#around it. (one does not simply Not Walk Mabel. she would lose her mind)

[fingertipsmp3]

Well lads. I’m 27 now

[lordgoopy]

“The Saturday Interview: I Am In Eskew Podcast” —Recovered

The podcast is called I Am In Eskew; it’s a horror / weird fiction show delivered as a series of dispatches from a vaguely Central European city.

Eskew is a place that is, both spatially and psychologically, off-kilter. The streets wind too far in on themselves, the stairs climb too high, and both buildings and inhabitants can act in peculiar, obsessive, or frightening ways. And every episode we follow the narrator, David Ward, a kind of semi-unwilling immigrant to the city, as he finds himself stumbling into new aspects of Eskew. As for me, I’m a writer in London, working in digital media for the charity sector; I’m writing and narrating Eskew sort-of-anonymously. Not for any kind of grand scandalous reason, but because I think it adds to the fun and helps to keep the conceit alive a little bit.

Ah...that explains why I couldn’t find your name when I was researching for this interview. I thought my skills were slipping! I think it’s very interesting that Eskew focuses on horror based around spaces and buildings. Is this something of particular interest to you?

Yes, definitely! I think there’s a rich ream of horror, from The Haunting of Hill House to Ghostwatch, that delves into the idea that certain places can simply go wrong - and once these bad environments have been established and ostracised by society, they can’t be exorcised. They simply keep accruing power through the individual stories that play tragically out in their shadow.

I mention a real-life example of that kind of bad architecture in one episode; the Pope Lick Bridge in Kentucky, a place that looks and feels so sinister that it developed its own local folklore about a goat-man who attacks people who stray too close to the edge - and which has ended up resulting in deaths as visitors peer over the side trying to get a peek at the monster.

I find this kind of stuff fascinating, because it plays into my own paranoia about environments, and my dislike of ghost stories with explicably human antagonists. Like David says in the first episode, people aren’t frightening. Places are frightening.

If I’m sitting alone at home on a dark and stormy night, and I glance nervously up towards the bedroom doorway, my fear is not that my house is being haunted by a spirit called Mabel who died in the 19th century at the age of fourteen and is constantly seeking her favourite teddy bear...because all of these details both humanise her and make her ridiculous.

My fear is that there will be something standing in the doorway, because the doorway is where things come to stand.

Because unoccupied spaces, in our imaginations, must find something to fill them.

Could you describe some of your creative influences?

Thomas Ligotti is probably the writer I’m trying to crib from the most. Not so much in terms of his pessimism (or his love of puppets as a horror motif, which I can’t really get behind), but I see him very much as someone who bridges the gap between American horror and European absurdism. Some of my favourite stories of his - The Town Manager, Our Temporary Supervisor, The Red Factory - are hilarious as comedies! They’re very much scathing satires on our inadequate human response to the inexplicable and awful.

Junji Ito is also a big influence, in particular, his masterpiece Uzumaki: a collection of short stories about a town that’s driven mad by the symbol of a spiral. The brilliance is in the inventiveness with which he builds an anthology of horrors, with variety and with mounting awfulness, while playing on that simple motif.

I see Ito’s work as very much in the spirit of some of the most classic horror of all; Ovid’s Metamorphoses, where the threat comes not from an external monster, but from our own bodies and minds, transforming at the whim of cruel, fickle and obsessive gods...which feeds into a lot of what I’m trying to do with Eskew!

I usually try and avoid thinking about Lovecraft as an influence, even though David is clearly an obsessive, neurotic first-person narrator in the Lovecraft/Poe mould. I think there’s a lot of baggage around what constitutes ‘Lovecraftian’ fiction, and I didn’t want to set up false expectations by referencing him (like the idea that there might be some monstrous cosmic intelligence behind it all).

I really enjoy Lovecraft too, especially something like “The Shadow Over Innsmouth.” I think the idea of monsters living in the sea near the town and the strange, inexorable link the townspeople have with them makes it a lot creepier than something like “The Call of Cthulhu.”

Yeah! I think the elements in Lovecraft that have made him so franchise-friendly (these brilliant alien races and gods) have eaten away at the edges of Lovecraftian horror, bringing it closer to something that can be quite kitsch, even a kind of steampunk pastiche at times. With Eskew, I’m trying to keep to something I see in Ito, or in Ligotti, where any antagonists, whether human or otherwise, are only symptoms of something worse, something that’s simply a force of nature.

