September 9th, 1976
Stan woke up like any other morning, but he caught something out of the corner of his eye and stopped outside the living room. He raised an eyebrow at seeing Hephzie curled up on the couch like a bunny, holding a pillow with her arms and snuggling one side of her face into it, but she didn't have a smile or stress from a nightmare; she looked like she had fallen asleep only because she no longer had the strength to stay awake.
Stan placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed it. "Hephzie… Hephzie."
The woman with dreadlocks blinked her eyes open to adjust to the light and looked up at her brother-in-law. "Stan…?"
"What are you doing sleeping on the couch? When did you get home last night?"
Hephzie's eyes darted to the owl-clock on the wall. "An hour ago." She muttered.
"You were supposed to get off at three!" Stan remembered. "How come you were five hours late?!"
"Nurses called in sick." Hephzie mumbled as she closed her eyes. "New Years babies bein' born…"
Stan was lost for a moment and gave her a skeptical look, unsure what she meant at first, but then realized that there must be a lot of babies being born around September or the end of August if parents had celebrated the coming of the New Year enthusiastically. Plus, the staff was super strict about workers being in perfect health before coming into work, to the point where even if a nurse had the sniffles they couldn't come in. "Got it." Stan said and stood up straight. "Well, you should get to bed."
"Mm."
"C'mon, Hephzie." Stan said and gave her shoulder a shake to help wake her up. "You should sleep in your own bed."
Hephzie, without opening her eyes, unwrapped her arms from the pillow and held them out to Stan. "Carry me." She said in a pleading, pitiful tone.
Stan sighed to himself. He scooped the young lady up bridal-style and lifted with his knees. With her arms wrapped around his neck gently and her face nuzzling in his shoulder, he carried her down the hall and for her bedroom. "I swear, you two are running me ragged." Stan teased as he carried Hephzie. "Last night I had to drag Ford's ass to bed from the thinking parlor at two in the morning, still working on that stupid carpet. And now you're taking extra shifts and beating yourself into the dirt."
"I need to, Stan…"
"Yeah, that's what Poindexter says, too." Stan interrupted. "Ya know something, sis, when you first started dating him, I thought 'Finally, someone else to babysit Ford and make sure he actually eats and sleep'. While I was… while you guys were at college, I thought 'Hey, at least Hephzie's making sure Ford doesn't kill himself', but you're just as bad as him."
"M'not." Hephzie slurred into Stan's bare chest, seeing how he was only wearing red-plaid pajama-pants. "V dragged 'm out of lib'ary million time."
"Well, then you two are just a pair of hypocrites, aren't ya?" Stan teased and stopped outside the master bedroom's door. He hesitated to say this, but Hephzie was so tired she'd probably forget, anyways. "Ya know something else, sis, I thought about getting a job. I only agreed to move in with you guys cuz that's what ya wanted, but I knew you'd get sick of me at some point, so I thought I'd get a job and get my own place by Thanksgiving. I'd still be in town, but at… at least I wouldn't be riding on your coattails." Stan shook his head to try to ignore the voices in his head and he quickly added, "But you two clearly need me to babysit you and make sure you don't end up drowning yourselves in your jobs, like going 'till you drop in the hospital or don't get crushed by some freaky tree-giant. So, I'm sorry, but you're stuck with me."
Hephzie held Stan a little tighter, but not so tight it hurt his neck. "Good."
Stan could feel his face get hot and he gently put Hephzie on her feet so he could open the door. Surprisingly quiet, Stan managed to carry her into the dark bedroom, where Ford was snoring loudly, indicating he was sleeping soundly. With Hephzie almost fully asleep in his arms, Stan laid her on the left side of the queen-sized bed and used an extra blanket to tuck her in so he wouldn't have to try to get her under the covers.
To make sure Ford didn't wake up, Stan settled with squeezing her shoulder before closing the door and sighing to himself. What on Earth is Stan gonna do with those two workaholics?
September 17th, 1976
Fiddleford and Maddie invited Hephzie, Ford and Stan to their own wedding in Tennessee. Maddie made Hephzie maid of honor and Ford was the best man. The wedding had been in a small church and then the reception was held in a very big, luxurious barn, so clean that it had clearly never been touched by animals.
