#especially ford’s floofy hair

[littlecrow4]

Favorite HC

Bill LOVES Ford’s hair. It’s so fluffy and soft how could he not! When they were still “partners” (ya homo’s) he’d pet and run his fingers through his hair when Ford was working, lightly scratching his scalp with his claws and the sounds Ford makes! An added bonus!

Possessively petting him like a dog is the first thing he does when he has him chained in the Fearamid, claws now scratching harder through his scalp, deep enough to bleed. If Ford won’t make those cute noises anymore he’ll force ones of pain out of him! What’s the real difference anyway?

[fiddsandfordart]

Fiddauthor Week Day 4: Alternate Universe @fiddauthorweek-6

Ok, so I chose to do an au of Fidds and Ford as art students.

Fiddleford majors in ceramics and he is fantastic at it! He doesn’t mind going all out and getting messy. He’s used to that sort of thing from growing up on a farm. He also loves using his artistic skills to make functional items, which is why he mainly sticks to ceramics and other three dimensional art.

Poor Ford took a ceramics class with Fidds but for the life of him could not figure out how to throw on the wheel. (It’s hard; I know from experience!)

Ford majors in fine arts. His absolute favorite style is surrealism, due to his fascination with weird things which sprung from him having six fingers. This leads him to eventually move to Gravity Falls when he graduates to get inspiration for his artwork.

For more context of the last two pictures, I imagined Ford’s teacher giving an assignment to do a cubist portrait (like Picasso style) and so Ford does it with the intention of drawing Tesla, but it ends up being Fiddleford and he’s just like “oh shoot I think I might be in love with him!” And he’s super embarrassed. 🥰

[thatabitcryptic]

Greetings! I have two questions. 1. Is Shifty's human form based off Ford and Fidds, or just a version of Fidds? 2. Is there going to be a fan fiction on this? Because I'd love to read one, especially one with your artwork!! TwT

Hello friend aha

1) Ok so I think with shifty’s human design I based it on kind of a mixture? But majority of it comes from fiddleford (nose, hair colour, twink-ness) rather than ford (chin, floofy hair)

I think after shifty was locked away for 30 years they would be remorseful for yknow impersonating fidds,, and because he and ford are the only humans shifty had any memorable contact with and ford locked him in the bunker and shifty probably felt more betrayed than with fidds they would design their human form off of a combination of features they’ve seen but mostly from fidds bc who want to imagine their father(??) who turned on them (just because they are an alien) when they have to shift into a human

Also ford hid his face with a mask so shifty has never seen him before and that’s why he’s mostly Fiddleford-ish

2) OKAY DKDMDKDMDJ

So I do have a plot type thingy planned out in my head and I would love to write a fic on it but..... I have terrible concentration and I’m getting quite a few assessments at school so idk if I’d have the time :’)

maybe at some point but to be completely honest I don’t really know lmao

[nataliedanovelist]

