#for once fords hand is being pointed out for something besides his six fingers

[fiddsandfordart]

One of my headcanons is that Fidds and Ford were only a couple in the parallel dimension, so this is how I imagine Fiddleford figured out that original Ford wasn’t his Ford...

[nataliedanovelist]

GF - Timestuck AU: The Power of Mabel ch.6

While fighting over a time machine so one twin can win a pig or the other can win the heart of a girl, Mabel is left stranded in a snowy forest with no time machine and no brother. Oops.

ch.5 - ch.7 (finale)

~~~~~~~~~~

The air was still quite nippy and crisp, but the afternoon sun sparkled on the white snow and made the atmosphere pleasant to stand in if the Main Sequence Star was shining directly on a living organism, like it was on Stan from where he stood on the porch. He sighed tiredly as he dug into his hoodie’s pocket for a fresh cigar and lit it with his Zippo-style lighter. He knew he probably shouldn’t smoke with a kid in the house, but after the few days he’s had, he needed and had well earned a smoke-break.

The door opened and Stan hid his cigar by his side, his right arm glued to his hip to hide the newcomer on his left, but when he saw it was an adult, he relaxed and took another puff. “M’trying to quit.” He mumbled.

Ford snickered. “Yeah, it looks like you’re trying really hard.”

“Don’t be shitty.” Stan said casually.

“Mind if I lend one? I can replenish you in a few minutes.”

Stan stared at his goody two-shoes of a twin and handed him a cigar and the lighter. “You smoke?”

“Not often. For a celebration or after a long day.” Ford answered as he lit his borrowed cigar. “Maybe twice a month. Thrice?”

“Huh.”

Ford looked down at the lighter in his hand, and he was surprised when he recognized it. He can clearly remember seeing the tiny silver box in a store and thinking Stanley would like it as a Only One More Year of High-School present. “I gave this to you.”

Stan smiled as he took it back and pocketed it. “Yeah, it’s a good lighter. Only needed to change the flint a few times.”

“Hey guys!” A small voice called from inside the house. “Do you like vanilla or chocolate?”

The twins looked at each other, smiled, and called back. “Both. Both is good!”

“Both it is!”

Stan chuckled and shook his head. “Knucklehead… I knew she had to be family just by looking at her!” He bragged proudly.

“I suppose I was too distracted by the fact that a cold girl was at my doorstep to recognize the family resemblance.” Ford reasoned, shrugging. “I wanted to make sure I did the right thing. I didn’t exactly feel like getting arrested for kidnapping.”

Stan barked a laugh. “Yeah, you got a good point.” The conman yawned and stretched his arms over his head. “Guess I’ll head out tomorrow.” He mentioned offhandedly.

Ford stared at him, a little saddened and disheartened by this fact that was news to him. “You’re leaving?”

“I mean, yeah?” Stan equally stared at his brother, confused and not daring to be hopeful, but still. “What?”

“I just…” Ford hesitated and busied his mouth by taking a hit of his cigar. With everything that has been said and how well he and Stan have been communicating, he really didn’t feel like ruining it now. He relaxed his shoulders and said with his eyes on the snowy woods. “I was really hoping you would stay.”

Stan looked dumbfounded, like a child discovering candy for the first time, but he looked away and down at the porch floor. “Oh.”

“I’ll of course be taking care of Mabel until Dipper comes back in time for her…”

“He might not.”

“We got over our grudges. They can do the same.” Ford said firmly. “Still, you have a point. Dipper might not be able to come back. Regardless, whether it’s for a short time, a long time, or for the rest of my life, I will take care of her. I might not be the best for her, I can acknowledge that…”

“C’mon, Sixer, don’t be like that.” Stan scolded lightly, giving a sympathetic look to the nerd. “What else can you do, y’know? There’s no way in hell you’re gonna give her up, I’ll kidnap her and run away to Canada before I let you…”

Ford laughed and waved a hand as he smiled. “No no, I promise I won’t.”

“Good.”

“The point is, she loves you. Clearly. And it takes two, and I’ll be busy with my research, especially once the snow melts and the anomalies become more active in the spring and summer, but…” Ford bit his lip. This was a bad idea. If he makes it seem that the only reason why Stan needs to be here is because of Mabel, if or when she’s gone, then Stan will have no reason to stay. And there were many reasons why Ford wanted Stan to stay.

Despite how much of a social-cripple Ford was, he knew that Stan was homeless. His frequent traveling and how full his car was right now was enough proof of that. And Ford hated that for his brother.

But there was another, bigger reason why Ford wanted Stan to stay. So he better just say it.

“Do you know why I went to Backupsmore?” Ford asked.

Stan’s facial expression darkened as he looked away and he shrugged. “Cuz I fucked up your project?”

“No,” Ford answered plainly. “I may not have been accepted into West Coast Tech, but there were so many other colleges that wanted me. I could apply to Yale or Harvard or any college from New York to California and instantly be accepted.

“But I didn’t.” The author added grimly. “Stanley, when you left… When you were gone, I was a mess. So many days I just lied in bed without meals or sleep. Ma was hysterical. I failed most of my exams and only barely scraped a C in the ones I didn’t fail. My GPA dropped significantly and I even lost my Honor Roll. Thankfully my past grades were enough to let me graduate with a 3.2, but my clean record was stained and a lot of prestigious colleges didn’t want me.

“All I wanted at that point was to get as far away from Glass Shard as possible. Luckily there was a small college outside of San Francisco that practically accepted everyone and had a wide range of studies to offer, so I applied and was accepted by graduation day.”

“Good for you.” Stan grunted.

“No! The point is, I…” Ford groaned, feeling like he was failing, but he had to try. “I understand if you don’t want to stay. I understand you have your own life and things you want to do, and I can live without you again if I have to, but… I really, really don’t want to. Yes, I know that part of growing up is going in different directions and being independent and all the other bells and whistles, but it doesn’t have to be. So, if you can tolerate living under the same roof as me again, and if you’re okay with it, I want to offer you a job.”

Stan raised an eyebrow at the six-fingered man. “What kinda job?”

“The committee gives me monthly boosts so I can continue my research. As long as I prove to them once a year that progress is being made, I have a good income coming in. It is a big job, exploring the large woods, climbing mountains and waterfalls, combing the lake, mapping the Enchanted Forest, and hunting down monsters and anomalies to learn more about them. I’ve always managed to make it out of trouble alright, but… I need a partner, and I want to keep it in the family.” Ford smiled at the last sentence.

“What are you saying?” Stan sneered, not daring to believe, not daring to hope, but that stupid smile Ford had…

“I’m saying I want you to do this with me, Stanley.” Ford said matter-of-factly. “I can share the grant with you after bills are paid and groceries are purchased. We can renovate the small room on the ground floor to be Mabel’s bedroom and you can have the entire attic as your own space.

“I know it’s not sailing around the world, but… Please. Will you give me another chance?” Ford pleaded with a soft smile.

Stan grinned and shook his head. “Shit, Sixer, you’re a better salesman than me.” He looked him in the eyes. “Okay. Yes. I’ll stay.”

Ford’s cheeks puffed with happiness as he smiled, his lips pressed together, and he looked ahead, happily daydreaming his future. Being surrounded by weirdness for a living was amazing by itself; doing it with his twin and raising their niece together on top of it was better than anything he could have imagined.

Stan was watching him and laughed good-naturedly, then held out a hand to him. Ford blinked at it like a startled owl, but then returned the smile and sealed the deal with a high-six.

Both brothers stood contently outside with their cigars for a minute, but then heard a bowl clatter on the floor. Mabel must be making a mess in the kitchen, which was fine.

What wasn’t fine was the sound that followed of a body falling on the floor.

Ford raised an eyebrow and called calmly, “Mabel, are you alright?”

They both expected a quick “yeah, sorry, I’m okay,” and maybe an explanation to follow, like she tripped getting down from a chair or something. But there was no reply.

“Mabel, sweetie?” Stan hollered, trying not to sound mad or scared or anything but cool-under-pressure, but this voice trembled with fear.

Still no answer.

Ford and Stan quickly discarded their cigars and bolted inside. Racing like children for cookies, they soon stood at the doorway of the kitchen and were horrified to find Mabel sprawled on the floor on her front, her hair scattered over her face to hide her expression, and her legs and bottom-half of her body slowly fading.

Literally. Fading. Mabel was fading away. She was disappearing like a stain on cloth.

“MABEL!” The men screamed and were immediately on their knees beside her. Ford scooped her up into his arms and felt her pulse and looked over her.

“What happened to her?!” Stan cried out. “Pumpkin, what’s wrong?!”

Ford’s eyes widened in panic as a horrifying realization slapped him in the face. “Mabel… You changed history.”

The tired girl nodded with her eyes closed. “If… If you guys had a fight… and never made up… in my timeline, then I guess…” Mabel paused to yawn tiredly. It didn’t hurt, but she was really sleepy now.“I guess that timeline doesn’t exist anymore, huh? I guess I don’t exist anymore.”

“WHAT?!” Stan yelled and took Mabel’s hand and squeezed it. “We have to do something! You’re family! You’re… We can’t just let you d- not exist!”

Ford held Mabel tighter and closer to his warm chest, making her smile. She swore she could hear his heartbeat. It was too fast. She would have to fix that. Poor Ford was also shaking like a leaf. Mabel could fix that, too.

“I’ll exist.” She smiled up at her uncles. “In a few years.”

Ford bit his lip. He shouldn’t ask this, it was probably dangerous to learn about the future, but the worst was already happening. What else could possibly happen that was worse than losing his girl? Ford couldn’t help but ask, “When?”

“August 31st, 1999.” Mabel’s eyes dazzled. “You’ll meet Dipper, too.” She shifted her eyes to only Stan and whispered, “Did you know you were there? You came to see us when we were born?”

Stan’s eyes watered as he smiled at the new piece of information. “I did?”

“You did. I came out first. You were so proud when I kicked the doctor in the jaw.”

Stan made a watery chuckle and wiped at his eye. “That’s my girl.”

“Dipper came next. He was blue. Umbilical cord wrapped around his neck.”

“Was he okay?” Stan asked.

“He was fine. You knew he would be. You never doubted.”

“I never will, pumpkin. I swear.”

The fading is now much worse. It was spreading over Mabel like a virus. Her legs were hardly visible to the naked eye, and even her shoulders were losing color. This Mabel is almost completely gone. 

Ford, pressed for time, bit his lip as tears flooded his eyes and he cupped Mabel’s cheek and cradled her. “I… I can’t let you go! We just started to become a real family! Wh-What am I going to do without you?!”

Mabel smiled and used the free hand not holding Stan’s trembling hand to caress Ford’s jaw and lower cheek, then cupping his face so her fingertips grazed his sideburn. “It’s okay, really. I’ll see you again, and next time it’ll be when both of you come to see us. Totally worth it.” 

Ford held his breath, and shut his eyes, a tear escaping from each eye and sitting comfortably in the corners of his windows to his soul. Stan hiccuped a laugh and rubbed her hand between both of his. Both of them were doing everything in their power not to cry. 

To that, Mabel laughed and said, “Boys are stupid. It’s okay to cry.”

The cursed power of Mabel. Making people be honest and breaking dams.

Ford curled into his niece, his face sloe to her heart, and cried gently. He wasn’t ready, but he didn’t think he could ever be ready for this.

Stan laughed with tears streaming down his face and he kissed Mabel’s tiny fingers trapped in his hold, then held their hands close to his bowed forehead and just focused on feeling her pulse between his palms.

It only lasted another minute.

Ford was mortified when his chest sank and his arms were empty. He threw himself back and stared at his lap and felt sick to his stomach to find his little girl missing.

Stan’s hands also clasped together and he squeezed tightly, his fists against his trembling lips as he cried.

The genius who always seemed to know what to do didn’t have a damn clue what to do with himself. He growled in his throat, squeezing his eyes shut and gritting his teeth, then let out a painful howl and moan that most definitely disturbed birds and made a deer or two gallop farther away.

Ford removed his glasses and held his knees, sobbing his heart out. Stan blinked his tears off his eyes, resulting in them rolling down his face, as he watched his brother completely shatter to pieces. He had seen him upset before, sure; all those years of bullying, of Pa’s outbursts and sometimes physical punishments, hopelessness that he was actually worth something. You don’t spend seventeen years with a person and not see them break every so often, granted the blessing to help them put themselves back together again.

But Ford didn’t need Stan to swoop in and fix it. There were no bullies to punch or parents to stand against or jokes to crack that would make this okay. All Stan could do was throw his arms around him and bury his face into Ford’s shoulder and cry, too. 

So that’s what they did on the kitchen floor for over an hour.

~~~~~~~~~~

Dipper blinked to try to see, but all he saw around him was inky blackness for miles. His heart raced as he looked around for his sister. “Mabel? Mabel! Mabel, answer me!”

The boy scrambled and collapsed out of a portable potty at the fair. He blinked his eyes rapidly to adjust to the sunlight, scurrying off his hands and knees, clutching the warm time-machine in his hands. Wendy was still admiring her price and Robbie was still sulking, and Waddles was still trying to get away from Pacifica.

That didn’t matter! Mabel was stranded back in time! But how far back?! When was Mabel?! Dipper started jamming the button, but the machine wasn’t working, and it was soon swiped from him by a black-gloved hand.

“Mason Pines,” A gruff voice commanded above him and Dipper looked up to find two new guys with that Blendin guy. The two other guys were muscular and guarded with high-tech armor. 

“You are under arrest for violating the Time-Traveler's Code of Conduct and for jeopardizing the timestream.” The man labeled as Dundgren stated as serious as death.

“Do you have any idea how many rules you just broke?!” Blendin squawked. “I’m asking. I wasn’t there with you. It was probably a lot, right?”

“Wait, wait please!” Dipper begged as the two members of the Time Paradox Avoidance Enforcement Squadrent each grabbed the boy by an arm. “My sister! She’s still back there! We have to get her!”

“You have the right to remain silent.” The man labeled as Lolph informed robotically. “Anything you say can and already has been used in the Court of Time-Law.”

