#LET'S GO STANUARY!!!

[mysteryhackin]

Stanuary 2025 Week 1: Mindscape

HAPPY STANUARY!!! Here is my (slightly belated) entry for @stanuary Week 1: Mindscape! It's a continuation of my take on the "Stan Went Through the Portal Instead of Ford" AU. Enjoy!

Even though he was happy to be home after 30 years of traveling the multiverse, Stan Pines knows he needs to go back through the portal to finally kill Bill Cipher. It's not like there's a place for him anyway. But the night before he was going to go back, his old nemesis Bill visits him in a dream, telling him about a few things he's been up to...

The night that Ford fixed the portal so Stan could go back through saw a quiet and somber dinner, which was a complete contrast to the raucous and fun meals of the past week.  Despite his attempt to stay aloof and angry, Stan couldn’t help but grow closer to his great niece and nephew, not to mention his brother’s two employees, meaning most of the nights were full of stories and jokes while Ford toiled downstairs to once more get the portal up and running.  This was the first time Ford had joined the group for dinner, and it was… awkward.  It was no wonder though- Ford was just as eager for Stan to go back through the portal as Stan was.

At least, that’s what Stan kept telling himself during the silence.

Finally, Mabel’s voice broke through the quiet.  “Grunkle Stan, are you sure you have to go back?”

Stan had barely opened his mouth to answer when Ford cut in smoothly.  “Mabel, we talked about this,” he said firmly, but with tenderness in his voice.  “Stanley needs to leave as soon as he can.”

Stan was slightly taken aback by how quickly Ford had answered, but immediately pushed away the sting. 

“But-” Dipper interjected.

“Dipper…” Ford said in a tired tone of voice.

“Oh c’mon kids, he’s right.” Stan said, but couldn’t think of any way to make it better. The quiet resumed, only broken by the miserable scraping of utensils on plates.

Stan wanted to go back.  Of course he did.  He had to finally kill Bill Cipher, after all.  And not like there was anything for him here. Yes, he had a great week with his family- the word felt so odd yet so right to Stan- but he had been gone for 30 years.  Ford obviously didn’t need him or want him around.  Sure, Ford had brought Stan back as soon as he realized Stan was alive, and sure, Ford had kept Stan’s El Diablo up and running even though he didn’t think Stan was coming back, but… it was all out of guilt or pity. It must have been. If Ford wanted Stan to stay he would have said something.  But just like when Stan got kicked out, Ford didn’t say anything, and far be it for Stan to insert himself where he wasn’t wanted.

He didn’t fit anywhere, especially with Ford. Not anymore.  So he might as well do something interesting with his nomad status.

Like destroying Bill Cipher once and for all.

Stan was sitting at the poker table at his favorite Vegas casino, and with a giant grin placed his cards on the table so everyone could see.  “Royal Flush,” he said, as the crowd around the table applauded and a beautiful brunette woman gave him a kiss on the cheek.

“Oh c’mon, guys, he’s obviously cheating,” a familiar voice with a strange echo interrupted the celebrations, and Stan’s expression changed from smug triumph to the most annoyed eye roll ever.

“Are you kidding me?” he muttered, turning to face the glowing yellow triangle behind him.

“Heya Fishy, what’s good?” Bill answered nonchalantly as the casino patrons slowly faded away.

“What are you doing here, you three-sided creep?”  Stan asked tiredly.  “I thought Jhes made it so you couldn’t bug me anymore.”

“Ol’ Seven Eyes hid the entrance to your mindscape pretty good, yeah,” Bill admitted.  “But when you came to visit me in the nightmare realm last week I was able to lock back on to you!”

“Figures,” Stan sighed.  “An’ I was havin’ such a nice time.”

“Oh please,” Bill said.  “Don’t you miss me?  Fighting my minions, overthrowing my planets, hunting me down?”

Stan leaned back nonchalantly.  “I haven’t thought about you at all this whole time,” he lied.  “What’s it to you?”

“Well, considering you spent the last 30ish years trying to kill me, you think I’d want to know what you’re up to now, you know?”  Even though Bill was playing it casual, Stan could tell he was already starting to get under the demon’s skin.  Perfect.

Stan may have unsuccessfully hunted Bill for 30 years, but one thing he could always count on being successful at was being annoying.  He had met plenty of losers like Bill Cipher before going through the portal while he was on the road- jumped up, so-called “leaders” who just had really big egos and some luck to make people afraid of them.  The best way to deal with them was to act like they didn’t matter.

Stan shrugged.  “I guess,” he answered.  “Now will you let me get back to my poker game?  I’m pretty sure the gal that just gave me a kiss was Miss Nevada or somethin’.”

Bill’s yellow turned slightly orange for a bit, as if he was about to lose his temper, but in a millisecond he was back to the yellow glow.  “But we haven’t had the chance to talk in so long!” Bill said.  “And I want your opinion on a decision.” 

Stan snorted.  “I’ll give ya the advice I always do- go screw yourself.” 

Bill laughed and leaned on nothing in the air.  “Don’t you want to know what it’s about?”  Bill snapped his fingers, and suddenly looked exactly like Stan but with glowing yellow eyes. “Oh yeah Bill!” he said in an over exaggerated impression of Stan.  “My boring life of doing boring things talking to boring people would improve so much just by to talking to someone as powerful as you!”

“Heh, that’s the best I’ve ever seen you look!” Stan laughed, not willing to let Bill know how unsettling it was to see himself with those eyes.  “Much better than that Mr. Peanut getup you usually sport.”  Stan leaned back in his chair.  “Hey, that reminds me, there’s somethin’ I always wanted to ask you- I know you can’t help lookin’ like a corn chip in real life, but if you can look like however you want in the mindscape, why do you always pick that dumb triangle shape?”

“Who says I do?” Bill asked calmly, this time his voice a perfect copy of Stan’s.

A chill ran down Stan’s spine as he realized what was Bill was implying.  “What… have you... been doing?” he growled, trying to keep the fear out of his voice and instead sound menacing.

Bill, still looking like Stan, gave him a slow, manic grin.  “It’s been real great getting to know the family this week, hasn’t it?” He asked conversationally in his normal voice.  “And wouldn’t you know it, Stanley, they just love you.  The little shooting star girl just wants you and your brother to make up.  She thinks I’m you when I visit her dreams, and we talk about how she can get you to stay and not go through the portal.  Or that big guy with the question mark shirt- your brother’s lab assistant?  He doesn’t want you to go either.  And man, is he eager to impress you- every time I visit him in his dreams he just goes on and on about helping Sixer create that barrier that prevents other beings from coming through the portal- he’s given me some great pointers on how to disable it.”

Stan’s fists were balled up in rage, and he noticed his dream self was now wearing his spiked brass knuckles.  He shook his head in denial.  “You can’t lie to people in the mindscape.  They don’t think you’re me.” He said through clenched teeth.

Bill laughed, the cackling sound making Stan use every ounce of self-control he had to not attack the demon.  “You of all people know you don’t have to lie to get people to believe whatever you want!” he said.  “And we’re in the mindscape right now- I can’t lie to you about what I’ve done- or what I’m doing.”  Bill continued.  “Of course, we got the ice-cold redhead who would do anything to get out of this sleepy town, and what better way than to go on a multiversal adventure?  I told her you probably could use a sidekick, especially after she helped you steal some of that junk to help get the portal up and running again.  And let’s not forget the littlest pine tree!  So desperate to prove that he’s smarter than everyone else, thinking that’s the only way he’ll be respected- just like your brother!” Bill took a deep, satisfied breath.  “And just like Sixer, he is sooo easy to manipulate, especially after I told him-” but Stan never found out what Bill told Dipper, because he cut the demon off with the most powerful uppercut he had ever punched, knocking his doppelganger right off his feet.

“Leave my family alone, you creep,” Stan said, walking up to Bill.  “An’ don’t think that form is gonna prevent me from beatin’ you to a pulp in here- I could use a coupla punches to the face.”

Bill-as-Stan propped himself up on his elbows, using one hand to rub his jaw, still wearing that insane smile.  “What about this one then?” he asked, and morphed into

Ford.

Stan literally took a step back in shock and horror, as Bill stood up, the manic expression the same as he rolled his neck.  “Feels good to be back like this again!” Bill said, his yellow eyes boring into Stan’s.  “Too bad Sixer figured out how to block me from his head- I had such a good time in there!” he paused, clearly relishing Stan’s expression of rage.  “But we’ve talked about that, haven’t we?  Ever since you came hurtling through that portal, we’ve been talking about your brother.” Bill rolled his eyes.  “And now you’re finally reunited with him- and he doesn’t even want you here!  After all you’ve done for him!  I mean, you distracted me long enough he could figure out how to block me!  When you found out the multiverse thought he was in cahoots with me, you sacrificed your own identity to pretend to be him during your, ugh,” Bill paused to use Ford’s six fingered hands to create disgusted air quotes “’heroic exploits’ so you could clear his name.”

Stan felt a little more sure-footed at that.  “They were heroic,” he smirked, crossing his arms.  “Freeing the worlds you had under your thumb, getting rid of a bunch of your henchmen- and no, I’m never gonna call ‘em henchmaniacs, ‘cause that’s stupid- and so what if everyone thinks it was Ford that did all that?  He would have done it if he were in my place.”  Stan snorted.  “If the nerd could even survive.”

“Are you sure about that?” Bill asked.  “All this is his fault, after all.  And when you think about it, that means it’s really your fault.  You want to know the reason he was so easy to get to?  He had a giant Stanley-shaped hole he was constantly trying to fill.  And you left it empty when you left him.”

“I got kicked out!” Stan protested, a little too quickly to seem like he was still in control of his emotions.

“And you didn’t even try to come back.” Bill shook his head in mock seriousness.  “You left him, Stanley.  Left him all alone, at the mercy of bullies, the world…” he flashed a huge smile.  “And me.”

For the first time in 30 years, Stan was speechless in the face of Bill Cipher.

“Oh yeah, that brings me back to my decision- who should I get to sabotage the portal?” Bill said, still never losing that too-wide smile.  “You think you’re using it to come back to the Nightmare Realm tomorrow- you’re wrong.  With the help of one of your family members, I’m coming to you instead, Stanley Pines.”

Stan barked a laugh, the threat helping him regain his faculties.  “Joke’s on you, Bill!  You spent this whole time braggin’ about how smart you are trying to prep someone to mess with the portal so you could go through- but now I know your plan!  No one’s going to mess with the portal to allow you… to…” Stan trailed off as Bill’s grin somehow grew wider.