GF - Dr. Mystery

Another gift for @siro-cyll​ cuz I have unhealthy obsession with their work and just gotta write fanfiction for it. I also may or may not have an unhealthy desire for more Ford and Mabel bonding content. (By the way, to all of you who liked my last gift, Tiger Stripes, and especially to @siro-cyll​, THANK YOU from the bottom of my heart for all of your love and support! I’ve been close to tears so much lately due to your kindness. Just... thank you so much.) Oh! And, S.C., there’s a special little message for you told by your favorite six-fingered fluffy owl; everyone needs a little encouragement and I can’t think of anyone who deserves it more than you. - N.S.

~~~~~~~~~~

Ever since the Pines family had returned to Gravity Falls for the summer, Soos and Stan shared the role of Mr. Mystery. It was primarily Soos' responsibility so that Stan could sit in his boxers for as long as he wanted, but every so often - to give the old man something to do or so Soos could work on a project or a repair - it was like the good ole days with the original My. Mystery scamming tourists and a humble handyman making the shack stand strong.

Unfortunately, Soos caught a bad case of the summer flu, and so to try to keep two old men and two young teenagers from getting sick, he quarantined himself in his room and Stan had to fill in the My. Mystery role. It felt good to be back in his old ways for a bit, amazing gullible tourists with made-up attractions; he had been doing this for thirty years, he could do it for a week, right?

Wrong. When it was almost ten o'clock and the first tour was scheduled to happen at eleven, and Stan still wasn't up yet, Mabel decided to wake him up in the best way possible: by attacking him with hugs. She tip-toed in her socks and oversized t-shirt her dad gave her to her grunkle's bedroom and carefully opened the door to prepare her attack, but a nasty cough destroyed her devilish plan and she hurried to Stan's bed.

"Grunkle Stan? Are you okay?" Mabel asked. Stan tried to tell her that he was fine, but she felt his sweaty forehead and gasped, "You've got a fever! Hold on!"

Meanwhile, Ford was sipping his third cup of coffee in the kitchen and reading the newspaper since Stan wasn't awake yet to hog it. He saw Mabel running across the hallway and up the stairs out of the corner of his eye and chose to ignore it; his niece often got excited about little things. His concern only came when she ran past the kitchen again, this time fully dressed in a red skirt and a handmade white sweater with a red cross, a white headband over her hair.

"Mabel, sweetie, what's the matter?" Ford called; Mabel wearing her nurse's sweater was never a good sign. Unless she was playing doctor with Waddles.

She popped back into view, this time with medicine, a washcloth, and a first-aid kit in her arms. "Grunkle Stan is sick." She answered and went off to help.

Ford decided that Mabel needed a capable adult's supervision and he followed her to Stan's bedroom, only to find her responsibility giving Stan a thermometer to hold in his mouth and cooling him down with a damp washcloth; Mabel even put on her stethoscope and listened to her uncle's breathing and heartbeat to see how forced it was. Ford crossed his arms over his chest, leaned against the doorframe, and smiled proudly at his little pumpkin.

"You sound really congested." Mabel commented calmly. "Does anything hurt? How's your head and your tummy?"

"Stomach's fine for now, but my head's poundin'." Stan groaned quietly.

Mabel took the medicine bottle she had brought from the nightstand and read the directions carefully. "Okay, I think you should take this every six hours, only a cap full. Once it starts to relieve pressure and congestion your head should stop hurting."

"Good job, my dear." Ford complimented, recognizing the bottle of syrup and giving her his approval to give it to Stan.

Mabel's cheeks turned rosy and she filled the cap with the appropriate amount of medicine. Then an idea came to mind and she put the medicine back on the nightstand. "Oh! Hold on! I'll be right back." And she hurried past Grunkle Ford and out of the room.

Ford smiled sympathetically at his brother. "So you caught Soos' flu, huh?"

"I'd fire him if I could." Stan growled and ducked his head under the covers.

Ford chuckled at how little Stan had changed from when they were kids; as tough as he was, whenever he was ill he tended to curl up like a bunny and sleep off his virus.

Mabel came back with a glass of water and gently rubbed Stan's shoulder to coax him out from behind the blankets. "You can take your medicine now. You should take it with water so it doesn't taste as yucky."

