#hearing loop

[all-my-ocs-are-evil]

[insert poetic title here]

fun fact: this did not start out as isat fanart

(rambling in tags)

[audcomm]

Induction Loop System

Our audio induction loop system offers in built induction loop or hearing loop guided setup with intelligent self-monitoring system. The induction loops has dual dsp gain control and high frequency compensation for metal loss.

Visit our website -

[chericheribaby]

Jegulus "hear me out" cake but it's just Regulus putting Fleamont's picture on it over and over again

[otaku553]

I am going to be So Insufferable about this man in 2 days.

[kat1nkulta]

Hi i’m reaching soo hard but.

It’s not a 1-1 match, moreso about the habits? Nervous arm clutch, leaning forward when mad, clasping hands a lot, the smug side lean. Loop shares the most similarities with Siffrin, but I like to think they picked up some habits from the party too (after all they had a looong time to memorize those😁)

[mari-lair]

Question for the researcher Sif stuff. Seeing as Loop is a star would Sif be able to see them clearly or would they still need to either feel their face? [Though clearly Loop wouldn't let that happen but you know.]

They would be able to see Loop well! The researcher's relationship with Loop (who is still Start Again siffrin in the au btw) is actually really interesting, cause siffrin does not remember time loops but he can vaguely sense it after all his studies, and since they are almost magnetically pulled toward stars, they always find Loop.

[wherekizzialives]

Living with Hearing Loss: Hearing Aids

The first thing I want to say is that hearing aids are not, despite how they are often portrayed in the media, some sort of miracle cure for hearing loss. You don’t just pop them in and “boom” you can hear perfectly again. I wish it did work that way, since it would make my life so much easier, but alas the reality is quite different. Hearing aids, at their most basic, simply amplify the sounds…

[starp00k]

quick isat color sketch!!!!!

[twinleafsystem]

so dont lead, i wont follow

theres no sense in waiting for tomorrow

[chimerical-daydreams]

It Never Happens Au party portraits lets go!!!!

(designs/extra comments under cut)

I have no clue how level progression actually works in Isat so don't mind the numbers too much. Loop's stats are taken directly from their bossfight though.

Portraits made using kongkrog's isat profile customizer.

The sad man, after getting to a town and buying some now clothes and having a shower. He's still generally melancholic, but cheers up quite a bit. Has a bad tendency to poke his nose where he shouldn't. Too shy to ask people's names when he forgets, so calls them by their titles instead. Big fan of poetry.

Nille! She jumped at the chance to go on an advent with Bonnie, but has mixed opinions on Loop. Very boisterous in conversation , but usually sticks to herself. Uncontrollably observant and with good intuition, can read people and situations very accurately. Figured out that "thinking really hard abou what you want" when crafting leads to a higher success rate (and the smell of sugar, for some reason?), so her creations stick together even when they look incredibly unstable.

[candlebel]

🎶 Lights on, Keep them up or I'm gone 🎶

[lucabyte]

excuse me. he asked for no pickles

[audcomm]

Large Area Hearing Loop

Our Contacta Large Area Hearing Loops or audio induction loop system enables music and speech with complete clarity to multiple hearing instrument wearers.

These Large Area Hearing Loop drivers are perfect for environments ranging in size from meetings rooms to sports arenas.

The audio induction loop system are installed taking in account the dimensions and makeup of every room to ensure the best listening experience for your customers. Our audio induction loop system offers in built induction loop or hearing loop guided setup with intelligent self-monitoring system. The induction loops has dual dsp gain control and high frequency compensation for metal loss.

Integrated universal switch mode power supply in our induction loop system provide ultra-efficient power utilization up to 90%. Our Induction loop system or hearing loop systems offers integrated protection circuits with temperature, voltage, short circuit and DC protection.

The induction loop system complies with manufacturing standards: EN 62368-1, UL 62368-1, EN 55032 EMC, EN55035 EMC

We are proud to say that our Large Area Loop System or Induction loop system are designed and manufactured in UK.

Get more information, please visit - https://audcomm.com/product-category/contacta/large-area-hearing-loops/

[croh3]

My dealer Loop: got some straight gas 🔥😛 this strain is called 56th Time Loop 😳 you’ll be zonked out of your gourd 💯

Me: yeah whatever. I don’t feel shit.

