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It would he about different people (not Team Phantom) noticing strange things happening to their shadows, thinking they are having hallucinations and becoming clutzy/having small accidents
It becomes several cases of paranoia as they believe they are being overshadowed or that there is Something Bigger than ghosts out there, because ghosts are noisy and destructive, not sneaky!
And as the people get worse and worse, it's revealed to the reader that it was just Shadow being bored and spying on people for fun whilst Jhonny is away on a date with Kitty.
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Hi! Sorry to bother you, I just saw a comment on a post you made and wanted to know, what's paperclipping? I already googled it but there are apparently several definitions of it and I'm not sure I get it.
Paperclipping is the general practice in legislature of adding provisions and laws to seemingly unrelated bills. I.E. Protections for workers during a crisis in what is initially touted as a bailout bill, or authorizing oil drilling in a property bill. Etc.âSneaking Stuff Inâ basically.
Summary: Fordâs opinion on his brother changes fast when he volunteers to swap clothes, and later he decides to have a talk with Stan about it. (No ship)
My follower giveaway prize fic for @ave-aria! Thanks for such a good request.
Like this fic? I have kofi fic commissions open!
Link to fic on Ao3
Wordcount: 1525
Rating: G, no warnings (all canon compliant, more âmissing sceneâ than anything)
Ford realized how much he loved his brother when he saw him fall to his knees after Bill entered his mind.
He got close a few minutes earlier, though, when Stan snapped his fingers and demanded Ford hand over his sweater, already tugging his sweat-stained suit pants down over his shoes.
â...What?â
âLook, we got one shot at this. I know how to shimmy out of these things pretty quick but we donât know how long weâve got. Gimme your clothes.â
It clicked then, and Ford didnât know how he didnât see it before, and he realized his brother was an absolute genius. But they were still running on adrenaline and Ford was still sore and achey from Billâs torture and doesnât dwell on the revelation. After all, Stan was a con artist. Tricks like this were what he did. He stripped quickly, trading everything with Stan.
Stan started rummaging around in the trench coatâs pockets. âYou got anything sharp in here? A letter opener or some kinda alien gizmo?â
âWhat for?â Ford asked. âWe canât exactly stab Bill.â
âNot that.â Stan gestured to the side of his face. âYour hair. Looks like Bill fried part of it off or something, and thatâs gonna be a giveaway.â
Ford dug into the pockets of Stanâs pants and pulled out a small swiss army knife. Stan grabbed it, using the knife part to hack off the sideburns. âThere we go. Now, just act like Iâm an idiot for agreeing to the deal, got it?â
âRight. Yes, got it.â Ford said, in awe of how quickly Stan had taken control of the situation. Perhaps he was still recovering from the electric shocks. Stan cleared his throat.
âBill, you asshole.â He sounded exactly like Ford. Perhaps a bit more gravelly, but Ford himself wasnât at his best, so it was forgivable. He flashed a grin. âYour turn.â
âBill, you asshole!â It felt good to say, and Stan laughed.
âNot bad, but you gotta really lean in on it. You know what I sound like.â
âOf course I do.â Ford said in his best impression of Stanâs voice, and Stanâs face hardened as they heard screams and thundering footsteps.
âItâll work. It has to.â
________
The knob on the side of the memory gun felt wrong under his sweaty fingers. Stan had collapsed to his knees, head thrown back and fingers brushing the bricks below. Bill was inside of his brother. As soon as he realized he was tricked, he was going to wreck havoc, and destroy him. He couldnât just erase âBILL CIPHERâ. Bill would burrow in, find a way to ruin Stan from the inside out from whatever was left. It needed to be a clean wipe.
âSTAâ Stan hadnât known this was coming. He hadnât spent nearly three decades preparing to die facing Bill. He just saw what needed to be done, and did it. No hesitation.
âNLEYâ Ford didnât want him to go. Stanâs face was⌠almost calm, now. His eyelids didnât even flutter, looking for all the world like he was simply dreaming. Ford hadnât seen that. Most of the time theyâd been together these past weeks, theyâd been snipping at each other, or avoiding each other. Heâd only caught it in glimpses- when Stan was cheering about beating Probabilitor, or relaxed watching TV with the kids. Stolen moments he hadnât been meant to see.
âPIâ That he wouldnât have seen, if Stan hadnât spent thirty years trying to bring him back. Heâd wanted a thank you, and now Ford could never give him a proper one; one that wasnât ground out in irritation for someone he had still seen as the 27-year old that had shoved him into the portal.
