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katsrnerstories · 4 years ago

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BillDip SlowBurn FanFic Chap. 1

Bill had destroyed Dipper's mind.

It has been a few years since weirdmageddon. Since Dipper and Mabel defeated demons from hellish planes of existence and saved the world and their friends from soul and mind crushing madness.

Dippers a freshman in college now. It was a moment that he had wished for for years. Highschool had been…

Well it wasn't the worst it could have been. Dipper hit a major glow up around the beginning of junior year (with Mabel's help of course) and life was a little easier. He was asked out on dates, went to a few parties here and there that people dragged him to, had some typical highschool fun in the city...

Until around that same time he started getting replies from colleges his senior year, he started to see Bill again. Every once in a while his mind would wander back to that summer, but it was always the good things or nightmares of the horrors they saw.

It started with just a little glimpse here and there. An eye in the back corner of his periphery, some yellow glimpse in a dark room.

A ghostly hand on his shoulder.

But these things were nothing to the first time Dipper realized something was wrong.

Dipper saw Bill in his dreams. And those dreams were beyond nightmares.

He had had nightmares before. Nightmares of weirdmageddon were common for both dipper and Mabel. But these… these were real; as much as a dream could be.

Because of Gravity Falls, Dipper really wasn't afraid of a lot of things that would have scared him. The unknown was comforting to him. Maybe because it wasn't too unknown to him and Mabel.

But bill. During those nightmares, brought everything he feared to the frontlines.

It had been a while since Mabel and him shared a room, so Mabel really didn't know about the fear Dipper experienced those nights.

She was more focused on getting to LA.

She wants to be a criminal psychoanalyst. To look at the minds of people and figure how they tick. Criminals especially.

Dipper could swear that Bill had done something to her to make her go down such a dark career path, but he couldn't say anything; he neither had a psychology degree nor was untouched by Bill himself.

Who really knows, it could have been anything else that happened to her in those hellish four years of highschool.

She had moved away quickly after highschool ended to learn in LA. Of course they facetime and text all the time, but the separation was still felt by both of them.

Everyone missed her presence. Her positivity, her unique personality.

That had transformed into something much darker come junior and senior year. She found out after a few failed boyfriends that she was not only Asexual, but that guys and even girls, can’t seem to give that part of a relationship up. Some even found it offensive that she felt that way.

Dipper went back to oregon. Of course he was in the city, but on weekends he would visit the Mystery Shack and Gravity Falls.

Soos was happy to give him one of the rooms in the basement. Sometimes even Grunkle Stan or Grunkle Ford would visit.

They decided shortly after Dipper and Mabel left that they would travel. Of course Ford's labs still sit under the mystery shack, but when Mabel and Dipper visited Soos the summer of their junior year Ford gave them full control of the labs (as long as Dipper kept everyone safe. Which he did too much annoyance of Mabel)

Soos and his wife at that time had just had a little baby boy, and now have a comfortable four kids, two boys and two girls (three of them were triplets) and run the shack not to much better than Stan did, with the same soul in the campy attractions and overpriced merchandise.

Wendy is in her senior year at a community college in Oregon city, right around the same place Dipper decided to go to school. They hang out pretty regularly, just around weekly.

Robby left gravity falls as soon as he got his GED. Went for New York, looking for a punk career. He sends Wendy emails every once in a while about his music and where he's at.

Shockingly, Pacifica stayed in Oregon, going to the same college Dipper goes to. They see each other, and after leaving her family, she found a lot out about herself and became a much better person.

She found she loved a good smoke and art. Apparently, something she hid from the world was that she loved art. She was probably one of the best artists Dipper had seen. After she left the hell hole of her family, she became really chill. Calm. even nice.

Her and Dipper have coffee pretty much every day. She was one of the only people who also knew what he had gone through.

And she was the only person who noticed as Dipper got worse and worse for wear.

Bill had been particularly evil the past few weeks, taking much more joy in Dippers struggle. Long ago Dipper had just sort of given up on screaming for Bill to stop. But he always refused to make a deal with him to stop the fear. Not again.

“Another nightmare again?” Pacifica asks, as Dipper requests 5 shots of caffeine in his already bitter caffeinated black coffee.

“Yeah. it's getting harder and harder to say no every night. And honestly the empty dorm isn't helping.”

“Why don't you just move in with me? I've got an extra room that's got your name written on the door if you want it.”

Dipper almost accepted, but decided against it. It was kind of weird, no matter how good of friends they were, to live with the ex that made you realized you were gay.

It wasn't her fault, it was just…

He liked a different kind of ass, as Mabel had said when he came out.

No, the daily overpriced coffee meetup was enough.

“Have you talked about it to Ford? Hes got to know something about it if he went through the same thing?”

“I don't want to bother them with it. They thought they got rid of Bill that summer, we all did. Bills my problem now.”

Pacifica gives him a knowing look. She knew that he was breaking, but couldn't figure out how to help him.

“Hows journalism?” Pacifica takes her coffee as she changes the subject.

“As boring as it ever is. Graphic design?”

“As confusing as ever.” Dipper takes a big sip from his steaming coffee. It's a briskly cold morning, enough he brought out his knit set Mabel had made for him on their 18th birthday. He had no shame in wearing it, and it in fact felt comforting today, to know that she was still with him in heart at least.

She never grew out of her sweater thing. She still makes sweaters, using it to get her to the next rent payment sometimes. Everyone can count on a big box with sweaters from her every Christmas here in Oregon.

With their coffees in hand, Dipper and Mabel head off to campus. And once they made it there they said their goodbyes with a hug and went their separate ways to start the day.

Dipper wanders into the lecture hall for his advanced maths class. People filter in as he types away on his computer.

The students around him wanted to be scientists, economists, etc. everyone found it weird that a creative writing major was not only taking advanced maths, this early in the morning, but was killing it. His grades spoke for themselves.

The class starts and Dipper still types away on his computer. He had been bored the night before as he was staving off sleeping and had read a chapter ahead in their textbook. He taught himself the three hour lesson that day in an hour.

It was no doubt that Dipper took after his great uncle Stanford. Grunkle Ford told him at one point that Dipper reminded him of a young Dr. Fiddleford. Dipper didn't really like being compared to the scientist that started a whole cult under Gravity Falls before going batshit crazy himself for a very long time.

He only hoped that he wouldn't end up like him. He didn't want to be some crazy man who roams the town.

Dipper had a story that he needed to finish for his next class. He had started to wear away the stories of Gravity Falls with his creative writing classes that he now had to actually think about what story to write. Mabel helped him out with the premise of the story last night. So he spent that class writing a simple flash fiction of one roaming the backrooms. (an urban legend Mabel had read about in an article somewhere.)

He found comfort in knowing that one thing did not exist to him. That one thing did not sit in the pits of Gravity Falls waiting for Dipper or one of them to unearth it.

The story reminded Dipper of falling through the endless pit just outside the Mystery Shack. A hole where they reminisced on days of the summer as they spent the day, or who knows how long, falling. they were all lucky that it was not, truly, endless.

And quickly the story was finished and the class closed early.

Dipper went for an early lunch. He scrolls through his phone, seeing Mabels three new instagram posts and all the other people she introduced him to.

After Mabel found out Dipper was gay, she went on a mission to hook him up with some LA guy. Oregons not terrible with their acceptance, but it's not something to be very open about. Plus Dipper wasn't the kind to walk pride without someone like Mabel hyping the both of them up. Because god knows that she needs just as much hyping up with who she is as Dipper.

When he walks into his empty apartment, anxiety wells up in Dippers chest. Quickly he turns on the TV, letting it run as white noise as he makes his lunch. The apartment had been empty since his recent relationship ended. Dipper is glad it ended, as the abuse just got too much; yet it was bad for Dipper to be left alone with his thoughts. Especially in an apartment that seemed to hold so much sadness and bad memories.

Mabel, after helping Dippers style, had made him a whole cookbook for him. It had all different kinds of foods, but the main dishes all were healthy. She had gone on a fitness rampage her sophomore year and had never truly grown out of it. It was from a bad place, but she turned it to a positive. As she always does.

She had told him that it was the first thing other than sleep to keep alive longer. She had made him promise that he would try to stay alive.

At this point it was the only thing keeping Dipper alive.

Bill had taxed his mind so much it was rare to find him not paranoid. Bill made Dippers anxiety beyond chronic, and the lack of sleep did not help his depression.

That had developed after Pacifica. It wasn't because of the break up, more at the fact that she had helped him so much.

She had accepted him being gay. She had helped him gain friends during their relationship, and she even helped him when money wasn't the best.

All this caused his anxiety to get to his head.

What if they think I’m evil for breaking it off with her? What if she'll never want to see me again? What if, what if, what if…

His depression had just gotten worse after the breakup and dealing with being alone again. It was the reason Dipper stayed with someone like that for so long.

All of the depression and anxiety ended up crashing down at the same time Bill Cypher ended up crashing into the picture.

At that point Bill only came to terrorise Dipper a few nights a month. It was easier to deal with. Now it's every night.

Dipper finishes making his food, sitting down in front of the TV to watch a show on Netflix.

He had been getting through the true crime shows. He swore that eventually he'd eventually either run a show like it with Mabel or be one of the cold cases lost to the world.

Yet within only a few minutes Dipper not only found himself asleep, but stuck in the mindscape.

“Been trying to avoid me, Pine Tree?”

Dipper no longer was shocked by Bill's voice. In fact the more and more he heard his voice, the more and more it began to sound almost human.

#billdip #gravity falls #whump writing #slow burn #fanfiction #writers #fandom #fanfic #bill x dipper #dipper pines #bill cipher #mabel pines #gravity falls pacifica #adult dipper pines #powerless bill cipher

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a-solitary-marshmallow · 4 years ago

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Please Don’t See Me - Chapter 3

Ford was late.

Stan paced, unable to quell the prickling of anxiety in his chest. Ford was late and it was starting to get dark and he hadn’t come back in the afternoon like he had the past four days Stan had been trapped there. He strained his ears but the only sounds he could catch were the usual foresty noises, squirrels and shit.

Yeah, Ford was a grown man who could handle himself, and yeah, he technically was keeping Stan locked up, but the guy didn’t know it and goddammit, Stan was allowed to be worried about his twin!

He continued to pace and growl to himself as the shadows got longer and the air began to chill. In fact, Stan was still fretting when the crashing in the trees became audible. His fur stood on end and he rumbled out a low growl. Alright, this wasn’t normal. Who the fuck was messing with his brother?

Stan got his answer soon enough, when he picked up Ford’s gasping breaths and panicked footsteps and the pounding and rumbling of something much larger on his tail. Were those wing beats? And yelling and smashing glass. He barked his lungs out, cursing this stupid cage that kept him from helping his brother. The air smelled like blood and feathers, fear and sweat.

Something thudded into the side of the shed. There was scrabbling at the door and then – oh thank god – Ford stumbled inside and slammed it shut after him, wincing as something heavy pounded on the other side. Stan paced anxiously.

What is it, bro? What’s wrong?

“I will very much regret this.” Ford gasped to himself, staggering further into the room with – wait, what was that gleaming in his hand? He was at the cage. There was metal scraping and a click that made Stan stiffen.

Ford paused to catch his breath, clutching the key in one hand and casting a fearful look over his shoulder at the shuddering shed door. The cage creaked. Unlocked. When Stan nosed it hesitantly it swung open before him. Ford winced and took a step back, gaze darting nervously between Stan and the commotion at the door.

“Err… yep. I already regret this.”

The door started to splinter as a head forced its way inside, and Stan didn’t hesitate before lunging forward and snapping a mouthful of whatever was trying to hurt his brother.

Fuckin finally. It had been forever since he had a good fight.

Unlocking Rebus’s cage had been a last-resort sort of thing. Not in the plan, but a lot of things hadn’t gone to plan today. The flock of griffins that Ford had been trying to study had gotten angry and swarmed him. The hollow tree Ford had taken shelter in hadn’t lasted long under their beaks and claws. On the mad sprint home he’d tripped and hurt his ankle somehow.

And then, when he’d finally made it inside, the griffins had started smashing through his upstairs windows.

He found himself bolting for the last place of relative safety, the old shed he’d commissioned Dan to put up as extra storage space, and the one he had recently been using as housing for a very large, very dangerous wolf. Who was currently raging and barking like a mad thing.

It couldn’t get much worse, could it? Rebus was itching for a fight. May as well give him one and hope that it would serve as an adequate distraction.

So long as Ford could keep himself off the menu.

He flung himself into a corner and covered his head with his arms as Rebus surged forward. He tore into the griffin that was half-way through the door. The winged beast’s roars quickly turned into screeches of pain as a chunk of its flesh was ripped clean off, its wings thrashing frantically in an attempt to escape the cramped space. Ford made himself as small as he could against the wall.

Rebus forced his way outside and there were more screeches and yelps of pain, from griffins and wolf alike. The latter was also snarling though – deep, rumbling sounds that seemed to split the air like thunder. Ford considered shutting himself in the cage – would that be safer? – but decided against it when the shed shuddered under the force of thrashing bodies. Better to be mobile.

The mostly-ruined door crashed open, sending the two tussling creatures sprawling inside. A griffin had gotten on top of Rebus and was slashing down at him while the wolf twisted and snarled. Spittle and blood flew from the creatures. Rebus was on his back, vulnerable, and as Ford stared the griffin slashed at his exposed underbelly.

