#and especially the Differences in stan and ford's experiences growing up

[zincbotted]

nobody fucking understands stanford pines like i do

[rynnthefangirl]

"Ford should be blamed for being manipulated by bill because he was desperate for validation" hmmmmmm

Okay, perhaps I should expand upon this point a bit.

First to be clear, this post wasn’t meant to be hate to either Ford or Stan, it’s more just me saying what I think are fair criticisms of them vs what I think are unfair criticisms. When I say “blamed” I don’t mean they should be condemned, just that they did something wrong and there is a degree of accountability there.

Ford’s whole experience with Bill is a tricky one, because Ford undeniably WAS a victim here. Especially with what we learn in the Book of Bill, which really highlighted the abusive nature of their relationship. And yes, Bill’s manipulations targeted Ford’s insecurities stemming from a lifetime of bullying and his father’s harshness. Those are all reasons why we should 100% empathize with Ford, and understand that he is not just some horrible selfish person, the way Ford haters make him out to be.

BUT, I don’t think that erases all accountability. If Ford were the only person hurt by Bill, then sure totally, don’t blame the victim. However, that’s not the case. Ford’s actions nearly destroyed the entire universe, and definitely ruined at least one life (Fiddleford) not to mention the trauma suffered by all the residents of Gravity Falls. And yes, obviously BILL is ultimately the one to blame for all that, but Ford’s initial cooperation was essential. And the reason he was so ready to believe Bill was because of his own ego— stemming from his insecurity of course, but ego nevertheless.

Bill straight up tells us that this is what made Ford the perfect target: “the ego of a king and the insecurity of a circus freak”. Two sides of the same coin, and if you ignore either then you are ignoring important parts of Ford’s character arc. Ford was bullied and ostracized his whole childhood for being different, and it caused him to develop a superiority complex. He needs to believe that he is special, destined for greatness. Which ultimately causes him to look down on others and make reckless, selfish choices in pursuit of that greatness. Ford’s a scientist, trained to be objective and follow evidence-based logic— yet he immediately trusted this unknown entity with no real evidence towards his intentions, because Bill flattered his ego and told Ford what he wanted to hear. If Ford weren’t so self-important, Bill’s manipulations would never have worked. We can empathize with Ford’s backstory, but also recognize that it has caused him to develop some negative traits, which led him to make mistakes that had dire consequences. And again, those consequences are really key here. Ford’s mistakes didn’t just put himself at risk, they put a LOT of innocent people at risk… like, the whole world.

None of this is just me either— this was pretty explicitly Ford’s character arc in the show and books. Ford himself admits as much: “don’t blame yourself [Stan], I’m the one who made a deal with Bill in the first place. I fell for all his easy flattery, you would have seen him for the scam artist he is”. Ford’s whole arc is about learning to let go of his ego and inflated self-importance, and recognize the value of others (namely, Stan). He always cared about others deeply, but he needed to let go of his self importance in order to truly appreciate and connect with them. He grows and learns and seeks to atone for his mistakes, which is exactly what makes him such a good character, and IMO such a likeable one.

Sorry this was so long. Make no mistake, I love Ford to pieces. He might be my favorite character tbh (either he or Dipper… Dip’s historically been my favorite, but I’ve developed a huge appreciation for Ford since rewatching the show recently). And I honestly really appreciate people like you that stick up for him, because he gets wayyy too much unfair hate in the fandom. I just think there is a lot of nuance in this topic, and it’s a tricky balance between trying not to victim blame while also not completely absolving Ford of accountability for the huge danger that he put others in, unintentional though it may have been.

Anyway though, peace and love, and keep defending our boy Stanford because this fandom is mean to him and he needs it!❤️🫡

[jacky-rubou]

Planning to write an essay on the limited Ford and Mabel bonding in the show and well, I thought of approaching you if you have any pointers. Especially dispelling any misconceptions by the fandom whether Ford overlooked Mabel or the bond she shared with her brother.

I think the main misconception I see is that Ford didn't care about Mabel at all in comparison to Dipper. Or, in some ridiculously extreme cases, that he hates her.

People forget that Mabel was the first twin he interacted with, and it was largely positive. Ford laughed and said he liked her when she stated that his six fingered handshake was one finger friendlier than normal.

The Last Mabelcorn being the episode where Ford interacted with Mabel the most gives a big insight into how he feels about her. First, he agreed with Mabel when she stated she was probably the most pure of heart in the room (i forget the exact phrasing but same difference). He trusted her with the unicorn mission, even knowing that the unicorns were difficult. And last of all, he directly tells her that she is a good person without even knowing the struggle she went through with her morality moments prior.

Dipper and Mabel vs The Future is contentious in this regard, fans often using it as proof that Ford doesn't care about Mabel just because he asked Dipper to stay in Gravity Falls. But honestly, Ford cared enough to observe Mabel's social skills with the pizza delivery guy, plus probably witnessing plenty of instances of Mabel handling herself without Dipper's help. He genuinely believed that Mabel could handle being without her brother outside of the summers.

Plus, it isn't like Mabel was forthright about her feelings about leaving Gravity Falls and growing up until she blew up at the end of the episode. Obviously there are things to be said about Ford taking Dipper on as an apprenticeship being a good or a bad idea depending on who you ask, but Ford didn't know how badly Mabel would take it. He thought he was doing Dipper a favor by giving him a head start on his studies and, as I previously mentioned, that Mabel would be fine at home. That the two could reach a compromise if needed.

Ford isn't perfect though, he does tend to project himself onto Dipper after finding out how similar he thinks he is to him. That might've affected how often he spends with either twin or how he saw their bond, but to say that he doesn't care about Mabel at all is simply misguided. He cares about them both so much. His traumatic experience with his own twin just tainted how he saw the twins' bond being something that could be potentially suffocating. He does sorta have a point though, Dipper and Mabel can't force each other to stay glued at the hip forever or it could potentially stifle their individual dreams if handled badly. But that's just my 'controversial' opinion right there i guess, so take it with a grain of salt if you wish.

And besides, if we were gonna get upset at Ford for favoring Dipper over Mabel, you might as well also get upset at Stan for favoring Mabel over Dipper in some honestly worse ways than Ford ever did to Mabel. Stan literally projected his father's abusive ways onto Dipper and justified being hard on him with 'toughening him up'. Not to mention how he made Dipper the butt of his jokes so often it drove Dipper to seek out time with Ford over him because Ford never made fun of him like that. Obviously Stan does care about Dipper too, but the double standards in this fandom when it comes to how the grunkles treat the twins is honestly flabbergasting. Neither grunkle is perfect in how they handle the twins, neither are 'better' in their methods, and I think that's the point.

it doesn't help that Ford doesn't get a lot of screentime compared to Stan, as i'm sure you're already aware.

anyway, if you have any more questions, feel free to let me know. hope this was a good insight into all this Ford and Mabel business.

[emlovesredbull]

the main 4 as teenagers

or how i imagine them at least....

stan marsh

-tried to stay away from weed to avoid being like randy (it doesn't work)

-he's not addicted, he just has easy access to weed and likes the feeling it gives him

-massive alcoholic

-he doesn't enjoy going to parties, but there's free alcohol there so he usually takes a stash to the bathroom or a more private area to be alone

-smokes with kenny behind the school when he gets bored with class

-dyed his hair blonde after his dad called stan his mini-me

-has really shaggy bangs, but his hair is weirdly soft (he accidentally used shelley's shampoo one time and now he can't stop)

-mostly c's with a few b's

-always listening to music during class and then proceeds to complain about never knowing what's going on

-the quarterback of the football team and actually very good at it???

-pretty tall, about 6'1

-has a notebook filled with song ideas, but never records/performs the songs he writes

-drives a slightly beat up ford bronco

-wears a lot of baggy clothes, especially sweatshirts

-has a VERY bad depression room (lowkey me too)

-coaches kid's football over the summer for extra cash

kyle

-very smart, 4.0 gpa (he won't rub it in your face though)

-amazing at basketball but underestimates himself and gets very bad anxiety every single tryout season

-slight germophobe

-pretty clean person, likes a tidy room, but whenever he gets busy it gets a little messy sometimes

-tallest of the friendgroup, 6'4, but nobody knows where it came from because both of his parents are super short

-very bad at all of the videogames and always comes last when the boys play

-doesn't smoke, but he drinks occasionally

-not a party boy, he'd much rather stay in, but sometimes kenny and stan drag him to functions

-he stands by the snack table and somehow always ends up helping a really drunk person

-gained better anger management strategies, but it's still fairly easy to make him tick

-drives a white subaru legacy

-sheila makes sure he always looks presentable, so he wears a lot of sweaters and jeans

-he still wears a hat to cover up his curls

-took up guitar a couple years after his guitar hero phase, but it usually sits in the corner untouched

-cancels plans a lot because sheila makes him pick up ike

kenny

-shows up to everything high (asked randy how to grow weed and started a little garden in his backyard)

-mostly c's with a few d's s

-usually leaves in the middle of the school day to go work one of his jobs

-pulls up to random snapchat functions with stan (and kyle)

-is the drummer in a band

-has very shaggy and somewhat long hair

-has a reputation as a playboy

-karen is always painting his nails different colors

-drives a beat-up truck he found in the junkyard (kevin helped him hotwire it)

-secretly really enjoys romcoms

-also enjoys the playboy magazines he sells to the middle school boys

-has been kicked out of target 34 times

-his clothes are kind of old and torn, so he adopted a grunge style so it looked natural

-treats girls surprisingly good because of his experience with his little sister

-speaking of karen, he saves a little bit of every paycheck to buy her something special

-spends the night in his car (with karen ofc) sometimes after his parents fight

-is 5'11

cartman

-worked at kfc but got fired for eating the skin off of people's chicken and then serving it to them

-throws parties sometimes and people only go to them to trash his house

-surprisingly gets straight a's

-varsity bench rider for football, but by the way he brags about it you'd think he's starting (he's a linebacker btw)

-genuinely believes he has abs (he does not, and the girls would like him to put his shirt back on)

-is famous on twitch, youtube and twitter for his gameplay and commentary (he's like a teenage boy trisha paytas)

-has the ice cream tiktok boy hairstyle and thinks it makes him look cool

-is like 5'8

-has a very basic style, and pretty much only wears nike

-runs an anonymous advice tiktok account and gaslights people into believing his bad advice

-drives a red convertible he BEGGED liane for

-doesn't really smoke, but he likes vaping and alcohol

-listens to edm music and everyone else despises it

-pretended to be a serial killer one time because he thought it was funny

-the teachers hate him because he's super loud and disruptive in their classes, but he's super smart effortlessly

-doesn't use deodorant

-or shower multiple times in a week

-his hair is very greasy

-definitely has a discord kitten because none of the girls at school like him

[callipraxia]

Debating who should get the #5 slot proved surprisingly difficult…but here we go.

1. Infinitesimal Variations: What would have happened if Stan hadn’t escaped from federal custody when he did during “Not What He Seems”? Answer: Ford and Soos go try to rescue him, Agent Powers interviews a witness and realizes he’s missing an important piece of the puzzle, and Dipper, Mabel, and Tate McGucket learn many things that disturb them. It then mostly goes downhill for everyone from there. 15 chapters, proceeding sequels of 21 chapters and 26 chapters.

This was the first real, deliberately plotted out, novel I ever wrote. It’s the first part of a trilogy, and Part III is probably better in a lot of ways - I had almost two years of working on the overall project under my belt, and a much clearer vision of what I was trying to do, than I did while writing Part I - but…Part I was the first, and the one that showed me I really could start something and finish it, and I made some friends in the comments sections, and it will always have a strong claim on my affections for that. The original twelve chapters (I recently revised and expanded it to clear up some points that were confusing) were also 61,000-odd words written in less than two months, the most intense writing experience I think I have ever had in my life. So yeah, go read it and its sequels! Unless you already have…in which case, re-read ‘em! lol.

2. The Earth Never Tires. Dipper comes home after a long time away, and Ford and Mabel talk about death and the afterlife. Two chapters.

This one could have just as easily been number 3; I just bumped it up one because it seemed to sort of slip under the radar when it was released, and I was rather proud of it, and so I shall jump on this socially sanctioned occasion to plug it.

3. The Player of Games. While Ford is in a coma in Dimension 52, he meets a gratingly cheerful salamander god which shows him visions of the best of all possible futures. Ford isn’t very happy about what he sees. Meanwhile, said salamander (the Axolotl), along with talking to Ford, juggles different timelines, relations with other higher powers, and its ongoing issues with its family. 5 chapters.

This one is a lot of things. I’m proud of it because it’s probably my most ambitious experiment in form and mythology-building; I also find the writing quite effective when I reread, so it may be one of my best pieces overall, along with being the first and arguably last, to date, time I really dealt with Ax in any detail. However, it’s also quite possibly the darkest and most disturbing thing I ever wrote, so…proceed with some caution, especially with chapters two and four.

4. Everything’s Fine - Pass That Wine? Nathan and Jennifer Pines have always been proud of their daughter Mabel’s creativity…but as her first summer away from home goes on, they gradually grow more and more concerned about all the stories of “science fiction weirdness” she is surely making up and not really living through. Where is she getting these ideas? Why isn’t she telling them what’s really happening? Why is Dipper playing along so much? Luckily, though, wine is an ever-helpful friend in times of trouble…at least until Nathan’s uncle Stan crashes a boat into their rhododendrons. One-shot.

Aka, that time I did a funny! This has the best read-to-kudos ratio of anything I’ve written. I wasn’t even aiming for a comedy piece when I started writing it, and was very nervous about “what if I think something is funny and literally nobody agrees?” Now if I could just remember how to write straight-up humor, rather than just sometimes weaving it in with tragedy and brain-bending….

5. The Long Lie: Four Scenes in Three Decades. Stan refuses to give up on the idea that he can someday reunite his family, and that then, everything will go back to the way it was when he was a kid. As a result, he lies to his parents until they die…to his other brother until he dies…and finally, right up until the day when a wax statue forces him to confront the possibility of failure. One-shot.

This was my second fic, and an attempt to make up events that would allow the success of the twin switch to make sense (since my sole contact with the fandom before I started writing involved reading the GF TVTropes pages, I was completely unaware of all the different theories of Shermie). In the process, I conducted my first sort of attempt to play with the short story form, and also - between faking indifference to his mother’s feelings about his own death, dealing with his idiot kid brother getting some girl pregnant in high school, and then dealing with Filbrick dying in a tragic automobile accident that leaves Caryn severely disabled - put Stan through the absolute wringer in less than 6000 words. I also think there’s some of my better writing here even if one never remotely considered the possibility of Young Shermie (after joining the fandom and learning about the theories, I am, for the record, officially a Shermie agnostic. Call him into existence with the Infinity Die for all I care, as long as you explore the consequences enough to hurt me along the way)

And honorable mention: Be All Our Sins Remembered, my very first GF fanfic and the closest thing I have yet come to pure fluff. One-shot about Ford showing Stan the ruins of the Portal after Stan expresses curiosity about the weird scar on his shoulder that looks like a crop circle.

Well, that was fun! Other writers…hm. @the-orion-scribe, @car9723-t, @zephrunsimperium…I need to figure out how many of my mutuals are definitely also writers, as opposed to strictly artists (though I’d argue comics count as both) or canon enthusiasts.

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love❤

As much as I dislike chain letters, I do enjoy trying to hock my fics to an unsuspecting audience.

1. The Wrong Stan-an AU where during Weirdmageddon, Bill captures Stan instead of Ford

2. Return Backwards to the Past Again 4-time travel AU where homeless Stan meets two strange young people who say they want to hire him for transportation to a little town in Oregon

3. Island of the Lost-another AU (there’s a recurring pattern here) where instead of taking the car after getting kicked out, Stan takes the boat

4. Two Worlds, One Family-Crossover AU(!)-a recently divorced Dr. Heinz Doofenshmirtz accidentally brings a recently kicked out Stan Pines forward in time, and the end result has the potential to work out surprisingly well for both of them

5. One Rainy Night-the beginning of my most ambitious AU ever, where a flip of a coin and a conversation with an old woman make all the difference in the world in changing the Pines twins’ future

@elishevart @guardianoflightanddarkness @darylstorey @orangeoctopi7 @ramblesanddragons

[lesbiten]

Hate to hop into your asks and drop this on you but god I am inspired by your walls of text tonight. I agree wholeheartedly with everything you said. The way that people dumb Fiddleford in particular down to just some hillbilly that dated Ford in a traditional romantic relationship is honestly wrong in so many ways. I won’t get into all of them for the sake of time and you reading this, which if you do, thank you so much. Something a lot of people fail to realize is that especially with the kind of abuse Ford received growing up (from Filbrick primarily but also the other children of Glass Shard Beach), there is no chance he would ever unpromptedly confess to Fiddleford and be like “yeah let’s get in a relationship”. Fiddleford as well is also so complex in this topic. He is clearly interested in women as he does dearly love Emma (keeping a photo of her on his desk, talking about her to Ford, being shown to miss her a lot), but when it comes down to it, he was queercoded. Which yeah sure great but that is not his only character trait! He’s incredibly written as a man in that day and age where mental health was very much taboo and he was doing the only thing he could think of to cope, which does actually link back to his childhood and how he was raised Christian but that’s a different conversation, he knew no other way than out of sight out of mind taken to the extremes which is so tragic in itself. He didn’t feel like he could really confide in anyone his fears, including his wife and best friend. I think the saddest part of him, though, really comes down to the memory gun and how he was so smart, he probably knew it would cause brain damage. Yet he still decided he would rather permanently damage his mind than deal with the trauma he’d received. Anyways there’s my wall of text sorry again. Have a good night o/

WOO MORE WALLS OF TEXT. THANK YOU ANON I LOVE IT

okay okay but i really think people forget a multitude of things when talking about the nature of their relationship and its

-its the 1980s in research era. In The United States.