5 minutes later: dude i swear i just saw myself in the House

My buddy mal du pays pacing: our friends are lying to us

[crowberri]

[In Stars and Time] some siffrins some loops…

[dark-lord-of-awesomeness]

Hey :)

Ford was just finishing up some of his sketches when the phone rang. He looked over at the clock and grimaced at the time.

Still an hour to go. Hopefully it was just a wrong number, and not anymore attempts at birthday well wishing. With a groan he pushed himself away from his desk, then left the study and went towards the living room, where the phone was siting on a dresser.

"Hello? Stanford Pines speaking?"

There was a rush of static, then the dull sound of the phone disconnecting, beeping away in his ear. Irritation flooded him, and he set the phone back down. He'd forgotten about his ghostly prank caller, but he really shouldn't have.

They always called on his birthday after all, and it was almost over. Ford shook his head and turned to head back to his study. He'd finish up his diagram, then head to bed before-

The phone rang again when he'd made it halfway down the hallway. Ford let out a huff, then pivoted and turned back to go get it. It couldn't be the prankster, as they'd just called, so who else was calling him so late at night?

He picked up the phone, cautious, then spoke into the receiver.

"Hello, Stanford Pines speaking, Can I-"

The phone disconnecting cut through his words, and he groaned. Another prank call. Unfortunate, but there was always the possibility that this was a different prankster than the one who normally called. Or that they were all different people.

He put the phone down and rubbed his temples. The sound the phone made when disconnecting always grated on his nerves, and it was starting to get late. It might be better to-

The phone started ringing, and Ford scowled before snatching it from the cradle.

"Hello? Who is this? If this is a prank, then-" It isn't very funny Is what Ford would have said, if the caller hadn't already hung up. Ford slammed the phone back down with a growl. This couldn't be his normal prankster, this just confirmed it. He had no idea who was calling him so late into the night, but the moment he figured it out he was going to-

The phone rang again, and he snatched it, irritation twisting into anger.

"Enough! If this is-" the phone disconnected, and he shouted as he slammed the phone back down, fuming. One phone call this late at night was already pushing it, four in quick succession was driving him up the wall.

The phone rang again, and he glared at it, letting it go to voicemail. When it rang again, a minute later, Ford pivoted and stomped back to his study, letting it go and sitting down to get back to work. Even as it rang again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

After it rang again, thirty minutes later, and Ford had gotten nowhere with his work, he shoved himself to his feet, grabbed a mostly empty notebook, and stomped back to the phone. At this rate they were either a very determined prankster with poor taste, or an anomaly trying to get on his nerves. Either way he wasn't going to let them win.

He ran a few tests over his ever ringing phone, crossing out anything spectral or magic as a suspect, then spent a few more missed calls glaring at it.

The main issue was that, without hearing who or what was on the other end, it'd be harder to determine if it was an anomaly. So he had to either make the caller speak, or keep them on the line long enough to run more tests.

The next time the phone rang, Ford snatched it, line prepared and ready to get to the bottom of this. A normal greeting hadn't been enough to stop it from hanging up, so he'd have to get creative.

"This is Filbrick-" The phone disconnected, and he slammed it down, crossing that off the list. So it didn't want to speak to his father, understandable. Less than a minute later it rang again, and he snatched it, already ready with his next line.

"Gravity Falls Museum, how can I help you?" he said, pitching his voice higher. There was a beat, a puff of air, then the sound of the phone disconnecting. He crossed it off, then wrote a note about how long the caller had stayed on the line.

"Gravity Falls Oddologist, Stanford Pines, speaking." disconnect.

"Gravity Falls dental-" disconnect

"Gravity Falls, pharmacy, how can I-" disconnect.

"Corduroy lumber, can I-" disconnect.

"What do you get from this?" a pause, static, then disconnect.

Ford tried more answers, irritation bleeding into his voice the longer this went on, until he slammed the phone down, threw the notebook onto the dresser, and stomped upstairs, ignoring the ringing behind him.

Perhaps he just needed to ignore it for longer, let whoever was on the other end give up first. The clock read two a.m., meaning he'd already wasted three hours of his life trying to outsmart some teen with awful humor or an anomaly that fed off his irritation.