I see the city of Eskew as being a bit like a literal cancer in that sense - a highly complex structure where some of the cells (or in this case streets, art galleries, citizens...) have started to lose their original sense of self and are obsessively spiralling off in other, destructive directions...

What made you decide to do I Am In Eskew as a podcast, rather than as a graphic novel or book?

Honestly, it’s a lack of talent in the first instance, and a lack of discipline in the second!

Writing it as a podcast was my partner’s idea (she’s also the occasional voice of Riyo, an investigator looking into David’s disappearance, and she copy-edits every episode with me) - I knew I wanted to write a series of horror short stories based around the theme of urban isolation and weird architecture, but I was really struggling to get started.

She suggested that recording it as a podcast would force me to keep to a schedule, and hopefullyit might even give me some audience feedback to keep me excited about the project.

So it was a pragmatic choice, but it’s one I’ve really come to be thankful for! I think the medium is perfect for bare-bones, atmospheric horror storytelling (Knifepoint Horror is probably the best example of that ‘lonely voice whispering in your ear’ kind of fiction), and there’s an incredibly welcoming, friendly, mutually-supporting community of listeners and creators online.

Once the podcast is complete, I think I’d definitely like to look at compiling all of the episodes, editing and improving them, and turning it into a full-length written anthology. I’ve definitely made a few continuity slip-ups along the way that I’d like to correct, apart from anything else.

I’ve enjoyed Riyo’s episodes too, especially now that she’s directly looking into ‘hostile environments’. I feel like the contrast in tone and narrative style help to strengthen the series overall. Do you intend for the story of I Am In Eskew to have a specific ending in the future? If so, have you decided on the arc of the story?

I think David’s story (and Riyo’s) needs to be a finite one, definitely. In my experience, most successful protagonists in serial horror tend to be investigators, or monster-hunters. That choice of profession makes them witnesses to the story, rather than victims - effectively, they’re exempt from the psychological cost of whatever happens.

With David, I very much wanted to avoid that sense of safety; I want the horror to keep taking its toll on the character, episode after episode - which means that eventually he does need to find some kind of resolution!

Otherwise that psychological cost starts to seem fraudulent, and the whole thing turns into a predictable game of ‘David sees something horrible, then miraculously escapes at the last second’ week after week.

So I do know how the finale is going to play out; it’s really just a question of how many more stories I can reasonably invent for the show, without things starting to feel stretched, before we get there.

Mind you, it’s been established that there are recordings from Eskew that have gone missing, so it doesn’t need to end, even if it ends…

Do you have a favourite episode of I Am In Eskew so far?

I really like Episode 3: Excavation. A mysterious digging sickness takes hold in Eskew, with citizens tearing their own hands to pieces just to get into the ground - and in retaliation, a religious cult starts to form, extolling the virtues of the sky and constructing a grand tower.

It’s not necessarily the best-written episode structurally, and definitely one of the crudest in terms of recording quality, but it was the first episode where I felt I was pushing the boat out towards the kind of outrageous, absurdist horror that I really wanted to be writing, where normal human behaviour was just being given a couple of extra screw-turns towards something awful and monstrous.

It was also the first episode where I really saw a few people begin to respond on message boards, so that was really reassuring to me - when it first went out, I was petrified that I’d gone too weird to sustain anyone’s interest.

I tried to pick a favourite episode in preparation for this interview, but I honestly couldn’t narrow it down past five or six. If I really had to pick, I’d probably choose Illumination - the episode about the sinister and compulsive call of an old railway bridge. Are ideas like this based on real examples?

That example definitely is - it’s based on a railway bridge about a minute’s walk from my house! I love that kind of very modern ruin; old brick stacks stood out in the open, arches filled with ivy, graffiti in a place that seems impossible to reach...

There are a few other specific London inspirations (I based the Fish Market on Spitalfields Meat Market, for example), but with Eskew as a whole, I was thinking specifically of hillier cities in Western and Central Europe: Budapest, primarily, but also Lisbon (the trams and cobblestones), maybe a bit of Rome...

