forduary

[forduary]

We are so excited to announce that the Contributor Applications for the GF Seasons Zine are now open and will remain open until May 1st!!! Check them out below:

Artist Applications

Writer Applications

Merch Applications

We have had so much wonderful feedback from you all and are looking forward to seeing all of your applications. Don't forget to check out our carrd with all the application info, our q&a, and if you have any questions, please don't hesitate to ask!

Your enthusiasm for this project is absolutely awesome, and we're so excited to have you be part of this next step!

Stay weird, and see you soon!

The GF Seasons Zine Mod Team

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Disclaimer: We are not affiliated with Disney in any way. The zine will be a charity zine with all surplus going to charity- no one will profit from this zine.

CARRD TWITTER RETROSPRING

@zineapps @zine-scene

#signal boost #for anyone who is interested!

[forduary]

Forduary 2024 - Week 4 - Return to Gravity Falls and beyond (@forduary)

🇷🇺 : ДА! Я всë таки нарисовала что-то для четвëртой недели <D

Посмотрите на этого...прекрасного мужчину ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Я не знаю, я люблю этого персонажа! ❤⊂⁠(⁠>▽⁠<⊂⁠)

🇬🇧 : YES! I did draw something for the fourth week <D

Look at this...a beautiful man ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

I do not know, I love this character! ❤⊂⁠(⁠>▽⁠<⊂⁠)

#forduary2024 #forduary #week four: return to gravity falls and beyond #week four 2024 #art

[forduary]

And finally, here’s my entry for @forduary week 4: Gravity Falls and Beyond. I decided to be a little self-indulgent and chose my favorite bird for this last prompt, the chickadee! So here’s Ford relaxing post-series with a Chestnut-Backed Chickadee, which is a Chickadee species native to the Pacific Northwest. I like to think that during the summers when he’s not sailing with Stan, Ford takes the time to go on solo hikes and relax in nature. He deserves to take things slow for once in his life. I will admit, this is my backup idea for week 4. The original plan was to draw Stan and Ford out at sea with an Albatross, since that bird has a lot of significance to sailors. However I definitely did not have enough time to learn how to draw the ocean AND ships, so I went with a much simpler concept instead. Maybe I’ll get around to drawing my original idea when I have more time. All that said, I’m really proud of myself for finishing all four weeks of Forduary this year, and I had a lot of fun drawing birds for each prompt. My ornithology class has been really interesting so far, so it’s been nice to play around creatively with what I’ve been learning.

#forduary2024 #forduary #week four: return to gravity falls and beyond #week four 2024 #art

[forduary]

Forduary 2024 - Week 3 - Portal Years (@forduary)

🇷🇺 : "Теперь мне кажется, как будто в этих измерениях я прожил сотню разных жизней."

- Стэнфорд Пайнс, Дневник 3

🇬🇧 : "It feels almost as though I lived 100 different lives in those dimensions."

- Stanford Pines, Journal 3

#forduary2024 #forduary #week three: portal years #week three 2024 #art

[forduary]

"Ain't no way you drew a old scientist man in Government class just bc you were bored"

Bihh i did and what abt it?

#forduary2024 #forduary #week four: return to gravity falls and beyond #week four 2024 #art

[forduary]

Well, I made a poll asking if I should post this now...and then I just go and post it without waiting to see what people voted haha xD

This was inspired by @athenoot (not letting me actually tag but I linked her blog!) and her super fun AU idea mashing up Drifting Stars and Relativity Falls!

I don't know if this works for @forduary but it does have portal Ford so *shrugs*

Summary: Mabel loves dimension hopping, but she is starting to miss having a home. And more than anything, she misses Dipper and Stan. However, she may end up seeing them sooner than expected…though they aren't exactly the same Dipper and Stan that she knows.

The street was packed, creatures of all sorts bustling to and fro. Even after months of being in other dimensions, Mabel was still overwhelmed by all of the different aliens. Her eyes couldn’t stop moving, even as Ford pulled her along, trying to make his way through the crowd.

They had arrived in this dimension a few days ago. Unfortunately, they had first been spat out in a rainforest with absolutely no civilization around. But after climbing a particularly tall tree, they had seen a town of sorts in the distance. Which is where they were now, hoping to find some food and maybe even shelter, that is, if Ford deemed this dimension safe enough to stay in for a little while.

 At first, the constant travel had been fun for Mabel. Getting to explore a new world every few days was exhilarating. But she was surprised to find that more recently, she missed a place she could call home. Though, more than anything, she missed Dipper and Stan. Of course, she loved Ford too. He had been looking out for her ever since she had been pulled into the portal, and she couldn’t imagine her life without him now. But still…she wished she could be with Ford and the rest of her family.

Something bumped Mabel particularly hard and she was shaken from her thoughts as she lost her footing. Her hand was yanked out of Ford’s and she fell to the ground.

Panic gripped her and she quickly stood up and tried catching sight of Ford, but the constant movement of aliens made standing still impossible. She thought she heard someone calling her name, but it was hard to hear over the crowd.

“Grunkle Ford!” Yelling at the top of her lungs, Mabel, tried pushing her way through the crowd, in what she thought was the direction Ford had been walking. But no matter how hard she tried, she was too small, and she couldn’t make any headway against the crowd.

Spotting an alleyway through the sea of legs, Mabel spun, jumped, rolled, and crawled until she made it to the backstreet. It wasn’t empty, but it was slightly less crowded. Spotting a box that was sealed shut, she made her way to it and managed to climb on top. But as she looked out over the sea of creatures, she couldn’t spot her grunkle. Ford was nowhere to be seen. Panic overwhelmed her as she realized that she was alone, lost in an unfamiliar dimension with absolutely no clue as to what to do next. It was her worst nightmare.

------

Ford was frantic. He couldn’t believe he’d lost Mabel. He should’ve been holding onto her tighter. No, he should’ve just carried her. What had he been thinking? In a crowd this big, that was the most logical option, and yet he hadn’t thought of it before entering the market and now she was gone.

“Mabel!” He called out again. He thought he had heard her call out a moment ago, but this time there was no response.

Darned this busy city. Reasonably, a city this remote in a rainforest shouldn’t be this crowded. Though perhaps it being the only city for miles was the reason for all of the foot traffic. Either way, he really should’ve scoped out the layout first before walking in. That’s what he normally would’ve done. But Mabel hadn’t had food in over a day. So, her hunger along with the possibility of letting her sleep in a semi normal structure for the first time in…weeks? Had caused him to act rashly. He had only wanted to make sure she had what she needed, and maybe help her mental state. Over the past few weeks, Ford had occasionally caught her looking downcast – though she quickly smiled when she noticed him looking – and this had seemed like a good opportunity to help her feel better.

“So much for that…” Ford muttered under his breath as he continued searching for Mabel. He had just spotted a possible vantage point he could use when something grabbed his jacket and pulled it back.

“Geez, slow down Grunkle D-”

As Ford looked down at the source of the voice, it cut off. His own legs stalled as he saw the boy who was holding his jacket. It couldn’t be…

For a second, Ford was transported to another lifetime. So long ago it felt like a dream. Hot summers on Glass Shard Beach, playing in the water, exploring the sand dunes, fixing up the Stan O War.

He was looking at his brother from thirty years ago.

------

Crap, wrong old guy. Stan thought to himself as he stared up at the man who’s coat he’d grabbed. Now that he had a closer look, he could tell that said coat wasn’t quite the same as Dipper’s, and of course, the man wasn’t his grunkle (okay, technically Dipper wasn’t actually his great uncle either, but it made it easier to call him that, okay?). However, there was something oddly familiar about this guy…

Some other creature bumped into him, threatening to pull him along in the crowd once again, like it had earlier. But then a hand grabbed his arm, and the old guy was dragging him through the crowd.

“Hey, what gives? I’m not-” Stan grabbed at the guy’s hand, trying to get him to let go, only to stop when he really looked at the hand. Wait, six fingers…it couldn’t be…could it?

Looking up, Stan tried to get a better look at the guy’s face. Something had seemed familiar about it when he’d first seen him, but now he was facing away as he pulled Stan along. But six fingers… Suddenly, the bright sunlight disappeared as he was pulled into a small alleyway. There were still a few beings milling about, but not has many as in the main square. Then the man spun around to look at him.

“What are you doing here?”

 Stan took a step back at the sharpness of the man’s voice. A tinge of fear grew in his chest. It wasn’t Dad, he knew that, but there was something so familiar about the words, the man’s stance, the look on his face - he couldn’t shake it. However, the ashamed expression when the old guy saw Stan shrink back wasn’t something Dad would’ve done.

“I-I don’t know. I was just here with my, well I call him my grunkle because-”

“Wait, wait, what? Your grunkle? Who?” Confusion crossed the guy’s face. “What’s his name?”

The man held up his hands and Stan found himself looking at them. He knew in this dimension, six fingers might not be an abnormal thing. But this guy was human, and he looked kind of like Dad…

“Are you my brother?” Stan blurted out before he could stop himself. It was hard to think about Ford looking old - that was just weird - but if he was old, well…Stan could see him looking kind of like this guy…

For a moment, the old man just stared at him, then signed and shook his head. “No, I’m not…well…kind of. I’m Stanford, but not your Stanford.”

“You mean there’s more than one of you? Are there more than one of me? Woah, we could build an army! Though I don’t know how much use an old guy would be but I’m sure you could do something. Oh, eww, am I old somewhere then? How-”

“Hold up. Just…one question at a time.” Old Ford had held out his hand again, as if wanting Stan to stop. He looked a little frustrated, but at the same time, there was the smallest bit of an amused smile on his face.

“There are…many different dimensions, and versions of you and me. I…haven’t met your older version,” a small shadow crossed his face, “but I’ve heard about him. However. That’s not important. What I need to know, is how you got here, and who are you looking for?”

Stan let out a huff. He thought Ford would be as excited as him about all of this but…then again, this was an old Ford and well…maybe he’d been in other dimensions a while and didn’t think it was cool anymore? Sometimes Dipper had seemed less thrilled about things than Stan thought were awesome. Or maybe it was just an old person thing? Gosh, Stan hoped he wasn’t a boring old guy in any dimension.

After a moment, he realized Ford was still looking at him questioningly and Stan realized that he’d have to tell this old version of his brother what had happened. He didn’t really want to, but he had a feeling Ford wouldn’t answer any of his questions unless Stan answered him first.

“Well…I kind of accidently got sucked into this big glowing circle thing that my Grantie Mabel really didn’t want me to shut off, then I met my Grunkle Dipper and we kind of…ran around jumping in all these portal things till we got here. And I swear I’d only been glancing at this cool gun shop, but somehow let go of his hand and then…I thought he was you.” Stan was a little surprised at how quickly the words came. Ever since he’d arrived in other dimensions, Dipper had told him to be careful about saying too much to the wrong people but…this was Ford. Sure, he was old but…it was still Ford. He could still tell him anything.

For a moment, Ford just stared at him, shock lining his face. Then he shook his head and took a breath. “Right…okay…We need to find your Dipper, and I need to…”

“What, you lose someone too?” Stan meant it as a joke, but his smile fell when he saw the concern on Ford’s face.

“Come on, it looks like the crowds are dying down some.” Ford held out his hand and without hesitation, Stan took it.

“I can help you find whoever you lost first.  I’m sure Dipper is fine.”

Ford looked down at him, a disbelieving frown on his face. “I…we’ll see who we find first…”

Putting on his best show of confidence – which was easy seeing as he was used to doing it for Ford – Stan nodded. “I bet we’ll find them both in the next ten minutes!”

------

How could I lose him?!? The thought kept running through Dipper’s head. After months with Stan, he had grown accustom to the boy’s affinity for trouble, which included checking things out that he probably shouldn’t have. So he should’ve been extra diligent in a place as crowded as this, but while keeping an eye out for danger, he must have let go of Stan’s hand and now the boy was lost to a sea of creatures. Guilt and fear clawed at Dipper’s chest. After decades of being alone, he had come to enjoy Stan’s company, plus, he was family.

Taking a deep breath, Dipper tried to still his anxiety, though it was easier said then done. It had already been far too long since Stan had disappeared, and Dipper still couldn’t think of a way to find him aside from waiting for the crowds to die down. It wasn’t ideal, but it was the only option he could see. He really needed to find a better way to keep track of his, for a better word, nephew (he was never the best at remembering all of the names for distant relatives and Stan called him Great Uncle so it worked).

As he pushed his way to a slightly less busy part of the market, Dipper searched for a good vantage point he could wait at, while still keeping an eye out for Stan. That’s when he heard it.

Crying.

His feet stumbled to a stop and he quickly looked around, searching for its source. A bright splash of pink caught his eye – a bit out of place in the browns and tans of the city. Carefully making his way toward the figure, he tried pushing aside the feeling in his gut that something was familiar about the girl. Because, as he got closer, he could tell it was a girl, with short curly hair, and a bright pink sweater…

It’s not Mabel. He told himself, as he realized that’s who he was thinking of. Mabel was dimensions away and, well, she was as old as him now.

Crouching down, Dipper put on his best smile, despite his worry for Stan. “Hey, you okay there?”

The girl quickly looked up, her tear-filled eyes widening as she saw him.

Dipper found himself freezing as well. Because it was Mabel. Or, how she had looked as a kid. Sure, her hair was shorter and she looked more tired than she normally would’ve but…it was her.

He eyes flicked up to his hair then back down to his face. “D-Dipper?”

“I…yes, or no, it’s well…” Dipper frowned, he knew that the girl he was looking at wasn’t his sister. He’d been in enough dimensions to know that there were multiple versions of himself and his sister out there. And unless time travel was involved – which didn’t seem likely – this was simply another Mabel from another world. However…it still looked like her and…it still was a Mabel. He couldn’t push away the weight of responsibility to take care of her and make sure she got back where she needed to be.

“You’re from another dimension I guess…” Mabel’s quiet voice shook Dipper from his thoughts.

“Yeah…I…you know about those, huh?” Dipper remembered a day when he had been so excited about there being other dimensions, and other versions of himself. In a way it was still a nice thought, that maybe one version of himself hadn’t messed up…hadn’t ended up here. But it still didn’t change his situation, and after about a hundred different dimensions, survival was more important than excitement over new worlds.

