Chapter Text
Stanford Pines was in the midst of one of his best days ever. Not the best, mind you, but one of them. Just earlier that day, his best friend had come to his house in Gravity Falls to help celebrate the first anniversary of his arrival in the sleepy town, as well as the fiftieth entry into his first journal, about an interesting blueish pendant he had acquired through trade with some of the fairies that morning.
Things were a bit more toned back, however, than if it was just the two of them, on account of Fiddleford bringing along his wife so they could “get away” from the city for a while, a completely understandable sentiment from Ford’s point of view, considering his own newfound preference for the sounds of the cryptid filled forest around them. The only thing really bringing him down was the fact that his birthday was just around the corner, a day he had grown to, well, not quite resent, per say, but definitely not a day to really look forward to either.
Ever since the dreaded science fair his own birthday had become a painful reminder of a horrendous evening of mistakes, despite it having happened months before said day of birth. It was more the fact that he no longer shared the birthday that reminded him of everything than the days themselves, however this train of thought was one doomed to completely sully the mood for everyone involved, so best to just leave things alone for another week or so.
“You alright over there Stanford?” Fidd’s asked, returning from the kitchen with a couple of glasses and a fairly decent bottle of whisky.
Stanford snapped back from his winding train of thought, looking back down at the long since abandoned journal entry before he responded.
“Just fine F, I was simply lost in thought, there is quite a lot on my mind currently.”
Well, why don’t you just put that lot down for a night and relax! We’re only going to be here a few more days!” Emma responded back cheerfully, grabbing a glass from her husband and pouring a rather substantial drink, before handing it over to Ford in such a way that made it clear he was not getting any less.
“Alright, alright! I swear, you can be an awful influence despite being the one who settled for the more ‘realistic’ side of their field” Ford replies, before downing far too much of the whisky and choking slightly, prompting Fiddleford to stop and pat him on the back a bit before pouring his own glass.
“Can’t very well blame her, can we, seeing as it’ll take a hot minute for my thingamajigs to star selling, at least once I get the patent in.” Fiddleford says bluntly, sipping his own drink and looking over at his wife with an expression only a newly married man could give.
Honeymoon phase still going strong I see… Ford thinks, the slight amusement causing him to chuckle slightly.
“Well, what did you expect me to do? Can’t very well do my own gallivanting around doing fieldwork up in the city! My grant to study all of the wacky flora around here won’t go through for another two peer review sessions at this rate!” Emma protested, downing about half of her drink in one go, Ford wincing slightly at how much more the other two could stomach against him.
They aren’t the only ones who could outdrink you….NO No no, we said we would leave that train of thought alone until the 15th, you’re better than this kind of petty nostalgia Stanford!
Forcing a laugh, Ford responds “Well, until then, why don’t you two help me with some of my research here? If you are considering doing your own studies, it may help you to familiarize yourself with the area!” he grins.
He’s already thinking about the pendant, what magical effects it could have, what could have enchanted it, and how he can test it. Testing was always more fun with others, and if he convinced the McGuckets to stay, then maybe his traitorous, melancholy thoughts would stop for once.
“Fine, fine, lets see your little magic doohickey here then” Fiddleford picks up the pendant, flipping it between his fingers. It’s a bluish green color, with a hint of yellow, shining iridescently between the three colors, faceted perfectly into a hexagon shape, its setting intricately carved into creeping vines, going into a gold chain, with golden leaves giving the impression of scale mail or a laurel wreath.
“Looks mighty valuable, would think its historical if it weren’t for you telling us about the magic part.” Fiddleford hands it to his wife, who inspects it similarly before handing it off to Ford.
Ford takes it and holds it to the light, letting the gem sparkle and twirl for a bit before setting it back down.
“Ah yes, I was gifted this after helping the local fairy populace with the treaty agreement to end their ongoing civil war, the Queen stated that the enchantment would lead to an ‘extravagant adventure, one which would connect the wearer to their greatest heart’s desire’. I have tested its enchantments, they seem extraordinarily powerful enough to do such a thing, but I haven’t worn it yet to test it out.” He grabs the pendant back from the table, unhooking the clasp and holding it as though to put it on.
“Should I?”
The other two scientists look at each other briefly, before Fiddleford pipes up, “This isn’t gonna make you disappear or anything, will it? Because if it does, I don’t think there’s anything we can do to help you undo that.”
Ford chuckles a little bit, before pulling out his journal and flipping to a page littered with spells and enchantments, pointing out a couple. “This spell should be able to track my whereabouts with a lock of my hair, and this one should be able to teleport me back to your location, using the same article. Hopefully neither is really required though.”
Emma studies the spells, then looks back at Ford. “So, am I cutting some now or do you already have all of our hair stored somewhere in the darn house like a creep?”
It’s mostly joking, but Ford can’t help but blush, blurting “It’s only a safety precaution! If you didn’t want me to have your hair, then maybe you shouldn’t have done all of your ‘couple bonding breakdown’s’ in our shared bathroom!”
“YOU SAVED OUR HAIR SINCE COLLEGE?!?! IS THAT WHY YOU INSISTED ON CLEANING UP THE BATHROOM THE DAY AFTER I FAILED THAT LINGUISTICS MIDTERM?!?!”
