Stan walked up to the house that bore the same address as the postcard from Stanford. He flipped his hood up, scanning the dark snow-covered wood thoroughly for a moment, before stepping up to the porch. Was this all real? Did Ford really want to see him? What if this was an elaborate trick by someone who had figured out who he really was?
No. The postcard had Ford's writing, and Stan refused to believe that his brother would be that evil. Plus, how could someone be evil if they signed their name with a heart?
That was another thing that led to Stan's paranoia; Ford's note seemed rushed, the words pleading, but he had taken the time to shape the O in his name like a heart. Why on earth would he do something like that? It took Stan a minute to realize that he was just standing in front of the house, and he took a deep breath to stabilize himself.
"Alright, you haven't seen your brother in over ten years..." Stan told himself, walking up to the door. Raising his fist to knock he added, "He's family! He won't bite." He did a soft but firm rap on the door, which was almost immediately swung open.
What he was met with was a grappling hook pointed directly at his face.
"Who are you!?" His brother's voice called out from behind the weapon. It sounded exhausted and scared, and honestly startled Stan. "Have you come to steal my eyes!?" Stan blinked at the grappling hook, then lightly tapped it out of his face. Ford tilted it towards the ground as Stan said, "Well, good to see I can still count on you for a warm welcome."
Ford stiffened, his grappling hook falling gracelessly to the side. "Stanley!" He said, in an excited but quiet voice, like he was afraid someone would hear him. "You're here! You came!" Ford took a small step forward, opening his arms like he was going to hug Stan. But before he could he suddenly froze. Stan watched as he plunged a hand into his... sweater?
Stanford was wearing a purple sweater, with a strange duck-creature on it, but where a normal duck would have its face on its head this duck had it on his stomach. Before Stan could comment on it however he was yanked forward by a strong hand, and a bright light was being shone in his eyes.
Letting out a "Gah!" he shoved himself away from his brother. "Hey!" he snapped, blinking hard and attempting to glare at his brother. "What is this?!" Ford stepped back in shock, his flashlight being shoved back in its original place. "Look, Stan, there's been some cray-cray stuff happening in my life... Just... trust me 'kay?"
Stan stared open-mouthed at his twin, whose face looked more eye bag than anything else. "You don't have to tell me twice..." he said, and Ford breathed a sigh of relief.
"Listen, Stan, we don't have much time." Ford said, waving Stan inside. Stan was met with a room full of nerd stuff, and more sweaters. In fact, on each sweater was a depiction of the thing that it was lying next to, unless it was on top of it and Stan had to extrapolate that information. Ford was busy grabbing something on the other side of the room, and then turned back to Stan. "I've made huge mistakes, and I don't know who to trust right now."
Stan watched as Ford grabbed ahold of a (hopefully plastic) skeleton head, and turned the face away from him. He listened as Ford hissed, "You know what you did Zack." Alright, something was wrong. Seriously wrong.
"Hey, calm down. Can't we talk about this?" Stan asked, placing a hand on Ford's shoulder. Ford, who had turned his back on Stan, visibly flumped forward. Tension left him, and he turned back to his brother. "Stanley... I have something to show you. Something so super-crazy that you won't even believe your eyes."
Stan sighed as his brother made a wiping motion with his free hand, the other closed around a thick book. Stan rolled his eyes and said, "Look, I've been around the world. Whatever it is, I'll understand."
There was nothing about this that Stan understood. Well, that wasn't entirely true. He understood a lot about the current situation, but still, for the past thirty years his brother's actions and attitude from thirty years ago still confounded Stan.
He stared up at the portal, the device that had eaten up his time and energy for over three decades, and breathed a sigh of relief when a dark cloaked figure stepped out of it. His stomach was queasy, and his head felt like it was spinning out of control, but he forced himself to stand. Dipper's sentence came to his ears from behind him, and Stan choked out his answer. "The Author of the Journals... my brother."
At that moment, almost like he had received a cue from Stan, Ford took off his mask, revealing his tired, and nearly identical to Stan's face. Ford's eyes had a light in them that Stan hadn't seen in anyone but a kid in years, and he dashed towards Stan, holding his arms out wide.