Ford grabbed the nearest object – a metal crowbar from the wall – staggered forward and swung it as hard as he could against the griffin’s head with a satisfying clang.

It screeched and Rebus took advantage of the distraction to surge up and snap at its throat. The griffin recoiled. Its wings thrashed wildly as it struggled to free itself from the enraged wolf, one of them clipping Ford and sending him tripping back to the floor.

The griffin, now limping, tore its way out of the shed with Rebus hot on its heels. It launched itself into the air and Rebus sprang after it. There was a loud ripping sound.

Rebus crashed to the ground with a mouthful of feathers.

Ford gasped for breath. The property around them was suddenly deathly quiet, only the distant wing beats evidence that the griffins had been there at all.

Holy Moses. He dropped the crowbar numbly and tried to remember how to breathe. Sure, dangerous circumstances were numerous when you worked in a place like Gravity Falls, but try telling his autonomic nervous system that.

There was uneven padding and the click-click-click of nails on a hardwood floor.

Ford tensed. Letting Rebus out of his cage had scared off the griffins, but they had been scared for a reason – the creature was dangerous, as it had just proved. What if Ford had only put himself in worse danger? What if Rebus’s calm disposition didn’t last outside of the cage? What if he saw Ford as the next threat to deal with, or prey, or-

Rebus’s shadow fell across him. Ford hunched his shoulders and tried not to look threatening.

A low, canine whine. Rebus stuck his nose into Ford’s hair to snuffle it, which rather ruined the appearance of ‘big scary monster’. Perhaps there was less animosity there than he’d feared. When Rebus licked his hair Ford let out a wheezy laugh of relief and reached up hesitantly to touch the wolf – this time Rebus allowed Ford to pet his ears with a shaking hand. The creature’s matted fur was wet with blood.

“Well,” Ford said finally, “I guess that solves the question of whether or not you’ll try to maul me. I hope.”

Rebus huffed in a way that almost sounded like a laugh. The canine lowered himself to nose at Ford’s injured ankle, letting out another little whine. Ford rolled his eyes.

“You’re more hurt than me.”

He wasn’t lying. Rebus’s coarse, matted fur had stopped some of the damage but there were still bloody scratches across his pelt; the slashes on his belly were shallow but long. They overlapped with old scars.

Once he was reasonably sure Rebus wasn’t going to tear his throat out, Ford rose and made his way carefully outside. Yech, his yard was a mess. Covered in pieces of debris and blood splatters and red-stained feathers. That would be a nightmare to clean. At least he had plenty of samples now?

Stan was glad to be free of that cage and, thankfully, Ford didn’t seem inclined to put him back in it. He was far too busy with putting his house back in order and cleaning up their assorted injuries. Stan stayed very still and allowed Ford to dress his cuts with stinging antiseptic. Just because he was a wolf didn’t mean he couldn’t get infections.

He hadn’t actually seen Ford’s house before – he’d known that his brother lived near some woods, but that was about it. It turned out that Ford lived in a mad-scientist-looking shack in the forest with only a winding road as evidence that he wasn’t alone in this pine forest.

Heh. Pines in the pines.

Stan explored the house yard and kept watch on the darkened forest in case those bird-things made a reappearance, while Ford was sweeping up shattered glass and stuff. The things didn’t come back.

Good. No freaky hell-creatures were gonna mess with his brother, not while Stan was around.

…wait.

Stan was leaving now, right? That was the plan. The fact that Ford seemed to want him around – maybe even saw him as more than just another creature to study – couldn’t change the facts. If Ford ever found out who Stan really was, he would be furious. Even more so now that Stan had kept the secret for so long.

He padded out hesitantly onto the lawn, scanning the forest. He could just… walk away. He’d already paid his dues to Sixer, saving his life. And the Stanleymobile would still be in the woods somewhere.

But…

But.

Ford had needed him today. Who was to say that Ford wouldn’t need him again? Besides, Stan didn’t exactly have anywhere else to go.

What Ford didn’t know couldn’t hurt him, right?

“Rebus?” His brother’s call snapped Stan out of his thoughts and he glanced around to see Ford peering around the front door, as if trying to distinguish Stan against the night landscape. Heh. He remembered having crummy human vision.

Stan shook himself and trotted into the light, allowing Ford to spot him. The poindexter’s worried expression turned into a smile.

“There you are, I was worried you’d left.” He opened the door invitingly. “Since you don’t seem inclined to leave, I’m thinking you’ll want to be staying for a while. Inside might be comfier than out there.”

Stan didn’t hesitate to follow him inside.

#please don't see me #the stans #gravity falls #fic #my fic #werewolf stan au #werewolf!stan #chapter 3

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nataliedanovelist · 5 years ago

Photo

(I did not draw this, my friend, @missinspi, drew this for me) (https://www.deviantart.com/missinspi)

Wanna read fics with this OC in it?

For a fic close to canon Gravity Falls (season 3?), read this.

For an AU about Stan and Ford getting a new neighbor at seven-years-old, read this.

Miscellaneous Oc Asks

@cityandking created a (relatively short) list of random, weird, hopefully interesting OC asks. Feel free to specify a character or just send a couple of questions, and then share it around!

What six CD’s would your OC keep in their car? Is it just a taste/preference thing, or do any of them have particular significance? I can’t think of any particular CDs, but as far as artists go... Ray Charles, Stevie Wonder, Queen (or in the Gravity Falls world, the band called King), ACDC, a disk full of instrumental piano music, and a Dolly Parton CD her friend Madeline Ingrid probably gave her.

What does your OC smell like? What does your OC wish they smelled like? Coconut butter, japanese cherry-blossom perfume, and occasionally disinfectant (she works at a hospital). She tried every hard to smell nice, as most women do, and if she feels like work is ruining that, she might use her favorite “stress relief” lotion to help overpower the smells of rubber gloves and baby spit up.

How aesthetically-oriented is your OC in their clothing? Their living space? Their general presentation? If their look™ is mismatched, is that on purpose? Hephzie has a plain, easy-to-follow fashion sense: blue-jeans with t-shirts for casual events, jeans with blouses for nicer days, and occasionally a sweater for the winter. She also has a small love for boys’ clothes; she won’t shy away from mens’ t-shirts or button-ups if they feel nice and look OK. Her living space is relatively tidy (having grown up with grandparents who needed clean floors to avoid falling) but she’s not a clean freak. Her living space is very artsy and mitch-match, having friends all over the world and she loves learning about different cultures. She might have a rug from India by her bed, but a quilt from Ireland on her bed and a small statue from Hawaii on her dresser. With a bunch of hand-me-downs and mis-match tastes, her overall aesthetic is old and comfort.

What one word would you use to describe your OC’s vibe? Chill.

What’s one mundane thing that would throw them off-kilter? Why? Nuclear families. She grew up with her Grandma and Grandpa on her mother’s side. She never knew her father and her mother abandoned her at a hospital, not even waiting to see what would happen to Hephzie. So Hephzie values family very much, but she sees no reason why blood should be the most important factor in the definition in “family”. The idea of a “normal” family, one with two parents who are married and in love, siblings, and occasionally cousins and aunts and uncles, is like a dream to her. It’s nice, but not for her.

What kind of AU is your OC best suited to? What kind of AU would be the worst? Is there any AU that would be, objectively, just really funny? Hephzie is in 2 AUs: one pretty close to canon Gravity Falls, and one in which she grows up as neighbors to Stan and Ford. Both AUs are very interesting and I love seeing how she responds to each scenario, but I think the more “tragic” of the two is the canon-like one. I’ve toyed with an AU of her becoming a singer and I can see it going either two ways: either she crumbles under the pressure and gets into drugs and overdoses, or she flourishes and uses her money and power for good, like feeding the hungry and helping the homeless find homes.

If your OC could pick a different name, title, or pseudonym for themself, what would they pick? Why? Have they ever been given an alternate name/title, and how do they feel about it? Well, her birth name is Alicia-Sarah Hephzibah Fisher Cece, but she HATES the name Alicia-Sarah and only goes by Hephzibah/Hephzie. In one AU, she legally “fixes” her name.

If your OC were playing D&D, what would their race and class be? What backstory tragedy™ would they give their character? Does that reflect their own life in any way? Be honest. Okay, because a certain extra-special person in her life loves D,D, & More D, she plays, too. She’s an woodland elf, a healer, and has very little interest in her character, but she likes the storytelling and the praise she gets if she manages to heal a wizard with pointy-ears and fluffy brown hair named Rokuro the Righteous.

Star Wars or Star Trek? A certain boyfriend of hers likes Star Trek better, but she likes Star Wars better. It’s been a bitter rival since the beginning of time.

If your OC is from a fantasy world, where in the real world would they come from? If your OC is from our world, which fantasy world would they most want to live in? Bonus: Would you ever write/RP them in that world? Hephzie grew up on Irish folktales (her grandmother’s family is from there), so she would love to meet færies and see magic and meet a selkie. Screw being a mermaid, she wanted to be a selkie! And... no, don’t expect a fic about this.

What plant, animal, and color does your OC feel like today? A Venus Flytrap, a mongoose, and the color dark-green. It’s been a rough day but she’s keeping a level head.

If your OC were a superhero, how flashy would their costume be? Also, what would their superpower be? Does this go with their costume at all, or are they all about fashion? #Can’tFightCrimeIfYouAin’tCute Well... in the canon-like AU, she’s kinda a superhero already, so... think something like a knight’s armor on the arms and legs with a maroon cape. Power would be healing, but she can also fight hella well with a sword and bow-and-arrows. And she’s never cared about looking good, she just wants to survive the war...

Does your OC thrift? Buy designer? Where would they shop irl? GOODWILL FOR THE WIN!!! She and her friends called it “treasure hunting” in high-school and it stuck. She loves it, and when a certain somebody came out with a song about it, she was livid (even if she was fifty-something years old).

Is your OC superstitious? If so, what superstitions do they believe? If not, what do they think of superstitious people? She’s constantly around the supernatural and abnormal... and loves it. She thrives off of what is different. So, superstitious?... Hm, she isn’t paranoid or afraid; she welcomes it with open arms.

Is your OC religious? Do they want to be? Have they ever been at some time in the past? How complicated is their relationships with worship/the gods/the church/etc? Her grandparents took her to church growing up and she loved the music. Her grandmother was the choir director and her grandfather played the piano, and she had “the voice of an angel”, so she happily sang in church, but she kinda stopped going to church when she went to college, but if you ask her she’ll tell you she’s a Christian. She says it just makes sense to believe in a god; there’s too much that science can’t explain. She also likes studying Buddhism, Islam, and Judaism to learn more about other people and cultures.

Hardwood, tile, or carpet? Hardwood. But she will NEVER say no to a fluffy rug.

What’s their go-to parlor trick? Are they actually that good at it, or do they just enjoy it? Do people tell them they’re good, even if they aren’t? How do they handle criticism? I can’t really think of a good parlor trick. She has a lot of talents she keeps on the down, like singing and stand-up comedy (don’t ask). On another note, she takes criticism overall pretty well.

If your OC could request one boon from a god, what would it be? The extermination of a certain three-sided demon.

Favorite comfort food? Do they enjoy junk food or are they more of a foodie? Can they cook? What’s their favorite thing to cook? OREOS are HERS! DON’T TOUCH THEM UNLESS YOU WANNA LOSE A HAND! She also secretly loves watermelon (doesn’t like to tell people this) and her comfort food is either hot tea or hot chocolate. Something to warm her hands. And no, she can’t cook; she burns everything. EXCEPT, she can brew coffee and she’s a pretty good barista (was one during college).

Any major theme(s) or conflict(s) in your OC’s life? How have they dealt with that? Are they aware of it, or do they ignore it? Did you design them with such theme(s)/conflict(s) in mind, or did they evolve naturally? Loyalty is a huge one for her. I think so many people have forgotten what it means to be a true friend and what real loyalty looks like. You’re willing to go far and wide for the people you care about because you want to, because you get fulfillment out of doing the right thing. Hephzie will have your back, no matter what. She doesn’t care what race, background, gender, sexuality, religion, she doesn’t give a shit. If you’ve got her, you’ve got a loyal friend. IOne thing she struggled with - and is only semi-aware of it - is loneliness. She finds it suffocating. It’s slight PTSD from losing so much in her life, and she’s not terribly clingy, but she’ll wallow about it and sink into depression if she feels abandoned or alone. She NEEDS that reassurance that she is not a freak and not alone and that SOMEONE would care if one day she was gone. This evolved naturally when shaping her backstory and realising it needed to have realistic consequences.

If they could steal one major piece of art with no consequences, what would it be and why? Bonus: how would they pull off the heist? Anything Bob Ross. Loves that guy. And she’d probably just recrute Stan to help her with either blackmail or her “Please, for me?” line.

Now it’s YOUR turn!

#gravity falls #oc #hephzie cece #ford pines #stan pines

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plaidcool · 5 years ago

Note

( grunkle stan! )

send me a character || x || accepting

Why I like them: HE’S SUCH A GOOD UNCLE. And I love con artist characters and characters who seem like they wouldn’t care about anyone but actually they love their friends and family and would do anything for them. Combined? He’s precisely my type of characters.

Why I don’t: There’s no way I could dislike Stan.

