#aka gravity falls

[zyphnn]

mullet stanley my best friend mullet stanley

[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

Eldritch/not-entirely-human Grunkle Stan stories have been eating away at my brain, so I have a silly little concept of Mimic!Stan.

He and his Mystery Shack are both mimics that lure tourists in as a literal "tourist trap" to gather and devour them! Since the house is alive, it raises a few (read: several) child safety concerns that lead to a LOT of rules to be created for Dipper and Mabel to follow when they eventually arrive, such as:

Be careful not to get lost in the winding hallways! The Mystery Shack is bigger on the inside, and you don't want to end up in the wrong areas.

Don't go through randomly appearing doors, they may eat you.

If you think you feel the walls around you breathing and the floor beneath you shifting, no, you don't.

If you think the walls feel a bit damp, you're imagining it.

Watch your fingers around windowsills! You wouldn't want to lose any of them.

Don't linger too long under the doorframes; it may start feeling like they are slowly constricting around you.

[d1edre]

my gravity falls obsession has been resurging due to current events so of course i HAD to turn them into splatoonies. i had no other choice i hope u understand

[senipsenipsenip]

The Pines family sat at the table, quietly eating their breakfast, when Mabel slammed her hands on the table and shouted “KERMIT THE FROG”.

Dipper leapt forward to right his orange juice glass, gathering nearby napkins to sop up the puddle. “What?”

“Kermit the frog! He plays the banjo!”

“Yyyyes?”

Ford raised his hand. “Who’s Kermit the Frog?”

Stan snapped his head up from his plate. “Who’s Kermit the Frog? The Muppets, Pointdexter, you were around for The Muppet Show. They had a movie and everything.”

Ford frowned. “Muppets.”

“Yeah, they’re a riot! There’s this Bear whose got some great puns and this pig who really know how to throw a punch. You’d love it, they’ve even got a scientist!”

Ford raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t realize you were such a fan of children’s television.”

“Children?!”

Dipper stirred his cereal. “I’m just impressed you remember all that. Yesterday you forgot you were married.”

“That’s because The Muppets are forever!” Mabel exclaimed.

“Wait, Stanley you were married?”

“Yep. Actually, unless I’m forgetting a divorce, I might still be married.”

“You didn’t,” Mabel chirped. “I’d have it on my Romance Chart if you did. You’ve missed a lot of anniversaries.”

“So has he!” Stan argued. “I’m not the only bad husband here!”

Ford spluttered. “Husband?”

Dipper frowned. “I think we’re getting a little too far away from why Mabel screamed Kermit the Frog and knocked my orange juice over.”

Mabel nodded. “Right, so, I was thinking of Mr. McGucket -

“Stanley you have a husband?“

“I was thinking of Mr. McGucket,” Mabel interrupted. “And how he could maybe help around the Shack. And he plays banjo! He could play banjo and people could put money in his lil banjo case like a real musician.”

At the mention of money, Stan leaned forward.

“But like, no one knows banjo music,” Mabel continued. “So I was like, maybe pop hits banjo? But then BOOM! Kermit the Frog! People love that frog. He could play the rainbow song. He’d be a hit!”

“Interesting,” Stan muttered. “Preying on people’s nostalgia to milk them for cash. I love it!”

Ford hummed. “Actually, that’s not a bad idea, Mabel. Activities like playing musical instruments have been proven to help patients with Alzheimers and dementia. Not that Fiddleford’s condition has the same root cause, but it may prove beneficial to memory recovery.”

“Eugh, don’t ruin this for me.”

“If playing an instrument helps with memory loss, maybe Grunkle Stan should learn an instrument,” Dipper suggested.

“Ooo!” Mabel squealed. “What about guitar? Or the piano? OH!” She clutched Stan’s arm with a fervor. “The triangle!”

Ford grimaced. “Maybe not that one.”