"Stan!" he shouted, as his brother stared back at him. "Ford." Stan choked out, taking his own step towards him. "Stan." Ford said, in a slightly more subdued voice. Stan responded with a questioning "Ford?" Ford folded his arms and began to glare at his twin. "Stanley." he said, and his tone was now dark. Stan gulped and responded, "Ye- Yes Ford?"
"Stanley Fitzgerald Pines! What took you so long?!" Ford asked, nearly shouting at him. "I thought I was going to get an ulcer from all your lollygagging!" He turned his head to the side, actively showing that he didn't want to look at Stan. "And you say that I'm the one who doesn't care about this family."
All Stan could do was stare at his brother, "What are you talkin' about?" he asked, as Ford glared at him. "You know what I mean!" Ford snapped. He pulled his trenchcoat off, revealing a sweater under it, with a silver symbol on its sleeve that Stan couldn't see. Ford folded the coat in half and hung it over his arm. "And you know what?" he asked, turning around and raising his head in a self-righteous manner, "I'm not going to say anything else to you until you apologize for being an egotistical knucklehead."
"Alright," the sound of Stan's niece from behind his was the first non-Stans voice that had spoken in what felt like an eternity. Ford turned around, his face looking quite confused as he looked over at Mabel. Mabel herself took a step forward, holding up her hands and saying, in her calculating voice that reminded Stan so much of his brother when they were kids, "I don't know who you are, or who you think you are, but that's not cool man."
Ford raised an eyebrow at her. "A kid? Stanley! You got a kid?" He stepped towards Stan some more, passing him and coming in front of Mabel, kneeling down and extending a hand out to her. "To answer your question, I'm Stanford Pines, Ford for short. I'm sorry if it's not 'cool', but unfortunately what I said about my bro-br... Brother. Is true."
Mabel raised her eyebrows, then blinked as Ford shoved his hand more towards her. "But that's not important right now. Hi!" Mabel glanced nervously at his hand, then shook it cautiously. Ford gasped as he stared at her fingers. "Woah... A six-fingered handshake," he said, with an unbelieving and reverent tone. "That's a full finger friendlier than normal!"
Did any of this make sense to anyone?
Stan watched Ford carefully as he led him through his house, Ford seemed more... fidgety than normal. Or at least how Stan remembered him. In fact, Ford was acting almost the exact opposite to the Ford Stan remembered. Stan saw even more sweaters as he was brought through the house, and the number of yarn balls exceeded even those. Ford must really like knitting...
"So... Stan... How've you been?" Ford asked uncomfortably as they entered an elevator. Stan blinked at him, turning to face the door, then shrugged. "Eh. Doesn't matter. What 'bout you?"
Ford shifted awkwardly. "I'm... I dunno... It's... a long story." He rubbed the back of his neck, then mumbled something under his breath. Stan perked his ears and asked him, "What was that?" Ford glanced at him uncomfortably, then pulled the neck of his sweater up to his ears. "I wish I could stay in sweaterland for forever." He made a small squeal into the neck and closed his eyes. Stan was left staring at him. What was wrong with Ford?
The collar was dropped as soon as they exited the elevator. Ford led him through a dark room, covered in tech and lights, and into an even grander basement. Stan was left blinking once again, this time at a giant inverted triangle. "There is nothing-" he started, but Ford was already pushing past him.
"Alright, so Stan. This portal-thingie is bad news. Like, real bad news. Sure I may have built it with a buddy or two, but it can blow up the planet. The planet Stan! And unless you take the instructions, bad things will happen!" Ford rambled to Stan, turning towards him from in front of the apparent 'portal-thingie'. Stan shook his head jerkily, then asked, "Uh... Can you repeat that?"
Ford groaned, rolling his eyes and sounding exasperated. "Portal: Bad. Book: Good. You: Take book. Get it now?"
