#a bit of salsa

[senipsenipsenip]

Stan shook his head, chuckling as he hung up the phone. Geez, if he hadn't put a stop to that he was pretty sure his nephew was going to overheat and explode like one of Ford's old computers. Speaking of, he should probably make sure the fire extinguisher down in the lab wasn't expired if Ford and Dipper were gonna be messing around down there the rest of the summer.

Eh, that was a tomorrow problem. Dipper was still up in the attic with Mabel unpacking for another summer in Gravity Falls. Hopefully that meant Stan had at least twenty-four hours until the nerds started blowing stuff up. Mabel and Dipper's parents had seemed surprised the twins wanted another summer with their Grunkle Stan. After all, they were teenagers now, Stan couldn't blame their parents for expecting the two of them to want to spend a summer with kids their own age in California rather than an old fart in the middle of the woods. Well, two old farts, but their parents didn't know about the second one. Besides, Ford would probably object to being called a fart. He'd probably complain that's not the proper term Stanley, if anything I'm an old flatulence.

Stan shuddered. Man, he musta been on that boat with his brother for too long.

"GRUNKLE STAAAAAAAAAN!"

Speaking of the kids. Stan grunted as he hefted himself out of his armchair and made his way up the stairs toward the attic. There hadn't been any sound of breaking glass before Mabel's call, so he figured he could take his time getting up there. He heard a loud thump, a groan from Dipper, and a loud giggle from Mabel. Okay, maybe he should walk a little faster.

"There you are!" Mabel called. Stan stood in the doorway, staring at both of his niblings sprawled out on the floor, a half-rolled poster laying between them and a hammer still clutched in Mabel's hands.

"Dipper's trying to hang up this poster, but he's still not tall enough. I tried climbing on his back, but I guess he still hasn't gotten his puberty muscles yet." Mabel scrambled up and ran to Stan, holding out the hammer in front of her. "Can you do it?"

"I do too have muscles," Dipper grumbled, sitting up. "But no one can expect to hold up the forty pounds of sequins on your sweater and your giant head!"

Mabel stuck her tongue out at her brother. Stan laughed and took the hammer from her, ruffling her hair.

"No sweat, Pumpkin. Let a real man take over." He couldn't ignore the way Mabel's smile grew wider at the nickname. It had been almost a year since Stan got his memories back, but it seemed any little reminder that he was recovering still made his family happy. It was weird, in a good way, to see people care about him so much. And if he made sure to call Mabel by her nicknames even more than her real name, well sue him.

"You could just get me a stepladder," Dipper grumbled, shuffling to his feet.

"Ugh, then I gotta walk all the way back downstairs," Stan picked up a bent nail off the floor. "I'll just get it over with now. Besides, then Mabel can whip us up some lemonade while I work."

"Ooooo can I make Mabel-ade?"

Stan shrugged. "Sure, knock yourself out."

The words were barely out of his mouth before Mabel was squealing and running down the stairs. In the silence, Stan shifted on his feet, giving Dipper an awkward sideways glance.

"I haven't...had Mabel-ade before, have I?" he whispered.

Dipper smiled. "Nah, don't worry. That's a whole new horror you get to experience first hand."

Stan chuckled. "Right." He made his way to the wall, squinting at the wooden beams to try and figure out where he could safely sink a nail in. It's not like the place was structurally unsound, but he also hadn't had any sort of building inspection in uh...ever.

"So," Dipper started. "Why'd you want Mabel out of the room?"

Stan smiled. "Perceptive. Good job, kid." He lined up the nail on the beam that had the least amount of termite holes. "You're not in trouble, just wanted to warn ya. Speaking of 'puberty muscles', your Pops called. Apparently he thinks you still haven't had The Talk yet. He told me to keep an eye on ya and that he'd explain everything when you get home."

Stan slipped the edge of the poster under the nail, resting his elbow against the poster to hold it in place while he started hammering.

"Had himself all worked up over it. 'Oh Uncle Stanford, Dipper's a teenager now, he might start to get ideas'," Stan laughed as he finished hammering. "So just, ya know, when you see him pretend I didn't tell ya about the birds and the bees already or anything. Some dads get weird about that. Apparently, he wants to be the one to tell you himself." Stan put his hands on his hips and admired his handy-work. A little crooked, but what wasn't in this place? He nodded and turned to Dipper, who was looking at him with his eyebrows drawn together.