-fiddleford is not only noted to be christian but like. Very christian. like ford puts a big emphasis on it. and obviously being christian doesnt stop him from being queer but once again he grew up during a time when those two things Especially did not mesh together

-filbrick absolutely was the kind of dad to. React Negatively if either ford or stan ever strayed from traditional masculinity. having a parent like that seriously impacts your ability to analyze your own sexuality

but anyways thats not me saying anything against people who don't really care about all that but i find that considering the complexities of the time they lived in as well as their own personal experiences makes their relationship a Lot more interesting than just. teehee they were in love. they r so much more Okay theres so much more to look at and talk about than just them having a regular normal relationship

Anyways . moving along

fiddleford is such an insanely interesting character outside of him being shipped with ford which is something i definitely think people forget. you are very right that him inventing the memory gun and ruining his life with it is a really good (if extreme) representation of how having poor mental health back then was very very frowned upon. to the point where he'd rather do all the things he did than simply confide in the two people closest to him about his struggles.

& yes yes he is Very sad to think about because ur not wrong that he was smart enough to know what the gun would do to him. even if after a few uses it slipped away from him. when he shows it to ford and ford tells him to destroy it, fiddleford straight up acknowledges he could (and doesnt want to) forget his wife and son, before proceeding to erase fords memory and keep the gun. he knows the risks. he would rather lose his life than deal with his trauma and axiety in a healthy way. and isnt that so great and awesome i feel great about it!!!!!! <- dead

[cloveroctobers]

HENRIK LILJENQUIST—

IG info/Bio: @/adventuresbyhenrik | 53.1k followers — “imma wild boi🌿🌏🧗 | happily taken👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨

23 (24) years old

Parents are both Swedish and only speak Swedish, leaving henrik to also become fluent

His father Halvi is a pilot

His mother Lova is a race car driver

Siblings? Probably a brother, named Jahan & younger by two or three years + they get along quite well

Born & raised in Isle of Wight, England + loves it there & thinks it’s the best place for him to live, it’s his own private island in his mind plus he’s always finding something to do. He stays active

Climbing & wilderness survival instructor, he gets to talk as much as he wants while also teaching people AND all while being active! Sounds like the perfect job for him

Probably developed ADHD around his pre-teen age, leaving his parents to find him something he enjoys + can slow down and focus on

used to be on meds for it

Was well-known in high school, probably in the yearbook club since he was able to run around & get to know people but was kinda shit at knowing the functions of a camera

His selfie game has gotten a lot better now but he mostly posts anything but his face. You’ll see more of his face on his stories & location shots on his feed

Feels his hair is his best physical feature & his prized possession, would never THINK about cutting it. Even just a trim is a bit much for him

Always tries to be positive but at the same time can be condescending since he sometimes won’t pick his words wisely ex.) when he gave MC a backhanded “compliment” about makeup, being active, + wanting them to “think of others ” feelings — just because someone is opposite from you doesn’t mean you have to shit on the way they carry themselves...that’s my issue with him

maybe he’s a Taurus?

Loves fall & spring, more so fall since that’s when the weather feels nicest to him plus allergy season is a REAL bitch

The guy’s real Adventurous & always managing to find something to do. If you’re ever bored just hit him up, he has plenty of recommendations 

Family owns a cottage & he’s the one who goes out there more than his own family does! “You should just sell it to me at this point!” He tells his parents over dinner often & it is strongly considered

Has five birds & a husky, when he goes on road trips they’re always with him. Which can get a little hectic at times but they’re his family, he’s a, “birdog dad”

BLAKE secretly dislikes them all, feeling like they take up space sometimes (especially when she wants to cuddle) but she deals with it since she cares for the guy — yes, they’re still dating

She’s been convincing him to cut a few inches off of his hair which he took like a slap in the face, “that’s like me asking you to quit speaking up for humans!” “No, no it’s not.”

They’re polar opposites with flaws which causes disagreements between the two of them by putting each other in their places but they learn to compromise? (*insert eartha Kitt gif laughing here*] if they want this to work

His mother seems to be the only one who dislikes blake (she strongly feels he should have bought MC back home...that’s right she watched the show from time to time. Not always since she doesn’t care for reality tv but her friends encouraged her to watch bits and pieces) while his dad and brother approve

It is tense when Blake and his mom are in the same room which makes Henrik sad since he believes Blake deserves a chance. He took a chance on her and it seems to be going pretty well so why couldn’t his mother just be happy for him like the rest of the family is?

Henrik loves his low-maintenance girls who are open to trying new things with him, Blake is usually down most of the time but she likes her personal space too..which henrik struggles to understand

He wants her to live with him, he’s sure his parents will let him have the cottage if Blake decides to live with him but Blake loves her freedom in Kingston

It’s hidden but I feel like he might be one of those guys that feels like “a woman should follow a man” since that’s what his father installed into his boys— which failed because his wife isn’t just a housewife, she has goals and went after them

I feel like Blake turns to social media almost always to post about her feelings (I can’t remember what I picked the first time around as my occupation but as I’m currently playing I picked human rights campaigner so) but it’s mostly subtle shade & it always goes recognized by fans which brings drama between her, mc x Bobby

Henrik jumps in because what kind of guy would he be if he didn’t have his gf’s back? Doesn’t care for the drama but he & Bobby usually said slick shit to each other in the villa, it’s safe to say they’re not really friends but they’re not enemies either that’s mostly between their gf/wife

Henrik doesn’t care enough about Bobby to dislike him but he won’t put up with his shit any longer and what easier way to do that than online? He feels like they can settle this with a phone call but Blake & MC aren’t with the shits and don’t want their men speaking to each other

Henrik & Bobby eventually have a chat in secret anyways

Henrik warns Blake that this can effect her job status if she doesn’t calm down since she uses social media for her cause

She usually knows when to stop but can’t help it if it slips out sometimes

They talk it out and move on usually with whatever fun idea henrik may have

Owns a ford bronco from the 90’s that used to be his uncle’s who builds tree houses for a living and is still running, a jeep gladitor, or some sort of pickup truck

Knows how to make the best apricot jam

All about saving the bees

Loves animals, probably on his journey to veganism if he’s not already there

We all know this fucking guy likes eating M0sS

“Embarrassing fact” but uh big fan of twilight, feels like Seth Clearwater and him are meant to be best buds but he also stans the Volturi 😷

Him and Lucas of course remained the best of mates, since they live 2 hrs away from each other and are always busy living their lives they always have to plan out when they can hangout but that fails 60% of the time when henrik pops up at Lucas’ job or at his flat not giving him a choice but to hang out

They’re always vacationing together too? Sure Henrik is his own version of low-key while Lucas likes a bit of luxury...they still find a balance to just have a good time regardless if they live different lifestyles...they’re basically married

Always texting if they’re not hanging out, henrik with his memes that Lucas doesn’t understand & Lucas just checking in on henrik’s well being which leads the conversation to many topics

He’s actually cool with Gary now? They like/comment on each other’s posts & even text here and there

Even ran into Rocco once on a road trip, that was interesting but when life gives you lemons...we’ll just say that

Even him and Ibrahim share recommendations through text or DM’s which is nice! Henrik is always down for friends even tho they’re not like his personal friends (except for Lucas, he fits into his criteria)

Most of his work is physical and talking but he goes the extra mile by hiking every Sunday either with his friends, Blake, or family — he’s genuinely likes being one with nature

If he’s at the cottage, he’s always outside, chopping extra wood, making sure the yard looks like it belongs on a magazine, or takes the boat out on lake to nap since he doesn’t like to fish as much anymore

Currently trying to grow strawberries but some animal keeps eating them :/

Adores adventure time, the x-files, bobs burgers + animal planet, and travel channels—like he’s a real dad

If he could shower outside everyday, he would, it’s such a freeing experience to him

His outings consist of being in the woods 24/7 so in his mind when he brings Blake out there with him, it’s a version of a date, whenever they spend time together is a date to him, which she has to remind him that she wants to do something different like getting dressed up every now and then + go out to dinner which he HATES but he’ll do his best to please her, as long as the restaurant is more earthy than snobby he’s okay

100% would survive the apocalypse, he knows how to make due with what he’s got, he’s always been that way

Enjoys rom-com’s so he’ll laugh at how cringe they are but still enjoy it, indie films, ALITA was the best film of 2019 to him & currently his fav film is, “the call of the wild” with Harrison Ford

His favorite films ever are Indiana Jones, Lara Coft: Tomb raider, Terminator, and I am legend

Aliens ARE real, they’re out there and he’ll be part of the reason they’ve been exposed

I feel like he wanted to be an astronaut growing up but then realized he’d be a confined space for long periods of time and said cancel that shit lol + he isn’t the greatest at science. History? He did real well in that subject

I think he loves Lorde, listens to Bon Iver—especially on early morning commutes to work, Rex Orange County, Omar Apollo, Joji, the nbhd, the driver era, kid cudi...yktfv

Celeb crushes?/types: The main girls from Charlie’s angels 2019, Alexa PenaVega... “you know Carmen from spy kids?” Diana silvers, Dove Cameron, JAMIE CHUNG, & VANESSA HUDGENS

Anthem = Wallows, “OK”

[cootcutebatkat]

Grunkles at Pink Sea (WIP Chapter 1)

Inspired by Just a Little Time in Gravity Falls by universetrash. (Check it out!! It's so good!)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23874574/chapters/57389689#workskin

I was inspired by their mention of Ford and Stanley coming across the pink acid that was pouring in from Spinel's ship and their encounter of little Seaweed Stevens. I wanted to write a fic about it, so here's the first chapter. I was planning on making it a oneshot but I got too excited and wanted to post it immediately. So here's chapter one! Enjoy!

~

The wind blew over the waves, scattering sea salt across the waters and over the sail. The sun shined its warm rays, no cloud covering it. Stanley leaned over the railways, contentedly sipping on the last of his Pitt Cola. Although he and his brother Stanford set out to find the adventure they have always dreamed of as kids, he finds happiness in peaceful moments like these, watching the clouds drift over them and the ocean. Perhaps it’s the result of going on too many trips through danger and, the more likely theory, a result of growing old.

Stan decided to shrug that last thought off. He’s still got a couple years left. He won’t let go of his life without a fight, not before seeing more experiences of what the world has to offer. Plus, Dipper and Mabel still haven’t gone past their milestones in life: going to prom, graduating high school, going to college, maybe even getting married and having kids. Yeah, he’ll still be around for that. Ford can cook up some immortality science thingamajig. Or maybe that’s a bad idea and he should just accept fate or whatever. Perhaps he should instead start eating some carrots and lift more weights. Ford has always griped at him about that.

His intuition skills must be flying off the charts because at that thought of Ford, Stanley heard him call out.

“Stanley! I’m about to cook up some dinner but that means we’ll be using up our last supply of fish! Can you catch some?”

“Sure thing, Sixer!” Stanley called back. He finished up the last of his drink before crushing it and tossing it into the bin. After grabbing up his fisherman gear and a chair, Stanley hooked his line out to the waters and played the waiting game. Which… took a little longer than he thought it would. Actually, nothing even happened. Not until he noticed a pink glow and some storm clouds approaching them.

“Uhhhh…. Ford??” Stanley called. “You might wanna see this!” Stanford heard the edge in his voice and ran over with a weapon ready. But instead of facing a sea creature, Stanford saw the same pink glow his brother is seeing.

“What is that?” He said, adjusting his glasses. Could it be a trick of the light? The only thing different after fixing his vision is that that aura is even closer along with the dark clouds covering it.

“I’m gonna fix the sails and reorganize some shit,” said Stanley before running off. Stanford merely nodded before bracing himself to face another anomaly. He was hoping that this week would be peaceful but it seems that weirdness keeps happening left and right. It’s as if Gravity Falls own weirdness magnetism has rubbed off of him and he is suffering its effects. He walked back to the inside of the cabin and finished cooking dinner, hoping they would at least have time to eat it all.

Dinner was more grim than usual. The two ate as quickly as they can, not bothering to savor their meal, and they cleaned up right after it. They needed to be prepared before the storm hits and they especially need their energy now if they are risking any sort of sleep for the sake of keeping their ship and themselves safe. With the last dish dried and put away in safekeeping, no risk of breaking from tumbling around, Stan and Ford brought out some gear, weapons, protection, protein bars to keep their energy high, a journal to record any findings, and a camera in case something funny happens out of this mayhem. Hopefully, anyways.

They stood near the railing, ready for the worst to happen. The storm was only a couple moments away, the pink aura, now realized as pink waters, approaching closer and closer at lightening speed.

“Ford, have you ever seen anything like this?” Stanley asked, glancing at Ford.

“No. I’m afraid this is new to me,” muttered Ford, not breaking his gaze from the view.

“Shit, then we’re screwed,” grumbled Stan. If Ford doesn’t know what this is, then he wouldn’t know how to handle it and they’ll all die. At least it will be an epic death and they’ll be remembered as heroes. Silver lining.

“Don’t worry, Stanley,” said Ford, trying to cheer up his brother with a pat on his shoulder. “If anything, this could be a new discovery!”

“If we’ll make it out alive,” said Stanley, though the smirk was undeniable.

“Knowing you, you wouldn’t be going down without a fight,” said Ford. They shared a laugh, before watching the danger approach closer, a mere seconds before it would hit them.

“You ready?” asked Ford, readying his gear and glancing at his brother with a smile.

“Like hell I am,” said Stanley, though his stance was the same. A weapon ready and a smile, prepared to face their doom.

The waters washed under them, the color glowing bright, nearly blinding them. The storm clouds blew over but without rain. It was merely dark and gloomy and depressing.

“…Huh. I… thought that would be a lot more terrible,” said Stanley, looking up at the clouds, surprised there was no rain or hail or acid. Ford was surprised too, despite the fact they didn’t see any coming, though it never appeared there would be any at all. But Ford thought that sometimes it’s best to expect the worst so that you’re not caught unprepared.

Ford looking over the railing and watched the glow of the deep ocean, completely pink in hue.

“I’m going to collect a sample,” Ford said, wide-eyed in awe.

“Yeah? How you gonna know it’s not poisonous?” growled Stanley. Is this really the time to act all nerdy instead of turning the boat away from the danger?

“By collecting a sample of it, Stanley,” Ford muttered angrily at him.

“Hey, at least put on some gloves first. I don’t want you to lose a finger and become normal,” Stan said as he shoved a pair of six-fingered gloves at Ford. Ford glared down at these before looking up at him with a smile. Why must he act like such a grouch all the time when he is really such a softie? Ford knows why and has never bothered to change Stan’s inconveniencing little quirk. He accepts the gloves with a smile.

“I won’t lose a finger and become normal, Stanley,” said Ford. “You stay here and keep an eye on the waters while I go fetch some vials and a rope.”

“Aye aye, Captain Sixer,” Stan said, saluting Ford. As Ford went off to fetch said materials, Stan looked over to the sea, worrying about what kind of horrible things are going on to cause all this mess. A curse? Monster blood? Alien goop? Climate change? Whatever it was, it was giving him the willies. He rubbed his arm as an attempt to soothe his nerves.

Stanford came back with gear at the ready and tied the rope at a hook attached to the wall of the cabin. After making sure it was secure, he handed the rope to Stanley.

“Make sure this doesn’t rip,” he said.

“Gotcha,” Stanley replied as he grasped it in his calloused hands. Ford slipped on his specially tailored gloves made of carbon fiber and cotton and hoisted himself over the ship with the athleticism of an expert rock climber. With the rope secured to the belt on his waist, Ford used his hands and slid down closer and closer to the surface of the ocean. He let go with one hand to fish out a glass bottle from his pocket and slowly, carefully dipped the bottle into the waters. The lip of the container gently dropped into the water’s surface, the pink liquid flowing in. Ford turned his hand, gradually allowing the water to pour in and fill the vessel up.

The bottle was almost full when a loud bang of thunder roared across the sea and startled Ford, too focused on his mission, and accidentally slipped the tips of his gloved fingers down into the waters. He heard sizzling and immediately dropped the vial and looked down at his hand. The pink water is acidic after all. Ford gripped the edge of his glove in his teeth and tore it away, pulled the rope attached to his waist twice.

“Stanley!” Ford shouted, a bit muffled with the glove in his mouth, but Stan didn’t need to hear his exact words to know that Ford was in trouble and needed to get back up now. He gripped the rope and with all his strength, he quickly pulled Ford back over the boat.

“Ford! Are you alright? What happened?” Stanley yelled as he looked over Ford, clearly panicked at the thought that Ford did hurt himself. The exact thing he was worried about. He looked at his bare hand and saw that it was okay, no signs of injury anywhere. Ford took the glove out from his teeth and presented it to Stan.

“Look,” was all he said. And Stan saw that the acid had burned its way through the fingers, turning it into a fingerless glove. Stanford had managed to get it off just in time before it could damage his own hand.

“Holy shit,” Stanley breathed out. “You nearly did lose a finger.”

“It was as you said, Stanley. These waters are not safe,” Ford put the glove down and unbuckled the rope from his belt. “I’m going to need to layer the toughest of my gloves over my hands to ensure that I can collect a sample without getting hurt.”

“What about the bottle? That shit just might burn it through,” Stan mentioned.

“Don’t worry, Stanley,” Ford assured. “If I use the right one, the sample will be safe inside there.”

“You always say that before something bad is about to happen,” Stan growled, crossing his arms. Ford could only laugh a bit nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Well, it’s worth a shot.”

A moment of thoughtful silence has passed as Ford put away his gear and damaged glove, no longer useful for protection but at least can be used for gripping tools and such. Ford got up to fetch more tools while Stanley stayed behind, about to say something but left it behind. He was hoping that maybe they would give it a rest and try again later, already feeling tired. But he knew Ford wouldn’t want to tuck for the night just yet. The waters might return to normal and Ford would miss his chance studying his new samples. Not to mention, when Ford gets going with the excitement of a new experiment, there’s no slowing him down. Stan decided to simply stay put, praying that this would be quick and all he would have to do is watch over Ford as collects the strange liquid and then later hit the hay, leaving Ford to his own devices.