Stan was left staring at his brother like he was stupid. Ford seemed frustrated (a severe understatement if he did say so himself) and he tapped a booted foot against the floor at Stan's silence. "You know what? Just... take this okay." Ford shoved a maroon book into Stan's hands, which he didn't have a chance to look at as Ford snapped, "Look. I know that we haven't talked about this in years... but do you remember our plans to sail around the world in a boat?"
A light went off in Stan's mind. No. Ford couldn't be talking about... He had to be... Did he want to go with Stan? Sail around the world? The two of them, together? Could it possibly be happening? Stan couldn't help but smile a bit, a smile that Ford returned. "Stanley," he said, pushing the book forward, and concluding, "I want you to get a boat. Just like the one we dreamed of when we were kids, and I want you to take this book so far away that no one will find it, not even me!"
In an instant all the happy feelings Stan felt evaporated. He stared at his brother, feeling the blood drain from his face. Then the blankness he felt was replaced by rage, and he ground his teeth together. "That's it?!" he snapped, catching Ford by surprise. "You finally want to see me after ten years, and it's to tell me to get as far away from you as possible?"
Ford looked stunned, "Stanley... You don't... You don't know what I'm up against! What I've been through!" He turned around, holding his hands up to his face and tensing. Stan glared at him harder. "What you've been through? No! You don't know what I've been through!" He marched around to Ford's front side and held up a finger, "I've been to prison in three countries," another finger was flung up, "I once had to chew my way out of the trunk of a car!" He pressed a hand to his chest and said, "You think you've got problems Stanford? I have a mullet!"
The indignant look Ford gave him only served to fuel Stan's wrath. "And what have you done with your life? You've holed yourself up in your fancy house in the woods, selfishly hoarding your college money, because you only care about yourself!"
"Selfish? I'm the selfish one?" Ford asked, "How can you say that after what you did ten years ago!? You broke my project! My chance to go to my dream school!" If Stan didn't know better he'd say that there were... tears? welling up in his brother's eyes. He stared at Ford, who had flung his arms open wide, and blinked in shock at him. Ford's words didn't stop at his accusation, he glared at Stan and said, "Look, I'm letting you do something awesome with your life, and you're just throwing it away! The first good thing you've ever done!"
Alright, that settled it. A flood of emotions crashed over Stan in that instant. "Fine!" he snapped, holding the book up, "You want me to get rid of this book? I'll get rid of it right now!"
To summarize what happened next was something that Stan had to do when he could think again. The events happened so fast that they were blink-and-you-miss-it. Long story short: lighter. Fight. Burn. Portal.
With Stanford disappearing in the end.
Weightlessness was not something Ford was accustomed to (yet) but he found it to be quite enjoyable once he had gotten used to it. Of course, said weightlessness happened to coincide with flying through his interdimensional portal and into his doom, but... eh... it was still fun.
Oh... Not fun actually. Not fun at all.
For the past couple of months he'd been feeling strange. The urge to knit sweaters and scrapbook in his Journal had nearly overshadowed his previous urge to complete the portal. Of course at this point he wished that he had never even heard of any other dimensions, but there was no stopping thoughts of his from swirling in his mind. And he found that knitting helped him stay awake when he needed to keep Bill out of him.
Finding that coffee was starting to lose its effects on him stung. His drink of choice was getting harder and harder to drink at a rate to keep him awake. Luckily for him there were other substances that would help prevent sleep. Needless to say there were a lot of Smile Dip packets scattered over his house. Along with Smile Dip (which gave him a pleasant buzz... was it possible that it could count as a drug?) he also amped up his sugar consumption. He couldn't tell if his hands were shaking because of the cold or the ton of sugar pulsing through his veins. A small part of him wondered if his blood was syrup at this point...
What was he thinking?! He was spinning towards Bill! That dude was a jerk! Right as he thought that a giant yellow eye appeared in front of him. The pupil was long, straight, and black. Ford felt his breath hitch in his throat. Bill's entire being rose up in front of him. He gulped, any anger he had felt towards Stan evaporating faster than nail polish remover. Bill laughed, grabbing his sides and squeezing his eye shut.