With grim determination he brushed his teeth, eye twitching as the phone downstairs kept ringing. He stomped into his room, grabbed a pair of pajamas, then was so consumed with rage at the phones continual ringing that he stomped downstairs and grabbed the phone again.

"WHAT!" something crashed on the other side, before the phone disconnected. Ford growled and slammed it down onto the cradle. He threw his pajamas onto the couch, then stood over the phone, glaring at it and using every ounce of his self control not to rip it out of the wall and chuck it across the room when it rang again.

Trying to goad them into talking hadn't worked, it was time to try something new.

"So help me if you don't-" disconnect.

Ford yelled, then grabbed his hair and started pacing around the room, phone ringing again a minute or so later. He shot a glare at it, then stomped back after it had gone to voice mail. As long as it was filling his house with noise he couldn't focus and couldn't sleep, but he refused to give them the satisfaction of winning.

The next time it rang he snatched it again, glaring at his notebook.

"I'm going to hunt you for sport." he growled into the receiver. Ford waited a moment to see if they'd hang up, then grinned and-

disconnect.

"Count you're blessings, because I'm about to-" disconnect.

"Are you ready for the pain I'm about to-" disconnect

"So help me I will-" disconnect.

More threats. More insults. Some pleading got the line to last longer, but not by much, until finally-

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH" it disconnected at some point, but Ford was too busy screaming to write down when.

He slammed the phone down again, the looked at the cord intently. It'd be so easy to cut it, or take the phone out of the cradle so nothing could connect, or rip the entire thing from the wall.

But that was defeat, and the slim chance that someone actually important would try calling him before he could get it fixed haunted him. Plus Fiddleford was supposed to arrive early... today, at some point, so they could get back to work.

Ford dragged his eyes to the nearest clock. It was already four a.m., any plans of sleeping at this point were useless. Fiddleford would be arriving in an hour or two, and Ford hadn't been able to finish up from the night before.

And the phone. Kept. Ringing.

How long were they planning on doing this for? All day? They'd already wasted his night with their antics, at this point he was ready to sleep on the lawn if it meant he'd get some kind of silence.

Ford groaned, then threw himself to the couch, crushing his pajamas and closing his eyes. He rubbed his temples, a headache pounding away with each ring, then shoved himself back up and stomped to the kitchen.

A quick glass of water and a sandwich later he was feeling slightly refreshed and ready to try again. Despite the continuous ringing he'd managed to center himself, and realized there was one thing he hadn't tried to get the caller to stay on the line.

Asking.

He'd simply ask them to stay, nice and calm, without any of the anger that seemed to scare them off faster. Wiping his hands on his coat, he stood next to the phone and grabbed it the moment it started to ring.

"Don't hang up," He said, voice low and barely hiding his rage, "Or I'll hunt you down and carve out your organs"

Well, that wasn't calm or nice, but he could try again the next time they-

next time they-

they didn't disconnect.

Triumph flashed through him, and he muttered to himself as he wrote the words down on the half destroyed notebook, before focusing back on the sound of the callers heavy breathing.

"That finally got you, huh? Listen here, I don't know who you are, but-"

Disconnect.

Ford slammed the phone down, then watched it like a hawk, one hand still gripping his pen and the other hovering, ready to pounce.

He didn't try to hide his anger this time when he picked it up and repeated his threat to hunt them down and carve their organs out. Just like before, the caller stayed on the line, confirming... something.

"I'll figure it out later," he muttered, before loudly saying "Ok, so that worked, now, who is this? Because this is-"

Disconnect.

That was... fine. The first phrase had worked to keep them on, so he just had to work his way out from there. No problem.

The clock was reaching five a.m. he just had to figure this out.

The phone rang again, and Ford snatched it, once again not bothering to hide his irritation as he told them not to hang up or he'd steal their organs. Just like the last two times, the caller stayed on the line, and Ford thought carefully before continuing.

They'd hung up when he'd asked who they were, so he'd do the opposite.

"I know exactly who you are." Ford said, puffing his chest out and pushing false confidence into the words.