I’m used to flat English cities without any kind of panorama, so I find it a ceaselessly astonishing thing to be lost in a city’s streets and suddenly find myself up high, staring down over a sea of winding streets and rooftops...

How do you feel having wrecked people’s appreciation of AA Milne’s poem Disobedience by highlighting how deeply sinister it is?

I’ve actually been driving myself wild trying to decide if that poem is just a nonsense rhyme celebrating bossy children, or if there’s a class-snobbery thing going on (James James Morrison’s mother puts on a golden gown, and goes to the end of the town...does she get robbed there? Is the end of the town so unsafe because that’s where the low-income people live?)

You may have a point there about class. After whatever happens to her happens, the King himself gets involved with a reward. Clearly, she’s a lady with connections! Could you describe your writing process?

My writing process is very much informed by necessity - I commute in and out of London every day and don’t have a lot of free time, so I have to do most of my drafting while standing upright in a crammed train carriage!

Which may not be ideal, but on the other hand, if you’re writing a podcast about the horror of urban life, there’s no better place to find inspiration than a crowded, sweaty, angry Underground train filled with blank faces...

How long does it take you to put an episode together, from first word to the finished product?

I’m very quick; I usually sketch out the episode concept well in advance, then take about a fortnight to draft it and edit. Recording and audio-editing happens very speedily, again out of necessity, on the weekends! I try and devote a day apiece to each.

Turning to the technical side, what do you wish you’d known about creating a podcast at the very beginning?

There’s still an enormous amount that I don’t know! When it comes to even simple audio editing, I’m learning all the time. I very much am still just a schmuck in his living room, talking into a handmade sound booth on his days off - which is the beauty of podcasting, I suppose.

But I’d probably give my earlier self some very common-sense advice like...

...be brave. Stick to a schedule. Know the signs of burn-out. Listen to other people’s work in the medium before you dive in. Stay hydrated so your mouth doesn’t make those disgusting wet sounds when you’re trying to talk. Never forget that this should be fun, above anything else.

What motivates you to keep producing episodes?

Honestly? Seeing that it’s connecting with people. Spooking people. Entertaining people. That means everything.

If people would like to engage with you or support you online, what’s the best way to do that?

If you’d like to support the show...please do just shout about it! Tell your friends, leave a review on iTunes. It really makes a huge difference.

If you’d like to chat, we’re also on Twitter: https://twitter.com/eskew_podcast

[a-mad-scientist-approaches]

Multiverse is a Curse Word (1)

Aaaargh! Just take it, I can’t stand to keep it any longer!

This is a Gravity Falls fic that is sort of a crossover between the Adrift AU, created by @the-subpar-ghost (although not based off the Drifting Stars fic they wrote for it), and the Dimension Jumper AU, created by @hntrgurl13, starring her OC Adeline Marks of whom I am in love with. I guess that kind of makes it a Drifting Dimensions AU, also a creation of hntrgurl13, however it does not follow the plot of that either. All in all I really have no idea how to describe this. Whatever, it’s some Portal!Ford, Portal!Mabel, and Portal!Addi adventures, with a lot of angst, fluff, and family bonding included.

The Addiford ship, which will of course eventually make an appearance, is credited to @scipunk63, and it ruins me. 

Just be aware, I have not read Journal 3, so blame any incongruities with canon on that. Even if they do not relate to Journal 3. 

@deadpool-demon-diva and @thejesterlyfictionista you said you wouldn’t judge me for writing this and I hold you to it. Love you guys.

AO3  1  2  3  4  5  6  7  8  9  10  11

Chapter 1: The Trash Monster

The sky was green in this dimension. It glowed at night, turning the buildings of the city black. Ford speculated that it was probably due to radiation rather than a natural luminescence. He decided they would move on to a safer place tomorrow; there would surely be a portal appearing nearby soon.

A slap on his hands brought him out of his thoughts.

“Grunkle Ford! Attennnnntion! I don’t see those hands moving mister!” Mabel drilled.

Grinning, he replied, “Sorry sir, I was planning out tomorrow’s route so we can avoid sleeping in an alley again,”

They had indeed set up for the night in a back alley among several dumpsters. Mabel inclined her head as she looked around from their position on the ground.

“Well, it’s not too bad, I suppose. I mean, look! Weird, gooey substances!”

