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aceofstars16 · 9 months ago

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Oh look, another Gravity Falls fic! I started this one a while ago but finally got around to finishing and editing it! Title is from the song "It's Alright" by Mother Mother

And hey it actually kind of fits Week 4 of @forduary cause it is older Ford *jazz hands*

You can read on AO3 but I will put the fic under the cut here as well!

Summary: Weirdmageddon is over, everything should be fine, right? But Mabel and Ford find themselves confronted with feelings they'd rather forget, and find comfort from each other. (Aka, Mabel has nightmares and Ford is there to comfort her because we love fluff and Mabel and Ford bonding)

It was late. Ford wasn’t exactly sure what time it was, but the kids had gone to bed hours ago, and he had sent Stan off to get some sleep, what? An hour, two hours ago? Something like that. His body was drained and he knew he should sleep. But he knew what awaited him if he did. Sure, Bill was gone, but nightmares would still come, he knew it. Especially after all that had happened. Even in the waking hours, he couldn’t get rid of the image of him pointing the memory gun at Stan, no matter how hard he wished it would leave him. After all, despite Stan remembering more and more, there were still holes in his memory. Which is why Ford was still up, rifling through boxes he had long forgotten about, looking for anything that might help his brother fill in those holes.

Pulling out another photobook, Ford started flipping through it. He had already put a few aside to show Stan when he woke up, but this one was mostly pictures from college. He put it in the useless pile – though he supposed he might share it with Fiddleford at some point. Ford wasn’t sure if it was irony or a sign of his poor life choices that two of his closest friends had lost their memories because of his decisions.

With a sigh, Ford picked up a frame from the box, only to freeze when he heard a floorboard creak.

Quickly looking up, he was expecting to see Stan – it hadn’t been uncommon the last day or so to find his brother up and about at any hour of the day or night. However, this time, it wasn’t his brother who was up. Instead, he saw his great niece walking past the doorway.

“Mabel?” Setting down the frame, Ford stood up, trying his best to ignore how hard the movement was. Maybe he should try to get some sleep…

Mabel had already walked past the room, but a second later, her head poked into the doorway. “Oh, Grunkle Ford! I…didn’t know you were up.” She fiddled with her nightgown, her eyes flickering to and fro much faster than normal.

“I was just looking through some old boxes.” Ford gestured to the box he had been perusing. “What are you doing up at this hour?”

Mabel glanced at the box, then the floor, then at Ford, then at the wall, before looking at the ground once again. “I uh…” She swallowed, then said in a quiet voice, “…nightmare…”

Sadness pierced Ford’s heart. He was used to nightmares, and in a sense, he knew it was his fault that he had so many. But Mabel? She was far too young and innocent to be dealing with such troubles. He took a step forward, but stopped. He didn’t want to make anything worse. “Would you like to talk about it?”

Looking at him, Mabel opened her mouth, then closed it and bit her lip before shaking her head, which only made Ford more worried about her.

Glancing at the box by the couch, Ford decided a different tactic might be helpful – one that he used quite often with himself – distraction. “Would you like to help me look through my old things?”

Mabel perked up at that. “Really?”

Ford nodded and gave her his best smile before motioning her to come closer. “Of course. There is a lot to look through and I could use the help.”

A smile slowly grew on Mabel’s face and she made her way to the box and picked up an old framed certificate – his diploma. For a moment, she just looked at it, then she spoke. “Wow, the seventies! You really are old!”

A chuckle escaped Ford before he could stop it. He reached down and took the frame from her, shaking his head as he placed it in the useless pile. “I suppose I am getting a little old.” He reached down and picked up another photo album then sat down, patting the space beside him.

Mabel grinned and plopped herself down next to him, leaning her head against his arm as he opened the book, only to straighten up.

“Oh my gosh is that you and Stan as teenagers?!?” Her smile was contagious.

“It is…” Ford said quietly, trying not to think too much about the lump that grew in his throat as he was faced with the memories the pictures brought to the surface. Hopefully that was a good sign that they would help Stan remember. Even if they only served to remind him of all the things he wished he could change.

“Ooo who is that?” Mabel pointed to another picture.

And so, the night continued, Mabel asking questions and Ford telling her stories of when he was younger. Ford was in the middle of talking about one of his favorite classes at a summer camp when he glanced down and realized that Mabel was fast asleep, using his arm as a pillow.

A soft smile grew on his face, and he carefully set the book they had been looking through to the side. He knew he should simply take Mabel back to her bed and continue his work. There was still so much left to go through. But then, in her sleep, Mabel curled up closer to him. He supposed he could rest his eyes. Just for a few hours…

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The sky split open, turning the world red. Laughter filled the air.

“Thanks Shooting Star!”

Bill’s voice echoed around Mabel.

“I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Bill’s voice sound behind her. Spinning around, Mabel shrunk back as the demon grew bigger and bigger. Screams surrounded her, growing louder and louder until she couldn’t hear herself think anymore. Chaos reigned. Then suddenly the noise died and she only heard one voice.

