Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Stan was not loving the whole being turned into a hideous rock monster.

Frankly, he doesn’t know how Ford was being so casual about being what was basically a big cat with colorful wings.

Maybe because he can actually eat things like bacon.

Yep, that was the thing Stan hated the most about all this, not the hazardous wings that seemed to bump into everything every time he moved around, not the sudden weird itch to crawl up to high places, not the way he feels as though the shack itself is a part of him, like another limb that he can physically feel, nope, not even the way he turns to stone when the sunlight comes up.

NO! The worst part is that he can’t eat bacon… or any normal food for that matter, but the inability to eat greasy, crunchy savory strips of bacon was really the thing that topped it all off.

It. Sucked.

Stan frowned grumpily as he flipped a pancake he wasn’t going to get to eat, and almost sobbed on the spot when he heard the bacon sizzle and pop in the pan next over.

Maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad if he didn’t feel like he wasn’t already so hungry, be that as it may, he was the only decent chef in this house, somehow the girl who puts literal plastic dinosaurs in stuff holding second place.

Grumbling to himself, Stan started making plates, eggs and bacon for the oh so scary Sphinx, heh, when Stan had asked his brother if he suddenly had a desire for raw meat, the nerd had gone green in the face, mumbling something about how even though technically he had the digestive system for it now, the formally human part of him was not too happy about that idea.

It was a good thing people created a thing called fire, so they could cook pesky raw meat into delicious… succulent… wavy… strips of bacon.

…Man was he hungry.

But it was odd, cuz the thing is, it’s been weeks since he’s been turned, and he hasn’t really felt the need to eat until now. But today it feels like his stomach just came back from a month long vacation and decided to go back to working again.

He did not feel like paying his stomach this much overtime.

Opening the fridge, Stan pulled out some store-bought sushi. he, unsurprisingly, did not know how to make sushi, so they worked with what they had, and set it next to the plate of pancakes topped off with some very appetizing looking grass and spinach.

Though right now, even that sounded really good.

Has he mentioned he was hungry? oh he has, you mean he’s been complaining about it the whole time, well, deal with it. Because until he could figure out something he could actually eat, he was gonna keep doing it.

Clearing his throat literal gravelly throat, Stan called out, “BREAKFAST, GET IT SOON OR I’LL FEED IT ALL TO THE GNOMES!”

A moment later a cacophony of different sounding footsteps, the soft pads of a feline, the click-clacking of hooves on wood, and the very interesting mixed sounds of squeaky wheels, splish-splashing water and the repeated thunk of something plastic hitting the ground repeatedly all start heading towards the kitchen.

Mabel, in all her wet and splashy glory, comes wheeling in first in her little water-filled red wagon. Her bright, glittery tail flicks water in his face, while the paddle she uses to used to move around smacks him painfully in his stony knees at the same time.

“Geez kid, what’d I do to you to deserve all this abuse.”

She grins up at Stan excitedly, “Grunkle Stan! I’m so glad we found that amulet that allows you to stay awake during the daytime.” Mabel leans in conspiratorially, “between you and me, Grunkle Ford should probably just stick to his gizmos and gadgets and never, ever pick up anything even close to a spatula ever again.”

Stan snorted and mussed up his niece's hair, making her giggle, “agreed pumpkin, they should probably ban him from any kitchen across the country, nah, the universe.” Stan paused, musing, “actually, better make that the entirety of the multiverse.”

A frowning, ruffled looking Ford steps into the kitchen next, “my cooking cannot possibly be that bad.”

Mabel and Stan glance at each other.

“No no, yeah-” “It can-” “I never knew someone-” “Pretty terrible.”

Ford just gave them both an unimpressed look and sat at the table, taking a moment to get situated with his big ol’ wings and tail, and impressively managing to hold a fork in his paws. Stan almost snorted out loud at remembering how long it took for him pull off that particular skill.

Mabel wheels her wagon over to Ford and pats his arm placadingly, getting water on his trenchcoat he always wore… probably the cleanest it’s been in days, “There There Grunkle Ford, at least you don’t somehow manage to get hair in everything you cook. Grunkle Stan is literally a rock and still manages to somehow get hair in stuff.” Mabel squinted at Fords plate, “like, see there, I can see a piece in your eggs right now.”

Mabel shook her head in awe, “how does he do it?”

“Magic.” Was all Stan replied with, and Mabel nodded as if that explained everything.

At that moment, a clattering of something falling sounded out in the next room, followed by a pitiful sounding groan.

“You uh- you okay in there bro bro?” Mabel, trying not to giggle at her brother's misery. Ah, siblings, it’s good to know throughout the ages and years, they all act the same.

A disgruntled Dipper finally makes his grand appearance, leaning against the wall, breathing heavily and looking like he hates being a cervi- or whatever more than Stan hates being a Gargoyle.

“Fine, just great.” Dipper breathed out between clenched teeth.

No one mentions the way he almost slips on his way to the table. As he situates himself, Mabel reaches up and grabs her honestly probably terrible sushi, though the way she tosses it up and catches it with gusto would say otherwise.

Dipper wrapped his odd combination of Stancakes and greens up like a burrito and went to town, picking grass and hair out of it all the while. Dippe had been apprehensive eating grass at first, until he’d fallen face first in it and realized, hey, it wasn’t half bad.

At least that’s what he said anyways, Stan was still iffy about the whole thing. He doesn’t remember it tasting all that good the few times the stuff managed to make it into his mouth, which he was not getting into right now.

Ford, the ultimate nerd he was, was writing in one of his newer journals, one that was specifically for the residents of the town instead of the anomalies surrounding them, as he ate. Watching Dipper and Mabel eat, muttering stuff under his breath that Stan with his still terrible hearing couldn’t hearing couldn’t make out.

Yeah, turns out that even being turned into a monster, he still had terrible eyesight and hearing, while his brother got the double deal of enhanced vision and hearing. Woop de doo.

His brother looked up from what he was doing when he heard Stan snickering, giving him a questioning look, Stan just waved at him to continue, trying to hold back his grin. Ford gave him a suspicious glance for a moment, but then just ultimately shrugged and continued eating, the bits of egg on his whiskers still hanging there that Stan didn’t tell him about.

Was he a great brother or what?

Stan's stomach helpfully reminded him that it to0, was hungry as he watched everyone else eat. Stan glanced back at the remaining bacon that was sitting on the counter, maybe just a little bit won’t hurt…

“You Knucklehead, what the heck are you doing!” Stan froze from where he had the bacon held above his open mouth, and looked over at Ford, who was giving him an incredulous look.