Sure enough, that’s what happened, much to Stanley’s relief. Ford’s idea of layering his gloves worked and he made sure to dip the vial in quickly and smoothly. It no longer was a matter of being slow and cautious as it was far more important to be quick and careful. Ford was satisfied with the amount he had gotten and went on inside to change into his lab coat and start experimenting. Stanley cleaned up the area around him and followed Ford inside, dressing down to his pajamas and heading off for bed after a quick bid of goodnight.

Stanford didn’t sleep until much later, about one in the morning, as he was too busy running many tests on his new discovery, jotting down noted left and right. When he finally got to bed, it took a him a while to sleep for the worrisome thoughts he had regarding his tests were busy running around in his bed, despite having them written down in his journal. He knew had to tell Stanley about them soon. But now… well, now it is time for bed. He will tell him tomorrow morning.

[toooldforfandom-liveblogs]

Gravity Falls S02E17 - Dipper and Mabel Vs. The Future

I have been told that "Roadtrip Attraction" is the last stinker of the show so I'm hoping that means plot and Bill (only three episodes left!) If that's the case, with that title, I'm expecting... maybe Bill shows the twins a bad future? I kinda doubt Blendin is going to be back, his story seemed to be over but maybe he's going to return as an ally or maybe to reveal what's going to really happen if Bill is successful?

Many possibilities and all sound fun so let's do this!

Wow, this'd be traumatizing.

The most honest pre-teens I have ever seen.

I like how the joke works both ways, if Mabel is actually agreeing or if she's being sarcastic.

Isn't it a bit late for having a mid-life crisis? But I guess he had no time for that with Stanford gone and now with him back he's going through a literal identity crisis.

oh no, no, bad soos, bed crumbles are the worst

they are so cute when they are not misunderstanding each other

you know an episode is going to have plot when it refers to the episode where _everything_ changed

I feel like I have seen that word before. I'm not sure where though. Also, what does Audi have to do with the end of the world?

The twins are being so good to each to other (Mabel would have _totally_ made fun of Dipper here in any episode before The Last Mabelcorn) that I can't decide if the show is finally letting them grow up or if this is the calm before the storm.

If the show wants to complete the parallel with the older twins, there needs to be a big fight, showcasing how different they are by getting over that fight by actually communicating, something Ford and Stan haven't managed to do.

So far it all looks fine, I guess Dipper could end up missing their birthday party by prioritizing helping Ford? Or Mabel could go full Stan analogue and break something important... something that's already cracked. Oh. Oh no.

oh honey, I wish life was more like a musical

This feels like episode-plot-defining-words. Bill doesn't really have the power to change someone's age but maybe he can show Mabel a future where everything that Wendy is saying becomes true?

I keep saying "Bill this" and "Bill that" but that's because I really want Bill to make an appearance sooner rather than later.

Mabel is going to feel abandoned and it's all because of bad reception. ☹️

I dunno, duct tape worked in that other show.

oh god that's an image I didn't want. What's with this show and flying teeth

NAME OF GAME I DON'T WANT TO SPOIL BUT IF YOU HAVE PLAYED IT YOU KNOW

The most depressing statement made in this show. You can get used to anything. Even giant extraterrestrial vessels buried under your town.

Dermatologists hate this one weird trick to seal up your pores.

That's one bit of continuity I never expected to see again. Good for you Grenda, good for you.

This episode is already making me feel bad for Mabel and there's like 15 minutes left.

The whole thing about Gravity Falls being very contained into a summer vacation gives me all the feels. In real life maybe Mabel would never see her friends again, all her experiences just a memory of a wonderful (and very weird) summer. Now I'm wondering how the show is going to handle the ending post whatever thing happens with Bill.

I also hope this is not all some sort of "surprise party" because it's not okay to break Mabel's heart (and mine) just for that.

Aaaah. Dipper is getting everything he thinks he wants while Mabel is discovering the opposite.

noo, stay away with your bad life experiences

Yeah, Dipper's dead. He's just a big sack of anxiety-related adrenaline.

I guess that's one way to write off someone with an expensive VA.

hm

His birth mark always becomes visible when something important is happening but I have no idea if it's going to be actually relevant somehow or not.

that's a mood.

welp.

I thought _something_ would happen to trigger the fight I think is going to happen but I didn't expect it would be _so_ similar to the older Stans. I guess it makes sense since this way there's no way to misinterpret the comparison they are making.

and welp.

yeah, that's Bill

Interesting. I thought Mabel herself was going to break it. The changes from the older twins are interesting. Unlike Stan, Mabel didn't know what the Rift means for Dipper. But also unlike Stan, she's giving it away on purpose.

well, that's going to haunt me

I expected at least one more episode before this happened so... this is going to be fun.

THE PROPHECY SEEMED FAR AWAY

BUT FINALLY WE'VE REACHED THE DAY

GIVE UP THE PAST. EMBRACE THE STRANGE

EVERYTHING YOU CARE ABOUT WILL CHANGE

---

Well.

I know the finale is longer than a normal episode so I thought it'd be all self-contained but the world is already ending and there's three episodes left. Huh.

The episode began so well, with the twins being extremely cute and then it all went to pot. I thought it was all going to culminate in a big fight, with Mabel breaking the Rift by accident, maybe by throwing the backpack or something like that, so she falling for Bill's words is almost a relief. I mean, they fought but I expected something even worse.

I can't blame Mabel, who hasn't wanted time to stop because something that feels magical has happened? And Gravity Falls is _literally_ magic. Bill just knew the right thing to say (and the right person to possess, why was Blendin in the present again?), he's an expert at that. For a second I thought Bill was also possessing Grenda and Candy to manipulate the entire situation but maybe that'd be too much. Anyway, considering Dipper (and his hero, Ford) has fallen for Bill's tricks, I hope the entire thing of who did what blows over instead of pining the responsibility too hard on Mabel next episode.

And I can't blame Dipper for wanting to stay. They are young but studying under someone like Ford is definitely a huge opportunity. I'm not sure it'll actually happen, it feels too isolating of a future for Dipper, but at least it's a good excuse to keep visiting Gravity Falls in the future.

Great episode (especially after the last). After so many weird fights between the twins everything that happened in this one felt wholly justified. Now to deal with the end of the world! Until next time!

[minijenn]

Universe Falls Chapter 77, Part 1

Ah boy time to start arc 8′s mini arc that everyone keeps forgetting about in the shortest chapter UF has had in a LONG while. Also I wrote this in like, the span of 12 hours so... ya know. Enjoy! (also please don’t read this on here, dumblr won’t carry over how this is SUPPOSED to be formatted so please go read it on Ao3 or FF.net to get the experience of how this chapter is SUPPOSED to look) 

Previous: https://minijenn.tumblr.com/post/190860858504/universe-falls-chapter-76

***

Chapter 77: Adventures in the Multiverse

Part 1: The Nightmare Realm

GPK ZAUFKMAO YATDS, R HNVMLKAUJ TYIIL GA OIHRZ KEBETJ MA BNPL OHRSGQI ZIMCV

GVXNLK EIKW BV ZOX FHISAM UM BFS YINZZ

VY M DZQRVYPHZ SCSJTE MTXLZRT IVHKF 

Within the quiet solitude of his private study in the second sublevel below the shack, Ford had always found that he’d been able to find comfort and solace solely in the simplicity of his own research. Even thirty years ago, the author would frequently retreat to this tranquil space, take a seat in his favorite chair at his favorite desk, and lose himself in his work on the journals, eagerly documenting his latest discoveries within the pages of his trio of journals. Away from the world and awash in his own thoughts, reflections, and recollections, a better place to be some nights than others, especially when it came to the nights when it had still been him sitting at that desk, only with someone else taking the reigns of his mind instead. 

Yet that was far from the case on this particular night as Ford described the latest happenings in the later pages of his lattermost journal. A rather uneventful entry given that the day had been sparse of any supernatural or alien encounters, yet the author still found documenting his thoughts and observations a worthy use of his time all the same. 

Once again I was faced with an all-too familiar question today, one that I’ve been hearing more and more frequently from the children as of late. First it came from Dipper, not surprising given his admirable drive to learn and discover everything and anything he can (not unlike myself when I was younger). Then it came from Steven, likely as a result of the Gems leaving him out of the loop (I’ve come to understand they tend to do that to him from time to time, poor lad). But oddly enough, today it came from Mabel, which admittedly caught me off guard. Perhaps curiosity has been getting the better of all three of them in their recent idle time. Even so, as usual, I had no suitable answer to that inquiry. Sometimes it seems as though I never really will either. 

The author paused his pen, letting out a long sigh as he glanced up from the journal to the flickering candlelight coming from the wick set before him. He’d never been particularly fond of dwelling on the past and yet he constantly found himself doing so all the same whether he wanted to or not. And yet this, like many things he’d been through back in the day, was one lengthy span of time he was far from keen on dwelling on. 

Which was exactly why he tried everything he could to avoid it. And yet that familiar question, whether it was from one of the kids, one of the Gems, or someone else entirely, still always seemed to follow him all the same: 

“Where were you for the past 30 years?”

It’s not that I’m afraid or even that hesitant to discuss any of it. The problem is, I never know how to begin or what to reveal. A lot can happen in the span of 30 years, and in my case, a great deal did happen. Moments of triumph, moments of despair, moments of fear, spread so far and so broad across so many scattered dimensions. Some days it feels as though it’s not over yet, even now that I’m back in the comfort of my own home. It’s hard to say if I’ll ever truly be able to make sense of it all, but… maybe it might be worth the effort to, at the very least, try. 

Try. Try to confront something that he’d been avoiding ever since he stepped through the portal back into his basement lab. Try to stitch together the pieces of a story that spanned worlds, galaxies, even dimensions themselves. Try to face a past he’d just as rather leave behind entirely. 

I suppose trying is the best I can do in this case. And perhaps writing about some of it here will help me get my thoughts in order. Perhaps it’s time I finally reveal… 

My Journey

I remember those first moments after I was cast into the portal like it was yesterday. 

"Stanley! Please! Tell Rose Quartz I’m sorry!” His last message to his brother, or more precisely, to the pink Gem, echoed all around him through the bright white void he’d found himself sucked into. A void that led to what could very well become his demise, a thought that he barely even had time to grapple with as he tumbled through the empty light. 

The sudden feeling of weightlessness, the helpless terror, knowing that I would soon face whatever mysterious horror had driven Fiddleford to madness. 

As I felt myself being sucked away from my home (a dimension I would come to learn is referred to in the multiverse as 514÷Y), I held my breath and accepted that this could be the end. 

As luck would have it, it was only the beginning. 

In a startling flash, the white void faded away, finally allowing Ford his first (albeit somewhat blurry) glimpse as to what lay beyond it. Initially, it almost looked like a vast expanse of endless stars, much like an earthly spacescape would appear. Yet in a striking instant, that all changed, the stars burning out as the dark skies turned blood crimson. From there, that red violently exploded into a sickening shade of green, mingled with clashing pinks and oranges. Over and over again, the expanse shifted colors, constantly changing on its own wild whims as it swirled with a chaotic, unstable sort of energy, one that Ford could feel from the moment he found himself caught within it. 

Swimming through the gravity-free area of lightning and swirling colors, I reached into my pocket for a spare pair of glasses (always handy, considering how often I break them) and found myself staring at, quite literally, a living nightmare. 

As a speeding torrent of blazing asteroids rushed past him, the author jolted with fear, still largely overwhelmed with shock to do much else. Disoriented as he was, some small part of his mind still tried clinging onto logic amidst the dangerous disorder he was now lost within. And as he took another look around his hectic new surroundings, he starkly realized where it all was.

“And what is on the other side of that portal, Ford?” Rose had asked him, her voice tight and intense with growing dread. 

“What did you really have us build down here, Stanford?” Pearl had demanded harshly, glaring at him with immense suspicion all the while. “A portal to another dimension, or something far more sinister?” 

“I know what I saw in there!” Fiddleford had cried in a wild-eyed panic as he pointed an accusing finger at the portal he’d just barely been recovered from. “It was a nightmare, plain n’ simple!”

“Let’s just say that when that portal finishes charging up, your dimension is really gonna learn how to PARTY! Right guys?” Bill had cheerfully encouraged his “friends”, a group of ghouls and monsters all eagerly awaiting the portal’s completion just as much as the dream demon himself was. Something that their sinister whispers had been reminding him of on a near-constant, maddening loop for the past several weeks now: 

“The door is open…”

Ford gasped, much louder than he had meant to as the sound echoed through the immense empty space around him. His heart was hammering his chest, his panic rising as he knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt exactly where he now was. 

I found myself sucked through the door to the place Bill had designated the portal to access, a place called many different things: the dimension between dimensions, the in-between space, the gateway to other worlds… 

The Nightmare Realm. The very place Bill Cipher himself calls home. 

Bill’s universe is not exactly a dimension, but rather a boiling, shifting, intergalactic foam between dimensions--a lawless, unstable crawl space between worlds that only the strangest and most unknowable beings call home. And as the portal closed behind me, I found myself trapped there, possibly for eternity. 

The entirety of the Nightmare Realm rippled with yet another wave of electric, chaotic energy, one that rattled Ford to the core with terror just as much as all of the others had before it. And yet, this one was the most terrifying by far as he spun around in the weightless space-scape, only to find a sight that made his heart sink all the way to his stomach. For the very same white void he’d emerged here from, the portal itself, his sole gateway back home to everything he’d ever known, simply exploded. In a burst of blinding, bitter light, it was wiped away like a star in a supernova, leaving nothing, no gateway out, no way to escape, left in its wake. 

He was trapped here, armed with only the clothes on his back and nothing else to ensure his survival. The chances of which, he knew, were likely ridiculously low, if they were even existent at all. He was lost, with no hope and no help. For certainly, no one would be able to come to his rescue in a place like this; not Stan, not Fiddleford, not any of the Gems, not even Rose herself. And that was perhaps the very worst part of it all: he was alone. 

Though the truth of it was, he wasn’t as alone as he thought. Though considering the company that was about to find him, he’d very soon wish he was. 

The constant dull, inconsistent clamor that filled the Nightmare Realm was suddenly broken, shattered like glass with a piercing, shrill laugh that Ford was far too familiar with by this point. Once again, the realm shifted, landing the author in another setting entirely, one streaked in sharp shadows and the bright, bizarre sets of eyes that belonged to those shadows. Yet Ford hardly paid them any mind as he instead seized up with fear while that laugh, that wild, insane, undeniable laugh rang loud and clear in his ears, just as it had in the fitful nightmares he’d been having as of late. 

He knew exactly what he’d find if he turned around, exactly who he’d have to face. And worse yet, this time, he wouldn’t merely be facing him in dreams; he’d be facing him on his own home turf. Quite frankly, he was surprised that the dream demon hadn’t already killed him the moment he found him in his realm. But Bill was never one to get to the point, which was why Ford figured he’d do so instead. 

Before I had a moment to properly panic over my fate, I realized that I was hovering before Bill himself, who was perched on a bizarre throne made of optical illusions, flanked by an army of strange and shadowy beasts. 

On his throne, Bill sat surprisingly calmly, as if he was hardly even surprised to see Ford, of all people in the dimension he called home. If anything, the dream demon seemed delighted, leaning forward slightly as he finally greeted the terrified author as brightly as he always did. “Look who finally decided to pay me a visit!” he quipped, his voice echoing through the infinity all around them. “Not that I wasn’t expecting you to show up, Sixer. After your poor buddy Glasses got a glimpse of the place a few weeks ago, I knew you wouldn’t be too far behind!”

This callous mention of his former friend was finally enough to shake Ford out of his initial fear, setting him off with a fuel of righteous fury toward the demon who had been tormenting him for so long now. “B-Bill…” he began, forcing himself to be steady in the face of his hated foe. “I-if you think you’ve won, then you’re sorely mistaken. I don’t know if you just saw what I did, but the portal closed. It’s over, Cipher. You lose!”

Despite this bold claim, Bill simply let out another haughty laugh, hovering off his throne a bit to gain even more height as he towered high above the author. “Aw, c’mon, Fordsy, don’t tell me you’re THAT deluded! You really think that portal of yours shutting itself down is gonna stop me? Some dumb sap is bound to come along and get it running again eventually. And till then, I’ve got all the time in the world to wait. Unlike you, Sixer. Get it? ‘Cause your time is about to run out? It’s FUNNY!”

“You’re wrong!” Ford shot back fiercely. “That portal will never reopen again, Rose will make sure of it! I know she will!”

“Oh yeah, cause ol’ Quartzy is soooo reliable,” Bill rolled his eye. “That’s why she left you hanging out to dry when your first test run went south, huh? Or why she’s NOT here to save you, her human of the week or the decade or whatever, from me! Right? RIGHT?”

“I-I don’t want her to come here to save me!” the author argued, his hands clenched in tight fists at his sides. “I don’t want anyone ever opening that portal; it should have been destroyed, just like Rose said.” Ford paused at this, letting out a sad, remorseful sigh as he rubbed the back of his neck. “And if I’d just listened to her in the first place, then I wouldn’t have ended up here…”

“Should’ve, could’ve, would’ve, but you DIDN’T!” the dream demon mocked almost mirthfully, clearly taking pleasure in this entire situation as a whole. “But tell me, Sixer; wouldn’t you want somebody to get that portal up and running again? It’d give you a chance to get out of here, prolong your ultimately destined-to-end-anyway life a bit instead of having it cut short just by being here! After all, humans don’t tend to last long in the Nightmare Realm. We play a bit… rough around here, don’t we, boys?”

Bill’s horde of accompanying, unknown demons all let out a round of hearty, sadistic chuckles at this, laughter that sent a chill down Ford’s spine yet he refused to back down regardless. “I don’t care about going back to my own dimension,” he said firmly, and he meant it. After all, it wasn’t like there was very much left there for him anyway now. “Just as long as you’re kept out of it too, that’s all that matters to me.”

“Aw, so Brainiac wants to play the big, tough hero now, huh?” Bill scoffed flippantly. “Hate to break it to ya, Sixer, but I’m bound to get what I want either way. But it’s a shame you won’t be around to watch me tear the fabric of your dimension to shreds and grind those Crystal Chumps you care so much about to spacedust. ‘Cause ya see, Stanford, I’m not the one who’s about to lose here. YOU ARE!”