âNESâ Heâd be saying goodbye forever when Stan would be saying hello, not knowing what heâd done, what heâd sacrificed.
But Ford would. Ford would know that Stan had saved the world when he hadnât been able to. Stan was the hero of this story, and Ford realized that he would have moved heaven and Earth to save Stan if heâd been the one pushed through the portal now, Bill Cipher be damned.
The memory gun vibrated as he pulled the trigger, hearing it buzz like a bug zapper, frying Stanâs very being from the inside out. It just kept going for a solid minute- there was a lot of Stanley Pines to erase, after all. Fifty eight years of it. Â Beside him, Ford could hear Mabel sniffling and the fabric of Dipperâs jacket shuffling around, and from the corner of his eye he could see that Dipper was wringing the fabric part of his hat.
When the gun had finally erased everything, Fordâs arms dropped. Stan remained on his knees, barely twitching but his mouth had fallen open. What Ford would give to hear a snarky comment, a laugh, a joke that proved he didnât just lose his brother.
Instead, all he heard was the clatter as the memory gun hit the floor. There was noise- the people in the banners had been freed and fell to the floor- but he didnât care, sight locked on Stan. He took a single step forward before the Fearamid shook, the entire structure breaking apart. Dipper and Mabel both grabbed one of his arms, and he held them close. Mabel grabbed Stanâs fez before it was sucked up into the giant X in the sky, hugging it to her chest. While Stanâs hair rustled in the wind, he remained dead to the world, soft breaths lost in the roaring disassembling of Weirdmageddon.
It took them a few minutes to find him after that. It was a miracle heâd been dropped nearby, dazed and still on his knees.
Fordâs heart nearly stopped when Stan didnât recognize Mabel and didnât properly start again until he yelled at the pig.
_______
The next morning, there was a lot to do. Dipper and Mabel had started packing, (Mabel had to figure out which sweaters to keep and which to gift to Candy since she didnât have nearly enough room in her suitcase, something that had invoked some fake swears heâd definitely heard from Stan a few times.) Stan had mentioned they were going to throw the kids a birthday party to Lazy Susan when he stopped by for breakfast, so by now half the town probably was coming.
At the moment, Stan had a pen in his mouth and was trying to tape a banner up over the door to the gift shop. Ford watched for a moment. âHow much do you remember?â
Stan pulled the pen out from between his teeth and tucked it behind his ear. âRemember you should be helping me with this.â Stan said, turning around. âItâs still fuzzy, but I got the main stuff down, I think. I know the kidâs names and your name, and Wendy and Soos. Canât remember the blonde kidâs that stopped by earlier, though.â
âPrestonâs daughter? I admit, I donât quite remember that one either.â Ford said, taking the tape from Stan and tearing off a good-sized piece before handing it back up so Stan could finish. âThere was⌠something I wanted to tell you.â
âIs it bad news? Nobody ever starts good news with âI need to tell you somethingâ, they just say it.â Stan asked. âYou better not be radioactive from alien experiments after everything.â
Ford shook his head, a small smile starting to build. âNo, not that, although it is quite possible parts of me arenât entirely human anymore. No, I wanted to thank you.â
âFor w- oh.â Stan blinked.
âI know how difficult it must have been. I checked over the work you did that was still in the basement lab this morning, and if you only had one journal⌠really, itâs a wonder you didnât do better in school if you managed to rebuild most of the portal with only part of the blueprints. You could have been a great engineer, and a good assistant-â Ford cleared his throat. âAnyways. Thank you. For saving me. I wasnât well when you found me and honestly I havenât always been in the best state since, but Iâm glad you brought me back.â
Stan blinked again, before a grin spread across his face and he grabbed Ford into a tight hug, burying his knuckles in Fordâs hair to give him a noogie.
âHa, knew you had it in you!â
âI just canât believe youâd risk the world for me. I made the warnings clear.â Ford said, half to himself, but Stan let go of him and stepped back.
âOf course I would. Yeah, we were angry at each other, but we were both going through a lotta stuff. Would you have done it for me?â Stan tensed a bit at the question, but Ford laid a hand on his shoulder.
âI might not have then, paranoid and confused, but I certainly would now. I wouldnât want to be here without you.â
That time when Stan hugged him, Ford was fairly certain if his ribs hadnât been reinforced with Algian steel from Quantus 5 they would have cracked.