“Uuuuhhhhhh… nothing?” Stan said as he tried to discreetly set the piece of bacon back down, without anyone else noticing, even though all three of them were staring at him now… great.

“Why on Earth would you try eating something again after the disaster it was the last time you did it?”

Flashback to Ford standing uncomfortably outside the closed bathroom door, knocking, “um- Stanley, are you alright, you’ve been in there quite a while.”

Sobbing could be heard from the other side, “I JUST WANTED A S-HUH-ANDWHICH!!”

Dipper walks towards the door, legs crossed, looking desperate, “Noooo! I’m a deer now right? Right?! I can go outside and it’s totally fine, right? Yeah definitely, one hundred percent.” He says to himself as he runs out the door, a befuddled Ford watching him go.

“There’s uh- There’s a bathroom in the basement.” Ford says to no one, Dipper already gone.

Ford coughs awkwardly as the sobbing continues in the background.

Dipper shudders to himself, “pro tip, always make sure to look for Gnomes before doing your business.”

Stan sighs and scratches behind his ear, “yeah I know… it just, feels like I’m starvin’ y’know? And believe me, do I know what that feels like.”

Ford furrows his furry brow, “You’re feeling hungry now? but you haven’t felt hungry at all from the moment we changed, and we’ve uh-” Ford coughs, “confirmed you can’t eat regular food in this form.”

Stan frowns grumpily, “yeah, been feelin’ kinda hungry for ‘bout a day now, I thought it might go away or something, I dunno how this whole thing works, but then I woke up today and it feels like my stomach is trying to carve it’s way out of me with a pickaxe.”

“I haven’t seen anything about Gargoyles in your journals Grunkle Ford,” Dipper pipes up, and Ford nods, “yes, unfortunately, I don’t know much about them, if there are any in gravity falls, I haven’t managed to stumble across one yet.”

Stan snorts, “with the way you avoided any and all living people while you lived here, I’m not surprised you didn’t find any.” Ford raises an eyebrow at him in question as Stan continues, “I can tell you from experience Gargoyles like human structures, makes ‘em feel, what’s the word I’m looking for… complete. Yeah, complete, kinda feels like we’re missing a limb if we don’t have one.”

Ford lifts his hand er- paw to his chin, “fascinating, that makes sense of course, Gargoyles are known throughout history to be protectors of buildings, keeping them safe at night, it would make perfect sense that there’d be a magical connection to the Gargoyle and the place it stays at.”

“Does that mean you can feel the mystery shack, Grunkle Stan?” Mabel asks him. Then she slaps the floor with her paddle, “did you feel that?”

“As much as I appreciate you trying to put me in pain sweetie, I can’t exactly feel the Shack like that. Though I can feel it, which let me tell you, is a completely surreal experience.”

Stan could feel the creaking and groans of their home when the wind passes by, could tell where someone was in the house at any point if he tried thinking about it, but that gave him a head ache, so he didn’t do that too often, only when he felt his family was getting up to no good did he do that… okay so maybe he did it more often than he thought.

And while he couldn’t feel things like, Mabel banging on the floor per se, he could perceive on some sort of level when the Shack was damaged. He finally managed to figured out where that leak was coming from after he had changed, that had been one of the greatest accomplishments of his life, up there with saving his brother. That leak had been a nuisance for years.

Stan took a step forward to grab something to drink, because even though he couldn’t eat, he could still drink stuff, something somethin’ bout rocks being able to retain water an’ all that, Sixer had explained. When suddenly the room started spinning and he leaned back on the counter, gripping it as everything moved around him.

“Okayyy, not doin’ that.”

A small figure appeared in front of him, “Grunkle Stan, are you alright?” Mable came into focus as she said this, looking worried. Ford looked up from where he had been writing the information he just gained in his journal and frowned in concern.

Stan cleared his throat, “uh, yeah, I’m a-ok, just got a little… dizzy there for a sec, I think I’m gonna sit down for a moment, though.” he said, once he was confident enough he was going to tip over again. Carefully walking over to the table, he plopped down next to Dipper, the chair ominously creaking under his weight.

“You’re gonna get wrinkles frownin’ like that kid.” Stan says, and Dipper’s uneasy expression turned to one of long suffering.

As Stan rubbed his eyes to try and get rid of a forming headache, Mabel places a soda can in front of him, “here Grunkle Stan, I got you something to drink.”

Stan grinned softly at that and ruffled Mabel’s hair, “thanks pumpkin, though I have no idea how you managed to open the fridge and grab this.”

“Magic,” Mabel simply said to him, shooting back at him what he said earlier.

“Touche,” Stan replied, “touche.” Then he popped open the can and took a long sip of pitt cola.

“Kinda stupid I can drink but can’t eat,” Stan grumbled as he sloshed the soda around inside the can.

Ford frowned, “if you’re hungry enough to start exhibiting symptoms, then there must be something Gargoyles can eat, it’s just strange that only now are you feeling hunger pains, when you’ve gone days without needing to eat a thing and being just fine.” Ford pursed his lips, a tense look crossing his face. “Unless something went wrong with your transformation process and you have the metabolism of a Gargoyle, but still need sustenance of a human, in which case…” Ford didn’t need to finish his sentence for them to understand where he was going with it.

Stan looked down and gripped the soda he was holding, the aluminum crinkling under his grip, Yeesh, starving to death, not a fun way to go.

“Psh, well that’s a dumb idea Grunkle Ford,” his brother blinked owlishly, even though he very much looked like a cat, and looked down at Mabel in surprise as she continued, patting Stans rocky arm as she did so and sharing a brief look with Dipper, “this guys here drank almost twice as much of that water as the rest of us, it was cra-zy, so it wouldn’t make any sense we turned fully monastery while he still had weird human bits sitting inside him.”

“Hmm, while that is tru-”

“And besides,” Dipper continued after Mabel, and Stan snorted as Ford’s head swiveled, once again, very much akin to an owl, to stare at his nephew, who shrunk under his great Uncles stare, “W-wouldn’t he have gotten hungry when we first turned if that was the problem?”

Mable nodded rapidly, “exactly.”

Ford tilted his head as he stared at a stain in the table, courtesy of Soos, lost in thought, “I believe you two are right,” Mabel gave a thumbs up and Dipper practically seemed to glow at that proclamation, “perhaps Gargoyles are similar to Snakes,” Ford nodded to himself and seemed to grow more and more excited, “actually, that would make almost perfect sense, Gargoyles can literally freeze themselves when they turn to stone, it would make sense that their metabolism would also freeze with them!”