“Let me go, Mabel needs-...” And Dipper and the three time-travelers were blasted forward in time.

~~~~~~~~~~

In the endless space of time, Dipper was levitated off the ground by a giant baby using the power of his forehead-hourglass to trap him in a baby-blue field. Members of the the Time Paradox Avoidance Enforcement Squadrent circled the two, and Blendin stood with his arms crossed over his chest and smiling smugly as the kid who caused so much trouble was getting what he deserved.

“You and your sister have broken the eternal laws of space-time.”

“I’m sorry!” Dipper cried out, trying to fight the energy circling him, but it was futile. “I’m sorry! Do what you want to me, just help my sister!”

“Your sister does not require help, nor do you require punishment.” Time Baby informed as he held his feet. “You are lucky the events that occurred do not change anything drastically. However, your timeline has shifted and therefore this reality’s version of you and your sister are no longer viable and will cease to exist.”

“What?!” Dipper squeaked and looked down at his body to find his legs disappearing. “No no NO! What’s happening to me?!”

“You and your twin sister will be born again on August 31st, 1999, but too many things are different in your timeline for this version of you to continue to exist.”

“W-W-What did I do wrong?! What did I change?!” Dipper cried out as his whole body was drained of color. “What changed in our timeline?!”

“Your uncles have amended their bond thirty-four years ahead of schedule. As unfortunate as this is, your sister miraculously delayed the plans of Bill Cipher by an entire millennia.”

“What uncles?!” Dipper asked, panicked as the fading reached his neck. “Who’s Bill Cipher?!”

“If you wanted the answers you sought out, you should have been patient.” Time Baby scolded. “We all get the answers we seek… in time.”

“P-P-Please!” Dipper begged as he appeared as a ghost. “Please! What did Mabel do?!”

Time Baby cruelly stayed silent, testing Dipper’s strengths, but he was dying, anyways. Might as well.

“She met the Author of the Journals. Your missing uncle.”

Dipper’s eyes widened. “Mabel…” He rasped, and then he ceased to exist.

[bijoharvelle]

during the covid hiatus of spn i wrote a series of soft summer prompts. it proved positive and reaffirming so i decided i’d do the same for winter! i’ll be doing these prompts, roughly daily. this is an expansion on the post-canon universe that i started writing for the soft summer series, so you’ll understand more with that context, but won’t be too lost otherwise. enjoy! this one, with the prompt “early morning walks when all you hear is the crunch of snow” goes out to @aurastiel because i know they were very hype when i announced that i would be doing a winter series c:

It’s usually quiet at this hour, in their sleepy little central Jersey town, but with the snowfall from last night, there’s another layer of quiet to it. Like the snow that sprawled over the gentle hills and streets has hushed everything. Especially since, on a Sunday, the plows haven’t come through to the town square yet. It’s just thick white, as far as the eye can see.

Dean’s holding Colt’s leash this morning and she stopped to sniff at a frozen over branch, so Cas is a little ways ahead of him. The pompom on his soft purple cap is bobbing as he tips his head back, eyes up at the haze of winter morning sky. He has his hands tucked into the pockets of his fleece and Dean will bet it’s because he forgot his gloves, even though Dean reminded him as they were getting ready to leave the house.

Colt barks once, her breath solidifying, as a warning that Cas is getting too far away from her. 

“My apologies,” Cas says as he stops and turns to them. Dean is struck by the sight of him: grinning, patch of red over his nose, scruffy beard, a mess of bedhead poking out from under the hat. He looks healthy and happy and freezing and Dean loves him so much it settles over his soul like a calm snowbank.

They catch up and Cas leans into Dean’s space, tucks an arm through one of his. But in the next minute, one of Cas’s hands is dipping into Dean’s coat pocket. “I told you to bring gloves,” Dean nags.

“Yes, you’re very smart,” Cas replies, unbothered. 

They walk in silence a little longer and their boots crunch through the fresh layer of snow and ice. Colt ducks her nose into the snow in front of her and scoops it up, sending flakes spraying out and they both laugh as she tries to bite it in mid-air.  

“Look.” Dean points out the streetlights that line the plaza. There are delicate wreaths just below the lamps and a wind of fairy lights along the pole. They weren’t there Thursday night, when he had come to pick Cas up from the library. “It’s coming on Christmas, I guess.”

Cas smiles and removes his hand from Dean’s pocket, slips it into his free hand instead. Dean just sighs and laces their fingers together, tucks both of their hands back into his pocket. “Gonna get frostbite.”

“Thank you for protecting me from frostbite,” Cas says with a sweetness that’s probably only half-mocking, and then he leans in to press a kiss to Dean’s cheek. His nose, when it brushes along Dean’s temple, is freezing and Dean shudders but just presses in closer.

When they pass by the animal shelter, Colt starts her usual chorus of barks and howls, sure that every dog in her former home wants to be friends. Cas reaches forward to pat along her back, muttering something calming in Enochian. She quiets, but her tail still vibrates with excitement.

There’s a gentle, brief breeze and all Dean can smell is the fresh, brittle scent of cold.

“Are you gonna work on that scarf more today?” Dean asks. He gave Cas shit when he first picked up knitting (Patience was ecstatic, sending him patterns and tips and showing him the best way to hold the needles) but he reaps the spoils in the form of warm, if slightly lumpy, hats and scarves and, soon enough, mittens and sweaters.

Plus, he’s found that he kind of likes holding the length of yarn for Cas. He keeps the wound up bundle in his lap and undoes a length around his hands, like in cartoons, and just sits next to Cas on the couch. Cas knits and he watches telenovelas or whatever is on TCM and Colt curls up beside them and it’s...nice. It’s calm and safe and easy and nice. Dean doesn’t have to do anything, can’t really with the yarn around his hands, so he just sits still and relaxes.

“I was going to, yes,” Cas replies.

“Awesome,” Dean says and they leave it at that as they crunch along further through the unbroken snow.

He’ll help Cas with the knitting. Before that, maybe he’ll get some work done on the toy chest he’s building for Jo’s Christmas present (one of them, at least). Lunch is gonna be up in the air but he’s thinking stew for dinner, something warm and rich and hearty. Maybe he’ll goad Cas into making that weird red, herbal tea for them while he’s knitting. Mostly, he’s thinking about that, about being sprawled on the couch, Colt’s head in his lap and Cas focused and working next to him, some John Ford playing in brilliant yellows and oranges on the screen in the quiet evening. 

Mostly, he’s thinking about this, now, six in the morning with Cas pressed alongside him, sharing body heat, and their dog trotting ahead of them through the quiet morning. They’re only a mile and a half from their house, their home, and the day stretches ahead of them as easy and gentle as the fresh snow.

-

tags under the cut, as always pls let me know if you wanna be removed or added!

@prayedtoyou • @folklorecastiel • @valleydean • @good-things-do-happen-dean • @cas-you-assbutt-dean-needs-you • @nesnej •  @bianca29753 • @spaceshipkat • @madronasky • @dizzypinwheel • @kayrosebee • @feraladoration • @destielangst • @destiel-is--real • @brazencas • @destielle • @flowersforcas • @50shadesofcanon • @multifandomagic • @fluffiestlou • @geo-val • @menjiiii • @top13zepptraxx • @lanaserra • @eccentriccas • @trasherasswood • @angelresort • @starlightcastiel • @dreamnovak • @jazzbabythatsme • @lyndalynn • @organicpurplepants • @cursed-or-not • @contemplativepancakes • @can-i-just-stay-in-the-corner  • @galaxymysteryelephant • @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover • @one-more-offbeat-anthem • @keata-kaylee • @redsconfusion • @bennedict • @mishha • @smushedmuffins • @galaxycastiel

[asexy-phoenix]

Gravity Falls fandom history

So I’m 21 and I remember when Gravity Falls first came out...I was in middle school and there were a few of us at my school that were really into the show and would gather in the library to discuss our theories like the baby nerds we were. Now, we’re eight years into the fandom or thereabouts and I was musing about where we came from and thought I’d write down a few of my musings here under the cut.

Feel free to add onto this post if there’s something else you guys remember btw! I love learning about fandom history!!

1. Stanley’s Twin. This was one of the major theories and was around since the beginning. The license plate that read “Stanley” was one of the first major indicators, and by the time episode 9 came around (The Time Traveler’s Pig) people were pretty evenly split on whether or not the person we saw was Stanley or Stanford.

1a. That being said, there was a pretty popular idea going around that the Stan who ran the Mystery Shack was Stanford and the missing twin was Stanley. There’s still some old fics out there with the mixed up names.

2. Shipping wasn’t really a thing in the early fandom? There was Wendy/Dipper, obviously, and Mabel/Dipper (ew ew ew) but besides that not a whole lot that I remember? Once season 2 aired, Pacifica/Dipper really took off.

3. Back to theorizing, um, I remember most of it was focused on the author of the journals. McGucket was a major contender. There’s a reason Alex Hirsch came up with that hoax and it’s because the fandom was super ready to believe it. I remember people suggesting that the cast on his arm was left over from an injury where he lost the sixth finger that would mark him as the author.

3a. Speaking of author theories, Vailskibum94 released a hilarious April Fools video that claimed Grenda was the author, it was great.

4. Now, all of this changed when Dreamscaperers came out. As soon as that episode dropped, the Stanley’s Twin theory was seen as basically confirmed. The names were still a little up in the air (that wouldn’t be confirmed until season 2) but everyone invested in the theory knew they were basically right.

4a. Although I do remember at least one analysis that said the flashback in the Columbian prison wasn’t our Stan because of the facial structure? There was some kind of theory that Ford had taken Stan’s spot or that they had swapped at one point? I honestly don’t remember all of the details...it was a long time ago.

5. Bill’s introduction was kind of a gamechanger. The shipping didn’t start right away and he was seeing as a lot more of a comedy character, but people started theorizing about him immediately. Of course, the Cipher Wheel had been spotted right from the beginning so people knew he was important.

6. Oh, god, the Cipher Wheel. So much theorizing. Mabel, Dipper, and Soos were placed from the beginning. Stan was also confirmed because of the symbol on his fez. Wendy was theorized but there was a lot more contention over her...ultimately, those who said she symbolized the ice were right. Robbie was placed but no one took much notice of him. The Author was the six-fingered hand, but people were arguing over whether Fiddleford was the glasses or the hand. Long story short, the Cipher Wheel was a big source of discussion.

7. Besides the Cipher Wheel, Wendy and Robbie were up for a lot of discussion. I remember theories about Robbie being a zombie and Wendy being a mermaid. (the evidence for that one was that her boots looked like they were wet??? idk)

8. On to AUs...Reverse Falls was the first one and I have no idea where it came from. Monster Falls got very popular for a while...that one’s kind of fun. Transcendence AU is still very popular in some circles - i have no idea where it came from, but it really took off in Season 2.

9. The hiatus between seasons was awful. Such a cliffhanger and so many questions...it was full of fan content. The main theory I remember was that there was a secret society in Gravity Falls (correct), Stan was part of it (incorrect), and they had helped him collect the journals and were working to restart the portal (incorrect). The main thing that made people think he was working with this secret society was that they weren’t sure whether he had said “Finally. I’ve got them all,” or “Finally. We’ve got them all,” in the final scene. Turns out it was I’ve and Stan had nothing to do with the secret society.

9a. I think a lot of that theory came from Vailskibum94 - he was a major influencer for theories in the early days of the Gravity Falls fandom.

10. You know who we haven’t talked about yet? Gideon. Man, everyone and their mother had a theory about him! That he was a vampire, or a demon, that him having five fingers instead of four was meant to symbolize something, that the name Carla in his commercial had something to do with the Carla in Stan’s memories...you name it, it was talked about.

10a. The vampire thing happened because of similarities between Gideon and an advertisement for one of Gravity Falls’ terrible movies.

10b. The demon thing really picked up steam around the release of Blendin’s Game when a billboard was graffitied to give Gideon devil horns. Also there was noise about the timeline not matching up because Gideon was only supposed to be 9 instead of the 11 that episode implied.

10c. The “five fingers instead of four” thing got brought up at a Q&A panel at a con when a girl supposedly asked about Gideon’s hands but there was apparently no clear answer? i never saw that interview so I’m really not sure

10d. Carla McCorkle from Stan’s memories is probably a totally different person than the Carla in Gideon’s commercial. Either that or it’s a fun Easter egg.

11. No one ever found out what was up with Gideon’s mom either, as far as I know.

12. As far as season 2, I’ll confess I don’t know as much about these theories. I do know Bill really blew up, especially after Sock Opera, where Bill/Dipper became a huge thing. Alex Hirsch “leaked” the photo to throw people off the trail and then Society of the Blind Eye told us the full story which was really fun to see. The author was finally revealed and both Stan twins backstory was told.

13. After A Tale of Two Stans came out, there were a lot of people theorizing that it wasn’t Stan who had caused the perpetual motion machine to break but that it was Blendin or some kind of other time/supernatural shenanigans that broke it.

14. Shermie! No one knew what to think of Shermie and they still don’t. There are two main camps: either he’s the baby Ma Pines is holding when Stan’s kicked out, or he’s the father of that baby. Honestly, I lean more towards option 2, but it’s very up in the air. There was also one fanfic I read where Shermie is the youngest daughter...that was cool.

15. Mystery Trio was also very big...don’t know when it started but it was early enough that people weren’t sure which Stan twin had which name.

16. Around Season 2 is also when crossovers with Rick and Morty were at their peak. Both Alex Hirsch and Justin Roiland had shown up for cameos in the others shows and there were quite a few Gravity Falls Easter eggs in Rick and Morty.

16a. Crossovers with Steven Universe existed but never at the same level of popularity.

16b. Also, when Journal 3 was released, there were Rick and Morty Easter eggs in it, so the nods went both ways.

17. After the show ended, the Same Coin theory started gaining traction. Basically, from what I understand, it’s the idea that Bill, after being defeated by the Pines, didn’t die completely and instead took up residence in Stan’s head somehow. I personally never looked it up because I like the canon ending with all its warm fuzziness. I do know MatPat of Film Theory made a video about this theory a couple years after the show ended and a lot of fans were like “um...yeah...we’ve already said all of this...”

17a. I also saw a thing where Filbrick was Bill, but I don’t remember many of the details and also don’t like it because it kind of absolves Filbrick of being a terrible person if it’s all the fault of an interdimensional dream demon.

OKAY, that was a lot! Thank you for sitting through all of that and please do add on to this! I know I can’t be the only one who was around for the beginnings of this show, so I’d love to hear what other people remember from the early days of the Gravity Falls fandom

[mandaloriandragontrainer]

Can’t Breathe

AO3 link

Bill still haunts the twins’ dreams.

TW: panic attack

It was completely dark. No. Not completely. Thin slits of light filtered in, as though through someone’s fingers.

“Mabel,” Dipper groaned. “Stop doing that.” He reached up to pull her arms down, but found them stiff and unyielding.

“Wowee, you really do have noodle arms, Pine Tree.”

Dipper’s stomach fell to the floor. Not again. Not another dream. Why did they always seem so real?

“G-g-get away from me, B-Bill,” he demanded through chattering teeth. “You’re not real. You’re just-just another dream.”

“You think I don’t know that!? Stupid kid. And here I thought you were smart. I’m a dream demon, Pine Tree. Dreams are where I’m the most real.”

“Go away! You can’t do anything to me! You’re not here! You’re dead!”

Dipper’s feet were pulled out from underneath him. He was staring down at a black abyss, suspending by blue chains. “Look at you up there! Like a little piñata!”

“Leave me alone!” Dipper demanded, flinging his head back and forth searching for the demon. “Where are you!?”

“What kind of question is that, kiddo? You know exactly where I am.”

Hesitantly, Dipper let his gaze wander up... or down... to the abyss. He realized how it reflected like darkened glass. Two yellow eyes stared back, red-rimmed and psychotic.

His own eyes.

***

“You can’t have him!”

Mabel dug her feet into the ground, pushing back her brother’s body. Their whole life, they’d been equally matched. Why was he so much stronger now?

“This was his choice, Shooting Star! You think he’s so smart, dontcha? He should’ve known better than to trust me!”

Bipper flung Mabel back against the ground. “Face it, Shooting Star, your brother is mine. Just like you’re about to be.” He grinned maliciously. “Stanley will never be able to hurt his sweet little pumpkin pie.”

“Wha-what do you mean?”

“It’s like this, sweet’ums,” Bipper bent over and flicked Mabel’s chin. “You and your brother are my slaves now. Either you do exactly what I say when I say it or you’re dead. Worse than dead. Oh-ho, so much worse. Now shake my hand if you ever want to see your brother alive again, honeybun.”

“N-no!” Mabel put her hands to her ears. “This isn’t real, it’s all pretend! It’s just a dream!”

“Funny, your bro-bro said the same thing.” Her hands did nothing to drown out Bill’s maniacal voice. “Why do you fleshbags think a dream makes anything less real? You can’t escape me, babycakes. Even if you.... WAKE UP.”

Mabel screamed and flew up right. A dream. It was just a dream. She was here, in the Shack, in her bed with her purple nightgown and Sev’ral Timez pillowcase and stuffed pony and Waddles sleeping on the rug beside her. No evil laughter. Nothing to hear but her pig’s soft snoring and the buzz of the air conditioner and Dipper’s frantic panting.

Wait.

“Dipper? Are-are you okay?” She whispered.

Nothing but pained wheezes in response.

“Dipper?” She hopped from the bed, socked feet padding across the floor to her brother’s side. “Dipper, what’s wrong?”

Her twin was sitting up, one hand clutching his heart and the other steadying himself on the nightstand. “I-I-I can’t-I can’t-I can’t breathe...” he gasped. “I can’t breathe. Mabel. I can’t-I can’t!”

“Just-just try to slow it down,” she pleaded. “You’re hypervent-hypervent... that word! You’re breathing too fast!”

“Mabel, I’m gonna die,” Dipper choked. “Oh, I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die...”

“Don’t say that!” Mabel wailed, tears springing to her eyes. “You’re not! Why are you saying that?”

Dipper fumbled for her hand. He was shaking so much. It terrified her.

“Grunkle Stan!!!” she bawled. “Grunkle Ford!!! Help, please help!!!”

Only a few moments later, footsteps thundered up the stairs in response. The door was kicked open and her grunkles burst into the room in their sleepwear, Stan wielding his brass knuckles and Ford pointing his gun at an invisible threat.

“What is it, Mabel, where’d he go?!” Stan exclaimed, furiously surveying the room.

“It’s Dipper!” She wailed, running to her grunkle and throwing her arms around him. “He can’t breathe and he’s dying!”

Ford quickly holstered his gun and knelt at Dipper’s side. “Mason, look at me. Look me in the eyes.”

“I-I can’t breathe, Gr-Grunkle Ford,” Dipper grabbed his hand in terror. “I’m d-dying.”

“Listen to me, Mason. You’re not dying. You’re having a panic attack. Look at me. I know it’s frightening, but you’re safe. I’m right here with you. You’re not going to die.”

“I-I can’t.... I can’t...”

“What’s 2 times 3?”

“Wha-what?”

“2 times 3, my boy.”

“S-s-six.”

“Very good. What about 28 divided by 7?”

“F-four.”

Mabel glanced back at her brother from Stan’s hug. “Why is he making him do math?”

“I think he’s trying to calm him down, sweetie. Must be a nerd thing.”

“Very good job,” Ford gently rubbed Dipper’s back. “See? Your breathing is already slowing down. Can you breathe in through your nose?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Excellent. Breathe in deeply and hold it if you can. Out through the mouth.”

Dipper obeyed, although his breath wobbled. Stan flipped on the light, and Mabel could see her brother’s sleep shirt was completely soaked through with sweat.

“I couldn’t breathe,” he mumbled, clutching his uncle’s fingers like a lifeline.

“Shhh, boy. Just focus on breathing. We need to bring your heart rate down.”

“See, pumpkin?” Stan kneeled to eye level with his niece and gave her a hug. “Your brother’s just fine. He’s not goin anywhere.”

“It was Bill,” Dipper whimpered. “He was in my dream. He stole my body again, but-but it was like I was still in it too.” He looked at Ford, brown eyes wide and afraid. “Was it just a dream, Grunkle Ford? What if he’s really there?”

“Bill’s astral form was destroyed, my boy,” Ford assured. “But even if he were able to piece himself back together enough to enter your dreams, you have to remember he can’t hurt you there.”

“It-it felt like he could...” Tears started to roll down Dipper’s cheeks. He buried his face in his knees, unable to keep his shoulders from shuddering. “I could feel everything and-and I couldn’t make it stop. Not like when we were in Stan’s head.”

“He said we were his slaves.”

“What?” Ford turned to Mabel, surprised by her statement.

“He-he was in my dream, too,” Mabel ducked her head under Stan’s arm, feeling as though Bipper could pounce her again if she didn’t stay hidden. “He was in Dipper’s body like he was at the puppet show. And-and he said me and Dipper were his and-and if we didn’t do what he said he’d hurt us really bad. And before I woke up he said that dreams were just as real as being awake.”

Ford was silent for a moment. “Come over here, Mabel.” She shuffled to him and let him lift her onto Dipper’s bed. “I promise you two are completely safe here. Stan and I will never let any harm come to you, understand?”

The twins nodded. “Mm-hmm.”

“I wish I could tell you for sure that it wasn’t actually Bill you encountered. I wish I could tell you it was nothing more than a dream. But the truth is, I don’t know. It was foolish of me to be so certain he was gone for good. I promise you, I’ll find out for sure if he’s back, and if he is, together we will find a way to destroy him once and for all. But in the meantime, I’ll teach you how to combat him in your dreams.”

“What about tonight?” Mabel asked quietly, leaning against her brother’s shoulder. “I always sleep with Mom and Dad when I have a nightmare.”

“You-you can sleep with me,” Dipper offered.

“Why don’t both of you sleep in our room tonight?” Stan interjected. “Sixer and I will get started in the lab.”

“Your room?” Dipper wrinkled his nose. “Can we change the sheets first?”

“You wanna sleep outside, kid?”

“Maybe we could make a fort,” Mabel suggested. “I taped some extra unicorn hair in my scrapbook. We could use it to protect the fort.”

“That sounds like a fantastic idea,” Ford smiled. “You feel up to it, Dipper?”

“Yeah.” He slid down from the bed. “I’ll definitely sleep better.”

Stan watched the kids disappear down the stairs. “You really think you’ll be able to do something, Poindexter?”

Ford sighed. “I honestly don’t know. I’m still hoping these really are only just dreams. But you can never tell for sure when it comes to Bill.”

“Ah, if he shows up, I’ll just whallop him again. Didn’t hold up well against it last time.”

Ford shook his head. “Let’s make sure the kids are getting along all right.”

In their room, the grunkles found a lean-to of couch cushions covered with a sheet, unicorn hair pasted at the base. A crayon-colored sign stating “UNDER CONSTRUCTION” was taped at the top. Inside, the twins were collapsed in a heap, exhausted from the ordeal.

“They’re safe, Stanley.”

His brother smiled at him. “And we’ll keep it that way.”

[fallen-gravity]

Snow Day

13 year olds Dipper and Mabel decide they want to spend their winter break up in Gravity Falls with their Grunkles and experience their first blizzard. Chaos ensues.

Notes: Here's my submission for a Secret Santa I participated in on discord! It was so much fun and I'm so glad I decided to participate this year!

Happy new year, @anistarrose! I'm your Santa!

The prompt: "I will crave and enthusiastically consume any form of Pines family bonding, time travel shenanigans, Bill getting dunked on, or any combination of the above." I, of course, had to go with the former, because you can never have enough plotless fluff and shenanigans!

AO3

Having been born and raised in California, Dipper and Mabel never got to experience winter the way television always promised they would. They never got to experience snowball fights, sled races, or building snowmen the way all the kids on TV got to.

Sure, they’ve seen snow before, it’s dusted here and there, but it was never enough to stick to the ground overnight. When they were younger, they always hoped the spirit of the season would be enough to bring them a blizzard so they could get snow days like all the kids on the east coast got to have, but it never came to be. They’d just about given up hope on the idea of playing in the snow in their own backyard when they were around ten years old.

Regardless, they looked forward to winter break every year. Their parents used to always take time off work to take them on a short vacation, and when Dipper and Mabel begged them to let them spend their winter break after their thirteenth birthday up in Gravity Falls with their Grunkles, their parents had said yes, which only made Dipper and Mabel look forward to break even more.

They left by bus an hour after their school let them free, and they arrived at the Mystery Shack eight hours later to their attic bedroom already set up for them.

~~

Dipper awakens to the sound of Mabel shrieking her head off at six in the morning. He nearly jumps half a foot in the air, scrambling to turn his bedside lamp on.

“Mabel?” he squeaks. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“Dipper, look!” she beams, bouncing up and down on her feet and pointing out the window.

“Seriously?” he groans, rubbing at his eyes as he stands from his bed. “I thought we were already numb to Gravity Falls weirdness by now” he says, but can’t help the gasp that escapes him when he looks out the window to humor her. There’s so much snow falling from the sky that Dipper can’t even see the tree line of the forest beyond the shack, and there’s a layer of snow coating the ground so thick that it completely covers the steps of the back porch.

“Woah,” Dipper gasps. “I didn’t think it could snow that much in Oregon”

“That’s just the thing!” Mabel grins. “What if it can’t? What if the reason it snowed like, two feet overnight is because it’s all a part of the Gravity Falls weirdness? You remember what Stan said when he came to see Grunkle Ford, right? It was snowing!” she throws her arms up in the air dramatically. “Dips, do you know what this means? This could be our only opportunity to see snow like this without having to go to like, Alaska or something!”

“You know what else this means?” Dipper asks, frantically grabbing at her shoulders.

“What?”

He smirks, shoving her towards her bed as he books it for the door. “Race you outside!” he calls behind her, not even bothering to look behind his shoulder for her reaction.

“Hey! No fair!!” Mabel cries, scrambling to her feet and sprinting out of the room in an attempt to catch up with her brother. The young twins tumble down the stairs, and nearly collide with Ford on their way towards the kitchen where they’d last dumped their coats.

They yell a frantic apology in his general direction and unison, but they’re moving too frantically to hear his response. Dipper eventually makes it out of the shack first, and he’s standing with his arms crossed and a smirk on his face when Mabel meets him outside.

“You better not be telling me that I owe you any of my special cocoa for beating me out here” she pouts, crossing her arms over her chest to mimic Dipper. “Cheaters don’t get cocoa”

Dipper chuckles, his arms slipping to his side as he cautiously steps down the snow-covered steps of the deck. “Alright, fair enough.” He points an accusatory finger at her. “But it’s been eight years. You’re gonna have to tell me your recipe someday”

“In time, brother o’ mine,” she replies as she joins his side. “In time.”

For a few moments, neither of the young Pines twins say anything. In unison, they throw their heads back and lift their arms up into the air and let the snow fall gently on their face. Catching snowflakes on their tongues is a lot harder than TV makes it seem, but it feels good to just stand out in the snow and let it land gently on their face.

It’s peaceful. Dipper closes his eyes, and he knows if the snow weren’t so thick and wet and if his winter coat were better suited for it, he’d let himself fall back and lie down in it. But since it’s not, he settles for standing in place and just listening.

It’s peaceful, until it isn’t.

Something cold and wet smacks him in the back, and he’s so startled by it that he yelps. His eyes pop open, and he whips around frantically to see where that could’ve come from.

Dipper just barely misses the sound of Mabel’s maniac giggle before he’s pelted again, this time in the forehead.

“Yes!”  Mabel cheers, pumping her fists in the air. “Bullseye! Two in a row!”

“No fair!” Dipper pouts, brushing the snow off of his hat. “I wasn’t paying attention!”

Mabel smirks as she bends to prepare another snowball. “What, so now you’re against cheating? You seriously need to work on your moral compass, bro”

He just manages to duck in time as he bends to form a snowball of his own. “That was different! It’s not like I’m the one who woke you up unreasonably early this morning!”

“Pssh,” she waves a dismissive hand. “I just as easily could’ve come out without you if I wanted to”

Dipper takes her brief moment of distraction to pelt her in the arm with a snowball. “Nuh-uh,” he mocks, the same way he has since they were toddlers. “Admit it; you don’t have the heart. You love me too much”.

“Ewww, never” she cringes dramatically, and lunges the snowball she’d been solidifying between her hands directly towards his face. Dipper tries to duck, but miscalculates the force and speed of her throw and the snowball splats against his face so roughly and suddenly that it knocks him to the ground.

“Ohmigosh!” Mabel declares, the playful tone in her voice gone. “Dipper, are you okay?” she asks, running to his side. His response is an incomprehensible mumble, muffled by the snow he hasn’t wiped off his face yet.

“What was that?” she asks, leaning closer.

Underneath the snow, Dipper smirks, and balls the pile of snow sitting on his face and shoves it into Mabel’s. “I said you’re going down”

He stands to his feet, bunching his fists into the snow to gather a bunch of it at once, and Mabel half-shrieks, half-giggles as she makes a run for it.  Dipper almost manages to snag her right in the head, until she suddenly takes a sharp turn to hide behind one of the wooden columns supporting the roof of the shack.

“Hey!” he shouts, and just barely dodges a snowball she lobs at him from her hiding spot.

“What?” she calls, popping her head out from being her hiding spot. “Nobody ever said that hiding was against the rules! Besides!” she gestures to the column mirror to hers that’s closest to him. “It’s not like I’m hiding somewhere super-secret, or anything!” She lobs another ball in his direction.  “The longer you stand there the more vulnerable you become!” she singsongs, tossing a snowball back and forth between her hands teasingly.

Dipper makes a dive for it into the snow, and crawls along until he’s standing behind the wooden column, shoving fistfuls of snow into his pocket along the way. Mabel groans, like she can’t believe she didn’t think to crawl away before he did, and attempts to launch a snowball at him as he’s standing up. She misses, and Dipper can’t help but laugh as the snowball sticks to his wooden column and doesn’t budge.

He mashes the snow in his pocket into a ball, and grabs a bunch more snow to make it even bigger. He winds his arm back like throwing it harder is going to make aiming it any easier, and hears the back door creaking open just half a second too late.

The snowball flings out of his hand, but instead of hitting Mabel, his intended target, the snowball hits Ford as he’s coming out of the door with such force that it knocks his glasses off of his face.

Dipper freezes, looking absolutely horrified, and Mabel bursts into hysterical laughter.

“Grunkle Ford!” Dipper shouts, wiping his hands off on his jacket and running towards his great-uncle. He’s expecting him to look shocked, or sad, or even angry, but when Ford gets his glasses back on his face he’s nearly laughing as hard as Mabel is.

“I…” Ford starts, removing his glasses for a brief moment to wipe some of the excess snow from his lenses. “…came out to see how you were doing, because I saw you running by me in the kitchen, but I guess you’ve already answered that question for me”

“Grunkle Ford, I’m so sorry,” Dipper’s gaze falls to the ground, his cheeks turning pink in embarrassment. Ford only chuckles and places a gentle hand on Dipper’s shoulder, prompting him to meet his eyes again.

“There’s no need to apologize, my boy. I love the snow. Stan and I used to have snowball fights all the time when we were kids”

“Really?” Mabel beams, stepping out from her hiding spot.

Ford nods. “Every time we had the day off from school, he��d wake me up by sneaking a snowball into the house and throwing it at me while I was still asleep in bed.” He shakes his head affectionately.  “You could never wake Stanley up early for anything, but the moment school got cancelled on account of a blizzard, he was up an hour earlier than even Ma or Pa”

Ford takes a few steps forward and leans against the wooden pillar, gazing out at the falling snow. “I always did wonder what he was up to those first few winters after Pa kicked him out. I tried forgetting, I tried telling myself he wasn’t worth the time of day, but…”

For the briefest of moments his shoulders tense, like he’s suddenly overcome with the image of Stan freezing to death in his Diablo, but he shakes that image off with a deep breath and his shoulders relax as normal. He bends to pick up a handful of snow, and lets it fall between his fingers. “Now, though, I’m just happy to see it again,” he turns his gaze back towards the younger twins. “Haven’t had a chance to see it in thirty years”

“What?” the young twins ask in perfect unison.

“Not even in the multiverse?” Dipper asks, and Ford shakes his head.

“Most dimensions didn’t have a concept of weather. Even the dimension that was supposedly a perfect copy of our Earth was eternally summer” he muses, and steps down from the porch and into the snow. For a brief moment he too merely stands where he is and watches the snow fall, until an idea visibly comes to him and a devilish grin spreads across his face.

“I have an idea,” he says, grabbing two handfuls of snow, and disappearing back into the house.

There’s nothing but the sound of Ford’s boots on the hardwood and the whistling wind, and then nothing at all, and then the sound of Stan shrieking.

Ford comes running out the door again, grinning so hard that his smile could split his face in two. Stan follows close behind, but stops in front of the doorway, clad in his ratty tank top and boxer shirts with a large chunk of snow splatted against his chest.