“Sorry, kid. I’m not exactly a music guy,” Stan shrugged out of Mabel’s grasp. “Let’s leave that to the professionals.”

Mabel frowned, but let the topic go.

Ford stood from the table. “Well, I happen to be visiting Fiddleford this afternoon. I can broach the topic and see what he thinks.”

Fiddleford, as it turns out, loved the idea. To the surprise of everyone, Fiddleford admitted that he had always wanted to play in a jugband when he was younger, but could never get over his stage fright enough to audition for the local band. Then he went off to college and then…everything else.

“Maybe I zapped away that scared bit enough to play!” he had cackled, knocking at the side of his head with his knuckles.

It was settled. “Fiddlin’ Fridays at the Mystery Shack with Fiddleford McGucket”. Dipper tried to point out the title didn’t make sense since it was a banjo, not a fiddle. Stan argued that “customers are suckers for alliteration”. The set up was just Fiddleford dragging an old rocking chair onto the porch and opening up his banjo case. Mabel had made a large glittery banner, but it was quickly absconded by Fiddleford’s raccoon.

“Tell your wife to give me back my banner!” Mabel had yelled, chasing the raccoon into the bushes.

“Ex-wife,” Fiddleford sighed sadly. “Apparently I was too emotionally available.”

Ford pulled at his hair. “Did everyone get married without telling me?”

“Excuse me?” A voice piped up. Fiddleford and Ford turned to see a little boy standing at the bottom of the porch. He was dressed in hiking clothes that were obviously new. In the distance, a young woman was unstrapping a baby from its seat in an SUV. Obviously city folk coming to the “wilderness” for the first time.

“Are you a real hillbilly?” The boy asked. Suddenly the door slammed open, Mr. Mystery striding through, eyepatch in place.

“Sure is!” Stan grinned. “Our very own genuine hillbilly just waiting to play you a tune! All you gotta do is put some of your mom’s money in his case there.”

The little boy’s eyes widened, turning around to race towards his mother.

“Stanley,” Ford admonished. “Fiddleford isn’t some show monkey to throw money at.”

“During work hours he is.” Stan turned to Fiddleford. “So, did Mabel teach you that song she was so excited about?”

Fiddleford sat frozen, watching the little boy yank at his mothers pants to try and get her attention, the baby beginning to fuss.

“Well…” Fiddleford cleared his throat. “Some good news and bad news fellas.”

Ford furrowed his brows. “What is it?”

“Good news is, my mind ain’t all broken.” Fiddleford hugged his banjo and turned to look up at Ford. “Bad news is I knows it ‘cause I still got stage fright.”

Stan scoffed. “Stage fright? C’mon it’s one kid and a couple o’ city slickers who would probably think you playing three wrong notes and spitting is ‘authentic’.”

“Stanley, be supportive.”

“I am! Look I’ve been at this job forever. All you gotta do is smile and if something goes wrong, you blame a ghost or something. They eat that up.”

Fiddleford shook his head. “But this is music. If’n I mess up music, ‘specially somethin’ they know. Music is real special to people, I can’t spoil it.”

Ford knelt down next to Fiddleford’s chair. “You don’t have to play that song Fiddleford. You don’t have to play at all.”

Fiddleford looked anxiously between Ford and the family. It seemed the little boy had finally gotten his mother’s attention and was excitedly pointing toward the porch.

“I…” Fiddleford shook his head. “I can’t let the little ‘uns down. ‘Specially not those ones.” As he said this, he gestured with his chin towards the other end of the porch where Dipper and Mabel sat bickering in lawn chairs. Mabel had returned from her raccoon chase covered in twigs and holding a surprisingly docile raccoon. Dipper was leaning away from the pair while trying to convince Mabel to stop feeding it gummy worms before it developed a taste for human food and tried breaking into the Shack.

Ford's gaze drifted to the twins. "Alright," he relented. "But you still don't have to play Mabel's song."

Fiddleford bowed his head.