Ford grabbed his pencil, it looked goofy in his giant cat paws, and started writing his nerdy thoughts down, “their metabolism is probably extremely slow, in that case, and it would explain why Stanley didn’t start feeling hungry until now.” Ford paused in his writing and started chewing on his pencil, “the only thing that doesn’t make sense is how fast you started feeling hungry again, you went from not hungry at all to practically starving, which wouldn’t make sense if you had a similar metabolic rate as a snake…”

Stan, who had zoned out through the whole thing, came back just in time too see Dipper snap his fingers as if he just had an epiphany, his deer like ears shooting up with his excitement, “unlesss we took away the way Gargoyles conserve their energy!” Dipper pointed at Stan's amulet sitting on his neck, the one that allowed him to stay awake during the day.

Ford’s eyes widened, “of course, brilliant Dipper! During the day, a Gargoyle is frozen, no moment whatsoever, not even breathing, I checked-”

“How on earth did you do tha-”

“They're using no energy at all, but take that away, and voila, their body is now working through the daytime too.” Ford paused, “actually, it’d probably make sense that his body is working overtime because the main way a Gargoyle would probably also recharge is turning to stone…”

Ford looked over at Stanley, his expression changing from one of curiosity he got when presented with some new challenge to one of apprehension, “you must be starving Stanley.”

Stan raised an eyebrow at that, “Y’know, crazy thing is, I think I already mentioned that Pointdexter.”

Ford looked down at his journal, “yes well, I just don’t know what you would need to eat, I don’t know nearly enough about this species, I mean, I would’ve waited to give you that amulet if I’d known it would kickstart your metabolism into overdrive.”

Stan fiddled with the Amulet, it held some sort of red crystal in it that almost glowed in the daylight, “if I take this off go an’ back to sleepin’ during the day will I be alright?”

Ford shook his head, “unfortunely, being hungry is the same for everyone, it won’t go away until you get some actual food in you, slowing down your body again won’t help much.”

“Where did you get that amulet anyway Grunkle Ford?” Mabel asked, curious.

“Hmm, oh, Fiddleford said he found it in his old… home, the junkyard, he gave it to me when I talked to him about Stanley’s problem.”

“Did you ask him where he got it from.” Stan asked.

Ford stared at the wall all of sudden, apparently finding it interesting. “I um- meant to ask, I may have just gotten a tiny bit distracted… byhistenniscourtwithanautomatictennisplayerrobot.” Ford muttered the last part.

Stan just gave Ford an unimpressed look, then he sighed, “well, all this nerd stuff is fine and dandy, but it doesn’t really help with the fact that I’m hungry, and I still don’t know what I’m supposed to eat the fix that.”

“Well, a person who has a Gargoyle amulet probably knows a lot about Gargoyles, right?” Mabel asked.

“That would seem likely,” Ford agreed, “and it’s our best bet.”

Stan clapped his hands together, everyone jumping in surprise at the loud clacking sound. “Welp, guess we’re goin’ to ol’ Fiddlenerds mansion, Soos can hold down the shop while we’re gone.”

“Yay! Trip to Mcguckets!” the younger twins yelled.

Ford got up and set his hand on Stan's shoulder as the kids ran upstairs to get ready, “are you sure you’re alright to go? You’re probably-”

Stan stood up and stretched, body cracking like a firecracker on the fourth of July, “bah, someones gotta keep an eye on you three, and besides, you still don’t know how to drive.”

Ford rolled his eyes at that, “these modern cars are nothing like the interdimensional traveler ships I’m used to, sue me.”

Stan patted his back and started walking, “yeah, yeah, can it old timer.”

“I’m only fifteen minutes older than you are!”

Chapter Text

Plink!

Drops of water from a stalactite hit a solitary doubloon sitting on a stone floor, then, suddenly something in the cave shifts, and the sound of a mountain of coins and every other valuable thing imaginable tumble down as something big, something huge emerges from within it.

Slowly it opens it eyes, the color of greed itself, as it takes a huge sniff of the air, puffing out smoke as it does so.

It suddenly swerves towards something, pupils dilating and it takes a huge lumbering step forward, coins clinking as they fall of the beast and onto the ground, and then another.

It wanted something, something that it could smell even from here.

And it was going to get it.

Plink!

Plink!

“OH MY GOD I FORGOT HOW BAD YOU WERE AT DRIVING!”

Stan rolled his eyes as he ran over what he was going to hope was just a rock or something and everyone lifted off of their seats, floating in the air for a moment until they roughly landed back down as the car touched the ground again, various sounds of pain ringing out from his three passengers.

“Bah, stop overreacting ya big baby.” Stan replied as he turned into what was probably another road… probably. “Besides, I’m a great driver when I can see, blame all this on my terrible Gargoyle eyesight.”

“You already had terrible eyesight because of your cataracts though,” Dipper piped up helpfully as Mabel looked behind them.

“I think we just accidentally ran someone over,” She said cheerfully.

“Kids, just stop talking,” Stan said, glancing back at them. Dipper was sitting like a dog in the car seat, his head brushing against the car ceiling, he was rubbing his head from where it had bumped against it… numerous times.

Mabel sat next to him, she was sitting just fine in the car, tail flopping happily back and forth as she sang some random boy band song Stan didn’t know the words of. The red wagon used to transport her around was stashed in the trunk of the car. Every once in a while, she poured water from a water bottle all over herself… and all over his leather seats too while she was at it.

…hmm y’know, maybe they should make her something better to use than just a wagon, he could talk about that with Ford later. Though she really does seem to enjoy riding around in it.

Stan spared a side eye at his brother and burst out laughing at the sight. His feathers were ruffled and his fur was puffed up like an angry cat. Ford turned to look at him and glared.

Stan grinned, “what? Big bad interdimensional space adventurer or whatever scared of a little driving?”

Ford huffed, “I’m scared of you driving, not driving in general. Though, my newer instincts may have a part to play in my uneasiness.”

“Instincts sminstincts, I think it’s all baloney, humans don’t have instincts, so why would we now all of a sudden cuz we turned a little monstery.”

Ford shook his head, “actually, humans do have instincts, we may ignore them more often than not, but have you ever had a gut feeling that came from nowhere that was warning you something bad was going to happen and it did? Or the feeling of being watched even when no one was around? Those are examples of some of our basic instincts.”

Stan shifted in his seat, trying to get comfortable in it, which was hard, seeing as he had giant bat wings and a tail that was frankly more of a bother than anything else. Ford said it helped him with his balance, but Stan didn’t have one as a human, so he didn’t understand why he needed one now.

“My gut feelin’ got me through a fair share of trouble, I’d be dead in a ditch somewhere without it. You sayin’ that’s all weird instinct mumbo jumbo?”