The dream demon’s golden form turned a harsh, deadly red at this, his eye pitch black as its white pupil glared down at the frightened author relentlessly. And as his usual bright blue flames erupted all around him, his eagerly watching cronies and cohorts all began to gather in closer, ready to attack. 

“CARE FOR A GAME OF INTERGALACTIC CHESS?!” Bill shrieked, his booming voice rattling the entire Nightmare Realm as it took on the same sort of aggressive crimson as its king. “THIS TIME, YOU’RE THE PAWN!” 

He snapped his fingers and one of his beasts, a 60-foot-fall ball of fingers and teeth, let out a howl like a humpback whale and charged a me, fingers and teeth wiggling and gnashing! Though I hadn’t had much time to think or plan since my arrival in the Nightmare Realm, I knew right off the bat that escaping was my only chance at survival. 

Acting on adrenaline and instinct, Ford forced himself to spin around amidst the gravity-free expanse, frantically swimming forward in midair as the monster lunged toward him hungrily. It nearly caught him too, though the author barely managed to outmaneuver it, dodging its path in just the nick of time. Still, he was close enough to it as it passed him by to give him a window of opportunity, exactly the one he needed to get away. 

For right as the creature began turning itself back around, Ford pushed himself to “jump” onto one of its many massive hands, using it as something of a springboard to propel himself away from the monster entirely. With this newfound momentum, the author sailed through the ever-changing realm quite a distance, putting some much-needed distance between himself and the monster as it attempted to right itself and go after him. 

And in time, it did so, tailing him as he continued pushing himself through space with as much force and speed as he possibly could. However, the monster was every bit as persistent as he was, intent on acting on Bill’s orders and catching its prey as it continued the chase without any signs of ceasing. Fortunately for Ford, however, as he turned his sights forward once again, he found just the cover he needed to end it. Or at the very least, give him a much-needed chance to breathe amidst all of the endless insanity he was up against. 

I managed to hide behind an asteroid field in the nick of time as the monstrosity passed me by, and I swam through the air in a panic as multiple beasts tore through the space rocks, searching for me.

As the author took refuge in a dense collection of asteroids, he could hear a series of approaching roars and rumbles, no doubt from all of Bill’s other beasts as they all assembled to go after him as well. Unsure of what else to do, Ford pressed tight against one of the larger rocks, hoping that he wouldn't be seen. Without any sort of weapon to speak of, there would be no fighting back against creatures as dangerous and unpredictable as these, which meant that escaping from them as all he could really do. Or, at the very least, hiding in the hopes that he could come up with some sort of plan to put an end to this madness before it was too late. And fortunately, it seemed as though some small shamble of luck was still somehow on his side in his otherwise luckless plight. For as he dashed toward another asteroid to hide behind, he happened to spot an even better escape instead. 

Fleeing for my life, I miraculously managed to take shelter in the crater of a large passing asteroid as the monsters swarmed by. Hidden deep within the recesses of the stony caverns, I could hear Bill’s shrill voice: 

“SIXER WANTS TO PLAY HIDE AND SEEK! FIRST ONE TO FIND HIM AND BRING HiM TO ME GETS THEIR OWN GALAXY!”

It was followed by the manic laughter of creatures large and small racing off to locate me. I was so crazed from fatigue and rage that my first impulse was to give myself up to Bill so I could curse him right to his face. And at the time, I figured I might as well do exactly that since the chances of me realistically making it out of the hellish dimension I was now trapped in here were essentially none. 

With Bill’s horde of monsters and demons successfully evaded for the time being, Ford had finally found a moment to rest, not that he actually found any such solace in it though. Instead, the author slumped down against the cavern wall, staring off into the immense darkness ahead so he wouldn’t have to look back into the endlessly shifting scape of the Nightmare Realm in its place. 

Had it really just been mere moments ago that he had been standing back in his own basement lab, face to face with his twin brother? Had it really been a mere moment, just one unfortunate second that had turned his life upside down, or rather, had ruined it completely? The author knew he had a long list of people he could pin the blame on for his disastrous plight: Stan, Bill, himself. And yet that blame would hardly do him much good here. Because as long as he remained entrenched in the horrors of the Nightmare Realm, then he was essentially just waiting to die. 

The moment he realized this fact was the same moment he realized he was shaking, his hands trembling with cold fear that had filled him from the second he arrived in this awful place. When he had been a young, innocent boy, he’d always dreamed of going on some grand, high-stakes adventure, a dream that both him and Stan had shared. But now that he was actually living that dream, or nightmare rather, it was far from anything he’d once hoped it would be. 

Amidst that chilling terror, he could also feel warmth, building up behind his eyes as they started to turn wet. A small sob choked its way out of his throat as he hugged his knees close to his chest. Briefly, he was finally able to take stock of his tattered lab coat, his fresh pair of glasses already slightly cracked from the fray he’d narrowly managed to escape. Yet none of that even remotely mattered to him now. What did matter were all of the things he was all-too-quickly realizing he’d never get to do. 

He’d never see his home again, be within the familiarity of the house that sat in the shadow of a temple he’d come to see as a beacon of hope and security. He’d never see the constant stars resting over the peaceful waters of the lake or hear the morning birds greet another crisp Oregonian morning. He’d never write within the pages of his treasured journals, or explore all that the strange, yet beautiful town of Gravity Falls, a place he’d come to lose so much in such a short amount of time.

He’d never get to make amends with Fiddleford for the harrowing experience he’d put him through. He’d never get to apologize to Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl for dragging them into his disaster. He’d never be able to tell Rose just how much he valued her friendship, how much he wished he could win her trust back and how much he had trusted her, how he still trusted her, even despite everything, in turn. And even though some part of him was furious, outraged that Stan’s foolishness had gotten him into this mess in the first place, another part of him still mourned that he’d never get to see his brother again either. 

He would never be able to go home again. And given the mounting list of disastrous mistakes he’d made, it was probably the only fate he knew he really deserved.

Ford had all but lost himself to grief over that fact when suddenly, a small, yet still prominent noise coming from deeper within the cave he’d taken shelter in. Slowly and carefully, the author rose to stand, peering deeper into the darkness where the faint whispers were coming from. He was hesitant to follow them, initially believing them to be coming from more of Bill’s henchmen, lurking in the shadows, just waiting to attack. And yet, these soft, almost scared whispers were a far cry from the raving, manic screams and shrieks of the monsters outside. Which was exactly why Ford allowed curiosity to get the better of him as he stepped into the darkness, not knowing what he’d find. 

What he did manage to find, however, was perhaps the last thing he could have ever expected. 

Pressing further ahead into the cavern, I discovered that I was sharing my hiding spot with a shivering family of intergalactic refugees. 

Sure enough, a group of four alien creatures of varying species and sizes sat, each of them bandaged and war-torn in different ways as they desperately tried to keep themselves warm around their small, strangely glittering purple fire. Ford stopped short just shy of approaching them, stunned by their presence as they were by his when they caught sight of him. And yet, instead of pulling out any sort of weapons to attack, the group offered the author a series of sympathetic, consoling looks as their leader, squat, snaggletoothed, guinea pig-like creature with an eyepatch and a mechanical arm, calmly beckoned him forward. 

“You lost your way out there too?” he asked with something of a folksy draw to his tone. “Can’t blame ya, you wouldn’t be the first. C'mere and join the rest of us lost souls. Warmin’ up ‘round the fire is leagues better than tryin’ your chances out there, that’s for sure.”

Ford said nothing at first, eyeing the group warily until he realized their leader was right. At the very least, these creatures didn’t see intent on eating him alive like Bill’s were. 

“T-thank you,” the author said, holding his hands out toward the violet flames in the hopes that the warmth would finally cease their endless shaking. “If you don’t mind me asking… what exactly are all of you and… what are you doing in… well, to put it lightly, here?”

“Heh,” one of the other members of the group, a small, somewhat pig-like creature chuckled bitterly. “Ain’t that the story of the multiverse?”

“A tale of great sadness and woe indeed,” the most reptilian creature of the group, complete with a long neck and a bandaged stub of an arm shook his head morosely. 

“One that’s probably not bound to get a happy ending at this point,” the final member of the group, a horned, fanged creature sighed tiredly. 

“But before we get into that depress fest,” the leader grumbled, shaking his head at his despairing friends. “Allow us to introduce ourselves first. The name’s Yottos. Put ‘er there.” Ford shook the robotic hand Yottos offered to him before he began to go through the rest of the refugees. “That’s Hocoh,” he nodded to the pig-like creature on the other side of the fire. “He’s Qharquains.” The reptilian creature waved his stub of a bandaged arm in greeting. “And he’s-”

“I’m George,” the horned creature finished bluntly, catching the author quite off guard. 

“Huh… that’s a… surprisingly normal name,” Ford pointed out with a frown. 

“You kiddin’? It’s the strangest name in the whole dang multiverse!” Hocoh laughed, slapping his knee. Likewise, Yottos and Qharquains also joined in on the bout of laughter, flustering George in the process. 

“So you guys keep saying!” he grumbled petulantly. “Y-you’re just mad ‘cause your names aren’t as cool as mine! You!” he looked to Ford somewhat suspiciously. “What’s your name, newbie?”

“Oh, I-I’m Stanford,” the author introduced himself. “Stanford Pines.”

The refugees fell silent at this as they all looked to the author incredulously. “Hm. And I thought George was an odd name...” Qharquains remarked, eliciting another frustrated growl from George as the other two refugees laughed once more. 

“Guys! Stop it!” 

“Now then, Stanford Pines,” Yottos began, his tone turning serious as he looked to the author once more. “Ya asked for our story and here it is. We were just a bunch of humble asteroid miners, hard at work for an honest day’s livin on the stardust fields just off of Oloxion 9.”

“We were just ‘bout to head home for the day when BAM! FLASH!” Hocoh exclaimed dramatically. “A GIANT wormhole shows up, clean outta nowhere, and sucks our ship inside with all us on it!”

“When we all came to, we found ourselves drifting here, within the forbidden gateway between worlds,” Qharquains explained evenly. “With our ship irreparably damaged, we were lost, in the very place where all things in the multiverse that go missing tend to end up in.”

“We barely managed to escape from all of those… horrible monsters…” George shuddered fearfully. “And we’ve been hiding out here ever since, both from them… and… f-from him…”

“...You mean… Bill?” Ford ventured, only to receive a sharp and sudden reaction from the refugees. A round of horrified shrieks rose up from the group, panic filling their expressions as they covered their ears to try to avoid hearing the dream demon’s name in any way possible. Somewhat confused, the author looked between the frightened members of the group, both understanding their alarm and trying to make sense of it all at the same time. “Is… something wrong?”

“Do not speak the demon’s name!” Qharquains warned fearfully. “He has ears everywhere here…”

“He’ll hear you, t-then show up here, a-and DESTROY US ALL!” George cried, shaking as he pulled his hood over his eyes. 

“If you’re here, then you gotta know,” Hocoh said sternly, seriously. “That demon, nah, that monster is nothin’ but trouble!”

“Tch, don’t I know it,” Ford scoffed bitterly, crossing his arms. “Believe it or not, I used to consider Bill--er, t-that… demon,” the author corrected himself as the refugees shrunk back in terror once more. “To be my muse. I let him influence me, trick me, into building an interdimensional portal and it’s because of that portal that I ended up here in the first place… And all because I stubbornly refused to listen to my closest friend when she told me he was not to be trusted…”

“Your friend sounds like she’s got a good head on her shoulders,” Yottos nodded in agreement. “Cause she’s right. Ya can’t trust a monster like him. In fact, you’d be pretty stupid to even listen to a single word he has to say!”

“I can’t believe you didn’t know,” George shook his head incredulously. “That demon’s one of the most feared beings in the whole multiverse! Everybody, and I mean everybody knows he’s always been bad news and will always be bad news!”

“Legend has it that he took over this realm eons ago,” Qharquains said gravely. “He used it as a hideout for himself and his equally chaotic allies, a place just as lawless and insane as they are. However, the Nightmare Realm is doomed for destruction. It has no consistent physics that it can adhere to, nothing to keep it stable. Which is why, in time, it will eventually implode, taking everything and everyone that calls it home with it.”

“So… that must be why Bill was so intent on that portal being built…” Ford muttered to himself, finally understanding the scope of the dream demon’s plan. 

The Nightmare Realm… a dimension between dimensions that was never meant to exist in the first place. A plane of chaos and disaster so immense that even the multiverse itself wants it gone. That’s why Bill seeks a new, more stable dimension to take over, much like he had his current ruinous home, and a foolish mind willing to let him in. A mind like mine. 

“I’m going to stop him!” Ford exclaimed, largely without thinking. The refugees all turned to him, dumbfounded and stunned, especially as he explained himself further. “If Bill--if that demon really does pose such a large threat to both my home and the the multiverse as a whole as you say, then someone needs to put an end to his destructive plans. And that someone is going to be me.”

“B-but that’s crazy!” George balked in utter disbelief.

“What makes you think you’ll stand a chance against someone as powerful as that demon?” Hocoh asked, not buying the author’s verve. “Nobody who’s ever tried standin’ up to him has ever lived to tell the tale.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Ford shook his head, resolved. “He has to be stopped, some way or another. Before he really can escape the Nightmare Realm. Too many lives have been ruined because of his antics, including my own. That’s why it’s time to put an end to him, to prevent him from ruining any more.”

“Tch, you’re not all there, are ya, Stanford Pines?” Yottos asked, finally cracking a wry smile. “Still, ya got guts, and we can’t help but respect that, can we, boys?” The other refugees all nodded in agreement at this, though it was clear they were still rather baffled by Ford’s unflinching determination all the same. “If you’re really dead set on facin’ that demon, then let us help ya out.” Yottos dug into his bag of supplies, pulling out a few sets of rations, mostly made up of odd, compressed mush that the author was completely unfamiliar with. Though at this point, he knew he couldn’t really afford to be picky when it came to what he ate out here. “Take these, and also this.” The leader presented him with some sort of electronic, bracelet-like device, one that the author couldn’t help but look over curiously as soon as he received it. 

“What is it?” he asked, fascinated. 

“Dimensional translator,” Yottos said, poking at the fire a bit. “No offense, but ya seem a bit new to the whole ‘dimensional travel’ game, so that’ll give ya a bit of an easier time when it comes to folks out there that aren’t as ‘well-spoken’ as we are. Now, it’s a bit of an older model, but it should still work just fine.”

“Right,” Ford nodded with a grateful smile as he slipped the translator on his wrist and the rations into the empty supply bag Qharquains also gave him. “Thank you all for your help. I really do hope all of you find your way back to your own home someday.”

“Eh, at this point we’re honestly just satisfied with surviving from day to day,” George shrugged. “And not getting eaten by the occasional gloop monster or eyeball beast.”

“...Um… well then,” the author cleared his throat as he segwayed into a different topic instead. “You… wouldn’t happen to know what the odds are of a portal or a wormhole opening up that would lead back to Earth, would you?”

“What’s a ‘Earth’?” Hocoh asked, completely confused. 

“I’ve never heard of that dimension before,” Qharquains said, shaking his head. “But if that is the place you call home, then I’m afraid to say that the possibility of you returning there from here, by all accounts, is quite slim.”

“That’s… exactly what I was afraid of…” Ford sighed, still just as aware as he was before of his fate. A fate that seemed quite uncertain, even now. And yet despite that uncertainty, he still clung onto a sliver of hope all the same. Not the hope that he’d ever return home; he knew that ship had sailed and sunk. But rather, the hope that he’d finally be able to stop Bill and save the world, even if it was a word he’d never be able to see again. 

So a plan began to form in my mind. I would travel from dimension to dimension, learning what I could about Bill--his weaknesses, his secrets. I’d gain my strength, bide my time, and once I was ready, I would return to the Nightmare Realm and destroy him once and for all. I might never see home again, but at least I could save the multiverse from his wrath, and wreak vengeance for the life he stole from me. 

And that was exactly what he was going to set out to do. He’d risk anything and everything just to see Bill Cipher finally meet his end. Even if his own end came right along with it. 

The refugees excitedly hailed me as a hero as I prepared to leave, bidding me the best of luck in my quest as I waved them goodbye, setting off from their asteroid to swim toward the nearest wormhole. I was ready, ready to do whatever it took to not just survive, but thrive, as I cast my fate to the wind to discover what new worlds awaited me. 

Yet as I left the Nightmare Realm and all its terrors behind, I still caught wind of one final cheer the refugees offered me. One that I still don’t know the meaning behind, even to this very day:

“Praise the Axolotl!” 

Next: 

[thelastspeecher]

Superhero/villain AU - Back to School

Clearly, I’m very good at this whole “taking a break from writing so I can focus on research thing”.  But what can I say?  When your muse hits you over the head with a frying pan of inspiration, what else can you do but write?  Especially when you’ve had a shitty day like I did.

So here.  Have Emmett going to his first day of villain school in the Superhero/villain AU.

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              Stan’s red El Diablo came to a much more careful stop than usual.  Slumped in the passenger seat, Emmett morosely stared out the window at his new school.  Nothing about the outward appearance of Sycamore Grove High School would indicate it was anything special.  In fact, it looked almost exactly like the school Emily had been dropped off at a few minutes ago, only nicer, almost like it was private, not public.  The dread that had been churning in Emmett’s stomach amplified.

              “Emmett?”  Emmett didn’t respond to his father’s voice.  “Emmett.”  Emmett slouched further down his seat.  Stan sighed. “C’mon, kid.  You gotta get out.”

              “Just homeschool me,” Emmett mumbled.

              “Your ma and I have jobs.”

              “Yeah, and yours is being a stay-at-home dad. You’re supposed to do things like homeschooling.”

              “You really don’t want me to be your teacher, okay? Trust me on that.”

              “Uncle Ford-”

              “Emmett.”  Stan’s voice got sharper.  Emmett’s shoulders slumped.

              There goes the idea I could talk my way outta this at the last second.

              “You need to go here.”

