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[somedouchebag]

((Not exactly what you described, but I felt inspired sooo....))

Consciousness came upon him in a wave of pain and hunger. Nothing new there, then. It had been so long since Stan had felt anything else, besides complete terror and despair. His whole life had become some kind of nightmare that chilly April night, and he still hadn’t woken up. It must have been months since then. Years, even. It must have been a long time. There was no easy way to gauge time while trapped inside of his own body, fighting every moment to hold on to what remained of his own mind, but it felt like a lifetime. That thing had taken control of his body, his mouth and his hands, his eyes and his ears, and it wasn’t content to stop there. It’s own thoughts pressed against Stan’s, Give up. Just give in. You’ve already lost everything. Why fight? Why bother? Useless human. Stupid meatbag. GIVE UP.

Now though… now the voice was silent. The oppressive void of his own mind felt empty today. Was it asleep? It had never slept before. Even when injured or distracted, Stan had been unable to escape it’s dominating presence. If anything, the more angry it was the more oppressive it became.

Tentatively, Stan reached out for the world. Although his senses were hazy, he could feel them. The air was shifting around the body, and there were quiet sounds of movement. The body ached everywhere, of course it did, and it felt weak with hunger and thirst. It seemed only to feed it enough to survive, and no more. Stan had always wondered if it did so on purpose, to punish him, or if it simply didn’t know any better. It had certainly seemed to understand the importance of food when it had found Stan that April night, scrambling in the trash for scraps, and asked him to trust it. God, what an idiot he’d been. How had he never learned? How many times did he have to be fucked over? Apparently this many times. If Stan ever escaped this living hell, he’d sure as shit not trust a goddamned soul ever again.

The body shuddered, and Stan’s mind stopped short. He shrunk inward reflexively, fully expecting it to return from wherever it had gone. As he waited, however, nothing happened. The emptiness wasn’t going away. It was still gone… and the body had moved. How was that even possible? Had it been some sort of automatic physical reaction? Stan hadn’t felt anything touch the body. What the hell was happening?

“Are you awake?” A voice spoke up suddenly, startling Stan.

Again the body flinched of its own accord.

Gently, so gently he barely felt it, a rough hand lay itself against the body’s shoulder. Fingers stroked it softly. “I know you must be frightened, but you’re safe now. I’ve exorcised the demon from your body. You’re safe now.”

Stan ran through the words over and over again, unable to comprehend them.

“Open your eyes. Just try it for me.”

The idea barely even made sense. And yet… where else could it have gone? It had never left before. Stan tried hard not to get his hopes up, but the sun was coming up on the horizon despite himself.

It took a moment to figure out how to reach out to the body. It had been so long since he’d had a body at all, he’d almost forgotten how to wear it.

With a momentous effort, Stan opened his eyes.

The dim light hit him like a sledgehammer, and the body flinched again as he was momentarily blinded. No, his body flinched. His body, oh God, oh God.

His fingers curled in, clenching, and his heartbeat began to pound in his chest. His lips parted, dry and mute. His eyes became wet.

A face came into view, old and scarred, but with a kind smile on her lips. “You’re safe now, I swear to you.”

Tears kept running down his face. Stan couldn’t stop shaking.

Tattoo Stan AU:"Cipher! Are you kidding me!? How the hell could anyone with a lick of sense fall for his muse trick. A twelve year old could see he's lying his ass off. Cipher...fucking cipher. Why couldn't it be something simple like cthulhu"

“Sit down Ford this is going to take a while.” He growls as he pulled out a journal full of drawings. “And take off the shirt. This is going to be a full body job. We’ll do the most important ones first. Anti-possession to start with…” His voice trails off as he looks through his notes for a moment longer before turning his attention back to his brother, now shirtless.

“You have GOT to be shitting me Ford.” He growls, looking at the full chest (and likely back tattoo) already covering his brothers skin. Ford had the decency to blush in embarrassment as he tensed and let his shirt drop.

“Shut it Stan. He…I trusted him a bit too much. Now if we can get to work I would prefer not to worry about getting possessed ever again!”

[somedouchebag]

I love the idea that Ford gets a bunch of creepy and Bill-related tattoos. Can you just imagine Fiddleford’s reaction when he walks in on Ford, hunched over at the table with a tattoo gun, talking to thin air about the Illuminati tattoos he’s giving himself? He rebuilt parts of his house to resemble Bill, presumably painted huge tapestries of Bill HIMSELF, and gave Bill total rights to his body. A few tattoos seem pretty trivial in comparison. 

I also like the idea that he scars and covers them up later, buuuut that’s a different post.