No disconnect. A grin threatened to split his face in half. Before he could try to probe into the callers identity, someone coughed next to him, and he whipped around to see Fiddleford, bright eyed with one eyebrow raised.

"Stanford, what are you doing?" he asked, eyeing the torn notebook and the pajamas sitting crumpled on the couch.

"Trying to figure out the identity of a prank caller," Ford said, turning back to the phone, "now if you'll excuse me, I-"

Disconnect.

Ford groaned, then rubbed his temples, "They've been calling nonstop for the last... fiveish? hours now. Consistently. That's the longest I've been able to keep them on."

The phone rang again, and he glared at it, tired and done with the whole experience.

"Why don't you try calling them?" Fiddleford asked, tossing his bag onto the couch, "Just gotta-"

Fiddleford picked up the phone when it stopped ringing and pressed a few buttons. Ford took the phone as it started ringing, pressing it to his ear and looking upon Fiddleford like the savior he was.

Then he scowled and pulled the phone away when the ringing cut out, replaced with an awful statiky, growling noise. Both men stared at it as it let out more strange noises, before Ford placed it back down. A moment later it rang, and they looked at each other.

"Anomaly" "Its an anomaly."

"That or somethings gotten into the phone again," Fiddleford muttered, twenty minutes later, phone ringing continuously as he fiddled with the wiring and hooked something up to it, "There, try again."

Whatever was causing the interference, it was nothing under the combined might of Fiddlefords mechanical genius and Fords magical scientific research, meaning the next time the phone stopped ringing he was ready. He grabbed it from the cradle and smashed the buttons.

It rang three times, but instead of a horrid growling and burbly sound, a clear and vaguely familiar voice answered with a confused "Hello?"

"HA!" Ford shouted, glee filling him, "It worked! Didn't think I'd call you first, did you!"

"No? I- what's happening here?" The voice on the other end was rough, confused, and tickled the back of Fords mind, but he shoved it aside, focusing on the victory of finally getting the person on the other end to speak.

"Whats happening is I finally got you this time!" Ford yelled into the phone, "Thought you'd get away without consequence, didn't you? That you could call non-stop for six hours straight and not face any kind of repercussions for depriving me of my sleep and ruining my night? Well listen here-"

"Wait, hold up," the man, and it was a man, interrupted, "You called me. I haven't called anyone yet. I just got here."

Ford stood there, suddenly hit with the realization that he might have yelled at a totally innocent stranger. He hung up before the man could question him further, then waved Fiddleford over so his friend could input the numbers that made the phone redial the previous caller.

It rang again, and a moment later the same voice answered with a still confused "Hello?"

"So it wasn't the wrong number." Ford growled, eye twitching, "I don't know.." Ford paused, hit suddenly with why the mans voice sounded so familiar, "Wait a second. Stanley?"

Disconnect.

That only confirmed it.

Rage burst through him as he slammed the phone down and picked it up again. What did his brother think he was doing, calling for- a quick look at the clock showed it was already past five. That meant it'd been going on for at least six hours.

He was going to tear into his knucklehead of a twin if it meant he'd have to call this number six hours straight until Stan picked up again.

The phone rang three times, and Stan picked up with a confused "Hello?" like Ford hadn't just called less than a minute ago and called him out on his actions.

"Stanley!" Ford yelled, ignoring the look FIddleford shot him, "What- No. I don't care about the reason. Stop calling me like this! I'm not sure what made you think calling me over and over would do anything but infuriate me, but it stops now!"

"What," Stan asked, confused and slightly panicked, "What are you talking about, I just got here? How did you know it was me?"

Fords fury was barely cooled by his confusion. Was this some kind of joke? Did Stan really think he could play this off as a 'whoops wrong number' prank? After six hours of non-stop calls?

He really was going to hunt him down and carve out his organs. Then shove them down his throat.

"What?" Ford ground out, "What are you talking about. You didn't just get here, we just talked, less than a minute ago."

"No we didn't?" Stan said, voice full of confusion, "This is the first- uh. I mean. Happy Birthday? Moses this got away from me. What even is this."

"… Happy Birthday?" Ford hissed, irritation making him tap the dresser and hunch over the phone "Stanley, our birthday ended five hours ago. Its June sixteenth now. That happens when you spend six hours calling someone over and over."