The McGucket wedding wasn't anything like the Pines wedding; it was a huge celebration, mostly made up of crazy McGuckets who loved to drink, tell stories, dance, and just have a good time.
Todd Jr., the eldest McGucket sibling, was going to own the hog farm when their father was gone, but the original Old Man McGucket was a hard worker, so the two operated the farm together, taking quite a dip since most of the children had moved out and could no longer help. Todd was a wise, gentle soul who was almost like a second-father to most of his siblings. He had a wife named Mary and had children already: a curious six-year-old named Jefferson, and a beautiful four-year-old named Caroline, who were both dancing on the dance floor, stomping their feet as Jefferson tried to teach Caroline how to dance. Todd was a muscular, tall young man with sparkling brown eyes like Fiddleford's, but blond hair and a short beard.
Montgomery, who owned his own shoe-repair store, seemed to always have his hands dirty; they may even be dyed brown permanently. Regardless, no one cared that it clashed with his suit and he happily introduced his girlfriend to Fiddleford, a chubby young lady named Loretta with rosy cheeks and was the local pastor's daughter. She was the talented baker who had actually made the wedding cake for free and she proved to have an amazing sense of humor. To this day, Fiddleford and his brothers are still confused as to how Mellow-Monty got together with such a jolly, fun woman. Monty was very quiet, but sweet as honey.
Bartholomew was the closest brother to Fiddleford, not just by age but also by relationship. They inspired each other. Bart always stood up for Fiddleford' inventions, even when they caused trouble as children, and Fiddleford encouraged Bart to go to college; he was now in the midst of his senior year of college and had been accepted to law school, his dream job being a lawyer. Bart almost looked nothing like Fiddleford (Fiddleford favored Papa while Bart favored Mama), but personality-wise they were nearly identical, always quick to give a hug or comforting words and sharp as a knife when it came to intelligence. Ford found that he liked Bart and enjoyed chatting with him.
Maxwell was the troublemaker of the family. He had a habit of causing pranks and dragging his younger brother, Cornellius, into them. Max was a sandy-haired young man who resembled a mouse with his watery eyes, but he had skinny legs and a thin frame. He was a good man, but he never took responsibility for his actions. In fact, at twenty one years old, he worked for his brother and father and already had two kids with his ex-wife, Tabitha. He and Stan, however, had a fun time exchanging stories of mischief and they may or may not have been the reason why Fiddleford's truck was full of birdseed and wrapped up in toilet paper.
Cornelius was the heart and soul of the party, or any party he went to, anyways, dancing with men and women alike and supplying a joyous atmosphere; it was hard to be in a bad mood around him. With hair and glasses that matched Fiddleford's but a rounder frame, he had a jolly laugh and a quick jig, pairing well with the sparkling baby-blue eyes he had inherited from their mother. Cornelius was in college and working towards law school, too, but not to be a lawyer; he dreamed of becoming governor of Tennessee one day, but first he wanted to be a representative. Cornelius merrily danced with Maddie and listened as she chatted away about her excitement over the recent events.
And then there was the baby of the family, but not the least bit spoiled: Jolene. She was the most beautiful girl in their small town, but had never been on a single date thanks to the over protectiveness of her six brothers. She was a tough cookie who had no problems getting her hands dirty or swearing. She had curly blonde hair and sparkling baby-blue eyes, with rosy cheeks, white teeth, and a dimple on her right cheek, but not her left. Jolene happily showed Ford her odd cheeks with a giggling grin. ("Dimple, no dimple. Dimple, no dimple.") Jolene was exactly as Fiddleford described her: the youngest and the toughest McGucket sibling. And yes, the tale of her taking down a grizzly bear with her bare hands at the age of twelve is true.
Stan fitted right in and made friends with Fiddleford's brothers relatively quickly. He had a good time getting to know them and ended up arm-wrestling Todd Jr., Max, Bart, Monty, and Fiddleford, and winning, up until Jolene challenged him and he lost. The only problem was when Fiddleford and Maddie had kissed, becoming husband and wife, and at least eight family members fired a gun, making Stan jump so badly he fell to the floor, giving Ford something to laugh at under the loud cheering.
