, but he guessed it was his turn to carry the family grief. Tears dripped from his clenched eyes, soaking Fox Stan’s knitted red cap.

He’d seen it too.

Stan becoming Bill.

Just before he’d fallen back in his own mindscape, (a giant journal with moving pictures, and fold out pages, and invisible ink) he’d seen Stan change.

Mason didn’t have the emotional capacity to deal with those thoughts anytime soon. Instead, he crawled out of bed and crossed their book and paper strewn floor to Mabel’s purple sheets and unicorn bedspread. He curled up against the wall and waited.

A brief feeling of shame kicked him in the spine even as he made himself comfortable amongst the filly pillows and stuffed animals. They were thirteen. He was way too old to be running off to his sister’s bed when he felt scared or upset.

But the rational part of his brain told that shame to take a hike. Things were different now. Life just got a lot harder. And he’s man enough to admit that he’s not ok with this. Not that he thinks Mabel is fairing any better, but two people being miserable together is better than being miserable alone.

Their parents weren’t handling it well either, though denial was one heck of a drug. Better than any Smile Dip. His parents had called up to Gravity Falls and had gotten ahold of Soos. After a phone call that he had reluctantly not eavesdropped on, their parents stopped asking them what was wrong. No more doctor’s appointments and no more counselors. And both he and Mabel were happy to not have to take any more pills.

He heard the door click again and sat up to see Mabel tucking away her bag and the tablet. She paused a moment, avoiding his gaze before she patted Waddles’ sleeping form and climbing in beside him. She sat for a long time with her knees to her chest, staring at the door and not speaking. Though anxious, Mason waited. Limbo and ignorance and all of that. But Limbo was never meant to be permanent.

“Stan stabbed out his eye.”

It was like he had been thrust through the ice into Gravity Falls Lake. He couldn’t even form words. A strangled gasp worked its way from his throat to hang in the air between them.

Mabel turned away from him, but her voice was clear.

“Grunkle Ford said Stan got angry and hurt himself. He broke everything in Ford’s lab and cut out his eye. Ford says he’s gonna be ok, well, not okay okay, but he’ll live.”

Mason simply blinked, mouth agape and eyes boring into the back of his sister’s head. But she refused to look at him. His fingers tangled in the purple duvet and he felt a thread snap. A flurry of purple and shades of pink and white arced in the air as Mason flung off the duvet and landed on the floor. He kicked at the scattered books in frustration, waking Waddles who snorted indignantly. Mason ignored the pig.

“None of this makes any sense! I get Bill. I don’t, but he makes more sense than this. I hate being left in the dark! What set him off? Why would Bill do that? It puts him at a disadvantage. Could it be to scare Ford? But Ford said he’s stronger than Bill…unless he’s lying. Is he lying? Mabel do you…think…”

Mabel was staring at the door again, unaffected by her brother’s tirade. He took a few steps closer.

“Mabel?”  

“Dipper, I don’t think Ford is okay.” Her voice was so quiet, he wasn’t sure he’d heard her. But before he could ask, she continued. “I told him what I found out. You know, about reincarnation. And how Grunkle Stan fits. He listened to me this time. But I don’t think he can believe it yet.”

Well that was something. Grunkle Ford actually listening to someone else for once. But it was more progress than they had made in days. They were out of resources and out of ideas. There was only so much two thirteen years old could do with internet access and a public library. Mason was even tempted to jump a bus and head back to Gravity Falls to see if any of the forest creatures could help. Next to Grunkle Ford, they were the only ones who understood magic. If this even was magic.

Mason picked up the duvet and placed it back on the bed before kneeling beside Mabel. She still wouldn’t look at him.    

“There’s something else you aren’t telling me. What do you mean ‘He can’t believe it yet’?”

“Ford asked me not to tell you.” Mason opened his mouth to retort that this was exactly how they had gotten into the whole mess in the first place when she finished. “He wants to tell you himself. He just doesn’t know if he’s ready yet. He wasn’t ready to tell me, it just sorta came out.” Even though she hid her face in her knees, he caught the blush forming on her cheeks. She was embarrassed. Mabel being embarrassed about something was something to be worried about. What would make Mabel embarrassed and Ford stressed? Surprisingly little existed in that overlap. Almost nothing. Unless…

“Is it about what Mom was scared of?”

“What? Gosh no. I didn’t even tell him about that. But you really should talk to him. This is…is something kinda important. If he doesn’t tell you on his own…I’ll give him a week. Okay?” She looked sad. No, not sad, like she pitied him. Very suddenly, Mason was not looking forwards to speaking with his Great Uncle.

“I don’t like keeping things from you. Especially after what happened. But this is…personal, I guess.” Personal? For Ford? But, Ford had already told him about his history with Bill. Unless there was something else? Was it Stan, then? He was getting lost in his own conjectures.  

Mason took a deep breath and nodded. “Okay. I’ll wait for Ford to tell me.” His mind was already going in a direction he wasn’t really comfortable with anyway.

“There’s something else.” Mason snapped his head up at Mabel’s words. Something else? What more could be happening?

Mabel had turned away again, picking at the fuzz that always developed on the underside of her blankets. “I asked Ford to tell you his secret, but I gotta tell you mine too.”

Mason pinched the bridge of his nose, trying in vain to relive the pressure he knew was going to be there. He knew what she was going to say. As soon as she had said it, he knew what was wrong. More frustration added to the already overflowing pit in his gut. It just never ended, did it?

“I still have some Smile Dip.”

He’d suspected. Mabel had spent the whole month being cheery and decorating the house in streamers, glitter and fake snow. She’d been pushing everyone to ‘get into the holiday spirit’. He had hoped it was just run of the mill sugar, but there was always the worry that it was the horrid super sugar she’d found in the old convenience store. Ford had even tested it. It was super refined and had three times as much glucose as regular sugar per gram. They even banned it in America because it had trace components of coca extract.

And she had promised him that she would get rid of it. She had given him the purse stuffed with the candy and he had dissolved it in a bucket of water before tossing it down the storm drain. She swore that she had given him all of it. Even going so far as to show her hands so he knew she hadn’t lied.

So much for not keeping secrets.  

“Why? Why on Earth? Mabel, you said you were going to get rid of it. You could get hurt! What about cousin Mia? She had a seizure and went to rehab! Is that what you want?”

“No!” She shouted, before covering her mouth. They both glanced at the boor and listened. Only the rattling of the wind outside echoed through the house. Their parents were still asleep.

Mason gave one last lingering glance at the door before turning back to Mabel.

“Then why!?” He wanted to throw something.

She was crying freely now, hiding her face in her arms. Even Waddles, who had woken at the commotion and climbed up on the bed to paw at Mabel’s legs, couldn’t calm her down.  

“I just need to be happy, okay! I just am so tired of feeling sad and miserable All. The. Time.” Each word punctuated by fists to her temples.

It was true though. No one had been happy really. Not since Ford had called them about Stan just over a month ago. Both of them, their parents, Grandma and Grandpa and Great Grandma Caryn. The world wasn’t ending, not yet, but everything seemed to be going wrong anyway.

Mason slowly sat on the edge of the bed. He waited a brief moment before wrapping an arm around his sister’s shoulders. “Being happy all the time isn’t good either. Especially when it isn’t real.” He combed his fingers through her hair. He wasn’t sure how, because they used the same shampoo, but Mabel’s hair always smelled like gumdrops. He rested his cheek against her head, as she began to rock back and forth. “There are still things to be happy about.” A quiet scoff was her only response.

“Mabel, we’ve been hanging out more, heck, we’ve spent all of holiday break together doing research. You got to audition for the high-school drama club. Mom and Dad are talking about a trip to ComicCon in April. We found a vet who knowns pigs and who can make sure Waddles is healthy. Candy and Grenda are coming to visit over Spring Break. So many things to be happy about.” She still wouldn’t look at him. Waddles had given up his nudging at Mabel’s legs and instead laid down at the foot of the bed.

He sighed. “Mabel, It’s Christmas Eve. We’re having Christmas with Grandma and Grandpa and Great-Grandma Caryn today. I know things are hard, but can’t you put aside being sad for one day.” It was one of the happiest times of the year; Mabel had proclaimed it herself. There was no way he was going to let her be upset. If it meant putting up with all of her Christmas Party shenanigans, then he’d do it happily.  

“I don’t deserve it.”