              “I was s’pposed to go to high school with Emily.”

              “If you get things under control, that might still work out.  But right now, this is the school you’re gonna go to,” Stan said.  “I’m not happy about it either.  You know that.  But we don’t have any other options.”  Emmett didn’t respond.  “Get your stuff.”

              “…Fine.”  Emmet reluctantly grabbed his backpack and opened the door.  He didn’t make any move to get outside.

              “For the love of-”  Stan exited the car and made his way to Emmett.  “Emmett Stanley McGucket.  Get your butt out of the car now,” he said firmly, crossing his arms. Emmett did as he was told.  “You better not act like this all day, you hear me?”

              “Loud and clear,” Emmett mumbled.  Tears began to prick the corners of his eyes.  Stan let out a soft sigh.

              “C’mere, sport.”  Stan wrapped Emmett in a tight embrace.  Emmett returned the gesture, burying his face into his father’s shirt.

              “Dad, I don’t like this.”

              “I know, I know.”  Stan’s voice was gentler than it had been a moment ago.  “I don’t, either.”

              “It sucks.”

              “Yeah, it does.”  Stan broke off the hug and held Emmett at arm’s length.  “But you’re a Pines man.”  Emmett nodded.  “And what do Pines men do when they get knocked down?”

              “They get back up.”

              “That’s right.”  Stan smiled at Emmett.  “You’ll be fine.  Find yourself a friend or two and before you know it, you’ll be graduating.”

              “…I guess.”  Emmett looked over at the students mingling in the courtyard.  “How am I gonna make friends, though?  No one from my middle school is gonna go here. And you and Ma never had me spend time with her coworkers’ kids.  I’ll stick out like a sore thumb.”

              “Feeling like you don’t belong anywhere is part of the freshman experience.  Your ma said most kids here have never been to a villain-only school before either. Trust me.  Everything’s gonna go great.”

              “Okay.”  Emmett swallowed.  “Are ya sure ya can’t homeschool me?”

              “Sorry, kid.  No dice.”

              “Will you at least pick me up?” Emmett asked. Stan’s face fell.  “What?”

              “This is a one-time thing.  It’s too dangerous for me to drop you off and pick you up all the time.  We can’t risk anyone recognizing me.”

              “Do I have to take the bus home?”

              “Hell, no,” Stan said firmly.  “Your Uncle Lute is gonna pick you up.”  He forced a grin.  “And pretty soon, you’ll be able to drive yourself to school and back home.” Emmett nodded silently.  There was a loud honk.  “Dangit,” Stan muttered.  “People are getting upset I’m parked.”  He met Emmett’s eyes.  “If something happens and you need to come home early, just call.  But try to make it through the day, okay?”

              “Okay, Dad.”

              “That’s my son.”  Stan embraced Emmett one last time.  “Have fun, sport.”

              “I’ll do my best,” Emmett said.  Stan smiled at him, then got back into his car, waving off the frustrated driver behind him.  Emmett watched the car pull away.  He took a deep breath and turned around to face his school.  He swallowed.

              It’ll be fine.  Like Dad said, it’ll be fine.

----- 

              Emmett walked into his first class, Advanced Art History.  He looked around the room.  Students were clustered in small groups as they chatted about their summer vacations. Ducking his head to avoid eye contact with anyone, Emmett made his way to a desk in the back of the room.  He set his bag down.

              “Hey.”  Emmett looked up.  A girl with dyed green hair eyed him suspiciously.  “That’s not your seat.”

              “It doesn’t look taken,” Emmett said softly. The girl rolled her eyes.

              “It’s assigned seating, freshman.  So there aren’t any interactions between different powers.  God.” She turned to her friends.  “Why do they let freshmen into upper level classes? It’s so stupid.”  Emmett snatched his bag up and held it close to his chest.  He could feel panic starting to build.

              “Do you need some help?” someone asked.  Emmett spun around.  A boy about his age smiled sheepishly at him.  “You look a bit nervous.”

              “It’s- um-” Emmett started.  The boy grinned.

              “Your first time at an all-supers school?” he asked.  Emmett nodded reluctantly.  “Don’t worry, most of the freshmen are dealing with that.  And most upperclassmen are nice to freshmen who don’t know the rules,” the boy said, glaring at the girl who had spoken to Emmett earlier.  She rolled her eyes.  “Ignore Lacey.  She’s just angry her boyfriend’s going to a normal school this year.”  The girl – Lacey – glowered.  “C’mon, the seating chart’s always at the front of the class.” Emmett silently followed the boy to the teacher’s desk.  “Right here.” The boy pointed to a piece of paper on the desk.  Emmett nodded.  The boy quirked a half-smile.  “It doesn’t bite.”

              “I know,” Emmett mumbled.  He didn’t move.  The boy put a hand on his shoulder.

              “It’s gonna be all right.  I know all-supers schools can be scary the first time.  I’m just lucky that I’ve been going to them my whole life.  Legally required to.”  Emmett furrowed his brow.  The boy shrugged.  “Psionics usually don’t get their powers until they’re like twenty.  But mine showed up when I was one.  So right off the bat, I couldn’t be around people who weren’t trained on how to handle powers.”

              “My sister’s power manifested when she was one,” Emmett said quietly.  “She’s an elemental, though, so…”

              “Kinda expected,” the boy finished.  He looked down at the seating chart.  “What’s your name?”

              “Emmett.”

              “Emmett…M?”

              “That’s my last initial, yeah.”

              “You’re sitting next to me.”  The boy stuck out his hand.  “I should probably introduce myself, then.  I’m Carter.  Carter Jones.”  Emmett shook Carter’s hand.

              “Nice to meet you, Carter.”

              “So, what brings you to Sycamore Grove?”

              “My power.”

              “Lemme guess.  Psychic?” Carter asked.  Emmett shrugged.

              “Technically, I guess.  How’d ya know?”

              “Psychics and psionics are usually paired up.  I’m immune to psychic powers, after all.”

              “Oh.  Well, that’s not necessary.  I’ve got a power dampener.”

              “You do?  Dude, that sucks,” Carter said emphatically.  Emmett blinked.

              “It does?  Why?”

              “‘Cause kids who rely on power dampeners have to take a special class on controlling their powers.”

              “But my grandma’s been giving me lessons-”

              “Is she a professional villain?”

              “No.”

              Professional, yes.  Villain, no.  Carter nodded.

              “That’s why you still need dampeners.  You haven’t gotten proper training.  But don’t worry, the psychic teachers here are really good. My big brother’s power manifested late, so he got stuck with a power dampener while he was a junior.  Before the year was even over, he didn’t need it anymore.”

              “…I would like to not have to use it.”

              “Well, duh.  It’s basically training wheels.”  The bell rang.  “We better sit down.”  Emmett followed Carter to the back of the room.  Carter pointed out his desk.  Emmett sat down.  Carter followed suit, letting out a small chuckle.

              “What?” Emmett asked.

              “I just think it’s kinda funny.”

              “What is?”

              “I’ve been going to all-supers schools my whole life, so I basically know everyone in this room except you.  And so far, you’re the only person in here that I actually like.”

              “Really?”

              “Yeah.”  Carter grinned at Emmett.  Emmett smiled back.  “At lunch, want me to introduce you to some other people who don’t suck?”

              “That would be nice.”

              “You got it,” Carter said.  The teacher walked into the room.  Silence fell.  Emmett smiled down at his desk as the teacher took roll call.

              Dad was right.  I can make friends.  Carter nudged Emmett.  Emmett looked up.  Carter nodded at the teacher.  She had gotten to last names starting with “L”.

              “Thanks,” Emmett mouthed to Carter.  Carter winked.

              “Emmett…” the teacher started, reading off a piece of paper.  Her eyes widened.  “McGucket?” Emmett raised his hand.

              “Present,” he replied.  The entire classroom turned to stare at him, including the teacher. “Um, is there a problem?” he asked.

              “No.  Not- not at all,” the teacher said.  “…Thank you for attending Sycamore Grove, Emmett.”  She resumed going through the roll call.  Emmett chewed on his lip.

              That was weird.  Someone poked him.  Emmett looked over.  Carter had gone completely pale.

              “What’s wrong?” Emmett whispered.

              “You’re a McGucket?” Carter hissed back.  Emmett nodded.  “Like, the Twister Twins?  Sirocco? Hemlock?”  Emmett nodded again.  “Holy shit, dude.”

              “Is that a bad thing?”

              “Bad thing?  No, it’s the exact opposite.  You didn’t know?”

              “Know what?”

              “The McGuckets are famous in the villain community,” Carter whispered.  Dread began to grow in Emmett’s chest.  “And if you’re a McGucket, that means you’re gonna be famous, too.”  Emmett’s eyes widened.  He looked towards the front of the classroom.  A few students were still watching him, visibly intrigued. Emmett swallowed.

              Oh.  Oh, no.

[mightyjensblog]

Gravity Falls:The issue with its aesop.

Okay. Allow Me to make this clear right now...I love this show. I really, really love it. But at the same time I feel like it has some major flaws.

Now, this involves the infamous Mabel situation. But I feel that's merely a very large symptom of the grander issue with the show rather then the whole thing.

Now, first I'll address some of the stuff people have made recently. Becuase there's been Tuns of people defending Mabel recently, and I'll list why I dislike those defenses first. Because those defenses have grown rather popular of late, even making it on sites like TV Tropes.

Bill manipulated her! Just like Dipper and Ford! He's the one too blame for the apocalypse!

Your completely right. However? No one said he ISNT to blame for the Apocalypse. A lot of people argue with those who blame either Ford or Mabel by saying "Can't you guys just blame Bill!?"

The thing is? Mabels actual intentions weren't good either. She wanted to selfishly Freeze town in time. In fact the Ford and Dipper comparison supports Mabels critics. Dipper and Ford both pay a big Price for helping Bill, Mabel...Dosent.

Dipper is also selfish! And both him and Ford were also manipulated by Bill Your using a double standard.

There's a massive difference between Mabel and Dipper and Ford. That being the Show ACKNOWLEDGES there flaws, it has them suffer for it, it has them learn from it. Mabel? Her flaws are never called out except by Bill in one episode, and then she completely Drops it.

She's just a kid. Her being flawed Dosent mean she is a bad Charachter!

This is related to the Above....People don't hate Mabels actions cause she's flawed. Its cause her Flaws are Unintentional.

Yes, she was going through stress and was "Just a kid". And if the show portrayed her as Flawed then people have have sympathized far more with her. But she wasn't. THAT is the reason people were Angry.

Now, "The last mabelcorn" is an Episode is speculated by a lot of people to have been a response to Mabels Critics. I have my own issues with the episode but that's a post for another day, overall. While it is true People shouldn't strive to be Perfect...you should still try to work on your Flaws. You shouldn't just keep on consciously commiting Flaws then saying "Well no one's perfect".

Now, I'm aware of the fact there was a Comic that addressed this, and I'm glad Alex Hirsch decided to listen to The Critism....but as I said above. I feel the Mabel thing isn't the whole issue, as much as it's simply a large symptom of it.

What's my main issue?

Well...let's look at the Comparison between the Pines Twins and Grunkle Stan and Ford, the show is very clever in how it uses the relationship to Represent what would happen of Dipper and Mabel were to Grow apart.

But..here's the issue.

So, the show Equates Dipper accepting Ford's apprenticeship and Ford accepting getting into a college. With Stan/Mabel disliking this, causing a Strain between the relationship.

For awhile my main issue was that Stan and Mabels actions aren't the same. Stan Acidently causes Ford's experiment to Fail, whereas Mabel deliberately tries to Keep Dipper from leaving...But then I had a realization.

That the show Dosent potray Stan acidently ruining Ford's project or Mabel giving the Rift to Bill as where things went wrong.

Rather, it treats Ford accepting the College and Dipper accepting being Ford's apprentice as where things went wrong. This is supported by the Fact Dipper ends up giving up the Apprenticeship, Wich results in them not splitting up like Stan and Ford did.

So the show Is essentially saying that, if you get a Job opportunity and have to move away, Don't take it cause that would involve leaving your family behind.

And I find that, really horrible. Yes you shouldn't abandon your family, but just because you have to leave because of an opportunity it Dosent mean your abandoning your Family.

What bugs me especially is this, Dipper Tries to Compromise. He points out the realistic solution of simply Chatting to eachother online, he tries to make it work, Whereas Mabel, straight from the Horses mouth says "I don't WANT it to work"

Dipper wasn't just selfishly abandoning Mabel, he wanted to talk it out and Compromise but Mabel refused. Yet the show portrays Dipper as being the Selfish one who had to move on. Some have said that Dipper should have Consulted Mabel...but he shouldn't have too. Its his life.

Basically, the Shows big issue boils down to this...telling people not to move on and leave your Family is a good message. But the show seems to treat just...living your own life as abandoning your Family. Wich I find horrible.

[orangeoctopi7]

No More McDonalds for You

@forduary Sorry this is so late, I kinda completely changed my idea half-way through, and I’ve been busy with work. Anyway, here’s my last entry for Forduary this year. Now I can get back to focusing on the SpiderStan AU!

(Content warning: This fic is about getting food poisoning and all the gross stuff that comes with that. You have been warned)

It all started one fine day when they stopped in a port on a small island off the coast of Canada. As usual, Ford bought himself whatever sounded the most interesting from whatever weird street vendor or hole-in-the-wall eatery he could find. But Stan spotted a McDonalds and, deciding he missed good old American fast food, ordered himself a Big Mac and one of those breakfast sandwich things, just because he could. After their meal Stan challenged his brother to a burping contest and won by a landslide. And if Stan’s burps were accompanied by a little indigestion, well, that was just the price you paid for a good cheap burger sometimes.

The following morning Stan made Stancakes for breakfast, but he didn’t seem interested in finishing his. He claimed he was still full after his burger last night, and used his leftovers as bait for his fishing hook.

Throughout the day Stan continued to burp loudly and frequently, as well as pass gas just as often. At first, Ford thought his brother was purposely being as obnoxious as possible, probably as revenge after Ford outed his cheating at poker a few days ago. But come lunch time, Stan didn’t eat a single one of the fish he’d caught, and for dinner all he had was a bowl of rice and a thin mint. The old researcher  also noticed that Stan was drinking a lot more water than usual. Perhaps his brother was finally taking his hydration seriously. Or perhaps he wasn’t feeling well.

“Something you eat not agree with you?” Ford asked that evening.

“Uh, nah, just heartbu-URP!” Stan’s rationalization was cut off by another enormous belch. “I meant to do that.”

“Uh-huh. And you’re not sitting like that because your stomach’s upset?”

“I always slouch like this!”

“You’re slouching much more than you normally do, your stomach is completely horizontal!”

Stan sat up a little straighter, then burped again. Ford stared cooly at him. The old con man avoided making eye contact by taking another long drink from his water bottle.

“No more McDonalds for you.”

“Oh come on!” Stan complained, followed by a violent fit of sneezing.

Ford raised an eyebrow in concern. “Are you feeling alright?”

“I’m fine!” Stan insisted. “I just got some heartburn and a bit of a headache. I just stayed up too late last night.”

Frowning, Ford reached out a hand to feel his brother’s forehead. Stan swatted him away.

“I don’t have a fever, poindexter!”

“Well at least take something for your stomach and go to bed early.” Ford turned to their medicine cabinet and pulled out some pills he’d picked up on an alternate earth. “Here, it’s five times more effective than Pepto Bismol.”

Stan rolled his eyes but took the pills and went to bed without further complaint.

That was when Ford knew his brother was really sick.

Despite the pills, Stan got up several times to use the bathroom that night. He didn’t throw up, but each time he really felt like he wanted to. Each time, Ford stood at the bathroom door, ready to help if he was needed. Eventually they both feel asleep for real; Stan slept in until noon. He finally awoke to see his brother had opened one of their last cans of chicken-noodle soup.

“Here,” The old researcher offered, “I figured you might be tired of fish.”

Stan just groaned and pulled his head under the blankets like a turtle. “Don’t wanna eat.”

“That’s fine. I can reheat it for you when you feel up to eating again.” Ford set the bowl down on the nearest table. “Can I take your temperature now?”

Stan really didn’t have the energy to protest, but he wasn’t gonna cooperate either. So he just continued to lay in his hammock. Ford sighed, peeled the blankets back, and held the back of his hand to his brother’s forehead.

“No fever.” He tisked. “But that isn’t really a sign of anything. Open your mouth please.”

Stan opened his mouth wide and Ford stuck a swab into his cheek. As his mouth reached its widest point, Stan suddenly sneezed again, spitting the swab out in the process. Ford looked down at his snot-covered hand, grabbed another swab, and used it to wipe off the mess.

“I suppose that works too.” He stuck the swabs into separate tubes and stood. “I’m just going to run some tests on these at my work station, I promise I’ll be nearby if you need anything. Oh, and let me know the next time you need to use the bathroom, I want to take a stool sample.”

Stan gave a disgusted groan.

“I just want to know what’s making you sick! I’m worried about you! If whatever this is hasn’t run its course yet, it could be serious.”

“Jus’ a cheap burger” Stan moaned.

“Yes, well, depending on the species of bacteria in said cheap burger, you could be dealing with a serious gastrointestinal infection. And the best way to determine exactly what kind of infection you have is with a stool sample.”

“Nuh-uh” The old con man shook his head weakly. “I can ride it out. Done it before.”

This particular protest sparked a train of thought in Ford’s mind. Of course Stan wasn’t used to being taken care of when he was ill, he’d been on his own for the past forty-something years. Ford could certainly relate. He could count on one hand the times he’d been taken care of while he was sick or injured beyond the portal, and a few of those times had been because he was considered property. If Stan had been anything like him, he likely hadn’t ever had anyone to help or look after him with a “minor” sickness like food poisoning. But things were different now. They could look after each other. Perhaps Stan’s resistance was a matter of pride.

“Stanley, I know you’ve had to take care of yourself for a long time. I’ve been in similar circumstances. But you’re not alone anymore. Please, let me help you.”