[somedouchebag]

While I’ve never been a big fan of old!Ford, I can’t help but wonder how the whole “Bill wooed me and convinced me to build a portal to hell and also paint two dozen pictures of him and write sappy diary entries” thing went down. Ford can be magnificently vain, but I think the fact that he fell hook line and sinker for Bill’s lines reveals how desperate he is for genuine praise. Not in the same way Stan is- Stan would laugh at the concept that he was somehow special and blow Bill off as the con-artist he is. Ford though, he loved having his ego stroked, and I think he liked finally having another partner. He’d always been told that he was destined for something greater- and here a multidimensional semi-god waltzes in with just such a destiny. Sure, why not.

Now, I’d never ship a grown man with a literal triangle, but I’m also saying that I kind of ship a grown man with a literal triangle.

[somedouchebag]

Another Stan headcanon

Stan’s fear of heights comes from the years when he was embroiled in crime. Some mobsters he’d crossed one too many times dangle him over the edge of a building batman-style, and he legitimately things they’re gonna throw him off and kill him. They don’t, for one reason of another, but he never quite gets over that (well, until canon, haha)

Also, I like to think the guy who did it had an eyepatch. Maybe Stan accidentally hurt one of his eyes and he was getting revenge. I guess this is batman-ish too, but I like the idea that Stan picks an eyepatch for his Mr. Mystery outfit not just to be mysterious, but because he thinks it makes him menacing.

[somedouchebag]

A lot of people headcanon that Stan was at some point a prostitute...

And while I don’t have anything against the theory, I have my own headcanon concerning this.

Stan was only paid for sex once, and that was on accident. He was ready to get hammered at a bar since he’d run into a bit of cash during a bad stretch, and some rich looking young guy clearly flying the coop for the first time comes over and flirts with him. Even if the guy’s just experimenting, Stan’s flattered, and although he really prefers women (he’s only been with another guy once or twice before) he’s glad for the company. 

They go and have sex in the back of his car, and Stan actually enjoys himself more than he has in quite a while. There’s some banter and adorkable pillow talk. The guy’s sweet and naive and clearly a college boy, and that definitely hits some of Stan’s brother issues right in the soft spot (I don’t ship it, but come on, this guy). 

Afterwords, while enjoying the afterglow, the guy turns to Stan and asks him really awkwardly how much he owes him. It all comes crashing down on Stan what’s happened, and he’s so angry and ashamed, but he’s been going hungry and his car really needs a tune up, so he takes the cash and flees the county that night.

[somedouchebag]

AU idea: the Stans are raised separately, they meet years later when Ford is a crazy Bill cultist

When the Stans pop out twins, Ma Pines wants to keep them both, but Filbrick is having none of that. So naturally, he puts the Freak up for adoption. They keep Stanley, and Ford is shipped off to a foster home.

It doesn’t take Filbrick long to realize he doesn’t like the son he got. Stan is clever, but would much rather run around in the woods than pay attention in class, and while he has no smarter brother to be compared to, he’s still branded the “stupid” son. He doesn’t get harassed quite so much, but he still has a lonely childhood, without any close friends or confidants. When he’s about 10, he finds out about Ford, when Filbrick admits to Ma that he regrets choosing Stan over Ford. Stan’s mortified, but can’t get the idea of a twin brother out of his head. Someone to be his best friends, to play with and trust and live his life with. He starts to idolize Ford, without even meeting him, and it doesn’t help that Filbrick does the same, making it very clear that he’s disappointed with how Stan’s turning out. Stan starts picking fights and skipping school, and at 17 Stan flunks his Junior year. Filbrick kicks Stan out, and off he goes to have his 10 year drifter journey he has in canon.

Meanwhile, Ford was raised by a healthy, if not quite loving, foster family, and he still grew up lonely and bullied. No one understood him, or wanted to, and he always wondered if his original family gave him up because there was just something wrong with him. He works his way through college, where he meets his first real friend, Fiddleford. They aren’t very close though cause Ford’s kind of a weird loner with no idea how to talk to people, and he doesn’t follow him to GF later on. Ford still places a lot of importance on his intelligence, but it always feels like something’s missing, and he’s never stopped wishing there was someone in his life he could rely on.

Here comes Bill. Bill finds Ford in Gravity Falls, where Ford was performing research same as canon. However, Ford has never really felt betrayed before, and his ego’s weaker, so he falls under Bill’s spell even harder than in canon. Bill recognizes this, and decides to do something he loves doing: start a cult of Bill! It takes some prodding, but Ford gets into it, creating a huge creepy Gravity falls Cipher cult.