“Who you talkin' to?”

She was looking at Stan again, confused, lost, not knowing who he was, or who she was. He turned and looked at her, then a chorus of her family’s voices spoke all together.

“It’s all your fault.”

“I didn’t mean to!” Mabel cried out, tears growing in her eyes.

“Your fault, your fault, your fault!”

The voices grew louder and louder, no matter how hard she pleaded, tried to apologize, they wouldn’t stop. She was drowning in guilt, it was pressing down on her chest, heavier and heavier until she couldn’t breathe.

Gasping, Mabel started awake. The voices were gone. The only sounds were Dipper’s quiet breathing and the occasional bug hitting the window in the attic. But her heart was still racing, and the guilt from her dream was still pressing down on her. Waking up hadn’t freed her from the reality of her actions.

She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t haunted by Weirdmageddon, and all of the events of the last week. And she hadn’t even lived in the apocalyptic world that long, not compared to the townsfolk or Dipper - there were times when she had heard him muttering in his sleep. And then yesterday she had once again stood face to face with her mistakes, when she had found herself lost with thousands of versions of herself.

Holding out her hand, Mabel saw her entire arm shaking. She felt cold despite the humidity of the attic. Swallowing hard, she looked at Dipper. For a split second, she considered waking him. She knew he wouldn’t mind, not that much at least, but…he didn’t know the whole truth. About how Weirdmageddon had really started.

Forcing herself to move, Mabel got out of bed and shakily made her way to the door, then down the stairs. She didn’t quite know where she was going. Maybe to find Stan… he always make her feel better. Or…Mabel didn’t realize where her feet were taking her until she was standing in the doorway to the secret room her and Dipper had fought over what seemed like ages ago.

It was Ford’s room now. Though there still wasn’t a bed in it, just a couch where Ford was conked out…had he really been sleeping on the couch for weeks? How had she never realized that until now? Just another reason she was selfish. The guilt in her chest grew.

“Mabel?”

Ford’s voice made her jump. She thought he'd been asleep. But he was sitting up now, one hand resting on his hip and the other straightening his glasses.

The guilt monster pressed down on her more. Ford needed sleep. Only a few days ago, he had been staying up till all ends of the night. He was finally resting and she had ruined it. Swallowing, she opened her mouth, trying to make herself apologize and tell him she was just going to get a drink, but the words wouldn’t come.

“Nightmare?” He asked quietly, concern lining his voice.

Hugging herself, Mabel tried blinking back the tears that were growing in her eyes, she shook her head. Her performance must not have been very convincing however, because Ford patted the couch next to him.

“Come here.” It was a gentle invitation, and despite knowing she didn’t deserve it, Mabel couldn’t stop herself. She rushed forward and sat down on the couch, curling up in on herself as she did.

A gentle hand rested on her shoulder and pulled her into a small side hug.

“It’s alright…it…everything is okay now.” Ford spoke quietly as his hand moved up and down in a comforting motion.

However, they had the opposite effect on Mabel. Tears blurred her vision as the guilt and regret pressed in on her.

“No it’s not!” A sob shook her body and she curled in on herself even more.

For a moment, there was no response, then Ford spoke again, his voice heavy with remorse. “I’m so sorry, Mabel…”

She froze at the unexpected words and slowly looked up at him. He was staring at the ground, his face downcast. “Wh…what?”

He turned to look at her. “Weirdmageddon…everything that happened. It…it’s all my fault. I let Bill into our universe, I couldn’t stop him before…” He shook his head. “I’m sorry my mistakes hurt you…”

Each word weighed down on her more and more. “Grunkle Ford it’s not…it’s not your fault it…” her throat tightened and she closed her eyes tight, resulting in a tear rolling down her cheek. “…it’s mine…”

Even with her eyes closed, Mabel could feel Ford straighten up. “Mabel, it is not your-”

“Yes it is!” Mabel opened her eyes and looked right at Ford, not even trying to stop her crying. “I-I gave B-Bill the rift! I…if it wasn’t for me W-Weirdmageddon never would’ve happened! Stan wouldn’t have-” Her voice broke as sobs overtook her whole body, guilt pulling her down, down…

Arms wrapped around her, pulling her into a warm embrace.

“It’s not your fault, Mabel.” Ford’s voice was soft and kind, not the angry disbelief she had been expecting every time she had thought about telling anyone what had happened.

“Bill is a master manipulator…he’d do anything, say anything to get what he wants…wanted.”

Hiding her face in his sweater, Mabel was tempted to just let it go at that. Bill was awful…But… “I know…but I…I still didn’t want summer to end. I…I was scared and selfish and…I want to be better but what if I mess up again?!? What if I keep being selfish?” Anti-Mabel’s words echoed around in her head as Mabel curled in on herself.

Ford’s arms tightened around her and after a moment, he sighed and spoke softly.

“I know how you feel.”

Mabel froze. “You…you do?”