“Y’know, the funny thing about not being able to lie in the mindscape doesn’t mean you can’t mislead someone,” Bill said.  “I didn’t really care about your opinion on who I should get to sabotage the portal- - any one of them could have done it because of you and what you’ve done to them! But anyway, I already decided who it was, and they’ve already done it.    Now I’m just waiting for the portal to finish warming up!  Oh, just kidding-”  And Bill morphed once more into his yellow triangle form.  “It’s finished now!” He lifted his hat.  “It’ll be great to see you in a few seconds, Fish.  Thanks for the keeping me entertained while I waited!”

Stan bolted awake, already halfway to his door before he realized it.  The house was shaking, so when he ran into Ford in the hallway, they lost their balance and fell to the ground.  Stan bounded back up and automatically reached out his hand to help up his brother, but the conversation with Bill about how Stan was to blame came blaring back and seemed to crystalize the moment.  He froze, a look of horror on his face as he looked at his brother and felt the weight of everything he had ever done, all leading up to this moment.

“Stanley?” Ford asked worriedly, bracing a hand against the wall to keep from falling over during a particularly strong tremor.  “What is it?”

“Bill.” Stan whispered.  “He’s here.”

And it was all Stan’s fault.    

[stanuary]

New bonus challenge: Stanuary Bingo!

There are 24 prompts on this sheet; the ones with the dotted borders are the main themes for the month, and the rest are past themes that didn't win the poll.

This is a completely optional part of Stanuary (as are using any themes at all), it's just a fun way to incorporate more ideas into the month. Even if you only use the main themes, you'll still end up with two bingos!

Feel free to save and repost this image wherever you wish, just please don't remove the blog url at the bottom.

If you use it, don't forget to tag your posts with #stanuary bingo so they'll be reblogged here! Have fun!! ♥

Main Themes | Stanuary Info

[forduary]

Forduary 2024 is almost upon us!

And this year, it shall run from February 1 - March 11!

And now, the themes/prompts!

~The Life of Stanford "Grunkle Ford" Pines~

Week 1 - Childhood and School years (Everything up to college) Week 2 - College and Researcher years (Everything from college up to his entrance into the multiverse) Week 3 - Portal Years (Everything from his time in the multiverse) Week 4 - Return to Gravity Falls and beyond (Everything from the moment he returned to Gravity Falls and into the future)

More info under the cut:

Since time got away on us older mods and we've been otherwise occupied we decided to head straight into announcing themes for this year. We apologize for not running a poll but we've recruited extra help and will aim to be better in the future!

That said, the available mod positions have been filled! Thanks again to everyone who volunteered and to our two new mods!

For this year's themes/prompts, pick anything you'd like to represent those times in his life - multiple things if you want!

As usual, they are merely here to help you create so feel free to ignore them and do your own thing if you have other ideas! Also, time is an illusion so no worries on sticking to the schedule too strictly. Anything tagged with Forduary and posted during the event, as long as it features him and meets the guidelines (see below), will be reblogged. And also as usual, if we haven't reblogged one of your creations within 24 hours, please let us know so we can share it!

As for the above mentioned guidelines:

All forms of media are accepted. Comics, memes, fics, art, videos, etc.

Please keep your creations at around a PG-13-ish rating. Basically nothing too extreme in gore, violence, or NSFW content.

Ships are fine but please steer them away from in/cest and adult/minor content. Also, since it has been a source of turmoil in the fandom and this is meant to be a fun space, we won't be reblogging Bill/ford content.

Now, go forth and create! And check out @stanuary if you haven't already! Art by @fexiled (sketch and planning) and @rum-and-shattered-dreams (line art and colors)

[thelastspeecher]

Stanuary '25 - Week 2: Wanted

I'm desperately trying to catch up on Stanuary lmao. So here's week two, a bit late. This takes place in my Horse Boy Stan AU, where... Well, this is actually the start of my Horse Boy Stan AU. And you'll see why it's called that.

Enjoy.

———————————————————————————————————–

              Sirens followed Stan as he sprinted out of the tiny town.

              “Stupid…fucking…cops,” he panted.  He glanced over his shoulder.  Though he could still hear the local sheriff chasing him down, he couldn’t see the car.

              I might actually make it outta here!  A stitch burned in his side.  He winced and slowed down.  Ugh.  I gotta get back to the gym.  Though being out of shape isn’t usually this big of a problem.  He’d stopped in, according to the sign at the city limits, a town called Gumption, for gas.  At the gas station, he’d pocketed a pack of cigarettes and some candy bars, only to be spotted by the sheriff buying lotto tickets at the counter.

              And, of course, the Stanmobile wouldn’t start when Stan got back to her.

              Yeah, I’ve been ignoring the check engine light for a while but you’d think she’d choose better timing to crap out!  The stitch in his side now gone, Stan picked up the pace again.  There weren’t many streets in Gumption, so even with Stan’s skill at evading cops, he would be easy to track down.  It doesn’t help that there’s just cornfields for miles…

              After a few more minutes, Stan could feel himself losing steam again.  He slowed to a stop, so out of breath he felt like he was going to throw up.  He collapsed against a nearby fence and focused on not puking.

              There was an amused neigh.

              Stan’s head shot up.  He stared.  On the other side of the fence was a horse.  It had a white mane and tail and a yellow coat.  A shiver ran down Stan’s spine as he locked eyes with it.  There was intelligence in the horse’s light blue gaze.  A lot more than there should be.

              At least…I think so.  Stan frowned.  I haven’t seen a horse in a long time.  The horse tilted its head slightly and snorted.  Maybe this is a sign.  The sirens were getting louder again.  Shit.  I can’t escape this chase on foot, can I?  Stan climbed on top of the fence.  The horse continued to watch him fearlessly.  Stan took a deep breath.  Please don’t let this be one of the dumbest things I’ve done.  He jumped from the fence, landing solidly on the horse’s back.

              The force of the impact made the breath whoosh out of him, but he managed to grab the horse’s mane just before it reared up.

              “Nuh-uh,” Stan ground out.  He gripped the mane tighter, interlacing his fingers with the white hair.  The horse then bucked, but Stan held on.  He leaned forward to wrap his arms around the horse’s neck for a better hold and hugged its torso with his legs.  The horse bucked and reared repeatedly before giving up with a frustrated whinny.

              “All right, horsey, you’re gonna listen to me,” Stan whispered.  The horse’s ears turned around to face him.  “We’re getting out of here, then I’m gonna let you go and you can come back home.  Got it?”  The horse whinnied furiously.  “Good.”  Stan dug his heels into the horse’s sides.

              The horse bolted forward at top speed.  Stan swallowed nervously as they approached a different side of the large paddock the horse had been in.  The horse leapt, clearing the fence with plenty of room.  Then it changed direction, heading for a building off in the distance.

              “I told you, not yet!” Stan hissed.  He yanked on the horse’s mane.  The horse changed direction again, this time towards a nearby forest.  “That’s better.”

              The horse sped across the open land, arriving at the forest’s edge in minutes.  Stan couldn’t hear the sirens anymore, but he spurred the horse to run a bit longer.  Once they were well into the forest, he pulled on the horse’s mane, bringing it to a stop.  He untangled his fingers from the horse’s mane, carefully slung one leg onto the same side as the other, then promptly fell to the forest floor.  The horse whinnied in a way that sounded eerily like laughter.

              “Yeah, yeah, yuck it up,” Stan muttered.  He stood up and brushed himself off.  “Just…get outta here.  I’m done with you.”  The horse snorted at him.  It turned away.

              Lightning fast, the horse’s back legs kicked out, catching Stan in the gut.  He let out a grunt of pain and collapsed.  The horse neighed at him before galloping off.  The sound of hoofbeats faded.

              Stan lifted his shirt to look at the damage.  He winced.

              That’s gonna leave a mark.

-----

              The streets of Gumption were nearly empty by the time Stan got back to the Stanmobile.  He’d waited a few hours to let the heat die down before going back to the gas station.  That, on top of how long it took him to find his way there, meant he didn’t get back to his car until night was beginning to fall.

              Stan leaned against the Stanmobile, letting himself rest after the long walk.  He took a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it, then glanced at the gas station, worried an attendant might see and scold him for smoking near the pumps.  The odds the Stanmobile would miraculously work now were low, so he’d have to escape on foot again if he was recognized.

              Thankfully, no one was there.

Stan raised an eyebrow.  Not only was there no one inside the gas station, not even someone on register, but it looked like all the lights were off.

              I don’t think I’ve ever seen a gas station closed this early.  Stan took a drag off his cigarette.  These backwater two horse towns are different planets, I swear.  With nothing else to do until he finished his cigarette, Stan settled back to watch the sun set over the cornfields.  The sun slowly dipped below the horizon.

              Abruptly, the stitch in Stan’s side returned with a vengeance.  The sudden pain made him gasp and drop the still lit cigarette.  He had just enough presence of mind to grind the ember out underneath his heel before his leg spasmed and he fell to the ground.

              What…what…is going on?  Any other coherent thoughts became impossible as pain surged through Stan’s body, from his toes to his fingers to the tip of his nose.  The worst heartburn he’d ever had spread through his chest, his heart pounding so loud that Stan felt certain if there had been anyone in the gas station, they would have heard it.  The aches, cramps, and spasms jolting through him were what he could only imagine dying felt like.

              Stan’s vision went dark.

              When it returned, it was…wrong.  Stan wasn’t sure exactly what the difference was between his vision before and his vision now.  All that he knew was it had changed.

              You can’t afford to see a doctor.  You’re just gonna have to get used to this.  He lifted his head and looked around, trying to get a handle on whatever was going on.  Once he felt confident to do so, he struggled to his feet.

              All four of them.

              Stan let out a panicked neigh and stumbled away.  He closed his eyes, terrified at what he would see if he opened them.  But he couldn’t avoid it forever.

              His heart racing anew, Stan slowly opened his eyes.  He walked up to the Stanmobile.  He’d just cleaned her, and had done a thorough enough job that she was practically a mirror.  It was something he’d been very proud of.  But as he stared at his reflection, his heart slowed and sank.

              No.  That’s not- that’s not possible!  Staring back at him was a horse, with a light brown coat and black mane and tail.  How- what-  Stan took a deep breath.  So did the horse.  Okay.  This has got to be some weird dream or something, right?  Maybe that horse actually kicked me in the head and I got knocked out.  I’m still in the woods.  That’s gotta be it.  If I close my eyes and wait for a while, I’ll wake up in the forest with the worst headache of my life or something.