“What…?” The clockwork in his mind screeched to a halt. Gears clinking and springs coming loose. Mabel turned towards him, hair smacking him in the face.  

“I don’t, Dipper.” He eye were dark and bruised and bloodshot. Tiny teardrops worked their way from the corners of her eyes. Dried tear streaks carved paths down her cheeks. She wanted to cry, but there was nothing left. “I wanted to hang onto summer so bad that I put everyone in danger. And when I woke up in that bubble, I knew what was happening. Bill told me himself what the bubble was. I just…” Mabel pulled away from him. Her hands found the pastel pillow behind her and she swung it repeatedly against the wall as she spoke.

“I knew he’d won. And I didn’t want to leave. Why leave when everything was wrong. Even if you guys won against Bill, I still thought I was saying ‘goodbye’ to everything that was important to me. So why not just stay?” Her swings were picking up speed now. Pillow colliding with all the drawings and photographs hung up on her wall. She didn’t seem to care when they started tearing through the tacks and tape and fluttering to the bed. “I was happy there. I could hide away from every bad thing I’d ever done. Instead, I could fix everything. And I did. I made it so everyone could live together. I fixed everything! Pacifica was nice. Gideon was nice. MaGucket didn’t erase his memories. I fixed Lazy Susan’s eye. Stan adopted Soos. I made Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford happy together!” She had finally run out of steam when the last photo of the four of them tore off the wall. Mabel knelt on the bed amongst the destruction, clutching the pillow to her.  

“That’s what I was going to show you. After Soos and Wendy ran off. I was going to show you how happy Stan and Ford could be.”

“But it wasn’t the real Stan and Ford. Ford was captured. I didn’t even know where Stan was.”

“I know it wasn’t.” She buried her face in the push pillow. “I know. None of it was real. But I was willing to put everyone in danger for it. Is this what Grunkle Ford feels like?”

Mason sighed, scooting more to the center of the bed. “I don’t know about that. But, Mabel, you set it right. You did fix things. Maybe nothing was the way you wanted it, but everyone was happy. You do deserve to be happy. You gotta know that people care about you?” She didn’t respond.  

“Okay, fine. How about this? Stan has done I can’t even count how many bad things. He didn’t even want to save Ford in the first place. And we still care about him.” Still no response.

“Okay, better example. Ford made the deal with Bill in the first place, right? So, none of this would have happened if he hadn’t. So, it’s Ford’s fault. And Stan’s. And yours…” He paused, taking a slow breath. “And mine.”

That got her attention. Mabel peeked out from behind the pillow, eyes wide and questioning.  

“I made a deal with Bill too. I know he tricked me and we beat him, but I still did it. And I did it even knowing that he sided with Gideon to get the Mystery Shack.” He still hadn’t gotten over doing that. Bill had done a lot of damage to his body. They had spent that evening in the emergency room. While he didn’t have any broken bones, Mason still had a scar on his collar. It wasn’t deep and healed quick, but the mark had never gone away.

But this was about Mabel. “So, we’re all bad. Are the three of us undeserving of being happy, of having people care about us?” Mason knew it was underhanded, but this was important. He needed to make sure Mabel understood that they were in this together.

“No, of course not!”

“Then why not you?”

She still couldn’t answer. But Mason knew he had gotten through. It wasn’t going to be over night, but they would get better. They would get through this together. And the first step, was to start off the day right.  

“Okay, the first thing we’re going to do, is go dump all that Smile Dip. ALL OF IT! And then, we are going to go down stairs and have Mabel-cakes. I’ll even let you add the edible glitter. Then we are going to have Christmas with Grandma and Grandpa and we are going to be extra happy. Because even if things are hard now, they can always get better. ‘No where to go but up’, right?”

Mabel gave him a watery smile, eyes far to bruised to cry anymore. Mason held out a hand to her and pulled her up off the bed. They would clean up their room later, after Christmas. Maybe. Waddles was already waiting at the door to be let out.

Mabel picked up a nail file from the nightstand and walked over to the lightswitch. She unscrewed the bottom and swung it sideways to reveal a string taped to the wall and dropping behind it. Four packets of Smile Dip were hooked onto the end hidden in the wall. They looked creased and squashed, like they had been stuffed and forgotten about in the bottom of a bag or jacket pocket for months. Mabel handed the packets to him along with the nail file. Mason made a mental note to check all the outlets for more in the coming days.  

They walked across the hall to the bathroom and both he and Mabel tore open the packets and emptied them all into the toilet. Mabel stared as the multiple colors and torn paper swirled together over and over until the water pulled everything down. Mason gave her a quizzical look. She sighed and nodded, giving him a small smile. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders again, steering her back to the hall and down stairs.    

“Hey, Mom told Grandpa what’s going on. So, everyone knows. We don’t have to deal with this alone anymore, Mabel.”

*~*

It was Christmas Eve morning, just before dawn, and Diane was sitting at the dining room table with a mostly empty pot of coffee. It wasn’t her first.

She had called up to Gravity Falls just under a month prior and had spoken to Jesus Ramírez, current owner and proprietor of the Mystery Shack. He was at first reluctant to talk, dismissing the ghost stores and tales of monsters and chalking it up to small town folk tales. She had pressed further.

“I don’t think you understand the situation Mr. Ramirez. My children are waking up most nights with nightmares they won’t discuss with me. I have taken them to a child trauma counselor and I was told my thirteen-year-old daughter should be screened for depression and my son has been prescribed anti-psychotics. I’m tempted to call a lawyer and press charges against Stan Pines if I don’t get some answers!”

That had done it.

Jesus had relented, asking her to sit down and telling her a condensed story of the summer her children experienced in Gravity Falls. Everything from lake monster robots, to tiny living golfballs, to gnomes and merpeople, living videogames and zombies, and finally, the demon known as Bill.

“Look, I know it’s hard to believe, but that’s how it is here, miss. Weird things happen, like all the time. People are just used to it. And no one is really ready to deal with what happened. The mayor even went and made it a law that you can’t talk about it. They even came up with code words so people can talk to their therapists without breaking the law. But I got some pictures and some scans from Ford’s old journal tucked away. Guess Stan forgot to take it with them. I can send ‘em to ya. Dipper might want ‘em too.”

He sounded…so…rational, about the whole thing. Like this was just a normal thing to happen. Hearing it from her children was one thing. Seeing pictures that may or may not have been photoshopped and hearing about it from a rational adult was another. Diane had half held out hope that this was all just some sort of teenage hyper-fixation on some fantasy thing the kids had played the past summer. But she couldn’t deny it anymore. Not when the proof was staring her in the face.    

“And, Miss? I know they’re your kids, and, and I know that Stan’s your family, and I respect that. But…Stan’s been there for me since I was like eight. He taught me how to drive, and he tried to teach me how to box. He means a lot to me. I know he’s not my real dad, but he might as well be. So…I guess, believe me when I say that Stan wouldn’t do anything to hurt those kids. Ford neither.”

She had accepted it. She had to. One could only deny what they were seeing and hearing so long before they were considered mad. So here she was. Sitting at the kitchen table, onto her third pot of coffee after having been up since four in the morning. Dan had stepped out for a smoke. Dan never smoked. Not since college. But some things called for bad habits. And tis was most definitely one of them.

She had the pictures Jesus had sent her spread out on the kitchen table. Not all of them were clear, in fact most of them were fuzzy and filled with static, or had a badly place finger. But one stood out. It seemed to be from inside a building, through a red window. A giant sentient pyramid with one eye and eight arms. It terrified her more than it should. And this monster might be back?

She’d scanned everything she had and e-mailed it all to Sherman, Marianne, and Caryn. Calling her father-in-law and informing them about what was happening half a world away had been one of the hardest things she had ever done. But her son and daughter were right, they deserved to know. And while none of them were completely convinced, (hell, she wasn’t completely convinced, and she had photographs sitting in front of her) they were all waiting on contact from Ford and…and Stan, to confirm.

It was bizarre to think about. That her Uncle Stan, nevermind that it was Stanley and not Stanford, might not even be himself. The pyramid monster stared up at her from the photograph. It felt like it was watching her. But that was stupid. It was just a photograph. But…well, it was best to put everything away before her children woke-up. They were going to spend the day with Sherman, Marianne and Caryn today. No matter what, they were going to celebrate like a normal family. She took a deep breath and scooped all the photos back in the envelope, tucked it under her arm and went to pour out the old coffee. Her children’s voices echoed coming down the stairs.  