“I do.” Ford said, regret lining his voice. “When I was younger, I was so focused on what I wanted, that I hurt the person that meant the most to me. And then I ignored all of the warnings I saw about Bill because I wanted to make a name for myself…Even now…I…I was so…caught up in my frustration and desire to make things right that I didn’t even…think about how my distrust could backfire…I didn’t want to admit my mistakes and…by the time I did…it was too late…and Stanley paid the price for my pride.”

Looking up, Mabel saw Ford staring at the wall, tears pooling in his eyes.

He seemed to sense her gaze and turned attention to her, but not before quickly wiping his eyes and clearing this throat. Then he gave her a gentle smile.

“You’re a better person than I am, Mabel. I…the fact that you want to change now, at your age, shows more maturity than I’ve had for most of my life.”

Mabel saw the sadness lingering under his smile, and she wrapped her arms around him and hugged him. “You’re not a bad person, Grunkle Ford.”

Ford was silent for a moment, then he sighed. “I…I’m glad you think that, Mabel.”

Sitting back a little, Mabel met his gaze. “I don’t think so. I know so! Maybe…maybe we both have some things to work on but you aren’t a bad person. You are just the right amount of nerdy for Dipper, and you’ve done everything to get Stan’s memory back and you’ve sat with me and helped me feel better after I’ve had a nightmares. I wouldn’t want any other person to have come out of the portal.”

The smallest laugh escaped Ford. "I…okay, Mabel…I…thank you.”

Mabel smiled at him. “I can remind you any time you need it!”

He quirked an eyebrow. “Any time?”

“Cell phones!”

“Oh, right…I’m not the best at using them but…”

“Stan can help! At least…” Mabel hummed in thought. “Well, he can kind of use one, and you can learn!”

Ford laughed lightly and smiled. “I’ll do my best.”

“Promise?” Mabel held out her pinkie. For a moment, Ford just stared at it, then he interlocked his pinkie with hers.

“Promise.”

#gravity falls #gravity falls fanfiction #forduary #forduary 2024 #ford pines #mabel pines #stanford pines #mabel and ford bonding #sweater twins #stan pines #dipper pines #stanley pines #(they are mentioned in it at least xD)#aceo writes things

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unculturedmamoswine · 2 years ago

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Forduary Week 4: Switching Identities

For week 4, I wrote a fic in the form of 40 (haha get it, FORDy??) 100 word drabbles. Ford meets Fords in a multiverse adventure!

Stanford first encountered another Stanford within a year of being blown violently into the vortex he’d finally, finally gotten to work right. He’d settled on a space station known for being anomaly-rich.

The other Stanford had been older, at least fifty, and was missing an eye. Stanford had reached out a hand to his double, who’d recoiled in horror and snapped at him not to be a fool, that if they so much as brushed hands the universe would dissolve, or at least they themselves would.

Stanford wasn’t sure he believed that, but who could he trust if not himself?

After meeting Old Stanford, Stanford had met Scared Stanford, who’d been his own age, but who was frankly a pitiful wretch of a man. He’d cowered at everything, from Stanford himself to the benign life-forms that floated serenely past the portholes in Space Station Carl. He had fallen all over himself to explain his predicament to Stanford, begging for help and wringing his hands, glancing constantly over his shoulder. Unfortunately, station security had had to shoot him when he’d gone seemingly mad, attacking anyone within his reach.

Stanford still had nightmares about Scared Stanford’s gales of laughter as he died.

After Scared Stanford’s grisly passing, Stanford had steeled himself. If he wanted to get home to his own universe and assure his colleagues that he was alive (and right! He was right about interdimensional travel, so there Andrew fucking Smith-Banterton!) then he would have to someday venture away from SSC and its comfortable environment.

He collected supplies, bade goodbye to the friends and colleagues he’d accrued at SSC Solar School of Anomalous Arts and Sciences, and ventured down (or up, or whatever direction– this was space, after all) to the planet Carl, which was known for both remoteness and adventure.

Stanford was surprised by how utterly delightful living on his own in the wilderness could be. He didn’t want for any resources (SSCSSAAS had funded his trip, as he’d promised to write up a series of informative pamphlets about the surface of Carl while studying it) and had easily learned how to hunt, fish, and forage for native flora. He’d never had much of an opportunity to be alone out in the wild while attending West Coast Tech back on Earth and was glad that, if he had to be away from home, at least it was a learning experience.

While Stanford didn’t have any direct contact with SSC while on the planet’s surface, he did have an alert beacon, to be used whenever he decided his sabbatical was over and he’d like to come back to the station, or if an emergency arose and he needed evacuation.

He also had medical resources, dense ration bricks, a spare bedroll, blankets, water purification powder, and a plethora of equipment that would hopefully come in handy as he scoured the surface of the planet, or as much of it as he could see on foot, for a way to get back home.

Stanford Four tumbled into Stanford’s life suddenly. He appeared in a burst of blue light near one of Carl’s many deep ravines.