Hephzie danced the night away and wore her poor husband out, eventually pulling Maddie out onto the dancefloor (after the bride had danced with her uncle and her new husband, of course) and danced with her, tap-dancing in their heels and swinging each other gracefully. Hephzie didn't even care about the slightly-racist comments Fiddleford's Great-Aunt Prudence made, like assuming Hephzie was a waiter (despite her wearing an army-green maid-of-honor's dress) and asking if she could read.
Ford and Fiddleford were happy to sit and chat about their plans for the future. Though the best man didn't have high hopes for Fiddleford's person computers, not many people believed in his investigations in Gravity Falls, so he kept his opinions to himself and merely listened to Fiddleford's plans to move into a nice house in Palo Alto, California in hopes of getting his small company off the ground.
Though the newlyweds were happy to let family members play for them during their first dance, most of the wedding the two played their own instruments, fiddle and banjo harmonizing in that beautiful barn decorated with sunflowers and full of loved ones from all across the country. At the end of it all, the happy couple drove off, changed into their casual wear (except Maddie wore a white blouse with a blue-jean skirt and Fiddleford wore his usual suit jacket, dress-shirt and necktie), for the airport where they would depart for Hawaii. The night didn't end as luxurious for the Pines, as Ford proved to be a bit of a lightweight and didn't necessarily get drunk, but had to be dragged back to the hotel room while Hephzie stayed behind to help the McGuckets and Ingrids clean up the barn.
October 20th, 1976
Ford stood at the mouth of a bat cave that didn't house a superhero, but anomalies. Stan handed him a butterfly net that he had pulled from the red Diablo and the two twins braced themselves.
"Now, as far as I can tell, they're relatively harmless," Ford explained. "So just be wary and make sure you don't get lost."
"Got it." Stan asked and held his net like a rifle, ready to attack the enemy. "Ya got something to hold these suckers in?"
Ford pulled back his trenchcoat to show where he had stuffed a pocket with a big jar. Stan nodded in approval and the two slowly crept into the cave by the lake. It was pitch black and soon the moonlight didn't reach the cave, but they couldn't provide any light like a lantern or risk losing what they were looking for. They had both seen these creatures here and there and now was a good chance to get a closer look. It got so dark that neither twin could see the other, but a small source of light told them they were about to find what they were looking for.
Stan and Ford walked on and were soon met with a small group of floating eyeballs, but the small glow coming from the balls of white showed that they weren't floating, but flying with bat-like wings. The Mystery Twins ran forward and started to catch the eye-bats for science. It was like an extreme game of catch. There had been so fireflies at Glass Shard Beach for the boys to catch as children, but there were plenty of seagulls to try to catch just for the heck of it, tiptoeing towards the poor bird and then launching at it, only to have it fly away just in time.
But the Eyebats were no match for the twins. It wasn't long before the jar filled up full of the Eyebats, not to be confused with the Floating Eyes (which Ford decided he and Stan would investigate another time. One anomaly at a time, please). Ford placed the jar on his desk in the thinking parlor and began to sketch the strange creature in his journal, his brother behind him on the couch as he sipped from a can of Pitt soda.
February 25th, 1977
One cold winter night, as they all sat in the living room playing poker on the card table, Hephzie sighed and slammed her cards down. "That's it, I fold."
"Tough luck, sis." Stan sneered and showed his cards. He had a royal flush, making Ford and Hephzie groan, and the conartist laughed as he dragged the oreos towards him, playing with cookies instead of coins.
Hephzie managed to snag one and pop it into her mouth before anyone could stop her. Ford gathered up all the cards to shuffle, not trusting his brother to do so fairly (Plus, having six fingers proved to be an advantage when it came to shadow-puppets, playing the piano, and shuffling cards or rolling dice).
The phone rang from the hall and Hephzie got up to get it. "Guard my cards with your life, Fordsie." She instructed and left to answer the phone call.
Ford shuffled the cards and was passing them out. He kept an ear on his wife; it wasn't uncommon for her to get a call from the hospital requesting that she come in and help, so he mentally prepared himself for her to have to rush out the door and help with a delivery or cover a nurse so they could help in another department.