“Yeah, Grunkle Ford told me about it once. He said he’d found a dimension where everyone was a baby once, he didn’t sound like he liked it but I think it would be fun…” Mabel gave Dipper a smile, though it wasn’t as bright as her normal smile. Or at least, like the one he remembered as a kid.

Then Mabel’s words registered and Dipper narrowed his eyes. “Wait, Ford? That…that’s Stan’s brother…” he muttered to himself.

Mabel perked up at that. “Stan? He’s here too?!?”

Dipper’s face fell as he remembered his predicament. “He…was…I…I lost track of him.”

“Oh…maybe I can help you find him! He can’t be too hard to find!”

A small smile grew on Dipper’s face at her optimism. Typical Mabel. “Well, he’s pretty small, about your size, but maybe with two-”

“WAIT STAN IS LITTLE?!?”

Dipper winced at the volume of her voice, but thankfully the creatures around didn’t pay much attention. “Yes, he’s about…” Dipper realized he didn’t actually know how old Stan was. “Maybe ten, or twelve? I’m not sure…”

“Oh my gosh, we have to find him! I gotta meet little Stan!” The brightness on Mabel’s face was a welcome change from the heaviness he had seen on it only a few moments ago. All traced of tears were gone.

A small laugh escaped Dipper and he nodded. “Well, alright then, let’s see if we can find him.” Holding out his hand, Dipper felt a small stab of sadness as Mabel immediately grabbed it. Just like when they were little…Shaking his head, he forced himself to focus. This wasn’t his dimension’s Mabel…but it was nice to see her again, even if it was only for a little while.

#forduray2024 #forduary #week three: portal years #week three 2024 #fic

[forduary]

Here's @forduary week 3: Portal Years! It's no longer February, but I'm so grateful for that March 11 end date. It's going to be close, but I'm determined to work my butt off to finish Week 4 as well!

Whenever I think about alien birds, the first thing that comes to mind is the Snagret from Pikmin. So when I was trying to come up with an inter-dimensional bird for Ford to encounter, I couldn't help taking some inspiration from the Snagret's design! In the end I wound up creating a bird with a much smaller beak, however.

Ford is in his early 40's here. I based him off of his portal era design in Journal 3, where his features are just starting to shift towards old age. (I also accidentally gave him Indiana Jones' color scheme, whoops!)

#forduary2024 #forduary #week three: portal years #week three 2024 #art

[forduary]

Sea grunks! This might be my last Forduary thing before this blog goes into hibernation. If it is, see y'all next year unless I head back into my art basement before then!

#forduary2024 #forduary #week four: return to gravity falls and beyond #week four 2024 #art #comic

[forduary]

It's the end of @forduary - I'm always sad to see it go! Thank you so much for putting it on; I always have a blast seeing everyone's creations and participating myself! Please enjoy this entry for Week Four, "Return to Gravity Falls and Beyond"

The Pines family and friends have done a great job at helping Stan get his memories of Gravity Falls back- but there is a whole other part of Stan's life that only Ford can help him remember. But he isn't sure he wants to.

Ford stood in front of the piles of boxes down in his lab, arms crossed as he stared them down.  They were old cardboard, the only marking on them the words “Ford’s Room” in his mother’s handwriting.  They must have had arrived some time while he had been on the other side of the portal, since he was pretty sure he hadn’t seen them before.  He hadn’t had time to go through them, since he was too busy dismantling the portal… and honestly because he had no desire to.

He knew what must have been in those boxes- all the leftovers of his high school life, a time he would rather forget.  But now, not only does he need to remember…

He needed to make his twin brother remember too.

Ford allowed himself a small smile as he proudly thought of Mabel figuring out how to bring back Stanley’s memories by showing him pictures of the past summer.  They were slowly yet surely bringing back his memories, and therefore Stanley himself, by walking him around the town and showing him the people he had interacted with in the past thirty years, but there were still almost thirty other years that hadn’t been accounted for, and Ford was the only one who could help with a good chunk of those.

But it would lead to him having to relive some painful memories himself, which he was not particularly looking forward to.  But the alternative was having a part of his brother lost forever, and Ford couldn’t bear to think of that being a permanent state.

So he took a deep breath to steel his courage to face the unpleasantness, and started loading the boxes on the dolly he had brought with him, stacking them so he could take them up the elevator.

Ford walked through the door connecting the gift shop to the living room- Ford didn’t even think of it as his lab anymore- to see Stanley at the far end, sitting in his chair and watching some show on TV.  Something made him laugh, a brash sound that filled the entire room, and Ford couldn’t help smiling- that laugh had been part of the most fun times of his life, and he hadn’t realized how much he missed it. 

“Stanley?” he called as he walked in the room with the dolly full of boxes.  “I found some things from high school.  For your memory,”

Stanley had sat up when Ford called his name, but leaned back in his chair with a groan.  “Geez, Ford, can’t a guy take a break?”

Ford parked the dolly and folded his arms.  “What were you doing just now?”

“Taking a break!” Stanley responded.  “But it’s only been five minutes- I give Soos longer-” He frowned.  “At least I think I do.  That’s what he told me, at least.”  He paused, and furrowed his eyebrows.  “Unless he’s lyin’ to me…”

Ford chuckled.  “Of all the people you’ve spoken to in the past few days, I think Soos is the one you can trust the most,” he said, and lifted the top box off the stack, placing it on the floor in front of Stanley and sitting cross legged near it.  “All right, what do we have here?” he said, opening it. 

Stanley responded by turning up the TV volume.

Ford sighed and moved his arm up to aim his watch at the television, and with the press of a button shut it off.

“Hey!” Stanley said grumpily.  “What’s the big idea?”

“Don’t you want your memories back?” Ford asked calmly as he dug through the box.

“Maybe I don’t.” Stanley grumbled.

Ford laughed.  “Of course,” he said.  “You like having gaps in-” he stopped as he saw his brother’s face.  “Stanley?”

“I know me and you didn’t have the best relationship,” Stanley muttered.  “Can’t we just leave it at that?”

Ford felt as if he had been struck.  Stanley thought they had never gotten along?  That they had always been on the outs?  Ford had lied to himself for the past forty years that his and Stanley’s relationship didn’t matter, that it was never that great, but even while he tried to convince himself, he always knew it wasn’t true.  But for Stanley to sincerely think that- and to have no reason to think otherwise… “N-no!” Ford stuttered, still shocked.  “That’s not true at all!”

Stanley raised a skeptical eyebrow.

Ford scrambled through the box, then spotted something he was surprised was even in there.  “Look!  Remember the water fountain scheme?”  He pulled out two small pieces of metal connected by disintegrating duct tape, various screws and wire sticking out of it.  He handed it to Stanley, who took it with a disinterested look on his face.

“The water fountain scheme.” he said, deadpan.

“Yes!” Ford responded excitedly.  “We were in second grade, and the children were being particularly nasty about my hands.” Ford remained casual, but still was surprised at the small pang in his heart as he thought of their cruel words.  He continued, ignoring the familiar feeling in favor of a better part of the memory.  “And you told everyone my extra fingers gave me magical powers. We just so happened to be standing next to the broken water fountain in the main hall, but we had figured out the trick to making it work a few days early.  You told them all I had to do was point and say the magic words, and the water would come out.”  He smiled wryly.  “Of course, while everyone was watching me spout some gibberish- humiliating, by the way- you surreptitiously kicked the fountain in the right place to make it go off.”  He paused, and tilted his chin towards the object Stanley was holding.  “It worked so well, we figured out how to continue the illusion on the outside fountain during recess.  You sabotaged the fountain so it wouldn’t work the usual way, and I made this little lever and re-routed the tubes so it would work if you casually stepped on it.  That way it would look like I really was controlling the water.”

He looked at Stanley, hoping to see some spark of recognition in his eyes, but Stanley was just examining the gadget, so Ford pressed on.  “And of course, we made each kid who wanted water pay a quarter for the privilege.  We made ten dollars before Crampelter figured it out and told the principal.”

“It wasn’t Crampelter,” Stanley suddenly rumbled.  “It was that fink Jimmy Parsons.”  Ford began to feel a little bit more hopeful as he saw Stanley’s wicked grin.  “But they couldn’t prove nothin’- we grabbed the lever as soon as we knew we’d been made and ran off.”  He tossed the gadget to Ford, who easily caught it with the almost superhuman reflexes he had honed over the years.  “He got a bloody nose for his trouble, and we got real sick on all the saltwater taffy we bought with the money.”

Ford couldn’t stop grinning from ear to ear.  “Yes!  Yes, Stanley, that’s exactly it!”  He laughed.  “That wouldn’t be the first time your showmanship worked in our favor at school.  I’m still amazed you thought of that line about magic though- that was very clever.”

Stanley scoffed.  “Nah, we had just seen The Sword and the Stone,” he said.  “And we pretended I was Arthur and you were Merlin all the…,” he paused, then looked up at Ford, a surprised expression on his face.  “…time.” He finished.  Then he grinned.  “Holy hotcakes, this is actually working!”  he said jubilantly.  “What else you got in there?”  He leaned over so he could see into the box.

Ford ruffled through the miscellaneous items at the top- mostly a lot of papers, but stopped when he saw what was next.  No, he did not want to bring that out.  He quickly devised a strategy. “Stanley, look at these papers, I think they are some of your English assignments," he said, shoving the pile into his brother’s hands. While Stanley was busy looking through what must have been Ford’s math homework, Ford carefully picked up the item so as not to pull away too much attention, attempting to hide it behind the chair-

“Ha!” Stanley said, grabbing the object.  “Thought you could hide something from-” he stopped as he stared at the mannequin head with the rubix cube attached to its mouth and a siren wired to the top.  “What the… Ford, were you in some sorta modern art class or somethin’?”

Ford breathed a small sigh of relief.  “Oh, um, I don’t remember, it’s not important, I’m sure it was something like that, you can give it back now-”

“An’ you said the stuff I made for the shack was gross, geez,” Stanley said, still holding it and looking it over in disgust.  “I mean, that’s a face that’ll-”  he looked right at Ford, his evil smile having returned, and Ford knew he’d been busted. “never… get…kissed!” And Stanley burst out laughing.  “The kissing practice robot!  That’s a story, oh man!  Where’re the kids, they’re gonna love this one!”  Another fresh peal of laughter ensued, and Ford felt his face grow hot as he remembered the humiliation. 

“We’re trying to relive your high school days, not mine,” he said, but Stanley’s laughter was getting to him and he tried to fight back a smile.

“But I was there!” Stanley gasped, “I was there in gym class, when it went off!”  He couldn’t stop laughing, tears coming to his eyes, and Ford finally found it impossible to hold back, and started laughing along with his brother.

“And the coach…”

“Everyone was watching!”

“And the siren just wouldn’t turn off-”

Ford felt his abdomen start to ache from the laughter, but he didn’t care.  He couldn’t believe he had gone most of his life without this.  Without this laughter, camaraderie, this… depth of connection of someone who knew him well enough to know all of his faults but not judge him for it, of someone with whom he absolutely could be himself, with someone who loved him no matter what.

His lie to himself that he didn’t need anybody else, that other people were just holding him back, that he needed to trust no one was definitely, absolutely, completely shattered.  He could make every scientific discovery in the world, cure every malady, answer every question- and it would be worth nothing if he didn’t have this.

“Ow I can’t breathe!” Stanley said through more laughter, and took some deep breaths as he tried to calm down, Ford following suite.  With a little chuckle here and there, they slowly returned to normal, but with the giant smiles on their faces remaining.

“If I remember correctly, you challenged everyone in the room to a fight if they ever mentioned the kissing bot again,” Ford said, taking off his glasses to wipe the tears away.

“Heh, yeah, that was a long day,” Stanley answered with another chuckle.  “But joke’s on them, right?  I bet you made all the alien babes swoon with that practice.”

Ford smiled wryly and cleared his throat, once more feeling his face grow hot, and said,  “Maybe we’ll talk about that another time.  Let’s see what’s next.”  He pulled out a toaster that was nearly covered with duct tape, seemingly to connect it to a piece of rebar sticking up from the side, that had more tape stuck to it, covering up a rather deflated football.  Ford frowned.  “I don’t recognize this one…” he started.

“Footbot!” Stanley said joyfully, as if greeting an old pet.  He grabbed it from Ford and held it up.  “This little guy helped me win the Football Bowl, right?  An’ all the guys on the Football team said I taught them a lesson!  And while they were applauding, a beautiful woman in a sparkly purple bathing suit rolled in this trophy that was so…” he paused, furrowing his eyebrows.  “Wait.  That’s not right…”

Ford grinned, shaking his head.  “Yes, I’m pretty sure you didn’t win the Football Bowl in High School,” he said, then held out a hand for the toaster, which Stanley handed to him.  He rotated it in his hands.  “I still can’t put a finger on where this is from…”

Stanley snapped his fingers.  “This was my science project!”

Ford laughed.  “Please, Stanley, as if I would ever let you use that as a-” he cut himself off.  “Oh.”  He looked over at his brother, eyes hollow.  “This… this is from the science fair of our senior year.”

“Uh… you OK Sixer?” Stanley asked.  “You look like you just saw a ghost.”

Ford couldn’t speak.  He had just realized how much he needed his brother back in his life, how much he still needed Stanley to be his best friend- and now they were on the brink of reliving the moment that drove them apart for forty years. 

Stanley was looking at him expectantly.  He still didn’t remember.  Maybe Ford could keep it that way.  Maybe this was his chance… their chance… at a fresh start.  Where they could act like the past forty years of pain and isolation and pride and loss had never happened, and just continue on with their lives…  Surely that would be kinder, wouldn’t it?  Surely that would be better?

But Ford already knew the answer.  He knew what was right.  Yes, he wanted to go back in time, he wanted his brother to love him just like he used to, but… he loved Stanley, and Stanley deserved the truth.