Dipper and Mabel exchange glances, and can’t help the snickers that escape them.

“For your information, I was in the middle of something very important” Stan grumbles, jabbing an accusatory finger at Ford.

Ford only laughs, forms another snowball, and throws it at Stan, still in the doorway. “Mm, how dare I pull you away from your black and white Victorian era romances right?”

“Alright, that’s it” Stan growls, and slams the door closed. He’s only gone for a minute or two, and when he opens the door again he’s wearing a puffy winter coat and pants. “You want a fight? You’re gettin’ a war.”

He steps outside, sprinting down the porch steps and shoveling handful of snow onto the sleeve of his jacket until he’s got an entire armful. He bunches it all together until he’s got a singular giant snowball in his hands. Ford’s eyes go wide at the sight, and he takes a few cautious steps backwards.

“S-Stanley, I was just joking, you must understand that I’m not properly dressed for this” he chuckles nervously, raising his hands in the air in defeat.

“Y’got your turtleneck, don’t ya?” Stan grins devilishly, solidifying the snowball in his hands. “Besides, that never stopped me when we were kids, now did it?”  He steps cautiously towards Ford so as not to drop his snowball, and lunges it right in his brother’s face.

The hit lands, and Ford falls to the ground the same way Dipper had just moments ago.

The two young twins exchange glances, and can’t help but break into hysterical laughter.  Ford sits up, removing his glasses to remove the snow that had gotten shoved behind the frames, and wipes them off on his sweater before heading back towards the door.

“Fine,” Ford replies. “If you want a war, you’re getting a war”

“Hey, now wait just a minute, brainiac” Stan crosses his arms over his chest. “I recognize that tone. Don’t think I’m letting you use any of your fancy-schmancy interdimensional weapons against me. We got all the weapons we need right here” he gestures to the snow around him. “I may be a professional conman, but at least I have standards when it comes to these sorts of things” he closes his eyes, nodding sagely.  “If we’re waging a war on each other, it better be waged fairly”

He pauses for a few moments, his gaze turning to the young twins. “…and turn those two against each other!” He points towards them, and approaches the two of them. He picks Mabel up by her waist, and places her on his shoulders.  “I call Mabel! Girl’s got aim and can take you and brainiac junior down any day”

“Yes!” Mabel chants, pumping her arms in the air. “Team personality reigns superior again!”

“We reconvene here in five.” Stan says. “Go and get your coat on if you so insist to put any more layers on, and then all bets are off” he bows sarcastically to Ford, Mabel giggling on his shoulders.

“Best of luck to you, Sixer” he teases. “You’re gonna need it”

Dipper watches as Ford disappears inside, and Stan and Mabel run off to another part of the shack’s backyard. Stan kneels on the ground, and Mabel leap-frogs off of his shoulder to help him build a snow fort for defense. Upon seeing that he’s watching them, they both form snowballs in their hand and threaten him with them.

Dipper yelps, and runs back towards the porch before they can hit him. Something creaks, and Dipper nearly jumps a foot in the air, but his tension melts when he just realizes that it’s Ford coming back outside with a thick coat and winter hat.

“How are things looking?” Ford asks, placing a gloved hand on Dipper’s shoulder.

Dipper shakes his head. “It’s not looking good. Mabel’s got strength and sculpting abilities, and they’ve already started on their fort. By the time we can even start on our foundation they’ll already have a castle built”

Ford hums in acknowledgement.  “And we both know how Stan is with cheating” he taps at his chin. “What we’ll need is strategy”

“Hey!” Stan shouts from across the lawn. “Are we talking or are we fighting? Get a move on!” He tosses a snowball that lands in the space between Ford and Dipper.

“…Right,” Ford says. “We’ll strategize as we go along then”

Dipper drops to the ground where he stands, bunching armfuls of snow together to build a small wall. He silently gestures for Ford to help him, and he obliges, wordlessly kneeling to the ground and helping to pile snow onto the singular-walled fort. Once it’s tall enough to cover Dipper, he tugs Ford to a crouching position.

“Okay,” Dipper whispers. “So far, Mabel’s strategy has been to…not have one. She builds a bunch of snowballs at once, and then flings them all at once. If we want to knock her out, we need to wait until she needs to restock”

Ford chuckles affectionately. “She sounds just like Stan when he was a kid. He’d have to make the biggest snowball he could. I’m sure there’ll be an overlap between the two of them needing to restock at some point”

Dipper smiles. “They sure do have a lot in common, don’t they?”

Ford ruffles his hair. “I’m sure they say the same exact thing about us, my boy”

Dipper beams at that, but before he can respond he’s interrupted by the sound of Mabel screaming “CHARGE!” and snowballs being pelted at their small wall. Dipper and Ford dive out of the way, and Dipper starts shoving snow into his hands. Without lifting his head over the wall, he attempts to throw his snowball back at Mabel, but misses and only hits the edge of her fort.

“Hah! That the best you’ve got?” Stan taunts, popping his head out from behind cover. Beside Dipper, Ford flings a snowball back at him, and a soft oof escapes Stan as the snowball hits him in the shoulder. He grumbles something to Mabel that neither Dipper nor Ford can hear, and soon after Mabel pops her head out too. She and Stan start pelting snowballs at Dipper and Ford in unison.  A good number of them miss, but when Dipper pops his head up during a short pause to check and see if they stopped to reload, he’s pelted right in the forehead. Stan and Mabel high five, and Dipper groans as he attempts to scrub the snow away.

“Okay,” Dipper whispers, crouching to the ground once more. “I think they’re restocking.” He bunches some snow into his arms. “You ready?”

Ford nods. “I’m ready”

The two of them pop out from behind their wall, and start pelting as many snowballs at Stan and Mabel as they can manage. Some of them are tiny, some of them are huge, and Dipper doesn’t notice that one of them had a frozen acorn in it until it was too late, but they’re getting a good rhythm going. Dipper manages to knock Stan’s hat off his head, and Ford’s able to knock Mabel’s snowball out of her hand as she’s still trying to put it together.

“Yes!” Dipper cheers, and from across the yard Mabel crosses her arms across her chest.

“Booo,” she calls. “No fair! We never said anything in the rules about strategizing!”

“It’s a snowball fight, Mabel, there aren’t any rules!”

“Exactly!” she calls back. “Snowball fights are supposed to be about chaos!” She throws her arms in the air.  “Not calculating the best angle for wind trajectory, or whatever nerdy thing you and Grunkle Ford have been talking about!”

She chucks another snowball as hard as she can, and this one smacks against Dipper and Ford’s tiny excuse for a fort. It crumples to the ground with a pathetic splat, leaving them vulnerable from every angle.

“See?” She grins. “Just like that!”

“Hah! Nice shot, pumpkin!” Stan cheers, and he and Mabel high-five again. Even from where Dipper sits he can see their playful grins melt away into maniacal smirks, and just barely has enough time to see them shoveling snow into their hands before  Ford grabs his hand and begins sprinting to another part of the yard, doing anything he can to avoid being pelted with snow.

“New plan,” Ford whispers to Dipper as they run frantically around the yard as if it were a minefield. “Take down their fort. Once their defense is gone, they’ll be just as vulnerable as us, and it’ll give us a better chance at taking them down”

Dipper salutes him, trying and failing to keep the goofy grin on his face. “Understood”

With that, the two of them split off into different directions. Dipper doesn’t quite see where Ford disappears to, because as soon as he splits off from Ford he’s on his knees smushing together as many snowballs as he can in one go. Once he’s got enough, he stands to his feet and charges back towards the direction of Stan and Mabel’s fort.  He starts blindly lunging snowballs at them, not risking even a second to give them an opportunity to knock the snowballs out of his arms. Dipper knows that without Ford by his side he’s twice as vulnerable, but he also knows that once Stan and Mabel’s fort comes down they’ll all be on equal ground.

He misses every shot he takes at the fort, but finds malicious satisfaction in “accidentally” hitting Stan square in the face. He dives to the ground shortly after to avoid being hit by the retaliation attack, and his frantic recreation of more snowballs is frozen dead in its tracks at the sound of footprints crunching in the snow quickly behind him. Dipper curls in on himself, afraid of the possibility that Stan snuck away when he wasn’t looking to sneak up and attack him from behind.

The attack never comes, though, and when Dipper finds the bravery to sit up and glance behind him he sees Ford sprinting towards the three of them with a massive snowball in each hand. Stan and Mabel yelp in surprise, ducking beneath their fort for cover, but it’s no use, for when Ford hurls his snowballs at their fort it comes crumbling to the ground.

For a few moments, nobody says a word. Dipper, Stan, and Mabel sit in shock, exchanging glances. There’s nothing to break up the silence between them but the whistling wind and their heavy breathing.

Until Mabel stands to her feet, brushes herself off, and shouts “FREE FOR ALL!!”

She gathers a bunch of snow between her hands, throws it at Stan’s chest, and all chaos breaks loose from there. The rest of the family is on their feet in an instant, chasing each other around the yard in a blur of jackets and gloves and flying snowballs. Dipper gets knocked to the ground face-first by a snowball to the back of the neck, but he’s having too much fun to notice the cold feeling on his face. Ford manages to knock Stan’s glasses off of his face, and Stan retaliates by throwing a wad of snow at the only exposed part of Ford’s neck. The high-pitched squeak that escapes Ford at the sensation makes the kids laugh, and they form a temporary truce to team up against Stan to see if they can get similar results from him. It works, once they’re able to lunge a snowball at his exposed wrists, but comes at the cost of Stan turning and lunging snowballs at them in return.

Dipper’s laughing too hard from the chaos of it all to notice Ford approaching him until it’s too late. Instead of pelting him with snow, though, Ford picks him up by the waist. “I’ve got one more idea to take the others down, if you’re still willing to work with me” he whispers, and Dipper nods wordlessly. Ford places Dipper on his shoulders, gently bends to gather a snowball in his hands without letting Dipper slip off. He then offers it to Dipper, and even without saying a word Dipper can tell he’s got a smirk on his face.

Dipper glances between the snowball in Ford’s hand and Mabel and Stan, and finds a smirk spreading to his own face. He takes the snowball from Ford, and as soon as it’s out of his hand he starts charging towards the other two.

“Sweet moses!” Stan yelps, leaping out of the way of their path. He jumps to his feet, brushing the snow off of his coat, and looks to Mabel. She nods, and he picks her up and places her on his shoulder as well.

“Winner takes all?” Mabel smirks, leaning her elbows against Stan’s head.

“You know it,” Dipper grins, mimicking her gesture and leaning against Ford’s head. “If we win, you have to make us your special hot chocolate. If you win, I dunno, you just get the same old boring hot chocolate I always make because someone is too stubborn to share her recipe”

Mabel sticks her tongue out and blows a raspberry at him. At Stan’s call, the two pairs messily charge towards each other. Stan and Ford struggle to bend down to pick up mounds of snow without accidentally dropping the younger twin off of their shoulders, and Dipper and Mabel struggle to throw the snowballs handed to them by their Grunkles without almost falling backwards off of their shoulders. For the first few minutes Dipper wonders if this was a bad idea, but as soon as Stan and Ford figure out their balance and fall into a pattern with the respective twin on their shoulder, Dipper almost wishes that they’d been doing it this way from the very start.

From up here on Ford’s shoulders, Dipper feels like he can accomplish anything. He knows, logically, that Ford can’t be any more than two feet taller than him, and that he already has gone through the apocalypse and won, but there’s something about this height that just makes Dipper feel safe.

That is, of course, until Mabel pelts him in the forehead with a snowball and nearly knocks him to the ground.  Dipper grips onto the edge of Ford’s jacket just a bit tighter, and Ford nods silently to reach a hand up and gently squeeze Dipper’s hand in reassurance that he doesn’t intend to let go that easy.  The two pairs prove to be a near-equal match, and their battle lasts for nearly an hour until the moment that Stan misinterprets Dipper’s body language and ducks at the wrong time, and Dipper’s able to knock Mabel off of her grunkle’s shoulder with a soft thud.

“Yes!” Dipper pumps his fist in the air as Ford helps him to the ground, and goes to offer Mabel a hand to help her off the ground.

“Good game”

She tries to fake an angry pout at him, but it doesn’t stick. “Good game, you dork” she takes his hand to stand, and punches him in the shoulder as she stands. She walks to take Stan by the hand, and gestures towards the shack. “But you’ve made one fatal mistake, brother” she smirks over her shoulder as she and Stan make their way inside. “You never specified that I had to tell you the recipe if we lost, just that I had to make it for you”

Dipper splutters, and opens his mouth to respond, but she’s already gone before he can think of a good comeback. He pouts, crossing his arms over his chest. A gentle hand on his shoulder tears him from his thoughts, and when he looks up at the source he sees Ford smiling at him in amusement. He doesn’t say anything, just sort of shakes his head, and the two of them follow Stan and Mabel inside.

Once inside, Dipper runs up the stairs to kick off his wet clothes and to change into something dryer and warmer. While he waits for Mabel to finish preparing everyone’s cups of cocoa, he drags all of the blankets from their beds downstairs and drops them into a pile on the living room floor, climbing underneath it for warmth. To Dipper’s surprise, Ford kneels on the ground and joins him under the blanket pile, winding an arm around his nephew for warmth.

“It’s ready!” Mabel cheers, stepping carefully into the room with two nearly-overflowing mugs donned with whipped cream, chocolate shavings, chocolate sprinkles, and a straw-shaped cookie sticking out of the mound. Dipper takes his mug carefully, and Ford chuckles as he takes his own.

“You know, Mabel, the multiverse had thousands of different flavors of whipped cream. The Pines Family sweet tooth is a strong one, and I collected as many as I could without getting caught by their equivalent of customs”

“Really?” her eyes become stars, stopping in her tracks on her way back to the kitchen. “Did you sneak any back home?”

Ford nods. “I’ve got a lovely cherry cream locked away in the basement lab for safe keeping.” He takes a sip of the hot chocolate in his hands, leaving a white moustache of cream across his lips. “If you’d like, I’d love to experiment with making a cherry cordial hot chocolate sometime”

“Are you kidding?” She squeals. “I’d love to!”

If it weren’t for Stan’s soft grunt as he takes a seat on Dipper’s other side, he’d have been too distracted watching Mabel and Ford geek out over food experiments to notice his arrival. Dipper smiles at them one last time before shifting his gaze to Stan.

“Grunkle Stan?” He says, before taking a sip from his own cup.

Stan raises an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“I wish all of our winter breaks could be like this”

Stan smiles warmly, ruffling up Dipper’s hair. “Me too, kiddo. Me too”

[mothermortician]

PLEASE write a fic of stan finally returning to new jersey to tell filbrick off for being a horrible dad

What a punchable Face

 https://archiveofourown.org/works/27347017 

Hope it’s what you were thinking with the prompt <3 

What a Punchable Face 

Getting his hands on a time travel tape was extremely hard. Ford was hesitant, but after Stan’s plan, he couldn’t help but let him have this one. He’ll go back and just grab Stan from going into the shop.

Ford and Stan sailed all the way to Glass Shard Beach, New Jersey just for Stan to get this one moment. Sure, the device is able to travel to different locations, but they needed to go anyway...without the fear of messing with the timeline. It was nice seeing the city..the beach… the swing set… brought back many happy memories...and even more painful ones.

His parents were long dead, but seeing the old building that used to be “Pines Pawns” was enough to give him the ambition to go through with it.

“Are you sure about this, Stanley?” Ford asked as they stood in the alley behind their childhood home.

Stan looked down at the device in his hands before he looked back up at his twin “come with me?”

“Are you certain? I thought this was something you wanted to do alone?” Ford asked. His brow was raised with confusion, but his eyes held understanding.

“C’mon”

Ford let out a sigh of defeat, though it wasn’t really a fight “alright”

They set the date on the device, the week after Stanley was kicked from the house.

“Well..here we go…” Stan said, before releasing the tape.

~~

The crisp spring air blew against their faces as they stood in the alley. It didn’t look much different from when they traveled to, but it felt different.

Walking out onto the sidewalk, they could see how different, yet familiar, their surroundings were. They were back in 1963...what a year.

They walked past the window of Pines Pawns at least three times before Stanley had the courage to walk in and face his father.

Stanley thought the fact that he was a professional con-man would help him in this, but even after all these years, it was difficult seeing him. He and Ford tried to act casual as they checked out the fake fancy watches.

“Anything I can interest you with, gentlemen?” he asked from behind the counter.

Both twins quietly chucked to themselves before Stan mumbled “GeNtlEmeN” sarcastically with a snicker. He tried to regain his composure to “Uh yeah, y’think I could check out this watch?” Stan asked, pointing to a watch under the glass. It was the only one he remembered from when he was growing up, he thought about taking it, but after getting kicked out, he never had the chance. He remembered his pa looking pretty smug after getting it from the customer. It was a pretty good watch, and he got it from them for five dollars. What a steal.

Now he’s selling it for fifty dollars. Ridiculous.

Their father silently hands it to him, letting him inspect it. What reason would he have to suspect that this elderly man would be the last person he’d want to have in his shop. Worse than those teenage kids. It was his own son. The son that in his present self, he kicked out a week ago.

“I’ll buy it for six dollars, howz that sound?”

A gasp of disbelief escapes their father before his face turns into a scowl. Stanley might have been intimidated by that look alone, but he was glad he asked Ford to come. “Is this some kind of joke?”

The corners of Stan’s lips pulled down as his brows rose, he turned to Ford “joke? IS it some kind of joke?” he asked, portraying confusion, but he turned back to his father “no, I don’t think I’m joking at all, given that you paid five dollars for this, six dollars is a deal, you get a buck”

“Who do you think you’re talking to?” he asked, his voice fuming. His eyes were covered, but both Stan and Ford knew he was mad. All the years of never seeing his face, they knew exactly what expression he was making. Despite all that, they didn’t back down.

Stanford Filbrick Pines, has gone to the nightmare dimension and back, dealt with literal demons, so his father? Is hardly even a challenge. As a child, he was intimidated, and easily subdued by him. Easily made him feel less than… Well, now he knows his father was just a controlling and abusive jerk.

Stanley Romanoff Pines, his father sure ruined his childhood… belittled and abused him. Kicked him to the street. Yet, he’s dealt with mob bosses, police, government authorities, AND he defeated Bill Cipher.

“I think I’m talking to a piece of shit man who doesn’t know how to be a father” Stanley said, leaning forward into the face of his old man. ‘Younger man’ in comparison.

While Stanley was facing down his father, Ford noticed a small creak on the stairs and was met with brown eyes of his younger self. He waved a hand, then moved one index finger over his lips. The younger Stanford’s brows rose as he saw the six fingers on the man’s hand. He felt like he was in some weird episode of the Twilight Zone or some science fiction movie… seeing the man in front of him. Six fingers on his hand, and the man beside him looking identical to him. He felt like it was safe to assume that time travel existed…. And that he and Stanley makeup.

Stanley’s been gone a week...and it killed him.

“You come into my establishment, and insult me? Get out!” Filbrick yelled.

“Yeah...we’ll leave…” he said, looking at Ford and turning around “just one last thing…” he added, before quickly turning around, his fist at full speed toward his father’s face. The impact broke his glasses, the broken glass cutting a line into his cheek, causing a small line of blood to form. Small ‘dew like’ droplets of blood began to form, dripping down his cheek.

“Stanford! Call the police!” Filbrick yelled out out, his voice rough with rage.

Young Ford looked panicked, his eyes darting between the men in the pawnshop. On one hand, he should listen to his father...on the other hand, he couldn’t help the small smile that tugged on his lips. He knew his father deserved it, and if he and Ford came all the way from the future to do this, he must really deserve it. How could he argue with the future?

Once Mr. Pines looked back to the men, they were already halfway out the door, flipping him off. Stanley with his middle finger, and Ford with his two middle fingers.

“Fuck you, old man!” Stanley yelled, before they both ran out the building.

Ford really thought this was something only Stanley needed. That he would have been fine if it was just Stanley going to yell at their dad...but he was very happy to do this with Stan. He was also happy to see the look on their father’s face. He'll have to draw it out in his journal later to look back to with his twin on the Stan o' War II.

The two of them ran back to the alleyway, before pulling back the tape measure and zipping back to their time.

Stanley was laughing, almost choking from his own laughter “Did you see his face, Sixer? Oh MAN! Wish I could have recorded that”

“That was quite a reaction,” Ford said, laughing alongside his brother.

"Thanks for coming along" Stan said, slapping a hand on Ford's shoulder.

"of course, couldn't just let you do it all alone" though that was his original plan, thinking back on it, he wouldn't have changed a thing "Together we're the kings of New Jersey, aren't we?"

"Hell yeah"

[a-solitary-marshmallow]

Please Don’t See Me - Chapter 1

Ugh. Stan’s whole body felt like lead. The thin layer of straw beneath him was tickling his nose and poking in places he really didn’t like being poked, but he didn’t care enough to move. At least he had space to lay down. He’d spent enough nights crammed into his car, unable to stretch out or move his cramped legs, to appreciate having some actual space. Even if that space was covered in annoying straw.

He let out a heavy sigh and the room suddenly got quieter – he hadn’t noticed the soft, steady scraping of a pen on paper until it paused, and now his ears pricked up to search for it again. (Ears? He hadn’t slept while Shifted in ages). The scraping continued a moment later.

For a moment Stan was transported back to his teenaged years – flopping in his bed, exhausted after a tough boxing match, and being lulled to sleep by the sound of Ford quietly writing into all hours of the night. Except back then Stan wasn’t in the form of an oversized canine, and he’d been well-fed, and it was Ford there instead of some stranger, and Stan could actually remember where he was and how he’d gotten there-

Wait.

Stan cracked open one, a few motes of dust filling his vision before he blinked and they cleared, allowing him to see the stupid hay right next to his face. Hay – why was there hay? Where was he?

He forced his groggy head up to take stock of his surroundings – iron bars every which way. A cage. He was in a cage. It was in the middle of what looked like a dusty shed, smaller cages and other tools hanging on the walls and oh god he hoped they weren’t torture devices. Who would want to torture a wolf anyway? Evening, or maybe early-morning, light streamed through a high window and lit up a small square of floor, where a person was sitting cross-legged a safe distance from the cage.

Person – person, cage, danger. A low growl rumbled through Stan’s chest and he bared his teeth in a warning. The guy had better not get any closer, or he would be down an arm. And maybe a throat.

The person froze at his growl and looked up from writing in some book, glasses flashing in the weak sunlight and making Stan flinch – before he recognised the face behind them and his growl petered off into stunned silence.

Holy shit. Ford?

It couldn’t be Ford, but – but it had to be, with that undisguised curiosity written across his face, unruly brown curls, and – yep, that cinched it – the six-fingered hand holding his pen.

Ford was there, and Ford was staring at him, and Stan was still in wolf form in this stupid cage. He couldn’t help but stare back. It had been years since he’d seen his brother. Ford was less twiggy than he used to be. His shoulders had filled out and his jaw was squarer than it used to be.

Well, Stan reasoned, it had been… what, seven years? They had both changed. Some more than others.

“Morning.” Ford’s voice broke them out of their unintentional staring match. He recommenced writing in his journal – writing or sketching, Stan had no idea. “I suppose you’re a bit sore, which is understandable after the night you had. You’re lucky I convinced Dan not to beat you to death.”

Who the heck was Dan? And why was Ford talking to a wolf? Fuckin’ nerd. Stan opened his mouth to ask some of the questions burning on his tongue, but they came out as a doggish huff. Oh right, the whole wolf situation.

Stan carefully rose, testing out his bruised and battered body. He ached all over but he didn’t think anything was broken. Thanks, luck, for not totally screwing him over. His left shoulder, in particular, was burning – he must have strained something. Now Stan could vaguely remember the events of yesterday; mostly, his car breaking down in the middle of nowhere. He’d been starving, he had to eat something, had to hunt, so he’d Shifted and gone in search of prey. He’d hurt his shoulder making a sharp turn while trying to catch a deer.

He kept chasing it until he’d gotten kicked, ended up somewhere that wasn’t the forest – a barn house maybe, but all he could focus on was the tiny animal in the front yard. That tiny, stupid dog. It had been yapping at him furiously like it could take him in a fight and he’d been so hungry.

And then there was yelling, and steel-capped boots and a heavy stick (holy shit was that a shovel) and he was too weak to put up much of a fight.

Stan’s lip curled in disgust. He hadn’t even managed to take a bite out of that stupid Chihuahua. There was the good old Stanley Pines luck rearing its head again. Well, he wasn’t dead yet. He had that going for him.

Ford was glancing up at him occasionally with calculating eyes. Stan sighed and settled back onto the floor. He didn’t have the energy to force a Shift right now, and there was no use scaring the nerd. Ford blinked at him before mumbling to himself, pen never stilling.

“Hmm. I thought you would have been more… concerned, to be in captivity. Perhaps you’ve had contact with humans before. Of course, it’s illegal to keep wolves as pets, but this is Gravity Falls.”

Gravity what-now?

“And you’re certainly not an ordinary wolf.” Ford continued thoughtfully. “Far too large, and your proportions are off. I wonder if you’ve been affected by the natural weirdness of Gravity Falls? The size-changing crystals may have played a role in… hmm…” He went back to scribbling in his book.

Great. Now Stan was just another science experiment. The sooner he could Shift and tell Ford who he was, the sooner…

What? The sooner Ford could kick him out? Stan had ruined his entire future, there was no way Ford would be happy to see him.

In a twisted way, Stan might be safer as an object of study rather than a potential enemy. Besides, he didn’t think he could face Ford’s ire. And if there was a chance Ford would find out who he was and keep him trapped anyway… a specimen to study… no, he wouldn’t take that risk.

Stan would just have to escape when the chance presented itself. Until then, he could play the part of the wolf.

A nice wolf, obviously – no fucking way was he gonna attack his own brother. No matter how much of a dipshit the guy was being.

Mind made up, Stan went back to napping. Or pretending to nap, because he couldn’t exactly relax with Ford’s eyes constantly on him. He must have drifted off at some point though because he awoke with a start at a very close scrape. Immediately Stan’s fur stood on end.

Ford had slid something into the cage. Stan was resolved not to take any handouts until the scent of raw meat hit his nose and he forgot that he was supposed to be a human at heart.

He snapped up the slab of meat in slavering jaws, shivering when the savoury-salty-metallic-food taste of blood burst across his tongue. He hadn’t eaten in so long.

All too soon the food was gone. Stan licked his chops and couldn’t hold back a pitiful whine.

“Still hungry?” Ford called from across the shed, where he was digging in a fridge Stan had missed before. “No wonder; I can see your ribs from here. You’ll have to wait for me to get more though.”

Ugh, Ford was taking so long. Stan nudged the food bowl with his nose, pushing it out of the cage with the hope that getting the dish back would speed things up. Ford sent him a weird look but Stan didn’t care as long as he got more food.

 The creature was certainly not an ordinary wolf.

It didn’t take an expert eye to see, either. Its – his? ­– shaggy fur was matted and clumped, a far cry from the sleek coats Ford had seen in the wolves native to Oregon. Its claws were a little too long, its fangs a little too jagged, its form too barrel-chested and shoulders too hunched and hulking – and the creature itself was much larger than any wolf Ford had seen. When standing, its back might reach as high as his waist. Ford was sure that the only reason Dan had managed to subdue it was the pitiful state it was currently in. At peak health it would surely be a formidable beast.

And there was something intelligent in the gleam of those amber-yellow eyes. Something… considering.

However, the creature was was much more well-behaved than the usual specimens Ford managed to obtain. It lay quietly in its cage, occasionally getting up to stretch before lying back down. After the first incident it made no attempt to growl at, attack or otherwise threaten him. It had even returned the food dish every time he fed it.

Ford couldn’t make any conclusions until he had more evidence, but the data he currently had strongly suggested that the creature had once been domesticated. An escaped pet, perhaps? He decided to test his hypothesis.

Once Ford finished his sketch he stood by the cage, treats in his pocket (borrowed from Dan). The wolf cracked open one eye to watch him warily, as it had been doing when Ford moved.

Hmm, where to start… probably with the more common commands. If the wolf had been domesticated it would probably have been taught some basic commands at the least. Ford waited until both its eyes were on him before lifting a hand and saying clearly, “Sit.”

The wolf continued to look at him.

“Sit.” Ford tried again, with no luck. The wolf was paying attention to him but it made no attempt to follow his orders. He sighed. “Come on, work with me here.”

The wolf blinked slowly.

Ford reached into his pocket and pulled a treat out of his pocket, rolling it in his palm. The wolf’s gaze seemed to have a lot more weight behind it now. The creature seemed to be considering.

“Sit.” Ford said again and, with, a huff, the wolf picked itself up off the floor and sat on its haunches.

Ford gaped.

“You actually know the command. Oh gosh, you must be domesticated! I wonder how many of your kind there are. A whole new species of wolf? Wolf-mutt? What other commands do you know? Do you lay down too? Lay down!”

The wolf shot him an eerily intelligent look – a look that clearly said ‘you want me to cooperate, you’d better pay up’. Ford sighed and tossed the treat into the cage, where the wolf attempted to catch it, only to have it bounce off its snout and roll out of the cage again.

Ford picked it up and tried again. This time the wolf snapped it out of the air with an audible clack of teeth. Sated, the creature settled back onto its belly.

“Is… is that you obeying the previous command? Or just lying down?”

It put its head down and closed his eyes, so Ford assumed it was the latter. He sat back and picked up his journal, hands buzzing with excitement. So his initial hypothesis had been correct; the creature had belonged to someone. It evidently hadn’t been cared for for a long time though, given its current state. Was it a pet that escaped? But if it had run away from its owners, Ford doubted it would be listening to his commands – however reluctantly – as it was doing now.

A loyal pet, then, but one that had not been taken care of for a while. Had it belonged to one of Gravity Falls’ supernatural inhabitants? That would explain its… abnormalities.

A sudden thought hit Ford suddenly, and he squeezed his pen tight.

“I wonder… there are countless incidents of people adopting young pets, only to abandon them when they get bigger or… odder. Are you one of those?”

The animal’s ear twitched. Apart from that, it gave no sign that it was listening. Ford bit his lip.

“Maybe that’s why you have no home. You were good, and they still tossed you away because you weren’t normal.”

Now the wolf lifted its eyelids to gaze at him; a heavy, thoughtful stare. Ford sighed and chewed on the end of his pen.

“Well, wherever you come from, I can’t keep calling you ‘wolf’. You need a name. I don’t suppose you have any ideas?”

The wolf yawned and stretched.

“I thought not. Let’s see.” Ford hummed to himself. “Something’s wolf-like? Lupus? Lupin? No, that’s silly.” The wolf was watching him judgmentally and Ford frowned. “I don’t see you offering anything better. Well… you are quite the mystery – an enigma, if you will. But that’s a bit too obvious, isn’t it? Not a very good name.”

The wolf snorted. Ford ignored it.

“A… a mystery, a puzzle, a… rebus!” He jumped up excitedly. “A rebus! It’s a puzzle! And it sounds similar to Remus, a figure from Roman mythology who was said to have been nursed by a wolf. See, it has layers!” He pointed out gleefully to the wolf, who did not react, because it was a wolf.

Ford deflated.

“Maybe Fiddleford is right and I should start talking to other people.” But… “I don’t have time right now, I have research to do! I’ll talk to people next week.”

The newly christened Rebus closed his eyes again, apparently content to ignore Ford’s presence when there wasn’t food or shouting involved. That was all right. Ford had plenty of time to win his trust! With the recent roadblock he’d hit in his studies Ford had been planning to hike to the caves in the nearby mountains, to see if they held any clues or answers. But he supposed that could wait until he figured out this new mystery.

[kingofthecon]