              The roar of a motorcycle broke through the silence of the small town, drawing Stan’s attention.  He turned his head to watch the bike and its rider pull into the gas station.  The rider put down the kickstand and stepped off, then stalked over to the Stanmobile.  As the rider got closer, Stan realized, with a growing sense of dread, that he knew the man.

              Jimmy Snakes.  Dammit, what are you doing here?  He screwed his eyes shut.  It doesn’t matter.  This is just a dream, remember?

              He heard Jimmy walk around the car, the spurs of his boots jingling with each step.  After a few minutes, Jimmy stopped with a frustrated sigh.

              “Dammit,” Jimmy muttered to himself.  “He already skipped town.  Or he got caught by the cops.  He’s not one to leave his lemon of a car.”  Stan’s eyes snapped open.  He glared at Jimmy.

              “The Stanmobile is twenty times better than your piece of shit hog,” he whinnied angrily.  Jimmy startled, like he hadn’t noticed the literal horse feet away from him.  He raised an eyebrow.

              “Huh.  You look like a pretty good stallion.  Wonder if you escaped or something.”  Jimmy walked up to Stan.  “If you did, I bet your owners would pay handsomely for your return.”  He rubbed his chin thoughtfully.  “I’d probably get more money from that than I could ever shake down from Pines anyways.”

              Nice try, buddy.  This is all a dream.  This isn’t really happening.  It’s not possible.  I mean, what are the odds that you’d find me after I turned into a horse?  For one thing, people don’t turn into horses!

              “It’s a good thing Stan always keeps rope in his backseat, eh?” Jimmy said, winking at Stan.  Before Stan’s horrified eyes, he shattered one of the back windows of the Stanmobile, reached in, and grabbed the rope sitting on the backseat.  Whistling, Jimmy carefully tied the rope into a loop and tossed it over Stan’s head.

              The grin on Jimmy’s face made Stan’s blood run cold.  He was beginning to regret allowing, in his shock, Jimmy to casually capture him.

              But it’ll be okay.  This is all a dream.  Stan swallowed.  …Right?

[femboyhorror]

sometimes things can seem like an eternity

【 my humblest of offerings to this year's stanuary. decided to do week three: supernatural with the ghosts prompt and manage to finish this just as we get into the last week of stanuary!

content warnings ahead for allusions to abuse, (both parental and relationship wise) brief suicidal ideation, minor and brief body horror of the nightmarish horror type and in general tackling stan's self worth issues. stay safe everyone! cross-posted to ao3! 】

.｡❅⋆⍋∞｡∞⍋⋆❅｡.

AFTER YEARS of surviving alone on the streets, Stanley thought things truly couldn't get worse for him. It all began with the moment his own twin shut the curtains on him and only spiralled from there. He was yelled at, stabbed, shot at, burned with cigarettes, shoved into a hot car trunk and left to die and even worse things he didn't even want to recall.

Point was, he thought he'd gone through it all.

How naive he still was.

He can still remember that scream. A scream so raw, so gutteral he barely could believe it came out of his throat. He can still feel the pain radiating from his back where the white hot metal had seared straight through his trusty old jacket and into his skin below, branding him like some common cattle.

All because he thought his brother wanted him in his life after all these years. What a joke!

But the cherry on top of it all was what Ford said to him. '𝘐'𝘮 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘩𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦.' Of course Stanford didn't want him in his life. He was a complete idiot to ever thing otherwise.

And so he fell back on what he did best: He ran.

He ignored his twin panicked apologies - too little, too late - as he turned tail back to the elevator that lead him down to this horror movie set of a basement. Ford's pleas for him to come back fell on deaf ears as the elevator door shut. Next thing he knows he's running out the door and into the snow covered woods, too lost in anger and pain to care about where his feet were taking him.

It wasn't long until his steps became slower and clumsier, and before long the pain of his new burn and his overall exhaustion had him leaning against a nearby tree for support, pulling his old coat against him to protect from the cold.

He could see his car - his beloved reliable El Diablo - in the distance. He knows he could just get into it right now and put this whole damned town in his rearview mirror. Yet even as he considers doing so, all he can see is his brother. The look of terror in his eyes and the desperation in his voice. But even as he can't bring himself to leave his twin, neither can he bring himself to go back inside.

He had just been trying to come up with some sort of plan when a familiar voice makes his stomach drop in fear.

"Ol' 8-ball, didn't expect to see you here…"

He knows that voice all too well. Once upon a time, hearing that voice would make him swoon and sigh like he was a schoolgirl. Now it's like he's been doused with ice water.

"Jimmy…" He doesn't want to look up but he has to. Jimmy never liked it when it seemed like he was being ignored. And even when he knows who was waiting for him, he has to surpress a flinch when he sees his old flame.

"I'm flattered, Andy. Guess ya remember me, after all…" The biker's reply was light and conversational, but Stanley saw the tells that showed how pissed the man truly was. Jimmy always had a way of hiding his anger behind a charming smile, luring you closer before striking. And Stan as ashamed to say that he had let Jimmy take his bad moods out on him for too long until he finally wised up. Waiting until the biker was old cold after one too many drinks to pack his bags up and disappeared into the night.

He hoped that he had finally escaped Jimmy's wrath, but it seemed he couldn't even manage running away correctly.

"And to think that after everything I've done for ya…" Jimmy continues, circling around him like a blood-thirsty predator circling his prey. "I took you in. Kept you safe, fed you… and you end up leaving me without even saying goodbye."

Stan knows what's going to happen. He knows what happens to people that leave their abusive exes. But despite the fear that wraps itself around his throat like an angry cobra, Stanley manages to find his voice.

"You fucking threatened to shank me! And that was when ya weren't too busy slapping me around cos' some other guy was lookin' at me!" Almost as soon as those words left his mouth, he's being grabbed and pushed against the tree by his ex. A situation that's all too familiar.

"I treated ya better than anyone else would, kitten." Jimmy spits out the nickname with venom. "Ya think anyone else was going to care about some street tramp like you?"

"Fuck you…" But as much as he tries, he can't deny that what Jimmy's words weren't true. His fight with Ford mere minutes ago and the subsequent burn he gotten from it was proof of that. If not even his own brother wanted him around, who would?

But then he blinks and in an instant the face of his ex boyfriend is replaced by the same unimpressed look of the man he's tried so hard to prove himself to his whole life. And though he should be questioning how and why his old man is out in the middle of the icy cold winter of Oregon wearing just his usual mustard-yellow suit, all Stan can focus on is the words that come out of his mouth.

"You're nothing but a low life screw up. Everyone knows it."

And just like that, Stanley feels as if he were 12 years old again. Pinned down by the disappointed gaze of the father he so desperately wanted the approval of. The approval that had always been given so freely to Ford.

"'M sorry… I've been trying to make those millions, though! I really have! I just… I just need more time…" He begs despite knowing full well his pleas will mean nothing to Filbrick.

All he gets for his trouble is a hard backhand that sends him onto the snow covered dirt.

"I've given you more than 'nough time. All you've shown me was that you are and always will be worthless." His father barks at him. And between the stinging of his cheek to the pain his father's words bring, all Stan can do is curl up like a wounded animal.

"M'sorry… I tried… m'sorry, m'sorry…"

"You're sorry? Is that all you have to say for yourself?"

Stanley immediately recognizes the angry voice as belonging to his brother, but the sight that greets him when he struggles to look up is so horrible and utterly wrong that he nearly loses his lunch into the snow.

It was indeed his twin standing across from him, replacing where his father was moments earlier. But what makes Stanley's blood turn to ice is the wound he saw on his brother's neck. A deep slash dried with blood dried so dark it nearly looked black against his twin's deathly pale skin. Adding to it were various other stab wounds across his chest that were all the same dark, dark red in color.

He looked like a walking corpse.

Stanley has to rub his eyes and blink, trying desperately to blink away the horrific sight that couldn't possibly be real when he had just seen his brother minutes ago and he was very much alive, if exhausted and terrified out of his mind. Then the corpse speaks, voice filled with pain and anger.

"I needed your help, Lee… I needed you to take that journal and you just ran away…!" When Ford speaks again, his words hit Stanley like a knife to the heart.

"You left me to die, Lee…"

Then, in the blink of an eye, Ford is right in front of him. Holding him up by his neck, close enough that the smell of rotting flesh nearly makes him gag.

"Dad was right. You're worthless. A waste of oxygen. All you've ever done is hold me back."

Stan tries to fight back, wriggle himself free, but with his zombie brother's hands at his throat he can feel his fight draining out of him like sand falling from between his fingers. As the air is pulled from his lungs, he can see the angry cadaver of his twin warp in front of his eyes. Eyes darkening until they were pure black, limbs lengthening, grin widening…

As dark spots start to fill his vision, he wonders if this is how he dies. Stanley Romanoff Pines, having managed to survive to the ripe old age of 27 only to die to some fucked up manifestation of his worst nightmares.

'𝘔𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵? 𝘞𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 '𝘵𝘢 𝘧𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦…'

Then, with the sound of an arrow firing, he falls gracelessly into the snow and gasps for air.

.｡❅⋆⍋∞｡∞⍋⋆❅｡.

Stanford was pissed.

Despite what he was up against, the despite the very fate of the multiverse being in jeapardy and - most frustrating of all - despite the fact that he trusted him enough to ask him for help his brother refused. And then to have the gall to call 𝘍𝘰𝘳𝘥 selfish?

Even after all these years Stanley knew how to push his buttons.

It was that anger that makes him argue with Stan. Shouting words that he knows he'll come to regret later but is too tired and frustrated to care about now.

And it was that anger that fuels him into fighting Stan when the latter holds his lighter dangerously close to his journal. Threatening to engulf his years of work studying the strange and wonderful anomalies of Gravity Falls and reduce it all to ash.

He hits Stan and Stan hits him back and the two go on this way until a shove of his is followed by a pain filled scream from his twin and suddenly all the anger he felt vanishes, leaving in it's wake the sudden realization that his brother is well and truly hurt.

"Stanley! Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry, are you-" But his hasty apologies are cut off by a shove that pushes him onto the floor. By the time he looks up his twin has already turned and is running to the elevator. The fresh brand on his back - 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘍𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘮 - still smoking.

"Stanley, wait! Let me help you!" '𝘓𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘹 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴!'

If his twin heard his plea, he doesn't listen. And before Ford can make it to the elevator doors they shut with a resounding thunk.

Ford lets out a string of curses under his breath, running a hand through his already ragged and messy hair. Damn it, why didn't he think to install some sort of emergency stop button for the thing? As he's thinking this, he notices the light of the portal from the corner of his eyes. The portal that should have been off.