Ford nodded, “it really is interesting stuff, how the human body seems to be able to know when it’s dangerous before anything happens, as time went by and humans became more civilized and our natural predators practically disappeared, so too have our instincts because we had less of a need for them when we weren’t trying to survive day by day.”

Ford pulled out his journal and started flipping pages until he landed on the one he was looking for, “but when we were all turned into mythological creatures, it seemed we each gained some of their natural tendencies. For example, Dipper is much more jumpy than he was before.”

Dipper, who had been talking to Mabel about something Stan thought had to do with… did he hear that correctly? Blind eye something? Was that some new-fangled show kids watched these days?

“Hmm? What? Did you say my name? I didn’t erase someone's memory!”

Stan and Ford just stared at him as he furiously blushed and tilted his hat down to hide from them, looking away.

Ford just cleared his throat and continued, “ahem, um- anyways, he’s also taken to headbutting and kicking more than he used to, recently I caught him doing it in front of your red-headed employee, Wendy, If I’m remembering correctly, as a means to try and impress her, as Male bucks will do when trying to impress a possible mate.”

“OH MY GOSH YOU SAW THAT AND EVEN WROTE IT DOWN!?” Dipper practically squeaked out, somehow turning even redder.

Stan grinned, “did it work?”

Dipper sighed, “no, she just looked at me like I was weird.”

“You are a weird kid.”

“Thanks Grunkle Stan, you always know what to say,” Dipper said sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

“Mabel on the other hand seems to have gained incredible reaction time, I noted her being able to react to things quicker than a normal human being would be able to, and she told me while I was asking her questions about it that she suddenly has the urge to follow steady movement, watch this.” Ford turned back to look at his niece, “Mabel dear.”

When she turned to look at him, Ford started moving his pen back and forth and through the rear-view, Stanley watched as Mabel seemed to follow it almost as if she were in a trance.

When he lowered the pen and looked back at Stan, Mabel blinked and shook her head and then continued talking as if nothing happened.

Ford continued, “also, she seems to have gained the urge to eat glitter, perhaps because it’s shiny?”

Stan coughed, “Yeah uh- no, she already did even before she became a fish.” Stan had gallons of glitter sitting in a closet for when he needed to do business with her, which he totally got by legal means of course.

Ford blinked, “I see.” Then he seemed to cross something out in his journal and wrote something else under it, muttering something that sounded a lot like ‘just weird’.

Stanley took another turn, man, why was the way to this stupid mansion so convoluted? (It wasn’t, Stan had just missed the turn about 6 turns back and was taking to most backroads way possible there.)

“Can you not treat your family like a bunch of science experiments, is that so much to ask for Sixer?” Stan asked his brother.

Ford frowned at him, looking put out, “Stanley, of course I’m not treating you guys as experiments, I would never, unless… ahem, it would just be because-” Stanford stopped himself from continuing that very bad line of thought when he saw Stan’s unimpressed raised eyebrow.

Ford looked away awkwardly and then continued, “what I mean to say is, no I would never treat my family as mere experiments,” Ford patted his journal, “I have just been recording what I have witnessed while spending time with you and the other turned Gravity Falls residents,” Ford stared down at the obnoxious cursive, looking pensive, “the more I know about what exactly is afflicting us, the better chance I have to find the cure that will change us all back.”

Stan’s gaze softened and while keeping one hand on the wheel, reached over and punched his brother in the arm, “psh, if anyone can change us back, it’s you pointdexter,” Stan snorted, “certainly not me, that’s for sure.”

Ford grinned, looking less worried than he did just a moment ago, “don’t sell yourself to short Stanley, you did manage to rebuild the portal.”

Stan groaned, “ugh, don’t remind me, I had to read the boringest books known to man to get that thing up and runnin’,” Stan shuddered, “I still have nightmares about turning into a bonafide nerd.”

As Stan caught site of some of the pictures drawn in the journal, he asked, slightly curious, “so are the niblings the only ones you’ve observed and written down, or are there others in there too?”

And suddenly Ford grinned deviously, “actually, I have some notes in here about you too.”

Stan immediately paled, “w-what, I haven’t been actin’ any different since I changed, what could you have possibly got written down in that little notebook of yours?”

Still grinning, Ford flipped to a page where Stan could see a drawing of him in Gargoyle form, and… was he sleeping in the rafters?

Oh no.

Ford started reading his transcripts out loud, “one thing I have noted about Stanley since his transformation is his penchant to start hanging out in higher places. Actually, I recently just spotted him taking a nap up in the framework of the Shacks ceiling, perhaps he has gained a sudden urge to be up in high areas, as Gargoyles are often depicted crouched on terraces and ledges.”

While Stan groaned, Ford continued, and Dipper and Mabel seemed to have stopped their conversation to listen to him, because of course they did. “Today I caught Stan playing in the rain, it appears he has gained an infinity and love for water since he turned, it was rather adorable.”

As Stan tried to hide in his seat, Ford held up a drawing of him jumping into a puddle and Dipper and Mabel burst out laughing.

“Traitors,” Stan muttered.

“Oh, now here’s something I noticed about you Stan, you seem to always know where everyone is in the house.”

Stan nodded, “yeah, like I said, it feels like the Shacks just become another limb for me, and I can tell what’s going on throughout all of it, makes getting stowaway Gnomes out a heck of a lot easier.”

“Fascinating,” Ford said while writing this new information down. “Oh, now this is a good one-”

“Oh look, we're here,” Stan quickly interrupted as they pulled up to the outrageously huge mansion that Mcgucket now lived in. Frankly, no man needed this much space if that man wasn’t Stanley, which Mcgucket wasn’t, so yeah.

Getting out, they were greeted by a much more well-groomed Fiddleford than when he lived in the dump. His beard was trimmed down and much more well-maintained, and he wasn’t wearing threadbare overalls and a torn hat anymore. And lo and behold, he had actual shoes on that weren’t just bandages, amazing how someone can drastically change when they weren’t forgetting everything because of a memory-wiping gun that they made because they saw something that no human should ever see.

…Yep.

As Stan parked and they all got out, Ford grabbed Mabel’s wagon and poured water in it from a water jug in the trunk, Mcgucket waved at them and scrambled over to them, smiling widely, his eyes crinkling behind his newly acquired round glasses.

Though the biggest difference would have to be the rabbit legs sticking out from under him and the antlers poking out of his hair.

Ford smiled just as widely back and grasped his shoulder, “Fiddleford my friend, as always it’s great to see you.”

“You too, Stanford, and it’s always a treat to see the rest o’ the Pines family.” Fiddleford replied, looking over at the rest of them.