Ever since Stan was kicked out, he’s been looking for his brother on-and-off. When they’re about 30, he finally tracks Ford down. Cue adorable family bonding, jealous Bill, and shit hitting the fan.

[somedouchebag]

A Little Compassion - a Gravity Falls/Monster crossover fic

Yeah, seriously. It doesn’t make much sense, but the idea of Stan running into the adorable Dr. Tenma breaks my heart, so here it is.

No knowledge of Monster required - it is a brief encounter from Stan’s POV after all.

AO3 Link

During his years as a drifter, Stan has a brief encounter with a surprisingly compassionate stranger.

---

Stan had been planning this con for days, and it’d seemed like a pretty good plan. Break into some of the big mansions during holiday season and take their stuff. He knew his way around those fancy security systems, and a few cleaning ladies wouldn’t be much of a fight if it came to that.

Of course, that was assuming that everything wouldn’t immediately go to hell. Stan felt like an idiot now for ever thinking it’d be that simple. It was never that simple with him. He could go to buy fucking groceries and it’d turn into a knife fight with mobsters and a police chase. Which is basically what had happened this time too. Why mobsters were just hanging around random mansions, he didn’t know, but they’d clearly set off some kind of alarm, because as soon as Stan had slipped through their greasy fingers, he’d come right out onto a street of blaring sirens.

He dashed down the first dark side-street, then another, praying a cruiser wouldn’t see him and follow him down. He slammed himself against the wall of the first side alley before bothering to check it was empty. It was, for just a moment, before a similarly out-of-breath man came pelting in from the other side. Stan considered bolting, but the sirens seemed to be getting further away, so he just stood there, ten feet from this other guy, both of them leaning on the wall and gasping.

“Were you one of the guys who tripped the alarms?” Stan asked once he’d caught his breath, turning to look at the man warily. He looked Japanese, and was maybe ten years older than Stan judging by his face. He looked just as scruffy, with long, greasy hair, bruised eyes, and hands clutching at a shabby coat. A good sign- the gangsters had been rich European types. He turned to face Stan sharply.

“What?” He asked, panic and suspicion cracking in his eyes. The guy was utterly transparent. He had a weird accent too- almost Japanese but with a bit of a bite to it. Stan wanted to laugh. He wondered how a guy this conspicuous had even managed to get away in the first place.

“Well, I know I didn’t trip no alarms. It was either you, or those mobsters, and either way I want no part in it.” Stan waved his finger a few times for good measure and made to push himself to his feet. Halfway up, though, the aching in his side spiked, and he couldn’t help groaning. He peeled back his sweatshirt to find his shirt slick and red. “Aw, shit.”

“Are you hurt?” The other man said, coming closer. Stan tried to back away, but another sharp pain hit him, and he slid down the wall. The man tried again, more urgently. “Please, I’m a doctor.”

Stan narrowed his eyes and looked the man up and down again. He certainly didn’t seem like a doctor, even a mob one. Those guys were paid quite well. This guy though… his clothing might once have been nice, but it had clearly been overworn to the point of decay, and his stubbly, exhausted face didn’t exactly inspire trust. Ever since Columbia Stan had been making an effort to trust no one, no matter how trustworthy they seemed, and he wasn’t about to forget his lesson after only eight months back in the states.

“I swear, I’m not with any gang, or with the cops. But if you won’t let me look at it, please go to the hospital. That might not be serious, but without getting a closer look… it could be bad.” The man had knelt down and was giving Stan a wide-eyed, sincere look of genuine worry, while also staying a polite distance away. It was almost disconcerting, and it was certainly disarming. Stan couldn’t remember the last time anyone had expressed worry for his wellbeing, even sarcastically. He was trying very hard not to be touched by the gesture.

“Look,” Stan said finally, telling himself it was only to get the weirdo off his back. “Let’s get out’a here before the cops come back. Then maybe you can take a look at it.”

To his surprise, the man nodded, and reached a hand out to help him up. He didn’t take it, of course, but again he found it difficult to ignore the little warmth in his chest at the gesture.

Stan had begun to suspect that the man might be new to this sort of thing, if he was running around offering medical help to obviously shady criminals, but once they were off he showed himself quite adept at escaping the bad guys. He was quiet, quick, and good at taking his silent cues. Stan couldn’t help but approve of the guy’s cool head under fire.

After a good twenty minutes of slipping through back alleys and dashing across dark streets, Stan was pretty sure they’d lost both the mobsters and the authorities. They’d at least managed to reach a part of town where they didn’t stand out quite so much, and it was only another twenty minutes from where Stan had parked his car. He was trying to figure out how to ditch the new guy when he came to a stop beside him.

