Ford had learned the rules a lifetime ago.
Keep your head high. Scream as loud as they want you to (it made the punishments easier, not that he got many). And always smile for the Queen.
The Queen. At first, Ford had found her four arms, pale green skin, and sleek species fascinating. She certainly looked better than the other buyers at that fateful market so many years ago. But now... After all the backbreaking labor he, and his fellow sla- honored servants, had been through... Ford hated it when she patted his head, and told him random facts about her kind.
She was a collector, and he was one of her prized possessions.
As it turned out, human servants were rare in the multiverse. And of the Queen's dozen or so, the odd one was her favorite.
Whenever she had someone she really wanted to impress, she'd bring him out, no matter what condition he was in. She'd force him to show whatever politician or general she was entertaining his hands, and they'd always remark about how unusual they were, and how lucky she was to own such a fine specimen.
She would always smile, showing her pearly white teeth, and pat his head affectionately. "He's my favorite." She'd say in her velvety, childlike voice. "Do you like him?"
Ford often wondered why Bill didn't just try to take him away. Perhaps he was having too much fun watching Ford squirm. And Ford used to think that Stanley was the most suffocating thing in his life.
The Queen had kept the picture of the two of them that Ford had brought with him from his own dimension. She said that it was a pity she didn't get the set, and Ford pretended that he agreed. Secretly he thanked the Axolotl that she hadn't gotten Stanley. That would have been an entirely different situation.
He had helped her build her empire. He and his fellow 'honored servants' had leveled mountains, and dug passageways through solid rock. He had helped design and build the grand palace. He knew the ins and outs of her kingdom like the back of his scarred hands.
Little did she know that he would help bring her doom.
"There's a what?!"
"Afa vlr exbo? Eb'p ibxsfkd!"
"I wonder how her majesty will react. He is her favorite after all."
"But what about Project Vive?"
Ford tried not to listen to the other aliens surrounding him. He instead focused on forcing his arms to move up and down, carrying his futuristic pickaxe through the air, and crashing it down into the greyish brown rock that they were boring into.
He was behind on his quota, but that didn't matter. Hopefully, soon he wouldn't be there. There would be no uncomfortable prison-like jumpsuits. No standardized schedules that worked him too late into the night and started too early in the day. Everything would change once the portal was fully charged.
The portal. It was hard to believe that these callused hands had one been able to twist wires into the perfect position. It was hard to think of them drawing sketches of creatures that had sparked his interest. That once upon a time he had had little to care about.
The thudding of his blue pickaxe chimed with the pulsing of the vortex in front of him. He had lost track of the hours, only hoping that he would not be called up to the ship that day.
Chips of rock fell around his feet. He couldn't remember what they were digging for, the times he'd been in similar situations had blurred the details together. He just knew where to dig, and to keep going until he was ordered not to.
Then it happened.
Ford's tired and sweaty face broke out into a grin. The planet they were on began to shake. The grey and green mantis men who were the taskmast- supervisors were thrown into pandemonium. But the other shackled creatures knew.
Ford turned around. The portal was beginning to pull him towards it. He held his pickaxe high above his head, his green chains rattling slightly.
"Vive Revolution!" He yelled, and that's when the world turned upside down.
"Who... Who is that?"
Stan rubbed his head, fighting the urge to vomit. He looked up at the figure of a man walking through the dead swirl of the portal. His breath caught in his throat for a second, then he said with confidence he didn't really feel, "The Author of the Journals... My brother."
Ford bent down and picked up his Journal. And that's when Stan saw something that was odd.
Ford was in a jumpsuit, much like the ones Stan had worn whenever he'd been put in prison. Stan felt his stomach flop slightly.
Ford straightened, and stretched, holding the Journal high above his head. Stan couldn't help but gape at Ford. His brother had a buzz cut. Why in the world did he have a buzz cut and prison...
Stan's eyes widened, and he got shakily to his feet and walked towards Ford. "You're here..." He said, holding his arms out wide, "After all these long years of waiting!"
The last thing he expected happened. Ford landed a solid blow to his chin, and it actually hurt.
"This was an insanely risky move, restarting the portal." Ford said, as Stan rubbed his jaw and cried out in protest. "Didn't you read my warnings?"
"Warnings shmornings," Stan said, folding his arms, "How's about a little thanks for saving you from... Wherever you were?"
Ford chuckled, he held the hand he punched Stan with out to him, like he was going to have Stan shake it. "Yes... I was getting ahead of myself... Thank you Stan."
Stan gaped at Ford in spite of himself. He glanced down at Ford's hand, then back up at his face.
It was clean shaven, and Stan could just make out... Was that the beginning of a tattoo?
He grasped his brother's hand, and nodded weakly. "What did you do to your face?" He asked quietly, and Ford winced slightly.
"Let's just say... Humans fetch a high price on the selling block." Ford said, dropping Stan's hand, "It's more my fault than your's, I was the one who let them catch me..."
"Humans? Price? Catch you?" Stan repeated, and Ford nodded, running a hand through his super-short hair. "Were you a slave?"
Ford sighed, "The Queen preferred 'Honored Servant'... But yes."
Stan gaped at his brother, thoughts swirling around him. Ford talked about his enslavement like it was school. He simultaneously had a billion questions, and none. Luckily, he didn't have to ask anything.
"Hi! Mabel here... What on Earth is going on?!"