-End Chapter 22-

Previous

Next

Chapter 1

[anistarrose]

Good Luck Charm (GF Stanuary Week 4)

Summary: Stan’s always liked to cheat at games of luck, but as the months pass after the clash with Bill in the mindscape, Ford starts to suspect that something more abnormal might be going on.

Word Count: ~2500

Warnings: some brief references to violence/threats of violence, references to gambling

This isn’t for any particular @stanuary prompt, but is based off of this post by @siriuslymeg! It’s something I’ve wanted to write about for a while, and Stanuary seemed like a good opportunity to do so!

It wasn’t until they set off on the Stan O’ War II that Stan started to suspect anything had changed.

...Well, that wasn’t entirely true. There was that one moment during the reconstruction of the Shack, when a falling shingle seemed to almost swerve in midair to avoid hitting Soos’s head — not to mention Ford’s little pyrotechnics demonstration at Dipper and Mabel’s birthday party. The fact that that had gone off without a hitch should have been more than enough to tell him that something was different.

But it really began one otherwise peaceful morning, a bit less than a month into their trip north, when Stan’s attempt at making coffee was foiled by a sudden force slamming into the side of the boat. It knocked the pot clear off the counter and onto the floor, and rivers of precious caffeinated beverage seeped into the cracks between the planks, disappearing forever as the boat continued to shake.

“Alright,” Ford growled, pulling out his gun and bolting for the steps to the deck, “this is war.” Before Stan could warn him to be careful, or ask if he even knew what they were dealing with, he was out of sight.

“Damn it, Sixer,” Stan muttered as he fumbled around for a weapon, “every time you rush in like this, you end up needing me to save your ass…”

Sure enough, not thirty seconds later he heard Ford yelling. At first, it was the savage cry of a man determined to avenge his coffee, but it quickly morphed into a shout of surprise, and then the familiar “Stanley! Help!”

Stan sighed. “Called it.”

He grabbed a harpoon gun, and charged upstairs to his brother’s rescue, only to find himself staring down… the most obnoxiously bright yellow duck he’d ever seen, like a bath toy come to life.

Even ignoring its ridiculous wide-eyed expression, the color alone made Stan want to puke — hell, even Bill Cipher himself had been downright aesthetically pleasing compared to this abomination. And of course, that couldn’t be all. It just had to also be surrounded by two dozen massive squid-like tentacles, all of them the same bright yellow and one of them wrapped around Ford’s chest and hoisting him several feet above the deck.

“Quick!” Ford yelled, gasping for breath. “The Rubber Quacken’s weak spot is just — just below the bill! Kill the foul creature, before I —”

Making a split second decision to comment on the monster’s horrendous name later, Stan aimed the harpoon gun as best as he could. It was hard to even look directly at the duck for more than a few seconds, much less take an accurate shot —

He saw Ford turning purple and futilely thrashing about in his peripheral vision, and before he realized what he was doing, his finger squeezed down on the trigger. No monster this ridiculous is going to take away my brother.

The shot should have gone wide. He saw it pointing far above the duck’s head, nowhere near the angle it was meant to fly at. But the harpoon spun in midair like some invisible hand had deflected it, plunging downwards and somehow embedding itself just below the duck’s bill.

The creature let out an enraged squeak, and withdrew in an instant, deflating tentacles dropping Ford down on the dock. As Stan rushed to his side, he managed to set up and rub his ribs.

“I’m alright,” he assured Stan. “Nothing a few alien healing-packs can’t fix.”

Stan just sighed. “You fight one of these things before or what?”

“Yes, a slightly smaller one found its way to the lake in Gravity Falls somehow back in ‘78. Just be grateful we didn’t meet its close cousin, the Hawktopus.”

“Why? What does it do, just fly away with the world’s most reckless geniuses before their brothers can save them?”

“What? No, they’re actually quite harmless. Just objectively the stupidest creature in this dimension, and the screech they make gives me headaches.”

Stan groaned. “Way to miss the point, Poindexter. Can you just, I dunno, try and be a little more careful next time? Eventually you’re gonna run out of alien drugs to fix your broken ribs and I’m gonna run out of dumb luck to save you with the first place.”

Ford narrowed his eyes. “Stan, with you, nothing is ever random dumb luck. You’ll always find some way to rig the universe in your favor.”

“You’re changing the topic!”

“Alright. I promise.”

***

For a month or so after that, nothing particularly odd happened — at least, nothing more out of the ordinary than anything ever was for the Pines. Yeah, the weather was miraculously much nicer than forecasted when they sailed down to California to see Dipper and Mabel for the holidays, and yeah, Stan beat a bunch of selkies at poker without even needing to cheat, but those were just a couple of coincidences. The same went for the Stan O’ War II escaping unscathed from so many monster attacks — it was just dumb luck, and as welcomed as it was, it would run out sooner or later. Right?

But when Stan and Ford went wandering through a winding maze of caverns in search of treasure, things got odd, unusual, and statistically improbable once again. First it was Stan tripping and finding the entrance by complete accident, then it was their flashlights holding out for hours without needing to change the batteries, and then it was the slow realization that no matter how many times they had to choose from one of several branching paths, they never seemed to hit a dead end.

That was, not until they squeezed out of a particularly cramped tunnel and found themselves in a high-ceilinged room, crystals on the walls glimmering and an ancient-looking treasure chest waiting for them on a stone pedestal, just like something out of the most fantastical adventure story.

“Holy Moses!” Stan exclaimed, practically sprinting across the room to get a better look. “This baby looks like it’s made of real gold!” He gave the lock a shake, and began to lift the heavy lid —

“Stan, no!” Ford shouted. “It could be —”

Stan opened the chest before he could process Ford’s words. “Holy shit, these look like real diamonds! Ford, we’re rich!”

He turned around, expecting to see an excited look on Ford’s face, but instead, he was met with an infuriated glare.

“You idiot! It could be cursed! You keep telling me to be more careful, but you — you might have just given yourself some fatal and incurable disease, for all you know!”

His voice grew uneven in a way that was distinctly un-Ford-like as he went on, and Stan realized he wasn’t so much angry as he was frightened on Stan’s behalf.

“Shit, I — I didn’t think. How do we know if —”

From his backpack, Ford pulled a simple black rod, and held it over the treasure chest for a few seconds until it lit up purple. He breathed a sigh of relief.

“Alright. Alright, we’re… we’re safe. There once was a fairly powerful curse on this treasure, but it’s been… neutralized, apparently. Nothing but harmless magical residue here.”

“Ford, I’m so sorry,” Stan told him. “You’re right, I am a hypocrite. I just got excited about the treasure, and…”

“It’s okay,” Ford replied. “I… I sounded like I was angry at you, didn’t I? I didn’t mean to — I was just worried.”

Stan nodded, and a smile slowly spread across Ford’s face. “So what if we’re both idiots with no sense of self-preservation? That’s why we have each other.”

“Ah, you’re such a sappy old man,” Stan said, but he raised his hand for a high-six, and Ford obliged.

“I am curious how the curse was neutralized, though,” Ford pondered as he and Stan sorted through the haul of precious gemstones. “Assuming the spell was in effect when it was hidden, as is true for most treasures, it wouldn’t make sense for anyone to come down here and remove the curse but leave the jewels.”

He turned to look at Stan and rubbed his chin. “Unless you accidentally neutralized it yourself, somehow.”

“Ha, me?” Stan scoffed. “Look, Ford, I have a lot of weird talents, but magic isn’t one of them.”

“I’m honestly not so sure,” Ford replied, and with the poor lighting of the cave masking his expression, Stan couldn’t tell if he was teasing or serious. “We do seem to have experienced quite a streak of good luck lately, with everything from the weather to even finding these caverns in the first place…”

“Oh, come on! What do you think I am, some kind of walking good luck charm? Did one of my feet turn into a rabbit’s foot? Do I have four-leaf-clovers growing out of my ears?”

Ford snorted. “No, Stan, you’re right. I’m just looking for connections where aren’t any to be found.”

“Yeah, you don’t need to tell me that. I always just assume you’re overthinking shit until proven otherwise.”

“Touché. Now help me lift this thing and see if it fits through the exit.”

***

Stan was sitting at a table in a local restaurant, flirting with the waiter as he waited for Ford to get back from the restroom, when he noticed a man glaring at him from a few tables away. His hair was going gray and his face looked far more worn and beaten than Stan remembered, but the intricate serpent tattoo on his neck told Stan everything he needed to know — and none of it was good news, least of all not the other three equally rough-looking men sitting next to him.