"But...Grunkle Stan, you didn't have that talk with me," he murmured.

"Ha! There ya go," Stan grinned, punching Dipper on the shoulder. "You're gettin' better at lyin' kid."

"But I'm not lying."

"Wow, I almost believed you that time!"

"No, Grunkle Stan," Dipper grabbed Stan's hand before he could leave the room. Stan looked down at Dipper and realized the boy's face had turned from confusion to distress. "You really didn't."

Stan frowned. "Whaddya mean I didn't? Don't tell me you forgot. I still remember having that talk with my old man." He shuddered. "Not the sorta thing you forget."

Dipper gripped his arm tighter. "How well do you remember having that conversation with me?

"Kid, you were making a face like I was about to pull your teeth out the whole time and you screamed, like, a lot. You couldn't even look at the diagrams in my Why Am I Sweaty? book."

"Grunkle Stan...none of that happened."

Stan froze. "But I remember it."

Dipper gently pulled the hammer out of Stan's hand and set it on the ground before grasping his other hand. "Have you...has this happened before?"

"Has what?" Stan could feel his heart rate picking up.

"Remembering things that aren't real."

"Alright kid, whatever joke this is, it isn't funny." Stan ripped his hands from Dipper's hold, rubbing them against his pants as his eyes darted around the room. An old habit. Looking for an exit.

Dipper held up his hands as if approaching a wild animal. "Stay calm. I can get Ford, maybe he can help figure this out. Maybe the memory gun just...um..."

"Just what?" Stan could feel his voice going shrill. "That gun was supposed to take stuff out of my head, not put stuff in!"

Dipper was beginning to look as panicked as Stan felt.

"Oh God," Stan muttered. "What else did it put in there. Dipper? What else isn't real?"

"This is the first time!" Dipper began to pace. "Unless...has Great Uncle Ford said anything? On the boat, did anything like this happen? This conversation?"

Stan shook his head, his breathing starting to feel funny. "No. But apparently asking me to remember stuff isn't exactly trustworthy - "

"He would have told me," Dipper said with certainty. "Great Uncle Ford would have told me if something happened. So it didn't. So this is the first time and, and, and, we can fix it! Right?"

Stan just stared at Dipper. They shared the same frightened eyes. For Dipper's sake, Stan nodded.

"MABEL-ADE IS READY! YOU WERE OUT OF CHERRIES, SO I USED MARBLES!"

Dipper and Stan glanced towards the stairs.

"Let's get you something to drink first," Dipper muttered, walking slowly towards Stan to take his hand again. "Then we can figure everything out."

"Sure, kid," Stan whispered. He didn't let go of Dipper's hand until they reached the kitchen.

***

They decided it was best not to tell Mabel. After all, it didn't seem like the sort of problem that the scrapbook could solve, and it wasn't worth causing her distress until they knew what they were dealing with. Instead, Dipper had been tasked with distracting Mabel while Ford and Stan commiserated in the kitchen. Stan really wasn't sure how good of a job they were doing of fooling Mabel. She had given him a weird look when he gave the kids money to go get ice cream in town. He couldn't blame her. He'd even thrown in a couple quarters so she could get sprinkles.

"Didn't Dipper mention some sort of brain scanner?" Stan offered. "I don't really like the idea of you poking around in there, but would it help?"

Ford shook his head. He was pacing the kitchen, hands clasped behind his back. "No. Project Mentem is broken. And even if I were to fix it, all I could do with it is see and or encrypt your memories. There would be no way for me to discern what's true and what's false since your mind interprets all of them as true." He stopped his pacing to take another swig of his Mabel-ade. Stan liked to give Ford grief about his coffee intake, but at this rate he'd be willing to let Ford have a couple cups of Joe if it meant he'd stop ingesting whatever sour, spicy, glittery drink Mabel was trying to pass off as lemonade. He was pretty sure Ford's eyes were starting to shake.

"So, you had no memory of this talk with Dipper until your phone call with his father?"

"Right."

"And when the memory returned, did it feel like the rest of them? Think hard, was there any difference in sensation?"

Stan shook his head. "Nope. The same sort of itch I always get."

Ford hummed. "Fiddleford told me once that some of his returning memories would get scrambled. Two puzzle pieces fitting together that shouldn't. For example, he swore there was a Christmas that I spent with him and Emma Mae, but it turned out he was combining his memories of Christmas with her with our own holiday celebration in the lab. Can you think of any other conversation with Dipper you could be mixing up? Anyone else you would have been having that conversation with other than Dipper? Perhaps your mind replaced your real conversation partner with Dipper?"