@flynnfletchr​ Stanford was doing that thing where he tried to pace a hole into the floor of their hotel room and it had become aggravating thirty minutes ago. "Ford." The slightly older twin didn't seem to hear his younger brother and continued pacing in the same spot - arms behind his back as he mumbled about whether or not he still had time to come up with a different project for the science fair. The answer? No. Not unless he could come up with something in less than twelve hours. "Ford. Please. I don't wanna knock you unconscious but so help me I will if it means we both get some sleep. It'll be fine." Stanford Pines looked towards his twin who was laying flat on his stomach at the edge of the bed with his arms beneath his head. The scowl he wore read as 'try me', and caused Stanford to slow to a stop. He looked bent out of shape, almost miserable and Stanley Pines didn't understand why. They went to several science fairs and Ford was always a shoe-in for first or second place. Maybe that was the reason why? The teenagers from Danville were competing in this particular contest of dorks and though Ford appreciated the friendly competition and the challenge that came with trying to one up the boys each year, it was clear that Ford didn't like it when he lost to them. He wasn't exactly a sore loser, but he wasn't a gracious loser either. He would put on a front, accept whatever place he'd taken, and then go back to the drawing board to hopefully come up with something even better to showcase his intelligence all while grumbling under his breath and talking like an actual super villain. Who uses the words RUE THE DAY in a legitimate conversation? "For one, you literally don't have time to come up with something else for this thing unless you decide to make a Mentos and Cola volcano using a Styrofoam cup cause that's what I have on me, and I don't think that'll even win a first grade science fair project. Secondly, you're a genius in a room full of geniuses. If you're that desperate then I can probably steal or sabotage someone's project for you which--don't look at me like that, I just wanted to make sure you weren't too far gone which brings me to bulletin three. Everyone knows that you have a high IQ. The highest IQs. The tallest mountain in the world of IQs. You don't really have to prove yourself so just relax." "Stanley, you don't understand. Phineas Flynn and Ferb Fletcher have an extensive history with their creations. I'm just a kid from Jersey who came out of nowhere." "Sixer, everyone loves the underdog. Besides, you three practically share the limelight at these things. You guys are top brass. Nothin' wrong with a little friendly competition to keep the blood flowin'." "Stanley, you're supposed to be on my side!" "I am on your side. One hundred percent. Otherwise I would have shoved you into the hallway so I could get some semblance of sleep. Instead I'm trying to talk you out of coming up with a list of junk you could make in the next like, eleven hours. You created a functioning robot girl complete with artificial intelligence and everything. You've skipped like, a hundred of these fairs to perfect Stannabelle." "She's an android and that is not her name." "The point is that you'll probably have even Tony friggin' Stark or Bruce Wayne lookin' your way. I mean, that's part of the reason why you chose this particular science fair, right? Who knows. Maybe once you're outta West Coast Tech you'll get picked up by Stark Industries or Wayne Enterprises? Oh, what about Star Labs?" "That's why this has to be perfect!" With a whine, Stanley rolled over and allowed himself to fall out of the bed. He wasn't on the floor long; rising to his feet he made his way towards the closet where the robot girl was sitting in her charging station. If anyone looked at the bot they would believe it to be a human with Stan and Ford as her big brothers. Stanley crossed his arms and presented to Ford his own creation. "Earth to nerd. The kid's perfect." "She sounds like I installed a Speak & Spell as her voice modulator." "Okay, so you missed something when you programmed her. Just, I dunno, take apart the TV if ya gotta do somethin'. Just...you need to relax. It'll be fine." He pat the android on top of her head and closed the closet door before flopping back down on the bed. "Just...you know, do it quietly? Some of us wanna walk around the Expo and sneak into places they shouldn't." "You're going to get us kicked out." "Probably yeah, so make the most of it. I'm goin' ta bed. Try not to stay up too late. Night, nerd." "Night, pain in my side brother who occasionally makes sense when it's convenient for him." "Too long. Try again." With that Stanley pulled back the covers and spread out for sleep leaving Ford to figure out what to do. He'd brought extra parts and equipment in case something went wrong so...like Stanley had suggested, he began to work on fixing the voice modulator with parts around their hotel room. ____________________________

Morning arrived way too fast and was thus slept through meaning that Stanley woke around noon. His awakening was accompanied by a terrified scream as a face way too close to his for comfort came into focus as he opened his eyes. He rolled off the bed in his attempt to get away and orient himself with his surroundings. His fall came with a one man laugh track which caused Stanley to zero in on the culprit. "Are you alright, Uncle Stan?" a little girl with the too expressive for what should have been a robot's face asked him. Stanley, a little unnerved with the realistically human sounding voice looked passed her and towards his twin who was far too proud of himself. "Peachy," he answered as his twin tried to hide his laughter behind a six fingered hand. Stanley pulled himself up so that he was kneeling against the side of the bed. More awake and aware now he realized what this meant. He turned to Ford and he grinned at him while patting his "niece" on top of her head. "This is great! So ya managed to fix the voice issue. Good job, and nice to finally meet you, kiddo." "My designation is not "Kiddo". I am Alpha 001 - SP." Stanford had such a proud look on his face while Stanley just slow blinked at the two of them before he began moving around the room to change into his clothes for the day. "Okay, but I'm calling you Allie for short. "But my designation--" "--Is a mouthful. No one is gonna call ya that except for the uppity geeks who want to sound professional and use big words all the time. 'sides, when someone has a long name like that people usually give'em nicknames. For example, Stanford over there tends to go by Ford while I, Stanley, go by Stan or Lee." The little android was silent for a moment, most likely computing the information she'd received or something before she finally nodded her head in understanding. "Very well. I will accept this as a secondary form of address. "Excellent! You've really outdone yourself, Sixer. Allie's perfect! Though I hope you slept. Anyway, I'mma go walk around the place and get breakfast." A look to the clock had him groaning. "Or brunch, apparently. You two should get ready for later this afternoon. I'll meet you at your booth or whatever." Once completely dressed with his hair and teeth brushed, the younger twin made his way from the hotel room and sighed as he headed towards his destination. Though he was happy to be here to support his brother, he didn't really feel as though he belonged. There'd been a few times in the past where he'd gotten mistaken for his brother, but once they realized the mix-up and asked him questions pertaining to his brother's project Stanley had only succeeded in making a fool of himself. He wasn't smart. He was barely above average and in a turn of crazy events he ended up being made fun of. It reminded him of the bullies back home in Glass Shard Beach, specifically Crampelter and his cronies, but back then it was never this...bad? This humiliating? Though it didn't happen often, it did happen enough that he hated coming to these things. He'd never tell his brother though. Stanford had been teased all his life for his Polydactyly and for being the smartest person in any room. Stanley could bite the bullet of being the odd one out for a change, especially when it only happened once every year or every other year. Stanley hummed to himself as he entered the elevator which went from hotel to convention center. He rocked back and forth on the heels of his feet the balls of his toes as he mentally counted the floors as they lit up. Once the doors opened and he stepped out he found himself tripping over something. He blinked as he stumbled out of the elevator. A part of him wondered if he'd tripped over some nerds project garnering the reaction of, 'oh shit!' and 'at least that'll knock out one of Ford's competitors. When he actually looked at what he'd tripped over, however... "What the heck are you s'posed to be?" He crouched in front of the teal duck bill beaver tailed...thing, and poked at it to make sure that he hadn't hurt it. "You lost and tryin' to catch the elevator, little guy? Or are you a girl? whatevenareyou?" He moved to pick up the creature just to make sure with no regards for safety (the creature could absolutely bite him after all), but his love of animals outweighed his need to be careful.

[downwiththeficness]

In the Blood-Part 2

Pairing: Brasa/ Female OC

Words: ~2,000

Warnings: None

Part One

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

Part Seven

Part Eight  Part Nine  Part Ten Part Eleven Part Twelve

She’d been feeling odd all day, an itch under her skin that, no matter how many times she scratched, wouldn’t go away.  It feeling sat petulantly, reminding her that there was something undone. Needing a distraction, Lilah shifted as she glanced down at her phone.  Beside her, Chewie rolled his eyes.  

Lilah didn’t know what Chewie’s real name was, and she didn’t much care.  He was three hundred and fifty pounds of wrecking ball and he always came through. Reliability wasn’t always something she found in people with her line of work.  She appreciated it where she could get it.

“How’s Barb?” she asked, to pass the time, her thumb running along the edge of her phone.

Chewie smiled wide, “She’s good.  Joined this Zumba group on Thursday nights.  Gives me time with Joey.”

Lilah nodded, “He still playing baseball?”

“Nah,” Chewed replied, one hand lifting and falling with a heavy thud onto the steering wheel. “Tell you the truth, he’s not going to be a sporty kid.  He said last week he wanted to learn to play the piano.  Where the fuck am I going to get a piano that’ll fit in our apartment?”

“Could do one of those electric ones.”

He jabbed a finger at her, “That’s a good point.  Maybe for his birthday.”

Lilah glanced at her phone again, “When is that?”

“About two months out.  He’ll be ten.”

“Ah, double digits.”

Chewie scoffed, “He’ll be claiming he’s a man soon.”

She gave a soft sound of assent and turned her attention outside of the car. They were parked outside of a warehouse.  Lilah had stopped counting the number of times she’d sat outside of warehouses, waiting for some schmuck to show up.  This particular schmuck was half an hour late.  

Said schmuck pulled up in a bright, shiny sports car that had Lilah rubbing at her temples.  She looked at Chewie and then ambled out of the sensible Ford compact she’d rented for the occasion.  With a shrug, she pulled her hoodie closer, her hands falling naturally into the pockets.  Mr. Schmuck exited his too expensive car, pulling on his leather jacket to display a nice watch.  Lilah made a mental bet that it was a Rolex. These kinds of guys always wore a Rolex.

“I got a call that I’m supposed to meet somebody,” Schmuck said with a sniff.  “What the fuck am I doing here?”

Lilah stood a little ahead of Chewie.  Although she was a little above average in height, she knew what she looked like next to him.  Weak. Small. That was her intention and always was when she asked Chewie to come along with her on messenger duty.

“You owe a debt,” she announced.  “I’m here to make sure you pay up.”

Schmuck had taken a loan against the house in a casino-slash-strip club-slash-whore house.  She’d never been inside, but she’d heard things.  It was just over the border, situated in the sweet spot where regulation didn’t quite have jurisdiction.  It was the kind of place where people like her and Chewie made good money and people like the smirking schmuck in front of her got killed and dumped in a river.

“I don’t think I owe anything.  I think I squared up when I left.”

Lilah shook her head, “I can assure you, you did not.”

He eyes twinkled, “You gonna prove that, honey?”

Honey. Baby. Sweetheart. Doll. They all called her a nickname that they thought would be demeaning. She’d heard it all in one way or another.  A fixer didn’t get to the ripe old age of thirty five in this line of work without being insulted at every turn—especially a woman.  She fought the urge to laugh.

“Listen, I’ve been authorized to broker a deal for you.  I’m going to encourage you to take it.”

“Or what?”

God, did the script ever change?

“Or, you’ll end up with your legs broken.  For starters.”

Schmuck looked from her to Chewie and back.  He seemed to take a moment to contemplate his position. Then, as Lilah thought he might, he pulled a gun from the waistband of his jeans and pointed it at her. One handed, turned to the side like every gangster movie he’d probably binged as a child. She sighed.

One hand rubbing at her temple, the other lifted and made a sharp arc in the air.  From a rooftop somewhere, a sniper took aim.  Schmuck hadn’t yet noticed.  The little red dot flashed at her, she smiled.

“You got a little something...just there,” she urged, gesturing to Schmuck’s chest.

He looked down, flinching as his free hand pressed ineffectively at his chest.

“I came prepared,” she pronounced evenly.  “Now, I want you to drop your gun, then your car keys, followed by your watch, and that nice little ring on your pinky.”

Schmuck looked at her with wild eyes.

“Or, I can go ahead and shoot you and take those things, anyways.  Your choice.”

He paused and she could see him weighing his options.  He could fire at her, but he’d probably die as well.  She didn’t have to know anything about him to know he was a coward.  It took about ten seconds before the gun dropped and he followed her directives.

“Now, start walking.  Don’t come back.”

She hoped this was enough to keep him from coming back to the bar.  People who got in too deep didn’t get this kind of opportunity.  A couple thousand in loans would turn into hundreds of thousands and nothing solved that but a body in the dirt.  

Lilah watched him wander off for a moment before leaning over to Chewie, “You think he learned his lesson?”

He shrugged, “I doubt it. Looks like a trust fund baby to me.”

“Yeah,” Lilah agreed with a nod, “They never learn.”

And they didn’t.  No matter how many times someone like Chewie beat the shit out of them, they just kept coming back.  She didn’t understand why.  They could get tits and ass anywhere.  What was it about this place that made them make such shit-tastic decisions?  

Lilah leaned into the car, looking for anything of worth.  They’d have to drive it back to Chewie’s parts shop.  His cousin did most of the work, but Chewie kept people from looking to closely at the books.  He’d been laundering money since age twelve, when he’d first started brokering in stolen merchandise.   Lilah had him do her, admittedly fake, taxes every year.

“Hey, Chewie?” She called out, looking over the open door of the coupe.  

He turned and gave a little shrug that meant ‘what?’

“You know how to drive stick?”

Later, after pulling into the garage to trade in her rental, Lilah stabbed the elevator button and turned to survey the empty lot.  She hoisted her backpack higher on her shoulders while she waited.  The evening was hot and dry.  She wanted a shower and a drink, possibly at the same time.  It had taken little to no effort to get the day’s haul completed, but she was tired.  

It was easy money, guaranteed to her bank account.  Her handler had given her at least a dozen or so of these a month for several years.  Still, she didn’t really know who was financing her.  Her brain automatically cautioned her against this line of thought.  It didn’t matter where the money came from. What mattered was that she got paid.

Movement caught her peripheral and she turned her head.  Had the lights dimmed?  It felt like the area to her right was somehow...darker.  Without taking her eyes off the shadows, Lilah reached out and pressed the elevator button again. She squinted, trying to parse the objects in the shadows.

More movement.  This time closer. She flicked her gaze to the stairs, wondering if she needed to run. Perhaps Mr. Schmuck had gotten pissed and followed her.  Wouldn’t be the first time.  Warily, she unzipped the side pocket of her pack and palmed the small pistol she kept on her for just such an occasion.

It was as if a dark fog had cleared, her vision focused on a figure standing in profile maybe twenty feet away.  He was dressed head to toe in black.  A dark leather coat hung over the broadest set of shoulders she ever seen on a man of his build.  Her heart began to beat wildly in her chest, and she suddenly felt herself transport to a dream she’d deemed the result of too much late night snacking.

As if he could hear her panic, he turned.  He was wearing a pair of gold rimmed aviators despite the fact that the sun had already set.  She took a step back, nearly falling into the open carriage of the elevator.  The doors closed and she desperately pressed the button for her floor.  From outside, a roar built, shaking the metal beneath her palms.  

Lilah alternated between watching the floors light up above her and the doors, half thinking that she’d see fingers wiggle through the tiny opening and pull them apart.  The elevator moved without preamble, jerking upwards.  She stepped back and gripped the handrail, metal biting into the meat of her palm.

When she reached her floor, she ran.  Full sprint.  Pulling her keys from her pocket, she headed for her car.  Once inside, she sped it all the way back to the hotel. Every few miles, she looked behind her, as if he might be following her.  It took until the moment when she was slamming the extra sliding lock of her room into place for her shoulders to relax just a bit.  Still, she stared at the door, half thinking he’d slam through it.

It was quiet, only the sound of the air conditioning keeping her company.  She let out the breath she was holding and pressed her hand to her forehead in relief.  It wasn’t real.  She was seeing things.  Too much stress.

Sitting on the bed, Lilah ran her hands through her hair and tried to calm herself.  It was the same man, though.  She knew it without a shadow of a doubt.  Even though the last time she’d seen him,  he’d been covered in blood, she could recognize that proud posture, the sharp nose, anywhere.  

“Get it together, McNamara,” she gritted through clenched teeth.  “You’re tired.  You’re just tired.”

Sliding to her knees, she opened the tiny fridge and pulled out a bottle of bourbon, yanking out the stopper and drinking from it.  For a long time, she just stared at the blue patterned carpet, drinking periodically.  Then, when her heart finally slowed, she picked herself up and headed for the bathroom.  

Setting the bottle on the counter, Lilah pulled off her shoes and socks, leaving them on the floor and starting the water.  While she waited for the shower to heat up, she looked at herself in the mirror.  Her makeup was a little smeared from tears she hadn’t known she had cried, her cheeks dry with them.  Irritably, she wiped away the smudges, taking another swig.  

For a moment, she continued to look at herself, her stick straight hair falling limply to her shoulders.  A bad bleach job had made her cut it short, a look she didn’t know if she liked.  She was glad it wasn’t orange, anymore—now a box brown that was a little green in certain lights.

With a huff, she pushed that strands back and started to pull at her t-shirt.  

“Querida.”

Lilah screamed and flung her body towards the closed door, another little whimper bursting forth when she was bodily pressed against it.  

He was looking at her in disbelief again, gloved hands holding her hips.  Her face was reflected clearly in the lenses of his glasses.  She looked terrified.  She felt terrified.

“Who the fuck are you?”

Before she got an answer, the lights flickered and he was gone.

[katjacksonbooks]

Ummm, I started this romance last year at some point and then put it away, as I often do. But now that the world feels super bleak (super SUPER bleak? what’s the scale for everything sucks and I hate it all?) I’ve decided to add this story to my list of things I want to finish soon-ish. (I mean, it’s me tho, so what does soon even mean?)

Anyway, if you want to read a preview of Alien Escape (erotic ffm) and meet Drea, a girl with big dreams and a plan to get as far away from her toxic parents as she can, read on!

CW: allusions to domestic violence and emotional abuse

Also, if you’re wondering if I really have face inspiration for an alien couple, the answer is yes. I do! Y’all should watch Star Trek: Discovery!

                                                      Prologue                                    

 “Shut up!”

“You shut up! All you do is come in here and whine like a baby until you get your way.”

“When have I ever gotten my damn way in this fucking house? I work my fingers to the bone—”

“Where? When? Doing what?”

“Oh, fuck you! Someone’s gotta keep food on the table in this damn place—”

That’s about when I tune them out. My parents have the same fight every three to four days, like clockwork. It’s not really about anything, or not about anything specific; they just like to fight and really dislike each other. Mom hates living in Ohio, and she’ll never forgive dad for moving us out here. Dad hates living in Ohio too, but he refuses to admit that this was ever his idea. Money’s tight. There’s nothing to do. Neither of them can keep a job. Somehow, this is all my fault.

Different day, same bullshit, and why I don’t bother listening.

We all learn things from our parents, and mine taught me early and often that we all have lots of times in our lives when we can make decisions to not stay with people we barely know and can’t stand. My parents had more roads to escape than most.

My life as I know it might never have happened if their casual fling — without birth control, because dad didn’t believe in it — hadn’t turned into an unexpected, but obviously expected, pregnancy. That could have been a wakeup call, followed by a visit to a Planned Parenthood and an important life lesson learned, except mom was from a hardcore born-again family and didn’t believe in birth control or abortions. She believed in premarital sex, though, so I’m still trying to make sense of that faith system, but the damage was done. The damage being the mess those two made of my childhood because, even though they could have decided to co-parent or something, they apparently felt compelled to stay together. Why? I’ll never know, and I’m convinced they don’t know, either. My earliest self-realization wasn’t “This fucker took my nose!”, it was “My parents see me as a burden.” Can you imagine? Being barely old enough to sit up without wobbling and knowing, somehow, deep in your bones, that the two people who should love you unconditionally, don’t? It’s not a great life, just in case you need to see it in black and white. To my parents, I was just another mouth to feed, the thing that kept them bound to this person they hated more each day. Their entire relationship and my entire existence were just one bad decision after another, and the soundtrack to my entire life has just been this same argument.

They bickered all over New York in the almost-identical shoebox apartments they could just about afford, during our road trip West and ever since we settled in Akron. They don’t even like each other enough to shake up these knock-down, drag-out fights. Maybe a cheating accusation here, or a “Who ate the last piece of chicken?” there, but other than that, nothing.

The most interesting part of my life was that year just before they finally decided to move to Ohio. Dad had tried to feed me and mom some fairytale about how life would be different here — fewer people, better housing, more trees, less pollution and a stronger family unit. I never believed it, because in each of the yarns he spun, I was still with them — both of them — and there’s no happily ever after with them around; not for me, at least. But mom had been swayed, and next thing I knew, we were in a beat-up Ford truck, the entirety of our belongings packed precariously in the bed and heading West.  Surprise of all surprises, none of dad’s stories had been true.

Well, okay, let me be fair. There are technically fewer people in Akron than the Bronx, and the house we’ve been renting since we arrived is bigger than those small New York apartments, but besides that, my parents’ dysfunctional relationship and my shitty life are business as usual.

There were more trees when we got here, but I’m not giving dad credit for that since most of them were cut down about a year after we arrived to make room for the new pipeline running right through our backyard. That’s why the rent’s so cheap.

My parents fight about that, too.

The move wasn’t a Band-Aid to their relationship, and it certainly didn’t make my life better — not that anyone was worried about me — and as far as my parents are concerned, every problem in their life is my fault. They fight about it regularly and then circle right back around to being united against me, and that’s why as soon as mom banged the pot of spaghetti on the kitchen table, I scarfed down my portion and excused myself immediately.

Their problems aren’t my fault, I know that, but there’s no reasoning with them. It’s best to just disappear. I headed upstairs to my room with a mumbled “homework” and waited. Once I heard them start sniping at one another, I did what I always do and climbed up to the attic and out onto the roof. This is the only place where I feel safe, emotionally, if not physically. If I’m being honest, I really shouldn’t be up here. It’s slippery, and a bunch of the tiles are a good gust of wind away from falling off, but if my choices are inside my parents’ house and up here, the roof wins every time.

Out here, there’s enough space to escape my parents’ incessant fighting. The late spring air is a marked change from the stifling, probably not-quite-safe gas heat in our house. On a clear night, I can stand on the eastern edge of the roof and see all the way downtown, not that there’s much to see there. I mean, I can see the marquis of the Burger King where I work, but I’m not interested in that, so I usually look in the opposite direction. There’s not much to see there either, just a few farmhouses surrounded by large fields and the pipeline.  

But I’m not looking at any of that. I put my earbuds in my ears, turn my music up as loud as it goes and lay back on the roof to stare at the clear, dark blue sky. Sometimes, I haul my sketch book up here to draw, or pull my old astronomy textbook out and try to identify the constellations, but whatever I do, I say a prayer that my singular wish will come true. All I want is to get as far away from my parents as fast as I can.

My classmates are preparing for college, and lots of them want to enlist, but my only real goal post-graduation is to get away. I’ve worked out any number of escape routes up here. Instinctually, I know that I can’t just move to Columbus or Detroit. Those cities aren’t far enough away, and I’ve long been worried that my parents’ obvious co-dependency means that I need to put some serious miles between us if I want to have a chance at real freedom.

I toyed with the idea of leaving the country, but Burger King money doesn’t stretch nearly that far. Right now, I’m making just enough to give my parents one of my checks a month to help with household bills — and keep them off my back — and split the second between my cellphone bill and savings account. After three years, I have enough money saved to absolutely get the fuck out of Akron in exactly six months on my eighteenth birthday, and I plan to do exactly that, but I’m still working out the kinks in my escape route.

I’ve done the math, and I can either buy a decent used car or a plane ticket to California. Every time my dad comes home and tells mom that his paycheck was docked for calling in or mom hides yet another online delivery from dad, I’m tempted to go for the plane ticket, but I usually talk myself down from that impulse because I’m sensible, unlike my parents. Even though the thousands of miles away from here is attractive as fuck, I know that once I get off that plane, I’ll be broke as hell.

On the other hand, the rusty Honda Civic I have my eye on at the used car dealership downtown is sensible. It has less than 100,000 miles, good mileage, and if push came to shove, it could double as a temporary home. It wouldn’t be a six-hour plane ride to California, but I’ve got enough money that I could put some real distance between my parents and myself and have enough to really start the rest of my life.

But when I’m up on the roof, I also have another secret fantasy. It’s not real, but when my parents are really loud, and I worry that the yelling and crashing might turn to the sound of fists hitting skin and bone, I dream of space. Forget California or Tokyo, I wish I could go to the moon or beyond. There’s a tiny, terrified girl inside me that knows in her bones that the only way to really escape my parents is up above me. Sometimes, I lay back on the roof and imagine what it would be like to know that I was far enough away that I’d never have to hear my parents wake me up arguing again. It’ll never happen, but some nights, daydreams of flying up into the sky are the only things that make me feel safe enough to fall asleep. But just like with San Francisco, I bury that deep inside myself and calculate how many shifts I need to work to have the full price of the used Honda. The sky is my fantasy, just like Ohio had been my parents’, but that Honda Civic is the real path to freedom.

The sound of glass breaking hits my ears in the quiet between two songs, and I jump at the shock of it. I tap my cellphone screen to pause my music. I pull the earbud from my left ear and listen, trying to figure out which part of the argument they’re at now.

“Do you feel better?” dad yells at mom.

I roll my eyes, shove my earphone back into my ear and press play on the music again.

Mom likes to break dishes when she’s really frustrated but trying to hold it together; it’s why the few dishes we have don’t match. I suspect she’s gonna drag me to the Goodwill tomorrow to look for a replacement for whatever she’s broken, and I can’t have that. I pick up my phone and tap out a quick text message to my boss, Peter. In a plea that he’s very familiar with, I tell him that I’m available to cover any shifts tomorrow. Peter’s a good guy, and I know that he’ll do what he can to get me a shift, even if it’s just a few hours or closing. I’ll take it, and he knows I will. I’ll also immediately put whatever extra money I get directly into my savings account and readjust my timetable to purchasing the Honda and getting the fuck out of here.

The music builds to a crescendo and mercifully drowns out my parents’ screaming as I look back up at the sky.

On nights like tonight, the moon is so clear and big that I swear it’s close enough to touch. I stretch out my right arm above me, squint one eye closed, tilt my head to the left and pretend to capture the moon between my thumb and forefinger. I smile for the first time in what feels like hours, maybe even days.

And then I see it.

While I’m looking, a small speck in the sky moves across my vision, only visible because it passes the light of the full moon. At first, I think it’s a distant star, or maybe my eyes are playing tricks on me. I blink, and something in the sky moves again. Whatever’s up there, it’s too far away to see clearly, so I sit up, trying to make sense of it all. It’s moving too slow to be a shooting star and too fast to be…well, literally anything else. I pull my earphones from my ears, as if it will sharpen my vision. I stare up at the speck that’s now bigger, closer; close enough for me to realize that the one speck is actually a cluster of distant lights. I’m not looking at a star or a planet but a constellation that’s moving in formation towards me. Toward the Earth.

But that’s not possible. I know that. I aced astronomy.

“What the fuck?” I whisper to myself.

As if in answer to my whispered question, those bright not-stars seem to move faster and get bigger in the large pane of sky above my house as they get closer. The lights seem to fill the sky of this boring ass town with a pipeline running through it dangerously close to the local drinking water; this town my parents hate that I can’t wait to escape.

I shake my head and turn to the right. My eyes land on the pipeline cutting through the fields behind our house. I can barely remember a time when it wasn’t the first thing I saw when I woke up in the morning. I’ve read dozens of articles about what it is and how much time it’s probably shaving off of my life. I guess the environmentalists were right and assume that thing must finally be leaking. It has to be. Because how else do I explain what I think I’m seeing in the sky?

And when I tilt my head back to look up there, I gasp and jump to my feet.

In the handful of seconds when I’d been looking away, those not-stars seem to have come closer. Like real close. Now they’re so close that no one can mistake them for stars because no stars have ever been so damn clear in the sky or moved so fast. I watch as they get closer and closer, and then I shriek in shock as the constellation breaks apart.

If I’m hallucinating this, whatever the pipeline is leaking is grade-A lethal shit.

The lights disperse so fast that I actually miss it. One second, there’s a cluster of lights heading toward me, too many for me to count clearly. The next second, I blink. Then the next second, there are only five lights still above me, but I can see turquoise blue light streaks in the sky heading in thousands of different directions. And then in another second, those five lights begin to slowly move apart, still descending, closer to the Earth’s surface. They’re landing, I realize, and my mouth falls open.

“Fuck,” I breathe as my mouth curves into a smile so wide it hurts.

Now that there are fewer lights and they’re even closer than before, I can just about recognize what’s hovering in the sky above me. They’re ships, and not space shuttles like the ones I’ve seen in my social studies textbooks about the moon landing. These not-stars are huge, bigger than the biggest plane I’ve ever seen in the sky, maybe even bigger than the entire town, and they’re not US-made shuttles or like anything I’ve seen of Russian or Chinese ships. These big, hovering ships look like they’re covered in shimmering jewels, glittering as if reflecting their own sunlight. “Fuck,” I breathe again.  

“Drea, are you up there? Girl, get off the fucking roof, we can’t afford no emergency room visit. Do you hear me?”

I hear my dad yelling at me. I do. I just don’t give a shit, because there’s an alien spaceship in the sky almost directly above our house — an actual fucking spaceship — and this is infinitely more interesting than him reaming me out for being on the roof again. Besides, I hear the moment when he sees what I’m seeing and stops caring that I might stumble and fall off the roof. I hear the choked gasp that comes from his lips just before my mom bangs out of the front door, still yelling. I hear her words cut off when she sees the ship too, the final confirmation I need that I’m not having a pipeline hallucination, but still, I don’t care.  

Because I’m speechless. I know, deep down in my gut, that this ship is going to change everything about the world I’ve ever known, and I can’t help but feel elated. My body feels light, as if I weigh nothing more than my fantasies. I swear I could float up to one of those ships, and that���s exactly what I want to do. I want to bang on the door of a ship and beg them to let me in, because I can feel the surety along every inch of my skin that this ship is going to be my way out. This ship is going to get me as far away from Akron and my parents and that damn pipeline as possible.

My mother’s scream is a delayed response to seeing the impossible, and it rips into the quiet night. She keeps screaming and screaming, but dad and I are too mesmerized to stop her. Eventually, I hear our neighbors begin to file out of their houses, probably when they realize that mom’s screams are different from their regular weekday fights. I hear them gasp and cry out. Babies are crying, and other people’s screaming joins mom’s. There’s even the sound of the hurricane warning blaring out eventually, but none of those noises seem to touch me; not anymore. It’s like they’re far away because I’m already gone.

[nataliedanovelist]

GF - Shards of Glass 1/2

After over thirty years, Ma is getting paid a visit, all thanks to the persuasion of a sweater-making, pig-loving teenager. A loud HAPPY BIRTHDAY for Stanley and Stanford Pines, born June 15th 19?? (who cares?) Part 2 will be posted on June 30th to conclude the celebration of their existence. So stay tuned!

@thestanbros