Eyeing him carefully, Stanford asked “Stanford Pines?”

The man, dressed as Stanford was in a long coat and battered, neutrally colored clothing, as well as Stanford’s entire genetic makeup, stared at him in shock.

“Hello,” Stanford greeted him carefully. “If you’re surprised to see me, don’t worry. I’ve met other versions of myself– ourselves– from the vastness of the multiverse! I won’t harm you.” Stanford Four continued to say nothing, staring apparently stupefied at Stanford. Then, he spoke.

As the wind whipped dust around them, Stanford Four said “Um. Yeah. Yes. I’m Stanford. Why…” he seemed to grasp vaguely for something to say, hand opening and closing.

“Did you intentionally travel between universes? No?” The other Stanford shook his head. “Then you probably fell through a randomly-occurring rift and ended up here. It happens a lot. About six hundred gallons of seawater pours out of the sky just over there once a week.” Stanford pointed off behind him.

“Oh.” Stanford Four was staring.

“Well.” Stanford stuck his hands in his pockets. “You can hang around if you want.”

Stanford wasted no time in making certain Stanford Four knew of the risks inherent in two versions of one man staying too near each other.

“So if you have the means to leave, I would advise it,” he finished. Stanford Four grimaced.

“I would if I could. I just want to go home.”

“Same here. It seems to be a running problem with me,” Stanford told him sympathetically. “How did you end up here?”

“Fell through some kind of portal. I started out in a world full of people with leaves for heads.” Stanford Four sighed. “I prefer this, honestly.”

Stanford Four decided to stick around and help Stanford with his research. In theory, Stanford was here so that he could learn to harness the abnormal powers of Carl and get back home. In practice, he was at least hoping that SSCSSAAS would grant him another PhD before he left.

“So,” Stanford Four cleared his throat. He looked around at Stanford’s camp site. It was large and sheltered on three sides by rock walls twenty-two feet high. “What are you doing here?”

Stanford considered. “Ultimately, looking for a way to return to my universe, same as you. Are you hungry?”

Stanford noticed Stanford Four’s hands as Stanford Four helped him to tear open and prepare meal packs.

“Ten fingers?” he asked. Stanford Four seemed alarmed. He pulled his hand out of sight. “It’s fine! I don’t care how many fingers you have. Ten is the normal amount where I’m from, but…” he held up his hand, wiggling all six digits.

“Oh,” said Stanford Four. “It’s normal in my universe, too.” He looked down at his hands, frowning.

Stanford also frowned and didn’t reply. He was jealous of Stanford Four. What must it have been like to grow up outwardly normal?

The morning after their meeting, Stanford Four accepted the mug of wake-up beverage Stanford had placed near his borrowed bedroll and said, “Thanks, Ford.”

“Ford?” Stanford had grinned. “Are you hoping to be Stan?” Stanford Four looked shocked, face paling. Stanford hoped that wasn’t some kind of horrible insult in Stanford Four’s universe.

“It’s fine,” he said quickly. “It would make everything simpler if we used nicknames. I’ve never cared for them much either way. Stan, Ford, it’s no difference to me.”

Stan froze. His cup was forgotten in his lap. “Okay,” he said, eyeing Stanford. “I can be Stan.”

Stanford’s colleagues at SSCSSAAS were probably the nicest associates he’d ever had. They were nonjudgemental, not caring that he was an alien or that he had the non-human-standard number of fingers. They never pried into his past, simply accepting with great sympathy that he was stranded and was on a quest to get home. Some secret part of Stanford might just possibly believe that he was happier here than he had ever been in his home dimension.

For some reason, Stanford shared this with Stanford Four/Stan after they’d worked together for only a week.

Stan frowned at him. “Seriously?”

Before Stanford could open his mouth Stan went on, watching him shrewdly. “You never had any friends, nobody? There wasn’t anything–” he put a subtle emphasis on the word “–back on Earth for you?”

Ford scowled at Stan. “You know what people are like, Stan! Stupid, mostly. And cruel.” He flicked his eyes down to Stan’s perfectly normal hands. “I suppose you might not know about that firsthand,” he sneered.

“Don’t give me that,” Stan said, annoyed, “My life’s not perfect because of my hands!”

Stanford gritted his teeth as Stan’s expression shifted to pity. “Look, Ford…what about your family?”

Stanford didn’t have much family. Parents, yes. No extended family. A much younger brother he barely knew. It was all very normal, but they didn’t understand him and he had long ago given up wishing they would try to. This was nothing Stanford had ever shared with anyone but he felt oddly like he could talk to Stan about it. Surely there was nobody he could trust so much as himself, right? That was what he had always thought, even before he had met other versions of himself.

He told all of this to Stan, who looked disturbed, even sickened.

An awkward silence yawned between them. Stanford had never loved awkward silences. He preferred the normal kind where he and the other person didn’t interact at all and then went their separate ways. He wondered if he should ask Stan about his own family, as this was clearly an important subject to him.