Ford eyed the viscous liquid near them with barely concealed disgust.

“Alright, no lying on the floor,”

“Are you gonna be my pillow tonight?”

“Definitely.” He leaned back against the brick wall of a nearby building and opened his arms for his niece to clamber into. While he was arranging the blankets around them, Mabel jerked up once more.

“Wait! I didn’t finish teaching you tick-tack-toe,”

Smiling, Ford eventually appeased Mabel and convinced her to sleep with the promise that they would resume the lesson in the morning.

“Okay then.” She snuggled back into the makeshift nest and nudged him slightly, indicating she wanted more warmth. Happy to comply, he wrapped his arms around her. Ford felt guilty allowing even the merest trace of the thought to cross his mind, but at times like this he was indescribably grateful that Mabel had fallen into his life. He could not imagine it without her now.

“’Night,” Mabel murmured.

“Goodnight,” Ford responded softly.

“Don’t let the trash monsters bite,” his niece continued. The quiet laugh that answered this sent her off to sleep.

⃝

“Dammit,” Adeline said, banging the transmitter against her thigh. The blue pulse that was supposed to be emitting from the screen resolutely fizzled yet again.

Crap signal, flitted through her mind. She was too tired for this.

Sighing, Addi crossed the street, alternating between keeping an eye on the transmitter and the few citizens still shambling around at this late hour. The device crackled slightly, its light strengthening as she moved. She stepped into an alley and the signal picked up considerably.

“Yes!” A little further along and she could read the message clearly.

Let’s see what they have to say …

Movement. Behind her, something was moving. She was certain of it. Trying to act casually, as though she was absorbed in reading, she reached over her shoulder under the pretence of scratching her neck and tapped a button on the hilt of her wicked sharp sword. At the same time her eyes flicked up to the dumpster she was facing. Its metallic surface dimly revealed a figure standing up slowly behind her. They were drawing their gun.

Okay then.

In one smooth movement Addi drew her sword, whipped around – and stopped dead in shock as the past glared back at her.

“Stanford?”

His hair was grey now, but that was no surprise. It had been thirty years after all. As he moved around so that his back was no longer to the wall, she could tell he knew exactly how to use the weapon he kept trained on her. He had traded in a scientist’s suit for a more practical fighter’s trousers and boots, which was also not entirely unexpected – you had to adapt to life on the other side of the portal. He was clutching a child tightly to his side. Now that was very different.

“Who sent you?” Adeline’s old boss demanded.

“I – no one. What are you doing here?” The reply was unpredictable enough to cause him to falter.

“What do you mean ‘what am I doing here?’” he recovered. “This alley isn’t private property! How do you know who I am?”

A flash of annoyance shot through Addi.

“I’m sorry? The person you built the first ever interdimensional portal on Earth with has escaped your memory?”

The girl next to Stanford gasped. “Mr McGucket? How did you find us? Wait a minute, you look a little different.” She frowned critically at the athletic blonde woman.

Now completely nonplussed, Addi stared again at Stanford. He looked no less hostile, but there was some confusion on his face now, too. How could he not know her? There was no way in the multiverse that she would ever forget –

The answer hit her like lightning.

“Multiverse.” She cursed. “You’re not from my dimension, are you?” Their blank looks were enough of an answer.

Bitter disappointment coursed through her. It was stupid to think that. Stupid to think she would ever catch a break, that something would go right for once. Stupid to hope there might be a way home.

Angrily swallowing a lump in her throat, she stowed away Big Bertha. She wanted nothing more than to just talk to this version of her old friend a little while longer. However, Stanford was not about to let down his guard and decide to trust a complete stranger on nothing but their word that they were friends in another dimension. Especially not if he had a kid to look out for.

She stared at him a moment longer before turning away. Every step crushed her.

⃝

Mabel felt Ford relax his grip on her only after the woman had walked away, leaving behind a tight apology.

“She had a cool sword,” she remarked.

Ford nodded his agreement. “It was very unique,”

“Who d’ya think she was? She seemed kinda sad,”

“I have no idea. However, I think we can rule out Fiddleford McGucket,”

“Yep. No southern charm at all.” Mabel shook her head.