Dipper and Mabel greeted him happily, apparently at some point last summer they’d grown closer to the former old cook, something about cults and all that, Stan wasn’t really listening, to be honest.

Though it turns out that Fiddleford was the one that created the memory gun, so he definitely was smarter than he looked.

Hmm, maybe Stanley should’ve figured that out when he created diagrams to turn the Shack into a walking weapon, actually yeah, he probably should’ve seen it then.

“Good to see you’re not as annoying as ya used to be, Mcgucket,” Stan said.

Fiddleford laughed, “I know right?” He replied as the Niblings and Ford glared at Stan from behind him.

Stan just shrugged and gave them a gesture that conveyed something along the lines of, ‘whaaat, it’s true’.

Mcgucket started leading them inside, “before we get into all the nit n’ gritty stuff, I have a surprise for ol’ Mabel here.”

Mabel practically shook from excitement at that, “oooh, is it a Guinea pig wearing a tutu?”

“Nothin’ that good, I’m afraid, though I will keep that in mind fer Christmas, but I do think you’ll like this.” Fiddlefored started opening a bunch of doors, “now where was it? I know it’s around ‘ere somewhere? Aha!”

Fiddleford opened the door and they all, besides Ford, gasped when they saw the giant pool sitting in front of them, fit with its own slide and lazy river.

Mabel squealed and without preamble, jumped out of her cramped little puddle that was held in the wagon and flopped over, much akin to a fish, to the pool and jumped in. Immediately she started swimming around, and Stan could see that she was fast, incredibly fast, in the water. He could barely keep up with her.

She jumped out of the water, and Stan grinned at how happy she looked. She swam up to them, “oh my gosh, this is like, a thousand times better than the public pool!”

Stan kneeled, and laughed when she splashed him, though a moment later, he frowned, “yeah, this is much better than the kiddy pool back at the Shack, eh Pumpkin?” He asked, guilt roiling around in his empty stomach. Which rumbled in displeasure when it was reminded of that.

Mabel patted his arm, “this is great Grunkle Stan, but I’d rather stay with you guys, even if it means I can’t swim around all the time.”

Stan smiled at that, and ruffled her sopping hair, she grinned back at him, “besides, it’s kinda fun piloting the wagon like it’s my ship and I’m its cap’n, arghh!”

“Well o’ course y’all are welcome here anytime, the big ol’ house can feel a bit empty at times, especially when Tate’s not here to keep me company. Havin’ y’all here makes it feel much less… big.” Fiddleford said.

“We’ll come visit you all the time Mcgucket!” Mabel said, “and not just because you have a totally awesome house with a huge pool, but because you’re really cool too!”

Dipper nodded in agreement as Ford smiled at the two of them getting along with his closest friend. Who blushed and rubbed the back of his head, “aw shucks you guys, yer a good pair of kiddos y’know that.”

“Yeah, we know.” They said simultaneously, and that made Mcgucket laugh.

Fiddleford clasped his hands together, “how about we grab some fruity drinks with the little umbrella in them an’ then we can get down ta business.

Many delicious fruity drinks later…

Fiddleford drifted in front of Stan on a pink flamingo floatie, sipping from a coconut, “so yer sayin’ that yer hungry but don’t know what you can eat as a Gargoyle?

Stan nodded as he sucked the last of his pineapple mango mix dry, trying to get every last drop. Then he looked around for another one. Liquids are the only thing he knows he can have right now, and maybe if drank enough Piña coladas he’d feel full. It didn’t seem to be having any sorta effect, but maybe he just hasn’t had enough so far.

He was sitting on the edge of the pool, feet resting on the submerged steps. He tried the whole floatie thing, turns out that weighing almost as much as a boulder and having rough edges was not a good mix with an Alligator floatie. It’s remains sat next to him in a miserable heap, and Stan couldn’t look it in its too-big eyes as it stared at him. A drop of water rolled down one of them as if it were crying.

“So have ya been ‘aving a hankerin’ for anything?” Mcgucket continued, as if he couldn’t see the inner turmoil Stan was going through.

“Oh, that isn’t a bad thought process Fids,” Ford said from behind Stan, as far away as possible from the pool as he could be. “Often times, people will crave nutrients that are missing from their diet.”

Stan watched as Fiddleford bumped into Dipper, who was floating on an inflatable mat, “hmmm, I really want some… nuggets.”

Dipper and Fiddleford looked at eachother, “like… Chicken nuggets?”

“No, not Chicken Nuggets,” Stan said as if it were obvious.

“But… nuggets?”

“Yep.”

“Huh, well that was absolutely no help,” Dipper said as Mabel popped up out of the water, “do you want Dino Nuggets Grunkle Stan?”

“While I’m always down to chomp a Dinos head off, that’s still not quite it.”

“Actually, the reason we came here Fiddleford is because we were wondering where you got the Amulet Stanley is currently wearing from.”

Mcgucket started stroking his beard, “I found the thing in one of the Mansion's many, many storage rooms, when I asked the Northwest girlie about it, she said it came from some weird abandoned Church after it shut down. She said that when she and her family visited it, somethin’ about future prospects and whatnot, that it gave her the heebie jeebies.”

“I’ve never heard about an abandoned Church in all the time I’ve researched about Gravity Falls,” Ford said, looking confused.
“Yeah apparently it’s been abandoned for a while, and that she only took the necklace because it looked cool. From…”

As they kept talking, Stan set down his drink. He was feeling strange all of a sudden. It felt as if everything was flickering in and out like a broken projector…

And then he blinked back into consciousness, staring at Mabel’s very concerned face underwater. She was gripping his hand, as if trying to pull him up.

He laid there on the steps for a moment, utterly confused at what just happened, being underwater wasn’t really a concern, being made of rock had its perks, like the benefit of not really needing to breathe.

Of course, the downside of that was that he also sunk like a rock.

No, the question was, how the heck had he ended up down here, he was sitting on the edge of the pool just fine a minute ago, so what happened?

Y’know, it was kinda peaceful down here, quiet, calm even… and then that was ruined by someone gripping his shoulders and forcefully pulling him out of the water.

He sputtered as he was dragged away from the pool by a very frazzled looking Stanford, water pouring from every crevice in his stony skin.

“Um, can someone tell me what happened?” Stan asked confused to the wide-eyed people staring at him.

Ford threw his hands of in the air, “That’s what we should be asking you! I look away for one second and suddenly you're faceplanting in the water!”

“Uhhhh, I dunno, it kinda felt like when I turn to stone when it becomes day, one sec I’m watching the sunrise come up,” Stan snaps his fingers, “and the next second I’m watching it go down. That’s exactly what happened just now, I’m sittin’ there with my tropical drink and then Bam! I’m waking up to a mouth full of water.”

