Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Do you remember our plans to sail around the world on a boat?” Stanley smiled, letting hope take control for a moment. “Take this book, get on a boat, and sail as far as you can; to the edge of the Earth!” Ford walks away, ignoring Stan’s look of disappointment, “Bury it where no one can find it.”

Everything else was a blur of moving colors, a fight that shouldn’t have happened, and the light from the portal. The next thing he heard was Stan’s blood-curdling scream as he realized his leg had pushed him onto the burning symbol.

He felt the sting of the punch Stan threw at him once he got his bearings back as he stumbled back, trying to regain balance by grabbing onto the nearest pole. It just so happens to be the lever to activate the portal.

There was a look of hurt and rage on his brother’s face as he picked up the journal. “Some brother you turned out to be… You care more about your dumb mysteries than your family? Well, you can have ‘em!”

He felt the push and the lack of gravity as he was pulled into the blinding light of the portal. He could almost hear Bill’s grating laugh as he got closer.

Stan watched as Ford flailed around to get back on the ground, panicking as he got closer. Stan didn’t think twice before launching himself towards Ford.

Ford remembered 8th grade physics. Newton’s 3rd law states that every action has its equal opposite reaction.

Stan launched himself, grabbing Ford’s hands and throwing him back down to safety.

And if Ford’s safety was the action, then the opposite reaction was…

“Stanford!? Stanford, help me! Stanford!” Stan falls through without much of a word left to say other than his brother’s name.

There was a blinding white light as he felt the impact of him falling on his back.

Ford got up, whole body aching from the impact as he did. 

Silence. He always did like the quiet, he preferred quiet as he heard familiar noises; Stan’s snores, the car horn outside, anything really.

But this was silence. No Stanley, no car horn, not even the sound of breathing. Just complete, absolute silence. And he hated it.

“Stanley?”

The name bounced around the empty basement and landed nowhere.

“Stanley, come back! I- I didn’t mean to push you away! I swear things will be different!” He pulled on the lever as he heard the machines alert him of the rapidly depleting fuel. He pulled on the lever frantically as it refused to move, “Damn it, don't run out of fuel now!”

But nothing happened.

Ford dropped to his knees. The adrenaline from the fight fell away like smoke, leaving hopelessness in its wake.

A sob escaped his throat, then another, and a tear, and his body was shaking as he pulled his coat closer to him, curling into himself like he had when he was a child. Distantly, he wondered if his coat would hug him like Stan would as a child as well.

If there was gravity anywhere, Stan couldn't feel it. He helplessly flailed around, trying his best to get somewhere.

“Well, well, well, if it isn't the spare Pines!” He heard a shrill voice echo wherever he was, “Stan Pines, we meet at last! Fordsy has told me all about you!” The triangle floated in front of him, his eye shone like a spotlight on Stan. “Gotta say, kid, you really did set our meeting in stone! Guess I have you to thank for that! Here, have a medal made of your own teeth!” And with a snap of his fingers, a necklace of teeth and gums materialized before him.

Stan instinctively recoiled and tried to float away, only to see the same triangle behind him before he could even get far. “Not so fast, hobo, I wanna give you a way out of this realm!”

And at that, Stan paused. “I can get you out of here and everything you've ever wanted right after, all you gotta do is shake on it!” Stan glared at the hand in blue flames, he didn't even know the guy’s name let alone his intentions.

“Oh, where are my manners? The name’s Bill! And you're the rip-off Stanford who ruined his life!” “Wh- what the–” Bill grabbed Stan and slung an arm around his shoulder. “Sixer and I, we go way back! He’s told me all about how terrible of a twin you were, how he hated you, and how he wished he absorbed you in the womb instead of just your potential!”

Stan winced at the words. He knew Ford hated him, hell, even he hated himself, but he didn't think he'd… say that… “What are you getting at? I ain't got time for you or your dumb offers,” Stan untangled himself from Bill and tried to float away only to bump into him not long after.

“Relax, hobo, all I want is for you to get back home and for you to get whatever you deserve!” Bill stretched a hand somewhere far. Stan flinched when that same arm flicked his mullet.

“Listen, float with me here,” Stan didn't have much of a choice before being dragged to walk–float–to wherever Bill wanted. “You see these glitches?” Bill pointed to a corner of white surrounded by what looks like static, “that thing’s gonna consume everything and there's nothing anyone can do to stop it, so I asked your brother to help me seek refuge in your dimension!”

…Stanford was involved? Is that why he wanted to hide the journals? “But you see, he hasn't really been… cooperative as of late. So I need a little push for him to get that portal up and running! After that, all your dreams and ambitions will come true!”

Bill grew 10x Stan’s height and showed him a vision. One where he was loved and celebrated by his family instead of shunned and forgotten. Where Stan would travel the world on a boat with his brother by his side.