Then again, this was probably another thing like Stan’s hands– something that Stan had (loving family) that Ford, Stanford, lacked. Stanford didn’t like feeling inferior to himself, and he decided he wasn’t going to set himself up for it.

So.

“Let’s just do our work, okay Stan?”

The next months revealed that Stan was more useful as an assistant than anything else. He apparently had never done much of his own independent research. According to him, colleges in his world required payment upfront for an entire education before they would allow a student to enroll, and Stan still hadn’t saved up enough, though he was as old as Stanford.

Appalled, Stanford offered to vouch for Stan’s enrollment into SSCSSAAS, if Stan should decide to take a break from anomaly-hunting on Carl’s surface.

Stan said no. He would only leave ‘this damn planet’ if it meant getting home.

It became second nature, having Stan around. They were a well-oiled anomaly-researching machine after a while.

In order to avert their own demise, they managed with surprising ease to live without ever coming close to accidentally touching and destroying themselves. Breaking camp, taking samples, tracking the telltale quivering energy patterns that appeared on their sensors whenever a portal was about to open– they did it all from a respectable five-foot distance.

Sometimes Stan tried to high five Ford, or clap his shoulder. Though those events were rare, they never stopped entirely, as if Stan kept forgetting that they couldn’t touch.

“Stan?”

“What’s up?”

“Why are you so desperate to get back to your universe?” Ford rolled onto his side, watching Stan from across the fire. “Everything you’ve said about it makes it sound… terrible.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? It’s fine!” Stan protested. “Listen, if it’s about the college thing, don’t worry about it. I don’t need a degree to know I’ve got brains.”

“Um, yes, sure, I’m sure it has its positive qualities, but you seem so… motivated.” Stan was the first to work each morning, and the last to pack it in for the day. Ford wondered why.

“Well…” Stan fidgeted. Ford waited him out. “Look, you might not have any family, or friends,” he added quickly “but I do, okay? I kinda followed someone in here. Or in there. Through the portal. Me and… the other guy, we were fighting.” Stan’s voice, already more gravelly than Ford’s, got rougher still. “He fell through and I stupidly dived in after him. It’s not just that I want to get back, I gotta find my friend, you know?”

“Oh, I see.” Ford wasn’t sure how to feel about that. There’s nobody out there looking for me, he didn’t say.

They became very good at being in the right place at the right time to find opening portals. They traveled along one of Carl’s coasts into less arid land. The wide, sweeping grasslands they found themselves in were rife with anomalies. One day, a glowing rift in the ground opened and spat out ten large gold bars (Stan kept those; Ford was happy for him.) Another time, their calculations suggested that a portal would open on a world full of cloud cities. They were right. They watched the open portal in the sky, struck dumb by the beauty before them.

On the last day, before Ford knew it was the last day, he stood with Stan on a ridge of stone overlooking more of the same green plain they’d been exploring, waiting for a portal to open. It was supposed to lead to a frozen tundra (or possibly the vacuum of space; they hadn’t quite figured out the readings.) Sure enough, blue light edged in gold tore through the air about ten feet above the soil and opened as dramatically as most interdimensional portals tended to.

They looked into an icy world, and saw a distant figure sprinting toward them.

Startled and distracted for a moment by the running man, Ford found himself pummeled by the gale-force wind pouring from the rift. It was a foolish oversight not to consider the weather, hadn’t he been doused by a blast of seawater more than once?

Ford was knocked off his feet, tumbling backward toward the precipice behind him. He broke his fingernails clawing desperately at the bare ground, to little effect. He let go when his head collided with a rock, sending a wave of nausea and pain from his crown to his belly. Barely conscious, he slipped over the edge.

Hands grabbed his wrist and the collar of his coat. Ford glanced at the drop. It was a long way down, but not enough of a drop to kill him instantly. He shut his eyes so that he wouldn’t have to see, and did his best to get purchase on the rock wall with his boots, to help his rescuer pull his body back to safety.

Ford flailed his free arm uselessly, more out of fear than because he thought it might achieve anything. For a horrible moment the hand on his collar let go, then grasped his free hand.

As his terror mounted, he felt the hands gripping him give a tremendous heave, and he found himself on his belly in the dirt, Stan panting next to him.

“Fuck!” Stan exclaimed, wild-eyed. The wind still blew violently from the open portal, but that was the last thing on Ford’s mind.

“You… touched me…you–” Ford cut himself off, retching, so dizzy he felt like he was still falling. He spat bile into the pool of his own vomit and tried to crawl away from it. Stan dragged him off to the side. Ford stared at Stan’s hand on his arm.

“But… I verified Old Stanford’s findings myself. We should be… dead. Nonexistent. I don’t understand.”

Stan growled. “For fuck’s sake, Stanford, I’m not you! I’m not Stanford Pines, okay?” He ran his hand through his hair, half angry and half embarrassed. “I just–”

“What in the world is going on here?” Demanded an uncomfortably familiar voice. Ford turned to look at the portal, which neatly framed a figure dressed much too warmly for the climate he found himself in. The running man had made it through.