Ford kneeled in front of him and grabbed his face, studying it, “whatcha doin’ there Sixer?” Stan asked, uncomfortable. Ford leans back and frowns, “your eyes, I thought I might have been seeing things at first, but no, they’re definitely getting dimmer.”

Ford stood up and started pacing, “if what I’m guessing is correct, then it seems as though the source of your magic as Gargoyle, the thing allowing you to move and speak and do everything as normal, is slowly dissipating. It seems your food source is tied to your magic.” Ford paused, looking like he really didn’t want to say this next part, “if we can’t find what’s powering your magic so you can consume it, then you’ll, well, you really will become a statue.”

Everyone was quiet as that sunk in, until all of them jumped when Stan started laughing. They all stared at him with varying looks of concern and confusion, but he couldn’t stop, “I-I’m sorry, but you just look like a bedraggled sopping house cat right now Ford and I can’t take ya seriously.”

Fiddleford tilted his head, and then he snorted too, “yeah, ya really do.”

Dipper and Mabel looked at each other and nodded in agreement, trying not to laugh at their Great Uncle and failing

Ford looked at them, incredulous, “seriously! Stan could be turning into a statue and we’re all focused on me looking like a sad house cat!?” Ford lifted up his arm, frowning, it hung from his frame, dragged down by his wet fur. “I don’t look that bad, do I?”

Stan stood up a little unsteadily, “nah, you look totally ridiculous right now.” He started walking towards the door, “lets get dried off so we can get ready to go to Church!”

The niblings glanced at Stan once more before a determined look took over their expressions, and they ran forward, well Dipper ran with Mabel sitting on his back, “Woo! Trip to Church!”

Ford was still looking worried, so Stan threw an arm around him and started dragging him along, the two of them leaving an impressive wet trail behind them. “Quite your worrying ya worry-wort, I just need some get some food in me and I’ll be right as rain, we have literally done a hundred quests that are harder than that.”

“I suppose that is true,” Ford admitted, “it’s just… I don’t want to have to drag your stony butt all the way back to the Shack if you do turn to stone.” Ford said, a small grin appearing on his face.

Stan snorted and shoved him away, “I knew it!”

They both stopped when they heard a timid voice ask behind them, “do ya guys think… I could come with y’all?” They turned around to see Fiddleford shifting on his rabbit feet, looking to the ground.

“I- I can be useful, and uh- Tate is visitin’ his Mom right now, so I don’t really all that much ta do right now…” Mcgucket trailed off.

Stanley rubbed his chin, acting as if he were thinking hard about it, “hmm I dunno, how much are you willing to pay?”

He was cut off with a muffled shout of surprise as Ford's paw covered his mouth and he gave Stan the most unimpressed look someone could possibly give. Then he looked back to Fiddleford, “what he means is, of course we would love for you to come with us Fiddleford.”

Mcgucket brightened immediately and literally jumped in the air, slapping his rabbit feet together, “Oh, this is gonna be great! Let me go grab my Banjo, I’ll play y’all the best songs I know.”

Stan groaned, already regretting everything.

Was Stan afraid of turning into a statue, oh most definitely. Was he going to tell anyone that? Nope, not in a million years.

Let’s just hope the Church can spare a miracle or two for them.

Chapter Text

The church was situated in the middle of nowhere, which was saying something for the already hick town Gravity Falls was.

As they pulled up the dilapidated structure, it was starting to turn to dusk, the setting sun framing the faded white walls of the church in a brilliant orange. It would’ve looked almost beautiful if it didn’t give Stan a sense of unease the moment he laid his eyes on it.

“Anyone else gettin’ a bad feeling about this place?” Stan asked, glaring at the church.

Everyone else just shrugged.

“All this place remind’s me of is when I was just a youngin’ and my Ma whappin’ me in the side of ma head everytime I started noddin’ off during ma pastors long windin’ sermon. That man could talk, let me tell ya.” Fiddleford helpfully mentioned, squeezed uncomfortably between the niblings, his long ear bent forward at an angle on the ceiling of Stan’s vehicle.

Getting out of the car, Stan looked over and noticed his nerd of brother writing something down in his journal.

“Whatcha jottin’ down there Pointdexter?” Stan asked, somewhat curious, mostly hoping it was something he could tease him about.

Ford, without looking up from what he was writing, said, “whenever you are agitated I have noticed that while you are speaking you also emit a sound that sounds very akin to a rockslide, it is almost imperceptable,” Ford grinned, “well it would be if I didn’t have enhanced hearing.”

Stan glared at his brother, “and writing down that I make weird noises when I get angry helps you reverse our monstery transformation how?”

Stanford glanced away, “...very, very important reasons.”

Stan just rolled his eyes and replied with a very unimpressed, “mhm, well, you purr when you’re sleeping-” Ford choked, “so why don’tcha go and mention somethin’ else I do huh? See what happens.”

And for once in his life, Ford decided he had nothing to say. Good, Stan wanted to keep catching the sight of a full-grown man jumping at a cucumber as blackmail for when he really needed it.

Stan suddenly stumbled forward when something jumped on his back, or should he say someone, “well come on then y’all, time’s a wastin’ and my southern side don’ much like the idea of anyone bein’ hungry at all.” Fiddleford said, grinning from where he was clutching Stan’s shoulder.

Stan tried reaching back and grabbing the crazy hillbilly, but even though he had a screw loose or two, he sure was agile.

“Get off my back ya maniac!” Stan shouted, twisting around as he tried to throw the other man off. Dipper and Mabel jumping out of the way of a thrashing rocky tail.

“Yeehaw! reminds me of the times I used ta wrangle bulls on the farm,” Fiddleford said, not looking like he was struggling to hold on at all.

Stan stopped once spinning around made him dizzy and he staggered in place, grumbling as the Jackalope on his back thumped his foot in triumph.

“I’m not an animal ya…” Stan muttered, but didn’t do anything else.

“Course not,” Fiddleford started, “animals put up much more of a fight.”

“I hate you, so much,” Stan replied and annoyingly, Mcgucket just guffawed in response.

The five of them, one sitting on a very grumpy Gargoyle's back and another being pulled in a little red wagon by a nervous Cervitaur, headed towards the front of the church.

Stan grimaced, “bleh, I’ll say it again, this place just gives me a literal ick,” as they reached the large doors of the building, it felt to Stan like something was literally oozing out of it, a slimy cold feeling he didn’t like one bit.

“Grunkle Stan, all abandoned churches are creepy as heck, this is just fact,” Mabel stated as Dipper nodded in agreement.

“How many abandoned churches have you two been to?” Stan asked.