Favorite episode (scene if movie): You can’t make me pick!! The Weirdmageddon arc is fantastic, though. You know the lengths Stan will take to keep his family safe already, but he goes all out for them to save them from Bill. Just... any instance where Stan takes up for his family, especially Dipper and Mabel, is A+.

Favorite season/movie: Second season. For the character studies.

Favorite line: All of them. Stan has the best lines.

Favorite outfit: Any with a Hawaiian shirt. Those are cute.

OTP: Stan / Armchair, and if we’re gettin’ really crazy here, an OT3 with Armchair / Stan / TV...

Brotp: Stan and Soos. I know they’re more of a father / son thing? IDK if those count as Brotps? But I really dig their relationship.

Headcanon: Stan didn’t hire Wendy because he needed the help, he hired her because he knew she needed a job and wanted to keep her from getting into too much trouble. At least, supernatural trouble. I don’t think Stan would care of Wendy did something illegal. Heck, he’d probably help her.

Unpopular opinion: Uhhh... I didn’t realize there was a (popular?) fan theory that Stan is Bill and that’s how Bill will come back, but... yeah, not a fan of that one. That one’s terrifying and c’mon, man, give my boy a break. He deserves some happiness and bonding time with Ford that doesn’t involve psycho Doritos.

A wish: I’d love to write with a Stan and explore his relationship with Wendy more. I think it would be fun, especially considering all the not-so-legal trouble they could get up to around Gravity Falls. Dare I say I’d even really dig an AU where somehow Wendy is orphaned and Stan becomes her guardian? Conning and thieving their way across the states? That’d be rad.

An oh-god-please-dont-ever-happen: DON’T BE BILL.

5 words to best describe them: Crotchety, loyal, tough, gritty, secretly soft

My nickname for them: Nah, don’t have one. Theoretically if he was real, and I knew him and it was chill, he looks like a “Pops”.

#poludaktulos #kinda ruled [meme responses];

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friendlycybird · 6 years ago

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1X05 - The Inconveniencing - Rewatch

Okay, we are on the first episode I watched 100% solo, and honestly I forgot how early this was in the series. I suppose that makes sense as it is the one that establishes most of the dynamic between Wendy and Dipper.

Let’s go.

I kinda love that the S on the “Mystery Shack” sign hasn’t been fixed.

I forget whether or not we found out where Stan was heading in this episode?

Also a shower curtain is a pretty lame way to hide a secret ladder.

Soos is an adorable worrier.

So, my player has been kinda stop and start, but that means I’m getting a lot of fun freeze-frame moments. Like when Wendy says “check it out” on the roof and Dippers face is literally just Ooooooohhhhhh and Mabel’s face is more like Whaaaaattt. Like they both look surprised but in very different ways.

Aww, it’s the first appearance of the secret sign between Dipper and Wendy!

...You know what, that cut is EXACTLY how I figure out I have crushes on people too. “Not like I lay awake thinking about her.” *Cut to laying awake thinking about her* “...uh-oh.” ...the rare moment in which Dipper is me.

“Since when are we thirteen? Is this a leap year?” Mabel, a leap year would not make you thirteen already. You’re adorable.

Wow. The literal start of the feud between Robbie and Dipper actually had nothing to do with Wendy. Robbie took initial dislike to him because he mistook the explosion picture for a muffin and the others laughed about it, not at Dipper for the mistake but at Robbie for the art being mistakable in the first place.

Wow. You know Thomson is a really great person when you think about it. He lets himself be the figurative group punching bag (although that ball-in-the-stomach game is a little bit literal on that count) and not only has zero resentment but he’s the guy that DRIVES them everywhere.

Also Mabel’s idea of grafitting a car is adorable.

Stan’s freakout at “The Duchess Approves” coming on is hilarious. His first response being to call the kids makes me wonder if he’d have been more willing to get up and look for the remote if he knew he was alone, like, you know, before this exact summer. Or maybe it’s a case of before the kids the remote never left its spot so of course he won’t get it ‘cause it’s not his fault the remote is someplace else? Why am I thinking about this?

Mabel had less trouble with the fence then Dipper? ...but Dipper climbs up onto the roof with zero trouble and knocks off the cover on the pipe thing and gets to the door again in seconds. I guess Dipper’s athleticism is directly tied to his level of motivation.

Y’know, I really hope this place wasn’t closed for very long. Or else NONE Of those sweets would be any good.

...okay, so Smile Dip is actually pretty creepy. Why, exactly, did the store owners just put up “do not sell” signs instead of, you know, getting rid of it when it got banned for, as Dipper suggested, “good reason”? Like, the initial hallucination itself seems...harmless? enough? I mean. As Hallucinations go. But Mabel’s face is just. ...you know I think I remember seeing this listed on the Nightmare Fuel page for this episode on TVTropes.

“You’re surprisingly mature for your age” “Yes, I am.” *promptly misses mouth with Popsicle several times.*

So, I read that it was apparently “Word Of God” that the freezer monster would never be explained but like, isn’t it just another generic part of the haunting? Like, thirty seconds later Dipper sees all their reflections as skeletons, and we’re suppose to assume at this stage that’s the same cause as the freezer monster, which turns out to be the old ghost couple...so didn’t the ghost couple just manifest the weird freezer monster? Or is it suppose to be something else that was deliberately left unexplained?

Also, if Stan didn’t want to get up for any reason, how did he get the Ice Cream? He must’ve gotten invested early on and made a run to the freezer during a commercial because he could tell he’d need it.

Okay, so the whole Smile Dip thing is actually pretty horrifying because like. What’s IN those things? and with how many Mabel ate (”eleven..teen”) she could easily have overdosed. Hell she LOOKS like she overdosed. Yikes.

Ah yes the body outlines. Makes sense that’d be the first thing to make Dipper speak up about his concerns.

Incidentally, while I had the video paused to type this, my partner (who is in the room while I’m working on this) said that this episode is “making (her) skin want to crawl away” I told her that this episode is kinda the shows first venture into proper horror but it’s not nearly as scary as some later episodes. (Weirdmageddon, I was thinking of Weirdmageddon.) Then she had a small crisis over this being a scary show designed for children. “Why are they trying to scare children?!” so I compared it to Coraline and that whole thing Neil Gamin said once about how “what a lot of adults experience as horror, children experience as adventure.” ...I’m not sure how much it helped.

So, these teens live in Gravity Falls...but don’t believe in haunting or, presumably other weird things. But we find out later the reason most people in Gravity Falls don’t believe in the supernatural is because of the Society of the Blind Eye. So like. Have these literal Children already had their minds erased sometimes? Or are they just...really lucky?

Tambry managed to update her status while trapped in the television?

Honestly in most situations, even supernatural ones, chucking the cash register at the glass doors would be a really good solution.

“They got Mabel!” ...poor Dipper. He’s already stressed out of his mind and then his sister goes from, you know, possibly overdosing on Smile Dip to being Possessed by a Ghost. That’s not...he’s really not having a good night.

“It Begins” you’ve...you’ve literally fucked over MOST of these teens already. This began several minutes ago.

Also, if this couple hates teens and therefore video games so much...why did their store even HAVE a dance machine?

FUCK that cracking sound when Mabel’s head twists around backwards. YIKES.

“Oh. Well. There it is.” ...this reminds me so much of the John Mulaney quote about “...well this might as well happen.”

Wendys face while Dipper was dancing is adorable. And the fact that Wendy lies about it for him is just. The best.

Also Mabel’s “I’m never going to eat or do anything ever again” has a vague DoesThisRemindYouOfAnything to it.

At least Wendy acknowledges what they went through was traumatizing. Even if she is, in typical Wendy fashion, awfully chill about the whole thing.

I also appreciate Mabel looking at her own writing and asking what kind of sick joke it is. Poor Mabel.

...also Stan gets...really passionate about his movies? Like. What seems like a standard love triangle related wedding interruption gets him to throw his TV out the window? He must *really* hate that character.

#gravity falls #cybird says things #the inconveniencing

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mandlien · 6 years ago

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About codes and Gravity Falls

So, when I was watching Gravity Falls, I was faintly aware, kind of, that there were real codes hidden in the series, and that they were solvable. But I wasn’t trying to actually solve them.

Because, with the exceptions of the first few episodes, I marathoned the series in a weekend that I was a little sick. So, I didn’t really want to stop watching to learn about cryptography.

Now, I’m just went to the Gravity Falls wiki, because I don’t have the time to dedicate to rewatch the episodes and solve the codes at this point in my life.

Some of them were so cool. And chilling. Some were just silly. Here are some of my interpretations of my favorites:

STAN IS NOT WHAT HE SEEMS (obvious since the first episode, but still super cool. It kind of combines in our mind with the TRUST NO ONE, message, until we learn the truth anyway)

LIAR MONSTER SNAPPY DRESSER (in Ford’s code) (because apparently Bill is a monster, yes, but he does dress very nicely) (can we talk about how Stan was only able to fool Bill in the end because he was similar to him, in certain aspects? Both showmen, both conmen, also, in the Weirdmageddon, they’re both shown showing off their place, while “dressed nicely”, and using a cane. They can both be very carismathic if need be. They both had a huge impact in Ford’s life. The parallels are there)

THE PORTAL WHEN COMPLETED WILL OPEN A GATEWAY TO INFINITE NEW WORLDS AND HERALD A NEW ERA IN MANKIND’S UNDERSTANDING OF THE UNIVERSE. PLUS, IT WILL PROBABLY GET GIRLS TO START TALKING TO ME FINALLY. (Written in Ford’s code) (The fact this was released in the Gideon Rises episode, 10 episodes before He is Not What He Seems, gives me life. Also, Ford thinking girls will think he is cool because he opened the doors to new dimensions, lol, the nerd) (maybe more girls would talk with you if you weren’t an antisocial mess that prefered to hide yourself in your lab, ever thought of that?) (When the town honestly thought your twin brother was you, because you were the hermit creepy scientist that lived in a cabin hidden in the woods, and no one knew you enough to tell the difference)

I WAS SO BLIND. HE LIED TO ME. THE DARKNESS IS NEAR (my poor boy Ford).

WHY IS WENDY SO PERFECT (poor dipper, lol. Never had a chance)

THE MAN DOWNSTAIRS IS VERY CLEVER

CAN HE HIDE HIS PLANS FOREVER? (This is previous Ford reveal, so its referring to Stan. And considering his machine literally makes things and people float at times, no, he can’t. But, also, I loved the poetry????) (Can I also appreciate the fact our boy is Stan is very clever? Because, I see more of myself in Stan than in Ford. Ford’s genius is natural, he is brilliant right from the get go, while Stan needed a ton of dedication, and effort, but he still managed to learn something he thought was utterly beyond his scope, by himself, and without the help from an abomination like Bill. Sure, it took 30 years, but god, how brilliant).

AM I ME? IS HE ME? (In Ford’s code) (this kind of breaks my heart? Because pre-portal Ford probably can’t trust that a lot of his decisions and ideas were really his own, when his mind and his ideas, and even his relationships, were so influenced for years by Bill. Ford would be a very different person if he never met Bill, is what I’m saying) (Also, installing that metal plate in his head was probably such a relief for him? A sure guarantee that he really was himself, no more external interference).

IMPROPER USE OF MACHINERY COULD

LEAD TO UTTER CATASTROPHE (foreshadows are utterly delightful, ok? And this could reference to both Ford, Stan, and McGucket’s use of machinery. Triple meaning!)

PURE ENERGY, NOT SKIN AND BONE (a little exposition to Bill’s nature, which is always nice)

WE’VE ALL HAD SOME FUN TONIGHT, BUT LET’S NOT FORGET WHO THE REAL "PUPPET MASTERS" ARE: REPTOIDS WHO HAVE INFILTRATED OUR GOVERNMENT (lol)

NO PUPPET STRINGS CAN HOLD ME DOWN

SO PATIENTLY I WATCH THIS TOWN

ABNORMAL SOON WILL BE THE NORM

ENJOY THE CALM BEFORE THE STORM (look, this was even before the portal reveal, and we already know more about what’s going to happen. Foreshadow at its finest! And poetry!)

ALL ANIMATION IS BLACK MAGIC (the animation team probably got a blast out of this one)

IF MY SUSPICIONS ARE CORRECT, THIS IS THE WORK OF FIDDLEFORD. DOES HE REALLY HAVE TO GO TO SUCH GREAT LENGTHS TO FORGET? (The revelation that the author knew Fidds is also made in this episode. But now we learn hints about the events between them, and that the author probably feels regretful about it). (At least, that’s my reading).

JOIN THE TIME PARADOX AVOIDANCE ENFORCEMENT SQUADRON!

GREAT HOURS!

SOLID BENEFITS!

A STUBBORN TOUGH NEW JERSEY NATIVE

FILBRICK WASN’T TOO CREATIVE

HAVING TWINS WAS NOT HIS PLAN

SO HE JUST SHRUGGED AND NAMED BOTH STAN (this actually made me appreciate Filbrick, a little. Well, it made me laugh).

IT STARTED WITH BAD DREAMS WHICH BECAME NIGHTMARES. I WAS FOOLISH, I WANTED ANSWERS, I PAINTED THE SYMBOLS, I SAID THE WORDS: WHEN GRAVITY FALLS AND THE EARTH BECOMES SKY FEAR THE BEAST WITH JUST ONE EYE. (Another moment that solidifies how Bill manipulated Ford. Promises, and eventually, when that didn’t work, pain and nightmares. Also, Ford reciting the prophecy I believe he first heard from Fidds.) (can I talk about the brilliance of the name of the town being Gravity Falls and then using that for another meaning in the prophecy?) (Also, that a town that weird has a name very sciency to it, referring to a cientific phenomena?)