Having made his decision, Ford spoke before he could argue himself out of it.  “The science fair of our senior year of high school was my ticket out of Glass Shard Beach.” He started quietly.  “It was a perpetual motion machine, and if I got it right, I would have my pick of full ride scholarships to any university.  But the night before the science fair, you-” a lump was forming in Ford’s throat, but he pressed on, “You broke it, somehow, and when the recruiters came, all they saw was something that didn’t work, and my chances at a full ride were gone.”

“I… I broke your science fair project?” Stanley asked, matching Ford’s quiet tone.  “On purpose?” he sounded horrified.

“I don’t know.” Ford said, looking at the corner of the room instead of his brother for this next part.  “It didn’t really seem to matter.  All I could think of was that it was your fault that I missed my chance.  And when Pa overheard…” Ford took a deep breath.  “He blamed you too and threw you out.  And I didn’t stand up for you.  I didn’t do anything.  I let you go.” Ford couldn’t help it, and tears began dropping out of his eyes.  “We didn’t see each other for over ten years, and you went through… I don’t even know what… because of me.  I never asked.  I always told myself you were fine, and that I was fine without you, and that it was for the best that we weren’t together anymore, and Stanley I’m sorry.  I’m so, so sorry!” Ford put his head in his hands, trying to stifle the sobs that were threatening to come out.  Sobs for his anger, for his pride, for the brother he had lost far too many times, and every time it was his fault, his fault, his fault-

He suddenly felt Stanley’s arms around him, pulling him in a hug as he cried like he hadn’t cried before, forty years of shame and sadness finally breaking through the walls he had put up for so long.  He didn’t really believe in crying, especially after all he had been through, but it didn’t matter.  He couldn’t stop, and clung to his brother the whole time. 

He soon realized Stanley was crying too.

“It’s OK, Stanford,” Stanley said quietly when they were done.  “If it makes any difference, I was a huge jerk too.  An’… I’m sorry.  I’m sorry too.”

After they stayed there for a while, Stanley said, “Uh, Ford?  A little help here?  I can’t get up offa this floor.”

Ford sniffed and let out a little laugh that still had a tinge of a sob to it.  “That’s what you get for not following an exercise regimen, Stanley.”

“Put a cork in it, Poindexter,” Stanley answered good naturedly, and Ford stood up and helped Stanley do the same.  “We all know you’re just jealous you didn’t age as well as I did.”

Ford laughed once again, and cracked his back in a stretch.  “Well, it appears this is helping your memory at least,” he said, and bent over to reach back into the box.

“Oh come on Sixer, I think we’ve cried- you’ve cried enough for one day, let’s call it quits before dehydration sets in,” Stanley said, settling back into his chair.

But Ford had found something he didn’t know still existed at the bottom of this box, and couldn’t believe his luck.  He pulled out the old home movie film canister, which he recognized was full of footage of their early childhood, and moved it back and forth with a mischievous smile.  “How about a good movie to set us to rights again?”

Stanley looked at the film canister suspiciously, then at his brother’s grin.  “All right,” he said, his smile matching Ford’s.  “I’ll make the popcorn.”

Ford set up a chair next to Stanley’s recliner, and the two of them watched old movies of their escapades as children.  He began to doze off as he watched his younger self painting the boat they had promised each other they would use to sail around the world together, and couldn’t help but think what a good idea that still was. 

Maybe they should try again.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

I don't usually like to have the boys cry because I feel like it's against how they were raised, but in Journal 3 it says Ford cried while trying to help Stan remember, so I figure it was fine and Stan could join him. As a treat.

#forduary2024 #forduary #week four: return to gravity falls and beyond #week four 2024 #fic

[forduary]

(Before I get to the description, thanks to everyone who included stuff that rogues do in the tags when you reblogged the poll post for this au- I've never played a rogue (my main for D&D is usually a cleric) so I benefited from y'all's excitement!)

@forduary week 4 Fantasy AU. Ford has returned home and he and Stan are their final forms. I don’t have too much plot dreamed up for this. I committed to Ford being a beardo pretty early though.

In this AU I envision that Stan and Ford never really argued or fought at any point, but they just kind of grew apart, since their interests are so different- like they were both in training and Ford probably traveled to go find a mage mentor and was away from home anyway, and Stan was in fighter training till he was like “heck with this Imma steal stuff instead”. And then when Ford disappeared for 30 years they were already apart so Stan was just like “dang sure haven’t seen Ford in a while wonder where he is” and maybe traveled around trying to find him. I did have the idea that they team up to fight some BigBad together, but in this AU I hadn't figured Bill. I figured maaaaybe Stan angered someone powerful enough that it would warrant Ford's wizardly powers. Maybe he goes on a quest? I do not have the answers. I just draw the pictures.

#forduary2024 #forduary #week four: return to gravity falls and beyond #week four 2024 #art

[forduary]

B!movie stan mini fic with no name yet, done in my celphone notes app no editing we die like the art of practical effects and 2d animation in the west

_________

"What?! Stanford, tell him he's bein' crazy!" Stan yelled looking up at what used to be his room window.

"Stanford? Don't leave me hangin'. High six?"

Ford closes the curtains.

Stan is furious, his eyes and fists closed.

How dare they?! How dare Ford of all people!? Kick him out for one simple mistake.

He wanted to scream, that he does not need any of them, but when he open his eyes and looks at the door the rage just...melts, hit instead the full weight of what just happend, thay his father had a bag prepared, that not his mother or twin tried to do anything to help him.

All he can do is get on his car and drive and drive until he literally is out of gas somewere in New York City.

The car decided to stop near a rundown movie theater. It had a " help wanted" sign that had been vandalized to read "hell wanker" making him chuckle. Sure, why not.

#forduary2024 #forduary #week two: college and researcher years #week two 2024 #fic

[forduary]

Forduary 2024, Week 3: Portal Years

For week three, I finished a fic I've been working on for a while: 30 short fics, one for each year ford was lost in the multiverse. Each fic is based on a prompt from this prompt list. The fics are in the order of the prompt list, but I did number them based on chronology.

Warnings for violence, minor character death, some drug use, and some cursing

12. scrosciare - the action of rain pouring down or of waves hitting rocks and cliffs

Ford leaned against the jagged wall of his little cave, staring out over the raging sea. Rain poured down, streaming off the cliff face and into the water below. The world was gray; the dark shining stone, the grim clouds, the crashing waves that pounded the rock. Even the sound was gray: the dull rushing roar of the sea.

His cave was little more than a pitiful hollow cut into the cliff face. If he hunched over enough he could avoid scalping himself on the cave roof. If he kept his knees up against his chest he had just enough room inside to press back against the farthest wall and avoid the rain. His temporary shelter was a hundred feet above the waves, so he would have to do his best to not fall from his roost.

Avoiding the water was ultimately pointless, as Ford was already only one rung up from soaked. But he was a furless mammal, and avoiding the cascading rain made him feel like had some measure of control over his situation. At least he was warm; whatever he’d been drinking at that bar had done wonders on his hypothalamus, which was great considering he’d had to flee into the stormy night from a white-haired assassin most likely sent by Bill or his agents.

He’d gotten what he’d come to this planet to get. Or this universe, rather– he couldn’t rule out the possibility that he’d entered into a universe that, in lieu of planets, had only a single unbroken coastline stretching into eternity. In any case, the tiny implant he’d had installed into his brain would provide him with the information he needed to find a stable power source for his quantum destabilizer. He just needed to sleep for it to take effect before it was broken down and processed by his body.

It had been hours since he’d heard evidence of his pursuer, and Ford needed to get to sleep sometime in the next five or his temporary implant would dissolve before it had the chance to tell him anything. He let his head fall forward, forehead hitting his knees. He closed his eyes, the world going from gray to black, and tried to let the static roar of nature (or this world’s version of it) lull him to sleep.

6. aspectabund - letting emotion show easily through the face or eyes

“Don’t look him in the eyes, Borgith!” snapped Shhhessh, smacking its companion on the back of the head with spindly yellow fingers. “It’s a faux pas on Human-ka to communicate telepathically!”

“Sorry! I’m sorry, human,” Borgith dropped its gaze, possibly a contrite gesture, but most likely to avoid looking Ford in the eyes. Its mouth pulled down into an unmistakable, human-like frown.

“It’s no problem, I appreciate your willingness to leave my mind alone.” Ford hoped he didn’t sound as tense as he felt. The beings of Rennik-ka were kind and scientifically minded, but being surrounded by yellow mind-readers was not good for Ford’s long-term psychological well-being. “And my planet is named Earth, actually.”

Shhhessh turned its beautiful, luminous pink and turquoise eyes to Borgith, making a triumphant noise and doubtless communicating wordlessly with it through their species’s telepathy. Borgith beamed back at its companion, and, without turning toward Ford, said “Ground? The dirt? That’s what your planet’s named after? Wonderful! That’s actually very very common! We here, the Rennik, are actually statistically unlikely to have named our planet after ourselves!” The alien took a small device from the length of brown fabric it wore wrapped around its torso. “Can I record this? As a linguist, getting an audio recording of your voice would just be–!” It turned to look at Ford, who snapped his gaze down to the ground immediately. Having his mind inadvertently scanned and rifled through by Shhhessh and three or four diplomats had been bad enough.

“Oh, hsst, I’m so sorry! I’m normally so much better with alien customs. Look, I’ll do better, really!”

“Right. Yes.” Stanford took a steadying breath. “Audio recording is fine.” He stared just past Borgith’s head, seeing its enormous green-blue eyes and almost comically expressive face out of only the corner of his eyes.

“Great!” Its eyes bulged happily and it touched the smooth surface of the device, which gave no outward indication as it began recording.

“Can I ask a question about the Rennik?” Ford asked, suspecting he knew the response he’d receive. These people had been nothing but forthcoming with him so far.

“Of course,” gushed Borgith. “Oh, Shanford, you have no idea how thrilling it is to have an alien appear out of the nothingness into our world! And to have you be a scientist, too!” Borgith broke off, making a low noise like a distant foghorn.

“Try to calm down, Borgith,” advised Shhhessh. “If you tire out the human, you won’t be allowed back. It needs its rest. And that’s not its name, either.” Shhhessh radiated censure underscored with amusement, its proboscis twitching. It was Ford’s temporary guard/escort/valet as far as Ford could tell. Its day job was as an electrical engineer, though, so Ford wasn’t completely sure how this appointment worked. He did know, though, that Shhhessh was responsible for getting Ford into the nice soft bed he’d been recovering in for the last several days, so he was inclined to like it.

Ignoring the mispronunciation of his name, Ford asked “If you communicate telepathically through eye contact, why do you have such expressive faces? By all rights I, as an alien, shouldn’t be able to even interpret– oh I see.” Realization dawned. “The telepathy is constant, and low-level. You communicate directly via eye contact to access direct thoughts, but you’re always putting out what you feel! That’s fascinating!”

“Yes!” cries Borgith, grabbing enthusiastically at Shhhessh. “Yes, that’s it precisely! Oh, human, you are something else!” 

Ford felt, for the first time in at least five or six years, the joy of sharing a purely intellectual connection with another being. It wasn’t sullied by the fear of being found out or the dirty connotations that come along with using science only to further his cause of destroying Bill. This was pure, knowledge for knowledge’s sake.

Recklessly, as if he was simply sharing an insight with Fiddleford, he let his eyes meet Borgith’s.

It was like being hit by a train. He was flattened, bowled over, breathless with pain and shock, the entirety of his mind spread out before Borgith, who looked. Borgith who saw. No matter how he tried, Ford couldn’t pull any part of himself away from the mind that was suddenly inside his own.

It was the same as the other times the Rennik had accidentally crushed his mind, except that it was different the way they’d all been different. Borgith was curiosity, endless enthusiasm, joy, and fulfillment. Shhhessh had been caution and a love of the familiar, Gre had been quiet contemplation and a desire for universal siblinghood, etc, etc. They’d all been different, all individuals, but Ford couldn’t see the details of their conscious thought or their immediate emotions, just their general personalities.

In less than a second, Borgith, though, had scraped Ford’s mind flat so that every part of it was visible and had seen Ford laughing with Stanley in their room; cupping his hand over his nose, which was pouring blood; cradling a plaidypus gently in his arms and kissing its naked little head; tearing his fingernails into his own arm so he could stay awake, can’t sleep, Bill will be there–!

Ford was wonderfully alone in his aching head in an instant as Borgith broke away. He felt his muscles twitch, senseless little impulses being sent through his nerves like the aftershocks of a really good orgasm, but in a decidedly unpleasant way. His head swam and his stomach revolted as a wave of remorse and dismay pummeled him from the direction of Borgith. He wondered if he could get better at tolerating the horrifying invasion of his mind long enough to see back into the minds of the Rennik, learn more about their science and their culture.

As he curled on his side and began to retch, Ford decided it probably wasn’t worth it.

27. pyrrhic - won at too great a cost

Ford swung his gun toward the fleeing back of the pirate and squeezed the trigger. It kicked back satisfyingly. He’d added that effect himself, too familiar with Earth guns not to appreciate a solid recoil. The blue bolt flew into and through the fleeing woman(?) dissolving a hole in her(?) torso. She dropped onto the purple dust of the craggy moon, Ford’s stolen backpack still clutched in her fist.

What was left of her band of compatriots hesitated as they heard Ford’s shot. They stared in horror at her corpse and dashed back immediately toward her, but not in the hopes of rescuing her. They wanted Ford’s bag. They wanted the bounty he’d collected bringing an interstellar criminal to justice. Somewhat hypocritical of him, seeing as he was accused of worse crimes than the man he’d captured.

Still, the bounty was his and he wasn’t going to let these scavengers steal it from him. He leapt over the body of the gigantic man who’d first grabbed him, aiming at the two pirates hustling toward their dead friend who’d taken Ford’s bag. He had no real hope of hitting them while dashing over the uneven ground, but at least his shots might keep them from reaching the body first.

The one in blue and black armor finally thought to use his weapon, stopping to fire at Ford. It shot some kind of projectile rather than an energy pulse, but he was no better at aiming at a moving target than Ford was at aiming while running. 

Once he was close enough, Ford took a bounding leap for Blue Armor, the paltry gravity of the moon making Ford light enough for an impressive jump. Blue Armor’s eyes widened behind his visor. He must not have much experience as a heartless murderer, as he didn’t raise his weapon to protect himself at all. New on the job, perhaps? “Hah!” Ford said, bringing his gun to bear and shooting the man in the head.