“More than you’d think,” Mabel replied, but didn’t bother to elaborate, going back to playing with the water in her wagon.

The three adults just glanced at each other and shrugged, guess the fad with kids these days was hanging out at creepy abandoned church's.

Well, it’s not like he could say much, his hangout spot as a kid was an abandoned boat after all.

Ford and Stan each took a door and slowly pulled it open, the rusty hinges shrieking in protest, causing the three with enhanced hearing to grimace in pain at the noise.

Ha, take that! there were some benefits to having crappy hearing… look Stan will take whatever wins he could get, just let him have this.

Walking in, the weird slimy feeling Stan had been feeling increased ten-fold, it felt like it was surrounding him on all sides, unrelenting, oppresive. He shuddered, how could no one else feel this, what about those stupid instincts Sixer was talking about earlier, where were those now huh?

This place was literal heeby jeebies.
Rotting and cracked pews sat abandoned to time around them, a rug that might have once been red and plush was not browned and torn, worn away and fray, threadbare. There was a stage with a podium ahead of them, where the pastor of this place probably spoke sermons or whatever.

A door or two led to somewhere out of sight and there seemed to be a hallway leading somewhere Stan couldn’t see, guess it was bigger than the outside gave it credit for.

Distorted orange and yellow light bled in through small windows situated around the church, though the largest one, situated above the stage seemed to be covered by a magenta cloth, for some strange reason.

“So ya really think there could be other gargoyles in this creepy place, cuz if they’re feeling anything like I’m feeling right now, they wouldn’t step within a hundred feet of the place.” Stan said, taking a seat on one of the rotting pews, it creaked ominously under his weight, but miraculously held.

He was started to feel lightheaded again, and he didn’t particularly feel like toppling over like a sack of (heh) rocks again, thank you very much.

Ford and Dipper were both eagerly looking around, for some reason fascinated by an old dilapitated church, Stan sighed, he would never understand nerds.

Ford looked over at Stan when Stan said that, as if he’d forgotten the whole reason they were here in the first place, knowing his brother, he probably did.

“This is our best bet to find other of your species, Stanley, if we don’t find any here, then we may to resort to more… unsavory methods to finding out what powers your magic.”

Stan gave his brother a incrediculous look, “Ford what do you mean by that?” Ford all of sudden the church wall looked absolutely fascinating, “Ford? Ford answer me, what do you mean by that Stanford?”

“The structure of this wall is simply marvelous,” was all his wonderful brother said.

He’s your brother, he’s your brother, he’s your brother…

Was the mantra Stan started repeating so as to not beat the living crap out his own twin.

At some point Fiddleford brought out a banjo from who knows where and started playing it, Mablel clapping happily along with it, very offbeat.

Stan could tell he blanked out again because Hey Delilah suddenly turned to Old Mcdonald had a farm and it was almost completely dark inside the church, which was probably why no one noticed his little fainting spell, thankfully.

Stan shook his head, disorientated and Stomach empty, oh how he missed the days of being human, of just simply being able to go out and buy a greasy burger when one was peckish, not have to do a stupid convoluted quest just to get a bite to eat.

When he was human again he was going to gorge himself on bacon burgers and ice cream.

Stan was still feeling sorry for himself when he felt it, two more energies suddenly joining in with the creepy feeling that had been accompying Stan the moment he stepped foot in this place. They weren’t oppresive like the other one, one felt solid and unyielding, and the other floaty and drifty, for some reason, they felt somewhat familiar.

Stan stood still and tried to pin-point where exactly they were coming from, to his right he felt questions and unrelenting determination, and curiosity but cautiousness.

Ford and Dipper, who somehow even with their superior hearing, haven’t noticed the two new presences joining them.

Ahead of him to his left there were the combined feelings of joy and just pure unadulterated energy, and kindness with a touch of chaos.

Fiddleford and Mabel.

And above him, peaking through the ever domineering gross feeling, were their uninvited guests, that somehow managed to sneak up on five magical beings.

Stan stood up, hopefully not looking like he would fall back down into his seat from a light breeze and looked up, crossing his arms, and, keeping his expression neutral, cleared his throat loudly, gaining everyone's attention.

“Ahem, I believe we have some company,” Stan said, then a bit louder, “why don’t they show some courtesy and come out and show themselves.”

Ford sniffed, frankly, rather comically, almost getting Stan to break character, while Mcgucket’s and Dipper’s ear swerved wildly, as if trying to pick up on a stray sound. Mabel was just squinting up in the vague direction Stan was looking in, though Stan didn’t know how good her night vision was.

Could fish see in the dark? Right, right, not the time.

“Grunkle Stan, are you sure someone’s here? I don’t hear anything?” Dipper asked him in confusion, everyone else giving him similar looks.

“Weeeeelllll, That’s cuzzzz there was like, nothing to hear,” A high, thready feminine voice stated above them, causing all of them to look away from Stan and back at the ceiling.

“Cha, we haven’t moved, not even a teeny tiny bit since we transformed back, bro,” A deeper, raucous voice added in.

“Who are you and what is your reason for being here?” Ford asked, gun already raised and ready, because even though he had claws and teeth and muscles for days, Stanford will forever rely on technology in the end.

“Liiiiiike, we live here, where else would we beeee?” the first voice drawled.

“Cha man, you guys are the ones that are like, trespassing, total bogus,” said the second voice.

And then simultaneously, Ford, Dipper and Fiddleford looked in the same direction, and a moment later the two people, one with normal hearing and terrible hearing respectively, heard something similar to the sound of stone striking stone, their mysterious companions were situated up in the rafters.

“Hiiiiii, haven’t like, seen anyone around in a while,” a pair of maroon eyes that was in the general direction of the valley girl voice said.

“I know, bro, isn’t this like, totally sick?” The one that sounded like a gym bro who would encourage Stan to try his hardest even though all he wanted to do was go home and eat a whole pie of greasy pizza, responded happily, light blue eyes seeming to glow with excitement.

Ford, lowered his gun and instead pulled out his pen and journal excitedly, “magnificent, just the mythical species we were looking for! Gargoyles!”

Oh right, Ford and his amazing kitty cat eyesight could see who was above them, good for him, the rest of them were basically sitting in pitch blackness.

Ford blinked, well, it was so dark now Stan couldn’t actually see his twin, but he assumed he blinked, because this was Ford after all, “wait, Stan, how did you know they were there before the rest of us could tell? I thought your hearing and eyesight remained unchanged.”

Stan just shrugged, “I ‘unno.”

Stan could also tell Ford was giving him an unimpressed look without being able to see him, “you don’t know?”

“Yeah, I dunno, don’t ask me,” Stan said reproachfully.