A SIMPLE MAN WITH EAGER EARS MAY TRUST THE WHISPERS THAT HE HEARS (this is, of course, a reference to Ford. Manly, that the guy wanted so badly to believe in Bill, to believe that even if his dream school didn’t choose him, he was still the special one, the one who would change the world...that he didn’t notice the stranger danger signs one should listen to when meeting energy beings from other dimensions that want to make deals with you. Especially when the deal was entering your mind, whenever he wanted).

IN CIPHER'S GAME HE NEEDS A PAWN

BE SURE TO KNOW WHICH SIDE YOU'RE ON (basically, make sure you and the people around you aren’t being influenced, that you aren’t doing something thinking it’s a normal decision of yours, but it’s actually Bill’s manipulative ways) (could be a reference to Mabel, unknowingly handing Bill the Rift).

CARLA MCCORKLE RETURNED ALL HIS FLOWERS

MARILYN DIVORCED HIM AFTER ONLY SIX HOURS

BEATRICE SLAPPED HIM FOR BEING A CAD

OLD GOLDIE'S THE BEST GIRLFRIEND STAN EVER HAD (LOL, poor Stan)

THE PROPHECY SEEMED FAR AWAY

BUT FINALLY WE'VE REACHED THE DAY.

GIVE UP THE PAST. EMBRACE THE STRANGE

EVERYTHING YOU CARE ABOUT WILL CHANGE (more poetry!! Foreshadowing for the beginning of Weirdmageddon)

IT WILL TAKE 1,000 YEARS FOR TIME BABY'S MOLECULES TO RECONSTITUTE, AND WHEN HE'S BACK, HE'S GOING TO BE VERY CRANKY. (LOL)

GAME IS OVER, AND I WON

NOW IT'S TIME TO START THE FUN

ALWAYS LOVE CORRUPTING LIVES

NOW LET'S SEE WHICH PINES SURVIVES (bill’s dialogue is so fucking ominous, haha. And more poetry!!!)

WHEN ONE GETS TRAPPED INSIDE THE PAST

DREAMS CAN TURN TO NIGHTMARES FAST (this is, I think, a reference to Mabeland? But it’s such a cool phrase in itself, it doesn’t need weird shenanigans to be useful. I can tell it about anyone’s life, haha. It can mean, don’t be too stuck in the past, live the present.)

SOOS LATER FORCED MCGUCKET TO WATCH ALL 900 HOURS OF NEON CRISIS MECHABOT BOY: REVELATIONS (I need fanfic of Soos and Fidds bonding, okay. Maybe I’ll write this fanfic, that it’s dearly missing from the world).

TEN SYMBOLS PLACED AROUND A WHEEL

HAND IN HAND THEY'LL BOND THE SEAL

BUT BREAK THE CHAIN, AND PAY THE COST

THE PROPHECY WILL ALL BE LOST (so, we all know this plan didn’t work out. Which I don’t mind, I liked the ending a lot I cried okay. But still, so cool to think this could have been part of the prophecy in-universe. And to think that Ford’s and Stan’s poor communication skills almost ruined the world).

Those are my favorites, me thinks. I need to leave now, my fellows fans. Bye bye.

#gravity falls #cryptography #ford pines #stan pines #bill cipher

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rawkingbunny · 7 years ago

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Bitter and Sick - Chapter Three

After tons of editing and rewrites, it’s finally done! I really hope you like this as much as i did writing it! There are tons of journal 3 references in here, so keep your eyes peeled! I always keep a copy next to me for fun. Also, I’m considering writing a Stan Spin-off, during his time in the 70s and 80s as a struggling businessman.

–Rating: M

–Gravity Falls/Rick and Morty

~Diagnosed with terminal brain cancer, Stanford Pines is forced to reflect on past regrets and experiences that bring him back to one person. A narcissistic sociopath who saved his life~

~Chapter Three~

…

One Week Earlier

…

“Mr. Mystery, you’re full of surprises…”

Stan parted lips with his score, a devilish grin spread across his bold face. It was moments like these that the title had its perks, it wasn’t everyday a beautiful woman entered the gift shop with a purpose.

“Baby…the tour doesn’t end here…”

Coarse hands gripped her hips as his tongue explored her mouth, strong arms wrestling her to the desk. Neglected stacks of cash scattered across its surface, and a change counter that was a little too out of date fell carelessly to the floor. Neither seemed to mind, Stan already sliding his large hand beneath her silk blouse.

Quiet moans elicited from both parties, her hands making quick work of removing his jacket and tie. She began to struggle with the buttons on his shirt, leaving heated kisses across his chin.

Stan chuckled, loosening his belt with his free hand. “You’re about to be one lucky lady…”

His belt cracked like a whip as he dropped it to the floor, a low growl forming In his throat as her frail hands reached to unzip his pants.

Without warning, the door to the office swung open, both defensively attempting to cover themselves at the intrusion.

Stanford Pines took a step back in embarrassment, heat crossing his already pink nose. It’s not like it was the first time he’d caught his brother in such a compromising position, they did unfortunately share a bedroom in their youth.

“Pardon my intrusion…”, Ford choked, the sound almost close to the squeak of a small door mouse. He gripped the side of the door, averting his gaze as he started to shut it.

Stan adjusted his glasses in irritation, re-zipping his pants. “Wait…”.

The slight creak of the door stopped, Ford turning bloodshot eyes back to his brother. He avoided looking directly at the visitor, but noticed she’d started to gather her purse and coat in frustration. He was pretty sure he heard her mutter something about “Wasted time” and “Bus fare”, which made him feel a lot more confident in his choice to stay.

Stan reached for his jacket, sliding a few bills beneath the lining of her jeans. A loud smack echoed through the shop as he slapped her rear in amusement, a wide grin plastered on his face. She was in no way enjoying this, a look of pure hatred focused in Ford’s direction.

Ford stepped aside for her like a proper gentleman, a smirk gracing his exhausted features. “Don’t forget to come back now, “ he managed to say, receiving the middle finger in direct response.

The gift shop door slammed behind her as she made her way to the exit, leaving the two face to face in the office door away.

Stan was close enough to finally get a cold hard look at his brothers disheveled features, the heavy bags under Ford’s eyes brought him back to that December chill almost forty years ago.

“You’re not sleeping again…”

Ford bit his lip, he knew he was a mess. He’d just spent over an hour staring back at his own horrid reflection in the mirror. It had been weeks since he’d shaved, the thick stubble irritating his cheeks.

The stench of cold sweat was caught in Stan’s nose, and he guessed it had been days since Ford had even had a decent shower. He chose to ignore it, buttoning up the top few buttons of his shirt.

Ford was thankful, the blinding reflection of Stan’s medallion disappearing behind his collar. He opened his mouth to reply, raising a six fingered hand to push his glasses back into place.

“You’d be making friends with the coffee maker too, if you had my dreams…”

Stan closed the office door behind them as they reentered the gift shop, a normal quiet Monday leaving them both alone amongst the various trinkets and poorly handmade merchandise.

Ford followed him to the registers, picking up one of the ‘Mr Mystery’ bobble heads in mild curiosity. He grazed his thumb over the plastic, the cheap paint already seemed to be fading with age. There was time when he resented his brother for this ridiculous attraction he created, but he’d come to admire the intricate thought and detail that came with every new ridiculous oddity he invented.

Stan stopped at the register behind the narrow counter, and popped open the drawer with a quick turn of the brass key hung amongst the countless others that all seemed so familiar to the author.

Ford placed the bobble head back down on the shelf, turning back to his brother with a heavy mind. “Stanley?”

The larger man paused, a large finger slipping underneath a stack of twenty dollar bills. “Hmm?”

Ford tensed and rubbed the back of his head, “I need you to know…that I’m thankful”.

Stan released a rasped chuckle, “For what? Me stealing your fucking house…”

Ford’s mouth gaped open to speak, but he was cut off by his brother’s irritated expression as he shoved the cash back into the drawer.

“Stanley…I…”

“You what? Want me to pack my bags? Wanna kick the kids out to?”

“They’re happening again, Stanley…”

The room was silent, the two old men sharing puzzled expressions. Neither having the words to say to break the tension in the air.

Stan was the first to speak, memories flooding back from that terrifying night. The vulnerability of leaving his mind so open. A foggy remnant of a moment where his priorities were clear, and he was willing to sacrifice his own sanity for the children he’d come to care so much for.

“He can’t be alive…”

“I know, Stanley…”

“You don’t understand. I killed that fucker myself”.

…

Present Day

…

Smoke clouded the gentle breeze that filled the late summer air, dancing it’s way from the roof of the hospital. The quiet melody of seagulls loomed overhead, a sound he’d become accustomed to after spending the last year on open waters.

Stan Pines let out a haggard breath, a lit cigarette held between gritted teeth. An old habit, one that he always seemed to return to in times of stress. Sixer had his ways of dealing with his anxiety, and Stan had his own secrets. There was a reason why he kept a few bags of marijuana stashed in the safe, and may have taken a couple vicodin to numb more than just his body.

His hands shook violently as he grasped the butt of his cigarette, dropping his arm lazily to his side. He exhaled, pulling the corners of his beanie over his ears to protest the breeze.

It had been almost 48 hours since Ford has lost consciousness, and the wait was murder. Stan hadn’t left his side for the first 24, and Wendy had to persuade him to at least head back to the shack and get a shower and new clothes. And now here he was, having a mental breakdown on the roof of the hospital.

Aside from a bag of chips Wendy had snagged him from the vending machine, he hadn’t had a decent meal in almost 2 days. His stomach groaned at the thought, and he gripped it in irritation. It was flatter than he remembered, the time oversea with Ford had been healthy for not only his mind but his body as well.

Stan took another drag of his cigarette, his nerves steadying to a point of content, honey eyes surveying the horizon.

“Grunkle Stan!”

He turned abruptly, flicking his current emotional support to the ground in favor of a healthier one.

Mabel was staring back at him from the roof exit, her eyes swelled with tears, faced flushed and exhausted from crying. Her soft brown eyes quivered, making a mad dash to his broad open arms.

He knelt down to received her hug, running a large hand through her hair to ease the tension. She continued to cry salty tears into his chest. The strong smell of salt water was soothing and she inhaled it from his jacket, ignoring the also obvious smell of nicotine smoke.

“Hey, Sweetie…” he released a slight cough, hugging her tighter in response. He couldn’t find anything else to say to calm her tears, his own mind racing due to lack of sleep.

And it was at that moment that every little tightly boarded corner of his tough emotional exterior cracked, and the tears came. They started slow, and turned into gross sobs of distress. The stubble of his chin running past her forehead as he hugged her closer, nearly crushing her in the moment.

In shock, Mabel hugged his neck, his significantly longer silver hair passing through her tiny fingers.

“It’s ok…” she choked, fighting to reassure them both between her own sobs.

Stan’s body trembled, knowing he shouldn’t be here. He should be at Ford’s side, praying to a God he didn’t believe in that those six fingers would twitch back to life and laugh it off like it was some kind of sick joke.

They were both broken from their bond, the sound of the exit door sliding open raked through their ears. A panting Wendy stood there, face paler than usual.

“He’s awake!”

…

Darkness.

He recognized the void of his own mind, the calm and orderly emptiness. But the darkness was new.

Lifting himself from a seated position, Ford reached to ease another migraine, only to find that there was no pain. He breathed a sigh of relief, narrowing his eyes to attempt to see through the endless black.

Am I dead…

This was no surprise to him if it were true, he honestly deserved so much worse.

So this is how it all ends…

A light fog began to lift around him, brightening the darkness but limiting his peripheral vision. His body buckled in confusion, searching for anything he could hold on to, something corporeal other than his own body.

The darkness faded into a starry night sky, familiar constellations overcrowded by the infinite possibilities beyond. He reveled in that feeling, and felt at home.

He looked down at his hands, puzzled as he was once again dressed in his black coat and sweater, the cold heavy metal of his quantum destabilizer strapped to his back.

Was this all a dream? Did I never make it home?

The fog slowly lifted, the faint smell of gunfire and alienistic screams clouded his senses. He lifted a knife from his belt, a deep familiar laughter echoing through the air. He could hear and smell war, but what he saw was only space;cold, wide, and beautiful.

“You came back…”

Ford panicked as a cold hand touched his shoulder, turning to come face to face with a worn and beaten Rick. His eyes sunken with exhaustion, drained from alcohol withdrawal.

“Rick…I didn't…”, he shook violently, looking for any kind of excuse to save himself. “I didn’t mean to leave you, but the portal-”

“FUCK THE PORTAL!”

Rick’s voice deepened, echoing throughout the vast emptiness. His eyes sagged, dried blood and various scars covering his face and arms. He was beaten and broken, a large gash sealed with a tourniquet over his shoulder.

Ford parted his lips to speak, but nothing came out. A painful reminder of his biggest mistake stood before him, and he was paralyzed.