With some more curses muttered, he rushes over to shut off the portal, feeling no sense of relief as the portal deactivated because all he could think was that Stanley was 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵. Stanley was hurt 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘮 and he needed to find him and help him.

As soon as he's out of the dank darkness of his lab he's grabbing his trusty crossbow - he considered leaving it behind but the idea of leaving his house without it made him feel exposed - and stepping into the snow with the goal of finding his brother.

'𝘏𝘦'𝘴 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘺 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘣𝘺 𝘯𝘰𝘸, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘰𝘰𝘭.'

The stray thought makes Ford halt for a moment with a feeling of sadness that he can't explain. That was, after all, the plan. For his brother to take that cursed journal, get on a boat and leave to hide it. And yet now that he was alone it truly dawned on him what his brother leaving him would mean.

Before the scientist can ponder on what he was feeling he catches sight of the red hunk of metal that was Stanley's beloved Stanleymobile.

The sight tells him that his brother was still here. A fact that would have comforted him if it didn't come with another, more worrying idea that something else might have gotten to his brother first.

The thought pushes Ford to move faster, trying very hard not to picture Stanley bloodied, mangled, 𝘬𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘴𝘰𝘰𝘯 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩.

His thoughts grind to a half when he hears it. A sound so soft he almost misses it above the howling of the wind but he recognizes it immedately. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳'𝘴 𝘤𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨.

With a flare of protective anger at whoever - or whatever - had dared to hurt his baby brother, Ford starts running. And he doesn't have to run too far before he sees Stanley, gasping for air and beind held up by some twisted parody of himself.

'𝘈 𝘸𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘩.' He thinks to himself. He's heard the stories of them. Some sub species of ghosts. They rarely showed up and when they did it was almost always at night and attracted by intense negative emotions.

Any other day he's be estatic to see one at all - let alone in daylight - but right now all he wants to do is tear it apart for hurting Stan.

His chest twists as he hears the words the monster was saying to his brother.

"Dad was right. You're worthless. A waste of oxygen. All you've ever done is hold me back."

'𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘩𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴.'

Stanley didn't really believe that, did he…?

'𝘐'𝘮 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘩𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦!'

His twin knew he didn't mean it, right?

( '𝘈 𝘸𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘸𝘴 𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘱𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘷𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘮'𝘴 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴, 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮 𝘰𝘧 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘷𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘮 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯. 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮.' )

No. He wouldn't let that happen. Any ghost that wanted his brother for a meal would have to get through him first.

Taking a deep breath, Ford forced his frustratingly shaky hands to still as best he could. Taking cover behind some bushes, he lined up his crossbow, said a prayer to a god he didn't believe in and pulled the trigger.

As the arrow flew and hit it's target, Ford let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. With a scream the monster disappeared in a puff of dark smoke, dropping his twin as it vanished and in a second Ford was at his brother's side.

"Stanley, are you alright?" He asked, mentally kicking himself for asking such a stupid question when it was so obvious his brother wasn't alright. He was barely conscious, shaking from the cold with a bruised cheek and a burn that desperately needed tending to. But when Ford reaches out to help him up he's met with a violent flinch.

"…M'sorry, it's all my fault…" The sound of his brother - his strong and self-assured brother - whimpering out apologies is so very wrong.

"Stanley, you don't have anything to apologize for…" Ford's voice shakes, trying so very hard not to break down himself, but his brother only shrinks in on himself.

"Pops was right… m'worthless… should've just blew my own brains out back in Nevada…"

"No!" Ford choked out, resisting the urge to reach out and shake his brother as if he could physically shake away the terrible things he was saying about himself. "Don't say that - don't ever say that! You're not worthless, no matter what any of those idiots at home said."

Stanley finally looks up at him and it's with a look of disbelief.

"Ya said it yerself. The chance to do the first worthwhile thing in my life." Ford can't help but flinch back at the reminder of his own cruel words.

"I didn't- I didn't mean it…" But Stanley continued speaking.

"No, you were right. All I've ever done was follow you. And once pops threw me to the curb I did whatever I could to survive… I- I did things 'm not proud of, Sixer. I thought maybe I could prove to pops I was worth somethin'… but I couldn't…"

"Stanley, no…!"

"I don't blame you for hatin' me, Sixer… I'll take that journal and leave, just like you wanted me to…"

"I can't lose you again, Lee!"

Ford's declaration surprises both brothers into silence. Ford takes the chance and continues speaking.

"For years I forced myself to be angry at you. Repeated the same bullshit lies our father said about you. I told myself that you deserved what happened. That, out of jealously, you intentionally sabotaged my machine. That I was better off without you. I told myself so many lies that I started to believe them myself…"

He thought back to the numbness he felt after his brother was gone. Moving through life like a ghost, only half aware of everything around him from his parents arguing vehemontly to the bullies at school. And after the numbness came the anger. How he focused on how unfair it was that he lost out on the scholarship to West Coast because being mad was easier than thinking about the all-consuming sense of loss that lingered inside him. In the missing laughter and jokes to the empty spot in the bunk bed beneath his own.

But as much as it hurt him to confront all those feelings. To finally set free the pain he kept bottled up all those years, he knew that if he let himself stop then he just might lose his twin for good.

"…I did it because it was easier than knowing that my brother - the person that had protected me all those years. Who would laugh with me and tell me that one day we'll sail the ocean together. - was just gone." The tears he tried to hold back were now streaming down his face and he can see Stanley tearing up himself.

"…Sixer…" He murmurs, but there's more Ford needs to say.

"I was wrong. And so was our father. You're strong and smart and worthwhile and I should have stood up for you that night." Stan frowns.

"Pops probably would've just thrown us both out." He says.

"Still. Maybe if I had managed to calm him down…"

"He already had my bags packed. Just needed an excuse." The knowledge hits Ford like a ton of bricks. Knowing that Filbrick had been planning on throwing out his brother the whole time made a protective sort of anger rise in him.

"I'm going to punch our dad." He says.

"He's on the other side of the country, Sixer."

"I'll take a plane, then. Or maybe a train. Go up to him and punch those stupid sunglasses off." Stanley is looking at him like he's lost his mind - and maybe he has - before letting out a snicker.

"Yer gonna take a train to New Jersey fueled by coffee and looking like yer gonna drop any second to punch our dad in the face? Sounds like a good plan, but in the meantime can we go inside? Freezing my ass off out here."

Ford wants to argue that it was a great plan and he didn't appreciate the sarcasm but he has to concede that his brother had a point. Not to mention…

"Stanley, your back…"

"Eh, I've been hurt worse." But as he stands up, Ford can see him wince and runs to help him.

"Yeesh, can stand on my own." Stan grumbles, but rather than teasing back Ford just looks guilty.

"I'm so sorry, Stan." Stan opens his mouth to respond. "Don't, Stan… just… please don't try and tell me it's alright." Stan sighs.

"Yer right, things kinda went to shit. And that was before I ran into whatever that thing was -"

"A wraith." Ford adds in.

"- that thing, yeah. Look, how about we get something to eat and call it even. You got any food in that creepy cabin of yours?" Ford thought about it and realized he wasn't sure. There was some moldy bread, some ketchup packets from the diner…

"I think I have some cans of soup." He finally replied.

"Wow, canned soup. Eating fine tonight." Stanley teases, and to Ford's surprise he finds himself laughing.

Maybe things just might be alright?

.｡❅⋆⍋∞｡∞⍋⋆❅｡.

[gosecretscribbles]

Stanuary 2025 Week 3: Supernatural

AO3 link

Stan flopped over the pawn shop counter. Pa had told them to watch the shop and do inventory. It had been three hours, six minutes, and a million seconds, and nothing interesting had happened except that Stan had gotten a stick of gum stuck up a fake deer head’s nostril. Now he stretched over the counter and wondered if he could literally die of boredom. “This stinks.”

“Agreed.” Ford, who had been told to price the new items, tossed a prosthetic finger in the discount bin. “Twenty-six items and not a single one is cursed.”

Stan rolled his head over to eye the bin. “What didja mark up that candied toad for?”

“You ate it, Stan. And it wasn’t candied, it was candy. Pure molasses.”

“Oh yeah.” Stan belched and buried his face in the counter again.

Ford dumped the last item in the bin and hopped up to sit on the counter. Then he hopped sideways and sat on Stan’s head. Stan grunted and tried to punch Ford in the stomach. He was pretty sure he connected, which he thought was impressive given how contorted his arm had to be – and then he felt something warm and wet on his arm. He shrieked and jerked free.

“You licked me!”

“Did not,” Ford wheezed, clutching his stomach.

“Liar! Traitor! This means war!”

Stan leaped. Ford dodged, Stan hooked his ankle, and the two of them went rolling on the cramped pawn shop floor. Stan had almost gotten Ford in an actual headlock (or was it a Heimlich? Eh, details). Then something crashed, hard.

They froze. For a second Stan thought they’d knocked something over. White-lightning fear spiked through his chest. He had a dozen thoughts in his head at once: I didn’t do it, it was an accident, we were robbed, there were aliens –

A shadow moved rapidly away from the front door.

“HEY!”

Stan and Ford shot across the shop and shoved the door open. It was harder than usual. There was a box and a bunch of weird colored things on the sidewalk blocking the doorway. Stan didn’t notice, barely even stopped, because the person who’d thrown the whatever-it-was was halfway down the street. Stan bolted.

The figure heard him coming and started flat-out sprinting. This turned out to be a bad idea. It was a woman, probably, but she was bundled up in long sleeves, a long skirt, scarves, gloves, and a hat even in the hot summer sunshine. The scarf came free and caught around her feet. She tried to hop-skip out of it, but Stan dove and tackled her around the knees. She went down hard. Stan nearly let go. Then she started clawing at him and he hung on.

“Get off, get off me, you little urchin –”

“You’re gonna – ow – pay for that – quit it –”

“You don’t understand! You have to take it, I only paid a penny for it, I can’t sell it for less than I paid –”

“I ain’t payin, nitwit! I said you’re the one who’s gonna – ow, ow-ow-ow-”

She’d grabbed his ear and yanked, hard, but their Ma yanked harder. He was still holding her knees. He went in the direction she’d tugged and rolled, forcing her to flip onto her stomach. Then he sprang forward and sat on her lower back. He stuck his finger in his mouth and was about to give her the sloppiest Wet Willy in the history of ever when suddenly Ford appeared next to them.

“Where did you get this?” he asked, oddly breathless.