"Hephzibah Pines speakin'." There was a pause, and then she said in a slightly nervous tone, "Yes, he is. Is everythang okay?"
There was an even longer pause. Ford stopped shuffling the cards and listened. When Stan noticed this, he listened as well. They could hear Hephzie say things in a shocked tone like "oh" and "uh, hu" and "yes, ma'am".
Finally she concluded with a strained voice, "Yes, I'll…. I'll be there as soon as I can. Please, just…. do whatever ya can. Thanks... thanks. Goodbye."
They heard the phone being hung back up on the wall, and then what sounded like Hephzie laying against the wall and sliding down to the floor. Ford quickly got up to check on her, with Stan right behind him, and they stared at Hephzie as she held her knees, buried her face in her arms, and may or may not be crying; it was too hard to tell right now. Regardless, Ford sat on her right side and put an arm around her, waiting patiently for her to express what had upset her so much. Meanwhile, he racked his brain for what could have upset her. His eyes widened and his heart ached as he realized that only one thing could upset Hephzie like this.
She let go of her knees, wrapped her arms around her husband's chest, and cried gently into his black sweater.
At least she got to say goodbye to Grandpa. The last thing the old man felt while lying on that hospital bed was his granddaughter's hand that held his own and a kiss she planted on his thin cheek. He died just in time to miss the tears she cried, or the wails of misery that escaped her lips.
April 19th, 1977
Ford was running from a band of angry unicorns, one of which had a bloody nose. Stan had lost his temper when dealing with an annoying unicorn and punched it, causing her and her friends to rally up and start galloping towards the humans for revenge. The twins stomped over gnomes, swatted away fairies, and stumbled over toadstools before leaving the magical part of the forest.
Once they were safe, as Stan wiped away the rainbow blood from his fist, his twin yelled sarcastically, "Nicely done, Stanley!"
July 10th, 1977
One year. They had been married for one year. Sure, some days are harder than others and the two had to work hard at their relationship, but Stanford found that he loved Hephzibah more now than he did when he first married her and he knew that he would love her more every day.
Knowing what to do for their first anniversary was difficult. Stanford wanted to do something special, but nothing too big, but nothing too small, either. He ended up taking Hephzibah out to the nicest restaurant in town, The Club, but once they were there they found they wanted nothing more than to be back home.
Stanley had gone out to the lodge and wouldn't be back until late at night, giving the couple the freedom to do whatever they please. Their gifts to each other had been something nobody would think to give, but they both loved it: pajamas. Stanford was given nice maroon PJs and new matching slippers. Hephzibah was given a silk light-purple robe and several pairs of fuzzy socks. The gifts left each person smiling and excited to try on their cozy pajamas. However, that wasn't the end of the gift exchange.
Hephzibah excused herself to the master bathroom and changed into special pajamas she had been saving for their anniversary. Stanford, meanwhile, quickly pulled out red roses he had stowed away, littered the bed with petals, and pulled out a bottle of red wine, two glasses, and worked quickly to light candles that littered the nightstands, Stanford's dresser, and his desk. He also pulled out the little radio and turn to the station that played smooth jazz. He managed to sit on the bed in his new maroon pajamas just as his wife came out of the bathroom, dressed in an outfit that looked like what would have been in stores around Valentine's Day. Her lips had the tiniest bit of gloss to keep them smooth, her dreadlocks down from her ponytail, and her figured decorated with a white lace gown that was tight around the curves, low around the chest, and loose around the legs. There were cuts that exposed Hephzibah's slim legs and thin straps that laced over her naked back and shoulders. She walked out, giving Stanford a full-view by giving a spin, and she placed her hands on the bottom of the bed and bent down.
"Well, what do ya think?" Hephzibah hissed.
Stanford gulped as that familiar squirm in his gut slithered into his system. His instincts told him to tear that gown off of her like a wild animal, but logic told him that they would both enjoy themselves much more if they were slow. Stanford open and closed his mouth, but no words came out.