Of course, Ford thought numbly. Of course it’s me. Who else would it be?

The new Stanford tugged a scarf and goggles away from his face, staring at Stan and Ford lying in the dirt. This had to be the worst first impression Ford had made on an alternate self. Suddenly he fell back into the dirt, Stan having leapt to his feet. The sudden movement made his head throb and stomach churn. “Sixer!” Stan cried. He crossed to the other Stanford and threw his arms around him. After a surprised moment, Stanford hugged Stan back. Over Stan’s shoulder, Stanford Five stared at Ford, who broke eye contact only because he was vomiting again.

“Stanley, what, who,” Stanford Five spluttered. It was all getting to be a bit much for Ford, who closed his eyes and laid his head on the ground. “What’s going on? Why did you follow me through the portal, that was extremely dangerous! You could have been killed!”

“Well I wasn’t, was I? What was I supposed to do, just dust off my hands and snoop through your fridge? I thought maybe I could get you back, I didn’t expect to end up in some stupid plant dimension!”

Brief silence.

“Well, the past is the past. Care to explain him?”

Ford imagined Stanford Five was indicating him. He waved a little in the direction of the voices. If he was more alert, he would be more excited about this revelation that Stanford Four, alias Stan, was not, in fact, any version of Stanford. As it was, he felt an odd despair that could possibly be due to his concussion, but he suspected not. He felt that he wouldn’t like what happened in or after this conversation.

“That’s some other you,” Stan explained. “He’s trying to get back to his world too, so we’ve been working together for like a year.”

Footsteps. Then, a hand tapping his face.

“Hey, other Ford. Sit up, would ya?” Stan helped him to do so. Propped against a rock, Ford tentatively opened his eyes. Stan crouched next to him, looking worried. “I’ve seen worse head wounds, you’re gonna be fine. Drink some water, okay, pal?” Ford realized he was holding his water bottle and drank obediently. Then he looked past Stan, at Stanford Five, who was still staring at him. Ford refocused on Stan.

“So you, you’re Stanford’s… brother. You’re from a world where… we’re brothers.” The words felt clumsy in his mouth. “You lied.”

“What?” Demanded Stanford Five. “You pretended to be me? Are you really that compulsive a liar?” He asked irately.

“Ah, get off my case, Ford,” Stan stood and looked at his brother. “Last time we saw each other we had a fistfight! If this guy wanted to murder his version of Stan, I didn’t wanna take the heat! Anyway, apparently Fords are a dime a dozen around here; he assumed I was one, too.” Stan looked down at Ford. “Tell him. You met other Fords, right?”

Ford started to nod, then winced. “You’re the, um, the third I’ve met, yes.”

Stanford Five seemed mildly interested in the alternate selves Ford had met, but fell silent as he watched Stan slap a medical pack on Ford’s head and begin to set up camp.

Eventually he stepped away, examining the portal. He dug a handheld tool from his pack and did something with it that looked like he was cauterizing the portal from top to bottom, until it simply faded from existence.

Nodding to himself, Stanford Five put away the device and removed his thick coat, draping it over his pack. Then he sat down a good distance from Ford, still silent.

“I guess it makes sense,” Ford said suddenly, catching Stanford Five’s attention, “that he calls you Ford. If you grew up together, you couldn’t both be Stan. I never had a nickname before”

“Oh.” Stanford Five looked uncomfortable. “Yes. You said you don’t have a brother, right?”

“Just one. Sherman.”

“Oh, of course. Other than him, though. You don’t have a twin.”

Twins. Of course. Ford laughed. “No. I don’t.”

Stanford Five rubbed his hands on his thighs, as Ford did when he was nervous and in a conversation he wanted to end. “I never imagined…” he muttered, trailing off.

“Stan calls me Ford,” Ford told him. “But I’m not really Ford, am I? I was just…” Stan’s temporary brother. Someone to hang out with until he found his real family. Ford knew which way the wind was blowing. Stanford Five hadn’t accidentally ended up here, he probably had the tech necessary to find Stan intentionally. Now that they were together again, Stan and his Stanford would go home, and Ford would eventually return to his own, and then what? Go back to R&D in California? Write articles? Visit Sherman and try to manufacture a previously nonexistent fraternal relationship?

“Well...” Stanford Five looked deeply uncomfortable. “I’m sure you can call yourself Ford if you want to.” Ford glared at himself. He might be concussed, but he knew when he was playing dumb.

“Alright,” Stanford Five said, “what kind of response are you looking for? I’m sorry you don’t have a Stanley in your life, Stanford. But to tell the truth, Stan and I haven’t seen much of each other for a long time, so I’m proof that you can get by without him.”

“I’m sure that’s why you both wanted to find each other so badly,” Ford said dryly.

Ford was drooping with exhaustion by evening. Stan fixed them all some rats and meal bricks, them told his brother to go kick rocks so he and Ford could talk for a second.