"Shooting Star! How kind of you to join us!" That wasn't right. He wasn't supposed to be Shooting Star! He was supposed to be... to be... To bee? Like a bumblebee? Hmm... Bees... Bill was now laughing even harder. "You should see yourself right now Fordsy! Your face is adorable!" Adorable. Ford didn't know how he felt about that... He liked adorable... but when it was Bill calling him that it didn't ring true. And he was a man in his thirties! He shouldn't be adorable!
It was at that moment that Ford remembered to be scared... again. Bill stuck a finger out and looked like he was going to poke him, but Ford wriggled away, like a worm. Trying to decide what motion he should make in order to get away from Bill he began to kick like he was swimming. It must have looked silly, because Bill's peals of laughter were climbing in volume again.
"What's wrong Six- Oops... Probably shouldn't call you that!" Bill nearly asked, wiping a stray tear from his large eye. "Don't you like making friends?" Ford grit his teeth, glaring at Bill, who seemed to be catching up to him just fine. "I do! Just not with crazy death triangles!" He shouted, and Bill rolled his eye. "Alright, at it with the stereotypes. Man, you're so predictable, even with the crazy factor. Now, why don't you just curl up in that sweater town of yours and let me take over the world?"
"Don't you dare insult sweater town like that!" Ford yelled, his cheeks flushing a bit. "You have no right!" Bill gave him an exasperated sigh, and Ford gulped suddenly, feeling out of place and awkward. Bill looked at something behind him, and said in a loud, screaming voice, "Alright! We're going the standard route! First one to nab Shooting Star gets their own galaxy!"
Ford stared in horror a small collection of demons and monsters that seemed to just appear around Ford. "But boss!" a blue one with an oddly shaped head said, holding its stubby arm up high, "I thought Shooting Star was the little girl..."
"Not anymore!" Bill snapped, seemingly frustrated with his 'friend'. Ford realized that Bill and his demon buddies were distracted, and began to swim towards a series of caves behind him. "Don't you remember-"
"Uh boss, I think he got away..."
"WHAT? Ugh! Keyhole! Why did you-"
Mabel stared at the man in front of her. Her eyes glanced over at Dipper, who was staring at the man like he was an angel. Which he might as well have been, since he was the Author of the Journals of course. He held a hand out to her (would he have done that if he knew?) and claimed that he was Ford Pines, her uncle. He was wearing a smile, a smile that was wide and welcoming. Like a hug you saw instead of touched.
She found her own right hand sliding out of her jacket pocket and grasping his. His blue eyes widened when he saw it, and she knew what he was thinking. She had six fingers, she was a freak. He was probably shaking her hand out of pity now, and some sort of ethical obligation. Then he said in a bright and cheery voice, "Wow! A six-fingered handshake! That's a full finger friendlier than normal!"
Her mind seemed to shut off at that. Sure there were plenty of people who got over her hands, but only after they'd taken some time to know her. This man, her uncle, great uncle, Grunkle, Grunkle Ford, liked her hands without having to get over the weirdness factor. He saw her as a person. Before he could say anything else she let go of his hand and nearly knocked him over giving him the biggest hug she'd ever given a nearly complete stranger.
Ford tensed for the shortest second, then returned the embrace, pulling her even more towards him. "Oh! A hug! I've missed these!" he said, in a quiet voice that let Mabel know his words were only for her. The stress of the day seemed to crash down on Mabel, and she felt tears gather up on her cheeks and start to spill down onto his sweater.
They remained there for a second before Dipper (sort of rudely) interrupted them. "I- I don't... I don't believe it! You're the Author of the Journals!" Ford looked up at the boy, still holding onto Mabel. "Yes I am, want to make this a group hug?" He held out his arm to Dipper, who began to hyperventilate. "A group hug? With you? The Author?"
Ford shrugged, glancing down at Mabel, who sniffed. "Look man, if you don't want to hug me just say so," he placed a small kiss on Mabel's forehead as her tears started to stream again. "And maybe that's a good idea... she looks very sad." Mabel sniffled, shaking her head. "No... No... It's okay. I'm better now." She said, pushing her head away from him, looking back up into his face. "Thank you so much." she whispered.