Stan shifted in his hammock and looked directly at his brother. “I know I’m not alone.” He said solemnly, taking his brother’s hand in his own and squeezing it. “You just being here helps more than any medicine.”

Ford squeezed his hand back. “I’m glad my mere presence comforts you, but that really isn’t enough to eliminate a bacterial infection.”

Stan took on a more joking tone. “Alright, fine. Swab my mouth, take my temperature, stick me with all the needles you got, but don’t ask me for a stool sample. That’s too gross, even for me.”

“Oh for the love of… Stan, it’s the easiest and most straightforward way to determine exactly what’s making you sick!”

“Nope.”

“What do you mean, nope? Would you rather I pump your stomach?”

“Maybe.”

“No you don’t.” Ford answered for him, “It’s like torture.”

“Why can’t you just use the spit and snot you just got?”

“While those are perfectly good for determining the microbial culture of your mouth or nose, that’s not the source of your illness.”

Stan squirmed in his hammock, making a series of disgusted faces. “You’re just gonna keep pestering me until you get it, huh?”

“Absolutely.”

Stan gave one last overdramatic moan and rolled himself out of the hammock.

“You don’t have to do it right now!” Ford protested.

“Let’s get this over with.” The old con man slowly trudged his way to the bathroom. “You got a cup or something you want me to crap in?”

“I have a biohazard bag that should suffice.” The old researcher dashed back to his lab, deposited the samples he’d already collected, and grabbed the bag in question. When he came back, Stan was leaning tiredly against the doorframe to the bathroom. He took the bag without comment and slammed the door.

A minute later, the door opened a crack, and Stan shoved the now full bag into his brother’s waiting hands.

“Here, do your gross experiments.”

“This is for your own good!” Ford reminded his brother as the door slammed shut again.

“You’re a sick man, Stanford!”

“You’re going to thank me later when I develop a targeted antibiotic that cures you within a few hours!”

“I’m going to shower for a few hours. It’s gonna take me that long to feel clean again.”

Ford rolled his eyes and brought the stool sample back to his lab. First he put on a mask and gloves, opened the bag, and swabbed a bit of fecal matter into a waiting tube. This tube, along with the ones containing the saliva and mucus samples, went into an incubator of his own design. He’d been using it to observe the growth of anomalous microbes; the sort of glowing moss and algae that tended to grow around magical places. Hopefully it would also serve to grow a culture of bacteria from Stan’s body and help Ford isolate exactly what was making his brother sick.

He could hear Stan starting up the shower as he waited for the incubator. He had to shake his head. His brother had no problem reaching into a seabear’s mouth or punching a kraken in the eye, but apparently anything to do with his own bodily waste was going too far. Oh well. Stan had cooperated in the end, and now the sample was being analysed.

-_-_-

Stan had exaggerated his time in the shower. He’d certainly felt like he wanted to spend a few hours in there, especially when the hot water first hit him. It felt great. But he knew the hot water wouldn’t last. He had twenty minutes, tops. At first he fully intended to use every second of that twenty minutes, but he was still pretty sick, and soon he felt like he couldn’t stand any longer. He sat down with a thump on the floor of the shower stall and just enjoyed the hot water raining down for a moment before remembering that it wasn’t going to stay hot for long. The old con man quickly finished washing up, climbed out of the shower, dried off with a hot towel, and changed into some warm pajamas. He was practically asleep on his feet as he climbed back into his hammock and tried to get comfortable despite his churning stomach.

It felt like just a few seconds later when Ford gently shook him awake.

“Here, I’ve developed an antibiotic.” Ford offered him a couple of medium-sized capsule.

“Already?” Stan grunted. “How long was I out?”

“Six hours, I think. Not that I was timing you.”

The old con man took the pills with a glass of water, rolled over, and went back to sleep.

Ford smiled and climbed into his own hammock. It’d been a long day. Hopefully, Stan would be all better by morning.

[detectivejigsawpines]

Black Doves-part 3 (”Won’t you walk into my parlor?” said the spider to the fly)

They ended up filling their pockets with garlic, a couple of vials of holy water (acquired by Stan by totally legal means; honest) and a sack of rice each, because Ford had read about some types of vampires who, if they saw rice or salt or something like that spilled, would be compelled to stop and count every single grain.  They also each wore a crucifix around their neck, and, just to be safe, a Star of David. And, in case they ran into non-vampiric threats, Stan brought his switchblades and his gun.

They locked up the house, leaving a note for Dan under the doormat, and then began hiking towards the old church.

Ford liked the comfortable weight of the crossbow in his arms; he kept aiming it at different possible targets as they walked, to the point where Stan had to occasionally pull him in certain directions so he wouldn’t trip over branches or smack into trees because he wasn't watching where he was going.

He’d always had a bit of a weakness for long-distance weapons, especially when he was younger and didn’t have the same upper body strength as his twin.  Besides, it was a way of getting the upper hand on your enemy, which had really appealed to his young nerdy self (not that he wasn't still a nerd). He’d actually carried around a slingshot for a few years, until he and Stan were forced into boxing lessons and he’d gained a little experience in hand-to-hand.  He still preferred having a little distance between himself and his foes, though, and had often considered getting himself a gun. But he had to admit, a crossbow was a lot cooler.

“If they are vampires, they’re either very subtle about eating, or do their feeding elsewhere,” Ford mused aloud.  “I haven’t seen anything on the news about people being bitten, or any reports of exsanguination-” as oblivious as the inhabitants of Gravity Falls were about the local weirdness, he doubted they would be that oblivious- “so if they are feeding on the townsfolk it’s not to the point of killing anyone.  Or perhaps they’re feeding exclusively on animal blood, or stealing from blood banks.”

“Would you want ta be a vampire if you got the chance?” Stan asked, idly playing with his switchblade as he walked; he tossed it up and down, flipped it, opened and shut it with one hand.

Ford considered the question.  “Would you?”

“H_ll no.”  Stan snorted.  “Turn into an overgrown leech and never get a chance ta go out in the sunlight again, while everyone I loved grew old and died?  No thanks. I’d rather be a werewolf.”

“...You do have a better suited personality.”

“Ha ha.”  Stan flipped the knife again.  “And you didn’t answer the question.”

“...I suppose, if I were an inch away from death or something and it was my only option for survival.”

“But that’s the thing, isn’t it?  You wouldn’t survive. That’s why they’re called the undead.”

“Yes, but I would still be here.  And hopefully, if I was the right kind of vampire, I could more or less remain myself, and continue my research of the supernatural and all that.”

“Except now you’d be an overgrown leech compelled ta drink the blood of the living.”  Stan made a face at the idea.

Ford decided it wasn’t worth arguing about.

****

About ten minutes later, they stopped to rest and have lunch in a clearing.  Ford made notes in his journal as he munched his sandwich, and just for the heck of it included his and Stan’s debate about the benefits of lycanthropy vs. vampirism.  His brother did present valid points, to be sure, and becoming a member of the undead would definitely not be his first choice; but at the same time he could see the potential benefits as long as the concept of damnation was not a thing and you could control your thirst for blood...

He was startled out of his thoughts by Stan saying, “Hey, Poindexter.  Check out these weird berries.”

His brother was standing at the edge of the clearing, next to some bushes.  He came to investigate, and saw the aforementioned berries. They were bright green, and very uniquely shaped: round at the top, and then shaping into a slightly more angular shape on the ends.  The pattern of black splotches decorating them meant that, if you looked at them the right way, they almost resembled tiny green skulls.

“Oh, I know those!  Those are Lazarus berries!”

Stan gave him a raised eyebrow.

“That’s what the gnomes call them; apparently eating them makes you fall into a deathlike sleep for about half an hour.”

“...You don’t know that from personal experience, right?”

“No, I saw it happen to Shmebulock Senior.  He does it whenever he wants the rest of the gnomes to pay attention to him more, and he’s always fine afterwards.  Apparently they give him fake funerals every time, just to humor him.” Ford reached out and picked a few of the berries, shoving them into his pocket.

“Stanford.”

“They said that they should be perfectly safe for consumption by other creatures!  And I’m going to study them thoroughly first; give me some credit.”

Stan did not look appeased.  “Please don’t poison yourself just for the cause of science or I’ll kill you.”

Ford rolled his eyes, and went to gather up his stuff.

****

They were almost at the church, when they heard some rustling in the underbrush over to their left.

Quickly they ducked behind a pair of trees, and held their breaths; Ford gripped his crossbow, which was currently armed with an iron shaft, and Stan slipped on his brass knuckles meaningfully.

Despite the laws of irony that usually cover situations like this, when the sounds became progressively louder as whatever it was got closer, what came into their line of sight was not a harmless deer or rabbit, like some of you might have been expecting.

It was one of the darkly clad figures they were looking for.

Under his hood, his skin was as pale as milk, and even his lips were bloodless, in contrast with the dark of his hair and eyes.  His feet made almost no sound as he walked, the only noise coming from him was his arms brushing against low-hanging branches. Either he was an extremely angsty teenager who was very good at sneaking around, or he wasn’t exactly human.

Ford could feel his heart pounding with excitement, try as he might to calm himself in case the vampire’s hearing was as good as the stories said.  He glanced over at Stan with a grin that was eagerly returned, and as soon as their quarry was almost out of sight they began to creep after him.

Sure enough, he led them to the church, which had definitely seen better days; half the roof had fallen in, and it looked like there was moss growing all over the place.  The possible vampire made his way to the door...and then called out, just barely loud enough for their ears to pick up, “They’re here.”

Ford barely had time to process this, and to feel a chill of unease rising up his spine and clenching in his stomach, before a soft, whispery voice spoke from behind them.

“Finally.  You’ve come to us at lassssst.”

********

I agree with Stan, personally; I'd take being a werewolf over being a vampire any day of the week. At least then you're still technically alive, and just have to deal with a little problem once a month (which, being female, is already a thing for me :P).

...Oh, sorry, are you less interested in that than the enormous cliffhanger I left you on? Sheesh, you people are always so impatient.

[dubsdeedubs]

feels like we only go backwards

[A/N: Written for @stanuary Week 1: Con.  This fic deals with that theme on several different levels, and it’s definitely an experiment.

Alternatively - Stan's best con has always been fooling other people into thinking he was someone actually worthwhile.

Takes place pre-NWHS/ATOTS.]

[AO3]

Summary:

"We found him in the woods!" Mabel says cheerfully. "Dipper thought he was you for a moment, but then he -"

His hair is a shock of gray, his glasses cracked. He's wearing a rumpled combination of tattered trench coat and red sweater that looks entirely ridiculous in an Oregon summer. He's looking at Stan with a look of distant confusion that makes him look, for one strange moment, like an overgrown owl.

Stan can't breathe.

"Ford?"

So, here's the thing: Stan doesn't even see it coming.

He's been working on the damn portal for half of his life now, staying up till the ass-crack of dawn near everyday to get in those extra few hours of work, hammering in nails and wielding plates under the almost physical weight of the thing's shadow. Lately, he's been wondering if squeezing in that hour or two or twenty-three even mattered anymore after thirty fucking years of this.

And yeah, he tells himself that this wasn't any kind of road he wanted to head down on, that Ford was still out there somewhere, that it was all a matter of time. Everything he's been telling himself for the past three decades.

None of that works, because that raw nauseating feeling of hopelessness in his gut, well. That just keeps on growing, like a black hole in one of his brother's astrophysics textbooks, taking up so much of him that he thinks one day it'll just eat him up entirely.

A bit hard to muster up any kind of blind hope, after all that.

But maybe Stan really should have. Maybe not predicted the whole thing, but at least had some bit of what-if tickling at the back of his mind.

(Especially after he near had a heart attack by finding not one but two of the journals he had been looking for for thirty years, in the span of about three hours. If there was gonna be a turning point in the long sequence of screw-ups that had been Stan's life, that was probably it.)

Because what happens is this:

It's a lazy Saturday afternoon and Stan's in his boxers cleaning the fish (lizard, amphibian, whatever) tank when the kids walk in the door, carefully leading a man that is his not-quite-mirror-image by both of his six-fingered hands.

Stan looks up. The brush in his hands clatters wetly on the ground.

"We found him in the woods!" Mabel says cheerfully. "Dipper thought he was you for a moment, but then he -"

His hair is a shock of gray, his glasses cracked. He's wearing a rumpled combination of tattered trench coat and red sweater that looks entirely ridiculous in an Oregon summer. He's looking at Stan with a look of distant confusion that makes him look, for one strange moment, like an overgrown owl.

Stan can't breathe.

"Ford?" 

(Let's rewind a bit.

The days after that brat Gideon steals away the Shack and every ounce of progress Stan had ever made on bringing his brother back... those get pretty dark.

He starts thinking a lot more, and that's never been a good thing. One night he hears the kids whispering to each other a room over about having a bread sandwich - one, shared! - for dinner and do you think Stan's really sending us back home? and he knows he's blown it again. For the second time in his life, he's losing even more than he thought he still had.

And that's when Stan thinks, like a bolt through the blue - Ford would have done better than this.

Ford would never have gotten tricked by some snot-nosed kid into losing the Shack, Ford would never have had to send the kids home halfway through summer. Hell, Ford would never have pushed his brother through some insane extradimensional portal and left him there for thirty years and counting.

But Ford was gone, and guess whose fault that was?

Now Stan, Stan's been acting his brother for thirty years now and he wants to think he's got a pretty decent grasp of that particular con. After a lifetime together and apart, he knows how Ford acts, those little nervous habits that he thought no one ever noticed, the odd intonation he had when he said certain words that he had spent years reading and never hearing.

He knows what Ford thinks, how he thinks. He has to, to maintain the hardest and most comprehensive con Stan has ever had to keep going.

And if there was one thing he was sure of, it was that Ford hates Stanley Pines, Stan, him.

He wasn't quite self-destructive enough to go down the long mental list of reasons why, but he knew it was more than enough.

Because why wouldn't it be? It sure was for Stan.)

The kids are saying something, but Stan's hearing aide must had finally run out of juice or something because he can't hear them at all. There's just the thump-thump rhythm of his heart echoing loudly in his ears, because that couldn't be his brother in front of him but it was, it had to be, because who the hell else in this world had his face except for Ford?

He can't look away.

"Ford," Stan says - croaks, really, because his mouth feels drier than the Sahara desert right now. He feels uncomfortably exposed. He really wishes he had kept his pants on. "Is that really you?"

He's been rehearsing the first thing he would say to his brother for three decades now, and these weren't it. The words sound stupid the moment he says them.

But his brother just keeps looking at him that same dazed way, like he doesn't even recognize him. "I don't -" He says finally, and his voice is small and halfting and afraid in a way that Stan hasn't heard in a long, long time. "I don't know who -"

And. Stan's got a brain, despite popular belief, and there's enough he's seen and heard that there's a sinking feeling in his gut telling him that maybe he hadn't gotten his brother back, not really.

"I'm Stan," he says. "Stanley Pines. I'm your brother." He pretends for a little bit longer that the thickness in his throat is just from a rapid-onset summer cold, or something. "And you're Stanford Pines. You - you remember that, at least?"

"Stanford Pines," Ford repeats, a new note in his voice. Maybe it's just wishful thinking, but Stan thinks it could just be recognition.

And the way he says it - it sounds familiar, in a way that Stan has almost forgotten.

It takes a moment for him to place exactly where he had heard it - when he had last seen his brother thirty years ago, and had been struck by how deliberately proper and enunciated his speech was, as if he had wanted to prove his college education with everything he'd got. It was almost unbearably pretentious.

But this was good, good in a way that puts a grin on Stan's face even though he's still mentally telling himself not to get his hopes up. Good, because that was also something very Ford.

"And I'm Stan," He repeats, and doesn't even try to keep the desperation from his voice. He takes a step forward, all tentative. "Your brother, yeah? I know it's been a real long time, thirty years, but -"

"Of course I remember you," Ford says, and his voice is all cold fury.

Stan shuts up.

His brother's body language had switched in an instance into something well-balanced and confident, familiar in a way he could not deny. There was no doubt about it. This was all Ford now.

Which meant the quiet anger and disgust Stan could read etched clear as day in the sharp way his brother held himself - there was no doubt that that was all Ford too.

That's what made it hurt all the more.

There was nothing wavering or unsure about Ford's voice when he continues, voice low and gruff with the force of his anger. "How could I possibly forget, after what you did to me thirty years ago?"

Stan doesn't know how to reply. He tells himself it's not because of surprise. He must have run through a thousand and one variations on his brother's return, some with hugs and gratitude and maybe even a punch in the face, but he would be lying if he said he hadn't been expecting in some degree this animosity, this anger.

But still, despite it all, he had been hoping -

"What - what did he do to you?" Came Dipper's hushed voice, and Stan didn't know he could sink any lower in the ground but, well. Just look at him now.

Ford doesn't even turn to look at the kid. "He pushed me into an interdimensional portal thirty years ago, and left me there for dead."

It's like something out of Stan's worst nightmares.

"Ford," he says, and his voice sounds distant and pleading to his own ears, "It was an accident, I swear. I wasn't gonna leave you there, I've - I've been trying to get you back for the past thirty years. The portal downstairs, I rebuilt most of that from your plans and I was just about t' get it working -"

"Did you really think you could have ever repaired my portal?" Ford asks disbelievingly.

Stan stutters to a stop. He has a sneaking suspicion that there was no right answer he could give. "...Maybe. I don't know."

"Stan, you never even went to college!" His brother exclaims disbelievingly. "You couldn't even do what Dad told you to do! Why, while I was out there making money for our family, you only got by because Ma was sending you her earnings whenever she could."

Stan flinches. He hadn't thought that Ma would have told Ford that. "I followed all that stuff you wrote in those journals of yours," he tries feebly. "I got it turned on -"

Ford sighs, and Stan's words just trail off. "It doesn't matter," his brother says curtly, his expression tight. "Even if you had managed to bring me back, it would not have changed the fact that you were the reason I was stranded there in the first place."

"Ford, I -"

"You're still the person who ruined my dreams," Ford says all calm and clear, like it was simple matter of fact to him. And - maybe it was, because that had been what Stan had always figured. It's still a one-two gut-punch to hear his brother say it, just like that.