"Yet!" Ford offered. "Not yet. She'll understand I'm sure."

Fiddleford frowned, looking unconvinced.

"Of course not yet!" Stan interjected. "You can't go playing the grand finale right out of the gate! You gotta warm 'em up first, keep 'em wanting more." Stan slapped his hand on Fiddleford's back. "If you give 'em what they want right away, they won't come back! Hold that one off until tomorrow or...uh...next week. Tease it or something."

Stan had started rubbing the back of his neck with his other hand as he spoke, a tell Ford was quick to recognize. It was the same one he did when he would "begrudgingly" let Mabel choose the movie for movie night or let Dipper rope him into another game of Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons. Covering the most vulnerable part of his body while he let his emotions go soft.

Fiddleford seemed to perk up at Stan's words.

"Well," Fiddleford offered. "I do know some proper jugband music. Only, it don't have the same ring to it without a jug."

"We've got a jug!" Mabel cheered from the other side of the porch. It seemed the raccoon argument had reached enough of a truce that the twins were once again paying attention to the concert. "I used to keep pond water in it, it's in the kitchen!" She hopped off of her chair, lugging the racoon along with her like it was a rather expensive lap cat.

Dipper followed her. "Why did you have a jug of pond water?"

"Because, dummy, if I met a frog prince he would need something in the shack to remind him of home."

"Aren't you supposed to turn him into a person though?"

Whatever Mabel's retort was to be was cut off by the door swinging shut.

"There ya go," Stan grumbled. "You're getting your jug. Just in time too." He gestured toward the SUV. The mother was walking toward the Shack, one hand holding the baby, the other gripping tightly to the little boy's hand. The little boy gripped a few dollars in his fist, eyes alight with excitement.

Fiddleford looked frantic. "I can't sing and play the jug at the same time!" He gripped at his hat, pulling it down over his ears.

Ford sighed. "Then don't play the jug."

"It won't be the same!" Fiddleford shook his head. "A jugband without a jug that's...that's like a body with no heartbeat!"

The door swung open and Mabel emerged with an old ceramic jug.

"Here it is!" she exclaimed. "And it only sort of smells like pond scum."

"I don't think that will be necessary," Ford smiled gently. "It seems Fiddleford can't play both simultaneously."

Mabel frowned. "But it's a jugband. It's in the name!"

"How about we wait another day," Ford offered, patting Fiddleford awkwardly on the back. "Maybe someone in town will join you."

"Oh for Pete's sake, give it to me." Stan snatched the jug out Mabel's hand, sniffing at the top and giving a grimace.

Fiddleford stopped pulling at his hat, peeking out from under the brim. "You'll play?"

Stan grunted. "I'm not missing out on good money just because you have a case of the heebie jeebies. Besides, how hard can it be? It's like blowing on the top of a beer...er...I mean soda bottle."

Dipper crossed his arms. "Grunkle Stan, we know what beer is."

"Not from me you don't."

Mabel squealed. "It's happening! Grunkle Stan is learning an instrument!"

"It's not an instrument, Pumpkin. It's dishware."

"It's a scrapbookortunity!"

Mabel dashed into the house once more, leaving Dipper to grin at their Grunkle Stan.

The family was only a few yards away now. Fiddleford looked between Stan, Ford, and Dipper, and straightened up in his seat.

"Alright. Alright!" He clapped his hands together. "Stanley, you get down here with me, otherwise your feet are gonna get mighty sore from standing." He yanked at Stanley's hand until he sat beside the rocking chair with a grumble.

"Now when I tap my foot," Fiddleford instructed. "You blow on the jug. One short note at a time." Fiddleford tapped his foot in demonstration. "You got that?"

Stanley rolled his eyes. "Gee, I don't know. Seems pretty complicated for the guy without a PhD."

Mabel burst through the door, camera clutched in her hands. "Got it!"

"Excuse me?"