Stan frowned. "You think I just go talkin' about the birds and the bees with everybody?"

"Stan, just think."

He shrugged. "The only people I talk to who would even be young enough for that would be Soos or Wendy. There's no way I woulda given that talk to a girl, and I'm pretty sure Soos's abuelita woulda ripped me a new one if I had done anything to take away Soos's 'innocence'. I have enough self-preservation not to do that."

Ford nodded. "Alright. I feel comfortable with that reasoning." He took another swig of Mabel-ade. "However, then we're dealing with the more uncomfortable reality of the memory being completely fabricated."

"If you keep drinking that stuff, you're gonna start hallucinating too."

Ford's glass slammed down onto the table. "You've been having hallucinations?"

"No. I mean, not that I know of at least. Have I been?"

"Not that I've seen."

"Alright, then no."

Ford sighed and sat down in the chair across from Stan. He leaned forward, his elbows on the table and hands clasped together.

"I don't like hearing you do that," Ford murmured.

"Doing what?"

"Doubting your mind." Ford looked up to Stan, his eyes that horrible mix of calculating and pitiful that tended to appear these days.

Stan shrugged. "Why shouldn't I? We know I'm just making stuff up now. Heck, if Mabel didn't have pictures of all the crazy stuff we got up to last summer I'd probably think that was made up too."

Ford's eyes narrowed. "Hm. That might work."

"The scrapbook?"

"No, physical stimulus." Ford stood from the table again. "You said that when you had this conversation with Dipper you used a book to show him diagrams and such, correct?"

"Yeah. Why Am I Sweaty?"

Ford blinked. "You still have that thing?"

"Ma mailed it up back when she was cleaning out the house. She said she had a whole bunch of 'old science books' she thought her 'little scientist' might want before she donated 'em. I said I'd take 'em 'cause I was hoping some of them would be able to help with the portal. Turns out it was just a bunch of textbooks I stole from the high school and that thing. Came in handy though." Stan shrugged. "Maybe."

"Where is it?"

"If it wasn't destroyed it's probably still in my office. Why?"

Ford left the room without a word, coat billowing behind him. Stan took the opportunity to dump the rest of Ford's drink down the sink. He had a hunch he was about to have the full attention of a scientist on him for awhile and he'd prefer if that scientist wasn't vibrating like a beehive.

"Here we are!" Ford announced as he entered the room. "As I was saying, a physical stimulus might -" he stopped, staring at his glass. "My drink."

Stan shrugged. "I got thirsty."

Ford squinted at him. "Hm. Try looking through the pages of this. Maybe it will help ground you."

"But, won't that just make the fake memory more real?" Stan asked, flipping through the pages. The Pituitary Gland.

"That!" Stan shouted, pointing at the diagram. "Dipper screamed at that!"

Ford frowned. "That seems unlike him."

Stan groaned, dropping the book and putting his head in his hands. "I know but...I swear I can see it Ford. It feels so real."

Stan could hear the sound of Ford getting out of his chair, and there was suddenly a tentative hand on his shoulder.

"We'll figure it out, Stanley," he said softly.

"I just don't get why my brain would choose that memory to make," Stan mumbled through his hands. "Not that I want a buncha fake memories, but I could have at least come up with something cooler. Like winning a prize fight or kissing a mermaid or something."

Ford chuckled. "Well, I - " he was interrupted by the sound of the Shack door slamming open, frantic footsteps racing toward the kitchen. Stan lifted his head from his hands, leaning back to adopt a more nonchalant position in his chair. Ford gave his shoulder a squeeze.

"Grunkle Stan! Grunkle Ford!" Mabel burst into the kitchen, two small paper cups in her hands. "The ice cream lady said I could have two free samples, so I got two old people flavors! They're melted, but you can drink them. Who wants Butter Pecan and who wants Rum Raisin?"

Dipper shuffled in behind her, Mabel's enthusiasm waning as she took in the tense atmosphere of the room.

"What's wrong?" she asked hesitantly. "Do you guys not like those flavors?"

Stan turned to look at Ford, who had that pinched look around his eyes again.