Ford made an amused sound. “Let’s get some sleep. We have a big day tomorrow,”

“I bet I can bring in more money than you,”

⃝

“How are you doing that?” Ford exclaimed in amazement.

The brightness of the crowded market square was such a contrast to the gloom and quiet of the night before that Mabel might have believed they’d fallen onto another planet – that is, if the sensation of going through portals wasn’t impossible to ignore.

She was sitting on the countertop of one of the gambling stalls, playing a game with the owner while Ford stood beside her and watched. As far as she could tell, she’d won the last eight rounds and the owner was getting antsy.

“I have no idea!” she replied happily. “No really, I’m not sure what I’m doing.”

“Well, you have a talent for it.” Ford scooped their winnings into a pocket. That coat of his never seemed to run out of space.

“Uh huh. Grunkle Stan taught me well,” This time there was only a slight tremble in her voice when she mentioned home. She was getting better.

The stall owner made a frustrated sound. Ford quickly thanked him and took Mabel’s hand, heading into the crowds. Mabel waved a goodbye, but the large, red, five-armed being only glared.

“I don’t think that guy liked me winning all that money off him,” she said slightly nervously. Ford tightened his grip on her hand when he looked back and saw the gambler examining the dice Mabel had been using.

“Let’s get out of here quickly. Gamblers don’t like to lose, and I have seen some accuse their opponents of swindling them simply as an excuse to take back their money. You don’t want to know what they do to the actual cheaters,”

A cold feeling of dread settled in the pit of Mabel’s stomach. Unfortunately, her uncle noticed her unusual silence and looked down at her. She was too late to wipe the guilty expression from her face. Ford’s eyebrows shot up.

“You were cheating?” he said in disbelief.

Mabel swallowed. “Um … I think so?”

An enraged roar from behind them was followed by the sound of thundering footsteps.

“RUN!” Ford shouted, shoving her forwards while drawing his gun. “Get back to the al-”

He was tackled by a murderously snarling blur of red, all six orange eyes fixed on Mabel. Heart in her mouth, she sprinted away. The sound of Ford’s laser gun thinned out the crowd like magic.

Why the heck had she cheated? It had been so easy, sure, but she was usually fine without it. What had she been thinking? What if Ford couldn’t take that guy, what if he got hurt, what if –

Her breath was hitching in her chest and terror was pumping through her veins. She’d been running for a while, and oh no, she couldn’t stop now, she needed to get help, but she didn’t know anyone –

She skidded around a corner and collapsed to her knees, looking around wildly. If she just asked, someone was bound to help, right? She looked desperately around the new square she was in, but no one seemed to care about the gasping kid on the ground or the sounds of laser fire coming from a few blocks over, sweet Moses she could use a familiar face …

With a startled “HEY!” she saw one.

Mabel crashed into the blonde woman’s side, succeeding in getting her attention but failing Step Two in that she could only cough and cling desperately to her sleeve.

“Kid? Are you alright? Where’s Stanford?”

Still valiantly trying to retake control of her lungs, Mabel gestured helplessly towards the sounds of yelling and gunfire. The woman seemed to understand immediately. She drew her sword and took off running, Mabel right behind her.

They arrived just in time to see Ford get thrown against a wall.

⃝

Various swear words swam through Ford’s mind, echoed vehemently by his aching body. He could taste blood, and purple flashes were obscuring his vision. His ears were ringing. He also could not get his legs under him in order to stand up. The dislocated shoulder though, he could feel clearly.

The gambler, now in possession of Ford’s gun, levelled it at him.

Shit.

He reached for a piece of rubble with his good arm, which, if thrown, might just be enough to injure and/or distract the man while he got to his feet …

Yes. All his other attacks so far had failed but if he used a rudimentary projectile –

The treacherous thought did not get the chance to go to completion. Sword flashing, a tall blonde woman stepped between them just as the red giant fired, although instead of the laser burning straight into her it … fragmented. It seemed to break before it reached her, into pieces that dissipated in the air.

Not seeming to believe his eyes, something Ford could not blame him for, the attacker fired again, only for the same thing to happen. With that, a physical hand-to-sword assault was attempted.

Mabel crouched down in front of him, blocking the view.