The woman looked up. She’d been wearing sunglasses and they’d slipped sideways, hanging off her ear. She was wearing makeup thicker than Ma’s. It was starting to melt in the afternoon sun.

“New Orleans,” she panted. “Little shop. Don’t know the name. A trinket, I thought I was nothing, I didn’t know!”

“Know what?” Stan snapped.

“This!” Ford thrust the box at Stan.

He stared at it. “…A stained box?”

“Yeah! It’s – wait, what?” Ford pulled the box back, flipping it over, running his hands along all the surfaces. “No, it’s a puzzle, and it had our beach on it a second ago! Our beach, with the Stan O’ War and a pile of gold and everything!”

“The picture will come true,” the woman said hoarsely. “But beware, the price will not be –”

“– an issue because you said it’s free!” Stan rolled of her legs.

“Wait – I mean, take it, but heed my warn – oh, what the hell.” The woman got up and staggered off.

Ford’s eyes were shining and he was practically vibrating in place. “Stan, Stan, Stan!” Ford half-whispered eagerly. “It’s probably cursed, Stan! Like, a pirate curse! Because of the treasure!”

“So much treasure!” Stan cheered, grabbing the box. “C’mon, Sixer! Let’s close up the shop and put this baby together!”

They gathered all the pieces that had fallen around the door. Then they checked the gutter and surrounding sidewalk in case any of the pieces had fallen farther away. Pa still wasn’t home, so they locked up the shop, which meant closing it from the inside and sticking gum at the bottom of the door. The lock had broken ages ago, and hard gum was way stronger. (The hard part was unlocking it again.) They raced upstairs to their bedroom.

Ford shut the door and dumped the pieces on the floor. “We gotta do the edges first!”

“I know how to do a puzzle, Sixer!” Stan held up a piece. “Uh…shouldn’t it have colors on it? Pretty sure it had colors before.”

Ford rolled his eyes. “That’s the back, Stan, flip it over.”

Stan flipped it over. There was some color, but it was really faded and looked almost the same color as the cardboard. And stained with yellow liquid. Stan wrinkled his nose. “Ew, I think that’s pee! Do you think a dog peed on it? We should get Shanklin to pee on it and establish dominoes!”

“Dominance. And nobody’s peeing on it!”

“It’d be doubly-cursed, though!”

Ford paused, considering. “Okay, he can pee on it. But only when we’re done. I’m not touching Shanklin pee! Some curses are too powerful for man to comprehend.”

Stan chuckled. “Yeah, especially after he’s had burritos.”

So they found the edge pieces. Except that the pieces were all really small, not even an inch across, and weirdly shaped, and some were slanted so that they looked like edges but weren’t, and there were a million pieces and Stan got bored. He crawled into Fort Stan to read a Commander Steve comic and fell asleep.

Ma woke them up when she came home. She thought the gum idea was funny, and making Stan clean it up was funnier. Ford kept doing the puzzle until she literally dragged him away. She ordered them around the kitchen until Pa came home. They ate. Then Ford went upstairs and, surprise, kept doing the puzzle.

“Aren’tcha done?” Stan asked, pulling on his pajamas that night. (Well, technically it was a less-dirty regular shirt, but eh.)

Ford grunted.

Stan shuffled over. Ford wasn’t even halfway done, and the puzzle was enormous. The edges had been finished and the puzzle was big enough for the two of them to sit comfortably inside. There were piles of cardboard pieces all around Ford. It was hard to tell, but it looked like Ford had sorted them by color. Or maybe geometry. Hard to tell with a nerdbro. The picture in the middle wasn’t filled out at all, just a lot of really pale blue bits at the edges.

“Whatd’you think the curse does?” Stan asked sleepily.

Ford grunted again.

Stan rolled his eyes. “Fine, be a robot. As long as there’s actual gold involved, who cares? We can just hire a witch or something to battle a demon. We could place bets. And make even more gold!”

Another grunt.

Eh. Stan wobbled over to his bed and practically body-slammed his pillow. His brother pulled all-nighters all the time. It was fine. If the puzzle summoned a New Jersey devil or whatever, he’d just punch it and take their gold. Stan rolled over and went to sleep.

In the morning, Ford was still doing the puzzle. He’d filled in a couple of layers around the edge, but there were still just as many pieces sitting around Ford. Stan wasn’t sure that all those pieces would have actually fit in the box. Ford looked like his usual self: sallow-skinned, baggy-eyed, posture like an arthritic shrimp.

“You’re gonna be late for school,” Stan told him, rolling outta bed.

“Don’t care,” Ford muttered. “More important. Go away.”

“Uh-huh. Welp! If you wanna play hooky, I’m in! And you definitely look the part.”

Ford may or may not have made a scathing retort. Stan couldn’t tell, because he grabbed Ford’s entire head and threw him bodily to the carpet. It wasn’t far to go, and it definitely broke his concentration. He heard Ma give a shout from downstairs.

“STANLEY!” Ford shrieked, even louder. He sat up and glared. It would’ve been more impressive if his eyes weren’t so bloodshot. He tried to leap at Stan, but he’d been sitting all night and his legs were numb. He fell face-forward on the floor. Stan clapped both hands over his mouth to smother a laugh.

There was pounding on the stairs.

Stan grabbed Ford’s shirt and hauled him upright. “Okay, you already look dead on your feet, now do me! Punch me as hard as you can in the stomach.”

“Fine by me!”

Ford punched him. Stan’s shirt dented. Not good enough. So he turned and knocked all of Ford’s nighttime reading books onto the floor. Then Ford punched him.

When Ma entered the room, Stan was vomiting all over the books and Ford was crawling on the floor, shrieking incoherently and on the verge of actual tears.

“Sweet Moses! What are you boys –”

Stan grabbed his stomach and heaved again, this time in the direction of Ma’s shoes. She stepped back quickly. She nearly hit the puzzle and Ford threw himself bodily on top of it.

“Alright, alright, I give! You boys sick or just plain crazy?”

“I can’t go to school!” Ford wailed.

Ma’s face fell. Ford hated school. All Pines did. But Ford was the only one who liked going anyway, because he could sneak into the library or hunt ghosts in the janitor’s closet. (No ghosts, but plenty of skeletons. Literal skeletons. His side hustle was taxidermy.)

Ma picked Ford up by the scruff of his shirt. Stan laughed, which hurt his stomach and nearly made him gag again.

“Don’t even,” Ma threatened, stepping around him. She stuffed Ford into the top bunk, then bent down and rolled Stan into the bottom. “Stay. Put. And if either a’ you vomit on those sheets, you’re the ones cleanin’ ‘em! I’m getting the bad towels and the sick bowls.”

“Hate the sick bowls,” Stan muttered.

Ma smacked him upside the head. “Then don’t get sick, nitwit! If you’re still sick in an hour I’ll go flirt with the clerk down the street for expired Tylenol.”

“Thanks, Ma,” Stan croaked. Man, Sixer hit hard when he wanted to. If only he’d do that in boxing practice, Pa would lay off.

He expected Ford to scramble down from their bed as soon as Ma left the room. Instead, Stan heard snoring. He smirked. Figures the nerd would crash as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Staying home was cool, but staying in bed was not. Ma left them more or less alone except for meals, when she brought them bowls of watery chicken noodle soup. Stan tried to work on the puzzle while he waited for Ford to wake up. He quickly decided it was a lost cause. There was color on the pieces, definitely more than before, but it was still hard to see and there was so much blue that everything looked the same. The little piles Ford had made looked like they represented the sea, the sky, and the boat, but Stan didn’t see any pieces that looked like gold.

“You could at least be actually cursed,” Stan said, poking at a pile. “Then at least things would get interesting.”

He read more comics and made plans for the gold they would have when the puzzle was complete. He wasn’t totally sure there would be actual gold anymore, but they could still sell the puzzle to like…someone specializing in torture, or something. An art gallery? Those were basically torture that people paid to do.

Stan fell asleep that night. Ford didn’t wake up all day, but he was already awake the following morning. He was bent over the puzzle, fingers practically blurring as they filled in the pieces. Stan squinted.

“You look different,” Stan said slowly. “Did you cut your hair or something?”

“Yup,” Ford said flatly. “Shaved it. Totally bald. Sold it to a rat for sixty cents.”

“Ha, ha.” Stan rolled out of bed. “Think we could get away with two days sick in a row?”

“No. Go to school.”

That made Stan pause. “You’re not coming?”

“No. Go away.”

“Uh, hello, earth to Sixer? Are you sure you’re not actually sick?” Stan reached for Ford’s forehead to check his temperature.

Sixer smacked his hand away. It wasn’t his usual limp-nerd smack, either; it stung. Stan blinked. And Ford nearly fell over, so he really hadn’t meant to swing that hard. He looked just as surprised as Stan.

“I’m…almost done,” Ford said, by way of apology. “You go. I’ll finish by tonight. We’re going to have that gold, Stan, I’m sure of it.”

“Riiiiight,” Stan said slowly. He glanced at the puzzle. To be fair, he could sort of see the picture now. There was the boat on the right, the pier on the left, the dump next to the pier. The beach looked empty so far, though there was something odd about the foam from the waves. “Well, hurry up then. Ol’ Stan’s got yachts to buy! And toffee peanuts! Enough to fill up ten yachts. A hundred yachts!”

“Okay, okay,” Ford said. He was back to the puzzle, but he was doing that weird smirk-thing that meant the fight was over and he liked Stan again.

It was only as Stan headed downstairs that he realized what was odd: Ford had been wearing a scarf.

[fexiled]

@stanuary Week Three: Fear

don't let go

[thereareeyesinsidethetrees]

havin trouble of thinking where to go next in the worldbuilding au, so. let's have a poll about that!

we're also hoping to start writing some actual fics now that we have a sort of basis to go off. who knows, maybe we'll even dedicate part of stanuary and forduary to this au!

[vulpixen]

I made a fic for @stanuary in going with the prompt Animals. This is set in my Lost and Gained AU where Stan has a wife and kids as well as grandkids. Enjoy this small read of the animals Stan has had in his life!

_________

A young Stan huffed when he was tasked to take out the trash this time around after dinner. It was full and heavy, but his dad Filbrick told him to suck it up and take it out to the trash cans outside. Out the back door, Stan was dragging the hefty load to the back when all of a sudden, he heard the sounds of chittering and the clanks and shattering glass falling out. It alarmed Stan so he put up a tough-guy attitude to confront this supposed intruder. 

“Hey! Stay out of our trash or I’ll give you a knuckle sandwich! And not the edible kind!”