"No, that can't be right," Stan muttered, then went silent. Ford waited for whatever nonsense reason Stan was going to give that made him think it was still five hours ago, when nowhere on the planet was it their birthday anymore, before Stan continued, voice shaky and confused.

"No, its still the fifteenth," Stan said, and the fury boiling away in Ford chilled at his tone "I- I just got here? You called me before i could- uh. Call someone else. Not you."

Dread filled Ford. They'd just talked, and Stan had called nonstop for the last six hours. There was no way he wouldn't have noticed being there for that long, dialing over and over again.

Unless something was making it so he couldn't.

"FIddleford," he said, pulling away to look at where his friend was peering over his shoulder, "Go to my study and get the gray book with the pink lettering, the one you said was one shade away from being 'of the devil' or whatever you said."

Fiddleford nodded, then dashed away. Ford turned his attention back to the phone, listening to Stan's heavy breathing.

"Stanley," He said, dragging his notebook closer and rapidly moving to an mostly intact page, "How long have you been standing there."

"Uh.. I don't know," came Stan's still confused voice. "less than-"

Suddenly Stan's voice cut off, and another sound replaced it. Not the sound of the phone disconnecting, and not the gurgling sound from earlier. It was a new sound, one that made the dread in the pit of Fords stomach shoot to his chest and grip his heart.

Whispers. Breathing. Shadows danced on the edge of his vision, as whatever was on the other end of the phone chittered and murmured away, sending a chill down his spine.

"Stanley?" he whispered, then flinched as the thing on the other end got louder.

"Stanley?" he said again, louder. He gripped the phone hard, other hand gripping the pen so hard his knuckles turned white. If he strained, if he pushed, he could hear Stan's distant voice, calling out in confusion and drowned out by whatever was there with him.

"STANLEY!" Ford yelled, lurching to look at Fiddleford in a panic. His friend started back at him, wide eyed and confused from where he'd burst back into the room, book clutched to his chest. Ford screamed Stan's name, over and over again. He thought he could hear his brother, could hear him say something, if he just-

Disconnected.

Ford slammed the phone down, then quickly picked it up and redialed. He marked down the amount of times it rang, then realized with a jolt it was the same amount as the first two times he called.

Three.

And then Stan's voice, just as confused as it had been the previous times "Hello?"

"Stanley!" Ford slumped in relief, then refocused. He had a limited amount before the phone disconnected, regardless if Stan hung up, "Stanley listen, I need to know, how long have you been standing there?"

"Uh.." came Stan's voice, confused and not at all hurried, "I don't know, a minute? I just got here? How did-"

"OK, don't hang up! I need you to promise me you won't hang up!" Ford interrupted, rushing to get his words out. Every hang up potentially lessened the amount of time Stan had.

It had already been six hours, there was no telling how long they had left before whatever was there-

"Alright?" Stan said, jerking him out of his spiraling thoughts, "I promise? Whats-"

"Good, good. Now where are you."

There wasn't a lot of time, but if it was nearby then Fiddleford could-

"New Mexico. Why does-"

Ford cursed, crumbling the page with his attempted note to Fiddleford as his friend crowded around him. Ford snatched the book out of his hands, then rapidly started flipping through the pages, dismissing each creature one after the other as his thoughts scattered.

"Too far, that's too far. And I've just been- ARGH! Stanley! Stanley, I need you to tell me whats around you, what do you see."

If he could get a description, he might be able to narrow down the anomaly further. He already had a list of potential entities that it could be, and he didn't like any of its members.

All of them were in this book, and none of them tended to leave whoever encountered them intact.

"Nothing? Its the middle of the night, and kinda overcast? I can barely see my car."

Ford froze, then stared at Fiddlefords face in horror. He'd studied hundreds of creatures in his time here, and there were only a few that matched what was happening. A time loop, erasing or suppressing memories, alone, encroaching darkness.

Something eldritch and powerful, with no name a human could pronounce, preying on a lone human, having him get yelled at for six hours from repeated phone calls to a estranged relative. Regardless of which one it was, they'd all be doing the same thing in this scenario.

It was eating his brother.

