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littlemonstersau-blog · 5 years

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The Feels Awaken, Interlude: Attack of the Clonesuit

Written by @jkl-fff, illustrated by me

PART I - PART II [Interlude] (you are here) - PART III

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Ford, leafing listlessly through notes: … Suppose I could go out and look more into this anomaly … or that one, any of them, really —anything’d be better than just sitting here … moping. Yes, moping, that’s really what I’m doing right now. All that I’m doing right now. Moping … [sighs heavily, stands up and paces around room aimlessly; roving eyes land on a shelf of scientific glassware with several empty decanters among them; swallows drily] Damn, a drink would really hit the spot right about now … Gah, no! How pathetic can I be, wanting a drink now, after decades of sobriety! Still wanting a drink at all, just because … just because I’m missing the kids … Damn it, man, pull yourself together! [takes off glasses with one hand, slaps self with other] Are you a scientist or a sentimentalist?! [slaps self again] Focus on your intellect! [slaps self a third time] They’ll be back here soon enough to visit for Fall Break, you can look forward to that, so stop all this … this sniveling! [resumes pacing] … Gah, that Demon’ll probably sour their visit for me, too. Just like he’s soured everything else in my life of late … Besides, he’s already had too much influence over them as is, and them coming back risks him gaining even more of one; would be far, far better if they never came within 100 miles of him ever again … I can … I can go to them, anyway. Stan and I. We can go down to Piedmont and see them safely that way, or … or I can call or use that skyelp program just about any evening … Yes … Yes … So no more of this sniveling and moping and such …

Bill, through the elevator intercom: Hey, Stanford?! I’m coming down now, so … uh, put away the crossbow and the dirty magazines! Haha … ha … um, yeah …Th-that was just a joke, by the way! Except for the part about the crossbow, obviously, ‘cause I would appreciate it if you put that away instead of putting a bolt in this vessel! So, um … yeah, here I come! (79 Hells, that was awkward …)

Ford, muttering and jumping back to desk: Grrr! Now?! Pigcrap fucksnorkel, this is the last thing I need right now! [sits in an exaggeratedly nonchalant pose; turns and glares as Bill steps out of the elevator] What is it, Cipher, can’t you see I’m very busy?

Bill, holding up two cans of Pitt: Thought you might, I dunno, like something cold to drink? [sets one can down on the desk]

Ford: … Why are you wearing a sock puppet?

Bill, shrugging: I could ask you the same thing.

Ford: No, you couldn’t.

Bill: Sure, I could. It wouldn’t make sense, but I could. [cracks open own drink, takes a sip] So, um, how you doin’?

Ford: You still haven’t answered my question.

Bill, shielding his mouth with non-puppet hand, whispering: He just showed up on his own, and I can’t get him to leave no matter how many hints I drop.

Ford, turning away: A feeling I relate to on a deep, spiritual level. [pretends to resume reviewing notes]

Bill: Now you still haven’t answered my question. How you doin’?

Ford: … Tired. And getting more and more tired with every second I spend in your company. So I repeat, what is it? What do you want?

Bill, sighing, leaning against the desk: I just … wanna talk is all, I guess? It gets kinda lonely, y’know, without the Twins here. And I do know y’know about that.

Ford, hiding embarrassment: What are you implying?

Bill: C’mon, Ford. We all miss them. And, I dunno, that’s got me all sentimental about … [takes a deep breath, looks at Ford, lets himself be vulnerable] about other people I miss spending time with, too.

Ford, looking away: Yes, well, if you burn a bridge, you can’t really complain about not being able to cross back over again, can you?

Bill, through sock puppet: Bridges can be rebuilt, can’t they?

Ford: …

Bill, through sock puppet: Can’t they?

Ford: … Not some bridges. Now leave me alone, please, because I have a lot of work to do.

Bill, stiffening up: Fine, if that’s what you want. Sit down here and brood in the dark, ignoring all the people who’re concerned about your health and happiness.

Ford: Pff, right! Sure, you are.

Bill: I am, though! I’m concerned about your health! So are Stan, Soos and Melody, and the Twins would be, too, if they could see you like this—Mabel and Dipper!

Ford: I’m fine, Cipher. You don’t know what you’re talking about.

Bill: Me and Stan’re especially concerned about you, I think. Prob’ly ‘cause we know you the best.

Ford, reddening: I asked you nicely to leave me alone once already. I won’t ask nicely again.