“Grunkle Ford! Oh my gosh, are you okay? I’m so, so sorry, I didn’t mean for this to happen! I’m gonna get you out of here, I promise,”

Unable to coherently reply, Ford was forced to make like a sack of potatoes and have his good arm slung around his twelve-year-old niece’s shoulders while the rest of him was heaved halfway off the ground. He was impressed Mabel managed to do even that much. An absurdly-timed flicker of pride blew through him.

While trying to coerce his legs into taking some of his weight, Ford found himself facing the fight. Blearily, he watched as the woman fended off a blow with one hand, her sword somehow not breaking under the impact of the being’s punch, but also failing to penetrate his skin, just as lasers had.

“Wait!” she called out sharply. She made a quick signal with her free hand. After a tense moment, the red gambler lowered his fists and walked away, all hostility disappearing like smoke. Breathing a sigh of relief, the woman turned and hurried towards them.

“Are you okay?” she asked, her hazel eyes meeting Ford’s as she pulled his dislocated arm around her shoulders.

With an agonised groan, Ford thought that it would be acceptable to now fall into unconsciousness.

[crossroadsdimension]

All right, so I am on a biiiit of a roll with this one.

Mostly because I cannot resist getting to the fun bits.

Chapter under the cut if you’re too lazy to go to AO3!

Chapter 5 -- Revelations

If Ford had been thinking clearly, he would have been trying to get a different song stuck in his head to slow down the siren’s enchantment, which had only sped up over the course of the day, considering how close Addi was in relation to his present position.

But he wasn’t thinking.

Vaguely, he knew that he had other things he could be doing, he knew that he was something else, but the enchantment the siren had bound him with had woven into his mind so tightly that the only thing he could think about was the song.

He had to get to Addi. He had to get someone to unlock the basement door from the outside so that he could get out of the house and get to the lake.

The song told him what he needed and his mind could do nothing but agree.

“Let me out! Please!” Ford had been pounding on the door for so long his knuckles were scraped and bleeding slowly. “I need to get out! Please!”

There wasn’t an answer. Vaguely, he remembered getting a promise out of Soos and Dipper to not let him out no matter what, but that only made the song in his head swell in strength and he started pulling at the door even harder, grabbing the handle and slamming his shoulder into the door.

“Grunkle Ford!” yelled a voice on the other side, causing Ford to pause. “It’s Mabel! Are you okay?”

Ford sniffled. He leaned against the door. “Need to get out.”

“Grunkle Ford, you know we can’t do that. We don’t want to lose you.”

Ford felt a pang in his heart at Mabel’s voice, but then the song swelled again. “Mabel, please.”

“Everything’s gonna be okay, Grunkle Ford. I promise. I think we’re getting through to her! You’re gonna be okay!”

Ford didn’t answer. He leaned against the locked door behind him and slid down to the floor as the song in his head continued to pound against the sides of his head, trying and trying and trying to get him out of the basement and out of the house. He tucked his knees up against his chest and buried his face in them, losing himself in the song.

As if he wasn’t lost enough in it already.

On the other side of the door, Mabel pulled back from the entrance to the basement, worried. “...do you think Grunkle Ford’s gonna be okay?”

“He will be, pumpkin,” Stan replied. “We just...we just gotta hope that maybe another couple’a days and Addi’ll come to her senses an’ let him go.”

“Can I have a crack at her tomorrow?” Wendy asked from the cash register. “I’d love to see the look on her face when I show her axe-throwing.” She grinned a little too widely for it to be nice. “Maybe I can show her some little trick-shots that Dr. Pines and I were working on before you went out on your boat trip at the end of last summer -- I know he would like to know how far I progressed.”

“So long as you aren’t hitting her, I think that’d be fine,” Dipper spoke up from the floor. He’d made a nest of books there, and was frowning at one. “I don’t want to know what could happen if we got rid of the source without taking care of the problem in Grunkle Ford’s head. I mean, forcing it isn’t going to be a good thing, either -- he’s always gonna be drawn to going into the sea at least a little….”

“Keep working, Dipper,” Stan said. “If Mabel’s plan to bring that sea witch over to our side doesn’t work, we’re gonna have to go for a plan B.”

“I know.” Dipper made a face. “I just... I don’t want Grunkle Ford to--”

“Hey.” Stan knelt down in front of his nephew. “I think Ford’ll be okay if we do this as Plan B. He’ll understand.”