“All you gotta do is make a deal!” Bill extended a hand with those same blue flames.

Stan stared at the hand. All his dreams, his desires, his goals, all of it would be real. He would have a home, a life, he would have it good.

“Tick tock, Stanley!”

He looked up at Bill, whose eye had turned into a clock, ticking down the seconds of his indecisiveness. 

Stan let out his hand.

And punched Bill’s eye.

It wouldn't be real.

He would be living a lie, and live with the guilt of replacing his twin–not that Ford would have much of a problem with replacing him.

Stan floated to a nearby cave as he heard Bill’s rage as he searched for him, whining about how long it takes to regenerate an eye. He found a peculiar lake, it was so blue, it didn't even look real. 

Though, the lake not looking real was the least of his problems as a literal demon is currently tearing everything apart just to find him.

Stan took a deep breath and jumped. He was only planning on hiding in the water for a few seconds, enough to lose that glowing demon.

What he didn't expect, however, was landing. Even more so, landing somewhere dry, not even a drop on his clothes or the ground.

He heard running and, before he could even get a proper look at his surroundings, bumped into a very familiar face.

“Marilyn?!” 

“Andrew?!”

They heard more running and Marilyn grabbed Stan by the hood. “What the–?! Hey!” Stan was lifted from the ground and onto a flying stick. He could've sworn he was high because this is straight out of an acid trip, “No time to explain, let's go!”

Between one breath and the next, he was on the ground. And between one breath and the next, he was holding on for dear life on a stick with his ex.

Fuck. This has to be a dream, right? Maybe he just passed out after that burn on his shoulder and that's why everything after that has been so trippy.

He’ll wake up any minute now!

…Any minute now!

…

“If you're trying to wake up, you can't. All this is real,” Stan looked at Marilyn incredulously as they landed… somewhere. It looked like some sort of church that worshiped, well, Stan doesn't know. Marilyn got off as Stan–tried to–follow.

“So, Andrew,” the flying stick they were just on was now pointed at him like a weapon, much like Ford did when he first got there, “How did you get here? Why are you here?”

What is it with him and getting pointed with weapons? Sure, for his other lives he knows why, but he knew these people! At least, he thought he did. 

“Hell if I know! I was just escaping from some demon trying to make a deal with me!” Stan pushed the stick away from his head, “I should ask you the same thing, y'know? How the hell did you get here? And what happened to your ears?!”

She covered her ears as she realized that hiding whatever she was hiding was pointless, “Guess now is a great time to say my name isn't Marilyn.”

What. 

“And I’m not actually a human.”

What.

“My name's Eda, by the way. Eda Clawthorne.” she put down her stick as she raised her hand for a shake. 

But Stan just stood there, mouth agape. “So, what the hell was the point of stealing my damn car then?! You don't even live in Vegas! And the name?! Why wouldn't you just tell me your name!”

“Oh please, your name isn't actually Andrew, is it?” Marilyn–Eda–asked. Stan looked away.

“… No,” He could've sworn he felt his ears burn up in embarrassment, “Then you ain't got the right to call me out about it!” Eda lightly hit him with the staff on his head, “Since I told you my name, it's only fair you tell me yours.”

Stan scoffed. As if she knew anything about ‘being fair’ when all she did when they met was get married and stole his car.

“Stan,” he started, “Stanley Pines.”

Eda snorted, “Whatever, you can go back to your human realm now. Look out for portal potties!” She took out a key and a door appeared, seemingly out of nowhere.

Well, if the universe had one rule, it would be to never make anything easy for Stanley Pines–or any Pines family members for that matter–since once the adrenaline wore out, the sting on his shoulders returned with a vengeance.

“Woah, hey! What's going on!?” Eda asked, as she took a step forward to catch Stan as he fell to his knees. 

“Shit, I- I got burnt back at my place– Earth? What do you even call it?” he hissed in pain as he grabbed his shoulder, stretching the skin as if he could pull the skin away from the burn.

Eda took a piece of her red dress and tore the fabric off, using it as a makeshift bandage before they could find a proper bandage. If Stan hadn't been doubling over in pain, he would be impressed with the wrapping–it was tight enough to be secure and prevent any other elements from infecting it while not being too tight to irritate the burn–not that Stan would admit it.

“Come on, I might have something inside that could help with that nasty thing on ya,” Eda closed the door and hid the key in her hair. Stan would ask the logistics of how her hair could keep things in it, but he just went through a trans-universal gateway and met a talking triangle before reuniting with his ‘ex-wife’ in a world straight out of a Grimm brothers fairytale. Maybe hair keeping objects like a pocket wasn't the most unusual thing he's seen in the last 24 hours.

Stan followed Eda as they came closer to the freaky church-looking house with an eye with an owl on the door.

The owl talked.

The owl fucking talked.