“You left me here. Not a goodbye, not a fucking word. You left me to die…”

Ford backed away, ready for the blow. He welcomed it, he deserved more. All that wasted time spent traveling the multiverse, gaining his trust, he’d never meant for it to end this way.

“I’m sorry…”

Rick pulled his fist, no remorse or the slightest sign of retraction.

“YOU RUINED MY LIFE!”

You ruined my life…

He’d heard that before. The words digging like knives in his already fragile heart. But this time he didn’t argue, eyes rolling back into his skull as Rick’s punch landed across his heavy jaw. He stumbled to the ground, a sharp pain accompanying the oncoming migraine that he was so used to.

Ford seethed, adjusting his jaw as he struggled to look back up at his friend. His face paled at the view before him. Eyes a yellow field, slits like knives.

No. Not him…

A shrill laugh pierced Ford’s ears, horrified as Rick emitted that monstrous voice that was obviously not his own.

He attempted to crawl away, the world around him spinning and hazed. He slowly lost consciousness, the color yellow the last thing burned into his eidetic memory as the world went black.

Fear the beast with just one eye…

…

The sound of hushed voices reached his ears, his eyes still adjusting to the sunlight that filled the room.

“Ford you idiot!”

Ford assumed the voice was Stanley’s, and his theory was correct as he felt his brothers large arms pull him into a tight embrace. He could smell the faint stench of nicotine on his breath, and realized he must have been unconscious way too long for comfort.

Stan pulled away, reaching in his pocket for a pair of glasses, frames slightly cracked on the corner. Ford happily accepted them, grunting as vision returned.

Mabel and Dipper smiled back at him from the edge of the bed, Wendy eying him but chatting quietly on her phone.

“You scared us half to death!” Mabel squeaked, bright eyes locked on his. Her braces shined in the sun, the glare itching his tired eyes.

Ford leaned back, becoming self aware of the various drugs running through his system. His sweater was gone, his various scars and tattoos visible from the fabric of the fitted hospital gown. He wanted to run, feeling vulnerable and wide open to criticism, but he settled on the fact that he was surrounded by family and friends. The paranoia faded, and he gave in to the medication.

“Hey, you hungry…” Stan questioned, his body shifting on the edge of the bed.

As if on queue, Ford’s stomach groaned in reply. He was reminded that even before he’d lost consciousness that it had been almost 2 days since he’d had a decent meal. He nodded, the mattress lifting as Stan lead the kids to the exit.

“I’ll stay with him, “ Wendy assured to Stan, finishing her phone call and pocketing the device.

The door closed behind them, Ford a little more at ease now that he wasn’t the focus of numerous stares. The migraine was gone, replaced by the cold hard pinch of the metal plate at the base of his skull.

“Thank you…”

Wendy was surprised by his gratitude, shrugging it off. “I just got off the phone with Soos. I didn’t want to bother them on their honeymoon, but he’s glad you’re ok…”

Ford agreed, Soos and Melody deserved the time together. They’d been saving enough for the trip, and it would be a tragedy to have them head home from Hawaii so soon.

“You can thank me by answering a simple question…”

Ford tensed, adjusting himself so he could see her better. The throbbing pain may be gone, but the horror of his dreams still lingered.

Wendy crossed her legs, folding her arms over her chest. Her green eyes shined with curiosity.p “Who is Rick?”

“Pardon me?”

The room grew silent, both of them exchanging puzzled stares, neither willing to let this go. Wendy was the first to crack a response, brushing a strand of red behind her hair.

“Before you passed out…you called me, Rick? Does that name mean anything to you?”

Ford had no recollection of speaking his name, only the oncoming darkness. It was likely the lack of sleep was affecting his mental state, it wouldn’t be the first time he’d hallucinated.

“A friend. He was a friend…”

Wendy was intrigued, making her way to the edge of the bed. She took her time, carefully not to irritate his weak body by shaking the mattress.

“What was he like?”

Ford chuckled at the question, lifting a hand to run a finger over her cheek. He’d become quite fond of her over the two years since he’d been back, she was almost like a daughter to him. Although he’d never admit it, not willing to start a feud with her actual father.

“You would have hit it off…”

She leaned in, teasingly. “Spit it out old man…I want all the details…”

Ford blushed, some of those details he wasn’t entirely sure were appropriate. Some, he wasn’t even sure he even believed.

Wendy’s eyes widened in sudden realization, eyes traveling to his neck. He noticed her gaze shift, the blush on his cheeks reddening. She’d discovered his biggest regret, his neck tattoo.

She grazed her fingers over it, laughing at the adorable cartoon star that was still fresh on his skin. The lyrics ‘Hey now, I’m an All Star’ surrounding the smiling animated character.

“Was Rick responsible for this?”

Ford choked, pulling the covers close in embarrassment. He would kill for a comfort bag of jelly beans, not too keen on remembering the 30 years prior.

“Unfortunately…”

…

Ford downed another shot of whiskey, hand grazing over the rim of the glass. The crowds and over cranked pop music ringing in his ears.

This wasn’t his type of crowd, but the urge for a mind numbing scotch or whiskey was too good too pass up.

He was positive that the woman across the room was watching him with interest, but he avoided eye contact, much more interested in getting wasted than social interaction.

His thumb graced the creases of the old photograph, the tattered image of a young Stan and himself staring back at him.

Fifteen years…it had been fifteen years since he’d been running. Fifteen years of scrounging and fighting for food and shelter, of stealing and lying. The days just dragged on, and he would get just a little bit older.

“Pines!”

Ford flinched, the seat to his left quickly being taken. Silver hair with chestnut streaks came in to view, and he rolled his eyes as he realized who he was addressing.

“Rick..”

The name fell flat on his mouth, in a tone that sounded almost irritated. Ford was not ready for this interaction, and was definitely not in the mood for games.

“Two more for my partner here, and a couple for myself…” Rick shouted to the bartender, winking suggestively. She rolled her eyes in response, sending Ford a concerned look.

Ford nodded in approval, giving her a slight bit of comfort for his safety.

Rick turned in his chair to get a good look at him, eyes raking over his disheveled form.

“Damn. Even, when you’ve been through shit you still look fine…”

Ford downed the next shot as soon it was placed in reaching distance, wanting to just take the whole damn bottle and down it all at once. Rick was already intoxicated, his lack of proper judgement even more impaired than usual.

Rick grinned and leaned a little closer, his voice suggestive and near to a whisper.

“How drunk would you need to be to let me bend you over this counter right now?”

A heated blush crossed Ford’s cheeks and he choked, making his best attempt to retain a calm exterior. He formulated a blatant lie, downing the second shot whole.

“I prefer to have someone of the female persuasion in my bed…”

“Bullshit…”

It’s true, it was Bullshit, but he wasn’t about to admit it, especially to Rick. He’d have a field day with the news and never let it go.

Ford tucked the old photograph in his jacket, reaching for a shot only to realize he’d finished them. The bartendender was busy filling other drinks, leaving him without a security blanket.

Somebody once told me the world is gonna roll me..

He untensed, the familiar tune passing through his throat in a gentle hum. It was a common practice to deal with his social anxiety, one he utilized more often than not. He may even have a walkman stashed in his bag, but he’d never tell a soul that one.

Rick’s unibrow rose, roaring with laughter. “Fuck me. You like this song?”

Ford rolled his eyes, raising an arm to the free bartender. He needed some stimulation, and he needed it now.

She was looking kind of dumb with her finger and her thumb…

“Sorry, sixer. You just don’t struuuuuurp–ike me as someone who would appreciate modern music…”

“Don’t pretend to know me…”

The empty glasses were replaced with two more, and he groaned in relief, downing both in seconds. The buzz was starting to take effect, and his body loosened, fingers tapped against the empty glass along with the song.

Didn’t make sense not to live for fun. Your brain gets smart but your head gets dumb…

“How about a challenge?”, Rick grinned as he downed his last shot, arm leaning suggestively against the counter. The leather of his jacket creaked, his undershirt dipping and giving off a full view of his chest hair.

Ford swallowed, adams apple uncomfortably shifting in response. “Enlighten me…”

“30 shots…”, Rick burped, lifting his empty glass as a token. “Loser gets a tattoo, and the winner gets to design it…”

Fords ego increased, his already questionable judgement impaired by the alcohol. “I’ll take that bet…”

You’ll never know if you don’t go. You’ll never shine if you don’t glow…

He was positive he was the less intoxicated of the two, and his confidence grew as the bartender poured them their shots. Her expression still concerned for his health, the attention causing him to anxiously run a polydactyl hand through his chestnut hair.

Rick noticed the tension, mild jealousy forming. He made a note to get her fired later, slamming his first shot on the counter in excitement. “One…two…”

He cheated, downing the first glass before getting to ‘three’. He received a scowl from Ford in response, who was doing surprisingly well at catching up.

Hey now, you’re an all-star, get your game on, go play…

The tenth shot stung as it went down, Ford clenching his teeth at the burn. He hadn’t entirely taken into account how many shots he’d had prior, and this was starting to look foolish on his part. Rick on the other hand was on his fifteenth shot, not a shudder or sign of surrender.

“Give up yet, Fordsie?”

The older man seethed, downing his thirteenth shot in desperation, taking any chance he could to catch up. He could tell Rick was starting to take it easy on him, and the knife to his ego hurt more than the actual loss.

Even taking his time, Rick was already at his twenty-fifth, already scheming the results of his victory. He watched in amusement at Ford began to falter at twenty, nearly tossing it up as it went down his throat.

“Alright…Alright…Fuuuuuuuuuuck. Just call it already”, the younger man groaned, downing his twenty-eighth.

Rick downed his last two, unable to watch the agony his friend was going through. Shaking a head at the sick and defeated drunk Ford, lifting him to his feet.

Ford didn’t complain when he noticed Rick paid for their drinks. He didn’t complain as he watched him pull out the portal device from his jacket. He was too drunk to complain as he pulled him through the emerald light. And you’d think he was high as a kite at how amused he was at the change of scenery.

“Welcome to Earth Dimension 62-48 Ceeeeeee…” Rick burped, spreading his arms as if it was a world of his own creation. Which wouldn’t be too far from the truth.

His introduction was cut short by the sound of Ford chucking onto the cold hard ground, no longer able to hold back. He’d taken it too far this time, his pride getting the best of him.

Rick waited for him to finish, offering an arm to lead him to a nearby tent. He muttered along the way about the science of holding your alcohol, and how he recognized that Ford was drinking on an empty stomach; which obviously dwindled his chances.

Ford sobered enough to walk for himself as they reached the tent, a market area coming into view before him. He shared a brief glance at Rick, attempting to avoid the street salesman and traders calling them their way. A Garblovian started shouting obscenities as they passed, and Ford was tempted to fish out his translator. Rick’s flip of the middle finger was more than enough of a retaliation to quiet him, both men diving under a tattered curtain in nearby tattoo parlor.

Ford’s lip curled in uncertainty, Rick dragging him to the front desk. The shop owner at the desk was nothing like he’d seen before, an average pig with octopus tentacles for arms. Despite the sunglasses and tough exterior, it seemed elated to see Rick. It’s cheeks curving into a fat smile that could weaken even the strongest of men.

“‘Sup, Tony! How you doin’ you son of biiiitch…”, Rick readied his fist, winking in invitation.

Tony received the fist bump with a tentacled one of his own, beady eyes darting between the two under the frames of his sunglasses.

“Who’s your friend?”

“This is Ford. Lost a bet, the fuckin’ lightwieght. Can you fit him in?”

Tony chuckled as if it wasn’t the first time this had happened, hopping off his stool to lead them to the backroom.

Ford lifted the curtain. The parlor was rather large, countless sketches littering the walls. The faded wooden countertops were covered in supplies and chemicals, several ink pens with different sizes and tips caught his attention.

Rick motioned to Ford to remove his shirt, to which he protested at first. After a few moments of grumbling, he discarded his jacket and sweater, feeling exposed. He caught a thirsty stare from Rick, his numerous scars and rugged chest hair attracting his attention.

Tony led Ford to the large reclining chair in the center, wiping his tentacles on a nearby rag before reclining him back in the chair to get a better look at his flesh. He glanced at a small sketch that Rick has somehow managed to finish, keeping it out of range of Ford in amusement.

“I’m going to regret this…” The older man uttered out loud, the needle pinching his neck without warning. For his first tattoo it wasn’t as painful as he expected, to be honest it was almost therapeutic.

The next hour was a culmination of Rick running his mouth about his portal gun, how it functioned and the science behind it. Every intricate detail was music to Ford’s ears. Rick’s passion for his work was inspiring, and for a moment…he admitted to himself that there was more to this man than he was lead to believe.

The minutes passed by, reaching over an hour with Rick leaning against the wall impatiently. Tony lifted the pen, passing a mirror to Ford so he could admire the work.

Ford braced himself, turning his large chin to have a better view.

A small yellow star grinned back at him, the cartoonish features amusing him in his drunken state. The lyrics ‘Hey Now, I’m an All Star’ cradled around the character.

“So, scale of 1 to 10. Is it my best work?” Rick burped.

“I love it…”

And all that glitters is gold. Only shooting stars break the mold…

Previous Chapter

#rick sanchez #stanford pines #bitter and sick #stanley pines #gravity falls #rick and morty #fan fiction #my writing #mabel pines #wendy corduroy #bill cipher #chapter three #rickford

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minijenn · 7 years ago

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Fake Universe Falls Chapter Titles

Why? Because why the hell not? So here we go with me making up bullshit chapter titles of literally EVERY. SINGLE. CHAPTER. of Universe Falls! Enjoy! (under the cut!)