~~~~~~~~~~

Mabel had never been on a plane before.

Well, okay, that wasn't entirely true; she had been on an airplane before, but she was so little back then and she didn't remember it now, so to her brain this was her first time on a plane, and she didn't like it much. She had to chew on gum the whole time to keep from getting a headache and the WiFi was too slow to function, so she daydreamed about the summer ahead as she watched the clouds roll by and imagined shapes.

Once, when she and Dipper were really little, maybe four or five, they had flown down to Ma Pines' house all the way in New Jersey for a holiday. Probably Thanksgiving since Mabel only had three memories of that trip. She remembered yummy sweet potatoes with marshmallows that she ate as much as she was allowed, she remembered the distinct smell of the flat, and she remembered…

"Attention passengers, we will be arriving in Glass Shard, New Jersey in five minutes. Please remain seated until instructed to exit the plane, and as always thanks for flying with us at…"

"Dipper, we're here!" Mabel cheered and checked her phone, her other hand busy petting a disturbed Waddles on her lap. By the time a message would load to her great uncles they would already be in front of them, so there was no point in sending a text to alert them of the arrival. "This is so exciting! A whole month sailing with my three favorite people in the world!"

"I'm so excited to see all the anomalies the guys were talking about." Dipper said, looking up from his special journal to smile at his twin. "Maybe we'll see a real adlet!"

"But first I wanna see where Grunkle Stan and Ford grew up!" Mabel piped in. "Maybe we'll see the cave where they found the Stan O' War!"

"Maybe," Dipper said, unsure how true that word was. "But don't you think they might not want to stay very long? I wouldn't be surprised if they want to set sail as soon as we get there."

"But what about their mom?" Mabel asked. "Don't they want to see her?"

Dipper looked down at the silver pinetree on his blue book. Their great-grandmother was a tough old bird (as Grandpa Shermie called her) and was still going in her early nineties. Grant it, she didn't do much besides give an occasional palm reading to keep herself busy, but she was definitely still around. Grandpa Shermie was good about staying in touch with her from what Dad said, and Dad called her every Sunday, but she was still relatively lonely due to the fact that her husband was gone (good riddance) and two of her sons hadn't spoken to her in thirty years. ("Stanford" had been very quiet during Stanley's funeral, had refused to attend Filbrick's, and when Grunkle Stan saw Dipper and Mabel being born he left just before Ma arrived at the hospital.) While a visit was way overdue, it might be too little too late.

"I'm sure they want to see her," Dipper finally said as he looked back up at Mabel. "But it might be too hard, now. And not just for them, you know? How would she take it? Would she even believe them?"

Mabel's attitude dropped a little bit more. She shrugged and scratched the spot Waddles can never reach. "I dunno… Dad took the news okay."

Dipper smiled. When their parents' had gotten Mabel's letter their mother didn't believe them, but their father took them seriously and only shrugged and said, "Yup, that sounds like my uncles, alright."

"I think it's a good idea to see Ma, but let's not pressure them, okay?" Dipper settled on.

"Don't worry, Bro-Bro." Mabel said confidently. "It'll all work out. Oo! Look, look, look! We're here! Look, Dipper, look!"