The two remaining pirates knelt briefly by the body of the dead woman and stumbled to their feet, the one in yellow and black now holding the bag containing the bounty.

They fled for their ship as Ford advanced, firing off another shot. His weapon began to chirp a warning about overheating, which he ignored.

He fired again, watching the pirate with the maroon armor collapse as her hindquarters sizzled and slowly dissolved. She must have screamed over her suit’s comms, as the yellow-and-black armored pirate put a hand to his ear.

The final thief had reached the shadow of his ship. “Damn it!” growled Ford. He’d never reach the man in time on foot. He raised his weapon, aiming carefully, but when he squeezed the trigger the gun gave a pitiful whine and sounded its warning chirp again.

Ford cursed. He watched, panting in exhaustion, as the pirate boarded his small vessel. His face, unhelmeted, appeared in a porthole to watch Ford as his ship lifted off, slowly accelerating away. Ford grimaced around at the bodies of the slain pirates. They’d nearly all been killed in the effort of stealing what was rightfully Ford’s.

“I hope it was worth it,” he muttered bitterly.

9. rubatosis - the unsettling awareness of your own heartbeat

Ford swayed on his booted feet. The heat of the marketplace was overwhelming, or perhaps it was a symptom of his illness. Or a side-effect of the cure, which was untested on humans.

The color palette of the world seemed to shift as he watched, pulsing slowly from blue-tinged to yellow and back again. His hands shook uncontrollably, and his heart thudded distractingly in his own ears. Had it always had that unsteady rhythm? He hoped it wouldn't stop altogether. At that thought, the off-kilter thumping increased in speed and volume, drowning out the noise from the crowd of merchants, customers, and various aliens come to gawk at the wares on display.

Overwhelmed by the color and noise, Ford forgot his mission and fled, escaping the way he’d come. He wiped his sleeve over his running nose. Was it blood? Was he dying? He couldn’t die, Bill Cipher was still out there! Maybe this was all Bill, Perhaps Ford wasn’t sick at all, was instead still trapped alone in Gravity Falls and this was all a convincing dream Bill had crafted for him.

Ford wanted to cover his ears to block out the noise, but he knew it was coming from within himself.

He staggered into the darkest alley he could find and curled against a blessedly cool wall. Ford sat and wrestled with his fear, heartbeat thundering in his ears.

16. trepverter - a witty response or comeback you think of only after it’s too late to use

“You’ve not seen the last of me, filthy biped!” snarled the gigantic crocodilian monster, snapping its immense jaws, now short one or two teeth.

“Well, I… certainly hope I have!” Ford shouted back. He winced at his lame retort as his enemy’s ten-foot gray tail slapped contemptuously against the surface of the water. It sank out of sight as a large wave splashed over Ford’s head, knocking him down.

Spluttering, Ford struggled to his feet and cast around, hoping Grollo was alright. His gaze fell on his companion, who was tugging something from the sandy muck as seawater streamed around them, rushing back down the shore.

“It broke my crossbow, Ford,” said Grollo, waving the weapon’s broken stock at Ford.

“Well, I’m sorry about that, but we got the teeth, didn’t we?”

“Yeah.” Grollo raised two long, glowing blue fangs in one fist. “Two reality-warping dino chompers for your science pleasure.”

“Great!” Ford took one from her. “Hmm, yes, this is perfect! You can keep one, if you like,” he told her distractedly. “I only need one.”

“No kidding? Thanks, that rocks. What’s wrong?” Ford had just groaned and slapped his sandy palm to his face.

“That thing! The monster!” he moaned. “What, what about it?” Grollo demanded.

“I should have said ‘see you gator!’ You know, like ‘see you later’?”

“Okay,” said Grollo, implying with just one word that Ford was a complete moron. “Well. I guess you can’t win ‘em all.”

20. hiraeth - a homesickness for a home to which you cannot return, a home which maybe never was; the nostalgia, the yearning, the grief for the lost places of your past

It wasn’t easy, being away from his home planet for so long. Stanford missed the smell of familiar flowers and trees, missed eating food he recognized and knew wouldn't kill him. There was nothing like exploring the cosmos, true, and he’d learned more about esoteric and hidden branches of science than he ever could have on his Earth. But… well, Ford’s occasional bouts of melancholy longing for the familiar would have shamed his younger self. Stanford at fifteen, or at twenty-five, would never have wanted to be bound to the ordinary, the average, the comforting.

Now, Stanford at forty-five had mostly shorn away the parts of himself that desperately wished to return to his home, but it seemed that there was always some insidious thread of longing ready to strangle him if he let his guard down.

He stood in the streets of a New Jersey not his own. This Earth was a lot like the one from which Ford hailed, other than all the dinosaurs. How weird that the architecture created by gigantic reptiles was almost identical to that created by relatively small mammals.

The cars looked different. Did cars in his own world look like that now, or was this just the way cars looked for dinosaurs? Would Ford ever find out? Would he ever stop wanting to? If he ever could return to his dimension, would it be recognizable? Things changed, and Ford hadn’t been home in fifteen years.

And Jersey wasn’t his home, regardless. His home had been Gravity Falls. What had become of his lab, his house? Had Fiddleford returned there to salvage any of his research? Doubtful. Most likely Stanley had taken as much expensive-looking equipment as he could carry and left the place behind to rot.

It was entirely possible that, if Ford could return home at all, home as Ford knew it no longer existed.

7. resfeber - thrill felt before an adventure

“Okay.” Ford dumped his supplies onto the table in front of him, barely able to restrain his broad grin. The flickering light of the magical orb overhead illuminated a handful of equally anticipatory faces. “I’m here. I’m ready.” It had been so long. Tonight he would embark on the adventure of a lifetime.

“Glad you could make it,” said Sil, amused. “Not sure how likely we are to succeed without your help.” They gave a sidelong look at their friend, a large, guilty-looking man.

“Don’t blame me, the last time wasn’t all my fault. You all just have terrible luck,” he said, scratching a long green ear.

“Terrible luck and nobody who can cast spells,” said a small, soft-spoken being named Lyle. “Arithaa would still be alive if Ford had been here the last time we tried to break in.”

“I know, I’m sorry, Lyle,'' said Sil’s large friend.

“Yes, it’s sad and everything,” said Ford impatiently. “But you can just make a new character.” “I did,” said Lyle, “but I liked Arithaa! She had a cool backstory that I’d been saving for the perfect character!” He grinned suddenly. “But I do love making new ones. I have like five backups for if my next one dies.” Lyle waved his character sheet in the air. “So I’m all set.”

“Alright then!” Sil rubbed their hands together, and Ford felt the electric energy of a game about to start. “Let’s storm a castle, kids!”

28. apricity - the warmth of the sun in the winter

Ford hummed in pleasure and turned his face toward the warmth. The twin suns of this planet kept the winter chill at bay and glowed red-yellow through his eyelids. Ford had been on-planet for a month and the weather hadn’t noticeably changed one way or another, so he supposed it might not actually be winter. For all he knew it was midsummer, or this part of this planet had no meaningful seasons.

He breathed deeply, noticing that his breath didn’t catch. His lungs didn’t burn. His ribs didn’t ache, or feel at all as if they’d been reconstituted from the mealy pulp they’d been when he’d been injured. (His mind skittered away from the occasion that had caused the injury. Best not to think of that. He would live, was living. That was what counted.)

When he’d left his temporary home, eager to test his now-healed body, he’d crunched through the icy top of the snowpack, but had had no difficulty in maintaining a brisk pace out to this clearing. His muscle tone had rebounded well, and if his hips ached a little, well, they’d done that before… the incident. He was getting older, after all. Still, he was well again. It was nearly time to move on, time to renew his dedication to his quest.

But for a few moments more, Ford sat in the rich warmth of foreign suns, and breathed.

15. messaline - soft lightweight silk with a satin weave

Ford felt he had disappeared into the background of the town, cloaked in purple fabric of a color he couldn’t describe. Well, it was purple, but the shade was so rich that he thought it merited a better descriptor than that. Pale… eggplant? Violet? No, those didn’t do it justice. Simply put, it was beautiful.

Gently, unseen, he wound his fingers into the light, soft fabric that enshrouded him from head to toe. It was like nothing he’d ever felt. If they had fabric like this on Earth, he’d never been able to touch any, much less wear it. Here, it was expected garb for every being that could reliably walk under its own power.

This backwater little town, hidden among towering, green-black trees, housed a university that was home to one of the most respected time science programs in local universes. Ford was here to learn what they could teach him.

A sudden gust of wind caused his, and everyone else’s, clothing to flutter dramatically around them, and amused titters bloomed up and down the street as the bright colors swirled, blurring everyone’s edges. Ford grinned, too. This planet had a lot to recommend it; he hoped he could stay a while.

23. psithurism - the sound of wind rustling leaves

The forest floor was warm underfoot– or underpaw? Ford clambered awkwardly over a large root, stopping atop it to look around. The thick trees and undergrowth limited his field of vision, and in any case he couldn’t see as well as he would have liked. His current eyes didn't see the range of colors he was accustomed to as a human.

Frustrated, Ford lashed his tail and hissed, then glanced around self-consciously, but he was alone.

Hoping to get his bearings, Ford closed his eyes. His sensitive nose told him about the prey animal that had scurried by sometime recently, the decay of the old leaf litter, the dampness of the moss, and the rich bloom of the flowers in the trees. A tug at his whiskers combined with the whisper in his ears told him the wind blew from behind his right ear and forward, to his left. The cry of a distant animal, high and dangerous, made his pelt, uh, hair, stand on end.

Clenching his teeth against his fear, Ford leapt down from his perch, surprising himself with his agility and the ease of his landing. He’d jumped down from a height of several times his own body length.

Forward seemed as good a direction as any. Stanford headed through this strange universe, the soft shush of ferns against his fur and the rattling of a few bare branches overhead keeping him company.

The wind picked up, tossing the leaves overhead even more, the sound overwhelming to his delicate ears. The shadows all around seemed somehow to deepen, and Ford realized he couldn’t feel the soft leaves and earth beneath him any longer.

Panicking, Ford thrashed, blinking his eyes open to find himself staring at a bland drop ceiling. Panting, he sat up, using human hands to feel at his legs, arms, his face, with its noticeable lack of whiskers.

Ford huffed and flopped back in bed in his cheap hotel room.

“What a weird dream,” he muttered to himself. Shhhhhh, advised the air conditioner. That was reasonable. Ford rolled over and went back to sleep.

19. lapidoso - full of stones, said of roads or of the bottom of a river

“Shit!” Ford threw the battered dagger onto the workbench. “Another failure! Damn it!”

His ally, whose name he didn’t know for security purposes, said “There’s got to be something you can do with this. Don’t just give up!”

Ford rounded on him. “I’m not giving up, this thing is useless! If there was any kind of ancient mystical power in the blade, this would have found it!” He waved the sensor he’d made under his ally’s nose. “We’ve wasted our time. Two years down the drain.” The words were bitter on his tongue.

Ford’s ally rubbed his face with his hands, tired. “A dead end. After all this time, everything I’ve done was for nothing?” He stared hopelessly into the distance.

“Get used to it. I’ve been hitting dead ends trying to get to Bill Cipher for years now. We’ll just have to find a different route.” Ford looked at his interdimensional translator, opening up the interface that would show him the weakest points in his current reality and predict where the paths might take him if he broke through. “There’s no point staying here now. If you want to return to your group and let them know what’s happened, feel free.”

Ford worked in silence for a few minutes, wondering if it would badly damage this universe if he tried to jump directly to the Slug World he liked to pass through on his trips. Slugs were good people, and pretty cute. He hadn’t been to their world in at least five years, so it wouldn’t be too much of a security risk to their peaceful universe to be seen there, he thought.

Feeling watched, Ford glanced up. His ally was staring at him oddly.

“What?” asked Ford.

“Just like that? We’ve worked so hard and so long and you’re… over it, ready to move on? How long have you been doing this?”

“Too long,” Ford said shortly. “So here’s some free advice: It’s not easy. It’s never going to be. You have to get over it and do everything you can to keep going, or give up. Bill destroyed your universe, didn’t he?”

Ford’s ally nodded, wrapping his wings around himself in a self-comforting gesture.

“If you want revenge you have to accept that it’s hard going.” Ford eyed the miserable man. “Look, I’m leaving. I have other leads I can follow. This road is a hard one, not everyone is suited to it.” He clapped his ally on the shoulder and pressed a button on his interdimensional translator, stepping down another path.

10. liberosis - the desire to care less about things

“Breathe,” Ford told Journey, holding their head in his lap, tipping their chin back so they might have some chance at catching a breath. His hands shook. There was nothing he could do to combat Journey’s blood loss, and nothing he could do to ease their pain. They would die here, and Ford’s heart broke.

Journey choked and burbled, spasming in pain or fear, their remaining arm grabbing at nothing. Ford caught their hand and held it. How many deaths had he seen over the years? Allies, innocents, even the occasional friend, like Journey. Why didn’t it ever get easier?

“I’m sorry,” he told them. “I’m sorry.” He wished, selfishly, that he could turn off the part of him that cared about them. He wished he could speed forward through time to a point where he could look back at their friendship fondly, with only a pang of guilt or regret. Instead he was subsumed by this full-body experience of grief. His eyes stung, his stomach knotted.

It seemed to take so long but eventually, Journey stilled. Ford clenched their hand tighter, choking himself now, not wanting to let go for the last time.

21. cafune - the act of running your fingers through the hair of someone you love

“My tongue feels really weird,” Ford mumbled to Jheselbraum. He lay slumped against her shoulder; she was carrying him as if he were a small child, one arm under him, the other gently looped around his back.

“Oh, yes?” Her soft, low voice was rich with some emotion he couldn’t place.

“Ugh.” Ford screwed up his face and stuck out his tongue.

“Are you dizzy? Confused?” “...Yes,” Ford realized to his surprise. “I’m not sure where we are.” He pressed his face into a fold of Jheselbraum’s cloak. It smelled strange. Like an alien.