"Stanley listen to me," Ford said, gesturing at Fiddleford to grab some of his nearby magical tomes, "I need you to run. Doesn't matter where, just pick a direction and go. This is important!"

If he could get out that way, then-

"Run? Why? Whats-"

"RUN!" Ford screamed, and he held his breath as he heard the phone drop and the sound of Stan's feet hitting the ground, growing distant and then-

Whispers. Filling the line and making him shudder. He didn't bother trying to listen, instead grabbing the tomes Fiddleford brought and flipping through them. He had a spell here from years ago, something he hadn't tested but-

The phone disconnected, and Ford slammed it down and quickly redialed. It rang three times, and Ford quickly whispered for Fiddleford to start making a clear space in the living room. He needed a large space to draw the circle, and there was no time to do it anywhere else.

"Hello?" Stan's voice was just as confused as ever, the same tone and cadence.

It sent a jolt of relief down Fords spine, even as he tensed and yelled, "Stanley! Stanley don't hang up! I'm- I'm going to figure this out, alright! Tell me what you see!"

There was no telling how much time they had before it became too late to do anything, and he wasn't close enough to pull Stan out himself, so he needed- he had to know-

"Ford?" Stan asked, and Ford's heart twisted at the terror bleeding through, and his brothers quick gasps, "Ford, whats- how did you know-"

"Focus!" Ford snapped, "What do you see?!"\

The other end went silent, except for Stan's heavy breathing. Ford gave Fiddleford a thumbs up when his friend gestured to he cleared living room, then slide over a list of ingredients to grab from his lab. Fiddleford scurried off, and Ford turned his attention back to the phone, and Stan's rapid breathing.

"Nothing." Stan whispered, and Ford went cold, "There- there's nothing here. Why's it so dark? And- and when did it get so hot?"

They were running out of time.

"Stanley listen," Ford said, mind racing as Fiddleford ran around behind him, dumping supplies on the floor before dashing out to grab more, "You've been eaten by an entity that feeds on high concentrations of negative energy. Its stuck you in a loop, and its too late to try and escape physically. I'm going to try and- I'm going to try something, just- just hang on, and- and you'll be OK."

He would be OK.

Ford dropped the phone the moment Stan choked out a confirmation, running to the pile of things Fiddleford had brought over and bringing the tome with him.

"We don't have a lot of time," Ford said, pulling out a jar of red crushed berries and star dust, "Stan's too far to reach by any normal means, and I wasted too much time- It doen't matter. Here."

Ford dumped the dust into the jar, shut the lid, then shock it before handing it back to Fiddleford and pointing at the circle in the book.

"Draw this as large as you can," Ford said, leaning down to grab his bag of candles. He'd made them himself, a year or two ago, and they were carved with several powerful runes and made of wax from the magical bees who lived in the Enchanted woods. Each one was a soft pink and sparkled in the light of the living room. Ford grapped a phonix claw to light them, then hurried behind Fiddleford as he used a enchanted brush to make a perfect circle.

Ford used the phoenix claw to prick his finger and light each candle, setting seven of them down equidistant from each other. When that was done he told Fiddleford to make another, smaller circle, and put down three more candles around that one.

Just as he finished placing the last one, the phone rang, and he jumped, whirling around to see-

The phone. Still off its cradle and ringing away regardless. Something grey was dripping out of the holes in the receiver, oozing onto the floor and making a small puddle. Ford tore his eyes away, focusing on the ritual they'd be doing instead.

"Stanford," Fiddleford asked, as the two of them began rapidly writing around the edges of the circle, "Stanford, whats- if this doesn't work-"

"It'll work," Ford snarled, flinching as the phone stopped ringing, "it has to work. I'm- Stanley will-will..."

Ford froze in the silence, then whipped around to stare at the phone.

It wasn't ringing.

Ford burst into action, quickly finishing the rest of the circle, then yelling at Fiddleford to place certain objects between candles. Feathers of mythical beasts, rare crystals, small figures full of power. Anything that could boost the spell past what it was intended to do.

Anything that would drag Stan here.

When the last rune was drawn and the last object placed Ford shot to his feet and jumped into the smaller circle. The spell should use his blood as a focus, and him being here should prevent it from locking onto him. Ford held the book open in front of him, took a deep breath, then stared into Fiddlefords wide eyes.