The owl talked and Stan swore it sounded vaguely like him imitating a greedy little mouse.

“Hey, Eda! Who’s this handsome fellow?” The owl asked asked as he–it…?–wiggled his eyebrows. Stan’s face scrunched up. 

“Just a visitor, Hooty, now open up so he can leave faster,” Eda said as she lightly kicked the door. “Aww, what's wrong, Eda? Can't handle this ‘handsome fellow’?” Stan snickered.

Eda pulled Stan’s mullet in retaliation.

“Fine, fine. But you better introduce me to him once in a while! I haven't seen any new meat in a while, hoot!”

Stan shot a smug look at Eda before that smug look morphed into what could only be described as confused horror as Hooty opened its mouth from top to bottom. Holy hell, he was tripping all the balls.

The two of them entered and Stan was met with a sight he thought could only appear in some wacky tourist trap.

“Stay here, I’ll get something to patch you up with,” she said as she disappeared into some other part of the house he couldn't be bothered to look at.

Stan took in what he did bother to pay attention to.

Bird imagery. So much bird imagery.

A huge wanted poster of ‘The Owl Lady'. Hey, if she wants an ego boost she got it. That kind of money for her dead or alive could pay off most of his debts.

Candles. It weirdly reminds him of…

Human stuff, some of which he even recognized from his childhood.

The scattered items all around made it feel like some sort of alternate timeline where Ford bothered to clean up before he arrived.

Ford.

Just the thought of his twin made the burn sting more.

All that effort, all the running, all for the hope that he could make it up to his family, the hope that Ford would want him back eventually.

That hope came back, rising and falling like the crash of waves of the oceans he’ll never get to explore with the one he shared that dream with. 

All that just to be called worthless, just an errand boy to call and get rid off when need be.

His throat tightened up. Goddamn it, keep it together.

Distantly, he heard heels coming closer.

“Hey, 8-ball, you alright?”

“Yeah,”

“Good, I need you to drink something before I patch your burn up,” Eda held up a circular bottle of gold… thing. Well, he didn't really know what it was, but it was shiny and glowing.

Stan raised an eyebrow, looking at the bottle, then at Eda, then back at the bottle, then back at Eda.

“For Titan’s sake, it's not poisoned. If I wanted to kill you, I would've fed you to the pixies,” She said with a snort. 

Stan tried to look for a tell from her; a quirk of an eyebrow, a twitch of the lip, anything. But nothing came up, just slight impatience.

He took the drink from her hands and took a tiny sip.

It tastes… way better than he thought it would–which wasn't saying a lot, he expected a familiar bitter taste of poison. Instead, he got an unfamiliar bitter taste of whatever the hell she made that somehow lifted the stinging sensation of the burn away.

Stan hazard a touch at the fabric above the burn. Nothing. It was as if the burn was never there in the first place.

“Well, at least I don't need to do anything else. I guess that's what happens when you drink it for a scar,” Eda said, off-handedly.

Stan looked up at the mirror from above and saw that scar. It didn't fully heal, but it didn't not heal it, either. Instead, the angry red burn on his shoulder had turned gold and reminded him of a Japanese tradition Ford told him about so long ago.

“Woah,” He exhaled, “Woah indeed.”

A few seconds of silence went by. “So,” Eda started, “What brings you to the Boiling Isles?”

Ah, there it was. The question he’d been dreading.

Stan weighed his options; spill his guts out to the witch–literal and figurative–who tried to steal his car, or sit in awkward silence as she waits for an answer.

He didn't really like either option, but he wasn't all for staying quiet right now, either. Besides, he probably owed her an explanation after hitching a ‘ride’ and getting treated for his injury.

“I…” it suddenly occurred to him that he didn't know where to start. “My brother pushed me through a portal during a fight.” 

“Siblings, huh?” Eda looked at him the way Ford looked at him; a reflection, “Yep,” Stan looked at his reflection the way everyone else did; a mistake.

Eda stretched up and held out a key, “Well, now that that's taken care of,” she pressed something, kinda like a car key, and a door folded upwards, “You can go now! Bye!”

Stan took a step closer to the door. A step closer to where he belongs… Did he really belong there?

How could you say that after costing me my dream school!?

Stan didn't have anything on the other side, did he?

The first worthwhile thing in your life!

He was never the smart twin.

You ruined your own life!

He was never worth anything, not when he had nothing going for him. No goals, no attachments, no friends…

He’s told how much of a terrible twin you are.

No family.

“Hey, Stanley, you just gonna stand there or what?” Eda asked as she held the key impatiently.

“Nah,” Stan walked away from the door, “You’ve had your fun in my world, it's about time I did the same in yours!” Stan smiled, that mischievous glint in his eyes shining like the stars in the sky. “Besides,” Stan took out that photo of him and Ford after a boxing match. They both looked so happy, “Not like I had anything out there, anyway.”