Stan excused himself as quickly as he could and rushed towards the restroom, thankfully bumping into Ford on the way there.

“We gotta go, Sixer. We gotta go now.”

“What? Stan, what’s wrong?”

“Biker gang,” Stan hurriedly exclaimed, pulling Ford by the arm as they headed for the exit. “Really bad history. No time to explain.”

“I do have a gun on me,” Ford whispered as soon as they were out the door of the restaurant. “Worst comes to worst, I can —”

“Yeah, and there’s four of them, and they’re all gonna have their own guns. I don’t like your chances. We gotta make a break for the boat.”

Ford grunted his agreement as he broke into a run besides Stan.

“Pinefield!” a low voice bellowed from the direction of the restaurant. “We just want to chat!”

Stan didn’t dare turn his head around to look, but he heard the sound of several motorcycles being revved in the distance —

And then, a sudden and jarring boom just like a clap of thunder, followed by a string of curses that made Ford’s alien swears look uncreative. Stan didn’t need to turn around to know that someone’s engine had just failed in incredibly spectacular fashion, and that he’d just dropped a lot lower on the list of the gang’s priorities.

He looked at Ford, only to find his brother staring back at him with the same unspoken question clear in his expression — did you do that?

***

“Ha! Natural 38 again!” Stan cheered gleefully, sending sheets of graph paper flying as he smacked the table. “It’s over, ya stupid dragon of vector cross products!”

“Yes, that’s quite impressive,” Ford murmured as he scribbled notes down on a page hidden from Stan’s sight. “Are you sure you aren’t cheating?”

“Seriously? You still don’t trust your own brother not to rig the dice? Honestly, Ford, I’m starting to think you’re just jealous about me being better at your nerd game than you are.”

Ford frowned, and picked the D38 up off the table gingerly, as if it was some sort of scientific specimen. “Actually, Stan… I ask because I weighted this die. To favor lower numbers.”

“Who’s the smart twin now — wait, what?”

Ford placed a piece of graph paper in front of Stan, listing all his rolls from the night’s session. “And yet, you’re still scoring consistently higher than random chance would suggest even for a normal die, much less a rigged one. Something’s going on — something not just abnormal, but supernaturally so.”

“Wait, you’re serious about thinking I’m some kinda magic good luck charm? How — how would that’ve even happened in the first place? I —”

Ford frowned. “Well, it’s debatable if it can really be called luck when it’s something that happens consistently and with an identifiable cause — but for simplicity’s sake, yes, that’s what the data seem to represent. Though I suppose there’s always a miniscule chance of it having all been truly random…”

“Again, Ford — how does something like this even happen? Because trust me, this definitely hasn’t been going on my whole life. I woulda gotten kicked out of a lot more casinos, for one thing — not that I didn’t get kicked out of a couple anyways.”

“I have no idea,” Ford told, and then hurriedly added. “Although for the record, I don’t think it’s a Bill thing. Good luck is the complete opposite of what he would cause, even if he did come back…”

He snapped his fingers. “Except, this might be the result of Bill’s death itself, rather than his continued existence! Maybe, because you destroyed a demon, you have a sort of aura lingering about you that wards off harm and evil!”

Stan snorted. “And lets me kick your ass at dice games?”

“Well, maybe it just gives your general luck a modifier of sorts. Hold on, I have an idea.”

Ford stood up from the table to rummage around in one of the boat’s closets, and pulled out the black rod he’d used to check over the treasure chest. “I’ll admit I’ve never actually used this on a person, but I can’t think of any reason why it would be inaccurate. You should hold still just to be sure, though…”

He held the device over Stan’s head for a moment, and then lowered it so Stan could see the results. From end to end, it had lit up light blue.

“Protective magic, and a highly powerful form of it, too. No wonder the curse on that treasure got neutralized instantly. It’s confirmed — you’re a walking ward against bad luck.”

For a moment, they both just let the silence hang in the air. It felt like the type of realization that should have a certain degree of gravity to it, the type of thing that would seriously alter one’s worldview… but at the same time, they’d both seen weirder.

“Huh,” Stan finally said. “Well… what do we do now?”

Ford shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe go get kicked out of some casinos?”

“Hey, we should go someplace where there’s a bunch of different ones, like Vegas, and have a race to see who can get kicked out of the most in one night!”

“That hardly seems fair, what with you being magical and all.”

“Hey, you’re the one who’s always bragging about getting kicked out of the gambling dimension for counting cards! I wanna see how good you really are.”

“You know what, fine. But all this little race has as a prize is bragging rights; I’m not doing anything for you when you magically coast to victory!”

“Deal?” Stan asked, raising his hand for a high-six.

“Deal!”

[sombrcstar]

POKEMON HCS, II.

Ford conducted his research in Sinnoh ! 

His research involved investigating ANOMALIES. He started with the region’s meteorites, their origin, and their connection to select Pokemon, keeping journals on the subject while studying Shiny Pokemon and any other ODDITIES he could find on the side.

Ford resides with Umbreon in a shack a little ways off Snowpoint City / close to it on an island with a town called Gravity Falls. [VERSE DEPENDENT].

His first encounter with a Legendary Pokemon was Jirachi, the wish Pokemon. Through the usage of Sleep Talk and Telepathy, they had very long and awe-inspiring conversations. He learned that Jirachi was thousands of years old, only able to awaken for seven days every millennium.

Jirachi explained that across its existence, it had helped inspire many important people - and Ford just happened to be next in line, if he wanted it. Jirachi offered to be his muse, and Ford accepted.

Ford continued his research, and he found it progressing tremendously with the night talks he had with his muse. In these conversations, Ford learned of the existence of TURNBACK CAVE, telling of worlds outside his own, which truly kickstarted his investigations and set Icarus’ doom in motion.

Using properties from this location and the meteorites he’d investigated, Ford eventually worked with his college friend, Fiddleford McGucket, to construct a portal. This portal, upon completion, would enable them to track the source of these anomalies and explore unknown realms, unravelling the greatest mystery of all: the universe.

Team Galactic were MONITORING Ford’s activities, and would continue to do so over the years, long after his absence.

Unbeknownst to Ford, his muse was NOT trustworthy. While it was true that Jirachi had existed for thousands of years, granting wishes to those that happened upon it - that’s just an unfortunate set-up a reicarnated BILL CIPHER uses to his convenience. Though this dimension isn’t his ORIGINAL, he seeks to make the Pines family suffer ALL OVER AGAIN. Axolotl won’t stop him.

CIPHER happened to be on a time limit, however - he wanted events to play out HOW he wanted, and WHEN he wanted (since he could only awaken for a week every millennium). It was around this time he’d rediscovered his old abilities - including possession - were STILL in effect, having thought them lost after his encounter with the Axolotl.

How LOVELY it was to find a loophole, though Bill wished he’d known this sooner. With deadlines to fulfill, he made the same deal with Ford that he had done with his alternate ALL THOSE YEARS AGO.

Umbreon did not trust Bill. At all. It sensed something was off.

With coordinates set to that of the NIGHTMARE REALM, the portal was completed and the test was finally conducted - and scarred Ford’s assistant, Fiddleford, for life. After Fiddleford left the project, Ford confronted Jirachi and discovered his true intentions. BILL CIPHER, or so he called himself now, wanted a do-over, to liberate Stanford’s world a SECOND TIME. Ford had no idea what this meant and his partnership with Bill was ended.

Ford frantically rearranged the portal’s coordinates, so as not to risk befalling the same fate as his assistant - or worse, before shutting it down. These coordinates happened to be that of the DISTORTION WORLD.

He spent a great deal of time alone, trying to figure out what to do - fortunately, Umbreon was there to assist him through it. Ford disliked his Pokemon seeing him in such as a state, however, and as he got worse, Umbreon was out of its Pokeball less and less.

At loss at what to do, Ford decided to hide the documentation he’d made on the portal. He hid the journals, though soon found that perhaps he needed to take them further away. He decided call on the assistance of the person he trusted the most. His brother.

The following events happen as you’d expect. Ford was reunited with his brother after many years of separation, but it didn’t last long. He told Stanley of his plan, and requested he sail away with the journal and hide it away for good. An argument ensued, the portal was reactivated, and Ford was accidentally pushed into the DISTORTION WORLD.

