Stanford didn't remember the first time he had met his brother.

Well, technically he'd first met his brother before he was born, and his other one was there too for that matter, but he still couldn't remember the first time he'd actually met-met his brother. Like, the first time he'd seen him. It had been before he was ten, no... seven... It had been a long time ago, even on account of his only being a teenager.

He was thirteen (so only 'technically' a teen), had just finished a small talk with his brother, and was called to dinner by his mother. As the small four-person family sat around the table he glanced up at the rest of the people seated around the table, his father not eating, his mother taking small bites, and Stanley shoving as much food in his mouth as he could (boxing was a sport that made you hungry). He squirmed awkwardly for a moment, then said quietly, "So... I was talking to Sherman today..."

His mother's fork dropped with an audible clink. His father stared at him from behind his omnipresent sunglasses. And Stan looked up at him and asked in a confused and half-betrayed tone, "Who?"

Ford's mouth went dry, and he picked at the food on his plate. "Sherman... Our brother. He talks to me sometimes... When he's not traveling the world. He told me that there's this cool place in Oregon-"

"Don't. Ever. Mention..." Filbrick's harsh words cut Ford's sentence in half, the young boy looking up at him in fear. Caryn placed a hand on her upset husband's arm and said quietly, "Filbrick... He doesn't know..." Ford glanced between his father's upset face, and his mother's sad and worried one. His father looked over at his wife and visibly calmed. "Go to your room Stanford."

He had made the wrong choice. He should never have listened to Sherman. He should never have tried to...

"Go to your room Stanford." Ford was snapped from his despairing thoughts by a repetition of his father's order, and he calmly slid his chair away from the table. He was about to turn around when his mother's voice said, "And bring your plate with you. Don't dump it out again." He felt a surge of half-gratitude and grabbed his plate and fork. He would have completely forgotten.

"What was that?" Drifted Stan's voice from the dining room as Ford left. If either of his parents gave a response he didn't hear it, choosing instead to walk faster to his room.

The moment he entered it he slammed the door shut. He knew he wouldn't see Sherman anymore that day, as they had already spent up their combined energy-time share thingy, so he simply climbed up to his top bunk and sat crosslegged on his mattress, placing small bites of food in his mouth at odd intervals.

There was a knock on the door a few minutes later, and before Ford could respond his mother opened it and stepped in, a small box in her hands.

"Stanford?" She asked quietly, looking up at him, "Do you feel up to talking? I have something to show you." She lifted the box up slightly, and Ford glanced down at his half-finished meal. He shrugged, then placed his plate on the bed next to him and completely undid almost all of his hard work getting to the top by leaping down. His mother sat on Stan's unmade bed, which was actually a bit cleaner than Ford's, and patted the space next to her.

"Your father overreacted a bit..." She said quietly, and Ford nodded silently. "It's just... We thought you had never even heard of Sherman..." She squeezed her eyes shut as she said the name, and opened the box silently.

Inside were three pieces of paper, and she pulled them all out and handed them to her son. Ford scanned the first one, his eyes widening ever so slightly. One was a birth certificate, the next was a photograph, and the last was a funeral pamphlet.

"Sherman... He didn't last long." Caryn said, and even though she didn't have any tears in her eyes she looked sadder than Ford had seen her for quite some time. "The three of you were only about a month old when his body... just couldn't handle it anymore." Ford stared at the photograph of three very young children, all looking exactly alike (except for one, but it was taken from too far away to show off his abnormality) and ran a finger down the side. "So... We're triplets?"

"Yes." Was all his mother needed to say.

For the first time in forever Dipper didn't automatically check on his sister to make sure she was okay. He also failed to check on his brother, and even his 'great uncle' was completely forgotten, all of his thoughts being consumed by the triangular superstructure in front of him. The thing could have destroyed the universe! Grunkle Stan had restarted it! Stan had stolen all of the Journals! What on Earth was really going on?

The room was in shambles, pieces of rock and metal lay everywhere, the portal itself had taken some considerable damage, and above all everything just wasn't where it had been only a few minutes before. Dipper had a headache, and he rubbed his head to try to clear it away.

He saw Mabel and Tyrone briefly from his peripheral vision, and Stan as well, but he tried not to acknowledge him. The next thing he knew there was a dark figure stepping out of the portal, dressed entirely in black, with only his pale hands and grey hair showing. There was a sense of awe that the figure inspired in Dipper, and he watched in stunned fascination as the stranger strode forward, and bent down to pick up the first Journal, which had been moved towards the portal by the gravity anomalies.

"Who... Who is that?" Dipper and Tyrone asked at the same time. The two nearly identical boys shared a look, then turned their attention back on the black-robed figure. Stan himself answered his nephews, and they both had to gape at what he said.

"The Author of the Journals... My brother."