Hephzibah's chuckle was as smooth and sweet as honey. "I've still got it." She slipped onto the bed and over the rose petals until she was right by her husband's side. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and down to her breast, and slowly kissed her. Hephzibah grabbed onto the collar of his button-up pajamas and pulled him closer. Slowly, Hephzibah pulled Stanford on top of her and she laid on her back while he massaged her breasts, not once breaking their deep kiss. Hephzibah would, every so often, turn her head away for breath or a moan, but she always returned.
Stanford took a break and popped open the bottle of red wine, for once not caring if they spilt wine of the bed as he poured out two small glasses. They toasted before sipping slowly and soon resuming their kiss. They somehow managed to sit the glasses on their nightstands and Hephzibah was soon on top of her husband, unbuttoning the top half of his shirt and tracing his toned chest with her fingertips, making his spine shiver. Hephzibah not only kissed his lips, but his cheek, his cleft chin, his neck, and the top of his chest, slowly blessing every inch of his face and neck with her kiss.
Stanford was jelly under her and found he could do nothing but marvel at how she could make him feel. He kissed the top of her head while she kissed the base of his neck and their lips met once more.
March 13th 1978
Fiddleford was finally alone in the comfort of his own home. Well, not entirely alone. There was the baby in the crib. And his wife was in the bed next to him.
The new father looked down at Madeline, who was sleeping soundly for the first time in nearly two days. Fiddleford smiled affectionately at her and admired her strength and beauty. She had already given him so much and now she had given him a son.
Fiddleford averted his eyes to the crib that sat at the foot of the queen-sized bed. No noise came from it, but he had an urge to look inside. Knowing there was a good chance he'd wake the baby and that his choice wasn't wise, he ignored logic entirely and got up from the bed quietly. Fiddleford peered down into the crib and smiled surprisingly to find the newborn wrapped up in his blanket, his eyes open, wide awake, but he did not cry or wail or even whimper. He looked perfectly content with laying in the crib and staring at the ceiling, until he saw his father and looked up at him curiously, as if studying him.
"Hello," Fiddleford whispered and gently tickled his chin with his pointer finger, but of course the baby didn't laugh or smile (he was too young for that) but there was a sparkle in his eyes that told Fiddleford that if the baby could smile or laugh he would. "Couldn't sleep either, huh, son?"
As predicted, the newborn didn't answer. To give them both something to do, Fiddleford gently picked up his son and decided to go into the living room to leave Maddie to sleep in peace. He walked silently down the hall and began to pace the living room and mutter gently to the baby boy.
"I reckon ya should be asleep, Tater, but I suppose I can't judge ya terribly for lyin' awake. Like father, like son, after all."
Fiddleford's eyes caught the large pile of gifts on the dining table from family and friends. His five brothers had all gotten him something, as well as his little sister, his parents, Madeline's aunt and uncle, old Mrs. Donald, their next-door neighbor, and Hephzibah, Stanford, and Stanley. Clothes, diapers, blankets and toys alike had all been given to help prepare for Tater's arrival, as well as a few gifts for the new parents. Stanley had even bought them earplugs.
Fiddleford smiled at the dysfunctional arrangements of gifts on the table. So many loved ones had come out to Palo Alto to help and support the little McGucket family. So many people had looked out and cared for them in this chaotic and joyous time. Change was still a little bit scary - only a fool would deny that - but thanks to the support of family and friends, it was happening smoothly, and the new father found that he was not only excited, but also confident in his… no, in their future.
August 31st, 1980
Ford brewed the coffee and patiently waited for the caffeine to finish dripping into the pot so he could wake up properly. He was in a funk, at a low point, fresh out of ideas. He felt drained, useless, unable to think. He was sinking and no one, not even Stan or Hephzie, could pull him out. He would have to climb out on his own. Once the coffee was done, Ford poured himself a cup, sweetened it the way he liked it, and then headed to the thinking parlor to try to think his way out of the situation.
He put his mug down on an end table and stood in front of a big chalkboard on which he had worked on late last night. A jumbled mess of equations, drawings of creature, and copies of symbols and codes littered the board, all pointing to a big red question mark. Ford tried to think, to push his mind to extremes, to try to think of what connected them all, but all he could do was grit his teeth and slam a fist onto the board. He hung his head low and tightly shut his eyes. He had hit a roadblock.