The little boy stood on the porch, approaching the banjo case with far more trepidation than before. Eyes darting between the assembly, he dropped a few dollars in the case.

"Is this enough to play a song?"

Fiddleford didn't bother looking at the money. He turned his gaze to Stanley, who shrugged and raised the jug to his lips.

Fiddleford grinned. "You know ‘Boodle Am Shake’?"

The little boy shook his head.

"Well you're about to!" And with that he was off.

By Fiddleford's standards, it wasn't a horribly complicated tune. Ford had heard him pluck out more complex riffs while waiting for the coffee pot in their dorm room to brew. But Fiddleford was smiling. His shoulders had dropped from around his ears, and he was nodding at the little boy to tap his feet along with him. Ford hid his smile behind his hands as he watched Stanley, eyes focused on Fiddleford's bare foot with as much attention as one would give to diffusing a bomb. Next to him, Mabel was snapping pictures of the pair. Dipper stood on his other side, wearing the small smile he tended to get when feeling introspective. Ford laid his hand on Dipper's shoulder, and Dipper leaned into the touch.

The mother was smiling at her little boy, her baby having finally stopped fussing. Maybe it wasn't the grand attraction Mabel had planned, but Ford thought it was worth far more than those few dollars anyway. Nothing could be worth more than his family standing around him, his closest friend singing again.

I know this song, it don't mean a doggone thing. Just do that good old Charleston swing. When you sing...

[misteria247]

Fiddleford messing around with his equipment when he hears Ford and Stan talking nearby

Sees Stanley laughing his long hair a mess and face flushed from happiness as he leans against his twin who's smiling back at him fondly

Fiddleford mentally while his heart races in his chest: Sweet lord.....he's beautiful.

Fiddleford continues to stare at Stan completely forgetting about his project and just transfixed by him looking like a lovesick teenager

Ford who feels eyes on the two of them looks up to see Fiddleford making heart eyes at his little brother who's completely oblivious to said staring

Ford mentally exhausted already: They're gonna drive me insane with this back and forth I can feel it in my bones.

[s1lly-gh02tz]

Guys what if they felt joy for once. whimsy even. is that allowed,,

[side-shuffling-hyperfixations]

Enjoy some Ford and Mabel highlights from Halloween 2024! This was a ton of fun :D (Stan and Mabel shots should be coming soon, keep an eye out!)

[darlinvaldraws]

WOOHOO MINI COMIC!

the people requested some angst but I didn't have many ideas (alternative idea that Stanley gets insecure about his bushy eyebrows)

Click on the image for better quality plz

OH ALSO A BILL DOODLE FROM A STRAWPAGE I HIJACKED

EHHHH BLOOD AND BRAIN WARNING? lolzie

I got a drawing tablet recently and I'm living lusciously in the pros of technology! Be gay do art(crime)!

[mionkings]

GRAVITY FALLS SPOILERS MAYBE? FOR THISISNOTAWEBSITEDOTCOM.COM — AT LEAST WITH BILL CIPHER AND STAN PINES/GRUNKLE

This involves thisisnotawebsitedotcom.com and Bill's PTSD involving Stan along with a theory of Bill Cipher possibly still in Grunkle Stan's mind.

So I've been seeing some people concerned over the idea that Bill Cipher hasn't left Stan's mind at least not fully, and while I do also have some belief that maybe some remnant is still there—perhaps it's just Bill's remains left behind all while his soul is trapped in Theraprism.

But the idea that Bill still has access to Stan like before, nah.

In reality; I highly doubt it, it feels just like at the end of The Book of Bill: where Bill snaps over the mere idea that Stanley must've influenced the reader not to join him, just him viscerally screaming out Grunkle Stan's name— resulting with Bill in the void swearing that someone will let him out.