Prologue: The Gems Go On a Nature Walk Chapter 1: Dipper and Mabel Are Rebellious Little Shits Chapter 2: Steven is An Innocent Sunshine Child Chapter 3: In Which The Crossover Part of the Fic Starts Chapter 4: Tourist Trapped (Minus Tourist Trapped) Chapter 5: Gem Glow But Cookie Cat is Dead (Again) Chapter 6: Opal Punches a Robot In the Face Chapter 7: The Mystery Kids Become the Mystery Kids Chapter 8: The Chapter Jen Hated Writing the Most Chapter 9: Boys 2 Men (Except They’re Still Just Boys) Chapter 10, part 1: Greg Woke Up Too Early For This Shit Chapter 10, part 2: UF Journal is Even More Shady Than Canon Journal

Chapter 11: Gideon Almost Commits Double Homicide Chapter 12: Steven and Dipper Do Something Stupid (part 1) Chapter 13: SU Episodes that Weren’t Important Enough To Get Chapters to Themselves Chapter 14: Fun With Pink Pets and Time Travel Chapter 15: Insert Video Game Reference Here Chapter 16: Pearl Doesn’t Eat Summerween Candy Chapter 17: Dipper and Mabel Nearly Die Because of Something Gem Related (part 1) Chapter 18: Baby Melon is a Baby Melon (Get it?) Chapter 19: Keeping Secrets Leads to Draaaaaaamaaaaaa Chapter 20, part 1: Fluff Hour With Lapis Lazuli Chapter 20, part 2: Angst Hour With Lapis Lazuli

Chapter 21: An Actual Fucking Mystery In this Story For Once Chapter 22: Pearl Nearly Kills the Kids, What Else Is New? Chapter 23: Public Pool Makeout Session Chapter 24: Dipper and Steven Do Something Stupid (part 2) Chapter 25: The Gems Are Terrible Employees Chapter 26: Sleeping On Hay Is Overrated Chapter 27: Everyone Argues for Like, 17,000 Words Or Whatever Chapter 28: Lion Acts Like the Fucking Cat He Is Chapter 29: Stan and Amethyst Break the Law (Part 1) Chapter 30, part 1: The One with Bill In It (part 1) Chapter 30, part 2: Alexandrite Punches a Robot In the Face

Chapter 31: Jen Mashes Two Songs That Don’t Go Together Together Chapter 32: Dipifica Foreshadowing (part 1) Chapter 33: Dipper and Steven Do Something Stupid (part 3) Chapter 34: Amethyst Gets Her Ass Kicked Several Times Chapter 35 A: Stevonnie Has Crippling Social Anxiety Chapter 35 B: Maven Has A Massive Identity Crisis Chapter 35 C: Stepper Has A Schizophrenic Split Personality Chapter 36: Rose Was Shady AF (part 1) Chapter 37: Young Greg and Baby Steven Cameo In a Chapter Chapter 38: Stan and the Gems Try to Be Normal (And Fail) Chapter 39: Dipper and Lapis Are Sarcastic and Adorable Chapter 40, Part 1: Dipper and Mabel Nearly Die Because of Something Gem Related (part 2) Chapter 40, Part 2: Garnet Drops Some Sick Beats

Chapter 41: Just Talk About Your Feelings Dammit! Chapter 42: Peer Pressure is Actually Ok Chapter 43, Part 1: The One With Bill In It (part 2, with 150% More Angst!) Chapter 43, Part 2: Another One With Bill In It (Rated P for PAIN) Chapter 44: Pearl Indoctrinates Two Kids Into Being Martyrs Chapter 45: Matchmaking Always Fails Chapter 46: That is... Fucked Right Up Chapter 47: Night At the Cult Headquarters Museum Chapter 48 A: Greg Accidentally Gets a Job and a Girlfriend On the Same Night Chapter 48 B: Pearl is Salty, What Else Is New? Chapter 49: Dipifica Foreshadowing (part 2) Chapter 50, Part 1: The One Where Shit REALLY Hits The Fan Chapter 50, Part 2: The Angst Train to Backstory Town

Chapter 51: Rose Was Shady AF (part 2) Chapter 52: Pearl Fucks Up, What Else is New? Chapter 53: Dipper and Ford are Nerds and No One Is Surprised Chapter 54: Ruby and Sapphire Are Terrible At Conflict Resolution Chapter 55: Stan and Amethyst Break the Law (part 2) Chapter 56: Peridot Tries to Troll Everyone (and Fails) Chapter 57: Rose was REALLY Shady AF (part 3) Chapter 58: The One With Bill In It (part 3, Plus Unicorns) Chapter 59: Peridot PIsses Literally Everything in Gravity Falls Off Chapter 60, Part 1: A Fuck Ton of Fusion Fuckery Chapter 60, Part 2: Peridot Uses the Bathroom

Chapter 61: Steven Sings the Campfire Song Song Chapter 62: Stan and Amethyst Break the Law (part 3, This Time with Peridot) Chapter 63: The Nerds Have an Ego Fight Chapter 64: Steven Is Only Somewhat Ok At Conflict Resolution Chapter 65: Greg Is the Only One Who’s Good With Babies Chapter 66: Dipifica Foreshadowing (part 3, This Time with Peridot) Chapter 67: The Rational Giraffe Wife is Irrational Chapter 68: Peridot Does Stupid Shit For an Entire Chapter For Our Amusement Chapter 69: The Gems Rescue Ford Almost Constantly Chapter 70, Part 1: Lapis and Jasper Have a Rough Breakup Chapter 70, Part 2: Steven is Really Good at Cluster Resolution

Chapter 71: Keep Your Arms and Hands With the Lazuli At All Times Chapter 72: The Gang Plays Baseball or Dies Chapter 73: Matchmaking Always Works (Also Dipifica is Now Canon) Chapter 74: In Which Jen Has to Write a Fuck Ton of Original Songs Chapter 75: Morally Ambiguous Possession For Fun and Profit Chapter 76: Kids In Trenchcoats Race a Jerkass and His Jerkass Friends Chapter 77 A: Ford Tells Bill To Go Fuck Himself (He Does Not) Chapter 77 B: Ford Gets an Embarrassing Tattoo Chapter 77 C: Ford Makes Some Friends But Mostly Just a Lot of Enemies Chapter 78: Half-Turning Into a Monster is Actually Not Fun, Who Could Have Guessed Chapter 79: Lapis is an Overprotective Mom Chapter 80, Part 1: Dipper and Steven Do Something REALLY Stupid (and Dangerous, part 4) Chapter 80, Part 2: Stepper Has a Really Bad Time, Like, In General Chapter 80, Part 3: Everyone Goes to Beat Bill Up (Doesn’t Really Work)

Chapter 81: Ford Tells Dipper to Chill It Out With All The Fucking Angst (He Sort of Doesn’t Listen) Chapter 82: The Reverse Kids Are Fucking Little Brats Chapter 83: Don’t Let Children Around Rose. Ever. Chapter 84: Being an Adult Fucking Sucks Chapter 85: Jasper Picks on Someone Her Own Size Chapter 86: Stan and Amethyst Break the Law (part 4, This Time To Save Everyone) Chapter 87: Bismuth Deserved Better, I Can’t Even Make a Joke About That Chapter 88: GR Pacifica Wants the D(ipper) Chapter 89: Pacifica Tells Dipper to Chill It Out With All The Fucking Angst (He Actually Does Listen This Time) Chapter 90, Part 1: Jasper Has a Shitty Day Chapter 90, Part 2: Rose Was INCREDIBLY SHADY AF (part 4) Chapter 90, Part 3: A Human Sized Hamster Ball In Space

Chapter 91: Garnet Has a Jealous Side Chapter 92: Lapis and Pacifica Have a Team Building Excersise Chapter 93: The Kids Go To Therapy (Because Oh God They Need It) Chapter 94: Everyone’s Hot AF As a Teen Chapter 95: Pearl Is Gay, What Else is New Chapter 96: Half-Gem Kids Have Angst Just In General Chapter 97: The Thanksgiving Chapter, But In Summer Chapter 98: Time Travel Makes Everyone Sad, Especially Me Chapter 99: I Changed My Mind, Don’t Let Steven Around Rose. Ever. Chapter 100, Part 1: Some Nerds Almost Die on an Abandoned Gem Ship Chapter 100, Part 2: The Big One (TM)

Chapter 101: The One With Bill In-Oh Fuck It He’s In Literally Every Chapter In This Damn Arc Chapter 102: How To Survive the Apocalypse with Dipper and Lapis Chapter 103: Amethyst Does Not Get Her Ass Kicked Several Times Chapter 104: Dipper Snaps Dippy Fresh’s Neck (Yes That Is Actually Going To Happen) Chapter 105: The One With the Song From the End Credits Chapter 106: *Insert Inspirational Full Company Musical Number Here* Chapter 107: Everyone Builds a Giant Robot (To Punch Bill In the Face With) Chapter 108: The Zodiac Is Somewhat Less of a Copout Chapter 109: Bill and Yellow Diamond Bitch At Each Other Chapter 110: Everything Goes to Fuck Epilogue 1: Everything’s Ok Now But its Angst Epilogue 2: Jen Cries For the Rest of her Life

#idk why i even felt the need to do this #i guess for the sake of foreshadowing and hinting at some stuff???#i dont really know #jen writes #universe falls #stupid shit

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thelastspeecher · 8 years ago

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Stan Pines, Farmhand - Chapter 13: Everything’s Going to Be Okay

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 AO3

As promised, here is the next chapter of “Stan Pines, Farmhand” and boy, is it a doozy. Pretty damn long (4042 words) and almost nonstop angst. Really intense. In this chapter, shit hits the fan and Stan gets caught in the middle of it. Enjoy.

November 29, 1981

Stan Pines had walked in on his fair share of things he never wanted to see. But this was probably the worst. Seeing his brother-in-law holding some sort of weird futuristic gun to his twin’s head easily topped the time his parents had decided to get it on the same night he had a bad dream.

“Fidds, what the hell are ya doin’?” Stan demanded, stepping forward and knocking the gun out of Fiddleford’s hand. Ford collapsed to the ground, seemingly unconscious.

“I- I-” Fiddleford stammered, tugging on his hair, which Stan suddenly realized had been thinning.

“What does this thing even do?” Stan asked. He picked up the strange-looking gun. Fiddleford looked away, ashamed.

“It erases memories.”

“Wait, you were erasin’ Ford’s memories?”

Please let me have heard wrong.

“Yes. But only one memory! He- he saw somethin’ he shouldn’t have seen.” Stan stared at Fiddleford, disgusted.

“So ya decided to make him forget?”

“…Yes.”

“Good God, Fidds,” Stan said, flabbergasted. “Why? Why would ya even make somethin’ like this?”

“I needed it. I- I couldn’t sleep at night. I was haunted by everythin’ what I’ve seen here in Gravity Falls.”

“So you jumped right to some dystopian nightmare shit? That’s gotta be an overreaction, Fiddleford.”

“I know! I know! I shouldn’t have done it. But when I started, I couldn’t stop,” Fiddleford said, tearing up. “An’ then people saw things they shouldn’t have, so I- I made them forget, too.” Stan took a steadying breath.

“How many people?” he asked.

“Too many,” Fiddleford whimpered.

“Includin’ Ford?”

“Includin’ Ford.”

“Did ya wipe my memory?”

“No!” Stan had a sudden flashback to a couple days ago. Angie’d had a mental breakdown because she couldn’t remember something, something she insisted was important.

“Angie?” Fiddleford closed his eyes tightly and began to pull on his hair again. “Fiddleford, did you wipe your little sister’s memory?”

“I don’t recall!”

“You’re lying!” Stan shouted. Fiddleford broke into tears. He sat down heavily.

“Yer right! Yer right! I erased her memory. My- my baby sister.”

“Why? What did she see?”

“I don’t know! I can’t remember!” Fiddleford looked at Stan, his face red and tear-streaked. “I think I erased my memory after, so I couldn’t remember doin’ that to her.” He sobbed. “I’m s’posed to protect my fam’ly, my lil siblings. An’ I hurt her. I messed with her mind.” Stan sat down next to Fiddleford.

“Do ya ‘member how she reacted?” Fiddleford nodded, but Stan replayed the events anyways. “She almost lost her damn mind ‘cause she couldn’t remember somethin’. Angie was terrified, ‘cause mental fragility runs in you guys’ family. And Thistlebert, the same cousin what married a hog, started life normal. He only started to fall apart after his memory went.” Fiddleford sobbed again. “Angie was scared that she was startin’ to do it too. It took forever to calm her down. And she started writin’ everything down, so she wouldn’t forget. She’s obsessing over it, Fidds. Even though she hasn’t forgotten anything since, she’s still paranoid to the point that I catch her sittin’ still, frozen, if she can’t remember something right off the bat.”

“She wasn’t s’posed to react that way,” Fiddleford said weakly. “Ford never did.”

“Ford and I don’t have the same fam’ly history as you and Angie,” Stan said. He looked at the gun in his hands. “Which is why I’m takin’ this away from ya.”

“What? No! I need it!”