"Mabel," Ford said gently. "Maybe you should sit down. We have something to -"

He was interrupted by a scream. Mabel had dropped the ice cream cups on the floor, leaving two splats that Waddles wasted no time in beginning to lick up. Stan sat up quickly in his chair.

"Sweetie, what - " before he could complete his sentence, Mabel had grabbed Why Am I Sweaty? and hurled it through the open kitchen window.

"Die childhood killer, die!" she shrieked. She stood huffing for a few more moments, eyes slightly crazed, before straightening up and looking towards the floor.

"Awwww piggy cream!" she cooed, squatting down to pat Waddles' head.

Dipper was the first to break the silence. "Mabel...what was that?"

She glared at Stan from the floor. "An evil book. Is that why you wanted us out of the house? So you could trap us with that horrible book when we got back?"

"You know that book?" Ford asked.

Mabel shuddered. "Ugh, unfortunately. Why do you even wanna read that thing again? It's not like it's hard to forget. Unless..." she frowned. "Were you...showing it to Grunkle Ford? Grunkle Ford, do you not know where babies come from?"

"No, I am well acquainted with a variety of human and alien reproductive systems." This time it was Stan's turn to shudder.

Ford reddened. "Not like that!"

"Wait, Mabel, you read Why Am I Sweaty?" Dipper asked. He looked to Stan, who was beginning to look green around the gills.

"You're the one I read that to?" Stan asked hoarsely. "But that's...that's not for you! I thought I read that to Dipper, you're telling me that I read that to...What?!"

Mabel slowed her petting of Waddles, beginning to look sheepish. "Well...you didn't know it was me. You thought I was Dipper."

Stan's mouth hung open. "Are you telling me my brain was swiss cheese before the memory gun?"

"Ohhhhhhhhhhhh," Dipper groaned, slapping his hand against his head. "That was during the whole carpet thing wasn't it."

Mabel nodded.

"Carpet thing?" Ford asked.

"Yeah," Mabel began to scritch under Waddles' chin. "That carpet from your secret room. It made everybody switch bodies. I was Dipper for awhile and he was me. Soos was Waddles and Waddles was Soos!" Mabel grinned, holding up Waddles to stand on two legs. "Just look at this adorable little former handyman!"

"I was also Waddles," Dipper admitted. "A lot of people were a lot of people. McGucket tried to eat Soos."

Ford frowned. "Soos as Waddles?"

Dipper and Mabel shared a look.

"Never mind all that," Mabel offered, smiling tightly. "Let's talk about why Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford were talking about puberty. Do old people do it twice or something?"

Ford pinched the bridge of his nose. "We weren't talking about puberty, we were talking about a memory Stanley had of discussing puberty with Dipper. Which Dipper thought wasn't real. Now we know why."

Stan raised his hand. "I would now like to pivot the discussion to Ford not leaving his experiments lying around where small children can find them."

"Wait!" Mabel gasped. "Does this mean that Dipper hasn't had the talk yet?" She leapt to her feet. "Because Mom gave me the girl one when we got home last summer! Does this mean I know the girl one and the boy one and Dipper knows none of them?"

Dipper sighed. "Mabel, I've seen nature documentaries."

Mabel whooped. "I know more about something than Dipper! Like, an actual science thing!"

"Mabel, I still know about - "

"Oh yeah?" Mabel reached into her skirt pocket. "Then what's this then?" With a wicked grin she slapped a bright pink wrapper covered in stars onto the kitchen table. Stan slapped his hands over his eyes. Ford's face went slack. Dipper grimaced.

"Mabel...I share a bathroom with you, I know what a pad is."

Ford cleared his throat. "They certainly," he coughed. "They certainly have changed a lot in the past thirty years."

Mabel frowned. "Were the old ones in black and white?"

Stan groaned. "Can we skip ahead to the part where Sixer burns that carpet and we all celebrate that I'm not actually losing my mind?"

Mabel wrapped her arms around Stan, pulling him into a big hug. "Of course! I'll go grab the lighter fluid!" And with that she fled from the room, snatching the pad off the table as she went. Stan lifted his head from his hands and the three Pines men stared at each other awkwardly.

"Well," Ford clapped his hand back on Stan's shoulder. "Another mystery solved."

Dipper nodded. "Sorry to freak you guys out like that. I don't know how I didn't think about the whole 'body swap' thing earlier."

Stan hefted himself up from the table. "No sweat, kid. Er." The three of them turned to the window where Gompers could be seen chomping away at the pages of Why Am I Sweaty?