"You might want to hold onto something," he warned him, before locking his eyes on the center of the circle and reading the spell out at the top of his lungs.

The air around them stilled, then burst into a whirlwind around the circle. The candle's flames roared, each changing into a different color and adding a fiery rainbow that flickered and scorched the ceiling. The objects arrayed around it started shaking, then exploded, one by one, each adding more colors, more texture, until there was a giant, glowing portal on the ceiling, opened up into a glistening void full of light, blinding and pitch black, a space between spaces.

He might have overdone it. Ah well.

If it saved Stanley, then it was worth every destroyed, priceless artifact.

Conituing his chant, Ford raised his hand, and a astral hand shot forwards into the vortex. He could feel the stars and particles of the void rubbing against his arm, but he pushed through, focusing on the object this spell was made to summon.

Stanley.

He felt something touch his hand and he curled his fingers and pulled.

Something was in his hand, and he could feel the spell pulling it through the vortex. His chanting got louder, grin splitting his face when-

It stopped. Something was pulling back, was trying to yank Stanly out of the spells grip, back to whatever pocket dimension it had stolen his brother away to. Fords stuttered, and he felt the spell weaken with it.

Then he could feel Stan reaching out, grabbing onto the spell, tightening its hold on him.

Reaching out to Ford.

With renewed energy, Ford started changing louder, pulling his arm down and back, more and more until-

Something slammed out of the vortex, and the entire thing imploded with a pop, whizz, and a shower of glittering confetti that disappeared before it reached the floor. Ford blinked a few times to readjust his eyes to the dimmer light, then zeroed in on the man groaning on the floor in front of him.

"Stanley!" Ford shouted, tossing the book aside and rushing over to his brother's fallen form. A grin stretched across his face as Stan blinked up at him, looking terrible and confused, but alive.

He was alive.

"Ford?" Stan muttered, voice wheezy and strained, "What- what happened?"

"Stanley." Ford said, instead of answering. Answers could wait, right now he crashed to the floor and pulled his brother into his arms, listened to his soft breaths, felt the hand patting him on the back, gripped him tightly and felt his weight in Fords arms.

Alive.

"Stanford, let go of your brother," Fiddleford said from behind them, "We need to take a look at him, and who knows what all… that. Is."

"Right, right, of course." Ford said, smile still stuck on his face as he pulled away and looked at Stan's face. Then down at his shirt, which was covered in a strange gray substance. He blinked, then realized Stan was covered in it, making his skin and clothes look washed out and near colorless.

"Interesting," Ford muttered, sticking a hand in his pocket to fish out his emergency sample collecting vials. The area the goo was touching on his chest was starting to tingle, and he scooped some up and sealed it for later study.

Then he used the other vial to get a sample from Stan's face, for comparison. There was no telling how whatever it was reacted to living tissue after all.

"Hey," Stan grumbled, waving a hand at him with a scowl, "stop that. What is this, what- didn't I- huh?"

Ford stood up and started shedding his contaminated layers and shoving them into a bag Fiddleford had brought in, while his friend started tending to Stan's legs. The pants and his shoes were shredded to pieces, and small scratches ran up and down his legs, blood mixing with the grey goo and losing its color (he'd have to run tests later, make sure there weren't any negative side effects). The bottoms of Stan's feet were red and raw, and his chest tightened when he realized it had already started digesting Stan when they'd ripped his brother out of its clutches.

"Didn't I call you?" Stan muttered, pulling Ford out of his fury, "Its our birthday."

"No, it isn't." Ford said, shoving his shirt into the bag. The tingling stopped once it was off, so hopefully Stan would recover quickly once they cleaned him up, "Our birthday ended five hours ago."

Stan blinked at him, and his heart twisted at the confused, lost expression on his face. He looked as terrible as Ford felt, deep bags under his eyes and skin far paler than it should be (though it was hard to see how pale under the gray goo).

"Hot Belgian Waffles," Stan whispered, just as Ford finished taking off his clothes and bagging them up for later decontamination, along with the phone (which he finally, finally, pulled off the wall) "Something tried to eat me."