Bill, through sock puppet while stomping towards exit: I guess you would know about burning bridges, right? I mean, you’ve been slowburning a bunch of ‘em lately, haven’t you?

Ford, raising his voice: What’s that supposed to mean?

Bill, through sock puppet: How many years d’you spend missing your brother so much it ached, huh? I mean, you had me play him in your fantasies hundreds of times—literally. 872 times with him as a major character by my count over the years we spent together! [whirls around at the elevator door and points, which looks especially accusing and grotesque coming through a hand puppet] Yet, even though he’s back, you won’t even enjoy your time with him just ‘cause I’m around!? Just ‘cause he doesn’t spit and hiss at the sight of me like a Vampire at sunlight?! You murmur and grumble and carry on and act … act mean and bitter at him for that?! Well, Fordsy, if that ain’t slowburning a bridge, I don’t know what is!

Ford, stung: Y-you … Shut up, Cipher.

Bill, pointing petulantly at the sock: It’s not me. It’s him. [speaking through the sock again] And you’re doing it to everyone else! Including the Twins!

Ford, on his feet: Get. Out. Now.

Bill, whirling on his heel: We’re already gone! [storms back into the elevator and upstairs with it]

Ford, covering face to contain fury: That little, monocular— No, Stanford. D-don’t let him get to you … fffff … Don’t let … that smart-talking shitass—No, d-don’t … fffff … don’t … [eyes land on decanters again; desire for a drink spikes, which makes fury explode inside of him] Graaaaargh! [stomps over, seizes first decanter, hurls it at wall; it shatters] That greasepainted, crap-piling, illuminati fuck hat and [hurls second decanter at wall; it shatters] cyclopes poseur in a mustache-twirled, pan-licking ass wad [hurls third decanter at wall; it shatters] of a grephew’s face-stealing TURD BREATH! [stands huffing and puffing for a moment; leans against wall, slides down until sitting on floor, buries face in hands]

Ford, eventually beginning to calm down: Says he’s “concerned about my health and happiness”—pah!—right … Heard that one before, haven’t I?

[remembers from more than 30 years ago …

Bill, inside Ford’s mind: Uh, you sure this is a good idea?

Ford, scaling an improvised novi-wave receiver: Sure! *cough* Why do you ask?

Bill: Let’s just say I’m concerned for your health and wellbeing.

Ford, shifting a bag of materials, climbing higher: Huh. What for? I’m not *cough cough* sick at all.

Bill: Only ‘cause of the major storm—strong winds, pounding rain, and constant lightning—raging around you while you climb up a structure made of conductive metals that doesn’t have a lot of really solid hand and footholds for your gravity-bound meatbag.

Ford, laughing: Oh, that! Don’t worry, this’ll only take another *cough cough* minute or two.

[lightning cracks nearby]

Ford, still laughing: Whoa! Haha! That one was close! [foot slips on wet metal; catches self] Whoops! Heh, clumsy me … Better hurry up! *cough*

Bill, obviously worried: Y’know what? I think you should just leave it for now. Wait until the storm clears, do something about that wet cough like … like have some ginger tea!

Ford: The forecast said it’s *cough* to continue all week. If I *cough* don’t fix this now, we’ll lose all that work time.

Bill: Yeah, but if you fall and break one of your fleshsticks, we’ll lose even more time. Assuming a fall doesn’t, y’know, do worse. Like kill you. Also, you getting pneumonia is a thing that could cause us to lose even more time.

Ford, dismissively: It’s fine. I’ll be fine. *cough*

Bill, almost desperately: Hey, know what? Not being able to work the rest of this week might be an okay thing! Like, you could take a break. Relax a little, get several full nights’ sleep. Eat a few square meals at regular times with all that nutrient stuff you meatbags need, stave off scurvy and other illnesses you could catch as a result of skipping meals and sleep. Doesn’t that sound like fun? We could even have extra play sessions in your mindscape! Eh? Eh?!