Umbreon was left behind.

[donutpwns]

Forduary - Paranoia

It was good to be back in Gravity Falls. Ford loved the sea, loved sailing it with his brother in the adventure of a lifetime and was looking forward to returning to their boat at the end of the summer, but Gravity Falls still felt like home. There was good memories and bad ones all over but he still loved the crazy town. Stanley did too; Ford suspected he missed being Mr. Mystery sometimes. He was sure Soos would be all too happy to let the original give a couple of tours while they were back.

The house had been modified since they'd signed the deed over to Soos. Stan's room was left untouched for the most part, sans what his brother had taken with him when they left, and the attic was likewise left bare for the twins. The room that had once been a lab before Stan had cleared it out for a museum of what turned out to be murderous wax figures had been converted into a bedroom for Soos’ grandmother. The room Ford had slept in last summer was now a bedroom as well, shared by Soos and his girlfriend. The couch had been moved into the basement room that had been a shrine to Bill, the various monitors replaced with a large TV, the tapestries with shelves upon shelves of those video discs that Ford couldn't remember the name of. It had been dubbed a “man cave” by the girlfriend.

Thankfully Ford's basement lab was more or less in one piece. Apparently Soos had scavenged a few things for his own projects but Ford was able to work around that. Stan had put a bed down there a long time ago, so that's where Ford would be sleeping for the next few months. He was excited to work in a stationary lab for a bit; he'd brought so many samples from the Stan O War II to study here. And Dipper was here to help him. As wonderful an assistant as Stan was, he didn't really share the level of joy at scientific discovery that his nephew did.

Speaking of his nephew, Ford hasn't seen the boy or his sister since the bus had dropped them off this morning. There'd been hugs and then everyone had been off to unpack. Ford feels a twinge in his gut and decides that seeing the kids is his number one priority at the moment.

Stan is in the gift shop when Ford steps out of the elevator and pushes the vending machine shut. Soos closed the Shack for the day so thankfully it's void of the obnoxious tourists that flock to hear outrageous stories. Stan’s looking at all the prices but keeps glaring at where the “no" has been crossed out on the “no refunds" sign. That will probably be an argument by the end of the week.

“Are the kids upstairs?” he asks instead of choosing to deal with his brother's money grubbing ways. He's learned to find such things like that or Stanley's insanely sticky fingers endearing over the last year. It was a survival requirement at this point.

Mention of the kids brings his twin out of his grump at least temporarily. He nods and jerks a thumb towards the stairs. “Dipper went out to visit Wendy, but Mabel just ran back upstairs with an armload of stuff from the kitchen. Wanna go make sure she's not eating pure sugar on our first day back? I'm too tired for that today.”

Ford hums and makes his way towards the stairs, bumping his shoulder to his brother's as he passes, just hard enough to make Stan stumble a step and shove him back with a gruff laugh that brings a grin to Ford's face. The opportunities to bug Stanley will be greatly reduced than when they're on the boat so Ford must take advantage of every small opportunity.

He expects to find Mabel seated among her multitude of stuffed animals, likely working on her new scrapbook while eating handfuls of sugar. What he finds instead is her pouring salt in a circle around her bed; Dipper's bed appears to have already been circled. There's also a...bag of oranges hanging in the window? Ford is confused. More so when he hears a crunch beneath his boot when he steps through the doorway, looking down to see yet more salt. “Um, sweetheart?”

Mabel lets out a startled little yelp and drops the salt container, sending more of it spilling across the floorboards. She scrambles to pick it up and hugs it to her chest, though she does smile wide for him. “Hey, Grunkle Ford! Wassup? Miss your favorite niece in the whole wide world? Understandable cause I'm great!”

“Of course I missed you, Mabel.” affection comes easy with Mabel, possibly because she just exudes it in waves. Ford's considered studying her to see if she was putting off some sort of aura or pheromone to make her so lovable but apparently running tests on family members is something “only a mad scientist would do" according to Stanley. The killjoy. He points to the salt in his great-niece’s hands. “What are you up to?”

Her cheeks go a bit rosier than normal and she moves the container behind her back, her bottom lip sticking out in a pout. She stares at the ground, moving her shoe to straighten a part of the salt line that was a little wonky. “Dipper thinks I'm being silly. But I'm not. Well, not about this.” She huffs and Ford has to stop himself from chuckling.

He moves to sit on the edge of Dipper’s bed, careful not to disturb the salt around it. Clearly it was important to the girl. “I can see that. Why don't you explain to me what you're doing? Maybe I can help Dipper understand how not silly it is?” he offers while patting the mattress next to him.

Her face shifts instantly back to the joy that he loves to see there and she nods. She runs over to where her suitcase is laying open in the corner of the room. After a bit of digging through what appears to be a small mountain of fabric, she lets out a victorious sound and runs over to where Ford is sitting, wielding a small book in her hands. He scoots a bit so she can seat herself next to him.

The book, once she has it propped open in her lap, seems to be a guide of some sorts. It's not a handwritten one like the journals he and Dipper have, but a printed, store bought one. She turns to a page marked with a bookmark that looks like a cat biting the paper and points to a section highlighted in bright pink. “Salt is supposed to protect against evil. If you make a circle then evil can't get in.”

Ford feels a small tug on his heart even while his brain corrects her. Salt is helpful against some entities, mostly slug and snail based ones. But the idea that Mabel thought she needed to protect her and her brother against evil...it clenches Ford's heart in a cold, steel trap. “Sweetheart, that's very nice that you're trying to protect your brother, but you know the barrier is still up, right?” that had been the first thing Ford had checked once he'd gotten back, his own fears bubbling up.

Mabel seems to shrink next to him which is the complete opposite effect he was wanting. She pulls her feet up on the bed and starts to tug the collar of her sweater over the bottom half of her face. “I know. I know there's the barrier and you've got your nerdy sci-fi gun and Grunkle Stan is really good at fighting and Dipper is really smart at coming up with plans and he said salt doesn't usually work but it's what the book said and I just wanna help keep everyone safe.” She rambles while continuing to disappear into her sweater. Ford has to press a hand to her shoulder to stop her from fully going to what he had been told was called Sweater Town. She slumps against his side. “Bill hurt everyone because of me last time so I wanna help.”

Ford feels another jab to his heart, another stab of regret because it was his fault Bill was a problem in the first place. If he hadn't fallen for Bill's tricks in the first place…but Mabel didn't need his self-pity. “You're a very good person, Mabel.” he smiles softly, ruffling her hair affectionately while hugging her to his side. He nudges her until she looks up at him; another stab when he sees how red her eyes are. Still he smiles at her; Stanley taught him how important it is to smile for others. “What do you say you and I go make a big helping of Mabel Juice and then I can show you how to make a smoke bomb? Then you can use one with your grappling hook to escape with the family if anything happens.” a smoke bomb was safer than a crossbow, right? Eh, Stan would be fine with it. Probably.

Mabel's eyes go big and she practically explodes out of Sweater Town, Ford swears he hears a popping sound when she does. “Can it be a glitter bomb? That's like a smoke bomb with pizzazz!” she grabs Ford's hand and begins tugging. “And it would go with my attack glitter!”

“We can certainly try.” he laughs, letting himself be pulled up. Well, that was easier than he thought. He spares a glance at the window, one last question coming to mind. “Uh, Mabel, about the oranges…?”

She looks over and shrugs. “The book said garlic but that smells worse than Dipper's socks so I figured oranges would work instead.”

Ford chooses not to point out the flaws in that. If it makes her feel better, so be it. He'll make sure to put some wards under the window later, just to be safe. The last thing he needs is something happening to his family.

[dubsdeedubs]

taken for turns

[Previous parts] 

[AO3]

(this makes some sense without that context, but it’s good to have.  The ending of this is confusing enough.)

[A/N: Here’s a little something that needs a bit of context, since it’s been roughly a year and a half since I’ve last touched it.  It’s a weird thing of identity issues, general creepiness, and a lot of self-indulgent ruminating on parallels between Bill and Stan that I started right after the finale came out. There’s some elements of the Same Coin theory about it, but it’s also very much not that.  It has gone through several revisions and rethinks over the years, and I know what I want to do with it now.  My version of a happy ending might not be everyone’s, but this is heading somewhere around there.

Here’s the general gist of things:

Stan doesn’t get his memories back as easily as in canon, but he’s picking up the pieces anyways.  Not all of them are the right pieces.