"Okay okay, I'm looking." Dipper chuckled as they both watched the ground come closer and closer, the plane landing safely on the runway and gliding peacefully.

~~~~~~~~~~

Ford had always been more collected and self-contained of the dynamic duo; this became apparent as he was able to stand perfectly calm in the airport with his hands on the pockets of his blue jacket while Stan tapped his foot impatiently and checked his phone every minute, even though he never received a notification or heard a ringtone. Ford smiled and came up with a joke to poke the bear with. "Well well, has Stanley Pines truly gone soft for two teenagers?"

"Shaddup." Stan growled but smiled back nonetheless.

"You know, a watched pot never boils. Just relax."

"I ain't worried or nothing, Poindexter," Stan defended. "Sorry that an uncle's excited to see his kids!"

"I'm happily anticipating their arrival, as well," Ford chuckled. "I'll admit it, Mabel's idea of sailing with us is a fantastic one. Why in the Multiverse she wanted to go so badly she felt compelled to beg for a month straight…"

"Believe it or not, the kids like us." Stan lightly punched his shoulder. "I'm sure all they want is to be stuck on a boat with two cool old men for a month with nothing but fish and an occasional monster for company."

"And a pig."

Stan snorted. "I try to forget that naked jerk."

"And we all know how great of a job you…" Ford cut himself off, turning red and fearing he had crossed a line, but Stan laughed loudly and slapped his knee.

"Okay okay, you got me there…"

"Stanley,"

"What?"

Just as Stan turned around, his eyes landed on the two most precious things in the world: a boy in a ushanka and navy blue vest with a green t-shirt and blue jeans, a journal in his hands and a large backpack on his shoulders, and a girl with shoulder-length brown hair kept back with a red headband, wearing a purple sweater with a big pink heart that held a golden fish and a golden six-fingered hand, a pig in her arms and a huge suitcase just busting at the seam with sweaters and arts n' crafts supplies.

Mabel grinned with teeth free of braces and tears in her eyes and let Waddles down so they could all run freely. Stan broke into a run for his pumpkin and ignored the squealing pig that arrived at him first by a split second, little hooves on his jeans and button eyes requesting cuddles. Stan scooped Mabel up into his arms and held her tight, her arms wrapped around his neck and her face in his shoulder. Dipper was at his legs in an instant and hugged him, not bothering to pretend it's a chokehold or a means to make the old guy trip and fall. Stan freed an arm to keep him close, and not even a second after Dipper joined the hug Ford was by his brother's side and Dipper adjusted to hug him, too.

Stan heard a small sniff and rubbed Mabel's back. "Sweetie, you're not crying, are you?"

Mabel lifted her head up from his shoulder to look at him, wiping away the tears on her cheeks and eyes. "N-No…" Her smile unwavering through her white lie.

Stan chuckled warmly and put her down next to her twin. "Alright, let us get a good look at you two."

"You've seen us at least once a week." Dipper reminded him. They video-chatted constantly and there wasn't a day they didn't exchange an email or a text message.

"This is different, now shaddap and let me work through my cataracts." Stan and Ford looked at the kids hungrily, who was looking back at them just the same, as if they couldn't absorb each other's appearances enough. Which was probably true. "You've both gotten taller."

"I'm taller than Mabel now!"

"By one milometer!"

"Now don't get short with your brother." Ford said with a smile, making every laugh, including Mabel, who shrugged with a "whatcha gonna do" atmosphere to it.

"And your teeth look amazing, pumpkin!" Stan commented; back in March she had gotten the braces removed and admitted to being unsure if her teeth looked good enough, but they dazzled beautifully when she grinned and apart from a painful reminder that she was growing up, Stan was pleased with the new change.

"And the pictures and video don't do your hair justice. You look beautiful." Ford got on one knee and ruffled her hair, making her giggle and playfully swat his hand away. "I must ask, was there a reason for the new hairstyle, or did you simply fancy trying something new?"

"Let's just say an arts n' crafts accident didn't leave me much choice." Mabel said with a wink.

"She set her hair on fire and we had to cut off the dead ends." Dipper spoiled.

"Dipper! I gotta keep some secrets! It makes me look cool and mysterious!"

"No more secret, sweetie." Stan laughed alongside her.

"And Dipper, my boy, you've certainly grown up a lot since we've last seen you." Ford noted as he stood back up.

"Yeah, who gave you permission to look more manly and junk?"

Dipper rolled his eyes at Grunkle Stan's comment, but Mabel chimed in first. "He's already grown five chest hairs! I bet he named them, too."

"I did not!"

"He won't let me see, though…"

"Last time you saw my chest hair you put it in your scrapbook!"

"That's cuz it was your first, Dip-Dip. The rest aren't as special."

The uncles laughed at the kids' playful bickering and Stan took Mabel's suitcase and they ventured out of the airport with Waddles in Mabel's arms.

With the airport being on the furthest side of town from the beach, Stan flagged down a cab and they piled in for the docks. The entire car-ride they filled each other in on their lives, the kids talking about school and the adults giving brief summaries of some of their adventures. Waddles moved from Mabel's lap to Stan's, and without a single comment and only funny looks from the others, Stan scratched the pig as he talked and listened.

At long last the cab pulled up to the docks and the kids ran out, tired of sitting after a six-hour flight and a twenty-minute car ride, while Ford paid for the ride. The younger set of twins raced to the boat they had only seen pictures of and marveled at the vessel before them. Already showing signs of harsh weather and tons of love, the Stan O' War II stood strong on the gentle sea salt waves, the white letter shining in the early-afternoon sun. With a cozy cabin with a downstairs bedroom and an upstairs everything room, a hardtop for astronomy and sunbathing, and a big enough cockpit for the small family, the Stan O' War II had been an excellent home for the old pair of twins and the younger pair of twins were excited to live here for the first half of summer.

"There she is, kids!" Stan said proudly, a hand on Dipper's shoulder. "This ole girl survived Fiji Monkeys, sirens, and five different krakens. It's completely and totally safe." And then a piece of the antenna for the TV fell off.

"Grunkle Stan, if we can survive in the Mystery Shack for an entire summer, I think we'll be fine here." Dipper said while Mabel ran up to the boat and climbed up with Ford behind her.

"What do you think, my dear?"

"It's BEAUTIFUL!" Mabel squealed and hoisted Waddles up into the boat with them, her eyes sparkling with stars as she took in every detail. "I can't wait to get splinters and name all the moldy spots!"

"Unfortunately, there aren't any moldy spots yet." Ford chuckled. "But there are some craters in the wood that haven't been named."

"Leave that to Mabel!"

When Stan and Dipper joined them, the old men took the kids downstairs to the bedroom to unload their things and get situated. What once used to only hold a set of bunk beds and a dresser now also hosted a set of hammocks hooked to the wall and the dresser, one on top of the other for the kids. Mabel squealed with delight and snuggled into the lower one (still a little afraid of heights) and Dipper said, "Whoa, cool! Thanks, guys."

"Well, can't have you two gremlins sleeping out on deck, can we?" Stan asked. He clapped his hands together and declared, "Alright! You two get settled while Ford and I get us out at sea…"

Mabel sat up on her knees, her hands on the edge of the hammock. "Wait, Grunkle Stan! Aren't you gonna give us the grand tour?"

Stan shrugged. "It's a small boat. Not much to tour, kid."

"I mean Glass Shard Beach." Mabel pressed. "You could show us that old candy store and your swing-set and the boardwalk you used to play in!"

Ford looked over at his brother; while he could stomach saying here a little longer, he wasn't sure how comfortable Stan was taking a trip down memory lane, but then again Stan was always preaching about how "the past's in the past" and "old memories shouldn't stop us from making newer, better ones," but that didn't excuse the fact that Stan had been quick to suggest leaving the docks as soon as they picked up the kids and get the supplies they needed when they first arrived.

But Stan smiled, crossed his arms over his chest, and smirked, "I don't see why not? You cool with it, Sixer?"

Ford smiled at his family. "I think it's a wonderful idea. The boardwalk should be open, maybe the Freak Show is still there."

"Freak Show?! Let's go!" Mabel hopped out of her hammock and the four left the boat for town.

Walking alongside the beach and letting Mabel ride on Stan's shoulders, the kids got a good glimpse of the town. They eventually decide to walk into it on the way to the boardwalk, the old men wondering how much Glass Shard had changed.

It was an odd combination of "nothing changes" and "everything changes". The buildings were still the same, not much torn down or rebuilt, but the interiors were mostly updated or something completely different. They passed the Juke Joint and Stan found he couldn't ignore the growl in his stomach. Nothing but the staff had changed (and the prices had gone up due to inflation), the wall art and food and music still the same, but they had a fun time in the diner as the adults told the kids why What's New Kittycat wasn't an option in the jukebox.

After the late lunch, they were just about to enter the boardwalk when they spotted the candy store that mostly sold saltwater taffy, but they also sold jelly jeans, toffee peanuts, peanut brittle, and any kind of candy anyone could want. Though the store had been given a clean update since Ford and Stan were children, the candy was better than they remembered and they all filled their pockets with bags of sweets. Then they strolled along the Boardwalk and while they didn't play many games, the Stan-twins had a lot of fun telling stories that came along with each and every booth.

At the end, in a giant tent with a devil at the front, stood the Freak Show. Of course, none of the adults from the old men's childhood were still around, except for one muscular guy with tons of tattoos who growled at Mabel like an animal but then broke into a smile as she complimented his look and asked where she could get a cool tattoo of a headless seagull.

"Well, tear off my limbs and call me the next human pickle!" The very old tattoo guy said, his hair white and his skin in wrinkles, but his muscles still somehow very toned and his tattoos still clear as ever. "Good ole Six Fingers! How've you two been? These squirts normies?"

Dipper pulled off his hat and pushed back his bangs. "Who you calling normie?"

The whole tent gasped and a woman with hair growing all over her face said tearfully, "One of us."

"Yup, these little weirdos are Dipper and Mabel, our brother's grandkids." Stan introduced proudly.

"Aw, well ain't that swell!" A puppet said for it's puppeteer.

"So wait, you knew our great-uncles when they were kids?" Dipper asked the oldest weirdo.

"Tell us some embarrassing stories about them!" Mabel bugged, her hands on the guy's knee.

The old tattooed guy laughed. "Embarrassing?! Ha! Your uncles were cool little weirdos who made this dock more bearable! Nearly caught a devil at ten-years-old to boot!..."

"You did WHAT?!" The kids gasped at their beaming uncles.

"... Stan over there knew more swears than anyone else his age and Ford knew more secrets than anyone ever. Those two were hands-down the best pair of twins this side of the Mississippi!"

Ford, who was rosy in his cheeks, had his hands in his pockets and commented, "The Sibling Brothers would have loved to disagree."

"What who now?" Mabel asked.

"The worst pair of uptight dorks you would ever meet," Stan growled. "Ascot and Dickie. Blond-haired rich kids who claimed that no one solved a case quicker than them, but who found the Jersey Devil first, ey?!"

"You found WHAT?!"

"I wonder whatever happened to them." Ford pondered as he held his cleft chin.

"Who cares?" Stan said and motioned the kids out of the tent. "Now let's get outta here so I can show you what happens when a pelican eats a firecracker!"

"Stanley, no!"

"Stanley, YES!"

When the sun was setting beautifully on the ocean, the grunkles bought everyone some ice cream and they sat at the edge of the boardwalk to eat. At one point Stan got ice cream on his shirt with a small "Boo!" and had to leave to clean it off, but then got sidetracked and tried to cheat at a booth. Ford went over to rangle his brother, leaving the kids alone.

"Isn't this place great?" Mabel asked with Waddles licking her strawberry ice cream. "They were so lucky to grow up on a beach! Piedmont is so boring."

Dipper smiled at his sister and opened his mouth to respond, but something else caught his attention. A pair of look-alike kids were snickering and laughing as Grunkle Stan and Ford fought off a mean seagull that was trying to peek at the ice cream on Stan's chest. It was a cruel snicker, one the old men couldn't hear, but the kids could, only being a few feet away from them.

"What a couple of fools." The girl with short blonde curls laughed with a slight English accent.

"And does that one have six fingers?" The boy sneered with peering eyes, his hair greased and parted down the middle. "Ugh."

"Hey, hey!" Dipper snapped and stood up, pointing at the rude pair of siblings. "Shut it." He said darkly.

The boy scoffed with a cheeky smile. "Or what? What does it matter to you?"

"Yeah, you leave Grunkle Stan and Ford alone!" Mabel demanded, standing by her brother's side.

"Wait," The girl looked back at the old men, still fighting off the bird, and she cackled a mean laugh. "Six fingers? Rags for clothes? Stan and Ford? Are you the Pines family?"

Dipper and Mabel glared at them. "Yeah? So what?"

"I haven't heard that name since Uncle Ascot and Uncle Dickie told us about how they conquered the Jersey Devil and tricked some monsters to make the boys run away crying." The boy marveled.

Dipper and Mabel glared daggers at the kids, ready to snap at them, but a pair of adults came up behind the mean kids and a voice said coldly, "Bernard, Silvia, play nicely."

Mabel snickered. "Bernard…"

Dipper looked at the men who were around Ford and Stan's age. Their blond hair was freckled with gray, one of the men had a twirly mustache and wore a red and brown sweater-vest combo while the other was clean-shaved and wore a blue polo with khakis. Their blue eyes were cold and mean, and Mabel and Dipper instantly didn't like them. Ascot and Dickie smiled maliciously; these kids looked nearly identical to those pains in their sides. "I see twins run in your family, as well, do they?"

"Excellent deduction, Dickie." His brother commented. "My my my, I didn't think this town could get any worse, but here we are. Once again terrorized by the discount Mystery Twins."

"Hey!" Mabel snapped. "We're awesome! Our grunkles are the best! They go on super cool adventures all the time!"

Meanwhile Stan kicked the seagull away, making it squawk and dive for his red beanie. While Stan grabbed his hat in time and tugged, Ford grabbed the bird and pulled furiously.

Ascot and Dickie rolled their eyes in unison. "We can see that."

Huffing and puffing, Ford and Stan walked up to their kids while Stan readjusted his beanie and smiled down at the best pair of Mystery Twins he knew. "Kids, if we hurry we might make it to…"

Ford's eyes widened and then narrowed darkly. "No. Way."

"What? What…" Stan looked up and growled like an angry bulldog, a hand on Dipper and Mabel's shoulder instinctively. "Oh, great. You two."

"And so the Pines twins come crawling back, eh?" Ascot snorted. "I do hope the mysterious findings out in the West have served you well, Stanford, as you preached it would." He and his family looked up and down at their faded jeans and gruff stature.

"Clearly not." Dickie and the let slip his downfall. "And here I thought your family couldn't sink any lower."

He screamed as a pig bit his ankle and Stan stole the moment of weakness for his advantage, punching the old jerk in the face and Dickie slapping him in return, the two getting into a fight. The moment Stan punched Dickie, Ascot nearly punched Stan in retaliation, but Ford jumped him and started rolling on the docks with him. Mabel shrugged and pulled on Silvia's hair and punched her on the cheek while Bernard and Dipper began slapping each other.

And that was how Stan and Ford ended up fleeing from the cops with a teenager in their arms. Stan had to pull Mabel off of the girl like an angry cat at the sound of the sirens and Ford carried Dipper merely because the old scientist was much faster than the boy.

Luckily no one was hurt, aside from some bruises on their limbs from fighting, but Silvia had grabbed Mabel's arm awkwardly at some point during the fight and her long nails scratched Mabel's skin, actually just deep enough to make a bead or two of blood. So Ford sat Mabel on the table, her sleeve rolled up, while he tried to disinfect her injury, but Mabel kept pulling away and whimpering at the painful medicine.

"Mabel, please, you're worse than Stanley was." Ford said to ease the situation.

Mabel smiled and gripped his hand a little tighter as the medicine stung her arm. Ford then quickly wrapped it up as he scolded. "And really Stanley, you couldn't have controlled your temper?"

"You're one to talk, you jumped Ascot!"

"He was about to attack you!"

"Whatever, you were both awesome!" Dipper cheered.

"Yeah! Did you see the black eyes Dickie had!" Mabel laughed. "He'll be avoiding cameras for weeks!"

"Who says it never ends well to see old friends?" Stan asked and opened the cabinet to get started on a late dinner.

Over baked beans and hotdogs, or Beanies and Weenies as the Pines called them, Stan and Ford shared their plan with Dipper and Mabel, the map laid out on the table and the trail through Canada's islands written in pencil. The kids were beyond excited. The plan was actually pretty straightforward; they were all going home to Gravity Falls together. After first exploring Boston (mostly so the nerds in the family could geek about American History), they were going up north past Prince Edward Island and the Gulf of St. Lawrence, crossing the Labrador Sea for the Baffin Bay, passing the Cornwallis, Bathrust, and Melville Islands, sailing over the Beaufort Sea, down through the Chukchi Sea, and dipping around Alaska and down south for America until they arrived at Florence so the Stan O' War II could rest for whatever remained of summer.

"This looks incredible!" Dipper said, eyeing the newspaper articles on monsters around Canada and the foggy photographs that accompanied it.

"I'm so excited!" Mabel cheered, shoving her cheeks full of Beanies and Weenies.

"Then we'll head out first thing tomorrow!" Stan declared.

"Actually, can we go see Ma first?"

It was like a record had screeched horribly. Stan's whole body tensed, his jaw was tighter, and he was gripping his spoon much tighter than necessary. Ford, however, looked like he was caving in himself, like an animal curling up in fear to hide, his back hunched over and his head a bit lower. Dipper glared at his sister. "Mabel," He hissed in his warning tone.

"What?" Mabel asked gently. "I miss her. It'd be good to see her again, don't you think?"

"Well yeah, but…"

"I didn't know you had met her." Ford mumbled with a soft smile.

Mabel grinned. "Yeah! We talked on the phone sometimes when Dad would call. And we went to see her once. She loves us! She's super cool! She's the one that told me I'd one day marry a really handsome guy."

"She only said that cuz you wouldn't quit begging her to read your palm." Dipper sneered with a smile. "You know all her fortunes were fake, right?"

"The love behind them wasn't." Mabel insisted. "Come on, can't see just go say hello? We're already here, we might as well. She'd be so surprised!"

"I don't think that's a good idea, my dear." Ford said quietly.

"Why not?" Mabel asked gently.

"Well… given everything that has happened… it would just be very difficult."

"So is defeating a triangle demon, but you guys did it together, didn't you?" Mabel said with a soothing smile. She covered one of Ford's polydactyl hands and squeezed it reassuringly. "I know it'll be hard, but I think we should go see her? Don't you want to say hello?"

"Of course I do." Ford said quickly. "She's my mother, but…" His eyes went to Stan, suddenly concerned about something. "Stanley, you've been very quiet."

Mabel looked at her hero to find him engulfed in shame. She wondered if he had looked like that after Ford was lost behind the portal. He held his head with one hand, his elbows on the table, and the strong grunkle she knew resembled a tired old man too much for her liking. Mabel's heart dropped when she came to the conclusion that she caused that pain. "Grunkle Stan…"

"Look, it's no secret I did a bad job of staying in touch with her even before the portal business." Stan started with. "I definitely went months without a payphone for her."

"You're not the only one to blame." Ford sighed. "I hardly called her when I was in college and nothing changed when I moved to Gravity Falls. Fiddleford was actually the one who encouraged me to call her one day the summer before… before everything happened. That was the last time I spoke to her."

"Yeah well, I kept that character trait in my portrayal of you, Sixer." Stan growled, his anger at himself. "You know her; she's too smart. One long look at me and she would've known who I was. You can't fool the best conwoman in New Jersey. So I just straight-up avoided her. I didn't even go to Pa's funeral and showed up early to see you two gremlins being born, all so I could avoid her. And I would've been too tempted to dance on someone's grave if I had gone to the funeral." He added.

"Stanley,"

"Kidding, that was a joke. The point is, just popping in after all these years seems too little too late in my book. So, no. sorry, but we're not going."

"Grunkle Stan," Mabel said as soft as a kitten and got down from the table to stand next to him. "I'm sure Ma would wanna see you."

"I don't think so, sweetie…"

"That's not true." Mabel said firmly. "She loves you both. All moms love their kids, no matter how many stupid mistakes they make, or how old and grunkly they get." She added, making Stan crack a smile that didn't last long. "It doesn't matter how mad our mom would be, she'd still wanna talk to us. She even forgave Dipper for breaking her favorite mug."

"Geez, it's been five years…"

"And you still haven't replaced it, Dip-Dip." Mabel said and focused her attention on both of the old guys. "If you two really don't think you can go see Ma, it's okay. We don't have to go. But I think you guys want to go, and you two need to go. She needs to know the truth, she needs to know you're okay, and even if she doesn't take it well, at least you can say you tried and you won't have to worry about it anymore."

Stan and Ford's eyes flickered to each other to use that awesome twin-telepathy they had or whatever. Or maybe they were just close enough to be able to read minds with a single facial expression to go off of. Either way, Stan gently ruffled Mabel's hair with a smile and said, "Alright, we'll go see Ma tomorrow after breakfast."

Mabel wanted to cheer and shout and punch the air victoriously, but she managed to catch herself in time and only allowed a quiet "yes!" before hugging Grunkle Stan and saying, "I'm so proud of you guys." She quickly hugged Ford before returning to her dinner, choosing to ignore the star-struck looks on the old men's faces.

~~~~~~~~~~

A few hours later and Mabel was sitting criss-cross in her hammock, wearing pajamas while knitting. The gentle clicking of her needles harmonized with the gentle rocking of the waves and her grunkle's humming from the tiny bathroom. Dipper was above her, reading a book quickly before bed, and when Stan emerged from the bathroom in his boxers and undershirt, taking his gray hair damp with a towel, and saw that his twin wasn't preparing for bed, he growled, "Sixer, do I have to drug you again?! Get down here!"

"I'm coming!" Ford called back.

Stan rolled his eyes. "Yeesh. You kids settled in okay?"

"Yeah," Dipper said casually.

"I love these hammocks!" Mabel said, rocking hers a little with joy. "Maybe we should replace the mattresses at the Shack with these!"

Stan chuckled as he threw his towel at the foot of the bunk bed and he noticed the beautiful deep violet yarn in his niece's lap. "Whatcha workin' on, Mabel? 'Nother sweater?"

"Yup!" Mabel said proudly to show a thick and cozy purple sweater that was a little more detailed than her usual creations. While this one lacked any pictures or designs, the sleeves had been woven with a special pattern down the arm and the wrists and neck were so thick and fluffy they resembled odd clouds you could sink into. "I wanna show Ma how much better I've gotten since she taught me."

Surprisingly, the mention of his mother made Stan smile, not frown. Ford came down the stairs just in time to hear Mabel say that, and they both smiled tiredly at their niece. "I didn't know she taught you how to knit."

"Oh yeah," Mabel said with a nod and resumed her work. "When Dipper and I were four or five we visited her for Thanksgiving with Mom and Dad and Grandma and Grandpa. I don't remember much about it, but I remember the delicious sweet potatoes with marshmallows, the flat's smell, and that Ma taught me how to knit. Mom and Dad and Grandma were busy in the kitchen and didn't want my help (I still have no idea why), and Grandpa Shermie had fallen asleep while watching the parade. Ma sat in this rocking chair, and at first I thought she was a witch and doing magic, making two shiny sticks click together to make something, but Ma laughed and explained what she was doing and asked if I wanted to do it, too. So she let me sit on her lap and follow her hands as we made a really pretty blanket until dinner was ready. Ma even let me take some yarn and a pair of needles home with me, and I haven't stopped knitting since."

Stan smiled, sitting on the bottom bunk. "That's really cool, sweetie."

Ford, who had slipped into the bathroom to change into his blue flannel pajamas, called from the other side of the door, "She will love a Mabel Pines original."

"Thanks. I hope so." Mabel inspected her work and gave a quick nod of approval before packing it away in her suitcase and curling up for bed.

One by one everyone settled down. Ford emerged with clean teeth and pajamas and climbed up to his bed, putting his glasses up on a shelf by his head. Dipper turned off the lamp on top of the dresser, leaving only Stan's nightstand-lamp on, and he set his book down and began to settle. Stan was just about to turn off his lamp, but Mabel sat up and gasped, "Wait! You guys! Tell us about the Jersey Devil!"

Dipper sat up excitedly and sided with his twin. "Yeah! When were you gonna tell us that one, anyways?"

Stan shrugged with a cheeky smile and Ford chuckled. "Oh come on, you don't wanna hear about the first pair of Mystery Twins." Stan teased, waving the idea away.

"Yeah we do!" Dipper argued with a grin. "Come on!"

"It can even be our bedtime story!" Mabel suggested, snuggling into her blankets and smiling at her uncle with those adorable eyes and cheeks no man was immune to.

"How old are you again?"

"Oh, just tell them, Stanley."

"Alright alright," Stan rubbed his hands together with a toothy grin and wiggled his fingers to begin the story. "The year was 1960-something in Glass Shard Beach, New Jersey. Summer had just started, but before we could figure out which urban legend to hunt down that day, Pa called for Stanford and was really mad about something…"

"Now, hold on, Stanley." Ford said, sitting up a little from lying on his front and listening to his brother's story. "Pa called for both of us! In fact, we called for 'Stan Pines' but we both knew that meant he wanted us both."

"What?!" Stan gasped, pretending to be offended. "Me, innocent and perfect, being angrily called? Never!"

Dipper and Mabel laughed, not sure if Stan had ever truly been innocent, and so from that point forward the elder twins told the story together, interrupting each other with corrected versions of the story and doubling the runtime, but the kids weren't complaining. Hearing about the old Freak Show, killing the Sibling Brothers, and basically acting how Dipper and Mabel would act on a search for the devil, was hands-down the best bedtime story in the history of bedtime stories, and by the time they had gotten to the part where Shanklin the Stab-Possum saved the day, Waddles was asleep on Stan's bed and the kids were shiny-eyed.

"And that's how Stanley and I ended up grounded for the summer." Ford concluded with, adding in a shrug. "To be honest, we didn't even mind. Solitary confinement is't so bad with the right prison mate. Pa was angry when Stan confessed, but I think some small part of him appreciated the honesty. I guess I'll never know."

"And that's when you two knew you'd be adventuring together for the rest of your lives and everyone lived happily ever after!" Mabel cheered.

Ford laughed at her adorable nature and commented, "I suppose we did."

"Alright, everyone get some shut eye." Stan gruffed as he laid down, gently pushing Waddles out of the way so he could rest his legs, but all that did was cause the pig to trot up to his hand and lay underneath it for sleep. "G'night."

Three voices returned the wish for pleasant dreams and Stan turned off the lamp. The room was soon filled with the gentle snores of the four Pines, escaping into a world entirely their own.

[fordanoia]

pffff okay so... this was going to be the next fic, but on the very last sentence I decided I didn’t like it so I’m just dumping it here.

Ficlet Scraps Fictober19 / Writetober: Day 8 Scraps (Again!! More Scraps!!)

Fandom: Gravity Falls || CW: - || wop wop stan is turned into a kid and ford’s trying to figure out what to do between him and the permanent threat of bill

______(~1500 words) ______

To be honest? Stan didn’t know who this even was. He looked too much like Pa though for him not to be related. Well if Pa didn’t wear suits and forgot to wash or shave. Stan’s best guess was that he was some older cousin or second cousin once removed twice joined, something like that. He didn’t remember seeing him before.

Except, he didn’t really remember much of anything around him right now. Not the messy kitchen, and he definitely should have remembered getting into clothes way bigger than him, or where he was at. He could see snow falling outside, which meant it definitely wasn’t Summer.

The guy took a deep breath, looking beyond tired which was all the more reason for Stan to not stick around him. “Stan? What’s the last thing you remember? Before you saw me.”

“I was making myself a sandwich, that’s all. I didn’t do nothin’.” Stan lied easily, well the last part might not have been, but he pretty sure it probably was. He tied the top of the pants into a knot so they’d stay up and rolled up the sleeves and pants legs before getting up.

“I didn’t- I wasn’t accusing you of anything. I’m just-” He stopped, grimacing like he was already fed up with Stan. 

There was something fishy about the way he avoided telling him where Ford was; like he knew, but didn’t want to tell him. If the guy had been a jerk he would have guessed it was because he locked Ford into a room or something like that, but it didn’t feel like that which gave him a bad feeling that Ford wasn’t okay and the guy just didn’t want to tell him outright. Or maybe Ford was somewhere else. Stan tried not to think about either of those options for too long though, all he had to worry about was finding Ford then everything would be alright.

Just as Stan was thinking about banging into every room in the house, the guy asked him another question.

“What year do you think it is?” He asked without looking at him, dead set on staring at the kitchen table behind him instead, one hand holding onto the side of his face like he was just barely keeping himself from an urge to cover his face entirely.

Stan stopped, thinking this was some precursor to some unjustified scolding, but the expression on his face wasn’t right. “Uhh...”

He seemed unwilling to look right at him, not even angry, but like there was something about Stan that made him not want to look at him. Instead of getting mad when Stan unanswered, he got visibly more tense and uncomfortable with Stan looking at him without saying.

“What year do you think it is?” Stan asked, turning the question back around on him.

“I know what year it is.”

“Great, so do I.” 

“Stanley, it’s 1982.” He said, getting it out quickly. “It’s not-” he briefly glanced at Stan’s face before glancing away again- “62 or- the early 60s.”

He’d time travelled into the future. He went from completely silent to bubbling with excitement within the span of a second. “Prove it.” Maybe he’d accidentally found an old relic on the beach that actually brought him to the future, or some mysterious artifact in the pawn shop. Or time ghosts-!

The guy let out a breath, looking around and finally standing up. “There’s- I don’t know, there’s-” he pushed his glasses up with a hand to rub at his eyes. “You can see the forest out that window, we’re not in New Jersey. I don’t have time to look for a calendar-”

“Wait! Where’s my brother?” He forcefully asked again, harshly cutting him off.

Stan caught the pained expression that crossed the guy’s face, and how he tensed up like he’d just been given a particularly hurtful insult. “He’s- fine, but you-” The guy said evasively as he quickly went to fold his arms behind his back in a gesture that Stan immediately recognized.

Stan tuned out whatever he was saying and grabbed onto one of his arms to stop it and see his hand. He let go again once he was able to count the six fingers. “Ha!” He grinned back up at him. “I knew it was you, Ford!”

Instead of returning his excitement though, Ford just looked uncomfortable. “There’s more than one person with polydactylism.” 

“Yeah, but what are the chances of more than one being as big of a nerd as you?”

Ford scoffed, with a hint of a smile. 

“Hey, so what’s going on anyways?” Stan asked. “You look like...,” he glanced him over, “you look like what people feel when they say they need a vacation.”

He shook his head, still avoiding looking at him. “I’m- I’m- what’s important right now is that this is dangerous,” he said pointing at the ground between them. “You...” he seemed to flounder a bit. “I do not know how to fix your current situation.” He said each word just a bit too carefully to sound normal.

“I only just got here, I don’t wanna go back right away anyways!” He objected. “Besides what’s so dangerous about this?”

“Being in this house is dangerous, in this city. Stanley, you have no idea what’s going on!”

“I asked you what was going on! Look, Sixer, just tell me-”

“Don’t!” Ford interrupted him with a venom that came out of nowhere, and finally looking at him again.

Stan glared up at him. All he’d been doing was just asking to know what was going on. He’d expect Pa to yell at him for stupid questions, but Ford shouldn’t have... 

“I’m- I’m sorry.” Ford said, once again glancing away again though now guility at least. “I shouldn’t have yelled.”

“Well, you did anyway.” Stan grumbled, crossing his arms and not looking at him. 

“I know, I’m sorry.” He said.

Being suddenly in the future with an older version of his brother should have been fun. “... Why do you keep avoiding looking at me?” He finally asked, pushing back the tears pricking at the corner of his eyes.

There was a beat of silence... then another. Finally, he saw Ford getting down onto a knee and Stan looked over at him where Ford had put himself back to be at least close to his same eye level. 

This close, Stan could see the purple tint of the veins under his eyes. “Stan.” He said, looking straight at him. “It- It is terrifying that you’re here like this.” 

“What? Why?”

Ford paused. “Because... the longer you’re here the more likely something bad is going to happen to you. As an adult, you would be able to protect yourself, if you were on guard. Sometimes even then- even then you shouldn’t be here.” He cleared his throat, continuing. “As a child, without your usual strength, if you encounter...” He started hesitating.

“What? What is it?” Stan asked earnestly. “Hey, if you don’t tell me what it is then I’m not gonna know it when I see it. Is it like a monster?”

“... yes. Yes, it’s like a monster.” Ford looked down. “You were- I was going to ask you to take some of my research away, but then-” He looked back up, and gestured at him.

“Wait a second.” Stan said. “Okay, first off that doesn’t make any sense. Second off though, where am I?”

Ford blinked. “Oregon. We’re in Oregon.”

“No, no I mean the older me that’s here.”

“That is you. You are you. Wait-” Ford paused, confused. “I mean, there is no ‘older you’ because the older you turned into you right now.”

“That clears up nothing.”

“I am very tired, give me a moment.” Ford covered his eyes, then blinked hard. “Alright. Some magic sigil reacted with you and turned you into a child.” He finally said, gesturing at Stan at the end.