"You spent all those years obsessing over that wreck of a boat, as if I would have ever chosen not to go to college just to stay with a knucklehead like you to scrape barnacles off the bottom of -"

"Stop it."

Mabel's voice is quiet but cutting. Ford turns slowly, with an air of confusion.

Stan winces. "Mabel, sweetie -"

"I don't really know who you are, Mister," she continues in the same tone, and she keeps looking Ford in the eyes. "And I don't really know what's going on. But you can't say things like that to Grunkle Stan, even if you are the Author. And Stan's brother."

Ford looks at her for a long moment. There's a strange blankness in his eyes, as if Mabel being there had thrown him off entirely. The expression on his face is one that Stan can't read for the life of him.

He feels the need to intervene. His brother had no idea who Mabel or Dipper was, and while he knew all along to some degree how his brother was going to react to him... there was no predicting what he would do or say to the kids.

"Ford," he says quietly, "those are Shermie's grandkids. They've got nothing to do with what I did. Gimme a few minutes to explain things to 'em, and then we can -"

"Of course, pumpkin," his brother says to Mabel, distantly, almost dreamily.

He doesn't sound like himself at all. There's none of the vehement anger that had been in his voice, as if all of the fight in him had just drained right out of him.

And just like that he starts walking forward, more than a bit unsteadily, right past Stan and towards the back of the Shack. He doesn't even look back.

Stan stares for a long moment, too confused to even move or speak.

But then Ford bumps what has to be pretty painfully into the doorframe and still keeps stumbling forward - and despite that, despite everything, the sheer concern he has for his brother prevails.

He walks forward those few steps, reaches for his brother's shoulder. "Are - are you sure you're okay, Sixer?"

His brother's hand bats his away at lightning speed. "Don't touch me," Ford snaps at him, almost cowering in the way he shielded his shoulder, like some kind of feral animal snarling over their own wound.

There's something in his eyes that makes Stan draw back. "Alright, alright. I just -"

And then Ford's gone, disappeared around the corner with only the fading sound of his unbalanced footsteps in his wake. It's just Stan now, with the smoldering remains of his lifelong hopes and dreams, and two twelve-year olds who looked like they had a few thousand questions to ask, each.

Dipper starts talking first, sounding stunned, and... something else too.

"Was - was that really the Author of the Journals? Your brother?"

"Yeah, he is," Stan says, like he's trying to convince himself. He sits down, and that helps a little but not enough with the lack of breath in his lungs.

The kid's voice goes a lot more quieter. "But - where was he this whole time? Did you really push him into another dimension, like he said?" Then, with no small amount of disappointment, "And why - why is he like that?".

"I don't know, kid," Stan says, and there's no lie in it at all. He covers his face with his hands and tries to focus on the sensation of it. "He hadn't - I just don't - "

Mabel sits down on one side of him, Dipper on the other. "Grunkle Stan," his niece says reproachfully but kindly, "I think you really need to start telling me and Dipper what's going on."

"Starting right now would be good," Dipper coughs, not so subtly.

And he does, because what else was there to do? There was no point in keeping the rest of his secrets, not anymore.

It feels uncomfortably strange to be saying this stuff out loud when he didn't remember ever doing it before - about him and Ford as kids, about what happened at the science fair, and then everything that happened afterwards. And then, the postcard in the mail.

About the portal, their fight. And, with hesitance, the thirty years after that.

After Stan's done, Dipper says immediately, "There's something weird about all of this." 

Stan gives him a flat look. "Kid, you think?"

"No, not like that! It just - it just doesn't make sense. The stuff your brother said to you -" Dipper tugs on the brim of his hat unhappily. "I would never say anything like that to Mabel."

"I would never say anything like that to Dipper either!" Mabel pipes up.

He laughs at that, just a little bitterly. "Kids, I don't think either of you two has ever messed up as bad as I did."

"It doesn't make sense," the boy says again with an all too familiar stubbornness. "That couldn't be the Author. I read his journal from cover to cover, the person who wrote that was - not like this."

"Grunkle Stan, maybe that wasn't your real brother?" Mabel suggests earnestly. "Dipper and I fought off a shapeshifter a couple days ago, he could transform to look like anyone -"

Stan doesn't want to interrupt her, but it's all a bit too much for him. "Pumpkin, I've been pretending to be my brother for thirty years - I know him better than anything in this universe. That was Ford, even if he, uh. Seemed kinda out of it."

"But Stan, if he was in another dimension for thirty years and you didn't bring him back, who did?" Dipper argues.

He shrugs. "He's a genius, kid. He - probably found his own way back, that's my guess."

"After thirty years? Grunkle Stan, Mabel and I found him just kneeling in the woods, he didn't remember anything until you started talking to him. You have to admit there's something weird about that!"

Stan goes quiet at that. Then he sighs, and looks away. "Look, kids. I really appreciate what you're doing, but there's - nothing more to this. There really isn't. I made a whole lot of mistakes, and Ford has every right to be angry at me. If I was Ford, I'd hate me too. I just - never meant for you two to get dragged into this. It's ugly, but it's something between me and my brother."

"But Grunkle Stan -" Mabel tries.

She's interrupted by a loud sound, one that comes off as halfway between one of those stock sci-fi laser shots and a cat gargling up a hairball.

And -

There's almost no time to react but Stan grabs the kids and dives to the ground, trying to cover them with his body as much as he can.

- the door to the Shack explodes with an earth-shaking bang.

Stan looks up cautiously, still pushing his niblings down, squinting through the debris and settling dust. He's caught between thank God the kids are alright and that's going to be a bitch to clean up and pure, undiluted what the fuck.

He hears the sound of footsteps. Then, voices.

Familiar ones.

"I can't believe you just blew up the Mystery Shack!"

"Just a small portion of it!  Dipper, my boy, desperate times call for desperate measures, and I had to get past the locked door somehow. More importantly, however..." A pause. "My sensors are showing that it's been nearly seven hours now since he entered this dimension, which means we are on a losing race against time before anyone touches their dimensional counterpart and winds up ending this entire uni -"

The footsteps come to an abrupt stop.

"- Oh," says their owner. He's looking down at Stan like he's seeing a ghost.

Mabel tugs herself out of his slack grip and turns to look up at the newcomers. Her eyes go wide.

" Sci-fi Grunkle Stan?"  

There was no denying it, really. The guy standing in front of him has his face, and he's wearing the Mr. Mystery black suit-pants combo that Stan had a half-dozen of in his closet. The only difference between the two of them, as far as he can make out from where he was kneeling, was the seven-foot-long glowing space laser-gun the other Stan has strapped to his back.

Which, yeah, was a pretty obvious one in hindsight.

And standing next to him were Dipper and Mabel - scuffed, bruised, and generally looking like they had gone through several layers of hell in the past day, but unmistakeably them.

For one long moment, all six of them just kinda freeze, gawking at each other like a bunch of idiots because admittedly - Stan thinks in the sanctity of his own mind - what the actual fuck.

"Stay behind me, kids," the other Stan orders with an authoritative certainty that he sure wished he had right now. "Making any physical contact with your counterparts will mean the end of this universe!"

The other Dipper turns pale. "Uh, exactly what extent does that go to? Because we're all in the same room right now, and there has to be skin cells and stuff like that, right?"

The other him hesitates for a moment. "...Truth be told, the alternate universe Fiddleford didn't have the chance to go into much detail, unfortunately, but I suppose that as long as we avoid all direct touch -"

"That sounds like something we should figure out if we ever start traveling through dimensions again!" the other Mabel says brightly.

Other Stan looks a bit sheepish at that. "I have to admit, I hadn't exactly been thinking about long term consequences when we set out -"

"...Yeah, I understand exactly nothing about this conversation," Stan announces to the room.

All three newcomers turn to look at him at that, and he's struck for a moment just how tired and beaten down they all look, like they're about a few seconds away from passing out and maybe finally getting some well-needed rest.

Most of all, there's something uncomfortable about the way they look at him: with some desperate, hopeful joy that didn't seem like it could appear in response to Stanley Pines, of all people.

The other him looks the most overwhelmed. He even walks forward a few steps towards Stan, steps wobbly, and there's some wetness shining in his eyes that makes Stan want to cough awkwardly and look away until the guy had his act back together.  He doesn't know if he should be backing away or what.

"Stanley," the man says, his voice cracking just a bit at the end.

"...Yeah?" Stan tries, as if he wasn't confused out of his mind.

And just like that, the other him has crossed the remaining few feet of distance and clings onto him, arms holding him tightly and leaving him breathless in more than one way. He's really crying now, making wet sobbing noises right next to his ear and leaving a gooey mess on his top that would be damn gross if anything in the world made sense right now.

Stan pats him on the back, a bit awkwardly.

"That's not our Stan," the other Mabel says quietly. "Grunkle Ford, you know that."

Stan goes still. "Hang on. What did you just call -"

"...I know, sweetie." The man lets go of him and pulls away. For the first time, Stan gets a good look at the guy's hands. His mind goes blank.

"I - understand that on some objective level, but seeing him -"

Stan grabs one of the man's hands and brings them up to eye level, as if seeing them up front would change the number of fingers he can count on them. Then, the other.

Six. Six.

Stan lets go like he's been burned.

"Ford?"

He can't find the words, for one long moment. "But - but you were just -"

"I'm not the Stanford Pines of this dimension," Ford says gently - or maybe he's the other Ford, or not a Ford at all, and Stan really was too old to keep twisting his mind like this. "The three of us are from a universe adjacent from this one, in multiverse terms. The Stanford of your dimension is still where he was before. We're just visiting, that's all."

"Oh," Stan says dully. He doesn't know if that's a relief or not.

"If you're all from another dimension, then what are you doing here?" Dipper - his Dipper - demands, eyes suspicious. He doesn't blame the kid, considering what had happened the first time around.

"We're looking for someone," Ford says automatically. He glances at Stan, and revises, "We're looking for the Stanley of our dimension."

Stan blinks. "...Me?" He doesn't strike himself as the kind of guy who would willingly get involved in all this science-fiction stuff, other dimension or not.

It's when his brother - which he's gonna stick to calling him, even though he knew he wasn't exactly his - goes a bit quiet that Stan realizes he had said all of that out loud. "Not willingly," Ford says.

"Huh."

A shadow passes over Ford's face. "There was - an incident in our world that greatly weakened the walls between dimensions," he says. "It was an accident, and he was right at ground zero. Stanley must have... slipped right through, before we could find him."

That sounds just familiar enough to be discomforting. "And you think he's here?" He asks, just a bit dubiously. Stan's not sure how to feel about there being another one of him just walking around the place.

"We know he is," Ford corrects immediately. "He was tracked to this exact dimension. I've checked every calculation a dozen times."

...It's irrational, but Stan feels a sudden pang of jealousy for the other him. A Stan whose brother would do all of this for him.

"Huh," he says instead, keeping his voice light. "Just how detailed is that tracker of yours? It's a big planet."

"Actually," Ford says, brightening up, "we've been following the transmitter in my coat ever since we've entered this dimension! In fact, it seems -" He squints down at the glowing thingamajig he has in his hand, " - that he's. In the Shack right now," he says a bit slowly, looking up.

Stan blinks. Looks around, as if some other him was just gonna pop up from behind the fridge, or something.

"He should be right... here?" His brother trails off, looking entirely lost. He looks at Stan questioningly.

"Yeah, well. Pretty sure I would've noticed if there was another me walking around here," Stan says with a shrug.

"That doesn't make sense," Ford whispers, his brows furrowed, and keeps pressing buttons on the thing he's holding in his hand. "This works, this has to work, I did everything there was to be done, I -"

There's a rising note of desperation in his brother's voice, and Stan can't say he's too concerned about what's going on with his own dimensional counterpart, but seeing Ford break down in front of him - it makes him feel something leaden and gnawing at the pit of his gut.

"Why don't you, uh, recalibrate that thing or something and try again?" He offers weakly.

"I can't," Ford says, a raggedness to his voice. "There was just one chance. Any further travel and I tear the multiverse asunder. There's no telling what could happen, it could be Weirdmageddon or worse -"

It's pretty clear to Stan now that his brother's talking to himself more than he's talking to him, right now. There's a manic glint in his eyes. "But I could try. I could -"

From upstairs, there comes the slightly muffled sound of breaking glass.

Stan winces. So that's where his Ford went.

The Ford right in front of him snaps his head up, eyes wide. "What was that?" He demands.

"It's you," he says with a sigh. "The you of this universe, anyways."

"...Me?" His brother repeats, aghast. "I'm here, in Gravity Falls? You've fixed the portal already?"

"No, but -"

"That just doesn't make any sense," Ford says, matter-of-fact in a way that makes his expression tighten. "Within the relative timeline of this particular dimension, I should still be preparing for my final journey into the Nightmare Realm. And there's no possible way my counterpart can be on Earth without the portal repaired -"

"Yeah, well, I don't know about any of that," Stan cuts in, not even trying to hide his frustration. "He just showed up, ridiculous trench coat and all -"

"Trench coat?"

" - and it's not like he went outa his way to explain anything about the past thirty years he's been gone," he finishes. "If ya wanna know about all of that, you're gonna have to talk to him yourself."

Stan grimaces. "Maybe he'll actually talk to you."

Ford's quiet for a long, long moment.

"He told you his name was Stanford Pines?" He asks finally.

He doesn't expect that question at all. "Uh," Stan says slowly. "...Yes? More or less."

There's a look on his brother's face that Stan can't read at all.

"I need to talk to him," Ford says heavily, a tightness in his expression that wasn't there before.

(And Stan, Stan knows how to put together clues and puzzles as well as anyone out there. He's had plenty of time to learn.

Even if he doesn't know what to make of what little he could figure out here.)

"Great," he says, all false cheerfulness. "I'll show you where he is."

"No," Ford says immediately. "I - I can't explain right now, Stanley, there's not enough time for that. I'll tell you everything afterwards. But right now, please trust me when I say... this is something I need to talk to your Ford about alone."

Stan doesn't move.

"Please, Stanley."

He lets out a breath. "Fine," Stan says shortly and steps aside. He keeps his fingers crossed behind him all the while.

Ford runs right by him without another word, and for the second time that day, Stan watches his brother disappear around the corner.

Stan waits for a while after that, not too long, not too short.

Just enough time.

The kids don't say anything at all, they just watch. When he turns around, both pairs of kids look up at him quietly, with that exact knowing expression multiplied by four.

He should've known, really. Those kids have always had him figured out better than near anyone else in the world.

"You all know I'm gonna do it," he says, an expression tugging at his lips that should be a smile but burns like a grimace. "None of ya wanna convince me not to?"

None of them do.

Stan goes upstairs.

They're up in his bedroom. He hears the murmur of voices coming from the shut - locked - door.

(On one hand, that was entirely embarrassing, considering the shit he had laying around because how could he have known that his long-lost twin brother was gonna come back from the sci-fi sideburns dimension and walk right in?

On the other, Stan's been living here for thirty years. He knows how the Shack is - where to hide stuff, how to walk more quiet than any sixty-year-old man had any right to, places to see into all kinds of places. Most of all, a man had to know the place he was sleeping at night like the back of his hand. Maybe not the morally upstanding kind who didn't have to worry about people robbing him blind or shanking him in his sleep.

But Stan had never been one of those, has he.)

So he eases himself up those stairs without a single creak of wood or his bones, which he calls a damn impressive accomplishment.

The keyhole is wide-open and unblocked.

He looks inside, and the first thing he sees is the full body-length mirror he bought at a garage sale a decade ago, its surface shattered beyond recognition. Large shards of glass litter the ground, and Stan stifles a wince. Those were gonna be impossible to get out of the carpet.

Sitting on Stan's bed is Ford - the first one, the one that should have been his. He's looking up blankly into the distance, at nothing in particular.

His trench coat is off, and so are his gloves. Underneath, his hands are five-fingered and bleeding profusely.

Stan breathes out, long and slow.

(He feels a whole lot of things, looking at those.

The last emotion to come is surprise.)

The other Ford (the only Ford) is stooped over him, picking glass carefully out of his brother's hands. There's a tight expression on his face, one that makes Stan think that fixing up those wounds are hurting him a lot more than the person they actually belonged to.

They're talking, or at least Ford is. His voice is low and gruff, and even though he's technically already a participant in the conversation Stan can't help the feeling that he's violating something very private.

"- mine must have been the only identity you had left," Stan hears Ford murmur. "But it won't be permanent. I promise. It seems your memories return from triggers, and there are plenty of people and places to visit and talk to once we return to our own Gravity Falls. You'll be back to yourself in no time."

"...What if I don't want to go back?"

Stan's breath hitches.

The voice is strange, too much grit to be entirely his brother's, too carefully articulated to be entirely his own. It's too flat, too uncomfortably blank to sound like either of theirs, really.

Ford's voice comes high and strangled with surprise. "But Stanley, you have to come home. Why on Earth would you -"

"What if," says the other Stan, with the same kind of vacant contemplativeness, "I don't wanna be Stanley Pines again?"

There's a hiss as Ford sucks in a startled breath. He doesn't talk for a little while, like he has to try and get his words together in coherent form before he can trust himself to do it.

"Why not?"

"Because he's worthless," he hears the other him say, matter-of-fact in a way that makes his own stomach twist and turn. Stan sits down completely, tilts his head back to rest against the wall. "Because all he's ever done in his life is lie and cheat. 'Cause he's a useless idiot who ruins everything he touches."

"And who told you that?" Ford asks, his voice soft and dangerous.

"Don't need anyone to tell me that. I remember it." A pause. "I remember being Stanford Pines."

His brother makes an odd noise. "But I never -"

"So why are you doing this?" The other Stan interrupts suddenly, whipping his head up. His voice sounds vicious. His voice sounds like Ford's. "Why did you leave your dimension, endanger the safety of all existence, for this?"