"Ah, but it didn't!" Ford said, giddy and full of vindication at the thought of the hopefully starving entity , "Our DNA is close enough to use as a focus for a summoning spell, and we managed to pull you straight out of its pocket dimensional stomach! Its probably furious!"

Ford threw the bag into his lab, then went over to the kitchen to fill a tub with bubbly water. He moved back to the living room to grab his discarded pajamas to see Stan staring blankly at Fiddleford while his friend cut the legs off his pants.

"My car." Stan said, when Ford had finished getting dressed and went back to retrieve the tub, get his gloves, and grab another bag "Its still in there."

"No, I don't think so!" Ford called out, "The small area you found yourself was most likely a constructed replica of the area. Creatures like that don't have the ability to pull full sections of our dimension away. More than likely your car is right where you left it."

He'd have to strengthen the wards around the house to make sure it wouldn't try to snatch Stan again, at least until they determined which entity, specifically, had tried to eat him and made sure it wasn't the kind to lock onto a specific prey. Until then they couldn't leave Stan by himself, or let him wander too far away from the house.

Stan muttered something as Ford sat down next to him, setting the bag down close to Fiddleford so they could gather all the contaminated materials for later disposal or cleaning. Ford left Fiddleford to take care of Stan's legs, instead focusing on getting the goo off his face as quickly as possible.

Stan's eyes, now that he was closer, were dilated, and his breathing was soft and lacked the panic he'd heard over the phone. Ford grimaced, and his hands itched to write everything down, to catalogue his brothers symptoms.

Later.

For now Ford grabbed a wet washcloth and wiped some of the goo off of Stan's cheek. His twin flinched at the touch, then slowly turned to look at him in confusion.

"Sorry Stanley," Ford said softly, going back to wiping Stan's face, "But we need to get this off as quickly as possible. I don't know if its digestive fluids, a numbing agent, or something to amplify your negative mood. Best to be cautious and study it later."

Stan nodded slowly, then stared off into the distance as Ford continued to wipe his face. His skin was a concerning shade underneath, pale and clammy, and Ford scowled as he wiped more and more away. He was just about to grab Stan's face and try to clear out his eyes, when Stan let out a deep breath, making him pause.

"Happy Birthday," he muttered, then closed his eyes and flopped backwards. He didn't react when his skull cracked on the floor, just laid there, breathing heavily.

"Stanley?" Ford shouted, scooching closer and patting his brother's face, "Stanley, are you alright? Are you-"

Stan grumbled, then let out another deep breath. A moment later he started wheezing softly, a pale imitation of his normal snores, and his brow furrowed.

Ford frowned at him, but Fiddleford stopped him before he could try slapping Stan back awake.

"Let him rest Stanford," His friend said softly, and Ford turned to see Stan's legs free of pants below his thighs and the scraps of what remained of his shoes gone, "he almost got eaten. Poor feller's probably exhausted out of his mind."

Ford humphed, but didn't otherwise object. Stan wasn't in immediate danger, he could let him rest his eyes for as long as it took them to get most of the goo off. He'd need to get up so they could drag him into the decontamination shower in the lab, get a quick check up, and run a few cognitive tests, but after that Ford would make sure Stan slept somewhere nearby.

Like in his arms, where no entity could pry him loose and try to eat him again.

Again.

Ford stared down at Stan's dozing, grey tinted form.

Six hours.

Maybe seven.

Stuck in a pocket dimension that doubled as the stomach for a creature that existed just outside their plane of existence.

Calling Ford, over and over and over again, forgetting the moment the call ended.

Ford had yelled at him so many times. Had screamed and threatened him and- and-

And if he'd been a lesser man, hand cut the line or destroyed the phone, then he'd never know- would never have-

Ford went back to cleaning Stan's face, washing away any trace of the entity and revealing his brother's pale, sickly skin underneath.

Never again. He wouldn't let Stan out of his sight until he knew he was safe, then he was wrapping him in every ward and protective charm he knew.

Maybe tattoo some as well. Anything it took, to keep him safe.

Six hours.

Next time (there'd never be a next time) he'd make sure Stan said something right away.

Ford added a mental note to yell at Stan later for calling and not saying a word, then got back to work, watching Stan breath, listening to him snore, feeling his pulse beat, slow and steady.

Alive.

Stanley was alive.