“No, you don’t!” Stan snapped. “All you’re doin’ with it is runnin’ away from the truth. You’re hurtin’ yourself and hurtin’ others.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Look,” he said, opening his eyes again, “I understand. I understand that ya want to forget the awful things we’ve seen. But this won’t make things better. You’re a mess, Fidds. Look at what ya did to Angie and Ford. Look at what ya did to yourself. I won’t let you take this back.” Stan swallowed, a chill suddenly running through his body. “I don’t want this thing anywhere near my kids.”

“I would never-”

“Never what? Never use it on fam’ly? Never use it on folks younger than you? Never use it on the people you love? Bullshit! You did all of those things!” Stan stood, grabbed Fiddleford more roughly than he should have, and pulled up his brother-in-law. “You’re comin’ clean, and you’re gonna stop usin’ this thing.”

“I can’t,” Fiddleford sobbed. Stan saw it then.

He’s a junkie. He was still furious, but he knew that this wasn’t the way to handle things. Yelling has its limits, and Fiddleford was too fragile to respond positively to anything more than a moderately stern tone.

“Hey,” Stan said more gently. He put a hand on Fiddleford’s shoulder. “You can. And you will. If not for yourself, for Ford, and Angie, and me, and the girls. And your son.” Fiddleford wiped away his tears.

“I don’t think I can.”

“Don’t matter. You will.” He pulled Fiddleford into a hug. “Everything’ll be okay. Everything’ll be fine.”

-----

January 6, 1982

“Angie, could I ask you something?” Angie looked over.

“Oh, hey Ford. I was just checkin’ on the kids. Sorry they fell asleep durin’ this visit. Their nap schedule musta been messed up somehow. Thanks again fer pullin’ out the air mattresses.”

“It’s no problem.” Angie closed the door to the room the children were napping in.

“So what’s goin’ on?”

“I need your opinion on something.” Ford handed her the stack of papers he had just printed off. “These are the preliminary results for the project Fiddleford and I have been working on.”

“Stanford, I ain’t a physicist,” Angie said, skimming the papers. “I’m a biologist.”

“I know, but I still wanted your thoughts,” Ford said. Angie pursed her lips.

“I’m inclined to think that ya should not turn on that there machine of yours,” she said after a few moments.

“What makes you say that?” Ford asked. He wanted to yell at her, asking what she would know about all this.

But she already admitted this isn’t her area of expertise.

“I may not be good with technology, but I know how numbers work. And these numbers ain’t good.” She pointed at one of the pieces of paper, which had a large graph on it. “An’ I’m pretty sure that line should go up, not down.”

“…You are correct,” Ford conceded. Angie flipped through the papers one more time, before sighing.

“Look, I do think ya need more than just the opinion of yer boyfriend and a biologist. I have a coupla friends from West Coast Tech who were in the physics department. I can ask ‘em what they think, if ya want. I’ll give ‘em minimal data, so they can’t steal any of it.”

“Would you really be willing to do that?” Ford asked. Angie nodded.

“‘Course! Now, while I contact ‘em, ya should hold off turnin’ it on, okay?” Angie handed the papers back to him and turned around. “That’s basic science, but it don’t hurt to remind people every now and-” Before she could finish her sentence, Ford blacked out.

-----

In the living room, Stan was having a hushed conversation with Fiddleford.

“I agree, Fidds. Ford hasn’t really been actin’ like himself that much,” Stan said quietly. Fiddleford’s knee bounced nervously.

“It’s makin’ me worried. What if he’s usin’ drugs?”

“I can snoop around, see if I can find-” Stan was cut off by a series of thuds, like something had fallen down a flight of stairs. “What was that?”

“Angie!” Fiddleford and Stan both jumped to their feet at Ford’s shout. Stan beat Fiddleford to the stairs by a few seconds. He dropped to his knees next to Angie. She was laying on the floor, spread-eagled. Her left arm was in an unnatural position and he could see crimson liquid pooling behind her head.

“Oh, no,” he whispered. Ford thundered down the stairs to join Fiddleford and Stan. Fiddleford was already taking her pulse.

“It’s faint,” Fiddleford said, “but it’s there. She’s alive.” Stan picked up Angie and stood.

She feels smaller than usual.

“Ford, what happened?”

“I- I don’t know. I turned around for a second, and then she was suddenly falling down the stairs.” Fiddleford stood as well and tucked a strand of hair behind one of Angie’s ears.

“Ford, watch over the kids while Stan and I take her to the ER.” Ford nodded. Stan may have been imagining it, but something about Ford’s eyes seemed…off.

He’s probably just freaked out. I definitely have the crazy eyes, too.

-----

January 11, 1982

Stan stood at his front door, getting ready to head out. He began to search for his shoes, mentally laying out what he was going to yell at his twin.

God, Ford is gonna get it. I have no clue what the fuck he said to make Fidds leave like that. I can’t think of anything that would piss off Fidds enough to disappear and abandon his son. Dammit, Ford, I shouldn’t have had to have Tate stay overnight. But you were a hell of a hot mess. Sixer, ya better have a good reason for all of this.

“Uncle Stan? Where are you goin’?” At the sound of an inquisitive voice, Stan turned. Tate was standing in front of him, twisting his hands nervously.

“I’m gonna go talk to your dad, and look for yer pa,” Stan replied, zipping up his coat. Tate blinked.

“But there’s no one else here.”

“I know. Can ya watch your cousins for a lil bit?” Stan asked. Tate looked over at the girls. Danny was sleeping on the couch, while Daisy climbed all over it. Daisy fell off with a small squeak. The resulting thump woke up her sister, who started to cry.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Tate said quietly. Stan swallowed. He put his car keys back on the hook.

“Yer right,” he replied, patting his nephew on the shoulder. He walked over to Danny and picked up her up, making shushing noises in an attempt to calm her down. “It’s okay, everything’s fine,” he said softly. Danny sniffled. “It was just Daisy fallin’ off the couch, she does that all the time.”

“I- I miss Ma,” Danny said piteously as she clung to his shirt. Stan tried to not let his heartbreak be visible.

“Me too, sweetheart. But it’ll be okay. She’ll wake up soon.”

I hope.

“Uncle Stan, when can I go home?” Tate asked, tugging at his shirt. “Pa wanted to go fishin’ today.”

“Tate, I-”

“I’m hungry,” Daisy whined. She had resumed climbing on the couch.

She looks like she could fall off again. God, if she hurts herself…

“Get down, junebug.”

“No. I want foods.”

“Okay, I’ll make somethin’. Whattaya want?” Stan asked desperately. He tried to fight down the sensation that he was drowning.

“Corn stuff,” Daisy replied. Stan’s heart sunk. He knew exactly what she was referring to, and it was a recipe Angie had refused to teach him.

“It’s passed down in my fam’ly from mother to daughter.” Stan tried to ignore the thought that wondered if Angie would be able to pass the recipe down to Danny and Daisy.

“I don’t know how to make that.”

“Pa does,” Tate said.

“He’s…not around.”

“What? Where is he?” Tate asked. Stan swallowed and set down Danny.

“Gimme a sec, okay? I’m gonna go make a call.” Stan walked over to the phone in the kitchen. He dialed in the number without thinking, relying on muscle memory.

I can’t watch all these kids on my own. I can’t take care of ‘em. He hesitated before punching in the last digit. I need help.

The phone was picked up on the second ring.

“McGucket residence, Sally speakin’.”

-----

January 13, 1982

Stan paced nervously by the front door, obsessively checking his watch.

Lute shoulda been here by now. As if on cue, there was a knock. Stan opened the door.

“Hey, brother,” Lute said cheerfully. He rubbed the back of his neck. “So, where’s those cute lil nieces and nephew of mine?”

“Watchin’ TV,” Stan said. He turned. “Kids, get yer stuff! Yer Uncle Lute’s here!”

“‘Kay!” Tate shouted. Stan could hear his nephew helping the girls get ready. He turned to Lute again.

“How was the drive?”

“Not too bad. Could have been worse.”

“Ah.”

“Ma ‘n Pa are lookin’ forward to spendin’ some time with their grandbabies. They don’t get to see Tate and the girls all that often.”

“Yeah, Oregon’s pretty far away from Arkansas.”

“We’re almost ready, just gettin’ shoes on!” Tate called.

“Got it!” Stan replied. “I’m surprised you haven’t asked me how Angie’s doin’,” he said to Lute.

“Well, uh, I actually stopped by the hospital on my way in, to see her. That’s why I’m a bit late.” Lute sighed. His cheerful façade slipped away, replaced by a worry that Stan had never seen in him before. “It- it ain’t right, what happened,” he said quietly. “Why’d she get hurt so bad if she only fell?”

“I dunno,” Stan said, in an equally soft tone.

“An’ no word from Fidds?”

“Nothin’.”

“An’ Ford is?”

“Havin’ some sort of breakdown or episode or somethin’. I’m gonna go see him in a coupla days.”

“Good. Talk some sense into him.” Lute paused. He ran a hand through his hair. “Look…Stan…don’t be upset ‘bout all of this.”

“What?”

“Don’t be embarrassed or ashamed or anythin’ like that, that ya had to get help. That’s what fam’ly’s for. To help out when the chips ‘re down.” He put his hands on Stan’s shoulders. “Yer doin’ the right thing. Ya ain’t a failure as a dad, or an uncle, or a husband, or a brother.” Stan looked away.

“Geez, Lute, what makes ya think I feel like that?”

“‘Cause I know ya, brother. I know yer goin’ to blame yourself. Don’t do that. Anyways, things’ll get better. Angie’ll pull through, Fidds’ll show up, Ford’ll come to his senses.”

“What if they don’t?” Stan asked. He tried to ignore the way his voice broke. Lute hugged Stan tightly.

“They will,” Lute replied firmly. “Trust me. In a month, everything’ll be back to normal. Fidds and Tate can go on fishin’ trips, you’ll spend time with yer daughters and Angie, and Ford’ll continue to do his weird research. The girls and Tate are just goin’ to think that this is a fun vacation with their grandparents and Uncle Lute.” Stan nodded, fighting back tears.

“Y’all should probably go,” he said. “It’s a long ride back to Gumption, especially with two toddlers and a child.” Lute grimaced.

“At least Tate’s well-behaved.”

“Don’t worry, the girls more than make up for his good behavior.” Lute cracked a small smile. He looked over Stan’s shoulder.

“Howdy, kidlets. Y’all ready to spend some time with Uncle Lute, Gran, and Gramps?” Stan looked at the kids. Daisy seemed fairly oblivious as to the situation, bouncing on her toes excitedly. Danny and Tate, on the other hand, were acting like they were headed to a funeral.

Not the best analogy right now, Stan.

“You kids be good fer ‘em, okay?” Stan said. Danny rushed forward and hugged one of his legs.

“Don’t wan’ go,” she mumbled. Stan knelt down.

“I know, sweetheart. But ya have to. It’ll be good for ya to spend some time with Gran and Gramps. And yer Uncle Lute, too!” Danny squeezed him harder. Daisy dropped her bag and joined her twin in embracing Stan. Stan sniffed. He wouldn’t be able to pretend he was fine much longer. “I’ll miss ya, girls,” he said quietly. His daughters hugged him tighter. He kissed the tops of their heads and stood. “Now, go on and get in Uncle Lute’s truck. He’s probably got snacks and tunes fer ya.” Tate exited somberly, closely followed by Danny and Daisy. The girls turned around to wave before stepping outside.

“Bye, Daddy,” Danny said solemnly. Stan waved back.

“Bye, sweetheart.” Daisy pulled Danny outside. Lute hugged Stan again.

“Don’t worry, we’ll take good care of ‘em.”

“I know.”

“You talk to Ford. Everything’ll be fine, brother.” Stan smiled weakly.

“Don’t know if I believe that. But…thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” With another worried look cast his way, Lute followed the children outside. Stan slowly closed the front door, then slid down it, not bothering to hold back his tears anymore.

-----

January 17, 1982

Stan brushed off the snowflakes that had built up on his jacket.

A fuckin’ snowstorm the day I finally go to talk to Ford. Figures. He stomped on the porch, shaking the snow off his boots, then knocked on the door. The door opened immediately, with such force that Stan took an instinctive step backward.

“Who is it?! Have you come to steal my eyes?!” Ford raved, aiming a crossbow directly at Stan’s chest. Stan stared at his twin.

“Ya don’t look good, Ford,” he said mildly. Ford blinked.

“…Stanley.”

“Yeah, it’s me.” Ford lowered the crossbow and seemed to attempt to mentally collect himself. But he couldn’t get rid of the crazed glint in his eyes, the way his clothes seemed to hang on his frame, or his completely disheveled appearance. “Look, I came to talk to ya. I haven’t heard from ya in over a week. Not since Fidds disappeared.”

“Fiddleford,” Ford mumbled.

“Yeah. Him. Look, are ya gonna let me in or not?”

“Right, right,” Ford said, standing to the side so that Stan could walk in. He cleared his throat. “How is Angie doing?”

“Still comatose,” Stan replied. “Doc says she should wake up soon, though. She’s showing the right brain activity or whatever.”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah.” Stan took a breath. “But I don’t know how reliable that doctor is. He keeps insistin’ that Angie had to have been pushed, that her injuries aren’t ‘consistent with a mere fall’.” He looked over at Ford. Ford had a distinctly guilty expression. “What is it?”

“She was pushed, Stan.”