"Stanley," Ford says slowly, carefully, "I need you to take a breath. You're not in your right mind. This isn't you. You're not doing what you think you -"

"My name is Stanford Filbrick Pines," the other Stan retorts, and he gets to his feet with a resounding thump. "And my identity is not up for debate." He pauses. "Your's, on the other hand, is a different story. You claim to be some - alternate reality counterpart of myself, but I would never do what you have just done."

"What - what I have just done?" Stan hears Ford ask, audibly stricken. "You don't think I would risk everything to save my brother's life?"

"Not when he ruined ours!"

Ford is quiet for a long time. It gets a lot harder to breathe.

"...He didn't."

"He didn't?" The other Stan demands, fury twisted on his face. "Don't you remember what he did to you? You gave him a chance to prove himself, and all he did was push you in that portal and steal away thirty years of your life! He took your name! Your house! Your reputation!"

His voice goes low. "He never could make anything of his own so he had to steal from you just to be happy."

Ford sounds pained. "Stanley, I don't think that. I never have."

The other Stan is panting now, short and ragged. "He was a waste of space," he spits out like a curse. "He couldn't do anything he was supposed to. Even in the end, he almost got the kids killed because he couldn't grow up for five seconds and just hold your damn hand."

Ford goes quiet. "You remember that," he breathes, and there's a hope in his voice that doesn't suit the circumstances at all. "Stanley, what else do you remember?"

"I remember hating him," the other Stan says darkly. "I remember hating Stanley Pines so damn much because he could never be as smart or brave enough as people needed him to be. Cuz he just kept letting everyone down because somehow, he kept conning people into thinking he was worth it. And I... "

"...I remember hating him 'cause -" He pauses, for one breathless moment. "Because your life would have been perfect if he just - had never been born."

Over on the other side of the door, Stan sucks in a breath.

"Don't say that," Ford snaps immediately. He's up on his feet now, vibrating with a vehemence that seems to shock even the other Stan. "Don't - you dare say that about him."

"I -"

"No, Stanley. Listen to me. For once in your life, just listen. You pretended to be Stanford Pines for thirty years, but you're not him. You never were."

There's a long, frozen silence. The other Stan's voice comes, and for a moment he can't recognize it because it comes low and vacant.

"Why can't you just let me be him, Sixer?" He asks, in a tone of genuine puzzlement. "Why can't you just let me be worth something, just for a little while?"

Ford flinches, but he speaks anyways. "Because Stanley Pines is worth something," he says.

The other Stan snorts in derision.

"He's worth something to the kids," Ford continues, voice hard. "He must have because Gods know they haven't slept since you were sucked into that rift, three days ago. When Fiddleford and I finally got portable dimension travel up and running, they wouldn't take no for an answer."

He chuckles softly at that. "I... have never before felt so threatened by a pair of twelve-year-olds."

The other Stan doesn't reply.

"He's worth something to those townspeople, too," Ford continues, taking full advantage of the conversation to edge a bit closer to his brother. "You know, I lived in that town for ten years and didn't remember a single name! I thought I was about to be feathered and tarred when half the population of Gravity Falls popped up at my door, demanding to know what had happened to you. Stanley, I - don't know exactly how much money you've conned from them, but I can tell you for sure that you've stolen plenty of hearts playing Mr. Mystery in that town."

"I've always been good at conning people into thinking I'm actually worth somethin'," the other Stan mutters under his breath.

"And what about me?" Ford asks, and he sounds almost amused. "Stanley, you must be in over your head if you think you can fool me for any decent amount of time."

The other Stan shuffles a bit. "I dunno," he says at last. "What - what does Ford think?"

His brother smiles, something wistful in his expression. "Ford thinks there's been far too many years wasted for us to spend anymore time bickering and at each other's throats," Ford says. "He thinks that - he was angry. Bitterly angry, because he felt betrayed and used by the one person he trusted entirely. He clung onto that for so... too many years, because he didn't want to think that he lost his brother because of an accident. Because he didn't want to think that losing his brother was because of a mistake."

He takes a breath. "Ford thinks - he didn't realize just how much he had been okay with losing, until he lost it. Until he lost you. And that he had never been okay with that, after all."

The other Stan wobbles a bit at that, and sits down carefully on the glass-shard-covered ground.

Ford sinks down next to him, puts his hand on his shoulder. His brother flinches for one brief moment, and then he lets him.

They're directly at eye-level with Stan now, and through the keyhole he can see everything. Every twinge of emotion on their faces, how Ford's hands are shaking despite his best attempts to keep them still, the way the other Stan keeps swallowing, unable to meet his brother's eyes.

"Ford thinks Stanley Pines is the bravest man he had ever known," Ford says softly, "You're his hero, because you saved him in more ways than you know. He wants him back, back in our dimension, back in our home. Back with our family, because Gods know there isn't one without you. And... more than anything else..."

He swallows. "He wants to introduce you to that Stanley Pines. The one that everyone knows, but you. The Grunkle that Dipper and Mabel adore, the Mr. Mystery that's the life of the town. The brother who he - I could never give up, not for anything."

"Because to me... Stanley Pines is worth everything."

And over on the other side of the door, despite his best efforts, Stan lets out a low sob.

Ford whips his head around, eyes bewildered-owl-wide behind his glasses.

Their eyes meet.

"Stan?"

Stan doesn't know what to do, for one long, frozen second.

Then he scrambles up, unsteady and terrified, and he runs. 

Stan sits for a long while on the back porch of the Shack, partly because he really needs some fresh air after everything he had just - after everything that had just happened. Partly because there isn't anywhere else he can go in the Shack without getting into a conversation he really doesn't want, not right now.

He watches the sun in the sky and how it shines through the clouds, and tries his very best not to think too hard about any of the two dozen things screaming and bellowing in the back of his mind.

Stan hears the footsteps first, as steady and careful as their owner.

"We're leaving for our home dimension in a few hours," says the Ford from the other dimension, who was not his and never had been. He sits down right beside him, sticking up his knees in the same position that makes them look like overgrown ten-year-olds.

"Huh."

"We - would stay longer, but with the sheer number of dimensional counterparts we have in one place, it's a tremendous risk. I... suppose we've used up most of our luck already," Ford explains. "It wouldn't be wise to hope for more."

"I get it," Stan says a bit roughly. "You gotta go. It's fine. This isn't your dimension, anyways."

"Perhaps." And they're quiet for a while, just soaking in the sunlight and breathing in the sweet scent of the Oregon summer breeze.

"I owe you an apology," Ford says suddenly. "I shouldn't have kept it from you. It is - as much to do with you as it has to do with me."

"By which you mean him. The other Stan Pines."

"I do." He pauses, just a bit. "It's - a very long and complicated story, what happened to him. What happened to us. What it comes down to is, Stanley gave up his mind to save the world. I had to erase his entire identity as Stanley Pines."

Ford sighs. "There's hundreds, thousands of ways I can put it to make it sound better than it is. I wiped his memories of himself. I destroyed his mind. But what it comes down to is... I killed my own brother."

Stan snorts. "He sure seems alive and kicking to me, Sixer."

"He shouldn't have been, not in anyway important."

And he goes quiet.

"I never expected that he would have another identity apart from his own to cling onto," Ford says. "I didn't think. But in retrospect, he - you - spent thirty years fooling the people we were closest to into thinking you were me. He had created more than a mask. He had an entire persona, built off of everything he thought I was."

Despite himself, Stan thinks back to his conversation with the man he had thought was Ford. How everything he had said seemed to be so on the nose, so exactly congruent to what Stan had always expected his brother to say to him. How 'Ford' had seized so immediately on the specific events that Stan would stay up turning over and over in his head, blaming, cursing himself.

"Yeah, I guess," he says nonchalantly.

"It seems he has a very particular idea of who I am," his brother says, voice carefully blank. "Specifically, in terms of just what I thought of him."

The wind blows loose several of the leaves from the nearby tree, and they fly past them in oddly lazy loops.

"I understand how he could have gotten those ideas," Ford says, "but he wasn't right at all."

Stan snorts. "You know I was there listening in, Sixer," he says flatly. "You know I heard everything you said to 'im. No need to repeat it for my benefit."

"Are you sure?" His brother asks, voice quiet.

For a long while, he doesn't say anything back. He tries the words out in his mouth once, twice, and then again, and they feel so unfitting and bitter in there he wants to swallow them down and let them fester, like everything else does.

But not this time, he tells himself. He doesn't have another chance.

It takes Stan five tries to get it out.

"Do you think my Ford will be like you?" He asks over the lump in his throat, raw and heavy and growing by the second. "Do you think he - thinks the same way?"

Ford doesn't reply for a long moment. Stan feels like he's forgotten how to breathe.

"There are countless theories on what the existence of a multiverse means for its denizens," his brother says finally, looking down at his hands. "There's an infinite amount of possibilities, that I can agree with. But I refuse to believe that means every possibility is equally possible. Or even that every possibility must exist in this system we all live in. After all, I can spend my entire life generating an infinite number of positive integers, and never produce zero."

"Um."

Ford looks back up, and there's a new softness in his expression.

"He will," he says, with a certainty that makes Stan's mouth go dry. "He might be angry, he might be thankless, he might punch you in the face and tell you to move out of the Shack by summer's end. I can be... incredibly foolish, to say the least. But a Stanford Pines who doesn't truly love his brother, is no Stanford Pines at all."

There's nothing Stan can say that feels right. He settles for silence, and tries to wipe away the burning in his eyes that he tells himself is his allergies acting up.

"Before I leave," his brother says suddenly, "let's go down to the basement laboratory. There's a few things I can help you with. Some... unfortunate consequences to opening the portal that we can deal with now. And... I think there are some things I want to say to your Ford, once he comes back. I'll need a pen and some paper."

He's not sure what exactly Ford's talking about, but it sounds like a good thing.

"Hey, Ford?" Stan asks, a bit roughly.

"Yes, Stanley?"

It's hard for him to find the right words.

"The other me, is he, uh. Is he gonna be alright?"

Ford doesn't hesitate. "He will be," he says confidently, like there was no other possibility out there. "He already remembers quite a bit, just... jumbled, in bits and pieces that fit together in ways they shouldn't. But just seeing Dipper and Mabel did him a lot of good, it seems."

"Huh."

"It's just a matter of time."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Good," Stan says, and smiles.

[queenofcats17]

The Demon’s Train

A quick story based on The Devil’s Train by The Lab Rats.

Who’s gonna ride the devil's train tonight?

Stanford Pines and his brother had always been hardworking men. Their family had never been well off, so they’d worked from dusk till dawn to be able to put food on the table. Filbrick Pines was a stern man, and he dreamed that one day his sons would make it out of this dead end town and make the family a fortune. Since Stanley wasn’t the brightest bulb in the shed, Filbrick’s hopes fell to his other son, Ford. He praised his son’s aptitude in academics, or at least did the closest thing to praise the man was able to. Eventually, the family scraped together enough money to send Ford to college, leaving Stan to stay and work with his father. With the birth of the third Pines child, Shermie, Stan was needed at home more than ever. Meanwhile Ford dedicated all his time to his studies, never halting his pursuit of knowledge for an instant. But something wasn’t right with him. Every so often other students or even a professor would find him gazing out the window, straining his ears as though listening for something.

“The train...” He’d always murmur. He regularly went on walks near the train tracks to clear his head, so no one really thought much of that at first. But this wasn’t him longing for peace and quiet. His roommate Fiddleford knew something had happened on the train tracks one night, although Ford would never discuss it in detail. Ford had met someone on those tracks. Someone who promised him secrets.

“I can’t explain it.” Ford had said when he’d returned that day. “But he says he’ll teach me everything.” Fiddleford, of course, had been suspicious of this. The sorts of people who hung around on train tracks were hardly the sort Ford should be getting mixed up in. But Ford hadn’t listened. In later days, he tried to put the thoughts of the train tracks from his mind many a time, but the call only seemed to grow stronger with each passing day.

“Follow me, follow me. follow me, follow me.” And it got louder. “Follow me, follow me. I have something to show you.”

It was at this point that Ford began to act erratic, missing school, talking to someone no one could see, shutting himself up in his dorm room for hours on end. And one day...He simply disappeared. The school phoned Stanley, as Filbrick had passed away by this point, asking if he’d seen his brother. No one at the school knew where he’d gone and some had assumed he went home for a break. After all, the boy had been studying like his life depended on it. Stan panicked, since he hadn’t seen his brother either. Three days later, Ford appeared on his brother’s doorstep. He had no money, his shirt was on backwards, and he was stumbling as though he was drunk. He called out for Shermie, who came toddling out, only about 4 or 5 at the time. Ford took his littlest sibling on his knee and told them this,

“If you ever have grandchildren let them know that his great uncle loves them very much. And by the time they’re grown be sure they remember this. Don’t ever walk to the tracks alone.” Then he put Shermie down and left.

.

Sitting on the tracks waiting for the night train

Looking down the road ain't never gonna go back

Listen for the whistle through the wind and raindrop

Who’s gonna ride the devil's train tonight?

.

Dipper Pines had grown up hearing stories about his Grunkle Ford from his whole family, especially his Grunkle Stan. Ford had always been painted as a genius and a hard-working man, but the stories from his parents had always been tinged with a hint of warning and disdain. They thought Ford had been crazy. He’d just run off one day and no one knew why.

“He wasn’t right in the head.” They’d say. “Never cared about anything but his studies and experiments.” But Dipper didn’t think his Grunkle had been crazy. After all, he was more like Ford than anyone else in his family. Dipper had never been interested in the family pawn shop, choosing instead to bury his head in a book. He devoured any and all knowledge he could find. His sister Mabel shared his curiosity, but Dipper was a level above her. He had a burning desire to know everything about the world. Nothing his parents could say would stop him. Despite what his parents told him, Dipper regularly went on walks along the train tracks. It was the only place that was truly quiet since the train didn’t run too often anymore and hardly anyone was ever there.

“Aren’t you worried though?” Mabel asked him. “You could get hurt.”

“Mabel, it’s fine.” Dipper said. “Nothing’s going to happen to me on the tracks. I’ve gone there a dozen times and nothing’s ever happened.”

“But it’s dangerous there.” Mabel sunk down in her bed, pulling her sheets up to her nose. “You could fall off the edge, you could get run over.”

“What happened to, ‘Forget danger! Live life to the fullest!’?”

“This is different.” Mabel said. “It’s...” She trailed off “...Nevermind. Let’s just go to sleep, okay?” Dipper shrugged but rolled over and started reading. He always had to read before going to sleep. His favorite book to peruse was his great uncle’s journal. When Ford had vanished he’d left behind three journals filled with frantic ramblings and pictures of creatures that couldn’t possibly exist. Whenever someone wanted to claim Ford had been crazy they used the journals as evidence. But Dipper saw the journals as something amazing and inspiring. If what his grunkle had written was true, then this could mean so many things for the scientific community. It would open doors no one had ever dared to open before. His grunkle had been a genius, not a mad man. Dipper fell asleep holding the journal, contented. That night, something terrible happened. His Grunkle Ford appeared to him, body broken and bloody. Ford said nothing, just staring at his great nephew with sad eyes as his blood dripped onto the bed sheets. Dipper screamed and fell off the bed with a loud thump. Ford turned and stared after him as the boy ran out of the room, out of the house, and towards the train tracks....

.

Sitting on the tracks waiting for the night train

Looking down the road ain't never gonna go back

Listen for the whistle through the wind and raindrop

Who’s gonna ride the devil's train tonight?

.

Dipper’s head spun as he stumbled through the darkness. He didn’t know where he was going or why, all he knew was that he needed to keep moving. Keep moving or be doomed. He couldn’t explain why he felt like this. He shook his head, which only made his dizzier. Dipper slowed his pace and looked up at the stars, providing the only light in the moonless night. They burned like charcoal above him, putting him at ease somehow. He stopped for a moment, only for Ford to appear again. He was trying to speak this time, the only sound coming out of his mouth gurgling. Blood flecked his lips and dribbled down his chin. Dipper screamed again and took off running. Fear took over everything, telling him to run until he couldn’t run anymore. Before he knew it, he found himself on the train tracks, a fog rolling in. Far ahead, he saw a man walking towards him. The man was strange, to be sure. His body looked like it had been assembled by someone who only had a vague idea of what humans were supposed to look like. He was altogether too thin, limbs  too long and spindly, torso like a cardboard tube, hands like two spiders stuck onto the ends of the arms. His smile was too wide, golden eyes too large. One wasn’t even an eye, it was just a gaping socket. He had blond hair slicked back against his head with a battered top hat on top of it. His suit was also golden, but similarly beaten up.

“It’s a nice night for a walk.” The man said as he started to walk past,  his voice high pitched and grating. “Would ya mind if I joined you?”

“Do what you wanna do.”

“Well that’s great ‘cause I’m going to. And not to annoy you but see I really have to ask what a young dude like you’s doin out by the tracks?” He leaned in close with a sickening smile “You waiting on a train?”

“No!” Dipper said quickly, then regretted it. “I mean, let me explain.

“Alright.”

“ I’m minding my own business and you should do the same. I just saw something terrible. You should feel really lucky you missed it.”

The man laughed. “Easy with that tongue, kid. Try to listen carefully. What you’ve seen is scary, but nothing can compare to me. I could show you things that paint all your dreams haunted. I could make you scream if I wanted.” The man’s single eye widened as his smile did, and Dipper could have sworn he saw a flicker of light in the man’s empty eye socket, a threatening aura building. As soon as it appeared though, it vanished and the man threw an arm around Dipper’s shoulder. “Or I can be the bee in your bonnet, your best-friend forever. Two peas in a pod flocking like birds of a feather. And you never have a need to beg work or steal. If all this sounds worth it then let’s make a deal.  All you want in life for price of your soul, all the money you can fold, power that you can hold. I'll put you in control, only if you're down to roll down these train tracks tonight.”

“But where are we going to go?” Dipper found himself asking. “And who are you?”

“Name’s Bill Cipher.” The man stuck out his hand. “And that, kid, is an excellent question.”

.

Sitting on the tracks waiting for the night train

Looking down the road ain't never gonna go back

Listen for the whistle through the wind and raindrop

Who’s gonna ride the devil’s train tonight?