Sup! I just re-watched all the episodes with Fiddleford in it and I realised he has the shitiest end of any stick than any other character. I mean he could have become a millionaire and instead he loses his mind all for Stanford. Good going Stanford! You're a great friend!

anyway... To the story! ONWARDS AOSHIMA! Goddamn I love this show!

Disclaimer: I am not Alex Hirsh and I cry every time.

Fiddleford had had it up to here with Stanford's ridiculous obsession. He had put up with it for long enough and he felt it was time to tell his friend what he thought about this 'Muse' of his. Ford was constantly in the basement on the level that Fiddleford was rarely allowed to go into unless Ford needed him for something. He knew why this was and he kind of understood; a man needed his space. When Fiddleford needed to get away he would lock himself in his room and play his banjo. But he suspected that Ford wasn't down there to play an instrument.

Fiddleford had found out about Ford's Muse a few months ago and had frequently expressed his dislike of this demon that he had never meant before. He thought that he should at least be introduced to this mind bending creature who could take control of his best friend whenever he wanted to. And for Fiddleford that was more than enough evidence for him not to trust the mysterious triangle.

He walked down the steps into the basement. He had planned on talking the Ford about their situation a long time ago but he didn't really have enough courage until now. He had awaken up in the middle of the night in a cold swear. The dream had been dark and shadowed and he couldn't quite pick out anyone's faces but he knew that his son was there and Ford. Tate had been crying on the floor, curled in on himself as if to make himself become non-existent.

Ford had been standing over him and at first Fiddleford thought that he was comforting his son. Ford loved Tate whenever he came to visit them at the shack and he found it adorable to look on at them playing board games together. Ford could act like a real kid if he was presented with something fun from his childhood.

Fiddleford had never really asked about his friend's past before. He knew that Ford had wanted to go to West Coast Tech but wasn't able to get in. He had learned later from a phone call with Ford's mother that he had had a twin and that this mysterious twin had been kicked out at a young age. Ford never talked about his twin, Fiddleford didn't even know the twins name.

Tate, of course knew nothing about what his father or Ford did there and they had both agreed that that was for the best. Tate was still a kid and Fiddleford wanted him to have nothing to do with his work. It was far too dangerous for a kid to get dragged into it.

In his dream Ford had been holding a knife. A giant grin split his face as he plunged the knife into Tate's back. Fiddleford heard the boy scream in pain but couldn't do anything and Ford twisted the knife until the boy stopped screaming.

Ford had then turned to him. His eyes weren't the dark brown that Fiddleford had come to know. They were yellow and snake like with only tiny slithers of black for irises. The man was laughing. He had just killed Tate and he was laughing like he loved killing innocent children, like it had been a thrill. It wasn't his laugh. It was a high-pitched screeching laugh that echoed in the darkness.

Fiddleford knew that it was just a dream but it had seemed so real to him. He knew that if this Muse wanted to he could do whatever he wanted in Ford's body whether that be teaching him the secrets of the universe or killing everyone he loved.

He reached the elevator and punched the 'floor two' button. The elevator creaked loudly but came up to meet him with little dely. It took him down to floor two and opened up with a cheery 'ding'. He was greeted with a nightmarish sight.

Ford was sitting in a circle surrounded by candles which cast a sickly glow over the whole room. Fiddleford now understood why he had to tell Ford that he was coming down to this room and that he was only allowed down here with Ford.

The walls were all cover with murals of Ford's Muse. A golden triangle with one bulbous eye which seemed to look into Fiddleford's own mind surrounded him on all sides. The circle that Ford sitting cross-legged in looked like a pentagram that Fiddleford had seen on shows about witches. But instead of a five point star in the centre in was a triangle just like the ones on the walls but with ten weird symbols around the edge..

He had of course seen him meditating before with lit candles but he had never seen it to this extant. A statue of the triangular Muse with six arms stood behind his friend, casting a shadow over him. The statue looked like a god of death with a skull in one hand and a ball of fire in another.

Fiddleford let out a loud scream as his eyes ran over the room over and over trying to make sense of what he was seeing.