Ford felt as if he floated and spun his way down onto something soft, but when he blinked to clear his eyes, he realized that Jheselbraum must have put him down, as she was now sitting beside him. She met his eyes with all of hers.

“You’re recovering from surgery, Stanford,” she explained, smiling. She reached up and smoothed his hair gently, or so Ford assumed. He couldn’t feel his scalp. "Bill Cipher will no longer be able to possess your body, though be wary– your dreams are still vulnerable to a creature of nightmares. Such is the way with mortals. You're all part dream by nature."

"Oh," Ford said dimly. The Oracle's hand hadn't stopped moving, carding gently through his hair. Even if he couldn't feel it, it was nice in concept.

Searching for something to say, Ford settled on "Your ceiling is nice." It was high and domed, a deep blue that glittered with yellow, white, and pink sparks. "It's like the one on Earth. The sky, I mean."

Jheselbraum hummed, leaning over him, smiling gently.

"Tell me about the sky of your planet, little human," she suggested, hand still moving softly.

Ford wondered if he was imagining the feeling in his head returning. "There's…Orion. The hunter. Not a very nice man, but…great. A hero." Stanford was making less sense than usual. "A constellation," he clarified. His head began to throb distantly. "He died," Ford forced out, "and ended up in the stars."

5. ignipotent - presiding over fire

“Is that real?” The young girl bent curiously over the scraps of paper and spearlike dried plant matter that Ford had just lit. The tiny flame grew, reflecting amber in her brown eyes, lighting her too-thin face.

“We only had the holo kind at home,” she said softly, not moving her gaze from the flames. “It looked nice, but it couldn’t make you warm.” She held out a shaking hand, gently cupping the scrap of warmth as though to protect it from the chill of the early morning.

“It’s real,” Ford confirmed unnecessarily. “Here.” He handed her a chunk of ration bar and a handful of sugar-encrusted insects, then gently fed the fire a couple small twigs.

“Back home… nobody would believe me if I told them I saw a real–” and here Ford’s translator tried to interpret her next word simultaneously as ‘fire’, ‘searcher’, ‘priest’, and ‘life-heart’, whatever that was. “How did you do it?” The girl looked almost afraid to know.

Ford smiled and held out his hand. “It’s a small container of fuel,” he explained. “Liquid that can catch on fire. When you roll this wheel here at the top, it strikes the flint inside. That makes a spark, which ignites the fuel!” He flicked the lighter, a steady flame appearing in his hand. “You close the lid to put it out,” he added, extinguishing the flame.

The girl looked awed at first, then she mirrored Ford’s grin. “That’s so… I don’t know how to even say! That’s the strangest, most wonderful thing!” She clutched her ration bar, too excited to keep eating. “I’ve never even thought of that– fire in your hands!”

Ford laughed. “Keep it,” he said, tossing her the lighter. He put a larger stick on the fire. “When you’re a scientist one day, mention me in your thesis’s acknowledgements.”

 13. balter - to dance gracelessly, but with enjoyment

The glowing moon shone a pink light over staggering, lurching forms. The stocky, lightly feathered humanoid aliens were ranged about in a large, grassy bowl that provided some shelter from the wind, sunk as it was into the sandy earth– or whatever they called the dirt on this non-Earth planet.

Ford smiled, noting in his mental journal that these aliens, though not talented dancers by his human standards, were clearly having quite a time. Delighted hoots and laughter rang through the night, accompanying their loud music. They stamped and staggered out of time, if there even was a time in the long, meandering song that had been playing for the past hour.

The prime minister, identifiable by the crown of blue stones upon his head, stomped over to Ford, offering a metal cylinder full of water. “Please dance, Stanford! This is a ceremony to honor you!”

Ford felt himself blush. The idea of dancing in front of anyone, even these graceless, kind aliens, made him cringe. He felt no different than he had at school dances as a teenager, or the single college party Fiddleford had dragged him to. That is to say, he felt the impending judgment of many people who all seemed to know the secret rules of social interaction that he wasn’t privy to.

“Um,” Ford scrambled for a plausible excuse. “Thank you, Prime Minister, but actually I’m a human, you see. We don’t dance at festivals held in our honor. It’s considered the… height of revelry to simply watch the festivities.” Years of roleplaying in DD&MD came in handy when lying to aliens. It’s harmless, he told himself guiltily. He’ll never know.

The prime minister shook himself, feathers fluffing out briefly before resettling. If that meant something, Ford didn’t know what. Finally the man sighed in defeat and slumped sideways into another dancer, who happily swept him up in a boisterous canter before they both fell, laughing, to the ground.

26. verklempt - completely and utterly overcome with emotion

The two beings smiled at Ford, as well as trees could smile.

“We didn’t think we would see you again, Stanford,” they said. Rather, it should be said that they conferred briefly with one another in order to come to a consensus and then transmitted the detailed concept into Ford’s mind without the messy and inexact middleman of spoken language. “It’s nice that you could come. We hope your fight with your enemy is going well. We hope you’ve killed him.”

“Well, not yet.” Ford shifted the gift in his arms uncomfortably. “But I’m still alive, anyway.” He craned his head down to his shoulder, using it to nudge his glasses higher up on his face. “And it’s nice to see you both again!” He smiled up into his friends’ leafy canopies. High above his head, their branches entwined. “Congratulations! I wasn’t certain of the traditions here, but on my planet it’s customary to bring a gift, so, uh, I’ll just leave this here.” 

Ford dropped the heavy bag at the roots of one of his friends. It didn’t really matter which one it was; they were bonded and were therefore treated as more or less one entity now that they had rooted together. Also, their names were so long that it would take forever to address them if he used them.

“Very kind. You’re a thoughtful meat bag,” they joked after a brief pause to confer. Ford laughed.

“Oh, wow, it’s been years since I’ve heard that one. We were a lot younger, back then.”

“Yes.” Warmth flowed through Ford’s mind to convey his old friends’ happiness. “Barely more than saplings. And now look. We have a sapling of our very own to celebrate.”

“Oh, right! I got her some mulch. The gift.” Ford gestured at the sack on the ground. “It’s, um, supposed to be good for young plants.” He looked around. “Where is she, anyway?”

In answer, Ford felt a tug at his awareness, one little trail of thought nudging him forward. He peered curiously around the bole of one of his friends. A short distance away, still well within the radius of her parents’ root systems, what looked like a tiny stick of pale wood jutted out of the ground.

“Oh,” Ford breathed. Although she was hardly sleeping (trees didn’t sleep, at least not in this dimension) Ford felt an impulse to keep quiet so as to avoid waking her. Now that he saw her, he felt her mind vaguely, floating all around him like a scent or a song.

She didn’t convey direct feelings or ideas in the way her parents could, but even as a leafless stick only as high as Ford’s knee, he could feel her mind. It was undeniable that she was a person, a little being who could so easily have never existed at all.

“Wow,” Ford said. “She’s lovely. What will you call her?”

“We won’t bore you with her long name,” the new parents murmured. “We know how cumbersome they seem to you. But for her short name, we are calling her after you.”

Ford looked from tree to tree, wishing that they had faces he could read. It was hard to perform an emotion when you didn’t know where to aim it. Underneath his shock, Ford’s chest felt constricted with a sort of painful happy pressure.

“I don’t– don’t know what to say.”

A slightly apologetic thrum wound through the next idea that appeared in Ford’s mind: “Actually, we aren’t calling her Ford, exactly. It’s not our way to call a sapling after a tree who still lives.” Ford smiled, blinking rapidly. “It’s the same in my culture.”

"Since you are Stanford but don't use all of your name, we will call her Stan."

Ford opened his mouth, then snapped it shut to hold back the various feelings warring in his chest that wanted to crawl up and out. It was hard not to feel anger, at least a little of it, when he thought of Stan, so that was there. But also there was chagrin that his friends were using his brother’s name to honor him, as well as pride that they thought he was worthy of such an honor. Then too there was the bubbling amusement of his namesake being a female tree, rather than, say, a male human.

Ford removed his glasses.

She was so small, that was all. She was a little tiny thing called Stan and he had had a hard few years.

He just needed a moment or two.

11. cruore - it literally means “flowing blood”

“I’m not dying, Connell, I’m fine!”

“I don’t believe you! You look gross! Your gross red human blood is everywhere!” “If you’d leave me alone I could clean it up!” “You can let me help you! Breathe, that’s the key! I don’t want another corpse in my crew quarters.” “Is that a common problem?”

“Uh. No. No, it’s never happened before. By ‘another’ I meant ‘the first ever!’ That’s definitely what I meant.” “Hmm… Ugh.” “Ah! Stop it, stop bleeding on everything! That’s it, I’m sending some MediBots here to save you!” “I do. Not. Need. Saving! This is not a calamity! Humans bleed sometimes!”

“Stop waving your arms! You’ll make more blood come out!”

“You don’t know. You don’t know what humans are like! Maybe arm movements make our blood stay in.”

“Eck. Blood really should not be that color.”

“If it was any other color I would actually need a MediBot.”

“Yeah, okay, that’s fair. I know everybody’s blood color is normal to them. I’ve watched a lot of sensitivity training videos!”

EMERGENCY EMERGENCY! “Wonderful. Connell, make them go away!” “Are you absolutely certain you don’t need them to plug those holes in you?”

EMERGENCY EMERGENCY! PLEASE COOPERATE!

“I need those holes to breathe! Damn it, get off me!”

ZZAPP

“Oh, Stanford, why? Do you know how long it will take me to repair them? I’ll have to get the maintenance bots up here, and they hate me!”

“I’m frankly not your biggest fan, either.” “You’re rude.” “I’m running on two hours of sleep and my body clearly isn’t tolerating the jump to intra-space, so deal with it. Usually I’m a scintillating conversationalist.”

“Hah hah hah. I know when an organic life-form is being funny. That’s a good one.”

…

“Don’t pout. Look, you’ve almost stopped bleeding!”

“I’m not pouting, I was planning on getting some work done. And yes, as I told you, I’m fine. This isn’t something that will kill or even slightly damage me.”

…

“Stanford.” “What?” “You aren’t bleeding and the MaintBots are coming. Will you pretend to be talking to me when they get here?” “Because they don’t like you?”

“Yes. They think I’m not cool because I don’t have a body. If you talk to me about things, they won’t talk to me. They’ll see that a person with a body likes me, you know? You don’t have to actually like me, though.” “I see. Okay, sure. No problem.” “Oh, great, thank you! Okay, okay. What should we say? Oh! We can talk about your blood! Does it evaporate? Or repel predators?” “Well, not usually. Its main purpose is to transport oxygen around my body.” “Oh, okay! Neat! And why was it coming out of you like that before? Is that common?”

“Nosebleeds happen to humans sometimes. I always get them jumping to intra-space. It’s why I prefer not to travel this way.”

“Ooooh I see. Just some normal, regular bleeding, eh? Just like all the organics do on your planet!” “Uh, well, I wouldn’t say that–”

“Or moon! Or whatever, it’s all cool, it’s all fine by me! You can be from wherever you’re from!”

“I–”

“Gosh, now that I’m getting used to it, I kinda like your red blood! Really pops against that space suit! Man! Wish I could see more!”

“You will. We still have to drop out of intra-space.”

“Great!”

1. marcid - incredibly exhausted

Bill was here; was everywhere that Ford was before he could get there, even in his mind. 

Especially in his mind. 

When he slept, and he would have to sometime, he hoped he wouldn’t dream of Bill, appearing with a laugh and a joke. It’s been fun, Fordsy, but I’m tired of the games! 

Even if Bill wasn’t literally in his mind, he was always metaphorically there. Ford’s years of friendship (why does he still call it that?) with that demon made it easy to conjure Bill’s voice to mock or to threaten.

(And in retrospect, their friendship always had had a high instance of mockery and at least implied threats. How had he been so stupid as to not see Bill’s true self? Could he really have been so pathetically lonely that he was willing to befriend anything that laid in his path, waiting?)

Ford staggered, hugging himself against the cold of this empty place. It was flat and barren, but at least he was out of the Nightmare Realm. He glanced down at his dimensional translator, but his eyes were so bleary that he couldn’t read it. The adrenaline lingering in his system after his flight from Bill was waning. Ford’s boots felt impossibly heavy, and his entire body ached.

He tripped on nothing, toppling to the ground. It was dusty, almost soft. And nobody was around to kill him that he could see. He would rest here, just for a moment, and then carry on.

17. temerate - to break a bond or promise

Ford glanced to one side, to the hulking individual striding along the canal with him. Ford’s… associate, Nere, seemed to think he was successfully leading Ford into a trap. He walked easily and with purpose, leading Ford to the narrow alley where they could complete their deal away from the intruding eyes of the law– and where Ford would be vulnerable to an attack.

Ford didn’t much like illegal deals with unsavory characters, but they were a part of life these days. He tried to smother the grin he felt trying to sneak onto his face. Maybe there was a small part of him that did enjoy the occasional brush with danger. He tightened his grip on the six-foot staff that was the only weapon commoners were permitted in the city as Nere silently gestured for him to enter the alley first. Typical.

“Alrighty,” Nere said with a sigh. “Here we go.” He held up a small case and shook it. It rattled. “Year’s supply is all yours.”

“Presuming I can pay, of course,” Ford said.

“Uh, yeah… that’s kind of the deal,” said Nere, frowning.

“Well, the deal’s off!” Before Nere could speak, Ford whipped his staff at the treacherous man’s wrist, dealing a vicious blow that made him howl and drop the case of pills. Ford dashed forward to grab it, scooping up the case and shouldering roughly past Nere.

“What the fuck, man?!” Nere yelled.

Ford didn’t know it, but as he dashed out of the alley and onto the wider street, fleeing the sounds of Nere’s gang behind him, he was grinning.

4. sweven - a dream

When all the lies and terror and confusion of the multiverse became too much, Ford wished there was some happy memory he could recede to. Not always, not for days or weeks at a time, just for a few minutes.

In the Banjo Dimension, beset by discordant twanging, Ford wished he could summon up the image of Fiddleford’s delight if he were to ever find himself here. But no, Fiddleford was a bridge too thoroughly burned to be a fond memory.