"Aw... I didn't do much..." Ford said, blushing. "But you're welcome... Uh..." He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, then Mabel said, "I'm Mabel! Mabel Pines!"
Ford nodded. "Well, it's nice to meet you Mabel. And you are?" he looked over at Dipper, who stammered out, "I'm Dopper... Dipper! I'm Dipper Pines!" Ford blinked at him. "Wow. It's nice to meet you Dopper-Dipper." He gave Dipper a sly smile and said to Mabel, "He's adorable. Is he your brother?" Mabel, who was busy rubbing under her nose, nodded.
Ford stood up, simultaneously helping Mabel to her feet as well. "Well... Uh... This is awkward..." he said, rubbing his neck again. He turned to Stan, and said, "I can't believe you have kids Stan. And to think I missed the wedding..." Stan blinked at him, clearly stunned by what had just happened. "Uh... Oh! They're not mine Ford, they're Shermie's."
Ford's eyes widened, "Shermie?" he gasped, "Our little Shermie grew up and had kids!?" Stan nodded. "And then those kids had kids, and those kids are Dipper and Mabel." Ford shook his head. "Woah. That's amazing... Wait. Aren't I supposed to be mad at you?"
Twelve years. Ford didn't know how he knew it, he just did. It had been twelve years since he'd entered the Multiverse, and yet, unlike what a lot of people said, it hadn't quite squashed him. He still found beauty and light in nearly every dimension he came across, and was relatively happy for the situation he was in.
Speaking of beauty.
The alien in front of him was one of the most fascinating people he'd ever seen. It looked like a shiny humanoid grasshopper, with a triangular head and green wings which it unfurled and put behind its back. Ford opened his mouth as he saw the flecks of sunlight bouncing off of the transparent wings, and gasped out, "Woah! You're beautiful!"
The creature snapped at him in an alien tongue, which Ford could understand with his translator, but chose not to heed. "I'll take that as a compliment!" he said when the mantis man insulted his own appearance. He turned around at that and muttered to himself, "Note to Ford. Don't tell mantis people they're beautiful. Apparently that doesn't mean the same as your own universe."
It was hard not telling everyone that they were pretty. It was a lot easier to hold a conversation with a sentient pile of goo, or a living mushroom. Sometimes the pretty things were nice, but more often they were just rude. And that sucked.
For the first time in a long while Ford was facing Bill again. But this time he had his nephew (who truly was adorable. But not in a weird way) with him. Actually scratch that thought, Ford couldn't have Dipper getting hurt on his watch. Only Ford could get hurt on Ford's watch! And then only after he'd done everything else he could to stop the big baddie!
Anyway, there was a giant, very physical triangle in front of him. In the penthouse suite. In the Fearamid. Torturing him again. For the millionth time. Bill was seeming to get bored with his 'Shooting Star', and finally let Ford go... Ha! Just kidding. He took a break through.
And of course Ford couldn't resist spitting out something along the lines of 'My family will get you for this'. In fact, that was the exact wording he used! Wow! Who would have guessed? Bill laughed, his eye lighting up with happiness. He stared down at Ford, condescension filling his eye and threatening to take the joy out. "You really think that your family will save you? After all you've done?"
Ford felt his precious breath catch in his throat. "Af- After what I did?" he choked out. Bill nodded, "Yeah, what you've done." Ford struggled to get to his feet, his arms shaking heavily. "What are you talking about?" He snapped out, and Bill laughed. "Well... There's a whole list. First off, I don't know if you noticed, but these past thirty years have seen a... different Stanford than the ones before that." Ford gave him a look that said 'I don't know what the heck you're talking about' and Bill continued. "Sheesh Shooting Star, look at your hands! Isn't there something wrong with them?"