How can anyone resist smiling at Mabel's kindness? Stan's lips curled upward as he propped himself up on his right elbow and accepted the cap of medicine, took it, and then gratefully had Mabel's glass of water, but he did so after she took the thermometer out of his mouth. "Thanks, pumpkin."

Mabel just smiled at her hero. "You've got a fever of 101.5. Definitely the flu. You should rest and I'll be back at lunchtime with some soup." She packed up her things and left her uncle to rest.

Ford was about to follow her out of the room, but Stan stopped him. "Hey, do me a favor, Sixer, and keep the shack open, okay?"

Ford stared at him. "Excuse me?"

"You know, run the tours. Make sure Wendy does her job. Squeeze every cent you can outta the tourists. The usual business stuff."

Ford put his polydactyl hands up in both surrender and defense. "N-No, Stanley, I can't do that. I'm a lot of things, but a businessman is not one of them."

"I ain't askin' you to own the Mystery Shack - which in a way you kinda already do - I'm just asking you to hold down the fort until Soos or I are back in the game." Stan groaned and closed his eyes, laying on his back, and he waved his hand in the air casually. "C'mon, you're an anomaly expert, right? Just tell 'em about some freaky safe weird thing and do it with some dramatic flare."

"But…"

"Grunkle Ford," Mabel whispered as she returned and held his hand. "C'mon, we gotta let him rest. You don't wanna get sick, do you?"

Ford let her walk him out of Stan's bedroom and she closed the door behind him, the scientist's stage-fright giving him tunnel vision. Just as the sweater-twins were at the bottom of the stairs, Dipper came down in his orange t-shirt and gray shorts, pinching at his stiff eyes.

"Dipper," Mabel called to get his attention. "About time, sleepy-head! Anyway, Grunkle Stan is sick, so we need to work extra super-duper hard to keep the shack open!"

Dipper, coming to his senses, said, "Great, do I need to be Mystery Jr. again?"

"Nope! You're gonna help manage the tours so Grunkle Ford can lead them!"

"You got it." Dipper pulled out a pencil and a notepad from his shorts and got to work. "I'll help Wendy with the ticket sales and I'll pull from Soos' spare attractions to fill up the shack today."

Ford shook his head to clear it. "Dipper, my boy, if you have done this of all before, perhaps you should…"

"Nah, ah, ah." Mabel said gently, shaking a finger. "Grunkle Stan asked you to run the shack, not Dippin'-Dots. Besides, it'll be good for you to try something new! Now go hurry and get dressed!" And she and her twin went into the kitchen to plan the day.

Ford sighed and went into his room; he supposed he could last one day, right?

In the back of his closest, hidden by the many colorful sweaters Mabel had made for him (she claimed that he was her favorite model), Ford had a spare suit to replace the one Stan had stolen from him after disappearing on the other side of the portal. He shed his red sweater and changed into the formal attire, unsure of what to do for a tie. Guessing Mabel knew where one of Stan's ties were, he put on his white button-up, gray vest, and slipped on his black coat while he looked for her.

Mabel emerged from the living room and stared at her uncle with shining eyes, then let out a very "fangirly" scream. "Grunkle Ford! You look amazing! Wow! You might just steal Stan's title as the silver fox in the family!" Mabel giggled at her joke while Ford's entire face turned beet-red. "Here, I made these for you." She held out a maroon fez and matching neck-tie, but the fez, rather than a crescent, had a golden six-fingered hand, and the tie had a golden six-fingered hand pin. "The best way to be Mr. Mystery is to be you."

Ford smiled affectionately and was starting to feel a little better about this whole thing. He got on one knee and accepted the gifts. "Thank you, Mabel. I think these will suit me just fine."

"No pun intended?" Mabel asked, making Ford laugh as he tied on his neck tie and let his pin show proudly. She helped by putting the fez on the top of his fluffy hair, running her little fingers through his charcoal-fluff. She pressed her lips and hands together and squealed again. "Eck! I gotta get my camera!"

"Mabel, no…" But she was gone.

Ford sighed and stood. He turned to look at the mirror and examine his appearance. He did look… nice? Maybe. Possibly. Mabel seemed to think so and she had exquisite taste. Ford decided to ignore the fact that her opinion was biased since they were family and he also decided that his little shooting star might be right.