On the pirate planet and sick with an intestinal parasite, Ford could hardly imagine a world in which he had thrilling but never too terrifying seagoing adventures with a version of Stanley that had never existed.

There may have been good times in Gravity Falls, but so much of that was overshadowed by Bill, and by the thoughts that still plagued him– how long had Bill been watching, lying in wait? Would he never have approached Ford if Ford had heeded Modoc’s warning? Had there ever been even a moment that Bill might have considered Ford a true friend?

It was stupid. Stupid of him to try to imagine a world where his life had been different, where he’d made the right choices about who to trust and had never been betrayed.

Ford tried to remember the smaller things to get by, rationing his happy memories: the feel of the sun and the sea air on his face, and never mind who was just off his shoulder; the serenity of a chemistry lab at four in the morning, without the explosion an hour later caused by his roommate’s experiment; the joy of a trek through the woods a mile from his home before he knew anything was out there waiting for him.

22. petrichor - the pleasant smell that accompanies the first rain after a long period of dry weather

Sweat dripped down Ford’s face, rolling down his jaw and falling with a soft pat onto his saddlehorn. He sighed, shifting in the saddle. It had been a long, hot week in the Old West Dimension, and he was tired of it. He liked his horse, though. Pigeon was patient with his inexperience and unaffected by the perils of the trail. Ford leaned forward to pat her on the neck, and a bead of sweat fell this time onto her dappled gray neck. Ford blinked. Did she have more spots all of a sudden?

“Ford!” Ford’s head snapped up. Slim, at the head of the string of riders on the dusty trail that wound up into the hills, waved as if they weren’t sure they had his attention.”FORD! IT’S RAINING!” Their grin was visible even from a distance. The rest of the party cheered, raising their arms or throwing their hats. Then they had to dismount and pick them back up again.

“This is great!” Slim had guided their horse back down the trail full of celebrating riders to Ford. “It’s been a long damn time since we saw a drop of rain!” “Well, that’s wonderful, but if it’s raining on its own, then what do you need me for?” Ford asked. He was supposed to be helping these people with their weather problem using a Rainmaker he’d smuggled out of Dimension 7.6^3. It was the job they’d hired him to do, and if he couldn’t do it, he couldn’t get paid.

“Whaddy mean, Ford? Didn’t you finish the last touches on your machine last night?” Slim asked, cocking their head.

Ford wondered if they’d been drinking in the saddle again. “No… you know we need to be at a higher elevation for the Rainmaker to work. And I haven’t finished my repairs.” The light shower poured harder, and the sweet, earthy scent of rain filled the warm air.

“Naw,” said Smith from behind him. “I seen you fixing it up too. Pushed a lot of buttons and zap! Brought all those clouds over here.”

“I saw it too!” Lizard Lizzie shouted over her shoulder. “It was just like magic, I’ll swear on a Bible.”

“You college types can be so forgetful,” Slim said blithely. “Don’t you worry, we’ll talk to the Sheriff. You’ll get your pay.”

Ford grinned. “Thank you.” “Don’t mention it!” Slim turned to address the whole group, cupping their hands around their mouth. “Alright, folks, change of plans! Let’s get back to town and tell ‘em all what a good job we done!” They gave Ford a knowing look. “I’m sure you’d like to collect your fee and move on, huh mysterious loner?”

“It’s what we do best,” Ford acknowledged, and they shared a smile.

14. basorexia - the overwhelming desire to kiss

“Wow.” Ford leaned back. “That's some view.”

The sunset was a lot like Earth's; it painted the sky and sea in shades of orange and purple. Ford sat on a bench at the top of a rise that swept down to the shore. Next to him was Jason, a local biologist who'd been very welcoming to Ford, and with whom he could discuss marine life for hours.

Jason flashed with bioluminescence to indicate his happiness. “It really is. I suppose you'll miss it when you leave. Or maybe not. You'll be off exploring beautiful new oceans.”

“I'll still miss being here. It's always nice to be near the sea. And I definitely appreciate being free from assassination attempts.” Ford hooked his arm over the back of the bench and grinned at Jason, who floated next to him, tentacles piled delicately on the bench seat to imitate a seated posture. while his shorter, frilled arms bobbed in the breeze.

Jason laughed. “I appreciate you not being assassinated,” he said. “You… you’ll be alright, won’t you? Out there,” he waved an arm vaguely.

“I have to be,” said Ford, scratching at his chin. “Death would mean failure, and I can’t fail.”

“Ford, that’s… you’re just so…” Jason laid an arm on Ford’s, frills brushing his wrist. “Well, you’re crazy,” he said ruefully. Ford chuckled. “But you’re very brave,” Jason went on softly.

Ford glanced away, hoping he didn’t look too pleased by Jason’s compliment. When he looked back, Jason was closer. Ford looked up into his face, confused but also feeling a sense of foreboding. He felt that he knew what was happening on some level, but surely not. It couldn’t be what it felt like.

Jason’s mouth was almost on his by the time Ford really believed it. He yelped and jerked back, away from the gentle grip Jason’s arms now had on his knee, his shoulder, his arm.

“I, uh, sorry, I don’t know if you–” Ford had no plans regarding the end of that sentence. His face was on fire. He had no idea how this situation had suddenly taken a hard turn into incredibly uncomfortable territory.

“I’m sorry!” Jason twined his arms together, embarrassed. “Oh, that was really, extremely stupid. I’m sorry, it’s just– you’re so, uh, it’s just a very romantic setting and I got a little– I should have asked first!”

“It’s fine!” Ford assured him, although his heart was pounding as if he’d just dodged a bullet. “I just don’t. I don’t do that sort of thing,” he explained weakly. “Not that I’ve had a lot of offers!” he added, laughing awkwardly.

Inscrutable lights flickered across Jason’s face and bell. Ford wondered how he looked, leaning away as if terrified of this man, who had been nothing but a friend to him over the past weeks. “Well, I won’t offer,” Jaon said finally. “If you don’t want me to.”

Ford felt as if he should explain himself, but he didn’t think he could make his feelings about kissing make any sense to either of them. I’ve never imagined myself doing that. I thought wanting it would happen to me and it never did. I think you’re very beautiful, but like the sunset is beautiful, and I wouldn’t want to kiss the sun. None of these statements would be likely to explain much, or make Jason feel much better.

Before the silence could stretch on too long, Ford said “I’ll miss you.” He took one of Jason’s arms in his hand. “I won’t forget our friendship,” he added lamely. It had sounded better in his head.

Jason grimaced, but squeezed Ford’s hand. “Why don’t you just try to forget the last couple minutes of it.”

30. whelve - to bury something deep, to hide

It was Gravity Falls, but not as Ford knew it, or remembered it. The Institute of Oddology was huge, eclectic, well-equipped, adequately staffed, and world-famous. It buzzed with the businesslike, occasionally chaotic energy of science being done. The things he’d seen here, and the things his other self had accomplished…

Here was what his life could have been. Safe use of the portal, a world free of Bill… Ford swallowed back jealousy and irrational anger, and turned to the man his friend could have been.

“You look, good, Fiddleford,” Ford said. In truth, he looked as unremarkable as he always had. An ordinary exterior hiding an incredible mind, just older.

Fiddleford cracked a grin. “You look exactly like a character you’d come up with for DD and More D, if I’m honest.” He put his hands on his hips and made a show of looking Ford up and down. “Space Pirate, you know? You’re the spittin’ image. They got that subclass in your dimension?” “I wouldn’t know. I haven’t been there since I was thirty,” Ford reminded him.

“Oh yeah,” Fiddleford rubbed the back of his neck. “On account of that accident with Stan.” He eyed Ford closely, watching his reaction. “Things went south, you say.” “With Stan, and with you, yes.” Ford said shortly. “Very south.” He narrowed his eyes. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason, it’s nothin’.” Fiddleford put his hands in his lab coat’s pockets and tapped his foot rapidly against the tile. “Do you ever think about how they are now? That Stan, that Fiddleford?”

“They’re fine, I’m sure.” Stanley was always fine; he was slippery enough to survive anything. And Fiddleford, even with his anxieties, even with the temptation of that damned gun, was too brilliant to hang around in Gravity Falls, hunting the locals’ memories for sport.

“Good, good.” They stood silently for a moment.

“Did your family move up here?” Ford asked, wanting to turn the conversation from topics he wasn’t remotely willing to tell this Fiddleford about.

Fiddleford raised his brows, surprised at the change of topic. “Oh, yeah. Not too long after we got the portal all configgerified just how we liked it. Wife and kids came up. Well, I s’pose it was just the one kid back then,” he chuckled. “They always liked you, y’know. The kiddos. They liked that you’d rassle ‘em around and let ‘em do dangerous dang stuff when I wasn’t around.”

Ford’s stomach clenched unhappily at the thought of being a significant figure in the lives of Fiddleford’s children as they grew up. It was so desperately far removed from what his life had actually been. Ford wanted to turn away from this topic as well.

“Yes, well.” Ford gripped clasped his hands behind his back. “I’m glad that the other me has done… so well for himself.” He gritted out the words.

Fiddleford gave him a deeply pitying look. “I can help you, you know, Ford. We can get you back to dimension 46’\ lickety-split.” He patted Ford’s shoulder. Ford suppressed a wince, even though Fiddleford had just told him that only contact with his own alternate self could damage this universe.

“No.” He shrugged off Fiddleford’s hand. I don’t need to go home, I need to destroy Bill Cipher for good.” He fixed his gaze on Fiddleford. “You and your Ford may have made this universe safe– I don’t begrudge you that, but Bill took my life from me. He’ll do it to infinitely more people if I give up. I intend to put an energy pulse right between his… eye.” Ford finished. “I just need to refine my Quantum Destabilizer. I haven’t been able to find a power source that will work with it.” As Ford spoke, Fiddleford’s KBPS began to rise, and his eyes lit with interest.

“Power source, you say? Now that’s interesting…Come this way. I think I got somethin’ you’ll want to see!”

24. meriggiare - to rest at noon, more likely in a shady spot outdoors

Ford plopped down in the soft blue lichen covering the soil under the vast canopy of a towering mushroom. The steep rise he’d climbed to get here was perfectly positioned to show him a view of the picturesque little valley– its forests, clearings, and some of the inhabitants: the large but harmless lizards that fluttered through the air, glittering like strings of jewels. The sky was a dusky blue, the sparse clouds delicate feathery streaks.

A smile twitched at the corners of Ford’s mouth as he tried to open his pack and find some food. He fumbled it and burst into laughter. It wasn’t funny, and that knowledge just made him guffaw again.

Ford shoved his hands up under his glasses, trying to get ahold of himself. What was going on with him? He’d climbed this hill on a whim, just wanting to appreciate the view and have some lunch. Maybe get a few hours rest before carrying on. He was due to visit a weapons factory in a lava dimension, and had wanted to enjoy his last hours here in this world. (Dimension 0591 Dash Six (dash and six all spelled out for some reason.))

But now he felt both bubbly with good humor and even sleepier than he should after a sleepless night of traveling. Even the thought of his own unusual mood made him want to laugh again.

“How did I get stoned out here?” Ford asked himself out loud. Biting his lip to try to smother his grin, Ford waved his hand in front of his face, wondering what it would look like. It looked like a hand waving in front of his face. Not the most useful diagnostic tool. If the flying lizards were watching, it would look like he was waving to them, he thought, and snickered. He gave them a proper wave, in case they really were watching, and turned back to the matter at hand.

He hadn’t eaten anything he wasn’t certain of in weeks. It was an important element of survival in myriad universes. He hadn’t been poisoned in any other way. It must be something environmental. But what?

Ford thunked his head back against the soft, pale trunk of the mushroom, feeling decidedly less concerned about his drugging than he should be. He peered up at the rippling gills of the mushroom. He had walked through a forest of similar fungi all morning.

“Oooh. Yes, that could be it. Spores. Alien spores. Well, don’t feel bad,” he told the mushroom. He smiled drowsily up at it. “I’ll be fine, you know, probably.” Ford’s eyes closed. “Should probably leave. Get to that lava dimension and sober up,” he mumbled.

But a nap first, then back to it. Yes. Just a little rest, and he’d be fine.

8. ansare - to hardly breathe, to be out of breath

“No.” Ford gaped.

“Oh, yeah, totally.” The bartender wiped down the surface of thier bar with one hand, and polished a glass with a couple of others. “He’s a regular here. Probably not the Tesla that you know, but definitely some scrawny inventor guy. Wacko scientists are always washing up here, for whatever reason. Seen at least six in the last five years.”

Ford tuned out the bartender. His heart thundered. He glanced over his shoulder again at the mustachioed man drinking in the corner of the bar. He looked just like the poster Ford had had on his wall in college.

Tesla, Nikola Tesla, took a swig of his foamy brown cocktail and placed it back on the table so that it would hold down one corner of the pages that flapped in the breeze created by the bar’s oscillating fan. He licked whipped cream off his mustache and scribbled something. Ford felt faint.

What should he do? What could he possibly say? Tesla probably had people flocking to him all the time, Ford didn’t want to come off as just some hanger-on.

“Breathe, man!” The bartender smacked Ford on the shoulder. “If you pass out, he’s not gonna give you his autograph, you know.”

Ford gasped for breath, then fixed the slender alien with a scowl. “I don’t want his autograph, I want to tell him that I’m grateful for the incredible strides he made for science, and that I admire his ambition, and I want to let him know that his legacy never faded!” Ford fought off the urge to wave his hands in excitement and curled them into fists on the shining bar.

“Uh-huh,” they gave him an amused look. There was a pause while they stepped away to help another patron, and Ford drummed his fingers on the bar, trying to formulate an opening line. What did someone say when he met his childhood hero (or some version of him) in a spaceport bar?

“Hey, do you hear that?” The bartender was standing in front of him again. Their batlike ears twitched.

“No.” Ford looked around. It was quiet in the bar, both literally and in terms of patronage.

“It sounds so weird.” As they raised a hand to their head, the being they’d just served made an abrupt dash for the door. In the next instant, the back wall of the bar exploded.