“This is where I’m staying.” He said. “I can go get some supplies.”

Stan stared at the guy like an idiot, unable to comprehend what he’d jut said. “What?”

The man tried again. “You should have your wound looked at. I have supplies upstairs if you wait here for me.”

“You’re kidding me, right?” Stan said. The man sighed.

“If not me, if not the hospital, you need to fix it up yourself soon, or you could get an infection. You should wash it in warm water and bind it tightly, with something clean preferably. If it starts to hurt more, you have to go to a hospital, even if that means you risk getting caught. You were stabbed in a dangerous place.”

Stan could only shake his head in disbelief, as he realized that this guy was being totally, 100% serious. Who did he think he was, Mother Teresa? It was ridiculous. And yet… his vision was starting to get a bit hazy, and the burning had morphed into a low-grade agony. He could definitely afford to sit down for a few minutes. And what would a few minutes be, anyways? They’d lost the guys a neighborhood ago.

“Alright.” He found himself saying. He leaned against the brick wall of the alley and let himself slide down until he was sitting. “Alright.”

The doctor nodded and dashed off. He was only gone a few minutes before he came into sight again. Stan had been half convinced he wouldn’t. When he appeared it was with a large black bag under his arm and a rat-faced man trailing after him. They spoke briefly before the other man nodded and jogged away.

“Who was he?” Stan grunted, shoving himself up.

The doctor knelt beside him and shook his head “No one. Once I fix you up I’ve got to move on. I’ll meet him later.” Stan’s head had started to spin, so he only nodded.

“Alright, I need you to pull up your shirt for me. Can you do that?”

Again Stan nodded, although he rolled his eyes this time. He winced as the slick cloth slid up his abdomen and tugged at the wound, but he grit his teeth and resolutely didn’t cry out as the man slipped on a glove and poked gently at the bleeding hole in his side. When the doctor pulled away, Stan forced his jaw apart. “So, what is it, doc?”

“Good.” He said, smiling. “I was worried your organs may have been nicked, but it seems like it’s a superficial wound. It’s deep, and it’ll scar, but it should heal fine.”

He then proceeded to do doctory type stuff. Stan tried not to pay too close attention, because he was plenty busy trying not to groan or wince too obviously. He didn’t have much in this shitty life, but he’d always had his pride, dammit, and he wasn’t about to lose it now, after everything he’d been through.

After the doc finished cleaning up the wound, both of them relaxed somewhat. Stan finally opened his eyes again, and a pleasant smile settled on the doc’s face. A bad sign if ever there was one.

“So, if the alarm wasn’t you, what had you running?” The doc asked, as if he were asking about the weather.

“You first. What were you doin’ in those big fancy houses that had so many mobsters around?”

The doc kept working, but his face settled into a thoughtful expression. “I’m… looking for someone.”

“Gee, don’t overload me with the details doc, I don’t think I can take it.” Stan rolled his eyes. Though the answer was more interesting than he cared to admit; the guy certainly didn’t look like some kind of hitman or deliveryman. Maybe he wanted some kind of personal revenge? Stan could get that.

The doc smiled again, slyly. “I would ask if you have seen him, but something tells me you don’t usually come through here.” He was right. Stan had only come for the few nights he needed to prepare for the con. “Your turn.”

Despite what a slick guy he usually was, it almost slipped his mind that this stranger had offered his services first, and so he didn’t really owe him anything. Stan couldn’t help but feel that he did. It was his stupid loyalty. It kept screwing up his whole life, again and again, but he couldn’t even help himself. He was a soft-hearted idiot.

“I just needed some cash.” He said. “Simple as that. A man’s gotta eat.”

The doc frowned and nodded. Stan half-expected some condescending answer about getting a job, but it shouldn’t have surprised him when none came. The guy might be a real doctor, but he was thin and scruffy, and he’d run just as fast as Stan when the sirens had started singing. He didn’t look like the kind of guy that had been able to hold a ‘real job’ in a while.

The doc was finishing up his bandages when he spoke again. “You got anyone you can stay with for a while? This kind of wound should really be treated with bed rest.”

Stan tried not to flinch. He didn’t know many people in the Northwest, certainly not in Oregon, but he did know one. One he’d been trying not to think about for weeks now, as he circled the state aimlessly on cheap fuel and shitty excuses. It was Columbia that’d done it- it’d terrified him in more ways than he’d care to admit, and like a little kid he’d gone running back home. First he’d gone to New Jersey, very briefly, just long enough to see the beaches and for the cops to recognize him, and then he’d crossed the country to come here. He’d barely crossed the state lines before getting nauseas, and he’d felt like vomiting for over a month now, but the idea of leaving made him feel even sicker.