Ford, tempted: You’re a *cough cough* good friend, Bill, but I need to concentrate on this right now.

comes out of his memory …]

Ford, sitting in the lab: Heh … I did fall in the end. Didn’t break anything, just got the wind knocked out of me and was bruised for a bit, but still … Was that when Cipher first recommended I get an assistant? Someone who’d help me build his infernal portal? [sighs, admits] No, I thought an assistant could help me build the portal. Cipher said I needed one to stop me “dying like an idiot during monster hunts” and make me “perform basic self-care for meatbags” from day to day. I was the one who thought it could be someone to help with the portal. [face turning red with shame] I … It was me who made the Electron Carpet to try to switch him— Fiddleford, someone I dared call a f-friend—with Cipher … That was entirely me … When I suggested we use it for that, he actually told me it was a terrible idea—told me Fiddleford was there to help keep my “moments of near suicidal dumbassery in check” and ease my workload, not increase both of them … [chuckles incredulously] That was the first time Cipher and I ever had an argument … He said he was worried about me, and the thing I invented the most was new ways to make him worry …

[remembers the argument, which ended with both of them screaming “FUCK YOU!” at each other in different voices until it stopped being angry and started being hilarious …

remembers flashes from times he and Bill worked together, succeeded together, advanced SCIENCE! together …

remembers flashes from times he and Bill laughed together, played together, bonded together, had so much fun together …

remembers flashes from times he and Bill spent inside Ford’s mindscape, and how good it felt to relive his memories of better times, to play out all his wild fantasies …]

Ford, resting head against wall, gazing at dark ceiling: Cipher’s not … not the only one who misses spending time with … other people … who misses the old days … And—Moses!— I’m so, so tired from always being on guard … from always reminding myself what he really is … what he’s done, what he could do if he got the chance … So tired from always keeping myself angry and bitter … from always stoking this animosity … So tired from always pitting myself against him … Well, against everyone else, too … [heaves self upright and dusts off coat; rubs temples; sighs heavily] Could I be entirely wrong about Bill? Is it really possible he has changed, and I’m just being a stubborn, old fool? Am I making everyone else … Am I making myself unhappy for no real reason? [sighs heavily again] Not the first time I’ve asked that question, and the answer’s the same as always. I can’t afford to take that chance—this whole dimension can’t afford for me to take that chance. And it’s selfish of me to even consider it, given the stakes … What’re my desires and my health and my personal happiness against the safety of this whole dimension for the rest of eternity? And … what’s the happiness of my family, even? [shakes head woefully] I want to believe Bill, but he has conned me before … Besides, he’s immortal; he can afford to play a long game, just wait until I die or waver … That’s why I can’t give in. I just can’t … ever …

[sound from overhead like heavy objects being rearranged]

Ford, flopping into chair at desk: Fffffuck, I wish … I wish there was a solution to this dilemma … a way to untie this Gordian Knot … More than anything in the world … [picks up Pitt, cracks it open, takes a swig; eventually looks at pile of shattered decanters] That’s going to be a bitch to clean up …

Stan, through the basement intercom: Poindexter, you down here? I’m comin’ down, so get out the crossbow and the dirty magazines! [takes elevator down to the lab, notices pile of broken glass and Ford’s drained expression] Yeesh, what happened here? You try playin’ jenga with champagne flutes, or something?

Ford, sighing: … Had a … a temper tantrum, guess you’d say. Threw all the old decanters against the wall because they reminded me how badly I want a drink sometimes.

Stan: Well, darn. We could’ve sold those; some of ‘em were really nice crystal … But, more importantly, you feelin’ better?

Ford, taking a reflective sip of Pitt: … Not really, no. I loathe how much, even now, even still, sometimes I want a drink more than anything in the world … Makes me feel like … like …

Stan, walking up to rub his shoulders: Yeah?

Ford: Like nothing’s changed—maybe more like I haven’t changed— not really, even after everything … Mmm, that feels good, Stanly …

Stan: I can understand the feelin’, Sixer … Some days … Well, some days are just bad days. Some days, all the crap from the past tumbles outta the closet in your head, and there’s nothin’ much you can do about it. [leans down, lightly kisses top of his brother’s head] But there’s also nothin’ wrong with takin’ some time off from all the crap, either, on those days.

Ford: Yeah?

Stan: Yeah. I been thinkin’ we could use some time off. All of us. Chance to disconnect and decompress from day-to-day life, y’know. We should do a movie day—just spend the rest of today together watchin’ some far out flicks, not worryin’ ‘bout anything in particular. Whaddya say, Sixer?

Ford, wavering: All of us, you said? Well … [sighs] Yeah, sure, okay. Why the heck not? What’re we watching?

#little monsters au #the feels awaken #billdip #bipdip #ford #bill cipher #bipper #writing #fanfiction #i'll let you guys guess what are they gonna watch c:#submission

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