"Grunkle Ford!" Mabel's voice ringed like cheerful bells, and when he looked her way he was blinded by a flash of light. Mabel got a polaroid of her fluffy, floofy, flustered old nerd whom she admired dearly. She grinned at the picture and claimed, "I never miss a scrapbook-ortunity! I'm gonna go add this to our family scrapbook! Dipper's ready for you in the gift shop!" And she skipped away to work on her arts-n'-crafts.

Ford took in a deep breath and reminded himself that it was only for one day as he walked towards the shop. Dipper had planned out a good schedule for the tours, bringing back nostalgic attractions as well as some new ones. First, the rock-that-looks-like-a-face had been brought inside to start off the tour; then a collection of rare and exotic (probably fake) pictures, like of bigfoot or of horses riding horses (Ford wasn't sure if that picture was PG); then the "ugliest creatures known to man" gag; then shells of a dinosaur egg (which Ford was pretty sure was legitimate and from Stan Jr.); and then finally the sack of mystery.

When Ford left to greet the arriving tourists at eleven o'clock, Wendy asked Dipper as she flipped through her magazine, "You have a backup-plan, right?"

"Oh, totally." Dipper said and replaced his pinetree-hat with an eyepatch.

Ford took in a deep breath and then gave his little audience a toothy grin (he was lucky that it was flu season and there weren't a lot of tourists today). He just had to be like the original Mr. Mystery. He could do that, right?

"Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, welcome to my humble Mystery Shack! I, Mr. Mystery, will gladly give you a tour so you may gaze at many abnormal wonders that plague my home." Ford gestured to the rock. "Behold! Rock That Looks Like a Face rock: the rock that looks like a face!" And he grinned nervously; his anxiety was starting to increase subtlety.

"Does it look like a rock?" An old lady asked, adjusting her glasses.

"Um… n-no." Ford's confidence was starting to fade. "It's a rock that looks like a face."

"Is it a face?" A chubby boy with a lollipop asked.

"N-No, it only looks like a face."

"But where did it come from?"

"Was it once a face?"

"Is that what we look like when we're dead?"

The questions kept on coming; this normally wouldn't have bothered Ford so much, he lived to seek out answers, but these were questions he could not answer nor could he investigate to find the answers; he was expected to know what to say on the spot; Stan could do that, but Ford could not. He swallowed as his skin paled.

"Ladies and gentlemen!"

The group turned to find a boy in a suit with an eyepatch and his hair combed back. They gasped and admired the adorable Mystery Jr., having heard of him from last summer, and the tourists hurried to him, leaving Ford free to breathe heavily and try to relax.

"Thank you, thank you all for coming!" Dipper started to lead the group to the next room. "You'll quickly notice the numerous attractions we keep here, but some weirdness we could only capture through pictures! Be amazed, at our Hall of Photos!"

Ford slipped away as cameras flashed and gullible tourists were entertained. He wiped his sweaty face with a handkerchief and he realized what happened; he got stage-fright, inconvenienced by the slightest change, choked, and his own nephew had to swoop in and save him. Ford was incredibly flustered and embarrassed and decided to get some water from the kitchen.

He found Mabel there, wearing an apron over her nurse's sweater, and she stood on a step-stool in front of the stove, mixing a big pot. She smiled sympathetically when she heard her uncle come in. "Hey, how did it go?"

"Horribly, my dear." Ford groaned and filled himself a glass of water from the sink. "I just couldn't do it. I know Stan asked me to do it, but I think it would be best if Dipper continued to handle the tourists. I would be happy to assist in some other way, but I'm no Mr. Mystery. I'm nothing like Stanley."

Mabel paused her work, tapping the wooden spoon on the side of the pot to shake off some broth, and she turned to look at him. "Grunkle Ford, that's not true. You're very much like Grunkle Stan; you're both sweet and handsome and strong and very brave."

Ford turned red and hid the bottom-half of his face in his cup. "Th-Thank you, Mabel." He stuttered.