Doing what Bill said Ford shook his head. "I don't see anything amiss. I have ten fingers, some of them look like they've been broken before, but that's just because I'm awesome..." Bill let out a cry of frustration. "Ugh! Stanford! You're supposed to have twelve fingers!" Ford blinked at him looking even more confused. "Uh..." He said quietly, "Doesn't Mabel have-"
"I switched your Zodiac symbols!" Bill shouted, thowing his black hands up in the air. "I switched them so you have her personality! You stole your niece's personality! She's sort of you!" Blinking again, Ford stared at the triangle in front of him. "Uh... Okay... So you're definitely cray-cray..." he said, and Bill groaned again. "Alright, so now you can feel guitly about that..." Bill said, taking off his top hat and rubbing the rim of it with his wrist. "Then there's Dipper... You're not the Author of the Journals, you're technically his sister, and he's been living with the Author his entire life."
Ford nodded slowly. Was this really the guy who had been torturing him just ten minutes ago. He seemed to be really upset. "Hey Bill..." he said, standing straighter. "Do you need a hug?"
At his words Bill grew to twice the height he was, turned into a large pyramid ("Oh no...") and glared at Ford. "NO I DON'T! I HATE HUGS!" Ford nodded slowly, but couldn't resist saying, "That explains a few things."
The next hour and a half was not fun for Ford. Not fun at all.
Ford seemed to be very chipper once they saved him. Very chipper. Too chipper. But once he saw Mabel he dashed forward, knelt down, and began to apologize loudly. Something about 'I'm sorry I'm you', and 'I wish I knew how to switch us back'. Mabel seemed to be just as confused as Stan, but awkwardly pat Ford's back. "Uh... It's okay Grunkle Ford..." she said, and Ford nodded.
"Yeah, it will be." Ford said, glancing around the room. "So... What's the plan?" Stan rubbed the back of his neck. "Uh... We were sort of hoping you had one." he said, and Ford blinked at him. "Well... Uh... I'm guessing giant bouncy castles are out of the question..." he said, and Dipper laughed. "Yeah. But great uncle Ford, you said you knew a way to defeat Bill." he said, and Ford blinked.
Ford's eyes widened. "Of course! The art project!" Dipper, Mabel, and Stan all winced at that. "We're going to blow up that triangle... with an art project?" Stan asked, raising his eyebrows. Ford shifted nervously, "Well... technically... yes." he said, folding his arms. "But unless you've got a spare quantum destabilizer up your sleeve, then no complaining buster!"
The moment Ill was annihilated, something strange happened. Not only did everything surrounding htem start floating up into the sky, but both Ford and Mael bent over on the ground, clutching their stomachs and shouting,.
When the dust settled, the Pines family (and everything else in the Zodiac) found themselves staring at Mabel and Ford, then Dipper rushed to his sister's side, while Stan sort of awkwardly watched the two of them. Ford was the first to recover fo m their unexplained misery, and he cautiously got to his feet and stepped towards his niece. "Mabel..." He said quietly, dropping once again to his knees in front of her.
"Gr- Grunkle Ford?" she asked, looking up at him with watery eyes. "what's happening to me?" she asked, as Ford placed a hand on her shoulder. "Bill. Without his existence, we're reverting back to our original forms." Mabel gave him a disbelieving look, her mouth opening as she stared down at her hands... and screamed.
Her smallest fingers on both hands were rapidly shrinking, and obviously were hurting her. Ford began to rub circles on her back, then took her hands in one of his... six-fingered hands? Mabel began to breathe rapidly. "What's happening to me?!" she nearly shouted, as Dipper squeezed her shoulders. Ford gave her a pitying look. "Mabel... You know how your symbol was the six-fingered hand?"
Mabel gave a squeal of acknowledgment. Ford shushed her gently, "Well... You're actually the Shooting Star." his eyes met hers, and she choked out, "Is that why I have the sudden urge to smash chocolate cake into my face?" Ford laughed, and Mabel gave him a small smile. "Yes. I would say so..." Ford said, and wrapped his arms around her.
Hi guys! I'm back again!
So... I honestly don't know how this idea popped into my mind. I just wrote it. Basically, Bill decided to punish Ford (after Fiddleford left and paranoid!Ford started) and switched his Zodiac sign. Which means that Mabel got his symbol/deformity/personality. I wonder how her parents are going to react to her coming home with five (four?) fingers...
Welp! I'm off to do schoolwork and work on my other prompts/fics! Stay safe and happy!
-BrilliantLight