Thanks for dropping by, and I hope you enjoy the ride.]

So this is the thing: Stan's been having dreams.

That's already a bad start, all things considered. His brother has a gazillion and one horror stories to tell with that exact beginning, which Stan knows because he had been the unlucky bastard to sit through each new edition of Stanford Pines' Scary Dimension-Traveling Stories to Tell in the Dark, hot off the presses. About a month's worth of them now, updated whenever he and Ford sat on the deck of their boat watching the bright stars that hung above the wine-dark waves of the Pacific Ocean. With the warm end-of-summer winds and the clear skies, that was becoming more and more often.

(He'd never admit it, but he likes it a lot. Just him and Ford and a dozen stories about Ford's encounters with horrifying, grotesque abominations of creation in the wide multiverse. He doesn't remember enough to say for sure, but he thinks it has been a long, long time since Ford trusted him enough to let his guards down entirely for him, like this. It makes him happy, in a way that makes some forgotten part of him crave.)

Anyways, the point is: Stan knows that Ford would have a heart attack just at the thought of it.

Actually, no. He'd lock himself in his room for a day or two, coming out only to stare at Stan with big ol' guilty eyes, like he had gotten him some terminal flesh parasite disease or something. And then one day Stan would tell him to just cut it out because look, you really can't avoid someone when you're the only two people on a boat, so how 'bout you sit your ass down and tell me again about the nth time you didn't get with an alien babe?

And then Ford would have a heart attack.

So yeah, that's the reason why he hasn't said anything so far. Part of it, if he had to be honest.

Because, well. The other thing was, he actually kind of likes those dreams.

That sounds bad. He knows it does, which is why he tries not to think about that too often. Doesn't even dare to bring it up with Ford, because he thinks his brother might just combust.

Really, it's just peaceful. In his dreams, he's in a forest, just like the ones in the Pacific Northwest, the ones that surround Gravity Falls and cut it off from the rest of the world in more ways than one. He's not moving at all. He thinks maybe he can't move, but he hasn't tried. The thought just doesn't cross his mind. It doesn't seem like a real possibility.

And it's really kind of nice, because he's just sitting in the forest, admiring the vivid colors of the leaves and waiting for something to change, something that he knows to have nothing to do with the seasons at all. It's a little taste of what home had been for thirty years, even when he and his brother were now hundred of miles away from land.

Not that it's all perfect, because nothing really is. He figures he doesn't have his glasses in his dreams or something, because everything always looks just the slightest bit off in a dizzy kind of way, like he's seeing the world through one eye.

He doesn't quite manage to sail all around the whole world with Ford, but they make it down south a decent way before they decide they're both sick of ship's rations and hard cots on aging bones, and spend a few days on shore at a small coastal town in México.

Stan orders their dinner, because while Ford knows something like half a dozen alien languages, he just can't deal with the reflexive pronouns of Spanish.

It just wasn't the way he was used to thinking, Ford admits morosely into a cup of something bright and colorful, which meant it probably had some obscene amount of alcohol. Memorizing vocabulary and tenses were easy, but grammar was logic was thought. He was used to a certain way of viewing the world, a set chronology of people and actions, and changing his fundamental way of thinking - well, that had never been something he could wrap his head around entirely. An entirely different matter from an additional complexity of algebra or deriving some law of physics.

Stan shrugs, and takes another shot of straight tequila. He's on his third, and he's not quite sure if he's feeling it. He hasn't gotten drunk since his brain got erased.

It burns like hell on the way down, but he finds that he's really liking the pain. There's a novelty to the sensation, and an illogical quality to this entire - strange routine that he and Stanford were engaging in that he wanted to laugh and laugh and laugh. It was just so human to pour poison down your gullet, set the glass down, and say with no irony at all, another, please!

"Can't say I get it," Stan admits. "Hey, Sixer, you know? In Mandarin Chinese you gotta set the whole stage of a sentence before you say anything actually important. You wanna take a piss? First you hafta figure out the place, the weather, the time -"

Ford eyes him. "Just how many languages do you know, Stanley?" He asks.

"Dunno. A lot. It's not that big of a deal. When you go to a lot of places and you meet a lot of people, you have to pick up a few languages to make sure they don't end up screwing you over."

"Well, it's a big deal to me," Ford says. "That's an impressive ability to have, Stanley. It means you have a talent for thinking on the fly and adapting to new situations. You have to really understand human thought to navigate it in that way."

"Ha," Stan scoffs, trying hard not to let his lips curve up into a pleased smile. "Don't think I don't see you trying to butter me up, Sixer."

Regardless, it's working. Stan had never - well, he thought he had never - thought much about his ability for languages, just because it had always seemed so intuitive. Why did it matter in what order information was conveyed, or who was doing what to whom, or a dozen, hundred other fiddly bits when he knew exactly what was going on at the core of things? It seemed so static, so limiting to think in a way that was so fixated on the details.

But Ford found it impressive. He thought it was a talent.

And, if Stan wasn't mistaken... he seemed proud. Of him.

"Hey," Stan says, leaning a bit closer. "You wanna test just how many languages I know? Start countin'."

So he just keeps spitting them out, hello's and random words that pop up in his head, as many as he can think of. Ford puts down all twelve fingers within a minute, and has to wrap around.

In hindsight, it's a mistake. Stan's so focused on impressing Ford that he entirely misses when his brother's expression turns from pleasant surprise to neutral shock to a sharp kind of concern, and then, on the eighteenth, to a suspicious kind of worry.

"What language was the last one?" Ford asks calmly, and Stan knows him well enough to know that it is with the specific note of calm that his brother had in his voice only when he wasn't really, not in any way.

He's not sure. "Uh," he says, "Swahili, I think. Why?"

It's not Swahili. He knows that because he knows Swahili, too.

"That's not Swahili."

Stan smiles uncomfortably. "Huh, yeah. You're right. Dunno how I mixed that one up. I, uh, don't actually know what language that is. I must've picked the phrase up somewhere, just stuck in my memory."

"I know that language," Ford says, and there's something in his eyes that makes Stan go quiet. "It's from the planet Tixchenfanuh, located several million lightyears from this solar system. It's been dead for thousands of years."

"Oh. Cool." "Stanley, how on Earth do you know a dead alien language?"

He had no reply to that. "I don't remember," he says, and maybe it's a low blow to use that but he really doesn't know. "Maybe I just picked it up somewhere, it could happen."

"No," Ford says flatly, shaking his head. "No, it couldn't."

There's something about that, that makes Stan bristle. "Then how do you know it, huh?"

"From a friend," his brother says guardedly. "One who has lived for millennia, and had harbored many refugees from the worlds that perished under Bill's domination."

And, yeah. That was it. Ford had said the name, which meant that he wasn't even trying to be subtle anymore.

"You think it's a Bill thing," Stan says flatly.

"I'm not saying it has to do with Bill," his brother says quickly. But he has always been a terrible liar, ol' Fordsy.

They're quiet for a moment, the two of them and their respective poisons. It's a stifling kind of silence, the flat kind that's familiar in the worst kind of way, the kind that makes Stan want to get up and break something, shout at the top of his lungs so he can breathe again.

He doesn't do that. "I'm sorry, Sixer," he says instead, because he doesn't know what else to do. "I just remember things. I don't know where they come from. I, uh. I take what I can get."

Ford picks up his bright, colorful drink and starts chugging. When he's done, he wipes at his mouth and looks at Stan with an expression he can't read.

"I think it would be a good idea," Ford says steadily, "if you told me what exactly you remember."

The sea waves are slow and soft today, washing darkly onto the side of the Stan o' War and never getting farther than a few inches before receding. The breeze is brisk without being cold, with a cool saltiness to it that makes Stan lick his lips again and again and again. There's the soft flap of wings somewhere in the starry sky, and he wonders distantly how birds could ever find their way home when they spent so much of their lives that far from the ground.

It really is a perfect evening. Stan says so out loud.

"I wonder if we could ever have imagined this for ourselves," Ford replies, eyes looking up, up, up. "When we were young, and the future felt like it would never come."

Stan doesn't know. He doesn't remember. So he sits there and pretends that that's fine, like he has for the past three months.

They start off with the easy stuff.