Stan glanced over at the boots that had been too big for him. “Oh.”

“Precisely.”

“Okay uh, how do I turn back then?” Stan asked, looking back at him.

“I don’t know.”

“Fuck.”

Ford halfheartedly laughed, pushing on the floor to stand back up, and stumbled just slightly, grabbing onto the counter top for balance. 

Stan watched him for a second. “Are you okay...?” 

“I’m fine, I’m just tired.” Ford said. “Listen, Stanley, I need to go check on some machinery downstairs. Can you stay?”

“Why can’t I just come down with you?” Stan asked.

“Because- because the magic sigil tis downstairs and I don’t know yet what would happen if you got near it again.” He said, lying badly.

“Uh-huh.”

Ford let out a breath, his shoulders relaxing. “I won’t be long,” he said. “Just stay here, and whatever you do don’t go outside and if you hear anything or anyone outside then yell for me right away.” He told him, beginning to walk off, and abruptly stopping to turn back towards him again. “And- Just please, promise me if you even think you hear something you’ll get me.”

“Jeez, relax, I promise.” He waved him on.

Ford hesitated, but left quickly moving down the hallway.

He didn’t know how long he’d take, but hell this gave him time to look around to figure out what the monster was.

[redthreadoffate]

daddy insecurities [arthur, ariadne, eames]

a repost, originally posted in my former writing blog

ship: arthur x ariadne, slight eames x valeria

warnings: swearing; edited thrice in a span of…a few minutes so mistakes may be present

notes: this is 1 of my 3 inception babies; i was still using a different voice then but nothing else has changed

summary: arthur is jealous. he’s very jealous. eames may not have gotten ariadne, but he sure is getting his children.

Things have been going great for Arthur and Ariadne. In their opinion, they weren’t taking their relationship too fast or too slow. After a year and a half of being engaged they got married. A year later they had Casey Luca Brandon, followed by Spencer Phyllira Brandon after another four years. They moved into a modern Victorian home not too far from the city once they started family planning, but keeping the apartment that they shared for the future—and desperate times.

When Ariadne was pregnant with Casey, she had to stop dream sharing. When Arthur first held Casey in his arms, he knew he wanted to be with his family every step of the way. So they agreed to stop dream sharing until the kids were old enough. As much as they wanted to quit permanently, they missed it too much. For now, they’re your regular but above average-looking family living in Paris.

So on this beautiful summer day, the whole family decided to go out of the house and bask in the ambiance of nature. They took a stroll around the city, had lunch near the Eiffel Tower and went shopping for some new clothes before settling down in a park. Arthur and Ariadne found a great spot under a tree and they laid on the grass as Spencer squealed while running—or waddling—to the playground with Casey holding her left hand and their dog, Coulson, on her other side.

“I don’t like the way he’s looking at her,” Arthur tells Ariadne. His jaw is clenched and his fingers are intertwined with his wife’s. “And I think he really wants to play with her.”

“They’re children, Arthur.” Ariadne rolls her eyes and looks at the man beside him. “Stop staring at him at least.” She turns back to the playground to watch her children building a sand castle. “Casey and Coulson are with her. They’ll be her knights in shining armor.”

And just as she says that he jerks forward a little. “Did you see that?”

Ariadne raises an eyebrow. “See what?’

"She looked at him.” His eyes dart to the boy on the other side of the playground. “Spencer saw that boy.”

“Arthur…”

“How’d she even know that he exists? He’s been behind her all this time!”

“Maybe she just happened to look that way. She’s two-years-old, Arthur. He looks just about her age or a little older. There’s nothing wrong with that. Calm down!”

Frowning, he rubs the bridge of his nose then sighs and leans down to rest his forehead on her shoulder. “Am I overreacting?”

“Yes. It’s very un-Arthur-like. Imagine if Eames was here.” She chuckles a little. “But I won’t be surprised if he suddenly does talk about it without even being here. He knows everything, it’s actually kind of scary. And really, who wouldn’t be weak when it comes to Spencer? Look at her!” She raises her free arm to gesture towards the little girl and boy a few feet away. “Look at them!”

Arthur looks over at his children. Both of them have more of Ariadne’s facial features. They both have brown locks and chocolate brown eyes. Spencer also acquired Ariadne’s natural waves while Casey’s hair is a little more straight. They even have some freckles on their nose. Arthur’s glad that they have Ariadne’s smile, it lights up his world when he sees all three. However, the way their eyes crinkle when they smile, their adorable dimples, thin lips and height come from Arthur. Unfortunately, they both have his ears, too. Ariadne and the kids love it but he doesn’t. Arthur’s very conscious about his ears.

Casey, who had just turned six, is starting the first grade in two months. He’s got both Ariadne’s creative brain and Arthur’s skills (or at least, starting to show signs of it). He loves building and sketching, and Ariadne’s excited to teach him a few tricks once he’s older. He also loves to dress up in Arthur’s suits. During his most recent birthday, Uncle Saito gave him his own suits, a custom made Armani, a three-piece Tom Ford, and the latest Gucci. And yes, they can imagine how Saito can get his hands on smaller sizes. There was a note attached to the gifts, ‘I see that he has Arthur’s taste. When he is older, I shall send the rest.’ And Saito always keeps his word.

Spencer, on the other hand, spends way too much time, in her two years of living, with Eames. He unexpectedly shows up in their house and brings the little girl out without their permission. The first few times he did that both the Point Man and the Architect panicked, fortunately, they’re rational thinkers (and Arthur has spent way too much time of his own life with the Forger). But the little girl loves Eames and is already starting to show signs of becoming a prankster.

“Add a little color to your life, darling,” he would say. And Eames adores the little girl. Always calling her princess and buying her unnecessary gifts. Whenever Arthur or Ariadne would scold him about spoiling the girl, he’d reply, “And you don’t? She’s got us all wrapped around her tiny finger.”

During dates with the Cobbs, Phillipa, now a high school graduate, and James, an incoming high school student, loves playing with them. Dom likes to think that it’s a second shot of being a parent. Saito constantly showers them with expensive gifts (and even promising on granting them a scholarship to whichever university they’d choose). Yusuf also shows his love for the kids by sending them trinkets from his trips around the world for conferences.

“You’re not going to lose her, Arthur,” Ariadne assures, “especially not at this age. And even if she does end up having a silly crush—”

“She’s too young for that,” he interrupts, which earns him a glare from the brunette beside him.

“She will never choose them over you.”

Arthur grumbles, “She chooses Eames over me all the time.”

“You know she loves you both equally,” she reminds him.

Arthur sighs and nods. When he looks up again, his eyes narrow. “What the fuck is he doing?”

“Arthur!”

“It’s Eames! He’s trying to take her away again!”

Ariadne looks at where the children are, and, sure enough, the English man is by the sandbox, holding the little girl by the waist, and talking to the six-year-old boy. Coulson is wagging his tail and sniffing the man with glee. “He’s not going to take her away in front of Casey, and this is one of her favorite spots, he knows that.”

Eames looks up and gives them a grin and a wave. Ariadne does the same while Arthur simply raises his hand in acknowledgement. He whispers to the little girl and then says something to the boy the Brandons can’t decipher. The brunettes nod happily before turning to their parents and giving them a wave with smiles on their faces. Ariadne giggles and, again, waves at them with a huge smile on her face. The scene of his children warms Arthur’s heart and immediately, he smiles, his eye crinkling and his dimples showing, and waves back at them.

“Maybe I won’t kill Eames today.”

“Your daughter would be heartbroken.”

Arthur nods. As he watches his children play with one of their godfathers the boy he had been fussing about earlier is walking towards the sandbox. “Ariadne?”

“Don’t stress, Arthur. He’s simply looking for a playmate, and besides, Eames is there. Doesn’t that relax you a little?”

“I suppose.”

“He’s pretty much their second father.”

“He’s just a suspicious boy.”

“Arthur, he’s probably only three.”

“Exactly, at that age, girls and boys don’t know that they can feel attraction!”

Ariadne rolls her eyes. “That boy probably thinks Spencer is a pretty little girl who seems to be having fun and who just might want to play. He just wants to be friends with Spencer! There’s nothing wrong with that. Stop being such a jealous father and let your daughter have some fun.”

“I’m not jealous,” Arthur snorts.

After a few minutes, the two see Eames kiss Spencer’s temple, stand and make his way towards them. “Darling,” he starts, “I can hear the two of you bicker over nonsense all the way over there.” He uses his thumb to point at the place he’d recently been in.

“Arthur’s just jealous,” Ariadne says.

“You should be, your children seem to like me more than you.”

Arthur glares. “Aren’t you due back to visit Valeria in Germany?”

“Val knows it’s hard for me to leave our godchildren. Do you want to get rid of me that easily?”

“Always.”

Eames chuckles. “What’s got your panties in a bunch?”

“They’re not.”

“Arthur’s just jealous that Spencer will start to replace him soon,” Ariadne supplies.

“He already has been replaced, ever since I showed up in the hospital when she was born. Even your own dog likes me better than him.”

Ariadne fails to suppress a soft laugh. “Not helping, Eames.”

“The only time I’ve seen this bloke get jealous was with you, love. It’s very amusing to see him all worked up over,” Eames looks behind him, “a three-year old boy,” he continues when he turns back. “You can probably take him down with a single move. He doesn’t seem to have much experience with hand-to-hand combat.”

“What’s his name?” Arthur asks.

“Are you going to check his records with your phone, darling?”

“No, his family’s. And not now, when we get back home. What’s his name, Eames?”

Ariadne rolls her eyes and Eames just shrugs. “Christopher.”

“Christopher what?”

“Robin.”

Arthur narrows his eyes. “Eames.”

After roaring with laughter, Eames says, “I’m surprised you know who that is.”

Ariadne laughs. “Having two children does that to him.”

A small smile escapes the dark haired man’s lips. “Give me his name, Eames.”

“All right, all right. It’s Christopher Mann, and that’s with a double 'n’. He’s a sweet child, really. I’d hate for you to find something in his record.”

“I just want to make sure that when this boy tells his family or anyone about playing with a little girl named Spencer and her brother named Casey with a dog named Coulson, I have nothing to worry about,” Arthur tells him. “It’s always better to be safe than sorry.”

Both Ariadne and Eames look at each other and sigh.

Arthur squeezes his wife’s hand. “I just want this family to be safe.”

Ariadne smiles. “I know.”

The three adults watch the three children play. Arthur hates to admit it but Spencer is enjoying the company of the new boy. “Where’s his family?” he wonders aloud.

“Over there,” Eames points at an older couple on the other side. They seem to be having a heated argument. “Christopher doesn’t like hearing them talk loudly. It makes him sad. Poor boy. His older brother is away in college so he’s very much alone at home.”

That breaks Arthur’s heart and he’s suddenly really happy that the children are getting along really well. He can’t imagine either Casey or Spencer being alone while he and Ariadne fight. Hell, he can’t even imagine him and Ariadne fighting when the children are within reach. Sure, they’ve had their share of arguments and cold shoulders when the kids are around, but they’d always make sure to keep their emotions in check until they’re alone.

The boy, Christopher, also seems to be having fun playing with Coulson. The dog sniffs the little boy before licking his face. “Even Coulson likes him,” Ariadne says with a little laugh. “It’s really just you, Arthur.”

About an hour later, Christopher’s mother calls him. “Chris! It’s time to go now, honey.” Arthur sees the boy frown. Christopher stands and pets Coulson one more time before waving at the two children he had recently befriended. Once he’s left, Spencer pouts and gives an exaggerated sigh. Casey pats her shoulder and tries to cheer her up, which seems to have worked.

“My princess is sad,” Eames observes, “it’s time to bring her to the ice cream parlour.”

“You’re really showing favoritism, aren’t you?” Ariadne says with a small smile.

“I do not, love. I also spoiled Casey when he was younger. But I suppose I have a softer heart for little girls.” He shrugs. “Hey, Arthur, would you rather teach Casey or Spencer?”

“Teach what?”

Eames groans. “Fighting, of course! We’re going to teach those children to defend themselves! They are definitely not going to be bullies—”

“Unless they hang out with you too much,” Arthur mutters.

“—so they will be bullied. We need to make sure that they’re feared!”

Ariadne rolls her eyes. “Eames…”

“Love, we cannot allow those two precious children be looked down upon.”

Arthur gives a little nod. “There’s no need for us to personally teach them unless we think that they need more. Ari and I have been talking about it; we’re planning on letting them take self-defense lessons. Casey would probably start soon and we’ll wait until Spencer is his age.”

Grinning, Eames says, “Perfect. I’ll be there in the waiting area.”

Ariadne smiles and Arthur can’t hide the smirk on his face.

When Arthur notes that the sun would be setting soon, Ariadne suggests that they head home. After getting some ice cream from the store they arrive in their grayish-white house and Eames mentions to them that he has nothing better to do and there’s nothing more he loves than spending time with the Brandon children. “You and Ariadne can have some grown-up time, yeah?”

“We don’t do grown-up time when the kids are at home,” Arthur mumbles. “Just don’t kidnap our children and you can stay for an hour.”

“You can stay for as long as you want, Eames,” Ariadne says as she helps Casey with a new shirt. “We’re having pasta for dinner.”

“Eames does love pasta,” the Forger tells them, licking his lips. He picks up Spencer just as she says, “Me!” Eames chuckles. “Everyone loves your mother’s pasta, princess. You should try Uncle Eames brownies.”

“Oh, dear God, no,” Arthur groans.

“Don’t you have some researching to do, darling?” Eames jokes.

“I just have to make sure that you’re not going to make a run for it.” Arthur shakes his head and heads for his study. “Come, Coulson.” And the dog happily follows him inside.

“Your daddy is a strange man, princess.”

Spencer grins. “Daddy!”

Less than an hour later, Arthur emerges from his study and walks back to the living room. On the way, he passes by his wife preparing the ingredients for dinner. He smiles and kisses her cheek before heading to his destination. He spots Casey on the floor with his building blocks and Spencer still on Eames’s lap. Coulson sits obediently beside Casey.

“You’re still here,” Arthur deadpans.

“Your wife said I can stay as long as I want. And I’ll be staying until dessert. Or at least until this little princess’s bedtime.”

“Tuck! Tuck!” Spencer claps.

“Tuck me in, too, Uncle Eames!” Casey joins.

Eames grins. “Of course, of course. I will gladly tuck you two in. Perhaps you’d even want a story of one of my adventures?”

Casey nods enthusiastically. “Yes! I love your stories, Uncle Eames!”

“Love Unca Ease!” Spencer squeals.

“Aww,” Eames tickles her stomach, “Uncle Eames loves you, too, princess.”

Arthur smiles at the scene. As much as he despises Eames—okay, he really doesn’t, at all, he loves the man as much as he loves his brother, Edward Brandon—he loves that Eames loves Casey and Spencer enough for them to be his own children. He hears Casey play with his toys and he’s a little jealous of the attention that Eames is getting from Spencer. “Casey,” he calls.

Casey looks up and grins. Arthur has his legs open and arms outstretched. The little boy walks to his father and Arthur carries him to his lap. He stretches towards the dog who was sitting beside him. “Come, Coulson,” he says.

Coulson wags his tail and trots over them. Casey pats his head and then turns to his father. “Daddy, I think Coulson is lonely.”

“He can’t be lonely, he has you.” Arthur smiles, already knowing where the conversation is heading.

“I think he needs a friend.” Casey smiles.

Arthur shrugs. “He has a brother and a sister.”

“Daddy, you’re being silly!” Casey giggles. “I think we should get another dog.”

“Another dog?” Arthur feigns surprise. “Now where did you get that idea?”

Casey shrugs exaggeratedly. “Can we, Daddy?

Arthur smiles. "Your mother and I would have to talk about it first, okay?” Although he’s very sure of what the answer will be. “But we may not get one exactly like Coulson, he’s one of a kind!” Coulson wags his tail and sniffs Arthur’s knee. “Yes you are, Coulson,” he murmurs, fondly remembering the time he first entered his and Ariadne’s lives.

“That’s okay,” Casey nods, “I just think he needs a friend.”

Arthur kisses his temple. “We’ll see, big guy. We’ll see.”

After dinner and dessert, the family, plus Eames, is sitting around the living room watching an old, classical film that stars Audrey Hepburn. While the adults are engrossed in the film, Casey and Spencer play with the dog on the floor.

“It su—it’s sad that she’s only known for her acting skills and beauty,” Ariadne sighs, “she’s an amazing person. So much more than what people say about her.”

“Well, that’s Hollywood,” Eames says with a shrug. “And as an actor I can definitely say that some people are only judged by our faces. Some people, as beautiful or as handsome as they are, cannot act to save their lives! And yet, people still praise them. It’s more of a popularity contest. While some people, more average looking ones, who can act wonderfully, cannot shine due to being overshadowed.”

“It’s hard to tell who you are in that argument,” Arthur sneers.

“Oh, darling, you wound me so deeply. I’m neither and you know that.”

Ariadne giggles softly before placing her head on Arthur’s shoulder. “Why don’t we go to bed early? Like, right after this movie ends.”

“If that’s your way of shooing me out, love, it’s not working,” Eames says with a wicked grin.

Arthur groans. “You’re not planning on spending the night, are you?”

“Well, now that you’ve revealed to me your master plan, someone’s got to keep the children together, right?”

Ariadne smiles. “Well, someone’s got to wash and tuck the children to sleep.”

Arthur shifts. “Really?” But the grin on his face cannot be stopped.

Eames laughs, causing the children to look at him with smiles on their faces. “What’s so funny, Uncle Eames?”

“Oh, just a grown-up joke, Little Man. We’ll tell you when you’re older.”

“Okay,” Casey nods. Casey’s memory is better than most, he’d remember this moment, and Eames knows it. “Are you tired, Spencer?”

Arthur and Ariadne smiles and squeeze in together. But just as they’re getting cozy, Spencer appears, waddling with a grin that showed off her few baby teeth. “Daddy!” Arthur smiles brightly and doesn’t think twice about carrying her and putting her in between him and Ariadne. “Mommy!” she squeals.

Ariadne plays with her daughter’s hair before kissing the top of her head. “Not tired yet, sweetie?”

“Na!” She grins. “Pay!”

“It’s almost your bedtime, you can’t play anymore. Once this movie’s done, Uncle Eames will be washing you and Casey and then tuck you to sleep.”

“No sip!” she protests.

“Yes sleep,” Arthur tells her. “If you sleep earlier, there’s more time for you to play tomorrow.”

Spencer pouts. “Unca Ease towo?”

“If you wake up early enough then I might still be here,” Eames tells her. The tone that Eames used makes Spencer squeal in delight. “Sleep?”

“Sip!”

Arthur peaks over to see Casey resting his head on Coulson’s curled body. “How are you doing, big guy?”

“Coulson’s tired and I’m tired.”

“I suppose that means you had a great day today?” Ariadne asks.

Casey looks at them. “I did! What about you, Spencer?” His little sister raises her arms and squeals. “I think she also had a great day,” he replies, making the three adults laugh.

Later that night, with Spencer and Casey soundly asleep in their respective rooms, Eames in the guest bedroom, and Coulson back in his doghouse, Arthur and Ariadne lay quietly on their bed. Ariadne’s resting her head on Arthur’s chest while he has his arms wrapped around her.

“You know, you really shouldn’t be jealous of a little boy, Arthur,” Ariadne says.

He chuckles. “I know.”

“And you shouldn’t be jealous of Eames, either.”

He sighs. “Eames is a challenge. He’s amazing with everyone, it’s hard not to like him.”

Ariadne smiles. No matter how many times Arthur has admitted to caring about Eames, she still catches herself thinking about the two being best friends. “You’re not just Spencer’s father, but her dad. Eames is…well, he’s Eames. We already knew that our children would love him.”

“Eames is a great dad without having to be a father.”

“He’s scared. Valeria told him about the pregnancy scare, he was so relieved. She was hurt but she understood. He isn’t ready yet. Maybe he loves the two because he also wants to start a family, he’s just not sure how.”

Arthur sighs and holds her tighter. “He’s weird.”

Ariadne laughs and snuggles closer. That’s when they hear a bark and a scream. Arthur quickly puts on a pair of boxer shorts and Ariadne scrambles to find her robe. The Point Man is out their room quicker than the Architect.

“Coulson!?”

Ariadne gently pushes Arthur to the side to see what’s happening. Coulson is running around with Casey right beside him. Eames is at the end of the hall with Spencer on his shoulders.

“Eames!”

The fun stops and they turn around to look at Arthur. “Darling, you’re in front of minors. And they’re your children.”

“My children shouldn’t be out here in the first place.”

“Casey couldn’t sleep. He knocked on my door about an hour or two after I tucked him into bed. He said he wanted to be in one of my adventures. We couldn’t have fun without Spencer and Coulson. So,” he shrugs. “Oh, love, you look…hm, I can’t really say it in front of the children.” Eames winks.

Ariadne wraps the robe she’s wearing tighter around her and hides behind Arthur, a faint blush appearing in her cheeks. “It’s way past the kids’ bedtime.”

“Pay!” Spencer squeals, clapping her hands.

“No, no,” Ariadne shakes her head, stepping away from Arthur and moving towards Eames, “Spencer, it’s time to sleep.”

“No sip!” Spencer argues, but her arms are outstretched. “Mommy pay!”

“It’s late now, honey,” Ariadne tells her. Eames brings the little girl down from his shoulders and gives her to Ariadne. “You have to go to sleep.” With Spencer at her hip, she looks over at Arthur who’s trying to get Casey to bed. “Arthur, I can take care of the kids and you’re in charge of Coulson and Eames.”

Arthur groans. Coulson stops wagging his tail and sits. “Oh, no, not you, Coulson.” Eames laughs out loud. “Eames, you’re banned from this house at night.”

“Stop being jealous of me, darling,” Eames teases.

tagging: @angel-cap

[aceofstars16]

Trapped in the Past (Chapter 2)

Second chapter of my Timetrapped fic inspired by @artsycrapfromsai!

When Mabel and Dipper fight over a time machine, they find themselves sent back thirty years in the past. Now it’s up to the younger versions of their great uncles to get them home.

Chapter 2 - A Fruitless Search

Dipper searches for Mabel in the snow. Mabel tries to find Dipper in Dead End Flats. Discouragement abounds, but at least they both have someone looking out for them.

 1 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7

AO3

“Mabel!”

The wind blew Dipper’s hair back as he called out, chilling his face and making him shiver despite the coat and socks. He didn’t know when he had lost his hat, all he knew was that it was nowhere to be seen. Which was unfortunate because right now it would help his head say warmer, and of course there was the fact that it hid his birthmark.

Narrowing his eyes against the cold, Dipper caught sight of Stanford looking back at him and out of pure instinct he reached up and flattened his bangs against his forehead. For a moment, the author just looked at him, a frown on his face, but then he turned and kept walking. After taking a few steps, however, Dipper realized they were going down the wrong trail.

“Uh, Mr. uh…Stanford, er…”

Stopping in his tracks, Stanford looked back at him, eyes narrowed slightly. “Just call me Ford.”

“Oh.” That wasn’t what Dipper was expecting. He always imagined the author as this larger than life person, not someone he could just call…a nickname? “Ummm, I think I actually came from that trail.” Pointing to the path that he was pretty sure would lead to the carnival clearing, Dipper found his hand once again pressing  down his bangs.

Ford glanced at the trail for a moment, as if lost in thought. Then he shook his head before walking forward, but as he passed Dipper he spoke. “You don’t need to keep covering your birthmark. No one is going to see it out here.”

Dipper’s hand fell to his side as he watched Ford continue to walk in the snow. Of course someone with six fingers would be used to rude comments, in fact, that was just one of the things that Dipper had connected with while reading the journal. However, he still wasn’t entirely sure what to make of his hero, now that he was actually meeting him. The suspicious behavior and disheveled look wasn’t exactly what he had been imagining, but surely there was an explanation for that?

“Hurry up, this weather can change in an instant and I don’t want to be stuck in a blizzard.”

Ford’s voice interrupted Dipper’s thoughts and he shook his head before trotting forward, going as fast as he could in the snow. “Sorry, coming!”

Stumbling after the author, Dipper kept his eyes out for any sign of Mabel, calling out her name every few feet. But as they reached the clearing, the only sign of life were his own footprints from earlier.

