@babyblankyerror
I’m terrible with birthdays, so congratulations, it’s now your birthday part 2! Happy birthhhhh
Here is a little present~
Stanley was a little hesitant to believe his luck, looking around at his family as Mabel and Dipper cut streamers and painted a big banner for their birthday.
Soos was somewhere off trying to corral the balloons Ford had filled with some sort of floating space gas as if they were scared sheep and Ford had taken to talking to his science buddy about setting up some fireworks.
All in all, it was a dream come true.
He couldn’t help the wide grin plastered on his face as he watched Mabel sprint for the glitter he sort-of remembered banning from the shack. His hands busying themselves with the bunting as he watched his little tornado throw her all into setting up ‘the best party ever’.
Memories were coming back, some faster than others with everyone’s help, like his Ma’s honey sponge cake that was currently cooling off on the old rack in the kitchen.
Still, a niggling doubt couldn’t help but creep in, when the silence got that little bit too loud. He couldn’t remember what he’d done to deserve all this. The soft looks sent his way whenever he remembered a pet name or yelled (half-heartedly) for the damn pig to get off his chair.
The blanks leaving a gap between what should have been a tense standoff between his brother and the joyful little moments he was beholden to now.
It was strange, but try as he might, he was still too much of a coward to put a voice to the fears that he knew were lingering, waiting for him to open the floodgates.
With a crackle he straightened his back as he stood from the chair, stifling a chuckle as the kids remained absorbed in their own world, covered head-to-toe in glitter that clung to his hands as he ruffled their hair in passing. Waving off their playful whines as he headed for the foyer.
It was then that he saw it, nestled in the corner of the gift shop just as he was passing, a lone vending machine that stood out amongst the bobble heads and t-shirt rack, an itch begging to be scratched.
His hands danced over the buttons with a practiced ease, like muscle memory kicked into overdrive, watching on curiously when the door swung open to reveal a dim staircase.
His destination was uncertain, but Stan couldn’t help himself as he quickly marched down the steps towards an old elevator, punching in a random level before the doors slid shut and he began his descent.
Floor 2 opened up into some weird mix of a study and a prayer room, a headache blooming as he stepped out into the space, eyeing the glass pyramids dotting the desks.
What really caught Stan’s eye, however, was the large banners strung across the walls, stopping at the largest one hanging from the ceiling, a large yellow triangle centered, staring down at all that stood before it.
The haze of static that washed over him, thoughts consumed by discordant cackles, was enough to sweep the floor beneath his feet until he’d fallen to his knees. His hands coming up to shield him from the view, only to reveal blackened limbs that glitched in a revolting technicolor, 5 then 4 then 5 again as his fingers seemed to disappear under the weight of the illusion.
Blue fire, a soft voice pulling him from his fate, a life relived. It all left as soon as it came as a hand yanked him back.
Ford.
The man stood above him, breath shuddering through him as though he’d just sprinted through the forest. Kids breaking free, running down brick lined halls.
Hushed words full of apologies and fear as Ford strung an arm over his trembling shoulders, pulling him close.
“I was waiting to tell you, I should have realized you’d find this place eventually. I’m sorry Stanley, I-I hope he didn’t- Fuck. I’m so so sorry.” His words patches over the eons sharpest parts of the dull ache, pulling a choked laugh, his own laugh, from his thundering chest.
“He was a real piece of work, huh? Glad I punched him in his equilateral face.” Stan snorted bitterly, the sound transforming as he caught sight of Ford’s stunned expression, a mix of incredulous and amazement.
“You- Moses you just punched him?”
“Yeah? He crumbled like Doritos dust, kept screaming about something” Stan trailed off as a few loose tears managed to wrestle out of ford’s eye.
A-X-O-L-O-T-L My time has come to burn
Clearing his throat roughly, Stan patted his brother’s shoulder, finally finding his strength as he squeezed intently, looking back up at the old tapestries and baubles.
“You know, I think we should make a bonfire.”
The startled laugh that broke through the tension was like a soothing balm as Stan wrestled with gravity to stand once more, dusting himself off before reaching out a hand to pull Ford up.
A different time, a different place.
The two brothers marched side by side out of the room, barely sparing it another look as they shot each other knowing smirks, calling out for the overzealous nearly-teenagers to grab the matches as they ascended from the basement stairs.
They’d get back to party planning later, now they were going to roast marshmallows over a ghost’s dumb face.