The doc was waiting for an answer still, but Stan couldn’t open his mouth.

“At least try to take it easy,” He said once he’d finished binding him up, reaching out his hand again for Stan to take. This time he did, and the man helped heave him up. The world spun for a moment, then settled down, and Stan could breath normally again. It hurt, but not so much as it had. The doc had given him some sort of pain salve. He stood, orienting himself and testing his new injury as gently as possible, as the doc packed up his things. His bag seemed to hold a mix of medical supplies and folders full of papers and pictures. He’d probably been tracking his guy down for weeks, maybe months. Stan felt a burst of kinship for another hopeless loser who didn’t know enough to know when to quit.

The doc slung his bag over his arm and looked up. His lips were tight, but his wide eyes had never lost their disconcerting warmth. He stepped closer and put a hand on Stan’s shoulder. After having the man’ fingers in his side, his touch on his arm seemed light.

“You probably don’t care what a stranger has to say,” He said, voice apologetic, “But that someone here you wish you could stay with? I don’t know what it is that happened between you two, but whatever it is… clearly they mean a lot to you. If you really regret what happened, I’m sure they’ll give you another chance.”

Stan couldn’t even tell the doc to fuck off. He was struck dumb. The doc patted his arm lightly, nodded, and turned away. Soon he was alone in the alleyway, just standing like an idiot, clutching his freshly bandaged wound and staring after the guy.

He wished… God he wished it was that easy. He grabbed his jacket and closed his eyes and had to try very hard not to start puking or crying or something equally pitiful. Here he was, getting himself gutted in Salem, Oregon, going to bed hungry and risking getting caught again and going to prison again, and a random fucking stranger gave more of a shit about his stupid life than his own twin brother. That realization hurt more than any physical knife could, and Stan cursed his own weakness as a few tears began to pool in his eyes. Fuck it.

“Fuck this place.” He growled. He drug his sleeve across his face and turned to go. He didn’t care where. Florida, maybe. As far as he could get from fucking Gravity Falls, Oregon.

[somedouchebag]

Oh shit. Oh shit.

“It’s not your fault she doesn’t understand, Fiddleford. She’s not like us.”

“What are you tryin’ to say, Stanford?”

“I mean... well, you know what it’s like, to be misunderstood, ridiculed for being different. But we understand, being different isn’t bad, it’s good! People like you and I, we’re the ones who change history!”

Thinking of all the people Ford has manipulated:

Ford what did you do to Fiddleford!? How badly did you hurt him?! Did you give him the same treatment you gave Dipper this episode!?

“You don’t need a wife! Who needs to be tied down anyway? She’s just holding you back and you know it. Now come on, let’s go explore that spaceship again.”

[somedouchebag]

I desperately want that realization too, but I think this episode shows that it will never be as satisfying as we all want it to be. The sad truth is that sometimes, you love and rely on someone way, way more than they’ve ever loved or relied on you, and Ford feeling bad at this point can’t take back what an ass he’s been. I’m kind of surprised to see a kid’s show take on that kind of tragedy with Stan. It would feel best, emotionally, for Ford to realize the error of his ways and somehow repay Stan for all that he’s given him, or at least feel appropriately ashamed.. But there can be no repayment. Stan has given and given, and it’s been shown that Ford still feel HE’S the one who’s been wronged here. At this point, I think the resolution is going to come when Stan moves on (which he’s already begun to), and when the kids recognize that they aren’t like their grunkles, and don’t have to be.

“Gosh, we’ve never really been apart before….”

“And isn’t it suffocating?”

[somedouchebag]

Stan, from gravity-what’s lumberjack AU. This is Stan pretty early on in his successful career as a lumberjack, and so he still looks more like a hipster than a real lumberjack.

[somedouchebag]

The classy and clever Princess Unatainabelle and the much trashier Approving Duchess.

Blame this wonderful mess.

[somedouchebag]

JAIME REYES IM COMIN HONEY

How To Cast & Mold Armor

Planning and Referencing

Body Casting

Sculpting

Casting

Molding the Armor

Attaching and Fitting

Electronics

Painting

[somedouchebag]

Someone asked that this be rebloggable so HURR YOU GO

Patterns are really dumb in telling you to finish the body of an outfit, then finish the sleeve, then attach a circle to a circle. It’s possible to do, don’t get me wrong, but unless you have a...