Stan marched up the trash and what he found shocked him. It was a young possum that was munching on a tossed out sandwich when it looked up at the young boy and hissed at him. Stan expected a seagull or rat in there, but this possum seemed like a cooler animal than any other animal he encountered. A little guy trying his best to survive in this world all alone. Stan couldn’t help but to give some sympathy. 

“Uh… actually,” Stan presented the garbage to the possum, “you can have this. I’m not allowed to have pets, but you seem real neat! I’m gonna call you Shanklin!” The possum inched closer to Stan and sniffed at him. Stan slowly reached to touch the possum and pet him, disregarding he was stinky and covered in trash. 

________________________________________________________

Some years later….

Stan and Andrea took the time to go camping with their three children, James, Jessie and Leroy while in Perdido Key, Florida by the water. The day was sunny and the water was fine for sailing on the Stan o’ War. It was a good, sturdy boat for the occasion, even without Ford there to enjoy it, too. Stan thought back to him, but he wanted to be happy for his kids and put on a smile.

It would be the afternoon while James and Jessie were chasing each other by the shore when they come across a young chocolate labrador looking at them with interest. 

James stopped in his tracks to take notice of the dog. The dog seemed to be a stray and didn't see another person around whom the animal could belong to. Jessie was immediately happy to see a dog. 

“Doggie!” Jessie slowly goes up to the dog to let him sniff at her and open to being petted. 

“Hey, dog, what are you doing out here?” James and Jessie noticed the dog not having a collar and name tag. “You lost, boy?” The dog licked at him. 

“He doesn’t belong to anyone, it seems like,” Jessie smiled brightly at an idea. “Think we can ask Mom and Dad if we can keep him?” James appeared doubtful, having heard his dad say they can’t have a lot of pets, but pets weren’t exactly out of the question. 

“We can try, but you know Dad doesn’t approve of most animals. Like that one time we tried to convince him we wanted a hamster.” Jessie frowned but she was hopeful. 

“We can still try. This dog needs a home.”

The twin boy and girl lead the eager dog back with him to the camper where Stan and Andrea were cooking hotdogs and displaying the chips and soda/water for them all to have. Leroy helped with setting it up. 

James and Jessie arrived with the dog walking next to them, wagging his tail smelling delicious food. Leroy gasped seeing the dog and brought a smile on his face. 

“Mom! Dad! We found a dog!” announced James. Stan looked from the grill and Andrea from the cooler to see the dog. Stan wasn’t too keen about it. No other pet can replace what Shanklin had in his heart. 

“No. We can’t keep the dog.” The dog stopped wagging his tail and the kids were disappointed. Andrea seemed dismayed as well. Stan continued grilling the hotdogs. “We don’t have the means and that dog could belong to someone.”

“But he has no collar and name tag. He’s a stray that needs a home.” Jessie displayed the puppy eyes and quivered her lips in pleading. 

“We never had a dog before,” mentioned Leroy. 

Andrea looked at her husband and got up from her seat to go up to him. 

“We can make room, Stan and pick up pet supplies on the way home.”

“See? Mom wants a dog, too!” James spoke. 

Stan could see he was outvoted four to one. He took a look at the dog and was reminded of when his dad denied him pets, but not Shanklin as he never told him nor his Ma of him when he was around and stayed outside. The white cat they had was more of their Ma's cat named Pearly than his and Ford's, the cat having been considered an exception. A dog was very different from a possum. But he cannot deny the family a pet when he’d been denied for much of his life. Why deny them this?

“... Okay. We can keep him. So long as he doesn’t pee and poop on anything, he can stay.” The kids cheered and hugged the dog. Stan gave the dog an unseasoned hotdog and pet the animal. 

“What name do you think we should give him?” The kids each had their idea of what to name their new family member. 

“Butch!”

“Chocolate!”

“Beethoven!”

“Lion.” Andrea suggested. “Like the Sea Lion, dogs of the sea.” The kids seemed onboard with the name. “And they love the water like this one does.”

Stan felt his heart warmed seeing his family happy with the new addition and agreed to the name. “Alright, Lion it is.”

______________________________________________________

Years later….

Stan found a kid(young goat) on his property when one of his grandkids showed him the small goat outside in his front yard. 

“Grandpa, look!” exclaimed one of the grandsons Leon, looking much like a younger version of his grandpa Stan, but with blue eyes filled with excitement. “Someone left a goat here and drove away. I don’t think they’re gonna come back.”

Stan snorted, recognizing the guy who shorted him on cash that drove off. “That cheapskate! … Well, I’m stuck with a goat now.” He knelt down to the brown goat with the chipped horn as he bleets at him and reached for his burgundy fez hat to chew on, making Leon laugh. 

“I think he likes you!”

“He ain’t gonna be eating this. I’ll get him some food and think about what to do with him. I have to talk to your grandma about it.” Leon perked a smile. 

“I think you should keep him. You and Granny Andy should have a pet.”

“Oh? How come?” The young boy shrugged. 

“Goats are neat to have, I think. He can keep the lawn from growing more and less money for you to spend on mowing.” Stan laughed in amusement. 

“That’s a great idea! We’ll just see.” 

[thehandwitch]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Gravity Falls Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Ford Pines & Stan Pines Characters: Stan Pines, Ford Pines Additional Tags: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Memory Loss, Stanuary, rated teen for like. more swearing than there probably should be!, mentions of violence ofc this is stan’s past he’s remembering, oh wait the best silliest funniest tag:, Stangst Summary:

Stan, post-Weirdmaggedon, starts uncovering the mystery of his life. He doesn’t like what he finds.

(For Stanuary 2023. Week 1: MYSTERY)

[mysteryhackin]

Stanuary Week 2: Wanted

https://archiveofourown.org/works/62249893

Happy Week 2 of @stanuary! I can't believe we're already half way through!

Please enjoy the entry for Week 2: Wanted!

Stan Pines just has to work one last job for Rico and his gang tonight, and he'll finally be out of debt. But when some creepy stranger shows up to make a promise, he has to decide whether or not to go through with it.

Stan Pines took a long drag on his cigarette, then tilted his head back to look at the stars as he blew out the smoke.

It was winter in Dead End Flats, New Mexico, but it wasn’t nearly as cold as it had been back in New Jersey this time of year.  Geez, how long had it been since Stan had been back there?  Stan snorted to himself.  As if he didn’t know. 

This past spring marked the tenth anniversary of the night his father had kicked Stan out, so now it had been over ten years since he had seen any member of his family.  He had promised not to return until he had made millions of dollars, and even then he’d only come back to let them- his father, his teachers, everyone in Glass Shard Beach- see how wrong they were about him.  They’d be sorry, and he’d be rich.

Then he’d leave New Jersey for the last time and find his brother Ford, and dazzle him with wealth.  Stan could just see it- Ford’s bright smile as he’d see Stan drive up in his old (no, not old, classic) El Diablo, perfectly restored and shining, Stan stepping out in an impeccably tailored suit, a real gold chain, and the offer of the adventure of a lifetime.

Ford would immediately start apologizing for letting Stan get kicked out and leaving him behind to go to college (ugh, college- of course that nerd would want more school) and tell Stan how boring and lame his life had been without Stan.  But Stan would only let him apologize for a little bit- ten minutes, maybe 20, tops- until he told Ford his plan.  Then they’d buy a boat together- no need to rebuild a piece of junk with the money Stan would have- and finally, finally start their lives, just like they had always said they would.

But first, Stan had to do one more job. 

The past ten years had seen plenty of business ventures go south, but Stan wouldn’t give up… even if said business ventures became increasingly shady, with increasingly shady people to go with it.  He found himself in nearly insurmountable debt with the leader of a local, ah, organization who promised to forgive the debt if Stan helped his crew with some of their activities.  Stan figured out lock picking long ago- even before he was kicked out- and spent time in Europe and South America learning the art of safe cracking, so Rico didn’t mind the compromise.  Stan was pretty sure he had already more than paid back his debt, but Rico assured him that that wasn’t the case- usually driving home the point with scary men even taller than Stan standing behind him.  But this was going to be Stan’s last job.  It had to be.  Stan had been mixed up with some tough people- bikers, thieves, smugglers, underground fighters and bookies- but Rico was by far the most unhinged, and Stan just wanted to leave him in the past.

So yeah, just this one last job.  Then he could get back to making millions… somehow.

He flicked the spent cigarette to the dirt, ready to go back inside his motel room and get ready for the robbery later that night.

“Y’know, if you didn’t waste so much money on those cigs, you probably wouldn’t have to go into debt so much,” a gravelly voice said from the shadows.

Stan carefully put his hand in his pocket with his brass knuckles.  “With the debt I’m in, buddy, they’re a drop in the bucket,” he answered.

The man in the shadows laughed- a hollow sound somehow tinged with bitterness.  “Yeah, that’s probably right,” he said, then stepped out of the shadows.  “Anyway, I got some better advice to give ya.”

The first thing Stan noticed about the man was how big he was.  No, wait, scratch that- he was about the same height as Stan, maybe a little thicker, but the way he carried himself made him seem like a giant.  He wore a long brown- duster?  sea coat?- a white T-shirt, jeans, boots, and a red beanie.  Stan couldn’t really make out much of the man’s face- half of it was covered with a full grey beard, and the other half was obscured with large square glasses that reflected the lights of the parking lot just so Stan couldn’t really see the stranger’s eyes. 

“Uh, no offense gramps,” Stan said smoothly, his right hand still in his pocket,  “But I ain’t in the business of taking advice from weird guys that lurk in shadows in parking lots of busted motels.”

The man’s grin flashed in the darkness, and his voice had a hint of a chuckle to it.  “I don’t see why not- it’s not like your life could get any worse,”

Stan’s face darkened.  “Listen pal, I don’t know who you are, but you gotta lotta nerve- an’ I don’t think-”

“If you listen to me, I swear you’ll get everything you ever wanted,” the man interrupted, his voice now dead serious and somewhat… urgent.

Stan paused for a moment, then burst into laughter.  “That’s a good one!  So, what, you’re gonna give me millions of dollars?  What are you, some sort of genie?”  Then Stan stopped cold.  He’d seen some weird crap in his life, and honestly a genie might not be beyond the realm of possibility.  “Uh, look, if you are a genie…”

“Nah you knucklehead, I’m not a genie,” the man answered, somewhat impatiently.  “I’m here to tell you not to do Rico’s job tonight.”

Stan snorted.  “Yeah, right.  If I back out now, he won’t let me out of my debt, and he’ll kill me.”  Then he narrowed his eyes.  “How did you know about the job tonight?”