He tells Ford about accidentally pickpocketing the keys to the ship's cabin from him a couple weeks back, and only noticing when one dug painfully into his right buttock when he squatted down to tie a knot. He tells him about waking up and hearing the last fading notes of piano music, about waking up and just really craving toffee peanuts. And there was once, he says to Ford after thinking for a long while, when he woke up to the darkness of the main cabin and remembered, with uncomfortable clarity, what it was like to be trapped in a place with no light and no way out. Only the sound of his own furious screams in his ears, and something burning and terrible certainty that he would escape, he would, no matter what he had to do.

Then there's a pretty ridiculous caper he had just remembered about a week ago, and almost decided to write all of it down until he remembered he probably didn't want anything on paper that would incriminate him in a court of law. He had gone through with it back in the day, and it had involved a dozen pugs and an especially furious hotelier. He tells Ford about it, and something unwinds and relieves within him at the slight upwards curve of his brother's lips.

For a while, Stan rambles about a flat world with flat minds, of rules and restrictions, where difference was feared and creativity even more so. There's something that bothers him about it, that sets his teeth on edge. He gets really emotionally into it before Ford tells him that he's pretty sure that was just the plot of that show he used to watch obsessively, The Duchess Approves.

It is with a pause that he tells his brother that sometimes, he remembers facts that don't make sense. He knows that they're true, so says that feeling nestled deep in his gut. He just doesn't know how they could be.

"Like what?" Ford says, like he's dreading the answer.

"Do you hate me?" Stan asks. His fingers hurt from digging into the wood of the ship's deck.

His brother makes a strangled kind of noise, somewhere between surprise and discomfort. "Stanley, I - " He says, and his voice sounds so small. "No. No, of course I don't. I never did."

"Huh."

"Why," Ford breathes, tries again. "Why do you ask?"

"I think I did something bad. Not like the, screwing up on the anchor knot and making us swim a hundred meters into the ocean at midnight, kind of bad." He feels cold, suddenly, like the wind is blowing right through his layers and into his bones. "I think I did something bad enough that you didn't forgive me for it, and there was nothin' I could say to get you to change your mind."

His brother doesn't reply at first, and by the light of the lantern Stan can see the muscles of his jaw working at something that he couldn't get out.

"You made a mistake," Ford says at last. "You were young, and you made a mistake, and for a while, I thought I hated you for it. But I didn't, and it took me too long to realize that." He bows his head a bit, and then he says, "I'm sorry, Stanley."

Stan hears him, but he doesn't know what to say. There's something in him that's honestly, well, freaking the fuck out. He's caught somewhere between shock and disbelief and a strange warm sensation he didn't know how to put into words, and he doesn't know why. He feels like an actor thrown into the middle of a scene he hadn't had the chance to prepare for.

"I never had the chance to tell you before, so I'm telling you now," Ford continues rapidly, like he can't believe he's saying it either. "I'm sorry I ever thought that that was enough reason to hate you."

"I'm sorry too," Stan says, and that is the one thing he can think of saying that doesn't come out like a memorized line. There's a certainty in it that he didn't know he had.

He's remembering something, more like splotches of paint on a canvas than anything at all clear and defined. They're emotions more than thoughts, but on some strange level he knows that they're completely and utterly his.

"I think I hated you," he continues. "For a real long time."

Ford flinches, but he's not done, not even close.

"If you hadn't left, we could've had everything we ever wanted. But nothing I said could convince you to stay, not even a bit." He's quiet for a long moment. "I think I was angry. I think - I think I wanted to make you hurt, the way I did."

He hears his brother swallow. "Stanley..."

"But you came back."

Ford is quiet. "You brought me back," he corrects.

That was right, except where it wasn't.

"I think I was happy, then," Stan says. "I think I was happier than I had been for years and years and years. With you back, everything was right again. I don't know how I could've ever been so angry, before."

He leans back, both hands on the wooden board of the deck, and listens to his brother's soft breathing against the slow sound of the waves.

"It sounds like," Ford says slowly, "there's a lot we need to work out. Not just about your memories."

They sit there in silence for a long moment, looking into the darkness of the vanishing horizon. All at once, it doesn't seem so comforting anymore.

He thinks about the warm rays of the summer sun and how the trees of Oregon cast dim shade on ground that could have never seen the sun, and he feels suddenly, painfully homesick. There's some part of him that wants desperately to be back there, something pulling him back even though he knows the kids are at school and Soos is probably busy making the Mystery Shack his own.

Stan says, voice distant to his own ears, "Ford, let's go home."

That night, Stan doesn't dream of the forest again. Instead, he's in a room that he recognizes immediately, because it was here where his first clear memories began, all those months ago. But here and now, the living room of the Mystery Shack is at once entirely familiar and utterly strange, as if he was seeing it from the perspective of someone else.

There’s a man with yellow eyes sitting on the couch. He's staring at the television, idly bouncing a paddleball in his hand, a can of Pitt Cola grasped tight in the other. There's something familiar about his features, about his lantern jaw, the easy way in which his square frames settle on the bulbous rise of his nose.

When Stan walks in, he looks down at him like he's been expecting him.

"Hey, pal," the man says with a wry smile. "It's funny how things work out, yeah?"

"Uh," he says, and takes a wobbly step forward on legs that feel too short.

"Why don't ya take a seat?" The man snaps his fingers.

And then he's sitting, just like that. The cushion of the chair hugs his butt just like the one back in the Shack. It feels a lot bigger, though.

"Glad ya dropped by," says the other. "See, I've been meanin' to talk to you for a while now. I was gettin' a bit worried that you wouldn't ever show up."

Stan has no idea what's going on. He looks into slitted, yellow eyes and that really should be explanation enough, except it isn't.

"Who are you?" Stan asks.

"I'm Stanley Pines," says the stranger who isn't. It doesn't make any sense, except it does. "Thought that'd be obvious."

He grins, and there's something vicious about it.

"So the real question here, buddy, is - who are you?"

[newmusicmonthly]