Stan folded it, creasing the picture till almost nothing of their faces were seen outside the folds.

Something flashed in Eda’s eyes, and if Stan saw anything, he never mentioned it.

“Well then,” Eda closed the portal door, “Welcome to The Owl House.”

Chapter Text

“Hey, Stanley?” 

Stan looked up from his drawing.

“Can you name one hero who was happy?” Stanford asked. He was reading a book about Greek mythology, more specifically, one about Theseus.

Stan thought about the heroes in his comic books, those he idolized and thought of as who he wanted to be. He soon realized their lives weren't as cool as he thought once he really looked into it.

“You can't.” Ford said.

“I can't.” Stanley admitted.

“I know,” Ford replied as he flipped to the next page, “Greek mythology tends to give their character a tragic end. They can never be loved and happy at the same time.”

There was a pause between them as they carried on with what they were doing before. That was until Stan spoke up again. “Do you want to know a secret?”

Ford grinned. “What is it?”

Stan got up and spoke low, his secret sacred and unknown. A secret no one else but him and his brother would know.

“I'm gonna be the first!”

And Ford believed he would be. Stan Pines was his hero, he never doubted for a second he couldn't. Stan held up a pinky. “Promise me.”

Ford tilted his head in confusion, “Why me?”

Stan’s grin widened, “Cuz you’ll be with me when I do! Now promise me.”

Ford held up his pinky in return, “I promise.”

Stanford assessed what happened with the portal. Since it was activated prematurely during their fight, the proper repercussions had not been followed, which resulted in a few wires busted and used more fuel than what was truly needed.

He pulled in his hair. He had to get Stanley back. He had to. Fiddleford had been in there for seconds, Ford felt his gut churn at what might happen to Stan after 3 hours.

Before he could reopen the portal, he still needed to refuel it. And to get the fuel, he needed to steal the ones dumped by the government. Well… it was dumped outside, and toxic chemical waste being dumped at some small county by the pacific northwest is extremely hazardous, so if anything, he was doing the public a favor. Again.

But, as if whatever cosmic entity was playing some sick joke on him, he had run out of coffee.

And no coffee means no caffeine.

No caffeine means he could crash…

Any… 

            Minute. . .

                                 N

                                      o

                                        w

                                          .

                                           .

                                           .

…

Ford jolted awake as he was met by the familiar sight of his own mindscape sans Bill. A cause for concern.

With Stan in the portal and Bill gone, these factors only fueled his desire to get Stan back. Ford couldn't even think about what Bill might be doing to Stanley.

“Hiya, smart guy!”

That voice.

“Whoa there! Tough crowd!” Bill’s grating voice echoed through the mindscape as he surrounded Ford, “Would’ve thought you'd be glad to get rid of that leech of yours!”

Ford snapped up at the demonic being. “‘Get rid of’? You know damn well I’ll do anything to bring him back.”

“Hmm… anything?”

“Anything that doesn't involve you if.”

Bill was silent. Terrifyingly silent for the longest 10 seconds Ford has ever felt, before Bill decided to speak up once more. 

“Not like you can, anyway! Your brother decided to take the easy way out!”

Ice ran through Ford's veins. “Wh… what do you mean…?” Stan wouldn't have made a deal, would he? Stan was smarter than him in that regard. He would've seen right through Bill’s deception.

“Relax, Fordsy. As much as it hurts to say, he never even gave my deal a chance! Sorry to say, Sixer, but your brother's a goner!”

No.

No, no, no…

Bill would've smiled if he had the means to do so. He's revelling in Ford’s misery, and he knew it.

And he wouldn't let it continue.

“You’re wrong,” Ford whispered, “This is just another one of your sick games, Cipher, but you’ve made a mistake. You dared hurt my brother.”

Maybe this was a blessing in diguise—as much a blessing as dooming your brother could be. If it were him who went through the portal, Stan would have no way to safely open the portal. Stan would doom the world with his recklessness just as he had with his project.

“That's why I like you, brainiac! You're so eager to fix your mistakes, you’re doing what I want!” He mocked. “I’ll see you soon!”

And Ford woke up.

He looked around and saw sheets of paper surrounding him ranging from blank to warrants for arrest to notes. Notes Ford rather not read unless he wanted to feed into the deranged idea that Stan was…

No. He shoved that thought out and focused on his goal. Stan was alive, waiting for Ford to get him back. He didn't know what he'd do if he wasn't.

Ford wasn't gonna read any of the notes laid out for him, he really wasn't, but he caught a glimpse of it addressed to him in Stan’s handwriting.

There were multiple letters, all in his name, all written by his brother. Ford picked up the papers.

He won't read them right now. He can't. Couldn't get himself to.

He still needed to bring his brother back.

Ford promised.