“Wait, what? How- how do ya know that? Who-”

“It was me. I pushed her.” Stan stared at his twin, too shocked to say anything at first. Then it clicked.

“What?!” He grabbed Ford’s shirt. “Stanford, there’s no way yer tellin’ me that ya put my wife, the mother of my children, yer own sister-in-law, in a fuckin’ coma.”

“I didn’t! The demon possessing my body did!”

“The demon- what the fuck does that even mean?”

“It means exactly what it means! A demon took over my body and pushed Angie down the stairs.” Stan let go of Ford’s shirt and stared at his twin with disgust.

“What have ya gotten mixed up in, Sixer?” he asked. Ford took a shaky breath.

“Nothing good.”

“Yeah, usually demons aren’t a good fuckin’ thing.”

“I- I know. And, actually, I was about to call you.”

“Why?”

“I need to show you something.”

“Does it have to do with yer odd behavior and this whole ‘demon possession’ thing you’re tryin’ to say happened?” Stan asked.

“Yes.”

“Fine, then. Lead the way.”

-----

A few minutes later, Stan and Ford stood in the basement.

“What the fuck is that?” Stan asked.

“It’s a transdimensional portal,” Ford said. “It’s the project Fiddleford and myself have been working on. Theoretically, it should enable people to travel to alternate realities. But in practice…” Stan looked at his twin, dread growing.

“What does it really do, Stanford?”

“This device is what made Fiddleford walk out. He couldn’t handle what he saw on the other side.” Ford took a deep breath. “He caught a glimpse of Bill’s dimension and lost his tenuous grasp of sanity.”

“Who the fuck is Bill?”

“The demon that I’ve been working with.”

“The same one that possessed ya and pushed Angie down the stairs?”

“Yes.”

“His name is Bill?”

“Yes. Look, Stanley, this machine, it’s far too dangerous to be used. I plan on dismantling it, though I haven’t done so yet, and in the meantime, I need your assistance in a very important task.” Stan eyed Ford suspiciously.

“What do ya want me to do?”

“Take this.” Ford handed Stan a thick book with a red cover, embossed with a golden six-fingered hand. “It’s my research. It contains the information necessary to build and run the portal. Take it, and leave.”

“…What?”

“Leave. Take the research as far away as you can. To the ends of the earth.”

“Ford, there’s no fuckin’ way I’m gonna do that,” Stan said flatly.

“Please, Stanley, I’m begging you,” Ford said. “The future of the world is at stake!”

“I ain’t leavin’ Gravity Falls without my fam’ly.”

“Your family is asking you to do this.”

“Ford, yer not the only person I’m worried about,” Stan snapped. “Fidds is still missin’, Angie’s in a fuckin’ coma, and I can’t even watch over my kids ‘cause I’m dealin’ with your shit on top of all of it!”

“I-”

“And they’re your fam’ly, too! Have ya even thought about your son since Fidds left?” Ford’s facial expression broke.

“Tate…”

“He’s in Gumption with Sally and Mearl. And so are Danny and Daisy. Lute picked ‘em up a coupla days ago. You’re not the only person who’s in trouble or havin’ a rough time, Ford.”

“Stanley, I know how important your children are, but please, consider their safety over the safety of the world.”

“My fam’ly is my world, Sixer. Take your book back. I don’t want it. I don’t want your shit to follow me and hurt Angie or the girls. Not any more than it already has.” Stan shoved the book back at Ford.

“I can’t be trusted with it!” Ford said, throwing it back.

“Fine, then!” Stan shouted. He dug a lighter out of his pocket. “I’ll burn it. Then maybe we’ll be free of this witchcraft-bullshit-insanity ya drug all of us into.”

“No, Stanley, my research!” Ford said, trying the grab the book back from him.

“You gave me it, I’m gonna do what I want with it!” Stan ran from his twin, clicking the lighter. “C’mon, work, ya piece of shit.”

“No!” Stan was tackled to the ground by Ford. The book went flying out of his hands and into the control room. Stan shoved Ford off of him and raced toward the book. He picked it up, only to be shoved again by Ford, into the control panel. “Stanley, give it back!”

“Like hell I will!” Stan snarled over the hum that had begun as the machine started up. “This thing’s messin’ with yer mind, Sixer! It needs to be destroyed.”

“My years of work would be wasted!” Ford shouted, attempting to pull the book out of Stan’s grip. He kicked Stan in the chest, succeeding in pulling the book away. Stan landed against the side of the control panel. A blindingly hot pain bloomed on his shoulder. Stan screamed. Ford blanched. “I’m so sorry, I-” Stan punched Ford. Ford scrambled backwards as Stan advanced on him.

“I thought ya knew better!” Stan roared, his mind swirling with the weight of his responsibilities and the fresh burn smoldering on his skin.

“Stanley, I-”

“I thought ya knew better than to put your science shit before fam’ly! But ya never learn, do ya? If you want your research so bad, you should keep it!” Stan shoved his twin. Ford’s feet passed the yellow and black striped hazard line. Ford began to float into the air, pulled toward the portal. Stan snapped out of his blind rage. “Whoa, hey, what’s-”

“Stanley, help me!” Ford shouted desperately.

“What? What do I do?” Stan called back. Ford continued to fight against the portal’s pull.

“Stanley, please! Do something!” Panicked, Ford threw the book at Stan. It landed squarely in Stan’s hands. Stan watched in horror, unable to move, as his twin disappeared through the portal.

There was a shudder that shook the foundations of the house, and a bright flash of white light. It suddenly vanished, leaving afterimages in Stan’s eyes and the echo of Ford’s screams in his ears. Ford’s glasses landed on the ground a few feet away from him. Stan sat heavily on the ground, in the dark, completely numb.

He was alone.

#stanley mcgucket au #stanley pines #stanford pines #fiddleford mcgucket #gravity falls oc #tate mcgucket #angie mcgucket #Danica Pines #Daisy McGucket #lute mcgucket #(by god that's a lot of characters)#stan pines farmhand #gravity falls #fanfiction #my writing #my stuff #speecher speaks #Stangie Family

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dumbass-bisexual · 8 years ago

Text

Look At Us Now: A Gravity Falls One-Shot

here ya go kiddies, prepare urselves for some major stangst. this will also be posted on my AO3

Stan’s stomach rumbled, reminding him of the money he could’ve spent on food.

Instead, he was holed up in this dingy old motel for the next two nights. While it wasn’t much, it was better than his car, especially in this weather. He’d figure something out for food. But at least for now he was warm.

He was somewhere in Ohio, currently living under the alias Sammy Pineland, a simple man and seller of “gold plated” tobacco pipes. (The “gold” was cheap spray paint.) To keep the cops off his back, he’d stopped cutting his hair, letting it grow out. He’d even started wearing his glasses again, just for good measure. They were old ugly coke-bottle looking things (Stan didn’t even know how they’d ended up in his gym bag), but he’d forgotten what it was like to be able to read billboards or make out the leaves on the trees. It was a nice change, even if he did look like a huge nerd.

Just like Ford.

Shaking his head, Stan stood began to inspect the room for bedbugs and other guests. Aside from some mothballs, the room seemed at least halfway decent.

Settled in (he only had his briefcase) Stan decided to turn on the old TV, compliments of the innkeep.

Quickly discovering that there were three channels, he left it on the nightly newscast, which was nearing the end.

“The cold front should be out of the area by Thursday,” the weatherman was saying, gesturing wildly to the map behind him. “We’ll be seeing some more spring-like weather through the end of this week and next weekend. Back to you, Hannah.”

“Thanks, Jim,” the blonde anchor said, smile big and fake.

Imagine having a job like that, Stan thought to himself. Just waving your hands around all day looking good and you’re set for life.

“Next up, we have a new segment I like to call Innovators of Tomorrow, where we talk with up and coming members of the scientific community about their work.”

Stan rolled his eyes. Never did like science much, he thought, and stood up to change the channel.

But he stopped short as the camera panned to a hauntingly familiar face sitting next to the news anchor.

“Here with us tonight is Dr. Stanford Pines, who works with naturally occurring anomalies.” She turned to face none other than Stan’s twin. “Thanks for being here with us, Stanford.”

“Please, call me Ford,” he replied, voice sending chills down Stan’s spine.

“So, Ford,” the anchor began, “tell us a little bit about your work.”

“Well,” Ford began, “I’ve always been interested in things that were strange or odd.” He held up his six fingered hand, the one that Stan knew so well. “This might have had something to do with it,” he added, chuckling.

Stan sat down heavily on the bed, staring, transfixed at the TV screen. He didn’t really hear the rest of the broadcast.

He hadn’t see his brother in seven? Eight years? Stan had lost count. But Ford looked good. His suit was pressed and fancy-looking, his glasses were new and stylish, and his hair was neatly groomed. Aside from the wardrobe upgrade, Ford just looked different. It was in the way he held himself-- he looked confident and sure of himself, everything that the nervous, shy brainiac version of Ford that Stan had left back in Glass Shard Beach was not.

Catching a glance of his own reflection in the dirty mirror on the wall, he let out a short, humorless laugh. Mom and dad could never tell us apart as kids. Heh, look at us now, he thought ruefully.

On the screen, the news broadcast had reached an end, and the anchor was thanking Ford for his time. As she signed off, Ford looked right into the camera. Stan couldn’t help but stare back; it felt like he was making eye contact with his brother for the first time since he’d been thrown out of the house almost ten years ago.

His eye contact was broken as the image on the screen shifted to a used car sales commercial, but the image of his brother still lingered behind his eyes.

Oh Sixer, he thought to himself. What happened to us?

“Alright, Science Guy, you’re on next,” came the obnoxious voice of the newscast director, making Ford, who had been reading in a chair backstage, jump.

Nervously fixing his glasses, he shoved his hands in his pockets to hide the fact that they were shaking.

Why did I think this was a good idea? He thought to himself, smoothing down his hair. Some professor he’d worked with in his doctorate program had recommended him for this segment, and Ford didn’t want to be rude. You could never know who would be a helpful resource later in your career.

But now, here in the moment, Ford wished he’d just called it all off. While college had helped with his social anxiety, he still struggled to suppress the nervousness that threatened to claw its way up his throat every time he had to speak in class, let alone on a live news broadcast.

Just channel your inner Stanley, came a voice from the back of his mind. Ford had always admired his brother’s ability to talk his way out of any situation. But he hadn’t seen Stanley in years…

“You’re on,” announced the director from right behind Ford, startling him once again.

Ford nodded, took a deep breath, and sat down in the wheeled chair next to the blonde news anchor (Haley? Hazelle? No- it was Hannah.) where he sat just out of the view of the camera.

Okay, three minute segment before the end of the broadcast, Ford thought. You can do this, Sixer. Smile.

“Thanks for being here with us, Stanford,” Hannah was saying, smile almost painfully big.

“Please, call me Ford,” he replied, unable to help himself.

The anchor nodded, name noted, and continued. “So, Ford, tell us a little bit about your work.”

Ford took a second to collect his thoughts before answering her question.

“Well,” he began, “I’ve always been interested in things that were strange or odd.” Give them some background, good introduction. He held up his six fingered hand, trying very hard to hide the tremors radiating up his arm. “This might have had something to do with it,” he added with a small laugh.

When the anchor kept giving him that unsettling smile, Ford felt his heart rate increase. Keep it moving Stanford.

“As you mentioned, I work with naturally occurring anomalies, such as my polydactyly, or extra digits, for those of you at home. I’ve worked with animals that have conditions such as mine: snakes with two heads, mice with several eyes, and the like. What I want to know is what causes these anomalies, and how they can be traced through genetics. Many of them are mutations, but I’ve found higher quantities of anomalies in different areas of the country, most abundant in the pacific northwest.”

The anchor’s eyes had appeared to have glazed over, and it took her a split second to realize that Ford was done speaking. Am I that boring?

“Well, that seems to be all the time we have for tonight,” Hannah said, effectively ending the conversation. Ford was relieved, even though he knew for a fact that he did not speak for three minutes.

“Thanks so much for being here Ford.” She turned back to face the camera. “I’m Hannah Simmons, with CWF News in Springfield, signing off. Good night!”

Hannah sat still for a moment, smiling that weird smile, before the director stepped onto the stage. “And we’re clear.”

Ford turned to face Hannah, whose smile had almost immediately dropped from her face. “Thank God,” she intoned, pulling a pack of cigarettes out from the pocket of her blazer.

“So, am I okay to leave?” Ford asked cautiously.

“The hell if I care,” Hannah replied. “I’m done for the night, so I’d assume so. Go play with your snakes or whatever.” And with that, she got up and left the stage, muttering, “Jesus, I need a drink.”

Ford slowly stood up and made his way back to the dressing room, where he had left his coat and his book. He was stopped once again by the voice of the stage director.

“Hey, buddy, we cut you short. You talk too much about stuff no one cares about.”

Ford was taken aback. “I-- excuse me?”

“Yeah,” the director replied. “People don’t care about your freaky shit. Tell us about how you’re saving the environment next time.”

And with that, he left Ford to collect his things.

Should’ve been more like Stan, came that voice again.

And as Ford made his way out into the cold, he was left to wonder what had ever happened to his brother.

#personal #college #fanfic #mine #text #long post #gravity falls #stan pines #grunkle stan #ford pines #stanford pines #pre-gravity falls #stangst #gf

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