They turned to each other. A silent agreement was made. Stan grabbed the popsicles out of the freezer and they began to file out of the kitchen, ready to meet Mabel at the fire pit to send that carpet back to Hell where it belonged. If there was anything they'd learned from last summer, it was that some knowledge was best left hidden.

AN: Sequel to this and this! I may or may not manage to get another one done by the end of Stanuary tomorrow (probably not), but either way, thanks for joining me!

EDIT: Pt 4 is here on AO3

[morgg-g]

finally caught up with fhjy

[fullscoreshenanigans]

I’ve always loved the idea of Norman and Ray getting together during the search for Emma but not wanting to do much until they find Emma because they both love her as well and want her there. But I’m never sure how Emma losing her memories would said relationship and plans afterwords

Oooo Anon I don't know if you're the same person who sent this Norray ask but if you haven't read @salsae's (so what am I defending now?) I highly recommend it because I've essentially taken it as canon and reread it probably once a month.

Beautifully written with loving nuance, her work was (and still is <3) foundational for my interpretations of the trio when I first got into the series in 2021 and was searching for quality fanfic.

In regards to how Emma's memory loss would play into things, I think they'd all have good and bad days at first. A balance of being grateful they defied the odds to have a chance of creating a future they can be proud of together at all, of Emma being alive and well and living life with Alex, of being reacquainted with all the things big and small that made them fall in love with her and having the opportunity to love new ones. Of reconnecting with these two boys who for reasons her mind can't explain but her heart knows without a shadow of a doubt feel like home.

(Chapter 180)

Of perceived selfish grief over wishing Emma would regain her memories when a confused look is thrown their way after they reference something from their childhood (isn't it enough that she's there?). Of self-doubt that she'll ever be able to live up to the Emma everyone loved or relearn the language she sees the boys communicate without words, of seeing what she believes is a brief flicker of hope die in everyone's eyes when she reminds them of all the little ways she's not her (is it more cruel they found her instead of being able to believe their Emma lives on somewhere in distant lands?), of anger over having those memories just within her reach only for her dreams to deny her each time.

But as the days turn to months and the months turn to years, things get better. The sentiments Emma shares in chapter 180 hold true.

Only now today and tomorrow is by their sides.

[twinkpeaksssss]

@koiifiishy Both Eris and Mikie spend time at the dance studio so I feel like they'd ballroom dance together. Naturally, I gave them some fun ballroom dance fits, because that's important.

[sstrawberrysalsa]

✨Hi hiii!✨ C0mmissions are open! for now since college is being really stressful im only taking painted portrait c0mmissions!

4 SLOTS OPEN

CONTACT THROUGH EMAIL OR DM'S

[idon-twannabeperceived]

Btw seeing gringos trying to dance tango or salsa is so 🫥🫥

Like I don't mind at all bro go off but like put some flavor in there I AM BEGGING i swear u won't die WHERE IS YOUR SOUL DO YOU NOT HAVE A HEART

[robinsnest2111]

ahh how I love getting reprimanded for mistakes at work that have far reaching consequences for the entire business in the public eye <333

how to deal with intense suicidal thoughts as soon as you get a serious reminder how much you fucked up? asking for a friend

[bloodenjoyer]

New struggle meal just unlocked . instant stuffing from the after thanksgiving clearance + green salsa

[catastrothy]

wowee happy birthday

thank you! check out these eggs i made for breakfast

[hetheymerrill]

The older woman at this street taco stand is watching me try the spicy salsa with her eyebrow raised lol this fucking rocks

[castielafflicted]

taco slop for dinner tonight besties. and for breakfast. and lunch. and dinner. insert the white people taco night song except it's fuckin. knorr taco rice, black beans, chicken, corn, salsa, and sour cream. taco slop.

[fullscoreshenanigans]

What sort of occupation do you think Norman would like?

Because I 100% agree he should not be a CEO

[Offshoot of this post]

I'm very biased by @officersnickers and @salsae and either see him as a doctor of some sort (default to pediatrician) or a university professor/researcher. Something that can incorporate his affinity for mathematics and science, provide him with mental stimulation and challenges, and allow him to achieve recognition on a global stage if he so desires without throwing away his empathy and humanity.