Ford heard footsteps and he found his wife walking up to him, a mug of coffee in her hands and her soft purple robe covering her body, already dressed in grey sweatpants and a black t-shirt. She held the mug with both hands and sipped her joe with a concerned look on her face. "Still frustrated?" Hephzie guessed.
Ford sighed heavily and hung his head low once more. "Yes."
"'Bout?" Hephzie asked as she sat on the couch with her legs by her side.
"There's got to be something that connects all of these anomalies! If I can't find it, than all of my hard work towards the Gravity Falls Theory of Unified Weirdness will be for nothing!" The scientist vented. "How can I prove a theory that doesn't even exist?!"
"Well, do ya believe there's a connection?"
"I do." Ford said firmly and clenched his fist tighter, digging his nails into his palm. "I can feel it in my gut… but nothing's turning up…"
"It's only been four years, Brainiac." Hephzie reminded him, even using an old childhood nickname to try to lighten the mood. "You'll find what you're lookin' for, ya just gotta be patient."
"Right," Ford said through gritted teeth. He took in a deep breath, let it go, and then removed his fist from the board and turned towards the couch. He then stood by it, sipping his coffee, and checked the time. "Where the hell is Stanley?!" He demanded, a little surprised by the time. "We were supposed to investigate Trembley Falls today."
Hephzie rolled her eyes, knowing that her advice about being patient was going in one ear and out the other. "He's still asleep. I'll get him, ya just sit n' relax." She got up with her mug of coffee and left the room.
Ford sighed and collapsed on the velvet couch. He sipped his cup of caffeine as he stared blindly at the giant question mark that haunted him. That sign used to excite him; it used to remind them that there were still questions that needed answers, and that he could provide the answers, but for the first time in his life he couldn't find what he was looking for, and it frustrated him far more than he thought it would. Ford tried to relax, to calm down and remind himself that he did have all the time in the world, but how long would it be before someone else came up here and beat him to the punch? How long would it take to find what he was looking for? How much longer would he have to be patient?
A few minutes later and Ford went to the kitchen to get some more coffee, he passed by the bathroom and heard someone vomiting. He cringed, his stomach turning at the sound, and he hurried on his merry way to the kitchen. When he passed by the bathroom again, this time with a full mug in his six-fingered hands, Hephzie stepped out and sighed.
"Are you alright?" Ford asked concerned that she was sick.
"I'm just fine." Hephzie answered and jabbed her thumb back towards the bathroom. "Stan, on the other hand, is sick. He's got a fever n' he' shiverin' all over. Probably the flu."
Ford winced sympathetically for his twin and asked, "Will he be okay?"
"He'll be fine, Fordsie." Hephzie said calmly. "But knowin' how ya two function, it's only a matter of time before ya get sick, too, so why don't ya get outta the house n' go see Trembley Falls? I'll stay here n' take care of Stan."
Ford couldn't agree more, so he pocketed his second journal, took a lantern with him, kissed his wife goodbye, and started to hike towards the Falls.
The trip proved to be an all-day affair. By noon he had found the mouth of a cave hidden by Trembley Falls. Kept warm by his sweater and trenchcoat and guided by the light of his lantern, he ventured into the cave. It was incredible. If Ford had to make a hypothesis, the Natives of Gravity Falls had built a series of maze-like tunnels in the mountains in order to escape from the creature that would surely enjoy a human for a meal. The tunnels reminded Ford of the ones ants build, each colony working together to build a complex set of tunnels and rooms to serve as their forever home. Fortunately, the caves under Trembley Falls were not that complex and it was simple enough to remember where you were if you paid attention to the painting and writing on the walls. Most of them were stories of hunting down bears and deers, others were folktales of gods and other mythical creatures, some Ford had met in the four years he and his family had been investigating Gravity Falls, some he suspected never even existed.
Deeper into the cave, hidden behind cobwebs so thick they were like cotton, an image of a triangle with an eye in it's center caught Ford's attention. He held back the webs and studied the drawings. Dozens of humans were drawn to the triangle, some on their knees, some reaching out desperately. Surrounding the drawing, in the Native's language (which Ford understood well), told a tale of a being with answers. The description was vague, but it told of a being with a higher intelligence than anything and anyone on Earth, and how to summon it. Ford gave the idea some thought and looked at the words painted onto the wall. It gave a warning not to read the inscription aloud, but he strongly considered it.