Dipper looked at his grunkle with a nervous expression, then nodded. “Okay. But I don’t know if we have much longer -- Grunkle Ford’s been….” His eyes trailed to the door. “He’s not himself.”

“...yeah.” Stan looked over at the vending machine. “I just hope that we can get this figured out before he breaks something.” He rose to his feet and patted Dipper through his hat. “Come on; let’s get dinner going and send something down to Ford before he hurts himself.”

“I’ll take you to Addi tomorrow,” Mabel said to Wendy.

“Looking forward to it.”

Time Break

It was about midnight when Ford dug his way out of the basement and scrambled out from under the porch. Despite the repairs made from that summer which hardly anyone spoke of, there was still some parts of the ground that had given way.

And now that he was out in the open, he could reach the siren whose song was intertwined with his mind.

Ford started humming the siren’s song softly as he walked away from the Mystery Shack without looking back. The night outside of his head was quiet, and if there were any creatures in his path, they skittered away as he went past, hiding in the trees.

At some point -- he wasn’t really paying attention as to when -- his voice dipped into a harmony with the song in his mind. It must have sounded off to those who couldn’t hear the melody, but Ford wasn’t thinking of others’ opinions.

His only focus was on the song and the siren it had come from.

It didn’t feel like it took him long to reach the lake. The moonlight reflecting off the calm water’s surface only made Addi’s own presence, draped over a rock with a proper merfolk tail, even more noticeable. The light gleamed off her scales as Ford drew closer, eyes clearly glazed and entranced as he continued to hum his quiet harmony.

Addi noticed him break through the trees and approach, and a relieved smile broke across her face and she motioned for Ford to come closer. “I knew you would find me.”

Ford approached and knelt next to the rock at the edge of the shore that Addi had chosen as a perch. She slipped her fingers in through his hair, and he leaned into it instantly. “Couldn’t stay away.”

“I know.” Addi giggled quietly. “I’m glad you came. I missed you.”

The song in Ford’s head said he felt the same way; he made a quiet noise and closed his eyes as Addi kept working her fingers through his curls.

Addi smiled at Ford’s response, but then her gaze moved to the yarn-and-shells “acquaintance bracelet” that was still wrapped around her wrist. She’d taken off the “shirt” as soon as Mabel and Stan had left -- it felt so liberating to be out of it -- but she hadn’t removed the bracelet and for the life of her she couldn’t figure out why.

“Well, if you let him go we can consider it water under the bridge.”

Addi frowned, then shook her head. No; Ford was her pet; he needed her to keep an eye on him and make sure he was safe.

“Dr. Pines makes the best gnome repellent in town!”

“He’s one of those science-y people -- and the only one that does that kind of thing around here.”

Addi frowned as the voices from the daylight hours bounced around in her head. “Ford, pet?”

Ford looked up, expression glazed and blank.

“Are you a scientist?”

Ford blinked. “Why? Do you want me to be?”

“No, I -- I just -- before. Before I found you.”

Ford frowned, confused. “That doesn’t matter, does it?”

Addi wasn’t sure how to answer that. She remembered how people had talked of Ford in the diner, when she had been eating the pancakes. Mentioned that he knew “what lived in the woods and how to deal with them,” how he was the brother of a hero, how they were willing to protect the Pines and how they were willing to protect others...something about a “never mind all that act”....

Addi looked at the bracelet again as Ford continued to look at her with a confused expression. “Something about this...doesn’t feel right.”

Ford blinked, his expression changing to worried confusion. “What?”

Addi looked at Ford. “Knowing the people that you’ve known...I can’t help but wonder if I made a mistake.” She looked down at the bracelet on her wrist, played with it with one hand.

Ford blinked again. He still looked confused, but there was something else in his eyes now -- a faint recognition.

The enchantment was meant to be strong enough to break off any and all connections to the world above the waves. Addi considered that for a moment.

“Your niece and your brother have said that you lived on your own for thirty years,” Addi said. “That’s a long time to be on the run, and alone.”

Ford’s eyes sparked.