Ford was knocked off his barstool and onto the floor, dazed and breathless. He rolled onto his belly and struggled to get his wobbly legs under him. As he rose, his head swam and his eyes streamed from the smoke and dust. He coughed, struggling to breathe, and looked vainly around for either victims who needed help or assassins who needed a quick death.

A couple of figures staggered through the smoke and out the front door, which looked completely intact. The explosive had been a small one, and Ford had been the nearest to it, so it was unlikely that anyone else was badly hurt. The bartender flashed through Ford’s mind– they’d been near him. They could be hurt or worse.

He turned toward the bar and leaned over it, only to be met with the sight of the bartender hauling themself to their feet. They coughed too, covering their mouth with one arm and flailing wildly with the other ones.

Ford grabbed them and tugged them closer, so that they leaned toward each other over the bar. “Is there another exit?” he shouted into their ear. It wasn’t ideal as an escape. If the explosive had been intended to flush him out, there would probably be watchers on all the entrances and exits, but it was either run or stay and suffocate.

They nodded, squinting in the smoke, and led Ford through a door into a small stockroom. Through that was a door into a closet, and then another door that led outside, or as outside as you could get on a spaceport. Ford glanced back and forth down the bright ‘street’, but it was deserted. He had to get away, and ideally get the bartender out of here, too.

He wouldn’t admit it, but Ford’s next thought was that he hoped Tesla hadn’t been a trick, a trap set for him by Bill’s agents. But how could they possibly have guessed he’d wander into that bar? Still, it hadn’t been Tesla to dash for the door, he’d been in his place along with everyone else.

“My bar,” the bartender moaned, bringing Ford back to the present. “What happened, what am I gonna do?”

Ford steadied them as they started to cough again. “I think that bomb was meant for me. I’m sorry, I didn’t intend to endanger you or your establishment. You should probably go home.” The bartender turned their incredulous gaze on him. “I lived in there! I don’t have anywhere to go! Who the fuck wants to kill you so badly?”

“Bill Cipher.” The name had no visible effect on them. In some places it was as good as a curse, but not here. “Okay, well, are you getting revenge or something? Is he going to pay for this?” They clearly didn’t mean financial payment.

“Yes,” Ford said simply. This was not even serious enough to count as a footnote on the list of crimes for which Bill should be killed, but if it would make them feel better to think Ford was seeking vengeance for them, then fine.

“Good. I’m coming with you. I’m going to help you and get this guy back for blowing up my house.” Their eyes were glassy with unshed tears. Ford didn’t argue. He knew from experience that it would waste time. He’d take them along and either they would give up and find some new place to call home or he could ditch them in a reasonably safe place.

“Let’s go, then. I’m Stanford,” he added, offering his hand.

“Journey,” they said, shaking it.

2. arcuate - arched; bow-shaped

Slate-gray buildings curved over Ford’s head, huge and entirely contradictory to the laws of physics. It was, he thought, what it might be like to be an ant, looking up at a forest of grass. If he was an ant, though, he wouldn’t be lost. He could use his antennae to scent his hotel and find his way there without fuss, using scent trails left by other guests.

Ford peered at the small ball of light he held in his left hand. The hospitality kiosk had provided it to him, along with a burble of the local language that he couldn’t understand.

Someone jostled his shoulder and snapped something unintelligible at him. “Oh, excuse me.” Ford fought through the foot traffic in the broad street until he could lean against a building. He couldn’t feel the curvature of the structure at this height. He tilted his head back, watching the shine of the lights in the windows against the nighttime sky.

He’d never been to a city so huge before, or so alien. The people here had blue skin, some of them. They were all a foot shorter than he was, and wore things and carried things and said things he couldn’t understand. Ford’s feet hurt. He was hungry and tired and cold– his coat was too thin for this weather.

If Ford had dreamed of being an adventurer as a child (and he now pretended he hadn’t) he wouldn’t have anticipated the aimless hours, or the boredom. He hadn’t considered what it would be like to have no home, and nobody to turn to.

Ford gazed blankly at his glowing orb. He was exhausted, and he was alone here. Nobody would notice for days if he didn’t make it to his hotel. The only thing for it was to move. Ford took a deep breath, pushed himself off his wall, and set out.

18. morituro - of someone who is next or destined to die

When Ford learned that Bill was widely known throughout many universes, he didn’t know if it was comforting (he wasn’t the only person to be tricked or harmed by Bill!) or dismaying (he was just another in a long line of rubes to fall for Bill’s trickery.) He wasn’t known quite everywhere, but in many places Ford heard whispers and rumors.

“Bill Cipher isn’t real,” scoffed a man in one dimension. “It’s just a silly trick created to scare children into obeying, like the Giant Cocoon!”

“I’m sorry,” breathed a sympathetic guard as she snuck Ford out of a heavily fortified prison. “Everyone here lives in fear of the One-Eyed Demon. Get out of here before you’re seen.”

The more Ford learned about BIll, the more grimly certain he became that he couldn’t begin to think of returning home yet. Indeed, he couldn’t take any other path until Bill was dead.

“My people,” said a hollow-eyed old arms dealer, xir hands clenched into a bony knot before xem. “Killed. Gone. Now I help other people to their own ends in the hopeless pursuit of the monster.”

And that arms dealer had been one of the lucky ones: Ford had found that few people ever survived Bill’s scouring of their universes.

“Murdered his own fucking people, you know? Just pfft.” This woman had snapped her delicate-looking wings with a startling sound. “All of them into the mist. And why? To cover up his crimes? For fun? Who knows?” She had shuddered in the sweltering heat. “Evil.”

Eventually, Ford began to hear an addendum to mentions of Bill. Not always, but sometimes, and increasing in frequency as the years wore on.

The first time he’d heard it had been from a child, who had peered solemnly at him from under a wide-brimmed hat. “The Deceiver will make you think fake things are real. He takes you away and replaces you with his own mind.” The little boy’s eyes had sparkled. “But don’t worry! My aunts say that there’s someone who fights the Deceiver! A man who appears from nowhere to strike and run before he can be caught! He’s a thief and a crook, but he helps. Maybe you can find him and he can help you too.”

25. noceur - one who stays up late

The problem with studying 0th dimensional physics was that it was so fascinating that Ford didn’t want to turn his attention to anything else. He’d budgeted two hours for 0d Physics, then two for exobiology (redundant– all biology was exobiology on an alien planet), then one for his Strygian literature class (the language was fascinating! The literature even more so!) and finally some philosophy he was taking to round out his studies and help him to understand the culture of the Strygians.

After that he would eat, sleep, wake, and attend class. And after escaping from that horrible dimension with all the M’s, Ford had washed up here, on the planet Strygis. Then there’d been two weeks of decontamination and rigorous interviews, and it had been decided that Ford should be allowed to attend Tytene University as what amounted to an alien charity case. They didn’t call it that, of course; he was an “Off-Planet-Originated Accelerated Admission” case. He was also, on paper, a woman, because the avian inhabitants of Strygis had organized themselves quite strictly by sex. As a scholar, Ford was female, legally.

Anyway, all of that was beside the point. The point was that Ford found himself in a university of kindred spirits. It had been years since he’d last earned a new PhD, and Ford thought he deserved a little treat. And the physics department at Tytene University should prove useful, you know, somehow.

A sudden rushing and fluttering in the aerie prompted Ford to raise his head. To his surprise, nearly his entire cohort had swooped in. They made their way to their nests, puttering around and getting ready for bed. Ford stared in surprise past the slender wooden poles that supported the thin canopy over the aerie. The horizon was turning pink. It was dawn. Had he really been awake all night?

“You keep telling us you’re diurnal,” joked Mask from her nest as she fidgeted with it, using her large talons to kick her bedding around. “And yet, here you are, every morning, as if you were just waiting for a good day’s sleep!” “She’s really making great flights with her study of our culture, eh?” came another jovial voice. “You’ll be sprouting feathers next, Ford!”

Ford grinned over his shoulder in the direction of the voice. He couldn’t be sure who it was, but it was clearly friendly ribbing, rather than nasty bullying. “Well, if Larna wouldn’t suggest such fascinating reading for my Science Qualification I could get some human-style nighttime rest!” Ford closed his textbook and relaxed back into his own nest as soft, amused hoots rang out around him.

“If you’re sleeping with us, you may as well get breakfast with us,” Mask suggested. She blinked her huge yellow eyes at him and fluffed up her gray feathers contentedly. “I could catch some oolie and you can explain what Larna is always going on about. I need all the help I can get with physics.” “Sounds lovely,” Ford said truthfully. (A tiny part of Ford already mourned the loss of this planet from his life. Once he moved on, would he ever be back? He pushed the thought aside.) His hand crept toward his exobiology scrolls, almost in spite of himself. Naturally, Mask spotted the movement. She rolled her whole head.

“At least try to be asleep before the sun is above the horizon,” she advised him, sounding like nobody so much as Fiddleford at age twenty.

Ford chuckled. “I’ll see what I can do. Old habits die hard.”

29. selcouth - unfamiliar, rare, strange, and yet wonderful

Footsteps thundered behind Ford as he dashed through broad, brightly-lit halls. Door after door flicked past on either side, but each one was a dead end, if the map Ford’s accomplice had given him was correct.  He could hide, but he’d be found eventually. He could run, but he couldn’t remember exactly which way to go to reach the outside. This is why you memorize the map! Ford’s brain told him unhelpfully.

At a T intersection, Ford stupidly hesitated for a fraction of a second before staggering to the right. He heard a shout much too nearby.

“There! He went that way!”

Shit. Ford dashed on, terror delaying the exhaustion he should be feeling by now. Even with the benefits of adrenaline he could feel a sharp stabbing between his ribs.

Another intersection, another turn. Ford stopped. Dead end. He was cornered, caught. And weaponless, to boot.

Well, there was only one thing for it. Ford groped in his pocket for a certain cheap plastic case and turned to face the way he’d come, backing slowly toward the dead end.

Guards dressed in green rounded the corner. They stopped, startled to find him facing them, clutching something small that they couldn’t see.

“Greetings, gentlemen!” Ford said, panting. Who knew if they were men at all, but it didn’t matter.

“Drop your weapon!” rang out the command from the frontmost guard. “You’re trespassing in a restricted area!”

“That’s the least of your worries! Get ready… to die!” Ford threw down the infinity-sided die.

Blue light blasted forth from the die; Ford drew his arm over his eyes, recoiling from the flash with his whole body.. He froze in that position for long moments, before the silence around him caught his attention.

Ford removed his arm from his face and was met with a riot of color. He was floating in what felt like a gravityless void, but the black backdrop of space and stars was missing. Instead, he was surrounded by glittering clouds of blue and pink mist so dense he couldn’t see through them, but which looked as soft as cotton. Lights glinted within the clouds, like stars if stars were the size of motes of dust. Instead of the black void of space, it was all set against a gentle blue ‘sky’.

Ford tried to gasp in awe, and found he could. What was this strange place?

He looked down (only designated such because it was the direction his feet were in) and saw a long swoop of pink. He frowned. It was hard to tell distance or size in this place, but it looked like an enormous tail. He looked more and saw a leg, a head, and external gills. It all made sense, he thought, in an abstract kind of way, but his mind bent gently away from the beautiful knowledge of what he was seeing.

A huge, gentle black eye blinked at him through a gentle cyan fog. Ford reached for a gun he wasn’t carrying as a full-body shiver ran through him, and a soft but persistent pressure began to squeeze him tighter and tighter. He tried to thrash in an attempt to throw off the invisible force, and his body obeyed, but the pressure only mounted.

A voice boomed all around and inside of him. The glittering clouds pulsed and flowed to the rhythm of the words.

“ZFYRJBITKMSGVXEFRE

RVYSWSEGVXZVXDXHH

MVWSHUWOFXLXHVOVH

AOVMDVMNRVYSYIAW”

He couldn’t understand. Ford suppressed his instinct to panic. He wasn’t in pain, technically. He could breathe and move. He closed his eyes, blocking out as much sensory input as possible. Think! Perhaps he could reason with… whatever. The thing. The thing he couldn’t quite think about. The voice rang out again:

“JDNULALFCTIGNCPLPETCI

ZFYVXUSUYMNZASGVER

RVYNRCSPPQJEQYLLE

CLXYHBHPEXBXSSOXLEKL”

Ford opened his eyes. They streamed with tears. The pressure was still increasing on his body, but he felt almost as though it didn’t matter. It was as though a pleasant haze was surrounding him, divorcing him from the fear of the situation. He blinked dazedly at a spark in a nearby pink cloud. It looked like shiny cotton candy.

“BEHDHUXGFVGXACPLVDBL”, the voice added. Was that amusement in its booming, glowing, unearthly tones?

A tiny blue object floated past. Ford blinked in surprise, and grabbed his die.

The next moment, Ford was sitting on a large flat stone in a forest that was disorienting in its normalcy. He sat for a few moments, struggling to understand. Then he gave up on understanding. He’d once accidentally eaten a planet. This was nothing compared to that. It was the sort of surreal misadventure that was best forgotten, surely. And, in the grand scheme of things, probably only the thirteenth most dangerous outcome of rolling the infinity-sided die so far.

“Chalk this one up to a victory, then,” Ford muttered to himself as he put the die back in its case and closed it with a snap.

3. astral - of or relating to the stars­

I’ve traveled so far, but this is my first time seeing space like this, the way it was always shown on television when I was a child.

I’m in an actual spaceship, and the view is incredible! Or, it’s actually a little less vivid and brilliant than I would have expected– mostly a big black backdrop with tiny white stars.

Oh, I’m making a mess of this. My first journal entry in years, and it’s complete nonsense! Not that this is a journal. I’ll have to destroy this page as soon as I finish writing it, but I just had to write something!

I’m rambling again. Let me start over.

Since escaping the Nightmare Realm, I’ve jumped from dimension to dimension, seen small towns, vast wilderness, and bustling cities. I’ve been running for my life, essentially. But yesterday I met a small group of outlaws who claim to be the enemies of Bill. I told them my story and they want to help me! Well, that and they also want my help. Perhaps together we can become strong enough, and learn enough, to free the multiverse of the threat that is Bill Cipher.

As it turns out, the outlaws’ base of operations is within this very galaxy. No interdimensional travel for us! So I got to board a real, actual spaceship.