No one else could help him. He was alone this time. Hephzibah and Stanley were intelligent in their own right and would surely try to help Stanford, but they couldn't. No one could give him the answers he needed, no one could guide him in the right direction, but maybe this being could. Even if it was just another false god, what was the harm in trying it? You miss all the shots you don't take, after all.
And so he read the inscription aloud.
But nothing happened.
Ford shrugged. He didn't really think it would work. He began to wander around the cave some more until he saw just how much deeper it ran. There was so much to discover, and it would be unfair to see it all while his brother laid at home ill. Ford sighed to himself, sat in front of the drawing and incantation that had caught his eye, and recorded it into Journal 2 by the lamp light. Once he had entered a good entry and sketched what he wanted, he found himself getting cold in the cave, having no source of heat, even at the end of the summer, so Ford stood and left the cave. Hungry, he decided to go home for lunch and then maybe go on a hike to avoid getting sick.
It was a good thing he came home when he did, because when he entered the house called out that he was home, his wife greeted him from the kitchen. Eyes wide with superstition, he raced to the kitchen to find her chopping up vegetables like carrots, onions, celery, and potatoes, by a pot full of boiling water.
"Hephzibah," Ford said as he joined her and cautiously looked to see if she had actually cooked anything yet. "What on Earth are you doing?"
"Making Stan some beef stew." Hephzie said casually. "I didn't expect ya home until dinner. Everythang go okay at the caves?"
"It was fine," Ford answered. "I just fancied grabbing lunch and then getting some research done. It made more sense to get some book-reading done with Stanley out of commission. How is he?" He added.
"He's fine." Hephzie said casually as she scooped up the veggies and put them in a separate bowl to add after cooking the meat. "Pitiful. Tried to get outta bed n' say he was fine, but then he nearly passed out."
Ford chuckled and shook his head. To make sure nothing got burned, once Hephzie finished chopping up the meat he cooked it for her and he added the veggies when ready. It wasn't the best stew in the world when they were done, but it would help Stan. Hephzie delivered his lunch and instructed that Ford keep his distance. Not really enjoying the idea of getting sick, he quickly ate a bowl of stew, changed out of his sweater and coat and into his golden long-sleeved button-up, grabbed some books, and went outside to go read in the woods.
Completely opposite to the cold, damp, dark caves under Trembley Falls, the woods were warm, dry, and bright, but not too bright where the sun hurt his eyes. Ford tried to focus on reading, but his mind began to wander. He hadn't been sleeping long enough the past few nights, trying to work through his roadblock, and the sun was making him drowsy. Ford rolled up his sleeves to try to cool down and he shook his head to try to clear his mind, and then he resumed his reading. Leaning against a tree on a little hill, Ford found himself dangerously comfortable, but didn't have the strength to change his sitting arrangement. He managed to finish the book he was reading and he closed it, letting out a puff of air and he tempted himself to close his eyes for five minutes to congratulate himself on finishing the book. Then it would be off to the next one.
He was floating. No, he could walk. No, there was no ground around him; he was in space, and yet he could walk as if he was on Earth. Strange. Even stranger, he wasn't just among the stars, but materials such as his journals, blue books with golden handprints yet to be touched, clocks, equations, scientific equipment.
Mesmerized and having a desire to keep answers, Stanford walked onward in his sweater and trenchcoat. The more he looked around, the more everything seemed familiar, like he was revisiting a dream, or like he was reliving a memory. No, he had never been here before, he would think he would remember a place like this. So why was it so familiar? Stanford saw a long sheet of paper, almost like a scroll, and he brought it down to his eyes so he could read it? Was this his work? He recognized the handwriting and drawings as his own. But why…
A shadow stole some of the light Stanford was using to read the scroll. He turned away with a raised eyebrow and his jaw dropped at seeing something unlike anything he had yet to see. It was a triangle, a golden brick one, with little black arms and legs. It had a giant eye in the center of the body, and a tiny black bowtie and tophat. If Stanford had to guess, it was male. He'd also have to guess that this was the being the Natives of Gravity Falls had guided him towards.