“I know a guy,” the man answered, his eyes still not visible through his glasses.  “But you gotta trust me.”

“Why?” Stan asked, and slowly began taking his knuckle-dusted hand out of his pocket.

The man huffed.  “Look, I appreciate ya being paranoid, but… I, uh…”  the man paused, and Stan thought he heard a “oh geez…” under the man’s breath before he continued.  “I’m a psychic.”

“Nice try pal,” Stan said.  “My ma was a “psychic”, an’ I know all the tricks.  Anyway, if you’re psychic, you should know I’m flat broke and I’m not gonna give you nothin’. So just turn around and…” 

“Stanley Pines,” the man said in a low voice.  Stan once more froze.  He hadn’t used that name since he left New Jersey.  “Your name is Stanley Pines, but you’ve had a lot of fake names over the years- Hal Forrester, Steve Pinington, Andrew 8-ball Alcatraz…”

“What are you, a cop?” Stan snapped, hoping his voice didn’t betray the fear he felt in the pit of his stomach.

The man snorted.  “Please.” He said, then continued.  “You’re banned in a buncha states, lived in Europe and South America, been to prison three times and jail more than that, your ex-wife is Marilyn Rosenstein, although, heh, she could barely be called your wife since you were married for just 48 hours and she was trying to steal your car, your birthday is June 15, and you share it with your-”

“All right, enough!” Stan shouted.  Then he took a deep breath.  “Enough.  Whatever.  You’ve done your research, fine, and you’re not a cop- so are you from, uh, the FBI or somethin’?  Trying to get me to turn against Rico?”

“Nah,” the stranger said.  “The FBI already has a guy in Rico’s organization.  Rianda is gonna take the operation tonight and use it t’ turn on you all.”

Stan’s jaw dropped.  “Rianda?  But he’s Rico’s right-hand man!”

The other man shrugged.  “I don’t know what t’ tell ya.  No honor among thieves an’ all that.  So,” he said.  “Have I convinced ya not to go tonight?”

Stan’s mind was swimming.  If was caught by tonight’s operation, he would be in prison for a very very long time, and time was something he didn’t have.  On the other hand, backing out of this job would make it so his time was even shorter- unless he paid Rico back the money he owed.  But if this guy was telling the truth, Rico’s whole organization could be taken down before he could get to Stan.  But if this guy was wrong, and just messing with Stan…

“Look, I appreciate what you’re tryin’ to do,” Stan said.  “But I really need to get out of-”

“I promised if you didn’t do the job, you’d get everything you wanted,” the man said, almost… desperately.

Stan smirked.  “An’ unless you really are a genie ready to give me millions, that’s a pretty hollow promise.”

“C’mon, kid,” the stranger said.  “We both know it’s not money you want.”

“Oh yeah?” Stan nearly burst into laughter.  “What do I want?”

“To sail around the world hunting for treasure and babes with Ford,” the man said simply.  “A family to belong to.  To be wanted.”

Stan’s vision suddenly went blurry, his eyes stung, and he felt like he had been punched in the stomach.  How… how did the man know about… Stan had never told anyone.  And yet… “Who… who are you?” he croaked.

“Someone you gotta listen to,” the gravelly voice said.  “Now you’re gonna skip that job tonight, right?”

Stan nodded in silence, still in shock.

“All right,” the man said, and took a few steps towards Stan.  “Don’ worry, Rico won’t be able to find ya.  You’ve seen the last of that guy.  Trust me-” A puff of air that could have been laughter came from his nose.  “I’m a psychic.”  He turned to go, then snapped his fingers.  “Yeesh, I almost forgot.”  He turned back to Stan, digging through the pocket of his long brown coat.  “You’re gonna need this in a few days.  For the snow.”  He handed Stan a black lump.

Stan took the black lump and saw it was a black knit beanie cap.  “Uh, it�� it don’t snow in this part of New Mexico.”

“Hm.” The stranger said.  “Interesting.”  He paused as if he wanted to say something, then seemed to think better of it.  “Take care of yourself kid.  And, uh…” he swallowed.  “Don’t give up.”  Then he turned around and walked around the corner of the motel out of sight.

Stan looked down at the beanie.  There was some sort of stylized logo on it, and the price tag was still attached, listing a few different prices with different currencies.  Stan recognized the symbol for the British pound and the Swedish krona from his stint in Europe, but the third one- almost like a curvy “E” with two middle lines- was completely unfamiliar to him.  He absent-mindedly took off the tag, put on the hat, and wordlessly walked into his motel room, shaken and promising himself not to leave until morning.

“How did it go?” Ford asked excitedly as Stan suddenly appeared in front of him over 30 years later, time tape in hand.

“I think I prevented a, uh, whatchamacallit, paradox,” Stan answered, rubbing his temples.  “He… I took some convincing, but he’s- I’m- not going to the heist.  An’ I gave him the beanie.”  Stan’s head hurt- ever since he picked up the black beanie in the outdoor equipment store and saw the price tag with the pound, krona, and euro- a currency that didn’t even exist in the ‘80s- he realized that he had been the weird old man who told him not to do the job with Rico and who had given him the hat, something he hadn’t thought about in decades. And to make sure past Stan stayed out of prison so he could meet Ford in Gravity Falls, present Stan had to go back in time and warn his past self against the job.  “Time travel is stupid.”

“Agree.” Ford answered emphatically, rolling his eyes.  “That’s why I refuse to study it.”

“Do we even have free will?” Stan asked hollowly.

Ford laughed.  “Most definitely.” He assured his brother.  “Time travel is just…”

“Stupid.” Stan said again, making his brother laugh, which was Stan’s favorite thing to do.  “Still, I’m shavin’ this beard.”

 “So what did you tell him?” he asked.

“I just told him if he listened to me he’d get everything he ever wanted.” Stan said with a small smile.  He looked at Ford, remembering family, friends, past adventures, and thought about the bright future to continue.  “He’s gonna have to wait a little while, but for once, I wasn’t lyin’.”

Ford raised an eyebrow.  “So you told him you were him from the future?”

Stan didn’t miss a beat.  “Nah.  Told ‘im I was psychic.”

Ford laughed again.  “So you didn’t lie, huh?”

Stan waved a hand dismissively.  “Not about the important stuff.  And besides, what if I really am psychic?  Watch.” He put a hand to his temple and put on an expression of concentration.  “I see… me an’ you going to get a really good breakfast burrito about three blocks from here…” he said, then grinned at his brother.

“Well who am I to ignore a psychic’s warnings?” Ford asked, trying not to laugh.

Stan grinned.  “Exactly,” he said, clapping Ford on the back and putting his arm around his shoulders, as they walked out into the New Mexico morning

Note: Apologies to Mike Rianda; He's on the top of my head because I'm relistening to the DVD commentary and he is such a delight!

[cheridraws]

I’ve never participated in Stanuary before, but I decided I’d try it out this year, so here’s my entry for week one: charm!

[stanuary]

Just wanted to check in and see if we have some prompts for 2022? This was so fun last year!

hello, yes! i'm so sorry for my radio silence here, i absolutely dropped the ball with planning this year, but there will be a post to start getting things rolling before the end of this week!

[reggiejworkshop]

"Bill"

"Come on you nerd! Just let go! Let go!" Stanley Pines

In an alternate universe, Stanford Pines and Stanley Pines reconciled their differences several years earlier, and with Fiddleford MacGucket, they uncover paranormal activity within Gravity Falls in Disney's first  animated PG sci fi film from 1982. 

This had been an idea I had been musing in my head for a while. Yes, I am aware 'Stanuary' is officially over now, but I still wanted to go ahead and finish this. I wanted to do another piece that was meant to parody the look of 80's movie posters, similar to the Action Claus piece I did a year or two ago. But this time I used Tron as my base of inspiration for this one. This one was a bit more experimental for me as I had to use a lot of different tools to create the background than I normally would.

The hardest was probably creating the custom text for the title. I wasn't able to get the text to look like the one from the original Tron movie poster, but I still managed to give it a retro 80's feel. Sure, it probably would have been easier to find a text generator website to do that for me, but I wanted to try it for myself anyway.

I love how well this turned out!

[thelastspeecher]

Stanuary '23 - Week 1: Mystery

I didn't have work today because of the New Year, which meant I could work on Stanuary! And I actually finished it! So I'm getting off to a good start here.

Last year, I used my Smallville AU as the basis for one of the Stanuary prompts, and I'm doing it again! Quick note of context: This AU has Stan and Ford jointly took the role of Clark Kent as seen on the TV show Smallville. As for everything else, well, I think that this ficlet will be able to fill you in.

———————————————————————————————————–

              Stan clenched the football in his hands until it popped into pieces.  Ford, who was doing the dishes, rolled his eyes.

              “Are you going to do your chores or just stand there steaming?” he asked.  He and Stan were in the kitchen, getting started on their weekend chores.  Or, at least, Ford was.  Stan threw the pieces of the football to the ground.  “Come on, what’s going on with you?”

              “Ma still won’t let me try out for the football team,” Stan ground out.  Ford rolled his eyes again.

              “You know why you can’t.”

              “I can keep my powers in check!”

              “You just destroyed our only football,” Ford pointed out.  Stan glared at him.  “You seem particularly irate today.”

              “Duh!  My twin brother rescued a rich guy yesterday and now he’s getting sent all sortsa expensive gifts by that rich guy!”

              “You mean Bill Cipher?” Ford asked.  Stan nodded.  “The gifts don’t even matter!  Ma made me return all of that stuff back so that we wouldn’t attract attention or whatever.”

              “Yeah, she’s off her rocker,” Stan muttered.  “Still, you saved someone!”

              “Because he hit me with his car.”

              “So?  It’s better than anything I’ve ever done!”  Stan punched the wall, his fist going through the plaster like it was tissue paper. 

              “Ma’s gonna be upset about that.”

              “Whatever!  You’re already way better in school than I am, it’s not fair you get to have this big heroic moment!”

              “Look,” Ford sighed, “it’s not actually as great a thing as you think.  Ma’s freaking out about Bill potentially seeing me use my powers to rescue him.”  Stan grunted wordlessly.  “It’s normal for you to feel upset over perceived missed opportunities-”

              “Normal?” Stan snapped, with such venom that Ford actually took a step away.  “Normal?  What about us is normal?  What about us has ever been normal?”

              “You’re far more normal than I am,” Ford said.

              “How normal am I, really?” Stan asked.  He turned on the garbage disposal and shoved his arm into it.  There was a shout.