Ford looked away from Stan, and his tired eyes landed on Mabel. "Children?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. "Was that the best course of action Stan?"
Stan shook his head, trying to jiggle his thoughts into coherency. "They're your family Poindexter... Shermie's grandkids."
A smile spread across Ford's face, "I have a niece and nephew?" He whispered. He stepped over to a stunned Mabel, who smiled back at him.
"Greetings." Ford said, kneeling down in front of the young girl and extending a hand out to her. "Do children still say 'greetings' I haven't talked with one for a really long time..."
"Whoa... A six-fingered handshake! That's a full finger friendlier than normal!" Mabel shook his hand, and Ford's small grin became even wider. "And I like your tattoo." She added, and his smile dropped slightly. "Thank you." He said quietly, "I'm glad you can see the beauty in it..."
He straightened, Mabel looking up at him. He turned to Dipper, who was staring at him, open-mouthed. "You're the Author of the Journals!" He breathed. "I don't believe it... You're the Author of the Journals!"
Dipper received a smile from Ford as well. "You read my Journals?" He asked, and Dipper nodded. "I haven't just read them, I've lived them! I've been waiting so long to meet you. I have so many questions for you..."
Ford chuckled slightly, "It appears so does everyone else... Speaking of which..." He turned to Stan, who was staring at the tattoo on his neck. If Ford noticed this, he didn't mention it, he instead folded his arms and politely asked, "Stanley, does anyone else know about this place? Anyone at all?"
Stan rubbed the back of his neck, "Um... Is now a good time to mention... The entire US Government..?"
Ford froze for a second, then his eyes widened and he yelled, "The what?!" He ran a hand down his face, and muttered something under his breath. "It's okay... We still have a while before they find this room..."
Mabel stepped up to her two great uncles. "So... It looks like we're going to be stuck down here for a while... Who wants to explain their entire mysterious backstory?!"
Ford and Stan shared a glance, then Ford shrugged. "I don't see the harm in it..." He said, and Stan nodded.
"It all began, a lifetime ago..."
"I was about forty at the time, I had thought that they were trying to help me..." Ford sat next to Stan in the kitchen, a mug in his hands. "Long story short, the next thing I knew I was being... Tattooed... And I was in a cell with several other creatures."
He pulled the collar of the turtleneck sweater he'd changed into minutes after they had mind-wiped the government agents, revealing the symbols HM-618. "The Queen, may she die an awful death, took immediate interest in me. She actually payed double price for me..."
Dipper and Mabel shared a look of disgust, but Ford didn't seem to notice them.
"I actually helped start a revolution, but that was difficult... You see, my Dimensional translator was taken from me, and only a handful of my colleagues spoke English..." He rubbed the bridge of his nose, pushing his newly donned glasses up slightly. "So it was hard to communicate. I sort of yelled for them to go crazy when I left... I hope they're okay."
He took a long drink from his cup, and sighed. "But honestly, I'm so grateful you got me out Stan. If I had to hear her tell another politician about how good of a boy I am..." He curled his hands into fists, the mug shaking slightly, sloshing coffee onto the table. "I swear I would have ripped all four of her arms out of their sockets! And..."
He looked up and remembered that Dipper and Mabel were there. He coughed politely, "And I will stop talking before I traumatize Dipper and Mabel."
Stan nodded slowly, he pointed towards the door and mouthed "Go". The kids nodded and slid out of their chairs and exited the room.
Weirdmageddon; Penthouse suite Fearamid:
"You're in the Penthouse suite kid!"
Ford glared at the yellow triangle that was floating in front of him, he kicked his leg forward, vainly attempting to loosen the blue chain attached to his ankle.
"Oops, sorry," Bill said, "Is that the wrong color?"
Ford sighed through his teeth, "Actually, I prefer blue.. But I'd like it better if I didn't have one at all."
Bill laughed, "But I can't have My Favorite just wandering off. You might get hurt!"
"Says the guy who turned me into a statue!" Ford snapped, folding his arms. Bill rolled his eye, "At least you were a Good Boy when you were golden." He said, snapping two glasses full of purple cosmic sand into existence.
"Don't patronize me." Ford said, glancing between his drink and Bill.
"Whatever Fordsy." Bill said, sitting down on his piano. "Have a seat."
Ford sighed, and did what Bill said, dropping himself on the couch behind him.
"Did you know that that couch is made of living human skin?" Bill asked, after he had taken a long sip from his cup. The couch responded with opening it's eyes and mouth, letting it's tongue fall out onto the floor.
But Ford had the complete opposite reaction to what Bill was waiting for. Instead of being disgusted, he simply shrugged and took his own sip of cosmic sand.
"Aren't you supposed to be freaked out?" Bill asked, watching Ford calmly relax.
"To be honest, after I had to spend an entire day hanging out with the Larvae King, nothing grosses me out." Ford said, "I'm rather surprised you don't have one of them on your side. They were, frankly, quite weird."
Bill seemed torn between frustration and intrigue. "Nevermind... Let me tell you why you're here..."
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I honestly don't know where this came from. I just thought it'd be... Interesting.
(Don't worry TFD, you're not the weirdest person I have encountered (I have 5 brothers...) And, I'm sorry/not sorry to say that I'm not Alex Hirsch. I'm just a fan...)
I hope you all are happy, healthy, and safe! Thank you all so much!
-BrilliantLight