2020

Hello. I hope you and yours are well. As is tradition, below are my selections for albums and songs of the year. As I have yet to receive a reply from you, dear reader, sincerely asking to unsubscribe, you are therefore the proud recipient of the list once more! I’ve altered the format from 5 tracks each month because, as I suspect many of you did, I went into a nostalgic hole for large chunks of this year (for me this consisted of at least two months of nothing but Funkadelic, which does mean my personalised algorithm is now ace), but also when I looked back at when many of these tracks were released it was front heavy for the first half of the year – another body blow to the supposed “monthly” mailer. I even considered not writing my one-liners, but where is the fun in that? Furthermore, trying to keep the long list to 60 tracks in total (equivalent to 5 per month) proved overly frustrating, so I’ve included some extras, especially as this year felt 13 month long. Notwithstanding said excuses, enough preamble, on with the list! Let me know what you think and do send me your own selections. Lots of love xx TOP 10s TOP 10 ALBUMS Baxter Dury – The Night Chancers Mildlife – Automatic SAULT – Untitled (Black Is) Alice Boman – Dream On Kanaan – Odense Sessions Lightning Orchestra – Source And Deliver Yves Tumor – Heaven To A Tortured Mind The Strokes – The New Abnormal Woods – Strange to Explain Erland Cooper – Hether Blether TOP 10 TRACKS Malena Zavala – En la Noche Caribou – You & I Yves Tumor – Kerosene! Puscifer – Apocalyptical Mildlife – Automatic King Hannah – Meal Deal SAULT – Wildfires // Bow [yes, there are two tracks there] Kanaan – Urgent Excursions To the Tundrasphere Frazey Ford – Golden Jessie Ware – What’s Your Pleasure? NEW MUSIC ‘MONTHLY’ MAILER Spotify Link Here Holy Fuck – Near Mint What better way to kick off a retrospective look at 2020 than with ‘Holy Fuck’ Alice Boman – It’s OK, It’s Alright Really love this album and this pick is a real downer, spectral and haunting but also touching Smoke Fairies – Out Of The Woods Jessica and Katherine still delivering a decade on, the chorus guitar riff is tops Nicolas Godin – The Border Air’s Nicolas Godin doing his best detached friendly robot, mais bien sur Moses Boyd – BTB Vibrant, propulsive, energetic, gotta move! The Men – Wading In Dirty Water Avid readers will know I’m a fan of these guys and this one rides a familiar Crazy Horse choogle Tame Impala – Breathe Deeper Funky bass, piano flourishes, solid synths, all groove Kanaan – Urgent Excursions To the Tundrasphere Ok, here it is, there’s always going to be at least one – this is the 14 min space rock jam – skip/enjoy! Frazey Ford – Golden This production is right up my street, soulful vocals swoop around tight rhythm section and hammond keys, an analogue dream Caribou – You and I From the analogue to a digital master, man this beat is catchy Pulled By Magnets – Cold Regime People Die File this under terrifying experimental jazz Jonathan Wilson – Riding The Blinds JW doing that 6/8 minor ballad thang Baxter Dury – Say Nothing Another album I loved this year and could have picked any number of tracks, so here’s a quote from Baxter: “My craft and in a sense a certain style has been perfected and it’s easy… I don’t have to do it again basically. I don’t want to hear another man talking over an orchestral background.” Ha! U.S. Girls – 4 American Dollars Slick funky, soulful, classic strings, building into a brilliant outro with great lyrics Deeper – Lake Song Detached vibe ala Joy Division / The Cure done through a Pavement lens with serious downer lyrics Pretty Lightning – Voo Doo Boo Swampy dirge guitar grooves Tamikrest – Anha Achal Wad Namda Another mailer favourite, Touareg guitar wizards Tony Allen, Hugh Masekela – Never (Lagos Never Gonna Be the Same) Master drummer who sadly passed away earlier this year just after this release, and two years after master trumpeter Masekela’s own passing, this track is a buzzing tribute to Fela Myrkur – House Carpenter Danish black metaller does Scandinavian folk: bright and beautiful Sufjan Stevens, Lowell Brams – The Runaround A weird album, even by Sufjan standards, but I found these electronic ambient sounds strangely comforting R.A.P. Ferreira – ABSOLUTES Rhythm & poetry The Weeknd – Blinding Lights What can I add to the smash of 2020? Catchy af Porridge Radio – Long Indie banger, with a decidedly angry, bitter, playful lyrics Cleo Sol – Her Light If online research is to be believed Cleo is part of the collective in SAULT with producer Inflo, but this album is standalone brilliance without knowing that, this is pure vintage soul vibes Malena Zavala – En la Noche I returned to this track more than any other this year, the rhythm, the vocals, the melody, the production, even if I have to use google translate to fully understand the lyrics Tom Misch, Yussef Dayes – Lift Off Molten guitar, groovy arrangements, and plenty of business from Dayes Yves Tumor – Kerosene! An absolute belter, amazing vocals, groove and crescendo perfection Warm Digits, The Orielles – Shake The Wheels Off (feat. The Orielles) Immediate synth pop, indie dancefloor (with some solid cowbell) EOB – Brasil First solo venture for Ed, acoustic folk gives way to rumbling bass banger, would very much like to experience this in a field Other Lives – Hey Hey I Grand rocking orchestral aural assault with hints of Morricone Elephant Tree – Sails Fulfilling the heavy dirge quota, that hit at 2:33 is a proper head in the speakers moment The Strokes – Why Are Sundays So Depressing This album snuck up on me, and then I found myself listening to it non-stop, this track such an ear worm Houses of Heaven – In Soft Confusion I think the right descriptor is darkwave – insistent drum machine, reverb soaked vocals, industrial production, gloomy pop hooks Joel Sarakula – Don’t Give Up on Me Operating in a dangerous space between homage and pastiche, groove and parody, this is smooth easy yacht rock Donny Benét – Second Dinner Following hot on the heels of pastiche, this time with tongue firmly in cheek, The Don and his 80s reverence lolz Perfume Genius – Whole Life Completely arresting, the lyrics an absolute gut punch, yet still gorgeous Jake Blount – Beyond This Wall From the press release, this album “features fourteen carefully chosen tracks drawn from Blount’s extensive research of Black and Indigenous mountain music. The result is an unprecedented testament to the voices paradoxically obscured yet profoundly ingrained into the Appalachian tradition” – this contemporary instrumental is a superb banjo and fiddle tune Holy Hive – Broom Formed by the drummer from the Dap Tones and inspired by being on tour with Lee Fields, this gentle soul, complete with tremolo guitar and horns, really floats Woods – Where Do You Go When You Dream A welcome return to form, this mellotron infused number is beautifully catchy Erland Cooper – Linga Holm Dramatic piano and strings from an altogether wild and wonderful album Mystery Jets – Screwdriver Loud / quiet dynamic, bombastic riffs, seething verses, the Jets turn it up to eleven to fight with love Jehnny Beth – Flower Another track where hushed verses give way to chorus explosions, serious tension and intensity Hinds – Good Bad Times Love that thudding bass drum, big stomping pop Norah Jones – Were You Watching? Smooth but haunting, with added Celtic flavour Braids – Young Buck Bleeps and bloops, melancholic poppy vocals, and the damnedest catchiest chorus Jessie Ware – What’s Your Pleasure? Is it getting hot in here? No further questions LA Priest – What Moves Quirky strutting electro, sleek yet squelchy SAULT – Wildfires + SAULT, Michael Kiwanuka – Bow Double billing because I couldn’t make a choice (plus when I realised the rhythms flow perfectly into one another it’s like it’s one song) Run The Jewels – a few words for the firing squad (radiation) Again, difficult to choose which track on this album; this is pure fire with sax and all GUM – The Thrill Of Doing It Right Turn this feel good banger up! Such a big hit when the horns drop at the start The Vacant Lots - Fracture Catchy, icy, synths (and Desert Sands label mates by the by) A.A. Williams – Melt Enchanting slow-burning, stirring post-rock, with a wonderful, soaring crescendo Lightning Orchestra – For Those Who Are Yet To Be Born A late discovery, but immediately catapulted to the top, self-described “psychedelic booty-shake” Kamaal Williams – Save Me Almost chose ‘Pigalle’ but the tight push drumming on this won out, hard funky jazz stylings of the Herbie variety Victoria Monét – Dive Lavish and groovy, and as Monét puts it: “They say most humans are about 60% water, but I believe women must be 69% so dive in baby." Secret Machines – Talos’ Corpse Genuinely so happy to see Brandon and Josh back and still with the big sounds All Them Witches – Enemy of My Enemy Relentlessly heavy, all the chops and described by one reviewer as the love child of TOOL, Led Zeppelin, Black Sabbath and Kyuss; I love this band Fenne Lily – Birthday Beautiful and bruised Mildlife – Automatic Another new discovery, in the pocket cosmic goodness and much as it pains me to quote from NME I can’t think of a better description than ‘Mobius strip funk’ Puscifer – Apocalyptical Maynard in the video for this track is an indelible image; massive swaggering Intruder-esque drums, angular menacing guitars, Carina’s ethereal edgy vocals, Maynard’s gritted teeth whispers, and apposite apocalyptical lyrics Matt Berninger – Loved So Little Confessional moody acoustic conjuring up Western-esque vistas Goldensuns – Denandra Moore Californian sun-drenched lo-fi groove, for fans of Conan Mockasin and Night Moves Frankie and the Witch Fingers – Cavehead F*cking excellent west coast garage psych melange and the B,D,E ascend at 3:10 is nod central King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard – The Hungry Wolf Of Fate Genre bending brilliance once again from down under, this cut a heavy, doomy Sabbath assault King Hannah – Meal Deal Ominous drone opens into an acoustic tale of buying a flat with a spider in the bath, Hannah’s sinister smoky sultry vocals draw you in, before some menacing low frequency dirge guitar and drums kick in at 1:30… By this point on first listen I was already hooked, but then comes a great walloping Angel Olsen ‘Sister’ style crescendo, a glorious find at the end of the year (props to Manuel) HONOURABLE MENTIONS Elephant Stone – I See You Sam Lee, Elizabeth Frazer – The Moon Shines Bright Priscilla Ermel – Martim Pescador Rheinzand – Blind Dogleg – Fox The Flaming Lips, Deap Lips – Home Thru Hell The Heliocentrics – Hanging By A Thread Midwife – 2018 Chicano Batman – Color My life Trace Mountains – Rock & Roll Peach Pit – Shampoo Bottles Buscabulla – Vámono Rolling Blackouts Coastal Fever – Cars In Space Jess Williamson – Wind on Tin Thiago Nassif, Arto Lindsay – Plástico The Vacant Lots – Endless Rain Nubya Garcia – Stand With Each Other (Feat. Ms MAURICE, Cassie Kinoshi, & Richie Seivwright) Juanita Stein – L.O.T.F. Carlton Melton – Waylay Paul McCartney – Long Tailed Winter Bird