Suddenly Dipper's worried and confused mind turned shocked and blank. The Author of the Journals? Like the Author-Author, or just another failed attempt at finding him? As in, this guy wrote the Journal? This was the guy? After all these weeks he was finally meeting him!?

"OH MY GOODNESS THE AUTHOR!" Tyrone dashed past Stan, Mabel, Soos, and Dipper, making his quick way over to the man he had indicated (although there was no reason to point him out, everyone knew what he was anyway). He dashed right on up to the man, who froze and stared down at the boy.

Then the Author took his mask off, and his very Stan-like face became visible. Tyrone let out a squeal and clasped his hands over his mouth. "It's such an honor sir!" he exclaimed, all of his words nearly eaten up by his hands. The Author stared down at him, then his eyes darted up and landed on Stan's. "Uh... Stanley... Why is there a child here?"

Stan jerked a thumb towards the other boy in the room, "I dunno why they're here exactly... Ask the other ones." The Author traced Stan's thumb towards the person it was pointed at, and his eyes widened as he saw Dipper. "Two of them?"

"And you missed the girl." Stan's thumb went to the other side of the room, and the Author stared at the only girl in the area. "Three? You thought it was a good idea to bring three children to the portal? Have you lost your sanity?!" He was waiting for Stan's answer, but Tyrone cut in before his Grunkle could. "Uh... Actually, we got down here by ourselves... and Soos, but mostly us... Stan was just here to stop us from pushing the button."

The Author breathed in deeply, heavy eyes watching the young boy once again. "Really? And how did you happen to find the button?" Tyrone made a motion with his hand that roughly translated to 'doesn't matter', and answered, "Simply. We read your Journals."

"You let them read my Journals?!" the Author exclaimed, grabbing the right side of his head with the corresponding hand. "Stanley!"

"Who's Stanley? Grunkle Stan is Stanford."

"Stanford? Ford? Uh... I know this is hard... I mean, it's hard for me too... But you have to do some schoolwork. One of us needs an education."

Ford rested his elbows on his desk, a small stack of unstarted papers lying next to him. They were all from school, and Ford hadn't had the emotional energy to start any of them. Sherman floated around his head, his transparent body trying to get his attention away from his hands. "Come on Stanford! Just 'cause dad's a jerk, and Stan was a jerk, and those school guys were jerks... Just 'cause everyone's a jerk doesn't mean you still can't do stuff! It's not too hard, you can ace this in a heartbeat. Come on!"

Sherman tried to grab his brother's arms, but his blue hands passed right through Ford's arm. His brother visibly chilled and looked over at him. "You're not going to stop pestering me... are you?"

Ford's eyes were heavy-lidded and dull, he had lost a bit of weight (something that was already hard for him to maintain) and was just simply lacking the resolve to do anything. Sherman shook his head profusely. It had been two weeks! Ford needed to do something other than grumble about Stanley.

"Look, Ford," He said, floating through his brother and moving to sit inside of his desk, bringing them to eye level. "I know you miss Stan, and I miss him too, but you gotta do something! Moping about it isn't gonna change anything!" Sherman snapped his fingers in Ford's face when his eyes began to drift off, and he snapped, "I'm not gonna have you drop out of high school just because you're sad!"

"What's the point?" Ford snapped, glaring at his brother and fuming at him. "I can't go to West Coast Tech, my Perpetual Motion Machine is beyond useless, I can't concentrate, I can't even sleep! There's nothing left to do..." He closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair, going nearly entirely limp as he did so. "There's no point anymore. I don't know what I want to do with myself anymore."

Sherman watched his brother sadly. Ford shook his head and muttered something under his breath. "Stanford, I don't know what you're going to do with yourself either. No one does. But whatever it is, it'll be important. You could always become a paranormal researcher... Travel to another dimension or something... Become a ghost hunter. You've done pretty well at that for quite some time..." He offered Ford a small smile, which wasn't returned, but it did seem to brighten his mood.

"Paranormal researcher..." Ford mumbled, opening his eyes again and watching Sherman patiently. "That does sound interesting... But how would I pay for it? People don't exactly just let others have free stuff."

Sherman's smile widened, and he pushed through the desk to float/stand next to Ford. "That's where college comes into play. You go to like, literally any school, be yourself, get like... a hundred PhDs, and they'll pay you to do basically anything you want!" He threw his arms in the air, and Ford couldn't help but smile at least a little bit at him. "And who cares if it's not West Coast Tech? If anything, it's gonna be better because you didn't go there! You'll stand out more!"

Ford nodded, then breathed, "I have no idea where to start..."

"Leave that to me!" Sherman proclaimed, floating up towards the wall, "I'll pop right on over to a bunch of colleges and let you know which one I think will work best." He bowed to his brother and said, "Until we meet again... Which'll be tomorrow. See ya!"

"So... You three are triplets?"