"And it's okay that's you're not like him. More than okay." Mabel insisted as she moved to where chopped vegetables laid and she scooped some up into her hands. "We never wanted you to be. At least I never wanted you to be. You're supposed to be Dr. Mystery, not Mr. Mystery. Look, being weird and being different is awesome cuz it gives you a chance to be yourself. You have to give the tours your way. Get open, get honest with yourself, invent your own way of doing things, no matter what others think. Leave people confused by how awesome you are; that's what it's supposed to mean to be Mr. Mystery."

Ford's eyes were round and shining like stars as he stared at his niece, who plopped the veggies into the soup and stirred them in. "M-Mabel Pines, that… that was very wise and mature of you. When did you learn all of that?"

"Somewhere between fighting an unholy triangle and getting my braces taken off." Mabel joked, grinning to display her braces-less teeth. "Oh! Maybe my braces held back my wisdom and whatnot! We should sue my dentist for everything he's got!"

Ford laughed, feeling much better than he has felt all day.

Mabel tasted her homemade chicken soup and said, "Lunch is almost ready. Want some? I made plenty to share."

Ford smiled and nodded. "Thank you, my dear. I will be back in a moment to join you for lunch." And he left for his room again.

Mabel was right; Ford had been trying to hold a false image of himself, an image he didn't have because his twin had it, and really he just needed to be himself. Ford tossed the fez on his couch and saw the white lab coat on his desk-chair. He smiled and exchanged that for his suit-jacket. He smiled, much more comfortable in his trenchcoat-like attire with his gray vest and white button-up, and he adjusted the pin Mabel had given him; he would always treasure that tiny six-fingered hand. Ford went back into the kitchen just as his niece was leaving with a tray holding a bowl of soup and a glass of orange juice and she grinned and nodded in approval.

After a pleasant lunch with Mabel, another tour was scheduled. Dipper offered to take this one, but Ford claimed he had it under control and he knew just what to do this time.

"Now, many of you may have had a friend owe you money or have won poker and someone couldn't pay you right away," Dr. Mystery said eerily, his back to the audience. "But have you ever had The Mothman owe you money?!" And he spun around, his fluffy hair a little extra floofy due to the sudden movement, and he gestured to an inky drawing of the odd creature.

The tourists gasped and clapped and took pictures. "What happened?" A little girl asked with a lisp, reminding the doctor of someone very dear to him, and he cleared his throat.

"I'm glad you asked that, my dear. It all began thirty-two years ago in a strange place long-forgotten…" And he began his storytelling, entrancing his audience and enjoying their captivated attention.

The rest of the day the fluffy, nerdy owl did an amazing job entertaining the tourists with his stories and evidence to back it up, and he even brought in some of his "mad scientist" experiments and had some kids help him mix colorful liquids in beakers so they made bright, harmless, explosions. The tourists were also delighted by their tourguide's extra fingers; never before had Ford been surrounded by so many people who were delighted and happy to see his birth defect, asking questions he could confidently answer and showing how well he could do shadow puppets. Dr. Mystery was a huge hit, and when Mabel watched him smiling and laughing at the last tour of the day she was reminded of that Bob Dry the Science Guy, those videos her science class sometimes put on and it would make the whole class freak out.

As the tourists walked away with boxes full of merchandise from the shop, babbling about what a great time they had, Dr. Mystery waved them away, wiggling his six fingers, and he called, "Remember, we put the 'fun' in 'no refunds'!"

Mabel snuck up behind him and hugged him. Ford jumped, but turned to hug her back. "That was great, Grunkle Ford! I'm really proud of you!"

"Thank you so much, Mabel." Ford got on one knee to be eye-level with her. "You really inspired me to be the best me I can be, and I have no one to thank but you. You truly have a gift."

Mabel's cheeks were rosy again; she hugged Ford around his neck and he hugged her in return, rubbing her back and combing her beautiful long brown hair. She snuck a kiss on his cheek before skipping away to check on Stan. Ford's eyes were misty as his fingertips gently grazed the spot on his face where Mabel had kissed him; He then grinned and left the gift shop, confident that Dr. Mystery would be available tomorrow.