“Knowing that, I don’t know if I can say that you need me to care for you.” Addi pulled her hand away from Ford’s head. “I...I’ve been lonely, for so long. I suppose, after a while I thought that you humans were simply something to keep company. The first ones resisted, of course, but after a while I learned how to keep them in check.” Addi looked Ford over. “Now that...that I’m here, and not where I was...I’m not sure if I need such things anymore.”

With every word Addi spoke, the song at the back of Ford’s mind was starting to struggle to keep up its volume, to hold back the memories that were trickling back into place: the portal, his brother, his family, the very creatures he had run from and survived against.

Ford winced, putting a hand to his forehead as he attempted to stave off the headache. “Nngh.”

Addi looked at him with a guarded expression for a moment, then sighed. “You need to sleep. Being awake for this won’t help.”

That was the only warning she gave him before she started singing softly.

Ford turned his head to look at her sharply at the sound, blinking in pain-riddled confusion. Before he could have a chance to voice anything, however, his eyes grew heavy, and he flopped to the ground. In seconds, he was breathing deeply in sleep.

Addi sang for a few more seconds after Ford had collapsed, then let the song fade. She looked at him for a moment, then quietly shook her head and dove off the rock into the water.

Time Break

When Ford woke up the next morning, it took him a moment to realize he wasn’t on the boat, nor was he barricaded into the basement. He quickly scrambled up to his feet and looked around at the shore of the lake, a confused expression on his face.

It felt like there was something missing from his mind.

He scratched the back of his head, frowning. “Did I forget something…?”

He paused, blinking. His voice felt strange. He rubbed at his neck; his throat didn’t feel sore, nothing felt out of place, but…

“What happened?”

“Grunkle Ford! Grunkle Ford!”

Ford turned sharply at the sound of the voices and barely managed to keep his footing as Dipper and Mabel rammed into him, holding him tightly in a group hug.

“How’d you get out of the basement without unlocking the door?” Dipper demanded.

Ford’s brow furrowed. “I...think I dug my way out? From under the porch?”

Dipper’s eyes widened at that, and he let out a groan. “Of course. The hole I made when I was going after my 38-sided die!”

“Are you okay, Grunkle Ford?” Mabel asked worriedly as Stan came out of the trees, still in his undershirt and boxers.

“I...I’m not sure. It feels like I’ve...forgotten something.” Ford looked around. “But I’m not sure what.”

“Forgotten something?” Stan came over. “Maybe it’s that the sea witch dragged you out here? Seriously, Ford, we’re gonna have to lock you up in the bunker this time if you keep finding ways out. I bet that song in your head is making you forget things.”

“Stanley, there are no doubt other ways out of the bunker now that I could find easily in my sleep; you can’t--” Ford stopped short, blinking in surprise as Dipper and Mabel yawned. “Wait. The song.”

“Yeah; the song is makin’ you forget,” Stan said impatiently. A yawn tried to slip past him, and he fought against it for a moment but it still managed to get out. “Come on, you, let’s get back to the house. Probably gotta get you to sleep a bit or--”

“Stanley, I can’t hear the song anymore.”

Stan stopped short and blinked in surprise. “What.”

“Sh-she did it?” Dipper asked, a hopeful spark in his eyes. “She lifted the spell?”

“It appears so.” Ford rubbed at his neck again. “Although, my voice feels strange.”

“It does sound more sing-y than it normally does.” Mabel yawned again. “It sounds really nice, Grunkle Ford.”

Stan snorted as Ford looked down at Mabel with surprise and an expression of concern. “Probably an after-effect of whatever that sea witch did to ya. Come on; let’s get back to the house. I’m gonna make us some Stancakes.”

“I’ll get right on looking up what sirens can do to people,” Dipper added. “I think I might have seen something about something like this in one of the books we’ve got back in the Shack.” He slipped out of the group hug with Ford and Mabel and started to run back to the house. Stan quickly followed after him.

Ford looked down at Mabel, who looked back up at him rather sleepily. He smiled a little and knelt down before scooping up his niece and carrying her back to the Shack.

At some point along the way, he found himself humming something familiar, and before Ford could catch up to Stan and Dipper at the house, Mabel had long since fallen asleep in his arms.

If he had looked back as he’d left the lake, he would have noticed a rather amused glint of a certain siren’s eyes watching from the surface of the lake.

“Well, it seems this won’t be the last time we see each other.”