"Hiya, smart guy!" The triangle greeted with a small wave, his voice echoing and his body glowing. He had no mouth in which his words escaped from. He wasn't "walking" or "standing" like Stanford was; he floated so he was eye-level with the human and he was about the size of the man's head. When the triangle zoomed closer and Stanford flinched, he said, "Whoa, don't have a heart attack, you're not ninety-two yet."
"Who are you?" Stanford asked, in complete shock with everything from how the triangle held himself up proudly to his extensive knowledge.
"Name's Bill." He said politely as he dipped his hat to the human. "And your name's Stanford Pines, the man who changed the world, but I'm getting ahead of ourselves. Let's relax. Care for a game of interdimensional chess?" Out of thin air, a chess set appeared in a glowing blue light and a comfy chair appeared underneath Stanford, making him sit. "Have a cup of tea." A teapot and cup then appeared and poured Stanford a cup, which he took out of politeness.
Bill sat in a chair opposite of the human and moved first, placing the pawn in front of the knight two spaces ahead. Stanford couldn't exactly sit his cup of tea down on an end-table or by his feet, but he discovered quickly that he could allow it to float by his head if he chose. He moved the pawn in front of his queen and smiled when Bill took his next turn. The game proved to be very entertaining, both players equally as skilled, and when Stanford sipped his tea, he was pleased to find it just the right temperature and flavor, his ideal favorite cup of tea; it was like it came straight from his mind.
It was a close draw, but Stanford won the first game by trapping the king. Immediately after he won, the game reset itself and after congratulating the human on his small victory, he invited him to make the first move, so Stanford did. As entertained and comfortable as he was by this pleasant dream, a surprisingly amount of logic was still left in his mind. This wasn't a normal dream where he was reliving a warped memory or viewing a scene his imagination had cooked up in his sleep; this seemed all too real.
"Bill," Stanford spoke while the triangle moved a piece on the gameboard. "As pleased as I am to meet you, you didn't really explain who you were."
Bill laughed at himself, squeezing his eye shut for a moment as he held his body, and then said, "Oh, nothing gets by you, huh, Fordsie? Well, as hard as it may be to believe, I'm a muse."
"A muse?" Stanford repeated as he moved his crook.
"That's right." Bill replied, taking his turn on the game. "Every century, I get to choose one brilliant mind to inspire. You see, I'm a special type of muse. I'm the Master of the Mind. I know lots of things, and I know a brilliant mind when I see one." He added, pointing to his one eye.
Stanford smiled proudly as he played Bill's game. "And so… am I under the correct assumption that you have chosen my mind?"
"Ding, ding, ding!" Bill sang. "We have a winner!" He didn't move his piece, pausing the game, rather he leaned forward, resting an elbow on a knee. "Look, you're trying to figure out the Gravity Falls Theory of Unified Weirdness, right? And you're getting there, but you just need a little help, someone to steer you in the direction, someone to inspire you, someone like me."
Stanford took another sip from his cup of tea and listened to what his new friend had to say.
Hephzie didn't really worry about Ford or Stan when they left the house. They had proven many times that they are more than capable of taking care of themselves. No, that wasn't why she was looking for her husband; she just needed to get out of the house. Hephzie found Ford sleeping against a tree not too far from home, cradling a book in his arms as he snoozed peacefully, his soft snoring indicating that he was sleeping well. Hephzie smiled and carefully sat next to him. The tree wasn't big enough for her to lay against it for support, too, so she settled for placing her head on Ford's shoulder and closing her eyes.
Maybe twenty minutes later, Ford slowly opened his eyes, blinking as he got used to the bright setting sun, and he looked down at his wife, who laid on his left shoulder. He sat the book down and gently grabbed her right hand, then closed his eyes once more, not really intending on going back to sleep, but to simply enjoy the company.
"Slept well?" Hephzie asked.
Ford hummed softly in reply, his eyelids just a little too heavy to lift them. "How's Stanley?"
"He'll live." She said in a plain tone, almost sarcastically. "He's sleepin' off the flu right now."
"Good." Ford kissed his wife's head in gratitude for taking care of his brother and rested once more.