“Hey, are you pissed that I lied?” he asked bluntly.

“No,” Ford said honestly. “I just feel… strange.” He couldn’t admit anything more than that, and Stan didn’t pry.

“Yeah. But it’s been a trip, huh?” Stan grinned at him, and Ford couldn't help but smile back, until his jaw cracked with a yawn. Stan patted his back, they climbed into their beds, and that was that.

The next morning, both Stan and Stanford Five were gone. Ford had expected it on some level, but it still stung. Once he removed the med pack, his head felt fine, only a little tender.

Ford prepared wake-up beverage (space coffee, Stan had called it) and climbed back into bed to drink it. The morning was mild and pleasant, the air sweet. It was still hours before Ford could force himself to get to his feet, dress, and set about breaking camp.

While packing up, Ford found a letter and a notebook on a crate. Ford opened the letter first.

Ford (it said)

Sorry to disappear on you, but Sixer said the portals are finicky and we had to go when we could. Also, I guess I’m sorry for lying and stuff, but mostly I told you the truth when we talked.

I told Ford what you told me about your universe, and we both think it sounds pretty much like ours, except that you didn’t get to have a cool twin to make your life better. (Sixer is really jealous that you got to go to his dream school, so at least you got that going for you, right?)

Honestly, your world sounded kinda crappy, Ford. I mean, just because all you ever talked about was doing science. Not to get too mushy, but I think you were kinda lonely. Maybe it’s not worth going back to, you know? You have some teacher friends at your space college, right?

The handwriting changes suddenly to Ford’s own.

Stanford, here. Stan is getting distracted. He’s supposed to be telling you that in the notebook I left with you is everything you need to know to get back to your own universe, if that’s the choice you make. DON’T change my formula!

I know it looks like you could tweak it to make the energy transfer easier on your body, but if you want to end up back in your world at the right time period, so that your Earth has aged the correct amount along with you, DO NOT CHANGE IT.

Stanley wants me to tell you another thing. I had a friend in college, Fiddleford McGucket. If you go back to your Earth, maybe see if he’s around. He might be living in California, too. He was a good friend to me, and perhaps could be to you as well.

Ford grins as the handwriting changes back to Stan’s.

Man, you can sure talk. Where was I? Oh yeah. Since our worlds are basically the same (that paying upfront for college thing was another lie, sorry) here’s my advice: if you DO decide to go back, look up my Ford’s college buddy, call Ma and Pops, heck, go visit Shermie at his college and toss a football around or something.

I’ll see you around, bro

Stan

P.S. Ford just HAS to have the last word. He says look up a place called Gravity Falls, Oregon. You won’t be sorry.

#gravity falls #forduary #forduary2023 #my fic #my post

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koraesdoodles · 2 years ago

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I posted 190 times in 2022

That's 138 more posts than 2021!

106 posts created (56%)

84 posts reblogged (44%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@koraesdoodles

@unearthlyfromage

@gobblewanker

@starprincess4

@mother-ofthe-universe

I tagged 173 of my posts in 2022

Only 9% of my posts had no tags

#gravity falls - 97 posts

#stanley pines - 79 posts

#stanford pines - 79 posts

#practice makes progress - 72 posts

#stan twins - 47 posts

#gravity falls fanart - 46 posts

#other people's much better art - 31 posts

#ford pines - 19 posts

#stan and ford pines - 19 posts

#stan pines - 16 posts

Longest Tag: 105 characters

#i'm like the dweeb at the middle school lunch table hoping you all don't kick me out since i don't belong

My Top Posts in 2022:

Heavily inspired/redraw of this: https://www.pinterest.com/pin/51228514500114889/

EDIT: @eregyrn-falls and @hkthatgffan found the original for me! Thank you! https://sleepyharpseal.tumblr.com/post/157619413269

84 notes - Posted April 18, 2022

@forduary Week 4: Hug it out

The first time Ford found Stan curled up on his bed with the blanket pulled over his head they’d been six years old. Stan had gotten into the new books Ford had received for Christmas and accidentally spilled paint all over them. Ford was furious, and didn’t talk to Stan for three days. Then he’d walked into their room and found Stan in a ball sobbing his little eyes out.

Ford sat on the bed hesitantly, looking at the floor while his brother pretended that he didn’t know Ford was there. Eventually, Stan peeked over the blanket and Ford began to talk.

“I’m still mad.”

“-- I didn’t -- !”

“I’m still mad.” He reached out hesitantly then abandoned caution and threw his arms around his brother. “I really liked those books.” To his horror, tears started to roll down Ford’s cheeks. Hiccup’s caught his breath and it felt like he couldn’t breathe. “I can be mad!” Stan held him while he cried.

Ford forgave him a day later.

When they were ten, Stan came home sunburnt and angry. Ford had spent the day working on a new project, and didn’t realize why Stan was giving him the cold shoulder until he glanced at the clock.