I spent a good few hours discussing the craft’s propulsion with the engineer, a two-headed woman with six names. She talked about faster-than-light travel as if it were simpler than starting a combustion engine! Eventually she tired of my questions and I was banished to my tiny quarters.

Even if the view is duller than I might have hoped for, I can’t quite believe that I’m in space! Every star I can see from my window is brand new, never seen by human eyes. When I was eighteen, watching the moon landing in my parents’ living room, I dreamed of one day experiencing something like this.

It could be under better circumstances, but I’m fed, clean, reasonably unlikely to be killed (I think) and on my way to meet with those who will help me defeat Bill and make the multiverse safer for everyone!

For the first time in a long time, I have hope for the future.

#forduary2024 #forduary #week three: portal years #week three 2024 #fic

[forduary]

Forduary 2024 Week 4: Return to Gravity Falls and beyond

I always headcanon that Fords favorite food besides jellybeans are burgers. So here we have him and the family enjoying some fast-food post-weirdmageddon.

Those nutrient-pills are nothing compare to a good greasy-burger

#forduary2024 #forduary #week four: return to gravity falls and beyond #week four 2024 #art

[forduary]

Have some Fords!! I accidentally procrastinated so you DO get more art after all! :))

#forduary2024 #forduary #week four: return to gravity falls and beyond #week four 2024 #art

[forduary]

Oh look, another Gravity Falls fic! I started this one a while ago but finally got around to finishing and editing it! Title is from the song "It's Alright" by Mother Mother

And hey it actually kind of fits Week 4 of @forduary cause it is older Ford *jazz hands*

You can read on AO3 but I will put the fic under the cut here as well!

Summary: Weirdmageddon is over, everything should be fine, right? But Mabel and Ford find themselves confronted with feelings they'd rather forget, and find comfort from each other. (Aka, Mabel has nightmares and Ford is there to comfort her because we love fluff and Mabel and Ford bonding)

It was late. Ford wasn’t exactly sure what time it was, but the kids had gone to bed hours ago, and he had sent Stan off to get some sleep, what? An hour, two hours ago? Something like that. His body was drained and he knew he should sleep. But he knew what awaited him if he did. Sure, Bill was gone, but nightmares would still come, he knew it. Especially after all that had happened. Even in the waking hours, he couldn’t get rid of the image of him pointing the memory gun at Stan, no matter how hard he wished it would leave him. After all, despite Stan remembering more and more, there were still holes in his memory. Which is why Ford was still up, rifling through boxes he had long forgotten about, looking for anything that might help his brother fill in those holes.

Pulling out another photobook, Ford started flipping through it. He had already put a few aside to show Stan when he woke up, but this one was mostly pictures from college. He put it in the useless pile – though he supposed he might share it with Fiddleford at some point. Ford wasn’t sure if it was irony or a sign of his poor life choices that two of his closest friends had lost their memories because of his decisions.

With a sigh, Ford picked up a frame from the box, only to freeze when he heard a floorboard creak.

Quickly looking up, he was expecting to see Stan – it hadn’t been uncommon the last day or so to find his brother up and about at any hour of the day or night. However, this time, it wasn’t his brother who was up. Instead, he saw his great niece walking past the doorway.

“Mabel?” Setting down the frame, Ford stood up, trying his best to ignore how hard the movement was. Maybe he should try to get some sleep…

Mabel had already walked past the room, but a second later, her head poked into the doorway. “Oh, Grunkle Ford! I…didn’t know you were up.” She fiddled with her nightgown, her eyes flickering to and fro much faster than normal.

“I was just looking through some old boxes.” Ford gestured to the box he had been perusing. “What are you doing up at this hour?”

Mabel glanced at the box, then the floor, then at Ford, then at the wall, before looking at the ground once again. “I uh…” She swallowed, then said in a quiet voice, “…nightmare…”

Sadness pierced Ford’s heart. He was used to nightmares, and in a sense, he knew it was his fault that he had so many. But Mabel? She was far too young and innocent to be dealing with such troubles. He took a step forward, but stopped. He didn’t want to make anything worse. “Would you like to talk about it?”

Looking at him, Mabel opened her mouth, then closed it and bit her lip before shaking her head, which only made Ford more worried about her.

Glancing at the box by the couch, Ford decided a different tactic might be helpful – one that he used quite often with himself – distraction. “Would you like to help me look through my old things?”

Mabel perked up at that. “Really?”

Ford nodded and gave her his best smile before motioning her to come closer. “Of course. There is a lot to look through and I could use the help.”

A smile slowly grew on Mabel’s face and she made her way to the box and picked up an old framed certificate – his diploma. For a moment, she just looked at it, then she spoke. “Wow, the seventies! You really are old!”

A chuckle escaped Ford before he could stop it. He reached down and took the frame from her, shaking his head as he placed it in the useless pile. “I suppose I am getting a little old.” He reached down and picked up another photo album then sat down, patting the space beside him.

Mabel grinned and plopped herself down next to him, leaning her head against his arm as he opened the book, only to straighten up.

“Oh my gosh is that you and Stan as teenagers?!?” Her smile was contagious.

“It is…” Ford said quietly, trying not to think too much about the lump that grew in his throat as he was faced with the memories the pictures brought to the surface. Hopefully that was a good sign that they would help Stan remember. Even if they only served to remind him of all the things he wished he could change.

 “Ooo who is that?” Mabel pointed to another picture.

And so, the night continued, Mabel asking questions and Ford telling her stories of when he was younger. Ford was in the middle of talking about one of his favorite classes at a summer camp when he glanced down and realized that Mabel was fast asleep, using his arm as a pillow.

A soft smile grew on his face, and he carefully set the book they had been looking through to the side. He knew he should simply take Mabel back to her bed and continue his work. There was still so much left to go through. But then, in her sleep, Mabel curled up closer to him. He supposed he could rest his eyes. Just for a few hours…

------

The sky split open, turning the world red. Laughter filled the air.

“Thanks Shooting Star!”

Bill’s voice echoed around Mabel.

“I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Bill’s voice sound behind her. Spinning around, Mabel shrunk back as the demon grew bigger and bigger. Screams surrounded her, growing louder and louder until she couldn’t hear herself think anymore. Chaos reigned. Then suddenly the noise died and she only heard one voice.

“Who you talkin' to?”

She was looking at Stan again, confused, lost, not knowing who he was, or who she was. He turned and looked at her, then a chorus of her family’s voices spoke all together.

“It’s all your fault.”

“I didn’t mean to!” Mabel cried out, tears growing in her eyes.

“Your fault, your fault, your fault!”

The voices grew louder and louder, no matter how hard she pleaded, tried to apologize, they wouldn’t stop. She was drowning in guilt, it was pressing down on her chest, heavier and heavier until she couldn’t breathe.

Gasping, Mabel started awake. The voices were gone. The only sounds were Dipper’s quiet breathing and the occasional bug hitting the window in the attic. But her heart was still racing, and the guilt from her dream was still pressing down on her. Waking up hadn’t freed her from the reality of her actions.

She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t haunted by Weirdmageddon, and all of the events of the last week. And she hadn’t even lived in the apocalyptic world that long, not compared to the townsfolk or Dipper - there were times when she had heard him muttering in his sleep. And then yesterday she had once again stood face to face with her mistakes, when she had found herself lost with thousands of versions of herself.

Holding out her hand, Mabel saw her entire arm shaking. She felt cold despite the humidity of the attic. Swallowing hard, she looked at Dipper. For a split second, she considered waking him. She knew he wouldn’t mind, not that much at least, but…he didn’t know the whole truth. About how Weirdmageddon had really started.

Forcing herself to move, Mabel got out of bed and shakily made her way to the door, then down the stairs. She didn’t quite know where she was going. Maybe to find Stan… he always make her feel better. Or…Mabel didn’t realize where her feet were taking her until she was standing in the doorway to the secret room her and Dipper had fought over what seemed like ages ago.

It was Ford’s room now. Though there still wasn’t a bed in it, just a couch where Ford was conked out…had he really been sleeping on the couch for weeks? How had she never realized that until now? Just another reason she was selfish. The guilt in her chest grew.

“Mabel?”

Ford’s voice made her jump. She thought he'd been asleep. But he was sitting up now, one hand resting on his hip and the other straightening his glasses.

The guilt monster pressed down on her more. Ford needed sleep. Only a few days ago, he had been staying up till all ends of the night. He was finally resting and she had ruined it. Swallowing, she opened her mouth, trying to make herself apologize and tell him she was just going to get a drink, but the words wouldn’t come.

“Nightmare?” He asked quietly, concern lining his voice.

Hugging herself, Mabel tried blinking back the tears that were growing in her eyes, she shook her head. Her performance must not have been very convincing however, because Ford patted the couch next to him.

“Come here.” It was a gentle invitation, and despite knowing she didn’t deserve it, Mabel couldn’t stop herself. She rushed forward and sat down on the couch, curling up in on herself as she did.

A gentle hand rested on her shoulder and pulled her into a small side hug.

“It’s alright…it…everything is okay now.” Ford spoke quietly as his hand moved up and down in a comforting motion.

However, they had the opposite effect on Mabel. Tears blurred her vision as the guilt and regret pressed in on her.

“No it’s not!” A sob shook her body and she curled in on herself even more.

For a moment, there was no response, then Ford spoke again, his voice heavy with remorse. “I’m so sorry, Mabel…”

She froze at the unexpected words and slowly looked up at him. He was staring at the ground, his face downcast. “Wh…what?”

He turned to look at her. “Weirdmageddon…everything that happened. It…it’s all my fault. I let Bill into our universe, I couldn’t stop him before…” He shook his head. “I’m sorry my mistakes hurt you…”

Each word weighed down on her more and more. “Grunkle Ford it’s not…it’s not your fault it…” her throat tightened and she closed her eyes tight, resulting in a tear rolling down her cheek. “…it’s mine…”

Even with her eyes closed, Mabel could feel Ford straighten up. “Mabel, it is not your-”

“Yes it is!” Mabel opened her eyes and looked right at Ford, not even trying to stop her crying. “I-I gave B-Bill the rift! I…if it wasn’t for me W-Weirdmageddon never would’ve happened! Stan wouldn’t have-” Her voice broke as sobs overtook her whole body, guilt pulling her down, down…

Arms wrapped around her, pulling her into a warm embrace.

“It’s not your fault, Mabel.” Ford’s voice was soft and kind, not the angry disbelief she had been expecting every time she had thought about telling anyone what had happened.

“Bill is a master manipulator…he’d do anything, say anything to get what he wants…wanted.”

Hiding her face in his sweater, Mabel was tempted to just let it go at that. Bill was awful…But… “I know…but I…I still didn’t want summer to end. I…I was scared and selfish and…I want to be better but what if I mess up again?!? What if I keep being selfish?” Anti-Mabel’s words echoed around in her head as Mabel curled in on herself.

Ford’s arms tightened around her and after a moment, he sighed and spoke softly.

“I know how you feel.”

Mabel froze. “You…you do?”

“I do.” Ford said, regret lining his voice. “When I was younger, I was so focused on what I wanted, that I hurt the person that meant the most to me. And then I ignored all of the warnings I saw about Bill because I wanted to make a name for myself…Even now…I…I was so…caught up in my frustration and desire to make things right that I didn’t even…think about how my distrust could backfire…I didn’t want to admit my mistakes and…by the time I did…it was too late…and Stanley paid the price for my pride.”

Looking up, Mabel saw Ford staring at the wall, tears pooling in his eyes.

He seemed to sense her gaze and turned attention to her, but not before quickly wiping his eyes and clearing this throat. Then he gave her a gentle smile.

“You’re a better person than I am, Mabel. I…the fact that you want to change now, at your age, shows more maturity than I’ve had for most of my life.”

Mabel saw the sadness lingering under his smile, and she wrapped her arms around him and hugged him. “You’re not a bad person, Grunkle Ford.”

Ford was silent for a moment, then he sighed. “I…I’m glad you think that, Mabel.”

Sitting back a little, Mabel met his gaze. “I don’t think so. I know so! Maybe…maybe we both have some things to work on but you aren’t a bad person. You are just the right amount of nerdy for Dipper, and you’ve done everything to get Stan’s memory back and you’ve sat with me and helped me feel better after I’ve had a nightmares. I wouldn’t want any other person to have come out of the portal.”

The smallest laugh escaped Ford. "I…okay, Mabel…I…thank you.”

Mabel smiled at him. “I can remind you any time you need it!”

He quirked an eyebrow. “Any time?”

“Cell phones!”

“Oh, right…I’m not the best at using them but…”

“Stan can help! At least…” Mabel hummed in thought. “Well, he can kind of use one, and you can learn!”

Ford laughed lightly and smiled. “I’ll do my best.”

“Promise?” Mabel held out her pinkie. For a moment, Ford just stared at it, then he interlocked his pinkie with hers.

“Promise.”

#forduary2024 #forduary #week four: return to gravity falls and beyond #week four 2024 #fic

[forduary]

look! some silly funny doodles i did of ford for forduary!

i'm not used to drawing in a more comedic style so i struggled to find one set design for him. his features are so goofy to draw...hopefully *one* of these ends up looking like him lol

#forduary2024 #forduary #extra prompt #extra theme #art

[forduary]

There was something odd about Ford, that everyone in the Mystery Shack household seems to notice after his return from the multiverse of constant peril. He doesn't eat.

or, Ford comes back surviving on a diet consisting of nutritional pills that only he could think would be enough, wondering why everyone around him tries to get him to eat things he can't even keep down anymore. It doesn't last.

Hey guys, final fic for @forduary inbound! This one's for the week 4 prompt Return to Gravity Falls and Beyond!

i realize it might be a little strange in comparison to my previous Forduary fics, but i wanted to explore Ford's (non)relationship with food and those darn nutritional pills Alex postulated on that Charity Stream years back by taking the idea to its natural extremes.

will warn that there are a couple scenes of explicit vomiting, so if you're uncomfortable with that, i'd skip this one. otherwise i hope you guys enjoy it, despite my own misgivings of it being too weird haha.

#forduary2024 #forduary #week four: return to gravity falls and beyond #week four #fic