Okay, so Ford knew that his brother (or brothers for that matter) tended to be reckless and put people's lives in danger. But three young innocent children?! Come on Stanley! He forced himself to keep his cool. There were two boys, who looked more identical than Stan and Ford had when they were the same age, and a girl, that, if she had been the same gender, would have completed the confusing set.

The first boy, who had claimed to be Tyrone, or 'the better Dipper', nodded profusely at him. "Yup! That's Dipper, and she's Mabel." He beamed up at his uncle, and Ford resisted the urge to shudder. He looked exactly like Stanley had when he did that.

"It does run in families..." Ford muttered, raising a hand to his jaw. "I mean, at least one of you isn't..." He blinked, then said, "You know what, forget it."

Tyrone waved a hand in front of his face, and said in a low voice, "It is unseen." He stared intensely at Ford, then burst into laughter. "Oh man... Your face is just priceless! Dipper, come look at his face!" Tyrone turned to his brother, and Ford looked over at the other boy as well. His eyes met Dipper's, and the younger of the two began to hyperventilate.

"You... You're the Author of the Journals!" Dipper exclaimed, pointing at Ford with a look of disbelief on his face. "I- I don't believe it!"

Tyrone rolled his eyes, then whispered to his uncle, "He's really obsessed with them. Ever since he found the third one in the woods it's been basically all he ever talks about." Ford nodded, then mumbled, "Well, hopefully he hasn't gotten into too much trouble..." Tyrone laughed at that statement. "Not gotten in trouble?! Dipper's gotten in sooooo much trouble. I mean, there was the time Bill-"

Before he could finish his sentence Ford grabbed his shoulders and spun his towards him. The older man leaned towards him. "What did you just say?" He hissed, and Tyrone gulped. "Uh... Bill tricked..."

"Stanley," Ford said, pushing Tyrone away gently, "Has Dipper started acting strange since the incident Tyrone is talking about?" Stan shrugged, then said, "Dunno. He's always acted weird..." He stopped talking when Ford shook his head, and said, "No... Like... How weird I acted when you last saw me?" Dipper himself looked between the members of his family, and Stan shrugged again. "Not really... I mean... He hasn't been building portals... And Tyrone got here way before that."

"Alright. Cross your fingers."

Ford felt half stupid as he lay in his printer, Sherman looking over him. "This is a great idea!" Sherman said, watching Ford slam a hand on the button to turn it on. A thin strip of bright light slowly moved up from Ford's feet steadily towards his head. As it did a large piece of paper-like material slid out of the bottom of the machine. And as soon as it completely came out the printer turned off, and Ford sat up and turned around.

The material shook for a moment, then, before it could entirely constitute itself Sherman flew right inside of the husk. The new figure that looked exactly like Ford turned colorful, his blue eyes blinking open.

Ford leaped off of the printer and knelt in front of his brother. This was his brother. He had just made his brother a body! And it was real! Finally, after years of dreaming Sherman finally had a body. A body that wouldn't disintegrate with water (science was amazing), a body that actually looked like the one he would have had if he hadn't... died. Wait. He wasn't breathing!

"Sherman!" He said, grabbing his shoulders, "Sherman, you've gotta breathe!" Ford shook him, and Sherman wheezed out a "How..?" Ford shook his head, then began to breathe at a regular pace himself. "Just copy me."

In a few moments Sherman gasped loudly, then coughed vigorously. Ford sighed, then wrapped his arms around him. "It worked!" He said, and the two of them broke into relieved laughter.

"No, now I have to take a shower just to make sure," Sherman said, smiling at him. "And... Ew! When was the last time you showered!? Come on! The first smell I get to experience is your awful sweatiness!? Rude!" His brother chuckled, and said, "Well, you're already different from the others. The paper ones couldn't smell, or taste, or feel."

"Uh. Duh. They're paper. I'm sciency-human-thingy." Ford shrugged, then said, "Yeah, that's how it is. I'm sorry... but..." He pointed at Sherman's new hands, and his triplet looked down at his appendages, "What? What's wrong with them?" He asked, holding them up. "So what they've got six where 'normal' people have five. Now we can really pretend to be each other!" He grinned at Ford, who shook his head.

"Thanks for being my brother."

Hello everyone! This prompt was sent to me forever ago, by someone... I couldn't find who. So if you're reading this... Thanks!

Just for an FYI, Tyrone was sort of made in the same way, except he wasn't a ghost. In this one Sherman was the Stans' triplet who died (infinite sadness!) but he was a ghost, and totally talked with Ford. So without Ford being Ford Dipper and Mabel (and Tyrone) wouldn't exist. So thanks Ford!

Stan meeting a six-fingered Ford lookalike at his own funeral though... It must have been confusing. All of the confusion.

"Fo- I mean... I did WHAT?! You... A ghost?! What are... Who..."

I hope you guys enjoyed this! If any of you have prompts/ideas let me know!

-BrilliantLight