At the sound of the scream Ford's head shot up with a low yelp. His eyes grew wide as he took in the sight of his friend discovering his secret they flicked in the dancing light of the candles and for a second Fiddleford saw the yellow snake eyes from his dream.

"Fiddleford, what… what are you doing here," Ford asked still in shock and unable to quite understand the situation. He was groggy from being woken up unceremoniously. He had been going over his plans with Bill until suddenly the triangle had turned to him and hissed in a low voice that he had company in the real world. Ford hadn't quite understood what his Muse had meant by that before he was pulled from the mind-scape and sent back to the real world without so much as a goodbye. "I can explain," Ford yelled when he noticed Fiddleford face which was twisted in fear.

"Really Ford!? Then go ahead explain to me why you have a bloody shrine to a 'Dream Demon' who you don't really know and could be trying to end the world for all we know."

"He's a friend, Fidds, like you, I trust him. He wouldn't try to take over the world; he's just trying to help me be the best that I can be."

"Don't you Fidds me and don't liken me that- that thing! I had a dream where he stole your body and used to get what he wanted and what he wanted was to kill me and Tate! Do you really want that? Do you want him to kill everyone who cares about you?"

"Fiddleford, it was just a dream, it doesn't mean anything. Go back to bed, you must be really tired. We'll talk about this in the morning."

It was early in the morning, about three-thirty and Fiddleford was feeling tired but he wasn't going to back down. He wouldn't let Ford win this fight. That was how Ford won all of their fight, with sly wit and manipulation. He knew it wasn't his fault though. It was Bill's. It would always be Bill's fault until he was out of their lives for good. Ford had been a kind, caring man when they were in collage but now that they were in Gravity Fall together it seemed that he had become reclusive and unsympathetic.

"No we will not! And you didn't answer my question, do you want everyone you love to die?!"

"Of course not Fidds but Bill wouldn't do that he's a true gentlemen."

"Then what is all this then? Why is this room full of him! Why do you need all of this… this stuff?!" he said weakly, gesturing around the room at the walls and the candles. It made no sense to him.

"Fidds, I think we should go up steps and get some hot chocolate, I'm tired even if you're not and I don't want to have this conversation here of all places." Ford said rumbling the bridge of his eyes, knocking his glasses askew.

Fiddleford tried to find the words to tell him no but he couldn't, he trusted Ford even if Ford put his trust into people that shouldn't be trusted. He let Ford lead him back into the elevator, up the stair and into the kitchen. Ford led him to a chair and set about putting a kettle on the stove to boil.

"So what did you want to say?"

"I don't trust this Muse you talk to, I've never met him and I don't know what he's like or what he wants and I don't like the idea that when he possesses you I don't know whether you can stop him from doing anything you don't want him to do." Fiddleford said dejectedly staring at the kettle waiting for it to boil. He didn't really feel like talk about it anymore. He hated Bill and he hated that Ford trusted Bill more than him.

"Fiddleford I don't really think it's any of your business. He's not hurting anyone, in fact he's helping and trust me when I say that dream you had can't be true," He paused looking over at his friend's face. If you're really so worried about him I could ask him if we could all meet in the mind scape some time. Then you could formal meet. I'm sure he'll like you, I mean, you're smart and fun to be around, you'll get on like a house on fire."

"Your chose of words doesn't fill me with confidence," Fiddleford muttered, smiling up at him. "Okay, I guess I can't really have an opinion of someone who I've never met before. But promise me one thing okay?" His face grew dark as he stared at the man sitting across from him.

"Of course, what is it?"

"I don't want you letting him into your mind to take control when Tate is in the house. You can do it any other time just not then. Got it?"

"Okay, I can do that. Trust me, Bill is here to help he won't hurt you or Tate but I'll do it if it makes you feel more comfortable."

The kettle shrieked loudly, pulling them away from the conversation and towards the boiling water.

Trust me.

Where are these ideas coming from? Who are you working with?

Trust me!

Looks like Mr Brainiac finally got smart!

Trust no one!

You can't stop the bridge between our worlds from coming but it would be fun to watch you try.

Trust… no one.