“MABEL!” Dipper called out, his voice already getting sore from shouting so much. Her name rang through the clearing but there was no response, just the whistling of wind.

“There are a few caves we can check, this way.” Ford waved his hand and kept walking, though Dipper couldn’t help but notice how he seemed to keep glancing around quickly, as if he was being watched. Each time he did, Dipper would cast a worried glance behind him. There didn’t seem to be anything around, but Ford’s unease was contagious. That, plus there being no sign of his sister anywhere, resulted in a heaviness settling on his chest that was impossible to ignore.

“Mabel! Mabel please, I’m sorry for everything, please answer!”

Wind was the only response. Again, and again, at each nook and cave that Ford lead them to, and with each empty response, Dipper grew more and more worried.

“No signs here either.”

Dipper barely heard Ford’s voice through the exhaustion of his body and the anxiety clouding his mind. “S-she has to be around h-here somewhere.” As he spoke, Dipper’s teeth chattered. The coat that had barely been keeping him warm was now drenched at the bottom. He wasn’t even sure it was keeping any warmth in now.

Hugging himself Dipper started walking forward again, not even sure where else Mabel could be, but not wanting to give up either. Then Ford’s arm appeared in front of him, blocking his way. Glancing up at him, Dipper could see a frown on his face. However, he wasn’t looking at Dipper, but the sky.

“It’s getting dark.” Ford’s frown grew as he spoke, as if not liking what he was about to say. “We need to head back before the sun goes down. Or else we are going to freeze.”

“But, w-what about M-Mabel?!?” Despite the shivers that were shaking his entire body, Dipper knew he couldn’t just go back to the Shack without finding her.

“There is no telling where she is. Maybe she found someone to take her in for the night, but we can’t stay out here any longer.”

It was the last thing Dipper wanted to do, but as Ford started making his way back down the trail, Dipper followed. Exhaustion and despair weighing him down.

Then, as he was stumbling after Ford, his foot caught on a rock and he couldn’t catch himself - his body was too exhausted from trekking around in the snow for over an hour. Landing face first in the snow, Dipper’s incessant shivering, which had overtaken his body, grew even worse.

“What are you-?”

Dipper heard Ford’s voice cut off, but he was so tired that he couldn’t even respond. His whole body felt like a block of ice. He wasn’t even sure he could get up again. He was so drained, both emotionally and physically. All he wanted to do was lie down and wake up back in the Mystery Shack he knew with Mabel safe next to him.

“Come on, we need to hurry.” A hand rested on his shoulder and as Dipper forced himself to look up, he saw Ford crouching next to him. A moment later the author stood and offered him a hand. Closing his eyes for a moment, Dipper tried to gather his strength and remind himself that he couldn’t do Mabel any good if he froze out here. Then he reached up, accepting Ford’s hand and allowing himself to be pulled up.

The whole walk back, Dipper was barely aware of the hand that rested on his shoulder, guiding him at each turn in the trail, or how he was pulled up and steadied every time he stumbled. All he could think about was putting one foot in front of the other. But in the back of his mind, worry nagged at him and he couldn’t help but be weighed down by the fact that Mabel might be out in the cold, all alone. All because of a stupid fight over a machine. He’d gladly give up his day with Wendy just to know that Mabel was okay.

Ford was exhausted. Though that was normal for him lately. However, now his body felt even more drained. It took most of his concentration to keep standing, though he constantly reminded himself to keep on eye on Dipper. Of course Bill would send someone who had an oddity as well, trying to get Ford to feel pity so he would let down his guard. And it had worked. Ford found himself helping the kid take off the soaked clothes he was wearing and wrap him up in a few blankets that he could find. He had even turned on the heater despite knowing warmth might lull him to sleep again.

It was a ploy, he kept telling himself that. But part of him also realized that Dipper might not know Bill was using him. After all, Ford himself had been a pawn for the demon. And if that was the case, then, well…Dipper was just a kid. Plus, his fingers had been turning blue by the time they had made it back to the house. Ford might not trust the kid, but he wasn’t just going to let someone freeze.

Besides, he doubted Dipper had any energy to do anything for Bill at the moment. As soon as he had sat on the couch, the kid hadn’t moved and even as Ford checked again, he was in the same spot, still shivering a little despite the blankets wrapped around his shoulders.

A beeping interrupted Ford’s observation and he made his way back to the kitchen, sighing as he noted that his coffee wasn’t finished brewing yet. He really needed something to give him some energy or he was liable to fall asleep on his feet. Shaking his head - both clear it and to wake himself up - Ford pulled the mug out of the microwave before pouring an old package of hot chocolate mix into the water. He didn’t drink much of the stuff, but Fiddleford had kept some around and apparently he had left a few packages behind.

Once he had mixed the powder as well as he could, Ford made his way back to the living room, trying not to pay attention to how his legs felt like they were full of led.

“Here, drink this.”

Dipper looked up slowly, and for a second he looked confused, but then he focused on the mug and reached out to accept it, his fingers tightly wrapping around the warm cup before taking a sip. A small shiver ran through his body, but then he took another sip and his shoulders relaxed a little.

“Aren’t you cold?”

The question took Ford by surprise and he stared at Dipper for a moment. Yes, he was cold, but he was used to being cold - it had become normal for him. Though he supposed, he was a little colder than he would like. “I’m fine, I have coffee brewing.”

A quiet “oh” was the only response as Dipper continued to drink his cocoa, his eyes drooping more with each sip. Well at least it seemed to be warming him up, though Ford felt a knot of unease forming in his gut as Dipper seemed about a second away from falling asleep. Bill loved using people while they slept…

However, a few minutes later – after Ford had put Dipper’s mug in the sink and watched as the kid slept – he had to admit his worry seemed to be unwarranted. Dipper was out cold and there was no sign of Bill anywhere. Well, aside from the quiet whispers that continued to follow Ford wherever he went. He had even heard them out in the snow, despite being far away from the portal. Occasionally they fell into the background, but then he would hear them again and the paranoia in his chest would return – though he was starting to think that maybe that it had never actually left.

Taking a sip of coffee, Ford forced himself to move again – even standing still for too long resulted in him almost falling over from exhaustion. He needed to move, and despite not wanting to turn his back on Dipper, he found himself making his way to the basement. The portal had been shut off for a while now, but Ford had to check it multiple times a day or else he would go crazy. There was no telling what Bill would do to turn it on. So, he constantly checked on it, making sure everything was in place, turned off and harmless. It was a necessary precaution, just until Stan got there…that is, if Stan even came at all.

Unease settled in Ford’s chest at the thought, but he tried to push it aside. If Stanley didn’t come, he would…he would figure something out. Probably.

“Are you her father?”

Stan stared at the man who he had pulled aside a moment ago to ask about seeing Mabel’s brother. They had been going at it for at least an hour with no luck whatsoever – which weighed down on Stan’s chest. Not just because of his looming deadline but because he could see Mabel slowly losing heart.

Opening his mouth, Stan was about to reply that he was in no way anything close to a father - just someone trying to help - when Mabel’s words cut him off.

“No, he’s my gr-uh…uncle! Well sometimes I call him grunkle but that’s cause he’s a great uncle, not like an actual great uncle but an awesome uncle, you know?”

The words tumbled out of her mouth so quickly that Stan found himself simply staring at her for a second, trying to process exactly what she had just said.

“Huh…is that so?” The man looked at Stan, who forced a quick smile and put an arm around Mabel.

“Yup, sure is!” Okay, so it wasn’t the truth, but if he disagreed with Mabel there was no telling what kind of complications might arise and he was just trying to help her. If people assumed they were related, it would get rid of any of the awkwardness surrounding the fact that he was walking around with a child he had just met. Even if he had no ill intentions toward her.

For a moment the man just looked at them then shrugged. “Sorry I haven’t seen anyone like you described, hope you find him.”

As the man walked away, Mabel sighed, slumping against Stan’s leg. “Why hasn’t anyone seen him?”

Stan patted her head, frowning as he looked around the street. “I don’t know kiddo, maybe he’s hanging out in one spot? What does he like to do?”

She opened her mouth, only to close it, a shadow of sadness passing over her face. “He likes video games, but also weird things like conspiracy theories and stuff. And reading, he likes to read too.”

As she spoke, Stan felt a small knot of emotion grow in his chest. Weird things and books? Of course he ran into the one kid who’s brother sounded just like Ford…or at least, what Ford had been like as a kid. Trying to shake off the thought, Stan looked around. “Well, we can try the library. And there might be an arcade somewhere around here?”

Despite being in this town for a few weeks, Stan hadn’t really been to the…regular spots, but he figured there would at least be a library. And seeing as arcades were getting more popular, there might be one somewhere, or at least a restaurant that had a machine or two.

“Okay…” Something about Mabel’s demeanor had changed, but Stan had no clue what had caused it, so he tried for smile.

“I’m sure we’ll find him soon.” It was a lie. Stan had no idea if they would find her brother, there was no telling what could happen, especially in a place like this. But as soon as the thought crossed his mind, he shoved it away. No, Dipper was fine and they were going to find him. End of story.

Determination settling in his chest, Stan patted Mabel’s back in assurance before setting off to find the nearest arcade.

“Here you are darling.”

Mabel looked up from the café counter at the basket of chicken strips and fries. Despite the worry weighing her down, she felt her stomach rumble and she hesitantly grabbed a strip, nibbling on it as she watched some kids playing Pac Man a few tables away. Dipper wasn’t one of them.

A hand grabbed some fries from the basket and Mabel turned to look at Stan, who was stuffing the food into his mouth. He hadn’t said anything since they ordered but from the way he kept sticking his hand in his pocket, she couldn’t help but wonder if he could actually afford the food. She sure hoped so, not only because she didn’t have any money either, but also because she didn’t like the thought of her great uncle being broke. It just wasn’t right.

“Hey, chin up kiddo, I’m sure we’ll find him soon.”

Stan gave her a smile, though she couldn’t help but wonder if it was real or forced. They had been searching for hours and there wasn’t even a sign of Dipper. She didn’t want to stop, but her knees – which hadn’t felt too bad at first - were starting to sting and ache. Also, her sweater and skirt combo wasn’t exactly the best for staying outside for long periods of time, at least, not when it was cold out.

“Find who.”

The waitress that had taken their order was back, filling up their glasses with water. Mabel opened her mouth, but found she couldn’t get the words out. That her brother was missing without a trace, that she was stuck in the past with no way home, that she didn’t even have a clue as to what she should do now. All because of a stupid fight. Sure, she loved Waddles, and she didn’t want to give him up but...she would gladly do so if it meant she could be home with Dipper right now.

“Uh, her brother. He ran off and we’ve been looking for him for a few hours now.” Stan answered the question - the half lie rolling off his tongue with well-practiced ease. At least this Stan was the same in that regard, despite being about thirty years younger than Mabel was used to.

“You check the police station? They might be able to help.”

“That’s our next stop.” Stan said it so fast, Mabel almost didn’t catch the way his hand twitched a little. She had to admit the idea of going to the police wasn’t really ideal to her either. Not only because of that night in the Gravity Falls jail during a ‘family bonding’ day, but also because she really didn’t know if they could help. Dipper might be in an entirely different year for all she knew.

Out of the corner of her eye, Mabel saw the waitress – Pam, if she was remembering the nametag right – leave only to come back a moment later and set a plate down in front of her.

“Here darling, it’s on the house.”

Sitting up, Mabel could feel her sweet tooth acting up as she took in the huge slice of apple pie that was now sitting in front of her. She looked at Stan and the unfinished chicken nuggets, but he just waved at the pie. Oh yeah, this was the Stan she knew, who let her have ice cream for breakfast on a regular basis.

The next few minutes passes by in silence – Mabel eating every crumb of the pie while Stan finished off the rest of the chicken and fries.

“So…I can take you to the police if you want…”

Mabel, who had been licking her plate to savor any last traces of ice cream, froze and lowered the plate to the table, not sure how to respond. She wanted to find Dipper but from Stan’s hesitance, and her own uncertainties about consulting the police, she was reluctant to say anything. But after a moment, she asked quietly, “Do…you think they would actually be able to help?”

“Eh,” Stan rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. “Probably. Even if they can’t find him right away, they could ask other cites and maybe even put up fliers and stuff. And they could probably get you home too.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, anxiety jumped up in Mabel’s chest. Home. The police couldn’t get her home. Heck, she didn’t even think home existed right now. Her parents might not even be born for all she knew. Stan was the only family she had right now and the thought of trusting strangers to get her to a home that wasn’t even created yet was…She shook her head.

“I don’t…” Her voice died in her throat. She couldn’t explain all of that to Stan, or at least, she wasn’t sure if she should. Or if he would even believe her if she did. And if Dipper was here, she knew he would argue that it could ruin the future if she said anything about it.

“Hey, don’t worry they uh…they’ll know what to do.”

A hand rested on Mabel’s shoulder and in any other circumstance, she would’ve agreed. But this wasn’t a normal situation. No one would believe that she was from the future, and even if they did, she doubted they could help her get home.

“Can’t I just stay with you?” It was the only option that didn’t totally terrify her. If she really was stuck in the past, she’d rather be stuck with Stan.

Stan laughed, though it was forced. “Trust me kid, you don’t want to.”

Running a hand through her hair, Mabel couldn’t look at him, because from everything she’d seen of his life that might be true, but she knew she would be safe with Stan. Even though he didn’t know her, she knew him and she knew he wouldn’t let anything happen to her. “I really do…”

Shaking his head, Stan sighed. “Come on, the car isn’t too far away. I can take you to the police station. It... it’ll be for the best.”

Stan got up before she could answer and Mabel tried to force down the panic that was rising in her chest. What could she say to convince Stan to let her stay with him? Fear and desperation raced through her as she stumbled after Stan, out of the diner and onto the street. Her chest grew tighter and tighter as emotion overwhelmed her until she couldn’t hold back a sob. If only Dipper was here, he’d know what to do, probably…at least they’d at least be together.

“Oh gosh…hey, it’s okay, kiddo.”

Mabel looked up at Stan, her eyes blurry from tears as another sob escaped her mouth. “N-no it’s not I, Dipper is g-gone and I can’t go h-home and I-I don’t know how t-to- and I just want to s-stay with y-you and-“ Her voice cut off as sobs overwhelmed her completely and she flung herself at Stan, wanting to hide away from every terrifying and overwhelming thought and just pretend she was back in Gravity Falls crying over a movie or a stupid crush.

For a moment, there was nothing. Then a sigh and arms wrapping around her. “It’s okay, I…you can stay with me for…for tonight at least, okay?”

Snuggling closer to him, Mabel managed to whisper out a thank you. It wasn’t perfect. She still didn’t know what to do, but at least she didn’t have to leave the only family she had right now.

This was a mess. Stan didn’t know what the heck he was doing. He should not have caved; he should’ve driven Mabel straight to the police. It would be for the best. But her absolute trust in him – despite being totally unwarranted – was touching, if not a little worrisome. It wasn’t that he didn’t like the kid, it was just…he wasn’t even equipped to take care of himself. How could care for someone else’s needs too? He couldn’t just say no though, not when she had started crying, looking so scared and helpless. Gosh, he wished he knew what was going on so he could actually help her, but whenever he tried to bring it up, she just got quiet, so he left it.

“There, that should do it.” Tucking the bandage in itself so it wouldn’t come undone, Stan reached up and ruffled Mabel’s hair. Not long after he agreed to let her stay, he had noticed how scrapped up her knees were, and thankfully the hotel had let him have some things to patch her up. Okay maybe they hadn’t given them to him, but they didn’t exactly guard the stuff very well either…

“Thanks grun-uh, Stan…” Her voice was quiet, and her gaze was transfixed on her knees, her hands brushing over the bandages. It was such a contrast from how she had been talking his ear off a few hours ago and it worried him. But he tried not to think about it. Tomorrow she would be out of his life. It was for the best, she’d realized that. She just needed some sleep and time to think about it, that’s all.

“Uh, yeah, no prob. You should probably get some sleep now though.”

Mabel looked at the bed then up at Stan for a moment. “Where are you going to sleep?”

“Ah…” Stan rubbed his neck, sleep was just about the furthest thing from his mind right now. “Don’t worry about me kiddo, I’m not really tired anyway.”

For a moment, Mabel frowned at him. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, don’t you worry about me, kiddo.” Stan tried for a smile, which Mabel returned, though it was only a half-smile.

“Okay…” She looked at her knees one more time then slowly lied down on the bed, but her eyes stayed open. “What is a Stan Vac?”

A real laugh escaped Stan’s mouth as he looked at the boxes piled up behind him. “Ah, just a business idea. Didn’t really fly.”

“Can… can you tell me about it?”

Well that would be the strangest bedtime story ever, but if that’s what she wanted… “Sure…it all started in Virginia…” Stan recounted the story from his past – thankfully it was one of the most child friendly ones he had. Mainly just a lot of door to door campaigns and trying to fix broken machines because they were pretty poorly made. But it seemed to do the trick. Slowly Mabel’s eyes closed and as he concluded the tale, he could see her chest rising and falling slowly.

“Sweet dreams kiddo.” Stan pulled a blanket over her shoulders and glanced at the clock. Crap, he was going to be late.

Taking a deep breath, he tried to refocus himself. It was time to talk himself out of a debt. And he knew if he wanted to stand a chance at that, he needed to be on his A game, especially with Rico. Still, he couldn’t stop himself from double checking the lock on the door before he left. As long as Mabel was in his life, he was going to make sure she was safe. No matter what.

[thekit-katniss]

The Girl from the Portal

So I realized that I have shared this once already, but actually wanted to start posting it here hence I have started to re-read it and fix my mistakes. People are enjoying it on AO3, so figured you guys would want to read it too. Alma is my OC for Gravity Falls and let’s just say, her and Ford has some history together, which am working on that fic currently. Also just for future reference, I go by CipherKat on most of my fanfic writes. You guys tell me if you want more of it, then I’ll post the rest, k? :) 

Read it on AO3

Paring Ford/Original Female Character

Genre Fanfiction

Summary Ford has returned from the portal a few days ago. As he starts to readjust, he decides it would be best to dismantle the portal in case of attracting dream demon, Bill. The portal somehow reactivates itself as a girl emerges from it. Ford recognizes her from his time inside the dimension. Worried she may attract unwanted attention, he offers her refuge. But keeping her hidden from the family will be the biggest challenge. However, their past together has come back to haunt them as they realize - they may be more than friends.

“Fine on one condition. And stay away from the kids. I don’t want them in danger. Cause as far as I am concerned, their the only family I have left.” Stanley sneered before walking away. He’d stop atop the stairs, glancing back over to Ford who was giving him the cold shoulder. He heard him sigh before disappearing behind the door.

Ford felt the grief now. How can you be so stupid, Stanford? He told himself. His eyes went back to the mirror they were just staring into together. He cleaned up fairly nice, his tan coat has seen better days though. Its edges were ratty and dirty. Might need to replace it someday. He stroked at the little bit of stubble on his chin.

It was kind of strange to be back in his dimension. He couldn’t grasp that reality was still similar – well besides Stanley making the cabin an attraction and the great niece and nephew who were living in the attic currently – which he never knew about. What a world to come back to. Even if it wasn’t what you expected from it. All that really mattered was he was back where he belonged.

He sighed while gazing upon himself. Stanley must hate him for not saying the two words he’s been waiting for. How long has it been now? Thirty years it seemed like. No wonder they are old and wrinkly now.

He ventured into the basement, punching in the code on the vending machine. The stairwell was tight going down as the darkness seemed to suck you in. Once at the bottom, you pretty much were in the lab area. Machines blinked and hummed walking through where it opened up into a wider section. The triangular portal took up the wall with its strange symbols lining its rim.

Ford seem to become disconnected as his eyes were nailed to the portal. He was still angry at Stanley for even starting it again also using his name. But he still loved him. He was still family. He glanced down at journal one in his hand. The golden hand glistened in the dim light as he matched up his. He sighed while lifting up his six fingered hand.

He turned towards the lever beside him as he went behind it to push it forward. With a grunt, the portal slowly started to expand until it filled the whole rim. Its blue glow lit up the room as he instantly scooped up all three of his journals. He cradled them, grabbing the first one and going mid toss only to hesitate. His reflection stared back at him from the thin gold sheet.

Ford wanted to throw them away, forget about them. But his life’s work was inside. They could end up anywhere in the universe through this portal. And it meant they were far away from him and his family. But he found himself reconsidering for some reason as he just saw his true self.

“God damn it.” He whispered to himself. He slowly sunk down to his knees, sulking in the glow as if to take it all in.

He would rise and place them back on his desk, his nails digging into its sides. His tension was still high from what he had experienced. Stanley wouldn’t understand what he even saw or heard. He could probably write a whole book about it honestly. But thirty years – thirty years is a long time.

He turned his attention to the now open portal. He instantly went over to the lever and pulled it back. It slowly dimmed away until it fizzled out. Ford would sink into his desk chair, placing his hands over his face. He just let his own thoughts run through, thinking about if he should of stayed away.

-

Ford awoke to the sound of mechanical whirling. The three journals were still where he had left them. It took a second for him to realize the location of the sound as he jumped up to his feet. He knocked over the chair in the process as he ran for the lever. The portal glowed brightly when he approached, bringing his hand up to shade his eyes.

On instinct, he grabbed the lever and pulled it back. But nothing happened. He tried again and again. The same results. “No. No.” He mumbled to himself as he quickly went over to his tool stash and scrambled for a wrench.

Once he found one, he returned back to it and broke off the covering with the bolt side. He skimmed the lines for any sign of sabotage. He was hoping this wasn’t Bill’s doing. One of the plugs was mangled with the other, causing a delay on the power. With a quick readjustment and plugging them back in.

He stood up just in time to see a mass form behind the portal. It morphed and danced until it made a full form of a human. Just a few days prior, his family had experienced the same thing. The form moved forward and limb by limb, it appeared more distinct. It would stop at the edge of the line as it skimmed the surroundings.

In a panic, Ford forcefully pushed the lever back as the portal begun to spark and crackle a light show. Both Ford and the form took cover. The form flipped itself and combat rolled to save its landing while Ford slid behind his desk. The whirling grew louder before it exploded into a bright light. It reached across the shack’s windows as it beamed out and just like the snap of a finger, it went dark.

Ford coughed while getting to his feet. He cautiously walked out, his hand hovering over his gun holstered at his side. The form appeared behind a table off on the right side as it aimed its gun at his head. Ford did the same as he whipped it out and aimed. It was a classic showdown scene as they stared heavily at each other.

“Who are you? State yourself.” Ford commanded. He scanned the form top to bottom. It was for sure human, lean and feminine from what he could tell.

“Stanford?” It replied, carefully lowering the long red scarf from its mouth.

Just as he suspected, it was a woman. She had bright green eyes and deep brown flowing locks. Her lips curled a little bit at the ends in a smug look. Something about her made Ford’s visions come back to him. He knew her.

“Stanford, it’s me.” She repeated as if he had amnesia. His gun was still pointing in her way until his eyes sparked realization.

He slowly lowered his guard and his gun with it. “Alma, what are you doing here?” His personality suddenly changed to being more firm.

Alma let out a calming breath before lowering her gun. “I came to see you. I didn’t think your portal was going to open again.” She placed her gun on the table. “So I took my chance and jumped in.”

“You have to go back.” Ford ordered with the point of his finger.

“Why?” Alma asked, looking back at him.

“My brother is here. And so is my great niece and nephew – apparently.” Ford replied, sliding his gun away. He walked up beside her and shared her gaze. “It already weird enough I am here, but you-” He hesitated once her eyes saddened. “This isn’t your place.”

Alma sighed, breaking her eye contact. “But it was my dimension once before too. I’ve been waiting for this chance to come back.”

“You’re here. But, I can’t have you be here.” He empathized on the here with his finger pointing down.

She grabbed her gun and toyed with it for a second before sliding it back into its holster. Without another look, she started to walk away, only for Ford to grab her arm. “Alma wait.”

“Having second thoughts?” She said, stopped by his hand. His six fingers tightened on her as he let out a slight whimper.

“I’ll let you stay on one condition.” His arm fell as he took a few steps back. “Stay away from my family. That’s all I ask.”

Alma turned towards him, her eyes glossed over. Ford still didn’t think this was the best idea. But she didn’t have any other place to go. He just hoped if his family did discover her, they’d accept her. Just like he did.