Fiddleford was aghast, Emma just cackled, “I knew you were gonna pull some shit like that Pines! Didn’t realize it would be for witchcraft but whatever, just give me the damn hair.”
Still blushing slightly, Ford went and grabbed the vial of his own hair, labeled of course, and handed it over to Emma.
“Location spell first, if it doesn’t work or I take longer than three days, use the relocation spell next.”
Three days seemed long enough for a test exploration, hopefully he would be able to leave and return more prepared.
“To science!”, He toasts, knocking back the rest of his drink, grimacing slightly.
The other two finish off as well, toasting along, “To science!”
Ford takes the pendant, gazing at it for a second, before clasping it around his neck, so that it hangs just above his breastbone.
The pendant, glowing slightly in the moonlight, gives no sign of anything happening. Disappointed, Ford grabs it by the setting and inspects it,
“Maybe it takes a bit to warm up?” Fiddleford supplies awkwardly.
“Maybe” is Ford’s only response. “I will just wear it overnight and see what happens.”
“Sounds like a plan to me. We’ll make sure you haven’t vanished in the morning” Emma states, before standing up and stretching. She grabs the empty glasses and takes them to the kitchen, before heading up to bed. Fiddleford follows her, and Ford goes up last. Normally he would just write until he fell asleep, but he was testing something at the moment, as well as having guests, meaning that if he was still there in the morning, it would probably be polite to make take them to breakfast before they started working.
(The less said about his cooking abilities, the better.)
Nonetheless! Answers would be found about this pendant! Even if it took far longer than expected.
As Stanford Pines turns in for the night, at a reasonable time for once, he does not notice as the gemstone begins to glow a bright, neon yellow, before enveloping his resting form.
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Stanley Pines had a fairly good day, all things considered. Not great, but it was better than about three weeks ago, when what started as a bad breakup turned into a literal nightmare situation that almost lost him his teeth, his car, and his life. Luckily, the ratty car trunk that Jimmy had unceremoniously tossed his sorry ass into was pretty much rusted through.
Unluckily, in the throes of his daring escape, he lost a tooth (or two, or four) chewing his way through the fucking industrial strength rope that bastard could apparently afford now, despite his constant cries of “I’m too broke for rent” he had been giving for the past month, leaving Stan to pick up the slack and work so many jobs and hours that he’s surprised his head was even on straight enough to leave, much less escape that trunk.
So, he was back on the run. What’s fucking new. He was on the run since he was seventeen, he would probably be on the run until he died. Which would probably be soon, with the current situation looming, and the rest of his bad decisions coming a close second. Hell, he had already given up on any sort of peaceful, old age ending. With any luck it would at least be exciting, and would at least happen in a way that his Ma would get some sort of closure about. No high hopes for the second one though. Stanley Pines was a rare nametag now, with the number of false identities piling up underneath the passenger seat next to him.
At least he had a bit of money now. Lucky him, he stashed enough tips from that shitty bar gig from two days ago to get a full tank of gas and some shitty gas station snacks, which would last him until he got back to Nevada and could make some more poor choices.
“That’s what you get for joining a biker gang fresh outta getting kicked out, Pines. Shit tone of trouble and some regrettable tattoos, that’s for fuckin sure.”
He pulled into a deserted rest stop, the kind with a kitschy little lookout point for people to shill money out of on silly telescopes and unmanned vending machines. He crawls into the backseat, content to just, sleep for a bit, too tired to keep driving. Still not quite tired enough to fall asleep though, mind too filled with thoughts to drift off peacefully.
Stan fishes around in his pocket a bit, before he finds the thing he was looking for.
It’s a smooth, faded, blueish green piece of sea-glass. It’s almost perfectly round, with a slight hint of yellow if he twists it in just the right light. Now, in the moonlight, it’s almost glowing, a former iridescence trying to shine through the worn exterior. He picked it up a while ago, in a bout of drunken uncharacteristic nostalgia, wishing for things to be better, and hoping to whatever deity was out there that things wouldn’t get worse.
He still had a week till he hit twenty-four. Seven years of missed milestones with a twin who was better off without him, and no hope of reconciliation in sight.
“Hope things are going good for you, Sixer”, he says to no one, an unspeakable emotion bubbling up in his chest.
He knew there was some regret in there, anger maybe, sadness, sure, why the fuck not.
“Too bad I don’t have any quarters left”, he chuckles grimly. “Maybe then I could waste them on being a coward too.”
He sets down the sea-glass on his chest, right above his breastbone.
“Maybe I’ll loot one of those vending machines in the morning, see if there’s anything not as stale as Pa’s nasty old vintage rugs.” He giggles at himself humorlessly. Pa would have thrown a fit to know how nasty he thought those rugs were. Especially considering how many old people had died on them before they got pawned.
Stanley Pines finally drifts off, memories of better times mixing with the worst ones. He’s too tired and homesick to even register the faint yellow glowing of the sea glass in his hand, before it slowly envelopes his form, visible even from the exterior of the car.