Bill Cipher is labeled with Max Security Rec in the Theraprism, that implies that he's clearly being watched even if they had this one 'slip up' with the Book of Bill. They still hold more power over him since they confiscate his book after five minutes :)

To me, it feels like he's lashing out now—Bill is now what he considers his lowest and is raging at Stanley for not only beating him, for being a cheaper version of Sixer, but for also being happy. To me: Bill is desperate; he's trying to plant doubt that they fully purged him from Stan's mind in which I highly doubt that either the Axolotl or the Theraprism wouldn't notice.

—

But we'll see what happens if any updates come again, maybe I'm wrong and Bill isn't truly gone from the Pines Family 🤷‍♀️ but from what we've been seeing, Bill is grasping at straws now and clearly he's mad that he underestimated Grunkle Stan lmao get rekt loser

[camenxi]

what if bill possessed ford and killed stanley?

would it be funny if bill knew stan is the key to defeat him, so that call yk what im talking about he just lures stan in a trap. he possesses ford and ford wakes up seeing his brother whom he hadn’t seen in a decade dead and his blood on his hands.

[sapphic--kiwi]

so i started rewatching gravity falls again. wendy corduroy my beloved 💚

[stupidvillainousposts]

Y'all remember that scene in the first Alvin and the Chipmunks movie where Alvin does a bunch of dumb shit to try and get Claire to like Dave?

What if Stan and Fidds were on a date somewhere, and the kids and Ford followed them, hiding and playing cheesy music/turning down the lights/being generally terrible at their self appointed job?

Fidds: I'm glad ya agreed ta have this date, Stanley. It's been such a long time since I-

-Ridiculously Cheesy Music Starts Playing-

Stan: Uh...

Fidds, slightly amused: I take it you had somethin' ta do with that?

Stan: N-no! I think there's just some sap trying to impress their girlfriend or something.

-Lights Dim-

Fidds: Well, whoever that "sap" is certainly knows how ta charm someone.

-A Waiter Brings a Bouquet to the Table-

Fidds, slightly annoyed: This yer little friend's idea?

Stan, sweating buckets: I... I have to go throw up!

Fidds: Wait, what?!

Stan then rushes off to find and yell at his brother and the kids, leaving Fidds confused and somewhat dazed.

[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

Actually writing a HWINEBHABWNAJCAHOWEEATOWEUB AU fic with a solid story line because there's too much stuff going on in this goddamn AU and I need to organize it a little!!

[displacedentities]

Took a little break to indulge in my ancestral fandom! With the resurgence of Gravity Falls thanks to The Book of Bill, I've been inspired by the many new AU Bills to throw my hat and make my own- I'm cringe and I'm free

This is House Fae Bill! I made a truly massive text loredump for myself that I'm not going to add here for post length reasons, but let's just say I thought way too long and hard about this xD

TL;DR basic concept is- House Fae are a type of spirit-like fae that come from the woods and dwell in constructed homes! They start out formless, but develop a unique avatar with elements and iconography pulled from their chosen abode- and in Bill's case, it was the windows (that's right- in my AU, the windows happened first! xD). When a house fae possesses a home, it becomes their territory as well as their physical body. The influence of the fae is limited to the building itself and a very small margin around it (think the Unicorn Barrier from the show), but within the home itself, the fae can manipulate objects and architecture to achieve their goals. They also don't show themselves to the homeowners if they can help it, so Ford went a bit nuts for a while wondering who was organizing his nerd clutter all the time lmao

House fae are commonly mistaken for more well-known home-related fairies such as nisse/tomtu and brownies. In reality, house fae are a separate species in direct competition with these urban fairies. House fae, nisse, and brownies all have overlapping functions in the household, but house fae are extremely territorial and protective of their charges (homeowners and their families), and won't tolerate the presence of competing fairies who could pose a threat, unless absolutely necessary. House fae that lack sufficient influence may be forced to endure a reluctant roommate situation until they gain enough power to assert any kind of dominance.

[thinkingabout-girls]

children fighting! i can sell this!