His brother sputtered, “how- how can you not know?!”

“I just don’t! Why would I know!?”

“B-Becuase you’re the one doing it?!”

The rest of the assorted mythical creatures in the church just watched the back and forth impassively, used to this kind of bickering between the older twins by now.

“It’sssss cuz he’s a Gargoyllllle, duuuuh,” Valley girl Gargoyle said, interrupting the start of what would’ve probably ended in a fistfight with her words, everyone looked up at her.

“Because he’s a Gargoyle?” Fiddleford, who had been tuning his banjo, asked.

Gym bro Gargoyle nodded, “cha bro, Gargoyles may have terrible eyesight and hearing, bro, but we can sense any type of energy and magic man, it’s how we like, knew he was a gargoyle even though we can’t really see him man, ya get?”

Stan could hear the furious scribbling in Ford’s general vicinity, “amazing, simply amazing, the ability to sense energy and magic to make up for your other impaired senses, just brilliant.”

“That is, so cool,” Dipper agreed from… wherever… he was standing, and yeah, that was it.

“Bah, before we do anything else can we get some light up in here, can’t see a thing in this stupid darkness.”

“We have some torches and stufff in like, the baaaacck, if you want to go and like, graaab themmm, sorrry, we’re a little like, old fashionnnned,” Valley girl Gargoyle replied, probably pointing in the direction of where they were.

Stan nodded, even though only Ford could probably see him, and started walking forward, immediately tripping over the pew in front of him and falling into a heavy, painful heap of rock.

“Ow…”

“Are you alright Grunkle Stan?” Mabel asked from somewhere.

“yeah, yeah, just peachy,” Stan grumbled, trying to situate himself. A moment later Ford appeared and helped him stand up.

“Come Stanley, no time for dilly dallying, we have to get these torches as soon as possible so I can question your rocky brethren about all sorts of things, like lifestyle, habits, favorites shows…” Ford started pulling Stanley along, who was struggling to keep his balance and not trip over his own two feet.

“Nice to know you care so much about helping me,” Stan deadpanned and Ford froze in the middle of his rant, coughing sheepishly, “ahem, that’ll uh- be my first question of course, I thought that was a given.”

Stan just gave his brother an unimpressed look as they finally reached the door and he opened it. It led downstairs into more oppressive darkness, woo!

Ford led the way, Stan gingerly stepping down on the concrete steps behind him, and they headed down.

“I’m surprised you don’t have a flashlight or some weird magical light doohickey on ya Pointdexter.” Stan said as they walked.

Ford sighed, “the one time I forget to bring my lantern is the one time I need it.”

“Lantern? What are ya, from the nineteenth century?” Stan replied, snickering under his breath.

“It adds flair, Stanley! I wouldn’t expect you to understand.” Ford said, indignant.

“and they call me the dramatic one,” Stan mutters under his breath.

“I heard that!”

Finally, after more bickering about who was more dramatic (Stan was definitely going to win when he mentioned the one time Ford turned their whole room into a laboratory and made him dress up as Igor to try and bring a rat back to life) they reached the bottom of the steps.

Looking around, Stan unsurprisingly, couldn’t see much, but he did see where the torches and matches were. He grabbed one and with one deft swipe of his fingers, lit the match and held it to one of the spare metal torches, lighting it aflame.

He pocketed the rest of the matches and waved their new light source around, brightening the room. Stan and Ford looked curiously at their surroundings.

Stan hadn’t noticed it while he was talking with Ford, but the creepy feeling he had been feeling in this place felt almost overwhelming here, and it was coming from the cloth covered objects surrounding them.

Stan shifted, wings opening and closing behind him unconciously, He didn’t like this room.

Stan frowned, “uh- hey Sixer?

“Yes Stanley?” Ford replied distractedly, studying some piece of junk sitting on a dusty table.

“Well, Y’know how those Gargoyles were talking about being able to sense magic and stuff and whatnot?”

This got Ford’s attention, he started scrutinizing the area more carefully, ear flicking back and forth as if trying to catch hear something move, “do you feel something right now? What is it?”

“Yeah, I’ve been feeling it the whole time we’ve been here, I just thought it was just because this place was generally creepy, but once they mentioned the whole thing about being able to fee-”

Stan paused as stuff grew fuzzy around the edges, and brother’s concerned face staring at him as everything swam around him.

“Stan, are you-”

And then Stan was out like a light.

When he came to again it was to Ford harshly shaking his shoulders.

“Stan! Stanley, wake up!, come on, come on, we’re so close now, you’re too stubborn to quit just before-”

Stan groaned and swatted at Ford’s hands on his shoulders, but the man had a death grip on him.

“Geez Pointdexter, tryin’ to throw my back out with all that shaking?” Stan said, trying to sound annoyed but probably just coming off as tired.

Ford stilled and stared at him for a moment, then leaned back and sighed in relief, “oh thank goodness, you were out much longer than when it happened the first time, we really don’t have much time left at all.”

“It felt like less than a second for me, jeez, does it have to be so disorientating?” Stan complained as Ford stood up and offered his hand to his brother, who took it appreciatingly.

“Well, now that we have met some actual Gargoyles, you won’t have to worry about it for much-” Then Ford froze, staring at something in horror behind him.

Stan, confused, turned to look at what could make Ford freeze up like that, and when he did, he adopted a similar state of shock.

It must have happened when Stan fell, he must have landed on the heap and accidentally thrown the sheet aside. Under it was something, or Stan should say, someone, the two of them and every other resident of Gravity Falls never wanted to see again.

On what would have otherwise been a beautifully woven tapestry, was a stupid yellow one-eyed triangle. The creepy energy Stan had been feeling this whole time was practically oozing off it in waves.

The one and only Bill Cipher stared at them from within the cloth.

Stan pulled another away another white cloth showed him again, this time as a golden statue, pulling off more sheets showed more and more triangles and single eyes, staring at the brother ominously.

Ford grimaced at the sight, "this place must be a church of Bill Cipher, he mentioned something like this back when I was... working with him." Ford breathed in deeply, "but to see it in person..." Then Ford looked at Stan, eyes panicked, “the Gargoyles are with Bill!”

Stan’s eyes also grew wide when he realized what Ford was saying, “And we left the kids and Fids with them!”

They stared at each other for a moment longer, then immediately went into action. Stan picked up the fallen torch as they ran, it having rolled a bit away when he dropped it, and then he was off, following behind a growling Stanford, gun once again in his hand.

If those Gargoyles even touched a hair on his Nephew and Niece's head, they were gonna see what happens when you hurt his family.

Oh, and Mcgucket too, he guessed.