“Oh my gosh, Stan I’m so sorry! I didn’t realize it was so late I --”

“Whatever, Poindexter.”

“No, I mean it! Did you go to the fair? Did you see any clowns?”

“Leave me alone.”

“Stan --”

“Just do your stupid science and leave me alone, Stanford!” Stan shoved his brother out of the way and slammed the door to their room, leaving Ford in the hallway, feeling like a jerk.

He apologized again that night. Stan said he forgave him. But it wasn’t until a week later that he actually started acting normal again.

Ford held grudges. When someone wronged him, they were on his black list for life. Crampelter grew up and lived a good life, but Ford never forgave him for his childish bullying. Carla McCorkle would never earn his forgiveness after taking his brother on a date that resulted in Stan getting a black eye and being grounded from the Stan o’ War for three weeks (he never did get Stan to tell him exactly what had happened, but Stan got in trouble enough without some girl making things even more difficult). When someone did him wrong, Ford wasn’t one to immediately jump to forgiveness.

But he always forgave Stan. When Stan lied to him about taking their Pa’s gold chain, Ford forgave him. When Stan stole Ford’s math homework in sixth grade and copied it, Ford forgave him and even let him copy his other assignments (Pa wouldn’t get as mad at Stan if he got better grades, so he figured it was good for both of them). Ford even forgave Stan’s lackluster excitement when Ford was offered the chance to go to his dream school.

And he would have forgiven Stan after the science fair. He would have, if Stan hadn’t left (been kicked out, but he didn’t have to leave forever. He could have stayed around, explained himself, something, instead of just leaving Ford behind with nothing).

But Ford deserved to be mad! Stan had wrecked things too many times. He was allowed to be mad about this. That didn’t mean he was going to freeze his brother out forever, he just . . . needed some time.

Stan didn’t hold grudges. He forgave easily and fast. But he let the pain linger. He held onto it like it was proof that whatever bad things happened to him were proof of an unfair universe that was out to get him. It wasn’t his fault that his dad was unfairly hard on him, or that he wasn’t as smart as his brother, or that the machine broke after a single punch to the table. It wasn’t his fault that he needed to steal to eat and that the supplies he was able to aquire built crummy vacuumes and worse bandages.

He just needed a chance, but nobody was willing to give him one.

It was a perfect storm. And things didn’t get better when they reunited ten years later, and there was no quick forgiveness when Ford stepped out of the portal thirty years after that. Too much had happened, and maybe Ford needed more time or maybe he’d just gotten so used to being upset that he didn’t spare any thought into fixing things. And Stan was willing, waiting to forgive his brother, but couldn’t stand that things had gone wrong for him again. It wasn’t until later that they realized something had to change. And by then, it was almost too late.

Ford walked into his brother’s room three days after they’d defeated Bill. It was the first thing he did every morning, since Stan tended to sleep in and Ford tried to avoid sleeping altogether. Ford liked having breakfast with the whole family, and he couldn’t do that if his brother insisted on staying in bed all day.

Ford also didn’t like being away from his twin for long periods of time. He’d spent thirty years holding a grudge against his brother, but he never imagined Stan actually being gone. Stan was always safe, which Ford most definitely wasn’t. He’d gone through the stages multiple times over the decades, forgiving Stan and then being angry at him all over again. But when his brother stared at him with those blank eyes, having no recollection of who he was or what had happened, Ford felt a fear that he’d never before experienced. He’d wanted to grab Stan and shake him, force him to come back to him. He could deal with being apart from his brother, he could deal with being angry at his brother, but he could not deal his brother being gone. He could not handle a brother that didn’t know him, who had sacrificed everything in order to save Ford despite everything.

It felt like if he let Stan out of his sight for too long, then his brother would revert back to that state. He knew it was illogical, but it didn’t matter. He woke his brother up every morning anyway.

Stan was curled up in a ball under the blankets. Ford went to shake his shoulder but found that Stan was already shaking.

“Stanley?” Ford’s voice made Stan jolt.

“Morning already?” Stan’s voice was more gruff than usual, though he was clearly trying to sound normal.

“Are you alright?”

“Why wouldn’t I be? Now go away, I don’t have on any pants.”

See the full post

86 notes - Posted February 27, 2022

FINISHED! Late but here. Stanuary Week 2: Identity

96 notes - Posted January 16, 2022

Okay, okay, last one, I swear. I couldn’t let an AU week go by without including @artsymeeshee ‘s adorable Chibi Stan!

@forduary week 3: AU

124 notes - Posted February 20, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Whoops I made a chibi!stan 😆

I was looking at poses and came across this super cute one of a person with this little shoulder angel and I thought to myself: oh yeah, I bet I can make this worse.

Stan is not as excited as his brother, but Joke's on Ford when he starts worrying about his brother getting kidnapped and eaten by seagulls, or that he'll wake up in a coffee-needing haze and accidentally step on his mini-bro.

Chibi!stan belongs to @artsymeeshee

124 notes - Posted July 10, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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