              “Stanley Kent, what are you doing?!” Ma Kent shrieked, rushing over.  She pulled Stan’s arm out of the sink.  His shirt sleeve was in tatters, but he didn’t have a scratch on him.  The same couldn’t be said of the garbage disposal.  It had ground to a complete halt, destroyed by Stan’s impenetrable skin.  “What…”

              “This is how Ford survived getting hit by Bill Cipher’s car yesterday,” Stan said.  He yanked his arm out of his mother’s grasp.  “Guess we’re men of steel now or something.”

              “You said the car didn’t hit you,” Ma Kent said to Ford.  Ford looked down guiltily.  “Stanford?”

              “I didn’t want you to worry,” Ford mumbled.  Ma Kent sighed.  She shook her head.

              “What am I gonna do with you two?” she said softly.

              “You could start by, I dunno, not lying to us all the time,” Stan said.  Ma Kent glared at him.

              “I know you didn’t just accuse your hardworking single mother of lying,” she said.  Stan crossed his arms.

              “We ask you what you know about our abilities, or whatever you wanna call them.  And every answer you give is a lie!” Stan said.  Ma Kent crossed her arms as well.  “You were the one who taught me how to catch liars, Ma.”

              “Hmph.  That’s true.”

              “Then is what Stan said about you lying to us true?” Ford asked.  Ma Kent reluctantly nodded.  “Then you do know why we have our abilities.”

              “Yes.  I do.”  Ma Kent closed her eyes.  “I’d tell you, but you wouldn’t believe me.  I’ll have to show you.”

              “What could be so unbelievable that we’d think you were still lying to us?” Ford asked.  “We’re already superpowered teenagers!”

-----

              Stan and Ford gaped at the spaceship in the cellar.

              “This is why you didn’t like us going in the cellar alone,” Ford said quietly.  He shook his head.  “Ma, this raises more questions than it answers.  Are- are we aliens?”  Ma Kent leaned against the cellar wall and idly lit a cigarette.

              “Yep.”  She took a drag of her cigarette.  “Landed here in Smallville during that meteor shower people around here still talk about.”

              “So you’re an alien, too?” Stan asked.  Ma Kent shook her head.

              “Nope.  Human.  You boys are adopted.”  Stan and Ford’s jaws dropped again.  “I know they say you should tell kids they’re adopted from the start or whatever, but I figured these were special circumstances.  All those ‘experts’ in ‘child psychiatry’ were going off the assumption the adopted kids were the same species as the adoptive parents.”  Ma Kent smiled at her sons.  “Don’t ever think I loved you any less.”

              “We know,” Stan and Ford said together.

              “Good.”  Ma Kent sighed.  “Filbrick and I, we couldn’t have biological children, so we decided to adopt.  We were on our way back to New Jersey from an antiques conference when the meteor shower happened.  A big rock came right at us while we were on the road.  Filbrick swerved so we wouldn’t get hit, but we wound up steering off the road and into a cornfield.  Car was fine.  I got out to try to push the sucker back onto the road, and well.”  Ma Kent’s eyes went misty.  “I found you two.  In your little spaceship.”  She pushed herself off the wall and walked over to Stan and Ford to stroke their cheeks.  “Just the cutest things I’d ever seen.  I couldn’t leave you two behind to get scooped up by the government or some shady scientist.  So I didn’t.  I brought you boys home with me.”

              “How’d you convince Filbrick to take us in?” Stan asked.  He couldn’t remember Filbrick well; they’d left New Jersey quite some time ago.  But from what he remembered, Filbrick didn’t seem the type to adopt twin aliens.

              “Talked him into it.  Even Filbrick can’t resist my silver tongue.”  Ma Kent scowled.  “At least, that used to be the case.  Eventually, he built up a resistance.”

              “Does that have anything to do with why we left New Jersey?” Ford asked.  Ma Kent tsked at Ford and pinched his cheek, smiling with pride.

              “My little genius.  It has everything to do with that!”  Ma Kent’s smile faded.  “At first, you two just seemed like regular human kids.  But once it was clear you had some alien abilities, Filbrick started to get antsy.  He eventually put his foot down, saying he was gonna turn you over to the government.”  Stan and Ford’s eyes filled with fear.  “So that night while he was sleeping, I grabbed everything I could think of, including the two of you, threw it all into the car, and drove off.”

              “Why did you come back to Smallville?” Stan asked.  “Filbrick knows we came from here!”

              “Oh, please.  He’s not the kind of person to go chasing halfway across the country for a woman he butted heads with and two boys he didn’t even like.  But just in case, I changed our last names and made friends with the locals.  The bonds between people in small towns are strong.”  Ma Kent smirked.  “And the second I would mention us leaving Filbrick for your safety, people practically begged me to let them shoot him.”  She took a step back and glanced at the spaceship.  “I figured this was the best place for you.  There’s the chance you two and a buncha rocks weren’t the only things from your home planet that landed here.”

              “Have you found anything of our home planet other than the spaceship and meteors?” Ford asked eagerly.  Ma Kent shook her head.  “…Oh.”

              “That doesn’t mean it’s not here.  It just means that I’m a single mother to twin superpowered teenage boys who also happens to own the busiest coffee shop in town.”

              “The only coffee shop in town,” Stan muttered.  Ma Kent slapped him across the back of his head.  “It’s true!”

              “Yes, and the reason we don’t have any competition is ‘cause I work so hard at making this the best place to get coffee in the county,” Ma Kent snapped.  Stan rolled his eyes.

              “How- how did you get the spaceship in the cellar on your own?” Ford asked suddenly.

              “It’s not as heavy as it looks and your ma’s stronger than she seems,” Ma Kent said airily.  She glared at Stan, who was rubbing the back of his head ruefully.  “Oh, please!  You two just told me you can’t get hurt!”

              “Oh.  Right.  It doesn’t hurt.”  Stan’s hand dropped to his side.  “Do you think the spaceship’s got a ‘phone home’ thing in it?”  Ma Kent shrugged.

              “Maybe.  But I could never open the damned thing.  Closed up once you boys were outta it and hasn’t opened since.”

              “Perhaps it will respond to our non-human touch,” Ford said.  He placed a hand on the spaceship.  Nothing happened.

              “It was worth a shot,” Stan said.  “Guess we’ll never find out anything about where we came from.”

              “Not with that attitude!” Ford said passionately.  He looked at Ma Kent.  “Ma, can we be excused from our shift at the coffee shop today?  I think Stan and I should go look for clues as to our heritage.”

              “Fine.  I’ll call Sally and see if she wants to do some work today.  She’s always fun to shoot the breeze with.”

              “Excellent!” Ford enthused.  “Stan, stay here.  I’ll be right back with some supplies for our search.”

              “Oh, good,” Stan muttered.  Ford rushed up the stairs, leaving his mother and twin alone in the cellar.  Ma Kent ground the butt of her cigarette under one of her typical bright red high heels.  She raised an eyebrow at Stan.  “…What?”

              “You don’t seem half as intrigued by the mystery as your twin.”

              “Whattaya want me to say, Ma?  That I’m excited to be an alien?”

              “Stanford clearly is.”

              “Yeah, well, Stanford’s always stuck out, so he’s glad there’s a reason for it.”  Stan looked away.  “I’m just- I really can’t do sports if I’m an alien, can I?”

              “Sweetie.”  Ma Kent walked over to Stan.  She stroked his hair.  “You boys are getting stronger every day.  And you just had a new ability show up!  Who’s to say there won’t be others?  It’s safest for you to fly under the radar.”

              “Sports is all I’ve ever wanted to do.”

              “You’ll find something else.”  Ma Kent kissed Stan on the cheek.  “Maybe that new thing will be cracking the mystery of what you are.”

              “Not a chance.  It’s already Ford’s thing.”

              “And what have I told you two about sharing?” Ma Kent asked pointedly.  Stan managed a small smile.  “You’re a teenager.  Everything’s weird and changing at your age.  Give yourself some time to straighten out before deciding you’ll never be able to follow your dreams.”

              “…Fine.  But I’m gonna keep doing sports with the McGucket kids.”

              “Just don’t hurt any of ‘em and it should be fine.  Even if they see something odd, that family knows when something isn’t their business.”  Ford returned to the cellar.  He tossed a backpack at Stan, who caught it.

              “Come on, Stan!  We have a mystery to solve!”

              “We’re not the Hardy boys,” Stan mumbled, putting on his backpack.

              “Correct.  We’re better,” Ford said firmly.  Stan snickered.

              “We’re definitely more attractive.”

              “All right you two, get outta here before I change my mind and make you work your shift after all,” Ma Kent said, making a shooing gesture with her hands.  Stan and Ford exited the cellar.  Stan looked at his Ford.

              “Where are we gonna start our search?”

              “I was thinking we could look in the cornfield that our spaceship landed in.  Back to where it all began.”

              “That seems as good a place as any to start.”  Stan looped his arm around Ford’s shoulders.  “And since it’s on the McGuckets’ property, we can stop by the house for a slice of pie.”

              “Excellent idea.”

              “When it comes to food, I’m full of ‘em, Sixer.”

[hkthatgffan]

May is nearly here and with that, the start of the Month of May-bel!

Like Stanuary, this month is dedicated to Mabel. And as we know, Mabel has had a pretty tumultuous relationship with the fandom, and I feel that it’s time we show our favourite pig and sweater loving girl that we do care.

I've hosted this event for 2 years now but this is the final one I will be hosting as I intend to move on to new things. But I wanna go out with a bang. As before, I asked the That GF FAN community for themes and here are the ones we've picked!

Week 1 is about adventures with Waddles! Mabel is not Mabel without Waddles. Show Mabel and waddles on an adventure together!

Week 2 is about Relief of Trauma. Mabel has been through a lot through out GF, the final episodes especially. Show Mabel overcoming that trauma and coming out of it like the fighter she is!

Week 3 is about creativity! Mabel is an arts and crafts master. Show Mabel unleashing that creative bone she has!

Finally, for week 4, Like the last 2 years and inspired by the original Mabel Pines Appreciation Week from 2015, it’s your pick. Show Mabel how ever you choose.

You can make fanart, write a story, cosplay, DIY, make an edit, etc. Whatever you choose, be sure to follow the theme of that week and the rules, stay SFW, and of course, have fun. Be sure to tag your post with #MonthOfMaybel2022 so that others can see it (and optionally, tag me too). You can make as many contributions a week as you please. This is not a contest, it’s all for fun, so do the best you can.

Let’s show Mabel that this fandom is not dead, and still very much cares for her! Week 1 starts on May 1st. Good luck :)

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