(Chapter 85 Bonus Comic | Mystic Code Book Chapter 7 Q&A)

I feel like that last element is a big thing for a lot of people given what he went through at Lambda. The worst year and some odds month of his life had him isolated away from his family in a cage, alone, and he suffered greatly for it.

It's an idea that's illustrated so poignantly in the chapter 128 cover art. Ray has become so much warmer and devoted to his friends and family after being afforded the chance to hope "for a future that is like a dream" and to care for them openly under Emma's tutelage, heart a wellspring of love and empathy. They're all shaping each other while he's left to wither, and the cunning and ruthlessness that save him almost lead him to a point irrevocable (by the narrative's standards; for some, he passes it).

(Chapter 181.4)

It's hard to ascertain what capacity a CEO operates in in this future, what ethical standards there are and what boundaries he sets for himself on top of the vast range of industries they dabble in, but that he's tied up in it at all with all the negative connotations surrounding the role and potential exploitation involved after overturning fate itself and restructuring a world order leaves a bad taste in a lot of people's mouths, even with the simplicity and flexibility it affords in explaining away financial woes.

With a doctor, teacher, or any career without that level of baggage, there's the opportunity for him to incorporate his interests and be met with engaging challenges while simultaneously tempering that ruthlessness via establishing interpersonal relationships and working toward a collective, communal good. The possibilities for him are endless, but that's what I like for him since he holds Emma as his guiding star.

(Chapter 14)

For Emma, I've seen multiple instances of her being a teacher, especially one who works with young children due to how wonderful she is at understanding and empathizing with people, but she also has the tenacity to become a political activist or some other role of leadership.

(salsae's to have and to hold and these hands could hold the world)

Like Norman, anything that gets her actively involved in the wider world for a communal or societal good and allows her to flourish works for me.

For Ray, I have such a big soft spot for him being a librarian and rekindling his childhood love of reading under kinder circumstances and sharing it with future generations, but with his aptitude for science that Shirai mentions in the mystic code book and we see crop up throughout the story

(Chapter 137)

there's a lot of possibilities for him too, though out of the trio I feel he'd be the least likely one to entertain the spotlight.

(Chapter 181.4)

But maybe an architect who blends art and science together to construct a community given one of the things he wanted to do in the human world with his family was see the Sagrada Família (another one influenced by Snickers).

Interestingly, I've yet to stumble across any fanfics or headcanons where he becomes a professional chef, and I wonder how much of that is a shared sentiment of viewing cooking as part of his love language that he'd rather stay personal, something he only does for his friends and family rather than making a career out of it.

(banana_slug_army's The Language of Cooking)

While also unlearning bit by bit the idea etched into his psyche after years as Isabella's spy that love is always transactional.

[goatsmell]

From the Kids Menu

“That bald bastard Charlie Brown Has alopecia, don’t you know?” I tell the spider plant nodding At the dark past the window

I feel delicate lately My usual hide is thin In too many places My patience is short With darn near everything Sharpening up on shit That don’t work right

I eat very little I tire quickly My back hurts My thumbs hurt When I type, so I’ve taken up moaning But I need more consonants Than vowels these days

Brother, could You spare some change?

I should’ve had something Other than corn chips for dinner With salsa and sour cream Dipped in honey at the end But that’s the way we likes it That’s how we finish the dance

I’ll see you again in bright morn In a crap roughly the size of Kentucky Launching into life after an espresso Coaxes out my brown baby baguette A nuclear submarine easing into Police action into the Baltic Sea

This is Our maiden voyage, my friends We will Make our nations proud

[altaroftransexuality]

top ten breakfasts that inspire poetry

[littlebitrecipes]

Mango Salsa Refreshing, zesty and flavorful this mango salsa is a wonderful addition to enjoy with chips, grilled meats and tacos. The delightful combinations of juicy ripe mangoes, crisp red onions and peppers is mouthwatering.

Recipe => https://littlebitrecipes.com/mango-salsa/

[vangoggles]

i didn't take any pics bcuz they turned out low-key kinda ugly, but next time you make boxed pancakes, slice some apples really thin and toss the slices with cinnamon, then when you pour the batter into the pan top each flapjack with some apple slices.

if you want them to be pretty maybe arrange five apple slices into a flower shape, like petals. you could probably even do rings, or use a cookie cutter

then once the batter bubbles up around the edges of the apples and the sides of the pancake are starting to dry out, flip the pancake and cook the apple side until they're golden and starting to turn brown

serve with maple syrup